Monday, 12 March 2012

some kind of holy...

main cart, varanasi, 11th march 2012

People told me it would be dirty. Real dirty. But it was ok. The first impression. But it was a Sunday, alka argued.

I met the girls after a 14 hours train drive. Less spectacular than I train hoppers, no crazy people on the train. Just me and a couple with child, a chai guy in the morning and me desperately staring outside the in a train station stopping train, dreaming of breakfast with fresh mango juice and coffee. People went outside, but not me to scared of being left alone, without my luggage, but with my mango juice.

Also it was not hot. Not as hot as people told me so. Ok. As far india can get.

I am in varanasi, the center of old india, spirituality and tourism.

kite, varanasi, 11th march 2012
tourist, varanasi, 11th march 2012

I knew I had problems of liking it. Already before.

India is a popular destiny for all kind of tourism, from cultural addicts till individual seekers india is a common place to visit. Cause it is English speaking. Because it is save. People say.

I have a tiny problem with that. I get goose bumps by so many tourists around me who are taking pictures of everything and nothing, getting excited about a little chai store next door, the cow peeing in the rubbish. Like me. This is scary.

The evening prayer is a tradition. Actually not an evening prayer, more a two-time prayer. In the morning and in the eve. On the Ganges.
It is a holy place.

Today there are more people than usual. Cause one year is past. For the japan and the world after the tsunami started. So today they are praying not just for them and the world, but also the Japanese.

It is loud.
Why can people never keep quiet, asmita asks.

We are sitting on a platform, round. Next to the Ganges, next to the prayer tables. Perfect location.

On the shores of the Ganges people are coming and going, dipping their heads, bodies, dropping their candles. Slightly. Posing. Stopping. The perfect image, that is important.

Behind me the banner with a computer animated written text is lightening up.  About the Ganges and the sins and sinners are going to be released. Red lighten letters, going though the black banner.

When does actually something, which was supposed to be for the community, had a function, and was a tradition becomes an entertainment?
What do you have to do?
Is it important to prevent it?
Do I actually just see it like that because I am a tourist?

prayer, varanasi, 11th march 2012
  Asmita and me look at the female tourists.

Me: why do the clothes look not as good on the non-south Asians?
Asmita: because they do not know anything about textiles, material, cut.

And yes probably. We, i mean me and the rest of the non south asian tourists, do not see examples, not enough, just the ones from the street. To little time to absorb differences, fine details.

I always thought it is the skin, to pale for the colors, patterns. But maybe not.

food, varanasi, 11th march 2012

No comments: