Madame! Boat? Varanasi Part One

Day 0
It was grey and misty when I got off the train, and I realized that I had absolutely no idea where to go or how to find the guy who was supposedly waiting for me to take me to the hotel. What does he look like? Don't know. What's his name? Not a clue. Magically, though, the guy caught me as I was going in the opposite direction of the exit (of course) and we set off in a rickshaw for the hotel. I couldn't have told you where he was going or how long it was going to take, and that's really when I realized just how much trust this whole trip is going to take. He had my name on a little slip of paper, but aside from that, I had no guarantee that this man wasn't some wacko. And, since each of these cities are almost completely unfamiliar (it's one thing to look at a map, it's another thing to be racing down signless roads in a rickshaw), I basically have no idea where I'm going until I can walk around and get my bearings.

My first taste of Varanasi: getting stuck in a religious parade.

My four-star accommodation.

We got to the hotel and I got a look at my first 300 INR hotel room. I'm not sure what I was expecting for $6, but I was a little disappointed, to be honest. The walls were drab yellow with weird little graffiti sketches in random places, the curtains were weird, there were two shabby looking beds with scary pillows, and a communal toilet/shower combo. And when I say toilet, I really mean porcelain hole in the floor. Something that didn't help the situation was realizing that I had forgotten to unpack my sleeping pack during the monsoon, so it was pretty musty. Ugh.

I met a couple, Ash and Angela, from the UK, who have been here for a while, since Ash contracted both malaria and Dengue Fever at the same time, and was in hospital for five days. Terrifying. I became instantly aware of each insect close to my body, and each itch I felt on my skin.

Day 1
It's very true that everything is much easier after a good night's sleep. Everything looks better in the morning light, and I was able to see the bright side of my quirky little rooming situation. The pillow sucks, though. There's just no getting around that. The people staying here are incredibly eclectic, and the open balcony in the middle of each floor highlights that in a really cool way: conversations float through the air, people skype with loved ones, some hum or whistle melodies. Neat stuff.

The morning was grey and cool, without rain. I went down to the lounge for breakfast: cornflakes and toast. As I was eating, I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye in the closet. It appeared that there was someone sleeping in the closet directly off the dining lounge area. It was the cook. It's interesting to know the person who cooks your food so well that you've seen him sleeping and getting dressed.

So, the thing about Varanasi is that everyone wants something from you. Everyone.  You can't walk down the street for more than 5 steps before someone will come along, asking you if you want a ride in their rickshaw/visit their silk shop/buy a sari/get in a boat. It actually never ends. Some people can't stand it, but I eventually learned to tune it out. The first day, though, was a lesson. For instance, even if someone says, "Not for money", they still want money. And they'll probably get it somehow, because these are crafty businessmen who go through tourists like they're cans of cola. They'll do you a favor and then "you come see my shop?" They'll give you a helpful bit of information, then pop up when you least expect and drag you to a ghat to get in a boat. I spent too much money on this trip, and part of it was definitely not being able to say no when I should have. I've toughened up a bit, but that is LESSON NUMBER ONE for people new to India. It's ok to say no. Yeah, that silk scarf is cute. There are also 50 other shops in Varanasi that sell the same thing.

I hadn't really set an itinerary, so I spent much of my time wandering and taking in the sights and sounds and smells of the narrow streets of Varanasi. I came across a Brown Bread Bakey, recommended in Lonely Planet, then discovered another one not 50 yards away on the same street. (There's at least one more on the other side of town, if not two.)

This is a page found in the menu of Brown Bread Bakery.
Just proof-read that for 10 seconds, will ya? It will test your powers of observatation.

When I was wandering, I met a man working at a flower shop who gave me some tips about staying in the city and visiting the temples. I thanked him and moved on. Serendipitously (maybe), I ran into him later in another part of the city, and he offered to walk with me and show me around. His name was Ajay, and his aspiration was to be an English tour guide and travel the world. Would I help him with his English while we walked? Sure. So we walked, we talked, and he took me to see some neat stuff.

NEAT STUFF THAT AJAY SHOWED ME
1) Manikarnika Ghat, the northern burning ghat. A powerful experience. No photography is allowed, but you are allowed to watch the funeral pyre proceedings. When a person dies and is brought to Varanasi, the funeral procession moves through the city with chanting and parading. The body, wrapped in gold and red cloth and laid on a bamboo stretcher, is carried to the ghat for cremation. For the first time in my life, I saw a person being cremated. It was...indescribable.

2) One of the monkey temples. The temple was beautiful, but the highlight here was not the architecture, but the elephants! Just as we were walking into the courtyard, four temple elephants walked through. I was taking their picture and expressing my desire to touch one of them, and Ajay asked, "Would you like to ride one of the them?" Obviously my answer was yes. He negotiated in Hindi with the men riding the enormous, beautiful animal. A minute later, I was scrambling up the butt of this elephant and positioning myself awkwardly on the tarp that served as the saddle for a ride around the courtyard. It. Was. Awesome. I couldn't believe it. If you can't either, here's proof:

And we're off!

The awkward dismount.

After a while, I became tired of trying to guess Ajay's agenda for helping me out. It became a little clearer when he started talking about the possibility of us drinking together that night, and I said my goodbyes, thanking him profusely for his guidance and walking quickly away.

Back at the hotel, I met another British couple, David and Victoria, who had just arrived. We talked about going to a classical music concert, but after the weather soured again, we met up with Ash, Angela, and another Brit named Si in the hotel lounge and spent the night swapping stories and eating.

DAY 2
In the morning, I decided to try and get a boat ride on the Ganges, which, I found out, takes considerable bargaining. During my boat bargaining, I met another English-loving Indian man who just wanted to show me around and talk with me. Heard that one before. His nickname, he told me, was Ganesh. (Ganesh is a Hindu god with the head of an elephant. He's the god of wisdom and learning.) I shook him off, telling him that I wanted to explore by myself, and he oh-so-graciously melted into the crowd, only to reappear during my wanderings three times throughout the morning.

Everyone, meet Ganesh.

I did manage to get my boat ride at a reasonable price by heading to one of the less touristy ghats and going on a rowboat. Here are some photos of the ride:

After the boat ride, I spent the rest of the morning exploring the southern part of the city, taking in all the street art. Varanasi is a beautiful city full of graffiti-esque wall painting, and it's around every corner. I loved it.

Fierce siddhu at the Ganga or angry Jesus walking on water?
You make the call.

Ha.

I was, eventually, trying to find my way to a pizzeria at the southernmost ghat, Assi Ghat. (Note: because the river was so high when I was in Varanasi, I couldn't simply walk along the river bank from one ghat to the other. To move down the river, I had to go into the maze-like streets of the city and hope that I arrived at the right place. A bit of a guessing game, but a wonderful walk.) I was on Tulsi Ghat. Assi Ghat was right there, a couple steps away. I looked down toward the river. On the lower steps of Tusli Ghat, reeds and river trash had been washed up, and it looked rather muddy, but, rather than make yet another trek into the city, I decided to take a short cut down the steps.

I picked my way through the reeds, being careful not to step on anything too crazy, and I was almost there. I stepped onto what I thought was a concrete step, and my foot went ankle-deep into brown-gray sludge. Shocked, I tried to step out of it, only to submerge my other foot. I was panicked, and tried to carefully extricate myself from the situation. Shit shit shit, I whisper-screamed, as I got onto dry land and took stock of the situation. My feet and leggings were covered in this disgusting, smelly stuff; a mother and child pointed and laughed, and then took pictures; an Indian tour guide looked at me, looked at where I had come from, and said, "You are incredible! You have emerged from the Ganga!" I looked helplessly around. "What should I do?" I asked him. He pointed to the river.

A gift from Mother Ganga.

"You have emerged from the Ganga!"

As I washed myself in the Ganges, several people next to me were harvesting small silver fish out of a woman's sari. Trash floated by me as I washed the gunk off my feet, and I thought of all of the stuff that was undoubtedly swimming, floating, or sinking into this river at this very moment. Then I tried hard not to think about it. Sufficiently mud-free, but still smelly, I turned around and, miracle of miracles, found the pizzeria I was looking for. And it was delicious.