Varanasi : And the Muck

All right, I cannot write a series of posts about Varanasi and turn a blind eye (and plugged nose) to the muck that one encounters while ambling through its maze of lanes and bylanes. Here you are, basking in the beauty of a towering old palace when the stench of urine suddenly overwhelms you. Or you follow a narrow street, suddenly spot a small temple, and almost walk into a pile of shit still fragrant and warm.

That's India, but more so than anywhere else, I felt, it is Varanasi.

Varanasi : Hidden Temple

On the last afternoon, we were looking for a place to have lunch and spotted what looked like a pretty outdoor restaurant inside what must have been an old haveli at some point in time. We hopped off our rickshaw and went in. The restaurant was pretty, but the food was more than average, and I suspect it's what I ate there that was responsible for my not feeling well, the following day. Should have stuck to the street side stalls selling chaat. Anyway, inside that open area was the most beautiful little temple, built apparently by some maharajah who still comes to visit once a year. Look at that beauty.

Varanasi : Autorickshaw ride

Taking an auto-rickshaw in India is often an adventure in and of itself. I also knew that people share autos all the time, simply to make the ride cheaper for everyone. But I had never had people jump into an auto while I was riding in it. 

So, here am I, watching the busy street scene in Varanasi from the inside of my naturally ventilated auto, sipping water from my bottle because it's so hot, when suddenly, even as the auto is moving, two policemen jump in, one on each side of the driver, and sit there as if it's the most natural thing to do. And I guess it is, because when my friend asked the auto driver why he let them do that, he just shrugged, and said something like : "what can I possibly do ?"

Now, my friend, who is not the type to sit quietly while people abuse a situation (as we say in French, she does not have her tongue in her pocket) is asking them - in Hindi, of course - what they're doing here, and could they not ask for permission to use our rickshaw, when a policewoman jumps in at the back, half her body bent so she can fit in the low space. This time, my friend argues vehemently, and refuses to move to allow this lady to squeeze in and sit with us. In the end, she jumped out again, saying that my friend was making her life too difficult.

The two policemen got off at a crossing, maybe five minutes later, without even a thank you. Then again, maybe they didn't feel welcome.

Varanasi : Morning rituals along the Ganga

The absolute highlight of my visit to Varanasi was the morning boat ride on the Ganga, right after sunrise.

The light was sublime, the air carried a lovely fresh breeze, and being on the river, with the sound of the oar parting the water as we glided along the ghats watching the morning rituals, was magic. As soon as it was over, I wanted to do it again. Unfortunately, I was not feeling well the following morning (and last), and could not renew the experience. No matter, I took dozens of pictures, and the images are still vivid in my mind.

Here we see a man mediating against a backdrop of collapsed temples half immersed in the water.
Our boat-wallah had an explanation about this : a pandit was meditating on this ghat and asked to move so a temple could be built. When he wouldn't, he was forced to. Furious, he declared that no temple would ever stand straight on these steps. (It is a very similar story to the story of the Mehrangarh Fort, in Jodhpur, as reported here.) My traveling guides simply mention that the elaborate structures of that temple were so heavy that they collapsed. That ghat  is eerily beautiful.





A family taking a dip, and waving happily.

Below, pandits performing a puja on a little platform complete with umbrella, on the water.

Varanasi : Offering to the Ganga

During our evening boat ride, we bought diyas to this little girl I mentioned before, and offered them to the Ganga.

I bought four of these little recycled paper cups filled with petals that the girl probably picked up from some seller at the end of the day, or who knows where as they looked extremely tired. Each had a wick and some wax in the middle. One for each member of my family. You are supposed to have a thought, or wish, as you do this.

My friend is a widow with two grown-up sons, and she also offered four diyas to the Ganga. Interestingly, the first one capsized almost immediately.

As she looked at my little diyas moving with the current, she commented on the first one moving much faster than the others, and said : "Here goes Michel, way ahead of everyone else." I started looking at this little group of diyas. She was right. One kept on moving ahead, two were very close together, and one seemed to hover on the side, not too close, but not too far either. I like to think that it was my diya, and the others were my daughters.

Varanasi : Buying Sarees

So far, my experience buying sarees had been limited to going thrice to some of the big shops in Hyderabad. You go in, sit on a chair in front of a long table, and a salesman gets sarees out one after the other.

In Varanasi, thanks to my friend and her numerous connexions all over India, I discovered a new way of shopping for sarees.

First, you take off your shoes and enter a big room where the whole floor is covered with white mattresses. You sit against bolster cushions, drink chai or sweet-and-salt lime water, and a man brings saree after saree after saree until the mattresses around you have beautiful piles shimmering with bright colored silks.

The salesman will even model the saree for you, as seen below.

And yes, I brought two home... Souvenirs, you know.

Varanasi : People

One of the highlights of Varanasi was the warmth of its people. I had read in some guides that tourists get pestered a lot, and having experienced that in other places in India, I expected to have to say, and repeat, and repeat again a lot of "no, thank you." Well it didn't happen, even when I went off on my own along the ghats or in the lanes of Varanasi.  I was greeted by a lot of "Namaste" and that was about it.

Above are two ladies sitting outside their home, chatting, and watching the world go by.

Below,  is a family having lunch.

Young people having fun in the water.


After a few days on the ghats, you start recognizing faces. We kept seeing this girl. Here she's selling us diyas to offer to the Ganga.

And finally, one of our rickshaw wallahs.

My Tuesday picture of Haiti : Man at Work

Twelve weeks today since the earthquake. Almost three months.

I hear that reconstruction has begun in parts of the capital Port au Prince. New little houses, probably prefabricated, are replacing rubbles here and there, and my sister in law, whom I mentioned in my post about Canapé Vert, here, reports that they're now living in the middle of a construction site : the school has been demolished, and so has the chapel, which was the only thing left standing after the quake, but I imagine no longer safe.

My husband is on his way back to India, after two months of working seven days a week, often 14 to 16 hours a day, in the difficult conditions that prevail in Haiti at the moment, and the only phone conversations we've had lately have been spoiled by our arguments, because I happen to harbor the ridiculous notion that after such an effort, he ought be given at least a week off. But it seems that I'm being unreasonable. Go figure...

Here he is, working away.

Varanasi : Lassi, Chaat

As mentioned in the first post of this Varanasi series, one of the things that made this trip so different for me was that I didn't have to be as careful as I usually am when traveling with the children (and my extremely hygiene-conscious husband.) I won't say I didn't experience some trepidation as I sampled some of the Indian staples sold in the street, because I did. But oh well !

Our breakfast, each morning, was lassi, which is a yogurt based drink. One on the first day, two on the following, because it was so incredibly yummy. Eating it out of the little clay pots is not easy, but it's part of the fun.

Of course, I then realized that the clay pots cannot be recycled, which is why you see piles of broken earthware in so many places. Better than plastic, I suppose.

Another new experience was eating Chaat. I'd had some here in Hyderabad, before, but in a mall. Now, I realize that the dish on the picture may not look like much, but trust me : it was absolutely delicious, and for someone who's been living in Andhra Pradesh, known to have one of the hottest food in India, pleasantly mild !

Varanasi : Daily Evening Aarti to the Ganga

Hindus in India worship the river Ganga as a goddess. Every evening in Varanasi, aarti is performed at the Dashashwamedh ghat. We watched it twice, once from the ghat, the second time from the waterside, in a boat.

It is a beautiful, resonant, and majestic spectacle with a very precise choreography involving rituals performed by several priests, to the sound of bells, drums, cymbals, and Sanskrit mantras.

The rituals begin with the priests blowing in a conch ; they then hold incense sticks in their right hands and perform intricate gestures, while the left hand constantly plays a bell ; the incense is then replaced by a large camphor lamp, and finally a pyramid of little flames, as seen above. The river is also worshiped with flower petals.

Varanasi

I just returned from a 6 days trip to Varanasi, often referred to as the holiest city in India, or the City of Lights. It was a great experience in so many ways. I traveled with an Indian lady, someone I met briefly at a wedding, in Hyderabad, two years ago, and then saw again, once, in Delhi where she was my guide in the lanes of the old city. In other words, we were virtual strangers to each other. Six days later, I feel that I've made a new friend.

Of course, it was extremely different from traveling with my husband and children, a bunch of foreigners staying in hotels usually ranging from very nice to luxurious, and eating breakfast and dinner in them too, as it is so much easier to be on the spot at the beginning and the end of a touring day: kids can eat familiar and safe food, and have their bath before we tuck them in at night.

Both my friend and I were adamant about staying on the ghats, as opposed to the Cantonment where the nicest hotels are. This means that what you pay for is basically the view. Careful research on the internet and trusted guides like the Lonely Planet yielded only half a dozen suitable places, and the preferred ones were full. We ended up at the Sita Guest House, on Rana Ghat, and the experience reminded me of my old backpacking days, when I toured South East Asia on a 5 dollars a day budget. But the place was clean, and when the electricity worked (Varanasi has power cuts everyday from 1 to 3 PM, and most of the time from 4 to 5 PM, with a few surprises thrown in) we even had A/C - most necessary, as the average temperature during our stay was 100 degrees F. and up (39 Celsius).

My friend Sangeeta, who is the type of person who makes friends the second she arrives somewhere (funny, as my husband is like that ; I'm much more reserved by nature) met a young pandit who offered to take us to the main temples in town. Contrary to me, whose agenda was basically to visit this famous city, look, look, make notes, and soak in the atmosphere, Sangeeta had a carefully planned program that included visits to a list of temples, and buying sarees (Vanarasi is known as one of the best places in India for sarees). I'm glad to report that we both more than fulfilled our expectations.

Here are a few pictures. More posts to come...

The arrival. After almost six years in India, I've grown accustomed to the fact that the country is the second most populated in the world. But Varanasi is something else. Even my friend was stunned by the swarms of people, vehicles (cars, cycle-rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, old tongas pulled by buffaloes, bicycles) and animals (cows, more buffaloes, horses, goats, dogs) filling the streets and lanes of what feels basically like an overgrown village.

My first glimpse of the river Ganga.

My Tuesday picture of Haiti : Combing Hair

Eleven weeks since the earthquake, and almost two months since my husband left to go and help with the relief effort, there.

He recently had to go to the Dominican Republic to participate in a conference, in preparation for the big one to be held at the United Nations in New York, tomorrow. While there, his camera was stolen inside his bag, in the UNICEF office - in other words, a place that only UNICEF staff are likely to have access to. To say that he was upset and disgusted it to put it mildly. Luckily, I had asked him to email me some of his pictures, and he had, on that same day. Unfortunately, connexions being slow, he was only able to email a handful. Still, here are two of these pictures, the first one taken in Haiti, the second in the Dominican Republic. Two countries and two people sharing an island.

Everyone has been praising the amazing outpouring of help coming from the DR since day one... and counting. Amazing in light of the bloody history between the two countries. Scenes like this, and the generous response to the January 12 earthquake, make it possible to remember that, in spite of the bad blood, and in spite of the fact that one country is much better off than the other, Haiti and the DR share a lot more than a border.

The beauty of our expat life

On Tuesday night, our daughters' school had their annual stage production, and it was such a joy to see these children partake in a celebration that honored diverse cultures.

The children were awesome, their costumes absolutely stunning, and as I watched my daughter sing a song in Hindi, then play a piano piece from American composer William Gillock, and finally perform an Indian folk dance, I thought about how lucky our Third Culture Kids are to be able to sample the world in this way.

Of course, being an expat has its downsides and heartbreaks, and it's always good, and even necessary to be aware of them, but the breadth of these children's experiences and exposure is something that needs to be celebrated as well. Today's post is an expression of gratitude for the richness of our very colorful life.

Very blurry picture above, because it's not a picture, but a short movie. Unfortunately, I have not been able to upload it. Not quite the tech wizard, me...

Haiti : 10 Weeks

And this is the official We are The World video. One, because I don't think I can ever get tired of listening to that song. Two, because it features images of Haiti.

Haiti : We Are the World, 25 for Haiti

Insane week, here, which means I had no time for my weekly post on Haiti on Tuesday (nine weeks since the January 12 earthquake.) But I just came across this video. Enjoy...

Our Life in India : Beating the Hyderabadi heat.

The Qutb Shahi Tombs of Hyderabad were built during the reign of each one of the seven monarchs of the dynasty, and are surrounded by gardens that must have been magnificent in the old times. We'd been there a few years back, and I was pleased to see, this time, that there is a lot of work being done to restore them to - hopefully - their original splendor.

But this is not the point of this post. As we wandered about the gardens, I came across a stepwell that I had somehow missed, the first time (wonder how, as I love baolis. There is a beautiful one a the Mehrauli Archaeological park, in Delhi.)

Got it ?

Except that, sign notwithstanding, it is getting very HOT, now, in Hyderabad.


As I walked closer to the step, I saw a crowd watching down, and heard deep splashing sounds like when something heavy hits water.

Sure enough : Young men were diving in? Now, this may not be entirely obvious in the picture, but trust me when I tell you that the water was not exactly clean.

But what really impressed me was that these young men who jumped from a height of 15 to 20 meters seemed to pop back through the surface incredibly fast.

They had a technique, it seems. Sorry if this sounds a little duh, but my own limited experience in diving has always been that the higher the point of jumping, the deeper you go.

I watched these young men, and noticed that they bent their bodies in the air, and that seemed to break the momentum and allow them to resurface really quickly. Feeling very refreshed, I'm sure.

So, that was our slice of Indian life for Sunday.