First week in India...oh boy.

Our border crossing from Nepal was shockingly simple. Checked our passports out with Nepal customs, then just walked right across the border and into the India customs...total time: 15 minutes. Didn't check our bags, didn't need any info other than name, visa number, and length of stay. The immigration office was decorated in rust stained walls and mud floors. Eric was feeling little overwhelmed by the transition to India...and maybe the noisy crowded streets. haha.

We took a jeep to Gorakhpur, then boarded a night train to Varanasi. In our little cubicle-like section of the train, the bunks were three high on either side of a narrow aisle. across the walkway there were another 2 bunks. Our bags were on the beds with us, so we were unable to sleep unless curled in a fetal position. Even with the cramped conditions and the loud snoring of our Indian train neighbors, the hum of the train lulled us all to sleep for our  7 hour ride.

Unfortunately, Varanasi was no respite for the stress of life in India and barrage of the senses. The streets are more polluted than any I have ever seen and hope to ever see again. Cows, goats, pigs, and chickens, and wild dogs run loose, owner-less and often starving. Garbage can be seen covering almost every square inch of  the muddy streets, along with human waste and other unrecognizable refuse. Men squatted in corners and peed next to shops without shame. The constant honking from rickshaws, taxis, and motorcycles adds to the feel of disaster that hangs in the air.

Varanasi is the oldest continuously habitated city in the world, over 5,000 years old, and the holiest city in India. The Ganges river flows along the Eastern side of the city and is lined with temples and ghats (stairs leading down to the water). We hired a boatman to take us out on a sunrise paddle along the shore. It was foggy, quiet, and dark, and as the sun slowly rose we were able to view the city come alive with people bathing, washing clothes, and worshiping along the river. We were also afforded the opportunity to observe the funeral pyres. Over 300 bodies a day are burned there along the river banks. Family members come to celebrate the life of their loved one, and deposit their remains in the river. No crying is allowed. It was a humbling experience to walk amongst the smoking remains of the recently deceased, and feel the heat rising from the ground as we walked past the fragments of what was once living, breathing, people.

 

Lucknow was the next city we visited, and the morning we arrived was one of the most frustrating, stressful, and demoralizing yet. As we walked through the streets trying to find a place to stay, we were repeatedly rejected and told with a quick shake of the head "you no allowed here." In other words "no whites allowed." We are truly strangers in a strange land. After nearly 20 different rejections we finally decided to stop in at an internet cafe and either buy a ticket to another city, or find a place to stay online. We had heard that the Lucknow Homestay was a good one, so we looked up their address and were delivered there after a few wrong turns by our rickshaw driver. Finally a place we were allowed. The rest of our day we spend exploring the neat historic district of the city. Incredible mosques, archways, bridges, and dilapidated mughal-style buildings.


Checked out the Lucknow zoo as well, but it turned out that we were more of an attraction than the animals. Although not a new experience for us, the unabated staring is starting to wear on me. Men will stare unblinking and unwavering for as long as they are able. You will notice someone in your peripheral vision and be unpleasantly surprised to find someone inches from your face staring silently. Even when you catch them staring, they will continue, unphased. A train ride gives every man in your car the ability to stare for the entire 7 hour duration of your journey, while not a single one says a word. Not-so-sneakily they will hang their camera phones over the back of their seat to snap a picture...each time given away by the shutter noise that many phones make. Some, more polite Indians, will just come right up to us, say hello, and ask to take a picture with us. Or of us. Or just of me. We are celebrities here, but the attention is tiring and uncomfortable.

Nepal and India are so vastly different that it will take some time to get used to this new country. I am excited for the month that lies ahead, but I do dearly miss home. I hope all is well, and Merry Christmas to everyone!!!