Inderlok hotel. Let’s just say, you get what you pay for. The entire tour, including the night at the hotel and the driver for the almost 10-hour round trip was less than $40. I was required to pay an extra $14 to have a single room, but still. You do the math.
View from the hotel
The construction on the first floor, having no food available, the single towel that did not look very clean, the hot-water-less shower (though the faucet had hot water), the complete lack of a trash, the A/C not working (according to the others; I just used the fan), the ambiguous meaning of the bucket, and the little critter I found under my pillow reminded me a little of the Most Exotic Marigold Hotel. But the chairs were very nice, the closet had a cool wood smell, the door locked, and there was a balcony. Also, there was random fancy furniture scattered in the most unlikely of locations.
The luxury rooftop dining area?
Ravi, our trusty translator, told everyone the previous night that the bus was leaving at 7am (and that, if necessary, he would knock on people’s doors to wake them up.) Come 6:45am, he announced that several of the group were going to walk to the Ganges for a dip. I was assured the river was quite close. Come 7:15, the three of us were more than ready to go, but no one was there, not even the driver. I agreed to hold down the fort for a bit. The bit turned into over 30 minutes. (In the meantime, I drank chai – one beverage available – and chatted with the pleasant clerk who told me that there had been elephant stampedes in Rishikesh in the past.)
Brij Fancy Store
“The Smartest Way to Sparkle Yourself”
(Yep, your guess is as good as mine)
The driver returned, so I stashed our luggage in the van and walked out to look for everyone. I ran into them walking back. Everyone but Rita. Feeling like I missed out on seeing the Ganges again and wanting to make sure we had Rita, I walked out to the river (indeed, only a five minute walk down the street) with Ricardo. No Rita. But it felt like I was in a Jesus movie.
There was a curvy path that led out to the sandy bank of the Ganges, where people in colorful clothing were peacefully bathing on this holy day of Kumbh Mela. So devotional they were, that they did not even stare much. The temple was very humble. The path was lined every several paces, on both sides, with beggars sitting silently. As I walked down the beggar-lined path, it occurred to me how odd it would be to just choose one person to give money to. Why choose that one over this one? Would the rest crowd you?
As I walked back, I saw a few people going down the line of beggars, one by one, coins gathered in their skirts/robes, giving to each one. Ah. That would be the only way to do it, I suppose. I started walking quickly, worried now that everyone was waiting on me. But they weren’t. In fact, the ones who had told us the 7am leaving time were not even packed and it was nearing 8am. I told them we were late (they disagreed) and to please hurry as everyone was waiting for them. (Rita had made it back by now.) I at least scored a hard-boiled egg out of the transaction. And Shaji had given me a banana he bought at a roadside fruit stand. Between that and the roti (bread) I had saved from last night’s dinner, that was my breakfast. I appreciated that as very little was open on Sunday morning.
After quite a lot of hanging out in front of the hotel, they finally came downstairs and we departed toward the main temple (I assume) in Rishikesh and parked the van. We had an additional guide join us who led us along this very pleasant path along the river. Rishikesh is right at the foot of the Himalayas and it was nice to see some mountains again after so long.
River walk in Rishikesh
One of the first things us white folk noticed was… other white folk! Unlike Haridwar or the area of Rishikesh where we were staying, there were plenty of foreigners here, mostly women. I gave out some chocolates to the first cute kid and the inevitable second cute kid. Then we hopped on a prepaid boat across the river toward the other side. Today, the 10th, was a double holy day. Not only was it the final day of Kumbh Mela, it also was Maha Shivaratri, the celebration of Shiva’s wedding anniversary. Despite that, Rishikesh did not seem terribly crowded. Then again, I haven’t seen it on a regular day.
(You can see the bridge across the Ganges from here.)
On the other side, we were led through a very nice neighborhood with many ashrams in it. Ah, that explains all the foreign women! (Either that or they all had attended the International Yoga Festival I saw posters for everywhere.) I enjoyed walking through the ashram area. I liked that the sign in the temple said “No donations” and that everyone who wanted to could live here, free of charge, and learn the meditative ways. There were 2,500 rooms and counting, our guide told us. It reminded me of Eat, Pray, Love (a significant portion of which happens within an ashram.) It almost looked familiar as if they filmed the movie here with the water tower and everything. It was neat to see the little room doors facing out to beautiful gardens and imagine what it was like to live here.
Geeta Bhawan and other ashrams at Rishikesh
Then the guide lost all my respect…
Even though he had been decent until then – and even bought me a chai at a little stall in the ashram neighborhood and showed us a neat, tiny temple – he also led us to a bead shop. I peeked in and some guy was giving a presentation. The guide insisted I enter and sit down to listen. I was like, no. I have little patience for that kind of stuff and assumed the others felt the same but had been goaded. So Peter, Chris, and I who had managed to escape the presentation, hung out in the alley instead, waiting. And waiting. I felt bad for them. I peeked in again and it looked like there were actual purchases going on. Really? The purchases were taking quite a while, so I went in and asked him to hurry. My new favorite word in Hindi: Challo! Let’s go!
If I had been alone, I might have just waited it out. But sheesh, the three of us had already spent almost an hour that morning waiting for them. I went back in the bead shop several times, increasingly annoyed that not only did we have to put up with the tourist shop crap, but that we now had to wait while someone else gave into it. I was pissy, no doubt about it. Eventually, I asked them if we could just meet them at the van later. They agreed – wish I had thought of that earlier! – and wanted the guide to take us back for some reason. Rita joined us. Ricardo was worried that she would slow us down, but she was actually pretty spritely for an older woman.
Linger, and you shall be in strangers’ photographs
Near the above statue, us white tourists were very popular. Chris and Peter were in several peoples’ photographs. As was I. It seemed like each guy wanted to separately pose with me and have his photo taken. This is not the first time this has happened in India and I wonder how my photo is being used in these situations. We did not get a chance to see the above silver statue up close, but I was not saying no when someone said Challo! to me.
The Ram Jhula iron bridge
(that some people on our tour were too wimpy to go on)
View from Ram Jhula
On the other side now, following the guide who regularly clapped his hands twice and gestured to get our attention, we all agreed that we were hungry. And, with the notable exception of the rest stop the first morning, we had not been offered any opportunities for food. When the guide reached the boat dock and wanted us to either wait for the other two (ha!) or head back to the van down the same river walk (where we’d still be waiting), we disagreed. We wanted to get a bite to eat and return through the market. The guide was extremely insistent. Lots of gesturing and clapping. We would have turned our backs on him…
Except Rita had disappeared again.
She could not have been far as we had seen her at the boat dock. Ricardo and I spent a little while looking and calling her name, then gave up, thinking that either the guide would find her, she would meet the other two, or she would find her way back. After all, we were not hard to find and for her to purposely separate from the guide meant that she must have headed back on her own. The persistent guide, who I was only being minimally civil to given his bead detour, desperately wanted us to continue with him. When we told him we were going to eat lunch, he said we would get lunch on our way back in Haridwar. We did not believe him. Why would he know? Then he said we needed to be back at the van at 11am and it was quarter till. I said, “fine” wondering why he knew this mysterious ‘schedule’ that we were on but never had been told about. Then we just turned away, walked back up to the market and up to Flavors restaurant.
Delicious food. Best table ever. We could overlook the boat dock (on the off chance Rita did show) while we basked in the sunshine. The four of us had a lovely lunch and we got to know Ricardo better while finally having a real meal on our own terms. Ricardo confessed that he was relieved we were on the tour. He said he was afraid he would be left behind (and even pleaded with me the previous night to not let them leave without him), but knew they wouldn’t forget us loud, white tourists. He said he thought it was meant to be, that we were all there on that tour to help each other. I agreed!
View of the Ganges from Flavors; a Shopping Cow
We were a little ways through lunch when we actually saw the other two get off the boat and walk up toward the market in our general direction. We waved to them. They looked up at us and gestured to their watches as if we were late. I seriously laughed out loud.
They took off up the market, shopping, and we enjoyed our meal. As we were finishing lunch, the guide returned and found us, as we were easy to spot. We did not hurry, but we let him lead us back to the van. He seemed so concerned that it was 11:40 now and we were supposed to be back at the van at 11:00.
Mixed loyalties?
Never mind that we had gotten over an hour late start. Never mind that the driver had never once mentioned a schedule, time, or itinerary to us. Although I had to admit (once I got over the relief that Rita was, in fact, at the van) it was refreshing being able to arrive and actually have everyone already gathered there, ready to go. No more dilly dally. Challo, challo!
After an overly long stop near Haridwar (where Ravi and Shaji walked up the street to pick up beer and food), we headed back to Delhi. The drinkers were getting drunker, the Shiva chanting CD that had been playing on repeat had been replaced by them (bickering like an old married couple) fiddling with the radio at various volumes. They found Casey Kasum’s American Top 40 and we listened for a bit, but it did not seem right. When Cat Stevens’ Wild World came in at number 33, I knew we were in the wrong decade and then some. Exactly 130km from Delhi, we suddenly pulled off the road. “Yep, I heard that pop,” Chris said.
This actually happened
We happened to pull off right next to a tire shack. Either amazingly serendipitous… or not. How did I know that we were 130km away from Delhi at that moment, you ask?
The jack collapsed the first time. The second time seemed to be working, but when the wheel was off, I seriously stepped back and kept my phone at the ready to call an ambulance in case the van tipped over on someone. There was some drunken confusion and differing approaches to the problem of a getting a full tire back on when it was too tall to fit. Digging vs. Deflating. Almost all the guys took part in it at one point or another. Though the driver mostly kept back.
The convenient (?) tire shack and the old tire
Eventually, an hour and fifteen minutes later (which included a cup of tea for everyone), we had a new tire on and headed back. Shaji had earlier suggested a tip for the driver that I agreed to, but then I found out that he had given the driver 1000 rupees ($20) to pay for the tire. I gave Shaji 500 and called it even. The driver was kind enough to drop us off in Ghaziabad to save time, though did not hear us when we told him where to turn to get us a bit closer. We squeezed into an auto (and Shaji insisted on paying the 100 rupees fare) and made it back to the most luxurious hot shower ever.
And so our tour had started and ended with a flat tire.