Amritsar and the Return of the Rafting Lunatic

The trip to Amritsar was interminable. It started in Haridwar at about 10:00 at night. It was supposed to be about 8 hours (which is still not so great as the distance was only supposed to be a little under 400 kilometers). I was told later that the reason was fog, but 15 hours later the train arrived in Amritsar. Yikes!!!

In Haridwar I had seen the lunatic Brazilian woman from the rafting trip getting on the train as well. She asked me where I was going to stay. I told her I didn't know. She suggested a place, but the train was threatening to head out, so we got on our respective train cars and rode to Amritsar. In Amritsar, we met again outside the train and she had already had some rickshaw driver attach himself to her. She asked again if I would like to go to the same guest house where she was going to stay. Not yet having found a place to stay (big surprise there), I figured that it would be as a place to stay as any. I accepted and we got on the rickshaw and the guy pedalled us around to the Tourist Guest House. The guest house was quite acceptable to me, and it was cheap. We got settled in. Well, I got settled in. Zena had only the one day in Amritsar and wanted to see a couple of things. As the train had arrived so late, that cut down on her get-out-and-see-stuff time. She didn't really have any extra time to be lolling about. She wanted to go and see the main attraction in town, the Golden Temple. I was hungry after the train ride and lack of food for a few days, so I just hung out at the guest house. Zena also said she wanted to go and see the closing of the India-Pakistan border for the day. We were only told that we could hire a taxi for 400 or so rupees for the trip. It would be good to share that expense, so I told her I would go with her. But she had to get back by 3:30 to be able to do that. She was going to be running around like a headless chicken, and I was told that the Golden Temple is large and would take three or four hours to see properly. But it was up to her how she was going to do things. I had a couple of days, so I had no worries. I sat and read in the sun and had some lunch.

Around 3:30 Zena returned and asked if I was ready to go to the border. She had found a guy near the temple who was putting people together for a trip to the border in a jeep thing. It was only 100 rupees per person. Cool! I put my book away, got my camera and off we went. But it was a typical squash-as-many-people-as-possible-in-the-jeep-so-as-much-money-as-possible-can-be-made deals. It was a tight fit. And Zena kept telling the others along the seat to make more room because she was so squashed in. I tried pointing out that they were just as squished as we she was, but she still kept on about it.

Then we got to the border and the driver told us we had to leave our bags behind. We were allowed to take our cameras, but no bags, I imagine for security reasons. And I should have realized that when I was at the guest house, when I would have been able to leave it behind and not have to leave it with the jeep guy for the mere protection fee of 20 rupees. Hmmm... Oh well.

But Zena didn't like that. She still tried to take her camera bag with her. They told her again and again that she couldn't. I think she might be a deaf lunatic. She wasn't happy about it, because it was dusty and she had a nice camera. But she just didn't get it that she wouldn't even get past the first security perimeter with her bag. Much like she didn't get it that she wouldn't get in the raft without signing the waiver. I found her to be entertaining, but also quite frustrating. Her arguing with the driver about the camera bag was taking time, and we had already arrived at the border area a bit late. We were going to miss the ceremony if she kept it up. She eventually seemed to realize that, gave up the fight and we set off.

It was about a 10 minute walk to the border and we were hurrying. Or I thought we were going to hurry so we wouldn't miss it. But then she started thinking that there were things she wanted to take photos of on the way. Instead of on the way back, when we would have time. Aieechiwawa!! She just didn't get things at all.

We were directed to the foreigners seating area. Sometimes the whole being a foreigner thing does result in being treated quite specially. The foreigner's area was closest to the border gates of all the general spectators, even closer than Indians who had, possibly, purchased special tickets to get them closer than other Indians.

And there were a lot of people there. In what could only be described as bleachers there could well have been 30 thousand people there to watch the border be closed for the day. It was quite fascinating. And there were only a handful of foreigners, which was possibly more interesting.

On the Pakistan side of the border there was another set of bleachers, but they weren't nearly as full. The reason wasn't clear. Lahore, on the Pakistan side, is about as close as Amritsar. Perhaps it is the current uncertainty in Pakistan and the surrounding region. Perhaps, they are as fiercely patriotic as the Indians are. I'm not sure. But to counter the 30 or so thousand people on the Indian side, there were only a few thousand at most on the Pakistan side. But the performance was fascinating. I couldn't really see the other side clearly, but the Indian side had a cheerleader who was leading the Indians to cheer at the right times, and giving them chants to say while the border ceremony was taking place. It was neat to watch.

And it was also amazing that I could get to within probably 30 meters of Pakistan with very little in the way of active security. I couldn't even get that close to the United States from Canada without being very closely monitored. And the US and Canada are close friends and allies. India and Pakistan are supposed to be somewhat mortal enemies, but this was a very low-key event, as far as security was concerned. No doubt, if anyone really stepped out of line, there would have been a quick and harsh response. But it never felt that way.

On the way back to the jeep, Zena and I dawdled a bit and took some photos in places. She kept wanting her photo taken to show she had been there. I figured one in one spot would suffice for that, but she wanted more and more. That was all right though. I didn't mind taking photos of her in front of a sign here, and the border station there. At least she wasn't complaining about how it should be. At least not then.

One thing that I did find quite interesting was the line of trucks waiting to get across the border. The trucks were lined up for at least a kilometer. The border is open from 10 in the morning until 4 in the afternoon. Amritsar is only 30 kilometers from the border, so it's not that hard to go and come back. But these trucks were obviously sticking around. That must mean it takes a long time to get through the border and they didn't want to lose their place. Either that, or the border closing is kind of only for show and cross-border traffic continues even though it has been officially “closed.” I don't think that would be the case. So I began to wonder how long it takes trucks to get across the border, and if the time is measured in days.

We got back to town and she was quite hungry, as she had been running around all day trying to see the important parts of Amritsar. She still wanted to go and see the Golden Temple at night. I also wanted to see the temple at night, and so I agreed to go with her to do that. She got some dinner and then we set out at about 9. We started walking and I tried to figure out which way we should be going. I asked her where she had gone in the afternoon and she pointed in one direction. Unfortunately, according to the little map on the back of the guest house's card, that was in the opposite direction to where we needed to go. But she had gone there, so I just took her word for it. We passed up a couple of rickshaw drivers, but eventually it became clear that Zena really had absolutely no idea of where we had to go. It was a bit exasperating. At one point we passed across the train tracks and I asked if she had done that earlier. She said yes, and then she said they had crossed them again after that. So, er, you ended up back in the direction from which we just came? I don't think so. I rolled my eyes and suggested that we should get a rickshaw as I was now absolutely certain we were heading in the exact wrong direction.

And when we got in the rickshaw, and she had pestered him down to a ridiculous price to take us there, yes, we went back exactly the way we came. And Zena didn't recognize that we were doing that at all. I just sighed. The rickshaw driver got us to the temple and I gave him a little extra money, because the price that Zena had talked him into was really just too low.

Then we got ready to go into the temple. At least I did. The Golden Temple is quite a holy place and it follows the prescriptions of the Sikh faith. This includes no shoes, or even socks. And they don't want them even to enter the temple. They insist that people leave their shoes and socks at the depository outside the temple grounds. I didn't realize that they wanted my socks as well and had put them in my pocket, until I was told to hand them in as well.

But Zena had described her visit during the afternoon to me. She said that the way to the temple had water all over and she didn't like her feet being wet. She was going to keep her flip flops and put them in her bag and then when nobody was looking she was going to wear them into the temple to avoid the water. I hadn't really understood what she meant by water everywhere, but I assumed it would come clear. And I assumed she was going to run into trouble with her plan because it quite clearly says in several places that shoes and socks are forbidden in the temple. But I wasn't going to argue, both because it hadn't done any good up until then to try and point things like that out to her or to reason with, and because it was becoming increasingly clear to me that she was a lunatic.

Another part of the Sikh faith is that all visitors are to cover their heads. As we headed into the temple there were touts who were selling head coverings. I bought one just because I thought it would make a nice souvenir afterwards. I remembered reading that there were a bunch of freely available ones at the entrance, but I was going to be able to keep this one, and that was nice.

As we approached the entrance area, predictably Zena was stopped by the guards and asked where her shoes were and if she had put them in the shoe depository, where her deposit tag was. It took a few moments to work that out, and she somehow was allowed to keep her shoes on her person, which I am not entirely sure how she managed. But she grumbled about how unfair they were. Um, it's a part of the religion and as guests we are probably best to try and respect that?

And then the bit about the water being everywhere became clear. And this just served to convince me even more that she was off her rocker. There were little shallow pools of water in front of the entrance. All people going in were to step through the pools to wash their feet off. So, of course your feet are going to get wet, you silly cow. I just sighed.

We went and I beheld a most amazing sight. I am so glad I decided to eat and take my time that afternoon. I found the sight of the Golden Temple to be so striking at night. I'm glad that was the first glimpse I had of the structure. (And I was backed up by that thought the next day when I did see it in the daylight. It was far more impressive lit up in the night. This is not to say that it wasn't impressive in the daylight as well. It was just more impressive at night.)

The temple is set in the middle of a man made lake. It is gilded in gold plated copper. There is a walkway out to the temple through a gate at what I think was the north end. But I am not entirely sure of what direction was which, so don't quote me. The pool is called the Holy Pool of Nectar. At the far end of the pool a deformed man was cured of all his ailments after bathing in a spring by a tree. The tree is still there and afterwards people began to dig a pool that was filled by the spring. Now people come to bathe in the pool and it supposedly heals them of their ailments.

The pool is surrounded by a marbled path where it is possible to walk. A building surrounds the walkway. There is a kitchen where food is prepared and served to all who come and wish to eat. There is no charge, although donations are naturally happily accepted.

Across from the entrance gate for the temple, there is a large building. In there, holy men of the Sikh faith sit and read from the Sikh scriptures.

We had arrived at about 10 in the evening and this is just at the time when the holy book, which sits in the temple during the day, is removed to its place of safekeeping for the cleaning period 10 until about 3 am. This meant there were not that many visitors to the temple, although it was still open. So we were able to go right into the temple and look around. We watched them doing the cleaning of the temple walls, floors and decorations. It seemed to be a lot of work, but they were all very friendly and helpful. And despite the signs all over that said there were to be no photographs inside the temple (as is usual for temple-like places), Zena kept taking photos, often in full view of temple attendants. They didn't say anything, but their expressions made it clear they didn't really appreciate it. The lunatic.

Afterwards we walked back around to the entrance and headed back to the guest house.

It is an amazing place and if anyone ever comes to this city, this is a must visit.

My visit to the Golden Temple let me know something. While I have been feeling somewhat disconnected of late from India and my experience of it, I suspect it was simply my reaction to the crassness and money-hungryness of the Golden Triangle area. For now that I am out of that area and well away from Delhi, I once again find such sights to be a marvel. It is good to know that I am not quite over the impact of India.