On the bus from Coimbatore to Mysore, our bus hit something, started clunking like it had a wooden leg, and stopped. Yes, the conductor is using a machete to cut the mysterious "it" away from the tire. Two hours before this he was hanging out the window asking local school children the way to our destination.
Are we having fun yet? Cathlin and Heidi were thrilled when I pulled out the camera after twelve hours on buses.
Sydney ascending the steps of a hill in Sravanabelagola, a Jain pilgrimage site outside of Mysore. We were rewarded at the top for our early morning climb with a giant monolithic statue and a beautiful view...
...but before we could get to the top we were locked outside the fortress walls.
Why do anything the easy way?
The climbing paid off, though it may have been a bit inappropriate in a temple. But I saw an Indian guy do it first!
Milling around at the gates. No one wanted to leave.
Meditation and the view from the top of the hill.
When we started traveling and had wooden beds with MATTRESSES to sleep in, suddenly sleeping became a priority again. Sometimes Sydney and Liann climbed inside their sheets in the middle of the day just for fun!
Rebekah and the view from the small hill towards the big hill that we climbed first.
On this spot, a Jain saint achieved enlightenment (aka he took an oath of fasting and meditation and starved himself to death 1,300 years ago).
Being on top of a mountain still feels the same!
Megan on the brink of entering history. She apparently felt rather indecisive.
On the way down the hill, a slide of smooth stone parallels the stairs (and permanently damages the seat of your pants).
The swastik symbol rotates in the opposite direction in India and has retained its original meaning: life and power. Darn Nazis came along and screwed everything up.
Cathlin, Heidi, and Sydney waiting for the bus. O boy, I've got joy.
This unique bathroom contraption is both a western toilet AND an Indian-style squatter. How either is supposed to work I do not know, but our hotel in Bangalore didn't give us instructions.
Visiting David in his Bangalore hospital room (David, Liann, me, Rebekah, Heidi, Cathlin). The nurses couldn't figure out what relationship five girls could have with one guy that would necessitate such scandalous behavior as visiting after seven at night. We kept saying research, but I don't think they got it.
Women changing trains somewhere along the 42-hour stretch between Bangalore and Varanasi.
Cathlin and I crashed in our sleeper seats one afternoon on board the train. Corpse pose, anyone?
View down the train isle. The best part about trains is the opportunity to talk with the students, pharmacists, communists, Christian pastors, and housewives all squashed into your rail car.
Rebekah and I smiling at we don't know what. Wait, it's because we love trains!
Feeling groovy and gross after arriving in Varanasi! We were about to die after two days in 3rd class sleeper compartments. No really - we were about to die.
O so clever...or a typical misspelling?
Well, Varanasi didn't turn out to be the most welcoming, clean place to arrive at. Rebekah, though, felt super chipper about the flies, cows and dung inside the station, and people sleeping on the floor.
The cows eventually grew on her! It's impossible to avoid them anywhere in Hindustan, but especially in Varansi.
The ghats of Varanasi can be quite enchanting places. A ghat is a section of steps down to the shore along the Ganges River where Hindu pilgrims and locals come to bathe, wash clothes, and perform religious ceremonies. Just don't think about what's in the water.
Sydney on the steps leading down from a Shiva Temple to Assi Ghat in Varanasi.
Brave punters and rowers out on Mother Ganga. The river was dangerously flooded, and immediately after taking this photo a violent monsoon storm broke loose. Needless to say we didn't get to do any river tours ourselves.
Varanasi's ghats.
Heidi on our hotel balcony, which looks out over Scindhia and Marnikarnita Ghats. A constant haze of smoke drifted our way because Marnikarnita is a cremation ghat. Rather unfortunate smell, but the view was lovely!
Mike, I stole your neck pillow when I left for India. It's in good hands but you probably won't want it back when I return...for hygenic reasons.
Watching the nightly ceremony at Dashashwamedh Ghat and trying very hard not to get my feet wet.
Ceremony participants. The pyro in me loves Hindu ritual and its constant use of fire for spectacle.
Setting puja flowers afloat in the Ganges after being unwittingly blessed by a rather pushy Brahmin. Once you have sandalwood paste on your forehead, all inhibitions seem to fall away. Bring on that open sewer of a river!
Coming in out of the rain near the Durga Temple in Varanasi.
We were not alone in finding shelter. Sometimes I can't believe I didn't learn Tamil or Hindi - how rude to show up and be incapable of communication at moments like this!
Varanasi has its lovely as well as...less lovely places. I'm still learning to value her beauties over her warts - what a city.
More goats! Somehow more friendly and picturesque than cattle.
Touts run rampant in Varanasi - too bad they speak the best English of anyone in the city! This t-shirt reflects my response to every offer I received there. "NO PROBLEM" is apparently the atomic bomb of haggling warfare - drop that phrase and the conversation abruptly ends.
The complex network of alleys in Varanasi means you never find your way to your hotel the same way twice. This woman was near our hotel and practically cheered every time we saw her at the end of each day because it meant we'd made it back!
Satyr player at work. Even traditional Indian music embodies national characteristics: irony, sadness, and emotional potency.
Liann, me, Jill, and two Cambodian monks at the Great Buddha statue in Bodh Gaya.
Liann, Cathlyn, and I exploring a Tibetan Buddhist Temple.
Liann having a contemplative moment while reading the pictographic stories of the Buddha that have been carved into the walls of the temple.
I didn't mean to look like I'd actually ordered a "special" lassi, but that's what I'm pointing to on the menu. Hash for very little cash. And for a moment I had thought it meant a seasonal fruit special.
The gals (Liann, Sydney, and Rebekah) hanging out and chatting at the end of long day in Bodh Gaya.
Ty and Jill enjoying rare and precious moments of normal play time with Megan.
The Punjab! I made it despite the bombings, Nicole!
Night at the Golden Temple in Amritsar.
I couldn't take enough pictures of the Sikh temple compound. It's cleanliness, order, and peace after so many months of comparative filth and chaos made it feel like an adult Disneyland. Except as foreigners we were the over-sized cartoon characters with whom everyone wanted pictures taken.
Heidi and I eating at the temple compound. They serve an average of 80,000 free meals a day!
There are many reasons I love Amritsar, but rickshaw drivers who smile in the middle of monsoon downpours is one of them.
Liann and I at Jallianwala Bagh with several friends we met that day. The park marks the spot of a massacre in 1919 that sparked India's final push for independence. It took 28 years to win it.
Megan doing one of her favorite things: taking pictures! It was the only way we could distract her from taking off the Punjabi slippers we stuck on her feet.
Two India women running their nation's flag to the Pakistani border at the border closing ceremony.
Looking toward Pakistan. What a face.
The Pakistani crowd at the India-Pakistan border.
Indian border guards are the physical equivalents of NBA players! Who knew they'd be 7 ft. tall when you met them in person? They look small from the stands.
Meet Dharamsala, the home of the Dalai Lama. Coming to the foothills of the Himalayas with their pines and mountains was the next best thing to flying home to the American Northwest.
Every time I tried to go out for a walk in India, it rained. A lot!
Young Tibetan family at a candlelight vigil the night before the Olympic Games.
Westerners just don't have the capacity to rest like that for hours at a time.
Tensions were high and protests against China were ongoing through my stay in Dharamsala.
Liann with her sushi! I sadly discovered I was a sushi snob - who pre-mixes the wasabi in with every roll, I'd like to know?
Keeping the evil spirits out. These wooden or plaster faces hung outside the doors of homes and businesses were unfortunately impossible to find once I decided I wanted to bring one home.
The Taj Mahal at early morning. This is for you, Nicole!
No, this was not photo-shopped.
I can't read Arabic passages from the Q'uran, but I'm pretty certain the stylized calligraphy had "Loafers welcome" somewhere in there.
Detail of the white marble carvings that cover the surfaces of the building.
Two buildings flank the sides of the Taj Mahal, one of which is a mosque still in use. This beautiful quibla and its home would probably receive more attention if they weren't next door neighbors with India's most famous monument.
Sunlight and shadows.
Stretching and goofing off at the Red Fort.
Heidi, Cathlin, and Rebekah at the Red Fort. Believe it or not, they weren't posing!
At the Red Fort, a massive walled compound where the emperor who built the Taj Majal was incarcerated until his death by his son.
Stone lattice carving at the mini Taj, a small mausoleum across the river from the Taj Majal.
Liann testing out ethnic hats.
Rebekah pierced her ears in India! People do daring things in their last moments in foreign countries.
Cathlin, Rebekah, and me enjoying mocktails at a "fancy" restaurant in Delhi on our last night in India. Again, people do strange, often expensive things at the last moment. It was completely worth it!
