Varanasi

Leaving McLeod Ganj makes me sad, as I feel so at home there, but having decided I must make the most of the rest of my time in India I know realise I'm a bit scared of leaving! It's such a calm little haven that returning to regular old (crazy chaotic) India is a bit of a thought. But the ticket is booked and here I go... (What an intrepid explorer I am!)

First part of the journey - night bus to Delhi. First mistake - eating before getting on the bus. I immediately started to feel ill, how could I not have remembered that we are in the mountains and the only way down is along twisted roads? So an hour into the journey I was sick. Sorry to the poor girl sitting next to me but I did feel so much better when there was nothing in my stomach! Next problem - my chair back won't stay in one position, it moves from vertical to horizontal of its own accord, so now I'm apologising to the girl behind me! But the worst thing was that we passed a terrible accident on the road. Two young boys killed on their bike. It was horrible. I hope they didn't suffer and died before they felt the pain, but how horrible to think that their lives just ended like that, driving along the road.

I spent the day in Delhi, in the Tibetan colony called Manju-ki-tilla, and it was the best day I have ever had in Delhi. For those who don't know of my issues with Delhi, I dislike it so much I paid extra to fly direct to Amritsar this time so that I could avoid Delhi (which happened but the flight got cancelled and I had to fly via Mumbai, the best laid plans and all that!) But the Tibetan colony is a walled in compound with rabbit warren streets and no cars.

Then off to the train station to go to Varanasi... Now Varanasi gets a bad rap in all the guide books and everyone tells you it is the place in India where you will be most harassed and people will rip you off left right and centre. Bags stolen on trains into and leaving the city, pick-pockets all over the place, beggars everywhere, scams to get your money in anyway possible, rickshaw drivers trying to take you to a different hotel (where they get commission) by telling you your hotel is closed/has burnt down/is full etc etc. So I was prepared, I knew what was going to happen the moment I stepped on tot the train let alone off it! I'm on to you Varanasi, don't even think about trying to pull a fast one, this girl knows the score!

The carriage on the train is filling up an hour before we depart and I meet my traveling companions for the night, a young Indian man and his Japanese girlfriend, a mother and daughter who are very quiet but full of smiles, a 20 year old Guy and two old Indian men who seem like life long friends. We push our bags under the seat and we all padlock them there! The men are having a chat and after a while the older ones get out some food and offer it around. "No thanks" I say (I've been warned about this, drugged food from strangers on the train who then rob you or worse). But they insist in their Indian way and I figure that since their eating it it probably isn't drugged ( my detective skills are improving by the day). It's yummy and I ask if they made it. This cause much laughter, even from the two younger boys who can't know who made the food, and one man turns to me and still grinning informs me that his wife made it. So now we are all friends, and they were the most lovely, interesting train friends I could have hoped for. We chat about India, about the Tibetans, the Dalai Lama (who they told me is a guest in their country, he is a spiritual leader and as such he is welcome as long as he wants to stay) and about the differences between Europe and India. Then we all say good night and set up the beds and next thing you know it's morning and the chai wallah is shouting chai up and down the carriage. One of the guys opens the carriage door and I drink my chai standing at the door watching the mist rise and the sun come up over the fields and villages on the outskirts of the city. What a lovely way to start the day...

The train pulls into the station and hundreds of people descend onto an already busy platform. I am immediately spotted by an old man "hello madam, (I'm getting quite used to being addressed as madam!) I have auto-rickshaw, I take you to your hotel, I charge you Indian price not tourist price" "how much" I say warily. "60rupees" I don't even try to bargain! This is exactly the amount the hotel man told me it would cost and I am so floored by this that I immediately accept and off we go to his rickshaw, and he drives straight to the hotel! I even tip him I am so happy! I walk into the hotel and the owner greats me, "hello Joanna, how was your journey? Any problems?" No. The answer is no! I've made it all the way here and not had any trouble! Somethings got to give! He shows me to my room and I have a view of the Ganges from the balcony! Life is sweet. (No electricity and no hot water but who cares, life is good.)

After a shower and some breakfast I head out, straight down to the Ganges. This is after all the the most holy of Hindu cities and the Ganges is an important part of this. It is lined with ghats which are access points all along the bank where people come to bathe. It is immediately obvious that this first ghat is where the washer wallahs work. Men and women stand knee deep in the river scrubbing and ringing out clothes and young boys run up the steps to spread them out on the steps. There are sheets and trousers and sari's and all sorts hanging on lines or laid out on the ground drying in the sun.

The next few ghats have some bathers and the main ghat has plenty of sadhus and holy men offering to bless every passer by. One young man in the river washing his cows, making sure they were sparkling clean. Then, as I turn the corner I see smoke, and then fire. The burning ghat, where people are cremated. I stop and watch. Stretchers with bodies laid out on top, wrapped first in plain cotton and draped in gold and covered in flowers, are carried down to the river by the family and purified in the water before the ceremonial robes and flowers are removed and he body is put onto individual pile of wood for the fire to be lit. There must be 8 fires burning, with bodies in various stages of cremation, a torso but no legs, or a body but looking small and misshapen. It doesn't smell. Nobody cries. Death as a part of life. Men sift through yesterdays ash in the river hoping to find a nose ring, an earring or some other small piece of gold they can sell. The barber sits at the top of the stairs shaving the heads of men who have lost a parent. Once the fire stops burning the ash is thrown into the Ganges. Hindu's believe that if you die in Varanasi, you leave the cycle of life and death forever, and many walk for days, weeks, months or even years to die here.

Unfortunately at this point I have to tell of a little scam that seems to be popular at the burning ghat, and I was warned by a friend of this before I got here... A man comes up and starts telling the tourist about the burning ghat and the Hindu belief etc and how much it costs to buy a kilo of wood and how many kilos are required to burn one body. Then, he takes you to the building next to the "hospice" (not a hospice, just an empty building) where you are blessed by an old granny and asked to help those in need by purchasing a kilo of wood, two kilos, whatever you can afford to help those in the hospice who will die and cannot pay for the cremation. It's crafty, and works well because it is hard to say no to such a worthy cause, except when you know that the hospice is a mile up river and the "donation" to the cause is going straight into his pocket! But it is tricky to get out of, and I made a small donation, which granny looked totally unhappy about, and made a hasty exit.

After wandering along the river past the ghats for over an hour I decided to see what was behind the big buildings lining the river and succeeded in getting totally lost in a maze of old narrow streets selling toys, clothes, boxes, pans and pretty much anything and everything. A nice shop owner saw me looking lost, laughed at me and put me in a cycle rickshaw to take me back to the Ganga!

That evening I took a boat ride down the river to watch the puja at the main ghat, a religious ceremony. Holy men chant and wave candles and incense about and candles float down the river in little paper bowls with flower petals.

The best time to visit the Ganga, to really get a feel for what happens on the river is t dawn. Before it gets light it seems like the whole town is at the Ganges. They come here to bathe, and say their prayers as they wash in the holy waters. It is believed that the Ganges water is so sacred it will wash away the sins of many lifetimes. One little kid was playing in the water, splashing about and having a great time, when her mum told her to do her prayers, so she dutifully stood up, filled her bowl with water and poured it into the Ganga as she should, then went back to playing. Men at one ghat, women at another, kids at both. Women walking into the Ganga fully dressed, submerging themselves in the murky water. Men in underwear washing themselves and cleaning their mouths with the water. It's an amazing thing to see, and it is really quite breathtaking and in a funny sort of way it is quite beautiful to watch people, performing a practice that generations have done before them. This is what is so great in India, just watching life happen. It is just life for the people who live here, but for a foreigner it is so fascinating, so mystical, so spiritual and unusual and often so simple and beautiful.

So, really Varanasi has been my favourite Indian city so far. It is beautiful and the people have been nothing but kind and helpful. I'm still waiting for something bad to happen before I leave, Varanasi you have 14 more hours until my train leaves for Bodhgaya...