Tuesday
25th December
Christmas Day. And yes I wish everyone all the best – much
love, good cheer, a happy holiday season.
Pete and I are about to embark on four
separate and cheerful family celebrations – two today, one tomorrow, one the
next day… We are looking forward to each and every one of them; so lucky we are
to have large families full of people who actually want to be with us…
Michael (No. #4 offspring, No. #1 son of
mine) has arrived back from Townsville, to the unbounded joy of the four nieces
and nephew who have seen him so far.
They were just about hysterical by the time we left their house
yesterday; Michael has unbounded energy for wrestling, chasing, hurling small
girls into beanbags. Katy has
tentatively suggested that he might like to come early today and watch Star
Wars with Leo while the girls rest before the rest of the family arrives. Good thinking!
India
#51
Varanasi
is a long way across India. It was a very long train trip from Jabalpur
and we were once again hollow-eyed ghouls when we were decanted in the holy
city once known as Benares. It was very early in the morning, fortunately,
so the complete chaos of Varansi traffic was not yet unleashed upon us.
Our taxi driver took us to various hotels. Mary and I stayed seated while
Pete and Vish skirted cowpoos and went up and down stairs until they settled
upon the Hotel Buddha. I’m not sure how they made their choice, but it
was a very good one, because it was a tiny oasis of green in a very dirty busy
city. There was a small park just outside, with some trees, and the hotel
itself was quite cool and restful, with an internet computer. (It was
only 500 rupees per room, ie about $16!!) They didn’t have rooms ready
for us, and led us to a four-bed dorm so that we had somewhere to get clean
before venturing out. Vish, who had not slept on the train was in total
denial about any sort of tiredness – “Magic!” He kept saying, looking all
bright eyed. Hmmm… Pete and I went into the bathroom to cope with yet
another weird version of plumbing – don’t ask. We managed to have showers
and wash our clothes, and then emerged into the dorm to find not only Weary
Mary but also Energetic Vish totally passed out face-down on two of the beds!
Eventually
we gathered in the dining room and had scrumbled eggs, very delicious, before
going out to explore Varanasi. I have notes on two consecutive pages in
my Jumbo Book. Both lots of notes say: Varanasi – dirty noisy crowded,
big cows and big poos. Mary very sensibly elected to stay in the nice
cool Buddha to read and relax, while I set off with Vish and Pete to walk
through the chaotic streets to the railway station so we could book our tickets
through to Delhi. It was extremely hot, dusty, smelly. The railway
station was equally hot, noisy, smelly, but the Foreign Tourist Booking Office,
roped off from the general public, was a little haven, all air-conditioned with
comfy chairs. It was jam-packed with backpackers gratefully breathing the
cool air. I sat back and observed it all; Vish and Pete were much better
at negotiating complicated ticket arrangements. Outside I could see sad
hot locals, locked outside. They didn’t look resentful, just
resigned. I suppose they were all waiting for us to come out so they
could try to make some money out of us – and why not?? I looked up and
realised I was sitting under a sign which said, amongst many other
instructions, “Do not sit here and be idle.” Oh OK! I got out my
file and had a good little go at my nails, so as to be busy as
instructed. There were lots of nice young travellers for me to talk to,
so I was very contented.
While
we were in the queue, we chatted with two very tall young backpackers from
South Australia, James and Suzie, who were carrying the most enormously heavy
packs. They had been travelling for about a year and they said they had
everything they needed in their packs – stoves, tent, sleeping bags, cold
weather and hot weather clothes. They were very lean and very fit!
We decided to get a boat together the following morning, to watch the sun rise
over the Ganges. To finalise this arrangement, we arranged to meet them
at the Madras Cafe, which they showed us in their Lonely Planet Guide, for
dinner. This looked like a good place to meet, near the ghats, where we
could book our boat. Suzie was very anxious that we might be ripped off and
have to spend too much for our boat. (The most expensive boat trips were
about $7 so I didn’t really see what she was so anxious about but never
mind…) As we were leaving, Vish and Pete struck up a conversation with a
very nice taxi driver, Raj. They negotiated with him that he would come
and pick us up from the Buddha at 5am the next day, to take us on our boat
trip.
It
had been quite easy finding the railway station; what was not so easy was
finding the Buddha Hotel. We walked quite a way, getting very hot, until
Vish and Pete gave in (I had given in long before but hadn’t said, for fear of
looking like a wuss,) and climbed into a rickshaw. This wasn’t an
autorickshaw; it was in fact my first experience of being on a traditional bike
rickshaw. Our driver was a thin, wiry man – you do NOT see a fat podgy
rickshaw driver, ever! We were a bit reluctant to crowd into the seat –
surely three big whitepeople would be too much for him? No no! He
was delighted to have us, no problem at all. Even better, he knew exactly
where the Buddha Hotel was! We negotiated a price and set off. I
had to sit forward, perched on Pete’s hot knees. By the end of the trip
my legs were trembling like jelly from the strain of keeping my body from
falling out under the wheels of another rickshaw. How can I even complain
for one second? I was sitting while our driver was straining his way
though the traffic. Rickshaw drivers are at a distinct disadvantage in
that they don’t have horns to toot. All other vehicles, other than
bullock carts, have drivers with their hands firmly planted on the horn at all
times. The poor rickshaw drivers just have to duck and weave silently,
with everyone tooting at them.
It
wasn’t very long before we realised that we were quite lost, getting further
from the vicinity of the Buddha with every inch. I won’t go into any
incriminating or unkind details, but I will hint that maybe Vish and Pete were
a bit forceful in their directions to the poor driver – NO NO don’t turn
right! That is entirely wrong! We KNOW you have to turn left and go
THAT way! So there we were, in the seething Varansi traffic, heading
God knows where, with our poor driver looking quite desperate. We were
passed by another rickshaw – James and Suzie, looking very confident. Hello!
They shouted. A few minutes later we passed them. They had pulled
up on the side of the road and had their map out. James was saying to his
driver, in despairing tones, “So where is this??” This made us
laugh a lot. We had negotiated a 50 rupee trip, because the Buddha wasn’t
more than 500 metres from the railway station. By now our driver had
gone, we estimated, about 5 kilometres. He still thought he could find
our hotel. Vish was feeling extremely guilty that we were sitting while
our driver was struggling so he hopped out of the rickshaw and started running
nimbly through the traffic as if he were a vehicle. Our driver was
absolutely appalled and made strangled cries. Pete and I were fatalistic
about it and just sat watching our friend darting in and out, under the wheels
of bullock carts, across the path of autorickshaws, around roundabouts where
traffic goes in every direction at once. It all got too much and we asked
our driver to pull over. We gave him 120 rupees and told him he could
go. He thanked God and nearly kissed all of us, so relieved to get a
decent fare ($4….) and to be rid of us!
And
yes we did get back to the Buddha, it actually was quite close, we had gone in
a large circle. Eagle-eyed Pete had espied a small bottle shop around the
corner, so he and I went to get beer while Vish went to recuperate from his
traffic sprint. On our way back we were pestered by a swarm of young
children, one of whom pinched my arm really hard (left a bruise!) and said, Good
morning! in menacing tones. I glared and wanted to say, “Well that’s
NOT the way to get money out of me! Charm works better!”
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