For the end of our adventure, we have saved perhaps the biggest, craziest, tastiest, poorest, prettiest, smelliest, and best for last: India. Though we have three weeks to spend here, that’s hardly enough time to even scratch the surface of this country, so we’ve resigned to planning our return trip even before this one is even finished. If the beginning is any indication, we’re in for wild ride.

Just when we thought we’ve seen it all in the airport department, we’re hit with two of the world’s worst on the same flight. Leaving Kathmandu, we passed the ordinary X-ray security procedure—separated by gender of course; “his and hers” metal detectors, if you will—only to find they were manually screening every pocket of every bag for every passenger. Needless to say, this took a long time, but was no biggie for us since our flight was almost two hours delayed anyway. The worst, though, was lining up on the tarmac when our bags were thoroughly checked again before boarding. All this for a measly 30-minute flight.

Varanasi Airport turned out to be even worse. As the passengers from our large A320 jet lined up with their standard H1N1 forms, we were met with the full brunt of the Indian bureaucracy. Too cramped to properly queue, we had no less than five checkpoints to clear (along for a weak excuse for a baggage conveyor and customs inspection) in a space not much larger than my parents’ living room. The new terminal under construction next door is sorely needed, but it looks like they’re using red tape instead of concrete.

Varanasi बनारस

Once we did finally get to Varanasi, there was no denying we had arrived in India. With bicycles cruising all around, cows roaming the streets, and the alternating smells of curry and sewage in the air, we had made it to the country where two ancient religions were born and to the city where its people come to die. Early the next morning, as we were paddled down the holy Ganges river, we saw hundred crowd its banks to pray, bathe, dump garbage, do laundry, and cremate their relatives. If this water was indeed purifying, it could only be in the spiritual sense—your couldn’t pay me to swim there, let alone drink a glass of the stuff.

It was particularly chilling to see bones and larger bits of human remains bobbing in our wake, silhouetted against the sunrise. Before coming here, I imagined something more akin to scattering ashes at sea than the waterlogged human barbecue that left us feeling a little sick. Thank Brahma for that sunrise, then, because only something that beautiful could keep our minds and stomachs at ease. The warm glow slowly bathed the long line of ghats as people crowded their massive front steps for a dip and boatloads of spectators floated by under power of men whose size clearly belies their strength. Drifting along, we found each ghat clearly distinct in its color and style, but all had people who impressed us with the intensity of their devotion. From skinny young children to skinny old men, everyone prayed and bathed with a deep spiritual intensity that made you both remember and forget what lied beneath the surface.

Khajuraho खजुराहो

Escaping the crowds, touts, and chaos of Varanasi was a welcome change in Khajuraho. It’s a small village in population and in size, which allowed us to wander freely amidst its eleventh-century Hindu temples. Here, it’s clear where the Khmers got their inspiration for Angkor. But while they went all out in terms of size, the Indians put into their carved decorations a level of detail that goes way beyond anything else we’ve seen. Although it was a bit odd to see the kamasutra laid out in such explicit relief all over these holy buildings. Somehow, we couldn’t picture the same on a Catholic church.

After an excellent all-you-can-eat thali—Indian cuisine is giving Chinese a run for its money—we befriended a couple schoolboys who showed us around town for a bit in exchange for a little language practice. As far as we’ve traveled, we’re still surprised at the level of English people can pick up just by chit-chatting with tourists, so we were glad to hold up our end of the deal.

Orchha ओरछा

We didn’t want to pony up for a taxi, so we took a public bus North to Orchha and almost missed our stop trying to get our bags out and off, the thing was so crowded with passengers and cargo. We had enough time to take in a couple Mahals and get a bird’s-eye view of a huge temple with a serious avian infestation. It had your standard pigeons, of course, plus an owl of two, but also dozens of bright green parrots and a handful of real, live vultures. The key-keeper was happy to show us around for a few rupees, and to throw rocks to get those big birds to fly. Though he had good posture, he kind of reminded me of the Hunchback of Notre Dame, opening locks and beckoning us ever higher (“C’mon! This way!”) in his own little cathedral.

Jaipur जयपुर and Pushkar पुष्कर

Jaipur may be known as the pink city, but to us it seemed a little more like burnt sienna. Getting there gave us our first glimpse of India’s rail network, and we found it pretty nice in our cushy 3-tier air-conditioned carriage. But given the speed of these trains—more tortoise than hare—and the distance they cover, we couldn’t imagine spending twenty hours or more back on the second-class hard seats. Gratefully, we arrived less than two hours behind schedule, which is pretty good from what we’ve heard.

Unfortunately, our arrival coincided with a minor weather system to our South, which dampened our visit for a couple days, but not before we were about to get out and see a couple palaces, at least. Katie also came to the marvelous realization that anise seeds, coupled with rock sugar, have a taste exactly like her favorite Good ‘N Plenty. And ever since, she’s been unusually excited after meals when they bring out trays of the green stuff and a small spoon which may or may not have ever been washed.

Further into Rajasthan, we paid visit to Pushkar, home to a beautiful and formerly wet lake. Recent years of drought have left the lakebed completely dry, save for the ghats’ holy (hose-fed) ponds. That hasn’t deterred visitors, though, who come to Pushkar seeking a little enlightenment in its temples and lax marijuana laws. For a nominal fee, a brahmin was happy to lead us through the ritual prayers that were supped to give us good luck and fortune in the future.

Given what happened in the next few hours, we want our money back.

Varanasi, Khajuraho, Orchha

114 photos

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