Khajuraho

Khajuraho

My departure from Orchha as written in my last entry was eventful. Fortunately I ended up sitting beside Kentoro (Ken), a great Japanese traveler who has been on the road for two years. He has been everywhere, and I am happy to report that Brazil was his favorite. So much so that he learned Portuguese (pretty well) so I got a chance to speak some Portuguese for a couple of days. He also really enjoyed Brazilian music. A few minutes into the ride Chez and Claire (couple from the UK) joined us on the bus and we rode together for the 6 hours it took to Khajuraho in a very tight, very hot, very dirty bus on a very, very dirty road. We did stop on the side of the road and had some great (albeit scary - stomach) food. All was fine.

One of my concerns about Khajuraho is that I was staying at a very expensive guesthouse which Uncle Arun (from Delhi) booked for me. So, I asked Ken if he wanted to stay with me. I figured if I paid so much it would make me feel better if we shared. He agreed, and while I did not ask him for any money, he insisted in paying for all of my meals while in Khajuraho. The guest house was fine and staying together gave us a chance to talk more in-depth about his trip. The long and short of it is: the world is great, people are really racist toward the Japanese, when folks see past our nationalities they really connect and that's wonderful, and you have got to keep traveling.

That night we had dinner with Chez and Claire on a tree house type thing. It was beautiful, except for the bugs that kept kamizing into my plate.

One of the toughest annoyances of Khajuraho is that tourists are deer and sellers tigers. We were followed, and I mean followed, everywhere - rickshaw? scarves? statues? tour? tour? tour? sights? internet? Every where there were people, sometimes 5-6 at a time running after us. It is so hard to be nice, say no, be nice again, and not want to strangle someone. It is also tough to enjoy a city when you can't really walk around it in a peaceful manner. When your instinct is to duck whenever someone comes at you, and they always come at you.

In Khajuraho I realized I ended my honeymoon period of travel, and entered my resentment period. There, and in Varanasi, where I went next I hated India for its tourist pounding side. Yes, I yelled at the man who grabbed me to pull me into his store, I walked trough areas without responding to anyone, and secretly I wanted to have a way to make them all disappear. But, this, this is India. It is so much part of the intensity of being here. The endless people. They are everywhere. There are 1.1 billion people here and there is never aloneness. Yes, Anston, even I want to be TOTALLY ALONE in this place sometimes. But, instead I am accepting it slowly but surely. Adjustment is the next phase after resentment and I am feeling like I will be there in a few days. Right now, in Bodhgaya I am still in transition.

Khajuraho is famous for its erotica. There are a lot of versions of the story of why its temples have people in sexual positions to make even my hair raise. Among the versions I like the a) it was a handbook for young boys, was thought to keep the temple from being struck by lightning since the appealing to the rain g-d Indra who was a keen voyeur, and that it was actually because its creators were tantric followers - gratification of the baser instincts is one way to transcend evils and achieve enlightment. Yes, the pictures are great, and yes, I will try to get them up.

My day and half there was spent touring the temples with Ken (who left mid-day) and then renting a bike in the afternoon. On the bike I was followed by many, many teenagers who wanted to give me tours of everything. I chose one boy who told me he did want any money and he showed me around his village. It was intense to see the level of poverty and especially the demarcation still present in this very old village of the different casts. As he took me around I could witness after every few turns (not blocks) that the area was getting progressive poorer. It was said and complex and so many things. I don't know what I think about poverty anymore. It is so much bigger than I could ever imagine, and yet, people keep suffering and having lots and lots and lots of babies.

My highlight in the afternoon came when a few boys starting following me and my unoffical tour guide and ask me if I wanted a tour from the instead. After much argument I told them - no tour - but I will do a bike race back into the town. It was about 2KM. I worked hard to beat them, but I happily got 2nd place out of 4. They joy in the winner's face was priceless. I told them, no tour, but I will buy everyone sodas. So, we sat in front of the bike rental shop/supermarket/knick-knack store and talked and drank sodas. It was loads of fun.

I ended the day (sunset) at a cafe with my chai and reading my THE DISCOVERY of INDIA book which has been wonderful. I went back to my room, and after 5 power outages all over town I showered, and before going to sleep the power went out and the sky fell with strong lightning, wonderful sounds and hard rain. It cooled India for an evening.

Oh yes, before leaving Ken took out a Japanese hand cloth and offered it to me as a present. He insisted I have it. It is beautiful and it was really touching. He said he really enjoyed our meeting, I agreed. We agreed there was no reason to say good-bye and that we would see each other again.

My last morning in Khajuraho was annoying as hell with internet, CD-rom and extremelly annoying purchase problems. I basically spent the morning trying to leave unsuccessfully and yelling at everyone who crossed my path. It was a bad morning.

I caught the 3pm bus to Satna - the nearest train station to go to Varanasi - with Claire, Chez, Edyta and Magda. The latter are two fabulous women from Poland who I have been traveling with for the last 5 days. I was in Varanasi with them and now I am in Bodhgaya, the site where Sidhartha became Buddha.

Will write about Varanasi and Bodhgaya next...

"Into the Woods to Find the Giant..."
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