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.
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
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