TravelStream™ news feed for member jonathanfoster on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/jonathanfoster en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Mon, 23 Feb 2009 08:51:21 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1224506460/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1224506460/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1224506460/tpod.html Mon, 23 Feb 2009 08:51:21 -0500 India and beyond - travels through Asia

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Gangtok, Sikkim, India

I decided to take a trip to Tsomgo Lake, which was within sight of the Tibetan border. Being a sensitive location extra permits were required for the trip and group travel with a guide was the only way to proceed. There were three other travelers from my guesthouse going, one Spaniard and two Italians, and this was how the option arose.

In the morning we piled into a jeep with the young Tibetan who worked at the guesthouse and started east for the two hour winding journey. The further we ventured the more beautiful the views became and the simpler the homes appeared. Simpler too was the road which, wide enough for one vehicle, would lead through blind curves and shallow creeks; requiring precise navigation to avoid a plunge to one's untimely death.

We eventually passed a military checkpoint where our permits were examined and proceeded on, sharing the road with the oversized green diesel trucks that seem to characterize the Indian military. Every few minutes we would experience the awkward head-on encounter with an army vehicle that would require one vehicle to back up, making just enough room for the other to pass with inches of clearance. After two hours we arrived at Tsomgo Lake.

I was pleased as our Tibetan guide suggested we climb the nearby peak. I had read about the views but also knew that group travel often required a compromise to avoid difficult tasks and appease the least adventurous of the group. The five of us started climbing the steep trail with our young guide leading the way and I stayed a few feet behind him as the three others in our group quickly fell far behind. We would use our lead as an excuse to take regular breaks, waiting for the others to catch up.

While climbing any steep path up a hill or mountain the end of the trail always seems to move further away at nearly the same speed as your walk. Towards the end we would reach a point where the horizon appeared 20 feet away, trudge about 20 feet, then look up to see the same horizon beckoning us from 20 feet away. This continued for a while until the edge drew nearer and the ground leveled out, revealing the prayer flags strung up at the top of the peak. We had reached the top and now had a panoramic view of the vast surrounding area. The Tibetan border was within view but this wasn't a clear day and the road to Tibet seemed to mystically lead into the clouds which were below us. The Indian army was busy with their drills as the sounds of distant machine gun fire echoed off the mountain sides. We sat and waited for the three others to arrive and after a good 10 minutes they came wandering up, huffing and puffing. At this point I decided that I was long overdue for another trek...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1224073440/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1224073440/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1224073440/tpod.html Mon, 23 Feb 2009 08:28:39 -0500 India and beyond - travels through Asia

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Gangtok, Sikkim, India

I caught a ride to Gangtok from the noisy jeep stand in Kalimpong. This involved the winding mountain roads I had grown accustomed to since Darjeeling. As we crossed into Sikkim we stopped briefly at a checkpoint where I showed my Sikkim permit and passport. As Tibet had historically considered Sikkim a vassal state China has never officially recognized India's claim to Sikkim.

We arrived in Sikkim's capital, Gangtok, and I was pleasantly surprised. I had heard Gangtok was a dirty, crowded city only worthy of a pass-through as a transport hub. Situated on a ridge the mountain views were among some of the best I had seen in India; less developed than those of Dharamsala and more forested than those of Ladakh.

I ended up staying in Gangtok for a few days, taking short trips west and east to see the Karmapa's official residence in Rumtek and Tsomgo Lake, respectively.

Rumtek was an hour ride west and the jeep dropped me at the base of a hill before continuing down the winding road. There was an arch marking the path which led up to the monastery complex. The monastery was built in the 1960s to replace the Tsurphu Monastery in Tibet which the Chinese had destroyed and was the residence of the 16th Karmapa. As the 17th Karmapa fled Tibet in 2000 the Indian government has prevented him from taking his official seat here in order to maintain their fragile relationship with China. The complex was fairly large, containing a school with many resident monks and was well-maintained awaiting the day when the Karmapa will finally arrive. There were signs of patience wearing thin as some posters around the complex proclaimed "We have waited long enough!". The black crown-like hat which the 16th Karmapa wore was locked inside a box at the time of his death and this box will remain locked until the current Karmapa is officially 'crowned'. After walking around the complex for a little while I made my way back down the path to the base of the hill where I hitched a ride back to Gangtok in another crowded jeep.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1222861320/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1222861320/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1222861320/tpod.html Mon, 23 Feb 2009 08:14:20 -0500 India and beyond - travels through Asia

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Rajgir, Bihar, India

After the month in Bodh Gaya I was ready to roam again and decided I would gradually head northeast towards Darjeeling to escape the heat and once again encounter the Himalayas. Between points 'A' and 'B' were some sites in Bihar significant to Buddhist history and Rajgir would be the next stop. Bihar is known as the most lawless state in India with rampant poverty and crumbling infrastructure helping to feed that perpetual cycle.

I hopped the rundown bus from Gaya, which rumbled down the bumpy road north to Rajgir and the landscape of Bihar quickly followed; poorly-maintained buildings with disks of cow dung stuck to the outside walls and women busily pressing fresh dung onto the walls where free space would allow, leaving their trademark hand prints behind. The dung is commonly burned for fuel and must first undergo a drying process before it's finally peeled off the wall and placed in the fire. Swamp-like rice fields were present wherever buildings were lacking and the road seemed as though it were always resting on an elevated embankment, weaving through the submerged countryside.

After a couple hours the bus grinded to a halt with a queu of other buses and everybody started getting off. We had obviously not reached our destination and the driver explained "bridge is out. Must change bus to over there." He pointed to the river where people were hopping along poorly layed sandbags right next to what once must have been a working bridge but now was lacking its entire middle section. I crossed the river with my pack and tried to make sense of the bus-strewn monstrosity on the other side. Fortunately I was able to use some of the Hindi the kids in Bodh Gaya had taught me to figure out which bus would continue along my desired path. I quickly learned that any bus trip through Bihar would inevitably involve switching buses at least once.

We arrived in Rajgir after a few hours and I found a cheap guesthouse that appeared more like a garage from the outside, where the room had an unfinished concrete floor. I figured I would use the remaining daylight to see the ruins of Nalanda, the once great Buddhist university, and I hopped a local bus heading in that direction.

Nalanda was mostly in a state of ruins and contained the foundations of what were once temples and monasteries. A major point of transmission for the Dharma, the site is now just a reminder of what once took place here.

The next day I headed for the south end of town where the Buddha had spent much time living in a cave on Vulture's Peak before his enlightenment.

Rather than pay to watch a horse get whipped for 15 minutes I decided to walk the five kilometers and every step along the way I had at least a couple of curious locals tagging along. As I came closer to Vulture's Peak I could see the chair lifts carrying visitors up the steep mountain, which protruded out of the surrounding flat ground. According to a book I had been reading by Thich Nhat Hanh, King Bimbasari had a stone path laid to accomodate the Buddha and his sangha, who regularly made the long climb up and down the mountain. This path remained in place at the time the book had been written but it was obvious that a new path had recently been laid to take its place.

The conventional wisdom suggests that King Bimbasari saw the Buddha taking a walk around Rajgir and, immediately impressed with him, saught him out to be his spiritual teacher and offered him half the kingdom. The Buddha declined as he had already turned down a whole kingdom but promised to return once he attained enlightenment. When he returned a few years later, he was accompanied by his sangha containing over a thousand people and Vultures Peak became the place where many teachings were given.

Taking the chair lift up the steep mountain, the beaten track proceeds to a World Peace Pagoda built by Japanese monks, visible from many parts of Rajgir as it sits atop the mountain. Many people don't seem to know about Vultures Peak, which is just a 10 minute walk from there, so the site was accompanied by the solitude that the Buddha must have sought out many years before.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1220342820/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1220342820/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1220342820/tpod.html Tue, 27 Jan 2009 04:43:44 -0500 India and beyond - travels through Asia

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Bodh Gaya, Bihar, India

Tom and I had met a local by the name of Raju who offered to show us a school where he claimed to teach Sanskrit. Talks of the school were interwoven with offers to take us on his motorcycle to see some of the significant Buddhist sites around town for a price of "as you like!".

We left the center of town and the Internet cafes characterizing any heavily touristed area became less numerous. We crossed a bridge over the Fulgu River, where the Buddha had spent much time as an ascetic, and reached a series of dilapidated buildings on our left. They included a tailor and a 'hole in the wall' convenience store but a sign was posted on the wall with the words "Ao Zora School". The three of us walked through the convenience store and passed somebody getting a shave before emerging into a much larger room. This was the school and there were two separate classes being taught in opposite corners of the room where children were sitting on makeshift wooden tables. The floors were rough concrete and beams of sunlight passed diagonally from the windows through the dusty air. The kids quickly noticed the presence of two Westerners in their midst and the dissonant chorus of "Namaste!" echoed throughout the room. We returned the greeting before heading up some rough stairs towards the back of the room. We came out onto the rooftop where there were two more classes being taught in small concrete rooms.

After a few minutes we headed downstairs and entered a smaller room by the entrance, which happened to be the principal's office. The principal, Nikesh, thanked us for visiting and proceeded to tell us about the school while occasionally bowing. The school was run entirely on donations and focused on the kids from the Sujata Village on the outskirts of Bodh Gaya. Eight of the students were orphans who lived at the school and slept on the wooden tables, which doubled as beds.

The next day I returned to the school and was invited to teach a class. There were no instructions or guidelines, only a gesture to get in front of the class, so I started writing English sentences on the board and the children would recite them. Eventually this evolved into grammar exercises as I was trying to gauge what the kids knew and what would challenge them. After the lesson I talked to Nikesh about teaching regularly for a longer period and his reply was "as you like" accompanied with his usual bow.

Tom was at the end of his journey and he hopped a train to Mumbai to catch his flight back to England.

I spent a month in Bodh Gaya teaching at the school and this involved six days of teaching each week for the duration of September. The school lent me a bicycle for getting to and from class and it epitomized 'function over form' with its rusty color, wobbly tire, loose seat, and missing left pedal. This was an interesting way to experience the Indian traffic and the bell on the handlebars allowed me to join in the symphony of courtesy horns.

I moved from English grammar to math and science lessons over the course of each day and was impressed with the level of devotion the 10 year old kids had towards the educational process. On one Friday I had written the usual number of math problems on the board as the homework assignment and the students suggested I give them double the work-load as they would have the weekend to work on it. On another day I introduced the kids to the Periodic Table, handing each a copy. The response from each student was a bow as if I had given them a present. The "land of extremes" label was evident as, on one hand, the kids were advanced in the material they were covering but the school building was a run-down mess with mice regularly crawling on the floors and the extreme heat of September and lack of any reliable electricity giving even this Floridian a hard time. I would start each day by filtering five liters of water, which would last me until the afternoon.

The kids seemed to take an interest in the childhood of Abraham Lincoln, and while they never said this specifically, I think the story of a poor kid living in a cabin eventually becoming a president gave them motivation to work hard. They saw an education as a gift and knew that an example of not having one was simply a look out the window to the peasants working in the nearby fields. Based on their current levels there's no reason why any of the students won't eventually become scientists, doctors, and engineers; the aspirations most of them voiced.

On my final day I was speaking with Nikesh who was suffering with the flu. "Why don't you go home and lay down?" He thanked me for teaching (for the millionth time) and I handed him a small donation. He struggled with his obvious illness to write out the receipt and gave his usual bow.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1220253420/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1220253420/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1220253420/tpod.html Tue, 27 Jan 2009 04:05:57 -0500 India and beyond - travels through Asia

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Bodh Gaya, Bihar, India

Tom and I hopped a rickshaw from the ruins of Sarnath to the Varanasi train station. Upon arrival we made our way to the platform where our train was to stop, layed down our packs, sat down, and Tom began playing his guitar. Soon the crowd formed around us with stares all directed to the exhibit that we were. This was to be expected as we had both spent enough time in India at this point.

The train pulled up and we began searching for the correct car. The sheets of paper usually taped outside each car had been ripped free in the breeze and the car numbers didn't seem to be arranged in any logical order as we walked up and down the platform. After a few hectic minutes we found the right car and settled in. As the train started rolling Tom went to the opened door to have a cigarette and I sat and watched the moving scenery transition from the city of Varanasi to the rice fields of rural India. We were approaching Bodh Gaya, the site where the Buddha had attained enlightenment, and during the five-hour ride we discussed the Buddha making this same trip on foot.

We arrived at the Gaya station a little past 10 pm and as we were leaving the platform we unexpectedly saw Andrew, who we had last seen the previous day in Sarnath. He was about to catch a train for Calcutta and had only great words for Bodh Gaya. We wished him luck with the rest of his journey and caught a rickshaw into Bodh Gaya. As late as it was the only hotel that could accept us was a dodgy one on the main road where the flies fluttered freely in the lighted hallway.

The next morning we switched hotels and as we were walking a young boy in a maroon monks' robe approached us. "You just arrived? You must visit the Mahabodhi Temple. I will show you around when you go." The kid seemed to appear from nowhere every time we walked down the street. He was a little high strung and I doubted his monk status but I didn't mind him too much. When Tom and I sat down in a random restaurant for lunch the kid was sitting at the table behind us and, lacking any desire to get rid of him, we let him show us the Mahabodhi Temple. This temple was built around the very spot of the Buddha's enlightenment. The original bodhi tree that the Buddha sat under was killed by King Ashoka's wife but, prior to this, one of Ashoka's daughters brought a cutting from the tree to Sri Lanka. A cutting from that tree was, in turn, brought to Bodh Gaya and planted at the original location.

This has always been the most significant pilgrimage site for Buddhists around the world and under the tree the diversity was prevalent: Sri Lankan pilgrims in white robes, Thai monks in orange, Tibetan monks in maroon, a multitude of Japanese visitors as well as those from all over the Western world. Under the shade of the tree was a stone marking the very spot where the Buddha had meditated 2,500 years before.

After paying what would be the first of many visits to the bodhi tree I wanted to visit the Japanese Temple for the afternoon meditation and our new "monk" friend would show me the way to Buddha Road where we passed the Thai and Bhutanese monasteries before settling upon the Japanese Temple.

We entered the main shrine room of the temple and joined a crowd of mostly Japanese pilgrims sitting on floor cushions. A monk in a black robe sat in front and led the program, which involved the chanting of some verses followed by an hour-long meditation session. About five minutes into the silence something was odd. My monk friend was scratching the floor and in my periphery I could see his head turning to look around the room. After another minute he had given up completely, walking out of the temple in the middle of the session. It was obvious that our friend was just a kid in robes as a real monk would have had no problem meditating all day.

I felt like I had reached a point where I could stop traveling for a while and if I were to hang out in Bodh Gaya I would need something to occupy the time. My eyes were now open for the possibilities.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1220163360/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1220163360/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1220163360/tpod.html Tue, 27 Jan 2009 03:16:11 -0500 India and beyond - travels through Asia

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Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh, India

It's been a while since I've posted one of these and I thank everybody for their patience. I'm still in India but the time is running short at this point with about a month left.... until I fly to Thailand for more wandering. A lot has happened since the last entry and to sum it all up, I spent a month teaching in Bodhgaya, traveled through Bihar, visited Darjeeling with its beautiful Himalayan views and tea plantations, trekked through Sikkim, spent a month in Nepal trekking and helping out with an orphanage, crossed back into India and traveled west to Rajesthan seeing the Taj Mahal and catching an Indian wedding on the way, and then started heading south where I just completed a 10-day meditation retreat in Hyderabad. A more detailed version of all this will unfold for those with yet more patience. I hope everybody is doing alright in their daily endeavors and always feel free to send me an email. I'm picking up where I left off....




We had linked up with another British traveler, Andrew, who was staying at our guesthouse and the three of us decided to leave the heart of the old city for the deer park of Sarnath, where the Buddha had given his first teaching. We set out on the crowded path and noticed a familiar site; four bodies wrapped in white cloth, resting on green bamboo stretchers, making their way towards the cremation area on the shoulders of outcastes.

We entered the main market area where all the backroads seemed to converge and arranged a rickshaw ride to Sarnath. Crammed in with our packs the rickshaw now resembled a clown car but was just as packed as every other vehicle on the road. Once we reached a less congested area towards the outskirts of town the driver, obviously looking for entertainment, offered to let us drive. Tom took control and we began to weave and abruptly change speeds (no offense Tom) until we pulled up at Sarnath.

At many of the major Buddhist pilgrimage sites in India temples and monasteries representing the various Buddhist sects (Tibetan, Thai, Burmese, etc) have been built and maintained by their respective countries. We decided to stay at the Japanese Temple and were led to a simple dorm-like room. One of the conditions for staying involved participation in the evening and morning programs and as Andrew had a train to catch that evening he went ahead to see the sites of Sarnath as Tom and I stayed behind at the temple.

We entered the main shrine area for the evening program and sat on the cushions near the front. It was clear that the Japanese government maintained this temple merely as a respectful presence as it housed only two monks and a few Indian groundskeepers who seemed serious about Zen. The chanting began and the groundskeepers, sitting on the left and right sides of the shrine, began pounding large horizontal barell-like drums with wooden poles. We were given objects that resembled tennis requets with a membrane stretched across the face and wooden sticks to strike them in unison with the beating drums. The program involved about 30 minutes of regimented pounding.

The next morning, following another session of pounding, we walked to the small train station in Sarnath and booked tickets to Gaya leaving from Varanasi in the evening. With that task behind us we now had the rest of the day to see Sarnath with ease. We started walking towards the ruins.

The very spot where the Buddha gave the teaching on the Four Noble Truths and Eightfold Path is marked by an ancient brick stupa towering at over 100 feet originally constructed around 200 BC. This spot was surrounded by many monasteries and pillars, which were all eventually reduced to foundations at the hands of Muslim invaders. We entered the area of the ruins which were contained in a peaceful grassy area with well trimmed shrubs. The entrance and walking path were arranged in such a manner that visitors would complete a clockwise walk around the ruins as they approached the large stupa at the end; the very spot where Buddhism began.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1223369940/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1223369940/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1223369940/tpod.html Tue, 07 Oct 2008 05:17:56 -0400 India and beyond - travels through Asia

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Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh, India

I had been warned about this place. The Varanasi train station is notorious for its schemey rickshaw drivers who disregard your desired destination and drop you at some expensive hotel where they pick up a nice commission. The second I stepped off the train the drivers swarmed to me like flies to a bright light. Their words weren't giving me too much confidence: "Sir! I will take you where you want to go. Nowhere else!" By the time I made it outside to the front of the station there must have been a crowd of five or six following me like little yapping dogs. I was in the process of negotiating a price when another man approached me. "Sir. My hotel gives free transport from the train station. 150 Rupees a night for a room." He handed me a business card which had a small map showing the location and it was roughly where I wanted to go anyway. I agreed and he set me up with a rickshaw which took me to the place. I felt very fortunate to have made it out with no surprises.

Tom had responded to my email and let me know where he was staying so the next morning I set out to find his place. Armed with a map from the guesthouse and a general location from the guidebook I started walking down the narrow paths that separated the ancient buildings. There was no organization to the layout of the paths as the buildings seemed to be placed arbitrarily and I soon lost track of how many lefts or rights I had taken. Fortunately I could rely on the sun as a directional guide and decided to walk east to see the Ganges River. As I snaked through the paths it felt as though I had been transported back in time. Varanasi is possibly the oldest city still functioning today. At all times the smells were dominated by either deep-frying samosas, incense, or raw sewage. There were the occasional reminders of the modern world as motorcycles would blare their horns, maneuvering through the already crowded halls. At each corner there seemed to be a different person vying for my attention: "Hello frieeeend! Hashish? Marijuana? Opium?" I would just laugh and keep walking.

I arrived at one of the ghats along the river to find worshippers bathing and even drinking the heavily-polluted water. The water level was obviously higher than normal in the rainy season, covering most of the steps that would otherwise seat the many worshippers. After being approached by several people about boat rides I decided to start walking again. I found what seemed like a main path that headed north and eventually I saw some refreshing words painted on the old block wall: "Yogi Lodge" with a large arrow, confirming I was close to finding Tom's hotel. As I walked I followed the usual routine of asking and people would point down the path. This led me right to the door of the Yogi Lodge where the men in the front room went upstairs to get Tom.

After waiting for a few minutes under the cool breeze of the ceiling fan I saw Tom emerge from the stairway with his pack and guitar in hand. He was happy to see me and following a brief reunion he informed me that he was switching hotels. The last time I saw him was in Ladakh a few weeks before and he seemed a little more weathered this time around. He checked out and we started walking north on the narrow path, where he described some of his recent experiences. "The last few days have been some of the worst I've ever had." Among other things, Tom had eaten some dodgy food that left him seriously ill and with only a couple more weeks left in his travels it was clear he was suffering from "India fatigue" as I admittedly had a minor case myself. As we continued to walk a large group passed us carrying a body on a bamboo stretcher. We were near the Manikarnika Ghat, which is the main cremation area along the Ganges and a plume of grey smoke dominated our eastern view. It is believed that dying in Varanasi offers liberation from the cycle of birth and death and the bodies are ceremoniously submerged in the waters of the Ganges before being incinerated with sandalwood.

We found the guesthouse we were looking for and checked in when I glanced at the clock on the wall. I had an hour until the checkout time at my other place so Tom sat tight while I embarked on another disorienting adventure through the colorful back roads of Varanasi. I eventually returned with my pack and Tom, now a veteran of the city, knew just the place to help offset the "India fatigue"; a restaurant that served high quality food especially prepared with the Westerner in mind. All raw fruits and vegetables were washed with filtered water and the menu boasted some ridiculous ingredients like "organic cheese produced by genuine Italian dairy farmers based in the Himalayan region". We sat in one of the booths ordering some pizza, cold drinks, and one jumbo milk shake after the other as each of us brought the other up to speed on what we had done the last few weeks.

After staying a night we rose at 4:30 am to get a boat ride along the Ganges as we wanted to see the worshipers during sunrise. Negotiating a price anywhere in India is always an experience and sometimes a downright irritation. We hired a boat for a short ride as we managed to fend off at least 10 other people trying to unload their services on us. As we drifted up and down the holy river we saw the different groups performing morning puja at each ghat. As the water's level was higher the currents were stronger than usual and the space for worship was more limited. This, however, didn't seem to take away from the Varanasi experience as we sat on the wooden boat watching the ancient rituals, movements, and colors once again transport us back in time.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1219895880/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1219895880/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1219895880/tpod.html Sun, 05 Oct 2008 07:14:31 -0400 India and beyond - travels through Asia

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Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh, India

The train arrived and this time I had decided to try the sleeper class, which had reserved seats but without A/C. I boarded and the car seemed to be only a slight step down from my previous train experience: seats partially ripped, walls and floors kind of rusty, and rickety fans suspended from the ceiling. I flipped the switch and the fan above my seat started churning the warm air. Soon enough everybody boarded and the train started moving.

The man to my left started asking me the usual questions and the topic turned to the spiritual side. "Are you familiar with ISKON?" "Yes. The International Society of Krishna Consciousness. They had a large presence at my university." He then pulled out a book full of Sanskrit verses with a picture of a bearded guru on the back page. "This is my father." After talking for a few more minutes the man proceeded to chant the verses from the book from cover to cover. This took him about 15 minutes and when he finished he turned towards the open window sitting cross-legged and began meditating. After he finished we talked for the rest of the night. "Do you have arranged marriages in America?.... If your parents don't arrange your marriage then how do you have time to do it yourself with your job?" As the night advanced and I grew more tired I climbed up to the bunk to sleep. All of the sleep I've had on the Indian trains has been pleasant as the movement gently rocks you to a deep rest.

When morning came we pulled up in Lucknow, which was the half-way point to Varanasi. The man I had spoken with the previous night wished me well as he climbed off and I was surprised as my car became almost completely empty. We started moving and the solitude was a rare experience I enjoyed as we rolled through the countless rice fields characterizing the Indian countryside. We would stop briefly in small towns along the way and people would jump on, hopping off a couple towns down the line. I began to wonder if I was the only one who had actually payed to ride.

About six hours into the day's ride a group of kids climbed on and decided to sit in my berth. With most of the car empty my berth, meant to seat a total of six, now had eight people crammed into it as the kids sat facing me with their stares fixed directly at my face. They were wearing school uniforms and took turns asking questions to practice their English. "Are there mango trees in America?" "How do I become tall?" "Do you like president Obama?" Every day these kids took a two hour train ride each way to get to and from their school. As we stopped at their village the kids climbed off informing me that Varanasi was about three hours away.

A few villages later a man boarded and sat in my berth. He was wearing a police uniform and was taking the long commute to Varanasi to work his shift as security at the Vishwanath Temple. Somewhere in the conversation the man showed an interest in seeing some American currency so I pulled out an old one dollar bill I had forgotten to leave at home. The man showed great excitement and began to examine the bill, reading aloud some of the writing: "this note is legal tender for all debts, public and private". "How many Rupees is this worth?" "What can you buy with this in the U.S.?" "It makes me so happy to see this!" After admiring the bill for a while longer he handed it back and tried his best to give me some pointers about Varanasi. He informed me that the train we were riding was the slow one that stopped in every town and at one of the stops he poked his head out the open door noticing a faster option so he decided to switch trains. Whenever I'm in unfamiliar terrain I stick with the sure path rather than gamble with a faster possibility so I wished the man well as he left the train.

For the remaining two hours the afternoon sun was making her presence known as it was clear summer was far from over. As I had a fan and the breeze from the open window I couldn't imagine the heat outside the train where men and women were working in the rice fields. The train continued to stop every five minutes the rest of the way until we pulled into a much larger station and I read the welcome words "Varanasi Junction".
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1219830060/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1219830060/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jonathanfoster/1/1219830060/tpod.html Sat, 13 Sep 2008 05:56:12 -0400 India and beyond - travels through Asia

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Dehradun, Uttarakhand, India

The man who helped me book my train ticket in Rishikesh thought I was crazy to go north to Dehra Dun rather than back south to Haridwar. "But your train ride will be shorter if you start in Haridwar!" I had already seen Haridwar and heard about the thriving Tibetan community in Dehra Dun, which was home to the world's largest Stupa! Shaking his head he wrote down my details and booked the train ticket for the next day. I shot Tom an email letting him know I was starting the long journey to Varanasi and hopped the bus to Dehra Dun the next morning.

I arrived in Dehra Dun to find the typical dirty busy streets and honking horns and walked a couple of blocks to the train station stashing my backpack in one of the lockers. I had a day to take in this town and hopped onto one of the shared rickshaws, which followed a predetermined path. I heard that the Tibetan Buddhist Temple was a short walk from the New Delhi bus station so when I eventually saw a crowded area with a large number of parked buses I hopped out. I asked around to see about directions getting a bunch of shrugged shoulders and puzzled looks until one guy said "yes! Two kilometers that way!" I started walking.

The landscape transitioned from storefronts to an industrial area and this excursion was proving to be more of a challenge than I expected. I would keep asking as I made my way down the street getting mostly blank stares as the sun unleashed her fury on us all. I eventually found a Tibetan shop owner and he assured me the temple and grand stupa were "one-point-five kilometers" in the direction of my walk. When I passed a short distance clearly less than a kilometer I asked again getting an unexpected response. "The Buddha Temple is two or three kilometers that way", the person pointing in the direction from where I came. My patience was wearing thin as the intensity of the heat was rising. Drenched in sweat I started walking the other direction thinking the Universe must be playing a sick joke on me!

Just then a rickshaw driver noticing my obvious frustration called me over asking "what you need?" I replied "Buddha Temple! Stupa!" He nodded his head "Yes! You take bus. Three rupees to Buddha Temple" as he pointed towards one of the approaching buses. "Come! Come!" We both crossed the street as he flagged down a bus and then spoke with the driver motioning for me to get on. The bus took a left and I thought "this was the 'minor' detail nobody mentioned." We headed down the unpaved road for a while until I saw a sign: "Tibetan Temple" with an arrow pointing up a trail. I got off the bus and started walking up the path and, finally, I could see the world's tallest stupa in the distance. The houses I passed started to resemble the ones I had seen in Leh surrounded by colorful metal gates with intricate designs. There was something about this area unlike the rest of Dehra Dun; the presence of vegetation.

I reached the stupa which was surrounded by some of the most well-kept gardens I had seen at any monastery. There was no shortage of signs telling people what not to do. No walking on the grass, plucking flowers from the plants, leaving trash, eating peanuts, etc. As I completed a walk around the base of the stupa I saw a groundskeeper screaming at people to place their shoes in the locker before entering. This was proving by far to be the most uptight Buddhist establishment I had ever visited.

This was the first stupa I had seen that was large enough for people to enter and I walked inside viewing the many shrine rooms and colorful artwork blanketing the walls. There were several stories within the structure and each floor exhibited a shrine that was equally as impressive as the previous.

I left the stupa and explored the monastery grounds a little before leaving and while walking out I noticed something in my periphery. There was a massive golden Buddha statue in the distance towering over the houses. I had not heard anything about this and was completely taken by surprise, so naturally I started walking towards it. I didn't know how to feel about the two giant displays this area boasted. They were beautiful but seemed to be complete overkill. I later read that the Buddha statue had been dedicated to the Dalai Lama. As the statue is larger than the Dalai Lama's house one might think the resources would have been better used helping the Tibetan exile community. The misallocation of resources seems to be a human condition for which every society is guilty.

I had three hours until my train departed and didn't want to take any chances so I started looking for the best way to get to the station. As I was walking an Indian man joined me asking the standard questions and he took a particular interest when I couldn't answer how much longer I would be in India. Eventually we came across one of the shared rickshaws with the "#5" printed on the front. This was the one that passed right by the train station. We hopped on the crowded rattling chunk of metal and started weaving our way back to the heart of town. The man spent the entire trip enthusiastically telling everybody else about my situation and when he got off he told the driver to let me know when we arrived at the train station. We eventually pulled up to the station, where I payed the five Rupees and hopped off. I retrieved my pack from the storage room shrugging as I watched a giant rat casually walk along one of the shelves. I walked out to the platform and waited for my train to pull up.
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Rishikesh, Uttarakhand, India

The next morning I gathered my things together and walked to the bus station, catching a bus north one hour to Rishikesh. This was the city made famous by the Maharishi and The Beatles and I had heard that it since became overrun with Westerners seeking spiritual guidance and yoga instruction. When I arrived I took the narrow suspension bridge across the roaring Ganges that was only capable of supporting foot traffic with the occasional motorcycle and wandering cow. I was pleasantly surprised when some people on the bridge wanted their pictures taken with me; one even filming me with his video camera. Maybe this place wasn't so overrun after all! I settled down in a guesthouse and soon started wandering south on the path along the Ganges lined with temples and ashrams. I wanted to see the Maharishi's ashram, where The Beatles had written most of The White Album while practicing Transcendental Meditation. It had been abandoned over ten years prior but still remained. I walked as the path went from beautifully laid brick to gravel and eventually to dirt and vegetation. Finally the remains of the Maharishi's ashram were to my left and losing their battle for existence to the encroaching plants and weeds. I had expected an active stretch of ashrams spoiled by the powers of spiritual commercialism but found a deserted and peaceful area where the loudest noise happened to be the Ganges to my right.

After a couple of days I checked out one of the ashrams along the Ganges to see about their afternoon yoga session. The Sri Ved Niketan Ashram consisted of red corridors surrounding a well-kept lawn with a large building for yoga and meditation in the center and when discovering that a stay here would be cheaper than my guesthouse while including free yoga and meditation I decided to check in. I was given one of the rooms along the perimeter of the courtyard. This was not a typical ashram in that guests could come and go as they pleased as long as they were in by 10:30 pm. The rules were ones I was already following anyway: no smoking, drinking, or meat eating. Pin drop silence had to be maintained to allow for a peaceful meditative environment.

As the morning arrived the loud bell was erratically sounded to indicate the start of the 6:30 am yoga session. After the hour and a half session I would spend the day walking around exploring the city then returning for an afternoon session of meditation followed by more yoga. I fell into the habit of hand washing my clothes each night and my routine started to flow beautifully. I developed a fondness for the head-stand yoga pose mentioned so much in Jack Kerouac's 'Dharma Bums' and have since added it to my repertoire.

After a few days I received an email from Tom, who had made it down to Varanasi. I decided impulsively that I would journey that way as my days in Rishikesh were starting to melt together. I would take a short bus trip north to Dehra Dun where I would catch a long train ride to Varanasi.
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