Day 5 Varanas

Nothing! Slept late. Begged off AM event when Rose's alarm went off at 4AM and knew I was not going to get up. Slept a few more hours, relaxed meditation, then met the group for a late breakfast, followed by shopping for awhile with Rose. Did my best to show her how to barter and I think we did pretty well on a silk sari for her. Very proud.
Had a Coke McFlurry at McDonald's mid-afternoon! Passed on the McAloo Tiki, also known as French Fries.
Got together again with the rest of the group and took autos to shop some more in the local market. Our group got separated for awhile, but thank you cell phones, all we had to do was give the other half a call on their mobiles and stand out in the street and start waving. Reunited again!
Buffet at hotel for dinner and calling it an early night. YAY!

Ganga Aarti

Day 4 evening: at 5PM we set out again for old Benaras, this time for the daily ritual of thanksgiving and prayers to Ganga, for the gifts she provides through the Ganges River.
The harrowing bicycle rickshaw rides in the midst of city congestion are now becoming routine. I figure a middle aged driver is ideal: old enough to show he has had the ability to repeatedly survive the perils of dodging tractor trailers and cows and pot holes yet young enough to have the strength to keep up with the traffic should it actually move faster than the pedestrians.
We had to walk the last leg, along with hundreds of others, down to the prayer ghats on the Ganges. There we opted to board a row boat and were taken out into the river opposite the ghats where we could see the Aarti ceremony in a slightly less dense crowd.
The boats were tied to boats anchored in the river. We were all side by side parallel to the shore. The Ramakrishna monks were two boats beyond us. The boats were so tight that young boys were walking out to the center of the river by stepping bow to bow.
The ceremony was conducted by several priests at two side by side ghats at the same time and at different paces. Conch shells were blown, chants sung, oil lamps lit, incense burned, fans waved; symbolizing (my understanding) the sounds of Aum and the light of the Divine, the burning away of the dross of the material world which makes us think we are separate from each other and the Divine. The fans I was told were for the comfort of the aspect of the Divine being shown reverence, in this case Ganga.
The fans made sense. The mosquitos were the size of small sparrows. Apparently the bug spray worked because they kept flying into me at full speed (I have the bruises to prove it) but never bit. Scarves up and over your heads Ladies!
We set afloat burning butter lamps and small garlands of flowers as we departed.  And in the midst of all the departing people, our rickshaw drivers found us and returned us safely to our waiting van. That was a miracle in itself!
Home for the night. 'Nite all!

Lahiri Mahasaya home and shrine in great grandson's home

Day 4 (Varanasi) began with a drive to the Tulsi Manas Mandir temple where we made our offerings and briefly enjoyed the gardens.
Then on to Amandamoy Ma's ashram overlooking the Ganges. We were permitted time on the veranda to meditate, with the Ganges and bathing ghat far below us, and to spend private devotional time at the shrines to Ma and to Shiva. Then together as a group we performed the fire ritual on the same site that Ma had used.
The highpoint of the morning, for me at least, was our journey into the ancient alley-ways of old Bananas. Here the sun couldn't reach us. In places we could touch both sides of the "road" simultaneously with just a slight stretch of outreaching arms. If a bike should want to use the same surface, we would press our bodies to the opposite side. And for each sauntering cow we encountered, and there were many, we had to scramble up the steps of local homes and shops. 
Here, we found the dwelling that had been Lahiri Mahasaya's so many years ago, and paid our homage at the front door. The dwelling is private, still in the family, and not open to the public. During the brief time we were there, a priest or local devotee (we never discovered which) came to perform puja. The shop owner across the alleyway had a picture of Lahiri Mahasaya on the wall, so we asked him for directions to LM's shrine which the YSS group had told us was nearby.
Walking on through the narrow alleys, we spotted a guest house, and while huddled in a group speculating on whether or not they might permit us the use their toilets (this being the polite term in India for WC's, restrooms, etc), we were approached by a gentleman with the marks of Shiva across his forehead. He asked if we were in need of something, and we explained that yes, we were hoping to find toilets. He then led us personally directly into a building down a side alley with "Lahiri" over the doorway. Surprise (or maybe not!) we were in the home of Lahiri Mahasaya's great grandson and at our desired destination! We had almost walked past our turn.
The downstairs, besides having very clean toilets, housed shrines dedicated to Lahiri Mahasaya, to Shiva, and to Babaji where we were able to meditate for an extended period of time. Then as we were preparing to leave, a second gentleman gestured for us to come upstairs. There were found a small museum with many of the original photos now reproduced in The Autobiography of a Yogi.
Behind glass was the actual photo of Lahiri Mahasaya, the only one ever successfully taken. And high on the wall was an ink impression of his feet.
What a wonderful morning!

On the way to Varanasi

Left Allahabad and began our journey to Varanasi. Made a brief detour to stop on the way at the spot where Sita was swallowed up by the earth. Lovely shrine, gigantic Hanuman statue at the entrance, always available to serve and protect his queen. While the Sita shrine was beautiful, it was the Shivalingum that I found the most moving. So much quiet devotion in that quiet little dark room.
The van got tired of bumping along through the goats and sheep and children, and demanded a brief respite about half way back to the main road. Fortunately the driver is also a mechanic and was able to get us back on our way rather quickly.
When we arrived in Varanasi, it appeared that everyone else from the Kumbh had also! The city is jammed. And we are so jet lagged and disoriented that we are giggling and silly. Rose Marcia and I went over to the shopping mall next to the hotel to help Rose find some clothes to replace those she left accidentally in the Ganges. We probably embarrassed ourselves, but are too tired to remember!

Maha Kumhb Mela 2013

Okay, we did it. We along with 20 million others (official figures) went to bathe in the Ganges today (yes,"today" not "this kumhb.") Today was the most auspicious day of the Kumhb for this. Modes of transport (this seems to be an emerging theme) that made this possible: military row boat out the Yamuna River to its convergence with the Ganges, and military jeep.
"Military?" you might ask. Yes, military. Turns out that a member of our group has a cousin who is best friends with the B. General, and through him has struck up a friendship with the Colonel. The cousin's wife asked the Colonel if he would arrange special passage for her husband's cousin for bathing in the Ganges today. He agreed so easily that she then asked if he might accommodate all six of us. And again he agreed.
So the day began with tea with the Colonel at the army headquarters, then a military escort through town (this means through streets clogged with walking pilgrims and animals and every type of vehicle with wheels that move) ignoring check points and "for official vehicles only" barricades. Because of  the bombings in Hyderabad, these were very real barriers to other vehicles and took both hours and many km off our trek. It still took all day.
Eventually we reached a point where the vehicle was simply too big to proceed any further so we covered the last four to five miles mostly on foot. Had a brief shouting match with a bicycle rickshaw driver myself when he wanted to be paid twice but that was quickly resolved by our Hindi speaking cousin's wife.
Finally we reached the military boat launch, where we were all rowed out to the military float in the middle of the river. It was a combination of changing rooms for after you bathed in the river (fully dressed if female), armed guards to monitor the hundreds of thousands in the river at any given time plus the hundreds of boats going back and forth, and ladders down the side for those who needed assistance getting in and out the of the water. Only the special military guest were allowed to use these facilities. The multitudes were confined to the banks on either side of the two rivers.
In theory, the water in the center was cleaner than the waters near the banks. And that was easy to believe, because on either bank no land could be the seen--just a sea of bodies watching for their turn to bathe. With all the recent rain, the water was murky but had none of the foul odor that it often has near Delhi.
So in we went. Offered up whatever we wished to be washed away from our lives, and rejoiced in a gorgeous day. Flowers and coconuts were floating around the boats (offerings from earlier pilgrims), holy men were blessing bathers, and the atmosphere was really charged with the reverence with which so many millions had entered the Ganges in the past two weeks.
Tired but happy we returned to the boat dock, where a military jeep met us to ferry us back to our van. We had to be packed in Indian style in order to be in a vehicle small enough to negotiate the streets but we did get back without much walking. And it only took several more hours to complete the final five miles back. We stopped briefly to meet the cousin's family and of course for more tea, and returned to the hotel in time for a late dinner.
The rest of the trip should be much more relaxed. But I am so glad I experienced the Kumhb 2013! To have walked where so many saints, including our own gurus, have walked. It was an experience of a lifetime.

Delhi Transportation

We arrived, all of us and all of our bags,  early this AM. After a few (very few) hours of sleep we set off to master the local transit systems as we picked up some needed items. But before we left we in anticipation of what lay ahead, my roommate and I thanked Ganesha for removing those obstacles in our path.
First was a wild ride in a bicycle rickshaw to the market. Think of  the largest flea market you can image, add the wild honking of horns, meandering dogs,  vast missing slabs of sidewalk, and every color visible to the naked eye, and you'd sort of have it.
Then into the metro to Connaught Circle for a final bit of shopping and a late lunch. Metro: NYC on steroids. Pushing, bumping, no scratching thank goodness.
Finally, THE TRAIN. O. M. G. We arrived late at the station and were immediately swarmed by men in red shirts. After a lot of shouting and fist waving between them and our guide, and among themselves, our bags were finally all on a cart secured by a yellow rope. One red shirt started pulling the cart and the fist waving and shouting erupted again. Then a red shirt grabbed the cart and yanked the yellow rope off. More fist waving and shouting. It was getting late. Another red shirt whipped out some rags and resecured the bags. Then he and two other red shirts took off running with our bags. Another red shirt quickly conferred with our guide, and started us off running away from our bags. Shock. We ran up stairs and down, until he gestured rather maniacally that we were to stop and stay put. Then miracle of miracles, from the opposite end of the platform, a baggage cart came hurling out of  nowhere, or perhaps from platform 9 and 1/2, with all our bags still secured. Can you say surrender?
Now said bags are safely secured under our berths as we head to Allahabad. Of course there is still the issue that half of us don't really seem to have reservations but are still on standby status. So we just doubled up on the berths and are enjoying our full moon ride through the Indian countryside, eating curry dishes and snacks, and adapting to the flow of things in India.

AMS waiting for flight

Jet lag: showered with good watch on (still working) and almost went to Johannesburg. Actually, they would have stopped me at security most likely. The time on the ticket here means "go thru security and directly onto plane." Ah well. Still haven't run into others but because we cannot wait at the gate, they could be anywhere.

Big shocker: here KLM weighs carry on. My checked bag had 6 kilos to spare. That disappeared THEN they weighed my carry on. It was 3 kilos over and cost me $100 US. Expensive lesson. Delta should have alerted me in my humble opinion!

So spending the last of my Euro coins on a real sugarcane coke, and waiting patiently. And just realized my newly checked bag has all my cash! Breathe in breathe out!

Jet lag beautiful jet lag and mind fatigue....

Then I walked. Tom, this is near where Thomas' friend has an inn, where Amy and I stayed, and an easy bike ride to Thomas' home.

BTW, this is why the Dutch are so healthy: this is really and truly a multi-level parking garage (in the background) for bicycles, at the train station. Even in Feb it is packed. Bikes must outnumber cars 10 to 1 here. Come on and bend! It is worth looking at, and my mobile won't rotate these pics!

Until I was tired and cold. Seemed like it was time somewhere for lunch so I went into this cozy and WARM little corner cafe and had a nice lunch and chat with the guys behind the corner.
Amsterdam and San Francisco both have the same feel for me even though ethnicly they are quite different.
Now back at the hotel and really truly ready to nap.

And walked

Arrived in Amsterdam

With my luggage. Saints be prayed! And I am so in love with northern European efficiency. Cleared customs in about 10 minutes. Checked into the Sheraton which as advertised is very easily accessible from the airport main lobby.

The Sheraton. OMG. I have a mere 15 yard stumble from the elevator to my room which is a good thing since I am numb from lack of sleep. (You don't really want the details re trying to sleep on a packed plane, do you?) And half way thru those 15 yards is a beverage counter where a lovely machine will in under 90 seconds grind and brew an espresso or latte--your choice--at the flick of a button. Lovely. I am finding so many reasons to ride the elevator. And yet I am still stumbling.

Next stop Amsterdam!

And the Delta rep paged me to let me know that my bag had indeed made the quick change from my connecting flight.  Love those bar-codes.

Departure.

At the Sarasota airport but it already feels like India: the luggage belt was broken so people were swarming trying to locate the correct drop-off spot, TSA pulled my carry-on for having a plastic bag containing a suspicious white substance (salt for my neti pot, finely ground), and finally no outlets are available to recharge my mobile. Oh the injustice of it all! But now I am safely at the gate and breathing slowly again. Time to break out the the book and switch into vacation mode. Ahhhh......

Blogging is a new venture for me. But with limited data available on my mobile for the next five weeks, blogging might be the best way to keep friends and family up to date the high points of my next adventure.

So, busy packing, paying last minute bills, tying up loose ends at home, and then in a few more days, away I go!