“Since the birth of time, the Indian city of Varanasi has been a place of holy pilgrimage. For Hindu’s from all walks of life, the river Ganges and its promise of spiritual nirvana have given the city an energy that pulls both the devoted and the intrigued. The ageless beauty of Varanasi comes to light in even a short trip, so here’s our quick guide to making the most of India’s spiritual capital.”
Thank you again to Travel Belles for sharing our quick guide to exploring the wonders of ancient Varanasi.
https://www.travelbelles.com/2017/08/quick-guide-indias-spiritual-capital-varanasi/
We held our hands up to our noses and tried to block the stench of stale urine as we walked through the narrow laneways. There were cows being revered, Sadhu’s and beggars crouching on the cobbled paths and the faithful lined up outside the tiny temples, with their floors ashen and sooty from the burning embers. Even for the initiated, Varanasi makes Old Delhi look ordered. At 5.30am, the frothy chai was bubbling and stalls open for the devoted to buy flowers, diyas and golden Hindu trinkets. These scenes unfold in layers every day, where rubbish is thrown haphazardly around and cow manure sits in slushy piles. There are around 2,000 temples along the cities’ winding streets all dedicated to Lord Shiva. And though millions of people come to Varanasi to die under the promise of nirvana, there is nothing godly about the filth that hangs in the air and settles on the ground. Varanasi has always been densely packed with residents, visitors and pilgrims alike and it looks as though no one has cleaned up since the first person decided to call it home.
I wondered at God watching the parade. The streams of people colliding, oblivious to each other as the world around them tumbles on. I wondered if we all just get so used to where we are that we forget to fight for something better. Whether the cage is golden or steel, it’s entrapment just the same until we crave for something more. In a way, that’s what Varanasi is all about, escaping the wheel that spins us endlessly around. Its reputation as India’s spiritual capital is a drawcard that brings the ethereal and enchanted alike and despite its ramblings of chaos, blends harmoniously in search of freedom.
Through the mess, bikes, auto rickshaws and millions of feet trudge on towards the holy river every day. I’d been wanting for years to see the Ganges and in the pale grey of daybreak, it was everything mystical I’d been hoping for. I was first struck by the width of the fullness of the river and the grandeur of the palaces, whose steps form the Ghats that Varanasi is so famous for. Peddling along the platforms were people selling garlands of marigolds, the colours of saffron and tangerine that matched the line of ceremonial flags and the loosely worn robes of the Sadhus. The shoreline was packed tight with broad hulled boats and tourists and guides jumping on board, all trying to capture the moment of the perfect rising sun.
In Hinduism, the cow is revered so left to roam free. Though I’m no stranger to cows at the traffic lights, to see them nimbly weaving in and out of the crowds and trotting up and down the steps was a little unnerving. As our car was slowing down to park, the other gal covered her eyes and said “Oh no, don’t look.” Well, there’s an invitation, so curious by the sound of sadness in her voice, I looked. A beautiful doe eyed cow was plodding slowly, dragging a deformed hoof along and we both just winced. Such sad karma, though we were glad the cow was at least honoured in Varanasi’s safe hands. We didn’t see it, but there are sects of Hinduism where people actually drink cow’s urine. Though the scent of it fills the backstreets, I’m glad we missed it.
What we didn’t miss, however, was a body wrapped in white linen slip into the water from a boat in front of us. We could see it was going to happen, but when it broke the surface of the water and silently slipped away, we were a little spellbound. Cremations burn through the night on the Ganges, but there are 5 deaths that don’t allow for cremation; children, pregnant women, people who died from a snakebite, those who died from chickenpox and holy men. Though normally Hinduism doesn’t permit cremations after sunset, along the Burning Ghats the deaths are so many, they continue through the night. Such is the call of the soul to Varanasi.
While the Ganges may be the holy river, in the city of Sarnath just 10km out of town you’re back on sacred ground. It was here that after receiving enlightenment Buddha gave his first sermon. What is today an archaeological park and the site of the world’s most ancient Stupa’s, is also home to Buddhist temples and statues built by Chinese, Thai and Japanese followers. Our morning spent gazing through the monuments got even better when the head priest from one of the temples, a tall statuesque Monk came over to us and started chatting quite casually. As we walked down toward the temple gates, he told us a little of the history of the Temple site and we noticed his entourage of security walking briskly behind us. One by one iPhones and camera’s started clicking us together and we realised we were right in the middle of a celebrity moment. When people come up to me in India asking for my photo I’m always amused, what with my lack of celebrity and all, but this felt rather special. And indeed Varanasi is special. Because out of the hazy swirl of the masses, rises a serene and gentle spirit, calling Wanderers all over the world back home.
“Dramatically perched on the mountain tops, the monasteries and palaces of Leh make for both stunning vista’s and hard climbs. To reach the temples, the steep stairways of 100+ steps require at least a decent level of fitness. The views are truly stunning; whitewashed walls, painted Buddha’s and exposed mountain peaks. To reach the temples and see the splash of colour from the prayer flags at the very peak of the craggy mountain tops is a sight that is truly unforgettable.”
Thank you to the awe-inspiring Lonely Planet for publishing Lost in Leh. To see more, click here:
What is our obsession with Facebook? It’s become our worldwide search engine, event planner, pentameter for self-esteem, our social circle and the soapbox of many. Hardly a day goes by where most of us don’t check in or check out. Is it just the voyeur in us or does it resonate at a deeper level and play on our psychological connections with the world around us? In a time where our days can pass in the company of strangers and our energies exchanged for corporate success, perhaps the circle on Facebook that we create reflects a little of the tribe we remember. Maybe how we interact with Facebook today mirrors our primal need for connection, acceptance, approval and belonging. Well, FB certainly got that right.
I was not the popular kid at school, nor am I the most popular person on FB. If I clock up likes in the double digits I think my Facebook game just got better, but in reality, that’s only about a 15% response rate from the average number of FB friends that we all have. One of my FB friends regularly posts pictures of her incredible watercolour paintings and I’m stunned when only a few people click like, same story with many creative posts I see, but a well-plated dish taken at a popular restaurant will get over 100 likes. I got curious and wanted to know why…
Facebook gets into the rhythm of our brain where all the good things flow in and around the brains pleasure centre. It takes us to a state of the happy observer. That is, as long as the content is right; not too heavy not too light. It seems that we generally like posts that don’t challenge us, they’re easy to “like” and perhaps, something that we too can easily achieve. It’s not attainable that we can all paint brilliant watercolours, but that picture of the plate of food is well within our reach. In other words, we like things that are easy to digest.
The hook is simple, when you’re bored, you scroll. Within moments there’s a multitude of things to see, to read, to watch and to comment on. We go from wondering what to do to being completely engaged in the world again, in a matter of moments. But there’s another catch; when we’re down or lonely, posting something on our newsfeed gives us a much needed boost. Studies have shown that students who update their FB status more regularly than others, record lower levels of loneliness. We possibly also like the chance to spread our empathy around, it helps build our social image and liking widely acceptable stuff generates a sort of intangible goodwill. It plays on our need for connection and validation; back to the tribe.
We’ve learned a lot from Facebook; it’s where 30% of Americans get their daily news, eating curly fries suggests intelligence and companies actually select staff based on their FB activity. We’ve learnt that social peer pressure works and what you “like” creates a reasonably accurate profile of your broader social beliefs. So on the other side of the coin, while we’re out there socialising our virtues, Facebook the corporation, is collecting analytics worth their weight in gold. Perhaps they need to be more subtle, as a travel blogger its pretty obvious when my news feed is filled with uninvited ads promoting 7 nights in Thailand.
The tendrils of Facebook keep reaching out into new corners of our psyche, crossing all sorts of privacy barriers and drip feeding marketers a well crafted supply of information. It’s hard to imagine that 10 years ago, most of us survived pretty well without knowing what each other was having for dinner or what movie we were watching. But of course Facebook survives because this is just the first layer that it touches; go beyond this and clearly we love the reach that it gives us to share, link, to hear and be heard. It triggers what lies at the heart of our very nature, our social instinct to surround ourselves with company and have a voice, even if it’s all played out on a handheld screen. Well, there’s no going back now.
There’s really no way around it, road tripping in India is tough going. Even when you learn how to navigate around the wayward livestock and doe-eyed cows peering through the car windows at the traffic lights, the roads with their sinking potholes and rubble surfaces take some getting used to. In Ladakh, they are so treacherous that when we arrived back in Delhi, even the cobbled backstreets felt serene. If bad roads aren’t enough, there’s the issue of roadside toilets. I learnt in India many years ago that the ability to hold your nose and squat on an Indian loo (euphemism for hole in the ground) was priceless when driving cross country. And that remembering to carry a roll of loo paper in your backpack was just about the best advice I’d ever been given. Well, we spent a week travelling in and around Leh and the ability to muck in and keep smiling was never needed more.
Travelling around Ladakh is not for princesses, but these times generally bring out the best sides of our humour. Being so high up, you can’t do much on your first day in Leh, except that, lay around. We felt dizzy walking around the hotel and after a shower laughed at our exhaustion levels. The trick to combat this is lots of water, but that and long road trips don’t work together so well. On our third day after driving for about 4 hours towards the 18,000-foot hike to the Khardongla Pass, we stopped for a roadside chai. Bursting to find the loos, we followed the sign to a one-metre high open tin shed perched precariously on the side of a dusty hill, only to find the hole in the ground also on a slant and we’d forgotten the loo paper.
KHARDUNGLA PASS 18380 FT
We drove 20 hours over the next 2 days, so we had plenty of time to get the loo routine down pat. On some of the roads, the going was so rough that we asked our driver where he was actually driving, the roads had disappeared under melting snow and though we were right on the cliff edge, he’d still swerve close to the brink for fear that a random boulder might cascade off the mountain. He didn’t seem to think that there was more chance of that happening to us. We bounced around the car, holding on to every handle we could reach, almost jarring our heads against the windows. When the other gal heard my grimacing, she turned to the back seat where I was sitting. It had been 7 hours of being unglamorously hurled around the car and when she saw the “I’m done” look on my face, her response was splendid; I needed the reassurance that just around the bend it would get better, her empathy that even though I knew India well, there were times I’d choose to play the foreign “I’m not used to this” card…so she did the only thing possible, laughed her head off, a full throttle hilarious laugh and so I laughed too. In any case, we’d just passed a sign that said Leh 94 km. I was hopeful again, until 10 minutes later and the sign said 96…
As we kept driving we took every opportunity to take in all the local things to do, driving ATV’s across the world’s highest sand dunes (except my guide was more interested in getting my number so I could teach him English over Whatsapp), white water rafting down the Indus River and take a camel ride. We arrived at a fresh water stream where right on cue, the Bactrian camels sauntered along in anticipation for their rides. My gosh, we’ve never seen an uglier rabble of camels in our lives; their moulting winter fur looked like their coats were being randomly picked off by crows and those 2 proud humps? They flopped on either side and we laughed wondering how perky their humps needed to be to find each other attractive.
By the time we’d finish these long days, we were so zapped that we’d call it a night, even before the sun went down which strangely never seemed to happen. Every day we thought we’d watch the sun reflect off the mountains as it set against the Himalayas but by 8.30pm it was as glaring as midday and we couldn’t match its stamina. We were overwhelmed by the grandeur and magnificence of this beautiful part of the world, poetically still referred to as Indo-China. We’d click a dozen photos, only to feel that the beauty was just too big to fit in a single snapshot.
It might not be for the faint-hearted but it is certainly for everyone who appreciates Ladakh’s Buddhist culture, her cheerful people and the sheer grandeur of passing your days at the crest of the Himalayas. For us, every day was breathtaking. So with our eyes and minds full of grateful memories, we headed back to Delhi. And here’s why I say India is the gift that keeps on giving. Even knowing that we were departing Kashmir, we passed 7 security checks at the airport and were frisked 3 times. After all this, we were still required to search through luggage piled a story high and identify our bags. Like much of India it was crazy but somehow, despite everything, comes together beautifully in the end. So pack your loo paper, disconnect with the world for a bit, keep your humour close by and let your journey with beguiling India begin! Your view of the world will never be the same again.
