I Wonder If You Know, How They Live in Tokyo

Meet Tokyo. She's...

Respectful and orderly. Japanese culture is strong and fascinating. Theo, the guy we stayed with who's been living in Tokyo for three years now, summed up a keystone of Japanese society when he described it as seeking to hammer the odd peg back into place. No one speaks loudly on the metro, no one crosses the street unless there's a green man signal on the other side, no one goes down the wrong side of the stairs even if they're completely empty. Everything is organized, and everyone is programmed to abide by the systems in place.

Tranquil. Partially due to the factors mentioned above, Tokyo is amazingly tranquil for being one of the world's largest urban centers. I once found myself in a station FULL of people, all of us crowding off one train and down the exit steps, and noticed that it was absolutely silent. Silence that reigned even above the sounds of all of our feet moving on the floor. It was the strangest experience. When everyone adheres to keeping the peace, its...well...peaceful.

Automated. Screw cafes and bars in Tokyo (or don't because there are a lot of cool ones). There are drink machines on every corner that dispense everything from coffee to booze.
You can avoid human interaction while dining out too. Liz and I entered a standard Japanese restaurant and stood helplessly in front of the touchscreen ordering machine for a few good minutes before figuring it out. It even takes your money. Hello robo-future.

Expensive. Speaking of money, our late arrival to the airport necessitated taking a taxi to our destination. We watched through covered eyes as the meter ate through an Indian first class overnight train fare in 20 minutes flat. Not to worry, this was an important step in our imminent readjustment to western pricing.

Beautiful. There's a 1-2 week period when Japan's famous cherry blossoms (sakura) are in bloom. And with unexpected and perfect timing, we were there to admire them. We spent a sunny day in Ueno Park, where people picnic on the wide sidewalks underneath pink and white arches of the blossoming trees. Tokyo on the whole is an incredibly clean city that seems to always put forth a fresh face, even in the alleys and corners where you would expect grunge.

Fashionable. While the Japanese may be all about pounding in the odd peg out, fashion is wildly popular and readily accepted. We felt horribly un-put together on the streets as we threw together outfits consisting of the last of our clean clothes. We seriously lacked the staples of Japanese couture: high heels, an impossibly flawless face, nude color combinations, fake eyelashes, layers, stockings, etc. etc. Needlessly to say, we didn't fit in any better in the sea of black business suits that often envelopes one while riding the public transportation. One of our favorite destinations was Takeshita Dori in Harajuku. It's a strip of clothing and accessory stores, and the street is crowded with hip teenagers who model Japan's current trends as they pass by. On Sunday, Takeshita street becomes home to the city's goth scene and (I believe) the Harajuku girls that Gwen Stefani sings about, who make appearances in full costume.

Delicious. Sushi, noodles, Japanese candy, crepes from Harajuku filled with ice cream, bananas, cheesecake, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream. What more can I say.

Safe. One phenomenon of Tokyo is that you can lead a big-city life without the big-city concern of safety. To quote people who live there, crime is "pretty much nonexistent." People don't lock their doors and they leave their briefcases and telephones sitting in public places if they need to use the restroom. We found ourselves in a red light district, but we honestly wouldn't have known it if wasn't for a few key descriptions and pictures. It was just as pleasant as any other street.

Chock full of culture. On our last day in Tokyo we visited the GHIBLI MUSEUM, an inside look at the work of famous Japanese film maker Hayao Miyazaki. On our way home we hit up Nakano Boulevard, whose upstairs shops boast pricey vintage and collectible treasures, impressive graphic novel productions, and more to fulfill the needs of Japanese hobbyists. On the main floor I gave in the claw machine trend. 1000 yen and one plead later, victory was mine in the form of a furry pink tote bag.

The last destination. Yeah, I can't really wrap my head around it yet. I think one last farewell blog post is in order, as soon I gather some trip statistics and remember how a computer works. So I'll spare you the dramatic goodbye, for now. I will say that Tokyo was a perfect way to end our trip.


10 bonus points to whoever knew that the title of this post is a reference to the Fast and Furious Tokyo Drift soundtrack, which we unfortunately had stuck in our heads the whole stay. 

Crickets!

We ate crickets in Bangkok off the street one night (fueled on by a bucket of strawberry daiquiri) they were actually really tasty!

Paradise

Thailand. Wonderful, beautiful, an extraordinary paradise. We were greeted at the airport by clean smells and even cleaner facilities. Everyone was primped, professional and ultra efficient. We're reaching that time when our trip is about to end and we thought nothing could cure the weary homesick travelers that we have become. But we were so wrong. After 15 minutes in Thailand we were revitalized with energy in a way that we didn't even remember we could be. You want to get to Hua Hin? Here's your bus ticket be back here 10 minutes before departure. It was truly magical. And the food court where we waited for the bus? It was a Thai food paradise. So many gummies, fruity drinks, and noodles. It was so overwhelming it was nigh impossible to choose. I settled on a noodle soup with octopus stuffed fish balls. And for dessert? A delicious blend of gummy-fied chestnuts with dried kiwi over a giant syrupy ice ball. Just thinking about it makes me salivate.

Our bus was easily the nicest transportation we've taken in months. The plush leather seats reclined both ways and it was ultra air conditioned. In the smoothest travel day we could have, we soon arrived in Hua Hin the beach for old royalty near Bangkok. I don't know if we saw anyone "royal" but we definitely got old covered. I have seen one too many very middle-aged white men coupled with a young tiny Thai girl.

But Thailand. The beach. We splurged on a hotel here that had American channels, air conditioning and even a shower curtain! We were 100 meters from the beach and 200 meters from a massive three story shopping mall, complete with cineplex and bowling alley. We spent a day on the beach. I could tell you that we spent the whole time lounging on beach chairs working on our tans (ha!) but that would be a gross lie. We spent the day hiding under umbrellas accepting the fact that we were the two whitest people on the beach. Unfortunately the water was so hot that it offered no relief from the searing weather.

Our time was at night. Sweet night, when we emerged from our air conditioned favorites to experience the night markets. We frequented two that both were overwhelming for the senses. Lace, floral patterns, and strange accessories lined every stall. From massive head-bows to Beats knock-offs, you could pretty much find anything. The food smelled...hot. In any other circumstance, we would have been all over the street food but, you approach the stands and you're hit with a wave of heat that sends you reeling. So we ended up sticking to smoothies. The mild brain freeze they provided made the heat slightly more bearable. Many of our meals in Thailand have consisted of various smoothies.

All too soon our time here ended and we headed to Bangkok to enjoy our last few days in Thailand. But that is for another day!

Cheers,
Liz

P.S There aren't any pictures because all we've been doing is lounging and enjoying our re-introduction to western influences.

Last Stop, Kolkata

March 10, 2013

Our time in Calcutta was split between before Darjeeling and after Darjeeling. Though that's really not that important to know, since we haven't done too much here. The city is reminiscent of Mumbai in it's juxtaposition of grand European architecture with trash-streaked streets and poverty. In its modernity, autorickshaws have been largely replaced by classic yellow taxis. If frustration with India can be measured by how ferociously one fights with taxi drivers to get a fairly price ride out of the train station, then we might be reaching our limit. But the love-hate relationship quickly draws to a close. Tomorrow we're on a flight to Thailand!

Back to Calcutta. Rather than the Victoria Memorial, Mother Teresa's "Mother House," or the maze of New Market, the highlight of Calcutta would have to be the Paragon Hotel. On the ladder of lodgings that we've stayed in, it's one of the lowest rungs. We justified our first stay there with the fact that we were leaving for Darjeeling the next day. "It's only for one night," as our grunge travel motto goes. But hey, we're back for three more nights of bed bugs and stray cats. Gotta do it while you're young.

I'll give you a short tour:
You walk in. The security guard is sitting in his usual chair. His hair is bright orange. This is not unusual, hennaed hair is all over.
The hotel owner yells at some Chinese guy, who made the mistake of asking about the room key. Bro, you gotta bring your own LOCK.
Someone sits outside the dormitories smoking a cigarette. Its courtyard style here.
There's a large, out-of-place fish tank built into the wall. (Why?!) the nook below is devoted to a used bottle collection.
Next come the very unsound-proof community squat toilets, which make you realize the common strain of Indian food on the digestive system. Solidarity, or lack thereof...
Our room is close by. Lucky number 13, a dirty, mint green cement box with two wooden beds and questionable mattresses.

I'm serious about the "do it while you're young" thing. I walked past this scene this morning on the way to get chai, and I was strangely overcome with gratitude at being here, in this dingy hotel. Its more than that: its an international hub, a gathering of individuals that carry around padlocks and extra sheets. I don't know if I'll have the stamina for this when I'm older, and it's an enriching experience I wouldn't trade for the world. To know that you're making it across the world with the money in your belt, the necessities (and more...) on your back, and the wits experience has rewarded you with. Sometimes I feel like gameboy Mario collecting tokens of knowledge. And the graffiti on the walls of your room lets you know that you're not the only one on a quest.

Bye, India. You've certainly revealed how adaptable and enduring humans are. And if it's true that things can only be as good as they are bad, then the world can only be as colorful as it is dirty.

Alexis

A Tea for All

Darjeeling. The land of tea. I personally prefer darjeeling tea to just about any other because it is meant to be drunk black with no milk or sugar. We had lots of tea in our time here. In particular we went to the Sunset Lounge which is run by Nathmulls, one of Darjeeling's oldest tea companies. Here I had the pleasure of drinking a cup of one of the finest tea blends in all of Darjeeling. At 80 rupees for a single cup, it is the elite of black tea. Is there really a difference in tea quality, you might ask? Well at first, no. A high quality tea and a regular tea will taste the same right when it is brewed. But, if you let it sit and develop its flavor a regular quality tea will take on the bitter quality that makes most people run for milk and sugar. A high quality tea will mature in this time to display its hidden flavor whether that be fruity or floral or smoky. The one I was drinking took on an almost woody floral, being a second flush muscatel. Second flushes (the second round of tea picked in a single season) is not grassy and light like the first flush and yet not smoky and woody like the autumn batch. Instead it is somewhere in between, not quite a delicate flavor but not quite the full bodied flavor that is so distinct of an autumn. All this jargon is nice and all, but the question is, do you like it? My answer? Meh. Black teas are nice and I could definitely appreciate the nuances of my fine black tea, but give me a cuppa green tea any day. For some reason, people tend to find green tea bitter. Bitter? I don't see it. In fact, compared to the black, my green tea was so smooth it could have been water. It had the light, weightless taste of new grown grass and sunshine on flowery hills. It surpassed all green teas that I've ever tasted and left my body with a warm happy feeling. I only hope that when I brew it myself I will be able to extract the same intricacies. The brewing process is extremely important with tea. Over-steep it and you lose the delicate flavors to harsh replacements. Don't steep it enough and you don't give the leaf time to realize it's potential. Luckily, all Nathmulls tea comes with instructions on how to properly brew it. I spent more on tea than almost any other souvenir that I purchased and I consider it money very well spent. It may not be able to capture the ambiance of the clear glass teacups and the giant glass windows and the sound of the manager's son wreaking havoc on the tea shop and all of its employees, but it will be a reminder of a time where all we had to do in a day was sit and drink tea.

Because really that's basically all we did in Darjeeling. Tragically, it was really foggy and cloudy everyday we were there so we could have been at the bottom of a valley for all we knew. We saw no Himalayas, no Everest, we could barely see the next hill over! Every morning we woke up with the hopes that we could see the views that this area is so famous for and every day we were disappointed. Thank goodness we went to Nagarkot in Nepal or we would have missed the Himalayas entirely!

We did have a really fun day at the zoo. Now normally we don't partake in anything that horribly touristy, however, our German friends who we've been running into since Varanasi told us that it was actually a really fun time. For lack of nothing else to do we decided to go. It was really ingesting because for the most part, (aside from some random macaws from South America) all of the animals were indigenous to the area. We saw the Himalayan black bear, a really cute thing that is hunted for its gall bladder which is used in traditional Chinese medicine. We saw a bunch of lazing jungle cats including a snow leopard and a clouded leopard. The one animal that didn't make an appearance was Richard Parker himself! While all of the other jungle cats had a cage of maybe 20x20 feet, the tiger cage was a paradise with trees and hills and plenty of hiding spots. It was impossible to see the entire enclosure so we must assume that he was hiding so where out of sight in the sun. There were some ally interesting ungulates that I had never seen before including one, called a Blue Sheep, that looked like it was wearing little stockings! But the pride and joy of the zoo and my visit was the red pandas. There were a lot of enclosures dedicated to these strange furry creatures and each housed one or two pandas. We saw some sleeping in trees, their little black limbs thrown over the branches. There was one that was trying to walk down a branch to the ground. It wasn't very sure-footed and it kept slipping and then re-righting itself just in time! There was one that was irritated, pacing back and forth on the edge of his cage. I think he could sense his friend on the other side because he clearly wanted to be in the other cage. The way they walk is unlike any animal I have ever seen. They walk bow-legged stamping down distinctly on each limb. The only way I can think to describe it is that they look like a stuffed animal come to life! I would imagine my teddy bear to totter along in the same fashion. They were just too cute!

We decided to treat ourselves to high tea at the Windamere Hotel. It's been a while since we've done anything nice and what better place to have high tea than in Darjeeling? Walking in to the hotel we felt very obviously out of place. They sat us in a sitting room with a cozy fire and plush pink furniture. For the first hour, neither of us could force our voices over a whisper, for fear of some unknown punishment. The tea wasn't fantastic but the tea treats were. We had buttery biscuits with jam and cream, scones, cucumber sandwiches, cheese and chutney sandwiches, cake, and shortbread cookies. It was quite a spread. Although everything was bite sized, all of that rich food did a number on our stomachs and we departed satisfied but very full. It was a nice break to be in a place where the bathrooms actually have toilet paper and there aren't the tell-tale signs of mold and vermin.

Other than that, I can't say we did very much. And before we knew it, we were on our way back to Kolkata, our last stop before moving on to Thailand!

School & homestay

Being part of the traveler community is a whole lot of fun. We spend many hours at cafe restaurants with absurdly expansive menus, we randomly meet up with those European people that we've run into in multiple Indian cities, and we brave questionable guesthouses to save a few rupees. Alas, there comes a time when the routine grows a bit stale, and I yearn to connect to India in a different, more immersed fashion. This blog post describes two recent forays into the Indian way of life, one via a school and the other via a homestay.

After nearly 3 months, I've become skilled at not getting my hopes up when ordering continental dishes. When menus here list food items, they're not always what you expect. Example:
Pancake = crepe
Milkshake = flavored milk
Liz and my experience with a children's school in Varanasi and a homestay near Darjeeling proved to similarly destroy our preconceived notions of what they would be like. Receiving something other than what you envisioned, whether for better or worse, is the Indian way.

LEARN FOR LIFE SCHOOL, VARANASI

We found out about Learn for Life School through a bakery in Varanasi. They run a few nonprofit organizations around the city, one of which is a children's school near the guesthouse we stayed at. They welcome short-term volunteers, and so after speaking with the school principal in the bakery, I decided to go volunteer for a few days. The next day, I met the principal in her home, and she showed me where the school was within the same multi-level cement complex. It consisted of two small rooms, and below that were several rooms facing an open stone courtyard where families of the poorest students resided. I waited in the classroom with a group of little girls before class started. They were sweet and entertaining company, all very chatty, curious, and eager. They wanted to know my name, and take pictures with my camera, and play a game consisting of holding hands and jumping up together on the count of three. The two teachers arrived later: one young woman about my age, the other an older woman. At this all of the children lined up outside the classroom for morning prayer/song, ending with a resounding, "good morning ma'ams!"

The organization of the school was such that I had no clear role as "volunteer." The school days are arranged into blocks of Hindi, English, and math lessons, with general knowledge and drawing classes on Sunday. Each child drew out a notebook when class began, ideally to practice writing to be checked by the teacher, though it was clear that not all of the students could perform or pay attention to the task. The younger teacher talked to me for a while about my travels, and then suggested that I come back tomorrow.

Liz and I came back the next day in the afternoon. The children were assigned to work in their general knowledge packets, though many of the answers were written for them, and the day's activity mostly consisted of repeating the English phrases and vocabulary after the teacher. When she wasn't doing this, the young teacher was very interested in speaking with us (more so than focusing on her students, perhaps). She ended up revealing many personal details and stories during a heartfelt conversation; she seemed grateful to have people her own age to talk to. Though I'm utterly grateful for the exchange we experienced with her, I must admit that I left the school feeling rather unhelpful to the children.

Critiquing the disorganization of the classroom and the program is difficult since they have so many roadblocks to overcome. For one, the teacher has an infinitely difficult task: to educate students ranging greatly in age and capability with limited resources, funding, and time. There's the problem of poverty feeding poverty. A large portion of the students couldn't attend class on Saturday because they have to work on the streets selling flowers, postcards, and such to the pilgrims. And within this and other complicated framework, the easiest thing to ask of the volunteers who show up is to bring the children candy and cookies. There's obvious problems with even this...like the fact that the kids' teeth are already rotting.

In a nutshell, visiting Learn for Life school showed me the chaos and challenge of education in the midst of poverty, and the networked nature of social problems. I'm forced to reconsider the definition of "help."

MAKAIBARI TEA PLANTATION, KURSEONG

After Varanasi and a short stint in Calcutta, we headed north to Darjeeling.(Note to travelers in India: it IS possible to go straight from Varanasi to Darjeeling! Oh, the things you learn too late.) But before going alllll the way up the treacherous mountain roads in a crowded share jeep, we stopped in Kurseong, a small mountain town surrounded by many tea estates. We walked down a sharply declining road for about 45 minutes before reaching the Makaibari (mock-ah-berry) plantations. Alright, alright, we had to stop and ask directions from two seven-year-olds, who were adorable and are pictured below. The little one asked our names and then exclaimed, "those are beautiful names!" Aw.

We had previously arranged a homestay via email, and like everywhere in India we showed up not knowing what to expect. By "showed up," I mean we found some guy along the road of small cottages and told him what we were looking for, and he grabbed another guy who worked with the program, and he shooed us into a cosy home with a new family where we would be sleeping. Official isn't really a thing here.

Our family seemed really lovely, and they were to the extent of my knowledge. Unfortunately they didn't talk to us much. At meal times, the oldest daughter or the mother would peer into our room and whisper, "your food is ready." We would go into the kitchen and the little table would be set for two, and the rest of the family would be nowhere to be seen. The cooking was quite good.

Our first full day in Makaibari, we got a tour of the Makaibari tea factory. Our tour guide Dawa taught us a lot about tea plucking and processing, and after being here and in Munnar, I must say that we're quite the experts. We looked it, too, because they made us put on surgical masks, hair nets and shoe covers. Dawa showed us the machinery that's as old as the factory itself. (So like, at least 80 years old. They don't make things like they used to.) At the end we left the factory to enjoy a delicious cup of white tea, and later in the afternoon we went on a hike through the tea fields. On the way downhill we passed the stream where everyone bathes and washed clothes, which explained a lot since our homestay home had no running water. We walked past smaller satellite clusters of Makaibari homes and village life, and had tea in one of the houses. Then the ascent back up - past the pruned, leafless plants and continuously gorgeous view.

The next day we spent a little time in the town of Kurseong. Alas, most remote Indian towns are more or less the same, and not that entertaining after a while. As Liz said, "What are we going to do, buy plastic buckets with the locals?" So it was down the mountain once more to pack and say our goodbyes, and head to higher ground.

Our "volunteering" and homestay experiences were not extensive. If I were to go back, I would add a few weeks of remaining in one place to volunteer and gain a richer connection to something. The simple word "travel" encompasses so many styles of getting around and seeing the world; the way we've (mostly) hopped about is a completely different experience from spending a few weeks or more in the same place, each with its own merits and struggles.

I best enjoy my hopping now, cause there ain't that much left. Home in >2 weeks.

Love,
Alexis

Varanasi: An Overview

Our travels took us next to Varanasi. The journey there was pretty horrid and consisted of a 29 hour travel day of which 8 hours was spent in the same dark, fluorescent, brain killing restaurant. They thought we'd never leave and frankly we started to believe we wouldn't either. After such a long time being immersed in our own books, minds, and dreams, emerging off the train at Varanasi was a daze. I walked through the crowds of people in the station much the way I did on the first day of India so long ago. I was seeing it, but it didn't register at all. By the time we were in the auto with our pick up, I had mostly recovered, but it was a very strange experience.

Now I was pretty apprehensive about Varanasi. Lonely Planet warned that it was one of the most overwhelming cities in India and it's not for the faint of heart. As much as I'd love to say I'm ready for anything in India, we're about to hit our 6th month traveling and my heart may be fainting a little. But strangely I thrived in the narrow crowded streets of Varanasi. True, you're packed like sardines on tiny shit covered streets, sharing the road with cows and the occasional motor bike, but there was one important difference to other cities we've visited: we weren't hassled nearly as much. It was a fresh relief that for most things, we were not the target of shop keepers. The Kumbh Mela is drawing to a close in Allahabad and all of the pilgrims are making a stop in Varanasi before they return home. It is these devoutly religious people that shop keepers try to snare with prayer beads and good luck talismans.

Let me explain the Mela. It is a giant religious Hindu gathering that millions of pilgrims (including sadhus) attend. The recurrences of the mela are really confusing, but the general gist is that it repeats every third year in a rotation of four different locations. Some important Mela only repeats every 12 years but look at the wiki article yourself, it's confusing as hell. They're all called a variation of the Kumbh Mela but some repeat every 3 years, every 12, every 144. Anyway, what's important is that it's between 30-80 million people (depending on the day) in one place, fighting to get a dip in the Ganga.

We made a friend while we were in Varanasi, which is new for us! In the past few weeks all of a sudden we talk to fellow travelers more and more. It's pretty refreshing to hear new voices other than our own. One guy in particular, named Sean, hung around with us for a few days. We went with him to the nightly ceremony that takes place on the main ghat, we took our meals with him, and we explored Varanasi with him. He was pretty horrified when he found out we were only 19 and 20 and we were astonished when he revealed that he was 33! When you are traveling, age doesn't seem to matter so much. Just by experiencing the same things that are so different from western culture, you forge a bond between travelers no matter what age they are. We are bonded by the struggles and the hardships that we all undoubtably have at some point during our trips. So, after the first night with Sean, we were able to sit in silence after a long day of sight seeing like old friends.

One of the most interesting things that we experienced with Sean was walking through the sadhu camps. The sadhus are wandering monks that have renounced their material life. Sadhus' lives are fully committed to achieving the fourth and final stage of life for Hindus. This includes enlightenment and breaking the cycle of reincarnation. For most people, this is in fact impossible, so it takes complete dedication. In order to become a sadhu, you must sever all earthly connections. Part of that process includes attending your own funeral. According to the government, family, friends, you are dead. They come down from the mountains for the Kumbh Mela every three years. Most sadhus after dipping in Allahabad, return immediately to their homes in the mountains. Some will visit Varanasi but for the most part the sadhus that make their permanent home in the camps along the ghats are not real sadhus. They take advantage of the sadhu lifestyle and use it to beg from innocent people so they can have money to purchase marijuana. That isn't to say they're not a sight to see! You enter the beginnings of their camps and it's a flurry of red, orange and yellow tarps forming make shift tents that seep smoke. As a result, there seems to be a slight haze surrounding the camps. It gives it an almost carnival feel (although maybe that's the second hand smoke talking :) In all seriousness, you walk around and you see multiple sadhus occupying each tent in various levels of dress. There were quite a few naked but for the white ash smeared all over them, many wore only loin clothes, and a rare few actually wore some warm color garments. They are a scraggly looking bunch with massive dreadlocks and long beards. Many smoke their hash and sit content in their tents swaying to a rhythm that only they can hear. Many aging western hippies join them in their tents to "search for enlightenment" *cough* smoke dope *cough* No wonder these sadhus are all in advanced stages of enlightenment, their job is to smoke hash and meditate! No earthly possessions, no family to distract them, just their hash and their minds. There are some sadhus that pose on raised dais or on beds, naked and proud of it. If you want to take a picture though, they require payment, a hint that maybe they are not real sadhus. That's not to say that real sadhus don't beg, they do. They are fully dependent on the charity of people around them but they don't specifically want the attention of tourists. To be a sadhu is a hard and deprived life and is intensely religious. They are not entertainment acts that get really high and amuse tourists with strange chanting and drum music. That being said, it was still quite an experience to walk through the camps and watch just that.

There is one sadhu in particular that stays uniquely in my memory. He was present at the nightly ceremony, sitting on this raised concrete platform in the midst of the crowd. Just as the ceremony was about to start he stood up and tied his orange shirt around his waist like a high school valley girl. He was wearing nothing underneath except for an enormous bell that had been fastened around his penis. It weighed down his penis so much I was afraid it might just rip it off. He stood very proud with his shirt tied and this huge bell. Soon people of all ages began to approach him (all Indian). I suppose they wanted to be blessed by him or something of the sort, because he would bow his head and then pat them a few time on theirs. It was a very strange sight to see. They sound pretty crazy but to Indians they are very holy!

We took an early morning sunrise boat tour of Varanasi. At 6am there was already a flood of people taking their spiritual dip in the Ganga. It was totally packed! In our boat we were able to get very close to all the action without having to push through the crowds. It was a kind of relieving experience. It also allowed us to get pretty close to the burning ghats. We were able to get closer to them on foot, but there was a pretty intense feeling that we didn't belong when we were standing right next to the pyres that wasn't present when we watched from the river. The burning ghats is another one of those things that made Varanasi really unique. Because it is a holy city, burnings can happen 24/7 rather than at specific times. It takes 3 hours for one body to burn fully and in that time countless kilos of wood is burned. Families must buy the wood for their loved ones, the most expensive being sandalwood which is usually reserved for the wealthy and important. The wood surrounding the main burning ghat is incredible. It is stacked reminiscent of Lincoln logs and is almost as high as the surrounding buildings! I'd never seen a dead body before but it was a pretty surreal experience. They are brought to the site on stretchers wrapped in a shroud of various bright colors. Their body is then placed on the pyre and lit with the "fire of Shiva". This fire, which burns directly behind the ghat, never goes out and is used to light every body. It is said that the same flames have been burning for over 3500 years without once going out! When we first visited the ghat, the bodies (I think) must have been burning for a while. A foot. A hand. An elbow. Part of a face. Various parts of the body were visible and what's more still recognizable as we watched the body burn. Some limbs were already charred and a lot was covered by the wood. Even then, it was still a pretty intense experience. Like I said, I don't think I've ever seen a dead body in real life before, and to think that this inanimate body, this burning "thing" was a live person just a few days ago was a really hard concept for my brain to wrap around. Thus the surreal nature of the event.

There's a little bit more of Varanasi that Alexis will explain later. We volunteered at a school. But that's a story for another day.

Cheers,

Liz