new horizons


Sorry to start on such a negative note, but here’s a thing.


It’s a long hard journey by bus, train and road from Kolkata, so we fly. LANDED…After much bullshit and blockade, which almost lead to fisticuffs, with the local tuktuk wallahs, we finally leave the airport, and head towards town. The world-famous, most holy, Benares (old name). It’s an hour to town and the traffic is already thick, stinking and honking…..What I didn’t appreciate at this stage is just how LOUD and how POLLUTED it’s going to get. I can’t over-exaggerate the level of noise. The horns have somehow doubled or trebled in volume. Even the tiniest moped has a full set of 16-wheeler parpers. All used with gusto, thousands going off at any one time, and one, especially enthusiastic parpster, right behind us!!! Ooooo, my ears!
Anyway, I rant. And digress
The area by the Ganga (Ganges – everything seems to have a new name in India) is down super tiny lanes so we know were going to have to walk in. Our host will meet us on the road – he’s overbooked – so leads us to our another home somewhere in the interior.


We wind through the tiny alleys to the hostel. The buildings loom overhead in the dusky light as we go ever deeper into the maze. Traders peek out of every crevice. It’s bewildering. We arrive, pick a room, dump or packs and go for a little explore and something to eat, before a much needed kip. I start to get a few bearings. At least I know the direction of the river!! That’ll be my first port of call in the morning. I have IMAGES in my head! This is after all Varanasi, the holiest place?
The next morning I creep out, early-bird and hopscotch my way through the incredible amounts of dog and cow shit that splatters every pavement. Twist, turn, go back, turn, turn twist, stagger (no crawling ffs, not here) then down steep and windy stairs to the ghats……


Praises! Some light and air. As luck would have it, there’s a proper festival starting up and my first wander along the ghats, is really fabulous. Thousands of worshippers, boats, flowers, colours, cows, goats, hawkers and gawkers while the morning mists burn off the water. Oooh, much more like it. Snap, snap

Dodging livestock, dogs, thronging Indians and tourists, the Sadhus lie in wait, to catch the unwary. Take a picture, I’ve seen them, yeah. BUT NOTE the hand now comes out with menaces for filthy lucre. After a while, I’m afraid, I nicknamed them the, Sados, instead, not Holy men but Business men. I’ll stick with the goats….



The festival is only on today unfortunately and we continue to explore up and down the various ghats, dodge and weave, over the coming days. We met plenty of friendly, kind and engaging people. It’s intoxicating and I’m glad we’ve come but it’s a terrible tourist trap, super-filthy and smelly and after a couple of days I’m gagging to leave, but transport is hard to get. We wait.

The last goat (but the first picture) on the way to the bus was prefect and I exit, smiling.
I’ll get my head together somewhere a bit more tranquil. Hopefully in Khajuraho, next stop.
I’ll stick with the goats.