7.11.11. 11:03 A.M. Day 10. Big Buddha, Holy Caves, and an Orchard.

I suppose since the incident of us getting lost the day before, Mayank said that if we would like a tour of the city he could rent us a car and the driver would show is around. We liked  this idea because it would be a relief to all parties involved for us not to get lost. We would be shown 3 different  holy sites on the extremes of the city. There would be another girl from another group, Maggie, who would be joining us for the tour. I'd been interested in meeting her because Mary would tell me stories about her from their train ride up here. She'd seemed overwhelmed by the train ride in her air conditioned compartment that catered food to them and everything. We joked that she would have completely lost it if she'd been on my train. Apparently spice - of any kind - was too much for her.

We were picked up around 10:30AM in a nice big jeep-looking SUV. We first drove across the city to the Buddha Temple. According to Mary, we were entering one of the Tibetan communities that had been exiled to India. Her knowledge of both Buddhism and Tibet way surpassed mine. As we entered, we could see an immediate change in the facial structure of the residents of this neighborhood. The skin was lighter in color, the cheek bones were higher, the nose a bit flatter and rounder, and the eyes were more asian  in shape. It was as if, in a blink of an eye, we were in a small portion of a community in Tibet. Even the clothing styles changed. The driver took us through and pulled into a parking lot that had a sign in English: No Unauthorized Parking Beyond This Point. I couldn't be sure, but I didn't think we were authorized. He pointed, "Temple here; temple there," and then just sat there. We got out with out knowing if he was going to drive off and come back later or if he was even going to stay in the same spot. We took all of our stuff with us just in case. The weather was in our favor in that it was a pleasantly cool day. It was not in our favor in that it lightly rained more or less the whole time we were out. This wouldn't have been a big issue save that we all had expensive cameras, or were borrowing (me), and water + electronics =/=  happy. We did our best to keep them dry and to keep the drops from landing on the lenses. This proved difficult because the Stupa (temple) was the tallest in the world and we accordingly had to point upwards.

 As we approached, we began to hear low toned chanting from within the Stupa. The doors were open but the stairs were roped off so we just looked in from the outside. There was a "No Picture Inside" sign so I'm sad to say that I have none to show of the monks chanting. We saw a little van pull up to the steps and the old, bent over monk who was sitting outside by the open door, went over to the van and spoke to the driver. He then stepped inside the Stupa and returned quickly with 3 young monks who appeared to be in their late teens. One pulled out a big box wrapped in twine, while the other two grabbed some bags. It had been a grocery run. We found this greatly amusing because it never occurred to us - monks have to eat too. From there we walked around the compound and were eventually adopted by a young Tibetan man in his teens, who was just a local from the neighborhood. He showed us around and took us into a smaller stupa where a female monk was chanting  on her own. Beautiful voice. We went back outside and continued to the giant statue of Buddha standing at around 200 ft tall. I couldn't help  but feel both awe and shame as we tool pictures  of it becuase I'd learned that before Siddhartha had died he told his followers to not idolize or worship him, and as soon as he died, that's exactly what they did.

 The fact that this monument was the very thing he did not want made for a fairly strange combination of emotions to run through me. It was time for us to say goodbye to our eagerly helpful guide and continue on with our journey. We walked back to the parking lot where our driver had found some other drivers to talk to, he said his goodbyes too and we were on our way to the next site.

We drove for  awhile on the outskirts of the city, beautifully  covered by the edge of the lush green jungle. It was apparent that the jungle could hardly be kept at bay, and if left alone it would swallow up the buildings and the roads. We pulled into a detour of sorts and our next temple came into view, but only just. We were told by our driver that the temple itself was inside the caves that lined the river below. Not a big fan of caves or tight spaces in general, I squirmed a bit in my seat at this news. We went down the marble steps to steps that were carved in the rockside itself. Apparently the leading experts in temple etiquette, Mary and I  were put at the front of the group. We saw some bells, got excited, and rang them. We miss the bells of Rishikesh. We came to the opening of the cave on the left and saw that people had left their shoes there so we did the same. We rang some more bells and went down some more steps and were inside the caves.  I don't know if they were painted light blue, but they were light blue. There were multiple  levels  within the caves where different gods were being kept, when we reached the bottom most level there was a thick blanket of smoke and incense. I followed Rayleen into a side chamber that ended up just being a little room devoted to some god, there was a rather wild-looking Sadhu, or holy man sitting there, thin, brown body, long bushy beard, and dread locks pulled back. He had the white elongated U with a red line in the middle on his forehead like the other orange clad holy men. But coming from a backlit chamber into a smoky  room does give the man extra brownie points in the mysteriousness department. This could have been a rather frightening moment had it not been for Mary. She, too, wanted to see what was through the doorway after we got out. Before we could say anything she walked right past us  and was at the door when the holy man stepped into the frame, handed her a small coconut and insistantly gestured that she take it somewhere in the other direction. By this time I was already a few feet away taking pictures of a group of men doing some sort of ceremony around a large fire pit. Mary cautiously approached these men and with her outstretched coconut and when their stares did not look welcoming she continued on with her new quest  to find the right place for her coconut offering.

We ran into a pair of Californians while in the smoky cave. Our groups merged and our 4 became 6. We continued onto the small bridge over the river where there was a priest who blessed us. 4 of us were willing and got blessed, Rayleen and Maggie hugged the edge of the bridge, not wanting to get too close to the priest. The priest kept motioning to them to come get a blessing but they kept looking away. He then tried to get the rest of us to get them to come over. It has come to my attention the eagerness with which these priests insist we foreign folk, come get blessed. After each blessing they ask for a donation, and by ask i mean all but demand. If you don't pay up, things like Mary's instance with the Hanuman-painted man where he unblessed her could happen. We are fully aware that we are probably  being played, but the novelty of the situation sustains our open pocketed ways. Mary and I have been trying to dive in deeper than just the superficialness of the ritual for foreigners and have been trying to get the stories behind them. It's been slow going without a stable guide. I will be inquiring much when I get home. So those knowledgeable better be ready!

We continued over the bridge to the cave on the other side of the river. This one, we were told, we would have to squeeze through. I was immediately hesitant but with both a mix of peer pressure and shear curiosity I conceded and went in at the middle of the pack. Indeed we had to squeeze, crawl, and contort to be able to get through. And in true India fashion, the little lights lining the very low roof went out and we were left in the pitch black while we continued on. Shortly after having entered the cave, both Maggie and Rayleen chickened out of going through with it, and I'm not going to lie - the thought did cross my mind to turn back, instead I grasped the hand of my fellow Californian, Sarah. We made it to the temple altar part of the cave unscathed. The annoying part was that Maggie and Rayleen were already there. The exit was right at the far end of the altar and apparently only about 10 feet from the entrance of the whole cave system. They calmly took 3 steps while I risked life and limb to get to that altar. The gods better give me brownie points for this!!! It was at this time that I noticed Mary come back to the altar and place her little coconut on the side near some candles. At about this time it was getting to the point where we had to say ggodbye to our fellow Americans, my fellow Californians. We climbed back to our shoes, and then to the car. We said our goodbyes and were off to site number 3.

Site 3 turned out to be quite an interesting ordeal. It was one of the oldest temples in Dehra Dun and turned our to be a Sikh Temple (*actually it wasn't, it turned out to be a temple devoted to Sai Baba, who when described as an old man with a white beard and a turban could be mistaken for Guru Nanak. oops.*) Had I not been overwhelmed by the sheer volume of traffic passing through the front gates I would have gone inside. 3 of us panicked and wanted to leave the immediate area and Rayleen had seen something pretty and shiny next door. So we went to check it out. It turned out to be another Stupa, and was indeed very shiny and pretty. A beggarwoman walked in a little while after we did and began to do her thing to us. One of the monks who happened to be walking by shooed her off the compound. Not really willing to get any closer, we too decided to go, and headed towards the car. Rayleen pointed out an ATM to me and Maggie. We hurried over and went inside. We both took  out large sums of money and felt that it would be best to wait in the car while Mary did a quick run through of the temple. Maggie reached the car first and had been followed by the same beggarwoman. She was right up against the window asking for money. I came up right next to her, I didn't have much choice, and just got in the front seat and shut the door and locked it. it's a good thing we did lock them because the old woman kept at it for a good 5-7 minutes, even trying to open our doors a couple of times. This whole time our driver was standing outside facing the other direction. Eventually she went away and a few minutes later the other two came back and the driver took us to our final destination.

Not even a mile away, hidden away from all of the noise and crowdedness of the street was a swanky restaurant named Orchard. Mayank highly recommended it and we could see why. It was built like a modern style resort cabin with large  windows and sliding glass doors that led to an oversized deck that overlooked the lush jungle valley below. We didn't really know what was on the menu but we ordered half of it anyway. Why not splurge? We're in India after all! We ordered about 6 or 7 dishes between the three of us. Maggie proved to be the pickiest, most finicky eater on the planet. She can't handle any spice above black pepper to save her life, and eventually even stopped being able to eat plain white rice, for what ever reason. She ate some of her chicken fried rice and had lots of Mary's fairly plain tasting soup. I think she ate most of my deep fried spring rolls too. But it wasn't a big deal, there was more than enough to go around and we were just glad that she found stuff she was willing to eat.

I have issues with her whininess about food. I can't quite put it to words yet exactly what I want to say, but it's along the lines of what the hell did you expect to be given , in India of all places, to eat? Why come if you can't handle anything above the use of salt? And then it really bugged me that she wouldn't even eat the white rice they made for her. It told her to have her homestay get her a bottle of ketchup. The ketchup-like continental sauce got me through my week in Rishi with its stupid bean sprouts and weird soups. Hopefully it will help because frankly, ketchups is about as American a flavor as you can get. And if she doesn't want that she should just go on home...or to some bland country like England.