Amritsar in the Daylight

After getting my first view of the Golden Temple in the evening hours, I wanted to go back and see more of it and to see it in the daylight. So I got up and headed over to the temple again. There was also another site nearby the temple called Jallianwala Bagh. This is the site of an infamous massacre by the British against peaceful and unarmed protesters.

In the early days of the move to independence, not just in India but in all of its colonies, Britain would give some autonomy only to claw it back in other ways. In India responsible government was granted the country, but then a couple of other laws, most notably the Rowlatt laws were introduced. This took some power away from the supposedly free-acting Indian government. People started to demonstrate against the laws. In one instance, here in Amritsar, the people were gathering to meet and find ways of opposing the British government's moves. They were abiding by Gandhi's principles of doing so without violence, and indeed in the same spirit and Gandhi, were committed to taking punishment without retaliation. On April 13^th, 1919, a group of about twenty thousand people had gathered in a place called Jallianwala Bagh. “Bagh” means garden, but this was not really a garden. It was an empty piece of land that was a place of garbage and refuse. It was situated in a neighbourhood that surrounded it on almost all sides. There were a couple of very small crawl-type spaces between a couple of buildings and one narrow entrance to the “garden.”

The area around the bagh was raised over the years as buildings were put in place and the ground in the bagh itself was some 5 feet lower than the surrounding area. This is where the twenty thousand people were meeting. A detachment of the British army, under the command of Brigadier General Dyer, arrived at Jallianwala Bagh and entered through the alley. They took up positions on the high ground and aimed. Without identifying themselves or their intentions, and without giving any warning, Dyer ordered his men to begin firing on the assembled group. They had nowhere to go. If ever a situation could be called shooting fish in a barrel, this was it. Panic took over the group. People tried climbing over the walls to safety, but the walls were 10 to 15 feet in height. When they got to the top, many were shot before they could jump to the other side. People fell injured and dying, only to be trampled by others trying to escape. The army held the only viable exit. Nobody could get away.

 Others tried to seek safety by jumping into a well that was in the garden. Later, a couple hundred bodies would be found in the well, having drowned by not being able to survive for long, or perhaps by having others jump in on top of them.

Estimates varied as to how long the firing went on. Dyer estimated 15 to 20 minutes. Given the number of men and the number of rounds fired, it could have been only about 5 minutes. However long it was, 1650 rounds were fired. In all, about 380 people died, including one baby and 41 boys. Some 1500 people were injured. None were armed. None had any warning.

Dyer was roasted on the spit of public opinion, both in India and in England. The governor of Punjab, Michael O'Dwyer also found disfavour. One survivor of the massacre, Uddam Singh, followed O'Dwyer home to England and, many years later, shot and killed him in a public event. For his act of vengeance/justice he was hanged. His ashes were returned to India in 1973 to a hero's welcome.

After the massacre, the government purchased the garden from the owners and turned it into a real garden and memorial to the people who died there. They preserved many key pieces of the site and event, including bullet holes on some of the buildings, and the well (which has been named the Martyr's Well). There is an eternal flame, and a large memorial to the people who died on that tragic day.

Walking through the garden, I got a horrible feeling of how trapped and helpless the people who were there must have felt. There really seemed to be no way out.

Of course, this didn't stop kids from approaching because they wanted me to take their photo. It's so nice to be back in areas where this happens, and where they don't immediately stick their hands out for their modelling fee.

After this sobering visit, I headed back into the Golden Temple complex for a visit during the day. And seeing it in the light of day, although still mightily impressed, I was doubly glad I had first seen it in the night. The effect of that glowing gold roof, lit up in the night was mightily impressive.

Yet, the daytime view was almost as impressive. With all the people coming to worship at the temple, there was activity everywhere. There was a long line of people waiting to get into the temple. I didn't think I would be trying to visit the inside again. This was another good reason to come during the much less busy night time hours. I walked right into the temple to look around. No lines, no waiting.

I circumambulated the whole pool. I hadn't able to do that with Zena the previous night. It had been getting a bit late, and she didn't seem to realize that there was a whole lot of stuff to look at all the way around the pool. And, of course, trying to tell her anything like that was just speaking to a blank wall. She didn't things she didn't want to hear. So we just walked back to the entrance rather than finishing the whole round. Of course, it didn't really matter, as I had much more time than she did, so I would have the time to see everything.

So now I got to finish the whole round. I saw the miracle tree, where the deformed man had been healed.

There was a prayer hall just outside the complex.

Another spot held either a memorial or possibly the remains of an inspirational Sikh leader who fought for the kingdom. The story goes that, at age about 70, he grew enraged at the Mughal leader and took up arms against them, and he vowed not to stop until he had taken Amritsar. During the battles, his head was cut off. One of his advisers reminded him of his oath, whereupon he picked up his head in one hand and continued fighting. This inspired his troops and carried them to victory.

Then I sat for a while beside the pool and watched people taking their ablutions...

...saying their devotions...

...and just sitting in their own contemplations and thoughts.

Despite all the activity in the complex, it was peaceful. I had been told that all Sikhs are to come to the Golden Temple at some point in their lives and give a week in service to the temple and the people who come. They cook, or clean, or answer questions. They guard the entrances to ensure compliance with the rules by visitors. They take and hold shoes (and socks), and other belongings. It is, I suppose a lot like other religions where the life's goal is to visit one of the places of pilgrimage, like Mecca in Islam or Jerusalem for many of the world's religions. I'm not sure if others have that service component. But the Golden Temple is for people of all faiths. All are welcome here, and people of all religions come here to pray. One man told me (the night before) that it was a place for Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs. It was all he could say in English. I think he really wanted to make sure that I understood all could come here without fear. All were welcome and none would be turned away. And then another man chimed in that the Golden Temple had entrances from all sides so that all could come and worship. I wish all religions could operate like that. The world might be a much nicer place.

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.

Heading to Haridwar

After rafting, I went to a local orphanage for the second time during my visit and watched a movie and had pizza for dinner. It was my last night in Rishikesh and it was a nice way to end the time there. Until I woke up the next morning, facing a train journey that night, with the obvious signs that I was having tummy issues once again. I think it might have been the orphanage food. And I had eaten something there before the second time I was ill as well. Hmmm... That would suck if they had something bad going on with their food. It tasted really good.

Dreading what the train ride could turn into, I headed into Haridwar around 1 in the afternoon. I went by public rickshaw as no buses were stopping for me. I don't what's up with that. I have lots of trouble like that. Anyway, at the rickshaw stand, I had trouble with them as well. I wanted a public one, which would cost less, but I kept running into jokers who wanted to take me alone for a much higher rate. And they played dumb when I said I wanted a shared one. And they would snicker behind their hands when they would do it. I don't know what they think they are accomplishing when they act stupid like that, pretending they don't understand me and treating the guy they are dealing with as though he or she is stupid as well. They are just making sure that they absolutely won't have any money from me, ever, and they are making it harder on their fellow drivers, who might want to be good, by having me distrust them. It does nobody any good, but they don't seem to get it at all.

Anyway, I did eventually find someone who took me in to Haridwar in a shared auto-rickshaw, for a good price. And the farther I got from Rishikesh, the better my stomach was feeling. It was probably just that my tummy troubles were just sorting themselves out fairly quickly, but maybe it was actually Rishikesh that was making me ill.

By the time I got to Haridwar, I didn't even feel that I would need to just hide in a room for the few hours until my train, hanging around a toilet. That was a welcome feeling. And I was also happy because I could go out and see some things in this city before moving on.

Where Rishikesh is foreign tourist holy city of yoga and Ganga holiness, Haridwar is the holy city for Indians. Many an Indian Hindu pilgrim goes to Haridwar to find the holy Ganga. In fact, earlier this fall, 80 or so people died by being trampled during some kind of stampede at the edge of the Ganges during this year's pilgrimage. It was kind of sad. There is a temple on the hill above the Ganges, and at the edge of the Ganges there is a daily aarti puja, much like the one in Rishikesh. So there were some things to experience in my few hours in the city.

First I tried to find the Ganges. I thought I had been told that it was at the base of the hill/mountain with the temple on it, so I set out in the direction of the temple. Shortly after starting out, I found myself alongside a parade through the streets. There were floats of various gods and goddesses. It was loud and noisy, but it was kind of fun. And someone gave me a banana as I was walking by. That was nice.

I wasn't actually planning on climbing to the temple because, although it wasn't really really high, I was a bit weak from not eating much over the past few days and it was still high enough. But I couldn't find the Ganges. I thought it might be on the other side of the hill, so I started climbing to see if I could find the way. And before long, I was halfway up to the temple. I went all the way since I was so close. But along the way, I lost my banana. There were lots of monkeys on the path up the hill. And I had made the mistake of carrying the banana in my hand, as I contemplated whether or not I was going to eat it. A monkey saw it and came barrelling along towards me. I didn't want to have any trouble with the monkey, so I just threw the banana to it and solved my problem of whether or not to eat it.

The temple wasn't actually that impressive. It was kind of small. It looked bigger because of the gondola that people could ride up to the top. But really, I have decided that most temples (if not all) here in India are pretty much the same. (This excludes the ones that are out in the forest, or are obviously really old. Not many people go to them and they don't have lines of devotees coming to visit. I'm talking about the ones that have lots of people coming to visit and offer prayers and other offerings.) There are little alcoves with an idol of some god or goddess. People come up and bring some kind of offering. They make their little prayer, put some money in the offering plate and move on. It really is possible at times to just change the idol, put the temple on the top of some other hill and it's a different one, even though it's just the same. So, unfortunately, I was not particularly moved.

But I did get a good look at where I needed to go to find the riverfront. I headed down and arrived there just in time for the aarti ceremony. However, I had to wade through literally dozens of people who may or may not have been volunteers with donation books, asking for donations to cover costs of the ceremony being public. I'm sure the costs are real. With hundreds of people coming to watch the ceremony every day, there must be lots of garbage and scuff marks and all sorts of other things related to lots of people being in one place at the same time day after day, that needs cleanup and maintenance. And I'm sure there were some genuine volunteers. Maybe they all were. But it is just impossible to tell the fakes from the real ones here. And there were donation boxes all over the place anyway. If you are going to make something free and appeal to the charity-mindedness of the attendees, then the charity boxes should do. It should not be necessary to hound the spectators with volunteers asking for donations. And I was asked at least twenty times for a donation. If there is that much of a problem with people not contributing, then get it over with and put an entrance fee on the ceremony.

But after wading through them, I did watch the ceremony, and I found it more interesting than the one in Rishikesh. And mostly that was because I could see it better (it was across the river from the main viewing area), and it was much, much shorter. It was over in about 10 or 15 minutes. But it was quite a beautiful sort of ceremony.

After that, I was feeling so much better, I wanted to eat something substantial before getting on the train. I met one of the people I met at the waterfall the day I hiked it. She came with me. She was going to be on the same train, in a different class. We had some dinner and then went to get the train.

And for some reason, the farther I got from Rishikesh and, consequently, from the insanity of the whole manic tourist scene of the Golden Triangle, the better I was feeling again. It was quite odd, actually.

Rafting in Rishikesh

Having discovered that water and my cameras don't mix very well, I didn't even bother taking my camera along with me when I went rafting. But the valley was lovely, picturesque and provided a thoroughly enjoyable venue for rafting. There were a couple of grade four rapids (at least the guide told us so; I'm not so sure, as grade 4 rapids would generally be expected to eject people from the raft, particularly a raft full of rather inexperienced people), and they provided a good deal of excitement. And I met a genuinely insane woman. So it was entertaining.

She was from Brazil. I met her when I went to the rafting company's office for the formalities such as signing of waivers and such. There were three people, actually and they all were up in arms about the waiver. It was a fairly standard waiver for people taking part in an activity that could potentially be dangerous. And those things always present it in such a worst-case scenario kind of way that it sounds as though you are about to participate in something so dangerous that you can expect to come away minus at least one limb. And the company accepts no liability should that happen, of course. It is an intimidating sort of thing to read, I will grant. But they were all upset because they thought the company should be accepting some responsibility. And from my reading of it, it didn't sound like they were denying any responsibility for our safety. It was more or less stating that we understood that we were undertaking a dangerous activity and were responsible for that decision. And any sane individual would realize that it isn't in the company's best interests to go about letting their customers get injured without doing anything about it, or even drown. Even in India where, to be honest, rules and laws are at best flexible, a company that offers dangerous activities and doesn't offer adequate protections will very soon find itself with no customers and will close. This would be particularly so in a town such as Rishikesh where it seems like every second shop is offering rafting as an option during one's stay.

However, “I'm from Brazil, and I know how things operate. They don't pay any attention to safety and don't follow the laws. They don't have licences and it's not a problem for them. India's the same.” I would actually think that Brazil is the same as India and those sorts of things, in this day and age with the internet and social networking and all kinds of sites that allow travellers to tell on places like that, such businesses couldn't stay in operation.

But she wouldn't listen. I don't know why I actually got into the argument, but they just all three of them decided to tell me the problem they had. I eventually asked why they weren't talking to the owners about the issue, since I couldn't do anything. And they didn't seem to understand they weren't getting in the boat without signing the waiver. The Brazilian girl still tried to do that though.

In the end, it all worked out, and we headed off and had a great time. And the fully trained guides, who gave us detailed instructions on what to do with various commands and how to stay in the boat and what to do if we did end up out of the boat, made sure nobody drowned. It was fun.

Recovered in Rishikesh

After three days of dealing with varying amounts of tummy trouble, I woke up feeling much better. It truly seemed that I had passed the difficulty and could have a good day. But I still wasn't overly hungry, so I was a bit worried. I know when abdominal upset is really past when I start to feel hungry again. Until then, I usually feel that things may not be really all right. But the rumblings and gurgling had gone and I decided to chance things. I headed out for a day along the river. I went and had some lunch at the German bakery beside the river. Then I walked the only side and direction of the river left that I hadn't sampled yet. I found a nice little beach and sat down to read for a while. I watched a bunch of rafts come down after finishing some white water rafting. It looked like fun. And since I have decided not to go into the national park, rafting will make a good substitute. And feeling better, I will be able to enjoy it with no worries.

After reading for a while, I headed up to find someone to help me with reserving a train ticket to Amritsar. The first place I found tried to get on the website for India Rail, but the site was down. I didn't really mind because the guy seemed quite uninterested in helping me. Okay, I will go give the commission to someone else. (And this is something that annoys me. I would like to be able to do the reservations myself, but all the websites in the country require having a mobile phone number in India. I don't have a mobile phone, so I can't do any of these reservations on my own. A friend did give me his India Rail id and password, but I didn't think of that at the time.)

This I did. I hope it works out as his office was closed when I went back to get the ticket.

Then I headed down to see a ceremony at one of the ashram/temples down the river a ways. It is some kind of fire ceremony, and it seems to be in honour of Krishna, one of the incarnations of Vishnu. It was a bunch of chanting and singing and sitting about a fire, feeding it. And I must be in a particularly unspiritual frame of mind because all I could really think of during the ceremony was how they do this everyday. And about how much of waste of time it seemed to be. And how I doubted that any god would require that kind of time commitment (or want it) from his/her devotees. It was an interesting ceremony anyway.

Then I came up to the hotel and booked myself onto a rafting trip. It should be fun!

Finally Laid Low

After getting myself settled in a nice little hotel and getting a good night's sleep, I woke up with a sinking realization. There were gurgles and rumbles in my tummy. Uh oh! It shortly became clear that I was having some kind of intestinal event. I had had a cold of some sort for a couple of days, so I was initially unsure if the tummy trouble was just a part of that or not. But it became clear through the day, that I wasn't going to be able to go too far from the hotel.

I took my laundry out for cleaning, then returned to look after my tummy.

After a while, I thought to take a bit of a walk about again. I made it 15 or so minutes away, where I was able to take a nice look up the valley.

And then I found I needed to return once again to the hotel and tend to my tummy. I pretty much gave up hope of doing much useful that day. I did feel better towards the end of the day and got a bit of a snack to quell the hunger that had replaced the gurgles. I took that as a welcome sign. A return of hunger suggests to me that my body has passed the trouble. I was hopeful that it had indeed been just a part of the cold or whatever it was that I had had.

The next morning dawned quite well and I felt almost like I was better. There were minor rumblings in my abdomen, but the need to be near a bathroom seemed to have passed. So I decided to take a good long walk.

Michelle, at the front desk told me about a waterfall nearby that wasn't a particularly strenuous walk up the mountainside. That seemed to present the perfect opportunity for a little jaunt. I headed out and walked to the entrance. By the time I got there, having gotten water and a little snack, I didn't have enough small money for the entrance fee. I had to resort to a 500 rupee note. The guy at the window complained. He had no change. I had 17 rupees in small change, but the entrance fee was 30. He said that wouldn't do. The only other choices were to find change for the 500 rupee note or to leave. I wasn't planning on leaving. He grudgingly took the 500 rupee note and told me I could come back and collect change when I came down. But he made no move to provide with any kind of note saying that I was owed the change. Uh uh, buddy. I asked for one. Then he pulled out his wallet and showed that he was pretty much a liar. There was plenty of smaller notes in his wallet and he gave me 450 rupees. Then he wrote a note saying I was owed 20 more.

I do sympathise with the problem of making change for large notes. I think it must be a drag, and I don't think it's exactly fair. But it's not my problem. I am the customer. If there is a problem with this sort of thing, they should be complaining to banks. But on the other hand, so many people in this country are happy enough to take the money from foreign visitors, but then they complain when they have to do some work to get it. Either you want our money or you don't. I don't really care. Well I do, but I don't really care for the attitude of how much trouble it seems to you to get it. Suck it up, people!

I headed up the trail. It's reasonably well-marked and the scenery was quite nice. There were a couple of points where I was unsure where to go, and as usual I took the wrong way. But it kept me occupied.

The waterfalls were also beautiful. I imagine they must be quite spectacular during the rainy season. They must get quite large and active.

I got myself back down from the waterfalls and got some food, as I was getting quite hungry after not eating much of anything the previous day. I went back to the hotel and hoped that my abdominal episode was past. And I began to feel the rumblings and gurglings that said, no, I wasn't done. Crap!!

I was able to get a bit of sleep, but before long I was awake and dealing with more tummy troubles. It seemed to pass reasonably well and I got some more sleep that lasted well into the morning.

After I got up, I was able to take a long walk down the riverside. On the other side of the river, in the actual township area of Rishikesh, is the local national park. I walked along it a ways, but after a second day of not eating too much, I was really lacking in energy, so I spent a lot of time just sitting and watching the water. I did notice that the river level rose significantly while I was there. I suspect it's snow-melt coming off the mountains during the day, which would be greater in the heat of the day, but I don't really know for sure. All I know is that the Ganges here rose by several inches while I watched.

I wanted to visit the national park and see more wildlife, but when I have enquired at a couple of places, because I am alone, the prices have been quite high. It's also low season as far as wildlife is concerned as well, and I was told it's really only birds and probably some elephants that would be seen. And I find birds to be somewhat boring. Given the price, I will probably give it a pass.

But this is the yoga capital of the world, so I might give a class or two a try. I have always wanted to have a go. This would be the perfect time. Assuming that my insides sort themselves out.

I don't know if this has been a result of being sick or whether, after 9 and a half months travelling, I have finally run afoul of some bad water or food. But I think it's been a good run. Now, let it be the last time this happens.