Rest of Rishikesh

After spiced chai and naps, the seven of us ventured out to the main part of Rishikesh across the Ganges (Mother Ganga) to see the aarti. After receiving directions from a man at the hotel and promptly taking six wrong turns, we eventually popped out on a path paralleling the Ganges that would take us to one of the two footbridges (this is a misnomer — they're more of foot/cow/motorbike/monkey bridges) that crosses the water to the other parts of the Rishikesh area.

As we turned the corner, however, we realized there were several monkeys lining both sides of the path. While they seem cute in theory, they're actually somewhat terrifying and especially like to attack women (apparently). We briefly stopped, Sagarika said, "Do not look them in the eye!" and we decided to quickly walk past. Remembering the words of the doctor who briefed us when we first arrived in Delhi ("If you get bit by an animal, get bit on the foot or leg because the rabies will travel to your brain more slowly."), I subconsciously held my breath, tucked my chin to my chest to make sure I wouldn't accidently provoke them by (God forbid) looking at them, and tried to follow my friends and pass the monkeys. The second I was passing by a monkey on the wall to my right, though, it leapt from it's perch and, it seemed, toward my face. It actually landed in the branch of the tree inches above my head, but its weight made the branches crash into my head and I was very briefly convinced that I was about to have a rabid monkey latched to my face. As this was happening, a German shepherd was passing us and freaked out at the monkey and began running and barking at it. Liz, who was behind me, tripped over the huge dog and we both started running. The incident seemed funny after a few minutes, but both Liz and I thought we were in the midst of some kind of orchestrated animal attack, when in fact neither the dog nor the monkey cared about us at all.

We continued on to the bridge (I LOVE BRIDGES), took a ton of pictures, and admired the quaint view of Rishikesh. After building up the courage to cross the bridge, which a scary number of monkeys were using as a jungle gym, we walked over the Ganges and poked around in the shops on the other side of the river. We knew Rishikesh is considered a yoga hotspot, and we saw ashrams (yoga centers) all over the place, but we were amazed by the number of soul-searching white people we saw wandering around. Apparently the Beatles came to Rishikesh in 1968 and composed a lot of songs while staying at an ashram there, so I think that perhaps gave the town a little boost in the number of people looking to come and find themselves. It was an almost comical array of prototypical hippies — dreadlocks, loose-fitting and airy clothing in earth tones (likely made out of natural fibers), Chacos/Tevas/etc., backpacks, nose rings, and a general grunginess. It was an interesting crowd because it was more foreigners than we've seen almost anywhere, but they seemed very comfortable in Rishikesh, not like the eager, slightly on-edge tourists that normally see. I was also impressed by the number of free-spirited, middle-aged foreign women I saw walking around, and I was tempted to ask a few of them what brought them to Rishikesh and what exactly their life situation was at the moment.

We took a taxi and walked the rest of the way to the aarti, which was on the edge of the Ganges, facing a large statue of Shiva in the water about 30 feet from the shore. It was a beautiful and moving puja (basically a prayer service involving the offering of a gift to a deity in hopes of receiving a blessing), and Sagarika explained the significance of different parts to us. There were boys singing songs, and then the main part occurred, during which bowls of fire are passed around and moving in a circular motion in front of people's bodies. We swiped our hands through the flames and over our heads, as others were doing, as a blessing, and it was generally peaceful. We dipped our feet in the Ganges and watched as people placed little boat offerings into the quickly moving river. Each one had candles on it, and we watched them swirl in the rapids and eventually go out. The river was moving quickly, and we thought about all the people we had seen rafting, and we decided it probably was good that our program doesn't let us go rafting anyway.

Julia had been fasting for Yom Kippur, so as soon as we got our shoes back and looked at the giant Hanuman statue nearby, we headed to the nearest restaurant. We sat on the roof and ordered Chinese and Indian food, and the temperature outside was perfect. Rishikesh was generally a wonderful break from our normal lives, and I really enjoyed our meal (in the dark) overlooking the Ganges. We took a cab back to the footbridge, and luckily the monkeys had gone to sleep (or were distracted somewhere else infecting other people with rabies), so we had an uneventful walk back to the hotel. An episode of Modern Family later, Sagarika, Rachael, and I were snug as three bugs in a rug in our super deluxe room (about which I wrote my first TripAdvisor.com review ever!) at the Divine Ganga Cottage. Side note: Seema texted me to thank me for the review after I'd written, smiley faces and everything! We were lucky to find her hotel.

The next morning, I woke up early and Berit and I headed out for a walk around Rishikesh before our 9 a.m. yoga class. The owner of the hotel (Seema's husband) showed us the orphanage and primary school that they own next door, and we found a pretty little stream, were charged by a bull, and had a nice look around the property. Apparently a bunch of American college students were staying there building an organic garden, but we didn't get to meet them (we saw them from afar and judged them for the way they applied bug spray, though). We then walked to the bridge and around Rishikesh a bit before heading back. It was even better in the morning because there were less people and no monkeys!

We then took a yoga class in a studio on the roof of the hotel, with 360-degree views of the hills and river. Our instructor was an approximately four-pound man prone to mumbling, but it was a relaxing and well-organized class that left us feeling refreshed and slightly more sore. The class ended up being an hour and a half, and then we went up to the restaurant for banana pancakes with honey. This isn't something I would normally like, but under the circumstances, it was delicious. The staff packed us some cheese sandwiches (literally just bread, butter, and cheese), and we settled our bill. One of the hotel employees led us to an area where we could get an auto to Haridwar, and we were on our way. Some man briefly jumped on and clung to the outside of our auto, but he jumped off a few blocks later and that was that.

So this brings me to the bus ride home. We hadn't booked train tickets back because Abid Ji told us it would be nearly impossible to get them since the trains were booked, but he and Azim Ji assured us we would have no problem finding a bus that returns to Delhi whenever we wanted to come home. In Rishikesh, we discovered that the only way to get bus tickets were just to go the bus station in Haridwar, so we arrived on Sunday (a little later than anticipated) at around 2 p.m. The station was chaotic, and after being directed five different ways to get bus tickets and paying Rs 5 to use a dirty bathroom (rip-off, as usual), we discovered that you just go to the berth where your bus arrives and then buy tickets from the driver when the bus arrives. A bus to Delhi showed up and a man got out, with people crowded around him with wads of cash in their hands, thrusting them into his face. After standing for a while, we were informed that there were no more seats, and the way to actually get tickets is to physically get on the bus as soon as it arrives and then get off the bus (or holler through the window, as we later discovered) to buy the physical tickets. We were directed to a different berth, where there was a second bus going to Delhi, and we got on and claimed three seats in the back row, two next to each other in the second-to-last row, and two farther up the bus for the carsick-prone people.

We purchased our Rs 140 tickets (less than $3) and were informed that we would arrive approximately seven and a half hours later at 10 p.m. at a Delhi bus station. The bus itself was a pitiful little tin box, dented and peeling and non-air conditioned. The seat cushions, if you can call them that, were in various states of disarray and disrepair. Sagarika's was an uncovered foam square falling through the frame, and Rachael's had some kind of defect as well. Within minutes of being in the bus, I had sweated through all of my clothing (I'm not exaggerating unfortunately) and was feeling ready to pass out for the rest of the ride. I was smooshed between Sagarika and Kendra in the back row, and the man next to Kendra was conspicuously close to her, peering over her shoulder as she reviewed her pictures. Classic Indian mass transit. Rachael was crunched in a seat in front of us next to Berit, and Sarah Kate and Julia were farther up. The ride wasn't that bad in general, especially when we were moving and there was a breeze. On big bumps, though, we went flying several feet (again, no exaggeration) into the air, which woke me up when I was napping. Thank you, Steve Jobs (RIP), for the iPod, because I don't know how I would have survived without it. We ended up hitting terrible, awful, frustration-inducing traffic in Ghaziabad (a suburb), which increased the trip length to eight hours.

When we got to the bus station, we found out it wasn't actually in Delhi and we'd need to take autos a ways to get home. Sagarika helped us split up and get the autos, and Rachael and I headed off with our driver. He ended up pushing with his foot another auto for about 20 minutes to a gas station because he was out of gas. It was actually quite a feat — occasionally they would go different ways around a truck or something and separate, but then immediately come back together when we rejoined on the other side. Rachael and I were exhausted and uncomfortable and still had a ton of homework to do, so we were eventually yelling at the driver that we weren't paying him to do this, but the message didn't get through.

Dinner time!