On the River Ganges

In the early morning, as the sun is rising. everyone rushes to the water front. Isn't it beautiful?  But don't look too closely and------whatever you do, don't stick your hand in the water.  It may disappear!!!!!

Everyone comes to greet the sun, pour water to the god of the Ganges, bathe and brush their teeth. As wonderful as that sounds in a river of pure water, in this river it is death for anyone without a wonderful immune system. 

Tourists gather with their big lenses, unfortunately I didn't have such a lens, and take wonderful photos.

Japanese tourists have the weakest immune system of all and -----there they are-----with their masks. Nothing adventurous about them.

 

The main part of the ghats was surrounded by a stage, where the gods danced the night before at a huge festival and a million people attended. Glad I wasn't there. 

  

Jette and Kjeld had tea with me sitting at the bottom of the ghats near the river. 

We watched ducks eat the enormous amount of garbage. 

The goats were cold. It was only 75 degrees F. They needed sweaters and shirts. They are the best garbage eaters, besides the pigs.  

Yumm. We were able to watch hunky guy drape a dhoti.

VARANASI

We arrived in Varanasi at 8:30 in the morning---one hour late. Luckily I had the hotel people pick us up, because I couldn't imagine fighting off the touts and taxi men who wanted to take us to any hotel except the one we had reserved.

It was more than a half hour by car and then we were to take a bicycle rickshaw through the gullies. Luckily Jette tried to get up on one of those things first and had problems, so I didn't have to show my weakness in dragging this enormous body up on the cart. Or not able to drag it.

We walked for what seemed twenty minutes, twisting and turning through the narrow allies. Everywhere there were cows, dogs, and cow pies. Garbage was strewn from one end to the other.


 I had my reservations about the hotel as I saw the surroundings, and I was half right. The entrance was horrible, dirty and the paint was chipped. But a bit farther inside the scene changed and I sighed a sigh of relief. Not the Umaid Mahal in Jaipur, but acceptable. It is called the Shiva Ganges Paying Guest House. You have to remember that I felt responsible for any problems that would occur. 

We collapsed in a chair when we got in and this guy with a black moustache starting telling us how wonderful we were and how we are part of his family. Seriously? I was suspicious right away, but tried not to show it. I asked him his name and he said, "I belong here, I am nephew," and he pointed at the old man sitting cross legged on the chair at the reception desk. "He is uncle and I am nephew to uncle."  So his name became Nephew to Uncle.  

The room was located two stories walk up. Thank goodness for Kjeld, because he always carried our luggage when necessary. The room was quite large with balconies and two rooms. We all sleep there. It is blue with very sweet blue curtains and embroidered sheets. Very Genteel English. 

However, no television and no telephone. If  we want something, we shout down the stairs. "Hey there, buddy, send some tea up here."  And breakfast?  "Hey there buddy, eggs, toast, lots of coffee and tea."Interesting for Rs 5,500.