Roaming North

The next town we stopped at was Haridwar, also on the Ganges but closer to the source. A fast flowing canal runs past houses and temples built precariously on its banks. A long evening walk took us past pilgrims bathing in their hundreds, small roadside shrines and flower sellers.

Iron bars formed cages alongside the edge of the water to prevent people getting washed away. Some of the young men had other ideas though, leaping off the bridge and being carried a long way downstream before they made it back to land.

The next day we moved on to Rishikesh where the Ganges flows through the Himalayan foothills. Arriving there, we crossed the high suspension bridge over the river. The bridge is used by humans, humans on bikes, cows and monkeys.

The guesthouse we found was run by a friendly man who had a constant smile on his face, which must have been because he came from the valley of flowers, in the high mountains of the North.
The hills in Rishikesh rise around the town, and are the home of wild peacocks which we often heard calling in the morning.

The Ganges here is icy cold, but fearlessly one day we all swam. For about five minutes. Sitting on the bank to dry we were approached by a baba who showed us the correct way to sit in half lotus position and talked about how busy life is in the West, which of course we well know.
Unfortunately, despite searching, we were unable to see the elusive 'snowy mountains' with Mum and Dad, but had a wonderful climb to Tokunjapuri temple where the views were stunning.
There were few sounds up there, apart from the prayer bell, which it is custom to ring while worshipping, and various unknown bird calls.
On our final day we walked to Swarg Ashram, near where the Beatles stayed on their famous trip to India. Suddenly, almost out of nowhere a storm rolled in and engulfed the valley and we took shelter in a flimsy looking cafe. The storm had epic proportions and it is the only time we have seen pink lightning. When we realised that it was not going to let up and that night was falling, Daddy valiently went out to buy umbrellas and the 5 of us set out.
The water rushed down the pavements and was at times ankle deep. We tried not to think about the surrounding trees and water every time the lightning struck. We made it home to find that half of the town had no electricity and for once on the trip, we were longing for warm showers.
We ate our final dinner together, and the next morning were all quiet when we walked to the rickshaw stand to say goodbye.

"Hello, boat?"

After a couple of days in Delhi, we moved on to Varanasi, about 22 hours away on the train. Part way through the journey we were greeted by a goblin grandfather. He was adamant that we join the wedding party he was attending. Poor Daddy suffered the brunt of it and had to politely refuse this kind but potentially dangerous offer. The man was full of a boisterous curiousity, to the point where he began to read Rhiannon's private diary. He was clearly moved by what he read, even reading out a section for everyone else's consideration. She managed to get it back, and he wished for us all the dubious sounding blessing, 'may your teeth always be showing.'

At sunrise we arrived in Varanasi, tired and hot. After finding chai we took two rickshaws to the Main Ghat. We did not reach the main ghat by rickshaw. The taxi driver was in league with a hotel owner and we'd been scammed, Varanasi style. We escaped, however, and found our own way to the ghats. It was early morning and the light shone brightly on the Ganges. The three of us were very happy to show Mum and Dad a place that we love. The walk to the Main Ghat was long, interesting and hot by eight in the morning. A crowd of children surrounded us and we gave them chocolate Easter eggs, Daddy got them standing in line to stop their arguing.

The Ganpati guesthouse that we wanted to stay at was full, but we waited in their cafe and ate a much needed meal. In the visitors book, one traveller had left the comment, "The locals here are very friendly. They have renamed me 'Boat,' and say hello whenever they see me." Strangely, we were all to acquire the same name.

We stayed in another guesthouse, with a rooftop restaurant and friendly staff. We found out that we could buy beer here, and a fellow traveller noticed our bottles of Kingfisher on the table, looked very relieved, and ordered himself one straight away. Beer can be hard to come by in parts of India, so it's always welcome.

The days were spent wandering along the ghats, and through the busy, narrow lanes that make up the old city. One night we took out a boat and saw the evening Puja from on the water. Our boat was steered by a boy who must have been about 10 years old. After sunset, young men perform Puja which is a devotional offering. In this case it is to the river Ganga, and to Shiva. Varanasi is known as Shiva's city. Incense, torches and candles are used in the ceremony, which is accompanied by music.

We met a boy, about 14, but insisting that he was 20. He talked at length about the fact that you cannot take anything with you when you die, and he made some very true observations about life. He quickly developed a liking for Elen, and swore his love, and even asked her to marry him! The poor boy was quite embarasssed when she announced loudly in front of Mum and Dad- "I can't marry you! I already have a boyfriend!"

We managed to get a room at Ganpati guesthouse for our final night in Varanasi. The word is another name for Ganesh, and there was a beautiful painting of the elephant headed god on one wall, with butterfly wing ears. We returned to our first hotel for some final drinks, where we were warmly greeted by the staff. They even brought out their best tin goblets to serve our parting drinks in.

Another long train journey was ahead, this time to Haridwar, in the north. Once again we said goodbye to Benaras, feeling that we had barely touched its surface.

Holi Hai

The arrival of Mum and Dad to India was celebrated in Delhi on a grand scale.
The three of us took a taxi to Delhi airport and were followed by another car for the return journey with, if all went well, Mum and Dad IN INDIA! The wait at the arrivals lounge seemed interminable but suddenly, as concern was beginning to set in, we saw them and had a very happy reunion.
All a little distracted, we made our way back to the taxis and Mum and Dad were whisked away in the spare car. Both drivers clearly were on friendly terms and it was probably normal for them to race on the return journey. Weaving in and out of the Delhi traffic, we caught glimpses of Mum and Dad as our driver, grinning in what can only be described as a maniacal way, sped past the other car. The driver of Mum and Dad's car was quick to meet the challenge and the next we saw of them, Mum and Dad were the unwilling accomplices in a car chase on their first night in Delhi. Luckily, they were still smiling.
The following morning was the 'crazy' day of the Holi festival. By the end of the afternoon we were completely covered in all the colours of the industry standard rainbow. Powder dyes were rubbed on our clothes, hair, faces and even in our mouths, followed by water pistols, water bombs and painted raw eggs. The teenage boys and kids had the best time, the boys dancing to Bollywood hits long after everyone else was furiously scrubbing themselves in the shower.
Once clean, we went for drinks at a bar called Piccadelhi's, where the 'London scene' had been recreated, complete with red phone boxes and the life size buses you find in all London bars! The waiters were very sweet, they gave us two free cocktails each, and we all swapped addresses. In the park in the afternoon people were sleeping off a holi hangover.