INDIA: UJJAIN & KUMBH MELA

I've arrved in Ujjain, city of the Indian state of Madhya Pardesh. This is one of four cities where it is believed that Vishnu spelt the drink of immortality in the river which is now believed to be sacred. Of course, Vishnu took care of choosing the right size city, too, because it needs to fit around ten million people who will take a bath into the river and wash their sins. 

Even if I didn't have an attention of taking a bath on Kumbh Mela festival I wouldn't mind about some receipe for the eternal youth that Vishnu might have saved for me. 

I have enough time to get familiar with the area and to find the most important spots I can watch bathing, avoiding the crowed at the same time. Everything has already been set as I've thought: festival decoration, calls from the temples, sparkles in the river and the lights over the temples. Real festival atmospere. 

Bathing starts early, before the dawn and lasts all day long. This is the first bathing and there will be two more on different days. What is interesting about this festival is that it happens once in twelwe years in each place: Haridwar, the biggest one on the Ganges River, Allahabad, Nashik and Ujjain. The time of the festival has been set according positions of the Jupiter, the Sun and the Moon in Zodiac. I don't know where the Jupiter is at the moment but the Sun and the Moon are meeting each other, indeed, on the same horizontal line and that is something I witness once in 34 years. 

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My pilgrimage to the river Kshipra is the earliest I can get myself together, few hours after midnight... While I'm approaching to the River, the police is struggling to hold an order. I am not the only one in a rush to see Naga babas or Hindu monks having their bodies rubbed in the ash, walking without any clothes or just one part of the body coverd with a piece of material. They are here because their spiritual leader - guru says that they spent enough time being isolated and having certain restrains from material life. How much time they had spent alone is visible on the length of hair which can sometimes go all the way to the ground. In case I wanted to become a monk, I could have spent the rest of my life in isolation until my hair grows. Plus, I wouldn't give up on some things, like chocolate for example, whatever spiritual award is. In order to reach nirvana, they consume usualy marihuana. They usually sit at the front of the tents where they give the blessing to people saying holy words and touching the forehead with the fedder stick. One of naga babas calls me to come under the tent but I just stay watching because I don't think that instant procedure is enough for my spiritual turnover.

Ritual washing is the most important part of the festival: three times dipping in the river then thoroughly washing the parts of the body. What I can notice here is that older people don't mind at all about taking a bath totally naked. Maybe, once you get into certain age there's nothing more to be ashamed of, or, they desperately need Vishnu's the drink that the River contains. If they miss this chance to take a bath, it might not be another one.

In the afternoon, gurus and monks are going through the city saluting the people. I get stuck in a crowed almost left without possibility to breath, so one polite local invites me in his apartment to watch the parade from his balcony and hosted me with a cup of worm and sweet milk. It is more interesting to watch the festival from the balcony because I can see all old gurus with the grey long beard what makes them look like they really know all the answers (guru is someone who "clears the darkness" by knowledge). According to the sign on the forehead is possible to recognize to which familie they belong to (yellow horizontal lines are Shiva familly and two vertical white lines with red line in the middle are Vishnu familly). Even if, in general, this is a peaceful festival, followers are carring swards. That is a symbol of fighting for their religion. I heard that some families were fighting over the advantage of taking a bath. Sometimes naga babas can be agressive if the cameras interrupt their sessions.

In the time of festival is hard to get into the town because the traffic is more extensive than usaually, specially In India where wehicles are not the only objects on the roads. Cows as the holly creaturs have an advantage on the road, and then cars, tuck-tucks and motorbikes usually seen driving it the opossite direction, goats and occasionaly an elephants ordering the rules of trafficking. I need to pay the constant attention not to get overrun by any of the above. Horning is a part of an Indian tradition and even if the niose is unbearable, it is really neceesery. I think this festival's atmosphere is always going on every day no metter if it is a festival or not. For Indians transportation is not a problem, they just put whole familly on the motorbike in case they don't want to walk barefoot as they often do. 

I get form the festival what I was expected but there was one thing I'm not prepared for. It is my popularity among local people. They stop me on every corner to take a picture with me. I feel like some huge celebrity thinking sometimes to disguise myself in order to avoid publicity. I need more time to get somewhere because of selfies. Locals just love to take a selfie with a strangers and they don't mind if somebody's taking a picture of them. One of them wants to take a picture of his baby with me and puts the baby in my arms before I'm able to react. They obviously trust to everyone and they are not aware of danger. Once, I accidentaly crossed on the side where I wasn't supposed to be and policeman punished me with taking a selfi with each of them. Sometimes the whole group geather around me because of the selfie and a pictures. I had thought maybe I would get tired of merchants trying to sell me something but not for taking pictures of me. It is really tiring and now I understand what it feels like to be a celebrity. I wish I were so popular as a blogger!!!

A STORY FROM JORDAN

 

My story from Jordan is not much about monuments and sights, I am going to mention them too, but there is something as valuable as stones and dust. It is about meeting other people which is helpful in so many ways: to get an extra information, to hear a different experience, to share transportation expenses, to make a contact that can help in the future, or, just to make a new friend. From the moment I took a seat on the bus to Jordan I had somebody to talk to. 

Her name is Dijana. She was surprised as much as I was when we had realized we speak the same language. We were laughing together when the immigration officers at Jordanian border took my husband's camera, looking it like it was their new toy, and my sanitary "adds" ordering me get it open.  After both of them made sure there was no bomb inside, they let me go. 

Dijana used to live in US so we shared our feelings of living abroad. I said goodby to her little bit before Aman and our strong hug had said we were going to stay in touch. Now, she's enjoying the sun somewhere in Shree Lanka. 

I didn't have any accomodation in Aman and a German girl from the same bus asked me if I wanted to share the taxi with her. She told me about the hotel where she was supposed to stay. She had booked it few months in advance like every responsible German, not leaving anything uncertain. 

I had a chance to spend some time with locals. It was on the way to Petra and two of us were only tourists on the bus. It was 5.30 in the morning and I was swearing myself because I needed to wake up that early. Unlike me, locals were in the mood to party and as soon as driver started the bus they started to party. Popular Arabic etno music was playing and everybody stood up and started clapping their hands. It was like a celebration party when everybody jumps on the table and chairs. Two hours later, I was only able to press the video button on my camera and I did so. Half an hour before Petra, locals stopped to pick up the wormwood, a wild plant which can prevent some breathing difficulties. This plant is useful specially to smokers. Maybe, if they stop smoking it would cure them too. 

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Petra is the city where I wanted to spend some time with myself. Because of red color of the rocks and thousand shades of red, it is called "rose city". Red is my favorite color and I couldn't decide which shade would be favourite, the pale one or very dark one. The most of the city is still well preserved with the clear insight of la vie en rose with temples, theater, caves, graves and palaces. I needed to get into almost every hall and to get under of every single stone. It is such a contrast of being outside where the sun is burning and in the caves where is almost freezing. My ultimate point was the Roman temple that is raising on the hill, curved into the rock. All I can say that Romans did a hell of a job building it all the way up, even they had a good base, though. Building was probably more exhausting than my climbing, especially because Romans didn't have a nice package of crackers to give them a smiley after they had finished it.

I needed more time here and I let the bus with locals to go without me. On the way back I was thinking about locals and I wish I had more time to get to know them better. 

The next day at the breakfast, a guy asked me something. I couldn't recognized his accent so I asked him where he came from. When he answered, we were both laughing. He is my neighbor, from Slovenia. Again, somebody I could speak the same language with. I was complaining about smoking in Jordan when Leon asked for the ashtray and my face got a nice Petra color.

City of Aman is like an archeaologycal miracle. In the city center is Roman Amphytheather which is shaped to spread the voice from one side to another without any use of technology. In front of the Amphytheater, kids are playing soccer. I wish I had such a playground when I was a kid and I hope there won't be any extraordinary ability soccer player who would turn Amphytheter into the ash with one powerful shot. While I was searching for some points of interest, Leon showed up in front of me.

This time he was with the group of Polish future doctors: Greg, Kamila, Anna Maria and Aleksandra. It is always good to have a doctor by your side and I joined them. All together, with the pale ten, light color of hair, we looked so different from the others. At one moment some local guys started fallowing us. I don't think they would harm us but I think they were just curious. We really looked like a gang ready to make a mess. Probably that was the reason merchants offered us cup of coffee for free or the foreman let us visit Roman spa -The Nimpheum even if it was closed for the renovation. Greg showed us his voice trained at the churc chiore, singing along with an Arabic lady in Umayyad Palace, at the city citadel where we also got in for free because a local showed us a sideway. These are advantages of being a group, I guess. 

We spent the afternoon together and they invited me for a drink in their hostel.

In the meanwhile I had a dinner with Leon at the local restaurant where a waiter had known me already from the day before and he gave us fresh homemade hummus and baba ganush with pita bread. For me, it is a special joy of eating with my hands. 

The last few hours in Aman I spent with a group in their hostel. I met there some people from the bus that had brought me from Israel to Jordan. There was also one guy who's planning to stay on the road for two years. He was a serious competition to me but he had said I gave him a checkmate with my south polar expedition. Greg acted like a good host making sure we all try Polish sweet vodka. It was really great to meet all of these people. It will stay a memory from our friendship written on a small flower vase. It is not very clear but it's there, in Jordan. 

And the World is really a small place so I'm sure we'll meet each other again. 

Most of the people I've met there are coming from one country and living somewhere else. And it was really great to hear their life stories. 

I left Aman thinking how much I enjoyed Jordan even if I had spent only four days there. A little bit before the airport my taxi driver had stopped to pick up a man whose car got broken ten minutes far from the airport. It was a good way to finish this story. 

ISRAEL & PALESTINE: HOLY LAND AND AVANTURISTIC SPIRIT

The facts that tangerine is a size of an orange, women serve the army and cats almost outnumber people mean the things in the Middle East are not very clear. Jewish, Muslims and Cristians still live together and still fight against each other even in 21st century.

I came in Tel Aviv on Friday afternoon what is probably not considered kosher. Shabbat had just started so I couldn't take the public transportation to the hotel, only the taxi was available which charges luggage by piece and an extra fair because of Shabbat. After the taxi driver kicked me out one block away from the adress, I came to the hotel with no reception and no notification, just the door with a password required. I stayed staring at the door until another hotel guest came and gave me the instruction how to get in. There were no people on the streets, only a bunch of cats. Stores opened again around 10pm and an the city got some new energy, from the restaurants with different kinds of food, laud music and very high prices. At night, Tel Aviv turns into a small New York of the Middle East.

The old city of Tel Aviv is called Jaffa  which reminded me of the biscuit with an orange flavoure. Later on I found out that the famous seedless and sweet kind of orange is grown here. Actually, history of Tel Aviv starts with overpopulation of Jaffa, what had put together Jaffa and Tel Aviv into one metropolitan area. While I was walking and trying to eavesdrop a tour guide telling the story about Jewish immigrants settling here, I heard the imam calling to prayer from the minaret and at the same time I felt the aroma of incense from the Cristian church. The rest of Sabbath afternoon I spent stretching myself at the city beach just like everybody else in Tel Aviv. 

When I was young my grandma used to tell me the stories about Jerusalem and Betlehem, about Jesus, his suffering and his crucifixion. She used to take me to church every Christmas and to place me by the setup with lambs and the woman holding a baby Jesus in her arms. I was a little bit jealous of Jesus because he got more presents when he was born than I used to get for Christmas. He was choosen to bring peace and love for all people, as I understood. I really believed in this story until I grew up and I realized it was just a fairytale. I still like stories from holy books but not their literal interpretation, specially not the one that harms other people just because they're different. 

Anyway, Jesus is historical character too, so I decided to check what's going on here, long after he had left and took my grandma away. 

Jerusalem is one of the oldest cities in the world. All the buildings in the city are beige color what made me believe I was still in the era when Jesus had lived. The passages full of stores are leading through the old city to the Western Wall where Jewish people are getting closer to God. Covering my shoulders with shall I payed the respect to tradition in spite of the very hot and humid wether. I saw also soldiers praying and I heard that some time ago orthodox believers were exempted from army duties. Now, serving the army is an obligation for all Isrelis. On the other side of the wall is the city cemetery where I found myself accidentally. I was probably not supposed to be there but it gave me a beautiful view over BIblical City of David standing as a base of Jerusalem as we see it today so I stayed hanging out there for a while. 

Masada is a fortress that used to protect Jewish people from Roman attacks. Later on, Byzantinian monks used these remains and caves as a perfect place to isolate and meet the God. Deep down, under the ground with the sunlight coming through the holes of the cave, I got the same feeling as these monks had gotten. Holy Spirit was released by the divine voice of two girls singing inside. 

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Dead Sea is the only one on the world where I wasn't able to take a swim. I didn't need beach mattress because the concentration of salt kept me floating on my beck. I tried to turn on the side but the salt was stronger. The taste of the sea is not just salty, it's biter too. My skin became slik, just like the body of a squid and the salt was irritating small cuts from my avantouristic spirit. 

On the way back, a local policeman told me that the last bus from the official schedule was not coming. While I was waiting for Jesus to send me one, I took the nice spot behind a parking lot and had a romantic dinner made of crackers and canned dips from the nearest supermarket. Bus came, but I didn't have the ticket so I used the one I had bought the same day but for some other destination, different than the one I was going to. It seemed awkward to the driver that I already had a ticket but he let me on the bus anyway. 

Betlehem  is the place in Palestina where Jesus was born. I thought for that reason everybody is welcome here. Everybody are welcome indeed, except Israeli people, their safety is not guaranteed. I came here to visit Churc of Nativity. I expected from this place to wake up my Holy Spirit but the noise from construction machines was all I got. Maybe that was a kind of test for my self control and patience and I failed it. 

Hebron is city equally holly to Jewish, Cristians and Muslims even if it doesn't belong equally to everybody. It is only half an hour from Betlehem and I wanted to skretch a little bit deeper and feel some more of that "maleficient" Palestina even if I was suggested not to go. It was a rainy day in Betlehem, I was soaked and I wasn't in the mood for walking when, at sudden, the rain stopped and I was able to see all the ancient walls and edifices. 

I was going through the old passages with stores. Palestinian merchant whished me a pleasant stay. There were very few tourist so it seemed I had this city for myself. On the top of the stores is a fence full of garbage. One of the merchants told me that the fance protects them from Jewish people who live upstairs and throw the garbage through the windows. At the end of passages is a check point where Israeli soldier told me: "Welcome to Israel! You're in Israel now!". There are a lot of soldiers on the Israely territory and I didn't feel very comfortable especially when one of them pointed gun and started running toward something. 

Even if the gun was not pointed at me and I was not directly endangered, this wasn't a very pleasant sight. The intolerance between these two parts is hanging in the air and I could feel it. Isreali part looked like the city of ghosts because I didn't see people walking or doing something. All the gates are rusty like nobody had touched them for years. I red on the bord in Israeli part that both sides were living together until Arabs attacked Jewish and got them into one single block. 

Israeli guard stopped me from further walking through Arabic territory. I didn't understand why he stopped me because I was free to visit the other side too. He had a gun so I stopped, without any objection. Even from the distance, I managed to see that this city with all the ancient walls and buildings would be a serious competion to Rome or any other popular city.  What I understand this is a vicious circle where everybody attacking and blaming on each other and there's no end to it. Anyway, I'm so glad I visited this city. Sometimes is better to listen your own instinct than anobody's opinion. 

Nazareth was the last stop in on my holy way. This is where Jesus had grown up. I took a walk late at night and all the churches were still open for a prayer. This place is settled by Muslims and Cristian population. I asked my host, if there were any problems between them. He told me, offering me a cup of tea that Israel and the rest of the Land is not constant source of conflict as we see it on tv.  Later on I meat Dijana, girl from Bosnia, who lives in Haifa and she told me that she likes Israel but she feels constant tension here. She also said that people who live all their lives here just don't want to admit that the conflict exists. 

I got interested in history of this land and the more I read the less I know, it seems. I don't think this conflict will end soon but I hope that all other avantouristic spirits will stay brave enough to visit it. 

I wish my grandma were still alive and she could hear my story. She would enjoy it, for sure, as much as I did listening her once.