India!

Lumbini was beautiful and serene, as you might expect from one of the most important Buddhist centers in the world, even though it was actually cold and foggy the entire time we were there. The Korean monastery is a still-under-construction mammoth concrete compound, but has everything you need; three meals a day, clean beds, hot water bucket showers, and a temple for prayer and meditation. On our second day, we were eating with a Chinese traveller when he mentioned a monk who was giving a speech in the afternoon. He had been meditating under a tree for 3 years, and although his presentation would be in Tibetan, it sounded interesting.

The tree and pool Buddha was born under

 

 

 We showed up just before the 1:30 start time, and took some seats in the back as the monks settled in on rows of maroon cushions. The beginning of the event was incredible. A monk blowing a conch shell entered first, followed by another swinging a billowing incense holder, and then the meditation master, stooped heavily and helped along by a young monk at his elbow. As he took his place at the podium, the 100+ monks started a series of chants that was just magical; my whole head was tingling as I shut my eyes and lost myself for the duration. Then things got a little more challenging. It was really just a reading of Buddhist scripts, and soon I realized that meditation and public speaking aren’t necessarily complimentary pursuits. After nearly two hours, a few young monks started handing out Styrofoam cups for tea (Really? Styrofoam?), and fresh baked bread from huge baskets. Since no-one started eating right away, I thought to myself “Ah, whew. We must be waiting until he’s done.”  We only took a five minute break, before he resumed his monotone reading. He must have been getting tired, because he started taking long pauses, and stumbling over his words. Many of the monks were falling asleep, as was the old Tibetan woman next to me, snoring loudly. After nearly three and a half hours, one of the senior monks got up and stood next to the podium, waiting patiently. Eventually the master paused to glance over. The monk said a few words, and then started motioning with his thumb, pointing over his shoulder in an obvious attempt so say ”It’s time to go…”  His reply, in Tibetan, must have been something like “I’ll just finish up”. The other monk smiled, started packing up around him, and then sat back down. My mind was starting to make up words, trying to find meaning in the softly spoken wisdom. After nearly four hours, he finished to a vigorous round of chanting and bowing, then the monks all run out. I just made it back in time for dinner, but had to scrape out the bottom of the rice pot. You have to be there early for meal time, otherwise the selection is slim. It worked out well for shower time, though, as the buckets of washing water were nice and hot after dinner.

  The trip from Lumbini to Varanasi started off smoothly, but soon got more complicated, as things in India are prone to do. We had all day to make the journey, so we had a second breakfast while logging some internet time on a surprisingly fast connection at the Lumbini Guesthouse restaurant. The local bus to the junction was quick and cheap, but I felt sorry for the guy who had to haul our enormous packs up onto the roof! We ignored the persistent rickshaw drivers and caught one last bus to the border, where we had our last dhal bhaat, and changed the last of our Nepalese rupees for Indian rupees. A few forms and a few stamps later, we were officially in India. It seems as though everyone has their eyes on your money. They will say anything to get you to buy what they are selling. A guy that was hanging out at the immigration office gave us directions to the bus stand, but was adamant that we should take a jeep instead. “Only two hours, the bus will take four. Only 200 rupees, the bus is 120.” Once he realized we were going for the bus, he disappeared. The bus only cost 82 rupees, and judging by the traffic and blockages, there’s no way a jeep would make it in half the time! The total distance covered was only 86 kms, but it took a full four hours. Raven had to pee so bad, she was almost in tears, but luckily, we hit a railway crossing, and Su and Raven found a semi-secluded ditch before the gate lifted. So far, so good.

  We got to Gorakhpur  around 4:00, and the bus dropped us right in front of the train station. We found the crowded ticket booths, dropping our bags just around the corner. Su waited with the bags, Raven waited in line, and I went to find a bathroom, promising to be quick. On the way back, I noticed the tourist office had opened, so I stopped in to see if there was a special ‘tourist counter’, which there usually is. The guy waved me inside, but he was on his phone, so I waited for a few minutes, knowing Raven was going to be getting worried. Eventually he finished his call, and sure enough the tourist ticket office was down the road. When I returned, Raven was in tears, having already made it to the front of the line before I came back, which is exceptional to be sure. Su and I were both very close, but not within sight, so she was understandably upset. Note to self:  If we have to separate, one of us will always be in sight! Off we went, hoping to get tickets in sleeper class for the late departure time of 23:05, so we would get into Varanasi after sunrise. No problems there, and in just a few minutes we were on our way, tickets in hand, looking for somewhere to kill the 6 hours until the train left. We had dinner at a busy little roadside kitchen, then located the only internet ‘café’ in the area. We had to show ID, and sign in before we could use the old desktop computers, and weren’t allowed to use our laptop. Around 9:00 we headed to the station to find the right platform and check how late the train might be. We were standing around with our packs, looking for a good place to park among the crowds camped out around the station, when we noticed some policemen started shouting and hitting the people sitting on a bench nearby. I could only assume they were clearing the bench for us, so we went and sat down. The police hung around protectively, shooing away anyone that got too close. The wind was blowing through the open doors on either side of us, making it quite cold, so we huddled up to stay warm. After a little while, one of the rifle toting officers came over to suggest that we might want to move to the AC lounge. Our train was still showing ‘On Time’ on the display screen, but I went for a wander to inspect the lounge. Sure enough, the AC lounge, reserved for 1^st Class ticket holders, was warm, relatively uncrowded, and even had power outlets to charge our electronic gadgets. I went back for Su and Raven, and we set up camp, and even though we only had 2^nd Class sleeper tickets, he woman at the door never challenged us. As our expected departure time approached, the screen started showing 00:30 LATE in bold red. Sigh. ‘Here we go’ I thought to myself. Trains are by far the preferred way to travel any significant distance in India, as the busses are a nightmare, but are notoriously late. Second class sleepers have assigned seating, six in each ‘compartment’, with three berths on each side facing each other. The bottom berth is the seat for daytime use, the middle berth folds down as a backrest, but the upper berth is always available to stretch out on, my favorite spot. The bathrooms can get pretty disgusting on a long trip, but the tickets are ridiculously cheap. Our latest trip of 414 kms, taking 12 hours, cost the three of us 1100 rupees, about $20.

  After another half hour, the display updated to 01:30 LATE, then 02:00 LATE. Grrrrr. One in the morning came and went, but as I watched the screen, other trains that were showing LATE would eventually show Arriving, and then Arrived. Even though our train was more than 2:30 minutes late by now, I didn’t see any point to going out to the platform to wait in the cold, so I kept my eyes glued to the screen, waiting for another update. It never came. Suddenly, the train disappeared from the listings. Oh Oh. Su went to ask the station manager what was going on, and came back with a sour look on her face. The train had come and gone…A Korean girl waiting for the same train had a schedule, and let us know that there was another train to Varanasi at 5:30 AM, but it wouldn’t have any sleepers available. We’d been up since 6:00 for breakfast at the monastery, and were exhausted and defeated. I didn’t relish the idea of waiting another three hours, only to sit for 7 hours in an overcrowded train. I suggested we go get a hotel across the street, get some sleep, and try again the next day. We shoulder our packs and headed outside, Raven whining and moaning the whole way. We tried 7 different hotels, none of which had a room, so back to the station we went. Su and Raven tried to get some sleep back in the AC lounge while I tried to sort out some tickets. The tourist office was closed at 3 AM, and I didn’t want to wait in the long lines for regular tickets, so I decided to press the station manager for a solution. I explained calmly, yet sternly, how we’d been directed to wait in the lounge, and how the display never indicated that our train was Arriving, nor had Arrived. He seemed sympathetic, and sent me to the Yatri Mitra, the complaints department. Ming, the Korean girl, was there at the front of the line, so I jumped in, explaining our similar situation, using my foul mood and imposing stature to full effect. After much verbal wrangling, I managed to get them to assure me I would have replacement sleeper berths on the next train. Ming wasn’t quite as lucky, as she had already cancelled her ticket for a 50% refund, and they were adamant that there was nothing more they could do for her. She was less concerned with the rupees she’d lost, and kept pressing for an apology. The situation was obviously not going to go her way, especially with her challenging his authority. He sent her away dismissively to purchase a new ticket, but she wouldn’t leave. I went back to let Su know what was going on, but returned quickly, fearing the worst for the solo female troublemaker. She was fine, having eventually gone to get a new ticket. 5:00 rolled around, and we went back to find out about our new berths. They just took the old ticket and wrote down some number in pencil on the back. Dodgy, but I was really too tired to care, so we found the seats, and finally laid down, after nearly 24 hours. My last words before I fell asleep were “Just wait. At some point someone is going to wonder why we’re in their seats”. I vaguely remember Su having a conversation with someone about it later, but there was no way I was moving, and eventually they left to find somewhere else to sit. We got to Varanasi with about 3 hours of sleep, cranky and hangry, and still had to deal with the unscrupulous rickshaw drivers looking to make a commission off whichever hotel they took us to. Yup. Good times.