akla! akla!

since i've been here i've been treated to middle eastern dishes on a daily basis. treated is putting it mildly. even after a second helping i'm routinely instructed 'akla! akla!' (eat! eat!). the food is always fresh (the family here doesn't even have a microwave) and flavorful. even after six weeks here i don't think i've had any dish more than twice. here are some of the highlights..

• stuffed kusa. the best translation for kusa would be cucumber, though they're smaller and tastier than any cucumber i've ever had at home. the veggies are hollowed out and filled with rice and spiced ground meat and cooked in a tomato sauce
• dawali. this is a variation on turkish dolma, but smaller and presumably more time-consuming. one of the few dishes i've helped in preparing, dawali requires a full day (at least) to make. ahab, the uncle, told me it was the 'stupidest middle eastern dish' because it takes hours to make and just seconds to eat. it's true enough - each one requires a pinch of rice and meat inside a tightly wrapped grape leaf. it's a tedious process and one that's generally carried out by all the women sitting with trays in front of the tv. but once they're cooked (usually along with the kusa) and served with yogurt no one's complaining. partially because their mouths are all too full.
• molokhia. an egyptian soup consisting principally of spinach (or something very much like spinach). i have to say this dish is not my favorite. perhaps because on wikipedia it was described as 'mucilaginous' (i had to look it up but it's basically what it sounds like - mucus-y), a characterization i would have to agree with.
• maftool. this dishes it one of my favorite. described to me as 'pure palestinian', it's a dish that's made in great quantities and served at big family affairs. the maftool itself is made of cracked wheat, dampened and rolled with flour to make little balls - something like couscous but bigger. usually it's served with chicken, onion and chick peas but i could eat a plate full all by itself. i was told the name means 'twisted' first because of how they make the pearls and then because of how your stomach feels after you eat them. i admit i was pretty full after that second helping.
• labnah. is an interesting mix between cheese and yogurt. as i understand it, labnah is yogurt that has been strained of its whey and usually left in olive oil for days at a time. the result is balls or chunks of something that has the consistency of cheese but tastes like (mediterranean-style) yogurt
• knafeh. this one has to be one of my favorites. just the mention of the name is enough to make me salivate. a traditional palestinian pastry, it's prepared by heating pastry dough and covering it with butter and oil, then spreading on (Nabulshi, from Nablus) cheese and topping that with a sugary syrup and crushed pistachios. basically all of that just means gooey, greasy deliciousness. for a real treat, you can go to arafat or habibeh (the two most famous knafeh shops) that are always packed - even late into the night
• honey cake. another sweet that's made its way here is honey cake. the name might make it sound like the sweetness would be overpowering but in reality it's just the right blend of cake, honey, almond and pistachios. delightful.
• musakhan. when we had this meal i was told not to eat anything all day. after lunch (usually served around 3) i was glad i had listened. this meal is a feast in itself. huge trays come out stacked with taboon (palestinian) bread slathered with fried onions and roasted chickens baked with onions, pine nuts, and all kinds of spices. normally (like most dishes) accompanied with yogurt and eaten with your hands, it makes for a messy, filling meal.
• mansaf. i would be remiss (or worse) if i didn't mention the national dish of jordan. because there are so many foreigners (palestinians mostly) who've settled in jordan the delicacies come from all over. but mansaf is totally jordanian and any jordanian will proudly claim it as the national dish. it consists of lamb cooked for hours in fermented yogurt and served with rice. you'll inevitably be asked if you ate it with your hands or utensils so you might as well just get messy and dig right in.

these are the big dishes that i can recall. but even the simplest dishes are so flavorful that i could eat them over and over. fried zucchini with yogurt, rice and lentils (mjaddrah), stewed tomatoes and garlic with bread, coriander seeds and garlic in olive oil, rice and pine nuts, potatoes and eggs, green beans or okra in a tomato sauce, soup with yellow lentils and lemon. and the list goes on..

then of course there are the snacks, what you might have for 'dinner' (a light meal eaten later, around 9 or 10). one of my favorites is za'atar, a mix of dried spices (oregano, basil, thyme.. who knows what else) served with olive oil and used for dipping. then there's nablus, a salty cheese offset by bread or watermelon. any variety of fresh fruits, homemade pickles.. ah, just thinking of all this makes me sad to leave.

of course i'll try to recreate these dishes when i go home, but somehow i know that they won't taste quite the same coming from my kitchen.

bedouing

in my time here in amman so far i've been lucky enough to enjoy great food and wonderful company on a regular basis. but some of the most memorable moments have been on our little excursions outside the city.

the first of these was to wadi rum, the famous desert where lawrence of arabia traveled (and where the subsequent movie was filmed). i attempted to watch part of the movie (in just 26 parts on youtube) beforehand, but after seeing enough of the landscape to be sufficiently impressed, i gave up grappling with the slow internet. our drive in was largely uneventful, though our bus ride was punctuated by our driver's attempts at forced interaction (we were asked to introduce ourselves with a joke or song).

four hours and several gas stations later, we arrived in the desert. and, wouldn't you know, it was HOT. we were asked to wait in the shade while lunch was prepared and though we were technically in the shade, in covered pavilions resting on cushions, there was no breeze to speak of and cooling off seemed like a rather indistinct possibility. that said, i didn't let the heat stop me from flat-out sprinting when i saw that someone had (ingeniously) brought an american football. after two touchdowns we realized it was just too hot to play and, mercifully, lunch was ready anyway.

the lunch was rather unremarkable. mostly everyone was thirsty. but these bedouins are clever. all the costs of the camp and our stay were included in the price.. except drinks. we were shelling out half JDs left and right for precious bottles of slightly chilled water. what a racket.

after claiming our temporary dwellings (i opted for the house-o'-sticks over the tent. i mean, have you ever slept in a stick house??) we were taken out for the requisite jeep ride through the dunes. i'm not sure why these are consistently referred to as jeep rides, since we were all piled into the back of pickup trucks. no matter, being in the open air was much better. we held on to the sides of the truck as we were flung and jostled about, picking up speed as we took each turn and cruising down the dunes themselves. we were let out at various strategic points to run, jump and roll down the dunes, have some tea, or buy a keffiyah. the only casualties (apart from the guy who got sick after running up a sand dune) were several cameras, unfortunately including mine. (side note: turned out to be a software problem that just happened to coincide with lots of wind and sand and some beautiful landscapes).

back at the camp we were left to our devices, which for most of us meant either trying to stay cool or climbing up some rocks to see the sunset. the sunset wasn’t particularly spectacular (they aren’t usually here; an absence of clouds tends to have that effect) but after the sun went behind the farthest cliff we managed to find some camels for a quick ride back down the hill.

as it grew darker and we waited for dinner, people started to gather around the circle in the center of the camp. music started up, first just debka (a traditional dance involving holding hands and sticking a foot out intermittently, which frankly i find rather dull), then gearing up to some faster paced arabic music (read: bellydancing). we had great fun dancing and dancing and hardly noticed when dinner was finally ready, around 9. after another forgettable meal we headed out past the lights of the camp to watch the stars. they were as numerous as you might imagine in the middle of the desert. lying on the sand i saw no fewer than five shooting stars. we made the most of our night there, staying up until the sky started brightening, and then catching a few winks before breakfast the next morning.

white wedding, manic monday

so last night i was lucky enough to attend a jordanian wedding, which i'll attempt to capture here for the sake of posterity.

i didn't find out myself i was going to said wedding until about 20 minutes before we left. the girls had been shopping for weeks, trying to find the right dresses and shoes. since there was no mention of it to me, i assumed i wouldn't be joining them. i barely had time to wash my hair and throw on the only thing i had that was halfway decent (covering the knees). i was told it was just a "typical" wedding so i thought perhaps it wouldn't be too different. well, i was a little off.

we arrived in zarqa, a town just north of amman, where our first stop was the groom's house. guests were gathered outside, along with the palestinian band (all playing the drums). the mother of the groom held a large silver tray with the groom's clothes over her head and as the band began to play people gathered around, dancing, clapping and passing the tray among them. one of the elderly guests had a handgun that he fired into the air, a practice that's now illegal (since, you know, it's recklessly dangerous) but still happens pretty often.

eventually we made it upstairs to the apartment where the festivities continued. all the furniture was pushed aside to make room for the guests and the band that all crowded in for more dancing around the groom (who, at this point, was in an undershirt). eventually the beat subsided and trays of soda were brought around to be offered to the guests. during this interlude, i presume, the groom got dressed in his finery (a fancy suit) and the next set of singing and dancing began as he was getting his hair done (blowdryer and all) in the middle of the room.

after about 30 minutes of this the guests went to their cars where we all drove to the next destinations. from time to time around the city you'll hear these caravans of cars honking, people shouting and air horns. well, that was us. our next stop was another house - perhaps the mother's? where the guests gathered out front and a different (syrian) band joined us. the beat and dancing were similar; even more clapping and gathering around the groom. then the swordplay began. two men came out with swords and shields, and soon it was just a blur of fabric and clashing metal.

at this point it was back to the car again, this time to pick up the bride. here i should mention that at first i had thought perhaps the bride was already among the crowd at the first stop. at first i thought she might be the woman all in red and gold with about a pound of makeup on her face. as it turns out, this is pretty standard wedding attire. the best way i can describe it like a mask at carnevale - exquisitely painted but still a little over the top. the elaborate bunches of fabric that make up the hijab only add to the carnevale effect. other fashion novelties: lots of kids with mullets, some choice unibrows, and little girls with crazy beehives and elaborate sequined dresses that make them look like the bride of frankenstein at a beauty pageant. so anyway, we finally picked up the bride. as you've probably guessed by now, this process consisted of guests singing, clapping, and dancing their way down to (eventually) retrieve the bride. oddly enough her attire (and the groom's) were probably the most westernized aspect of the affair. she wore a typical (typical for us) white wedding dress, complete with lots of crinoline and adorned with enough sequins and sparkles to match her glittering tiara. she was surrounded by several women who were quite dolled up themselves (venetian mask-style). we rounded them up, covered them with confetti, and were on our way.

the next, and final, stop was the reception hall. as you can imagine the guests crowded around the couple, dancing and clapping along to the beat of the drums. the guests filtered in to the hall, complete with the covered chairs a dance floor and a throne-cum-sofa for the happy couple (they did look genuinely happy, too, which i wasn't entirely expecting given the fact that they were cousins). the videographer, who had been recording the entire proceedings, had the recording being simultaneously broadcast on several screens throughout the room. as you can imagine, there was much celebration when the bride and groom entered. they made their way to the dance floor where they danced, alone at first, but then joined by several couples. on the way they exchanged rings, which i suppose represented the actual ceremony itself.

the first song we heard after entering was lil john's 'shots' (charming little ditty), which i imagine was breaking with tradition somewhat. luckily this music gave way to a steady stream of traditional, and newer, arabic music that was much better for dancing. as the lights dimmed the colored lights and disco ball lit up the dance floor and smoke flooded in from the fog machine. this was just as well, as it masked the smoke coming from the cigars and cigarettes of all the men (including the groom). the dancing was interrupted only for the 'cake show', where a cake (presumably ceremonial, since the cake we ate looked quite different) with two-foot sparklers was rolled out, which the bride and groom cut with a large sword. and the dancing continued. i discovered arabic dancing is basically a combination of swiveling hips and graceful hand gestures, which luckily wasn't too hard to pick up. there was also quite a bit of rhythmic clapping and joining hands in circles. it was lots of fun and thoroughly exhausting.

and all on a monday night!

water, water everywhere

well here i am in jordan. everyone's been so welcoming and i already feel at home here, even in just a few days. still, it's strange to be so immersed in a language i'm totally unfamiliar with. i'm sure this is a phenomenon most people have experienced in some capacity, but for me it's new. in france i knew enough to get by and even if i didn't understand everything that was said, i usually got the gist of things.

but here.. well i know the alphabet and diacritic marks, which means i can sound out words. so basically i know arabic about as well as i know, say, portuguese. which is not at all. looking at it that way it's easy to get discouraged but i know things will improve and i'm anxious to start classes and really learn.

in the meantime i've been learning bits and pieces here and there. i knew pronouns and some simple nouns and verbs. so piecing things together along with vocabulary the family's teaching me ("what's breakfast? ftoor. what's tea? shy."). actually they've been good about quizzing me and making me do little tasks. yesterday i bought eggs; the vendor may have told me the price in english but, still, i came out with a kartoon bedh!

the best way i can think to describe it (i suppose it's a cliche for a reason) is with water. i wouldn't saying i'm drowning exactly, but i'm just surrounded by this language, like being dropped in the middle of an ocean. occasionally i can grab onto something - a cognate, an english word, some gesture - but for the most part i'm just floating in a sea of words. really all i'd like to be able to do is tread water. so there you have it, my goal for the summer: don't drown.

marhaban, jordan

well i’ve been in jordan for under 24 hours and so far i’ve already eaten all different kinds of middle eastern food, driven all over the city of amman, and been totally immersed in arabic.

after landing, quickly buying my visa (luckily no questions asked) and gathering my luggage i was greeted by an enthusiastic kamel and his youngest daughter bana, who has a delightful smile and sparkling eyes. upon greeting me and welcoming me ‘home’, kamel instructed bana to, “hug the glenna” which she did willingly. later when kamel stopped for some quick groceries the first thing she asked me was “are you on facebook?”. she’s 11. we then moved on to other subjects: reading, basketball, horseback riding, and most importantly who i was supporting in the world cup (“not brazil??”).

we arrived at kamel’s lovey home where i was surprised to find not only a pool but (i’m told) a sauna. upstairs i met his lovely wife, mervat, and eldest daughter, aya, as well as his brother who lives in the apartment next door. it was about 5:00 but we all sat down for “lunch” which turned out to be a huge meal –chicken, onions, potatoes, carrots, eggplant with yogurt, tzatziki, rice with pine nuts. (i had bana quiz me on the meal beforehand; i can now tell you how to say ‘knife’ and ‘carrot’..) of course food was heaped on to my plate without hesitation. as soon as i finished some, more would appear. needless to say, by the end of the meal i was sufficiently stuffed.

after watching a bit of the US-slovenia game and allowing our food to digest, i headed out with the girls for some shopping. we went to the outdoor shopping mall, which is quite posh. here i learned that aya (almost 16) is a master shopper, or more accurately a master of taking her time shopping. a bored bana asked her mother if they would be in the adidas store for two hours to which she replied, “of course. it’s aya.” we stopped in several other stores (i admit i was excited to see some french ones – promod, etam, zara. and i’m told sales start next month.. this could be bad..) before ultimately leaving with the intended purchase – a birthday gift for a friend – plus a few extras.

at this point mervat dropped off the girls and talked me into going to ‘the club’ to meet an old friend of hers. we arrived at the club (where she’s not a member, though she told the parking attendant different) and walked past a christian baptism and a meeting of a japanese organization. out on the terrace we met up with the other ladies, who were just beginning their hookahs and chatting. we ordered lemonade with fresh mint leaves (delicious!) and each of the women ordered several dishes. all told, there were 10 plates of food on the table, not including various breads. hummus, pita, tabouleh, mushrooms, zucchini.. just to name a few. the visiting friend talked about her life in copenhagen and showed us pictures of her adorable (and tri-lingual) 4- and 5-year old daughters. after a while we left, mervat using my tiredness as an excuse (though truthfully i was getting sleepy).

at this point i unpacked my things, a nice luxury after five weeks of spending no more than three nights in the same place. i think i’ve displaced bana from her room, given its rather pink-heavy decorations (a stuffed dog was left on the bed to greet me), which i feel somewhat guilty about. but the family is very welcoming and i already feel quite comfortable here.

hopefully i can make the most of the next few weeks and really learn a lot of arabic and even get in some work at the museum. insha’allah.

shh...

driving into bosnia the change was almost instant. the poppies still dotted the roadside, and the green hills in the distance were the same, but something about the scenery was different. the houses we passed along the border were consistently in various stages of disrepair. it was unclear whether these were unfinished and abandoned or the result of damage from the war.

as we arrived in sarajevo we passed through the new section, lined with soviet-era concrete block housing that we've heard is as depressing on the inside as it is from the outside. so we were still skeptical at what sarajevo would have to offer.

well, sarajevo rose to the challenge. our hotel, next to latinski most (better known as the bridge where archduke ferdinand was shot and wwI began), was charming and our fourth floor room had windows that opened to a view of the river and the old city on one side and a nearby mosque on the hill on the other.

as we explored the old city we were quickly smitten by its abundant mosques, cobblestone streets, beautiful roses, and little shops filled with copper and pewter. it seemed very eastern and reminded us of a little istanbul. the buildings themselves had traces of moorish and ottoman influences, with alternating stone patterns, horseshoe arches, and intricately carved wooden ablution fountains. there were a number of churches as well, both orthodox and catholic, and it was easy to see why it's characterized as a place where religions coexist harmoniously.

we wandered the streets, enjoying the architecture, the locals (some veiled, some not but all dressed rather conservatively), and the cuisine. the national dish is undoubtedly cevapcici (minced meat served inside a pita with onions), which we saw everyone eating, though kebabs were abundant as well. ice cream's another favorite, so of course we had to sample some. on our walk home, as the sun went down, the balls of lights dotting the minarets came on and we heard the call to prayer. but this was no recording; just a few hundred meters away we could actually see the muezzin atop the minaret making the call.

this charming city, with its friendly locals and colorful streets, won us over and helped us overlook bosnia's flaws (including an almost total lack of street signs that made a certain museum impossible to find - oy.).

then it was on to herzegovina! the drive to our next destination, mostar, was where we got our first taste of the stunningly beautiful scenery this country has to offer. we approached a lake whose color was so beautiful we just had to stop (maybe a few times..) to take some pictures. ah, the joys of having a car! the perks also included keeping our picnic basket stocked with supplies for our daily picnic lunches. we were happy to discover that bosnia has no shortage of picnic tables along the scenic highways.

we followed the beautiful blue-green lake for miles and were sorry to leave it once we entered mostar. but we weren't disappointed for long. once we (eventually) found our hotel (again - the street sign thing was an issue) it was just a short walk to the famous bridge over the beautiful turquoise water of the river. along the cobblestone streets we found little shops (with our favorite copper earrings), cafes, and ice cream parlors.

then we arrived at the bridge itself. we'd read about the famous 'stari most' (literally 'old bridge', original) and while there's nothing terribly spectacular about it, it's just very pleasant. the round shape makes it unique and (coupled with the well-worn cobblestones) difficult to cross without slipping. but the view of the beautiful water and the mosque down the river is just breathtaking. i honestly think i could live on that bridge and would never get tired of waking up to that sight. we must have crossed the bridge dozens of time over the course of our visit but each time i had to stop to take a picture (or twelve). "it's just so pretty!" i think we uttered that phrase (along with "look at the water!" more than any trip in my recollection.

the bridge is certainly the city's crowning glory, but the rest of the town is lovely in its own right. the ottoman presence can be felt all over, which we saw in the decorations of several old private homes (patterned carpets and cushions all over, carefully carved ceilings) and mosques (colored glass and dozens of chandeliers). i was particularly excited to climb the minaret (something i've never done before) which afforded a spectacular view of the town and, of course, the bridge.

yet it wasn't all roses (though they have quite a few of those, too). throughout the town we saw several reminders of the all-too-recent war. bullet holes in the sides of buildings, cracking plaster we passed one mosque whose cemetery was filled with graves all dated to 1994 and 1995. that the war is so recent - in my relatively short lifetime, even - is almost as unbelievable as the rebuilding they've done. not only was the famous bridge destroyed (purposely blown up by crotian forces) but all but one of the cities mosques was leveled. and yet walking around the town today you would hardly know it (UNESCO has been busy here it's obvious). still, it's not something the locals are likely to forget. and neither should we.

that we were so taken with the cities we visited here is a testament to the resilience of the people of bosnia and herzegovina. in just under 20 years they have managed to turn things around and make the country into a place that's not only visit-able but spectacular! they've capitalized on the natural beauty of the country without losing the charm of its ottoman cities. while i want to encourage people to visit the country and support their economy, at the same time i'm a little hesitant to share what i suspect might be europe's best kept secret.

playing the market

after the heat and chaos of india i admit it was a bit of a shock to return to a gray, rainy europe. everything in the brussels airport seemed so sterile and commercial in comparison. a cold drizzly budapest didn't seem like a particularly attractive option. still, we made the most of our day in the city (more on that later) and by the time we moved on to croatia, we were feeling pretty good.

we arrived in zagreb without difficulty. finding the hotel was another story... whose moral is, 'always spring for the gps'. at any rate we eventually found our place, a guest house run by a colorful looking woman, whose crazy highlighted curls were offset by her bright white plastic glasses and fuchsia tights. she seemed like fun.

we found we could explore most of zagreb on foot and in the better part of a day. the old city is pleasant enough, with its cobblestone streets and abundant churches (most locked up, we discovered). the few churches were busy with pious, praying devotees, but what the city seems to really love is cafes. we had read about the 'cafe culture' and national fascination with people-watching, but nowhere is it more apparent than on tkalciceva street (i know, this language is ridiculous). people apparently stop in the middle of the day but unlike the spanish siesta, the croatians take a break to have a drink and watch other people. a little weird maybe but fun too.

the downside to this cafe culture, we discovered later, was the inverse relationship of cafes to restaurants. in most croatian cities, while there was always an abundance of caffe/bars, there was often a dearth (or total absence!) of restaurants. one day we were forced to resort to fast food (though we never had to stoop to 'american donut', a stand that, evidently, serves kebabs. go figure.)

but i'm getting off topic. apart from an odd attachment to cafes, the croatians - like all sensible europeans - have wonderful outdoor markets. the one in zagreb was one of the best. it's characterized by its typical red striped umbrellas that literally cover the square in front of the cathedral. under these you can find most any kind of produce, along with eggs, cheese, and baskets (we just had to get one).

but my favorite part of the market was the flowers! just down the stairs from the main square the row of flowers. and it is delightful. the bundles of bouquets are quite diverse, some small, some elaborate, all colorful and lovely. and the prices were quite reasonable. we found a nice little bouquet we just had to get for courtney for a nice little present. those flowers ended up making it to picnics and hotels throughout croatia and abroad (well, across the border). certainly a wise investment.

on the whole we were pleasantly surprised by zagreb. a little city with some charm.

agra-culture

our last real stop in india (minus a half-day in delhi) was probably the most-visited city in india. agra, of crossword puzzle fame, is home to the taj mahal which of course (somehow) has now become the ultimate symbol of india and a universally-recognized landmark. i'm not sure why actually, which is an intriguing concept in itself.

we paid our 750 rupees (20 for indians, sigh) and were ushered through the first entrance portal. as we rounded the corner surrounded by dozens of other (mostly indian) tourists, we caught out first glimpse. it's one of those sights that you've seen so many times it doesn't feel new. what's surreal is that you're seeing this strangely familiar place for the first time.

what stands out most about the building for me was the size. maybe this is what everyone says, but it really is enormous! people are just dwarfed by this massive mausoleum. other than that, i was impressed by the proportions and the beautiful simplicity - the white marble and refined designs. maybe this is blasphemous, or maybe i just have a taste for the overdone (read: extensive tiles), but i still say the dome of the rock is my favorite islamic structure.

other than enjoying the architecture itself, i enjoyed watching the indian tourists almost as much as they seem to enjoy watching me. yet again we seemed to be the objects of much attention from our fellow tourists, they surreptitiously taking pictures of me (which i felt entitled me to do the same). i spent quite a while relaxing just outside the door delighting in the colorful saris against the clean white marble.

but of course there's more to agra than the taj mahal (though you certainly wouldn't know it from the postcards or tacky souvenirs). for us agra was especially meaningful because my friend manish was nice enough to drive down and join us from delhi. in addition to taking care of my mother when she finally succumbed to the heat (it was 112 that day) and helping us deal with hawkers, he showed us parts of the city we never would have seen otherwise.

he advised us against going to the red fort (as by then we had seen similar structures) and instead drove us 40 minutes away to the city of fatehpur sikri. what a treat! the complex had the typical red sandstone of indian mughal structures, and akbar himself prayed in the friday mosque. my favorite part was the smaller prayer hall, the dargah. the carved window screens (jalis) were so beautiful and delicate-looking. and to this day people tie red and yellow strings to the walls in hopes of good fortune and fertility.

our last stop the next day was the moon gardens for a rare glimpse of the taj mahal from behind. it took a surprisingly long time to get there, given their relative proximity. we ended up just across the (rather dry) river with an impressive view of the still-massive structure. parts of it were obscured by brick walls or barbed wire, which i think only made the view that much more intriguing. it was a nice parting shot to remember agra by.

our next stop was delhi and, sadly, out of india. but hopefully not for long!

holy, holy, holy

well from the colors of rajasthan we moved on to the holy city of varanasi, which is just one of its many names. it is often referred to as banaras, and less often referred to as kashi or.. another name i’ve already forgotten (apologies).

people later asked us what we thought of varanasi; our rather banal reply of ‘interesting’ was met with laughter and rightly so. it’s surely an understatement. but a city like varnasi is hard to describe. certainly it’s unlike any place we’d ever been, and what we saw there was fascinating. so i’ll do my best to go beyond the ‘interesting’.

we arrived (which in itself was a godsend, given the strike/slowdown of air india employees we left behind in delhi) to an airport whose baggage claim consisted of a fifty foot conveyor belt in a tiny room. i shoved my way in and got our bags, while continuously dissuading the would-be coolee hoping for a tip. our taxi ride into the city, a mere 11 miles away, took an hour and a half. we learned, among other things, that traffic and electricity our two of the main problems facing varanasi.

upon arriving at our hotel, ganges view, we got a glimpse of the river as promised. and after a refreshing nap (yes, nap. can you tell i wasn’t feeling 100%?) we decided to venture out for an evening boat ride. having been warned that the ganges is dirty i was expecting worse. sure, it’s a murky greenish color and there are plastic bottles and refuse floating around the banks, but the way people are bathing and splashing in the water, you’d never know. i suppose absolving souls of all sin has a way of overshadowing such earthly concerns.

our first boat ride, just before dusk, gave us a good introduction to all the ghats and temples along the river. we floated along at a leisurely pace (though it was not so leisurely for our industrious boat driver), watching as people washed clothes, prepared for ritual pujas, lit funeral pyres, and just enjoyed the river.

after that night we thought we had seen most of what the river had to offer. wrong! the following evening we took a rickshaw ride down to dasawamedh, the main temple/ghat, for a different perspective. walking down the steps to the river is a fun experience in itself, as you pass all the cows, the traditional parasols (unfortunately becoming less common), and people preparing offerings. from here we took another boat ride. we followed basically the reverse course of our previous trip so we assumed the sights would be similar (but hoped our cameras would hold out this time – the batteries of both cameras had died the night before).

we got in the boat just as the sun was beginning to go down and people were starting to gather in preparation for the big nightly pujas (prayer ceremonies). but first we continued farther down the river to manikarnika, the principal cremation ghat. our driver stopped the boat and we sat floating, transfixed. in the thirty or so minutes we sat watching we saw several bodies brought down to the river, one fire being lit, and several others continue to burn. we learned that the cremations are continuous and there are often 300 or 400 in a single day. first the body is dipped into the holy river for a final ritual bath. then it is brought out to the banks to dry. meanwhile the eldest son will shave his head, purify himself in the water and dress all in white. he brings down a torch from the eternal flame in the shiva temple which he carries as he circles the body 5 times and then lights the fire. there can be no tears, or the soul of the deceased will be disturbed (this explains why women are never present). we watched in almost silence, fascinated by both the holiness and the unfamiliarity of the whole procedure.

finally the spell was broken by sounds of puja preparations wafting down from farther down the river. we turned around and paddled a little farther down to the main ghat where we again took up anchor, so to speak. people were already beginning to gather, both on land and on water. devotees filled the steps along the river as priests lit the ritual fires and began placing offerings of food and flowers. we watched as families came down to the river to light their candles and release them. we did the same, releasing our little candle/flower bowls (made of dried leaves) and watching as they floated away. just as the sun went down and darkness began to set in, the ceremony began as worshipers started singing and clapping. some of the visitors in the boats surrounding us joined in too. again we watched transfixed by the unfamiliar ceremony, totally immersed.

eventually we were able to tear ourselves away, watching as the reflections of the lights on the water grew smaller with each oar stroke. we saw other parts of varanasi during our stay - crazy streets, busy temples - but surely the essence of varanasi is there on the ganges, the holiest city on the holy river.

color theory

well we’ve arrived in rajasthan. we had heard that this state was known for being very colorful and early on this proved to be true. even on the train approaching udaipur we could see bright colors dotting the fields and rows of vegetation. women everywhere, it seems, wear bright oranges, pinks and yellows, and men’s turbans are often swirls of orange or red. one of our first experiences of the local color was in a brief visit to the local vegetable market. women in green and orange saris seemed to match their produce, sitting before their orange tomatoes and gourds and light green guava and legumes. the mix of colors, along with the various other sounds and smells, made for a stimulating introduction to rajasthan.

we continued to encounter color everywhere we went. at one of the local memorial sites a group of women in their variegated saris and dupattas gathered for a ritual cleansing after a recent death. again on worship day at a shiva temple we witnessed groups of men and women seated chanting, their head coverings bright even in the dim, womb-like interior of the temple. as we entered jodhpur it was clear this city was to be no exception. upon entering the main market area (central for both locals and tourists, what few there are), we were immediately confronted with rows of fabrics - meter upon meter of bright fuchsias and marigolds bundled in neat stacks. further on, nearer the landmark clock tower, we saw carts full of bangles, bound together with shoelaces, their glass and gold embellishment glittering in the setting sun. then as night approached and we ascended to a rooftop restaurant we caught a glimpse at the counterpart to all these warm rich colors: the beautiful blues of the houses of jodhpur. the view from the fort the following day was even more stunning. as we walked down the hill entering the small residential streets we got a closer look at the blues, greens, and indigo that color the doors and walls of the town below.

more and more i’ve begun to notice here that color, like religion, is almost a way of life. even garbage trucks and city buses are decorated not only with deities but with bright splashes of color. women wear their brightest scarves, not only for religious rituals, but for working in the field or gathering water (which they really do carry on their heads). the whole notion reminds me of what i’ve heard about rangoli, chalk art decoration that adorns the entryways in many houses in the south. each morning women will diligently create elaborate abstract designs in colored chalk or powder on the ground, knowing that they will only be trampled and scattered by careless feet, to be recreated again the next day. there’s no special occasion required for such use of color; the beauty of the color is just a part of daily life. not a bad concept, i have to say.