Towards the Source of the Ganges (Uttarakhand)

The Chariot of Coffins (Taking the Sleeper Bus)

There is a clear hierarchy of long-distance travel options in India descending from the speedy, efficient and gastronomically ambitious local airlines, to the slower but dignified and sociable trains, and finally to the mysterious and frankly ominous sleeper bus. We’d heard whispers of these latter vehicles of shadow – rarely seen in daylight but dominating the roads at night, sleeper buses represent the last resort when the trains are full.

Despite our best efforts to avoid this fate, it was only a matter of time before our haphazard, last-minute planning, thoroughly incompatible with the byzantine nature of the Indian railway booking system, forced us onto the sleeper bus. The moment finally came when we were due to leave Pushkar, and after a day of frantic refreshing of the IRCTC website we found ourselves in the “regrets” category rather than “ticketed” category. Given that all the hotels (and tents, and even comfortable ditches) in Pushkar were full as a consequence of the Camel Fair, we had to scramble to find a way to leave the city. Relying optimistically on some reassurances from a fellow tourist that the sleeper bus “wasn’t actually that bad,” we booked tickets on what appeared to be the least dodgy one and resigned ourselves to a sleepless night.

You see, the Indian sleeper bus is a large moving crate of small boxes, stacked two stories high, where one simply exists until the destination is attained. These small boxes are Indian small – if you’re over five foot six, it’s physically impossible to either lie flat or sit up. Cleanliness is not high on the list, and luxuries like functioning lights or ventilation are rare. Add in the standard concerns about safety (companies are seemingly ranked by having the fewest of their buses burst into flame), and the fact that the horn is blaring continuously throughout the night – clashing nicely with the upbeat classic Bollywood tunes keeping the driver company – and you’re beginning to get the proper impression of the experience. Finally, although it fortunately wasn’t a problem for us, the small boxes are intended to be shared between two people, so those traveling solo become rather well-acquainted with another, randomly paired passenger at point-blank range.

Psyching herself up for the ordeal

Welcome to the coffin, our dwelling for the next 15 hours (at this point, we were thanking our lucky stars that we had packed sleeping bag liners)

Obligatory selfie before crossing the Styx

Ethan, embracing the tomb reading

Holy Fire and Holy Water (Haridwar)

After a very long trip with only a handful of bathroom breaks, we arrived safely in Haridwar, a holy city in the foothills of the Himalayas. We stayed with a lovely retired couple who seemed to personify Haridwar. They had both spent their careers in the area – he at BHEL, the main industrial company there, and she in education. Both being observant Hindus, they were endlessly patient in explaining Hinduism and many of its associated rituals to us, and made an excellent list of the key temples to visit out of the several thousand that exist in the city (we told you it was holy). Perhaps our favorite part was that they insisted on teaching us some yoga every morning. Given that we’d each tried yoga a grand total of one time before, this was new territory, and we did our best to learn what we could, to great enjoyment and moderate improvements in flexibility and spiritual outlook.

Haridwar is one of the seven holiest cities for Hindus, and serves as a pilgrimage hub for visitors who come to bathe in the sacred Ganges so close to its source. The highlight for most pilgrims is the Ganga Aarti, a ceremony of fire and prayers held every evening at the Har Ki Pauri, a famous ghat (set of steps leading to the river) on the banks of the Ganges at the center of the city. We attended the Aarti on our first night and were able to enjoy the company of some very friendly old ladies, who delighted in showing us the correct way to wave a flame, as well as snapping a few selfies.

It’s very important to wave the flame clockwise! We never quite figured out what would happen if you got this wrong, but lacked the courage to experiment

Many visitors bring offerings for Mother Ganga, including milk, flowers and fruit

The crowd is immense – although we arrived early, we were several rows back and found ourselves being gradually shunted backwards by the more aggressive worshipers as our lower extremities became increasingly numb (we were shamefully bad at sitting cross-legged compared with many grizzled visitors several times our age)

Monks, fires, marigolds, and running water

As evening descends, the visual effect of the reflected flames dancing in the Ganges is quite striking

We were both involuntarily anointed by touts during the ceremony – inevitably, Haridwar has not escaped some commercialization, and amid the crowds we encountered a fleet of pushy men rather forcefully requesting “donations”

Although an industrial hub of increasing importance that is benefitting from its proximity to overpopulated Delhi, Haridwar is still at heart a city of temples and ashrams, with sites of religious significance tucked down every alley. We stuck to the highlights, and even that left us pretty overwhelmed – temples ranged from miniature to vast, ancient to modern, and from minimalist to theme-park-gaudy.

Naryana Shila Temple houses hundreds of shila shrines, tiny temples built in remembrance for individual relatives who may be unsettled in the next world. Around the courtyard, ceremonies were being carried out for the recently deceased

The rudraksha tree at Harihar Ashram, said to be created from the tears of deepest meditation shed by Shiva – its seeds are highly prized for warding off negative energies, and are used by some Hindus as a type of prayer beads 

Cows, both living and symbolic, were a frequent sight around town

Daksheswara Mahadev Temple is named after King Daksha Prajapati, whose daughter Sati burnt herself alive when she was unable to bear the humiliation of her husband, Shiva. The abhorrent Hindu funeral custom of sati follows from this legend

Sati Ghat, named for the custom of the same name which frequently took place here. Today the site is still in active use, but only for the immersion of ashes

A proper Shiva Blast

Hindu religious instruction meets carnival ride

Inside the exhibit – many of these statues were mechanical, and made repetitive, slightly eerie movements. Not for those afraid of the circus aesthetic

Temples aside, Haridwar is a buzzing city – albeit another alcohol free, meat free one – and, like many places in India, what we enjoyed the most was wandering somewhat aimlessly, taking in the spectacles around us.

In a land so expert in maximizing the load carried in any given vehicle, even cycle rickshaws manage four passengers

Post-demonetization, the typical place to catch up with your buddies every day has migrated from the chai stand to the ATM line

Taken out of context, this was one of the more ominous looking buildings either of us has encountered to date

Useful for those in need of spiritual purification, personal adornment for a big social event, or supplies for a cross-desert expedition

Another hour, another ATM line. Many people would bring multiple debit cards belonging to all of their friends and family, so queues moved very, very slowly

Bathing in the Ganges takes some guts, safety chains or no safety chains – particularly for the women, who typically brave the strong currents while still fully clothed

From a distance, the color of the river belies the sheer quantity of food, candles and assorted organic material thrown into it on a daily basis

Reveling in the luxury of a rare tuk tuk ride where we weren’t crammed in like sardines

This is where Jason Bourne gets his passport photos – satisfying Nepali visa requirements in the dingy back offices of Haridwar

A passport photo studio that may moonlight in hostage videos

You can never have enough pickles! When Ethan mentioned that he loved them, our hosts stepped up to the challenge and presented him with this smorgasbord

Discovering Self-Discovery (Rishikesh)

Among western tourists, Rishikesh is far better known than Haridwar – notoriously, this town hosted the Beatles in 1968, and since then its reputation has only grown as the “yoga capital of the world”. Recently, Rishikesh has also been finding fame as a center for river rafting and hiking, due to its prime location combined with its burgeoning collection of tranquil hotels and eclectic cafes. Fortunately for us, Rishikesh is only an hour down the road from Haridwar, so we were able to dip in for a day and see what all of the fuss was about.

The trip to Rishikesh meant our first proper public bus experience in India – it was bumpy and sweaty, but very efficient!

A view of Rishikesh from the hills above

Rishikesh advertises numerous white water rafting trips. We were assured that there are actual rapids upstream of here, but the portion of the Ganges we saw sure doesn’t give that impression

We were still itching for some exercise after the long trip from Rajasthan, so first on our agenda was a long hike up to a series of waterfalls. Then, having achieved what we felt was a good day’s work, we made our way slowly through the town and stopped at a series of ashram cafes and chai stands, eking out the last of our $20 cash supply (yep, the one from Pushkar). No alcohol or meat to be found here either – but on the plus side, our skin was glowing!

Ascending the first waterfall (and becoming mini waterfalls ourselves from the heat)

Don’t let the fixed smile in this photo deceive you – the water was icy cold

Indian entrepreneurialism never fails to impress. No matter where you are – in this case several hours’ hike from the main road – there will be some food available for purchase, along with the ubiquitous, sugary chai

Now would be a good time to introduce the reader to the term “EPLer,” a phrase we coined to describe a certain class of tourist in India (and more than a few other places). It refers to Eat Pray Love, a truly abominable movie reflecting the protagonist’s journey of “self discovery”. In a nutshell, she reacts to dissatisfaction with her conventional life by traveling around the world and indulging in a lot of navel gazing and shallow “spirituality.” Given the possible (but hopefully superficial!) resemblance to our own adventures, the concept is worrying to us both, and we hope that we never fall into that category. The backpacker circuit is rife with EPLers, and Rishikesh is unavoidably a magnet for these types. We suppressed a fair amount of eye rolling at westerners who were spending their month in an ashram to get over a breakup or a dislike of their boss, and found our opinions echoed by most locals.

For those going through a difficult breakup, Rishikesh seems well positioned to accommodate…

We stumbled across hundreds of yoga and meditation centers catering to all levels and life stages

Thanks to our wealth of travel experience, we now know that “continental food” is pretty much guaranteed to be soggy pasta

One of the famous suspension bridges across the Ganges at Haridwar. Visible to the left is a massive ashram whose inhabitants regularly march rhythmically around the perimeter of each floor while chanting

The bridge is open to all comers, bovines and lower simians included

In Pursuit of the Britishers, Meat, and Booze (Hill Stations)

Next on our list was a visit to Mussoorie, a quaint little hill station built by the British and popular today with Delhi-dwellers seeking to escape the heat and enjoy a few lungfuls of fresh air. At first, we expected the trip to be straight-forward, but as we started to plan we realized that this was not the case at all. However, we were undeterred. We may have mentioned this already, but by this point we’d been deprived of both alcohol and meat for some weeks, having visited three devoutly Hindu towns in a row. The growing hunger was, needless to say, an excellent motivator, and so it was that we embarked upon a major exercise in coordination and stamina.

In the end, the journey involved two buses, a number of extremely helpful and knowledgeable locals, a leap-of-faith alighting in the middle of nowhere, and a hike guided primarily by an obscure description found deep in the blogosphere, along with a crowd of school children we met along the way. Miraculously, though, we made it, and we rewarded ourselves with a hearty meal of spicy Tibetan food and a couple of rounds of extra strong Kingfishers (not recommended).

We took the bus through Dehradun, a thoroughly pleasant, rather affluent-looking town which we wished we’d had more time to explore

Oh look, it’s another ATM queue

Our hike took us along the old bridle path set up by the British – signs still remain in place, guarded by a friendly calf

Tariffs in both Hindi and Arabic

Jess failing to blend in amidst a gaggle of local high school students – as we passed them, we encountered a number of distinct groups separated by enthusiasm level. Towards the back, a particularly unfit individual was spotted vomiting in the bushes

Looking back towards Dehradun and beyond

Entering our first hill station

The light at the end of the tunnel at last. Meat, and lots of it!

No meat for Jess, but some fiery tofu provided a good substitute

Mukhwas, or mouth fresheners, are standard issue with any meal in India. Fennel seeds are coated in sugar, and together they are quite effective in cleansing the palate after a heavily spiced feast. Jess became a big fan over time, but this jovial fellow was to be her undoing…

The Reckoning

By this point, we’d been in India for almost a month and, having suffered no significant ill effects, we had eaten with increasing abandon. Unfortunately, on the last day before we were due to leave for Nepal, Jess was finally struck down . Ethan was obviously gleeful, since he was unaffected, but he did his best to seem sympathetic. To add insult to injury, today was the day we had to make the six hour drive to Delhi in order to catch our flight out. Suffice to say, it was unpleasant enough that Jess will never consume another Mukhwa. Readers, we would advise you to avoid communal bowls on your next visit to India.

This is what happens when you tangle with the microbes