Rishikesh, India - March 2010

So this town was never on my original plans to travel too and to be honest until I read an article about the Kumbah Mela in nearby Hardiwar around the time I was to be in Amritsar, I had never even heard of either place. Again my trusty old Lonely Planet filled me in on how to get there and that it's littered with ashrams, yogis, sadhu's and people wanting to "find themself". As I said on a postcard to mum - I dont think I will ever find myself as I have too many personalities to find! :)

So checking into Niketan Ashram that I had found in my Lonely Planet and researched their very comprehensive website. The site states that everyone is allowed to stay at the Ashram but you must follow the rules and make a donation. Thing is that their "donation" comes at a set minimum amount of 500 rupees per nite. That's fine just dont call it a donation!

I was greeted by a friendly older Indian lady and young Indian guy on the front desk. As I mentioned in my previous post I was already exhausted from what seemed like the never-ending journey getting there. After paying upfront, the young boy wheeled my bag over to the sleeping quarters. I remembered it said on their website that under no circumstances are you to tip anyone working there, you can make an official donation at the desk and be issued with a receipt instead, so I was relieved that this was one of the few times in India that someone was helping me with my bag and not expecting payment.

Now if you are like me, I always wondered what an Ashram would look like? Honestly I pictured a heap of Hare Krishna's floating around in orange robes clanging their finger cymbols away (I actually love them so am not taking the mickey out of them too much!) but instead you are confronted with something that felt more like a university campus - in the sense that the grounds where quiet spread out, there was military security, lots of communal meeting rooms, park benches and beautiful gardens. Unfortunately for my timing there was a heap of pavement construction during my stay so it didnt seem quiet so tranquil in the gardens as I tried to tip-toe through setting concrete without splashing it on my new white yoga pants - failed! - they were covered within 3 minutes of putting them on!

So I really didnt know what to expect with my room - I was expecting basic and I thought its more dormitory sleeping that anything, however there were blocks of units that had their own show and toilet and 2 single beds. It was infact very spacious, had a locking cupboard and the worlds noisiest fan instead of AC but it wasn't needed so that's fine. My showers hot water system never gave me the luxury of a hot shower during my stay - needless to say I conserved great amounts of water there.

I dumped my stuff and filled my empty water bottle with the complimentary filtered water at the end of my corridor - again more excitement as this is the only stay so far in India that I have not been buying 3-4 bottles of water per day! I checked the schedule as the main purpose you come to an ashram is to relax, find yourself, attend meditations and yoga sessions. There was a yoga class on in a couple of hours, followed by lunch at 1pm - if you dont like routine then ashram's are not a place you come. A typical day at the Ashram is:

6am yoga

8am breakfast

11am yoga

1pm lunch

3pm yoga

6pm arti ceremony

7pm dinner

8pm meditation

I managed to find a store selling cheap white clothes for yoga - I later discovered the pants where Indian pyjama pants hence the sideways glances and giggles from Indian ladies in shops around Rishikesh. Yoga class was interesting to say the least - the ashram instructions were quiet specific about not being late and wearing white, so I was a little nervous that I was 5 minutes late already. I managed to find the yoga hall in the huge grounds of the ashram and had to creak the door open and sneak in. I was really suprised and honestly disappointed to see that the yoga class was being taught by a Canadian women clearly not of Indian decent - not to mention she was wearing a white turban with a diamond clip on the front. After managing mentally to get past that came the struggle that rather than the usual soothing vocal tones of a yoga instructor, this teacher seemed hell bent on making this class more like a yoga bootcamp and was yelling instructions and "motivational" comments similar to that of the U.S. army - not exactly what I had in mind. I had never ever experienced a class like this at all - I later learnt this was Kundalini yoga and started to see many of the students that follow this style around Rishikesh - all foreigners wearing blue kaftan uniforms with a Seikh looking logo and turbans - I was really disturbed by this and felt I'd come across some new cult wiping the states and surrounding countries.

I must say that aside from the students of this style and their strange uniforms that resemble the guards of the Golden Temple at Amritsar - Kundalini yoga really seemed to have some benefits. It felt like it was infused with some Pilates poses so my abs were actually getting a work out - I just didn't like the yelling in the background by the instructor and the weird chants I had to repeat at some points.

In the middle of my class I happened to be facing the student to my left and realised that I knew her from the dance school in Pushkar as we had regularly seen each other and said hi in passing. She caught my eye and we shot each other a smile, after class we spoke and I was relived to know that she too didn't appreciate the teachers boot camp style instruction.

When you are travelling alone for long periods in a foreign country and particularly somewhere like India, a new friend can really affect the daily happenings of your trip. For example, my intention after that class had been to eat lunch at the Ashram since it was included in the room fee and then just crash as I was exhausted. Instead my new friend convinced me that the lunch at the Ashram wasn't all that nice and she was rebelling against their strict schedule of you must eat at this time. Instead she took me to a little restaurant nearby that specialised in delicious and so cheaply priced Southern Indian cuisine and then she took me on a tour of Rishikesh that extended into a 4 hour expidition across to the otherside which was a few kilometer's good walk, that I simple would not have had the motivation to do on my own that day.

What amazes me about Rishikesh and it was certainly the first thing that caught my attention, is the blue and clean looking water of the Ganges and the strong current that it flows. There's a brilliant BBC documentary on the Ganges that I saw back in Australia and I do remember them showing footage of the flowing Ganges from Rishikesh but you just dont realise its power until you are there. We found lots of people and bathing Sadhu's along the riverbank resting on the boulders, so we decided to soak up some of the beautiful sun and mountain fresh air alongside Mother Ganga as they call her. I had read to reconsider swimming in the Ganges as the current was super strong and dangerous, so I just settled for rolling up my pants and walking in knee deep - it was chilly and so "norsca fresh" as I called it. I washed my face and felt suddenly relaxed.

Now I'm sure that many of you have head about how dirty the Ganges is particularly in pilgrimage areas such as Varanasi, bodies of the deceased are cremated and their ashes are deposited into the river. Let me assure you that is not the case up here - Rishikesh is near the start of the Ganges so it's super clean and I would consider swimming there had it not been for the current. There is actually a big tourist trade happening in Rishikesh now with people white water rafting - that's not something I had ever been interested in the past, throwing my life in the hands of the rapids just dosent excite me as much as a stroll through the bazaars of India - but I considered it here. If I had more time I probably would have done a rapids tour and also trekked into the Himalayas as there were quiet a few tours starting from here - again something that had never interested me previously and something that I had reserved for hardcore adventurers - maybe I was finding myself or at least opening up to new opportunities!

In front of the Niketan ashram that I was staying at every evening at 6pm they perform what is known by the Hindus as "aarti" its a ceremony using fire and I personally think at its grandest in Varanasi. Being my first night I went down for a wonder and there were many Indian pilgrims who had obviously come to Rishikesh to take part in this ceremony at such a holy site. Some people told me that many of the Hindu visitors attending the Kumbah Mela back in Hardiwar were coming to Rishikesh for a day trip and to attend the ceremony also since they were so close.

At dinner that evening I had my first experience eating at the Ashram - nothing too exciting to report just felt like an American high school cafeteria - there was table spread with vegetarian dishes - you took a metal dish and a scoop of each and sat quietly on the floor at these little individual almost TV dinner tables but they were on the floor. There is a big sign in the room saying to observe silence during dinner as all food has been blessed etc but neither tourists or Indian pilgrims paid any attention.

I noticed one lady who had been in my yoga class earlier that day and she was one of those people that do something and go all the way. What I mean is, watching her you could see that she was there definately to find herself spiritually and by the looks of it she had - well at least she seemed to beleive she had. At dinner she was probably the only one who sat in silence and prayed before eating and I felt at any minute she may gravitate into the air from her seated pose on the floor. I know I'm mean - if she was Indian I wouldn't even have noticed, but she just seemed to be trying so hard to do the whole ashram thing.

After dinner we attended the meditation - to both our dismay it was the same boot camp instructor - I considered making a run for it, but thought I would attempt an open mind and see where it took me. So again I found myself chanting something that certainly didn' t sound Hindi - it sounded like a fictional language like they made for Lord of the Rings - only the people in the "circle of trust" seemed to know the words to the jibber. We did all sorts of breathing exercises which I will admit were quiet good, it was the sound effects that I could see a few people about to crack up laughing. We did one chant for about 10 minutes, over and over it sounded something like (change your tone to a deep monster like pitch)...

"mmmmmm jiiiiiiyyyaaaaaaa shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr froooooaaaaaaawwwwww cha. Chinnnnnyyyyy maaaaaaaaaaaaa diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiyava..."

I felt like I was on magic mushrooms. Finally my one hour of vocal vibrational massage as I called it was over and my friend and I along with a few of the other ladies all shot each other knowing glances of what we had just survived. Being me, I couldn't shut up any longer and told my friend how the teachers meditation voice reminded me of this evil sounded monster voice I was awoken to in Padang Bai on the East coast of Bali at 4am when they were starting a prayer ceremony mimicking the gods. Meditation complete!

Of course on my last day there we did manage to find a brilliant yoga class at an Ashram down the street from ours - brilliant is an understatement - I keep thinking about heading back in September just to attend his class. This class was taught by an Indian guy -not so personable, but his class was packed and he was brilliant. He unlike Bootcamp master of Kundalini, had a soothing voice that I had to strain to hear and all of us just pretty much played Simon Says to know what move to do next. Granted this class was also Hatha yoga, which I was more familiar with and found both relaxing and effective. We were doing backbends and moves that I was doing for fun as a kid and never imagined my body could still do so many years later. Oh and did I mention this class along with all the flies that attached themselves to our everymove only cost $2.50!

To describe Rishikesh, I would say it reminded me of Kathmandu minus the madness - more "norsca fresh". The town had more Sadhu's than normal as many of there were again there due to the nearby Kumbah Mela. To be honest I have only ever seen Sadhu's beg tourists for money, so I was very suprised when it was either one morning or afternoon I saw many Indian Hindu's buying food and going along distributing it to the various Sadhu's in equal rations - made me kind of feel bad for always looking past there money as purely a target for tourists.

Next blog.... Hardiwar and the Kumbah Mela 2010 pilgrimage!

Travelling Amritsar to Rishikesh - India March 2010

At the train station for my late night departure from Amritsar to Hardiwar then onward to Rishikesh, there was the usual scene of transitors or perhaps some homeless people sleeping on the platform concrete floors with grey blankets, endless families of all castes and their children eating and drinking hot chai waiting for the train. Amritsar station didn't have any tvs blaring the latest Bollywood filmclips, so I was a little bored. After an hour of staring at the the rats running a muck in and out of various holes in the platform walls and the local store guy throw his store's rubbish onto the train track my train finally arrived.



Another goods night sleep from the rocking of the train and befriending yet more locals and answering their 50 million questions about "what is your good name?" "Which is your place?" "Are you married with children?" "Who is travelling with you?" pick a lie, any lie - that is always my answer - never say as a woman you are travelling alone, never confirm where you are staying, you are always married and your husband is always going to be waiting at the next station for you as he was there on business and you are on holidays :)


So I arrived into Hardiwar and knew that my mission was to find the bus station to take a public bus 1 hour up to Rishikesh - Yoga capital of the world and where the Beatles shacked up and smoked god knows what for one of their albums.

Thing was Kumbah Mela was one - I thought if I came outside the auspicious bathing dates it was be quiet - ha ha ha. I arrived to full military force absolutely everywhere, Sadhu's absolutely everywhere and just masses of people. Thankfully there were also ramps everywhere so I could wheel my bag around and try fake confidence that I knew where I was going. When lost, my bet is always military as there are always being watched and it just feels safer to ask them for help. So of course being the only foreigner in sight amongst a sea of Hindu pilgrims here for a festival that takes place once every 10 years (yes I am special or stupid one of the two) I had all eyes on me, not to mention all touts swarming my way for "rickshaw" "hotel" "tour guide" I confidently brushed them all aside and once they disappeared I approached a soldier and asked him for directions to the bus station to Rishikesh - using his gun to motion me out the gates and "5min walk" away I continued thinking to myself this is India - ask at least 3 people - so another couple of soldiers confirmed his direction was correct but I would have to get a rickshaw to the bus station and it should be only 25 rupees - problem I am a foreigner and I get a special tourist price.

So I kept rolling along their footpath past the info booths for Kumbah Mela registrations and found me a rickshaw guy - there were none to be seen at first but I decided to roll in the direction along the main road (not as suicidal as it sounds) and hopefully one will pull up along side me - sure enough one did but he wants 250 rupee (remember its 25) so I laughed and with a determined look on my face that I didn't care if I had to walk the how many ever kilometers to the bus off I set - he caved and agreed to 25 ruppee :)

Literally it was a 5 min ride down the street and he pointed at a old silver bus that was starting to pull out from the curb bound for Rishikesh. I ran over and tried to get on the bus but the steps were so high I couldn't lift my bag up and no-one around me inteded to help. I felt something in my back ping and I lost my balance as the bus driver lost patience and pulled away - I banged the door and yelled out hoping to grab the attenion of someone nice on the bus and luckily and ancient man who didnt look like he could lift a pen, let alone my bag got the bus to stop and pulled me and my bag aboard. Luckily there was a seat left a couple back from the door and I had my bag in the corridor. Now let me explain this "bus" to you - once upon a time I am sure it was a fine machine but this aged tin box with wheels belonged in a metal scrap heap! It grunted for the entire hour and our hair-raising experience is made all the while worse with both the neck braking speed of the driver, the cursed look from the conductor that he couldnt fit on more passengers due to my bag blocking their way and the need for all my fellow passengers (most Sadhu's or extremly poor villagers) keeping the windows closed and these windows painted blue, orange or red - I decided in the end that was a good thing that I couldnt look out as I might have been sick.

They continued to cram more people on and my bag was being pushed further down the aisle with my little old stick man determined to stick up for me and hold onto my back which everyone is really kicking to get past. The speed that we travelled for that one hour up the windy mountain roads to Rishikesh made me keep having flashes to all those buses that fly off the cliffs in South America killing hundreds of people - I was definately in panic mode for the entire 60 minutes and constantly working out how I would get through the emergency window fighting all these men as we submerged into the ganges.


Finally we arrived in Rishikesh and I promised myself that regardless of how much the trip back down to Hardiwar was - I was paying coming back. My life was worth more than 40 rupee. So the bus station in Rishikesh is just a dirt carpark at the back of town - a few rickshaw drivers are there and no-one else around so your bargaining dosent get you too far. I was also informed that he could only take me so far to my Ashram as apparently rickshaws cant cross the bridge - I just agreed because I was mentally and physically exhausted. Along the way my rickshaw driver saw another tourist and decided to pick him up without asking me - I was annoyed as I knew he was making double the money when we should be paying the share amount, but in the end this driver did me a huge favour picking up this guy - again another guardian angel to help me out.


So the driver pulls up and says the other tourist is going the same way as me and will show me where the ashram is. I reluctantly agree and rip my bag as I try to pull it out from the back of the rickshaw.

I must say and this is rather ironic, typically when I travel I'm not into talking to other travellers, usually only the locals which is silly I know as I could get tips from them but I think I have seen too many tourists behave appallingly so I think its better to avoid them then be associated with them. Turns out, he was a Jewish American writer/hippy that had been in Rishikesh for the last 3 months writing a book on social behaviour for kids back in America - personally I think he had too much pot or fresh mountain air! But hey this guy was a lie saver - I thought the ashram was a simple walk across the street - try 3-4km along a rocky path (which meant he kindly helped carry my bag as I couldnt roll it), up 2 flights of stairs and then across the most scary unstable metal plank bridge floating on these balloons in a rapid flowing ganges!!!
It was the craziest walk ever and I cant beleive that the rickshaw driver was just going to dump me there and point me in the general direction! I never would have walked that way alone towards a river with no-one around - let alone across it. Once across the ganges his ashram was right there but he assured me that mine was a further 5 min walk straight ahead then right at the Shiva statute. Thankfully he was right but to be honest it had been so mentally exhausting to get this far I felt like throwing my bag in the ganges by then and sitting on the floor next to the sadhu's and crying! I knew I was close so persisted then finally after the help of yet another soldier I found the entrance the the Niketan Ashram.

Next blog..Rishikesh and the yoga madness.

Train Hardiwar to Dehli - March 2010

After some of the most unexpected peaceful days in Rishikesh and Hardiwar it was time to bid farewell and make my way onto yet another overnight train - except excitedly this would be my first overnighter in India travelling 1st class. Can't say that it was what I expected or that I felt any safer than 2nd class - I managed to workout the main difference between the two classes being that in 1st class there is a door and curtain to the cabin of 4 beds.


As I keep saying I seem to have little angels on this trip helping me out when it comes to getting on and off trains, planes, buses etc and this trip was no different. For some reason my train confirmation ticket that I printed off the Indian train site didnt have my seat or carriage number, only that I was first class. Oh let me get off track for one minute... so the train arrives and I walk over to one of the first class doors and patiently qeue along with the rest of the travellers. It's nearly my turn to board the train and a Indian English speaking lady and her family behind me decide to yell out to the tall foreigner down the front and inform me that I can actually board at the other door. Now before you think she was helping me out to enter through a special foreigner door, let it be known that there is no such thing this was an unfortunate display of rude manners that I have encountered time and again with some Indians who will just give it a go to see if they can get me out of there way and get where they need to go faster. Ha! Crap to be her because I knew what she was hoping to acheive so I politely smiled and said "no thank you but I am fine to enter through this door" I was quiet proud of my restraint as in my mind I was visioning a snap attack and lecture on people like her thinking foreigners are stupid - but I breathed and remembered this is all part of the expereience and not to let a few rotten apples rock me.


So boarding the carriage a young boy in uniform helped lift my bag up into the train along with this rather large Punjabi guy sporting enough gold to sink the Titanic. So the young boy went above and beyond anything that is expected of his job and franticallyt tried to work out my carriage and seat number as he hauled my big bag along and flicked on all the cabin lights much to the disgust of other travellers in mid sleep, so I quickly followed behind him turning all the lights off and apologising profously to all the angry travellers whose obviously much needed beauty sleep we were interuppting :)


Finally we came to my cabin - of course it was the first one we walked past but the last that we checked. He pulled aside the curtain and switched on the light - waking the lone Indian sleeping in the lower bed. Again I climbed over my bag apologising that we woke him and in British English the man says its no problem. There were nowhere to store my huge back pack so he agreed to let me leave it beside his bed since I was sleeping on the upper bed opposite him. I settled in with my trusty reading light and Three Cups of Tea book and the man in our pitch dark AC carriage asked where I was from etc. Over the course of the next 30 min I learn that he is a Officier in the Army heading home to see his wife and children which he only gets to do 6 times per year. He was very sweet and I was feeling safe already to have him in my carriage. It turned out that the only other person sleeping in our room of 4 was the gold clad Punjabi guy whose snores played its own Bhangra hits!!! For our early morning arrival into Dehli the Army Officer was already awake with his bedsheets folded and shoes on - sure sign they are military. He had ordered me a chai and we sat there talking about his service with the Indian army and conflict with Pakistan which as many people close to me know is a great area of interest and of course my ears shot up when he mentioned his time in Afghanistan and work with the US military to build schools - I excitedly told him that the book I was currently reading was all about that and I wish for nothing more than that I could go and work with the schools there in the mountains - he obviously agreed that a sole female traveller into these areas was certainly not adviseable.

So after his suggestion that I look for the prepaid auto stand at Dehli station I employed the services of yet another porter to carry my bag through the crowds to the stand - his added benefit was that he fights off all the touts on the platform trying to offer me a overpriced taxi to my destination of choice. He was a happy guy saying Tuk tuk as clearly this was one of the few words some other tourists had called their "auto rickshaws" I paid for my rickshaw which was 65 rupee and went to pay him - he wanted 100 rupee and claimed he was poor and my bag was really heavy - one of the few times I caved was with this guy and told him he was more expensive than my rickshaw and that the only reason he was getting it was because he cracked me up with his tuk tuk commentary - no doubt every tourist arriving into Dehli train station should thank me for their barage of Tuk Tuk words from this guy :)

So I only had the day in Dehli as I was getting a 3pm flight to Chennai - I decided it was time for a pamper after 2 months in India and made my way to the Oberoi - the most expensive hotel in Dehli for a much deserved visit to the spa :) I think I fall into this new category of travellers - not quiet backpacker but definately not affording 5 star hotels. My rickshaw pulled up at the gates of the Oberoi where for image purposes a rickshaw is not allowed up the driveway, so there's me rolling my big ass backpack up the long driveway to the confusion of the security and doorboys who are thinking that surely I could not afford to be staying there. I quickly confirmed their thoughts and said I would need to lock my bags up for the day as I was visiting the spa and having breakfast. I made my way to the restaurant now keep in mind I have been dressed like a Indian for 2 months, am wearing anklets that ring bells with everystep and walk into a 5 star restaurant packed with white collars staying for business. Needless to say their heads all turn and the staff usher me to the quietest part of the room - the out of sight thing I think was happening! So I decided that 500 rupee for a 5 star buffet was just what I needed and went to town on pastries, fruit, bottomless cups of chai (the staff smirked that I refused the english breakfast and insisted on Masala chai) I used the bathroom at the Oberoi and let me tell you I was considering asking management if I could pay to stay in one of the cubicles - a massive step up from my accomodation in parts of India! Once the pamper was over I caught a taxi sitting in Dehli's disgusting traffic to the airport - Sydney is nothing in comparison. At the airport considering my bags were full I swore not to shop and only to look - automatic jinx deployed.... I found a DVD and CD store packed with all the Bollywood goodies I dream of at around $2 each!!!! I dragged myself out of the store determined not to cave and watched some financial news instead - 5 min before I was due to board I realised that I should just buying it all as I will only be paying 10 times the price once I get home, so I was just about to head back when they called me for boarding grrrrrrrr I still regret not buying and am swearing to myself that I will shop next time.


Next blog... Coimbatore and the mission to meet my sponsor child in Tamil Nadu.