Running around

The thing you most want to hold on tightly to, when you're in India, is the ability to let things go. I arrived at "my" ashram, all ready and set to sign on as part of the staff, only to be told: "but we thought you were only coming in June!" Turns out there was a course going on, which they forgot to tell me about when I last called (in March) to tell them I was coming (in May) - with the result that there was no room for me. "Go away and come back next month" - they told me, only in a nice way.

After the initial disappointment, I packed back up and took a taxi to Rishikesh. We've been to Rishikesh before, the Mecca of Yoga, where the late George Harrison found his Maharishi, where men dress up like big orange monkeys for the benefit of the tourists (and their pocket change), and where I found another ashram that promised two daily sessions of yoga, and two more of meditation. Turns out that Rishikesh is very, VERY hot in May. I tried to tough it out for a week, but finally gave up - lying sweating in my bed at night was something I could do back during the Yoga Teacher's Training Course in Kerala, when I had lots of interesting things to do and people to see (or vice versa) - but I wasn't really in the mood for it this time.

So I hopped a jeep for Gangotri.

Gangotri is considered one of the four sources of the sacred river Ganges (Mata Ganga to us Hindus), and as such is one of the four pilgrimage sites during high season, when all the devout Hindus want to fill up plastic bottles with holy water to take home and bless themselves with. Guess when high season is? Yup! The merry month of May. The reason for this is that, just like the other three holy sites, Gangotri is high up in the Himalayas, where the snow likes to stick around until way into April - so before May it's physically impossible to climb up the narrow winding road (you might remember a few of us tried last April, and had to turn back, losing part of the road along the way, where it washed out just after we passed over it). Somewhere around mid-June, the monsoon starts, and then you can wash away off the montain-side if you're not careful. So May is the time, and the place was crawling with pilgrims (Indian) and trekkers (foreign).

The reason for the trekkers is that the REAL source of the Ganges (or one quarter thereof) is a glacier, which used to be in Gangotri, but has receded about eighteen kilometers (probably due to global warming), to a place call Gomukh (which, literally translated, means "cow's mouth", because that's what it supposedly looks like) - and the only way you can get there is to walk (I didn't).

Gangotri is not much more than a few hotels and ashrams (on one side of the bridge) and a few hotels and shops (on the other side). The hotels and shops are doing great business now, and the only place I could find to stay was a little room with a great view and no electricity (I'm not sure about the electricity in any of the other hotels, either). I hadn't really planned on getting here, so I left my shoes and warm clothes at the ashram - which meant that the cold weather forced me to get on the first bus back to Uttar Kashi the next morning. But the trip was worth it - the mountains, trees and waterfalls along the way are enough to take your breath away. You get a sense of exhilaration just going up the road, coming closer and closer to the snow-capped peaks, and watching the streams that pour into the Ganges from aaaaaaaaaallllllllllllll the way up there.

Tired of running around, I checked into Hotel Ganga Putra, which is a ten-minute walk away from "my" ashram, and arrived at an arrangement with them that I would come in just for the yoga classes until my "slot" was available for me to come and stay. The arrangement has it's advantages - a private room (which I couldn't even dream about at the ashram), with a huge picture window opposite the green mountain across the river, and a BIG water heater all my very own, so I can have lllllloooooooonnnnnnnnnngggggggggg hot showers - and it's disadvantages (I have to pay for it all).

The river rushes endlessly by, and you can hear it no matter where you are - in the room, on the road, and in the yoga classes. When I was here last April, it was still relatively dry and you could walk across it at certain points, but it's getting constantly bigger and fuller now. Today the yoga instructor had to speak extra loud, so that we could hear her over the river's roar. I expect it will get even more so after the monsoon hits us. I've spent a sum total of more than ten months in India so far, but I haven't seen the monsoon yet (unless you count the tail end of last October in Kerala, when my glasses kept fogging up and I couldn't see where I was going), and I'm especially looking forward to watching the Ganges grow when it happens here.

So, it's a mixture between letting go - enjoying the advantages of my current situation - and occasional let-downs, when I feel lonely and frustrated. Either way, in a couple of weeks, this unexpected chapter will be over, and then we will be on our way towards more unexpected adventures, the only difference being that the unexpected will be expected (does that make any sense?)