As we set off from Kajaraho, heading for Varanasi, we took along a hitchhiker, Thomas View image, who had driven from Austria overland to India in a toyota hatchback! He had two companions of his own; an accordion, and a little dog, which he'd picked up in Pakistan. His car had just died, and he was out of money. He was heading to Varanasi to work in an orphanage. What a wonderfully lyrical character!

Robert and his dog came on the back of my bike View image, and Rolfe carried the accordion on his. It was a long 400 km slog to try and make Varanasi in one day View image. We were doing well, until I had a rear-tyre blowout at 70 km/h, which very nearly got us killed. The bike suddenly fishtailed uncontrollably, and everything went calm as I tried to calculate how to land best when we fly over the steep bank by the side of the road. Then, miraculously, I managed to bring us to a controlled stop, exactly where three Indian men had been standing (they ran for their lives, when they saw us careening towards them!). My knees were very weak. Robert and the dog were pretty philosophical about their near-miss.

The bike could not be moved at all, with the flat tyre, and a crowd of 30 stupid teenage boys gathered from out of nowhere -- they came, not to be helpful or anything like that, but just to watch, and giggle, and be really annoying. I lost my temper and shouted at them and became even more of a spectacle for them. I was so caught up in it, that I didn't think of taking pictures. Nevertheless, help was found, as always, and the tyre was easily fixed. When I got back to the bike, I found that Rolfe had entertained the crowd by getting them all to sing and clap in unison! We we were on our way again, but there was no way we'd make Varanasi by nightfall. We stopped in noisy, polluted Allahabad for the night, and had to fork out 8 times the usual price for a hotel room View image.

The next day we had breakfast in a grandly decrepit "Indian Coffee House" complete with dirty white uniforms and a tilting main entrance View image, View image, and then rode an awfully dangerous high-traffic road to Varanasi, arriving in the heat and highest density of people I've yet seen in India. We were so glad to finally get off the overheated bikes, exhausted View image, after battling through incredibly crowded bazaar streets, more like Mardi Gras than midday city life, to the Safari Guesthouse. The alleyways were quiet, as no traffic could pass the cow congestion:View image.

Being in Varanasi felt, to me, like I had finally arrived in India proper. The city is so intensely steeped in Hindu religion and culture, that it can be too much for many travellers. Along with the extreme air and river pollution, many become ill during their stay in the city. Rolfe continued to struggle with a stomach bug he got in Kajuraho, together with some horrible mosquito bites, which put him out of action for several days View image, View image, until he performed a great example of 21st century self-diagnosis: with the help of internet medical sites, he discovered his symptoms matched exactly with the parasite giardia, and which antibiotics to take for it. We then went along to the nearest chemist, where all medications are available at a fraction of the western price, and without prescription. His condition started to improve immediately. I somehow managed to get out, and really enjoy the cacophony of noise, crowds, music and atmosphere, that the 2500 year-old city has to offer, including seething streets, burning bodies, and the ancient and beautiful riverfront cityscapes, even at night: View image. A highlight was a dawn row-boat ride on the Ganges, watching the bathing (in seriously toxic water!), prayers and body-burning all going on along this, the most holy of Indian rivers. View image, View image, View image, View image, View image, View image, View image, View image, View image, View image, View image, View image, View image.
These boys were selling DVDs from their rowboat, complete with a (suprisingly loud) TV so you can see what you are buying: View image.

The built-up skyline of Varanasi is only on the west side of the river. View image, View image, The other side is a massive expanse of sand, which becomes the bed of a MUCH wider Ganges River during Monsoon season. For those of you familiar with Black Rock City, it looks just like the Playa!: View image, View image, View image, View image.

The following is one of many boats which bring in the wood needed to burn hundreds of bodies in funerals every day. View image, and although photographing the funerals is strictly taboo, I did get this atmospheric wide shot in which funeral pyres can be seen: View image.

This was a scene for a film shoot taking place in one of the holy bathing tanks: View image

Someone must have just washed their brand new blue clothes! View image

One night, walking in the street, I came across a circle of people gathered around muscians playing drums, and these boys dancing. It was weird and unsettling to see such young (maybe 10-12 years?) boys dancing with such apparent sexuality and abandon. I wondered for a minute whether they might be young prostitutes, drumming up business, but had no idea if this was the case or not, and didn't feel like asking!!! View image, View image

Here are some other nice photos from our time in Varanasi: View image, View imageView image, View image, View image, View image