Home Again!

Bathing with elephants is a singular experience. Over and over I climbed up onto the back of an elephant only for it to toss me off, screaming, into the muddy river. It was like being 15 years old again! They have rough, leathery skin with long, wiry hairs and big eyes with eyelashes every woman would envy. But the river water was not so nice; dark and muddy and perfect for lurking (if you’re a crocodile, that is). I was just a little apprehensive…

The animals of Chitwan are exciting and exotic, but Mother India was at the forefront of my mind. I was nervous about venturing back to the Indian border alone, as border crossings are notoriously difficult and India is not as shantih as Nepal.

Planning to have one last shower before a full day or two of grueling travel, I woke up early Thursday morning to discover there was no running water. Normally I am unfazed by the lack of water, but this time I was stressed. I finally secured myself a bucketful from a nearby water pump with barely twenty minutes to spare...better than nothing.

But my luck improved when I climbed the ladder at the back of the bus to discover three huge Germans heading my way...nothing is safer or easier than walking through the streets of India flanked by three 6+ foot men! Now I could relax and settle into six difficult but exhilarating hours on the roof of my last Nepali bus. I was a bit shaken by the three overturned busses (one was a truck) we passed along the way, but we had no mishaps and the only damages sustained were of the sun and windburn variety.

At the border we grabbed one last plate of veg momos and passed through Nepali and Indian Immigration like a breeze. It wasn't until we reached the Indian side and began negotiating for a jeep to Gorakpur that I realized my Germans were of the "easily agitated" sort. It wasn't long before we were all arguing with the Indian touts. It was the first fight of a series of fights, in a day that seemed to last for a week. I was forced to weigh my options; stay with the three Germans as they fight their way into India while I myself remain relatively unhassled, or venture off alone, peaceful but subject to harassment. I decided to continue along with the Germans.

After a bumpy three-hour jeep ride to the train station at Gorakpur, we boarded the 11pm train to my all-time favorite place to suffer in India: Varanasi (aka Benaras, aka Kashi)! We piled into the guard's car in order to isolate ourselves from the Indian masses and slept intermittently in awkward and uncomfortable piles, arriving the next morning exhausted, sweaty, stinking, bruised, and me with one puffy eye.

I had initially intended to avoid returning to Varanasi but something about the place draws me back. Maybe someday I will have an explanation for it.

In spite of the trials and tribulations, it’s great to be back…

until next time,
xoxoxoxo,

LMA