It is my last official night in India and I am sad about it. It is truly a strange place, but it makes you want to learn how to be with it.

Today at the Taj Mahal, the driver who has brought me from Delhi- Jeetu, brings me to the West entrance which is less crowded. He goes for breakfast and shows me where to meet him when I am through. He tells me to be aware of the hawkers of course and the “guides”. I walk down the typical chaotic Indian street to the garden area where the hawking begins. I am alone thus more of a target, but I know how to look truly uninterested while not being rude so it is not a big deal. At the Taj, you pay a large sum which includes little booties to cover your feet when you actually enter the building, water, and a “guide” if you choose to use him. It is free- a scary word in India. All in all, it is not to crazy to get in and I am on my way. I let the guide hang around and it does give me some extra value.

He tells me that foreigners pay so much, Indians so little, because the British stripped the Taj of much of its riches so we are paying back. Don’t know if this is fact, did they strip it? But it is funny. He tells me only boys who are decedents of the original crew who built the Taj can guide in this official, government position, don’t know if that is fact or fiction, but it is again interesting. It took 22 years and 20,000 laborers to build. It is perfectly symmetrical. It is indeed a wonder to behold. I did not think I really cared about seeing it, but in fact it was awesome in the true sense of the world. I can see why people flock from all over to see it and find it worthwhile.

The day was perfect weather wise. The crowds are no big deal as the space is massive and has such a precision that you feel like you are floating above the earth just being in the vicinity. The government takes really good care of the operation so it is a peaceful experience. There is “shanti” there they might say in Hindi.

Did I tell you that my name is a Hindi name? No one in South India thought anything of my name as they speak Tamil. But in India everyone has commented, oh- you have a hindi name. I have asked what it means, as most names have a meaning here. Last night the waiter told me it meant “unbeatable” or “invincible”. He knew because his girlfriend is named Natasha. When he saw me name on my order (they do strange things with paperwork here, why would my name be on my food order?), they thought the order was for an Indian person and made the food regular spicy. I could barely eat it, a glimpse of how much they are taming things for us in these tourist enviorns. In truth, I have had no impulse to eat street food or the like as it seems so risky. I have had no stomach problems but indeed see how you would if you were not being directed at crucial junctures.

After my guide experience, very simple, tipped him 50 rupees. I walked around myself and sat and wrote on a bench in the shadow of the taj. A young girl came to talk to me very sweet, practicing her English. Then her sisters and brothers and cousins and parents. Before I knew it they were insisting we take pictures, they tried to get me to come to a wedding they were attending in the afternoon, and gave me an open invitation to Jaipur to stay with them. The people here just amaze me. This is not atypical.
I am behind the desk at the Holiday Inn in Agra. Know the internal feeling of a hotel well from my 13 years at Miraval. I have of course more to say, but will sign off as it is late and tomorrow i begin anew as I journey to Nepal.

Security is tighter of course as I move around. The Taj Mahal we were seriously frisked, the entrance to my hotel has tight security. This is not a Holiday inn like home, quite swank. I have seen more military as they are concerned about Dehli as a target. I feel fine though. Much more likely to get run over by a rickshaw or gored by a bull than taken hostage by terrorists. Blessings and Namaste!

I arrive at the holy city yesterday morning and it feels truly like a month ago. Not that I know the city, it is a labyrinth. But that you see so much in a short time.
I don’t know if I have told Peter, that my camera batteries (3 of them) all went dead 10 days in. I will have other people’s photos from the group for the last portion of our trek through Tamil Nadu. The last stop a shop keeper leant me his camera as our memory cards matched and he had a charger.

Varanasi is a photographers dream. Everything is worthy of shooting. There is beauty and filth always strung together here, and in photos I am sure it will always look like art. I buy a very cheap camera from a shop and try to take old fashioned photos but it stops working for me, so I have to think of photographing this place in my mind and with words. It is just as well, as everyone wants you to pay them for the privilege of photographing them, even or especially the sadhus, and it also seems to remove me from the fact that I am here, not just for memories sake.

Yesterday, I have a hotel problem upon arrival. Did I mention that when I wrote a month ago? (just kidding). The gist of it was I was booked in a backpackers hotel in the center of the city, where it is most maze like. A sweet old autorickshaw driver came to the railway station form the guest house to pick me up and right away I knew I was in a bit of a pickle. He had no teeth, his rickshaw was barely running. At one point, it would not start and he got very quiet and slumped. I thought the man was having a catatonic episode. I asked him if he was ok and he rose and said “yes mam, I am praying to the lord”. This did not surprise me. People do indeed have so much faith here. And of course the rickshaw came to life and he took me through a harrowing drive through Varanasi towards the hidden guest house. The only reason this place included a pick up is that is the only way anyone could find it.

I was a bit stunned at my situation. I had just traveled from Mahaballipurum to Chennai to Delhi to here. The trains (Delhi to Varanasi), first class, are indeed quite nice in India so that journey 12 hours, was pleasant. I was in a compartment with 3 older, gentile Hindus and they included me in their conversations by speaking English, rather than Hindi, and watching over me. You literally sleep on these trains, the attendants bring bedding and by 10 all of my companions were asleep, in the morning you awake, clean up, go back to sitting formation, have chi, and arrive in Varanasi.

Nonetheless, I was a bit beat and nervous upon arriving in Varanasi and the rickshaw drive and the backpackers hotel was too much for my 40 year old self. So I asked the rickshaw driver to take me to Assi Ghat, the southern most section of the city and designed for those tourists who need some luxury. And now I am staying at the “Palace on the Ganges”. I am literally in the penthouse. A little room on the roof that overlooks the Ganges. I had a large room in the basement last night, very nice but no windows. Today I am the polar opposite, on the roof.

Ok a few thoughts about what I have seen and then I will sign off.

A beautiful gift shop that looks at first like a well-organized shoe box, but has 5 rooms that flow backwards. Each room filled with beautiful items- from clothes, to jewelry, to art, to stationary. You feel swaddled in there, surrounded by pretty handmade things. -an astrological depiction of the business’s fate, given by his gurugi, framed at the entrance for all to see. -stores that have huge futons and pillows, so when you come in you sit and visit. If it looks like a good connection, a young boy is called from the street to get chi or coffee. -The internet cafe/travel agent owner just came and did incense puja and silent mantra recitation in front of the image of a shiva lingum (formless form of shiva shaped well, like a phallus) and then also puja in front of Shiva image and hanuman as well. -I need a tailor; a little boy comes and shows me a card for a tailor. He does not speak, I allow him to guide me wordlessly toward the cards address. He is deaf. We are warned not to follow these boys, but I feel like I can trust him and will go only as far as I feel safe. Everyone along the route knows this boy and I can see their warmth for him. I see the regular people of Varanasi as we walk. We arrive at the tailor shop, it is fine and good. The boy is named Rahul. He is very dear and accepts no money. I see him again today and he takes me a few more places. He makes sure no one cheats me and shows me how things are done at various junctures. I wonder how it must be to live and breathe in this chaotic place and have it be silent.

There is so much more but I should post. I walked the river today, from the south ghat (steps) to perhaps the midway point and saw things that were truly amazing. People all swimming in the Ganges like they are at the beach. Laundry being done in the Ganges and spread out on the steps, how has it come clean, cows, bulls, goats, dogs roaming. Men making cow paddies right below a lovely cafe. little shrines along the way, a very important temple, I sit and listen to live “bhajans” or chanting. A sadhu tells me to sit next to him. At this ghat I go, at the insistence of some little kids to the water and touch my fingers in- move them to my head, third eye, heart. People being burning, funerals going on, but I can’t really see that, the funerals, just the burning. In the end a young man tells me, a mans chest will usually remain as it is the densest bone and a woman’s pelvis. It does not seem morbid or gross. The garbage and filth from living humans is much worse than this.

All for now, love from here, Natasha