The India Chronicles 2000-2001

Yes, we did make it to India and yes, we are getting used to the numbers of people, the hustle, the bustle, the dirt and the garbage. In fact, we are rather enjoying ourselves and have learned, as Gord Konantz advised us, to keep our sense of humour. We might as well get this over with as well. The weather is great. We are enjoying warm, summer-like days, but not too warm, and the evenings have cooled off nicely. We even need a blanket at night. Eat your heart out.

Monday, Nov 6 was our flight day to Varanassi. We knew the plane had to be safe after we had undergone all the security checks to get on the plane. As well as the usual security check and body frisking to get into the departure lounge, your bags are x-rayed and secured with a yellow plastic closure. When your plane is called, you must identify your bags before the luggage is loaded and you have to pass a second security check and frisking on the stairs leading to the plane. The flight after that was an easy 1 hour, except we were delayed while the Indian Airforce performed practice maneuvers over Varanasi. I read somewhere that British left India with a legacy of bureaucracy and it is true. We are getting very good at filling out forms. Going through immigrat io n and claiming our luggage takes at least 3 forms and 5 officials, but we managed to be one of the first out of the airport and found the airport bus to take us to a hotel in the Cantonnment area of Varanasi. This is near the train station and a little quieter than staying right in the old section of Varanasi, but it means we had to take an auto-rickshaw to tour the interesting parts of the city.

We arranged to be picked up the next morning at 5:30 AM so that we would be at the Ganges River for daybreak. It was still dark when we got up, but we were ready. Our driver, a 16 year old, took us to the Kedar Ghat, where we arranged to hire a row boat and rower to see the early morning activity at the Ghats. A Ghat actually refers to the stairs that lead from the various temples into the Ganges. The Kedar Ghat is a favourite of Punjabis, and apparently women, as there were several hundred women bathing in the waters and discreetly as possible, washing their hair and bodies. You can rest assured I was not tempted to jump in. The water did not look inviting, floating with all kinds of rubbish and the receptacle for the ashes of the dead. Nevertheless, it was fascinating watching all the activity. Each Ghat was a little different. Some of them operated as the local laundry, with the washing wallahs up to their knees in the water, slapping the clothing against large stone tablets permanently anchored at the river's edge. One Ghat had a sign advertising the Varanasi Swimming club and two men looked as if they were on their way across to the other side. We had a bit of a hassle with our rower, who wanted to charge us more to row the entire length of the Ghats, so we had him let us off and we walked back to our starting point across the landings on the Ghats. We found that even more interesting, observing everyone up close, despite having to wind our way around the dogs and cows and cow dung.

Our rickshaw driver was waiting for us and suggested a further tour of the temples; for additional cost, of course. After some breakfast, we set off, stopping briefly at several temples and rode through the grounds of Varanasi University, built in the 1960s. The University was the most interesting part. The temples aren't very old or particularly interesting for us, so we had the driver take us to the train station for our next experience; booking a reserved seat on a train. We planned to take the train to Satna, stay overnight and then take a bus to visit the temples in Khajuraho. There is even a special room for foreign tourists with chairs filled with people and only one desk to serve everyone. Patience is required and you might as well get to know your fellow travellers because you will probably be there for quite some time. It took us 2 hours, and the final transaction took just 5 minutes.

After that, we repaired to a nearby lunch spot and refreshed, decided to return to the old part of the city to explore the back streets. The taxi driver let us off near the old market, where no motorized vehicles are allowed. We had gone only a short distance, soaking in the atmosphere of the busy marketplace, when we were befriended by a gentleman who became our guide for the rest of the afternoon. This, we realized, is the usual practice. People are more than willing to be of assistance, but often expect to be paid at the end and you have to decide in the beginning if it will be worth it. This tour was worth it. We started out by watching a parade of worshippers led by decorated elephants, marching bands, women carrying flaming pots on their heads, and men waving colourful silk banners and spreading marigold petals over the street. I'm not sure which festival was being celebrated, as there are so many in India, but it was fun. After the parade had passed, our guide beckoned us into the narrow, winding alleys of Varanasi to see the Golden temple. It was a hive of activity, but open only to Hindus, so I had to be content to peek through the door. Our guide led us to a Guesthouse next door where we climbed 5 flights of stairs to look down over the golden dome of the temple and out across the city. Our guide told us that 25 - 40 years ago most of the sprawling city we saw was still fields. From there we followed him through more dark alleys to reach the Manikarnika Ghat, where 150 cremations are performed each afternoon. We would never have found our way in or out without him. No photos are allowed of the cremations, but we were free to wander and observe the burning funeral pyres and bodies arriving, draped in shrouds and covered with garlands of flowers. On our way out of the old section, we turned a corner to hear a 3 piece band serenading a wedding procession carrying the bride on a sedan chair to her reception. Enough excitement for the day. We took an auto rickshaw back to our hotel through the worst traffic jam and pollution to date. The driver was a real cowboy who zoomed in and out of the traffic, liberally using his brakes every few feet. That evening we were ready for a quiet dinner for 2 on the roof top restaurant next to our hotel, and ready to leave Varanasi.

The next day we walked to a nearby hotel for breakfast. As a joke, I bet Ray we would receive 10 - 20 offers of a rickshaw ride on our 10 minute walk back to our hotel and I lost count after refusing 15.

Our first train ride was quite comfortable. There was no first class available on the train but the 2nd class car , which converts to a 3 tier sleeper at night, was fine for the 6 hour daytime trip. The first Guesthouse we tried in Satna, recommended by the Lonely Planet, was a dump, so we took our rickshaw driver up on his suggestion and "upgraded". I'm glad we did. A Danish man who shared our compartment in the train did stay there and when we met him again later in the trip he told us he thinks he picked up fleas there!

The next morning we walked over to the local bus station and bought reserved seats for Khajuraho. The bus was quite comfortable and roomy, and thank goodness we had a careful driver as the roads were almost entirely under repair, so we weren't bounced around too much on the 4 hour trip. A few Km from our destination, 2 m en got on the bus and proceeded to try to persuade the few Western passengers to come to their Guesthouse. We did agree to go with one of them as the photos shown us looked OK, the price was right, and the room did live up to its billing. That's how it is done around here. Lots of hustle for the tourist dollar. Especially in Khajuraho, but I remembered to keep my sense of humour and ended up enjoying the town. Ray found a bank to change some American money to Rupees, so I sat under a tree outside the bank, where I attracted the attention of several postcard sellers and gift shop owners. Once they understood that I was really not going to buy anything, they were quite content to sit with me and chat. Everyone loves to practice English. They even shooed off other touts while I sat with them.

That afternoon Ray & I decided to just walk around the area and visit the original, old village of Khajuraho. We picked up one of the 'non-guide' guides on the way. First a young boy on a bicycle followed along chatting to us, and then we were joined by a young man who wanted to show us around his village. We ended up following the 2 of them through the narrow streets as they explained how the caste system worked in their village and showed us the ancient water wells, still in use. We even went through the courtyard of one home to climb to the roof for a view of the countryside. We visited a village school where small children were learning to write on slates and read from a few tattered books, met the teacher and made a small donation. Our guides pointed out that the villagers had used parts of ancient temples found when they dug down for the foundations of their homes. Statues decorated the outside of the homes and the cornerstones of many of the houses were ancient pillars. As we left, we were invited to visit the young man's shop and as payment, I bought a small trinket from his very small supply of goods.

Khajuraho Temples.

Carvings on temples

Khajuraho was where we discovered that we have arrived in India just a few weeks too late. The government has decided that tourists can afford to pay American style entry fees for many of the historical monuments. Instead of Rs 5 , the entry fee for the temples in Khajuraho is now $10 USD, and there is no 'Free Friday'. The locals are incensed and worried that this will discourage business, which it probably will for the smaller areas. We were a captive audience & so paid up. Ray is annoyed that the fees are pegged to the US $, not Indian Rupees. Anyway, we toured the temples, which are similar to those in Angkor Wat, but on a smaller scale. They were built in the same era, 11th C, and are constructed of red sandstone and encrusted with carved figures of men and women. The most common are Apsaras, young girls with impossible half melon breasts posed with one hip stuck out. The temples are also famous for their somewhat erotic depictions of couples in various sexual positions. Sort of like the Kama Sutra in stone. The main temples are in an area surrounded by lovely, well kept gardens, so it was an enjoyable place to visit. In the afternoon, we rented bicycles to pedal a few K out of town to see more temples. One of these was a Jain temple built this century to house Buddhas a nd other artifacts and featured paintings and photographs of famous 'sky clad' (naked) Jain priests.

Orchha Palace

Chatries in Orchha

Saturday we had our 2nd trip on a local bus to the much quieter town of Orchha, famous for its 17th century Palaces built of red sandstone on a fortified island. The Palaces and nearby temples were quite well preserved, with still visible murals and great views of the countryside from their upper floors. The buildings were decorated with domed turrets and spires that were the favorite perch of vultures and green parakeets. Under the eaves of the many roofs were giant beehives, covered with swarms of large active bees. We were told you could buy the honey in the local market. We stayed in the grandly named Deep Regency Guesthouse, brand new, but the same simple accom modation we have been choosing: usually 2 single beds pushed together, an overhead fan, a very firm mattress, firm pillows, a bottom sheet and a blanket with no decoration to speak of in the room. We choose a room with an attached bathroom with, if possible, a western toilet and hot water shower. You have to put up with power outages and sometimes the promised hot water is rather chilly, but it is actually quite comfortable and the price is right. We have been paying between Rs 200 - Rs 350 per night (about 6 - 12 CAD). The Guesthouses often have small restaurants in a patio or there are always others nearby. The food has been quite good and we have not had any problems with the quality, as we have made sure the food is freshly prepared and the water is boiled. Orchha is along the banks of the Betwa River, a favorite swimming and bathing spot of the locals. We walked up the river admiring the rapids, but according to some other tourists, we didn't go far enough to find the cleanest water for swimming.

We could have lingered on, but by Monday we were on the move again and learned a few more lessons on Indian travel. We took an auto-rickshaw 20 K into the town of Jhansi to catch the train for Agra. We had left plenty of time to make the booking, but when Ray got to the wicket, he was offered tickets on a train leaving in 15 minutes. He took it and we rushed off for the platform, but of course the train was not on time. A whole village load of families, carrying all their worldly belongings in large plastisized jute bags on their heads, plunked down beside us and proceeded to have lunch. They were quite interesting to watch as they communally took care of the many small children. I asked Ray what car our reservations were for, but he had neglected to get reserved seats. Big mistake. When the train did arrive, it was already full and we were intimidated enough by the crush of people that we made a beeline for the AC Sleeper coach door, and sat down in the first available empty seats. A helpful Indian women asked us what our seat numbers were and when we explained the situation, her comment was "Welcome to India". She went to find the conductor and arranged for us to get reserved seats by paying the conductor the considerable extra charge. It was worth it this time, but in the future we will be more careful. I must say that we have found the Indian people very friendly and only too willing to help the lost looking tourist. They ask where we are from and what we think of India. They beam when I tell them that there are lots of people and lots of activities to see.

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