Varanasi, Escape From India

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Varanasi, Escape From India

Late at night we arrive at our hotel, it was fantastic, a proper European standard hotel, three four storey blocks surrounding a grass lawn which was littered with tables with people eating supper, and joy of joy a pool. We checked in to our rooms, and agreed to meet up to go to the near by McDonalds. The room is fantastic its like being in a Marriot two single beds and a balcony overlooking the lawn. I take shower in the pornoesque black bathroom suit. The hot water pummels my body the drama of the journey starts to wash away, then there is a power cut. Fucking India. Its pitch black, holding on to the wet slippery tiled walls i climb out of the bath/shower and stumble around my unfamiliar surroundings stubbing my toe and bumping into everything until find the bathroom door. I walk naked into the hotel room, which is also in complete darkness, I open the door to the hall way where there is some emergency lighting allowing some light into the room. I grab a towel wrap it around myself and walk into the hall way where there are several other guests confused and loitering. I go back into my room sit on the balcony and smoke a cigarette enjoying the cool air and the quiet.
After a while the power returns and I have a shower and we all meet up, Helen and Suz are moaning that they have to share a double bed, another piece of brilliant Indian planning, as I have two singles we agree to swap rooms, there room was not as nice as mine, but i had a double bed and a hot shower, nothing else really matters. We head of to McDonalds, as curious as I was I avoided the McAllo Chat and McTikka and headed straight for the chicken burger, i have never been so happy to hear “do you want fries with that”. We all sat there wolfing down burger after burger, shovelling our faces with French fries all washed down with gallons of coke. With its white tilled floor, overpowering lighting, and assortment of brightly coloured chairs we could have been in any McDonalds in the world, everything was normal, it was good to be ‘home’.
During the depths of despair on route to Varanasi we had discussed that with the truck full to capacity and people being ill, and the heat the road trips had become unbearable. The three of us decided to get of the truck and go straight to Kathmandu, Varanasi is a major city, with a bus and train station, but also more importantly and airport. We decided to investigate the next day, the plan being to stay in Varanasi for a few extra days as the hotel was nice and recuperate, then fly up to Kathmandu and meet up with the rest of the group. We also decide that we want to keep this under our hats as, without sounding bitchy, we want some space and want to get away from the group for a few days, they are great people but it can get claustrophobic. Apart from the three of us the only other person I invite is Nick, we have been on the truck since Chennai, and although it is only seven weeks it feels like a life time, if you spend 8 hours, plus, a day travelling and talking to somebody your connection to that person grows at an accelerated rate.
We head back to the hotel to chill out for a while on the lawn, I don’t feel like drinking, but order a beer anyway, and try to think back to the last day I didn’t have a beer. Most of the group is sat there and they are all talking about two things. First, the doctor has been to see Adam and steve, both are in a bad way, Adam has been given some medication and told to rest, steve has been admitted to hospital with food poisoning and severe dehydration. The second is who is going to fly to Kathmandu and who is going to stay on the truck. Nick has told everyone, Im furious. I take an early night as we have to be up at 5am to go on a boat trip at sunrise down the gats of the Ganges.
I wake up in the mother of all bad moods, im angry at everything. Outside the hotel the is a flotilla of tuk tuks waiting to take us to the Ganges, I share a tuk tuk with Sanna, she wants to come to Kathmandu by plane with us but wont say so directly, my mood darkens. We drive through Varanasi along the main roads before turning off down winding cobbled streets that are already busy, we can only go so far before we have to get out and walk, there is the usual array of pandemonium which is exacerbated by the narrowness of the streets. Andy is acting as tour leader, bless him, he has about as much idea about where we are going as we do, he has only been in India for a week, b ut without him and becks i don’t know what would have happened. Eventually our Indian guide shows us to a door way. I was a little taken aback, I thought we were going to a river, i walk in it black the floor is an uneven concrete with puddles the air is dank and damp. Holding onto the cold concrete wall we walk through until we come out onto the banks into near riot, there are scores of Indians who want us to get on their boats, we already have one booked, we are about to board when Andy stops us, its not our boat, he was just trying it on.

The Ganges, above all is the river of India, which has held India's heart captive and drawn uncounted millions to her banks since the dawn of history. The story of the Ganges, from her source to the sea, from old times to new, is the story of India's civilization and culture, of the rise and fall of empires, of great and proud cities, of adventures of man. Varanasi has hundreds of temples along the bank of the Ganges they are all different shapes and sizes, its a brick a brack shop of temples, all with writing on the side explaing why you should worship at one or the other, generally depending on your region, they often become flooded during the rains, on one is half submerged in the river, like the lost city of Atlantis. The bank of the Ganges, is an important place of worship for the Hindus as well as a cremation ground. Some Hindus also believe life is incomplete without bathing in the Ganges at least once in one's lifetime. There is one important annual festival which you often see on the news as scores of people die in the stampede to get into the water. Many Hindu families keep a vial of water from the Ganges in their house. This is done because it is prestigious to have water of the Holy Ganges in the house, and also so that if someone is dying, that person will be able to drink its water. Many Hindus believe that the water from the Ganges can cleanse a person's soul of all past sins. In reality researches have found that the Ganges water is not clean and actually contains many harmful bacteria. The issue is that many people are becoming sick by drinking and using the water from the Ganges. There is an estimated 20million tons of waste pumped into the river every day. As we float along you see people bathing, and washing their clothes in the river next to sewage pipes pumping its spoils into the river.









As we sail down the river the monks are doing their morning exercises and prayers, the most weird one being the one minute laughing. But even this does not lighten my mood. I sit back I try to absorb the cultural experience, but start getting annoyed at everyone taking photos, they are at one of the most spiritual places in the world than they are experiencing it through an LCD screen. I know that I am being unreasonable, of course people want to take photos to remember the experience. Yes Im in a bad mood, but I know that I got out of the wrong side of the bed so I say nothing as I know the person being unreasonable is me.
After an hour or so we head back to the tuk tuks and then back to the hotel for breakfast. We arrive on mass into the restaurant, Indian waiters are rubbish at the best of times you just know that 18 people turning up at the same time is going to be difficult. But within minutes people start complaining, “where is my...” i just sit there thinking you ordered last and other people have not received their food yet, my blood boils. I say as politely as I can I’m guessing that as there are so many of us it might take a while. The response I get back is that hotels should be able to cope with large numbers, I can feel the blood swell behind my eyes, I bite my lip.
Helen and I jump in a tul tuk while suz goes to do some research for flights, we head into Varanasi as Helen wants some, cosmetic, shampoo etc, I want some rehydration sachets. We are stood in a chemist while Helen deliberates over two different types of shampoo, asking the rather confused chemist hair product related questions that neither me or him understand, in my head Im screaming, “just buy the fucking shampoo, its all the same we are in India this is not boots”. I am fully aware that such an outburst would be completely out of order, Helen natters on with no idea that I am feeling murderous. Even a blonde girl in pool who is giving me the eye before pulling the classic ‘bounty girl’ pose under the water fall to gain my attention lightens my mood, how cliché, is the derogatory voice that screams from somewhere within the angry maze that has taken over my usually reasonable brain. We have a group meeting to discuss how we are going to proceed as Steve is still in hospital. We gather in the foyer everyone chatting amongst themselves as the last of the group turns up, Becks stands up and starts to speak several people carry on their private conversations, becks tries to continue aware that not everyone is listening, my fury starts to rise, before it hits boiling point and i hit someone with a chair I say in a loud and clear voice, “guys can we be quiet Becks is trying to tell us the way forward, i think its quite important”, the room quietens, becks mouths me a thank you and says that we are going to stay an extra day in varanassi, while Steve recovers, having one day less in Kathmandu the in between stops will remain the same, just a day later. As she is explaining all of the implications James starts interjecting with unhelpful insights and jokes. Pressure point reached, it explodes “james shut the fuck up and let Becky speak, i think that this is important and everyone wants to hear what she says, not the shit coming out of your mouth, if your not interested why dont you fuck off somewhere else”, “i was just trying to lighten the mood” James replies, “you were just trying to be the fucking center of attention like an eight year old with an attention disorder. Becks please continue”. Becks carries on, out of the corner of my eye i can see James twitching with rage, bring it on. As the meeting ends, James comes over, I think we are going to have a fight, Im my minds eye Im smashing my elbow into the bridge of his nose. “dont you ever tell me what to do again” he snarls, “dont but your ego before the welfare of the group, and ill do what ever the fuck I want, you prick”, he walks of “your the prick” he says as he exits the foyer. The dark side of the force was going to be unleashed at someone, frankly im glad it was James, and not a random or a friend that didnt deserve it, James had been getting on mine and most other peoples nerves for a while, im always dubious of people who introduce themselves as “a bit of a nutter” and the time was appropriate if a little over the top
I decide to go to bed hopefully if I get some sleep I can get out of bed on the right side. In the evening we were going back to the Ganges as they perform special ceremonies in the evening. We again walked through the tight winding cobbled streets, if the streets were busy at 5am they were positively pulsating in the evening. Once on to the boat, again gats we busier in the evening, but there were marked differences from temple to temple, some ram packed others with only a couple of worshipers, the guide explained to me in broken English, I could not quite make out if it was because some Hindu sects were more popular than others or if it was geographical, as were are in the north, you are not going to get many worshipers from Tamil Nadu on the south east coast. We moored with a number of other boats at a large ceremony where the monks went through 7 acts of worship to symbolise, the reincarnation powers of the Ganges. The held different shaped flaming torches above their heads which they all waved about in synchronized movements, all a bit boy band.
We headed back to the hotel and I remembered something someone had said to me before i came to India, dont eat the western food, they dont know how to cook it. Right the way through india i had eaten curry and loved it but just after Delhi as my stomach started to tighten and turn i had reverted to simple western food, my stomach never really got better so I carried on eating western, i had not had a curry for a week. When we got back I promptly ordered a curry and a king fisher, which strangely is just like being at home !
I woke up in the morning feeling fresher than i had for a while and decided on a rejuvenation program, which involved lots of chilling, pool time, a half an hour swim every day, massages, curry, and not leaving the western enclave of the hotel if I could help it. We sorted out our flights, the truck was going to leave the next day, we were going to leave two days after and fly straight to Kathmandu, so we would get there a few days before them. Swim done I decided to go for a massage, At 500 rupees it was expensive but I had been told it was good. I walked into the massage room where and elderly little Indian man stood. I undressed to my pants, he put his hands out in front of him and motioned with his fingers that they were to come off also, ok. The massage was out of this world as he rubbed all but a significant few inches. He then got a what I can best describe as a heavy round flat bottomed water bottle which secreted scented oils. It was boiling hot as he rolled it over my body reliving aches and pains that i did not know were there. When he had finished he motioned for me to go into the other room and shower off. I got of the bed and walked into the adjoining room, I took a brief look at the shower before I realised that he had followed me in, he then pushed back and motioned for me to sit on the toilet, he then knelt in front of my putting a bucket of hot water at my feet, and started to sponge me down. Once again India was pushing me to my cultural limits, it was all very Victorian.
The rest of the day was to be committed to some serious chilling at the pool time, while there I met an Australian brother and sister (bounty girl), we were stood in the pool with our arms on the pool edge enjoying the contrast of the cool water and the hot sun on our faces, quietly chatting and making small talk. When James appeared, we had now made a truce of sorts, we were never going to be best of mated but we would exchange conversations, he introduced himself to the two Australians, and said “its obvious where your from by your accents”
They looked at me, weary, i smiled the its ok i know him, smile, although a little tight
“Ok”
“America”
“No”
“Oh, Canada”
“Say something else”
“Like what”
“South Africa”
“No”
“But you not European are you?”
“no”
“I’ve got, New Zealand”
“no”
“Australia”
“Yes”
“I have been to Australia, let me tell you the best pub in the whole country” now im not sure there is a best pub in any country, but James went on to tell them all about this bar he had been too in Sydney while they looked on in amazement. Eventually he went away, and the aussie fella looked at me and said, “one in every group eh?”.

The next day, the truck headed off, and a number of the others had copied our idea and decided to fly to Kathmandu, we stayed a little longer, enjoying G&T’s by the pool. Little happened, we got into a row with the waiter who gave us as change a slightly torn note and then refused to accept it back as payment as it was torn, i lost my ipod, and i met a young Indian man who talked at length about how he was a big hot shot property purchaser in india and around the world, he talked about this a lot, i didn’t particularly believe him so i tweaked my work history, saying that i was in international mortgage broker who specialised in his field, he displayed no interest in this, hmm the sweet smell of bullshit i thought. On the day we were due to fly the australian brother and sister mentioned the need for a passport photo for the Nepalese visa, i had completely forgotten. They needed a photo also so i ventured outside the hotel grounds for the first time in days in search of a photo booth, we eventually find a shop where a man will take your photo and produce six photos, he will not let us have two each and insists that its six per person, we try to negotiate, but i think he knows that he is the only person in town that has this facility and with our negotiation options slim and time running out we agree.

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Comments

[harish]

nice writing
i liked your writing style.. enjoy the tour.