I found the Shanti Guest House in the Rough Guide.
It actually states and I quote.. 'An old favourite' well they were right about the old part but as for a favourite well I dread to think who's favourite it would be, somebody that had obviously never stayed in any other hotel anywhere else in the world. The receptionist was asleep on the ancient sofa in front of the reception desk with his feet up on an old table that was covered in dust and dirty cups.
I told him I had a reservation that I had made a week before for two people, air conditioning with two beds. He rubbed his eyes and scratched his worthless balls and grunted and coughed pulling himself up and dragging himself behind the desk. I went on to explain how I had pre-booked a twin room for me and my friend Betsy and she should already be there as her train arrived at 1pm and it was now 5.30pm. More grunting ensued and he pushed the registration book in my direction and told me to check for her name. Well there was no one by the name of Betsy in the book but knowing the efficiency of some of the Indian receptionists I had come across over the last 4 months maybe she was there but had not been asked to sign in.
I went on to tell him she was American and tall and pretty and she would have said that we had a reservation, etc etc but he shook his head gave his balls one more scratch for good luck and pushed the book back in my direction and told me to sign in.
I have no idea why the men of India never stop fiddling with themselves, they are forever scratching their balls or adjusting themselves and they do not care where they are or who is standing in front of them and they usually complete the exercise by ramming their grubby index finger up their nose.
Due to the fact that I knew how difficult this place was to find I kind of would have been surprised if Betsy had been there, but just in case she showed up later I still asked for the twin room. The delightful dosser of a receptionist went on to tell me that there was no twin room available only a double with AC. So the fact that I had pre booked made no difference at all as I would not be getting what I booked. Exhausted and not wanting to argue I paid him for one night and made my way up the seven flights of steep stone steps to my room at the top of the building.
I have to be honest the room was lovely, it was big by Indian hotel room standards with white tiled walls, clean white sheets and due to the AC it was cool and fresh, maybe I had judged the Shanti a little to quickly.
I had a much needed shower after a hot sweaty 20hr train journey and decided to take a quick peek of the River Ganges. The delightful dosser of a receptionist had said it was only 2 minutes to the river and there was so many people around, pilgrims, sadhus and locals and tourists that the streets were filled so I felt very safe.
The Shanti guest house is right next to Manikarnika Ghat which is one of the cremation ghats so the second I turned left out of the Shanti and walked down the urine smelling stone steps in the direction of the river I was bombarded by locals warning me not to take photos of the cremations and offering me guided tours of the ghats at "very special price for very special lady madame".
It was then that I saw my first dead body. I was startled by the loud chanting and fast heavy footsteps coming up behind me and as I span around pushing myself up against the stone wall a procession of men dressed in white chanting loudly came thundering past. They were carrying a bamboo stretcher with a body wrapped in white cloth and tied together with red and gold ribbon. Everyone parted to allow the procession to pass and then once the men carrying the dead body had passed and headed down towards the river the crowd rejoined and carried on as if nothing had happened. I stood there for a few moments digesting what I had just seen and I was surprised to feel how normal it all seemed. I mean if I had just popped out to the COOP at home in England to do a spot of shopping for tea and a group of men came rushing past carrying a dead body with them I would have ran screaming up the road and probably vomited in a bin but here in India nothing really shocks me anymore, it all feels so familiar and normal.
To be honest I shouldn't of ventured out. I was exhausted from my journey and a city like Varanasi is not really a place where you can go and have a nice quiet stroll without being harassed so I spun on my heel and headed back to the Shanti.
I headed up to the restaurant on the top floor and took some great pics of Varanasi from that great height. it was lovely to watch the sun saying goodnight to the city behind the buildings and see the monkeys jumping roof to roof carrying their little baby's safely tucked underneath them.
I decided to send Betsy an email to find out where she was, I was a bit worried and due to the fact she has no Indian mobile number we had had no contact. Anyway I had no need to worry because as I was sat there at the computer in walked Betsy informing me that she had been there all afternoon in a twin room with AC waiting for me. The delightful dosser on the front desk was such a useless piece of shit that he had conveniently forgotten all about the conversation he had had with Betsy when she arrived and had failed to remember any of it when I arrived so we were both in separate rooms and had both paid for 1 night.
To put it frankly Betsy tore a much deserved strip of the receptionist while I stood in silence with my mouth open. She informed him that she had a reservation and if he wanted us to recommend his hotel to others in any kind of valuable fashion that he cancel one of the rooms immediately and reimburse us for the cost of the room we didn't need. After a few calls to the manager and some grunting and mumbled Hindi Betsy demands were met, I'm not surprised really as she proved to be the kind of girl not to be trifled with when she has a bee in her bonnet. She was quite right though he was a useless gob shite and if he hadn't of been sleeping on the job he may have had more of a clue what was going on. But I really just don't wan to argue anymore with anyone, I just want to feel peace and I don't want the mistakes and craftiness of others to make me get upset anymore so I'm really trying to deal with every inconvenience as calmly as I can and stick to the rule that How people treat me is their Karma, how I react is mine. Anyway all was sorted out in the end and off to our room we went.
That first night we were both exhausted so we decided to have dinner in the Shanti restaurant and have an early night.
That is when I christened the hotel The Shitty Shanti.
The table and chairs in the restaurant were both dirty and dusty and still had the remains of the last diners meal on it. The menu's were so old and so dirty that I did the typical western thing of turning the pages by the very corner with the tips of my thumb and index finger with all of the other fingers splayed out in a right snotty fashion. But really it was filthy and I am no snob, I will eat street food and in little cafes along the roads but there is no excuse for that dirt, but I was so exhausted that I was being a fussy twat and I knew it was time for bed.
As I looked around I could see the three male workers just sat on their arses, one was texting on a phone the other was picking his teeth and the other, yes you guessed it was scratching his balls. I don't understand why men only work in these restaurants because by what I have seen they are a bunch of bone idle bastards. I know my self when I managed a business in Cambodia the men were the laziest. I employed 4 girls and the place was spick and span. I spoke with a friend of mine about it an Indian man who runs a restaurant in Kerala and he said that woman are not employed in bars and restaurants because they should not be out after dark and it is not right for them to be working alongside men that our not their husbands or relatives. But because of these traditions it means that all waiters, restaurant workers, cooks and cleaners are men and they are usually shite. The service is so poor and they cant clean like a woman can or they just cant be bothered to and I realise that you should never send a man to do a woman's job!!.
Anyway the food was terrible, probably the worst meal I had had in 4 months and the lassie was just a watery glass of milk. A glance into the kitchen made me shudder at the filth of the place and the 3 greasy looking dirty articles hanging around in there chewing mouth fulls of chewing tobacco. The only thing the restaurant had going for it was the view of the city and it was now dark so it didn't even have that. So after winging and moaning about the food and service Betsy and myself decided to piss off to bed for an early night.
I arrived in Varanasi late on the Friday evening and left early Tuesday morning so really I only had 3 full days there but they were great days and I fell in love with the place.
From the first step I took out of the train station I knew Varanasi was going to be a wonderful experience for me and I was right. I was really glad that Betsy was there with me I know I would not have seen as much as I did because I would not have wandered around so many places and visited so many things alone. Yes it was very hot, most days according to Betsy's I-Phone reached 109 degrees but we were up early in the morning and then went back to our lovely AC room for a few hours in the heat of the afternoon and then back out in the evening for nice sunset strolls along the Ghats.
I think Varanasi is the kind of place you will either love or hate and most of the people I had talked to before I came here seemed to hate it. It is intense and it is hot and it is full to bursting with Sadhu's, tourists, beggars, cows, dogs, muck and flies.
We wandered through the winding cobbled streets lost for days but we didn't mind it was wonderful just to be free, to be part of the daily life of Varanasi.
Now when I say winding cobbled streets please don't misunderstand and picture the winding cobbled streets of Italy with the smell of rich coffee and expensive perfume and pretty terracotta pots filled with Jasmine and Geraniums. I'm talking about winding cobbled streets filled with cow muck and urine both animals and humans and dust and litter and dogs covered in scabies and fleas and red chewing tobacco splattered up the ancient crumbling walls. I have to be honest Varanasi is one of the dirtiest places I have visited in India. Everyday I was taking 4 or 5 showers. The hem of my trousers was constantly covered in cow shit, my hair was filled with dust and the smoke from burning bodies and when I blew my nose the tissue was grey. There is no way on this earth I could have brought either my Mother or father to Varanasi they would have both hated it. They would have been on the first train out of there and I dread to think what my Father would have been shouting at the locals in the street. But if you can see past all of that dirt and dust and just accept Varanasi for being just Varanasi then like Betsy and myself you can love it too.
We booked ourselves on both a sunrise and sunset boat trip on the Ganga. I think for Betsy and myself they were probably the highlights of our time in Varanasi. It was so so beautiful to watch the sunrise over the sacred river and to see pilgrims washing and swimming in the river and sadhus washing their robes and children enjoying swimming lessons. Thousands of Indians travel from all over India and the world to bathe in the water at Varanasi and for us Westerners that seems so strange because the water is so dirty, filled with garbage and feces and floating bloated dead bodies. Sanjay our guide told us that pregnant woman, Sadhus, children under ten years old and anyone bit my a cobra are not cremated that they are thrown straight in to the river so everyday bodies would come rising to the surface of the river floating amongst all of the bathing pilgrims. I did not swim in the river at Varanasi, I dipped my hand in from the side of the boat but it really is miraculous that so much pollution is pumped into that river every day and because Indian people believe with every ounce of their souls that the river is sacred and healing and purifying they do not get sick.
Sanjay even drank straight from the river in front of us and told us he will not get sick because the river is his Mother and she will protect him and I'm sure it will and that is how powerful their faith is.
Sanjay also accompanied us on a stroll around the old town, showing us ancient temples tucked away down the secretive narrow alleyways.
We visited the sacred well, Manikarnika Kund, said to be dug by Vishnu at the time of creation, surrounded by bright folk art depicting the Goddess Manikarnika Devi. Sanjay was no professor of history but it was nice to see some interesting attractions without too much waffle.
There were about eight of us in our little group. Betsy and myself and then a small group of other westerners form our hotel. To be honest I wished it was just Betsy and myself as I was so embarrassed the girls were half naked with tiny skimpy tops exposing their breasts and backs and short trousers showing their legs, all the local Indian people were staring at them and I really could not believe that they thought it appropriate to walk around the cremation area in front of funeral parties with bare flesh showing and to top it off they had all had a Bang lassie for breakfast so were all tripping their tits off which would have been quite funny but when visiting holy temples I really didn't feel it was appropriate, I mean there is a time and a place surly!
Our evening strolls along the Ghats were great. We would indulge in the very English tradition of tea and biscuits whilst sat watching the Indians jumping in and out of the water and laughing with glee. We were photographed a lot by fascinated locals and teenage boys but we were never really hassled to the point that we were upset. We had both been told that we would have endless hassle and followers but we had a great time and met so many great people and chatted with the locals and had photos taken with the Sadhus, it really was not half as bad as what people had made it out to be, really for me it was a complete joy.
The Ghats are the stone steps were people come to sit, pray, do yoga and meditate. There are 100 Ghats that line the river Ganges in Varanasi. The great riverbanks are built high with eighteenth and nineteenth century Palace, temples, pavilions and terraces. The buildings are beautiful though crumbling and in various states of disrepair but the crumbling walls and peeling paint just adds to the unique character of the place and from a evening boat cruise in the burnt orange glow of the setting sun it truly looks incredibly beautiful.
Walking along the ghats is really wonderful. The Ghats is where all the action is, The Ghats is where it's at! That is where to head to to see the Puja's and ceremonies and Brahman priests and pilgrims, it is just a wonderful place to sit and people watch. If you can handle the heat you could literally spend all day there.
There was one man that followed us one day through the winding alleyways of Godaulia, I looked back to see him trailing behind Betsy and I could see from his eyes that he was completely out of his mind on some drug or another. He followed us for a while offering us a free massage, "very good rub madame, very good massage, free all body, free madame for you today" well it was a very tempting offer but I think I will wait until I have passed from this life and be reincarnated as a dog before I will take him up on it. Betsy didn't turn to look at him once she was just marching forward with her head held high, but I was laughing I thought it was so funny that he really thought we would be up for a free rub. He then went on to tell us that for free he would fuck our white backsides and again it was a very tempting offer but we both declined, anyway with that last offer and our decline he pissed off round the corner and that was the last we saw of that skinny bag of crap!
Another highlight of the trip was our daily visits to The Blue Lassie. Betsy had found the recommendation in The Lonely Planet so we wandered through the morning streets to find it. Believe me if you go to Varanasi you have to go to The Blue Lassie. It is quite the attraction, we saw the same faces day after day, morning noon and night sat amongst the coolness of the blue walls on comfy seats sipping delicious creamy lassies.
It is a family business and the owner is a sweet old man with twinkly cheeky eyes and my God can he knock up a good Lassie. My favourite was coconut and mango which is served in a terracotta pot and sprinkled with chopped nuts. The owners son on the other hand was a slitty eyed little pervert that shook my hand every morning very hard whilst watching my boobs wobble. Me and Betsy would be nudging each other and pointing out his slimy conduct how he would lean into various Lassie sipping western girls and put his hands on their thighs whilst pretending to show them something on his phone. It's a great shame that all that old mans hard work and the incredible business he has built will be handed over to his pervert of a son one day who is so obviously high on drugs all day everyday and taking full advantage of the fact that there are western girls there in his shop that he can feel up when he feels like it, but apart from that I would highly recommend you try it just prepare yourself for the hand shake of a lifetime.
On the last day in Varanasi I got sick. To be honest I hadn't slept well apart from the night of my arrival so I was exhausted. I am really not a very good sleeper. I find it so hard to get off to sleep with the constant chatter that goes on in my head and any little noise or light will wake me up and then I cant get back to sleep for hours, its a pain in the arse.
I started to get really bad cramps in my stomach throughout the day but I didn't want to waste a day by staying in bed and it would not have been fair on Betsy but as the day went on they got worse. The cramps got really bad about 8pm just as I had fell into bed finally looking forward to a good nights sleep and then just got worse and worse as the night went on. I was rolling around on the bed crying and praying and wondering how the hell I was going to manage a 20hr train journey in the morning. I was in and out of the bathroom, crying on the floor and pressing my face against the walls to try and cool down but it just got worse. Betsy on the other hand is a sleep goddess, she sleeps well every night much to my great envy and she even slept all the way through my rolling around in agony. I was in and out of the bathroom, throwing up, pooing like a new born baby and she would just roll over part her pretty eyelids and then close them again and go back to sleep. I could have never have slept through that racket I would have been awake all night. Anyhow about 3am the pains started to ease off and I think I fell asleep about 4am.
So all in all I had a wonderful time in Varanasi. It was great to have a companion for the trip, Betsy and myself had a great time together and I'm so glad she loved it as much as me. There is nothing worse than loving a place and the person you are with hates it with a passion and does nothing but complain, but no we were really happy, had great food, saw great things an enjoyed some really nice girlie chats and got along really well.
In the morning Betsy headed off for Calcutta and I jumped on the train pain free thank God back to Rishikesh Uttarakhand.
Every square inch of Varanasi is filled with the colour of bright sari's, the noise of excited children and chanting and prayer and even though it is chaotic and blistering hot there is a deep underlying feeling of peace. I think you will either feel that peace deep in your soul or you will not, there is no in between with Varanasi it is what it is, it will not apologise for what it is or how it shocks you.
For many I know they just see the dirt, the dust, the chaos and stress of it all the close proximity of death and the fear that evokes, but for me I really felt the peace, the unconditional love of the place, the power that the pilgrims have in their complete devotion and belief in the sacred water of Mother Ganges.
My eyes saw all the chaos and dirt but my heart only felt the love and the great spiritual energy that flows down every dusty alleyway and is in every drop of the sacred water and encased in every stone of every Ghat.
And as a man said to us on our last day whilst we sat sipping chai on a dusty stone wall,
'There is no where like it in India or the world, it is what it is, has been forever and will be for eternity, Varanasi is Varanasi'
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