With the exception of the desert in Rajasthan, the landscape we have seen so far on our journey has been pretty bland. Generally the land has been fairly barren with the odd patch of arable farm land but nothing that has really stood out. As our train to Varanasi headed further East the landscape started changing quite dramatically, becoming much more lush and green, and generally becoming more tropical looking. A patchwork of green paddy fields tended by women in colorful Sari’s, with a scattering of tall green palm trees and remote villages.

I have high expectations of Varanasi and am hoping for it to be a welcome relief after the chaos and hassle of Agra. I am also looking forward to something other than palaces and fortresses to look at. In the past fortnight I have seen a life times quota of both! The Ghats on the Ganges, I am hoping will be a real feast on the eye, being able to view people going about age old traditions.

Upon arrival in Varanasi all my hopes of peace and ease are dashed when we leave the train station. We are greeted with total chaos and more touting rickshaw drivers than anywhere else we have been. The streets are hectic and polluted and rubbish, although not a patch on Agra, lines the streets in huge piles with the regulation Cow feeding itself to a slow and painful death. Varanasi smells like any other city in India but with a mystery added ingredient, which I would later find out to be the smell of burning human flesh.

We are dropped off at the closest point that motor vehicles are allowed to the old city and the River, and proceed to walk through the crowded narrow streets toward the river Ganges. Here we are greeted with a colorful market and what seems like a billion people all going about their daily life, pushing and shoving to get ahead of the next person.

Arriving at any city in India is a nightmare as when you still have your backpack on, it is seen by all persistent hawkers as a clear indication that you have yet to find somewhere to stay. One particular man decided to follow us through the Market and along the banks of the Ganges insisting that we stay at his brothers hotel. We weren’t interested and tried politely to turn him down, but after an hour of him hassling us I finally lost my temper for the first time on the trip. After trying all ways of getting rid of him I resorted to swearing, shouting, and threatening to get the police. The latter seemed to deter him a bit although he still ‘quietly’ followed a few paces behind us.

Eventually we found the guest house we were looking for and managed to get a room. The hotel has a great terrace overlooking the Ghats and with view along the Ganges. A really nice spot to sit and watch the activities up and down the banks of the river. At this point I was still stressed and cursing the persistent hotel hawker. I was disappointed as I had such high expectations of this place and was now feeling as low as I had all trip.

Later that day we walked along the Ganges and were greeted by a scene of activity. People washing clothes, meditating, repairing boats, people carrying out ‘Puja’ (prayers and offerings) to the holy water of the Ganges, others washing their sins in the water of the river, and others practicing Yoga on the Ghats.

I started to relax and was beginning to enjoy this place.

The following morning we went on a boat trip to see sunset and the activity that we had seen the day before was all the more fascinating. The banks of the river were a real hive of activity and from the boat you we were able to get a real look at what people were doing without feeling that we were intruding upon them. Even out on the water though we weren’t safe from the entrepreneurial spirit of the Indian people and we soon had children on boats coming along side ours to offer us ‘crappy’ souvenirs or candles to light and offer to the river.

That evening we went to one of the main Ghats to watch a display of ‘Puja’ which was extremely colorful and entertaining but I hadn’t a clue what was going on. From there we walked along the river to the Burning Ghats. This is where I was to learn about the source of the earlier mystery smell that I was greeted with in the Rickshaw.

At the burning Ghats people cremate their loved ones on pyres of timber before pushing the ashes into the river. Down stream from here people bathe in the water and wash clothes, this is when I decided that o would refrain from getting my laundry done in Varanasi. An old weary looking man took it upon himself to be our guide and explain the finer details of the burning Ghats (Who can be burned, and who cant. How much it costs, and how many bodies are burned each day. Over 150!!) Then when he had got us unsuspectingly cornered within a hospice building where sick people come to die. He cleverly asked us for donations for the poor people of the hospice so that they could afford the wood to be burned when they die (Nice!!). We made our donations to a scary haggard old nurse and made for the exit.

The following Day Ennis was flying back to London, but I was quite happy to stay in Varanasi for a while longer, there is something quite magical about it. Don’t worry folks, I’m not getting all spiritually enlightened, or finding the true meaning of inner Karma. Although most of the westerners that I have met so far do seem to have jumped on the ‘spirituality bandwagon’. The skeptic within me can’t help finding a lot of it a bit too false. It’s almost as if people say it to conform to the expected. When people ask me if I’m here on any kind of pilgrimage or to practice any king of Buddhism and I say “No” there is a slight look of horror on their faces as if I need rescuing. “What are you here for then” they will say, to which I don’t really have an answer. Travel for the sake of travel maybe?

I stayed a few more days and went on a couple more boat trips, another in the morning for sunrise and one in the evening for sunset. The hotel I was in was popular with travelers and I was never short of company, although many of the were ‘Spiritual Folk, at one with themselves’. I got to know the city quite well but was now starting to tire of India’s large cities and felt ready for a complete change of scenery. It was here that I decided to change my plans, head back to Delhi and then onward to the Mountains of Himachal Pradesh.