We, Claire and I, agreed to save our trip to Hampi for a weekend when we could spend more time. Claire is also from Indiana and happens to live a 30 minute rickshaw ride away. Claire is what I like to call the-best-thing-that-could-have-happened-to-me-in-India. This meant that we had two days before school started to fill.
The process:
1. "I found a tour, it sounds pretty cool."
2. It is an overnight bus trip to tour a few Hindu Temples.
3. "There is this thing on the itinerary at 5 am, I think we get to see a band."
4. It will be cool to be around other tourists who are new to India.
Reality:
1. We were the only tourists. That should have been the first clue that we had no idea what we were getting into. All the people were native to Bangalore and were obviously very confused about why were there.
2. The bus ride was not overnight, it ended at 1am. We filed off the bus. Massive sleepy confusion followed. Then we got in a line. Not just any line, imagine the longest line at Kings Island, subtract the coaster and multiply it by five. The metal bars that defined the rows were nearly as tall as I was. The first two rows were already filled with people laying down, sleeping. So we, along with the others from our bus, sat on the ground. Concrete, rocks, bugs, lots of dirt.
This is the conversation that followed:
Me: "Claire, is this the band?"
Claire: "I am so confused."
Me: "But you said there was going to be a band. This is a bunch of old people sleeping on the ground."
We eventually learned that we were in line for tickets for the temple at Tirupathi, the most visited temple in India. We also learned that we were not on a tour of the temples, we were on a very sacred pilgrimage.
The building in front of the line said, "Opens at 6am."
That meant that we were about to wait in line for 5 hours in order to practice a religion we knew nearly nothing about. We sat with our knees to our chests because that's all there was space for. Then our tailbones started to ache so we crossed our legs until our ankles started to bleed from the rocks and concrete. Staying awake was difficult at this point. A combination of jet lag and being sedentary. But staying awake was also very easy because there was no position that didn't mean pain for some body part.
Of the three hundred people there by 3 am, there were a few men who had perched themselves on top of the bars. I figured that might offer some relief from the scrunched up position I'd been in for a 2 hours so I climbed up and sat. Everyone got silent. Everyone was staring. People took out their phones to take pictures, people asked if I was really going to Tirupathi, where my husband was, where I was from.
I got back on the ground. More dirt, more rocks, more discomfort. Only three hours to go. We wanted water. We wanted sleep. We wanted to know what was going on.
By ten til six, people were waking up and standing. The line was condensing as hundreds more piled in, hoping to get a ticket to the temple. We were pushed up against the bars and the people around us.
The building's window finally opened. We were to be fingerprinted, photographed and finally given out ticket. Someone who was not in line stepped up to purchase a ticket. Screaming ensued. The anger of the mob was absolutely terrifying. Why isn't there any security? We could do nothing but try to remain standing as the mob shifted, getting more agitated. If they reacted so violently to someone cutting the line, how would they react when two girls who obviously don't belong on a Hindu pilgrimage try to buy tickets. The thing about these tickets is that there are a limited number. People will be turned away and we were pretty close to the front of the line.
Do we get out of the line we waited in for 5 long hours?
The sun was rising. So was the tension of the mob. Babies were crying (Can you imagine waiting the ground for 5 hours in the middle of the night with your baby?). People were shoving. And we were trying to get out.
"But you will not get to go to the temple."
"We don't think we should go because we are not Hindu." (Part of Hindu docterine is that you cannot convert to Hinduism, you are born a Hindu.)
"That is exactly why you should go."
One more hour of waiting and we were ticketed and out of line. We could breathe real air and stretch.
We stopped to "freshen up." For Claire and I, that meant trying to get the dirt off our jeans and the bugs out of our hair. For the others, it meant changing into the most beautiful saris. Thats when we were told we wouldn't be let in because we were wearing jeans (we thought we were on a tour!). After waiting in that hellish line, there was no way some denim was going to stop me from seeing the inside of a temple.
Leaving our shoes on the bus, we headed to the first temple. Another line. This one had an eagerness. People were praying, chanting. The temple was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Words cannot describe the surge of being a tiny part of something so unified. It was electric.
Trough heat, bleeding feet, exhaustion, we were trucked to over half a dozen temples. Because foreigners are princessed here, we were shuffled into private rooms where we were allowed witness sacred ceremonies. I got blessed by an elephant and hit with a monkey that fell out of a tree. I ate mysterious things.
At the last temple, we were ushered out of the long line to enter the temple and into a dark room filled with smoke and gold and a holy man. He asked Ganesh to bless us and then he anointed us with a bindi (red dot). This signifies to the gods that we are Hindu...well an honorary Hindu at least.
Lessons learned:
1. "Tour" does not mean tour.
2. Sometimes making colossal mistakes when traveling means getting to experience something that Westerners are not typically allowed to participate in. (I later learned that our bus driver had to make some pretty serious bribes for us to get into the temples).
3. In India, nothing's easy and there is always something on fire.
The process:
1. "I found a tour, it sounds pretty cool."
2. It is an overnight bus trip to tour a few Hindu Temples.
3. "There is this thing on the itinerary at 5 am, I think we get to see a band."
4. It will be cool to be around other tourists who are new to India.
Reality:
1. We were the only tourists. That should have been the first clue that we had no idea what we were getting into. All the people were native to Bangalore and were obviously very confused about why were there.
2. The bus ride was not overnight, it ended at 1am. We filed off the bus. Massive sleepy confusion followed. Then we got in a line. Not just any line, imagine the longest line at Kings Island, subtract the coaster and multiply it by five. The metal bars that defined the rows were nearly as tall as I was. The first two rows were already filled with people laying down, sleeping. So we, along with the others from our bus, sat on the ground. Concrete, rocks, bugs, lots of dirt.
This is the conversation that followed:
Me: "Claire, is this the band?"
Claire: "I am so confused."
Me: "But you said there was going to be a band. This is a bunch of old people sleeping on the ground."
We eventually learned that we were in line for tickets for the temple at Tirupathi, the most visited temple in India. We also learned that we were not on a tour of the temples, we were on a very sacred pilgrimage.
The building in front of the line said, "Opens at 6am."
That meant that we were about to wait in line for 5 hours in order to practice a religion we knew nearly nothing about. We sat with our knees to our chests because that's all there was space for. Then our tailbones started to ache so we crossed our legs until our ankles started to bleed from the rocks and concrete. Staying awake was difficult at this point. A combination of jet lag and being sedentary. But staying awake was also very easy because there was no position that didn't mean pain for some body part.
Of the three hundred people there by 3 am, there were a few men who had perched themselves on top of the bars. I figured that might offer some relief from the scrunched up position I'd been in for a 2 hours so I climbed up and sat. Everyone got silent. Everyone was staring. People took out their phones to take pictures, people asked if I was really going to Tirupathi, where my husband was, where I was from.
I got back on the ground. More dirt, more rocks, more discomfort. Only three hours to go. We wanted water. We wanted sleep. We wanted to know what was going on.
By ten til six, people were waking up and standing. The line was condensing as hundreds more piled in, hoping to get a ticket to the temple. We were pushed up against the bars and the people around us.
The building's window finally opened. We were to be fingerprinted, photographed and finally given out ticket. Someone who was not in line stepped up to purchase a ticket. Screaming ensued. The anger of the mob was absolutely terrifying. Why isn't there any security? We could do nothing but try to remain standing as the mob shifted, getting more agitated. If they reacted so violently to someone cutting the line, how would they react when two girls who obviously don't belong on a Hindu pilgrimage try to buy tickets. The thing about these tickets is that there are a limited number. People will be turned away and we were pretty close to the front of the line.
Do we get out of the line we waited in for 5 long hours?
The sun was rising. So was the tension of the mob. Babies were crying (Can you imagine waiting the ground for 5 hours in the middle of the night with your baby?). People were shoving. And we were trying to get out.
"But you will not get to go to the temple."
"We don't think we should go because we are not Hindu." (Part of Hindu docterine is that you cannot convert to Hinduism, you are born a Hindu.)
"That is exactly why you should go."
One more hour of waiting and we were ticketed and out of line. We could breathe real air and stretch.
We stopped to "freshen up." For Claire and I, that meant trying to get the dirt off our jeans and the bugs out of our hair. For the others, it meant changing into the most beautiful saris. Thats when we were told we wouldn't be let in because we were wearing jeans (we thought we were on a tour!). After waiting in that hellish line, there was no way some denim was going to stop me from seeing the inside of a temple.
Leaving our shoes on the bus, we headed to the first temple. Another line. This one had an eagerness. People were praying, chanting. The temple was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Words cannot describe the surge of being a tiny part of something so unified. It was electric.
Trough heat, bleeding feet, exhaustion, we were trucked to over half a dozen temples. Because foreigners are princessed here, we were shuffled into private rooms where we were allowed witness sacred ceremonies. I got blessed by an elephant and hit with a monkey that fell out of a tree. I ate mysterious things.
At the last temple, we were ushered out of the long line to enter the temple and into a dark room filled with smoke and gold and a holy man. He asked Ganesh to bless us and then he anointed us with a bindi (red dot). This signifies to the gods that we are Hindu...well an honorary Hindu at least.
Lessons learned:
1. "Tour" does not mean tour.
2. Sometimes making colossal mistakes when traveling means getting to experience something that Westerners are not typically allowed to participate in. (I later learned that our bus driver had to make some pretty serious bribes for us to get into the temples).
3. In India, nothing's easy and there is always something on fire.
