Varanashi, varanashi, varanashi II

Si, Varanasi te un noseque que enganxa. Hi vaig tornar el cap de setmana passat amb un grup d'estudiants japonesos. Tot i visitar la mateixa ciutat, l'experiencia va ser molt diferent. Ni millor ni pitjor, diferent i definitivament enriquidora.

Al mati del diumenge varem anar a missa a Allahabad. La majoria dels assistens eren hindis, pero hi havia alguns (pocs) occidentals. El capella parlava en angles i al instant un altre pastor traduia al hindi. Despres ens varem encaminar cap a Varanasi i al arribar varem anar a veure Sarnath, a tres quilometres al nord de la ciutat. Sarnath es desti de peregrinacio budista perque aqui es on buddha va donar el seu primer sermo (sobre el "dharma chakra" pels curiosos). Vaig entendre la seva importancia quan vaig contemplar un grup de peregrins de Sri Lanka tots vestits de blanc pregant davant del lloc on se suposa que Buddha va donar el sermo. El punt en questio consisteix en un munt de pedres cobertes per papers d'or on la gent ha anat plantant fumejants barretes d'incens.

Resumint, cristianisme al mati i budisme a la tarda, pero aixo no es tot. Anant cap al hotel varem passar per davant d'una mesquita enorme al mig de Varanasi. De fet aquell mateix mati havia descobert la petita mesquita que hi ha dins el campus a Allahabad. Ah, i m'havia oblidat de dir que aqui en comptes de sentir les campanades de l'esglesia ocasionalment sento la crida a la pregaria des de la meva habitacio , com una especie de llunyana cantarella.

L'endema al mati varem fer un vol amb barca pel Ganges (ganga pels indis). Molt relaxant. Varem complir amb la tradicio i varem oferir l'espelma al riu tot demanant un desig. Ganga tambe ens va ensenya la seva cara menys agradable. Tot i aixo, "Ganga is the lifeline of indian culture" (Ganga es el salvavides de la cultura india). Despres d'un esmorzar de reis, o de sultans, com volgueu, varem anar a visitar un temple hindu. No podia ser menys. Imatges de Ganesha, Shiva, Vishnu i mandales al sostre pero en general no massa coloraines. Almenys al interior, l'exterior del temple es rosa. I be, es veritat que les escultures del interior eren tot menys discretes, daurades i cobertes de collarets de flors. Es podien llegir cites de les escriptures sagrades hindus, a vegades traduides.

La India es qualsevol cosa mes homogenea. Es impossible generalitzar en res, i menys en la fe. Crec que vaig llegir en alguna banda que viatjar serveix, entre altres coses, per superar els prejudicis i deixar enrera les preconcepcions. Viatjar es, com a minim, obrir la ment.

Ofrena i desig
Offering and wish
09/07, Varanasi, India

La veu de Ganga
Ganga's voice
09/07, Varanasi, India

Yes, Varanasi has something that grips you. I went there last weekend with a group of japanese students. Although I visited the same city, this second experience was very different. Not better or worse, just different, and definitely worth it.

On Sunday morning we went to church in Allahabad. Most of the people there were Indian, but I could see some westerns also. The priest talked in English and his word were translated into Hindi by a a second pastor next him. After that we went to Varanasi. When we arrived we went to Sarnath, located three kilometers north. Sarnath is a popular destination for Buddhist pilgrims because Buddha pronounced his first sermon here. I understood the importance of this place when I saw a group of pilgrims from Sri Lanka dressed in white praying in front of the place were it is said that Buddha talked. This point was mainly a group of stones covered with shiny golden papers where people had placed smoky incense sticks.

In brief, christianism in the morning and Buddhism in the afternoon. But that was not all. While going to the hotel I had the chance to see a huge mosque from the bus. Actually that same morning I discovered the small mosque in Allahabad's campus. An also, I forgot to say that here instead of the church bells I sometimes hear a voice like a distant tune announcing the praying time.

Next morning we made a boat trip in the Ganges (ganga for the Indians). Very relaxing. We followed the traditions and offered a candle to the river and made a wish. But Ganga sometimes shows his unpleasant face. Anyway, "Ganga is the lifeline of Indian culture". After a luxurious breakfast we visited a Hindu temple. It couldn't be any other way. Images of Ganesha, Shiva, Vishnu and mandalas on the ceiling but not so colorful in general. At least when it comes to the interiors, because the exterior of the temple was mostly pink. And also it must be said that the statues inside couldn't be called discrete: golden and covered with flower necklaces. Quotes from the sacred Hindu scriptures could be read all over the walls, sometimes translated.

India is not that's for sure, especially when it comes to faith. I read somewhere that traveling can make us overcome prejudices and leave preconceptions behind. Traveling is opening your mind, at least.

Dixit: "Are you with them?"

Varanashi, varanashi, varanashi I

Vaig anar a Varanasi (o Benares pels nostalgics) fa dues setmanes amb en Takaya, un amic japones gracies a qui estic aqui a Allahabad. Nomes son tres hores de trajecte per carretera, perfecte per una escapada de cap de setmana. Varem agafar un bus a l'estacio de Civil Lines i dues hores i mitja mes tard estavem negociant el preu de l'autorickshaw davant l'estacio de tren de Varanasi.

De sobte haviem canviat l'ambient tranquil i provincia d'Allahabad pel bullicios i asfixiant Varanasi. Asfixiant no nomes per la temperatura i la humitat, sino sobretot pel personal huma. Nomes baixar del bus ens varem topar amb una marabunta de rickshaw wallahs que ens oferien els seus serveis a dreta i esquerra. Despres al chowk (barri vell) vaig descobrir que aixo nomes era l'aperitiu. Caminant pels carrerons continuament ens abordaven venedors, captaires, xerraires, guies, massatgistes, barquers, sadhus, mistics... Tots ens intentaven vendre alguna cosa: travesies pel Ganges, massatges, visites per "nomes mirar" a la botiga de seda de turno, bindis, pintures, espelmes per llancar al ganga, postals plastificades (la ultima novetat en postals!!!), pulseres... de tot i mes.

Tot i aixo, l'ambient em va encantar. Varem trobar un hostalillo forca decent amb una terrassa fantastica. Des d'alla varem poder observar una altra cara de la ciutat, la vida als terrats. Mentres esperavem la posta de sol el cel es va anar omplint d'estels. No vaig aconseguir fer una foto que plasmes el moment. A baix, les veines petant la xerrada de balco en balco, els nens jugant a criket o fent volar els estels i les mones grimpant de barana a balco, reines i senyores d'aquesta part alta de la ciutat. I a dalt, mentrestant, la llum minvant entre puntets dansaires i bandades de coloms volant ordenadament a les ordres del domador. A vegades nomes cal canviar el punt de vista.

Si, un es posa forca mistic a Varanasi. pero tampoc es pot escapar de la realitat, i la realitat India conte una bona quantitat de vaques. I els carrerons del chowk tambe. Es com estar al barri gotic de Barcelona, amb mes bruticia i rumiants. L'endema, mentre passejavem unes vaques van decidir que volien fer una mica de exercici i es van posat a correr. Tothom s'anava apartant com podia, arrambant-se a les parets o amagant-se darrera les cantonades. Em va recordar als San Fermines.

Quantes cares te Varanasi?

La part alta al capvespre
The high place at dusk

09/07, Varanasi, India

La xafardera i el voyeur
The gossipy and the voyeur

09/07, Varanasi, India

I went to Varanasi (or Benares for the nostalgics) two weeks ago with Takaya, a japanese friend thanks to whom I am here in Allahabad. It's only three hours away from here, perfect for a weekend trip. We took a bus from Civil Lines bus station and two and a half hours later we were negotiating the price of the autorickshaw in front of Varanasi train station.

Suddenly we switched the quiet and still Allahabad for bustling and suffocating Varanasi. Suffocating not only because of the temperature and humidity, but also because of the people. Just a second after getting off from the bus we came across a crowd of rickshaw wallahs who kept offering us a ride non-stop. Later in the chowk I found out that was just the beginning. While walking its streets we were approached by beggars, salesmen, chatterboxes, boatmen, guides, masseurs, sadhus, mystics... All them were trying to sell something: boat trips in the Ganges, massages, "just looking" visits to their silk factory, bindis, paints, candles to be thrown in the river, plastic postcards (last novelty from a kind sadhu), bracelets... anything you want.

On the other hand, I loved the atmosphere. We found a small hostel pretty decent with a great terrace. From there we had the chance to see the other face of the city, life in the flat roofs. While we where waiting for the sun to set kites started to fill the sky. I couldn't take a picture capturing the moment. Below, neighbors chatting from one balcony to another, kids playing cricket or flying kites and monkeys leaping here and there. While above the light kept diminishing between dancing dots and flocks of pigeons guided by the tamer. Sometimes it's only about changing the point of view.

Yes, one can get pretty "cosmic" in Varanasi. But we cannot escape from reality, and indian real life is full of cows. And so do the chowk alleys. It's like being in Barcelona's barri gotic, with more filth and ruminants. The day after, while we were taking a walk some cows decided to do some exercise and started running. Everybody kept moving out of the way, moving closer to the walls or hiding in corners. It reminded me of the San Fermines.

How many faces does Varanasi have?

Dixit: "Please come to my uncle's silk factory. "Miru dake".... Are you japanese?"

Matines

A vegades acompanyo als meus nens al camp a primera hora del mati. A les 6 i quart ja estan al camp seguint les directrius del "farm manager", un homenet fort i energic anomenat Santosh. Es l'hora de plantar, transplantar, treure males herbes, llaurar, abonar, sembrar... Tot i la mandra que fa enfilar-se al tractor a aquestes hores intempestives, el cert es que es la millor hora per treballar la terra. La temperatura es agradable, potser fins i tot fa fresqueta i es pot treballar sense acabar desfet en un bassal salat.

Darrerament no hi he anat tant perque m'he hagut de quedar fent feina a l'oficina, estava massa cansada o senzillament em feia mandra. M'he proposat tornar-hi a partir de dema. M'agrada i a mes a mes m'ofereix oportunitats fotografiques impagables. Els pobres ja s'han acostumat a la paparazzi que tenen per profe d'angles.

Un secret? Disfruto com una nena caminant descalca pel fang, sentint la terra humida contra la meva pell i el xof-xof-xof de cada passa. Tambe es veritat que mes val aparcar les sandalies si no vols passejar-te amb quilos i quilos enganxats a la sola.

De matines

In the early morning

08/07, Allahabad, India

Sometimes I join my students early in the morning in their work in the field. At quarter past 6 they are already there following the instructions of the farm manager, a small and strong man called Santosh. It's time to plant, transplant, weed, spread seeds, cut grass... You have to fight against lazyness to get on the tractor so early in the morning, but it is really the best time of the day to work the soil. The temperature is nice, maybe even cool and one can work without melting.

Lately I have missed it because I had to work in the office, I was too tired or simply lazy. I have the intention to start going again from tomorrow. I like it and it gives me the great photo opportunities. The poor guys must be tired of the paparazzi they have as an english teacher.

A secret? I enjoy walking barefoot on the mud, feeling the wet soil against my skin and the funny xof-xof-xof of my feet. You better take of your sandals if you don't want to carry kilos and kilos stick to your sole.

Dixit: "Gochisoosama"

Bona nit

La finestra de la meva habitacio esta protegida per una tela mosquitera. I sort que en tinc! Cada nit em trobo algun convidat inesperat enganxat a la tela. Sovint es tracta de llangardaixos o insectes mes grans com aquest que veieu a la foto. Amenaca tempesta, pero el bitxo esta de lo mes comode.

Les nits a Allahabad son caluroses. Dormo sota mosquitera i amb el ventilador donant voltes non-stop. Tot i aixi, a vegades costa adormir-se. Somio. Molt mes que a casa. Em pasa sovint quan dormo en un lloc estrany. No he buscat explicacions freudianes. Us les deixo a vosaltres.

Ens veiem en els meus somnis!

L'espia
The spy
08/07, Allahabad, India

My room's window is protected with an anti-mosquito net. I am lucky to have it! Every night I find an unexpected guest waiting for my return sticked on it. Usually it is a lizard or other insects like the one you can see in the picture. The sky is pretty cloudy, seems about to rain, but the bug likes the place.

Allahabad nights are warm. I sleep under the mosquito net, with the fan turning non-stop. Nevertheless, sometimes I find it hard to get asleep. I dream. Much more than at home. It happens to me a lot whenever I am not sleeping in a familiar place. I didn't look for Freudian explanations. I'll let them for you.

See you in my dreams!

Dixit: "small is beautiful"

(cycling) Jin riki sha

El cap de setmana passat vaig anar per segona vegada en rickshaw. En un ciclo-rickshaw, dels que son conduits per homes a cop de pedal. Vaig voler anar al centre a comprar-me roba. Basicament el que buscava era una camisa ample, un shawal que en diuen aqui. Les noies que veig pel campus acostumen a vestir aquest shawal, pantalons amples o estrets tipus pitillo (la ultima moda es veu) i un mocador al col, tot ben enconjuntat. Es el que porten la majoria de noies solteres, mentre que les casades porten el tradicional sari.

Samir i Keiko em van deixar en un dels carrers principals del Chowk (el barri vell) tot animant-me amb "ganbatte"! Despres de pujar i baixar el carrer unes tres o quatre vegades vaig aconseguir fer les meves compres (un shawal i un parell de mocadors). Mission cumplida. Vaig girar-me tota decidida cap al rickshaw que m'atossigava en aquell moment: "Do you know Allahabad Agricultural Institute?". Cara estupefacta, esmaperduda, en bavia, cap senyal de comprensio. Pot ser la meva pronunciacio no era prou india. Tres o quatre wallahs mes tard en vaig trobar un disposat a tornar-me a casa.

Era el meu primer viatge en rickshaw en soledat. Enfilada alla dalt et passa fregant tota la marea humana i animal del carrer. Sembla que pots acariciar els cabells del nen que et passa corrents pel costat si vols... El vehicle en si avanca lentament, seguint la cadencia de les cames del wallah i la fluidesa del transit. Es mes aviat nyigui-nyogui, amb peces que semblen a punt de caure i juntes que grinyolen aqui i alla. La majoria dels ricksaw estan pintats de coloraines, no en plan corporatiu com els taxis, si no al estil indi. A la part del darrere hi pinten senefes que enmarquen imatges de deus, animals, paisatges... M'han explicat que els motius varien segons la regio.

Us haig de confessar que vaig disfrutar. Em va encantar poder observar els carrers d'Allahabad a un ritme mes huma (mai millor dit) i a tant poca distancia. Malgrat tot, em va deixar un regust agredolc. No em va acabar d'agradar tenir aquell home pedalant i suant per portar els meus kilos al campus. Aquest home es guanya la vida amb aixo, es clar, pero personalment (em podeu dir bleda i amb rao) em feia patir. I es que no veuras un ricksaw wallah amb un kilo de mes... Potser es que ser portada d'aquesta manera em fa sentir encara mes madam.

Segurament tornare a necessitar els serveis d'un rickshaw wallah, pero intentare agafar-lo com menys vegades millor. Pero us recomano plenament l'experiencia! I sobretot, regategeu!!!


Last weekend I had my second rickshaw ride. It was a cyclo-rickshaw, those driven by a man cycling (pretty obvious, ne?). I went to the old center to do some shopping. I was looking for a shawal, similar to a wide shirt. The girls around the campus usually wear it, together with wide or tight trousers and a scarf, all matching. Single woman wear this, while married ones stick to the traditional sari.

Samir and Keiko droped me in one of the streets of the Chowk (old town) while encouraging me with "Ganbatte!". After going up and down the street three or four times I managed to buy some things (a shawal and a pair of handkerchiefs). Mission accomplished. Then I turned to the rickshaw which was harassing me in that moment: "Do you know Allahabad Agricultural Institute?". There was no sign of understanding in his face. Maybe my pronunciation was not enough indian. Three or four wallahs later I found one willing to take me back home.

It was my first rickshaw trip alone. When you are up there you can feel the animal and human environment of the street surrounding you. You feel like you can caress the child running by near you if you want to... The vehicle moves forward slowly, following the movements of the wallah's legs and the fluidity of traffic. It's not very stable, with parts that look like their are going to fall at any moment, everything creaking here and there. Most of them are colorfully painted, not in a corporative way like taxis, but in a more indian style. In the back part they draw ornaments framing images of gods, animals or sceneries... They told me that the paintings are different in each state.

I must confess I had fun. I enjoyed having the chance to observe Allahabad streets in a more human rythm and such a close distance. On the other hand, I was not completelly happy with it. I didn't like having a man cycling and sweating to take my kilos to the campus. The man earns his living doing that, of course, but personally (maybe I am too sensitive or) I couldn't help suffering for him. You won't see a fat rickshaw wallah... Maybe being carried this way makes me feel even more madam...

Us haig de confessar que vaig disfrutar. Em va encantar poder observar els carrers d'Allahabad a un ritme mes huma (mai millor dit) i a tant poca distancia. Malgrat tot, em va deixar un regust agredolc. No em va acabar d'agradar tenir aquell home pedalant i suant per portar els meus kilos al campus. Aquest home es guanya la vida amb aixo, es clar, pero personalment (em podeu dir bleda i amb rao) em feia patir. I es que no veuras un ricksaw wallah amb un kilo de mes... Potser es que ser portada d'aquesta manera em fa sentir encara mes madam.

Probably I am going to need another ride in a rickshaw, but I will try to use it as few times as possible. But I fully recommend the experience! And above all, bargain!!!

Dixit: "Sir you are finished?"

La llei de la selva / the law of the jungle

Si a la selva el lleo es el rei, als carrers de la India la vaca es la reina.

Les carreteres del subcontinent son un caos. No m'estranya, amb la diversitat de vehicles que hi circulen. Aixo es el que un es troba nomes posar un peu al carrer: vaques, cabres, gossos, cotxes de cavalls, ricksaws (o ciclo-ricksaws), tempos, bicicletes, motocicletes, cotxes, camions.... ah, i tambe vianants que a vegades s'atreveixen a creuar la carretera. Condueixen per l'esquerra, com al Regne Unit (com no) o Japo.

La regla numero 1 es respectar les divinitats. O sigui, les vaques. Les vaques sempre tenen prioritat. Es pot fer servir el claxon per foragitar-les pero no se'ls pot tocar un sol pel. Aqui matar una vaca es tant greu com matar una persona. El problema es la quantitat. N'hi ha moltissimes d'abandonades, campant per tot arreu menjant el que poden i dormint on els dona la real gana. Aixo passa sobretot a la ciutat, al camp acostumen a anar en ramats conduides per un pastor o ben lligadetes al costat de les chaboles.

En realitat hi ha vaques per tot arreu: a les voreres, al mig de les rotondes, als parcs (si es que es pot dir aixi), als camps, als carrers, carrerons i avingudes. Una de les primeres coses que vaig veure a Delhi al arribar va ser un grup d'elles dormint tranquilament en un carrer del centre en plena nit. Nomes imagineu-vos els fars iluminant de cop i volta els rumiants enmig de la foscor...

La regla numero 2: Per adelantar, tocar el claxon fins a trencar-se els dits

Les carreteres indies son un festival. Els camions semblen carrosses de reis, pintats de mil colors, amb lletres i brillants enganxats. A vegades porten un triangle reflectant a la part del davant! A mes a mes, constantment se sent algu pitant. No es que es passin el dia queixant-se o estiguin enfadats, es que no tothom te retrovisor. Aleshores el que fan es fer-se sentir per avisar al conductor del cotxe del davant quan volen adelantar.

A la practica aixo vol dir bocinassos constants i vehicles adelantant-se cada pocs metres. Camions adelantant bicis, bicis adelantant peatons, ricksaws pitant per esquivar vaques, cotxes adelantant ricksaws.... I a les carreteres rai, son prou amples. Als carrers de la ciutat es encara mes emocionant, millor que Port Aventura. Ara, si patiu del cor no us recomano conduir per la India. S'ha de tenir mes que sang freda.

La reina de la selva
The queen of the jungle
Allahabad, India, 08/07

Si us plau, toqueu el claxon si us plau
Horn please
Allahabad, India, 08/07

If lion is the king of the jungle, then cow is the queen in the streets of India. In the subcontinent the roads are chaotic. It's not surprising, there are many different vehicles running around. If you go out and start walking in the street you will find: cows, goats, dogs, carriages driven by horses, ricksaws (also known as ciclo-ricksaws), tempos, bicycles, motorcycles, cars, trucks... and also pedestrians who dare to cross the road. They drive on the left, just like in the UK and Japan.
Rule number 1: Show respect to divinities.

In other words, cows. Cows always have priority. You can blow your horn to scare them away, but you can't touch them. Here killing a cow is nearly as bad as killing a person The problem is quantity. There are a lot of stray cows, wandering around everywhere eating what they can and sleeping wherever they want. But this happens mostly in the city, in rural areas cows are usually driven by a shepperd or either well tied near the shack.

In fact they are everywhere: in the pavements, roundabouts, parks, fields, roads, streets, lanes and avenues. One of the first things I saw when I got to Delhi was a group of cows quietly sleeping in the city center in the middle of the night. Just try to imagine the headlights lighting up the ruminants in the darkness...

Rule number 2: Blow your horn until you break your fingers if you want to overtake another car.

Indian roads are like a festival. Trucks look like floats, colorfully painted, with big letters and shiny things sticked to them. Sometimes they also have fluorescent red triangles in the front. Furthermore, there is always someone using the horn. They are not complaining or angry, it's just that not everybody has a rear-view mirror. What they do is make noise to be heard to warn the car below.

In practical terms this means non stopping honks and vehicles overtaking one another each few meters. Trucks overtaking bicycles, bicycles brush passing pedestrians, ricksaws blowing the horn to dodge cows, cars overtaking pedestrians... But in the road is not so bad, they are quite wide. In the city streets it's even more exciting, better than a funfair. But I won't recommend you to drive in India if your heart is weak.

Paniiii

"Pani" vol dir aigua. Un liquid precios es miri per on es miri. Aqui n'hi ha per tot arreu, i mes ara que estem en temporada de plujes. Als camps d'arros verds sobre un mar brillant i lluminos, als bassals que deixen les rodes dels camions als camins i a les voreres, als pous d'on pujen galledes als poblets del camp... Pero no tota es apte per beure. No nosaltres almenys, pobres madams i sirs d'estomac delicat.

L'aigua es un dels temes que preocupaven mes abans de venir. "Vigila amb l'aigua!" em deien. "Sobretot beu-la embotellada". Nosaltres aqui tenim un esterilitzador d'aigua. Un trasto que va conectat a la tuberia i ens proporciona aigua "segura". Sempre hi ha algu que s'encarrega d'omplir les ampolles (7 o 8) que tenim normalment en stock a la nevera.Pero... que fan els que no tenen esterilitzador? La majoria de turistes funcionen a base d'aigua embotellada. La venen a tot arreu a les zones turistiques. Tambe es pot bullir-la i deixar-la refredar. Hi ha altres metodes pero de moment encara no he hagut de recorrer a cap d'ells. La gran majoria dels indis beu aigua sense esterilitzar.

Pel que fa a altres aigues, els indis no consumeixen alchohol. Costa trobar una llauna de cervesa. Als chiringuitos i restaurants no en venen perque per servir alchohol s'ha de pagar un impost especial. A mes a mes, beure no esta massa ben vist.

La xarxa de ferrocaril ven la seva propia marca d'aigua
The railway company has it's own water brand
Allahabad, India, 08/07

"Pani" means water. It's really a precious liquid. Here you can find it everywhere, specially now that we are in the middle of the wet season. In the rice fields over a shiny and brilliant sea, in the puddles made by the trucks in roads and pavements, in the wells where people take water from in the villages... But not all is drinkable. Or at least for us, poor madams and sirs with sensible stomachs.

Before I came, water was one of the issues that mostly worried. "Be careful with water" they would tell me. "Be sure to drink it bottled". Here we have an sterilizer. A machine that's connected to the pipe and gives us "safe" water. There is always someone in charge of filling the bottles (7 or 8) that we keep in the refrigerator.But... what about those who don't have an sterilizer? Most tourists buy bottled water. They sell it everywhere in touristic places. You also can boil it and let it cool down. There are other methods but I haven't used any of them so far. The vast majority of Indians drink non-sterilized water, of course.

Talking about other waters, indian people don't drink. A can of beer it's hard to find. In restaurans and food stands you cannot buy it because you must pay an special tax in order to sell alcohol. Plus, drinking is frowned upon.