Hardiwar - March 2010

So after "finding" myself in Rishkesh it was time to move further down the Ganges stream to Hardiwar. As I promised myself on that scary bus ride up to Rishikesh, I forked out the 750 ruppees (as opposed to the 10 rupee bus ride) to get my own driver to take me the 1 hour drive back down the hill from the rear of the ashram - rather than carrying that cursed backpack 4kms across rocks and the unstable Ganges bridge. The car was the "Ambassador" its like the Volvo of India I say - not because of the driving but more the fact that they are known as solid tanks that never die!

We took the back mountain road from Rishikesh to Hardiwar and it was really beautiful forest and fresh air - I now was transported to Switzerland :) The road follows the Ganges as it winds its way down to Hardiwar and the water continues with its strong current and crystal blue waters. We even passed a park reserve that is said to home several tigers - like a kid I had my head hanging out the window as we sped past and I was determined to spot a wild tiger - alas no Tigger!

Only our final descent down the last hill into Hardiwar I was taken back by the sight that greated me - thousands of tents just like a refugee city! As I mentioned in my previous blog, my timing was perfect for the major Kumbah Melah festival! After my last post quiet a few people asked me what this Kumbah Melah is all about as you had seen some mention on the news of the worlds largest gathering of Hindu pilgrims - sorry I haven't gotten back to you sooner but here's the low-down on Kumbah Melah 2010. So every 6 years there is what is called the "Ardh Kumbh Mela" - at the last one held in 2007 there was apparently 17 million pilgrims who rocked up for this - yes 17 MILLION Hindus!!! So every 9 or 10 years there is what is known as the "Maha Kumbah Mela" (great one) - the last was held in 2001 and attracted 60MILLION Hindu pilgrims - making it the largest gathering in the world according to Wikipeadia! So this is what I was walking into - :) My sister says she hates crowds so I guess she wont feel like she missed out on not attending this one hey?!

The deal is that is is held over a few months- this time it was Jan - April and by the time I reached Hardiwar 40 million people had already passed through! It works on auspicious bathing dates so they are the ones to avoid and I missed it by 3 days so the crowds were still pretty strong. Apparently its held at different locations according to the position of Jupiter and the Sun and is considered the most sacred of all pilgrimages for a Hindu to attend. The thing I was most scared of was the 000's of naked Sadhu's I had been warned to steer clear of - and I mean naked. I saw a few and they kindly bent over in front of me to take a dip in the ganges - thanks for the view!

I think I was really lucky as to me it felt like any other populated Indian city but with a few extra naked sadhu's running around. I stayed at the Hotel Jewel pretty much 2 blocks from the train station - I think they forgot my booking as he quickly went to make my room whilst I waited outside and I so loved the old soap from the previous guest in the shower, dirty floors and need I mention the toilet! Thankfully being a germophobe stuck in India I had my Pine O Cleen wipes - thanks mum - so I got to work and cleaned everything. Oh and I had to tie my sari up in the bathroom window because the staff would sit there for a smoke and could look right in and see me on the loo and in the shower - nice but that's India for $30 actually I think I was getting ripped! Best ever AC and jet powered fan though and of course a TV with all my favourite bollywood tunes - yeah!

After dumping my stuff I was famished and decided to brave the crowds and look for this Big Ben restaurant that I saw down the street and recalled Lonely Planet recommends. Yes I agree it was brilliant to sit in AC comfort in a a fishbowl and watch the world go by, but they too looked back at me and you could see them comment how many foreigners were all in the same location - time to go!

Just before sunset I took a cycle rickshaw down to the main ghat where the major Aarti ceremony was taking place that night. The city was in military lockdown everywhere as there were just too many people to control. My cycle rickshaw was only allowed to drop me around 2km from the ghat so I had to walk the rest of the way, but there were so many people I just followed the crowd. The second I stepped down to the ghat there was just so much to see - I really was like a kid in a candy store and was going "snap Jap haapy". My senses were peaking so I decided the best thing I could do was find a step on the ghat amongst some of the pilgrims and watch the people parade. Wow I could have sat there for days!!!! Where to look.... the amazing sunset, the pilgrims placing their offering of flowers and candle as it floats with the current down the ganges, the slum kids in the ganges who tie themselves to the railing so the current dosent pull them down stream whilst they hold a pane of glass and place this at the top of the water looking for valuable offerings that they can take back out of the Ganges!

Let me tell you about this crazy scene... a man walks down to the stairs of the ghat says a prayer and throws a roll of Indian Rupees that he has "cleverly" wrapped in a piece of leather and tied twine around the roll of cash - he finishes his prayer and throws it into the Ganges!! We are talking a poor country with this guy throwing cashin into the Ganges as an offering - its humbling but mind blowing at the same time, especially considering two minutes early two men said a prayer and threw in a 100 rupee note and those kids with the magnifiying glass.... he dives in and fetches it in front of the guy!!! As you might have guessed the Indian guy chased him and clipped him one across the head, cursed him, said a prayer and threw it back into the Ganges whilst glaring at the kid to make sure he didn't do it again!!!

As sunset was fast approaching I decided to stroll further up along the river to work out where the Aarti would be held - easy enough just look for the 000's of people already parking themselves for prime position. Security was getting everyone to pack up like sardines and sit rather than stand - all a little to claustrophobic at that moment for me so I kept strolling. All sorts of preparations were taking place kind of like the absolutions a Muslim does before prayer - that's what appeared was happening. Parents had their babies held down by relatives as a barber seated on a flattened cardboard box on the floor with this super sharp blade shaved the babies head - as you can imagine the babies are screaming their heads off. Men were also sitting cross-legged on flattened boxes getting haircuts, trimmed moustaches and faces shaved - these were not barber stalls my understanding is that it was all their "cleansing" ritual before taking the holy dip. The barbers and flower offering sellers were making a roaring trade! There were even children roaming the crowds selling plastic sheets to sit on, but wait these sheets are taken from the printing machines of food factories - I saw Maggi noodles, CC's - all those foil packets before they are made into packets and are still part of the sheets from press - cracked me up!

As more people appeared to be descending onto the ghat for the start of the Aarti, I decided it was time to scout for my spot and take rest, thing was I really didnt want to sit just incase there was a surge and I got trampled on or if I did start feeling claustrophobic, then I could make an easy exit. See that's the problem right there, the word easy! This is India, nothing is easy :)

(OK delicious sweets and curries are!) So I found my spot where it appeared those around me didnt want to sit either - perfect. Ten minutes later the "Aarti police" as I called them in their official blue uniforms and "donation" book came and screamed at us telling us to sit, so reluctantly we did.

So this Aarti police... I had read that if you want to give a donation you give it to them and they give you a receipt, rather than encouraging begging etc. Except if the charity collectors in Australia adopted the Aarti polices collection methods, I think charities would be rich, rich, rich! Let me set the scene... so they get you to sit so no-one can move, you are trapped and thoughts of using the toilet is not an option, then they have you so they start pacing back and forth like an army general barking orders that as a pilgrim you should be making a donation, what kind of Hindu dosent support the organisation that pulls this together and allows this event to take place, 5 rupees - you cant afford 5 rupees?! This abuse seriously went on for an hour and it was happening throughout the crowds - there were several of these guys tag-teaming so just as you sighed releif that the headache was leaving the next guy came over and started and if you caved and gave money you were a national hero. My head killed and based on principle of how they were doing this I made sure I made no eye contact and refused the "donation under interrogation" (im so making a heap of t-shirts with all these sayings!)

Aside from my migraine, I became aware of a Indian man just behind me on my left who couldn't seem to stop staring at me and every little photo I took - more on him later though.

So the Aarti was finally starting and it was like they had just opened a new slide at Wet n Wild on the Gold Coast! People go into the Ganges for dip - men in their undies, women in their saaris and Sadhus some naked but most in their Sumo style g-string! The bells started ringing and two men holding a brass burner with huge flames blessed the crowds - the heat from the flames so bad there was a nominated guy there with a bucket of water to keep pouring onto the burner holders hands and face so I'm assuming he felt less pain! Some families took their children or elderly to the priests for blessings and then it was all over just like that! Being non-Hindu, I definately enjoyed the spectacle in the lead up to the Aarti more.

So back to my friend behind me, peering over my should- ok so he wanted to look at my photos or was he eyeing off my camera? So as the crowds got up and I took the emergency brace position from any wondering hands that see a foreign girl and like to grope - luckily I managed my second crowd incident free (Jaipur was obviously my friends faults for being blonde and blue eyed! ;) So as I start to move with the crowd this guy and his friend start following me, I know because I did the mandatory Hollywood weave and chase technique - around the corner and they were right behind me again. So usually all you have to do is turn, look them in the eye so they know they have been spotted and being embarressed they leave you alone - not the case with stupid and his friend. Second time I raised my voice so everyone around would hear and see - they back off a little but catch up later. This went on for 10-15 min and my patience was out so I stormed up to a policeman who was standing next to the military guys, grabbed his stick, turned raised it and my cursing voice to the two stupids behind me and boy you should have seen their faces! Actually mine would have been interesting too because I didn't even know what I was doing until it was too late - the police and solider jumped at me then saw the two guys I was aiming at and they took over my cursing for me. I apologised profously to the police man and gave him back his stick - they couldn't stop laughing at the crazy foreign woman that just lost it. Needless to say I didnt see those guys for the rest of the night. After that I strolled around the bazaar, ate some dhal and rice at an over-priced AC franchise that looked like an Indian version of McDonalds. I headed back down here the next day in the daylight to take some last pictures and send off a little prayer of my own down the ganges. So when the publish the final headcount of Kumbah Mehla 2010 you can include me :)

Next blog Hardiwar to Dehli on the toot toot.....

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.