Carla Tracy

After two days of being complete slobs we decided it was time to brave the heat and head to Amber Fort. This honey coloured fairytale fort lies 11km North of Jaipur and so it was a debate whether to travel by rampaging rickshaw or like a sweltering sardine in a tin can local bus. The price was the decider; 300 rupees by rickshaw or 7 each by bus. Bus it was.

It was the perfect opportunity to take a stroll through the Pink city. Here between the crenellated walls of the old city it was still possible to enjoy a walk in relative comfort, as the miniature shops were shielded from the sun by a continuous concrete canopy.

Under the Canopys of the Pink City

Colorful street sellers spilled into the roads with their makeshift stalls on floors, selling mostly fresh produce and sacks of chilli. The odd camel and wagon laden with goods trundled past amongst the endless flow of vehicles inching their way along to a cacophony of horn blasts.

Colourful Vegetable Hawker

Camel Cart through the Pink City

Blow Horn

Under the canopy the wonderful warm fragrance of spices emanating from huge hessian sacks filled our noses. All along this street, the locals were purchasing the raw ingredients for their fiery cooking, including red chillis! These little devils that lay basking in the heat of the day, were felt long before they were seen and had us spluttering and covering our faces at intervals. Their sting must have been further intensified under direct sun, as some of the sacks outside the canopy were almost unbearable to walk past. I was mystified to how the shop keepers were plunging their arms into these sacks, like you would a bran-tub at a local fate and not shedding so much as a single tear!

The Spicy Pink City

Up to the Elbows in Red Hot Chillies in the Pink City

img=http://photos.travellerspoint.com/361768/IMG_9018.jpg caption=Chillies, Too Much for Even the Locals to Bear!]
When we reached the end of the canopy we were immediately shepherded onto a miniature bus “Amber Fort?” the man enquired “Err Yes” we replied looking for the catch. But no, for once there was no catch, just a local bus for local people, where we sat and sweated for a good 10 minutes before leaving. It was torture every time the bus stopped even for a second and I could feel myself sticking to the seat. I peered about the bus, curious as to whether locals were also suffering, but as far as I could see Indian people don’t even sweat! I mean some of them were even wearing jeans!

We finally arrived and there stood Amber far above us (pronounced Amer) with its silky sides rising up from the rugged rock. There were other battlements scattered about the place and even a large fort wall that disappeared off over the hills in the distance. The walls and these craggy rocks had an uncanny likeness to the Great Wall of China of all places. But the rounded turrets and and grassy gardens gave the feel of a fairy story castle.

Ste with Amber Fort in the Background

Impressive Fairytale Amber Fort

Pond at the Entrance of Amber Fort

Now, Lonely Planet estimates the walk up to the Fort entrance at 10 mintues and so we purchased a 1 litre bottle of water for the journey. Well I’m guessing whoever offered this advice was not researching at the peak of the Indian summer. The walk is actually 1.5km up a steep slope and in forty degree heat we were barely able make to 20 steps before having to seek shade. We were only part way up, with a seriously depleted bottle of hot water and resting in the shade when we saw a woman who was with a tour group looking very worse for wear. She had run completely out of water and was looking on the brink of sunstroke. The group she was with seemed pretty unconcerned and only one person was at her aid. At this point I felt as though Lonely Planet should have made its readers more aware of the importance of carrying water during summer months. Of course carrying enough water is common sense and it does actually state (water is available at the top) but the hike in summer is far from a 10 minute stroll and more like a 45 minute test of endurance.

When at the top we were met by a friendly uniformed man, who without asking imposed himself upon us our guide. He was so cheerful and pleasant that it made it difficult to decline his help. Firstly he took us to get a drink and then to a puppet show which we refused to watch or pay for. By this time I was getting quietly irritated. I have just hiked up a what seemed like a mountain in forty degree heat and now I was being marched about the fort against my will. “I want to sit down” I demanded and so he found us some shade. Then came the attempts to shake him off but he was persistent..”Its okay we will look by ourselves” “We want to sit down for a good hour yet”..none of this worked. Finally we told him that we weren’t interested in having a tour guide as we had no money, but he did the usual “You pay what you want” which always makes you feel like a tight fisted arse.

Ste and Our Unwanted 'Guide'

As we just couldn’t get rid of him we just decided to go with it. This is the thing in India they are so bolshie in their approach to offering ‘help’ sometimes there is nothing to do other than to give up. Their technique seems to be to wear you down and it works! We followed him about the place and he gave us basic English explanations of the various areas, but any questions were met with a blank face.

In The Sun at Amber fort

Me and our 'Guide'

Ste and I in the Lookout Tower

The most beautiful area was the ladies garden, a lush green paradise in the centre of dust and stone. The lookout points protruding from the main fort walls above the garden provided excellent air conditioning with the wind whipping through the crenellated turret walls. I could have stayed there all day.

The Ladies Garden in Amber Fort

Views from Amber Fort

Spectacular Views From Amber Fort

The Great Wall...No its Amber Fort?!

The various rooms were also very interesting, but I found the bats hanging at eye level in the small alcoves much more of an amusement. After racing about the place for 20 minutes our ‘guide’ bid us farewell, but not before asking for a tip. We went against the signs that are in place about the entire fort stating ‘No tips must be given’ and offered him 50 rupees. This obviously wasn’t good enough as he peered into Stes open wallet while asking “have you got a 100.” Cheeky little!@#$ I thought and Ste snapped his wallet shut, unfortunately not on his big nose! With a twitch of his moustache he was gone.

We were finally free to explore the ‘World’s largest Canon.’ A long the way we passed an entire army of Langur Monkeys that were taking refuge from the sun. If there hadn’t been a giant wrought iron gate between us and the army, then their presence would have been quite intimidating. I was fascinated snapping away; Ste was apprehensive and made sure he was sensible distance from the primates. We reached the end of the wall just in time as it seemed the troop had decided on a mass relocation and 200 odd monkeys came racing past us.

Resident Langur Monkey at Amber Fort

A Multitude of Monkeys!

Irritated Langur Monkey

Finally at the canon, the guards on the gate started demanding we pay them 200 rupees for using our video camera to film the monekys. I insisted that we weren’t paying as they pointed to a shoddily hand painted sign with various crossings out. “You’ve just painted that price on” Ste laughed! “Well, we are not paying, we will delete the video instead” I argued “We have already paid for two cameras and we aren’t paying for anymore, it ridiculous!” Eventually they gave in, telling us not to use it again.

the Worlds Largest canon...Supposedly

Just when we thought we had peace and quiet, another uniformed man decided we needed to know more about the canon. We desperately tried to ignore his every word but he was like a limpet. After talking at us, he asked for a tip, Ste refused to tip him saying “I’m not allowed to tip, the signs say so” and he just kept on repeating “No you don’t understand it is up to you” over and over.

Well we escaped paying and I felt and ice lolly was definitely in order. I hid it from the relocated troop as we headed off and whipped it out once the monkeys were out of sight. We had been walking a good 10 minutes when from nowhere appeared a HUGE Langur directly in my path; a langur with a taste for ice lollies! It started to back me towards the wall bearing its teeth and I hid the lolly behind my back. Ste was too much of a coward to come to my aid so I was faced with trying to fend it off with my bottle of water, swinging it towards its face.

I’m sure any right minded person would have surrendered the lolly by now, but I was determined to win. As I backed away swinging the bottle, it continued to pursue me. “Grab a stone!” I shouted to Ste, who was not exactly being the knight in shining armor “There are no stones!” was his useless reply “FIND ONE!” I shouted and the moment Ste made the gesture of bending down to pick up a stone, the monkey scarpered. “Winners!” I shouted and “You are useless!” were my next words. I’d had about enough of the Amber fort for one day and we headed back down.

Fort Walls in the Baking Sun

One of the Many fortified Gates to Amber Fort

The Base of Amber Fort

Goat herders

Female Goat Herder

It was easy to catch a bus back into Jaipur and we were soon back on the busy streets. By this time the sun was setting and we were just in time to catch the orange hue spreading across the pink walls of Hawa Mahal. Hawa Mahal built n 1799 is Jaipurs most distinctive landmark, primarily due to its honeycomb structure. It was built by Maharaja Sawaj Pratap singh, so that ladies of the royal household could basically people watch. Of course it was impressive but everything seems to pale in comparison to the mighty Taj.

Pink City Autorickshaws

We had in mind finding a local restaurant to eat that night , but ended up getting lost down god knows where. The traffic through the narrow streets was insane and at one point even pedestrians were blocked from making any progress due to huge congestion at a junction. We had ventured off the typical tourist streets and there was a man who offered me a drink while pointing to a huge cow with voluptuous udders tethered to a wall! I politely declined before whipping out the Lonely Planet. People started to gather, including a young lad who insisted he was “So excited, you are the first English people I have met” He then started scrolling through his phone showing us the numbers of various acquaintances he had from different countries, before insisting he was going to the same place as us and must go and visit his father in his silver shop! We would have declined but he had already flagged down a tuk tuk.

The next thing we knew we were sitting in a silver shop being talked at, but it didn’t last long as we had reached our limit for the day. We managed to make a sharp exit and wandered aimlessly before catching an auto rickshaw back to the safety of the hotel. WHAT A DAY! GET ME AN ALOO GOBI!

Bags packed and ready to go, we had our last breakfast of boiled eggs on toast in our garden of Eden before heading off to Pushkar. Why boiled eggs on toast? Well that is because eggs are not allowed, along with meat, alcohol and kissing in this Hindu pilgrimage town set around a sacred lake.

Intricate Handpainted Details in Peacock Canopy

Pacock Canopy

Breakfast in the Garden of Eden

Ste Under the Peacock Canopy at Breakfast

Beautiful Hand Painted Peacock

The auto rickshaw was ready and waiting and we had the usual fiasco of cramming our bags into the limited seating space. The journey was less than 5 mintues, so when the driver started insisting on 50 rupees Ste quickly put him in his place and thrust 30 into his hand. All I can say was he wasn’t a happy bunny, but we just ignored his grumbles and headed into the station and he tanked off in his rickshaw. I nearly forgot to mention there was an open manhole in the road on the way to the station; it is not even worth imagining what would happen if the wheel of a 3 wheeler rickshaw went down that!

It was a while before we found ourselves on the bus headed for Ajmer due to some confusion about whether it would be okay to get an indirect bus. With our bags blocking the aisle space, the bus hurtled off and for the first hour people found us very interesting to stare at. Their faces were fixated as though they were watching television! All was fine on this 2 and a half hour journey (apart from the moronic, death wish style driving) until a BANG! THUMP THUMP THUMP! A blowout! I immediately thought and everyone started shouting down to the driver and panicking. I could hear the noise was directly under my feet and knew it was the wheel. “Thank god there are two tyres on the back” gasped Ste, as we pulled up at the side of the motorway, which has no hard shoulder.

All the men began to disembark the bus and look at the wheel in question. They then began to hit various things and discuss various things, then they boarded the bus once again in high spirits. “Can we assume it’s not a blowout?” I questioned to Ste “They wouldn’t be that stupid to drive with a burst tyre” he assured me “Ste, we are in India!” The journey continued along with the noise and we eventually made it Ajmer in one piece.

As always, one foot off the bus and we were be accosted by a large man insistent on taking us to our bus and that the price was 50 rupees. Ste got out the bible, “It says 10 here!” the man soon vanished when he realised we weren’t playing his game. “Where is someone who speaks sense around here?!” I shouted and so we decided to buy a drink in the hope of getting the correct information from the shopkeeper after purchasing a few of his goods. This technique worked and we were on the bus in no time for 10 rupees.

Sweating with our bags between our legs, the man opposite sparked up a conversation with the usual “Which country?” It is always great fun trying to guess what these over friendly people want from you, 99% of the time there is an ulterior motive to their friendliness. And yes, there it was, five minutes into the journey, a business card in our hands. Hmmm we thought, nice business card, sparkly gold, the hotel must be okay at least and it says here swimming pool!! We were sold.

It was a quick 25 minute journey over Snake Mountain and down into Pushkar and the hotel was only a minute walk away. It looked okay from the outside but the aircon room was dingy as anything and for 500 rupees it was a complete ripoff. We asked to see the swimming pool and were greeted with a surprise! There, sunning themselves by the pool were the lovely German couple, Stefan and Isabelle that we met in Brown Bread Bakery in Varanassi. We took the non aircon room next to theirs for 300 rupees, which was considerably larger and more pleasant than the previous room.

Examining The Hole in Our Window

Mosquito Ridden, Grubby Shower Room

Getting the Mosquito Net Up and Running

We managed to catch a few glimpses of the royal wedding on the fuzzy Tv and set up our mosquito net, as they were swarming in the bathroom! We also managed to patch up a huge hole in our window where there was the casing for an aircon with the motor removed providing a perfect entrance for a thief! It only took the high tensile wire mesh for our backpacks and a few padlocks, et voila! After testing it by trying to fit our heads through the gaps we joined Isabelle and Stephan for dinner.

20 seconds walk from Hill View Hotel there is an incredible garden restaurant, where we ordered and incredible Punjab Thali Meal. The Thali is served on a silver tray with various compartments, one for popadums, naans and salad (consisting of onions, cucumbers and tomatoes,) one for a special rice and then three small ones containing, raita (flavoured curd,) paneer curry (pieces of cheese instead of meat,) and then a dal (thinner curried lentil sauce.) One of these Thalis is plenty big enough for two and is absolutely divine! I finished off with my favourite Masala tea before hitting the hay.

Tasty Thali

We were up, out and enjoying the substantially cooler streets at 5.30am this morning as directed by our boatman who was waiting a few yards down from our hostel. He claimed he had been waiting for us since 5am and joked about how we must have “slept in.” I gave Ste a suspicious sideways glance, there was no way this early riser was using that as an excuse to squeeze a few extra rupees out of us! The boatman, or should I say Boat boy, led the way to the River while filling us in on the details of his daily routine, which started with a 4am dip in the Ganges. He had the right idea though, beat the heat! There was also that wonderful feeling of early morning tranquility which I didn’t think would have been possible to find in such a frenzied place as Varanasi.

Boats Moored on the Ganges

The sun was just rising as we reached the riverbank and the cremation ceremonies were already underway. The Boat boy un-tethered a much larger boat than yesterday and we hopped on board. When I remarked about the beauty of the early morning he replied “You must come when the sun is not up yet to see real beauty of the Ganges” …hmmm… it seemed like a proposition for yet another boat ride, if two wasn’t already enough.

Heading Out Into the Water

Firstly he took us to the opposite side of the bank where people were arriving in their masses for an early morning bathing session. There were rudimentary fences for safety perhaps, to avoid being washed away with the currents, but people were blithely splashing around outside the suggested parameters. It was an ‘anything goes’ approach and people were performing all their early morning bathing rituals in public, which in included anything from washing hair to brushing teeth…and yes, using the water from the Ganges. There were even hordes of children who put on a performance of doing starfish jumps off the moored boats, as we glided past.

Bathing Rituals at Sunrise

We arrived to shore and I was surprised at the white desert sands that greeted us. I stood, feeling a little out of place to watch the spectacle, and what a spectacle it was! It was a beautiful sight watching a particular girl cupping the water and sprinkling it over her face and then her friends, the both of them smiling innately.

Dressing After a Dip

Colourful Crowds

But I couldn’t steer my mind from the subject of hygenie! Doesn’t this make these people sick?! There are 12 points in Varanasi where the raw sewage flows freely into the river. Surely this sort of pollution is devastating people’s health?! But asking such questions to the locals is only met with dismissal. It is so utterly sacred and everything to the people, that they seem to be in denial. There is a project currently underway to clean up the Ganges by 2013, but I still saw pipes with sewage gushing out directly where men, women and even children were brushing their teeth!

“You go for bathing now” our boat man suggested, which put us in an awkward situation of politely refusing. We agreed to Chai Tea instead. The tea came served in an espresso sized glass and smelled great! It wasn’t until I took the first sip that a sudden thought occurred while gazing out at the Ganges. Where did they get this water from? “Is this water from the river” I joked to our boat boy. I wasn’t met with quite the response I had hoped for, he just laughed “Ganges supermarket!” and carried on supping his Chai. By reflex the tea nearly ended up on the floor, but not wanting to seem ungrateful I passed it to Ste who had already downed his and thought a little more wasn’t going make much difference now. We wandered away from the shore into the sands where a young guy offered us a ‘pony ride,’ but not the British seaside sort, this was a huge, frisky looking stallion he was offering us! I egged Ste on, but he wasn’t tempted and so we made our way back down to the boat.

A Golden Temple Sand Castle

Varanasi Views from the Sand Dunes

Ste and Boat Boy

Back on the boat, we headed down to view the Manikarnika cremation Ghat (the most auspicious place to be cremated in Varanasi) but we didn’t venture close out of respect.

Gathering on the Ganges

Solitary Bather

Cremation Fires at Manikarnika Ghat From a Distance

View Towards Manikarnika Ghat

At this point he spun the boat back around and headed back, this time hugging the main shoreline where all the action was going on. There were incredible amounts of people gathering by this time, all performing their daily rituals. The entire scene was blindingly colourful.

Glittering Orange Outfit

Varanasi

Boats Lining the Ganges

Colourful Bathers

Colossal Fabric Strip Crossing the Ganges

Boats and Bathers

Bathing Gear

Washing Clothing in the Ganges

Ganges Wash

Hanging Out the Whites

Ganges Laundry Service

Laundry Service

Vibrant Woman by the Ganges

Doing the Laundry (by the cremation Ghats)

Morning Bathing

Morning Bathing

Boat Wallahs

Local Laundrette

Brush Your Teeth Twice a Day!

Family Bathing

Old Men Bathers

There was even a string of boats, each carrying one section of a colossal strip of fabric from one side of the Ganges to the other as some sort of ceremony. I watched in awe. It was so early and yet the whole of Varanasi seemed to be down by the river.

Fabric Strip on Its Way to the Other Side

Sumptuous Saris

The sun was already beginning to sizzle when we stepped foot back onto dry land. Our next quest was to find an ATM, which proved rather difficult, but we got there in the end…4 cash machines later! I was glad to return to the hostel, as I wasn’t feeling on top form from the Indian cuisine! I had already accepted that I was going to be ill before I even got to India and so I just spent the rest of the day sleeping and trying to convalesce with some antibiotics.

First Class Cabin on Passenger Train

Prison Windows on the Train

We arrived into Varanasi at 8am, dusty and disheveled. I had one foot on the platform and already a man was urging us to follow him. He promised us a free Auto rickshaw ride (the equivalent of the Thai tuk tuk) to take us to his commission paying hostel of choice. Our new Israeli friend Schmool (spelling?) was suspicious and had every right to be considering he had only been travelling 3 weeks. We agreed to follow, but insisted that if the hostel was not clean, then we would leave without paying. We waited a while for Schmool to stash his large backpack in the train station luggage storage and then made our way to our ‘taxi.’

“WELCOME TO INDIA! Driving is like computer game….NO RULES!!” were the last words I heard before we went careering out of the car park with a double dose of whiplash. Thank god our back packs obstructed the view slightly because he wasn’t kidding! I felt like we were criminals on the run, like real life Grand Theft Auto. “Don’t Worry Mam, I Do this 25 Years!” he assured me as he headed into the path of an oncoming bus. “How many accidents?” enquired Schmool “Just one” He replied. Well it was certainly blowing off the cobwebs, and there was no doubt it was making me ‘feel alive’ and also glad to be alive when we arrived at the hostel. No wonder Varanasi is famous for its cremations down by the Ganges!

My instant reaction…well, one shouldn’t judge the book by its cover now should they? I looked back to see tuned up noses from the guys. Schmool didn’t even venture inside. “It’s worth a look, we can always leave” I assured Ste. We made the climb to the reception on the roof terrace and were greeted with a cup of Chai tea. The room was certainly no palace and I was a little concerned about not having air conditioning in the heat, but It had a balcony and was fairly airy for its matchbox size and so we took it for 300 rupees (4.50 pounds.) After a breakfast of banana and curds, we moved in and took a nap for most of the afternoon. Schmool even ended up taking a room too.
We woke early evening and headed to the roof terrace in time to witness a spectacular sunset over Varanasi. The sky glowed a wonderful dusky purple and orange hue which gradually faded into night.

Sunset Over Varanasi

Rooftop View

View of Varanasi From the Rooftop Terrace

Stephen at Sunset..How Radiant

Varanasi at Sunset

We grabbed dinner and thought that was it for the night, until the manager recommended an evening boat ride on the Ganges to see a fire ceremony. We knew we could get it cheaper dealing directly with the boatman, but our hotel would send a guide with us to show us the way down the dark alleys at night.

The streets were barely wider than arms length and obstructed by numerous lethargic bovines. We emerged though a narrow passage onto the riverfront, where a boatman was already waiting. It was dark but men were still gathering in their masses to bathe at the water’s edge. The smokey smell of the burning wood of cremation pyres filled the air and caused a lingering haze across the water. I placed one foot extremely carefully in front of the other while boarding our rickety little boat; I didn’t fancy going for a dip in water that contains over 1.5 million faecal bacteria per litre!! (500 is the safe bathing limit.) The water didn’t have any sort of smell as I had expected, but maybe the smoke was just masking it.

Aboard our tiny vessel we were afforded great views back to the shore; especially of Assi Ghat where they were performing the cremations. We slowly bobbed our way along, passing clusters of floating candles on the way. It was all very atmospheric and a beautiful experience. We stopped alongside a mass of other boats to watch the ceremony which involved a great deal of fire and a great deal of chanting. Small girls hopped aboard our boat trying to overcharge us for floating candles “They are not for my Family but for all of yours, to keep them safe.” They were very astute business women… for a couple of 6 year olds and we were soon placing our 50 rupee candles down into the dark water. My rule of not putting a single toe into the Ganges didn’t last long, as I misjudged the distance and plunged my entire hand into the water. A nice dose of Typhoid for me!

Ceremony by the Ganges

Gathering Down by Ganges

Incense

More Fire at the Fire Ceremony

The ceremony ended and the boats dispersed back to the shore. We made arrangements to do a sunrise boat trip the following morning, providing we could find an ATM. Our boatman took us to a cash point but it was all out. He didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered and trusted us to pay up in the morning, but he did want us to meet him away from the hostel so they didn’t take a commission….clever clever. Back at the hostel we joined Schmool on the roof terrace to tuck into the beauty photographed below

Hello to the Queen - Devilish Indian Desert

Wow, the heat really is stifling, to the point of being debilitating here in Varanasi.

It was 7pm on the roof terrace and even at this time it would be possible to cook an egg on the burning concrete floor. The heat was intense and there was no escaping it, I felt like I was trapped in a sauna. I browsed the hostel menu, but my appetite had vanished over these last few days of Indian summer. It was difficult to concentrate my mind on anything other than the temperature and I was starting to get insanely frustrated “We are moving to an aircon room tomorrow and I don’t care how much it is!” I insisted. Even a few hours of cooling down a day could probably lift my mood tenfold; it was the inability to even be able to dash into an aircon café or a chilly mall that was the problem. We are exposed to the heat 24/7.

My wish came true. To our surprise there was an aircon room available right here and we could move our things that very moment. Yes, the aircon was more of a dinosaur ‘air cooler’ than an ‘aircon’ and there certainly was no cranking it down to 16 degrees, but the few degrees difference it did make was heavenly. Unfortunately at this moment there is a monsoon lightning storm raging outside and so the electricity is more intermittent than usual and when it goes, so does our precious aircon. Oh! There it goes right now.

Back to this morning: I peeled my damp body off our church Pugh mattress at around 8.30am; we needed to make it out before the sun did. We agreed that breakfast would be at ‘The Brown Bread Bakery ‘ which is not only a restaurant that serves up a whole plethora of cheeses and breads, but a charity organisation as well! We left the labyrinth of winding back streets and headed straight for the main road, hoping to more easily navigate ourselves to the Ganges and Assi Ghat from there. The people and cows of Varanasi were already out in force, lining the edges of the roads. Snacks sizzled in vats of oil, rickshaws kicked up dust as they trundled across potholes, goats rummaged through mountains of rubbish, while I was watching my every step to avoid the messes these animal city dwellers had left behind! Touts tried to point us in the wrong direction, but with a huge overhead sign ‘Assi Ghat’ for assurance, we remained steadfast and veered off the main street and arrived at the Ganges.

There on the shore was a huge tree surrounded by small phallic statues, between these phallic statues there was a goat which was feasting on the colourful floral offerings scattered about the statues; it seems there is never a dull sight in India.

Goat Feasting on Petals

Ganesh

The river front was unusually quiet and absent from the sorts of hustle and bustle we had seen on our previous two boat tours. We braved the heat and soldiered on, snaking our way though the clothing and bed linen that lay drying on the grubby stairs of the Ghats. People were dotted along the water line, performing ceremonies, washing clothes and bathing. India (so far) is pretty much how I imagined it to be, a country of contrasts. As I walked along I was blinded by the beauty one moment and repulsed by the stench of excrement and sewage the next. Everything here appears to come in extremes.

Hungry Goat

Water Tower by the Ganges

Melting in the Heat

'Ganges Wash'

It was not long before we were joined by a polite fellow (obviously a tout,) who joined us on our stroll. At this moment we were just approaching the Harishchandra Ghat where I could see the smoke rising from the funeral pyres – this is one of the two areas where they “burn the bodies” in Varanasi. Harishchandra is actually smaller and secondary in importance to the Manikarnika Ghat, but it one of the oldest Ghats in Varanasi. Every piece of wood composing the pyre is individually weighed to work out of the costing of the cremation. There are even different qualities of wood to choose from – Sandalwood is the most expensive. I had previously seen the burning from the safe distance of our boat, but now we were going to walk within inches! I could see two fires directly on the shore, but was shocked as we drew closer and I saw a freshly lit fire atop a huge concrete slab, right next to the path. I looked a moment too long and caught sight of the man’s face protruding from the flaming wood. I didn’t look back though, as I didn’t really want to have a detailed image scarred into my mind. Usually the bodies are wrapped in white linen, but I guess by this time the cloth must have burnt away.

However, I didn’t have much time to contemplate mortality and suchlike with this nattering tout by my side. He spoke about the cremation as you would speak about what you ate for lunch! He must have been completely desensitised over the years, especially bearing in mind that they are burning bodies 24 hours a day down by the Ganges! Or maybe he is just content in knowing that when his time comes, he too will be cremated in this auspicious place down by the sacred Ganges.

Ghat

Colourful Ghats

Striped stairs of Kedar Ghat

Grafitti on the Ghats

Fabric Drying After 'Ganges Wash'

Dressing After Bathing

We left death and the tout behind us and continued our stroll. By now the heat was building and I was finding it difficult to function. It was unbearable without so much as a whisper of a breeze. We met another couple of unusual types along the way; a group of men who insisted on asking my “husband” if it was okay to take a photo with me and also informed me that my name sounds like the word for black in Hindi! Hmmm maybe it is significant….black, like my black heart! There was also a small boy, who demanded I take his photo then scurried off into the Ganges for a bath. This was followed by another small boy who demanded I take a photo of him and then pay up! The cheeky little…!

Good as Gold

Cheeky Monkey!!!

Far From Camera Shy

Colourful paintings on the Ghats

I was at breaking point; I was going to get heat stroke if we didn’t find cover soon. I was starting to hate everyone and everything, especially the man who was insisting I needed a haircut (which is undeniably true) while Ste was trying to purchase water. For a second it was a possibility, if there had been aircon…but no…his ‘hairdressers’ was just a chair in the street under direct sun. “How are these people functioning?” I cried. Even a dip in the Ganges was starting to look tempting by this point. Maybe I could throw caution to the wind and…no! I needed to get out of there.

Every next person that stood in my way of finding ‘Brown Bread Bakery’ was met with a vicious snap “No! I’m too hot!” No one seemed to know where the damn place was. Touts circled likes hawks in these narrow old town streets and asking directions was futile as the only direction they would be pointing us in was to their silk shop. I eventually collapsed onto a step in the shade, there were people sleeping in tiny concrete alcoves on the sides of the buildings. So it wasn’t just me being affected by the heat!

We were there seconds before we were collared “Where you from?” “What are your names” “How long you in Varanasi” “I have a shop…you come look?” He then didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer, even an explanation of our quest to find breakfast wasn’t good enough and he invited us to his house for tea. We refused and refused some more, leaving with a promise to pop round after eating.

To cut a very long story short, brown bread bakery was closed. The German owner had fallen out with his Indian collegue two days prior, for stealing from the money saved to support local charities. The original building was still in operation, but it was operating illegally under the charity organisations name! The German owner had purchased a new building directly opposite but it was not due to open until that evening! We honestly had no idea who to believe and so we just sat on the steps outside. We rambled around for a while longer and decided to giveup when Ste put his naked foot directly in a huge Cow turd... we settled for another eatery listed in Lonely Planet to avert further disaster, where I had mashed potato with onion and yak cheese which was decidedly average. I would have like to have opted for a curry, but there was no way I was going to inflict further damage to my fragile belly.

Washing the Cowpat off His Feet...YUM!

With the unrelenting heat we had to give in for the day and grab a rickshaw back down to Assi Ghat. On stepping out into the main streets I realised how much of a difference the narrow streets made to the temperature – it was Searing on the main roads. I felt substantial guilt sitting back and relaxing in our rickshaw as our driver pedaled us through the torrid streets, with only a loose fabric turban to shield his skin from the direct sun. The heat, the dust, the nomadic animals, the saris, the rickshaw, the colour, the dodgy belly, the Ganges…we had undoubtedly arrived in India.

Rickshaw Driver Working Up a Sweat

Squeezing into a Rickshaw

Mental Inidan Roads

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Fantastically Decoratated Bovine Beast