Richard's Travel Blog

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It’s been awhile since I wrote, I know. There wasn’t much going on in Goa, only hanging out with Beatrice, maybe wandering over to the village, and sitting in one of three places open to eat and watch sunsets in the evening. The last time I was travelling, I would think up things to write about, even if I never did write them or I didn’t decide to send them. I’m not too inspired to do that this time. I guess it’s from not spending so much time alone with my thoughts.

I did finally get out of Goa, on a 42 hour train to Delhi. I’m there now, waiting for another train to Jammu which leaves in two and a half hours. Delhi, of course, has broadband internet, so I can write and post a picture. There is no railway to Srinigar, so I will proceed there by bus after arriving in Jammu in the morning. Beatrice was to fly to Delhi yesterday. After that, she was tring to figure out how to get to Srinigar but was having ticket booking problems. This is India. We’ll meet up in Srinigar, it looks like.

This is such a different trip than last time. Jeepers, I wonder why? I like both ways. There is nothing like a win-win situation.

Beatrice has been trying to convince me to go with her for 2-3 weeks on part of her 10 week horse trek in the mountains of Ladakh. I’m thinking about it. I need to decide pretty soon. Maybe in Srinigar. That would be a cheaper place to buy trekking shoes and cold weather clothes and a sleeping bag. She’s been talking to her contacts in Leh, including the guide. I does look like horses, saddles and other equipment can be arranged. Even the guide’s wife will be happier if Beatrice isn’t sleeping alone in a tent with her husband. I just have to decide. My butt, legs and lungs say “no”, but I think it’ll be much like the hiking/horse trek in the Andes a few years ago, which was great. They can drop me at a roadside where busses pass. I’m inclined to go, and abandon unnecesasry shoes, etc., when I’m finished. Hmmmm.

I don’t have any profound thoughts, not that I ever do. I think I’ll go get some lunch and head back to the train station. I’ll likely write from Srinigar. If not from there, I’ll write from Leh in about a week or so. Be well, all of you.

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Sometimes a like thought in a different language translates well literally. Beatrice’s translation from the German has had us laughing for days, for several reasons. In this case, there is even more truth in the saying than the simple English version. Figure it out. This is a work in progress.

We’ve been here in Arambol, Goa, for 10 days now. Most of it has been us getting to know each other. The activities of the day usually consist of having tea on the porch and looking at the surf, getting a bite to eat, lounging around, having conversations of varying importance, and going on an outing. Usually that’s just going to the village itself to email, shop, or something. We’ve driven around North Goa on a scooter a couple of times. Yesterday we went to Calangute where I could upload these pictures at a high speed connection, then rode around places I hadn’t been. Mostly it’s the same stuff I did last time I was here, only this time I have company.

Beatrice read my first blog entry and remarked that it was just about her. My answer to that was that that is about the only thing going on that is of interest to me. I find that I immediately became Indian again. It’s like going to Stockton and trying to be fascinated with things going on there. I just take it as it comes, and Goa is old hat. At least this beach scene is. Here are the views from the beach in front of our porch. The first is early in the morning. The second is ain the other direction after the sun was all the way up.

To the right of where I was standing to take the second picture is the row of guesthouses and huts where we are staying. Almost everything is closed. One of the few places with available rooms is the place just to the left of  Blue Fin. That little porched area downstairs is where we are staying.

Everything will close up when the monsoon comes. If it doesn’t come before June 1, we will hang out here till then. Then we’ll hed slowly toward Leh in Ladakh, from where Beatrice will go horse trekking for a couple of months. We have to go slowly because she doesn’t adjust well to elevation changes. We’ll do it in stages, first going to Srinigar, Kashmir, then higher to Gulmarg, near there. Then we’ll go to Leh. When she goes, I was planning to go to Nepal then Tibet. but the more I read about Nepal in the rainy season, the less I want to go there. I need to do more research about when it is good to go to Tibet. It seems likely that I’ll just deal with Nepal for as long as it takes to get to Tibet from there.

So, as usual, I’m a little indecisive about what I want to do. As alwaays, though, that’s fine with me. Something might get my attention between now and then.

Beatrice thought I should post this picture of me folding up a leaf of cooked cabbage and devouring it. For those who wanted more pictures of me, you asked for it.

Hi y’all

After returning to California for two months to take care of some business and see my family and friends, I’m back in India. I’ll post some pictures when I am in a place with high speed connection. Currently, I am in North Goa, at the most northerly and low-keyed tourist beach village, Arambol. I arrived in Mumbai on May 6, and met up with my German friend from Dharamsala, Beatrice. You may remember my mentioning her and posting a picture back in October. We kept up via email while she was back in Germany, and planned to meet up this month. She’s going on a two and a half month horse trek in the Himalayas of Ladakh next month. I’m going to the mountainous areas of Northern India and Nepal. then maybe Tibet. I’d like to stay out of the monsoons, if I can. They’ll start here in South India in two or three weeks.

I know inquiring minds want to know… Yes, Beatrice and I are, you might say (or might not, if you were to be watching it), romantically involved. I’m sure I’ll write about that. So far it’s lasted 12 days, anyway. Woo hoo! I’ll post another picture when I can.

My initial thoughts about being back in India… Well, there are a lot. One thing is that right now I’m with someone, and that is much different than almost all of my travels for the last almost 20 years. Obviously, that is completely different. And we’re being romantic, so that’s a lot different than just having a travelling companion. As for being back in India, since we are in Goa, it could be said that we’re not in “real India”. Beatrice needed downtime after working hard. She also has a lot of baggage for her horse trek. So we decided to head for this quiet beach resort where she could relax. I don’t care what we do. Finally, near the end of my last time over here, I was able to internalize that I am not in a hurry, that there is nothin I have to do. This place is as good as the next, and I’ll be in “real India” soon enough, when Beatrice heads out.

I’m curious. I’d like to know who is reading this. If you read this, could you send an email or write a comment on this site?

Tomorrow, I think I’ll take a scooter or motorbike to Calangute, about 20 km away. I need to go to an ATM. There will be high speed internet there. I’ll write again and post a few pictures.

I hope all has been well with you all and, again, I hope to hear from you.

Here is the picture of the Taj Mahal you are all acquainted with. You go in the south gate, and there it is. Most people walk around and in it for a couple of hours. This is what I did, though I felt like going again to see it in the evening, so I talked my way back in. I didn’t want to go the $15 entrance fee again. Is it the most beautiful building in the world, as the Indians like to think? You be the judge. Like all sites like this, being there is different than just seeing pictures. I think it’s the most beautiful mausoleum I’ve ever seen. It’s covered in carved and inlaid marble, and it’s been well preserved and cleaned.

Here is another shot from inside taken at dawn.

I got to Agra on a Friday, so because there is a mosque over there to the left, the site was closed to non-Muslims. So that day, I walked around the outside of the walls. One might think it would be highly developed, but it’s not on two sides. Here’s the path on the west side.

To the north is the Yamuna River. Here is the view over the wall at the back of the Taj and upriver, if you pan to the right toward the 17th century Agra Fort.

On the east side are some shops not worth photographing, and to the south is the tourist ghetto which is also not worth photographing.

There are a couple of other things to see in Agra. there’s another mausoleum, which is usually called the mini Taj, a small palace, and a temple which has been under construction for 100 years called Dayal Bagh. It is going to be very beautiful. Unfortunately they don’t allow photography, but you might be able to search it.

Most people stay here for a day, maybe two. I’ve been here a week because I tweaked my back about five days ago and am resting it. I could have checked out two or three other places within three hours of here, but decided to bag it. I’m okay with what I’ve seen in India this time, and my plane home is tomorrow night from Delhi, only 200 km away. I’m just hanging out, reading, eating, watching TV, and surfing the net.

I did get out to Fatehpur Sikri, about 20 km from here. This, of course, is an hour bus ride from here. Oh, my back! It was the Moghul capital for about ten years. After they built it, they learned there was no water. Hence, it was also called Akbar’s Folly. It looks better than the pictures.

Finally, here is the front of Agra Fort and the view downriver to the Taj.

I’ll be returning to India in May, insha Allah. This is probably my last entry from India. Maybe, even probably, I’ll write from the US. But if not, I hope you all are having a nice almost spring and thanks for reading these things.

  2500 years ago, the newly enlightened Siddhartha Gautama met up with a few of his ascetic friends who were shocked that he had given up self-denial as a means to transcend the human experience. Ascetism had been an unquestioned means of doing this for a minimum of a thousand years. He had a lot to explain. To their credit, they sat  and heard him out in Sarnath, “the place of deer”, about 10 km north of Varanasi.

In the eastern part of an area of the ruins of centuries of monasteries and monuments is that big reconstructed stupa. It marks the spot where it is said that first sermon set the wheel in motion. Things were never the same again for those ascetics and, arguably, anybody else. They listened, and a few more people came. Then a few more.

Not much remains of the structures in Deer Park. After the patronage of Ashoka and the Mauryan Dynasty he founded, Buddhism went into decline, though not without Hindu mythology incorporating the Buddha into Hinduism as the 8th incarnation of Krishna. The real end to Sarnath came at the hands of invading Muslims who used the crumbling buildings’ stone and brick as building material. What you see there now is heavily restored, and mostly that is just foundations. There is a broken pillar of Ashoka’s, warning against schism, and few other artifacts. That stupa was rebuilt with about 25% original bits, painstakingly placed where the ararchaeologists think they belong. To the north is a deer park, where you can walk in peace and, maybe, have a little moment of insight yourself. And, yes, they’ve put some deer in Deer Park.

Outside the site you see about what you would expect. There are, I think, nine temples. Right inside the site boundry is a Jain temple. There are also dozens of souvenir stands and shops, food and drink stands, packs of rickshaw drivers, Indian and “Continental” (meaning western, after a fashion) restaurants, beggars, etc., the same as you see in any place like this. All in all, I’d say this place seems like it would be at least an intersting place for anyone. Surprisingly, though many thousands of tourists go to Varanasi, few go to Sarnath. Aside from that big group of people listening to a monk shown in the second picture, I’ll bet not more than about 50 people went inside the site for the 3 hours I was there. There were only a couple of sleeping homeless Indians in the deer park. Peaceful is good, I guess.

Every time I think I’ve seen enough of India, someplace or something comes along that reminds me why I like this country. It is full of surprises. I went to Varanasi in a very blase’ mood, counting the days till I return to the US and feeling like I had to “do” Varanasi. I’m so glad I did. I’ve seen the photos, the documentaries and the National Geographics about the spirituality and sights. I’ve been to many old cities in many ancient cities. I’ve had rooms with views and eaten in so many cuisines that I’m too confused to discuss it. But Varanasi is something special, not so much because the cuisine is that great, or the views more outstanding than other outstanding views around the world, or that the spirituality is any more palpable than several places in the world. It’s not the most exotic place I’ve ever been. It’s just that it’s all there, and it’s unique, even in India.

The first picture is from my room window. I love my rooms with a view. Here, I’d rest sometimes after my feet were tired, lean on the sill, and watch the sights far and near. This view is up the Ganges. One can see why the ancients built a city here. At this bend in the river, there is a broad, sandy flood plain on the other side. On this side, the bank is relatively steep. So, the rising and falling river mostly affects the other side. On this side, it just goes up and down the ghats, or steps.

You have to go up to the rooftop terrace restaurant to see the other way, down the river.

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Just to the left of the pink pavillion in the lower left are the famous burning ghats, where probably a hundred of Hindus are cremated. They ask for us not to take pictures of cremations, and as much as I wanted to and could have gotten away with it, I respected that. You’ll have to pick the National Geographic or search the net for that.

The following pictures are of along the ghats, taken either form on the ghats or during the early morning boat cruise many tourists take.

Here’s looking across the Ganges at dawn. The swimmers in the distance are cleansing themselves of their sins in one of the most polluted rivers in the world.

Varanasi is fulll of holy men, called sadhus. Some are extreme. Most just quietly amble the streets, begging for food or money. They give blessings. Sometimes they just sit around, or sit around smoking hash. One of the following is of some tourists smoking with the sadhus.

There was a big prayer ceremony in Varanasi commemorating Shiva’s marriage to Paravati while I was there.

 

One of the more extreme sadhus had a practice of wrapping his penis around Shiva’s trident. At first, I thought he had probably gradually made a hole in it and put the trident shaft through it. I went to where he was again, and it wasn’t THAT extreme. what he has done is gradually stretched his foreskin so it could be wrapped around the shaft once, then secured. then he rotated the shaft 360 degrees, pulling up all the stretched loose skin along the side. Then, he turned it 360 more degrees, wrapping his penis around the shaft.

As if that wasn’t enough, he put the shaft between his legs and had another holy man stand on it.

I do notice that he’s holding the weight with his hands. The other sadhu has the elephant man’s disease, a rare and enviable blessing.

Three and four wheeled vehicles are not allowed on the old city’s narrow lanes. This gives it a certain charm. Of course, part of the charm is the slurry of cow flop and garbage you have to wade through.

So, there you have it from Varanasi. I’m hoping a picture says a thousand words. It’s interesting this time, with picture posting capability. I’m hardly writing anything. Maybe next time around, I’ll write more. I feel a need to express myself, but I know few want to hear that. I’m thinking the pictures are more entertaining.

I’ve had a couple of miserable travel days in the last week, but they have been worth it. A 12 hour combination train and two bus rides got me from Bhopal to Khajuharo. Khajuharo was the capital of an Indian Kingdom which lasted fromthe 10th to the 13th centuries. The temple building era lasted only just over a hundred years, before they retreated to their forts where they hung on for a long time. The complex they left behind was an exuberant expression of the joys of living a spiritual life to it’s fullest. Not only are the temples of architectural excellence, but the sculpted exteriors show beautifully, often erotically, the daily lives of a people comfortable with their place in the world.

 

Here is a close up of part of the exterior sculpture.

Let’s face it, most people go for the eroticism. Most of it is pretty tame. Some involves groups. One involves a horse. This first series is cute. First the couple is warming up, then they’re getting into it, then they get interrupted by a monkey which they are shooing away.

Finally, they can get back to business. There is a problem with one of the guy’s heads. His other brain is soldiering on.

Here are groups. I like the one where the woman is looking on through her upraised palms.

And finally, here is everybody’s favorite, including the woman’s whose head is in the shade. If you could see her, she’s peeking through her palms. Saddle up.

I think the people back then enjoyed their art as much as you have. Why not. Life can be fun.

From Khajuharo I went to Varanasi on another 14 hour government bus ride. I’ve got the photos uploaded, and will blog about this place soon, maybe from Lucknow, where I’m going tomorrow.

Until then….

After killing hundreds of thousands in conquering Kalinga in the 3rd century BC, Emporor Ashoka foresook violence, embraced Buddhism, and built many temples. The grandest complex was at Sanchi. There are a couple of intact stupas, which are just monuments usually containing relics of important Buddhists of the Buddha’s day. There are ruins of some more stupas. The gates fell and were restored about 150 years ago. Here is the biggest, best stupa.

If you look at the columns on the southern gate here, you will see the four-headed lion symbol of Ashoka’s kingdom. The one on the right is printed on every denomination of Indian banknote.

Mostly, the colums are carved with scenes from the Buddha’s life we know for sure he had, and of scenes from the other lives he is said to have had. Though the columns were re-erected, the details of the sculpture remained remarkable intact, considering they are over 2000 years old and the whole place was practically abandoned for many centuries while Buddhism went into decline and practically disappeared from India.

There are many insciptions there, relating to the debate between the pacifists and the practical, warning of scism. Apparently they had to decided whether to fight to protect themselves or not. It’s unknown how the details of that debate went. We do know they fought, but as in the case of all empires, it was eventually defeated. Some debates echo throughout history, eh?

Here is a scene from the walkway around the western gate of that stupa, about halfway up, out over the countryside. It is a very pretty place indeed.

I took the 32 hour train, two nights and one day, to Bhopal because I wanted to go to Sanchi, where there is temple complex built by the first great king of much of India, Ashoka, in the 3rd-2nd centuries B.C. Bhopal is actually a pretty nice city. There isn’t much for the tourist to see, so it isn’t jaded by tourism. I had a cold and it was rainy and cold (Can you believe THAT?), so I hung out and did very little. I hotel next to mine had the best Indian food for a good price I’ve had yet, so I really didn’t mind just eating and watching TV. At any given time, there are at least three English language movies on TV, and there’s CNN and usually BBC, not to mention English language Indian TV and news. “The Young and the Restless” is popular. so is “Cheers”, Seinfeld”, Malcolm in the Middle”, and Everybody Loves Raymond”. The favorite movie genres are horror and shoot ’em ups.

The one thing I wanted to do was see the site of the Union Carbide chemical disaster. Because so many tens of thousands were killed or disabled, and the birth defect rate went so high, the tragedy is still very much a part of their lives. Only after talking to someone for a while, can you drag it out of him that to some extent the accident was the fault of Indians too. The Indians are great at avoiding responsibility of anything, large or small. People don’t have jobs here; they have positions. The buck stops nowhere. Anyway, the prevailing opinion is that the CEO of Dow, which bought Union Carbide and washed their hands of the whole thing, should hang and the victims compensated more that the $80 some of them got. More money was indeed given to the government, which is still sitting on it. I assume it’s trickling away. This is India.

Here is the factory site, mostly a goat pasture now, the wall in front, and the memorial garden.

The only other interesting thing that happened in Bhopal was while I was being lost trying to find the Union Carbide factory, I blundered into a funeral. I was invited to join the prayers, procession and cremation. I had seen cremations from afar, but not up close. I was discouraged from taking pictures, so there are none. It’s very real, watching the departed person placed in the middle of a very large pile of  logs the set alight. After she had burned for about an hour, as is customary so evil spirits don’t enter her next reincarnation’s body, her eldest son smashed her skull with a big bamboo pole. Very real. One of her nephews then took me to the factory site. It was a very real day.

   I went through Tranjavur (Tanjure) and Tiruchirappalli (Trichy) on my way to Madurai. There are nice temples in those places, and it broke up what would have been another grueling all day government bus ride. Also, I caught a cold, so three nights of downtime in Trichy was good for me. I have pictures of the temples in those cities, but there is no reason to post them because the 17th century temple complex in Madurai is the crown jewel of Tamil temples. All of them in Tamil Nadu are distinctive, riotously intricate, and sometimes grand in scale. I will let the pictures of Madurai mostly speak for themselves.

   First, there is no vantage point from where you can photograph the whole complex, so here is a picture of a model which is in the museum in the Thousand Pillared Hall.

   All of those towers are connected by halls, rooms, and sanctums collectively known as the Thousand Pillared Hall. 1000 must be an approximately right number for how many there are.

   Non-Hindus are not allowed in the sanctums, but you can see but not photograph inside. There are, however, many altars like this. This is about 10 feet high.

   Here are some shots of some of the towers. The best view is from the rooftop of a 5 story textiles/jewelry/carpet/handicraft store. They have a good gig going. They meet you in the street and encourage you to get the best view of the complex from their roof. There’s an elevator, but you get to be tended by a salesman all they way back down through the store. I TOLD them I wasn’t buying, but they insisted “No buy, just look”. So I looked at wonderful Kashmiri carpets and drank lots of tea on the sofa for about an hour. The better pictures are from ground level.

 

And here are close-ups and closer-ups of, as put well in Lonely Planet, “the spectacular pastiche of Dravidian architecture”.

 So there you have it, the reason I’m still in South India. Now it’s time for the home stretch. With less than a month to go in India this time, before hopefully returning in May, I’m catching a train for Bhopal (yes, that Bhopal) tonight. It’ll take two nights and a day to get there. From there I’ll bunny hop over to Sanchi where the legendary founder of the first grat Indian empire, King Ashoka, built Buddhist monuments in the 3rd century BC. He embraced Buddhism after slaughtering hundreds of thousands of people establishing the Mauryan empire. I’m mixed about visiting the site of the Union Carbide chemical factory disaster which killed tens of thousands and permanently disabled hundreds of thousands in 1984. The victims got pittances from Union Carbide and nothing from Dow after it acquired Union Carbide. I went to the killing fields in Cambodia, Auschwitz in Poland, and Vietnam. I suppose I could stomach Bhopal. At least Ashoka saw the error of his ways.

   I’ll probably write from Sanchi. Be well, all of you.