Varanasi is VERRY NIIIICE

On the afternoon train to Varanasi, we arrived to our seats to discover that they had been taken. Already claimed by a family, parents and three small boys. Can't really argue with that. The three of us climbed up to the top bunks with two of the young boys. Naturally, Jon made friends with them in an instant and was teaching them, through hand gestures and examples, card games--Uno and War. We got into a station about 45 minutes outside of town from Varanasi so had to find a rickshaw to take us the rest of the way. We found one quickly, more, the driver found us quickly and we were off. More than ever before, my parent's childhood warnings to keep my hands and feet inside the vehicle rang true. The ride was like a roller coaster, just as we were about to collide with another car, rickshaw or cow on the side of the road, our driver would sound a horn and turn abruptly to avoid it. We checked into Yogi Lodge and were welcomed with a chai.

Our first morning there, we decided to see the Ganges for sunrise. We woke up at 5:46 am. Exhausted. But we had made plans so had to pull ourselves out of bed. We bundled in all of our layers and headed downstairs to meet our guide, who also worked as the Yogi Lodge's reception. We hopped in a dewy rickshaw. Our jeans instantly wet from the condensation. He wiped down the windshield, spit out a stream of clay colored liquid, and we headed for the river. The morning fog was so thick, it was difficult to distinguish where the water ended and the sky began. Boats came out of the nothingness like ghosts. Candles sat in a bed of flowers in small leaf bowls, floating on the water, providing some of the only light through the fog. We got in our boat. I slipped getting in but caught myself. Gabe wasn't quite so lucky and his foot dropped in. The ride wasn't quite as we had expected-no Umbrella Corporation floating zombie bodies or faces with eyes open just under the water's surface. The water was like glass. The sun appeared, like the moon through the fog, it's rays muted. The sun is different here. It doesn't make a big spectacle of its coming and going. It rises into the sky like a saucer and descends at night in the same way. The colors in the sky don't change much. People old and young lined the Ghats at the river sides to bathe in the holy water of the Ganges. Men wrapped in a small sheets and women in Saris. They bathe day and night. On the side, between Ghats, is a creamatorium. You see a body wrapped in a pink sheet, waiting to be burned. Heaping piles of human ash sit by the river. A man walks down from the burning bodies, galvanized metal bucket balanced on his head, a mountain of ashes. He empties his bucket, and returns to the site. Passing others with the same job on the way down. People use their heads here like wheelbarrows, carrying bundles of sticks, suitcases, leaves. I hold my breath and try to breath through my nose to prevent the inhalation of the ashes of those passed. Tourists take pictures. We see the sunrise in the sky. Our view of the water was followed with a tour of some temples and a long nap. Monkeys populate the streets here like squirrels in Portland parks. Rooftop restaurants are covered in thatched bamboo to keep them out.

The next day was Shivaratri, a festival celebrating the marriage of the god Shiva. The concierge at our guest house said that it would rain this day, and that it always rains on the day of the Shiva Festival. Sure enough, the weather changed from sunny and warm to heavy showers the following day. We met two people from the South of France and spent the day exploring the city with them. We returned to the Ghats and the burning of bodies. A body has a stubborn leg that kinks outward and a guy with a bamboo stick pokes and prods the body into the fire to ensure that it burns completely. There is faint music in the distance and an occasional chime of a bell. The image is haunting, but in a bittersweet way because being cremated here is a great privilege.

That evening, the town was illuminated in colorful strands of lights and a parade stormed through the city. The streets were crowded and difficult to maneuver through. When we walked out onto the street, a masked man jumped in front of Jon waving a sword. The three of us jumped back. Elephants and floats came next. Straight out of Aladdin.

After the festival we spent our final day, Valentine's day, packing up, getting a delicious lunch at the Silver Spoon on the main street and boarding a train.

photos to come...