Goa to Varanassi

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Wednesday 25th February 2009 - GOA TO VARANASI

ATD - Today was a super long travelling day, beginning in Goa and ending in Varanasi. We woke up at 4 and got a cab to Panjim airport. I was feeling a little sad to be leaving Goa, but at the same time excited about Varanasi, and beyond that, Nepal. Once again we had a connecting flight. This time we went through Mumbai and Delhi before touching down in Varanasi. Taking off at sunrise from Panjim gave us some unforgettable views across Goa. Likewise touching down in Mumbai we could see the great contrast of the sprawling slums with the glittering apartment complexes.
My favourite part of the day was at Delhi airport. At fist we couldn’t find the domestic airport, which is detached from the rebuilt international airport and seemed little more than a large shed. We had arrived more than two hours before the departure of our connecting flight and so were ushered to a waiting room. In this waiting room there was a small TV, around which were huddled two dozen Indian men watching a Twenty20 cricket game featuring New Zealand vs. India. I stood and watched the game for a few minutes. During this time a couple of Indian wickets fell. Each time an Indian batsman was dismissed all the men would look around at me, the only westerner as if I was personally responsible.
Alas being a cricket-starved Australian I was shattered to discover that there were no TVs with showing the game once inside the actual terminal. It was then that my ever-resourceful wife swung into action. Leaving me holding the bags she dutifully went in search of an accommodating TV. She came back full of excitement and ushered me up some stairs and along some deserted passageways into what can only be described as a hidden heaven. Alexia had gone and found a room in which there was cricket to be watched on a big- screen plasma and in which ice-cold beer was served. What a good decision it was to get married!
This was a blissful interlude to the day which got a lot more stressful when we touched down in the Hindu holy city of Varanasi. The airport was an absolute shambles. Bags were piled up on a conveyer belt which travelled ten metres parallel to a wall. This meant that the 200-odd people who were assembled formed a crush around the luggage which was gradually forming a larger pile at one end of the room. To add to this Alexia was struggling to find pre-paid cab which would not rip her off. We were especially on our guard as we had been informed by several people that Varanasi is one of the most likely places in India to find thieves, cheats and touts.
One good thing to come out of this was meeting an Israeli man called Roy, who offered to share a cab with us into town with his girlfriend Tamar. We eventually gathered our luggage and got a white ambassador to drop us at the edge of the complex of thin alleyways which contained our lodgings for the night. The walk through these alleys with our heavy packs took us through all variety of sight and sound. Yes, we were definitely back in the real India after a month in the bubble of Goa.
We made the decision to not stay at the guest house which we had booked. This decision was based upon the facts that the room was overpriced (1,200 Rupees per night) and came with viscous monkeys. The man at the guest house calmly informed Alexia “If bite you hospital go”. So it was that we followed Roy and Tamara down a few more winding alley ways to the Shanti Guest house. It was a nice old fashioned hostel. We got a small room for 100 Rupees which only slightly resembled a prison cell.

ABD - The Lonely Planet INDIA and I have a love hate relationship. I turn to it in desperation when I have no where else to get information from and trust that it will guide us in the right direction. 90% of the time it leads us to overpriced hovels as reading one of its mistrustful reviews of a certain town or region, leaves me unquestionably paranoid.
Varanasi doesn’t really make the list for” top one hundred safest places on earth” anyway and I have been told to be cautious and alert while we are travelling through by a few close friends. None the less we decided to visit the Holy City by the Ganges. At Delhi airport, we realised that we would be arriving fairly late in the holy city and that it may be wise to book a room in Varanasi in advance instead of trying to orientate ourselves around the narrow tangled streets in search of suitable accommodation. We wanted to make sure that after all the bad things we heard about that city, our vulnerable exposure to it was as limited as possible.
I picked up the phone and started dialing from the Lonely Planets list of Budget Accommodation. No one had a room free. Most of the numbers where not valid anymore. “ The prices in Lonely Planet are unrealistic madame! ” “We only have a deluxe room left”
We decided to book a room at an overpriced establishment, just to avoid all the possible drama.
Thankfully our guardian angels where on duty again that night and thus we were lucky enough to meet Tamar and Roy who led us to a great little budget place. The rooms at the Shanti Lodge may have been like a prison cell, with no windows and hard beds (we were close to comatosed, sleeping in there - in a good way) but it was super clean, the shared bathrooms where impeccable, there was a pool table and internet, a ticketing office that arranged our Bus trip across the border to Nepal and the rooftop restaurant had the best views in town. They even offered free morning and evening boat rides on the Ganges but above all the place had a vibe to it, it was buzzing! ABD.

ATD - Amazingly, that night we met up with a good mate from home. Mark Thorpe was in Varanasi for a couple of days with his tour group. Mark came to the Shanti and we eventually had our meals on the roof top. It was really great to catch up with Thorpey and hear all about his travels and the news from home. From the rooftop we got a great view across the Ganges River and the maze of concrete and stone which forms Varanasi.

Thursday 26th February 2009 - VARANASI (Benares or Kashi “City of Life”)

ABD - Spiritual life in Varanasi revolves around the Ghats. The picturesque steps leading into the holy river, where the reason we too, decided to stop there on our way to Nepal. The long string of bathing steps leading down to the water of the western side of the Ganges, gather pilgrims from all over the Hindu world, to bathe in a bid to abolish a lifetime of sins and offers moksha (liberation from the cycle of life and death) to the faithful.
The city of Shiva, Varansi (formerly Benares) is described by Mark Twain as “Older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend and looks twice as old as all of it put together”. It is far from pretty, a maze of concrete, a suffocating, claustrophobic place littered with cow feces, waste and debris, the constant smell of death hanging in the air. I could not wait to get out of there. Yet we had to wait until Saturday, the day the Bus leaves Varanasi - India for Chitwan - Nepal. ABD

ATD - We met up with Thorpey early in the morning and together met up with his tour group. From a temple we watched the burning of a ghat. This is the process of burning a body which has been placed on a large pile of wood. The Hindu belief is that having ones body cremated on the banks of the Ganges is a great honour. As a group we walked along the filthy river, taking in the sights and sounds of this amazing place. A bloke from Thorpeys tour group actually went for a swim in the river.

ABD - The Manikanika Ghat is the most auspicious place to be cremated in the Hindu world. It is a lifelong dream and aspiration for people to come and expire in the holy city and to be then cremated by the Ganges. The process of cremation was explained to me on the rooftop of a temple as we looked down on a burning pyre, by a priest.
Women, the priest informed me, have to say their final goodbyes at home before the body makes its way to the river ghat. The reason for this is highlighted in W. Dalrymple’s book “The age of Kali”. In his book it is mentioned in detail how decades ago the tradition had it for widowed women to jump on their husbands burning pyres and sacrifice themselves for their husband’s soul to be released. To avoid this happening nowadays, women are banned from attending cremations.
A male body is wrapped in white cloth a female body is wrapped in pink. Every family member and friend of the deceased pays their respects by wrapping a piece of white or pink cloth respectively, around the deceased’s body. Bodies are handled and prepared for cremation by outcasts known as doms and are carried through the alley ways of the old city on a bamboo stretcher carried by male family members of the deceased. The corpse is doused in the Holy Ganges River before being weighed on a scale to determine how much firewood would be needed to complete the cremation. The most expensive type of wood one can use is Sandalwood (just in case you were wondering!)

ATD - While we were strolling along Alexia made the mistake of taking a photo without realizing that the background included one of the burning ghats. This was something we had been warned not to do as it is seen as disrespectful to the person being cremated. A bunch of angry men, one with a stick approached us demanding that we accompany them to an office to pay a fine. We deleted the photo from our camera and apologized. This didn’t seem good enough to these guys, who were really trying to intimidate us out of some money. I got a little angry and remonstrated with one bloke who was getting in my face. At this they backed off and allowed Alexia and I to leave the way we had come without continuing our walk any further down the river.

ABD - I was positively shitting my pants during that whole incident. Being brainwashed by my Lonely Planet about the gangs in the Holy City and disappearing tourists, I thought we had reached our end. Andrew my protector reacted in a way that I hadn’t been prepared for. He stood tall and looked down on the short little intimidator and gave him a piece of his mind, blood boiling. The little man had said” You made a big mistake, big mistake” and Andrew was replying in a deep angry yet calm voice “No my friend, it is you who made the mistake” it was clear to the whole gang that my husband was not joking. They packed their tails between their legs and toddled of, their bamboo bats still in hand, to find another victim.
I was so proud of my strong, brave husband. He took me in his arms and squeezing me whispered “don’t worry, they just bark but don’t bite. I was twice that guy’s size; I would have made mincemeat out of him” Oh, how I love my heroic man!

ATD - We were a little shaken up by this incident and decided to separate from Thorpey’s group and find a place to relax for a little while - if that was possible in Varanasi. Ultimately we found a German bakery which had a nice area to get away from the hustle and bustle of street level. We hung out there for a few hours to recover before re-entering the fray. We took advantage of the Shanti’s offer of a free boat ride down the Ganges, which turned out for me to be the highlight of Varanasi. The setting sun illuminated the river beautifully as we passed by the various ghats. When it got darker we each lit a prayer candle which was made from a banana leaf, and floated it down the sacred Ganges, prayers for our loved ones attached. A few more guests from our hostel, some of which where Australians and we started chatting happily.
Our charismatic boatman Sanjay took our boat right up into the front row on the banks of the Ganges, from where we got an unobstructed view or the elaborate fire and dance ‘Puja’ ceremony that was being performed at the Dasawameth Gath. This involved several young men dressed in bright orange silk offering up a number of prayer candles and incense smoke to the accompaniment of Hindi chanting. The whole ceremony was fascinating, and I felt privileged to be so close. Looking over to the rest of our group in the boat I realised thay where all entranced just as I had been, by the spellbinding rite.

In the evening we made our way to Thorpey’s guest house, a good one hour rickshaw ride away as Assi Ghat where we met with him and his tour group for dinner and a few drinks. They seemed like a really nice bunch of people and we enjoyed being amongst a group of bubbly westerners again.

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Photos

the narrow streets of Varanasi
Dirty, stinky, claustrophobic, there is nothing charming, spiritual or holy about this place

Looking down onto the Ganges from the rooftop restaurant at our Guest House
lousy service but brilliant view

View at night straight down from our rooftop restaurant
trying to be artsy fartsy here