April 2 - 4
Rishikesh is a beautiful town. Even now, writing this from an internet cafe somewhere on a dark back alley in downtown Kathmandu, just thinking about Rishikesh I almost feel like we are still there.
(April 2) The morning after our first, and unnecessarily eventful, night in India we slept until almost midday to catch up. I'm sure as we walked down the street from our new home at Green Hills Cottages for the first time that afternoon we took the form of disoriented zombies but the day soon warmed us back to life.
We walked around for the day - all the way down to Ram Jhula, the further bridge. There are two foot bridges (the closer one is Laxman Jhula). Being only about 1.5m wide you would think that it is really only intended for people walking single file in both directions. What an absurd idea that would be. In addition to a constant stream of people travelling over and back plenty of motorcyclists (who take up almost the full width of the bridge) cross as well, beeping the whole time as though it is the pedestrians who are out of place. The real (and irritatingly frequent) problem is when a motorcycle coming from each direction meet and beep at each other until someone gives up performs some crazy manoeuvre to pass. It is extra fun when a cow is in the middle of the scenario, just sitting and enjoying the view, blissfully oblivious to the mayhem it is causing. (If in doubt, just assume that there is always a cow on the scene. There are at least as many cows here as dogs, if not more, and they own this city - they are the only beings anyone respects enough to leave alone!).
Below the hustle of the bridge, the river Ganga was vibrant emerald in the sun. Some locals washed themselves/their children/their clothes by the shore. Down on the wide sandy banks a group of foreigners practice acro-yoga. On a large rock overhanging the river a European woman is weaving a dream catcher. Some young Indian men, probably tourists from Delhi, are playing about in the shallow water like giddy children, splashing each other and laughing hysterically. And of course, at the other side of the river bank, away from the river, a group of cows sits and ponders the variety of human activity, taking it all in. We took our shoes off and cooled our feet in the freezing water. So fresh! In the late afternoon light the super-fine sand glistened silver. We found two Israeli's with a disc and threw some backhands with them on this magical fairy-dust frisbee field.
Gorgeous afternoon.
(April 3) Dan woke up with the sun, well before me, on Thursday morning and was gone when I finally pulled myself out of bed. He had locked me in the room for security (just a padlock, don't worry Mum) so I went out and sat on our little balcony. The sun pierced through the branches of the palm trees in the courtyard garden from over the far hills in the north east. Our hotel was on the main road of Rishikesh so there was always lots of activity. Donkeys carried sacks of cement mix, colourfully decorated trucks blasted melodic horns as they passed each other, mum and dad motorcyclists drove kids in immaculate uniforms to school, mobile fruit vendors pushed their bicycles laden with trays of pineapple, mango, grapes, pomegranates and cucumbers along with oranges escaping onto the street as the wheels bounced over rocks, dogs darted across in the gaps where they could and every now and then everyone would stop for a cow. Over the morning as the traffic picks up the unsealed, unfinished road turns to dust and some of the commuters are lost in filthy clouds.
Between me and the busy street, the hotel garden below is peaceful. An Indian spin on an English country garden, it has a perfectly trimmed lawn in four even parts with little brick borders holding long sections of small hedges, shaped trees and flowers to divide it. One of the teenage boys who helped carry our bags in yesterday walks around with a dustpan and brush, scrupulously collecting all the leaves that have fallen from the trees onto the lawn overnight. (It's an onerous job. Overnight and into the morning the wind howls down the valley from the mountains in the north; a big bad wolf huffing and puffing with such ferocity that I need to remind myself that like the little brick house, this marble one will not be blown down!) When the kid is finished there is nothing out of place - even the dirt between the trees is leaf free. It is a stark contrast to the busy street only metres away.
But that's India.
Daniel came back after a while from a walk to the Ganga and an early morning swim. He was revived and alive!
We bought some sleeping bags and tried our hand at haggling for the first time (Dan is better at it than me for sure). We asked around and found out about a good drop-in yoga class to go to in the afternoon (we wanted to do at least one before we moved into the ashram full time the next day). The class was at a place called Anand Prakash Yoga Asham and we fell in love immediately. At the end of that class we went straight to the ashram office and asked if we could move in the next day!
After class Dan had a massage at a place owned by a guy named Happy (same Happy who explained the Delhi scam to us). It was really nice to sit and talk with him for a while. When we paid for the massage I noticed Happy kissed the money and held it up to a small goddess figure on the wall behind him before putting it away. I asked him what this meant - who was this goddess? Happy told me 'this is god'. He said 'I am a Sikh but I think that all god is one. One divine.' He said 'all gods are the faces of God. This is the face of the mother-god, I like this one best because I think it is important to honour the mother. But you can choose the face of God you wish to worship, maybe the father, maybe something else.'
The father and son and spirit are familiar faces of God for me. Three faces for one God. I wonder how different it really is - the approach of the faith tradition that I grew up with, and Happy's perspective? One thing I am sure of is that we all have much more in common than we often see.
Rishikesh is a beautiful town. Even now, writing this from an internet cafe somewhere on a dark back alley in downtown Kathmandu, just thinking about Rishikesh I almost feel like we are still there.
(April 2) The morning after our first, and unnecessarily eventful, night in India we slept until almost midday to catch up. I'm sure as we walked down the street from our new home at Green Hills Cottages for the first time that afternoon we took the form of disoriented zombies but the day soon warmed us back to life.
We walked around for the day - all the way down to Ram Jhula, the further bridge. There are two foot bridges (the closer one is Laxman Jhula). Being only about 1.5m wide you would think that it is really only intended for people walking single file in both directions. What an absurd idea that would be. In addition to a constant stream of people travelling over and back plenty of motorcyclists (who take up almost the full width of the bridge) cross as well, beeping the whole time as though it is the pedestrians who are out of place. The real (and irritatingly frequent) problem is when a motorcycle coming from each direction meet and beep at each other until someone gives up performs some crazy manoeuvre to pass. It is extra fun when a cow is in the middle of the scenario, just sitting and enjoying the view, blissfully oblivious to the mayhem it is causing. (If in doubt, just assume that there is always a cow on the scene. There are at least as many cows here as dogs, if not more, and they own this city - they are the only beings anyone respects enough to leave alone!).
Below the hustle of the bridge, the river Ganga was vibrant emerald in the sun. Some locals washed themselves/their children/their clothes by the shore. Down on the wide sandy banks a group of foreigners practice acro-yoga. On a large rock overhanging the river a European woman is weaving a dream catcher. Some young Indian men, probably tourists from Delhi, are playing about in the shallow water like giddy children, splashing each other and laughing hysterically. And of course, at the other side of the river bank, away from the river, a group of cows sits and ponders the variety of human activity, taking it all in. We took our shoes off and cooled our feet in the freezing water. So fresh! In the late afternoon light the super-fine sand glistened silver. We found two Israeli's with a disc and threw some backhands with them on this magical fairy-dust frisbee field.
Gorgeous afternoon.
(April 3) Dan woke up with the sun, well before me, on Thursday morning and was gone when I finally pulled myself out of bed. He had locked me in the room for security (just a padlock, don't worry Mum) so I went out and sat on our little balcony. The sun pierced through the branches of the palm trees in the courtyard garden from over the far hills in the north east. Our hotel was on the main road of Rishikesh so there was always lots of activity. Donkeys carried sacks of cement mix, colourfully decorated trucks blasted melodic horns as they passed each other, mum and dad motorcyclists drove kids in immaculate uniforms to school, mobile fruit vendors pushed their bicycles laden with trays of pineapple, mango, grapes, pomegranates and cucumbers along with oranges escaping onto the street as the wheels bounced over rocks, dogs darted across in the gaps where they could and every now and then everyone would stop for a cow. Over the morning as the traffic picks up the unsealed, unfinished road turns to dust and some of the commuters are lost in filthy clouds.
Between me and the busy street, the hotel garden below is peaceful. An Indian spin on an English country garden, it has a perfectly trimmed lawn in four even parts with little brick borders holding long sections of small hedges, shaped trees and flowers to divide it. One of the teenage boys who helped carry our bags in yesterday walks around with a dustpan and brush, scrupulously collecting all the leaves that have fallen from the trees onto the lawn overnight. (It's an onerous job. Overnight and into the morning the wind howls down the valley from the mountains in the north; a big bad wolf huffing and puffing with such ferocity that I need to remind myself that like the little brick house, this marble one will not be blown down!) When the kid is finished there is nothing out of place - even the dirt between the trees is leaf free. It is a stark contrast to the busy street only metres away.
But that's India.
Daniel came back after a while from a walk to the Ganga and an early morning swim. He was revived and alive!
We bought some sleeping bags and tried our hand at haggling for the first time (Dan is better at it than me for sure). We asked around and found out about a good drop-in yoga class to go to in the afternoon (we wanted to do at least one before we moved into the ashram full time the next day). The class was at a place called Anand Prakash Yoga Asham and we fell in love immediately. At the end of that class we went straight to the ashram office and asked if we could move in the next day!
After class Dan had a massage at a place owned by a guy named Happy (same Happy who explained the Delhi scam to us). It was really nice to sit and talk with him for a while. When we paid for the massage I noticed Happy kissed the money and held it up to a small goddess figure on the wall behind him before putting it away. I asked him what this meant - who was this goddess? Happy told me 'this is god'. He said 'I am a Sikh but I think that all god is one. One divine.' He said 'all gods are the faces of God. This is the face of the mother-god, I like this one best because I think it is important to honour the mother. But you can choose the face of God you wish to worship, maybe the father, maybe something else.'
The father and son and spirit are familiar faces of God for me. Three faces for one God. I wonder how different it really is - the approach of the faith tradition that I grew up with, and Happy's perspective? One thing I am sure of is that we all have much more in common than we often see.
