Zambia

The morning of March 7th, I was groggy but excited as I found myself on a plane to a new continent, in a hemisphere I'd never visited.

Matt and I arrived in Johannesburg and then transferred to Livingston where we were collected and driven to our hostel (called a "backpackers" in Africa). A couple observations from that drive are; the world is bright and colorful (there was not a layer of filth and smog like some places in India) and the ceiling of the sky was so HIGH! I finally know what Paul Simon has been singing about all this time. These "African skies" are of a different nature than what we have at home.


The first few hours were spent between showering (the last shower was two days previous in Goa) and organizing our possessions. I don't know if you've ever stayed at a hostel before, but it's an intelligent decision to lock up everything but a few articles of clothing and some toiletries. We didn't do much else that day besides procure some kwacha (Zambia's currency) and pick up some snacks at the grocery store.

The following morning, we were up early and on the road to Victoria Falls with our friends Christina and Richard who we had met at the backpackers the previous evening. Matt and I brought nothing with us to the Falls besides the entrance fees. Why? Because standing anywhere within about a quarter mile from the Falls during the wet season is comparable to standing under your shower, and standing nearer than that is more similar to swimming.

The Falls were gorgeous and the area around them was an adventure to explore. We walked down a steep trail and through a river, then over some boulders to see the "boiling pot" where the water crashes and churns at the base of the waterfall. But to really get a good taste of the Falls, we had to walk down a few wooded paths and over a bridge to see.... nothing. We could see each other, but anything farther than a few yards was just gray. It must feel like that to stand inside a rain cloud, and not a shred of my clothes were dry, my hair was wet through and I had removed my glasses since they were useless in the deluge.


After our soaking, we headed upriver on a sunny walkway to see the top of the falls and give our clothes a chance to dry. When we were drier, we found a minibus and hopped a ride back into town and got a taste of some local lunch. We spent the evening socializing with all sorts of new friends from all over the world who were either travelling through or living in African countries. We even met a guy from Delaware who works as a bush pilot for Medecins Sans Frontieres.

The following morning I decided, at the last minute, to join some friends on a canoe trip. It proved to be a beneficial decision. There were about a dozen of us canoeing and two guides alongside in kayaks. Our canoes were a strange combination of a kayak, a canoe and an inflatable, seating two people who use kayak paddles. The river was a blast though; there were plenty of simple rapids and the weather was amazing. The guides briefed us in the morning on how to react if a hippo bumps you out of your boat, and on the importance of avoiding crocodiles. And it was no joke because we saw about ten hippos and a couple crocodiles. And joining us along the shoreline during different points were a monitor lizard, two giraffes, and scores of birds whose names I have forgotten.


When I returned to the hostel, I had time to handwash some laundry and grab a shower before the electricity went out. Matt and I ended the evening having a candlelight dinner out with some friends from the hostel before bed. The 10th of March was an interesting day as most of the morning and early afternoon were spent watching my brother hurl himself off a bridge twice, and then a cliff.

The bridge spanning the Zambezi River just past Victoria Falls is a steel lifeline between Zimbabwe and Zambia (a.k.a. Zim/Zam) and it stands 111 meters high above the raging current. Some people (not those of sound mind) choose to bungee jump off the bridge. Matt and our friend Justin not only bungee jumped, but also used the gorge swing (if you've never been introduced to a gorge swing or if you enjoy watching other people torture themselves, please have a look at the video I took of Matt) AND took a zipline across the river. This madness took up most of the day and I spent the evening reading our southern Africa book and having a cocktail in the backpackers' pool (it was a stressful morning).


The following day, Matt and I repacked all of our gear and headed to the airport where we met Victor and Simon. Victor was one of our guides and Simon was part of the group with Matt and I. We headed straight to Victoria Falls, and this time we brought our cameras (so those two previous pics are purposely out of chronological sequence). After our lovely wander around the waterfall, we took a drive to the middle of nowhere to find a shockingly luxurious inn (Shackelton's) where we were greeted with cheeses and snacks the likes of which we'd rarely seen in months. The sunset over the oxbow lake bordering the property was stunning as were the magnificent spread at dinner and the wood-fired hot water showers. I went to bed with safari dreams in my head; excited to fully begin my adventure the following day.

The pictures in this post are: The Zambezi River and the tall plumes of spray from the Falls viewed from the airplane, the tip top of the waterfall, a day of fun on the river with foreboding waterfall-spray downriver, Victoria Falls from the Zambia side, and the Shackelton's sunset.

UPDATE

Hi! Sorry for the lack of communication. I will have internet access for a couple of days and intend to catch up on the blog. Keep your eyes peeled for updates! A hint of what's to come: new continent and new hemisphere :) -ellie

p.s. I will post the older posts below this note, and the newer ones (when I get around to them) above.

India

Let me make another disclaimer here:

These thoughts are from the mind of a Western-raised foreigner who only spent a month in the country. They are not thoroughly-studied or verified cultural norms. They're also composed rapidly in order to polish off the India posts.... finally.

• Clothing

Both men and women can dress completely in sheets of fabric (although there men mostly wore tailored shirts, and women wore small tailored tops under their saris, and many people wore more western clothing). Women can wear saris, a long, rectangular piece of cloth, which they tie magically like a skirt and then wrap up around their chest and over the shoulder and they look gorgeous. The men can wear a dhoti, like a long wrap-skirt which they pull up in the middle then tuck in the back of the waist to function as shorts. On their heads the women can wear head scarves and the men can wear turbans or just wrap a scarf around their head repeatedly.

• Affection
  

It is socially improper for women and men to show affection in public, which means no kissing, no hugging, no hand holding. However, men can show affection to each other, so you often see good friends walking down the road with an arm around one another or two men holding hands.

• Markets

The fabrics, clothes, and other products sold at outdoor markets are so colorful that they give the bustling markets the feeling of a straight-laced street party.

• Poverty

The poverty is severe and it's everywhere. That is not to say that everyone is impoverished, but rather that the tent-shacks of the seriously destitute exist alongside the skyscraper apartments of the upper-class.

• Dating

There are no "personals" in the newspaper as we have them, but rather "matrimonials." These search for husbands and wives based on a couple dozen words regarding income, class, and life goals.

• Castes

The caste system makes no sense to me. I don't understand it and it's irrelevant to me. But I thought I had better mention it. If you'd like to read about it, check the BBC's page on the subject.

• Animals

There are alot of monkeys, holy cows, parrots, and farm animals everywhere, all the time.

• Photography

Maybe it's the age of the culture, maybe it's the colorful clothing; I don't know why, but the photo opportunities in this country are ubiquitous.

• Conversation

So many people are fluent or passable in English, that it's easy to converse, get around, and make friends.

• Religion

Most people are Hindus. The differences between Hinduism and (our majority religion) Christianity are vast.

• Diet

A huge number of people (maybe the majority) are vegetarians. Very different from at home where you can go out to dinner and not see a single veggie option on the menu.

Goa

February 29th, we arrived at the Karmali train station and took a moto-rickshaw into Panjim, or Panaji, the capital of Goa. The Portuguese colonial influence was immediately visible in the architecture we saw as we rode into town. Upon reaching our hotel, we had time for showers and to catch up on some laundry before taking a walk. Our walking tour took us through some residential areas in the old quarter, by government buildings, and past some impressive religious temples including the Lady of the Immaculate Conception Church. The church and the lack of "holy cows" roaming the streets were some noticeable signs of the predominant religion in the area, Christianity. After our tour, we headed to the bank and took out some cash to pay for our cooking class the following morning; the main reason for our visit to Panjim.

The following morning, after breakfast, we met up with the woman who would be our teacher. After some chatting, we found out the price of our class had increased and that the necessary ingredients for our desired dishes had not been procured. We were to meet again at 7pm. So we spent the day checking out the town, walking, tasting local food and catching up on BBC news. At the arranged time, we met up with the lady who walked us through backstreets to her house. In her kitchen, she proceeded to read off an internet-printout recipe to tell us how to chop up the vegetables. Though we had asked her to teach us to make proper chai tea, she just threw a pre-mixed herb blend into the hot water and it tasted nothing like the chai we had been drinking all over India. Several of the sauces were already prepared, so there was no chance for us to learn how to make them ourselves.

The woman made us pay a professional-cooking-class price and that's not the type of education we received. So after about ten minutes, when we realized this "chef" had no idea what she was doing and had never cooked the meals before, we asked her if it would be possible to end the class. She said we could have a refund, but the money was in the bank and it was 8pm. The following day was Sunday, so the bank would be closed, could we come in Monday? We told he we were going to the beach, we would come back on the 4th if that would be okay. It would. And what percentage of the money would be refunded? One hundred percent. Okay.

The next day, we got booted out of our hotel room at the 8 am checkout. The housekeeping man knocked on the door 3 times in ten minutes (starting at 7:57) asking for us to pay another night if we were going to stay late, even though we were clearly minutes away from leaving. Anyway, so then we grabbed some breakfast and successfully found the bus park and the bus to Margao. Then, we hopped another bus to Palolem and by 2pm, we had checked into our beach shack, and were floating in the Arabian Sea.


The state of Goa is renowned for its beaches, which come in forms ranging from secluded sandy strips to massive party areas with music every night. We picked a long, white-sand beach that was known for its beauty, called Palolem. It was fantastic. If we walked 15 minutes up to the street, there were shops, bars, internet cafes, and delicious restaurants, but down on our corner of the beach it was perfectly quiet. The "Cozy Nook" was right on the end of the beach, with a river, then a peninsula with a rocky island (i) on the other side. We spent the majority of the time reading, swimming, eating, and relaxing. The first full day also included a scooter rental and a sunny, breezy, fun ride out to Patnem, another beach nearby. The second full day included a lovely, solitary, barefoot, thoughtful walk up and down the river, over rocks and out to the island, checking every tidepool and talking to all the birds, dogs, crabs, and fish. That night, I picked up a Ganesh (the Remover of Obstacles) ring and called the cooking lady in Panjim to make sure everything was on schedule for the following day. It was.


On the fourth, we spent the morning on the beach before heading back by buses to Panjim to collect our money from the cooking teacher. We arrived at the office early and she wasn't there. She never came. Her boss accepted no responsibility and was repeatedly talking to someone in whispers over the phone while we waited over an hour in the office. Then I went to the police while Matt stayed at the office to make sure the boss wouldn't leave. The lady had never planned to give our money back. It was a fair bit of money, but that's not even what upsets me. It's the lying, and deliberate thievery from naive foreigners as well as that we lost several days of our trip to this cooking class. I only went to the police in hopes that the lady would get worried and pay us back. Anyway, it was a terrible few hours before we had to leave in a hurry and catch our overnight train to Bombay.

We arrived in town before the sun was up and hopped a taxi to a 24-hour internet cafe, which we intended to make our home for the day. When we found the door locked, we headed to the street for a half a dozen glasses of chai each (total cost $1.50) before checking again and having success. After plenty of skype conversations, I headed out for souvenirs and didn't return until we had to go for our flight to Johannesburg.


The pictures in this post are: Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception Church, Goan architecture and a puppy in the window, peppers drying in the sun, the view from Cozy Nook in Palolem, and Patnem beach.

Mumbai

We arrived in Bombay on the 23rd of February and were thrilled to find a haven in Colaba, the hip, accessible, appealing to tourists (laundry, internet, good and cheap food), middle-class section of town. After we had checked into our tiny hotel room and had a bite to eat, we were on a mission to find enticing used books. We spent hours ogling the titles and rummaging through piles in the stalls surrounding Flora Fountain. The final tally for me was 2 used books traded in, 1 used book received in trade, 1 used book purchased, 2 copy books (literally, photocopied from originals) purchased for a total cost of $8. Fantastic.

The next day was packed with mandatory sightseeing. First we visited Mani Bhavan, Ghandi's house while he was in Mumbai, where we found many dioramas and news clippings in a few tiny rooms valiantly attempting to summarize a monumental life. Then, after a short stroll and some experimentation with local foods (bhelpuri), we located Chowpatty Beach. The popular local hangout was pretty, but the smoggy haze hovering in the air dimmed its beauty and I wouldn't want to touch the water. Nonetheless, the beach view was pleasant and on our other side were the European-styled buildings left over from colonial days. Eventually, we hopped in a taxi to Crawford market, and wandered through the nearby streets for a while before finding out that the market was closed on Sundays. Oh well. Then we hopped another taxi (they're around 50 cents) to the Gateway of India, which was "Erected to Commemorate the Landing in India of Their Imperial Majesties King George V and Queen Mary on the Second of December MCMXI." It was intended to function as every visitor's entrance point to Mumbai. The gateway itself was being restored, but the Taj Palace Hotel was just as imposing and magnificent.

Afterwards, we realized we still had some time before sunset so we headed for walk up the grassy "maidans" near Bombay University where we witnessed dozens of pick-up cricket matches being played with the bowlers standing only a few yards apart. Matt and I both watched in amazement as a batter would smack a ball to the outfield (read: the middle of several other groups games) and immediately, an outfielder would materialize and fling the ball back towards the pitch. There were dozens of cricket balls in the air at any given second! How the players kept the ball, game and team straight, I have no idea. After gawking in amazement for quite some time, a periodically ducking to avoid decapitation, we continued north to see the sun setting on Victoria Terminus. The building was constructed in 1888 and it is a monument to Victorian Gothic (I had to look that up on Wiki) architecture.

The following morning, after breakfast and chores, Matt and I spent a couple of hours researching train times and cooking classes on the internet. After determining when train run to Goa and where we could take a recommended cooking class, we headed up to the station (waited in line forever) and booked our tickets. While grabbing a snack near the station, we recognized a pair of people from the ticket line and chatted together while we ate. We discovered that Moraud was from France and Tina from Australia and they had just met each other in the train station after realizing it was, coincidentally, the first day in India for both of them. The four of us decided to explore the bustling markets together, and we had fun finding our way there and exploring the dense, writhing mass of bargaining humanity. We four foreigners drew a considerable amount of attention when we decided to try sweet paan. The paan is a digestive/sweet/breath-freshener consisting of dried fruits, sweet pastes, and spices wrapped up in a betel leaf bundle which you place in your mouth in its entirety. The paanwalla made our bundles BIG and everyone got a good laugh of us foreigners trying to fit them into our mouths in one piece, drooling sugary goo everywhere, and generally getting ourselves sticky.

We walked until the sun started to set, then hopped a taxi to Colaba where we wandered more and grabbed a drink on the street. Matt and I have found many comfort foods as we've been traveling which make a convenient little treat whenever you're frustrated, lost, tired or bored. One of these is sweet lime soda (fresh lime juice, sugar water, and club soda, introduced to us by Mr. Ericson) which we all tasted before dinner. Matt and I ordered dinner for everyone; our favorite dishes from all over the country, including a savoury navratan korma, a comprehensive thali, and a massive, crispy paper dosa. After dinner, we bid a fond farewell to our new friends and headed home to bed.

The next day, Matt and I had to pack for a train ride later in the day before heading to Elephanta Island. When we boarded the ferry boat to the island, we were happy to find Tina, coincidentally, on our boat. The island is notable for its Hindu temple caves. The shrines were probably cut into the stone around 1000 AD although they were probably unknown to the Western world until the Portuguese discovered them in the 1800's. Although they have suffered a lot of damage, the intricacy of the carvings is still apparent, and the patience and effort that went into their construction is obvious. The best (from a humorous, not artistic standpoint) carving is of the God, Shiva, taking both male and female form simultaneously. So, while it's left half has masculine features, it's right half has delicate, ladylike features including a breast. One can only wonder what the bottom half of the carving looked like before it crumbled. After we returned from the island, Matt and I had to say goodbye to Tina and hurry to catch our overnight train to Aurangabad, from where we would leave to visit the Ajanta Caves.

We arrived in the Aurangabad train station at 5AM on the 27th, and sat down with our packs and some chai to gather our thoughts and figure out how to get to Ajanta. We were only sitting on the bench for a minute until a train pulled in on the track nearest to us, named the Ajanta Express. I knew it would leave in a matter of minutes, so I ran up to a door and asked a passenger if it was going to Ajanta. He said yes. I asked if I could buy a ticket on the train (since previously we had reserved our tickets ahead of time). He said yes. I ran to another door. There was no conductor, but I asked another passenger if the train was going to Ajanta. Yes. I ran back and told Matt we needed to get on the train, and we both grabbed our bags and jumped into the train as it was pulling away. I learned later that the people I asked only understood "englishwordsenglishwords Ajanta englishwordsenglishwords." And because the train WAS called the Ajanta Express, they answered me, "yes." I found out that we were now heading exactly the wrong direction from Ajanta, that the next stop which wasn't in a cornfield was two hours away, that a conductor might turn up any minute and fine me for being on the train without a ticket, and that there are not even train tracks leading to Ajanta.

I won't elaborate on my frustration, the looks I got from Matt, or how we paid dearly to get ourselves out of the situation, but by 1PM, we were climbing up the rock stairs to see the caves.

The site is on a horseshoe-shaped gorge, carved into the rock by the winding River Waghur and the caves are on the nearly-vertical outer wall of the gorge, cut into the stone, with facades and interiors like great stone buildings. They were constructed between 200 BC to 600 AD when they served as Buddhist temples and their obscure location as well as their design aided in their preservation for centuries until they were discovered by a party of foreigners hunting the area in the 1800's.

Matt and I found the paintings, carvings and statues to be absolutely extraordinary, with the colors of the paintings still intact and the intricacy of the carving readily visible. If you were unaware of the age of the site, it would be easy to believe that all the artworks there were created within the last hundred years. While we were there, there were several other groups of tourists as well, but not many foreigners like us. We met several groups of curious friends who either wanted to chat, shake hands or take pictures with us.

After spending several hours in awe, wandering around the caves with our jaws hanging, it was time to head back to Aurangabad for our next train. This time, we did it properly. We sat in the blazing sun on the dusty edge of the road until a packed local bus came by. Two hours later, we were in Aurangabad and after some dinner and some internet, we were on an overnight train again, back to Mumbai. We arrived there early in the morning and grabbed a room in a hostel where we both took a solid nap and a shower, before a brief wander around town, some dinner and another train, down towards Goa.

Pictures on this post are: a parallel-parked ox-cart in the city, multiple pick-up cricket matches in front of Bombay University, a taxi in front of Crawford Market, transgender Shiva, the River Waghur with caves in the cliff walls, my gorgeous new friends, resplendent Buddha in a cave (please note the ceiling artwork, many-Buddha wall carvings, and stone pillars which are not and addition to the cave, but a part of the rock), and one of the surprisingly-old paintings on the cave walls.

Desert Oasis

We arrived in Jaisalmer on February 18th to a miniscule airport in the desert. Our hotel was an ancient, labyrinthine building and our room admired the timeworn fort perched on a narrow plateau. The furry-eared receptionist informed us that it was the week of the Desert Festival and the events were free and open to everyone, featuring such events as a turban-tying race, moustache competition and camel polo. The atmosphere of the town was relaxed and rhythmic with a feel of pervasive history.

As we explored the town the first evening, we saw traditionally-dressed men with their heads wrapped in turbans or scarves and women with traditional jewelry and nose rings. As we walked, bulls wandered through the streets and vendors were selling food and fabric. After wandering for a bit, we had lunch at a haveli (a northern Indian or Pakistani private residence, which in Jaisalmer are mostly stone with incredible ornate carvings on the outside) on a veranda which looked like something from Indiana Jones. Then we arranged an overnight camel safari before finding the best chai(delicious tea) and thalis (set meals sampling several dishes served with bread and rice) in town.

The following day was Matt's 24th birthday, so we both slept in late. After running several errands, we tried and failed to see part of the Festival, then had a moto-rickshaw drive us around to several famous havelis and up into the historic fort. We ambled for a bit through ancient alleys and accidentally beautiful sights (kids playing cricket in front of a temple, brightly painted front doors set in timeworn stone walls, and dozens of shops displaying bright jewelry and fabrics). Then Matt had a chance to talk to his girlfriend before dinner and festival fireworks.

The next day, we were up early and packed, heading to the Dedansar Stadium (a large expanse of sand with a wall on two sides, a hill on another, and several tents set up with chairs to watch the events) for several festival events. There were a few thousand people attending the festival, ranging from desert nomads to VIPs from all over India and world tourists scattered throughout. People were sitting under tents, buying snacks, listening to bands practice, hiding from the scorching desert sun, admiring the beautifully-decorated camels, and strolling the grounds. Eventually, the program began and we saw wrestling competitions, camel decorating contests, camel polo (Matt's favorite, especially after we narrowly missed elephant polo in Nepal) and a camel race (my favorite). The camel race did NOT consist of men on camels racing from point A to point B. Rather, it began with several men standing behind a line in their underwear. When the starting gun fired, the men ran 10 yards to their dhotis (wrap pants) and shirts, and rushed to get dressed, then they ran another ten yards to a cloth which they tied into a turban, next they had to run to saddle pads and carry them to their camel, then run back and grab the saddle itself and carry that to the camel. The man who got dressed, saddled up, and up on his camel first was the winner. To see a video of this thrilling race, please click here.

After a bit of the festival, we headed back to town, hopped in our arranged Jeep and headed out to meet our camels in the desert. We arrived in the middle of nowhere to a small hut where two men and a boy were sitting in the shade. The boy came right up and introduced himself, saying he would be our camel safari guide. I giggled and humored him, only to find out five minutes later that he was he was our guide and the only one who spoke English. Hussein and our elderly camel-tender, Metan, had us (after the all-important glass of chai) hook our bags to the saddles and climb onto our camels (mine was named Jodah) who then groaned and stood up jerkily. The next few hours were spent bumping along in the saddle, wrapped up from the sun, through villages and scrubby flatlands, and eventually into dunes.

When we reached the prescribed location, we all dismounted our camels and Metan and Hussein set up camp while Matt and I explored the dunes as the sun set. We spent the next several hours chatting with Hussein, drinking chai, running around the dunes, and singing to each other around a campfire in the sand. It was a beautiful evening and a wonderful sleep under the stars.

The following morning, we had breakfast, brushed our teeth and talked to the camels before travelling again (to see the groggy wake-up video, please click here). We were plodding along for a few hours before we came to a small village where Hussein had us dismount and enter the compound. We met a dozen kids and several adults, all in traditional garb. The ladies did not want to be photographed, but they wore quarter-sized nose piercings, and large, silver jewelry, and they dressed in colorful saris. I am certain that - besides more advanced wells and portable cooking gas tanks - they live the same way as their great-grandparents, gathering animal dung and brush for fires and raising goats for milk, meat, and money. After a lovely visit and some chai, we headed back out on the camels, eventually arriving at the Sam sand dunes. At the dunes, we bid a find farewell to Hussein, Metan and our camels and struck out to find the focus of the final day's festival events.

There was a period of over an hour, as we waited with the crowds, when the camel races were postponed due to blowing sand. At last, the wind calmed and we saw several groups of camels race each other over a quarter mile. The onlookers were concentrated around the finish line, and at the finish of every race, many had to run for safety to avoid being trampled by the speeding camels whose momentum refused to allow them to stop. We spent time with the crowd in the dunes and watched the concluding ceremonies under the light of the full moon before heading back to town in the Jeep.

The next morning in Jaisalmer, we were up early to make the most of our last hours in the lovely town. Matt and I headed up to the fort together but then split up to indulge our individual agendas. I wandered through the alley shops, testing the local vendors to find a bedspread at the right price (if you've been reading, you're aware of my unaccountable sadness when I was unable to purchase a bedspread of tribal cloth in Thailand). The state of Rajasthan is famous for its beautiful fabrics, with contrasting patterns patched together, complemented by embroidery and sewn-on mirrors. Eventually, I found the perfect one and forked over the cash before running around to see the Jain Temples, then meeting up with Matt, grabbing a moto-rickshaw and flying to Jodhpur, then Delhi. In Delhi, we took an overnight train and were delighted to share our cabin with a mother and her five-year-old, both of whom spoke English. We talked for hours with the mom and played with the little one until it was time to sleep. When we woke up, we were in Bombay.

The pictures in this post are: sunset camels in the dunes, a winding alley and shops inside the fort, boys dressed up to perform for the Desert Festival, my boy Jodah, me and the group trudging through the desert, a windswept dune, the sun setting, the post-sunset colors over the dunes, me and Jodah under the moon (depending on your display, you might not be able to catch this one), beautiful children, myself (looking like a dork) with Metan & Hussein and the camels, Desert Festival crowd (please open this picture and have a look at the crowd stretching up onto the dunes) , and my new prized possession.

Varanasi & Bodhgaya

Matt and I had heard a few tales of woe about travelling in India before we arrived in the country, and a few more specifically about Varanasi. The town's backpacker nickname is "very nasty" and our first taste of it was just that.

We hired a pre-paid taxi upon arriving at the Varanasi airport since pre-paid tends to be more reputable and safer that hiring a driver at random. Still, the driver tried to charge us for "parking fees" then repeatedly told us that our hotel was very expensive and he would take us to his, "no problem." When he stopped the car in the city to let his friend get in with us, it was the last draw. Matt had been feeling under the weather and hadn't slept well in several days and politely shoved the driver's friend out of the car and loudly scolded the driver who stopped messing around and took us to our hotel, but not before asking for a tip.

Since all of the decent hotels were booked full, after numerous phonecalls we had to settle on an empty, run down apartment. The hotel staff tried to overcharge us for the room we had booked, but eventually they relented to the price we had agreed upon. I spent that day poking around the town while Matt laid in bed resting and trying to recuperate. (I even bought him a cheap watch for his birthday. since we NEVER have time apart, this was a golden opportunity and we needed a watch anyway, but now he's started wearing one he had in his pack, so I have no good present afterall) We stayed at our mediocre hotel and accomplished very little that day.

The following day, we were finally able to reserve a room at our desired hotel. While re-packing our belongings to move, we realized our cell phone was gone; we had either misplaced it or someone with sticky fingers decided it was theirs. We gave up on it and hired (overpaid) a rickshaw to take us to the ghats, where we were dropped off in an alley, then had to follow a child through winding backstreets to our new hotel. When we arrived, it was 2pm and they had already given away the "reserved" room since I had specified on the phone that I would arrive at 1pm. AAAaaaahhhh! Finally, Matt and I took the only room they had available, for $5 a night, with shared squatter toilets, and shared cold showers. Then we had a late lunch, which was pretty delicious, and things began to improve.

After our meal, we took a boatride (video) to explore the holy Ganges River (spelled Ganga and pronounced gahn-gah in India). The Ganga is sacred to people of the Hindu faith and it possesses many powers. Bathing in the waters can cleanse you of your sins and having your ashes placed in the waters can send your soul to Heaven. Despite the river's importance, it has innumerable sewers, agricultural toxins, and city water runoff emptying into it. But the Ganga is called the "Holy Mother", and the water is so sacred that people rinse with it, bathe in it, collect it, and even drink it. And certain bodies, which for spiritual reasons may not be cremated, are frequently placed in the river in their entirety.

"In Varanasi, India's most sacred city, the coliform bacterial count is at least 3,000 times higher than the standard established as safe by the United Nations world Health Organization, according to Veer Bhadra Mishra, an engineer and Hindu priest who's led a campaign there to clean the river for two decades." (Smithsonian, 2007)

Though we were in Varanasi for several days, we were trying to absorb local culture more than to visit tourist sites. Though I might not effectively put in to words all that we accomplished, we did see alot of Varanasi and came to really admire it. We made some traveler friends (Justin and Erika) from NYC while we were in town and had dinner with them three nights in a row. The third day was spent exploring the town by wandering the back alleys and main streets. If you have time for a 30 second walk, please check out this video.

We spent a significant portion of the fourth day at the train station arranging a trip to Bodhgaya, before returning to the river for a walk along the ghats. That night, a large portion of the young male population were partaking in rowdy, colorful, religious devotions (puja) involving pop music while frantically dancing through the streets, following an icon of Vishnu.

The following morning, we were walking through the alleys loaded with our packs on at 4:30 AM and there were a surprisingly number of people awake, brewing their tea, brushing their teeth and otherwise beginning their day. We successfully caught a rickshaw and got to our train platform in a hurry before discovering the train as delayed for an hour and a half. We met some other travellers and chatted with them for ages while drinking numerous cups of chai.

After a long wait and a longer train ride, we arrived at our stop and caught a rickshaw to our next town which was lovely. The Sakumuni Buddha achieved enlightenment in Bodhgaya around 500BC and it has become one of the most famous Buddhist pilgrimage sites in the world. The utter devotion of the people in the town is inspiring and the town itself was beautiful and relatively calm. For some odd reason, all the children want to speak with foreigners to practice their English and we made many young friends while we were in town. Unfortunately, there are an inordinate amount of beggars because Buddhists believe you can improve your karma by giving, so the beggars know to come to this pilgrimage site.

The Mahabodhi complex is the main religious site in town, containing the Mahabodhi Temple and a Bodhi tree grown from a cutting of the original, under which Buddha became enlightened (to investigate further into the religion, please check out the BBC website on the topic). The first evening during lunch, we met a few little boys who wanted talked to us about our country, our ages, cricket, school, etc. Many children spoke to us while we were around, but these children from the first evening kept criss-crossing our path and we returned many times to their family's tea shop. There were about a dozen people in the family and all the kids were filthy but adorable, they spoke good English, and they never asked us for anything except to come by the shop.

During the days we spent in Bodhgaya, there was a chanting ceremony taking place and monks from all over Asia were in town, dappling our vision with orange, red, yellow, and mauve . If there are people in this world striving too attain enlightenment and a perfect peace, then that kind of peace must be a possibility. I particularly adore the child-monks, with their young faces and serious expressions who make me want to run and hug them. The chanting during the festival was so rhythmic and coming from so many people simultaneously that it had an amazing power. We spent at least twenty minutes sitting cross-legged outdoors riveted to the sounds, trying to absorb some of the passion that these monks were chanting with. It was almost as if they didn't have to speak the words for us to hear them.

The second day, we explored more of the town, seeing temples built be people from every country or region in Asia, with their own architecture. The straight lines and golden deer from Tibet, the golden, pointed temples from Thailand, and the dragons and sweeping rooflines from China served as a Buddhist review of our trip. Right at sunset, we came around a corner to find a giant Buddha statue with the sun setting behind it. We admired the rainbow of colors while sipping chai (we've become chai addicts on this trip and it's so cheap and delicious, I can't seem to find a problem with it yet). The third day we spent a couple morning hours on Valentines Day conversations before wandering around in town, strolling about the outskirts, checking out the lotus pond, (during this afternoon Matt caught a goat. Please check the link to his blog on the right to see pictures) going out of our way because the president's motorcade was coming, and spending time with our adopted family. The last evening in Bodhgaya, we sat down with our family for a while and handed out some hygiene items and a couple issues of Newsweek, learned some Hindi song lyrics, and generally chatting before it was time to get a moto-rickshaw back to the train station.

The following morning, we were back in crazy Varanasi. We had a chance to catch up on a bit of sleep, do some laundry (please check the video), wander around and get lost, finally locate dinner, and finally put some good time into the Delhi blog post. The following day was ridiculous. We hopped a flight and arrived in Delhi with too much time before our next flight to stay in the airport, but not enough time to go anywhere else. When we arrived, we picked up our bags and went searching all over for an internet cafe (Matt has a great picture of the two of us in a crowded, crumbling alley pushing the luggage cart that we borrowed from the airport). Frustrated and unsuccessful, we returned to the airport dragging our cart and resorted to pleading our case to the airline representative. She gave us passes to the airline lounge which turned out to be a bare, public restaurant. But I only know that because I searched for it out of curiosity. You see, when we accidentally showed up at the fancy lounge by accident, lugging our bags, completely frustrated, we must have looked quite pitiful because the receptionist there let us stay, though she turned many others back out. There, we found delicious finger food, plush couches, free internet, and all the tea we could drink.

The pictures in this post are: the holy Ganga River, daily activities at the ghats, a sign reading "fortunate are the people who reside on the banks of Ganga" painted among filth, vendors selling bangles and other necessities, a busy row of Varanasi's famous silk stores, monks participating in the chanting ceremony at the main temple in Bodhgaya, the main temple at sunset with a golden Buddha statue glowing inside (zoom), and the family who Matt and I befriended and won't forget.