From Nepal to India Feb-March 2015
Part II- India
Chapter 1 – Varanasi
Day 14 Stranger in a Strange Land
I’m supposed to wait for someone I’ve met yesterday, at the immigration office, between 9 and 10, so we can leave to Gorakhpur together. I have all the time I need. But already at 6am, I can’t sleep anymore – the trucks’ engines are roaring again. I leave the hotel around 8am and 30 min later, I’m in the immigration office with my passport stamped.
I’ll wait in front of the office for two hours. I can see hundreds of people crossing the border on foot, but my guy doesn’t show up. At one point, I swear it’s him, but he doesn’t see me and keeps going. Must be someone else, then.
At 10, I realize that I’m on my own. I cross the border. As soon as I’m on the other side, I see another immigration bureau. I completely forgot that there was one when you leave Nepal and one when you enter India. I feel stupid. The person I was looking for must have been waiting for me on the Indian side all this time. But, if he did, he’s gone now…
My passport stamped once more, I find the bus to Gorakhpur. Quickly, I notice two things. First, the bus’ ceiling is much higher than in Nepal, and I have enough space to sit comfortably on my seat. Second, the road is flat. Lots of bumps and holes still, but flat.
But I understand that a 3 hour bus ride in India can be as depressing as an 8 hour drive in Nepal. At first, I have some space for myself. But I soon get pushed against the window, carrying all my bags on my lap, and sitting on half a seat.
In both countries, the driver honks at everything moving on the road. Here, it includes trucks, cars, bikes, cyclists, pedestrians, cows, and even monkeys.
Finally, the bus stops. As usual, I’m left on my own in the middle of nowhere. Also, in Nepal, I had a very useful Lonely Planet guide. For India, Quinn has her own guide, but I only printed a bunch of maps to find my hotels. That’s pretty much it. So right now, I am in complete terra incognita.
However, when I was in Sunauli, I asked for recommendations for a nice, cheap hotel, near the train station. So right now, I’m going for the places I’ve heard of. The first one is full. The second one has a room for 15$. More expensive than I thought, but I take it. I have a lot to do before dark.
First, I need an Indian plug adapter. Following the advice from the hotel staff, I rent a cycle rickshaw who drives me to the city center. After trying a couple of stores, I find what I need.
To go to the city center, you only have to follow the main road. It’s hard to get lost. I decide to walk back on foot.
On the way back, I see this guy selling this thick, greenish liquid on the street. It’s sugarcane juice. Surprisingly refreshing.
Back near the train station, I manage to exchange a few bucks for Indian rupees. There’s no exchange bureau around. So, I have a hard time convincing hotel employees to trust me, that they’re not fake banknotes.
Then, I go to the train station and make sure that my e-ticket for tomorrow is valid. There, I see many people (sometimes, whole families) sitting on the floor. One young man tells me that they are really poor. Since they can’t afford a room, they will probably sleep here tonight, waiting for an early train tomorrow. - my first real contact with poverty in India.
Actually, what strikes me most here, is not the poverty, but rather the tense, grim atmosphere. There’s garbage everywhere, and cows just eat from it in the middle of the street. Traffic is awful as well, and drivers are quite aggressive.
Also, I thought that English was the second language spoken in India. But, here, in these rural areas, most locals only know Hindi. Even hotel staff only have a functional level and barely understand you. It doesn’t help that I’m the only white person around. I work in China, so I should be used to people staring at me. But here it’s different. Everywhere I walk, people give me this nasty look. When I ask for help, they don’t just plainly say no. Instead, they wave their arm, like they’re saying « Get out of here! »
They probably see me as an ignorant, priviledged, spoiled tourist – which I am, in a way. And I cannot blame them, when I see the conditions they live in. For dinner, I try some of the street food. I don’t have much cash for the moment, so I’ll save restaurants for later. I ask for what looks like bread rolls and peas. Turns out, they are all sickening sweet pastries. I think I’ve eaten enough sugar for a week.
Now, I need to ease my stomach. I go to a restaurant nearby and order some delicious cream and tomato soup. I feel better already. I talk with the owner for some time. He knows Nepal quite well and it’s nice to finallly have a conversation with someone.
Back in my room, I get introduced to Bollywood movies by Amar Akbar Anthony. At first, it looks like an Indian version of a Chuck Norris flick – with musical numbers of course – but it gets better later on (even if I have no idea what’s going on).
Hotel Room – ceiling. Gorakhpur
Tomorrow, I have a train early in the morning. Everything is prepared. All I have to do is get some sleep.
Day 15 Chaos
This is the kind of day that you laugh about way, way after it’s over. First, I get up really early to make sure I get at the train station on time. I’ve been there yesterday, so I shouldn’t have any problem to find my way around. Still, my train is leaving at 6.35 - but on the screen it appears at 6.15. It’s now 6.08. Don’t panic!!
There’s absolutely no sign in English and even the platform numbers are hard to find. I ask everyone around for help, I show my ticket. Where is my train??? One man says : « Oh, it is this one. The one that just passed us » I run to the other end of the platform (trains in India are gigantic, they have dozens of cars). 6.15. Found my seat. That was a close one. But we’re not moving. I realize just now that 6.15 was only the time of arrival. Too much ado for nothing I guess, but at least I’m on the train.
I am in AC2, with the whole cabin ( four bunk beds) for myself. At least, I can enjoy the quiet. Not much about the view, though. I expected to see a whole part of India by train today, but it’s mostly fields and slums. For 6 hours straight. I’m supposed to arrive at 12pm. Around that time, I start looking outside for any sign of Varanasi. Nothing. Actually, when we stop, I don’t even see a sign with the name of the town. Or rarely.
It takes me all morning to realize something fascinating. Apparently, Indian railways are built along the city, always the same way. If you arrive from the North, the city will be on the right, and the poor countryside, on the left. The names of the cities are usually written on the right side only. It’s great because if you’re looking by the left window (like me), you only see the worst parts of the landscape. And you don’t even know where you are.
We get to Varanasi one hour late. I’m looking for official taxis outside, but all I get is half a dozen of tuk tuk drivers fighting each other over me. All I have is a basic plan of the city and the itinary to my hostel. My plan is to be dropped near a famous landmark close to the hotel, ask my way around, and walk to the place myself. As such, I won’t be bothered by the driver trying to get me to another hotel.
That’s the only map of the city I have with me. Pretty basic, but I assumed it would be enough to get my bearings.
Except that the driver really had its fun. He didn’t only overcharge me, but he left me really far away from my hotel, by making me believe rickshaws and tuk tuk were not allowed any further. Now, I thought traffic in Kathmandu was bad, I clearly had seen nothing yet. Varanasi’s traffic is the worst I’ve seen to date. It’s a nightmare of horns, shouting touts, wreckless drivers, and endangered pedestrians. I’m completely lost, swept away by the crowd. My only comfort is that I see English signs everywhere, which means that I am in a tourist area.
While I’m walking, this guy shows up and asks if he can help me. I show him my map. He tells me that I’m quite close to the Dasaswamedh Ghat (temple) now – the place I originally wanted to find. But it means that my hostel is at the opposite end of the map. He also tells me that he has his own hotel and that it’s much closer. And I’m walking here, with my heavy bags, trying to figure out where to go. My shoulders hurt like hell, my head is about to explode. I decide to follow him for the moment. Closer than my hotel? Maybe. But we still have to walk for at least 15 minutes. First, along the Ganges river. But then, we climb dozens of steps and enter a terrible maze of narrow backalleys – I’ll never be able to find my way back on my own…
Finally, we reach his place. I sink into a sofa, sweating profusely, and unable to move a muscle. He offers me to check a room and decide if I want to stay here. I pick one and decide to stay here for the night. I’ll find my place tomorrow, when I’m rested.
Unfortunately, I’ve already booked for the night in the other hotel. And if I don’t show up, I’ll be charged anyway.
At least, I’ll call them to tell them I’ll be there tomorrow. Also, Quinn is supposed to arrive early tomorrow by train. I’d like her to know that I may not be in our hostel when she gets there. So that she doesn’t worry. I have no Indian SIMcard yet, so I borrow a phone from the hotel. I call the number on the reservation email. Incorrect number. I try calling Quinn. Automatic « Phone is powered off » response. Why does everything have to be so complicated? Do they have Internet in this place? Yes, they do. I hope to find an alternative phone number on the hotel’s webpage. Nope, can’t access internet today. Server is down… Ok, think ! It’s already 5pm. I need to get to an Internet cafe right away. But I have no idea how to find my way back once I find one. Besides, we’re near the lake. There are only temples around here. I’d have to reach the main road to find anything.
An old man does free walking tours of the area. The staff tells me that if I go with him, he can bring me to an internet place later.
I’m around here at the moment.
So here we go. I’m desperately trying to get online before everything closes. And instead, I’m following this sweet, soft-spoken, old dude, through narrow back streets, who tells me – in lenghty, complex details– about the history to the place.
I feel like I’m in a Wes Anderson movie - completely out of place.
He talks about gods, religion, and why Varanasi is considered one of the holiest places on Earth. Fascinating stuff, but my focus is elsewhere. At the time of writing, I’ve forgotten most of it. But here are the pictures I’ve taken.
Ganesh, the god with an elephant head
The Ganges river
Even if the old man was really nice, I knew he wasn’t showing me around out of the goodness of his soul. I was right. The tour ends by a visit in a silk factory.
Inside, a salesman makes me sit on cushions. He asks : « How’re you doing, today? » I’m blunt. I tell him that I’m tired, stressed, and worried. I have no phone, I can’t contact my hotel, and I need to get online asap. I don’t want to be rude to anyone, but I’ve lost my whole day and I’ve achieved nothing yet.
Politely, he asks me to follow him in the back, where I can use his computer.
I thank him sincerely and look for a way to contact my hotel. I find two alternate mobile numbers. I call them both from the factory’s landline telephone. No answer. I try several times. Still nothing. Same for Quinn’s phone – but at least I can send her an email.
It’s 6pm soon. I’m about to give up when the phone rings. The number on the screen is the one I’ve just called. I pick up the phone and explain the whole situation. I tell them that I don’t know where the hotel is, and that I would appreciate if they could send someone at my current hotel to pick me up. They will.
I apologize to my host for my bad manners. He is especially disappointed that I don’t buy anything. But who knows, maybe I’ll come back another day. Back to the hotel, I give a tip to the old man and thank him for his help.
After a while, a young man in his early twenties comes in. He is the one I got on the phone. He apologizes for the whole situation. His English is flawless. We leave, get on a rickshaw, and he explains. When I booked the room, two months ago, another manager was in charge. The phone number I have printed out is his own. But now, since the guy doesn’t work here anymore, the number is obsolete.
That’s why I couldn’t get hold of anyone.
The hotel is quite hard to find, hidden in the middle of a backalley, at the end of the main road.
Once at the hotel, I tell him that I booked a double bed for tonight. But since, I’ve already paid for the other hotel, and I have less money than expected, I wouldn’t mind staying in a cheap dorm room. He understands and finds me a bed available.
Now, I’m around here.
They do have internet here. And it works. I can use their own laptop. I try to get in touch with Quinn one more time. First, to tell her I’m now at the right hotel, and also to give the new phone number. She’s not connected on Facebook. I try to Skype her – « Phone powered off »… I haven’t heard from her for three days. I’m really worried. It’s 8. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten anything since I got out of the train. I ask the youg man (Niggy) for recommendations. He tells me there’s a restaurant across the main road. I get there but it’s already closed. I try a small, local place instead.
There’s not even a written menu, so I have to choose by instinct, according to what the owner tells me. In the end, I think I got paneer (cheese) butter masala. Quite tasty, even though not filling enough.
9pm. On the way back to the hotel, I hear a guy calling me (just some, « hey, you! », not my actual name). Apparently, he knows me from the hostel – he says he works there. His name is Ricky. He asks me about my day. I tell him my story and that I need a phone. Right away, he asks me to follow him and we get to a local street store. They sell SIM cards. But to get one, I need a copy of my passport. We go to another place to make one. And Ricky tells me to wait for him here. He needs 300rupees + some for credit (I give him 500). He comes back with the card. But I have to wait 24hours before it’s activated.
In the hotel, I hang out in the common room, where everyone’s watching Into the Wild. Coincidence ? This is actually one of the movies that inspired me to travel and see the world.
Travelling is a lot of ups and dows. One moment, you get a deep feeling of loneliness. The next, you make wonderful, meaningful encounters, and you meet people who really try to help you.
Yep, just like today. Today was my own Into the Wild experience. I just hope that my adventures will have a better ending, though‌
And I also hope Quinn will be there tomorrow.
Day 16 True Romance
All morning, I try to contact Quinn by chat or by phone. Nothing. I worry about her a lot. But there’s nothing more I can do. I decide to go out to clear my mind, and I walk along the riverbank ghats.
Varanasi is one of the world’s oldest inhabited cities. For Hindu people, it’s also a holy place. In their mythology, the river Ganges was created by the god Shiva, to meet the needs of the country. As such, the river Ganges has an extraordinary religious importance. And people bathe in the sacred waters daily, to wash away their sins. Also, anyone dying in the city will ascend directly to heaven. That’s why pilgrims come to the ghats to cremate their loved ones – the ceremonies take place in plain sight, but no photography is allowed, by respect for the families.
The Ganges is the largest river in India. It’s also one of the most polluted in the world. It’s contaminated by both human and industrial waste. Regardless, Hindus are not afraid of getting wet. The Ganges is a part of their daily life. This is a place where they wash, bathe, play, swim and do their laundry. They certainly drink the water as well, and they don’t worry about a thing.
At one point, I meet an Art teacher. His students are painting along the ghats. I could see their work but not take any picture.
For lunch, I get to a restaurant recommended by the hostel.
At 3pm, I come back at the hotel. Before I left this morning, I’ve met two employees (including Niggy). I made clear that if Quinn arrived while I was away, they had to tell her that I was here and that she didn’t have to worry.
Now, there’s a third guy at the reception. Apparently, he doesn’t speak English so well. But before I even talk to him, I give a quick glance at the guest register book. There! She registered at 1pm! I tell the guy to show me her room right away.
I knock. She opens. We hug.
She’d been staying in the room for 2 hours. Nobody told her that I was here – go figure. And she didn’t receive my message telling her I’d change hotel…
Her train was 3 hours late, she couldn’t get any Wi-fi, and she has no SIM card for India. She had no idea where I was or how to contact me.
Anyway, we’re both fine. We have so much to talk about, we spend the rest of the afternoon in the room. And we only leave for dinner – I bring her to the place I’ve been last night.
Back to the hotel. Quinn needs to charge her phone, but the charger gets loose and keeps falling down.
I improvise a makeshift pyramid to hold everything together. It works.
Day 17 Back to College
Today, is our first day together. Our plan was to get up real early to see the sunrise on the riverbank. But for that we would have to get up at 5am. Who are we kidding ? We’re both quite tired from our respective adventures. So, we sleep through the whole morning. When we finally get up, we decide to have an easy day. We rent a cycle rickhsaw, who brings us all the way down South, far away from the crowded main streets, to visit the Benares University.
At the entrance, we’re welcomed bySaraswati, the Hindu goddess of arts, wisdom and learning - which makes sense for a university.
We have a nice stroll along the wide tree-lined streets and parkland of the 5-sq-km of the campus. Until we arrive to the center of the area, where there’s the New Vishwanath Temple.
Interestingly, the walls are all pink. I think that, in India, pink is the colour of hospitality. So, unlike many temples in Varanasi, this one is open to all, irrespective of religion.
While we are inside the temple, some Indians ask to take pictures with us. We have to pose different times, for an entire family. There will be lots of times like this during our travel, where total strangers come to us and ask to take pictures with us.
Lunchtime. Around the temple, they have souvenir stores and some local restaurants. Hard to believe we’re still on campus.
We leave the university to go to the Monkey Temple. It’s much smaller than the one in Kathmandu (also, no camera allowed inside). My SIM card has still not been activated. Nearby,I find a Vodafone store. Since my SIMcard is one from Vodafone, I get inside and ask for help. Nobody cares, they just tell me to come back to the point of purchase. Unfortunately, I wasn’t with Ricky when he bough it. And there are tons of resellers near our hotel where he could have gotten it. I’ll deal with it later. For now, we walk all the way back to the main road.
The main road itself is a nightmare of wheels and blaring horns. Not to mention that we constantly have to push away boat owners, flower sellers, rickshaw drivers, and other touts, who try to drag us off to their silk shops. One at a time, you can handle it easily. But together, they can get on your nerve really fast.
Varanasi is not always that messy, however. But in a week, Indians are going to celebrate the Holi (Spring festival). That’s why everyone is out in the street - to buy new clothes and jewelry for the big parade.
At 6pm, we decide to stay at the Dasaswamedh Ghat, to watch the ceremony. Half the town is already here.
Here, someone could say: « He had a twinkle in his eye… »
The picture is blurry, but we can still see what’s going on. Every evening, at 7pm, people light lotus flower candles and set them adrift on the water. It’s very atmospheric. But I especially feel sorry for the mosquitoes’ all you can eat buffet. I mean… the poor tourists on the boats….
Our guidebook says that the ceremony is « elaborate », with « fire and dance ». We were definitely hyped. Fire? Yeah, they light up some lamps. Dance ? Well, they wave around incense sticks Elaborate ? Yep, they’re all tightly synchronized with the recording of rythmic chants coming from some speaker somewhere. They all have mikes in front of them, but all they do is clap their hands together. No real singing on stage at all… It may be meaningful, but to me, it feels completely artificial and out of place.
We’re really far away from the Monkey Temple. But in Varanasi, monkeys are everywhere.
We leave before the ceremony ends. It’s definitely not a must-see. Back on the main road, we find a restaurant recommended in the guide. I’ll have mint soup (pretty good, but when boiled, mint loses its flavour). For dessert, I get kulfi (frozen yak cheese) to remind me of Nepal. This one tastes different however, and has weird, squiggly sweet noodles on top. I really didn’t expect that… Then, we go back to the hotel and sleep early.
Day 18 Mystic River
There are temples everywhere in Varanasi. But the most famous one is the Vishwanath Temple (dedicated to Shiva) – also known as the « Golden Temple ». After breakfast in the hotel, we decide to give it a shot. It’s not possible to even see the temple, from anywhere else in the city. To get there, we first have to squeeze ourselves in, through some narrow backalleys for at least 15min. And then, we have to fight our way in, between lines of believers, who also go to the temple to pray and give offerings. Besides, today, is Saturday - even more people are out… The good news is that, as plain tourists, we are allowed to skip the queues, and get directly to the entrance. From there, you still can’t see the temple, Because it’s hidden in the back of another alleyway. The area is full of armed soldiers because of security issues. After arguing with the locker’s guys, about what we can carry inside (no bag, no mobile phone, no Kindle, no camera, no pen, no paper…), we walk even further, until we arrive to the security checks. It’s just like the airport. We have to pass through some magnetic gate and we’re thoroughly checked by armed soldiers. Twice. They are quite rude and I don’t like the way they talk down to us. After leaving most of my stuff in a locker, walking again through the crowd to get to the security gate, and having been checked once, the second soldier now tells me that I can’t get inside if I’m wearing a watch. A watch, come on !
Quinn, who has to be checked in a different queue, for women only, also has problems to get inside. I’m already fed up with these guys, We get back to our lockers, take back our stuff and leave. We don’t even pay for the lockers.
Not far from the temple, there’s the Blue Lassi. The guide says that it’s where « they have been churning out the freshest, creamiest, fruit-filled lassis for more than 70 years ». Definitely the best lassi place in all of Varanasi.
The grandson of the original owner still works here. He sits by his lassi-mixing cauldron all day long, an eternal smile on his face.
With such a reputation, I expected the place to be quite large. Not at all. It’s a tiny, hole-in-the-wall shop, with only a couple of wooden benches to sit down. Interestingly, the walls are plastered with messages from happy customers – just like in a guesthouse.
Quinn’s lassi is banana and chocolate flavoured. I think mine was banana and pomegranate.
Another place recommended by the book, is a historical museum located quite far away, at the South end of the city.
But to get there, we have to walk all along the Ganges, under the beating sun, for at least an hour straight.
The walk itself is not that pleasant, because of the heat. But the most annoying is that almost every single person we bump into tries to get our attention, for a ÂŤ cheapÂť boat trip along the river.
With this heat, people are not the only ones enjoying the fresh waters of the river. Cows really are treated like queens in India. They simply do whatever they want.
In Varanasi, everything is holy. No exception.
After our long walk, we eventually stop at a restaurant, up the steps from Assi Ghat. The food, here, is as fresh as it gets. And the menu lists the ayurvedic qualities of all the ingredients.
The place is run by a friendly American woman, who’s been coming to India for more than 20 years.
She tells us that the museum is still really far away. And we still have to walk to the other side of the river, on some unsteady pontoon bridge. It’s not worth all the trouble.
She also tells us that the ceremony we saw yesterday is indeed a showy extravanganza for tourists. A much better one takes place, here, on the Assi Ghat, every morning, at sunrise.
We thank her for all the information and retrace our steps. We’ve given up on the idea to go to the museum after all.
While we’re walking back along the river, I tell Quinn that I’d like to find a place to sit down and sketch something. She points to a tower and says we can sit here, on the steps in front of it.
Near the Ganges River
I was only drawing the side tower because I liked it. But it’s actually part of a large Ghat. And I think Singh means Lion - I only know that because of the beer‌
Around sunset, we’re back in the main area. Still following the book, we walk once again near the Golden Temple area. This time, to find the Brown Bread Bakery.
It’s an organic restaurant , whose profits go to some charity. They also support a local school, and run a women’s empowerment group.
The place itself spreads across several floors (including a clothing shop and a bakery). The restaurant is on the rooftop, from where you can have an unusual view of the city. I’m quite thirsty and I’ll have a large carrot juice first.
Then, we go back down inside, where they usually have music performances in the evening, and order some fresh baked pizza.
It takes us a long time to get back to our hotel. Even at night, the streets are still crowded. Finally, we are in our room. We’re both tired. But it’s not like we’ll be able to sleep soon. Suddenly, we hear a lot of noise coming from the street - there’s a wedding party going on. People are dancing and playing loud music, right under our window…
Day 19 Phone or Phony ?
Of course, we get up quite late. We print our next train tickets and hotel reservations, and get to a vegetarian restaurant. Then, we come back to the Blue Lassi for dessert. Most of the afternoon, we browse shops. Including the one in the Brown Bread Bakery, where I desperately try to find a Ganesh T-shirt. But either I don’t like the clothes or they don’t have my size… We’re back at the hotel at 4pm and play ping pong together for 1 hour.
Yesterday evening, I met Ricky in the street, near our hotel. I let him know that the SIM card doesn’t work. He told me then, that I need a document, signed by the manager of the hotel, that proves I’m living here at the moment. I don’t like the guy. Something’s off about him. He is at the same very helpful and very pushy. He doesn’t feel like someone you can trust. Today, we meet him again and he tells us that we should go to Sarnath, a place 12km away from here, with tremendous religious importance. (Buddha came here to preach his first sermon, after he achieved enlightenment at Bodhgaya.) We’re not interested because it’s too far. But he even wants me to take his motorbike for the day - when a guy you don’t know is that nice with you, he’s hiding something… Anyway, he lives right across the street, in front of our hotel. We’re supposed to meet again tonight at 5pm
When I tell Niggy (the employee who picked me up on my first day) about the whole story, he tells me that although he does know Ricky because they live on the same street, he doesn’t work here at all. Another good reason not to trust the guy… The manager is away, so I can’t get any document signed. But Niggy offers to give me his ID card – to show my current address in India.
5pm. I go out. When I look for Ricky, he’s not here. I ask his neighbour friend where he is. He tells me he won’t be back before 6. Ok, I get it, I tell him that I’m leaving. Right away, the guy calls someone on his phone and I’m not even surprised when I see Ricky opening the door less than two minutes later. Now, he tells me that I need a copy of the ID. I don’t like that at all. I say I’ll ask Niggy first. He’s a very sweet guy, I wouldn’t like a total stranger to get hold of his ID. So far, I’ve checked all the resellers around myself, and they all tell me that the card doesn’t come from their shop. Of course, the official store is closed on Sundays… I come back to the reception and ask Niggy if I can get a copy of his card, he has no problem with it. So, I get the copy done and give it to to Ricky’s neighbour. Because Ricky’s already left.
In other circumstances, I would just wait for tomorrow, but tomorrow is our last day in Varanasi. And I have better things to do than running around, getting my SIMcard to work. At 8pm, we get to a restaurant. On our way back, we find ourselves in the middle of another wedding party, that paralyses the whole street.
The Holi is a very important festival for Hindus and I suppose that getting married around the date is a good omen, because there’s been at least one marriage a day since we got here. We get back to our hotel and make our bags for tomorrow.
Day 20 Sunrise
Today is our last day in Varanasi. With superhuman effort, after a short night punctuated by barking dogs, traffic noises, and wedding parades, we manage to get up at 5am. This is finally our chance to see the sunrise over the Ganges. We walk all the way down to the Assi Ghat, and even if we’re pretty much sleepwalking, the city has never felt nicer. The air is fresh and it’s easy to walk around the empty streets.
When we started walking, it was still pitch black. By the time we get to the Assi Ghat, the sun’s almost up.
We’re right on time for the ceremony. The American lady from the restaurant was right about it. Unlike the previous one, this one has more solemnity, and there are no buses of tourists all around.
This ceremony is a prayer to the sun. They burn lamps and wave incense, just like the other one, but they do it as the sun rises on the horizon. There’s a real primal quality to the ritual – it dates back to the dark ages. Honestly, the whole thing is quite mesmerizing.
Also, they have real singers here. A group of young girls pray and chant, as the men on stage wave their burning lamps.
They have cobra-shaped incense holders, staring right at the sun.
We did it!
6.30am. The sun rises over the Ganges. It’s beautiful and makes for some memorable pictures.
At 7am, we get back to the ayurvedic cafe nearby, but it’s closed today…
We’re both hungry. We haven’t eaten anything yet. But we decide to find a bank first, so that Quinn can withdraw some cash. We both work in China, and we get paid on a Chinese account. We can withdraw cash from the account with a Debit Card that works in most Asian countries. But apparently, not in India. So she needs to withdraw from her US account. But the banks around here don’t always accept foreign cards…
Banks are not open yet. We try dozens of ATM, for two hours. Most of them don’t accept foreign cards. Many that do, are out of service. Worse, those who actually work consider Quinn’s card invalid. Something’s going on… We get back to our hotel, both quite worried. Quinn contacts her bank and they say her card has expired. It’s supposed to expire next month but they won’t bother helping. Then, Quinn manages to call her mother and explains. Definitely, the bank has made a mistake. But Quinn’s mother tells her that it’s possible to buy cash from some exchange agency, using a credit card.
We try it. It works. It’s something very useful to know, if one day you end up in the same situation.
I also manage to exchange some Chinese Yuans for Indian rupees. At last, we’re both set to continue on our journey.
For lunch, we wanted to go back to the Brown Bread Bakery, but it’s far and we’ve walked long enough already. We go to a restaurant near our hotel, instead.
What I don’t like in most Indian restaurants is that the prices on the menu are never the same once on the bill. In China, you pay what you order. That’s it. But here, they add first government taxes, service taxes, and when you’ve already paid, the waiter sometimes just stands there and won’t let you go before you give him bakchich - a tip. They can be quite pushy about it too.
In French, bakchich is a word associated with corruption and bribes. I wonder why….
Anyway, back to our hotel. We have to catch a train in the afternoon. But before that, we can just relax.
We are now two couch potatoes. We sit in the common room and watch movie (Madagascar), after movie (Troy).
I’d never heard of Zostel gueshouses before, but apparently there are a couple scattered across India.
I strongly recommend this one to anyone. The hotel itself is situated close to the main tourist area, a few hundred meters away from the river. The facilities are pretty good, and include - a rooftop hangout(with music and laptop), -- a common room with TV and couches -- a room with a ping pong table… But the best about this place is the staff. I’ve rarely seen employees so dedicated to the well-being of their customers. I only stayed a couple of days, but since the moment I called Niggy from the silk factory, telling him I was lost, he’s never stopped helping me. Overall, He went himself on the other side of town to pick me up. He apologized for the incorrect phone number on the email. He found me a cheaper room when I asked for it. He lent me his phone when I tried to call Quinn. He gave me his own ID card so I could talk to Ricky. And probably more… He remained very patient and helpful all along, even the days when he was the only one at work. Without him, my experience of Varanasi would have been completely different, and I made sure to tell him before I left…
When the time comes, we hop in a rickshaw and get to the train station. As we leave, I’m pretty sure I hear Ricky calling my name. I don’t even look back. If he ripped me off, good for him. If he did try to help, he was doing a really bad job at it. Good riddance !
Our train cabin is in AC 3. It means we have small, narrow bunk beds, no curtain, and no privacy. My bed is really high up. And I can’t even sit up straight without bumping my head to the ceiling. But it doesn’t matter, since I won’t be able to sleep much anyway. First, because of the group of obnoxious, drunken Polish (or maybe Russian), on my left. And later, because of the group of sober – but equally loud – Indian travellers, on my right. So far, I haven’t been really lucky when it comes to trains.
But Quinn and I are ok. We’re together.
We have enough cash for a few days. We have some food and water for the night. Our next hotel room is booked. Nothing to worry about.
So, we’re now leaving the temples of Varanasi. And we’re heading to Khajuraho, to visit a whole new kind of temples…