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Published: January 23rd 2006
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One of the other facilities offered by the hotel is free boat trips on the Ganges at dawn and dusk. The dawn voyage was at 6AM, so I had asked the staff to turn on my special geyser at 5:30AM so I could grab a shower before heading out. The request seemed to have been forgotten but washing in cold water isn't quite so bad when the air temperature is high enough that you can't see your breath.
A few other guests had also signed up, so we all shuffled off into the early morning dimness behind the boatman. There was a slight chill to the air but nothing uncomfortable (hardly surprising - when I checked on the web yesterday, Varanasi was warmer than Chennai in the south).
The river was unbelievably busy at this time in the morning. Tourist boats were hogging the bank, to give the best view of the ghats. Lamps on floral mountings - devotional offerings by the faithful -were winking on the river's surface, some dragged out into the centre channel by the currents and looking from a distance like fireflies. The ghats themselves were swarming with people, with Dashaswamedh Ghat in particular significantly
Dashaswamedh Ghat
The queue for the bathroom busier than I had seen it during the day. A vast crowd of pilgrims and locals was queuing up to bathe in the river. It would have made an excellent picture if my camera had had any low light capability.
Accompanying this spectacle was a cacophony of sound - temple chants, people chatting, music from radios, water splashing, rousing "Hello!"s from the bathers as they spotted a tourist boat coming close. I also saw a few lewd crotch-related gesticulations, though I must admit I doubt I'd fancy boatloads of tourists watching me take a shower in the morning either. After about 45 minutes, we were back where we started, and everyone wandered back to the hotel for the serious business of having some breakfast.
Later, I ventured along the ghats to the north this time. I didn't find much of interest, though I did get caught up in several kites.
In the evening, I met quite possibly the most foul-mouthed man in the world. I'm prone to the occasional bout of swearing myself, though normally those words tend to come out if I'm angry, surprised, or excited, but for this man, obscenities were the basic building blocks
of his speech. No adverb or adjective was left unprefaced by "f*cking". Men/women/children/animals/inanimate objects lost their individuality and became "f*ckers". People he didn't like were not just "scum", they were "scumc*nts".
Despite this, as well as the fact that he was a Scouser, it was clear that he was an intelligent guy who had travelled widely. Frighteningly, at times in his life he had even been an English teacher - shouldn't be too difficult to spot people who have studied under him. Unfortunately he was incapable of remaining quiet for more than 10 seconds at a time. I was trying to watch some football, then trying to eat my dinner, then trying to write my journal, but each of these activities seemed to indicate to him that I was available for conversation. Eventually I had to go off and play some pool just to get away from him. When I tentatively mentioned this guy to one of the other guests, they were also of the opinion that he was a bit of a loon. I must remember to steer clear of him in future.
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