Varanasi: The City of Burning, Bathing, and Learning*

So after a fabulous Thanksgiving dinner at our apartment with some American friends (see picture above from the potluck eating frenzy), we chose to fly to Varanasi for our three day weekend along with Waciuma.

Simply put, Varanasi is an incredible city. It is one of the oldest continually inhabited city in the world and throughout the north bank of the Ganges river, Hindus ritually bath in the holy waters, pray to the river, light small candles on leaves to float out as prayers, sing and chant prayers, cremate their loved ones, wash their laundry, feed the cows, wash their water buffaloes, play cricket, sell flowers, sell flutes, visit with the holy men and priests who roam the river steps (and avoid a few fakers that pose for the delight of the tourists) ... well, you get the idea.

It is an amazingly fascinating place. Visiting there you feel the pulse of what it means to be Hindu. This is most particularly felt at the Burning Ghat area where families bring their loved ones to move on to the next life. We watched the various steps of the process many times (as the entire process takes around 4 hours) but each time we were in awe and silence. I won't go into too much detail, but suffice it to say, we both came away from the experience with no sense of shock and gore but with an indescribable feeling of peace and understanding.

We took three boat rides at varying times of the day to get the most out of the different colors and shades that the sun brings. Pre-dawn and sunrise for the lighter tones, the 'magic hour' after sunrise for brighter colors, and at night witness the fires from the river worship ceremony and cremation areas. It was truly magical to float down the river being rowed by a smiling local.

As you can see, it will never really be possible to convey the emotions from this trip but if you've traveled to some intense places and are open for anything, give this place a try.

*Thanks to Ellen Lindgren for the inspiration behind this title

November Concert Season

My goal coming back from Diwali Break was to get out more. I started by making sure that I had "Time Out: Mumbai," the same company around the world that puts together all of the entertainment options into one convenient place. It's a great resource to figure what to do in this amazingly large city.

So I got it, found some shows and have had a great time. Here now at the end of the month, I've seen some really diverse offerings.

- a broadway musical review complete with medleys from the Little Mermaid, West Side Story and Mamma Mia at our local outdoor seaside amphitheater (http://celebratebandra.net/)

- "August: Osage County" with Greg, Twyla, Marc, Toni, and Rachel: the same play that one a Tony a few years back but re-cast here in India and set in Goa (http://www.ncpamumbai.com/event/august-osage-county)

- a mix mash of Bollywood pop hits from the 60's and 70's (http://celebratebandra.net/)

- a German Jazz Ensemble combining with an Indian Classical music academy to produce a hybrid jazz/Indian concert (click here for details)

It's been a great month for entertainment around here and I'm excited for more!

Growing up

I've sat down several times since my grandfather passed away at the end of August to write about the experience, but, haven't been able to focus my thoughts. Nothing I could write could even come close to expressing the memories and feelings of love or just how wonderful this man was. The whole experience shook me to the core. And really, I just missed my grandpa too much. It's still impossible to write about everything but, at least this little helps me get out some of it.

When we left in August to return to India, I knew that it was probably the last time I would see him. Having been gone for the summer too, I didn't have much time to get used to the idea of his health beginning to fail. As he left our house, I started bawling my eyes out. He held me for a long time on our front porch, said how much he loved me, and then, he said something that reminded me of just how amazing he was. "I love you doll..... don't worry...... I'll be waiting for you". I can't even begin to explain how strong his faith was, or, his unconditional love for his family.

We blog mostly about all the amazing things that we get to experience while living in India, and, for the most part, it is a fantastically amazing experience (including the support from the school and community through the whole ordeal). And, we both had talked about the consequences and negative possibilities of us being abroad before coming. But, all of a sudden I felt just how far away we really are.

The long trip home alone, as well as the entire week spent with beloved family, a million memories and feelings, mostly from childhood flooded my senses-- especially walking through his house, grandma and grandpa's house, which I grew up just a few blocks away from and spent time there weekly. The house we spent every single Christmas Eve and morning in with my cousins and aunt and uncle, raking and jumping in leaf piles or playing croquet in the backyard, hearing grandpa hum as he ate his dinner (and how he would never let any of us do the dishes), or how he would stand on the front porch no matter what time of year, to wave and watch us as we pulled away.

He always called me "doll". I loved seeing him and getting a hug and a kiss on Sundays in between the 11 and 12 o'clock services in his usual usher spot at church. He had the most heartfelt and joyful laugh, and he loved to laugh with all of us (proved through the many fart toy gag gifts started one Christmas by my cousins). He was selfless- completely devoted to his family, and his faith.

And while all these personal memories and reflections were happening, all of my family were going through their own. One morning at the house as my aunt Kathy and I were going through hundreds of pictures, spread out all over the floor and furniture, we both started bawling our eyes out, on our knees surrounded by 80+ years of history, holding one another- and then at the same time I started laughing- because I realized it hurt so much now, because it had been so good then. What a blessing this man was to all of us, how much he gave to us, and how that will be with us forever. So, though we not only have to say goodbye to him, but to that house, and that era of our lives, we move on with those gifts.

After a beautiful funeral, where my siblings and I sang, my older cousin Aaron gave a loving and perfectly written eulogy, and my other newly-ordained cousin Bryan presided (another inspiring experience), we all gathered back up at the house together where there was much laughter, eating, toasting, family and fellowship, just as that house had seen for over 50 years. And then there was this moment-- when my cousins' combined 5 young (great-grand)children were running around, playing, that I thought about us 5 grandchildren in that house, and just how real this growing up experience is. Was it that long ago that the 5 of us couldn't wait to grow up and no longer sit at the kids table, but finally with the "grown ups" at the big table? I smiled looking at my cousins' wonderful children. As frightening as getting older sometimes is, the best part is the joy of seeing the ones to come after you. Life is truly amazing.

I've decided there's no such thing as being a "grown up". But that we just continue to "grow up", all the way until the end. We move through life through these different stages, and though the transitions are often challenging, scary, even painful, every stage of your life, and the people a part of that stage, is with you, including the ones we have loved, and lost.

And so, though still missing him, I go to bed tonight, saying the same prayer I say every night. Thank you. Thank you for the blessings in my life. For the wonderful family I have been given. But especially, thank you for my grandfather, C. Milt Widen.

Golden Temples, High Kicking Men with Guns, Monks, and Mountains

For our fall Diwali week long break, we were joined by our friends from St. Olaf, Amanda and Christian. After a few sights in Mumbai, we flew to Amritsar, in the state of the Punjab (northern part of India near the Pakistani border). Amritsar is the home of the holiest place for Sikhs, the Golden Temple (you may have seen this in one of our favorite movies- Bride and Prejudice).

The Sikh religion is fairly new on the scene, founded in the 15th century in the Punjab- a region that before partition covered much of northern India AND western Pakistan- and is based on the beliefs of faith and justice, one God, the pursuit of salvation through disciplined, personal meditation, led by chosen gurus. Sikhs are very open and welcoming to peoples of all faiths. The Golden Temple is actually an entire complex, complete with a massive kitchen and multi-leveled eating hall that serves between 20,000-60,000 meals A DAY, free to all people who come. Many pilgrims spend the night, either in the hostel or just sleeping in the gardens. It was fascinating walking around, listening to the 24hour sung prayers, watching the men take a holy bath in the water, walking through the elaborate inside of the temple, learning about the rather gruesome history of the Mughal persecution involving some of the worst torture I've ever heard of. The most memorable experience though for us was eating a communal meal with hundreds of other pilgrims- many of whom volunteered to help wash dishes or shell garlic. It was a fantastic insight into another religion, one we knew little about, other than the turbans and small dagger, and the fact that they are amongst the highest number of Indians living abroad.

Because we were so close, that evening, Reid and I took a taxi to the Pakistani-Indian border closing ceremony. I have no idea how best to describe this bizarre and goofy event, other than to relate it to a Vikings vs. Packer game with the two sides cheering, dancing, and the players strutting their stuff and showing off for the crowds (complete with the

silliest walk ever invented complete with high kicks that touched their own nose and loud shouting of what sounded like the announcer at a Mexican soccer game when a player scores-- "GOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLL", though, I'm guessing that's not what they were saying.) Except, these were actual soldiers, with very real guns, on a very real and tense border. We walked away not sure how to feel, but, glad we had the chance to experience the phenomenon.

The four of us then headed to the Himalayan town of McLeod Gange, in Dharmasala, the current home of the Dali Lama and the Tibetan government in exile. I can safely say all 4 of us felt like we were in a different country. The Tibetans are a quiet, kind, peace promoting, and accepting people. What happened to them and their homeland is unbelievably appalling, as I think many of

us acknowledge, but have probably forgotten about, or never really knew the details. The Chinese literally walked into Tibet under the guise of "liberating them" and since then have tried to erase all trace of Tibetan culture. Many have escaped (and continue to do so even now) by trekking through the Himalayas, often alone (even children), arriving with injuries or, well, not surviving the journey. I think the saddest thing for me was wondering how our country could just let this happen, and continue to let this happen, and now that we seem so indebted to China, knowing that we will probably never stand up in any real way for this peace loving, amazing and ancient culture.

In addition to getting to know and understand Tibetan culture, including Buddhism, monk/nun life, fantastic food, crafts, and art, and a trip to the Tibetan Children's Village (an amazing school and home for refugee children), we also enjoyed just being in a fantastic new landscape. We have both experienced being in different mountain ranges before, but, the Himalayas are by far the most fierce, and intimidating I've ever seen. Jagged rock peaks that soar high above, creating the world's largest wall, challenging any to dare to try and cross- going on for miles and miles. We had 4 fabulous days of small and big hikes up and down the foothills (including a day where we got incredibly lost, continually clawing up and down steep, rocky, grassy, or loose dirt hills trying to find some semblance of a path before we finally realized we were NOT on the trail we thought we were), culminating in a much more successful hike to an incredible viewpoint, called "Triund", which also doubles as a rest spot for those that wish to hike on to the snow line (maybe next time!). It was a week that was somewhat reminiscent of the Fall season back home, with 45 degree temps at night, fresh mountain air, and apple flavored drinks.

We purchased a set of prayer flags, which I finally learned are meant as a reminder (like the prayer wheels that the Buddhists turn in the temples and around the town) to "pray for the happiness of all sentient beings".

So, Reid and I will continue to pray for happiness for all of you as we sit on our balcony, watching the bright colors flap in the wind, feeling thankful each and every day for the many gifts and opportunities we have been given.

Love,

Rachel