The 17 hour train journey flew by,
fortunately for us it was a proper overnight sleep without having to make sure
we woke up for 4am or something silly. We got to wake up in a reasonable amount
of time, a bed each. Luxury..!
We arrive in the morning and work out how
best to get to our location. A rickshaw driver approaches us at the platform
and offers to take us as close as possible to the hotel we have booked, and
realising half way to his rickshaw he wanted more than we were paying in
accommodation to get there, we quickly refused him and found another guy next
to him asking for under a third of the first guy. We were on our way.
The traffic was actually a bit of a shock
compared to what we had been used to recently. Gridlocked, nobody could move,
even pedestrians struggled to get through the bumper-to-bicycle-wheel jam. But,
eventually, we were dropped in the middle of nowhere and told we had to walk
the rest of the way. We got out, assuming this was indeed the case, and walked
on.
To be fair, we didn’t seen many more auto
rickshaws up ahead, but there was definitely a road, so we can’t work out if he
didn’t want to drive the last kilometre or there was an actual regulation in
place (and if there were, it was the first time we’d seen anyone in India care
about a traffic regulation). Once we’d cleared this area of road however, it
was clear that no vehicle other than a bike would have had a chance of
negotiating the narrow labyrinth of streets towards the Ghats. Our hotel was
amongst these, and armed with my trusty inaccurate Google Map of the location
we were headed, we soldiered on.
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Narrow and full of bovine pals |
Within seconds we were attracting all kinds
of attention, one guy saying he had a hotel and trying to ask us to go to his.
Once we confirmed to him we already had a hotel booked, called the Golden
Palace, he looked disappointed, but in true Indian fashion proceeded to help us
find it the fastest way possible, which was lucky as my map was saying we were
a good distance away, but it turned out we were just around the corner. Once we
got closer, signs were on every corner of the labyrinth, so fortunately finding
our way back to it again after this point was very simple, even though on a
couple of occasions we were unable to navigate certain roads due to people
queueing up for temples.
We checked into our hotel, a tiny little
stuffy room with a bathroom that did have hot water if you could work out which
switch in the room operated the boiler, and made ourselves at home.
Unfortunately at this point I was still battling with the remnants of my
migraines, a strange drunken and disorienting feeling. Another feeling that
isn’t ideal when trying to navigate narrow corridors of cows, people, dogs,
excrement of all the above, and the occasional joker who decided their Royal
Enfield was a perfect fit. I ended up spending a long while sleeping
apparently, I don’t really remember this but I’m reliably informed this is the
case by my incredibly patient and caring fiancée, and we wandered out in the
evening, unfortunately too late for the evening ceremony that’s held on the
Ghats daily, but we decided to explore anyway, and wanted to organise a boat
trip for the morning.
After a short walk, the river Ganges was in
clear sight. We walked down towards the large entrance to this main ghat off of
the main road. Unfortunately this particular part of the story, at least for
me, takes quite a downward turn from here. I am actually quite fortunate I am
still able to tell this tale, as I honestly believe this moment of my life
could have been my last.
As we walked down the ghat trying to take
in the sights and bustle of what was going on, an elderly man stood and offered
to shake my hand. Now, not being rude, and being quite used to this by this
point of our trip as we’ve been heralded as minor celebrities due to our
incredibly pale complexions, I took the hand of this gentleman in order to
shake it. At this point, a vice-like grip took itself upon the fingers of my
right hand. Unable to break free, his left hand begins to strongly and
vigorously work up my currently trapped arm, in what some would refer to as a ‘massage’.
Diana, looking upon the whole situation with a bemused smirk and nothing in the
way of sympathy, did little to help me from my attacker.
Not content with the reckless assault on
this arm, his snake like reflexes reach for and successfully capture my other
hand. Before I know what’s going on, this arm is also being kneaded like freshly
prepared chapatti dough. Figuring that I was now running out of arms, I planned
my attempt at a ‘sincere’ thank you for this invasion of my appendages, ready
to be on our way. Oh no. Not just yet. We’d only just begun.
Within seconds my entire being had been body
slammed, face down onto an old cloth. It’s possible in the delirious stupor of
my migraine postdrome that I was hypnotized into doing said action, I can’t
fully remember, but my recollection of the attack was this elderly gentleman
temporarily turned into a world class wrestler and forced me into said position.
At this point, I look up at Diana. She’s
now talking with some lady who only spoke Hindi, her entire attention diverted
away from my current state of emergency. Above me I could now tell an
accomplice had joined, hands, or possibly large drills, boring down into my
very soul via my back. I believe at this point, Hulk Hogan had begun removing
my sandals. ‘This is it’ I thought to myself, ‘my time is up, and we’re right
by the holy river ready for my cremation. Goodbye world’. The man speaks – “This
is a full Ayurvedic massage! Very good for body and circulation!”. Yeah, right.
I know a cannibal group when I see one.
God knows what was happening now, my arms
and legs were being twisted out of all alignment, a vicious method of
tenderisation began on my back muscles as I assumed I would become the main
course for a hungry family of 6 in the morning. I tried to steal one last
glance at Diana for her to come to my aide – no luck, she’s eating Rice Krispies
out of the ladies scarf.
As my thighs and bum get viciously attacked,
and Diana’s now being shouted at in a language where we can only just about understand
‘water’ and ‘how much’, I began to slip out of consciousness. My near lifeless
body is flipped, and my face is now being aggravated. Accepting my fate, I lose
all recognition of my current state. It felt like it was coming to an end, but I
couldn’t care any less at this point, I was numb to it all.
Until the man began to speak. A disgusting
abomination of a sentence, one that instantly made my blood boil and my
fighting spirit return. “This costs 3000 rupees”. Over 30 British pounds for what
some people get for free in Guantanamo Bay.
I leap to my feet, suddenly more alive than
I had ever felt before.
“Excuse me? I only shook your hand! I didn’t
ask to be physically assaulted!”
“Okay sir okay, 1500”
I look over at Diana, who at the mention of
this obscene amount of money has realised the severity of my current affair. At
the mere mention of 3000 rupees she had spat out her late night neckwear
sourced breakfast cereal.
“No, not 1500, I didn’t want it at all”
“No problem no problem, 300!”
Attempting now to walk away - “No. Not 300.”
Wanting to get rid of them, we hold our 100
rupees to get them to leave us alone. They refuse, and say “Ok ok, no charge.”
About to walk away, another guy who didn’t
seem to be involved in the process at all asked us for 150. Holding out just the
100 again, he scoffs and turns away. I also turned away, only to have him them
ask for the 100 again. Handing it over, we attempt to get as far away from the
Ghat as possible, but not before a man came over to fill Diana’s pashmina with her
own puffed rice treats (This time with added chilies).
Some of you may think I’m over reacting.
That I should have paid their demands. But you weren’t there. You weren’t there…
Anyway, we went onwards to a restaurant
along the ghat and got a very cheap meal. Diana managed to offload her rice
puffs onto a beggar who clearly wanted money but got what he was given. I spent
the rest of the evening consoling myself that it would all be okay now, and
getting through the 80rs of chai we got at the restaurant, that turned out to
be around 10 cups of sweet caffeinated goodness.
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Scarf pops avec chilli |
On the way back we managed to find a place
to book an early morning boat tour. Up at the crack of just-before-dawn, ready
to get the boat for sunrise. Well, almost, it was a bit late and the sun was
already coming up by the time we managed to sit in the vessel. We’re shown the
different ghats, their purposes and some of the history. Half way along, we
pull up alongside another ship in true pirate fashion and plunder their oarsman
for our own, in a swap that was never really explained to us.
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Here she comes! |
Our new sailor friend took us to the
burning ghats, about as close to them as possible without actually singeing our
eyebrows off. This is where people are brought after death to be cremated and put
into the River Ganges, in order to break the cycle of reincarnation and allow
the soul to rest (or so I believe – if anyone has better information on this please
let me know). It felt a bit too close for comfort, as if we shouldn’t be here
and we were imposing a funeral, however nobody seemed to mind or say anything
about it.
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Preparing bodies for the cremation ceremony |
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A body being burned to be placed into the river |
Knowing that we (the 4 of us foreigners in
the boat) considered the river to be full of pollutants, including but not
limited to toxic chemical wastes, human remains, animal remains, general plastics
and food waste, our guide set about proving to us how clean the water actually
is. Using the paddle to scoop the thick scum off the top, revealing the murky
water below, he proclaimed “Look! You move this away and it’s clean!” We smiled
and nodded, but I don’t think any of us fancied having a mouthful or wash
amongst it, unlike some others we saw.
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Cleanliness is next to godliness... |
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I didn't fancy joining in so much |
Very little else occurred during the day,
however we made plans to go see the ceremony that takes place every evening on
the ghats. Whilst not entirely sure what the ceremony was for, but assuming the
worship of ‘Mother Ganga’, it involved a lot of incense, flowers, fire and
singing. Interesting, even with little idea what was actually going on.
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Lassi''s made to order - chocolate and banana and an apple one. With a great view of bodies being carried to the burning ghat, |
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People everywhere for the late night ceremony, even filling up boats |
After this we quickly dashed away before
the masses of people could gather and make things difficult, and retired to a
restaurant we had been to previously, and Diana had been to on a previous trip,
that offered live music. Turns out, the live music is the same performer as the
last time Diana had been 2 years ago, playing the same riff over and over. We
didn’t buy a CD, but the food, which a guy spent a good 10 minutes describing
and dressing up to sound as appealing as possible, was in fact amazing and one
of the nicest we’d had in a long time.
Our next plan was to go to Rishikesh,
however we’d been told we can’t just simply not see the Taj Mahal and should
factor this in. Vaguely en route, we get an overnight train to Agra, sleeper
class, which was conveniently timed to arrive at around 6am. This way, we could
go straight there, see it, get back and hopefully be in time for one of the
trains or coaches to Haridwar, worst case scenario going via New Delhi. We pack
up our stuff and head to the main road from the narrow streets and are
instantly flagged up by an old man with a cycle rickshaw. Bearing in mind we
have quite a few KG of baggage, and two people, we looked at each other as if
to ask if this was going to work. He seemed keen though, so we precariously
balanced all our bags and our bodies onto the back of the rickshaw. Credit
where due, he did very well until a very potholed uphill road struck out of
nowhere, and he had to push the bike for the distance. Diana, worried we might
be about to kill an old man, gave him a bottle of our water and more money than
we originally agreed, and we were at the station.
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A little rodent friend who kept trying to nibble through someone;s bag where we were sitting |
The train journey started fairly
uneventfully, until a group of guys got on and sat in our berth. For some
reason, they seemed fascinated by me and made a big group, asking me all the
normal questions we expect and others we’d not heard before, such as how much
money I made. Eventually I managed to shoehorn Diana into the conversations, where
it progressed to her showing one of the guys what music she listened to other
than Hindi music, which both intrigued and terrified him. The train ticket
inspector came around, and after a short discussion where people started
getting up and sitting down again, left. One of the guys who was good at
English explained they didn’t have a ticket for the train. Interestingly, this
didn’t seem to matter too much. Eventually, after the guy who listened to the
music offered to buy Diana’s earphones for 1000 rupees which worried her into
thinking he may be serious, we settled down to sleep.
A somewhat disturbed sleep later, with mice
and cockroaches scuttling along the carriage floor, I was awoken to find out
the guys we were talking to were being kicked off, as the people who actually
paid for those beds needed them, shouting ‘DINNER DARLING?’ at Diana as a last
ditch attempt at a pick up line. Getting back to sleep again, just, we arrived
in Agra around 2 hours later than we’d planned, but hoping our plan would still
work out we took our bags to the luggage office at the station (Which was 24
hours but for some reason locked when we got there and nobody would let us in)
and headed out to get a prepaid rickshaw to the Taj Mahal.
After working out where we were supposed to
go as it was far less obvious than we expected, we got our ticket and our free
little bottle of water and white shoe coverings and went to get our bags
checked. Not wanting to leave our valuables in the luggage office, I had a
backpack containing most of our electronics. The guy searched my bag and told
me we can’t take a laptop in to the Taj Mahal, not sure why, but that was that.
Trying to work out what we can do about it, we walked up the stairs again where
a child insisted we could leave valuables at their shop for free, an obvious
ploy to get us to go back there afterwards as everyone was trying incredibly
hard to get us to buy their tat on the way there. So we head back to the queue,
where we’re now told we can’t even have writing paper, and I still had another
electronic item on me. The guard looked at me, laughed and let me in anyway. I’m
not sure what the concern was, but I didn’t intend on threatening anyone with a
paper cut or minor electric shock.
So we’re in, we’ve done it. In my honest
opinion, it’s nice, it clearly took a long time to build and get perfect as we
all know, as with most of the palaces and temples we’ve seen. But I’m not a
massively architectural person, and with the sheer amount of tourists there all
trying to get the best photo opportunities (which we ended up trying to do to
some extent as we were there), there wasn’t a lot for me there. Had our whole
trip been based around it I’d have been fairly disappointed. Still, obligatory
tourist shots were taken, and it’s another one of the 7 crossed off. Worth
seeing if you’re in the area, don’t get a trip to India just for it though in
my opinion!
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A photo you may have seen versions of before |
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There it be! |
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That white girl was just as much of a tourist attracting as that white building |
Realising if we didn’t hang around too long
we could catch the next train, we make a mad dash back to the station, get a
ticket (unreserved 10 hour journey – pray we get a seat!) and go gather our
bags to prepare for the next long journey.
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Obligatory sitting-on-the-bench shot! |
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