Very Veranasi

There seem to be only two standard responses to Varanasi. Either the "ohmigod get me out of this disgusting place asap" response or "wow this is such a spiritual place" oohing and ahhing. Susan and I were some of the few to be somewhere in between, albeit closer to the get-me-outta-here side. We arrived via overnight train which was surprisingly comfortable. We had a sleeper cabin and both of us got a straight 8 hours of sleep so arrived in the city no worse than if we had stayed at a hotel. The only odd part of the trip was the couple who had the other two bunks in our carriage. The woman seemed to be constantly complaining to her henpecked husband. In the morning she was whining again and Susan woke up to the husband massaging her apparently sore rear end. Then as we got ready, Susan brushed her hair and put it up in a ponytail. This process was apparently riveting, as both husband and wife watched with rapt attention. Very odd. Hm, I seem to be using that word a lot over the past few posts.

We arrived at the train station and were met by an autorickshaw and the largest Indian man I've ever seen. Between the two of us, our driver and all our luggage we looked ridiculous, but I'm getting used to that on this trip. What was really funny was that the driver, this huge man, offered to help us with our luggage and took my small rolling suitcase, leaving us to carry the big, non-wheeled bags. After weaving our way through the old city, thanks to our porters and their very strong heads, we checked into, well, let's admit it, a bit of a dump with an incredibly grumpy owner. But the price was right - $12. For the room. So $6 per person. And we had an amazing view of the River Ganges from our balcony. Varanasi is where Indians go to die, if at all possible, because in doing so they stop the cycle of reincarnation and go directly to nirvana. Kind of the opposite of do not pass go, do not collect $200. In order for this all to happen, though, the bodies must be washed in the Ganges, then cremated and then the ashes must be spread in the water. You can imagine there is quite the demand for this ceremony and the "burning ghat," or the bank of the river where the cremations take place, is in business 24/7. This also means the Ganges is NOT the place where I would want to swim. Despite this the locals still use it for bathing and washing their clothes. We spent the first day wandering the back lanes and then took a boat cruise further up the river to see the other ghats (the Indian term for steps leading down to the water, these appear in all river cities and most don't have anything to do with cremations) and buildings from the water. It could be quite a pretty city, but as with most of India, it could do with a good power washing. Susan and I joked that we'll stop by Home Depot before returning. That evening we were adopted by the local children as we watched a riverside ceremony. When they realized we weren't going to buy anything from them they fought over which of them was our "first friend." We were invited to float a candle down the Ganges and repeat a lengthy chant from a local man. It was meant to wish good luck to our parents, but we have no idea what we really said so we apologize in advance if we accidentally cursed you!

Our dinner was... Indian food! Surprise, surprise. It was a lovely restaurant, though, with an especially high view of the city and a very powerful generator. This was key as the entire city lost power 3/4 of the way through our meal, which is a frequent occurrence in Varanasi. After getting back to the hotel I stopped to check email in the lobby and couldn't help but eavesdrop on the content of the Australian man's computer screen next to me. He first checked the cricket scores and then wrote a lengthy email detailing his experience traveling with a guru. He had been moved to tears the previous day when in a room with so many "realized" men (holy men). The guru felt that this was some kind of karmic issue he was having and could therefore no longer travel with him. Such a different experience from our "well this is interesting but I'll be more than ready to leave tomorrow" response.

Our 2nd and last day in Varanasi we woke up at the crack of dawn to take a morning cruise on the Ganges and watch the sunrise. We had arranged to meet the boatman from the previous night. Sunrise is very different here, as it just gets gradually lighter but you can't actually see where the sun in coming from through the smoke, pollution and fog. To get a good idea of it, the weather was described as "72 degrees and smoke" when we checked the day before we arrived. Unfortunately, our boat ride ended on a bit of a sour note as the boatman tried to up the price after we had agreed and then kept saying, "Why do you do this to me?" It's frustrating enough to have to negotiate everything before you begin, but ridiculous to have to do it again after it's already been agreed!

For me things went a bit downhill after that as I started to feel sick. Within a few hours I had the full on dreaded Delhi Belly and was feeling really badly. I was able to enjoy a bit of souvenir shopping and the autorickshaw ride to the airport (how often do you get to do that?) but was pretty miserable at the airport. Especially when our flight was delayed an hour. By that point I felt like someone was stabbing me in the gut every few minutes. We were flying on Kingfisher airlines to Delhi and the gate next to us was also delayed, leaving 10 minutes before ours. That airline was SpiceJet and as they flight was in its final boarding call, one of the gate agents made her way through the waiting area saying, "Any more spicy passengers? Any more spicy passengers?" We wanted to be spicy passengers! We did eventually leave and the flight looked like a nice one with individual TV screens (that actually worked) but I slept through most of it. Thank goodness we were going to be staying at Rahul's parents house in Delhi. First we had to circle the airport for an hour. During this time of year most flights are delayed due to the fog. I turned on the flight path screen which looked like a kindergartner had scribbled all over it. We did eventually land and all went smoothly from there on, as we were met by Aileen and the driver. And then met at the house with soup. That and a warm bed and I was a much happier camper!

P.S. I believe the name of the guest house was Scindia, as requested in the comment!