Friday, September 17, 2010

Fire, Friends, Food, Fun




Mysore, India – Week 2

So, we're on day 7 of the Gauri Ganesh festival, and while the locals may be enjoying the celebrations immensely, those of us waking at 3:30 in the morning are a little less impressed with the impromptu drum circles, music concerts, and pyrotechnic displays that are taking place each evening. Watching the clock tick past 9, 10 and 11 p.m. when you know you've got to get up for practice in the morning can be slightly frustrating. Although, I suppose that's why they invented earplugs.

Each morning, I'm now waking before my alarm, worried that I'll be late for practice, and not wanting to miss my 4:45 (shala time – which is 4:30 for the rest of Gokulam) start. I get up, throw on some clothes, brush my teeth, down a glass of water and what I've deemed my Bhujapidasana banana and head to class. While most of the students here refuse to eat before practicing, I find that my body doesn't tend to react well to the fiery Ashtanga practice without enough nutrients, and with a bedtime around 8 p.m. and regular lunchtimes around 1:30 or 2, my dinner is light and consists mainly of cucumber-tomato salad and a veg bread or samosa. The first week I attempted practice on an empty stomach and then made the decision that it isn't for me. I'm now receiving questions that accompany the “you're crazy” face about my daily baby banana which I eat about 30 minutes before practice begins. I call it the Bhujapidasana banana because I feel that though my body can make it to Bhujapidasana (a challenging arm balance just over halfway through the series) on it's own, I need the extra fuel to finish strongly. Those 4 or 5 bites of vitamin and potassium packed sweetness are enough to pull me through until I can walk out of the shala and thankfully accept my freshly decapitated coconut.

All of this thought and rambling about food probably seems crazy, but for me it's a huge factor in determining how my practice progresses and since I'm here for the yoga, I really want to do everything I can to make each morning count. And I think it's working! This week my practices were much better, stronger, more fluid (though still not as fluid as at home) and I feel like I'm making huge strides. With the pain that's been plaguing my right hip and glute for the past 8 months magically gone, I've been able work much more deeply into all my forward folds, binding my wrists in every pose, which is something I never even contemplated accomplishing. My backbends are also deepening, and I surprised myself this week to look up towards the front of my mat while being assisted in the backbend, and there in front of my face were Sharath's toes. This, my friends, is a good sign. And along with my increased flexibility and opening, my concentration has drastically improved. My scattered brain is focusing, narrowing my field of vision from those practicing around me to my own mat and precisely what is happening on it. It may have taken two weeks, but I feel like I'm hitting my stride here in Mysore, and I'm incredibly pleased.

The comfort, though, is not limited to the shala, as I'm also finding my way through the social and cultural maze that is Mysore. I've found a community of friends that I enjoy and I'm also grateful to have time to myself to read and relax and just be in India. Every morning and most afternoons I take a walk around Gokulam, exploring different streets and shops, stopping for supplies, or a chai. In the afternoons I also visit my fruit guy who provides me with the array of goodies that make up my morning meal – watermelon, pineapple, pomegranate, and the tasty tiny bananas – all of which can be purchased in one go for about 75 rupees, about the equivalent of $1.75 and will last me several days. After class we can also purchase homemade ragi (millet) bread, freshly ground natural peanut butter, honey, tahini, hummus, ghee, carrot-banana bread and a whole variety of other things from a man who comes to the shala to sell these natural foods to the hungry yogis. It makes eating at home each morning a treat for me, and I'm happy to hole up in my little apartment and feast after a shower and a call home.
But it wouldn't be any fun if all I did was sit at home and so I go out and play, too! I've made a few good friends and we see each other most days for lunch-eating or craft-making or city-tripping. Yesterday we took a cooking class with Anu, the lady across the street from me who runs a restaurant for the yogis and cooks a delicious, slightly westernized, and healthy version of many Indian dishes. She taught us about all the main spices used in Indian cooking, how to prepare and add them to a variety of dishes and then we watched her demonstrate how to make dal and palak (spinach) and sprouts while we nibbled on freshly made paneer (Indian cheese), grated coconut, sweet lime sodas and hot chappatis which we rolled and cooked ourselves. We then had a traditional Anu feast, complete with pumpkin, which is one of my favourite Mysore dishes, well spiced and absolutely AMAZING!


Tonight we're off to the city, hoping to have a lovely evening and enjoy the fact that tomorrow is Saturday, which means no practice and consequently, the option of sleeping-in! I'm considering staying in bed until 6 a.m., which at this point is pure luxury.

Well, my friends, this is currently my life. I practice and walk and eat and walk and spend time with friends and read and there's definitely more eating in there – and chai drinking – oh and I'm working to restart my meditation practice, which I consistently did for many months last year, but then allowed to drop off. I figure with a little spare time on my hands, this is a good time to try to reinstate it. The days fly, which seems strange considering I really don't have anything I have to do, but I'm working to embrace this lack of responsibility, as it is something I may not experience again for a while.

I hope you all are happy and well and know that I'm thinking of you, and will be glad to see your smiling faces when I return.

Friday, September 10, 2010

Transitions

Mysore, India – Week One – This blog is an amalgamation of my first week of practice and life in Mysore

It's 3:45 a.m., and all over Gokulam alarms are going off and lights are switching on. It's the commencement of the new session at K. Pattabhi Jois Ashtanga Yoga Institute and the little yogis and yoginis are crawling out of bed, wiping the sleep from their eyes (assuming, of course, they got sleep) and preparing themselves in anticipation of this morning's 4:30 Led Primary Series. I too am pulling myself from my bed, gathering my mat and my keys and my coconut funds and heading out the door.

It's a 5 minute walk from my house to the shala, just enough time for me to realize how stiff my body is from trains and planes and beds that are, for some reason, as hard as rocks. It's enough of a walk for me to gauge how weak my body has become in the past few days from some sort of sun-sickness, a fever, chills, dehydration and an inability to eat. Yet still at quarter to four in the morning I am more than willing to pull myself from beneath the blankets, to walk out into the dark street, nodding and waving to the other crazies who have also paid to be tortured at ungodly hours, and make my way to the shala gates. We remove our shoes, and silently take our spots in the room. Laying out our mats in strategically chosen places, not too close to the stage, avoiding the doors, or the seams in the mats.

I sit on my mat and take in the room around me. From every wall I see the faces of the Jois family, the lineage I've come here to follow, looking down on me as I practice. An honoured picture of Pattabhi's teacher, Krishnamacharya hangs high above the others, commanding attention and respect. Up on the stage, taking his rightful place at the head of the room, is a picture of Guruji, himself, in his glory days of Ashtanga, strong and powerful in Samastihi, the intensity shining from behind his eyes. As I sit, waiting for Sharath to emerge and begin today's practice, I can feel my body start to soften. The stiffness from the days before melts away, absorbed by the mat and the room and the energy of this place starts to take over.

Before I know it, practice is beginning, and I'm making my way through the Sun Salutations, my body remembering the movements it knows so well, even in unfamiliar surroundings. We work ourselves through standing, arriving at the balancing poses. Much to my surprise (and fear, and horror, and excitement) Sharath is next to me as we move into Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana and as he takes my right ankle to lift my leg higher, I inhale with the pain that I know will follow, as I'm still battling a bit of an injury and some severe tightness in my right hip. But, I came here to learn from him, and in one breath I convince myself to surrender and as my leg goes higher than it ever has before there is no pain, only stretch, and a warm and friendly smile from Sharath as I come up from the fold and take my leg to the side.

We transition into seated postures, and as we do I notice how my vinyasas feel heavy and clumsy, a by-product, I'm sure, of the weakness I've been experiencing or perhaps an apt physical manifestation of how I'm feeling inside as I transition from traveller to local. I make a mental note to try to eat and drink more over the next few days, attempting to build my reserves and get myself back to normal practice levels. My flexibility, however, seems to have only increased since my arrival (emotionally I haven't got a lot of choice), and my forward folds come more easily, chin reaching shin in poses that for months have seemed impossible. We reach Navasana, and I know that I am not the only one who is struggling to not allow the boat to sink. “Straight legs” Sharath demands from the front of the room, but my body is refusing, and I'm terrified that he's going to stop me (and conversely, almost hoping a little that he'll stop me so my tired body can rest, but shhhh...that's a secret). My legs and core shake as I try, without success to straighten at the knee, every time I lower down to pick up in Lolasana it's a blessing and a curse, trading aching legs for aching arms. Obviously the three weeks of travel have taken a larger toll on me that I had anticipated.
After what seem like innumerable breaths we're moving on, reaching Bhujapidasana and then the Kurmasanas, my worry point of this practice. Bhuja goes alright, but as I transition out and then jump my feet around my arms again for Kurmasana and Supta Kurmasana, a lump forms in my chest. If I'm going to get stopped, this is likely where it will happen. I “go flat” as Bill would say, into Kurmasana, and then begin to work my hands back. My fingers touch without problem, and so I walk my feet towards one another, tucking my head down. The right foot inches forward a little, the left foot inching back, and with a little maneuvering – tada – feet are crossed! What?!!? Feet are crossed?!? My feet don't cross. Not on my own. They touch, they mingle, they think about crossing, but they don't do it. Until now. Each day since I began practice in Mysore my feet have crossed. And though they're not really behind my head, with assistance I can feel them getting back there, my shoulder tucked deeply beneath my legs – no pain, no resistance. It's like magic!

I wish I could say I sailed through the rest of the practices, but the honest truth of it is, each day I'm fighting for poses, I'm fighting for vinyasas. In the led classes the final pose, Ut Pluihi, is insanely hard and Sharath nearly diabolical in his excessively slow ten count. As we all attempt to lift our weary bottoms off the floor, to not let him see if we drop down for fear of disappointing him, and ourselves, but I've been told it gets easier – that the 4:30 start time begins to feel normal, that your body will adjust and perhaps even enjoy. The new week begins tomorrow with Led Primary, so I guess well see.

We finish practice each day by around 6:45 and it's immediately out to the coconut stand. Coconut water has not really been something I tend to enjoy, but when the coconut man hacks the top of the coconut off with a machete, you stick in a straw and drink that luscious 10-rupee nectar after an early morning practice, nothing seems more nourishing. The coconut stand is our water cooler – and it's also the social calendar for each day. It's where we make our plans; who'll have lunch with who and where, will we go to town, to the market, to the palace? What time did you go to bed last night? How was your practice this morning? What poses are giving you trouble? How many mosquito bites do you have? Do they have this thing at Nilgiri's or do we need to walk to Loyal World? In Mysore, our universe is very small.

We actually live in what could be considered a suburb of Mysore, called Gokulam. A tiny town of sorts, that really seems to revolve around yoga, both Ashtanga and other styles, and the town caters to the students. People are friendly and helpful. They are accustomed to our confused faces and know how to direct us to one of the 5 or 6 yogi hangouts, or to the shala. Occasionally we surprise them – getting Idly (spongy rice cakes doused in curry sauce) for breakfast, or getting packed up samosas or other snacks from the bakery. But there are places that definitely know us, and know what we want. And it doesn't take long for all the yogis and yoginis to discover the many wonderful secrets Gokulam has to offer, like the hand-made chocolate bars sold from the tiny class counter of the literal whole in the wall “convenience store” on 7th cross. The amazing flavours like cardamom and ginger, hazlenut paste or peanut butter, will keep us flocking there for the month.

It's easy to treat yourself in Mysore, and for me, it helps to battle the homesickness. Going out with a few US dollars worth of rupees in your pocket will allow you to return with all manner of goodies. Bangles and fresh flower garlands, lemons or pomegranates, chocolates or other treats, stationary, stickers, decorative dishtowels – all can be had for so little, and they can bring a lot of enjoyment, sprucing up often sparse apartments.

And then there is the experience of the walk and the browsing and buying. Different depending on whether it is day or night, the shops offer up a variety of products. However it's the tiny stalls and carts that always seem to draw me in. A man selling glass and metal bangles on the street, the women with their piles and piles of beautiful yellow, and white and orange flowers. The smells of the freshly baked or fried foods mingling with the sweet aroma of jasmine. All set to an orchestra of bells and horns and Bollywood soundtracks blasting from rickshaws. India is nothing if not alive and a feast for all of the senses.

Today especially things have a frenetic energy to them. It' the Gauri Ganesh festival and last night and this morning, in preparation for the festivities, the streets are bursting with people, sellers and buyers, families and singles alike. A group of young men were decorating the Ganesh temple with fresh flower garlands, the stray petals dotting the tops of their heads like snow. Whole families man carts filled with flourescent painted Ganesh statues: pink and orange renditions of the deity finding their ways into homes all over Gokulam (including mine). Women are wearing flowers in their hair, and young girls don fancy Indian dresses. They're even setting up palm thatched buildings and covered dais to house Ganesh statues all over our little town. It's quite a sight – and walking around the city you can't help but get caught up in the excitement and anticipation of it all.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

New View Deja Vu

August 31, 2010

An all night train from Haridwar and we found ourselves back in Delhi. We grabbed a taxi from the train station and headed out for our new accommodations – a bed and breakfast style guesthouse is south New Delhi we had read many good things about, called K One One. As our cab moved through the streets and into a quiet residential neighbourhood we couldn't help but feel as though we'd entered some alternate universe – the streets were quiet and calm, and, some may even say, clean.

At the bed and breakfast we felt like royalty as they immediately prepared us a delicious breakfast and pot of chai. It really helped to take the edge of the night of traveling. Afterward we cleaned ourselves up and headed out for a day of sightseeing in our new surrounds.


We began at the India Gate – the huge memorial engraved with the names of those who've fought and died for India – and made our way along the Raj Path towards the Parliament and the Presidential Palace. As I may have mentioned before, Delhi is not really a city designed for pedestrians, and though this was a definite improvement over the other places we had attempted to walk, it was still a challenge, especially because of the monumental amount of work taking place in preparation for this fall's Commonwealth Games. The grounds of the palace are not accessible to the public, but rather like the White House in Washington, you can stare through the gates and see the beauty within. Immaculately groomed lawns, fountains, gorgeous trees – in short a little oasis in the midst of Delhi's chaos.

Next we hopped the subway, and headed to Connaught Place – the upscale shopping area of New Delhi. Though we refrained from purchasing, we did wander into a Thali restaurant for lunch. What we didn't realize was that it was an all-you-can-eat restaurant, and so as we finished (or even approached the bottom of our little bowls) there were waiters there, by the dozens it seemed, to top up dal or provide another roti. We were completely stuffed before we even knew it and off and running to our next destination.

Our final stop for the day was Humayun's Tomb, a serene abyss near to our little B&B. Another Mughal era construction, this mausoleum houses the body of Humayun, the second Mughal emperor, among others. It was a divine place to spend a little quiet time, and gave us a little taste of tomorrow's final adventure.

September 1, 2010 – Agra (again)

Another early morning, and we once again found ourselves boarding a train. A few hours later we were back in Agra, but this time with the Taj as our only goal. We went straight there, spent a little time trying to figure out exactly where to purchase tickets, and then after a little discussion with security over the threat level of the emergency tampon I keep in my purse, we finally laid eyes on that gleaming white marble.

Breathtaking.

Built as a monument of love for Shah Jahan's wife, the beauty and intricacy of the Taj Mahal are even more impressive in person than in photographs. The incredible inlay and carving work in the stone is beyond belief, and sheer size of the building has a way of putting things into perspective. It really is incredible, and we both agreed that the return trip was well worth it. We spent quite a bit of time walking around the grounds, admiring the Taj both up close and from afar. We also went to the mosque that is still in use every Friday (when tourists are not allowed on the grounds), and sat a little just enjoying some quiet as well as a little shade from the extremely hot sun. When we had had our fill we headed back to Saniya Palace where we had first gazed on the Taj over two weeks before, and spent our afternoon in the shade of their terrace, drinking in some lassis, as well as the view.


We took the evening train back to Delhi, and, with a little sadness went to bed for our last joint night in India. Tomorrow Bart heads home to Baltimore, to our house and our dog and I head south to continue on in my adventure...I hope you'll join me.

Pack your mat – we're heading to Mysore.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Rockin' Rishikesh

August 28, 2010

Arrived in Rishikesh by autorickshaw to a beautiful day. Only about 20 kilometers from Haridwar this little city is almost the complete opposite of what we've previously experienced. Chalk full of foreigners from all around the world we are neither out of place or unusual here, and for that reason it seems that Rishikesh has been putting an increased amount of effort into keeping their city enjoyable for travelers. The streets are cleaner, the pressure of vendors nearly non-existent, and I feel as if I could easily spend quite a lot of time here. There are still monkeys and cows everywhere, and adding in horses and donkeys to the mix has given extra interest, but the charm of these things is not overshadowed by negative aspects as it was in many other places.

The city runs on both sides of the Ganges and is connected by two pedestrian bridges. We are staying at the northern-most bridge on the East bank of the river. For our first day we decided to walk south, out past the end of the east side of the city and search out the now abandoned Maharishi Ashram, where the Beatles stayed and composed the majority of the White Album. We did eventually find it, being swallowed by weeds (that rather resemble our front yard for the majority of this summer) and completely quiet. Much less pomp and circumstance then one would expect, but it's kind of a nice change. It was a great walk – 5 or 6 kilometers return to our room – and got us all warmed up for our afternoon yoga class.

Rishikesh is the yoga capital of basically the entire world, and you can find any style, any time and any teacher to suit your needs around the city. It was only a five minute walk before I spotted a sign for an Ashtanga class and that was all it took. By 4 p.m. Bart and I were vinyasa-ing our way through a great class, enjoying a nice stretch after being cooped up and stiffened up by planes, trains and autorickshaws. The teacher was very considerate and kind, working the class to be valuable and enjoyable for me, but also accessible for Bart and the other girl who was participating. He varied the series as needed, and added in some nice relaxation techniques at the end of class that I'm planning to share with my classes once I get home.

Needless to say after an exercise packed afternoon, we were both exhausted, and went to bed dreaming of the good days to come.

August 29, 2010

Returned to my little yoga studio at 7 this morning for another class. The teacher once again did a modified Ashtanga class for me, as I was the only one there to start, though we were joined by two others afterward. Bart, feeling a little under the weather today, opted to sleep in, and hopefully get himself prepared for the day.

After I returned, feeling wonderful of course, we headed out to grab a little breakfast before embarking on our chosen adventure for the day. We had decided that we both wanted to do a little hiking on this trip, and so we planned to do the pilgrimage walk out to Neel Kantha Temple, a temple dedicated to Shiva, and according to our trusty guidebook (I actually read it this time), an approximately seven kilometer walk on a forest path. So, all I have to say, is GUIDEBOOKS LIE! The forested path was indeed about seven kilometers, perhaps a little more, but it didn't begin until about four or five kilometers south of town! In addition, the book (the Bible as we've taken to calling it) neglected to inform that the seven kilometer forested path is straight up the side of a mountain – and no, I'm not exaggerating. Four and a half hours later we had walked until our legs were wobbly, sweat until we looked like we'd been soaked by monsoon rains, had our picture taken by numerous pilgrims, helped some elderly Indian women down the steep parts of the path only to have to turn around and go back up and mowed the only lunch we'd brought – two bananas an apple and a big bottle of water. And if we thought that was difficult, you should have seen the others out there with us! A small group of young men, probably in their very early twenties, were climbing the path prostrate! Using a stick to mark their body length they would lie on the ground, reach an arms length up, drop the stick, climb up to the marker, lie down and do it all over again. When we asked why they were climbing this way one told us that he was a yoga teacher, Shiva is the God of yoga and he had made a promise to approach the temple this way. It put me a little to shame, but I guess I did come all the way to India for yoga, so maybe that can almost begin to compare.

By the time we made it up we were completely exhausted – the extreme heat and humidity taking its toll on us. We opted for the community taxi ride back down – about a half hour plus drive down a snaking road, but it dropped us right at our hotel where we excitedly showered and got ready for dinner. While we were out looking for a place we saw my yoga instructor and he directed us to a little restaurant called Chillout – which was exactly that. We lounged on floor cushions, ate delicious Indian food and let ourselves rest after a taxing day.

I cool off after our long and tiring hike


August 30, 2010

Last day in Rishikesh and we're still recovering from yesterday's hiking extravaganza! Headed out to yoga this morning to stretch our sore muscles, and because we were both feeling a little tired we opted for a Hatha class. It was certainly more gentle and relaxing, though definitely not easy, and we both really enjoyed the Pranayama (breath control) and Pratyahara (withdrawal of the senses) portion that the teacher did at the end of the class. We also got to have a little time to talk with the teacher, who's name is Kumar, and he was telling us how he's hoping to open his own yoga retreat in his hometown, much more north of Rishikesh. He said he found the dirtiness and constant stimulation there makes it difficult to concentrate, and therefore his students are not getting the full benefits of the practice. What a shock to us to hear him complain about Rishikesh being dirty! Compared to everywhere else we had visited it seemed immaculate. Anyway, I wish the best for him because he really was a good teacher and has a lot to offer his students, and perhaps if he actually opens his studio Bart and I will come back to India for a vacation that is actually relaxing.

After class we went immediately down to the ghat that is beside the yoga studio and washed ourselves off in the Ganges – our ritual purification that we had avoided in all the other towns, due to the unsanitary water. In Rishikesh however the river runs cold, clear and fairly fast as it travels down from the Himalayan glaciers. Refreshed, but rather chilly we went to our room, showered, changed and headed to a little coffee shop we had read about in the guidebook (danger, danger!) for breakfast. They were reported to serve Yak cheese sandwiches, and we all know that if there is something available that Bart hasn't eaten in his life, he MUST try it. And he did – TWICE! The Yak cheese was delicious, sort of the flavour and depth of Manchego with a little sharpness of Parmesan, and it was served on a freshly baked whole wheat roll with slices of tomato. Heaven. I was a little disappointed I had opted for the fruit porridge, but since Bart did order a second sandwich, I got to have as many bites as I wanted. What a good husband.

After packing and storing our bags we walked around a bit – doing a little shopping here, bartering there, browsing through the numerous stalls and shops that line the road between Lakshman Jula and Ram Jula, the two pedestrian bridges that connect Rishikesh's East and West banks of the Ganges. We walked the banks for several hours and then once the heat and humidity had taken it's toll we decided Chillout was a nice place to while away the remainder of the afternoon. We relaxed, ate and drank and steeled ourselves for the return taxi to Haridwar and then the overnight train ride back to Delhi. We really weren't ready to leave Rishikesh, and I can see why people would want to go and stay there for a while, it was definitely our favourite place on the trip.


Bart embraces his inner yogi and relaxes awhile a Chillout

Friday, September 3, 2010

Monkeys vs. Pilgrims

Haridwar – August 26, 2010

We spent most of our day on the train travelling from Varanasi to Haridwar today. The train was such a relief after last night's horrible station, that I was even elated when at some of the stops today we could either quickly pop off the train to grab a very quick coffee, or vendors could jump on the train to sell passengers anything from chai (which I bought) to newspapers (which I bought) and samosas (which I bought). The latter was the best as the man set down this enormous bowl and pulled back a towel to reveal the piping hot and fresh smelling pockets, and then took out my two, wrapped them in newspaper and charged me 5 rupees. 5 RUPEES – that's somewhere around 12 cents US for homemade deliciousness delivered to my train car. Amazing.

We arrived in Haridwar late on Thursday afternoon, and as the train pulled into the station we were relieved to finally be finished with the 14+ hour trip. We took an autorickshaw to our hotel, which fronts onto the now fast-flowing upper section of the Ganges. A shower and a short rest and we felt fairly restored, and the final bit was nothing that a little supper couldn't fix. It was bed early after a very small amount of sleep last night a hope that tomorrow would be both fun and relaxing.

Haridwar – August 27, 2010

Haridwar is a city of pilgrims. Each year thousands make their way here to visit both Mansa Devi and Chandi Devi temple and receive blessings. Once every 12 years, which happened earlier this spring, Haridwar is the site of a main festival, Kumbh Mela, and the city is flooded with millions of Hindu devout. For this reason, it didn't surprise us to find that among what appeared to be a large number of tourists, we were two of the very few (I think we saw five or 6 others) non-Indians.

Wanting the full pilgrimage experience, Bart and I headed out on foot early for our morning visits to both Mansa Devi and Chandi Devi. There are cable cars up to both temples, which are about 6 kilometers apart, as each sits atop a high peak overlooking the city. At Mansa Devi the truly devout hike their way up, a 1.5 Km walk that winds up the hill, and as pesky walking tourists, we decided to do the same. It was an incredibly hot day, but to us it seemed to make the experience that much more authentic.

The road to Mansa Devi is lined with stalls and vendors selling red bags of prasad – offerings to take to the temple. We purchased ours which contained a coconut, bangles, a bag of puffed rice, and a ribbon. Carrying it up to the temple though, we almost lost it as we were accosted by prasad-stealing monkeys who have obviously learned that the red bag is full of good monkey treats. I was able to hold on to my bag, but the monkeys then went after Bart who was carrying not prasad but a red water bottle. Those little guys were determined that his bottle was full of the same puffed rice and coconut and were quite aggressive in their attempts to steal the treasure. Wisely, some Indian men suggest we hide the red things inside the green bag I was carrying, which helped immensely.

Our uphill trek ended at Mansa Devi where we were ushered into the temple in the crowd of pilgrims, and we followed their lead as we offered our coconut and rice, donated for brightly covered strings which we tied around tree branches, and allowed priests to bless us and our families. In such contrast to the many churches we've visited around the world which are often sombre and quiet, Mansa Devi was abuzz with joyful worshipers. There was pushing and laughing and singing and bell ringing – the aliveness of the spirituality in this country is intoxicating and we allowed ourselves to fully embrace it and be embraced by it.

Our second stop was Chandi Devi Temple, which is slightly smaller and less crowded. For Chandi Devi we rode to the peak in the cable car, which was probably Bart's least favourite part of the entire day. Inside the temple we again made our donations – receiving rice and coconut which we offered at different deity statues and we were blessed by several priests. Now the blessing we received here were slightly different. At each station we were asked our name and country, a piece of coloured string, usually red or yellow, was tied around our wrist and then we were told to bend down while the priest said his bless and then thwacked us on the back with a huge piece of rolled up fabric. The first thwack came as quite a surprise, the weight and noise of the cloth making contact with our backs somewhat startling, but once with got in the groove it was all okay. And whether is was the multiple blessings or the promise of lunch we'll never know, but the cable car ride back down the side of the mountain seemed to go a little easier for Bart.

In the afternoon we visited Hari-ki-Pauri Ghat, the main bathing ghat (steps into the Ganges) in Haridwar, which was completely full of pilgrims and vendors and in an attempt to escape we headed home for a rest and a little monkey watching before we would head back for the evening puja ceremony. Just as in Varanasi, there is a puja each evening in Haridwar complete with fire and chanting, and as the bells ring out over the city I released our flower boat down the Ganges. Dinner and an evening stroll would wind the day down, and after a sweet finish with some “Famous of Haridwar” gulab jamun, which I have to say deserves to be famous, we were soon off to bed in preparation for the next leg of our trip which would begin in the morning.
Tomorrow we hit the road for Rishikesh.

Setting my puja offering afloat on the Ganges