(third) eye opening India

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We arrived in India on 7 May and we've barely thought about what day, date or time it is since then (except when absolutely necessary).

First impressions are lasting, and on our Air India flight to Delhi, the matronly flight attendant dressed in traditional Indian clothes gave us extra strong whiskey with a friendly laugh and I liked India already. Generous and warm.

And warm it really was. We set foot at the Delhi airport at about 11.30pm and it was HOT. Dry heat. And the airport was being renovated and despite being an international airport, it felt like the kind of airport you'd find in a small town. There were masses of people with signs and all the Indian men were staring at the Western women. The Indian men were also sitting on each other's laps and holding hands, in a platonic, friendly way. We eventually found our taxi driver who was to take us to where we were staying, which was in the Main Bazarre, the central market in the city with lots of cheap backpackers hostels, and a bit of a seedy reputation. Our taxi driver seemed to be unaware that we were tired and bombarded us with Hindi words. "You are staying in India for 4 weeks? Then that is enough time, you must learn Hindi and you must dress like us" he said. We hit the road and the traffic was even crazier than in China. Cars, bikes and rickshaws, buses and trucks, merged in and out of lanes with no warning and no space with which to do so, just beeping their horns to say this is what I'm doing, and somehow it worked out. We watched a motorbike squeeze inbetween two trucks and one truck decide to merge right where the motorbike was, and it all happened fine, they just move around each other effortlessly.

We then get to the Main Bazarre, and that was the real Indian onslaught we'd heard about. But seeing it is something else. A small narrow road, crammed with people, a few skinny cows, dirty sleepy dogs, some Indian guys looking out of their minds and others looking active and happy, an Indian woman dressed in bright coloured sari with her two children trailing after her arm-in-arm wearing dirty clothes, bare foot and smiling. Bikes and rickshaws weaving in and out. clouds of dust on the unpaved roads. the smells of incense, food, sewage, and dust and dirt all mixed together. Foreigners dressed like hippies, who look like they've been in India for a long time, with long, thin hair, dirty clothes, and skinny. So much still open and active despite it being so late.

We stop and the taxi driver demands a tip before showing us where to go, and it's just as well we obliged, because our hotel is down a narrow alleyway and around a corner, with no signage, and we wouldn't have found it on our own. The place is basic but clean enough and we go to sleep.

Next morning, we wake up early and have a delicious simple breakfast with mango juice, chai tea, and toast and cornflakes. Then we hit the road and it's about 9am and already really hot (close to 40C, I think). It's not as busy as it was the night before, but the traffic is crazy. Lots of horn beeping and the need to jump out of the way regularly. There's stalls selling all kinds of foods and trinkets, market shops with saris and other Indian clothes, shrines to gods and deities with incense burning, open urinals on the street, ... within moments an Indian guy, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, has started talking to us in excellent English. "Where are you going?... You must see this temple which is just down the road. I'll take you there." A salesman, for sure. But he was nice and we didn't have a plan, so we walked in that direction and he told us we must learn Hindi words and we must dress like Indians, while we are here. And he taught us some words, which were once again hard to take in, because it was so hot, with sweat dripping down our backs. Right next to the temple was conveniently a travel agent - surprise surprise - he told us we should go in there (commission). So we did and the a/c was so cool and nice, we sat down and talked to the man for a while, who tried to convince us to fly to Kashmir. We said no and he gave us a map for free. We left, told our man we didn't need any travel assistance, he left us alone. Within minutes, another salesman was trying to provide us with travel info. We explained we'd already decided where we were going (to Rishikesh to become enlightened - which received eye rolls from both Steve and him, as of course, you can't become enlightened in just one week, it takes years) and he told us we shouldn't go to Rishikesh, we should go to Kashmir, much better, much cooler, so much nicer. Although he was a persistent salesman, he did it with such a friendly manner, with a big smile on his face and eyes. Eventually, we told him there was nothing he could say that would make us change our plans and that we wanted to be alone now. And he smiled, bowed and said ok and left us. One thing I asked was "is it always this hot in Delhi?" Yes, he said, for half the year, it is this hot.

We somehow found our way back to where we were staying, through the alleyways. And decided to leave Delhi and go up into the Himalayan mountains, leaving early the next morning. We asked the hotel tourism guy if he could book our train and he told us it would be much cheaper if we just went to the train station and booked it ourselves. So we hit the Main Bazarre again. This time, Steve wearing longs pants instead of shorts, helped us look a little less like newcomers, but I still felt out of place without the light loose Indian clothing all the women were wearing, with my long pants and T-shirt. The train station was close by and we weaved through the traffic to get there, passed beggars who swore and cursed at us when we refused to give them money, and all the sellers. The train station was crowded and we didn't know where to go to buy our ticket, so we lined up at one booth, full of Indian men pushing each other out the way. I stepped out of the way, realising this was a one man job, and stood back on my own, glaring at all the Indian men and boys staring at me, and watched an older guy push right in front of Steve as he made it to the front of the queue,and Steve elbowed him out of the way, and the guy laughed and actually looked at Steve with admiration for standing up for himself. Steve was told he was in the wrong place and foreigners were to purchase their tickets upstairs. So we went upstairs, and the train we wanted was booked out, so we ended up booking a sleeper train for that night, departing from Old Delhi at 10.30pm.

that gave us the day to explore. We jumped in a rickshaw and the driver artfully weaved through traffic (human, animal and vehicle) to a nearby part of town which was quieter and more spacious. We jumped out and found a restaurant serving Butter Chicken, Biryani, Lamb Rogan Josh and so we ate this and it was delicious. We did not know at the time, but this was the last meat we ate for the next two weeks.
We then found a tailor from LP and Steve ordered two tailor made shirts. Then it was time to go back to the Main Bazarre, where I had decided it was time for me to buy some cheap Indian clothes - to adapt to both culture and climate. There were a group of rickshaws and we ordered one. Then before we got in, a guy said "don't go to Main Bazarre, it's not so nice there and the stuff you can buy is not good quality. I know a place where you can buy good quality saris and it's very close. You can take a rickshaw there for 10 ruppees" (10 ruppees is about 25c). why not? We say ok and he comes with us, talking to us about good karma and how he is Muslim but if he had a wife, she could wear whatever she wanted, he wouldn't mind. We jump out, he shows us a shop, and we go in, up some floors, past carpets to the material section. The saris here are of high quality, the kind women might wear at Indian weddings, and prices to match. Not really expensive, like around $25-$30, but not the type of clothes I'm looking for to blend in. And $25 is a lot of money in India.

So we leave and find another guy, and a rickshaw along side him, who tries to tell us to go to another tailor where it is such good quality. We say no, get into the rickshaw, the rickshaw driver tries to sell to us as well, we should go to this tailor, he keeps saying, we say no again, and his rickshaw "breaks down" and he says he can't take us to Main Bazarre. So we get out and find another rickshaw and off we go, back to Main Bazarre, where we buy really cheap Indian hippy pants and shirts for about $2 each, hoping this will help us to be left alone. And it works.

After much needed showers, we pack up and it's time to go to the train station in Old Delhi.
We find a rickshaw, which has two men in the front seat. A rickshaw is a very small 3 wheeled motorbike with a front seat and back seat, and a canvass cover over the top, and otherwise open air. There was a small space behind the back seat where we could put our backpacks behind our heads. And we were off, through Main Bazarre and onto the paved road where it's just as busy, but minus the people and animals, and plus trucks and buses, and more speed. It was the most thrilling ride I can remember ever having. We weaved in and out of spaces that didn't even seem to be there, overtaking slower vehicles, facing headon to oncoming trucks, and then somehow finding a space in the crowded lane to merge back, just in time. It was so clever how he did it. I was mentally working out how to survive a potential crash, making emergency response plans in my head, and from time to time, when I saw cars about to merge into our lane, and trucks in the opposite lane and our rickshaw driver about to move through it all, I would close my eyes and grab Steve's arm. Meanwhile, Steve just at there with an amused grin on his face. And about 30 minutes later, we arrived at the train station. Feeling grateful to be alive.

That gratitude and happiness stayed with me as we tried to work out where our train was, which was just as well, because it was a mission. The notice board told us platform 7, which we couldn't find at all. So we found an enquiry office, with several Indian men sitting behind their desks. One got up, and we showed him our tickets. He did the side to side Indian head shake, which seemed like such a friendly gesture, even though I didn't know why he did it. And picked up a black phone that looked about 100 years old. "You need to go to platform 9" he said. So we find platform 9 and there's a train that is very long, and we look for B1, our carriage. We walk the entire length of the train looking and don't find it. Sometimes we ask someone and they say further up that way, but it just wasn't there. Eventually, someone said, no, you need Platform 8. So we go to platform 8, and once again B1 is very hard to find. It isn't in any kind of order. It doesn't go A, B, C or anything like that at all. And it's very crowded and hot. With persistance, we find our carriage in the middle of the train, and board the train. We are in a nice part, sleeper (3 beds going up), a/c, but it's still quite simple. In our area, there is an Indian family. We sit down on the bench seat that would become a bed, and along comes an English man. "Is this B1?" he asks loudly and we say yes, and he sits down next to me and burps. He smells. But he's not offensive really. I think he has been in India for a while. He explains that the a/c can get very cold at night and we would need the blankets provided (despite it being very hot for now).

We sleep and wake up at 5.30am, when we are due to get off the train, at Haridware. The train stops and the train attendant tells us that this is not yet Haridware. "In 5 minutes, we will stop in Haridware. Now you must wait." A man selling chai tea walks down the aisle and we buy some, which is delicious and sweet. About 40 minutes later, we get to Haridware. The 5 minutes is "Indian time", the English man explains. As we are getting off, one of the Indian men looks at me and says "Everyone hurries in Haridware" and smiles. And the Englishman, still lying down in his sleeper bed, smiles warmly with an Indian twinkle in his eye and says "Have fun in Rishikesh". And we get off and try to find the bus that will take us to Rishikesh. A man who tries to sell us a ride, which we refuse, obligingly shows us where the bus station is. And we luckily find the bus to Rishikesh immediately, and it leaves straight away. On the hour long drive, we see green mountains, monkeys, cows, dogs, lizards, donkeys... we get a Rickshaw to Laxman Jula (up the road about 5km), and eat a vego pancake breakfast and chai. We have arrived in the land of hippy tourists. This is the place the Beatles went in the 1960s, where they wrote one of their albums, while staying in an ashram doing yoga. And now, there are lots of ashrams here, providing this same experience for travellers.

We get to our ashram, after crossing the footbridge over the Ganga River (with crowds of Indians, tourists, a few cows, monkeys and motorbikes beeping non-stop), and finding a jeep to take us around the mountains to get there. We are staying at this ashram to do a 7 day course in yoga and meditation, but we've arrived two days early to enjoy it (and, cos it's cooler than Delhi).

The place we were staying was really beautiful. Simple in the ashram, but surrounded by Himalayan foothills (not the really big snowy ones, but smaller, green ones) and the Ganga River, which stretches through the valleys and has some rapids, and frequent whitewater rafters. We were all set for the next 9 days, with all our food and water provided, accommodation, everything. It was like going to a health spa retreat, or so I thought it would be.

We got settled and it didn't take long before we started making mistakes. I wore shoes inside. I talked loudly during a meal when people were observing silence. I swam in the Ganga River with only my bathers on. All bad. I kept getting told off. The Ganga River is a holy river, where people go to heal themselves, and holy men do pilgrimages along it. The culture is to be covered with a longi (sarong) when bathing. Men, however, can just wear shorts. But the worst mistake we made is something that a lot of the Indians actually do. We drank from the tap that is next to the filtered water tap, but wasn't filtered water. I started feeling sick straight away, and the next morning, I got a fever, headache, stomach cramps and was really tired. So I stopped eating, and just drank lots of water. Then Steve started feeling the same way. Meanwhile the more I drank, the more I went to the toilet... finally the course started and it was in the introduction that we realised we'd been drinking from the wrong tap. Two days of illness and a few more days of having a weak stomach, but luckily we got better. Everyone related, as most of the people on our course had been in India for months, and everyone had experienced some variety of stomach bug. The people were great, from all over the world, Europe, NZ, Australia, Israel, Chile ... and the course leaders were both lovely - two women, one Indian woman and a woman from South Africa.

Every morning, we woke at 5.30am and we were silent until after lunch, 1pm. From 6am to lunch, we did yoga, cleansing (flushing salt water through our noses!), breathing and meditation, and a contemplative walk through the mountains and usually a swim in the Ganga. Then we had time off, followed by a discussion, more yoga, a break, chanting, dinner, meditation. bed. It was designed to look within. And avoid stimulation from outside, so they suggested not to read any books except spiritual books, and the food they provided was vegetarian mush, with no chilli, no garlic, no onion (too stimulating) and also pretty much no texture, like baby food. I don't know if it was because I'd been sick, or simply the food itself, but I didn't like it. And was very glad we had a stash of biscuits and nuts, which became my substitute diet (also not very stimulating...)

So we looked within and learned about ourselves, and enlightenment. Which is, basically, living in the now. Now is eternal. We were taught that if we live in the now, and are not attached to anything (as all things come and go), then we transcend emotional pain, anger, fear, and only use our mind to learn, plan, do things. Rather than identifying with the mind (I am what I think), we were taught the mind is merely a tool to use, and we are much more than the mind. If we transcend the egoic mind (like einstein did), we get spiritual enlightenment and a connection to the world, universal life. And this puts us in touch with bliss, love, joy, peace, calm, creativity, wisdom, health, higher consciousness, energy... We did yoga and meditation to make us more focused on our bodies and minds, so we could pay attention to negative pain or thoughts, and then release them, which is the first step towards enlightenment. The next step is to move into "no-mind", where you have no thoughts. From no thoughts and no pain, you can start to live in the moment and just take things as they come and respond as it happens. I think this is what we were taught. I haven't quite got to that stage. But it was a very peaceful, revitalizing time, and I think a lot of us got something good from it. If nothing else, a new perspective. That in some ways, is not really new, as it's been around since ancient times. A theory several enlightened people are talking about (in books, from the leaders in the course, etc) is that the Golden Age is coming, where there will be lots of enlightened people living in the world and, because they will be seeing things much differently from the more attack-defence egoic mind, the world itself will transcend and become different. It's hard not to think of the Beatles, when hearing all this at the ashram ... "Imagine all the people, living for today, whoo-hooo, you may say i'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope some day, you will join us. And the world will live as one." Same same.
We left the ashram and dived straight into greasy garlicy, onion, spicey pizza... followed immediately by the toilet....

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Photos

The Ganges
at sunset

Waterfall
One of our nature walks

Our teachers
Lalitambae and Marjorie (and Kim, our aussie mate)

Steve and Ganges
Compulsory yoga shot in front of the holy river

Downward Dog
Caroline after a week of yoga

Kim and Jose
Real food after eating ashram rice for a week