Hello, Hash?

The touts of the Varanasi ghats don't beat around the bush. I thought no place could ever top Vancouver, B.C. for most-drug-offers-per-city-block, but it seems I was oh-so wrong. Sorry friend, I'm already tripping balls from the living carnival that is Varanasi.

Now is the time to be in Varanasi. The saddhu's or babas as they are affectionately called, have set up camps along the ghats lining the Ganga. They'll stay here until after the Holi festival on March 3rd, after which most will drift to the next holy site, though some, like the naga-baba (naked saddhu) who always seems to draw a massive crowd by twisting his penis around a metal trident while periodically taking long and much-needed draws off his chillum, may well stay.

Belly Aches, the Kumbh Mela, and Love in the Time of Cholera

I don't like seeing doctors, and I know I'm not the only one, yes I'm looking at you Mr. Willoughby, but after a few stabs at self-diagnosis and treatment of my chronically loose bowels I swallowed my pride and visited what passes for a modern medical facility in Varanasi. The diagnosis was simple - my initial self-treatment with antibiotics had destroyed the good bacteria in my system, causing my continuing and worrisome digestive ills. A few days treatment with a pro-biotic was all it took to set me straight and put the brick factory back in business. Cost for the consultation: a mere 10 rupees, about the price of a frothy lassi. The pro-biotics: 65 rupees, or the price of a tikka butter masala and naan at a mid-priced restaurant. The main expense was the 150 rupees I paid to the auto-rickshaw driver to take me there and back, an expense I justified by imagining it was an ambulance.

One significant advantage I reap by living outside the United States is that I can visit the doctor without sacraficing my savings. A simple visit to an ER in the U.S. would cost, say, minimum $200, and any sort of lab work or medication could easily send the bill to between $500-$1000. Being without insurance, it's risky for me to return home for a visit. In most cases it would be cheaper to fly to Bangkok and get treatment there.

Rest assured I'm fine and fit now in my beautiful airy room overlooking the Ganga ghats where the children fly kites and play cricket with no shoes. The only danger I face is the army of monkeys that live on the rooftops, and will snatch up anything I leave on the table near the window by reaching their little arms through the metal grates. It's a fine environment for reading, writing, and relaxation. In the mornings and evenings I grab my camera and take photos along the ghats. I rarely go without a siesta, and I have the feeling that I've stayed here a month.

The truth is I came here on the night of Shiva, February 16th. Varanasi is the city of Shiva, and I don't have to remind you that Indians love a good celebration, and what more appropriate occasion could one imagine. It was the most lively and boisterous parade of night life I've seen for some time, with floats, fireworks, dancing, dozens of brass bands, and enough loudspeakers to fill every narrow alleyway in the city with the vibrations of Hindu techno.

That same day I had been in Allahabad soaking up the atmosphere of the Ardh Kumbh Mela, where thousands of pilgrims come; not only the babas and saddhus but family upon family who had come from all across India to bathe in the water where 3 holy Indian rivers come together, on the day which the vedic astrologers had pinpointed as the most auspicious.

Just 2 days and a 12 hour train ride before, I had been in Agra, more famous for it's being home to the Taj than for it's general unpleasantness. And before Agra it was Jaipur.

Thanks to those who played "make a story from the pictures", I'll have to do that again. I've also put some more photos up on flickr (find the link on the right).

Photo Special

J-J-J-Jaipur!!!

Having spent 2 weeks in simple and salty Dwarka, it was time for a major shift. It turns out there's no starker contrast to dreamy Dwarka than smelly and desperate Jaipur, capitol of the tourist trap state of India, Rajasthan. After a surprisingly bearable 20 hour train ride without an assigned seat, I was besieged by vulture-like auto-rickshaw (tuk-tuk) drivers upon my arrival at 4 AM. These guys must feed on green travelers like a cow on cardboard. My chosen vulture tried every trick in the book to steer me to "his" hotel, from which he would recieve a hefty commission, with me, of course, footing that bill. Uncharacteristally, I had made a hotel reservation (the first of this trip), which I was mighty thankful for during this battle of wits with the driver.

It's unfortunate that 95% of the people in a country can be wonderful, genuine, honest people, but 95% of the people who approach you while walking down the street are blood-sucking touts or rickshaw drivers, just dying to rip you off. Many visitors get defensive after dealing with these unscrupulous vagabonds, and cease to trust any local with a friendly smile and welcoming tone. This is a mistake, but one that's taken me years to realize, and something which I have to constantly strive to correct. Of the utmost importance on the sub-continent is keeping a good attitude because if you loose it, you're on a downward spiral my friend.

To be honest, I'd have left Jaipur by now, but I have to stick around until Monday when the Air India office is opened to take care of some ticket-changing business. I had one satisfying day here, and it's best to quit while one's ahead.

Yesterday was spent, among other things, researching pashmina shawls: their price, quality, etc., not because I plan to buy one, just out of curiosity. Basically, a real pashmina shawl comes from the wool of the Himalaya-dwelling goat. There's heaps of imitators: shawls made from sheeps wool, synthetic fibers, or a combination, costing US$5-150 but the real deal will cost about US$300 for a full-sized one. The quality only goes up from there. A pashmina made from only the neck and back fur of the baby goat will run into the thousands of dollars. I'll stick to my $7 imitation, but place any orders in the comments section of this post, or mail me personally.

There's not a lot more to say about Jaipur. It's a good place for shopping if you like getting ripped off, or can bargain harder than a concrete wall. Jaipur is known far and wide as the "pink city" as all the building in the old city are painted "pink, actually more of a fading rusty-orange color. For sightseeing, there's the impressive Amber Fort, a massive palace and former home of the Maharaj (prince), perched overlooking the surrounding hills, 8 km from Jaipur. You can explore all the hidden passageways, take in the extraordinary view from intricately latticed windows, and prance about in the large courtyards.

From here it's on to Agra or Delhi.

Dhaval, the pan chewing priest

One of the interesting things about staying in a small town for a long time is the colourful characters that crop up and reappear day to day. There's certainly no shortage here in Dwarka.

But first, allow me to explain "pan". It's a concoction of betel nut, herbs, and often tobacco all rolled into a leaf and stuffed into the mouth. It's users are distinctive for their red and black stained teeth and inability to annunciate. All over India, you'll see bright red splotches on the walls, asphalt, pavement - the byproduct from the mouths of pan users.

This brings us to Dhaval, the pan-addict Hindu priest of Dwarka. Dhaval is a young man, 23 years of age, and a Brahmin priest working in the main temple here. He speaks passable English and is eager to speak with foreigners.

Being a pan-hound priest must present some difficulties. When you have a mass of leaf, betel nut, and tobacco the size of a mini-snickers bar (like the ones you get at Halloween) it becomes difficult to speak. Being a priest involves reciting a lot of phrases during the daily blessings and puja (special prayers, usually payed for, to help with some specific problem). Lucky for him it's all in sanskrit which nobody (including him) will understand anyway., so he can memble his way through them. The only remaining danger is that someone will notice the red juices he's been spraying all over Shiva's phallus as he speaks.

Well, time's up here at Dwarka's only internet cafe, which brutally exploits it's monopoly on internet access.