The Feeling of Fifty Degrees

Namaste. I'm currently in Varanassi. The temperature today is 48 degrees. It feels a bit like when you stick your head in an oven, except its relentless, and even in the shade it’s so humid it isn't any help whatsoever. Last me and Yvan took the temperature of our guest house. It was the middle of the night and we were sat under the fan- it was 39 degrees. When we crossed the border at Nepal I was actually contemplating not coming to Varanassi at all. It was so hot it was unbearable and we knew it was going to get so much hotter. I had heard people in Utter Pradesh were actually dying because it was so hot and I was really considering striking it from my itinery, but I must say I’m very impressed with my bodies ability to adapt, because I thought it would be much more traumatic than this. At the moment every time I have a sip of water, I down a whole 2 litre bottle, and by taking a cold shower every couple of hours and lying under the fan, the midday heat is just about bearable. The main problem is night, when the temperature doesnt drop in the slightest, but the electricity cuts out, and so does the fan. Then, all you can do is lieon the bed panting and trying to somehow forget that its so hot it actually hurts. I woke up the other morning because my nostrils were burning, the air was so hot it was hurting to breathe through my nose, and if we leave bottles of water in contact with the guesthouse floor, by the time you pick it up to take a sip, it is literally the temperature of Chai.

The advantages of being in Varanassi at this time of year are pretty clear though. I got the impression it was going to be chaos, with beggars, pilgrims, touts and people everywhere, but because of the heat the crowds are much smaller, and the touts can’t be bothered to hassle you, everybody is just slumped in the shade fanning themselves. I never thought a city could make as much of an impact on me as Varanasi has, but believe me when I say it is breathtaking. I feel like, as long as I live, this will be one of the places I remember longer than any other. Really, it’s just…..I can’t find the words.

What has happened since I last wrote? Myke and Freya left Kathmandu, whilst me and Yvan stayed. So on our last day there, Yvan and I took a trip to the ancient city of Panauti. It was incredible, and I don't think they got many tourists because we were followed by giggling children and curious stares everywhere we went. The whole place seemed as though it hadn't aged in hundreds of years: tiny temples stood around a holy river confluence and villagers sat around in the shade playing chess. We played with some local children, helped a little boy to fly a kite, and talked with a local man about football and politics in a tiny walled garden full of flowers...On our last day in Kathmandu we did some last minute shopping around the city and said goodbye to the place. It was so hot I had a bit of a funny turn in the daytime and had to be rickshawed back to the hotel, and in the early evening we took our last taxi to the Indian embassy to get on an incredibly rusty old bus that would take us to the border.

I won't go into too much detail about the journey from Kathmandu to here, because I would rather erase it from my memory. It basically consisted of, in succession, a host of some of the worst journeys I have ever experienced. Firstly we took a 12 hour night bus to the border, where the crazed driver nt only sped down unlit mountain roads at breakneck speed, he also didn’t sleep for the whole journey, and drove right on until morning. The headlights kept cutting out, the lorrys were overtaking us on unlit corners and tiny winding roads and all I could see from the window was absolute darkness. I was quite glad I couldn’t see the drops that I knew were plummeting from the road into the valleys.

The border crossing itself also horrific. We hadn’t eaten for 20 hours and hadn’t slept either on the bus jouney. I was sick as a dog and when we arrived in the dsty town of Sonauli we were instantly ripped off by a horrible rickshaw driver who harassed us until we took his rickshaw, and then tried to charge us in indian rupees instead of Nepali rupees. I ended upo completely losing my rag with him, and told him he could either take the money we agreed on or not take anything at all. When he protested I slugged my heavy bag on and screamed at him that I would bloody walk then, and nearly punched the guy as he followed us all the way to india demanding money. In the end I threw 50 rupees at his feet and told him that he should be greatful for receiving that, and when we finally flopped down in the shade of the indian visa office we were interrogated by police for over an hour. It was hotter than I have ever been up to that point, and as I got groped and interrogated by the officers and they casually flicked through all of my photographs and belongings, I could feel myself about to crack. Finally, we gout our passports stamped and were bundled onto a bus full of staring indian men, where we travelled a grueling 6 hour journey to the flyblown hell hole that is Gorakphur. On the bus journey I was the only woman, and the only white woman, and spent the whole time avoiding penetrating stares and trying to stop the boy to my right from groping me. Halfway there the bus lost an axe; and it took an hou for it to get moving again. When we arrived in the chaos of Gorakphur the ground was so hot it was burning my feet through the soles of my shoes, and I have never felt staring so intense. Everywhere we walked men stared, and there was no women in sight. It was not the nicest introduction to India.

We spent 6 hours waiting with no food for a train, and when it turned up, the only seats free were in second class unreserved. That basically consisted of a cage full of indian men, and by this point there was not a hhope in hell I was getting in there with them. So, Yvan and I then had to drag our bags back through Gorakphur again to try and find a room for the night. It took us nearly 3 hours of climbing steps upto guesthouses only to be told there was no room. It was agonizing. Very time we climbed back down the steps to the street hoardes of men would be stood around laughting at us. By this point I was too tired to care.

Finally, we found a room for 600rs, and it looked like something out of a horror movie – but what could we do. We got a few hours sleep then had to get up at 4am to book a new train ticket. The train arrived at 5:30am and then rumbled through the indian countryside for 6 hours in the hot wind and dust, where we were crammed with our bags in between carriage full of sleeping people. When we arrived in Varanassi we were exhausted to the point of tears. The rickshaw mafia instantly tried to rip us off and we nearly had a fight with one guy who refused to take us to our hotel, telling us it had burnt down. Then when he dropped us off it was mils from our hotel and we got completely lost in the labirynth of alleyways that makes up the Gaudalia area of Varanassi. It was SO hot, and we staggered around the streets in the midday sun, until finally a little boy lead us to our guesthouse, our savior. After heaving ourselves up 4 dlights of steps we finally collapsed in the apartment Myke and Freya had sorted out for the four of us, and we had made it.

It says a lot about India that even despite this hellish journey I have been absolutely captivated by the people here. I was expecting India to be traumatic and oppressive in the extreme, but it is a place of paradox upon paradox. It’s very strange. Half the people just stare stare stare, and when you say namaste they just give you a solemn frown and stare some more. In some places I have felt extremely uncomfortable; men have been pushing up against me, looking me up and down, staring, staring some more, talking quite happily to Yvan about me as if I wasn’t there, and putting their hand up to me when I try and talk. However, the other half of the time, we are taken by the hand and shown the most incredible hospitality. People have been going so far out of their way to help us, showing us the city, helping us book train tickets, or just simply wanting to talk about our country and theirs. I keep expecting people to ask for a rupee after showing us the sights for an hour, and then I feel so guilty when I realize they were just being genuine. They are such a proud people and their willingness to welcome us into their country is something I really wasn't expecting, it’s amazing.

An aspect I've found harder to deal with is how different the women are, though. I have not once been returned a namaste from any Indian women, and their solemn stares follow me everywhere. They don’t seem to have any sort of right to talk to strangers and it's the men who have been showing us around. Last night, me and Myke got interviewed by a news channel down by the Ganges, and the men who wanted to ask me some questions first when and asked Mykes permission to talk to me, unbelievable!

But less about all of this, what about Varanassi? Well at the moment we are staying in the most beautiful little guest house right by the burning Ghats, it is a tiny family run place with just me, Myke, Freya, Yvan and our Finnish friend Emmi staying in a little top floor flat together. The family below are so sweet and friendly and sleep on the roof every night to stay cool, always making us space for if we want to sleep with them under the stars. We are staying in the 'old city' which reminds me a little of Venice. It’s a magical labyrinth of tiny alleyways, pilgrims, little shops selling incense and offerings, tiny underground cafes, rooftop terraces, and a LOT of cows. It’s such a wonderland to get lost in. Then nearby it opens out onto the Ghats, the holy steps where pilgrims come to bathe and worship along the Ganga. I've never been anywhere so atmospheric, pilgrims perfrom Puja, cremate loved ones, pray, make offerings...Touts follow you around trying to sell you boat rides, children try to sell you candles to float in the water and masseurs try to ply their trade. There are holy men everywhere and elderly people living out their final days by the waterside. Last night we went and sat down by one of the main ghats and watched an incredible festival take place. There were thousands of pilgrims everywhere, and being low season we were the only tourists. Flags fluttered along the waterside and mantras sung by the most heavenly Indian voice rang out from speakers mounted on all the towers, across the river, through clouds of incense and cremation smoke, with bells ringing and pilgrims lining every step. Candles floated on the water and the river was full of boats when the sun set, and I was moved to tears more than once by the whole spectacle, I’ve never seen anything like it. I felt so lucky to be there, and to see the good side of religion for once. I’m so used to hearing about all the corruption and segregation it brings, and to see these thousands upon thousands of people brought together filled me with hope. And like I said, me and Myke were on T.V. Some news channel that was filming the festival came and trained cameras on us, asking us what we thought of the festival, Varanassi, and everything. I said that I felt very lucky to be able to see it and that it was incredible people had been coming here for so long, united by faith, but Ii didn't really know what to say! I'm not sure if we will be able to see it but it was on a channel called India news, maybe it will be on an internet archive somewhere.

Today I am sat in a cafe on a roof near the burning ghats...a bit later we are going to take a boat along the river to watch the sun set over the city, but at the moment its too hot to go outside. In the day all you can do is try to sit it out, but in the evening is when the place really comes to life. We have spent them relaxing in tiny underground cafes of whirring fans, where bare footed old men play classical Indian music late into the night. It’s just magical. That said, we are only going to stay a little while longer in Varanassi because it’s just too hot to do anything. If it was cooler I could happily get lost in these alleyways for weeks, but my itinery just doesn’t have the space right now. I know I will be back though, this place has totally enchanted me, and is probably the one I will take away the most memory from. It’s totally humbling being here, really.

Tomorrow we are going to try and book another train that will take ius to Agra. Time to do the tourist thing and see the Taj Mahal. Then it will be on to Rishikesh, where hopefully the weather should be more bearable. I will write more then.

Namaste xxxx