The Wandering Chocoholic

Varanasi, India

Hi from the holy city of Varanasi. I’m back in the noise, the smog, the chaos.

Welcome to an Indian night train

We departed from Orchha at around 8pm, hopped into taxicabs, and drove back into Jhansi to the train station. On the way there, we stopped off at a bakery for some cookies and other assorted train snacks. Our overnight train was supposed to depart around 10:30.We were early getting to the station, so we hung around in a circle with the bags to kill time. The station was dirty and smelly, and there were a lot of people there who didn’t appear to be travelling anywhere; they were just taking shelter there. A few people snapped our photos… we’re celebrities everywhere, I tell ya. On the other hand, when a cow wandered into the station and started eating from the trash cans, a few of us snapped photos and a local woman came over to ask us why. We tried to explain that seeing a cow in a train station was unusual for us, and she found that incredibly funny. Gotta love India.

Indian night trains are far inferior to Chinese night trains. More cramped, with hard as rock bunks so small and narrow that you have to basically lie flat on your back and not move or turn over. I had a top berth, which had the advantage of being quieter but the disadvantage of not being able to sit up without hitting my head. I’m a smaller than average human and even my arms and legs were hanging off the sides; I can’t imagine what a man a foot taller than me would’ve done. A baby was crying on and off in the next berth. The toilets were, well, the less said the better, though let’s just say I drank as little water as possible. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep. I lay in my sleep sheet, donned my eye mask and earplugs, and dozed on and off until the pain in my back and neck forced me to get up.

On the other hand, the Indian couple in the bunks below us were lovely. They helped us fold the beds down and chain them. The woman chatted with us a bit in halting English; she told us she was heading home from visiting her father-in-law, and she admired Chris’s henna and offered us some homebaked cookies. I gave her some of my bakery ones in return. As usual, the people you meet along the way are often the best part of travel.

All in all, though, I admit I’m in no hurry to repeat the Indian night train experience. Some things are fine as once and done.

Last stop in India

The train was only about an hour late getting into Varanasi — not bad by Indian standards. We arrived a bit bleary-eyed and exhausted, and made our way across the street to the hotel. The world’s slowest check-in process competed with the world’s slowest lunch service to figure out which one would happen first. India is a lesson in patience; everything takes however long it takes.

This hotel here is just okay. It’s next to the train station, though noisy is pretty much a given in India, and they charge for WiFi, which is a bit cheeky of them. The view out of our window is of a solid concrete wall And you need the room key to operate the lights, the door, the elevator, and even the stairs… but there’s only one key per room, which is a bit tricky with two roommates unless we decide to be glued at the hip. On the other hand, it’s clean, there’s hot water, and they have a laundry service, which is much needed at this stage of the trip. We spent a low key couple of hours sorting out some laundry, having a light bite to eat, and taking a much needed nap.

Holy Varanasi

Varanasi is considered one of the holiest cities in Hindiusm. According to religious belief, Lord Shiva (the destroyer god) unleashed the Ganges river, which runs through the city, from the knot of his hair. People flock to Varanasi from all over India and, indeed, the world, to pray, gather, bathe in or drink the holy river water — though, when you see the state of the water, you have to wonder why anyone in their right mind would. Polluted with trash, litter, dead animals and even human remains, the Ganges is grey and filthy. It’s the main source of drinking and washing water here, too, which is a huge hygiene problem. And yet, people come by the millions, convinced of the water’s healing properties.

After our naps, we hopped into tuk-tuks to drive across the chaotic city and down to the river for the evening prayer ceremony. I think I’m getting accustomed to India after a week here, since I find myself increasingly nonplussed by the swerves and near-misses of tuk-tuk rides.

We arrived near the riverbank and walked the hundred meters or so to the water… right through a cremation site. Because Varanasi is considered the holiest place in India for funerals, people come here from all over to cremate their dead relatives. We saw at least four or five funeral pyres right on the steps near the river. We tried not to snap photos out of respect — after all, how would you feel if some random tourists showed up to your relative’s funeral and started taking pictures? — but we did catch a couple of background ones from the water.

We boarded our rickety old motorboat for a sunset ride up and down the river. Sunset is a bit of a misnomer; the air was thick with smoke and smog, so while it did go from light to dark, no actual sun was witnessed setting. The terrible air was making it hard to breathe again, too; after a brief respite in Orchha, everyone’s cold and cough symptoms were returning in force, and we all had to hold scarves over our faces. We went up and down the riverbank, seeing temples, hotels, people assembling for evening prayers, other motor and rowboats full of tourists, and hawkers with boats full of goods who would row right up to the tourists to sell their trinkets.

As it got dark, we found a place on the river for our own little flower and candle ceremony. The idea is, you light a candle adorned by marigolds, make a wish, and float the candle out on the river. Supposedly, the holy water of the Ganges then ensures that your wish will come true. I don’t know about that, but it certainly added to the heaps of trash along the river.

Once it was well and truly dark, our boat steered into a veritable jigsaw puzzle of other tourist boats to gather to watch the evening prayer ceremony. This ceremony happens every single day of the year, and draws over 2 million people each year — pilgrims and tourists alike — from all over the world. It’s really something. First, we heard bells ringing. Then there were fire torches and what looked like miniature Christmas trees made of candles. Lots of chanting into a microphone. Tons and tons of people.

The ceremony went on for about a half hour, and we watched from our boat, jammed in among dozens of other boats full of tourists doing the exact same thing. As soon as it was over, the boat drivers started unmooring and de-jigsawing the whole thing, freeing all the boats in record time.

Happy birthday to us?

One of the consequences of the cash crunch on this trip has been that we’ve been mostly eating in hotels that accept credit cards. It’s meant less of a chance to sample the local food and atmosphere. So now that we only have two more days in India, and judging by the terrible service in the hotel restaurant, we opted to go out for dinner. Adi suggested a nearby restaurant, and we all headed there in our tuk-tuks.

The restaurant was a bit odd. It was downstairs in a cavernous basement. And other than our table, the rest of it was adorned by balloons and taken up with what appeared to be a child’s birthday party. The food and beer were good, though. Happy birthday to us, I guess — we’ve survived a week in India!

We made it an early night, still tired from the night train. I won the klutz-of-the-night award by managing to burn my finger on an electrical socket while unplugging my hairdryer. Ouch. A little ice and a bandage, and I’m well sorted, though. After that, I was so exhausted I fell straight asleep.