After being home from my adventures, I am faced with the obvious question of: “How was India?”. It took me a while to come up with an answer, but now it’s an easy one: “If you want to know what your made off, go to India”. I stand true by this statement and if you knew me, you wouldn’t believe I was that kind of girl. That kind of girl, being the kind who hikes, who hadn’t slept on a bed in three weeks, who had to boil her water before drinking it. No, no… on the outside, to my friends, I’m more of the take-life-for-granted type. Too bad they don’t know who I really am.
After spending a month on a spiritual bus tour, it was time to go out and see the rest of India. So, Kara and I took off. We started our journey on a 7 am train ride from Allahabad to Varanasi. Going from the smouldering heat of Allahabad, to the chaotic little alleyways of Varanasi. It was a pleasant change. The city is over 5,000 years old, one of the oldest in India and unlike any other city I had ever seen. It was vivid, the Ghats in the old city were a spiraling maze of turns and alleyways. Each wall composed of a 4-8 story building, where it was always over cast in shade and cooler than the rest of India.
Our hostel was in the middle of his maze. It was a 1 km walk in from where our rickshaw could park. The most confusing whirlwind of back alleys, where you try to take in the sights of little shops, ignore the heat, dodge the cow dung, and swerve between locals. Your nose is burning which new scents, from the curry and spices used in the foods, the incense burning before every shrine, the strong distinct smell of public urination and animal feces. By the time we got there we were tired and sweating from carrying our heavy packs.
I don’t remember what the hostel was called, something along the lines of the Shanti Guest House, but either way it was a joke. Either way, our five Canadian dollars per night did buy us an AC room, our own bathroom, a want-to-be white pillow that was as brown as dirt, trash from the previous tenants and a mouse. I named him Larry. This is not to disregard the stains on the wall, or the holes in our sheets, or even the lack of a lock on our door (Good thing we always carry lock’s on us), but it get’s better! In the exact words of the man at the check-in counter: “You are in room 603, on the seventh floor. There is no elevator. You can go now”.
UPDATES ON WHEREDIDSHEGONOW
First of, I fell like I spend a lot of time doing this, but once more couldn’t hurt. I am very sorry that these posts have been so sporadic and inconsistent. While I was travelling internet was not a luxury I had, heck, I didn’t even have clean water as a luxury. Now, that I am home, slowly trying to re-enter the normality of this life, I promise that updates will start happening more frequently. Trust me, we have a lot of stuff to cover!
I still appreciate all of your support, and a new trip is already in it’s planning stages for September!