Burning Hot in Bodhgaya

Yesterday I was a bit dismayed to learn that the temperatures here are now only in the 80s and 90s Fahrenheit... it feels much hotter.

I arrived Sunday afternoon about 3:30pm after about 29 hours of transit time from Gangtok. I left Gangtok a bit bleary eyed, sad after my long sojourn there and in Sikkim. I was sad to leave the comfort and security of the known and my handful of local friends there; mainly the half dozen or so men that worked at the guesthouse, but also a few others as well. My permit was expiring though (Sikkim requires an inner line permit for foreigners because it is close to the volatile Chinese border), and the season in Ladakh where I planned to be already ends in mid September.

I had planned to leave the day before but ran into a nice guy I'd met a few weeks before and hadn't seen. He encouraged me to stay a day and hang out with him and his friends. I did, and they proved to be very sincere and nice. I ended up coming out to them about my being gay, and they were quite sophisticated about it, though had many questions. They even had a gay friend they knew of. And the best part is they were not about to hustle me, as I had encountered from others.

They invited me to join them on a Shiva pilgrimage in Bihar in a week. I declined, feeling the need to get to Ladakh.

The journey to Bodhgaya was grueling, but also not as bad as I'd feared. I'd been dragging my feet so about leaving Gangtok. Lakpa and Binod from the guest house actually drove me to the jeep stand... very sweet of them ... I the jeep left about 11 am for the normally a four hour journey to Siliguri. Excessive rains had caused numerous landslides though. The journey took about 5 1/2 hours... luckily there were only two landslides that seriously slowed us down with the associated traffic jams.

It felt a bit vulnerable seeing the road eaten away so seriously. And as we drove along the river I wondered how thin the roadbed was that we traveled on in places. At several of the blocks, only small/light vehicles were permitted through. I hoped someone with some engineering sense was monitoring the damaged areas.

Siliguri proved to live up to it's reputation as a "pit". It's a traffic hub full of crime and ripoffs. It was quite a shock after the mountains and the more peaceful cultures there. As soon as I got out of the jeep, touts started asking where I was going so they could see me travel tickets. I resented the feeling of not being able to trust anybody. A "travel agent" right next to the unloading jeep said he had a ticket for me to Patna (my desired route to Bodhgaya). I asked a Hindi man who had travelled in the jeep from Gangtok with me, if there was a bus at the government bus stand across the road. The tout overheard and butted in on the conversation saying there was no government bus to Patna. The Hindi man said that I likely needed to bargain and that I should not take a ticket for any bus unless I actually saw the bus. I took it to mean I should be wary of the tout. Against the protests of the tout and his friends who were insistent that there was no govt bus, and that I ought buy the ticket from them, I managed to head across the street to the bus stand, saying I had to use the toilet. There I found out indeed that there was no govt bus to Patna. A guard asked where I was going and introduced me to a friend to take me to a private agent to get a ticket. Rather, the man was dress like a guard. The gov't information clerk seemed wary of him. I was led to a stand where a fellow with a nice energy quoted me the fare. I declined saying I would think about it... I figured the guy who led me over there was a tout on a commission.

I was hating the plains already. Sikkim has its touts for sure, but they are not as aggressive. I walked along the street to ditch the tout who followed me a ways. Another fellow came along and said he'd overheard my inquiries and that it was true there was only one private bus to Patna. I didn't know whether to trust him or not. I walked a half mile and took a moment or two on a bridge over the wide muddy river. It was 4pm and I figured I best get a ticket. I went back and tried one other agent. He wasn't there and I was immediately accosted by another customer... asking where I wanted to go and then barraging in on me to practice his English. Finally the agent came back. He ended up leading me back to the agent with the nice energy whom the tout from the bus stand had taken me to. My new "friend" accompanied me. I decided to trust and buy the ticket. My new friend then took me to get some food and explained how his Uncle was a monk in Florida; he had told this young man to always practice his English when he met a traveler, and to always help them out. Though a bit overwhelming, he was indeed an honest and nice young man.

Waiting for the bus, I met a monk from Sikkim who was returning to his monastery in Bodhgaya. He was nice and we were both sad our seat assignments didn't place us next to each other. The overnight bus, supposedly leaving at 6pm and arriving in Patna at 6am, was late, and proved one of the most unpleasant bus rides I've ever had. It left late. It was terribly hot and sticky and claustrophobic as the bus stood fully loaded and waiting to leave. I met a English traveler and we vented to each other about the hassles of traveling in India. Finally the bus left and we went careening down the terrible roads... bumping, and shaking our way along. The windows shook themselves open and were impossible to close when a rain storm overtook us. We pulled the curtains down over the windows to block the rain. It was moderately successful in keeping me a little dryer. Luckily it was only a brief storm. The Englishman switched seats and I later learned that his seat was soaked when he first sat in it, but with the humidity and heat and sweat, he hadn't realized it until he was soaked. He said he tried his best to meditate and hypnotize himself into comfort during the night.

I managed to get a little sleep. I laughed at the irony that Bihar people were noted roadworkers on the road in the far north of India to Ladakh because no one else would work for such a low wage. Yet the roads in Bihar were so poor, I wondered if all the road workers had left the state! I think the reality was that we were traveling along a new highway being built, and we were on the temporary right of way. It was a typical India road experience... a road with no lanes and everyone going where they thought the road was best. Five lanes of traffic on a three lane road. The seating on the bus must have been different than the jeep, which had felt like I was breaking skin.

As we approached Patna in the morning I saw alot of poverty and lack of health. I saw a beautiful teenage boy, with what looked like elephantitus in one of his legs. Children with distended stomachs from parasites. People sleeping on bamboo cots in front of ramshackle sheds. In Sikkim I didn't really see poverty. I mean I don't consider it poverty if you don't have money... but if you don't have health, food, and decent shelter, then that is poverty. In Bihar, it looked like poverty to me.

Heavy rains had flooded areas around Patna, and we arrived about 10am to a huge lot full of buses. My monk friend did the wheeling and dealing and decided a train would be better than bus to get us to Gaya. He haggled with the rickshaw driver and got our tickets at the train station. He was a nice man. I was thankful not to have to sort all of it out by myself. We sat exhausted on the train platform awaiting our train. What I thought was to be a three hour ride, turned out to be two hours. From Gaya we took a rickshaw for the half hour ride to Bodhgaya.

I was not enjoying my new environment. The filth that heat brings. The aggressiveness, craziness of the plains people. The hectic pace of multitudes. The monk had bargained a good fare for the rickshaw, but that meant we would be sharing it with as many others as the driver could cram in. At one point a couple of business man passengers balked when the driver tried to pick up a passenger that would have to cram in across our laps. The driver himself was sitting in front of four crammed on the front seat with him!

We finally arrived in Bodhgaya, and I went with the monk to Sechen Monastery where he lived and checked into the guesthouse run by the monastery. Bodhgaya proved to remind me of Khajaraho where I visited last year. Small, but touristy. Full of touts. Shedding a big backpack is the first line of defense, which marks you as a new arrival, maybe looking for a guesthouse. But even then, they still knew I was new. Children horded me trying to take me to their school ("no money, just we need books...") Typical scams. A ring of kids run by a fake teacher who acts like a "pimp". Sometimes even the schools are mostly scams, as I learned from an American guy teaching English here. He said most of the real schools here take about 50% or more off the top to make money for the owners.

I was surprised to have energy after my long journey. I roamed around town after washing some clothes by hand. I was excited that here my clothes actually dried under the ceiling fan overnight! In Sikkim, it was so hard to dry things, that most of my clothes would get musty before they dried.

I met a really nice and honest guy running a bookstore and chatted with him. He had a wife from Belgium whom he had just married in Thailand. She is there teaching English. He is a local guy and businessman. He proved to be one of the nicest people I've met, and one that could understand Westerners.

I eventually made my way to the main temple here, marking the place where Buddha became enlightened. A big complex, full of monuments. I found the Boddhi Tree (actually the 2nd replacement of the original), under which He attained Enlightenment. I sat under it and felt the most amazing energy. There I transmitted the distance Reiki for a series of Soul Empowerment Blessings I am sending to clients around the world.

I was glad to be here, but also hating it. Even in the main temple grounds, there are children dressed like monks trying to extort money. There are rings of old women begging. Daily, one is affronted by boys and men trying to get you to visit their school. It is sad because there is much poverty here. And you have to sort through the corruption to see if and where it is appropriate to help. I haven't done much in the way of giving money, because it mostly seems like corrupt scams.

Over the days, I have become clearly called to join my friends from Sikkim on the pilgrimage. I am excited and nervous. There are many orange clad pilgrims passing through town. I know I will be a focus of attention as I join the pilgrimage. I haven't met any who speak English much here. I get alot of stares from them. I started getting my necessities for the pilgrimage... mainly orange clothing ... yesterday. I will leave everything here in Bodghaya except for a little money, passport, and toothbrush. I found a website explaining the pilgrimage yesterday (http://www.angindia.com/sultanganj/sultanganj_sultanganj_shravani_mela.html ).

My friends said they aim to take 8 or 9 days for the 100 km or so pilgrimage. The walking doesn't scare me, but I am intimidated by the crowd of foreignness I will be immersed in, and a little wondering about facilities and hygiene in such a crowd.

I hope there are less mosquitoes on the journey than there have been in the last two guesthouses I have tried...