Awkward Moments While Traveling: Part 5
Traveling isn’t always fun. Sometimes it’s awkward, frustrating, or even makes you fear for your safety.
This post is dedicated to all those unpleasant times.
India is definitely not an easy country to travel to. I’ll hate it one moment, then love it another. It’s incredibly interesting, yet Intense (with a capital I). One thing’s for sure: it’s never boring. It’s officially been a week since I’ve been traveling in India and I have had so many awkward moments. I struggle to find positivity in most of these incidents. Although I have experienced genuine kindness and generosity in India, the awkward moments seem to occur more often. Hopefully these stories will provide entertainment for others, as they were not pleasant to go through.
The Iskcon Temple in Mumbai, is one of the many religious organization’s temples dedicated to the Hindu deity, Krishna. The temple was located near my Air Bnb so I wanted to check it out…plus, my host informed me that there was excellent pani puri sold there.
After a walk around the temple, my stomach was telling me it was pani puri time. Upon exiting, I was stopped by 3 worshippers. They asked if I wanted to try chanting. I hesitated, but wanted to be open minded. I thought it would just be a quick chant and I would be on my way.
They tell me to take a seat on one of the plastic chairs that lined the wall. I sit and a young, intense Indian dude teaches me how to say the chant, barking at me to repeat after him. He doesn’t provide any explanation to the chant or even the reason for it. After I say the chant he hands me this long, wooden necklace with lots of beads - a sort of rosary.
Intense Indian Dude demonstrates how to use the beads. He stresses that I must only use my right hand to hold the beads and to use my thumb and middle finger to move from bead to bead in order to track the amount of chants I have completed.
The whole time I’m thinking: Dude, I’m fucking Filipino. I was raised praying the Rosary. Who do you think you’re talking to?
The Catholic Rosary consists of 50 beads (53 with the intro prayer). The Hare Krishna version has 108 beads.
My plan: To chant really fast and get the fuck out of there.
So im chanting. While I’m chanting I begin to get really angry. Angry at myself for being such a pushover and angry that they were making me do this.
I chant faster and faster with no idea of what I’m saying. After about 50 chants, a surprisingly calm feeling washes over me.
After completing my 108 chants, Intense Indian Dude asks if I feel stress free after doing the chanting. I look him in the eye and tell him that I was stress free before I chanted.
He kind of just looks at me and I leave for my well deserved pani puri.
After visiting Mahabodhi Temple in Bodhgaya, the hallowed spot where the Buddha attained enlightenment over 2600 years ago, I was feeling really zen, and irritable at the same time. It’s fucking hot in India.
My tour guide leads me to a nearby Nepalese Buddhist Temple. Im not really interested, but I take a quick look inside.
Almost immediately, I am approached by a young Indian man. He asks me where I’m from and goes on to tell me a bit about the temple. From past experiences, I’m already wary of this man and know where this is leading to.
Once he completes his pleasantries, he tells me about his shop that is not too far from where we are.
I lose interest immediately and he notices I am no longer paying attention to him.
He goes from 0 to 100 real quick.
The Indian man starts going off about me not trusting him because he is too friendly (Duh), and that he just wants to show me his shop.
I’m sick of the games and blatantly tell him I’m just not interested.
He calms down then asks if I like Bob Marley. My guide and I begin to walk out the temple. The Indian man follows us and tells me he has some good marijuana that many Americans and Canadians like.
I tell him again that I’m not interested and he finally walks away.
Ummmmm…Is That A Dead Body?
A must do in Varanasi is to take a boat ride at dawn on the Ganges River. It was definitely one of the highlights during my time in the holy city.
There were pilgrims bathing away a lifetime of sins in the water. I saw people washing clothes, meditating, performing puja (acts of worship). We even parked our boat in front of Manikarnika, the major cremation ghat in Varanasi, for a few minutes.
What surprised me the most was as our boat was slowly chugging along the Ganges, our loins vibrating from the pulse of the engine, I saw a dead body float past.
A motherfucking dead body.
I knew the person was dead because the legs and lower torso were sticking out of the water, while the head was submerged underwater for a really long fucking time.
I looked around the boat. Did anybody else see that shit?
No one seemed to have a look of shock on their face. Then I saw a tourist in another boat take a picture of the body as it floated closer to them.
On a walking tour of Varanasi I learned from my guide that there are five types of people who can’t be cremated: pregnant women, children, sadhus (or holy persons), lepers, and those that have died from a snake bite. For those people, a rock is tied to their body and they are thrown into the river.
Cremation is costly, so those that cannot afford it will throw their partially cremated loved ones into the Ganges.
I tried to wrap my head around India’s views on death, but...that was some shit.
The guide for my Buddhist Pilgrimage tour offered to have one of his friends take me on a walking tour of Varanasi. I tell him I’m not interested but the next day he shows up with his friend, Danesh.
So I go with it. I don’t have any plans anyway. I immediately tell Danesh “No silk shops.” Varanasi is known for its silk products and pashmina scarves. One major scam is that tour guides will take you to shops, where they will pressure you into a sale and get commission from your purchased products.
When I tell him this, he seems offended. He tells me that that is not what he is about. I feel bad for my comment. I just can’t seem to trust anyone. It’s exhausting to decipher who you can trust and who is trying to take advantage of you. I relax and decide to let my guard down a little bit. We proceed with the tour.
Danesh does a good job. He is knowledgeable and even takes me to Manikarnika, the major cremation ghat.
A major piece of advice that I read in my guidebook and online, was to resist brahmins’ (a Hindu priest) offers to “show you a better view” at the burning ghats. This will always end up in the brahmin demanding a ridiculously high “donation.”
As described, a brahmin offers to take me to the cremation floor.
First off, I know what that will lead to, and second, with my western view, I felt that the cremation process was a private affair for the families. I wanted to be respectful, despite the fact that cremations are done publicly here.
I tell the brahmin “No, thank you.” Danesh assures me that he does not have access to the cremation floor and that I would need to go with the brahmin for a more in depth experience. I, again, thank the brahmin for his offer, but firmly refuse.
The last stop on my walking tour was a visit to Vishwanath Temple. This is the most famous of the Hindu temples in Varanasi. It is dedicated to Shiva as lord of the universe. Officially, non Hindus cannot enter the temple, which includes most foreigners. If one declares an interest or curiosity in Hinduism, a foreigner may be allowed inside. From what I’ve read, it depends on how the police are feeling that day.
I follow Danesh and he leads me to a flower shop with a locker area just outside the temple.
He tells me bags and cameras are not allowed inside, so I will need to lock up my stuff here. A man dressed in all white appears. Danesh tells me this brahmin will take me into the temple and explain things to me. I can make a “donation” to him afterwards.
They hand me a basket of flowers and say I need to bring an offering to Shiva. I pay the 150 rupees for the flower offering, although I’m pretty sure I’m being overcharged for that.
When the police at the temple ask why I want to visit, Danesh and the brahmin advise that I tell them I am interested in Hinduism and have come to India to pray.
The brahmin quickly leads me into the temple. I get patted down by a female security guard, who seemed to only focus on my boobs. I register with the police, who write my passport information down, and let me through, no questions asked.
In what was less than 10 minutes, the brahmin makes me cut through the long line of worshippers to make my offering to the Shiva lingam idol. You can’t linger long, or the police will pull you outside to make room for the next worshipper. Next, the brahmin tells me to sit on the carpet outside the idol’s housing and pray to Shiva for all the things I want. Since I don’t believe in Shiva, I just asked that he protect me from Indians trying to take advantage of me.
As I said, we left the temple as soon as we came in. We stop in front of another idol in the flower shop and the brahmin tells me to repeat a chant after him. We then open a bag of these small white candies that came with the flower offering I purchased. He places a few in my hand, and tells me to eat them. I oblige. I’ve seen this done before.
I get my things, take out my wallet and hand the brahmin 500 rupees. He tells me “Ma’am, the minimum donation is 1000 rupees. You are very lucky to go into this temple.”
“1000?!” I say angrily and immediately shoot the most dirty look I can to Danesh, who is observing nearby.
Feeling so defeated, I don’t even put up a fight.
I hand the brahmin another 500 rupees and quickly leave - seething.
Danesh leads me to my hotel, not saying a word to me. We arrive and I hand him 200 rupees for his services. Even though I hate him, he did tour me around.
He puts his hands up towards his chest, palms facing out, and tells me he doesn’t want my money. He says he could see how unhappy I am.
Danesh leaves and I remain in my hotel for the rest of the night until check out the next day.
