INDIA

So I lived in a "third-world" country for two years. This country was Brazil. I was told that India is unlike any other place in the world. For some unknown reason, I set aside these statements, assuming it could not be any different or more impoverished than I had already seen. After 15 hours of playing video games, watching movies, snacking to my hearts delight, using the restroom occasionally, and sleeping on the flight, I arrived in New Delhi, India. As soon as I stepped off the airplane, heat, humidity, and horrid smells filled my senses. Sleeping in such a place seemed impossible. As soon as I left the airport, I was overwhelmed by the drastic and seemingly unending poverty. My sense of appreciation skyrocketed immediately as did my embarrassment as I walked amongst such hard-working, sincere and humble people. This sense of gratitude transitioned into duty as my trip wore on.

The purpose of my trip was primarily geologically related. Yet, most of my attention was directed towards the fascinating culture and people. Our first significant geologic and cultural stop was Haridwar located at the foothills of the Himalaya mountain range along the Ganges river. The source of the Ganges comes from a sacred mountain named Nanda Devi. Nanda Devi was once thought to be the highest mountain in the world and is named after the bliss-giving goddess. The sacredness of the mountain is inherited by the Ganges River, which flows down into the Indian continent. Haridwar is where the Ganges exits the himalayas and spreads its' power to the majority of the country. This power can be interpreted to be figurative and very much literal, as much of the country depends on its' water to nourish the billion people that live on the Indian continent.

Every evening on the banks of the Ganges river, the people participate in a religious ceremony where the creamated dead are emptied into the strong current, accompanied by traditional Hindu music, chants, singing, prayers and occasionally bowing gestures. It was easily, the most foreign thing I have ever seen, heard, or been a part of. Here I was, a day off the plane from Chicago, drenched in sweat, surrounded by Indians, participating in a very spiritual, cultural, and religious experience.

I remember having an overwhelming feeling of insignificance and ignorance, shortly followed by gratitude. Firstly insignificance because I grasped very briefly, how small and inconsequential I am in this big world. My insignificance was followed by ignorance, because I was experiencing something that I had only glanced over in my world religions class at BYU, as if it were a fictional, romanticized, story. My gratitude was deep and sincere as I observed the simple, humble believers during the ceremony. I was grateful to have my eyes opened to a new culture, grateful to know that these people have strong religious beliefs to guide them, and grateful to know that I too have strong religious beliefs that continually guide me and allow me to accepting of others.

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The following week we spent driving in a crammed bus on an uneven, narrow, and essentially "two-laned" one-way road. I am not one to get car sick, yet this ride, which consisted of three consecutive days along the Ganges River gorge, made everybody in the group nauseous. The Ganges River Gorge is very much a gorge. Every summer between May and September, torrential rains attack the Himalaya Range. As the storm front collides with the Himalaya range, the clouds are forced upwards, condense and precipitate in large amounts on the south side of the mountains. This rain, which is essentially

continuous during these summer months, erodes the mountains down at very quick rates leaving behind deep, steep gorges and swift, sediment-loaded rivers, such as the Ganges. These roads along the gorges walls leave no room for error. Often, landslides and rockslides cover the road inhibiting transportation for days.

More than once, our bus was stopped because of a landslide which covered the road. At one particular point, we were stopped because a tributary stream covered the road and toppled boulders all across the already narrow road. We were somewhere between Joshimath and Badrinath. Badrinath, our destination, is a sacred sight for Hindus and Sikhs. It is where the road stops, just 10 km from the Tibetan border. Hindus and Sikhs make pilgramages to this sacred spot as often as possible. Thus, there were several buses, cars and countless mopeds full of religious people stopped at this landslide.

The street along which we were stopped, quickly filled and the street venders quickly emerged. We were the source of attention in the streets. Mostly the three girls were the attention. I assume that the locals see plenty of male trekkers and climbers up in these parts, but rarely see blue-eyed western women. The whole group dispersed along the street in search of cheap, hand-made items. I bought a few scarfs, ate some fresh, fried potato treats, and chatted with some sikhs. These sikhs had traveled all the way from Mumbai and were obviously very educated. I asked them all sorts of questions about their pilgrimage and lives. I could tell they thoroughly enjoyed the attention and the opportunity to speak english.

Dancing ensued, as we became more comfortable and the spotlight for all the locals and pilgrims. I made a few quick, uncoordinated dance moves to the indian music which was playing in the street. My decision caused quite a stir. The indians gathered around and insisted I continue. Others from my group began doing hip-hop moves to the traditional Indian music. The people were fascinated and very entertained by our dancing. One Indian man, jumped into the circle and showed us how they do it in India. The other men in the circle, watched on with crossed arms and ashamed smirks. It was quite the sight to see; Gringos and Indians hip-hop dancing to traditional Indian music, in a small Himalayan village, surrounded by the largest mountains in the world.