Varanasi

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The end of our Nepali visas unfortunately coincided with a proposed period of Maoist strikes, including border closures, etc. So, in order to avoid getting stuck and overstaying our welcome (i.e. getting fined), we made a mad dash to the border, and down into India. Three dusty buses and an overnight train later, we were in Varanasi. We arrived at 6am to bargain with rickshaw drivers and lug our gear through the already busy market places. Despite all this, when we finally broke through to the river the sense of peace was incredible; while the winding alleys and markets of Varanasi are a free for all of motorbikes, hustlers, stray dogs and holy cows, along the river there is a palpable sense of reverence. We found a lovely place to stay, with a rooftop and ‘Ganga views’, so we decided to stay for Christmas. The owner of our guesthouse, Shiva, promised that because we were ‘such nice people’ he would throw us an Indian Christmas feast, which sealed the deal.

Food in Varanasi was incredibly cheap and often delicious as well, setting a high standard for the rest of our Indian travels! (A simple lunch for two at a local restaurant costing the equivalent of AU$1.25) However, when we weren’t eating we also saw some of the sights. Being in Varanasi itself is an experience- and you could happily spend most of your time wandering along the steps of the Ghats along the river, or getting lost in the backstreets, but Shiva had convinced us to stray further afield. First stop was the Ramnagar Fort, home to the Maharaja of Benaras (Varanasi). The fort is on the opposite side of the Ganges from the ghats, and is connected by a pontoon bridge that the Maharaja rebuilds every year in the dry season. The fort itself is home to a museum full of crumbling textiles, stuffed tigers, and centuries’ worth of weaponry. However, the thing that is truly worth travelling down river for is ‘the best lassi in Varanasi’- Shiva had promised we wouldn’t find one better, and we still haven’t! Served in clay cups at a shop on the side of the road, it was sweet and fragrant with a hint of rosewater.

We also ventured out to Sarnath, the deer park where Buddha gave his first teaching. A huge complex of temple ruins with what is now a big deer enclosure. While walking through the grounds was interesting, the attached museums were a highlight, filled with incredibly well preserved statues, some from as far back as 1AD.

The last of our expeditions was to the Banaras Hindu University, which according to Shiva is the third largest uni complex in the world (behind Oxford and Singapore), and the second ‘best’ in Asia. Whether or not this is true, the compound itself was an oasis of impressive buildings and lovely gardens, which, combined with the fact it is a ‘no horn zone’, made it a very relaxing place to be. The campus also contains the Viswanath temple, which was the first and only temple we have been to where English translations were provided for the inscriptions on the walls- and we enjoyed reading our way around the complex. In the garden around the temple, the local art students were selling some of their pieces, and we both bought some as a unique Varanasi momento. After the temple, we had lunch at a crowded restaurant, and after a chat with a couple of students, we headed over to the museum. The ‘Bharat Kala Bhavan - Art and Archaeological Museum’ was home to an amazingly broad collection of miniature paintings, textiles, sculpture and incredible jewellery (housed in a special vault gallery!). Unfortunately, we only had an hour or so there as I had to make it back to Shiva’s by 4pm for a massage… such are the trials of traveling.

After a slow breakfast, Christmas day was spent skype-ing family and friends, before having a wander through the markets. The guesthouse was a hive of activity, with huge piles of food being carried up and down the stairs. Shiva had decorated the dining room with candles and fairy lights, and took it well when we changed the music from blasting Bollywood to playing carols from someone’s iPod instead. We had a lovely evening, with both great food and company. The guesthouse had an amazing mix of people doing very impressive things. There was a group of Koreans who had been living at Shiva’s for 8 months learning Hindi at the University, as well as a French couple, Sylvie and Laurent, who played sitar and tabla together professionally in France and had been living and playing in India on and off for 20 years. Plus the usual bunch of travelers off on world odysseys, among whom there was even a fellow Canberran!

Unfortunately, as lovely as the night was, a fair number of the people staying in the guesthouse were very sick that night and the next morning. I had been feeling a bit off all of Christmas day, and went to bed feeling iffy only to wake up a couple of hours later feeling a lot worse! By morning I was faint, feverish, and bedbound, and I spent most of boxing day lying on the bed having incredible dreams/hallucinations. By that evening it was clear I wasn’t getting any better, despite various meds, and while gastro is an India backpacker’s rite of passage, we were concerned about malaria as I had all the ‘right’ symptoms. So, off to hospital it was. Though, being India, this was a saga in itself- the backstreets of Varanasi are so small that not even a rickshaw can squeeze through, so Mark had to guide me - bucket in hand (ridiculous in a city of open sewers)- through what felt like miles of filthy alleyways, before we made it to a larger road where we found a rickshaw. After half an hour or so of the classic auto-rickshaw experience we made it to ‘emergency’ and were shown right through. I was given a bed which I gratefully collapsed onto, while Mark did all the explaining. While we initially only went in to get the blood test, the doctor decided I should be admitted- and so began the hospital adventure!

A few moments later, another man was wheeled in with what seemed like a severe abdominal injury. He lay on the other bed in the room, making horrible noises while his sons sorted out the necessary paperwork and payment. Only then did everyone spring into action- which was for me another Indian lesson on how lucky we are. An hour later I was whisked off to a chest x-ray (I also had a chest infection), after which we were shown to our room- which at US$400 per night remains our most expensive yet! After 5 weeks of wooden teahouses and dingy bathrooms, it was palatial; complete with couch, two beds, fridge, flatscreen TV, and ‘room service’. So, we settled in, thanking the powers that be for travel insurance.

The next morning, the reality of being in hospital in India began to sink in. I had never had a drip before, and initially attributed the throbbing ache in my wrist to the fact the IV solution is kept in glass bottles, and is therefore fairly cold. However, by the mid morning it was incredibly painful- something I tried to convey to the nurses on duty via writhing and groaning as they injected a multitude of antibiotics into it. They thought this was funny, and continued to insist ‘ees okay, ees okay’. By lunchtime the drip had stopped several times, and after the fourth time they had to ‘flush’ it (also v painful), I insisted (with help from mime) that it be taken out.

I spent the rest of the afternoon dreading the return of the nurse to put the next cannula in. By 9pm they still hadn’t returned, and I was started to hope they had forgotten about me, but by 10pm a cocky young male nurse and assistant had come in for a game of ‘find the vein’. After a bit of trial and error in my ‘good’ arm they informed me that I had ‘bad’ veins, and were forced to put it back in the crook of the same arm. Once again, it was Mark who cleaned up the bloody needles and other various ‘bio hazards’ after they left.

Anyone who has ever traveled through India will be familiar with the ‘yesnomaybe’ head wobble. Rather than give a negative answer to a question, or tell you they don’t understand, the ‘yesnomaybe’ head wobble is given- followed by a retreat. While it is fairly funny when asking for directions, it is less funny when asking for pain medication. Another Indian hospital novelty is that when you press the buzzer for a nurse, it actually buzzes. None of this ‘light buzzing on at the nurses’ desk’ business- it is more like a car horn: you can buzz it as long and as loud as you like. Once this dawned on me, the days of frustrated mime were over, and a couple of hours later I had my meds.

We spent the next day or so watching soccer matches and bad movies, and speaking to family and nurses from the insurance company back home.

After a lot of feeling sorry for myself and a couple more medical adventures involving yellow tiger balm and bandages, as well as a bit of a biff with the doctor questioning the use of said balm and bandage, we were finally free to go- yellowed, gimpy arm and all.

The four days spent in confinement in our clean hospital room had undone all my India acclimatisation, and I found the once charming Varanasi overwhelming. On top of this, within a day back at the guesthouse Mark managed to catch a nasty bug. So, despite our reservations about the ability of my slightly atrophied gimpy arm and I to lug my pack on and off trains etc., we decided that one of the dirtiest cities in India was not the ideal place to recover, and that we needed to get out. So after a day of buying Christmas presents for ourselves in our favourite textiles shop, we spent our NYE on the overnight train to Agra.

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Photos

Best lassi in Varanasi
(apart from Beth)

Ramnagar Fort
Every year the bridge is destroyed by the monsoon, and so it is rebuilt each year.

Ganga
Using a magnet to search for coins thrown into the river.

Comments

[Caroline]

Wow
The more I read, the more I lean towards vicarious travel! Your literary skills and your photos are outstanding.