Linda: First Moments in Varanasi, Jan. 26

Linda: First Moments in Varanasi, Jan. 26-Feb. 1

An excerpt from The Lonely Planet travel guide (highly recommended and used on our travels in conjunction with The Rough Guide) describes Varanasi as follows:

Few places in India are as colorful, charismatic, or spiritual as the
bathing ghats lining the Ganges in Varanasi. The city of Shiva is one
of the holiest places in India, where Hindu pilgrims come to wash away a lifetime of sins in the Ganges or to cremate their loved ones. Varanasi, previously names Benares and Kashi (City of Life – Rough Guide translated this as The Luminous One or City of Light – both of which make sense, but I’m not sure which is correct) – it was renamed after the Vaurna and Asi Rivers, which meet here – has always been an auspicious place to die, since expiring here offers moksha (liberation from the cycle of birth and death). The city is the beating heart of the Hindu universe, a crossing place between the physical and spiritual worlds, and the Ganges is viewed as a river of salvation, an everlasting symbol of hope to past, present, and future generations. The magical but sometime overwhelming city is where the most intimate rituals of life and death take place in public on the city’s ghats. The accessibility to the practices of an ancient but still living religious tradition is what captivates many visitors, and a walk along the ghats or a boat ride on the river is one of India’s most absorbing experiences.

Sometimes, journeying to a spiritual place can have trials attached, and coming to Varansi was no exception. This was a part of our trip together which we were looking forward to with eager anticipation. We had spoken with several people who have come, all with wonderful stories and excellent advice … and we had a person here with whom we could meet – a valuable asset and window into this sacred place. We were planning to stay on the Assi Ghat, one of the southernmost ghats in Varanasi, close to Benares University, and a little more accessible to Westerners. We also had a few excellent recommendations for accommodation. The journey to Varanasi was … trying. Matthew was feeling rather poorly and was suffering with a fever. We had to wait, without a hotel room, until 3:00 before catching our first flight out – to Delhi. We arrived in Delhi at 11:00 pm and had to overnight – unfortunately our plans for Delhi did not materialize and we had to find last minute accommodation near the airport. Fortunately, we actually did, but the hotel was down a long, dark alley with two turns. We weren’t sure what we were getting into, but, after the last turn, there was this lit up hotel with men dashing out to get our bags and others in a marble foyer to greet us congenially (and reassuringly). We left for the airport the next day, to find that they never received our reservations for this part of the flight from the travel agent – who could not be reached because it was Republic Day! (We’re still working on that refund. Again, the generosity of the people here is a lesson. A man in Kumily who helped us throughout our stay is coordinating our efforts for repayment, because we are “his very good friends”.) We had to buy new tickets on a plane which, fortunately, was not full.

The flight was uneventful and we arrived in Varanasi to an already awaiting taxi which my husband thoughtfully (and it turns out, thankfully) had arranged beforehand. Already, I was feeling a bit like the women of the early twentieth century, who traveled with trunks and trunks of clothing and “necessary articles”, as I was the one wheeling the cart of baggage out of the airport while the men found our transportation. Due to the Republic Day celebrations, we had to careen through bumpy backstreets as the main street (main street?) was overcrowded. Now, Varansi has grown over time on the banks of the Ganges and the area right on the Ganges, where we were staying, can be difficult to find. We were prepared for this (thus the taxi). The combination of traffic and narrow streets meant our taxi had to drop us off farther from the hotel than usual. Not to worry!! 5 young men from our hotel were already waiting at a pre-arranged stop to take care of us. Whisk. Whisk. Whisk. The taxi driver said, with a winsome smile, that they will take care of us … and there we were. Up go the bags, and five young men start trotting down the streets of Varansi with our bags – while we trail behind trying to keep up. Thankfully, one of the bags was bright blue, so we could keep an eye on this bright blue patch bobbing along in the distance and from there follow the trail of bags back to us. Terrible thoughts of “there go our bags”, and “what will we do if…”, and “how can they go so fast” trickled through my mind as we trotted off in hot pursuit. As a family, we caught on after a few minutes and spaced ourselves between and amongst bags and porters, who happily made jokes, took a breather, and trotted onward … down increasingly smaller and smaller streets, alleyways, corners, corridors, “roads” where you could touch the walls of the building on either side without stretching, and dodging in between people, goats, bullocks, dogs, vendors, Brahmins, beggars, trash, and the remnants of all the above mentioned beings. It was a confusing warren of humanity – overwhelming, amazing, bewildering, and sizzling with the sights, smells, and noises all mixed together and played on fast play as we raced through the “streets”. And , then we were there! Down a small, dirty, dark alleyway was our hotel. Where were we???? It was as if I was in another century and was definitely in another world.

The hosts of the hotel were very kind and told us to look at our rooms. At this point, it was 7:00 at night after an exhausting two days and my husband was feeling poorly, though his fever was better. My husband had booked nice rooms for us, as it our last week together. Well, the rooms were small, of medium cleanliness, and the balcony view was through a grating that felt like I was looking through a prison door. Of course, this was after a difficult day, and I was seeing everything in a negative light. I was so hoping for a large, sunny, sparkling room with a lovely view! THEN, to add the final blow, we weren’t even in Assi Ghat. We had opted for this place because of its proximity to the ghats and had failed to notice it was on another ghat. AND, we had just found out that, “coincidently” several friends of ours from another country were going to be at Assi Ghat exactly where we thought we were! I was trying (unsuccessfully) to not be terrible and negative, as were the children and my husband. We tried the other hotel options to see if we could change locations, but they were either booked or their phones didn’t work. Patrick, Eleanor, and I even tried leaving to take a taxi and see if we could find the other hotels, but the maze of alleys, corridors, and streets was so confusing PLUS the knowledge that Varanasi at night was a place in which one must be careful made us turn back fairly quickly. Then, help came. I asked the man at the reception if he still had an end room (which he’d offered earlier), which, thankfully, he did. It was much bigger, cleaner, and had a lovely balcony without a grating right over the river. We made a room switch, and I could feel the stress and disappointment drain out of me. This was further helped by a decent meal in the courtyard with the life of the Ganges unfolding below.

Eleanor was the one who really saved the day, though. She was absolutely throbbing with happiness and excitement. She was smiling and giggling, and when I asked why she said, “This is just like it must have been when Sir Richard Burton arrived! Everything is so foreign and different and overwhelming and nothing is what you expect. THIS is the REAL India!” And she was right.

As we got our bearings and over my expectations (really, one should NOT have expectations in India), I realized that we were in the perfect place for us. We were on Meer Ghat, which was right in the middle of the Old City and in the center of all the activity on the Ghat. The Burning Ghat (Manikarnika) is two ghats up the river and is the major cremation site here – and in India for that matter. Then, two ghats down was a major temple where elaborate ceremonies for the River Ganga (Ganges) occur every dawn and as night falls. A half and hour’s walk in either direction will take us to the end of the ghats; life throbs around in a ceaseless array of bathing, praying, selling, begging, sleeping, washing, cricket playing, kite flying, watching bullocks negotiate flights and flights of steps (they can go down steps), and tourists clicking their cameras – which I found astonishingly disrespectful (thus the lack of quantities of photographs of people). Then again, I’m not sure who stared at whom more – the tourists staring at the Indians or the Indians staring at the tourists.

Linda: First Moments in Varanasi, Jan. 26-Feb. 1

An excerpt from The Lonely Planet travel guide (highly recommended and used on our travels in conjunction with The Rough Guide) describes Varanasi as follows:

Few places in India are as colorful, charismatic, or spiritual as the
bathing ghats lining the Ganges in Varanasi. The city of Shiva is one
of the holiest places in India, where Hindu pilgrims come to wash away a lifetime of sins in the Ganges or to cremate their loved ones. Varanasi, previously names Benares and Kashi (City of Life – Rough Guide translated this as The Luminous One or City of Light – both of which make sense, but I’m not sure which is correct) – it was renamed after the Vaurna and Asi Rivers, which meet here – has always been an auspicious place to die, since expiring here offers moksha (liberation from the cycle of birth and death). The city is the beating heart of the Hindu universe, a crossing place between the physical and spiritual worlds, and the Ganges is viewed as a river of salvation, an everlasting symbol of hope to past, present, and future generations. The magical but sometime overwhelming city is where the most intimate rituals of life and death take place in public on the city’s ghats. The accessibility to the practices of an ancient but still living religious tradition is what captivates many visitors, and a walk along the ghats or a boat ride on the river is one of India’s most absorbing experiences.

Sometimes, journeying to a spiritual place can have trials attached, and coming to Varansi was no exception. This was a part of our trip together which we were looking forward to with eager anticipation. We had spoken with several people who have come, all with wonderful stories and excellent advice … and we had a person here with whom we could meet – a valuable asset and window into this sacred place. We were planning to stay on the Assi Ghat, one of the southernmost ghats in Varanasi, close to Benares University, and a little more accessible to Westerners. We also had a few excellent recommendations for accommodation. The journey to Varanasi was … trying. Matthew was feeling rather poorly and was suffering with a fever. We had to wait, without a hotel room, until 3:00 before catching our first flight out – to Delhi. We arrived in Delhi at 11:00 pm and had to overnight – unfortunately our plans for Delhi did not materialize and we had to find last minute accommodation near the airport. Fortunately, we actually did, but the hotel was down a long, dark alley with two turns. We weren’t sure what we were getting into, but, after the last turn, there was this lit up hotel with men dashing out to get our bags and others in a marble foyer to greet us congenially (and reassuringly). We left for the airport the next day, to find that they never received our reservations for this part of the flight from the travel agent – who could not be reached because it was Republic Day! (We’re still working on that refund. Again, the generosity of the people here is a lesson. A man in Kumily who helped us throughout our stay is coordinating our efforts for repayment, because we are “his very good friends”.) We had to buy new tickets on a plane which, fortunately, was not full.

The flight was uneventful and we arrived in Varanasi to an already awaiting taxi which my husband thoughtfully (and it turns out, thankfully) had arranged beforehand. Already, I was feeling a bit like the women of the early twentieth century, who traveled with trunks and trunks of clothing and “necessary articles”, as I was the one wheeling the cart of baggage out of the airport while the men found our transportation. Due to the Republic Day celebrations, we had to careen through bumpy backstreets as the main street (main street?) was overcrowded. Now, Varansi has grown over time on the banks of the Ganges and the area right on the Ganges, where we were staying, can be difficult to find. We were prepared for this (thus the taxi). The combination of traffic and narrow streets meant our taxi had to drop us off farther from the hotel than usual. Not to worry!! 5 young men from our hotel were already waiting at a pre-arranged stop to take care of us. Whisk. Whisk. Whisk. The taxi driver said, with a winsome smile, that they will take care of us … and there we were. Up go the bags, and five young men start trotting down the streets of Varansi with our bags – while we trail behind trying to keep up. Thankfully, one of the bags was bright blue, so we could keep an eye on this bright blue patch bobbing along in the distance and from there follow the trail of bags back to us. Terrible thoughts of “there go our bags”, and “what will we do if…”, and “how can they go so fast” trickled through my mind as we trotted off in hot pursuit. As a family, we caught on after a few minutes and spaced ourselves between and amongst bags and porters, who happily made jokes, took a breather, and trotted onward … down increasingly smaller and smaller streets, alleyways, corners, corridors, “roads” where you could touch the walls of the building on either side without stretching, and dodging in between people, goats, bullocks, dogs, vendors, Brahmins, beggars, trash, and the remnants of all the above mentioned beings. It was a confusing warren of humanity – overwhelming, amazing, bewildering, and sizzling with the sights, smells, and noises all mixed together and played on fast play as we raced through the “streets”. And , then we were there! Down a small, dirty, dark alleyway was our hotel. Where were we???? It was as if I was in another century and was definitely in another world.

The hosts of the hotel were very kind and told us to look at our rooms. At this point, it was 7:00 at night after an exhausting two days and my husband was feeling poorly, though his fever was better. My husband had booked nice rooms for us, as it our last week together. Well, the rooms were small, of medium cleanliness, and the balcony view was through a grating that felt like I was looking through a prison door. Of course, this was after a difficult day, and I was seeing everything in a negative light. I was so hoping for a large, sunny, sparkling room with a lovely view! THEN, to add the final blow, we weren’t even in Assi Ghat. We had opted for this place because of its proximity to the ghats and had failed to notice it was on another ghat. AND, we had just found out that, “coincidently” several friends of ours from another country were going to be at Assi Ghat exactly where we thought we were! I was trying (unsuccessfully) to not be terrible and negative, as were the children and my husband. We tried the other hotel options to see if we could change locations, but they were either booked or their phones didn’t work. Patrick, Eleanor, and I even tried leaving to take a taxi and see if we could find the other hotels, but the maze of alleys, corridors, and streets was so confusing PLUS the knowledge that Varanasi at night was a place in which one must be careful made us turn back fairly quickly. Then, help came. I asked the man at the reception if he still had an end room (which he’d offered earlier), which, thankfully, he did. It was much bigger, cleaner, and had a lovely balcony without a grating right over the river. We made a room switch, and I could feel the stress and disappointment drain out of me. This was further helped by a decent meal in the courtyard with the life of the Ganges unfolding below.

Eleanor was the one who really saved the day, though. She was absolutely throbbing with happiness and excitement. She was smiling and giggling, and when I asked why she said, “This is just like it must have been when Sir Richard Burton arrived! Everything is so foreign and different and overwhelming and nothing is what you expect. THIS is the REAL India!” And she was right.

As we got our bearings and over my expectations (really, one should NOT have expectations in India), I realized that we were in the perfect place for us. We were on Meer Ghat, which was right in the middle of the Old City and in the center of all the activity on the Ghat. The Burning Ghat (Manikarnika) is two ghats up the river and is the major cremation site here – and in India for that matter. Then, two ghats down was a major temple where elaborate ceremonies for the River Ganga (Ganges) occur every dawn and as night falls. A half and hour’s walk in either direction will take us to the end of the ghats; life throbs around in a ceaseless array of bathing, praying, selling, begging, sleeping, washing, cricket playing, kite flying, watching bullocks negotiate flights and flights of steps (they can go down steps), and tourists clicking their cameras – which I found astonishingly disrespectful (thus the lack of quantities of photographs of people). Then again, I’m not sure who stared at whom more – the tourists staring at the Indians or the Indians staring at the tourists.