My Cloak of Invisibilty

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As we crossed Nepal towards India, I noticed several things the closer we got to the border. We started to see more Indians in the ethnic mix of people. The number of beggars slowly increased. And the curries got better. I was very excited about the latter. In my worldwide search for the perfect curry, I was about to enter the motherland!

After 9 months of relatively good health, I was on my guard in India. In other countries I had been eating food from street stalls, had ice made from local water, and only used hand sanitiser in extreme circumstances. For the first month of my travels, I had the occasional problem with my plumbing, a minor case of "loose pipes" here and there. But then your body adapts to the local bacterial flora and you are fine. You can't wrap yourself up in cotton wool all the time. I have seen so many overcautious travellers. People who drench themselves in factor 30 suncream for a short walk at 8 o'clock in the morning. People who tip electrolyte powder into bottled water for a ONE HOUR walk so they "don't dehydrate". People who are so worried about malaria that they enter a mild state of panic if they step outside for a single minute without repellent. You get the idea

But India is notorious for the ill health of travellers, so for once I was being the overcautious one. Everyone has heard of the dreaded "Delhi Belly" - gastrointestinal poisoning which causes simultaneous vomiting and the severe runs. Not nice! The evil bacteria could be lurking anywhere, waiting to get it's nasty tendrils into your guts. A door handle in a toilet. A seat in a tuk-tuk. And so I didn't eat street food, I avoided having ice in my drinks, and had a bottle of hand sanitiser was with me at all times. This was the only part of my trip where I was being truly careful with my health. And so far I have avoided Delhi Belly. But I have been suffering from a phenomonen which I call "Bowel Growl". I have been eating three curries a day (including breakfast), and the richness and spice, combined with the occasional lentil dish, have caused regular rumbling and growling in my plumbing. But so far I haven't had any trouser disasters.

Although I have been cautious with my choice of eating establishments and overall hygiene, my general choice in food has not been that cautious. Lonely Planet recommends that, upon entering India, you should eat simple food for a few days. Plain bread, plain yoghurt and fruit. I was spluttering with outrage when I read this. Eating plain bread when you are in the Kingdom of Curry? No way was I following this. Being no stranger to spice, I waded into the menu for my first meal and ordered a Chicken Rogan Josh (extra hot) with a large bottle of Kingfisher beer.

Our first stop in India was the holy city of Varanasi. This was a ten-hour bus ride from the border, and it was interesting to see the differences from Nepal. There were trailers being pulled by tractors, which were packed with dozens of people. These were some kind of makeshift local bus. And the bus and truck drivers here all have multi-tone horns, which they continually blast in an unharmonic symphony of annoyance. These horns are used to let other people know that you are overtaking, so that they can slam on the brakes if an oncoming accident is imminent. Indeed, there is a mantra which is written on the back of every single large vehicle - BLOW HORN or PUSH HORN is displayed in large, funky letters, as a reminder to overtaking vehicles. These people need no reminder. They love using their horn. In fact, it's a national pastime. And with or without the horn, the trucks are the King of the Road. India has an unwritten rule of "Might Is Right", where bigger vehicles have right of way over smaller ones. This can also be translated to "get out of the way if you want to live"

Things were going well with our journey until the bus ran out of diesel. A lad on a moped had to be dispatched to the local garage for a cannister of fuel. Then half an hour later, there was an almighty BANG! The bus had blown a tire. Welcome to India!

Varanasi is one of the oldest living cities known to man, and is generally thought to be 3,000 years old. Although some claim it is as old as 5,000 years. Varanasi is also regarded as the holiest city in India. Hundreds of thousands of Indians make a pilgrimage here each year. Some of them come here to die, because dying in Varanasi is meant to break the eternal cycle of reincarnation. Others come to bathe in the waters of the holy river Ganges, which Varanasi is situated on the banks of. Bathing in it's waters is meant to wash away all your sins. Unfortunately, this is one of the world's most polluted rivers. It is technically septic, since it has no dissolved oxygen. 60,000 people come to the river each day over a 7km stretch, to bath in it's "holy waters". Meanwhile, over 30 sewage pipes are discharging waste into the same stretch of water. There are also stone platforms all along the river which are used as funeral pyres. When the bodies are burnt, the ashes are washed down into the river. (although cremation is only for the rich. It takes 360kg of wood to fully burn a body, and those who cannot afford this wood will simply dump a body over the side of the boat into the holy water) Yet despite all this, the water is apparently safe to drink. We were told this by a guide as we took an early morning river trip. Despite the pollution, the water is so holy that people drink from it without becoming ill. I had no intention of drinking the water, bathing in it, or even touching it. In fact, I was quietly concerned about whether the river was slowly dissolving the bottom of our boat.

There was a lot of early morning traffic on the river. People were putting small packages of flowers on the river, accompanied by a lit candle, and it was beautiful to see them all drifting down the river in the dawn light. Lots of people were bathing in the river too, using soap and shampoo. It was winter here in India, and the water was freezing cold. On one stretch of the river there were men washing clothes, scrubbing them against wooden boards in the filthy river. Our guide told us that these are the professional laundry men. I then found out, to my horror, that most hotels use the services of these men. I had given my laundry to the hotel the night before. hang on, is that my blue T-shirt he's washing over there?!

After our boat tour, we went on a walking tour of the city. Parts of Varanasi are a chaotic maze of winding passages and tiny roads, and you could easily get lost. In fact, a number of travellers disappear without a trace each year in Varanasi, so it pays to be very careful. But I was safe, because I was wearing my "cloak of invisibilty" (I will come to that later). Part of our tour took us to a fenced-off area which was patrolled by guards with machine guns. There was a hindu temple and a mosque inside, next to each other. Security was high because there had been big troubles here in the past. We had to leave cameras and bags outside, and were searched by two people each before we went in. They found a pen on me, and said it wasn't allowed in. Not even a pen?? Ridiculous. The women were frisked so carefully by the female guards that is was almost indecent apparently!

All through Varanasi there were people selling Masala tea, a sweet Indian tea also known as Chai. You could buy it on almost every corner to take away. But whereas in Europe we use cardboard cups for takeaway tea, here they use tiny clay cups, not much bigger than a thimble. When you finish your tea, you simply throw your cup to the ground and smash it. Gradually, with people walking over the debris of cups, they are ground down to dust. Simple, eh? Each morning there will be a delivery service of hundreds of these cups, all over the city, freshly baked from the kiln.

At night we went down to the river to see a ceremony being performed. Our group was being besieged on all sides by beggars, and people trying to sell us things. It was quite intense, because as soon as we got rid of one person, another would turn up. Some were quite persistent. We were aided by the police sometimes, but in a rather harsh manner. They had wooden sticks, and any beggar who approached people was beaten hard with this stick. But when the police weren't around, it was a continual battle to keep them away. However, I was prepared. Over the past few days I had been perfecting what I call my "cloak of invisibility". By having a certain look on my face, and not even looking their way as they approach, I can give off an air of "don't even think of trying it with me". I have gone from being continually hassled, to being ignored by people. On this evening, there were eight of us sitting in the line by the river. Every beggar or salesperson would work his way down the line, but mysteriously would skip me and move onto the next person. Aaron was sitting next to me, and I pointed out to him that I wasn't being bothered by the beggars. I explained that I had perfected my cloak of invisibilty, and he looked at me, unconvinced. "Wait and see", I said, "the next person that comes this way will try it with each of you, but will leave me alone". Just then, a guy came running over, made a beeline for me, and thrust something in my face. "Hey Mister. Buy souvenir?" Hmmm, perhaps I need to work on my cloak a bit more.

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Photos

The Waterfront
the busy riverside of the Ganges

crossing the border
Enzo and I stop for a moment at the Nepal/India border

early morning jog
the Indian army, running through the morning mist

Morning Sunrise
A 7am winter sunrise in Varanasi

where do pashminas come from?
From this man here, working hard at his loom

the laundry service
dirty clothes washed in dirty river water

roll up, roll up, three cabbages for a pound!
roadside market stall in Varanasi

nightly Puja ceremony
large urns of flaming incense are used in a nightly ritual, as an offering to the River Ganges.

Comments

[Jonah]

nice!
Your approach to your travels is very arrogent however it is also very detailed. The places you are visiting are look well researched and your writings of these places are greatly worded and I enjoy that you not only have your personal views but also write a little history about the place, hopefully see you around sometime!