Varanasi and Chandigarh

---

Since I didn't know where I wanted to go, I neglected to buy my onward train ticket from Dehra Dun until the day I left. As a result the only ticket left for that evening's train to Varanasi was in the AC car. It was about double the price of a non-AC ticket ($10 instead of $5), but it was nice to have AC for once, especially since the temperature was pushing 100* during the day. The car was noticably cleaner, since it's sealed off from the outside (as opposed to the desert's worth of dust that came in the open window on the previous month's train to Jaisalmer), and they even gave me a pillow, sheet, and blanket.

Just like the sleeper (non-AC) cars, the people around me were keen to talk. An old man, perhaps in his late 60s or early 70s, struck up a conversation with me almost immediately. His first order of business was to inform me that his driver, sitting next to him, had some sort of intestinal condition that caused him to fart a lot. I laughed, and this was the beginning of dozens of questions that got stranger and stranger (many questions were asked two or three times). Do people in the US always laugh when people fart in public? Do we have air/water pollution in the US? What percentage of schools are public vs private? Which schools are better? Are farmers better, or businessmen? Why is the US the most powerful nation in the world? Are there Indians in the US? What kind of food do people in the US eat? This last question immediately gave me an idea -- the first thing I said was beef, hoping this would perhaps discourage further interrogation, but it had no effect.

Even when I got out a book and began to read, the questions kept coming. The only respite came when the woman across from me started a conversation during one of the brief lulls. She was perhaps in her late 30s or early 40s and was apparently quite convinced that she knew best for people around her. She spoke a few times on her cell phone, I assume to her children as it was a nonstop stream of "you must remember to study hard, don't talk to so and so" and "remember what I told you about X, do/don't do that". When I admitted that I hadn't booked a room in Varanasi, she insisted that I call her uncle's (uncle doesn't usually mean biological uncle, though in this case I think it did) guesthouse, which was located 10 miles or so outside the city. I tried to immediately rule it out based on it's location and price, though my repeated attempts to find out how expensive it was were unsuccessful, as she would only say that it was low season and I could get a discount. Eventually I gave in and called, and sure enough, the discount brought it from $80 to $40 a night. That, at least, was enough to get her to drop the issue.

My autorickshaw stopped to pick a guy up just as we were leaving the train station, and he immediately began dazzling me with his English. I was fairly tired and soon very annoyed, so I only remember one of the many idiotic things he said, which was "oh, you're tired, don't worry, take SHOWER get POWER." He hadn't been in the rickshaw two minutes when I started telling him to shut up, since my complete lack of response to his babbling didn't do the trick. Sure enough, in spite of my instructing the driver not to, we stopped so that the babbling idiot could implore me to just come inside for one minute to look at his hotel. He even had a guy from NY come outside to the rickshaw (at least he claimed to be from NY, and he seemed to know his Brooklyn neighborhoods) to try to convince me to look at the place. I refused.

I found a room for 100 rupees per night (about $2.50), and in spite of not having AC it really wasn't that bad. There were some other travelers there, including an Italian and an Australian who were very friendly. Both of them were alternatively recovering/still suffering from stomach ailments, so they just hung around the guesthouse most of the day. If you didn't know (I'm guessing most of you don't), the Cricket World Cup is happening right now, so many Indians and the Australians I've met have all been following it. The one TV at the guesthouse was in the public space so I watched a couple of matches with the other people, and I now understand ~95% of the game. If I'm honest, it's even less interesting than baseball, but at least it's something different, and it's somehow more interesting when the people around you are really in to it.

The touts in Varanasi turned out to be as bad as Delhi, if not worse. I think part of the problem was that it's low season for tourists, so the touts pounce on the few there are with added vigor. Fortunately I now have no problem being very direct with them to the point of being an asshole. It was the same with the rickshaw drivers -- they'd quote me their normal tourist rate, probably three or more what a local would pay, and I'd respond with a much lower figure and immediately walk away if they didn't accept. It never took more than ten seconds to get a ride, as they'd either quickly change their mind or one of the other five rickshaw-wallahs within earshot would say OK. An Australian in my guesthouse had a boat driver tear up a 100 rupee note in frustration when the Aussie refused to pay more than they initially agreed. 100 rupees is a fairly decent day's wage for unskilled labor.

Varanasi is an extremely old city. It sits on the Ganges and has been one of, if not the most important cities for Hindus for over two and a half thousand years. My guesthouse was in the old city, a maze of alleys, some of which aren't wide enough for two people to pass without one turning sideways. A few times I had to find a different route as a cow would be completely blocking the way, and refused to move when I shouted or slapped it. The larger alleys are lined with small dhabas and tiny shops selling silk, jewelry, and all sorts of small knickknacks. I learned very quickly that it was a good idea to limit myself to going out during the morning and evening, as every day the temperature was 105-110, and it felt fairly humid. It was exhausting just sitting in a rickshaw. I spent a lot of time reading and sleeping (and in the evening, watching cricket). My last day I took a bus to Sarnath, the location where Buddha gave his first sermon/teaching. Although it's now mostly in ruins, about 1400 years ago it had 30 monasteries housing over 3000 monks.

I decided to come to Chandigarh because a few of my friends from NIM are here now. My train was supposed to leave Varanasi at 9:30AM, but it ended up being nearly five hours late. The only notable occurrence during the trip was that I finally gave up on my efforts to avoid littering. India is about the polar opposite of Switzerland -- it's completely normal to drop whatever trash you have wherever you happen to be at the time. In the past I've carried trash around for the better part of a day, looking for a trash can. On the train, I was looking for somewhere to put my trash when the guy across from me took it and just tossed it out the window. Chandigarh is actually the cleanest city I've seen so far, and there are a few public trash cans, but I'm not going to carry trash around for hours and hours anymore. If (most) people can't be bothered to keep their city clean, and the city itself can't be bothered to provide at least occasional trash cans...

Whereas Varanasi is one of the oldest cities in he world, Chandigarh is one of India's newest, as it was built in the 1950s after partition left the Punjab's former capital Lahore in Pakistan. It was designed by a French architect and superficially looks almost like a European city -- the main streets are a perfect grid, and there are a considerable number of green spaces, most of them remarkably well-kept by Indian standards. They didn't quite make it as far as providing sidewalks, except in the central, pedestrian-only shopping plaza. The most-visited tourist attraction here is the rock garden, which was begun by a single guy, who if memory serves me correctly was a trashman shortly after Chandigarh was initially built. It started out as a collection of small figures built out of junk, but nowadays it's quite large and the man who started it has obviously had some help. Supposedly it went entirely unnoticed for over a decade, and then once it was discovered the guy who was responsible became an international celebrity.

I'm typing right now from the internet cafe at Punjab University, since neither of the two cafes I found in the shopping district had computers capable of reading my flash card. It has been just as hot here as it was in Varanasi, so I stay indoors during the heat of the day. For some reason, one of the most expensive restaurants in the city has 75 cent beers, so I've spent most afternoons in its air-conditioned coolness, reading a book and drinking cheap beer. I also enjoyed my first hot shower since March 15th, though it was only enjoyable because I cranked the AC to make it cold in my room. Otherwise, cold showers are certainly preferable.

Tomorrow I leave for Delhi, again. I'll be there for a day before boarding a deluxe AC train for Kerala, a 36 hour train trip. I'll be there for three weeks or so, after which I plan to fly to Leh, Ladakh. For those of who who've read Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things, it's set in the backwaters of Kerala. In spite of being in the south, it should be slightly cooler than it is here in the northern plains, especially as there are some hill stations in the Cardamom Hills that are over 2000m.

---

Photos

Sarnath
On the right is the Dhamekh Stupa, supposedly the precise location where the Buddha gave his first sermon.

Comments

[Chris DeSandro]

What a journey! What kind of beer are you drinking over there?

[levir]

beer
There isn't generally much, if any choice - Kingfisher. Some places will have Heineken or Foster's, but it's twice the price of Kingfisher (sometimes more than it would be in the US). I once encountered an Indian beer called Sandpiper, which was just as middling as Kingfisher.