Uttar Pradesh

We left the south from Goa and flew up north, into Lucknow, the capital of Uttar Pradesh.

Uttar Pradesh was our first taste of North India, and the differences from the South were pretty obvious from early on. One of the biggest ones is that at breakfast, the fruit juice is no longer fresh! (Insert pretentious sad face.) In the south we'd grown so accustomed to fresh pineapple and orange juice that when we ordered it in the north and it came in a can, we were struck by it, and ultimately disappointed. Since then we've been drinking much more tea instead. Another difference is that people in the south (salesmen, touts, drivers), although they are aggressive, have nothing on their counterparts in the north. In Goa and Kerala they would ask us if we wanted to come in their shops, or if we needed a ride, but in the north people come out of their stores into the streets, try as hard as they can to get you to come in, promise you the best deals, give you their business cards, and then re-approach you later and say “remember me?” when you walk by again. My slip on shoes ultimately broke in Varanasi, and when I went to replace them in Agra I barely paused and side-glanced at a shoe store when the owner saw me from several shops away, ran down the street screaming “MADAM, MADAM!” then managed to have me try on every pair of shoes in his store. (I haggled for a pair of ridiculously ornate silver mirrored and embroidered slip ons that I really only bought for their comfort.) Four rickshaw drivers were camped outside of our hotel, and anytime we would leave they would all come up to us and pretty much demand that we needed to get a ride from one of them. There were times where we really did not need one—just going around the corner—but they would haggle each other down until some of them would shout “FREE FREE JUST GET IN!” and we'd walk away feeling assaulted and shocked. One of the most distressing contrasts to the south is that even though I'm dressed much more conservatively up here (in the South you can generally get away with sun-dresses, skirts and tank tops because of the beach atmosphere and the fact that it's much hotter there this time of year), men on the street have been much more assertive with their opinions on what I'm wearing and what I should be covering up with. (Mostly I'm in a t shirt and jeans, or a knee length dress, shirt and scarf.)

Nathan and I both like the climate better in the north though--it's much drier and cooler here (although still wicked hot and sunny in the middle of the day). And we're both enjoying the Tandoori specialties that were harder to get in the south. The cities are more cosmopolitan and the architecture is more abundant and interesting here—tons of British government buildings and Indian castles, temples in the middle of cities and abutting the Ghats.

We didn't really know what to expect from Lucknow--the only real reasons we went is because it was cheap to fly in to, close to Varanasi (5 hour train) where we would soon head, and it sounded nicer that Patna, the other major airport in the state. It turned out to be quite pretty, and is considered the "Islamic Varanasi"--large, beautiful old buildings, universities, and mosques. Nathan had become sick in Goa just before we departed, and was mostly bedridden in Lucknow. That turned out to be not so bad (yet) because we stayed in the most epic guesthouse--a huge old government building (again, Lucknow is the state capital so there were many of these buildings) where we had a large bedroom, fireplace, sitting room, full bathroom and for the first time--free wi-fi! He mustered up some energy one night, and we took a bicycle rickshaw out to a huge tomb and mosque called Bara Imambara. It surrounded a beautiful garden, and in the tomb there was a labyrinth of dark hallways that we got lost in for a while.

Our stay in Lucknow was brief, and we left for Varanasi by express train the next morning. I had misread the departure time on the ticket and realized it only as we were heading out. We luckily found an autorickshaw (Lucknow is saturated with bicycle rickshaws that go ever so slooowly) and made our way to the station. (On the way we smelled this terrible odor and as we turned the corner there was a huge pile of trash and a few wild pigs going crazy for it, and one pig off to the side going just as nuts munching on a heap of sand. We still laugh thinking about it.) Our train was a couple of hours late, and thus got off schedule once it finally departed to let the on-time trains use the tracks. Nathan made a friend though who sat with us on the train and we picked his brain about various things India-related. We didn't get into Varanasi until late that night and oh man was it an insane place. It was what I had pictured Mumbai to be like--full of winding alleys and too many people and everything being bought and sold all around. Mumbai had much larger broadways and I felt like the shopping was more contained, but Varanasi is just a madhouse. Our taxi dropped us off at the closest point to our guesthouse that he could--you see, between the main road and the Ganges River (where most of the guesthouses are), there is a series of very narrow alleyways that turn and cross like a maze and at night and it was really dark so you had to step carefully because they are full of of cow shit (and other shit) which is everywhere. No vehicles can fit in them (except the occasional motor-scooter) so we were left to walk though, following painted signs on the walls leading us to our stay--kind of like a scavenger hunt. We stayed in a great place right on the Ganges that had a rooftop restaurant with great views of the Old City, the Ganges River, and the two most exciting ghats (large steps leading down to the river)--the Burning Ghat (Hindu cremations) and the Party Ghat (offerings every evening) (as I referred to them--their real names are very long and I can't remember anymore).

Varanasi is so full of life and death and everything else. Its a pilgrimage city where people come to die, for their corpses to be burned on the Burning Ghat, and their bodies to be thrown into the holy Ganges. They come to Varanasi to escape the circle of life, death, rebirth and instead to pass straight into Nirvana. All day long men bathe themselves in the river (filthy, toxic river), sit along the river, sleep next to the river. I saw a man pooping next to the river and a cow started stampeding toward him and he couldn't get up so he picked up some stones and tried to make the cow heed.; (It did, but it was still really funny to watch.)

On our second night there, the festival of Holi began and would last through the following night--it is like Easter egg dying mixed with Mardi Gras--and is celebrated to welcome in Spring. The streets and Ghats were filled with people throwing colored water at each other and basically destroying each others clothes. (Our manager locked the guesthouse so we couldn't really get out, Holi isn't safe for women anyway because it really is just a free for all, but Nathan managed to sneak out for 5 minutes before coming back covered in purple dye with his shirt half ripped off.) The employees and guests at our place had our own Holi party though, and I was glad to avoid the outside madness (and shit).

Despite his brief lapse of energy that took him to the Holi streets, Nathan had become very ill by now and so we called a doctor. He came to our hotel room and wrote him several prescriptions (for a parasite, he believed), and because everything was closed for Holi, messengered one of his employees over with all of the medication the next day. Doctors making house calls and messengers bringing you medication is pretty sweet. It all cost under $20 too.

Over the next few days, the city had calmed down from the Holi madness and Nathan was feeling better so we walked over to the Burning Ghat to see the cremations. A kid who worked at a hospice next to it took us up to have a good view of the ceremony. A lot of times people who offer to help you end up asking you for a fee afterward, but this kid was really sweet and just interested in explaining the ceremony to us, seemingly very genuine. He did tell us if we wanted to help out we could donate a small sum to the hospice manager, an elderly lady who oversaw the operations, that would be put toward buying wood biers for the poor who die so that their bodies can be tethered to before being burned. We obliged and gave 150 rupees (about $3) which buys one bundle of Banyan wood--which they use specifically because it eliminates the rank smell of burning bodies.

The bodies are draped in different colored sheets depending on the gender and age of the deceased. They're tied to the biers and wrapped in flower garlands. The male members of their families carry them down the steps to the Ganges, sing and dip them into the river, then set them on the stairs until a pyre has opened up. (Women are not allowed to attend the cremation ceremony because their crying is too distressing and distracting. The whole thing is remarkably civil and composed, I was really shocked.) Then they are placed on the lit pyre, and over 3 hours the body burns away. There were 5 or 6 pyres burning at once, and the ceremonies happen all day and night. I had pictured it to be much less humane for some reason--just bare bodies thrown into firey pits of sorts--and was really impressed at the ceremony and the fact that the bodies were so well covered and decorated. (There were cows and street dogs hanging out all around the bodies, but this seemed par for the course at this point as they are always everywhere.) Only at one point later that day when Nathan and I were taking a row boat ride did I get a little freaked out.  Our oarsman pulled right up to the Burning Ghat and docked us there for 2 minutes while he jumped out to get tobacco from a bodega. We were right up front to the burning bodies and Nathan pointed out feet sticking out of one of the pyres. It's an image I don't think I will forget any time soon.

Nathan was feeling almost completely better on our last day there, so we decided to keep our plans and take the overnight train to Agra. We had almost the same thing happen as on our last night train, so we ended up sharing a sleeping cot again--granting neither of us much rest. We arrived in Agra early, around 6am and headed to our hotel.; We were only in Agra for 2 days, and the Taj Mahal would be closed on the second day (Friday, for service at the Mosque) so we dropped our bags off and headed over to see it just after the sunrise. It was pretty (though not as spectacular as it is in postcards) and I had never realized how big the grounds were--there are large gardens and fountains and mosques surrounding the famous tomb, and it was a nice serene break from the chaos we usually experience. The Taj Mahal itself was much smaller than I imagined and once inside there was not much to explore. We took a thousand pictures of it from different angles, so look for those in the photo link soon.

Other than the Taj Mahal, there's not much to Agra. Frankly I thought it was a shit-hole (and the overwhelming smell of manure EVERYWHERE in the city only added to my negative impression.) The only other memorable thing about Agra was that we didn't have any hot water (generally we've lucked out in that area) so when we wanted to bathe, the manager of our hotel would bring us a big hot bucket of water, and a little pitcher to dole it out. I was happy to leave after two days.