Textile Shopping

      As you may know I am a patch work enthusiast. Thus while travelling in India I have been collecting patches and fabrics so when I return I can create a patch work quilt to commemorate my time spent away. Here is a little glimpse of the patches I purchased this week in the small little town of Hampi, south India.

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The Train's of India

        Travelling across India is easy and affordable due to its extensive train network, which spans the whole country. Cool blue trains transport over 20 million people daily and are a true right of passage while exploring in India.

    I have spent over 100 hours roaring across this land in these trusted locomotives and have enjoyed every minute. This form of transportation is the best way to travel and meet local people, who's warmth and friendliness make every journey memorable.  Not to mention the entertaining by the countless circus acts happening on board, the tooth brush sellers proclaiming they have the best items and the constant chant of 'chai chai chai' from the tea pushers, who are there to remind you that, yes, you can buy chai on the train--possibility every minute throughout your travel. 

  The carriages are charming with their ice blue interiors and three story bed compartments that create almost enough beauty to make you forget about the dirt and cockroaches that fall from the sky. And as India passes you by beyond the open train windows, and as the mice run across your feet, and the families share their food with you,  and warm smiles are in abundance, you feel an ultimate love for the fellow passengers who you barely know. Then a cloud comes over you as you imagine a train journey in the western world, where the cabins are grey, nobody smiles, nobody talks and all you really desire is to hear the loud cries of 'chai chai chai'. 

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Rishikesh Revisited

     I am completely behind on my blog, partly due to bad internet and partly due to becoming a total beach bum in Goa for most of November. So, I thought the easiest way to catch up  is through photographs. 

Beatles Ashram 

www.facebook.com/thebeatlesashramcatheralgallery

The power of the Ganges

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Indian Artists

    I have been a terrible blogger this last month, sickness and bad internet got the better of me. But now I am back! And I thought I would start with a blog about a charming day I had in Udaipur, when BHW and me learned the art of Indian painting.  I took the class to learn how to paint in the traditional Indian style because when I go home I want to take these traditions with me and make my own creations using this technique.

(Udaipur was filled with places offering Indian art lessons. We paid $14 dollars for a two-hour lesson, $7 per person and materials included). 

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Second time's the charm...

   

     18 months ago I stood on the platform of Amritsar station bickering with my travel companion Louise. We had taken the over-night sleeper train from Rishikesh and had been scheduled to arrive at Amritsar earlier that morning. Instead, we arrived at 4pm because the journey that should have taken 10 hours, took 16, due to, well, I am not really sure-- shame on us for believing anything runs smoothly in India. So there we were, minutes from the Golden Temple--Amritsar''s main attraction--arguing about whether to go or not.  But as we debated, our connecting train to Delhi had rolled in and our flight from Delhi to Nepal the following day had us tied to the train so we had to depart. Thus tired, hungry and upset we boarded the train, swearing to return to The Golden Temple someday soon.
      18 months later I was back, handing in my sandals (no footwear is permitted inside the temple) and queuing to enter the golden wonder. Sadly Louise could not make it this time around, but luckily my boyfriend Johnny accompanied me to temple, even though he hates temples.
     Within there was a feast of colourful characters bathing, praying and bustling about. Johnny and I set up camp under some shade and tried to enjoyed a morning of people watching, but it proved difficult. While observing the spectacle, we were bombarded by Indians who pushed babies into our arms, photographed us, starred at us and sat down with us to have very long chats . For us this was a great way to interact with the people of India and to be in many of their holiday snaps! 

                           

I hope Louise makes it here someday soon.

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My New Favorite Temple

     My new favorite temple is the inspiring Mata Mandir temple in Amritsar. The theater of the wondrous place is something truly special with its long mirrored walk ways, hidden grottoes, vivid shrines, ankle deep waterways, winding staircases and a tunnel replicating a mouth. The temple is captivating and makes you feel like you have entered into another world. 

     The temple was built in 1989 to commemoration the charitable work of Shrimati Lal Devi (pictured above), who devoted her whole life to the Gods and lived purely on fruit and milk. In 1994 she reached the ultimate state of nirvana and ever since she has been greatly respected, and women who wish to become pregnant travel to her temple and pray to her to ensure that they will be given the ultimate gift, a child.

     As I crawled on my hands and knees through the tunnels and waded my way across the waterways I fell deeply in love with the surroundings and felt more at home in this temple than any other temple  I have visited before.

Has anyone else been to this enchanting temple...?

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Finding spirituality in Varanasi...?

     There is a unique, chaotic beauty in Varanasi that is hidden under the ashes and seedy alley-ways. I had hoped to find this beauty and spirituality in India's most "holy city," but finding peace here was a challenge.  Instead, one is forced to jump head-first into the hectic streets and get lost for hours in the labyrinth of alleys decorated with tea shops, cloth sellers, and India's oddities;  dodge your way past cows, monkeys and goats; and be asked a thousand times if you want a 'super, very good deal' for something you surely never wanted, or would never buy.  

     However, I found the Ghats (steps leading to the Ganges) to be the best way to soak up Varanasi's true beauty.  For it was easy to get lost in a world of people-watching while on the ghats, because many vibrant characters come to the water to bathe and pray.
     One evening I attended the nightly ceremony held at the Dasawamdh Ghat, which was a true spectacle, and a must see if you visit Varanasi. We viewed the celebrations from wooden boats, which were stationed on the river in front of the ceremony, and all the boats were jam-packed with devotees.  The women around us wore colorful saris that glowed in in the dusty pink sunset-- a sight I will always cherish, and as the sun continued downward, the moon rose and the river Ganges turned dark, only to be lit by the golden glares of floating candles, which were placed in water by spectators, including myself, as offerings to the Gods.  The candle was inside a woven banana leaf basket filled with fresh flowers, and the basket ensured that the candle would float once it was dropped in the water. As the candle lights danced on the water, a rush of love for India filled my soul. There truly is no other place in the world like India.

    With my soul dancing from the night's celebrations I slept peacefully. The following day I awoke and I was eager to venture again to another ghat to find the same beauty I found the night before, but I was in for a surprise.  I decided to visit the Manikarnika ghat, the city's most famous burning ghat, to see if I could find peace within the ceremony's realm. Hindus believe that those who are cremated in Varanasi can achieve moksha, a state of liberation from the cycle of reincarnation and a union with Braham (God). 
    After reading about the burning ceremony I had imagined that the ghat would be heavenly: fresh flowers in vivid colours, men wearing bright turbans chanting hymns, and women in bright saris celebrating the passing of a loved one. Instead, the Manikarnika ghat looked like man's impression of hell: large dusty logs were piled 12 feet high all around us; derelict buildings stood within the dead-wood graveyard, covered in smut; skinny cows eating rubbish; touts demanding money and swindling tourists for cash; path covered in ashes leading through the hell. As I continued to walk, I met with the burning ghat where six bodies were burning to dust.  As soon I saw the burning, I felt that I shouldn't be there, that it was wrong for me to be watching the cremation. While I wanted to be able to think peacefully about the sight taking place before my eyes, it was impossible. Death was also staring me straight in the face, and I didn't know how to process the images before me.

Boat trip at dusk

     The burning ghat was too much for me, with the pestering for money and the cremation setting. So Johnny and I opted for a less invasive view and watched the burning from a boat on the Ganges. The view of the burning ghat from the water was much calmer in the glow of the setting sun, and gave me time to reflect on what I had witnessed. Perhaps the reason I found the ghats so overwhelming was due to my own insecurities regarding death and the afterlife. 
     Varanasi might not have given me the spiritual awakening I was searching for, but it did make me think a lot about my own life. As I watched the bodies of the burning ghats turn to dust, I thought about what I wanted to achieve before I, too, met the same fate. Life is a very short journey and I plan to make mine a true adventure.

Ganges offering

Burning Ghats

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