Varanasi

Varanasi has been described as the ultimate full-on Indian experience.  Some love it and spend months here, others hate it and flee after a few hours. When we planned this trip we decided that it was time to see for ourselves. The city sits on the bank of the Ganges, regarded as a holy river by Hindus. It claims to be the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world.

We take an auto from the station to our hotel. The roads and traffic are no worse than in many places in India. Because the train was on time we have to wait for a room but they give us a cup of tea and a paper to read. Our room is small but functional, on the non view side but there is a glazed in veranda overlooking the river at the end of our landing. R catches up on a bit of sleep while D invests 25 rupees in the internet cafe round the corner tidying up blog posts and putting pictures in the correct place.

After the heat begins to subside a little we head out along the ghats to explore. These are a series of stone built quays,  some with tiers of stone terracing where people can sit and watch the river. Every twenty yards or so we are asked "You want boat sir?" Not today thank you, I'm trying to give them up, there is no room in our luggage are a few of the replies that they get. As well as salesmen there are cows, buffaloes and dogs aplenty. The river does not look at all appealing but there are devout Hindus bathing in it. Some even drink the stuff. En route we pass what is possibly the world's most public gents toilet.  Guess where that ends up.

Before long we come to the 'Burning Ghat' where open air cremations take place. The are three going on as we walk briskly past. Photography is not permitted here and for once D has no urge to defy the authorities. Just beyond this point a young man tries to sell us a book of postcards and gets the brush off. On the next ghat he approaches us again and tries in French. "Do I look like I am French?" 

After a while we tire of ghats and head away from the river in search of a photo copying shop and a bank. The first gives us a copy of the map of the Ghats area out of LP for a princely two rupees. This is much handier than dragging out the guide book whenever we want to know where we are. We fail to spot a bank that does not charge a fee for using their ATM so that will be a priority tomorrow. As we reach a sign saying Assi Ghat 2km we seem to have run out of banks so we hop on a cycle rickshaw to complete the trip.

Our hotel in particular and the city in general is absolutely infested with Americans, most of who appear to have dressed up for a hippy themed fancy dress party. We hear one young lady complaing loudly that her mother has been emailing every day to enquire after her well being. R has to be physically restrained.

We decide to dine in the nearby Haifa Hotel where we sit in a dining room, deserted save for a Forex/Travel Agent's desk. We order their Special Indian Thali which is vegetarian, but very tasty. A request for beer is politely refused. On our way home we  pick up a chilled soda water to eke out the duty free brandy. As we get back to the room D realises yhat he has forgotten to arrange a walking tour for tomorrow despite doing all of the research. He finds his notes and gets on the phone. The first two numbers are switched off but the third is answered. The requirement is explained and he phones back ten minutes later to confirm that a guide will meet us at the hotel at 9 a.m. All sorted.

Sign of the day