Grabbed by Monkeys and Vomiting Paan

To start, just a catchy little item--

Three Muslims on a Motorcycle
Heading to evening prayer-- I think the middle one has a cleft palate

I remember that Guru Ji told me in December 2009-- Hanuman is your "god" or the one I should pray to and keep a picture of to look at each morning, and I haven't had my fill of monkeys even after this many days-- staying in the nice area of town they are chased away or just don't come around,or they are hiding in the NICE green forests and fields instead of sorting through garbage heaps.

So last night I asked Abhi to take me to the Hanuman Monkey Temple. He was so thrilled that I asked to go to a temple, ever since I told him I don't have any religious beliefs he has been horrified by my lack of religion and pushing me to go to the all-cultural temple, the Muslim temple, the Krishna temple... etc.  Now he feels I might be finding some religion.  I just want to see my goddamn favorite things in the world, those maniacal humanoid macaque monkeys.

We pull in just at dusk and there are my little darlings (or rabid pests, whichever you prefer) hopping rooftops and fences, here and there, screeching, chirping, squawking, little babies, teens, HUGE male adults, etc. I am in retard clapping mode heaven.

Outside Hanuman Temple, Varanasi

Heading inside, the most dreaded phrase I hear when traveling comes at me "No photos miss"   Noooooooo!!!!!  this is the most exciting and beautiful part of the whole trip and I can't snap a couple photos?  oh man, I know it keeps it real holy but dammit now I can only describe.

We TAKE OFF OUR SHOES because it is what you need to do-- and so there, I've done it, barefoot in Varanasi in a big public trampled dirty muddy place.  my cheap gold sandals stand out like a beacon of holy sequins amid a mountain of muddy black plastic shoes. I turn them over and push them into a corner.  you must pay the man a couple Rupees to "watch your shoes".

We take a quick turn around the place, people are quiet, praying, a small "bible study" type group is listening to a man speak - he is ever so deified lounging in this raised bed on the cement stage, he must be really holy. A group of musicians sit in a back corner-- about 15-16, just lovely Indian music.

Abhi tells me what to do when we enter or hit each hot spot-- "here you must wash your hands" -- it looks like a dirty Chinese toilet and I'm barefoot-- I said sorry, no, I'm not going over there.  So Abhi washes and brings me his cupped hands full of the holy water and I rinse with it.

Here you must touch the steps then your forehead, here you must clasp your hands in prayer (like the Thai- palms together) here you must put the red holy spot on your forehead by reaching into this oily pot that kazillions of filth covered germ bags have been in all day.  I do it.  I've come this far barefoot, why not??

So that's it, here is the god of music, here is the spot where the "bomb blast" of 2006 happened-- its about 3 feet square a few broken bricks and a tree with one half blackened by fire.  not too "bomb" looking.  its just Hindu/Mulsim anti this or that, nothing major, just little stupid people setting off some firecrackers it looks like.

Okay, so since I cant take pictures I just want to go back to the long entrance hall where all the little trouble makers are cavorting.  I walk pretty close to the edges to be right next to them, Abhi exclaims in worry "No!  Dangerous!!  "Rabeeed!" making teeth motions.  I say don't worry its okay!

See, here's where no one will believe me because it was just the most fricking hilarious little scene/stunt ever and even local Indian people stopped to watch and laughed some chuckles-- a "teen" monkey comes out to me and grabs my bare foot-- I yell "NO!  get outta here!" and swat him away with my scarf.   Obviously our close human counter parts saw my bare huge big toe and thought my god, what IS that!!  a mutant human-- jimmy, go check it out and report back!!! IT CAN'T BE HUMAN!!!

Abhi is freaking out.  "Watch out, get away from them!!!"   Then the little guy rushes at me again and grabs the bottom of the scarf (beaded) and fingers it a little, like "oh, this is nice" but I have to pull it from his tiny human hands and swish him away.  He races up the fence, grabs a thin light green plastic shopping bag that floats up near him, and pulls it straight down over his head.  He tries to jump up to grab the rails but falls because he can't see with the bag over his head.  Now Abhi is laughing too.  The monkey pushes the bag up just enough to become a hat, now he can see but he keeps it on his head, and starts racing around with the other "kids" trying to grab the bag off  his head.  I mean I could watch this crap for 10 hours straight and still never get enough.  It is beyond incredible how much they are exactly like us, but cuter.  truly.

Okay we've got to get to the vomiting section cause that seems interesting in the title.  I think Abhiminyu, with all the "wine shop" and now this temple, thinks I'm pretty open to Indian stuff, so he asks if I ever chewed Paan.   (its betel nuts, cloves, cardamon, peppermint, and other stuff wrapped in a big green leaf, used for good digestion, mouth freshener, etc.).  Sold by tiny "Paan Shops"-- yes, there should be a tv series---and I say well I never really tried it.  I see online that South Indians think Northern Indians are course and disgusting because they chew Paan and spit.  He says I will get you some.  (Now I vaguely remember that perhaps SOME of this paan has a bit of the old 420 in it) so I thought hey maybe he will get us that kind at this dumpy shop.

Paan Shop man making custom Paan

Paan ingredients before being rolled into "chewing" wraps

He hands me my concoction in the big leaf-- its just too big, I cant even fit it all in my mouth.  He keeps motioning "all of it, all of it, just chew, no eat"  so I tryyyyy to make it work.   It tastes like soap and has texture of chick peas inside the leaf.   but one or two minutes into trying, my body already made up its mind, the juice is coming right back up, rejected by my smart stomach.  I motion quickly "pull over! pull over!!" and open the car door "blaaagghhhhhh" gag and vomit it all out onto the street.

Nice huh?  That's the least gross thing that has hit these streets in a while, I'd imagine.

Post-script:  Fast Forward to the next day and....severe gastric distress. 

 I'm sure the guy making the Paan in a dirty hut had lots of feces for ecoli on his hands.