Last leg of my trip – hard to believe that in a couple of days I’ll be back home!
It’s been a whirlwind last couple of days, though, and as usual, nothing short of exhausting. After leaving Udaipur last Tuesday, we headed to Agra for a day (so that Kate, my travel buddy, could get a glimpse of the Taj Mahal). It was so much hotter than the first time I was there – it was all I could do to get myself out of the (slightly) cooler room and walk around in the stifling heat. But I’ve already gone over Agra, so I won’t bore you with a repeat (especially since there’s not that much, not including the Taj).
Then, we took an overnight train to Varanasi – also known as one of the holiest (if not THE holiest) city in India because of the Ganges River. Indians from all over the country (and overseas) come to Varanasi to wash the bodies of their dead loved ones and cremate them, to scatter their ashes back into the Ganges.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, as Varanasi is notorious for its’ touts and tourist scams (being similar to Delhi and Agra in that respect). I was unprepared to love it so much, despite the craziness and noise and overwhelming ambiance of the city.
When we arrived at Varanasi Junction (at least 5 hours late, miserable and hot and sweaty in the train) we were brought down to the old city to find our hotel, which was located amid the alleys and tiny streets. Because auto rickshaws aren’t allowed through the streets, our driver got out and led us on a 1 km walk through winding streets (in the heat, with our packs on – quite a workout!) until we reached our dingy, very shabby hotel.
The next morning, we got up to find the ghats. Ghats are the stairways leading down to the Ganges, and Varanasi has dozens of them along the banks of the Ganges. Certain ghats are known for certain things – the most famous being the Burning Ghats, where the bodies are purified in the water and then burned. Kate and I actually had the hardest time finding the ghats because of the alleyways – we couldn’t stop getting lost and had to be pointed in the right direction at least half a dozen times.
We finally located the elusive ghats. The best way to see them is simply to walk along the banks, and watch all the activities around the ghats. In a way, it’s a little bit like a boardwalk – except filthy and unhygienic. Varanasi was by far the smelliest city I’ve been in yet, and that’s saying a lot. There seemed to be animal excrement (and probably human as well) in every corner of every alley or in every nook of every building. Combined with the intense heat (it was well over 40 C) the smells were sometimes… overwhelming, to put it mildly.
Walking along the ghats allows you to see people doing their laundry, bathing, or just swimming for fun. There are boats that touts ply you with – “Boat ride, Madam, madam!” – and a myriad of other vendors selling touristy items.
But let me jump to the best part – the burning ghats. As tourists walking around, you will inevitably be “adopted” by a guide desperate to impart his knowledge, and, ultimately, get a nice tip from you (which you inevitably have to give). The other little payment comes from you in the form of a donation to the hospices, where you can buy wood that will be donated to poor families who cannot afford enough wood to burn their dead. If you don’t donate enough, the workers there will wring their hands and admit their worry for your karma – they only want to see you improve your own karma and if you don’t donate enough, well… the result is potentially unspeakable. I think it’s a good sign of how long I’ve been here that I remained unmoved by this dramatic, moving speech and held out on giving only 100 rupees (not enough for a full kilo of wood!).
However, we had the good chance of stumbling across a guide who talked to us for about 1 hour, and was just an amazing source of information. He took us up to a terrace where we could get a good view of several burnings going on and explained the process. We watched a family carry a body wrapped in red cloth to the riverbank, delicately lower it into the river until it was fully immersed, and then bring it back on land. Then, a pyre is built – there are 4 different kinds of wood that can be bought, the most expensive being sandalwood, costing a shocking 3 to 4 thousand rupees per kg, the cheapest being around 180 rupees per kg. Considering that around 20 kgs of wood are needed for the average adult body, these cremations cost small fortunes.
The family then continues the mourning process – the male relatives shave their heads and pray while the body is placed on the pyre. The pyre is lit by a flame from the Eternal Flame, a flame that has supposedly been burning for 4,500 years. The relatives (only the male relatives, the women are not allowed to watch the ceremony due to their emotional tendencies) watch as the body burns for several hours.
There are also different places for the bodies to burn if they were religious men or soldiers. Our guide brought us down to where a religious man’s body had just been cremated – the wood was still smouldering – and as another man came to clean out the area, washing it down with water, Kate and I were anointed in the flying ashes of the ex-religious man. I forced myself to see it as some kind of sign of blessing or good luck. It also apparently means that any ghosts, lions or tigers will smell the ash on us and never attack us. Interesting.
We were also encouraged to donate money for the hospices – shabby houses where old people come to die – to an old “Ama” who supposedly was good friends with Mother Teresa and knew Princess Diana. She was also, according to our guide, 118 years old, and still stood in the Ganges every day for 4 hours chanting mantras for the good of the Universe. Needless to say, she seemed unpleased with my meager donation of 50 rupees, thus lowering my view of her as the all loving woman. Oh, India.
The last interesting tidbit from this is that there are 4 types of people who may not be burned: children under the age of 10, pregnant women, anyone killed by a cobra and lepers. The first three are considered pure and therefore do not need to be burned, and lepers – probably due to health reasons. Instead, these people are tied to a wooden plank with coconut rope (doesn’t degrade in water) and are dropped into the Ganges.
Our guide said that occasionally a body will get detached and bob up to the surface. It really curbed my longing to jump into the water, despite the heat. Apparently on the other side of the Ganges, you can see bones.
Needless to say, Varanasi has a sort of ambiance and atmosphere that you won’t find in other places. There is such an emphasis on religion and karma, yet many of the same hypocrisies remain – for instance, as we were desperately trying to get to the train station to catch our train to Darjeeling (we were late, of course) we found ourselves ganged up on by all the taxi drivers so that we had to pay a higher price than we KNEW was fair. So frustrating, as always. Kate and I yelled at them, called them cheaters, threatened their karma, but to no avail. Sometimes India still gets the better of you, no matter how experienced you are.
I am now sitting in wonderful, lovely, hassle-free Darjeeling, up in the mountains of West Bengal. I think our trip to get here was the longest, most difficult yet (a five hour delay on our train, then trying to get a jeep up to Darjeeling from Siliguri was a nightmare) but we finally made it and are reveling in the genuine calm and goodness of the people here. It’s unlike any place in India that I’ve been, and I have not felt so relaxed and un-hassled since arriving here in January.
But that may have to wait for another entry… more thoughts to gather! Meanwhile, we leave here tomorrow afternoon, and I fly out to Delhi on Saturday before preparing for my final flight home…
Miss you all!
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Packing out
Leaving Udaipur feels strangely like another move - and that's both an unpleasant and unexpected feeling.
Last week was my final week teaching, and I had such a good time with my students. On Friday we went to another school and painted a classroom that had just been built - we painted the ABC's, numbers, a map of the world and pictures of vocabulary the kids need to learn. We played with the kids afterwards - they were happy to throw themselves into our laps and play with our hair or just grab our hands.
The rest of the time was spent running around finishing all of my errands, and arranging my travel plans. I leave Udaipur tomorrow for Delhi, to transfer to Agra (my travel buddy hasn't seen the Taj yet, so we'll stop there on route for Varanasi). I just have to be back in Delhi on the 28th to catch my flight home... hard to believe that in exactly 2 weeks I'll be back in Belgium.
My last days in Udaipur have been sad, but heart-warming. My favorite tailor insisted that the next time I come to Udaipur I would have to stay at his house. My favorite juice lady invited me to eat a home-made Thali at her house tomorrow. Udaipur is so small that everyone knows that a group of us from this organisation are leaving, so as we walk up and down the streets various shopkeepers stick their heads out to yell "Have a nice journey!" or "Come back soon!". Our favorite cafe owner had all of our post-departure schedules memorized, as he brought our usual orders which he has memorized now.
I will miss this place so much more than I ever expected to when I first arrived. Somehow Udaipur got under my skin and has begun to feel like home, at least to a certain extent.
And only two weeks left in India - I don't even want to think about how it will feel to fly out...
I'll do my best to keep you all posted on my travels - I'm psyched to have a little extra time (and money!) to do some more sight-seeing before getting home and starting work.
Miss you all!
Last week was my final week teaching, and I had such a good time with my students. On Friday we went to another school and painted a classroom that had just been built - we painted the ABC's, numbers, a map of the world and pictures of vocabulary the kids need to learn. We played with the kids afterwards - they were happy to throw themselves into our laps and play with our hair or just grab our hands.
The rest of the time was spent running around finishing all of my errands, and arranging my travel plans. I leave Udaipur tomorrow for Delhi, to transfer to Agra (my travel buddy hasn't seen the Taj yet, so we'll stop there on route for Varanasi). I just have to be back in Delhi on the 28th to catch my flight home... hard to believe that in exactly 2 weeks I'll be back in Belgium.
My last days in Udaipur have been sad, but heart-warming. My favorite tailor insisted that the next time I come to Udaipur I would have to stay at his house. My favorite juice lady invited me to eat a home-made Thali at her house tomorrow. Udaipur is so small that everyone knows that a group of us from this organisation are leaving, so as we walk up and down the streets various shopkeepers stick their heads out to yell "Have a nice journey!" or "Come back soon!". Our favorite cafe owner had all of our post-departure schedules memorized, as he brought our usual orders which he has memorized now.
I will miss this place so much more than I ever expected to when I first arrived. Somehow Udaipur got under my skin and has begun to feel like home, at least to a certain extent.
And only two weeks left in India - I don't even want to think about how it will feel to fly out...
I'll do my best to keep you all posted on my travels - I'm psyched to have a little extra time (and money!) to do some more sight-seeing before getting home and starting work.
Miss you all!
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Incredible India
I've just gotten back from another run into town - Jannie and I (one of the other volunteers) were squished into the back of a tempo (which is a bigger version of a rickshaw, and is essentially a public transportation vehicle). These tuk-tuks should legally be only allowed to hold about 10 people, but in the late afternoon when it's particularly busy, you can easily pack in at least 16 people in one tempo, which usually means 4 or 5 people on each bench (which only hold 3 comfortably), 4 in the front including the driver, 2 or 3sitting on the floor behind, and sometimes one standing on the outside step, holding on for dear life.
Anyways, imagine that scene in your head, with two foreign girls squished into the sides. We were instantly an attraction (not unusual about that) and pretty soon the one English speaker was firing questions at us as directed by all the other passengers about who we are, what we're doing in Udaipur, do we like India? etc etc.
At one point we were asked, "Does Indian food give you digestive problems?" In retrospect, I should have felt at least a smidgen of surprise or embarassment, but at the time it seemed like a perfectly normal question to ask a complete stranger, and responded that yes, sometimes Indian food did not go down as well as I would like. This was greeted by a chorus of responses and spirited answers (all in Hindi, unfortunately - I would have loved to know what they thought), and one or two more questions asking, "Is is the spicyness?", "Do you eat alot of bread?" etc etc.
Apparently, this discussion of digestive problems did nothing to make us less attractive to the younger men, who asked the English speaker to ask us if we were married, and if not, did we like the idea of marrying Indians? To which I replied, VERY promptly, that at this point, no, we are not looking to marry ANYONE. Period.
Jannie and I laughed the entire walk home from the tuk-tuk. Another priceless experience - the idea of anything like that happening back home is ludicrous, unthinkable. If anyone had asked me those questions at home I would probably have been appalled and shocked. But here, it seems normal. Or at least acceptable. It's a perfect example of the "no privacy" rule that is so ingrained in Indian culture, and which I love so much.
Only in India!
Anyways, imagine that scene in your head, with two foreign girls squished into the sides. We were instantly an attraction (not unusual about that) and pretty soon the one English speaker was firing questions at us as directed by all the other passengers about who we are, what we're doing in Udaipur, do we like India? etc etc.
At one point we were asked, "Does Indian food give you digestive problems?" In retrospect, I should have felt at least a smidgen of surprise or embarassment, but at the time it seemed like a perfectly normal question to ask a complete stranger, and responded that yes, sometimes Indian food did not go down as well as I would like. This was greeted by a chorus of responses and spirited answers (all in Hindi, unfortunately - I would have loved to know what they thought), and one or two more questions asking, "Is is the spicyness?", "Do you eat alot of bread?" etc etc.
Apparently, this discussion of digestive problems did nothing to make us less attractive to the younger men, who asked the English speaker to ask us if we were married, and if not, did we like the idea of marrying Indians? To which I replied, VERY promptly, that at this point, no, we are not looking to marry ANYONE. Period.
Jannie and I laughed the entire walk home from the tuk-tuk. Another priceless experience - the idea of anything like that happening back home is ludicrous, unthinkable. If anyone had asked me those questions at home I would probably have been appalled and shocked. But here, it seems normal. Or at least acceptable. It's a perfect example of the "no privacy" rule that is so ingrained in Indian culture, and which I love so much.
Only in India!
Monday, April 7, 2008
Last teaching week!
My last week in Udaipur... hard to believe that it's come and will be gone soon.
This is my last week at the school as well - which means I'll have finished a solid month of work with my students. I have mixed feelings about leaving - part of me is ready for a boost of energy and something different - but I've grown attached to these kids in so many ways.
Last week was not the easiest of weeks though - we switched to the summer schedule, which means we are now at school for 4 hours a day, starting from 9:30 am to around 1 pm. Part of that is a 30-45 minute built in play schedule, which has been a trial to bear for us volunteers. Last Wednesday was an absolute nightmare - we spent the whole time fighting the kids off as they grappled to get to our bags and climb on us and take our things. They've since sent in backup coordinators as "bodyguard" support, and that has really improved the situation.
The real issue is that since the schedule switch the attendance rates have sky-rocketed - my class, which was usually around 11 kids, now has an average of 20 every day. We were completely unprepared the first day and had to scramble to improvise and get materials for everyone (which we didn't, anyway). Keeping the attention of 20 seven year olds who speak about 10 words of English is harder than you could ever imagine - there have been days where I'm not sure that anything is getting through to them, and in that case, am I doing anything worthwhile?
Part of our task includes feeding them - which means that we help them wash their hands at the pump and then serve them the food that the government provides for all school-going children. It's not an easy job either - especially when you have 60 kids jostling to get the next plate. The actual teachers just sit back and let us volunteers do the work - just as they let us do the bulk of the teaching work. I am disgusted by the teachers at my school - most of them sit around for hours, occasionally getting up to yell at the classroom they're in charge of, and then sit back down to gossip some more about their classes. In many cases, they don't show up for class, and dozens of students will simply sit quietly in empty classrooms, doing nothing. It's appalling. At those points, I realize how happy I am to be here and be giving my kids some kind of attention, regardless of whether or not they're truly learning something.
So, as I wrap up my last week here, I find myself doing a myriad of errands - most of them involving present shopping and schedule planning for my last two weeks in India - and it's exhausting. I stop at my regular juice stand when I can, and try to go to my favorite sellers and see them. I'm only realizing now how at home I feel here, and how much I will miss this city.
It's been a funny couple of days though - the last 2 or 3 days have been gusty and gray and (dare I say it!) almost verging on chilly (at least in the morning...). A welcome change for me, at least. It rained a couple of times, which was heavenly, but it seems that as of today the sun is back in business. The only problem remaining now is that the area of town we live in has encountered a water shortage, so all of the water pipes have been turned off. Since last night we've had no water coming through, and it sounds like we won't have any until Wednesday. We've been able to procure one bucket of water per room (for the most basic washing, and for flushing our toilets - we have no flushes and have to flush by hand any waste down with extra water) so that's proving to be a little tricky. Some of the girls are getting anxious - I personally wish I'd decided to shower yesterday as opposed to Saturday - but generally, everyone's used to having an extra layer of dirt on their skin, and it's really no big deal.
To stir things up a bit more, the power cuts have been much more frequent and unscheduled as well - though I'm not sure why. I think we're all pretty used to that as well by now, though it's never fun to lose everything you've been working on at the computer when everything switches off.
Oh, India.
So, one more week of this, and then I'm off. It looks like I'll be heading by train to Varanasi (the holiest city in India) and from there going East to Darjeeling (a hill station). I couldn't be more excited - it'll be nice to seem something green after months in the desert. And then, I'll slowly make my way back to Delhi to fly home... But it's too early to think of that.
Miss you all!
This is my last week at the school as well - which means I'll have finished a solid month of work with my students. I have mixed feelings about leaving - part of me is ready for a boost of energy and something different - but I've grown attached to these kids in so many ways.
Last week was not the easiest of weeks though - we switched to the summer schedule, which means we are now at school for 4 hours a day, starting from 9:30 am to around 1 pm. Part of that is a 30-45 minute built in play schedule, which has been a trial to bear for us volunteers. Last Wednesday was an absolute nightmare - we spent the whole time fighting the kids off as they grappled to get to our bags and climb on us and take our things. They've since sent in backup coordinators as "bodyguard" support, and that has really improved the situation.
The real issue is that since the schedule switch the attendance rates have sky-rocketed - my class, which was usually around 11 kids, now has an average of 20 every day. We were completely unprepared the first day and had to scramble to improvise and get materials for everyone (which we didn't, anyway). Keeping the attention of 20 seven year olds who speak about 10 words of English is harder than you could ever imagine - there have been days where I'm not sure that anything is getting through to them, and in that case, am I doing anything worthwhile?
Part of our task includes feeding them - which means that we help them wash their hands at the pump and then serve them the food that the government provides for all school-going children. It's not an easy job either - especially when you have 60 kids jostling to get the next plate. The actual teachers just sit back and let us volunteers do the work - just as they let us do the bulk of the teaching work. I am disgusted by the teachers at my school - most of them sit around for hours, occasionally getting up to yell at the classroom they're in charge of, and then sit back down to gossip some more about their classes. In many cases, they don't show up for class, and dozens of students will simply sit quietly in empty classrooms, doing nothing. It's appalling. At those points, I realize how happy I am to be here and be giving my kids some kind of attention, regardless of whether or not they're truly learning something.
So, as I wrap up my last week here, I find myself doing a myriad of errands - most of them involving present shopping and schedule planning for my last two weeks in India - and it's exhausting. I stop at my regular juice stand when I can, and try to go to my favorite sellers and see them. I'm only realizing now how at home I feel here, and how much I will miss this city.
It's been a funny couple of days though - the last 2 or 3 days have been gusty and gray and (dare I say it!) almost verging on chilly (at least in the morning...). A welcome change for me, at least. It rained a couple of times, which was heavenly, but it seems that as of today the sun is back in business. The only problem remaining now is that the area of town we live in has encountered a water shortage, so all of the water pipes have been turned off. Since last night we've had no water coming through, and it sounds like we won't have any until Wednesday. We've been able to procure one bucket of water per room (for the most basic washing, and for flushing our toilets - we have no flushes and have to flush by hand any waste down with extra water) so that's proving to be a little tricky. Some of the girls are getting anxious - I personally wish I'd decided to shower yesterday as opposed to Saturday - but generally, everyone's used to having an extra layer of dirt on their skin, and it's really no big deal.
To stir things up a bit more, the power cuts have been much more frequent and unscheduled as well - though I'm not sure why. I think we're all pretty used to that as well by now, though it's never fun to lose everything you've been working on at the computer when everything switches off.
Oh, India.
So, one more week of this, and then I'm off. It looks like I'll be heading by train to Varanasi (the holiest city in India) and from there going East to Darjeeling (a hill station). I couldn't be more excited - it'll be nice to seem something green after months in the desert. And then, I'll slowly make my way back to Delhi to fly home... But it's too early to think of that.
Miss you all!
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