A Sunrise over River Ganges

Sunrise on the the River Ganges, a romantic wooden boat ride with bamboo oars awaits at the dockless Ghats, 325 now vacant palaces built by kings with narrows stairs descending to the river. Never mind the occasional dead body or cow floating by, as this is the pilgrimage taken by most Hindus. Ceremonial crematoriums line the river, sending smoke signals to the destroyer god Shiva. After a river washing the blazing wood catches the golden wrapped body, 4 hours later the remains are set afloat.
Children under 5, death by snake bites or small pocks, eunuchs and priests I have learned are not allowed to burn.
Rowing down river, the Ghats are filled with morning rituals of bathing, washing, singing, yogi and fishing. Swimmers maneuver around bodies, boat paddles and floating offerings of banana leaf candles wreathed in marigolds.
It is said for clarity, one should dunk in these waters, but I am unable to persuade myself.

Harri Krishna

Leaving Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, in attempt to catch an overnight sleeper train to Varanasi led us on a wild time chase with our Harri Krishna taxi driver. Thinking 12km = 20min we had no worries, until the smell of rain engulfed our senses. The beckoning lightening storm closed the skies just as govt. road work narrowed our passage. Our determined driver whirled us through games of chicken, swerving opposite traffic, and par for the course, no head lights. We were cruising until a grid of cars, cows, rickshaws, trucks and bikes came to a halt and chaos ensued, 5km from the station. He shook his head, prayed to Krishna, I prayed to Krishna.... We would never make the train, not tonight. Rain fell, horns screamed, people coursed, we were all stuck. What seemed hours later, Krishna answered our prayers, parted the streets with his hand of blue and blew the clouds westerly aside. We whirled on, brainstorming the next plan of attack.

Skidding into the back side of a dark alley, our driver jumped out of the car, yelled at some kids who came flying over, grabbing at our luggage and ready to take foot. "Station," he pointed, "Go, Go." With that, I grabbed my porter and we fled, toward the dark station, up the stairs to our track and there we found the delayed train. Smiling in between rapid breaths of relief, we tipped everyone for their gallant efforts.

This is India, Indian time and the train was later than our furtive driver, 4 hours later to be exact. At 1am we finally pulled from the station, jostled through sleeping passengers and found our beds, 10 and 11; of course we had to oust a squatter from my bed, but that's another story.
Namasté Krishna.

Bangkok arrival

Ten hours flying west with the ever rising sun, my body fooled into thinking there was no need for sleep. Layover in Tokyo, my first footing onto the Asian continent. Lingering through the airport, kiosks filled with tentacled squid cellophaned for quick take out, boxes of green tea mochi, cafe sushi and crazy electronic bubble wrap items, a fav with the local girls. Tokyo, another journey for another time.

Little time between stops, we were ushered onto the next jet destined for Bangkok. Finding 18J, I wedged myself near the window and immediately dosed off into a glorious slumber.
Darkness had finally overtaken 18 hours of sunlight as I wondered from customs, 10:15pm Thai time. Tired, my body moved toward the easiest solution a bright, yellow Kiosk offering local taxi and hotel services. I realize I am no longer the young, I can handle anything resilient hippie chick I thought I once was, rather an aged, quasi-resilient hippie chick, weary-eyed traveler seeking trouble-free accommodations.

Bellies rumbling at 1:30am, a venture into the cooled midnight air finds eateries encased only by aluminum roofs, scattered tables and chairs, families sharing meals, local police sipping rum.
Crossing the street is akin to a successful game of Frogger, there I find an elder man standing behind his delicacies beckoning a look, recognizing only fresh fish amongst the gastronomic art display, I smile, anchor to a table and reassure my belly.
King Fisher beer was ordered, anxious to try the local beer I ordered "the same," and instead got a bottle of "Beer Chang."
Satiated yet exhausted, I fell into a slumber.