Things worked out reasonably well. Arrived in Varanasi at about 5, + went straight to the waiting-room. Val in particular was still half-asleep, so she laid out a foam mat on the floor, + had another hour, hour and a half, of sleep. To the station canteen then for breakfast, before venturing out to brave the crooks outside + attempt to hire a rickshaw. Of course, a tout attached himself to us + seemed, for a time, quite amiable, but he soon revealed the cynical side of his amiability by informing us that, ha ha, the Yogi Lodge, the one we wished to go to, was now closed. We had been warned that we would be told this – it is at the end of an alley, unapproachable by rickshaw+ as a result the drivers are unable to obtain any commission for taking one there. (The Lodge has converted necessity into a virtue, + claims that it discourages the practice.) We disposed of our tout friend, + obtained a rickshaw ourselves, instructing him to take us to the Golden Temple. Even then, our problems were not entirely over, for our driver, loath to give up completely on his commission, tried to persuade us to go elsewhere, but I was firm (without, for once, losing my temper) + we got to where we wanted to go.
The Lodge was a pleasant-enough place, tho’ our room was small, + without its own bathroom. Ah well. The main “ghat” (or stairway down to the river) was nearby, so we went out to have a look at that. Interesting enough, but from a sociological rather than religious or aesthetic viewpoint. The worst thing was fighting our way out thro’ the maze of tiny alleys that the Lodge is set in the middle of. I couldn’t stand the crowds. Interestingly, Cousin Mike wrote recently that when he turned 30, he developed a loathing of crowds. Am I going the same way?
Returned at about 1 for an afternoon’s siesta, going out again when the heat had faded a little. Went to a small vegetarian restaurant that D + L had recommended first of all – nice enough, but rather a limited menu – then wandered down to the next ghat along. It was further than we anticipated, but interestingly different. It turned out to be one of the funeral ghats, + indeed somebody was being rendered back to ashes right there. Nothing elaborate – more like a garden bonfire. The usual tout rushed up to see what service he could render for us, + to inform us that photographs were strictly forbidden at the funeral ghats. However, if we would care to pay Rs 50, it could be arranged. He wanted a kick in the teeth.
We walked back thro’ the side alleys. All very interesting, except that I have lost my sense of wonder for the fascinating + picturesque. In Asia, the unusual is commonplace, the different, run of the mill. So that, in time, one becomes (I’ve become) blasé.
Truly immersed in India now, with Varanasi pretty much its epitome (not that we have that much to compare it with.) And am somehow managing, more or less, to control my mood… except that it does not take much for something to make it slip.
