V-Nasty

I met two British 18 year old girls waiting for the train to Varanassi. They’re very sweet, but I’m severely worried about them (cute/blonde/mildly clueless/innocent) traveling through India. I hung out with them a bit over the next couple days. They dressed a bit inappropriately, for starters. Though, they said they cover up way more than at home, they are still severely underdressed for this culture—short skirts and tank tops with bra straps and cleavage showing is a recipe for disaster. There are a few more things that I will mention later. Anyway, they were riding first class AC (which is insane—curtains around your bed, just unnecessary) while I was in non air-conditioned sleeper class, probably a third of the price. I met a girl from Brazil on the train in the morning (I kind of met her at night, but had to run and hide on my bed when a little boy saw me and started screaming at a pitch that could practically shatter glass) The girl’s name is Camilla and she’s super cool/interesting and really seems to have her life in order and on her own path. She’s 24 and has been married to a Nepalese man for two years. She’s been to India before and is back for a year. She had a guitar with her and was playing beautiful, personal music. We also talked about a charity organization she’s trying to start, as well as some video things she’d like to see produced. She hinted at getting me involved in making a documentary, and Id love to see if it follows through (but I’ve also heard this numerous times throughout the past seven months).

Once off the train, I met back up with the other girls and we piled into a rickshaw to get to our guesthouse; we had to walk through narrow, windy alleys or what seemed like forever until we finally arrived (and then proceeded to walk up five flights of stairs to get to the room). Horray for a real shower! It’s sad how excited you get abou the little things. I just sat around that night and relaxed. The next day, I got up at six for yoga, thought the teacher never showed, and hun gout with the girls for most of the day at the Brown Bread Bakery which has actually amazing food (a CHEESE list) and the proceds go to children in need. It was so good, but we all over did it—so full! after that, we went down to the Manikarnika Ghat ( there are over 80 ghats along the Ganges here, which is where people go to bathe and wash their clothes. This is actually nuts because the water is so polluted with fecal matter. I don’t understand how they think they’re getting clean; there are 30 large sewers draining into the river along the seven kilometer stretch, cause 1.5 million fecal coli form bacteria per 100ml—the safe bathing figure should be less than 500!!!!!!!) Anyway, this Ghat is where people go to cremate their loved ones. They have to pay for the wood, which is priced by the type (the most expensive is sandlewood) as well as how much is needed for the weight of the person. The family sings all the way down to the ghat, following the body which is covered in a different colored sheet depending on male/female/young/old/profession, etc. Also, those closest to the deceased—father, brother, son—dresses in white and shaves off their hair at the ghat; they then take burning sticks and light the body. It was so sad to see someone turning to ashes before my eyes. Though I was in tears, the mood of the area was oddly average; people were chatting, no one minded that tourist were watching (though photos aren’t allowed, one of the British girls tried to take a picture and I yelled at her and she didn’t get why she couldn’t play photographer—it’s someone’s FUNERAL—oh, yeah, forgot about that, didn’t you?). Anyway, after that, we went to Dasaswamedh Ghat for the sunset ceremony; hundreds of people, mostly Indians, gather to listen to changing with drums and bells chiming while men wave candles and incense in a unified dance under lights along the river. I passed out after that because I was still so full.

I got up at five the next morning to go on a sunrise riverboat ride on the Ganges—it was beautiful, though its obviously not as amazing as in Rishikesh because there are no mountains here and the water is filthy. We traveled alongside of the ghats to see people bathing, praying, and washing their clothes; going about their daily business. It’s funny how you cannot escape heckling no matter where you go. Two rowboats came up, one selling jewelry and trinkets and the other with DVD’s with a full on TV set and video player—can we please watch the sunrise, just do ANYTHING in peace for once? There is no rest in India. I was supposed to go to yoga after, but I was far too tired and rested for a bit. Then checked out of my room and wondered along the ghats. It was a bit eerie walking around; not a lot of people were outside. I walked by a family and the children all started yelling “hello,” per usual and then the mother asked me why I was out. Um, to see the ghat, I guess? She was a bit concerned and told me to be very careful; I had no idea it was supposed to be dangerous, though, I think she was more worried about my poor white skin in the heat. After shopping around for a while, I went to a Nepalese temple. It was very small, but had intricate erotic woodcarvings in and around it.

I met up with the girls for one last meal before heading back to the hotel. I chatted with an older guy from Canada about traveling around India and what not for a while. He has Indian friends and apparently, he’s found out a few reasons why Indian men are obsessed with Western women. One is because they think that we all get our jollies from, ahem, reverse entry. What?? We both thought that that was a bit absurd; do you think you can really categorize an entire CULTURE sexually? Another thing is that apparently the average Indian woman does not make eye contact with men they don’t know; that’s how they can tell the difference between the sex workers and an average woman on the street, not by their dress, but via eye contact. This is quite difficult because, obviously, that is a sign of respect and just a polite gesture in our culture.