cacophony.

Describing Varanasi is probably one of the hardest things I have ever tried to do. Nothing can come close to explaining the pardox that is this city. It is stunningly beautiful, but also chalk-full of poverty, pollution, and filth, not to mention burning bodies all along the river (a religious ceremony I have yet to fully comprehend). In retrospect, we probably should have planned things a bit more smoothly for our entry back into Indian society; Varanasi is by far the most insane city I have been to while here, but it is something that every true Indian tourist needs to see.

It is a city of smells; the exotic blend of shit, incense, hash, cow pies, urine and burning sandalwood mixed with decomposing corpses. Often times I would be beyond intriguied by the scents of patchouli, only seconds later to be hit with a stench of piss that was almost enough to make me throw up. Or, I would be journaling along the river, enjoying the peaceful lapping of the water, when a herd of water buffalo would pass by, along with their Shepard screaming commands and occasionally asserting his authority with a bull whip, thus interrupting the flow and peacefulness of the situation.

As with the last time I was there, the history of the place stopped me from being fully aware of its atrocious bits. Varanasi is full of decaying Raj style palaces and European influenced buildings. The people are sundry and absolutely fascinating, and the food is enough to make you want to stay for months. We were thrown forcefully into the chaos, arriving at dusk, right as the nightly prayers began. Having white skin here (as with anywhere in India) makes you a direct target; men from virtually every alleyway came our way, asking where we were from, if we wanted hashish, and offering to show us a 'nice' place to stay. Often times it was not until I whipped out my extensive vocabulary of Hindi swear words, that they would take the hint to back down. Or Forest would name some obscure country (primarily Jamaica) we were "from", which they would take to be a blatant lie, and then be so upset that they left us alone.

Stumbling into such a scene after the tranquility of Nepal, Forest and I often found ourselves feeling more than a bit overwhelmed and quite out of place; capturing the true meaning of what it means to be white tourists in India. We had the great fortune of meeting two very calm and intriguing Europeans who were there for Buddhist purposes, and we latched on, sucking the peace they exuded from them like leeches, and thus finding ourselves able to cope with the city in a much more relaxed manner.

We did the sunrise boat tour along the banks, had an interesting night in which we stayed in what can only be described as a barred jail cell, and spent most of our days wandering from ghat to ghat, taking in the sights, sounds, smells, and never ending traffic flow that is Varanasi. We met many other wanderers and misfits along the way, and gradually were able to slide back into the way of fast paced city life.

Varanasi is a Hindu holy city that pilgrims flock to, in hopes of dying along the banks of the Ganga, and thus reaching the ultimate Pooja. The pilgrims are a unique group, clad in all the colors of the rainbow, plus some, feet hardened beyond belief, and faces full of determination. These people travel in hoards, making the long journey for a few days of 'relaxation' and cleansing in the river, before setting out for home. We just so happened to be in the city in time for a large festival, which drew a mass of humanity roughly larger than the populations of both Minnesota and Wisconsin combined...

...after about an hour, we needed to escape.

Cows are the most sacred animal in India; it is believed that through reincarnation, one of the other lives you may have is that of a cow. This often leads to many problems and frustrations, especially considering I don't necessarily think that any particular cow might be my grandmother reincarnated. They get in the way big time, causing full on traffic stops, and often times bringing about fear that I will be mauled in the middle of the street. In Varanasi, where the streets were simply little walkways, the cows seemed to be in over abundance, around almost every corner we turned. Not as am amusing as it might sound; 'holy cow' in the most literal sense of the term, and quite the inconvenience...

 

We left Varanasi, ready to take on India and all that it had to throw at us, believing that we had conquered the hardest feat... if only we had known what was to come.