Amristar - The Golden Temple

From the train station in Amritsar we catch the free bus straight to the Golden Temple, where we head for the free accommodation intended for pilgrims but open to travellers as well. The traveller dorm is filled with wall to wall (and mattress to mattress) beds save a small path down one side. There are people sprawled on every surface, including the limited floor space. We carefully step over the sleeping bodies looking for a spare space, but give up when one boy points to his mattress, then his skin and starts scratching. Bed bugs. We decide we are not on such a tight budget after all, make a swift exit and fork out the 500 rupees for a hotel around the corner.

The Golden Temple complex is huge, but the actual temple is smaller than I expected. It is of course beautiful, there is not much to say on that count. After so many crazy, noisey, monkey-filled Hindu temples it is nice to be in a much calmer Sikh atmosphere. Although, like Hindu holy sights, there are still people washing in rather dirty water.

However, it's best point in my opinion is the free meal they dish out to anyone who wants it. The kitchen serves 10,000 black dal and chapatti meals a day, and the whole thing is a very smooth operation. As we walk up the steps we are handed a plate from a volunteer on our right, and a mug and cutlery from our left. We sit down on mats in the dining room and immediately more volunteers come and slop food onto our plates quickly but neatly. There are families, couples, individuals, Sikhs, Hindus, very well dressed people, shabby people and other travellers. Sharing a meal with strangers is intended to reinforce the principle of equality in the Sikh faith, but everyone eats immediately and in silence, and within 10 minutes people are leaving. One man walks down the aisles splashing water on the floor and another follows with a huge mop. We carry our plates and cutlery outside where they are taken by anther volunteer, sorted and passed along a human chain into a huge washing up bath manned by 3 people on each side. We also walk past the kitchen, filled with cooking pots big enough to fit several small children, and a group of women furiously peeling vegetables.

Like everything else entry to the temple is free, and we come back several times through out the day to soak up the peaceful atmosphere and the heavily subsidised coca-colas (5 rupees!). My favourite time is the evening, when the entire complex is lit up.

The Burning Ghat

 The first ghat I come across in Varanasi is the Manikarnika, or 'burning ghat'. Photography is strictly prohibited, so I will try to explain it as best I can. Before I reach the ghat I walk through piles of wood stacked so high and deep they make alley ways all of their own. Naively this gives me no idea of what I am about to come across, until I see smoke rising and people start saying 'burning ghats, burning ghats, no pictures'. I put away my camera just as I start descending the steps leading down to the river.

 Between the river and the steps on which I am standing there are three different levels. Two are platforms of compacted earth about ten meters by five. The bottom step of the flight I am on is level with the top platform - the third platform is level with the river. There are fires on each level all at different stages of burning. Some are just small piles of smouldering ash, others full pyres engulfed in flames. There is no smell other than of burning wood, no wailing relatives, no music and no religious symbols. The whole thing is strangely un-ritualistc. From behind the railing surrounding the platforms there are tens of people watching the proceedings. Cows and goats wonder between the fires eating the flower garlands and I even see a dog digging around in the ashes of one pyre. Having seen groups of men (some weeping, most chanting) marching through the alleys toward the ghats with bamboo platforms carrying shrouded and flower laden bodies, this is not at all what I had expected.

Whilst there are burning ghats in almost every city in India, Manikarnika is unusual in that it is located in the centre of the city. Hindus believe that dying in Varanasi automatically releases the individual from the cycle of rebirth, sending them straight to heaven. As such, many Hindus travel to Varanasi in their old age, and there are hospices open to anyone above the age of seventy all over the city. Many people bring their relatives to be burnt at the ghats even when they have not died in Varanasi, although this will not release them from the cycle, only ensure them a good rebirth.

Children under the age of ten, pregnant women, victims of a snake bite, anyone with the condition which turns their skin white and holy men (Sadhus) cannot be burnt at the ghat. All of these can go in the river, weighted down with stone slabs, without having been cremated first. This is not because they are undeserving, but because they are more holy than others. Children under the age of ten are not considered to have their 'own sense' and therefore have not commited any sins. As such pregnant women are not cremated either. A snake bite is a sign of the God Shiva, and having a condition which turns the skin white is also a sign of gods. Sadhus live completley pure lives, and therefore can also go straight into the river without being cremated first.

When the body is brought down to the river, it is washed one final time, then left for half an hour while relatives go and purchase wood, oil and insence from near by vendors. A body can be cremated at any time (no booking form or waiting list, just turn up), as long as the family can afford the materials. Wood touts descend on tourists, offering information about the proceedings, before mentioning the huge cost of wood and attempting to extract a 'donation'. The amount of wood required for one body depends on the quality of the wood (which depends on the wealth of the family), the size of the body and the weather. These factors also determine how long it takes the body to burn, although it is usually around three hours.

 Once everything as been purchased and the pyre set up layered with sandal wood chips and scented oils, the shrouded body is laid on the pyre with more wood on top of them. High caste Hindus are placed closest to the river on the lowest platform, lower castes further up. The pyre is lit from a flame which has apparently been kept lit for thousands of years, and tended by 'Doms' - untouchable guardians. Male relatives watch from near by and women from a balcony. Women are not allowed to help with washing the body, arranging the pyre, or even within the platformed area, as it is feared that their tears would pollute the soul of the dead person. When the fire is burnt out, some ashes and any remains are tossed into the river with little ceremony. The relatives walk off and the cows, goats and dogs arrive.

Varanasi

Wow. Varanasi is amazing, definitely my favorite place so far. Having spent three weeks in chilled out Nepal I was feeling apprehensive about heading back to India, and the journey to get there wasn't helping - two buses, two auto rickshaws, one cycle rickshaw and a SIX HOUR delay on the train. However the moment I unwedge myself and my bag from the final rickshaw and plunge into the labyrinth of alleys in old town Varanasi I forget about the past 24 hours. It feels like 'real' India. There are cows everywhere - but mostly standing in the middle of the alley, eatting rubbish and refusing to move. So I have to squeeze past and try to avoid getting whipped with their tail or worse - their horns. There is street food made out of things I can't even recognise and a chai seller on every corner (and there are a lot of corners). The alleys twist and turn for miles - I'm sure a person could get lost in them for days, let alone the hours I probably accumalte walking in circles (and squares and triangles and other unknown shapes), despite my attempts to keep orientated. I keep saying stupid things like 'Oh, I know where we are, I recognise that cow!'.

Not once in the four days that I am there do I manage to find my way back to my hostel without taking a wrong turn and needing to ask for directions. I'm fairly sure that the streets shift just before I turn a corner, as I feel like I never walk down the same alley twice. The guide book advises 'if you get lost, head for the ghats'. This is easier said than done, what with being lost, but there is always someone to ask and even more people to tell you whether you ask or not. Eventually the alley spits me out into the bright sunshine onto rows and rows of steps, or ghats, leadings down to the filthy Ganges river.

 Varanasi is the holiest of the seven Hindu holy cities and one of the oldest living cities in the world, the site having been inhabited since the sixth century BC. Life in the city revolves around the ghats, of which there are a hundred. Each ghat has its own religious significance, and some some are more popular than others.

The most famous is the Manikarnika, or Burning Ghat, where bodies are publically cremated. My guide book says that 'Seeing bodies being cremated so publically has always exerted a great fascination for visitors', and I am no different. I learn so much about this ghat and its traditions that I will write a separate post about it.

Much of my time in Varanasi is spent walking up and down the ghats observing day to day life. The water of the Ganges is considered to an 'elixir of life' and bathing in it washes away the bather's sins. As such there is a continual stream of people pouring out of the alleys, down the steps and into the river to wash. This doesn't make much sense to me as, despite the river's historical religious significance, it is now filthy. More than filthy. There are dead animals, live animals, litter, unidentified scum and, apparentlty, the waste from a chemical plant up river all in the water. Whislt washing in it may metaphorically clean you of sin, physically it would make you dirtier (and less healthy) than before you went in.

For all the time I spend lost and wondering up and down the ghats, I spend about as much in 'Blue Lassi', a tiny hole-in-the-wall lassi shop which is famous in Varanasi. A 'lassi' is a yoghurt drink, usually served pain, salted or sweet. Blue lassi serve theirs wih fruit, and claim to have 'any fruit you want madam'. In reality there is mango, apple, pear, grape, pomegranate, banana, orange and papaya. Any combination of these can be requested, along with chocolate and coffee.

The lassis mixed up right on the side of the street and served in deep terracotta bowls. A man runs back and forth with fruits, ice and big trays of set yoghurt curd. The old man mixing the lassis seems very used to having his picture taken, and also works very quickly. When I ask, the 'runner' tells me that they go through about twenty to twenty-five dishes of yoghurt curd a day, each one making about twenty lassis. During my four days in Varanasi I have about seven lassis, several of them free as the owner recognises us after our second visit. As well as lassis we are given chai from the owner's mother's chai stall next door and handfuls of fruit everytime the runner goes past.

A couple of lassis a day along with a few street snacks are enough to keep me full all day, making Varanasi very cheap, particularly with our 300 rupee, river view room. I am very sorry to leave lively Varanasi (there was so much more than what I have meagerly tried to describe here) for distant, dusty Amritsar, and hope we can come back in a few weeks time with our friend Charlotte, who arrives in Delhi on the first of May.

Elephant Shower - Chitwan National Park

Chitwan National Park

After our trek we spend a couple of days relaxing in Pokhara, including a very good but slightly painful massage. I feel more bruised the day after than I did from the trek in the first place. We then head to Chitwan National Park for a few more days in chilled out Nepal before heading back to hectic India. Our hotel, in the town of Sauraha, has a garden which runs down to the river which borders the park. After booking a mammoth tour for the next day, we spend most of the first evening sitting in hammocks with sundowners and watching the wildlife.

At 7:00 on our first full day in the park we head down to the river for a canoe trip. The canoe is a wooden dug out and we are sitting below the level of the very shallow water - almost on the river bed if the sound of the scraping rocks is anything to go by. Our guide points out sun-bathing crocodiles (a lot smaller than I had expected) and lots of birds including bright blue kingfishers (much larger than I had expected). After an hour of floating down stream we get off the boat in order to walk a little way through the jungle to the Elephant Breeding Centre.

Above: (very small) crocodiles 

The center has 25 elephants, including (at the moment) a one month old baby and four year old twins. The centre was established in 1989 when taking elephants out of the wild for training became too expensive and unsustainable. To prevent inbreeding, the females are released into the wild to mate with wild male elephants. Elephants are taught numerous commands such as sit, stand, line up, pick up with your trunk, carry with your tusks, pass to the Mahout (driver) as well as their left and right. Each elephant has the same mahout from birth and they are used for elephant safaris and forest work.

 We head back back to our hotel which is located on the strech of the river where the elephants are washed. It is free to watch the elephant bath, but you need to tip mahout 100rs to join in. Joining in includes sitting on ths elephant's back whilst he gives you a shower. To get on, the elephant helpfully lies in the river, but there is still a very big step up. The mahout stands behind us on the elephants's back and shouts a lot as the elephant sprays us (me right in the face) with water from his trunk. The mahout asks if we want the elephant to swim, but I'm not quite sure what he means as the water is far too shallow. It apparently means that the elephant lies down whilst I wonder whether I'm supposed to try and hold on or jump of. I end up half falling, half jumping in the river and trying not to land underneath the elephant. After the long hot jungle walk to the breeding centre I'm feeling a bit sick but, despite (or maybe because of) the massive jet of water out of an elephant's nose and in my face, the water cools me down and I feel much better. Having had our shower we then wash the elephant whilst he lies in the river, his trunk just poking out of the water. This is much more relaxing, for the elephant as well as me, and he seems to enjoy it as much as I do.

In the evening we go back to the breeding centre for an elephant safari. There are five of us on our elephant, including the 'driver'. We sit on a wooden platform (one to each corner) which is tied to the elephant under its tail and around what I suppose would be its chest. The driver sits on the elephant's neck with his feet in stirrups tied to his ears - the elephant's ears, not the driver's. I worry that five will be too heavy, but I see whole familys of seven or eight on some elephants. We set of in a line of about four others, it is very wobbly, especially when the driver urges the elephant into the next gear, which I think is suposssed to be faster, but it isn't really, just more bumpy.

The benefit of an elephant safari is that the elephant masks the scent of humans, meaning it is more likley that you will see other animals, but the families on the other elephants are very noisey, and one child is crying, so I don't expect to see much. However, we soon see peacocks, large sambar deer, spotted deer, monkeys and - best and most surprising of all, one horned rhinos. The five elephants and thirty or so people crowd round and the rhino doesn't bat an eyelid (maybe rhinos don't have eyelids). We later see two more rhinos, one looks at us and walks off, the other stamps his feet a bit, makes a snorting noise and again, walks off. After dinner by the river I go to bed early, trying not to scratch my mosquito bites, in preperation for the seven hour journey to India the next day - next stop, Varanasi!

Trek Days 7 & 8

Day 7. Sinuwa to Banthanti

Day seven is HARD. We get up at 5:30, climb down from Sinuwa to the river, up to above Chomrong then down again to another river. Up to Tadapani, down and then up to Banthanti. Some where between the first up and the second down we turn a corner a see the sky filled with vultures. We walk further along the trail to find that they are landing to eat the carcas of something - maybe a goat or small cow,we can't see and don't want to get too close - which we think has been put there deliberately as it is on a rocky platform just up the hill from the path. As the vultures come into land they fly right over our heads, and we can hear the great big woosh of their wings. We can also hear the ripping and cracking of the carcas as it is pulled apart. Although we can see their underbellies very clearly, the photos don't do justice to just how big and close they are. We stay for half an hour trying to get good shots but they take off and land very quickly. We move on when our necks get sore from looking up and when our faces start getting burnt from looking into the sun.

After a long hard day we arive in the tiny town of Banthanti. It consits of three tea houses all spaced abour 15 minutes walk from each other in a narrow wooded valley. We stay in the third which we get to at 16:00. We have been walking for nine hours but are too cheap to pay the 100 rupees for a hot bucket shower. Instead I go and wash in the icy river and Alex follows reluctantly. The tea house is called 'NiceView Lodge' and is one of many 'Nice View' lodges we have passed, along with 'Good View', 'Green View', 'Excellent View', 'Excellent Green View', 'Mountain View'.... you get the idea. We look for, but are disappointed not to find, something along the lines of an 'Average View Lodge'.

Above: Steps down from Sinuaw

Above: Traditional Nepali bench, built to be just the right
hight for a porter to put their basket down on. 

 Day 8. Banthanti to Pokhara!

Our lodge owners tell us that, if we stop at the Poon Hill view point, it will take two days to get down to Nayapul (where we can get a bus to Pokhara). We are tired and dirty and determined to do it in one. After a breakfast of fried eggs and Tibetan 'Gurung' bread - a sort of round, sweet naan but slightly less heavy - we head up the valley. It is six in the morning and very cold but some of the best scenery I have seen so far. The forest is dense and we climb gradually upwards along the stream seeing monkeys, water voles and lots of kingfishery type birds. The rhododendrons are even more spectcular than on the ABC trail, which were a couple of weeks past their best. We don't see anyone else for two hours, when we get to the top of the hill and meet other trekkers coming from the town of Ghorepani, who are probably on their second day. They all look vey clean and eager.

 

When we get to the view point it is 9:30 and already too foggy to see the mountains. I'm not too bothered, having had amazing views all week. Now I just want to get to the bottom. From Ghorepani it takes us six hours, all down hill (which is harder than it sounds), to get to Nayapul. An hour away from Nayapul my knees give in from all the steps and I actually need my walking pole just to keep myself upright. We turn corner after corner, hoping that we are nearly there, and pass fresh trekkers who say that they have only been walking for an hour or so. Groups of children run up to us and hold out their hands saying 'chocolate' and I hold out my hands saying 'yes please'. They don't get it. Eventually we hobble onto the main road and wait for a taxi back to Pokhara, When none turn up for 20 minutes we get on the public bus. Literally. When it pulls up the conductor says 'full up - up top!' and points to the roof. So up we climb, the last climb of our trek. Despite the uncomfortable rungs we have to sit on, the cold wind and then eventual rain drops, the journey makes the last few agonising hours of our trek worth while, we definitley finish on a high.

Above: On top of the bus

Above: Children dressing up a goat I

 in a wooly hat

Above: A very sure of itself sign (at this point it happened to be right though)

Trekking Days 4, 5 & 6

Day 4 Chomrong to Himalaya

Today we start on the path directly to base camp, meaning the trail will get very congested as everyone will be going to the same place. We leave at 6, planning to beat the crowds, but take a wrong turn heading for half an hour up the wrong hill. When we get back on track, we are stuck in the middle of the morning rush hour. We over take a group of about thirty Koreans, then jog all the way down the valley to over take a group of 20 French trekkers. When we get to the bridge below we rest of two minutes only to see them slowly but surely coming around the corner. So reluctantly we get up and march up the hill on the other side to the town of Sinuwa. I am exhausted and boiling hot when I get there and dismayed when, once again, it takes only a few minutes for the French to catch up and over take us. Slow and steady with two walking poles and a porter seems to be the trick to this trek.

Above: Chomrong to Sinuwa

View of ABC from Sinuwa

The path goes upwards but gradually - no more endless flights of steps - though dense oak and bamboo forest crowned with rhododendrons probably only a week past their best. We had planned to make it to the town of Bamboo today, but end up going two towns onwards to 'Himalaya' at 2920 meters. This means that we can get to base camp a day early and I am excited at the prospect of seeing snow and needing to wear my down jacket. It is vey cold that night. Everyone huddles together for dinner in the draughty dinning room for dinner instead of sitting out on the terrace. I sleep with my sleeping bag wrapped tight around my head.

 Day 5. Himalaya to Annapurna Base Camp (ABC)

Walking up to base camp is tough. The path is much rougher than previous days, with rocks and roots all across it, meaning it is impossible to get a good rhythm going when walking. It also means that I trip a lot because, instead of paying attention to the path, I am constantly looking up at the mountains on either side (snowy on the right and rocky on the left). There are lots of porters, incluing tiny women, carrying huge baskets, supported by a strap around their foreheads. Most of them are wearing jeans and flip flops and playing music from their phones. They all over take us. We pass through two towns, each about 40 minutes apart, before getting to Machupuchare Base Camp at 3700 meters. We stop here for an hour to aclimate and prevent altitude sickness.

Valley leading to MBC & ABC

Female Porter

Machhupuchhre Base Camp

There are helicopters flying up and down the valley constantly and landing to drop off people and equiptmemt. One person tells us there is a photo shoot going on for the Korean outdoor clothing company 'Black Yak', another tells us that a Korean documentary is being filmed about some climbers who died trying to summit Annapurna 1. Apparently there is a 50% mortality rate for summiting Annapurna 1, and it is a much more technical climb than Everest. Machhapuchhre on the other hand, has technically never been summited. Because of its flutted peak and Fishtail shape, the mountain is holy to Hindus. It is disrespectful to bring meat near the moutain and permits are not issued for climbing it, although one group got within 50 meters before stopping.

View from Machhupuchhre

Path to ABC just before it began to snow

As we make our way up to Annapurna Base Camp (4130m) it begins to snow. An hour later we walk under the 'Annapurna Base Camp' welcome sign and find a dorm in one of the three tea houses. It is about 14:00 and we spend the afternoon huddled together with other trekkers in the dining room. I am wearing all my clothes and there is a heater under the table but I'm still frezzing. There is no view as the snow storm is too thick.

I order a 'dal bhat', a traditional Nepali dish of rice, lentils and vegetables. It is the most expensive meal on the menu at 650 rupees, but the price includes free refils. Nepalis eat this meal twice a day and fequently quote the expression '24 hour, dal bhat gives you power'. After three helpings it certainly fills me up and warms me up to some degree. Everyone runs through the snow from the dining room to their rooms at about 18:30 for bed. I sleep in all my clothes - leggings, trousers, t-shirt, thermal top, waterproof, down jacket and two pairs of socks - and tie my sleeping bag around my head, but I'm still not as warm as I would like. My alarm is set for 5:00 in order to be up to see the sun rise over the mountains.

 Day 6. ABC to Sinuwa

When I wake up it is still very cold, but when I brave the outside I see that the storm the night before had been worth it. Where as when we arrived everything had been grey and dirty, now everything was covered in about a foot of snow. Slowly people emerge from their rooms and congregate a little way away from the tea houses to capture the sun rise. It gets even busier as more and more people arrive having made an early start from Machhupuchhure base camp and everyone is trying to get photos without other people in.

The walk down takes longer than we had hoped, as the path is slippery with compacted snow. Walking off the path is tricky as there are rocks on either side and its hard to tell where a big hole might be. Apparently the walking time between Chomrong and ABC is only twelve hours going up, about ten going down. The guide book advises spreading the walk over three or four days to avoid altitude sickness. We go up in two (I only get a mild headache and pins and needles in my fingers), but we would like to get back to Chomrong in a day as we are running out of money (no ATMs!) and it is cheaper further down the mountain - meaning we can spend more time trekking. We don't get to Chomrong because of the slippery walk down, but we get to Sinuwa, one town across the valley and 1770m below ABC at 2630m. It is nice to be warm again, although there is no hot water, meaning I have been wearing the same clothes without showering properly for three days. Yuck.