Memories of Varanasi

I write from Pokhara and yet another change of pace. I am at the end of the fifth week of my journey now and I keep being struck at how time is both moving fast and slowly. It seems like a lifetime ago that I was in Varanasi - two weeks can be a long time when you are travelling. Each place I have been is such a different world from the last, it is as though I keep stepping into a new realm, those other places fading from reality.


Varanasi really is another world though. It is not like any place I have been before and certainly doesn't feel like it is in this modern age other than the existence of mobile phones. The heavy weight of spirituality that hangs in the still and humid air translated into a kind of mystical magic from my non-religious vantage point. Mishra Guest House was at the top of the stairs from Manikarinika Ghat - just along from the Burning Ghat. I could sit for hours at the chai stall at the bottom of the stairs, watching the daily life go past, or as was often the case, simply sit around.

The old city is a winding labyrinth of narrow alleys for which there appears to be no map. Cows and motorbikes vie for room. Wide windows open directly onto shops where keepers sit cross-legged surrounded by their wares - in the busier areas selling tourist trinkets and fabrics, but further away just household necessities, spices, grains, chai, curd and garlands of flowers for devotees to take to the temples or little shrines that are everywhere.

The classic thing to do, of course, is to go out on a boat on the Ganga either for sunrise, sunset or to watch the ceremony at the main ghat which occurs every single night. My friends from the chai stall, Meshi and Amar, took me out on the boat for the ceremony which I had thus far missed. The most interesting thing about that experience was the sheer number of people in attendance. The main ghat was crammed with people sitting all over the stairs and generally anywhere that they could view the spectacle. We pulled up in the boat next to other boats already in place. As we sat, more and more boats joined us, wedging us in as spectators (mainly devotees there to pray, chant and clap out of time) amassed on all sides. The ceremony itself was visually a pleasure - two shows actually running alongside each other in tandem to accommodate the crowd - six men on plinths in shining robes doing a relatively synchronised series of rituals which seemed to involve a lot of large candelabra-type things being waved in circles. There was music, candles, chanting - and the people in the boats alongside us, many of whom where deep in prayer, completely mesmerised. There was a man with a video camera on a tripod in the boat behind. I can't imagine how steady that could have been.

After the show, we rowed back to Manikarinika Ghat. It was so beautiful on the river, if it weren't for the incessant bother from mosquitos I could have stayed there for hours gazing at the few lights of the old city that were on reflected in the water. (Varanasi has serious electricity issues with power outages for long intervals on a nightly basis. Most guest houses and restaurants have backup power to deal with it).

Once we'd returned the boat we set off for the second show of the evening - "Prince", the latest Hindi film out. This was my first Bollywood experience and apparently it wasn't a great example, but nonetheless, I was entertained. A cross between James Bond, a martial arts movie and an MTV music video, it certainly held my attention, especially considering that most of it was in Hindi. One of my favourite things about this was the tray that came with the snacks we bought at intermission (yep, there was an intermission halfway through). It brought to mind the trays you see in 50s movies that attached to the sides of cars at the drive-in movies. This tray, which held three drinks and the vegetable pastries, cleverly slotted into the cup holder in the seat. Brilliant! It was a weird contrast to be in this air-conditioned and relatively plush (comfy, reclining chairs) theatre after the oppressive night heat and dark and dirty rawness of the night in the old city.

In some ways, as we wound our way back through the maze, me trailing behind with my headlamp (if you are born there it appears you can also see in the dark), it was a relief to be back in the heat and the cow dung strewn alleys, the sounds of holy women chanting on the riverside and the soundtrack of what feels like medieval urban life. This cinematic landscape is better than any film.

I'm in Bhaktapur now.

This is a world heritage town and you can see why. I have yet to explore properly, but the centre is strewn with temples and ornately carved buildings around a big square. I am actually staying in a 'homestay' which is really just a room in a family home in the backstreets of this pretty town. The wooden shutters of my window open out onto a courtyard with a big rectangular pond in the middle (there are a lot of ponds here for some reason) and around it Newari life bustles about. I suspect that I will be sat in that window for some time tomorrow.

There is some relief from the pollution of Kathmandu but this whole valley seems to be in a permanent haze. It makes the smog in LA seem refreshing. Apparently it is partly to do with the quality of the petrol they get here. Everywhere you go you see people with face masks and when stuck behind a bus or van with thick black smoke just billowing, you can see why.

I can't figure out what I think of Kathmandu. I had a lovely weekend with Caz, staying with her in her five star hotel. That made an interesting change from the types of places I have become accustomed. I had a bath and we ordered room service - I can't work out which I was more excited about.

We had a mellow two days, trying to get a feel for the town with the limited time she had. We wandered and shopped in Thamel, which is really a backpacker convention. It's just too much, tourists, crusty, hippy backpackers at every turn, shops brimming with more tie-dyed bags and ali baba trousers than you could sell in Camden... but very handy if you need an internet cafe, a bowl of pasta or a danish pastry. For some reason, cake seems to be the order of the day in Kathmandu and there are bakerys everywhere.

My favourite place was Bodhnath (Boudha) stupa. It happened to be just a ten minute walk from the hotel, in fact, we could see it from our window, although at that point, we had no idea that it was it. It is possibly the largest stupa in the Nepal certainly an important one and a place of great imporatance to Tibetan Buddhists. (A stupa is a bell shaped structure that holds spiritual significance). Many pilgrims come to do the ritual walk around it three times in a clockwise direction. All around and in the winding streets leading away from it, a hubub of Tibetan life, along with many shops selling the requisite prayer flags, beads and general tourist wares. In spite of the predictable calls to come and see this or that shop, there is a real sense of peace around the stupa. One could while away hours just watching the people go around. Which we did.

Khajuraho to Kathmandu...

... and so much in between.

The relative calm of Nepal and the comparative coolness of Kathmandu is a stark contrast to the place from which I came here from. The magical Varanasi.

I could talk for days about the enchantment of that crazy place. But that would have to wait as it would be unfair not to tell some tales of my time in Khajuraho...

The plethora of temples with intricate, explicit carvings of all manner of sexual antics (including a man sodomising a horse), were absolutely fascinating. Set in lovely, open and manicured gardens, we spent a slow few hours making our way around the six or so temples in the Western group. Stopping to seek refuge from the midday sun (only mad dogs and Englishmen) in the shady cooler interiors of the temples or revisiting the cafe to have yet another ice cream, the one advantage of going in the soaring heat of the day was the lack of other people foolish enough to be wandering around in it.

Aside from the relentless attention from nearly every single shopkeeper you walked past, Khajuraho was a relaxed place. Clean, wide streets, lots of trees, there was a central market that was a bustle of activity in the morning and early evening with carts selling sugar cane juice (so tasty and fascinating to watch them squeeze the canes through a small mangle) and all manner of things, though mainly fruit and veg.


I think due to the many tour groups that come through, Khajuraho has a more sanitised feel than I have come across so far on my travels. Restaurants catering to foreigners offering pizza cooked in proper wood-fired ovens, pasta and the usual array of Chinese as well as Indian fare. So many tourist shops, it really is totally geared at the masses of tour groups that come to see the magnificent temples that surround it.



I really enjoyed my time in Khajuraho - the hotel we were in, Hotel Harmony was by far the nicest place I had stayed so far and the cheapest at about Rs 350 (about 5 pounds). There was a lovely courtyard and even though no air conditioning, it was surprisingly cool in my room with just the fan.



I befriended some locals , Aashtosh and Guddu, who took me to old Khajuraho village and introduced me to Banarshi Babu, whose real name was Rajendra. An old man who does amazing carvings out of the roots of trees. Almost African in style, carvings of the usual gods etc but completely different from anything else you would normally find in India. We sat on his rooftop under the stars and had chai. I could have stayed there for hours, it was so peaceful -just the occasional sounds of nighttime village life from the alley below.



Another notable incident was the card game. There was a shop adjacent to the hotel and one evening, I came across a group of men sitting in a circle animated in this lively game. It was mailnly the guys that worked at the hotel so I felt at ease and at first I sat and watched as I couldn't figure out for the life of me what was going on. It seemed that cards and Rs100 notes were flying all over the place. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it until they explained it. And it was so simple. Really almost just a game of snap. Once I felt like I understood, I thought why not just throw in for one round and I fished out a Rs100 note. I guess my luck was in as I ended up winning Rs 1100! I felt bad at swooping in like some kind of hustler - although not possible as it's purely a game of luck - so I spent Rs 500 on a bottle of rum which I shared with the group as a gesture of goodwill.

Some places you go and just have good luck, and I would say that for me Khajuraho was one. I would have stayed another night, but the direct overnight train to Varanasi (which had only just started running about a week or so before) didn't run on Saturday, so I ended up leaving a night earlier.

Tom and Amy, who I was still travelling with, had tickets to go back to Agra and then get the overnight train, but upon a bit of investigation found they could refund their tickets and change them for the direct train rather than a ridiculously convoluted journey that would have taken them on two trains and a bus. So it turned out, yet again, that we were travelling not only on the same train, but in the same compartment - our bunks all next to each other. Next stop Varanasi...

Orchaa

It's been just over two weeks since Agra but it feels like so long ago when I think of everything in between.

I'm in Kathmandu, Nepal, finally escaping the heat wave that is enveloping Northern India. It's hotter than anywhere else in the world from what I could see from the BBC World weather. When I decided to come to India at this time of year, I thought it would be too hot to go South so I would venture North to the mountains instead. But having wanted to go to Varanasi, and getting distracted en route via Orchha and Khajuraho, I found myself in temperatures that exceeded the South anyway.

The heat increased with each stop on my journey. By the time I got to Varanasi, the humidity was just the cherry on the cake as to how ridiculously hot it was - mid 40s. And it gets even hotter in May and June. Nearly 50 degrees. I can't imagine. After a while though, you do get somewhat accustomed to it. Or at least, just know not to make any sudden movements.

Orchha was very chilled in spite of the heat. It is a small village on the side of a river opposite a rather majestic old Fort along with ruins galore. There is actually a hotel and restaurant that is inside the old palace - beautifully decorated (I had them show me one of the rooms) and really reasonably priced considering it is literally palatial. One of those 'some day I'll come back and treat myself' situations. The village also houses a number of worthwhile sights - temples, and more temples basically - you can buy one ticket to see them all in one day. The architecture was really stunning and it was extraordinary that this relatively small place had this backdrop of so many amazing structures. This is the sweetest smelling place I have yet to find in India. Bougainvillea, jasmine and butterflies.



Amy and Tom (the two English people who had suggested Orchaa to me at Agra train station) ended up being not only on the same train as me, but in the same carriage. So naturally, by the end of the journey we had struck up conversation and I ended up travelling with them for about a week. The Betwa resort, where they were staying in Orchaa, had a pool! A blissful respite from the heat.

Orchaa was also a relief for the relative lack of harassment - the most hassle I got was from the hoards of children that seems to instantly materialise when I started to hand out biscuits. I had come prepared as the day before I had be coerced into buying ice creams for about six of them, before making a hasty retreat, much to the dismay of the late-comers.



I planned to stay three days, but in the end opted to travel with Tom and Amy who were booked on a late train to Khajuraho from Jhansi on the third night. Jhansi is about 18 km from Orchaa and we reserved a tuk-tuk to take us there at about 10pm. Our train was supposed to be at 3.30am and having stashed our bags at left luggage, we passed the first five hours amazingly quickly in the refreshment area playing cards. It was a great spot, open 24 hours, in the parking lot outside the main train station, thankfully far enough away from the ridiculously loud train horns that sound through the night. There was a chai stall, an omelette stall and round the other side they were dishing up thalis. Feeling rather pleased that we had managed to pass the time so painlessly, we headed to collect our bags and get situated on the platform, ready for our train. Of course, it being India, the train was delayed another three hours by which point our high spirits were waning as exhaustion crept in. The light was starting to change as the train finally arrived and we happily climbed into our berths to sleep through the seven hour journey to Khajuraho.

Where is Orchaa?

Greetings from Agra and the home of the Taj Mahal.

I arrived in Agra on Thursday night only to be told that the Taj Mahal is closed on Fridays. I'm not moving particularly fast anyway so this was not a problem. The combination of the general mayhem that is India, the heat and my natural propensity for inactivity has led me to take things very easy, nice and slow.

My first night here I wandered down the side of the East gate to the river and watched the sunset over a group of celebrating Hindus dancing and singing accompanied by drums and a brass band, splashing about in the water and throwing paint over each other. The backside of the Taj was my backdrop. I was escorted by my two newest friends in Agra, Johnny the 9 year old postcard seller and Salu, a 21 year old rickshaw driver who has subsequently taken quite a shine to me.

Agra is a pleasant change of pace after six nights in the heart of madness that is Paharganj, Delhi. That said, I got quite settled in Cottage Yes Please (love the name) and managed to get out and see some wonderful sights (tombs and temples mainly, as well as the Red Fort) in Delhi as well as got a taste for various parts of town on my excursions with Amit the spice man who became a friend and dinner companion during my time in his town.


Tonight is my third night in Agra and now that I've successfully seen the Taj Mahal from many sides and angles as well as times of day - I actually got up at 5am this morning to catch it at sunrise! - I plan to move on tomorrow. I haven't broken the news to Salu yet. I had thought I would get an overnight train to Varanasi tomorrow night but it seems the trains are full for the next two nights. The sheer mass of people being transported by this rail network is crazy - 11 million people every day!

So I have booked a ticket to Jhansi from where I can get a bus to Orchha, which I had never heard of until today when I struck up conversation with a couple from England after asking to look at their guide book. I was at the railway station ticket counter and initially a bit dismayed at not being able to go on to Varansi but on second thoughts, realised that it really didn't matter as I only have to be somewhere with an airport by the 17th when Caz comes, and that will probably be Kathmandu. That is a whole two weeks away and at the moment, so early into my trip, I still have that sense of time and space stretched out before me to explore this strange and wonderful, but exhausting place.

That said, what appeals to me about Orchha is it sounds very chilled and pretty. From there I plan to hopscotch my journey to Varanasi - Khajuraho, Chitrakut, maybe Allahabad. I am a bit disappointed to miss out on the overnight train experience but there are others times and other journeys to be had.

Ok, enough rambling from me. I am sat in an internet cafe that actually has relatively efficient service alongside my new friend Manuela, a lovely girl who has come all the way from Argentina for only two weeks. She has been from Mumbai to Varanasi to Delhi back to Mumbai then Jaipur and now Agra - and going to Delhi tomorrow to fly to Mumbai to fly home via London. That is dedication! And now I have a place to stay in Buenos Aires!
Oh, and in case you were wondering, the Taj Mahal is really quite splendid. This is true. It is not only awe inspiring in its beauty and intricacy, but quite staggering in the sheer mass of people going to pay their touristic duty. Almost as much as a spectacle - the buzz from the hubub of murmers inside the mausoleum sounded like a swarm of killer bees or a race track. It was incredible.

Namaste!