1 August: descending into Varanasi
I am looking down only the lovely Ganga, the goddess herself. There is something important and amazing in her. There are spires in fields below...are they chimneys for bricks? Makes me think of the stupas of Bagan, Myanmar, but not nearly so many.
The cabin crew is very no-nonsense, but I had to record my inner stirrings at seeing the holy river for the first time. She twists and is more narrow than I'd have expected. I think I was envisioning a Mississippi-like mile-across, imposing to the point of jaw-dropping. She is, but more because of who she is, not the gray-brown ribbon threading the fields and trees below. This could be Pennsylvania, this could be anywhere, it's so flat and green and lovely with clumps of trees sprinkled below. The fields are dotted with neatly combed brown patches, maybe rice. I wonder if I'll ever learn to tell from the sky.
This is the holiest river on earth (for the most people, anyway). She is the living goddess, and pilgrims come to cleanse themselves spriitually in her waters. I have done little research on her thusfar, but I'll let you know what I find. This city is supposed to be overwhelming, and not necessarily in a comfortable way. In fact, the USIEF staff no longer sends groups here first; it's too much to take in. I am trying to be expectation-free, just focus on the river.
She is out of view now, and as we move toward the ground, the green flat expanse welcomes us.
So be it.
oh yeah, and the dude next to me has snorted snuff off and on throughout the flight. Didn't know people still did that. He has a small silver container (decorated with a dharma wheel etched on top?) in his front shirt pocket. At first I thought he was blowing his nose out into the aisle--body odor I can tolerate, but this, seriously? By the third time, I finally looked more closely, and realized my mistake. Still, odd.
When we touched down, we got the unusual opportunity to walk from the landing site across the tarmac and into the terminal. We stared at an aggressively slate gray sky, which unleashed torrential rains about 3 minutes after we reached the baggage arrival area, just inside the sliding doors of the airport.
The 40 minute drive to the hotel showed that Varanasi is a city of bicycles, much more so than the megacities of Kolkata, Mumbai or Delhi. We saw troupes of Shiva pilgrims walking back to their villages with the holy water gathered in clay pots, covered and suspended from poles the young men hold over their shoulders on the shoulders of the roads. I saw many more goats than in previous cities, more folks living in destitution (a few families living in the lowest of makeshift camps in rain-sodden roadsides, pools of filth spreading to unavoidable edges of their living quarters). This was tough to see, with little ones and elderly parts of this unhealthy mix.
Girish greeted us here, then had dinner with us, as we shared our thoughts on the program so far. It was really good to hear his thoughts about the decision making processes in terms of cities and schedules. I see now the careful considerations that informed our schedule, and I appreciate his thoughtfulness on our behalf. Eight of us shared beers in the bar before dinner, and it was a nice extended moment of bonding, especially since it was just girls. We have to do this again with the other ladies as well.
Wendy and I are both at the computer, in bed with the news on. She's not feeling well (threw up lunch--ew!) but is optimistic that she'll be better by tomorrow. Let's hope so.
Good night!
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