Heat to Heights -- Lucknow to Shimla

March 26 -

I think you can tell the class of sleeper cars on the train by the odors. There is a pervasive smell of male urine (we all agree that no woman’s urine could smell as disgustingly heavy) in the Sleeper Class cars. Sleeper Class is the lowest of the cars with sleeping facilities (I use this term loosely... complete description to follow). Above Sleeper Class is 3AC, 2AC and, finally, the creme de la creme 1AC. There are also levels beneath Sleeper Class which are sitting areas only that can be extremely crowded and the quality of fellow passengers poses more of a challenge to your and your luggage’s safety.

I’ve never stayed in 1AC but I hear it’s quite posh (porters to help with your luggage and offer you food and drinks). The other three classes have some similarities (in general, of course):

*The sleeping areas are arranged like two-sided compartments with two or three beds on each side (2AC=two beds/side; 3AC and Sleeper=3 beds/side)

*The top (or middle) bed swings down to form the back of the seat during the day and up for a bed at night

And some differences:

*From 2AC to 3AC to Sleeper the space goes from relatively clean to less clean to not clean at all

*In 2AC and 3AC they provide sheets and pillows; in Sleeper they provide nothing (which is a problem if you don’t realize this and have no blanket...especially if you’re wearing a skirt)

*2AC ad 3AC have air conditioning (although rarely needed except in the hot, hot summer); Sleeper has strong fans (that are often a point of contention between passengers...there are always those who want them on and others who insist of turning them off)

*The quality of people devolves as you move from 1AC to Sleeper (which says something about Art Karavan...we stay in Sleeper). Friendly families and interesting English-speaking businesspeople populate the AC coaches; by the time you get down to Sleeper there are people like the man we bunked with recently that kept urging Anna to join him in bed and flashed porn her way via his cellphone. The safety of your luggage also becomes less assured as you drop levels (although I’ve never had anything stolen).

*Food follows a similar pattern starting from excellent meals in 1AC (I surmise!) to lesser quality and variety as you move down through the levels. (Every time the train rolls into the station, however, vendors of all sorts mob the trains and make a speedy sweep through the cars selling everything from tea to omelets to packaged meals.)

On our trip from Lucknow to Simla we stayed in Sleeper Class. Anna, Christina, Yola and I shared our compartment with an Indian mother and daughter (who weren’t very nice at all). Within an hour of the start, the Indians announced that they were going to bed and, since their beds were the lower ones, we were forced out of our “room.” This worked out just fine,though, since we went and hung out with a bunch of Karavaners drinking and smoking, talking and laughing until 1:30 am.

I figured this would be just fine since we were going to be on the train until 10 am; only problem was that the Indian mother got up at 4:30 am, turned on the light in our faces and happily proceeded with her morning routine. But thanks to eyemasks and earplugs, we all managed to get some sleep.

We took the train to Chandigar (one of India’s first planned cities... Courbousier designed much of the city) and then another train to Kulka. In Kulka they have a “Toy train” (smaller gage than normal) that take you on a scenic journey into the mountains and Simla. However, we hadn’t made reservations and the train was fully booked, so we ended up hiring a couple mini-buses for the 3 (or 4...or 5) hour trip to Simla.

For once, a roadtrip into the mountains wasn't a terrifying event...our driver actually drove relatively slowly and safely (i.e., only occasionally passed on outside blind curves around mountains with 1000 foot cliffs dropping away inches from the edges of the tires). Shimla is built on the steep sides of the mountains ... nestled in the beautiful mountain range, the houses, hotels and shops cling precariously to the rocky slopes (I really do wonder how they build their structures... must have some well-designed foundations!)

Lucknow

Lucknow --March 22 or so, 2010

Lucknow is not a tourist town. It’s the capital city of its state (very modern, clean and bustling with activity), the former center of the Moghul empire (and, thus, peppered with ancient beautiful buildings with spires and domes that have been preserved much better than most ancient buildings in India) and home to a population split between Muslims and Hindus (which didn’t seem to cause a lot of stress but, of course, I was only there for a few days and didn’t have an opportunity to do much mingling.)

Anna and I and Leslie and Gertrude from Germany spent a day sightseeing .... visiting the Moghul palace that is built with labyrinth-like hallways winding throughout its interior... there are many deadends and tricky passageways that take you up when you want to go down, down when you want to go up and finally dump you at a window or balcony or porch with no apparent way out.

It’s architecture resulted in wonderfully cool interior spaces and the four of us enjoyed a few hours relaxing and chatting with local people (and, of course, had our photos taken hundreds of times).

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The best adjective to describe Lucknow is HOT... unbearable, suffocating, oppressive heat. The temperature hovers in the 90s and 100s at mid-day. Our rooms have no fans and are like mosquito-infested ovens with beds. By 8:30 in the morning you begin to melt and continue to wilt throughout the day. Motivation melts away; productivity for most of the Karavaners is lower than usual.

We spend our days at the free Internet shop (which is good if one computer is in use but declines in speed and capabilities with each additional user.... I spent 3 hours online trying to update my blog and got very little accomplished thanks to the other 5 computers trying to accomplish similar feats)

As our time is short in Lucknow, Anna and I decide to do an easy-to-accomplish project. Anna’s on-going project involves water -- its lack, its pollution, its myths, its history, etc., etc. So, we have Khitish draw up a water conservation poster and set out to get 1,000 copies printed that we plan to plaster all over the walls leading into our artshow on the 24th.

We start at a stationery and photocopy shop. We (well, Khitish with us nodding and prodding and questioning) talk to the owner for at least an hour. He tells us it will cost around 700 rs (about $15) for 1,000 prints; we like the price and tell him to proceed. So he sends us to another stationery and photocopy shop about 15 minutes away where we repeat our discussion with another man. He tells us he’ll have a proof by 7 pm that night and the copies the next day.

At 7 pm we return; no proof. At 8, the proof arrives and is not what we ordered...it’s black on green instead of green on black). So we wait while they re-do it. At 9, the second proof. Still not right. Dull green on black instead of fluorescent green on black.
we talk and talk to another man (we think he is the actual printer, but not sure) and he guarantees us that he understands and that we don’t need another proof; our order will be ready the next day.

We are skeptical, but..... The next day we go to the shop to pick up our copies only to be directed to the second shop. Since we don’t know how to get there without Khitish, we wait until the next morning and go to the shop. No copies. No proof. They tell us that today is a religious holiday so no one is working (which is WHY they had to have it done the day before!!) We ask if they can do them first thing in the morning. No, not possible... 6 pm is the best they can do (and 6 pm means 9 pm -- or never -- and we are scheduled to leave for Simla at 9 pm)

So... for our three-day effort, we ended up with a half-assed proof. I really don’t see how this country continues to operate at ay functional level. There are flyers plastered ALL OVER the walls... hundreds, thousands in a town... but no one can figure out how to get some made in 3 days??

Oh, well, we didn’t do the project (maybe Simla??)... Anna made a slideshow to introduce the project but it couldn’t be read by the computer we were using to compile the presentations... not meant to be, I suppose (which isn’t a horrible thing because the presentations that were projected had no sound, weren’t adjusted to the screen properly so difficult to see, and ended up being stopped in mid-show).

Bodhgaya Vacation - Part 2

Post 3-16-10 Bodhgaya

After a two-hour drive we arrived at Rajgir, where Buddha lived and preached and put in motion his second Wheel of Law. Last time I visited, the highlight was riding the rickety ski lift to the Peace Pagoda atop the mountain. This time, however, we were shocked to find that the ski lift was OUT OF ORDER (and had been for a month)! So there we were at 2 pm with temperatures in the mid-90s and a very high hill to climb.

But with the help of a nice walking stick rented for 20 rs and a fairly constant breeze that cooled our broiling bodies, we made it, first, to the caves where Buddha did the severe penance while trying to reach nirvana (which he finally reached under the Bodhi tree)that resulted in the image of him as a skeletal, emaciated man... and then to the Peace pagoda at the top where the steady drumming from the Japanese temple reverberated around the mountaintop and the huge Peace Pagoda.

We spent several hours hiking and relaxing and chugging cold drinks. Kata danced at the caves which were strewn with Buddhist prayer flags. I filmed Kata and yarnbombed the branch of a small tree festooned by flags. We all posed for hundreds of photos with pilgrims visiting the shrine.

On the way back, we stopped at some ruins of ancient caves and the hot baths where locals bathed for free and we were mobbed by “poor priests” asking for donations that would make our every wish come true.

And then came the horrible highlight of our trip.... while driving, we saw an accident up ahead... a motorcycle and bloody body laying in the street. We all looked on in horror as various cars, trucks, buses, and motorcycles --including our car -- wound around the crash site and continued on their way without stopping.

Bodhgaya Vacation - Part I

Post Bodhgaya -- March 15, 2010

We are on a short vacation from the Karavan in Bodhgaya, the place where Buddah sat under the Bodhi tree until he became enlightened. Anna (McLeod or Ireland) and I lived here for a month in 2006 while participating in a month-long art event so wanted to visit old friends and places (however, although the places are mostly still here -- along with MANY new guest houses, restaurants and shops -- we haven’t met many of the town people we knew before).

We, along with Eric (VanHove of Belgium) and Kata (Lengyel of Hungary) and Beatrice (Diddier of Belgium), are staying in the beautiful new Rajhul Guest House (Kalachakra Ground 00916312200709 or 09934463849 rahul_bodhgaya@yahoo.com ... we paid 600 rupees/night for double rooms) which is CLEAN, has SCREENS in the windows (first I’ve seen) and HOT SHOWERS (actual showers... not just a bucket! First shower since I left home in January)

Bodhgaya overflows with temples and statues... a giant stone Buddha that sits in the clouds, Japanese, Chinese and Thai temples, the main temple where the Bhodi tree grows amidst layers and layers and layers of fluttering prayer flags and flocks of devoted pilgrims, and many, many more. Today we’re heading to Rajgir, a town 80 km away with a mountain topped with a Japanese Peace Pagoda. A rickety ski lift lurches you to the top.

But, thus far, the thing that’s most interesting (and annoying) here is the beggar kids. They have taken the art of begging to a high level. Here’s how it works. A (fairly well-spoken) boy chats you up (exhibiting his wisdom through a recitation of the capitals of countries around the world). Eventually he gets around to inviting you to visit his school (chock full of orphans, poverty-stricken Indian kids, and -- in the our case -- mini-monks in training). Once you arrive at the “school” you are given a tour (heavy emphasis on lack of school books, supplies and furnishings), introduced to the “principal” (i.e., skilled fundraiser) and corralled into the office (where you sit awkwardly until you hand over some money... oh, I mean, make a charitable donation).

We met our scammer at the temple. The boy was dressed in monk’s robes and since we all were interested in visiting a school for the monks, we accepted his invitation with enthusiasm. However, once we arrived at the school, there were no student monks, our mini-monk turned into major-fundraiser, and I remembered (belatedly, granted) that even Lonely Planet warns tourists about the school donation scam. We left with all of our rupees still with us.

Since then, I’ve been hit up with the “visit my school” scam hourly when in town... the stories vary slightly but always end with the invitation to tour the school. I’d be curious to know what the kids get out of the deal (so many rupees per head brought through the door? a cut of the donations? a place in heaven? a free education?)

(Note: Last night we hung out with some local men at the restaurant and one of them told me that 85% of the kids of Bodhgaya have their educations funded completely by donations. I told him that they should not leave the education of their children in the hands of strangers. What happens if and when the donations stop?)

In addition to the school scammers, beggars of every size, shape, age, and sex swarm through the town, asking for money, biscuits, school shoes, school pens, etc, etc. Unlike other Indian towns, these beggars are hard-core -- out for money and/or merchandise. I usually talk to and joke around with the beggars and sometimes give them a yarn bracelet...but this group isn’t very interested in such chatter or kindness... they want the GOODS! (One kid stuck with us for an hour or more, so I gave him a bracelet and talked with him for a long while. However, when I failed to give him anything except some grapes, he had someone untie his bracelet and ordered me to take it back.)

But, still, the local people are wondrous. The food is delicious! We had dinner at a restaurant a short distance from our hotel last night. One of the waiters has been so kind and friendly that I had given him a bracelet in the morning; he is now my brother. When we arrived at the restaurant, he had them move a table and chairs outside to the small patio, provided me with a cushion for my chair and a new mosquito coil for our feet. The food was absolutely delicious (momos, spaghetti with spinach and cheese, thuktpa -- thick soup) and the atmosphere was warm and tropical. (Kata kept telling us she was on the beach somewhere; no longer in India).

An interesting note: Bodhgaya has an international airport but no domestic service... I guess they’re flying foreigners directly in and out (nice captive audience). It would be a nice place to acclimate yourself into India, though, instead of Delhi or Kolkata or Mumbai!

Lucknow to Simla

March 26 -- Lucknow to Simla

I think you can tell the class of sleeper cars on the train by the odors. There is a pervasive smell of male urine (we all agree that no woman’s urine could smell as disgustingly heavy) in the Sleeper Class cars. Sleeper Class is the lowest of the cars with sleeping facilities (I use this term loosely... complete description to follow). Above Sleeper Class is 3AC, 2AC and, finally, the creme de la creme 1AC. There are also levels beneath Sleeper Class which are sitting areas only that can be extremely crowded and the quality of fellow passengers poses more of a challenge to your and your luggage’s safety.

I’ve never stayed in 1AC but I hear it’s quite posh (porters to help with your luggage and offer you food and drinks). The other three classes have some similarities (in general, of course):

*The sleeping areas are arrange like two-sided compartments with two or three beds on each side (2AC=two beds/side; 3AC and Sleeper=3 beds/side)

*The top (or middle) bed swings down to form the back of the seat during the day and up for a bed at night

And some differences:

*From 2AC to 3AC to Sleeper the space goes from relatively clean to less to less clean

*In 2AC and 3AC they provide sheets and pillows; in Sleeper they provide nothing (which is a problem if you don’t realize this and have no blanket...especially if you’re wearing a skirt)

*2AC ad 3AC have air conditioning (although rarely needed); Sleeper has strong fans (that are often a point of contention between passengers...there are always those who want them on and others who insist of turning them off)

*The quality of people devolves as you move from 1AC to Sleeper (which says something about Art Karavan...we stay in Sleeper). Friendly families and interesting English-speaking businesspeople populate the AC coaches; by the time you get down to Sleeper there are people like the man we bunked with recently that kept urging Anna to join him in bed and flashed porn her way via his cellphone. The safety of your luggage also becomes less assured as you drop levels (although I’ve never had anything stolen).

*Food follows a similar pattern starting from excellent meals in 1AC (I surmise!) to lesser quality and variety as you move down through the levels. (Every time the train rolls into the station, however, vendors of all sorts mob the trains and make a speedy sweep through the cars selling everything from tea to omelets to packaged meals.)

On our trip from Lucknow to Simla we stayed in Sleeper Class. Anna, Christina, Yola and I shared our compartment with an Indian mother and daughter (who weren’t very nice at all). Within an hour of the start, the Indians announced that they were going to bed and, since their beds were the lower ones, we were forced out of our “room.” this worked out just fine,though, since we went and hung out with a bunch of Karavaners drinking and smoking, talking and laughing until 1:30 am.

i figured this would be just fine since we were going to be on the train until 10 am; only problem was that the Indian mother got up at 4:30 am, turned on the light in all of our faces and happily proceeded with her morning routine. But thanks to eyemasks and earplugs, we all managed to get some sleep.

We took the train to Chandigar (one of India’s first planned cities... Courbousier designed much of the city) and then another train to Kulka. In Kulka they have a “Toy train” (smaller gage than normal) that take you on a scenic journey into the mountains and Simla. However, we hadn’t made reservations and the train was fully booed, so we ended up hiring a couple mini-buses for the 3 (or 4...or 5) hour trip to Simla.

Varanasi -- city of the burning ghats

Post - Varanasi 3/19/10

In Varanasi I went hippie. At some point if I travel long enough in India, I give into the heat in favor of comfort and exchange my jeans for something else (always silky and flowy). So after a day shopping with Anna, I have become psychedelic hippy queen. For $30 I now have 3 dresses and 2 shirts (that make me look like a psychedelic clown) and some I Dream of Genie balloon pants (that finish off the clown look)... have exchanged cool for cool (hahaha... THAT can be interpreted as you will)

Yesterday was a good day.... Anna and I (Kata and Eric disappeared on separate journeys in the morning and we didn’t cross paths again until evening) wandered the streets of Varanasi...

Had chai with kids running the family shop (many shops are run by kids between the ages of 8 to 20)... the younger boy watched Avatar on his I-Pod while the 10 year old girl decorated Anna and I with tiny stamps dipped in colorful powdered dyes....

Spent an annoying half hour being tracked by an overly aggressive Indian guy that was “in love” with Anna and called her “honey” and professed his desire by assuring her that he was “very strong” and didn’t sleep with “many women.” In final desperation, he told her he had “a big banana.” (However, a couple of young boys took me aside and told me he was an undercover policeman .... In Varanasi, police try to sell travelers drugs and then bust them and make them pay NOT to put them in jail...of course, any astute traveler will hear about the scam within 10 minutes of arrival in town...

Flew a paper kite with some young boys (every evening the skies are filled with colorful paper kites soaring and plunging through the air)...

Ended up at the Varansi waterworks (much to Anna’s delight... her art project is about water in all its aspects). The workers at the water plant were also delighted... few Westerners visit the waterworks and ask for a tour, much less two white women. They proudly showed us around. The city’s water is pulled directly from the (very polluted) Ganga River. There was an article in the newspaper detailing the incredible levels of pollution... in addition, of course, they dump numerous dead bodies in the river each day as part of their rituals of death.

Patna, India --Magical Moments

At some poiont (earlier if you travel fast) India overwhelms the senses to the point that they begin to shut down...one by one. The pervasive smells of urine and garbage and thousands upon thousands of bodies rushing and working in the heat soaked streets go mostly unnoticed (unless, of course, you walk downwind of a public urinal). the ears stop yearning for just ONE MOMENT of silence or quiet and accept the constant cacophony of screaming, honking horns, chugging generators, blaring music, wailing songs and babies and bellowing cows. The eyes adjust to the insane patchwork of colors that adorn buildings an landscapes alike, to the crumbling structures and sidewalk shelters, knotted electrical wires, crippled, maimed and snot-nosed beggars, to laborers lugging sacks of grain that bend them nearly to the ground, to careening cars, trucks, buses, rickshaws, and bicycles, to temples featuring multi-limbed, garishly colored, elephant and monkey-like Gods and the eyes begin processing the chaos with barely a flicker. The tongue accepts the flavors of pollution, spices, exhaust fumes and smoke and the skin absorbs the veil of dust and dirt and becomes one with the earth.

The unusual and unique become the norm and you move through the throngs of people and bumper car traffic with comfort and ease. But even as you accept the unusual as usual, India continues to surprise and delight.

The other morning I got up at 6 am to go the the Ganga (Ganges) River for a performance by Khitish (a wise 23-year-old Orissa artist). A group of 10 or so where walking through the awakening streets enjoying the cool morning breeze and relative quiet. A bicycle rickshaw drove by and, as usual, the occupant, an elderly woman, craned her neck around the side of the rickshaw to get a longer look at the white people walking. I waved and smiled. Up ahead, the rickshaw stopped. I thought she was going to ask me if I needed a ride or something. Instead, however, when I approached her, she gently took my hands in hers and bowed her head murming a blessing (I presume) before touching her hand to my forehead. I smiled and bowed my head in return. And then I continued walking and she told her rickshaw to “challo!” (go!) The girl walking next to me looked and me and we both raised our brows. “Things like that rarely happen to me in Ohio,” I said, and we both laughed in wonder. I was at peace the rest of the day.

In Ranchi a similar thing happened to Kata and me. We were sitting on the steps of a small temple relaxing. Some boys were playing cricket nearby, people from the neighborhood were walking her and there going about their daily business. A young girl in her teens fo 20s with a small child walked by and I, as usual, said “Namaste” and smiled at them and joked a bit with the kid. About 10 minutes later, I saw the two of them coming toward us from a distance carrying something. As they came closer I realized it was a big bouquet of flowers (for the Gods in the temple, I presumed.) Instead, she walked up to me and presented the flowers to me with a smile and a bow of her head. she then turned and walked away. Kata and I looked at each other and the world was suddenly a very beautiful place.

Of course, I’ve come to expect magical moments when doing my bracelet project. Every time I tie a bracelet on someone’s wrist, a wonderful “something” passes between us. The beggar kids stop begging and, instead becomes kids and we joke around and laugh and talk. I gave bracelets to two adorable gap-toothed older ladies who wanted money for food. They giggled like teenagers throughout the process, patted me on the shoulders and head and then strolled away jabbering about the strange experience they had just had. (Two young Muslim men watched this exchange and by the time the ladies left, they, too, were smiling...and the Muslin facial expression is a tough one to crack!)

At the railroad station, I tied bracelets on a man with half a hand, a man so dirty he seemed to be permanently black from head to shoes, a beautiful young beggar mother carrying her baby, an entire family of street people, a cow (his horn) and a statue of Ghandi.At lunch we had the most adorably ancient waiter. He took such good care of us and we enjoyed jabbering in my horrible Hindi. I presented him with a bracelet and he seemed to actually GROW in stature as I tied it on and then be BLUSHED and giggled and looked proudly at the other waiters. Every time he returned to the table, he shook his gray head and chuckled with happiness. It’s a good project.... definitely making connections that run far deeper than I expected.

But enough of the serious stuff.... on to THE INDIAN EROTIC MOVIES

Eric, Kata and I decided it would be fun to go to see some Indian porn in the lowest class theatre in town. We arrived about a 1/2 hour late, but there were still about 50 or more mostly young men buying their tickets. One man, obviously concerned about our ignorance, came over and informed us that this wasn:t “a family movie” and that we couldn’t attend. When Eric asked why he said he didn’t know... “it just isn’t fair,” he said. We, of course, responded by going to the ticket counter and buying our tickets (despite constant warnings that this was not a family movie). But we bought our 12 rupee tickets (45 rupees to a dollar)... there were 10 rupee tickets, too, but you had to STAND downstairs in a mob (we might be crazy, but not THAT crazy!)

After climbing 5 flights or steps, we settled in our balcony seats...the movie was underway. Unbelievable. I thought maybe it was a filler flick before the real thing, but it was indeed the feature. It looked like it was made in the 70s (because one of the sexy girls was dressed like a hippie)... The film was badly scratched and marked and the “scenes” were segmented by black film with “lightning” scratched into it which was accompanied by crashing fake thunder... I can’t even describe the plot, but it involved two policemen, three sexy girls (the hippie, a very dark skinned girl and an Indian woman with her sari tucked seductively?? in her belt), several overweight mustachioed Indian guys, and -- my favorite character -- a MONSTER (yes, a big hairy, ugly monster man with huge fake hands hanging down covered with green fur) The monster lurched around, roaring and grunting until he found a sexy girl (usually on the bed having erotic dreams) that he could ravage and then kill. If he happened upon a man, he’d simply kill him. In between the monster shots, there were odd scenes in which some erotic act was featured (from unbuttoning a shirt to doing “the deed” which was captured by flashing from the man’s head to the woman’s head with groans of OOOOH! AAAAAH! OOOOOH! AAAAAAH! OOOOOOH! AAAAAH!)

Meanwhile the fellows standing downstairs whooped and hollered. (The ushers kept anyone from sitting next to us, but one guy sat two seats away and moaned “Ahh, boobs, I love big boobs! F***ing boobs! Yaaaaaah!” until our lack of interest sent him scurrying back to his seat.We stayed until Intermission (God only knows what happens during the break where hundreds of excited Indian boys are involved!) It really is a sad and pathetic comment on the state of sexual affairs in Indian. If hundreds of men and boys throng to see such horribly, pathetically bad porn, something is definitely amiss!

Other news--Two guys from Serbia joined the Karavan yesterday and my friend Anna arrives in the morning... the Karavan blogsite is up (although I haven’t posted to it) at artkaravan.wordpress.com ... it probably has some photos of me and the rest of the crew...

I gave a talk on Conceptual Art and my work at the college and the kids loved it (although don’t really quite get it)...Getting the equipment, power, plugs and screen was the highlight... the plugs were held in by placing rocks around them... the screen was a big white blackboard thing scraped and marked.... an electrician (and I use this term very loosely) had to come and twist some wires together and stuff them in a box... we got started about an hour late, but no one cared in the least..

Kata, Eric and I went to a “ritzy” Indian members-only club on the banks of the Ganga last night for drinks and snacks with the guy running the Patna leg of the Karavan and his wife (both of whom I know from the time I spent in Bodh Gaya). There were no other women there (they come on weekends).... just groups of guys gathered in circles of chairs in the grass and on the patio, drinking and eating...

Went on a siteseeing trip to a private museum... The Quila House featuring the Jalan Collection http://www.jalanmuseum.com/ Unbelievable amount of stuff of all sort... the guy who accumulated it was obviously a hoarder of the highest level and had a bit too much money at his disposal! But it was interesting... and then on to the Jain temple (second largest in India?? or Bihar??)...

Jains are a separate religion from Hindu and Muslims (share some roots, I suppose)... they’re the ones who wear turbans. When we walked in, the temple display was bright and flashy and beautiful...but off to the side sat about 40 people counting STACKS of money and coins from the collection boxes... obviously, the Jains are doing A-OK.

Kata and I are launching a new project -- Non-Performance Art. We’re just going to go stand somewhere until a crowd gathers and then take a bow and leave. We got the idea when we went to the train station to watch a performance by some of the artists...they were painted with white faces and carried spoons with rice in them in their mouths...very dramatic. However, Kata and I simply standing there watching drew a crowd as big or bigger than the performance. Khitish, the Orissa artist, kept telling the crowd to watch the performance, but to no avail. Finally, I stepped forward and said *Hello, my name is carol Hummel. “I’m from the United states and I love India” The crowd went wild with approval!! Kata did a short speech, too, to the crowd’s delight! Khitish so aptly summed it up by saying, “Well, it’s obvious who the real works of art are” Hilarious!

And so ends my chatter for the next week or until I find an internet again. We’re having the end of Patna party tomorrow and on the 11th the Karavan goes to Lucknow, but a bunch of us are going to Bodh Gaya for several days to enjoy some monks and temples and Tibetan food.