"Two times" two times

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Today was an inter-city travel day that mercifully only took 1.25 hours, by bus to Haridwar. The bus itself was virtually empty so I was able to sprawl out on a seat. Such moments are to be treasured.

Haridwar is a holy site for Hindus, as it represents the point where the Ganges comes out of the hills and begins its journey eastward across the plains. I'd been unable to get hold of any hotels yesterday, so this marked the first town I've arrived in with no accommodation pre-booked, but I soon found one of the hotels that had a good write-up in the RG (Hotel Kailash), and they had a spare room. As they were still cleaning it, I decided to grab some brunch to kill an hour or so until it was ready.

I was pointed in the direction of the Big Ben restaurant on the next corner, and was the only customer. However this was not an issue at all, as within minutes the stereo played an Eiffel 65 album track, and then Ann Lee "Two Times", which is the second time I've heard this song since I've been in India. At a stroke, Haridwar was christened the Eurocheese capital of the subcontinent.

It still wasn't check-in time even after a couple of stuffed parathas, so I went for a walk along the main street. Haridwar is not very big and I was able to walk half way across it and back in about 20 minutes, by which time the clock had struck noon. The room I've got is fairly large and I have a balcony overlooking the main street, however there's a crack in the toilet seat which holds promise of some buttock nippage if I'm not careful.

As part of my post-Christmas plan to move along a bit more rapidly, I'd dedicated the afternoon to a day trip to Rishikesh, a 40 minute bus ride away. While paying for the ticket to ride, I realised I had completely run out of change. Or, more accurately, I'd stupidly been giving the correct money for everything, instead of dealing only in 100s. As mentioned in previous blog entries, this is not a good state of affairs.

Rishikesh is famous for its ashrams, in particular the one owned by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi which the Beatles visited in the '60s. The town is split down the middle by the Ganges, with a suspension bridge linking the two halves. Having the river there really does make the place seem appealing, as it creates a sense of space that has been sadly absent from a lot of the towns I've visited. With hills rising above the town too, nature makes its presence felt in a pleasing fashion.

I first made my way to Triveni Ghat, the main ghat in Rishikesh. There seemed to be more people playing cricket there than any other activity. Someone from a group of kids playing nearby threw a stone at me when I wasn't looking - it skittered across the concrete in front of me, so no harm done, but as welcoming gestures go it left something to be desired.

There were a lot of Westerners in Rishikesh, most of whom seemed to be staying there for (presumably) yoga or religious study rather than just being daytrippers. This was particularly noticeable when I went to a ceremony at dusk on the bank of the river, just opposite a statue of Shiva that is located on a spit. There was a great deal of chanting and occasional clapping. The RG had said that, at the culmination of the ceremony, many lamps would be set adrift on the river, which sounded like an interesting spectacle. After an hour of standing, with my back beginning to lock up, I decided to give it a miss, as I knew there would be a similar rite in Haridwar the next day.

I dined at the Madras Cafe, an RG recommendation that only merits a mention because it is the number one suspect for the cause of my subsequent problems.

By the time I'd finished it was already quite late so, as it was a good 40 minutes walk back to the bus station and I wasn't sure when the last bus went, I decided to get back to Haridwar via auto. It was a 50 minute journey, but seemed significantly longer as the wind was howling in the sides of the vehicle and I could see my breath steaming in the dark. Even when the driver unfurled the canvas side panels, it didn't help reduce the draught much, and I then had the sound of loud thwacking in my ears, as the wind cracked the canvas against the metal sidebars, and was worried about an errant corner making its way in and taking an eye out. I also kept forgetting to sit low in the seat - sitting high leaves you susceptible to denting the roof if the auto goes over any decent-sized bump. I speak from experience.

Back in Haridwar, I threw a strop with the driver as i) he didn't know where my hotel was, even though he had originally said he did, and ii) he didn't have any change, even though he had originally said he had. This had the effect of him magically rustling up the change from somewhere in his pockets, and I suddenly recognised where I was and was able to navigate home.

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Photos

Orange crush
Shiva acolytes converge on the riverbank