ESCAPE FROM VARANASI
We started our bicycle adventure through the countryside of India in the traffic of Varanasi. Bicycles shiny looking and fully loaded for the first time- One speed, heavy but tough, the most common mode of transportation in India. Our packs strapped to a back rack with bungee cords and twine. We head to the train station in some of the most insane traffic I’ve ever seen, and presumably the worst we’ll experience on this trip. We intended to take a train past an area in Madhya Pradesh of which we were warned of violent Naxalite activity, a military Maoist group. However, we fail to successfully navigate the bureaucracy of the train station, specifically in regard to registering our bikes. We end up taking a bus, loading our bikes on the roof, which suffer minor damage from the bumpy ride (broken spoke, broken seat, broken lock).
We arrive in the industrial, bus station dump of Rewa at 11 pm. On the bus ride in we pass two road side mobs, screaming and banging on the side of the bus. We find ourselves cycling around, looking for a guest house, in the heart of “bandit country”. A tout with a big posse wants us to pay his rickshaw to lead us through the mobs to a hotel on the other side of town, and we have a hard time shaking him. His drunk sidekick grabs my wrist, insisting and scolding me “No Problem” in the way that most Indians like to tell us we worry too much. The first two places are full, and hard enough to find. At 11:30 we finally find a room-but in our obvious desperation, we are dished a price hike. We try to bargain down in vain, accusing him of highway robbery, looking him in the eyes, begging “sukriya”. At last we concede, tired and frazzled. Throughout the day, we reminded ourselves conditions will never be this bad again on our trip, but regretfully sense a calloused “future me” laughing at the naiveté.
REWA-SATNA-PANNA-
KHAJURAHO-165 KM
Our first day was a 50 km ride from Rewa to Satna, along highway 7, a single lane each way road through mustard farms, lined with beautiful old trees. We got to Satna mid-afternoon, opting for a slightly posh sleeping arrangement-a double room with TV. We smoked a joint in celebration of catching “Almost Heroes” from the very beginning, in celebration of the road being beautiful, in celebration of “Anything Malega” (possible).
The next day was 70 km to Panna Tiger Reserve. The first 50km or so took us through blooming yellow mustard, but there was an intense elevation gain entering the desert foothills of the Bundelkhand mountain range. I had a stint of extreme doubt, trying to muster strength to pass through this modern Mordor in my exhaustion, 4 o’clock sun setting fast. How the land got to be so lifeless it is hard to tell-whether the over tilling of land or its elevation out of the floodplain of the Ganges. This landscape did queer things to my mind-an army tank being towed behind a truck, the dominions of darkness hauling coal to keep the fire of industry and greed ever burning. We are frequently run off the road by the convergence of oncoming trucks and buses, contemplating having to spend the night in the brushes, notorious for its bandits, without dinner or water, feast to the mosquitoes under the full moon.
Finally a fair omen- a bush with bright flowers, neon birds hopping about. Suddenly, the climb is over flying down hills surrounded by forest. Vital energy of the trees restores our failing limbs and hearts, working our legs merrily all the while, singing praise and thanking god. 13km, 9km, 5km-I can run that in 17:30, so I can bike it in less than 10!
We woke at 5:45 to explore the park by Jeep. Panna, like most wildlife reserves and National Parks in India, has a money sucking trap that is totally unavoidable. Armed guards kept us from going in by bicycle, and we were slapped with fees for taxi, jeep driver, and a massive entrance fee. Our guide kindly explained that this job paid him very little, that only tips from foriegners fed his family. It ended up costing about 30 bucks each for a morning jeep ride- not THAT much for American prices, but worth almost a week of living in Varanasi. Still able to enjoy the park though. We saw no tigers, but many antelopes, different types of deer, Langur monkeys with big black faces and feet who hissed at us, a “hawk-eagle”(?), and a Kingfisher bird, appearently very rare.
Our tour ended pretty early so we decided to start biking the 45 km to Khajuraho at 2 PM, cutting it a little close. It ended up being almost totally downhill and flat though, and we made it to watch ther sunset over the lake here, surrounded by little tout children bothering us with places to sleep, things to buy, how much the bike costs, can I have a cookie, can I have another?
Khajuraho is famous for temples adorned with erotic carvings. Everything has been so pristinely restored that the place feels totally sterile. The jungles that the temples were “rediscovered” in have been replaced with gardens, hedges trimmed too short, and no walking on the grass. Little spiritual significance remains in these hollow shells-in fact, the forces of capitalism and tourism have left the entire area generally distasteful to our adventurous sensibility, and seemed to turn the beautiful countryfolk we met on the roads into english speaking, pathetic, begging, tricksy, money grubbers. Looking at the temples makes me tired like standing too long at the art museum, and we retreat to a sanity nap in the shade.
