The Golden Temple

At a busy circle the taxi driver calmly announced "This is as far as I can take you." and so we piled out of the car to stand by the sidewalk. There was no doubt in my mind we were close to the right place. As soon as we stepped out of the car there were guys trying to sell us head coverings in bright orange or plain white and there was a steady stream of people heading down the street. Hmmm....I think we'll go that way too. Past a few barricades and with several warnings to hold our bags safely we suddenly realized that off to the left was a giant shoe depository, after all no shoes or socks are allowed in the temple grounds. Okay. So the five women plop their shoes on the counter and receive a number in exchange while Tony has to head to the other side to join a men's line.  We then continue to walk along the road, which now has a burlap path laid down over it to protect the feet a bit. At a slightly formal gate I wrap my scarf to cover my head and we enter the Golden Temple complex, although I still don't see anything golden.

After walking through a basin of water to clean our feet we are allowed up a set of stairs, through a grand entrance and suddenly there it is. Standing proudly in the middle of a pool of water is the Golden Temple, otherwise known as Harmandir Sahib. And yes, it is golden. Surrounded by an immense courtyard of white marble the only color comes from the water and the golden shine of the temple itself. Well, until you consider the colorful clothing and head coverings of the visitors.

It becomes clear that foreign tourists are not a common vision for many of the people here as we are stopped time and again and asked to take a photo with an Indian. I don't mind so much with the women but after a  while it gets old and we adopt a don't stop policy to keep the requests down to a minimum.

We slowly make progress around the square. Gawking at the brightly turbaned men prostrating themselves in prayer, smiling at the mom washing her son in the holy water, trying to avoid seeing too many men stripping down to underwear to bathe, being impressed by the blue and yellow spear carrying guards while always keeping an eye on the temple.

Having walked three sides of the square we find ourselves facing the entrance of the temple itself and join the line on the bridge waiting to get in. it is surprisingly calm and orderly and moves at a steady pace. The flow of people is regulated by men raising and lowering an orange clothe wrapped rod. The pushes increase a bit once you get past that as everyone wants in. The ground floor had an enclosed space which had several people reading/praying, a group of men playing a type of accordion as background music to the man chanting into the microphone (is that what has been broadcast around the whole complex?). I'm not really clear what was going on and I had no one to ask as we were quickly swept out the next door.  On the backside was a small stairway leading up which opened into a hallway circling a square allowing you to look down on what was happening on the ground floor. On one end was a man sitting behind a giant (and I do mean giant - wide as my arm span at least) book reading. Up another flight of stairs and I emerged onto the roof of the temple. Amid the golden domed trim I glimpsed down at the sacred pond (which gives Amritsar its name) and across to the white marble structure circling the temple grounds. Under a small pavilion was another group of Sikh worshipers praying as yet another large book was being read out of.

As I made my way back down the stair and across the bridge I found myself pondering how despite having many questions and making it to the holiest site in the Sikh religion I sill didn't know much more than before I arrived. If anything I just had more questions. I also couldn't help but notice how, just like with the other holy places I visited, no matter the religion, this one carried a calm and peaceful air.

I returned later that night for a glimpse of the temple lit up in the dark. There were not as many lights as I expected. I suppose because all of the gold reflects the light easily. We poked our heads into the communal kitchen which serves a free meal to anyone who walks in. This makes me wonder if there are any starving people in Amritsar. There shouldn't be, and honestly I don't remember seeing many beggars in the city. So I suppose they have a pretty successful service program here at the holiest site in Sikhism.

Closing the border

 Thanksgiving provided a three day weekend (yes we worked Thursday) and another chance to do a bit more traveling in India. I headed northwest by train to Amritsar with five friends for two days full of adventure. The next several posts will give you an idea of the experiences we had.

After a 30 minute drive we start passing a long line of trucks parked on the side of the road. And I do mean a long line - stretching over a kilometer. They clearly weren't going to make it through the border before it closed for the night and would be sleeping in their trucks tonight. Soon enough we begin to drive past streams of people walking the same direction we're going. There is a hop in their step and everyone looks excited to be going. It is hard not to get caught up in the excitement which is added to by the boys selling little Indian flags and DVDs of the border closing ceremony, popcorn and drink hawkers along with other street food sellers. It feels a bit like we're headed to a movie or a soccer game. For once being a woman means a quicker line through security as there are probably ten times more men then women. Then we slip through a gate towards VIP seating thanks to our foreign passports and head over to the concrete grandstands which flank either side of the road. To our right is an arch topped by a photo of Gandhi and then a packed crowd of Indian men, along with some school children dancing in the street. To the left are the truly VIP seats (seats, not concrete steps), the closed gates (yes plural - one says India and behind it the other says Pakistan) and then you're looking over the border to the Pakistan grandstands and their arch (with the picture of who?).

Not too long after we arrive someone brings out a microphone and gets the crowd to chanting. Mostly it is "Hindistan...Zindiban" (or something close to that, we asked but I've forgotten exactly what we were told). Then some long drawn out wails that sound suspiciously like the South American "Gooooooooolll" herald the start of the show at the Attari Border. First up are two fast marching women who do high kicks as they reach the gate and stand at attention on either side of the road. Then more wailing; two men almost sprint march down the road. When another (more) offical man arrives at the gate sporting the red pleated mohawk hat like the other men, the Indian gate is swung open and the Pakistan one slides to the side. The border is open, and I can't help but think that this is as close as I'll ever get to Pakistan.

Lots of marching, high stepping and stomping follow; Pakistani and Indian soldiers sort of try to stare each other down. Some complicated rituals later, along with a lot of cheering and chanting on both sides of the border, the elaborate flag lowering ceremony begins. Elaborate to ensure that the flags are lowered at exactly the same time so as not to imply one country is better than the other. At times I found myself confused as to if the two populations hate each other, are just putting on a good show, or are friendly. After a handshake between the two main soldiers (perhaps I should say ceremonial soldiers as there was an armed guard from either country staring at the opposite border through this all) the flag is folded and carried away. The two gates slam shut closing the border for the evening and several chains are raised across the road. They are serious about no one crossing at night...or perhaps it is all just to keep the curious tourists (mostly Indian men) from mobbing the gate.

Overall impression - a once in a lifetime sight which I could have never predicted. The chanting and marching were a little overwhelming on both sides of the border, although I must admit the women's section of the Pakistani grandstand was much more colorful than the Indian side. I'm not sure I've bee able to give you an accurate impression of just how crazy the border closing ceremony was. Check out this BBC video clip for a better look. Definitely an experience.

A weekend in Doha

This past weekend found me in Doha, Qatar for a volleyball tournament with my junior varsity boys (all 9 of them). The school I am at is now part of a league that includes schools from Cairo, Dubai, Doha and Abu Dhabi which means some rather different travel opportunities for me. Of course when you are at a sports tournament there are rather limited opportunities to see much  of the country around you. For the most part I was restricted to the hotel and the American School of Doha. We spent one evening with the kids at the Villagio Mall, a large shopping center which was constructed to look a bit like Italy inside, complete with a sky painted ceiling, a small canal (which had gondola rides), hallways that look like streets with houses on either side and an indoor roller coaster. All in all my boys played well, with a lot of heart, and managed to win two games ensuring they weren't last in the tournament. Even more importantly in my mind, our jv teams earned the sportsmanship award thanks to their positive play and friendliness off the court, making me quite proud.

I was excited to realize that I knew 3 people teaching at ASD from my time in Paraguay (how is it that I've now seen 4 people from Paraguay while based in India?) and that I had the opportunity to sit and talk with them between volleyball games. One friend even came to pick me up on Friday and take me downtown for about an hour; giving me the opportunity to walk on the corniche and get a glimpse of downtown Doha and the architecture which is along the ocean front. My two favorite sights were probably the different looking crosswalk signs (yes I am in the Middle East) and the bright green words screaming "realize", "think" and "achieve." At least this way I fell like I got to see a bit of Doha and learn a bit more about the country. Did you know that every native Qatari receives a check every month (for somewhere around $6,000) from the natural gas exported from the country? You can see how this means that there aren't any poor Qatari in the country. In fact all of the workers are imported from other countries making up 80% of the country's population. This international work force makes for an interesting contrast in a predominately Islamic country where the men wear a long white thob and a ghutra on their head while most of the women were covered head to toe in black. 

taking a break in Goa

The Diwali holiday found me with a week off from school and plenty of time to explore a new area of India. After a couple of failed travel plans I ended up in Goa, along the South West coast, with two friends and their families. The week turned into what you can only call a beach vacation. Plenty of time in the sun, playing in the sand, jumping strong waves in the ocean, and eating seafood in a beach side shack. While I don't really consider myself a beach person I really did enjoy the vacation and Velsao Beach which we made our own while there. And I really do mean that we made it our own. Situated outside of the small town of Cansaulim in southern Goa it was a mostly deserted beach. I believe there were others enjoying the beach on just two other days, and people in the water on only one of those days. The rest of the time it was us, the lifeguards and the guys who cooked and served at the beach restaurant. Definitely my idea of what a beach vacation should be like. Clean, smooth sand, shells lining the tide line, crabs and starfish populating the tidal pools, fun with the waterproof camera in the waves and plenty of beach to walk if the desire hit. After a day exploring the north I was extremely grateful we had landed on this small quiet beach rather than one of the commercial, busy, unsettling ones to be found elsewhere in Goa. I enjoyed being able to run down the narrow village road and feel as if I was entering a different time period, passing rice fields, small houses, a herd of water buffalo and a white church perched up on the hill. To have the time to breathe deep, relax and slow down was such a good way to prepare for the craziness that seems to be encompassing the last month and a half of the semester. What a nice way to spend the week. Now if only I could be sitting watching the sun set over the ocean instead of seeing a red sun in the sky due to pollution.