Crazy Varanasi

We spent one week in Varanasi, which for Hindus is the holiest of all Indian cities. It was both fascinating and exhausting. People come there to bathe, perform prayers and wash away their sins in the sacred river Ganges. Ironically the poor river is dangerously polluted and murky by the time it reaches Varanasi and so travelers are advised not to go in. Hindus also come to cremate their relatives and friends as it is auspicious to do so here. It is thought by them that this breaks the cycle of rebirth as they believe in reincarnation i.e. that your behavior in this life dictates into which form you will be born next life.

The holy river Ganges next to the ghats in Varanasi

Varanasi is unlike any other city I have ever seen. Ghats, or series of steps leading to the water, line the side of the Ganges for a few kilometers and are home to a bustle of Indian life and activity. Behind the ghats are a huge number of narrow, confusing alleyways where traffic cannot go and in which you can get instantly lost giving the place a unique feel. We had a particular incident in which we got stuck behind such a fat cow (they are very well fed and large animals out here) who was blocking the alley reaching the entrance to our guest house. In India cows come first and humans come second so we had to wait until he decided to move on as we have not yet mastered the art of slapping them on the bum as the locals do. Then behind the alleys is the 'real' city of Varanasi which resembles most cities in India - dirty, loud, crowded and in a nutshell crazily hectic.

I have very mixed feelings about my time in Varanasi. Sliding around the alleys in cowshit is somewhat amusing for a while, particularly when I have smugly invested in some decent sandals and could therefore laugh at others in flip flops getting their feet covered in poo. However I think it felt quite peculiar to be back with other travelers and to feel like a tourist again after all those months of rural living. Interacting with local Indians, you're treated as a cashpoint and it's harder to make a personal connection which Lucy and I both found really difficult. It was also very crowded everywhere which I was no longer used to, which was quite overwhelming.

Me getting scared of the cows

Still, our guest house had a rooftop overlooking the city, with a good atmosphere which became our hideaway from the chaotic life below. Here it was nice to sit and chill, watching the monkeys scurry from building to building. At one point I almost had my lonely planet stolen by one that bravely jumped on the table and grabbed it in its hands before realising that it wouldn't be very tasty.

The view from our guest house rooftop overlooking the city

The guest house was situated in Manikarnika Ghat, a bit of an odd choice of location given that it is the main burning ghat (for dead bodies!) however we were far enough away that we couldn't smell the fumes or see the flames. We spent an evening sitting on the steps watching the cremations take place. I actually found it quite relaxing to watch the fires burn but probably more so than others because I really need new contact lenses therefore wasn't able to make out the corpses being cremated. Yet other people described seeing bursting veins, skin melting and feet falling off - lovely! Occasionally you would hear a loud 'pop' which apparently is the head bursting. It may all sound a bit crude, but in all seriousness, for Hindus these are sacred ceremonies and therefore we had to show respect by sitting quietly and not taking pictures. Yes there are many tourists who do wish to take pictures of this. However luckily for those people postcards are readily available. My favourite quote in Varanasi being 'I think I prefer the ones (postcards) in which they are pouring petrol on the dead bodies'. Classy.

Lucy and I with one of the locals (and this one is small!)

We did the typical tourist activity of taking a boat ride along the Ganges before sunrise. With the mist, floating candles and bells ringing all around it felt very magical and surreal. We watched Indians perform poojas (prayers) and bathing in the freezing cold water. Our guide taught us that not all Hindus are cremated as for 'pure' beings (pregnant women, children and holy men to name a few) this is not required, they can simply be thrown in the river. This is all very well until monsoon when they wash up onto the shore and have to be pushed back into the middle to sink.

Yet what I most enjoyed doing in Varanasi was sitting on the steps and people watching for hours. It gives you such an insight into Indian life. You watch people sipping chai, praying, washing their clothes, playing cricket and cards, skipping (perhaps to warm up after the swim?), getting a haircut, an ear clean, a shoe scrub, sweeping the streets - a vast of array of activities that I enjoyed just observing. Getting lost in the back alleys was also fun, stumbling out of the tourist area of cafes and guest houses, back into mental Indian life of fruit and veg stalls, sweet and tobacco shops, horns, animals and delicious street food. Being lost makes me feel more alive in a strange way - I think it's the feeling of having no idea where you are which excites me.

Varanasi is without a doubt a must see. It really portrays a wide spectrum of Indian life which is so interesting, however one week is enough for me. Also, I've never seen so many men publicly urinating as in Varanasi, strange but true and a little off putting. When there is so much beautiful nature close by, city life is just not what Lucy and I want, which is why we knew that it felt right to move on to the next destination. However, I have a feeling that I will be back here and need to give it another chance.

Journeys to remember

There's the old saying that that the journey is just as important as the destination, which is why I wish to share the stories of my recent journeys. When we left the school, Lucy and I had an odd situation involving a policeman. As Jharkhand is such a poor and 'dangerous' state, foreigners are required to register their arrival and departure with the local police. On our arrival, there had been no policemen around at the station, which is always reassuring, but on our departure we met a superintendent whose English was almost impossible to understand, yet he really seemed to think it was quite good. Not wanting to offend or annoy the man, as the police here are so corrupt - you do not want to mess with them, we obligingly sat and drank chai with him despite being very aware we had a bus to catch. We nodded our heads a the right times and ended up somehow apologising that we had only learnt a little Hindi and had not mastered the local languages.

After further miscommunication, it became clear the meeting was coming to and end. He stood up and ripped a page of his newspaper in half and handed it to us. We were so confused as to why. Was it to clean our hands after the sweets we'd eaten, or was it to read the article which was written in Hindi? Our bemused faces finally prompted him to say in his Indian accent ' Toilet Paper!!!'. Of course, how considerate he is of us Westerners and our crazy habit of using loo roll. So it just goes to show that even slightly intimidating policeman are considerate and show us their good intentions.

The second tale is of our travels from Kolkata to Bodhgaya. We had booked a train to take us there and had left an hour and a half to get to the train station which, stupidly, was not enough time. We still don't know why, but it was impossible to get a taxi. It's not that there were none, the street was full of them, beeping away, emitting their disgusting fumes, but they were all occupied, or those which weren't refused point blank to stop for us despite our manic waving. When a huge traffic jam had formed, we were able to get into the road and walk between the taxis to try and get in a vacant one, but no amount of money could persuade the drivers to go.

It was then we began swearing to ourselves, getting hot and bothered with our heavy bags, wondering what we could do as the clock was really ticking. Just then a well dressed Indian man, who looked like he's just finished work, stepped in to help the damsels in distress. He too tried, without any luck, to get a taxi so he indicated to us the we follow him through the traffic. He led us toward and eventually onto the busy, hectic four lane main road in the absoloutely crazy, noisy, Kolkata rushhour. A red traffic light meant that we were able to get right into the middle of the huge crossroad. Before we knew it cars sped dangerously past us and the man was trying to hail taxis that were about 30m away. Somehow this technique worked as a taxi stopped so we ran over and jumped in, thanking the Indian who had gone out of his way to help us. But the race wasn't over yet...

Madness at Howrah Station, Kolkata

When we explained what a rush we were in, the taxi driver was amazing. He made such an effort to get through the mad traffic. He really had to push hard to make any leeway and pulled a few questionable, dodgy manouveres to progress, but we really appreciated it. We had just ten minutes as we pulled into the station and gave the driver double what the fare should be for his hard work. Next problem - finding the bloody station entrance in the sea of people. Howrah is India's busiest railway station with two million people passing through each day. You'd think it would be better signposted! Through the crowds there was no obvious way in and we got stuck behind some sort of iron barrier that we hadn't been able to see. We attempted to squeeze through with out large bags but it just was not happening. A kind Indian who'd noticed the trouble we were having led us around, pushing our way through the crowds. Thankgod once we were in we could immediately see on the departure board what platform we needed to go to. The adrenaline pumping, we ran to our train and made it - hot, sweaty and panting, one whole minute before the train departed. Now that was intense.

The last journey was from Varanasi to Rishikesh, another epic overnight train in sleeper class (the cheap and cheerful way of travelling) yet actually the most enjoyable. The promise that we'd be in the 'women's only' carriage was a farce as aside from one other lady, we were the only women(!). It didn't matter though as all day we chatted to Indians getting on and off the train about our experiences of India, sharing stories of our lives at home, our families and looking at one anothers pictures. One man in particular, who spoke good English, was also making the same long journey and was able to tell us when to get off the train which can be a great source of confusion. He really took us under his wing and every time a new person got on the train he took great joy in explaining to them that we had been teaching English in Jharkhand and that we were able to speak and understand a little Hindi. It was as if he was a proud parent! We received smiles, nods of agreement and lots of encouragement. It was so lovely.

The smiley kid on our train to Rishikesh

We also had a nice encounter with a child of, I'm guessing around two, who was tottering around the carriage unsupervised, getting lots of attention from all passengers. He had the biggest grin on his face and kept peering at us and then running away and giggling. Later I was happy to lift him up onto my lap so that he could stand and look out of the window. He was so cute and amused us for a good hour as he kept attempting to climb up on to the seat but not quite managing it. Eventually we witnessed the moment of triumph, when he learnt how to pull his whole body weight up onto the bench. It was our turn to feel like proud parents.

That afternoon India were playing England in the Cricket World Cup Semi Final, a really huge deal out here. Cricket is part of the nations psyche and pride. The whole journey we grinned widely and said 'ahhhh' every time an update on the score was given because we had no idea what the score actually meant because we know nothing about the rules of cricket and didn't have the heart to tell them. We couldn't even tell who was winning, needless to say we have brushed up on our basic knowledge since.

Looking back on these events leaves me smiling. What are supposed to be the difficult and horrible parts of travelling i.e. the journeys, create memories that I won't forget. I've never met so many selfless strangers as I do on my journeys throughout India. It's touching, inspiring and really makes me think. I'm now more inclined to help strangers and am pleased as, at the moment living this traveller lifestyle, I am able to do so as I'm not concerned about being late for something (erhem apart from trains!) or having deadlines. It's made me want to share more as so many generous Indians have bought us water, chai, samosas, sweets and so on, asking for nothing in return, despite having considerably less wealth. Perhaps their wealth is their ability to share and be kind which I've come to see that we have really lost. Clearly there are kind and generous people in the West, but on a day to day basis people care so much more for one another here. So with these new ideas in mind, I am happy to say that I'm gaining more of this 'wealth' each day of my travels, in spite on my declining bank balance. :-)