Mr taxi man was there to greet me when I got off the plane, and even more surprising my rucksack had arrived as well.

So we blasted off towards Varanasi with him changing gear at around 400 RPM each time. How the engine never stalled or gave up the will to live and just fell out I will never know.

As we got near the chaos of the main street he told me the traffic is too bad and that I would need to take a short walk to the hotel, but that a porter would meet me and take my bag.
He was pleasant enough so I tipped him a couple of quid as a young lad from the hotel appeared and took my bag.
The traffic was indeed gridlocked chaos as we swerved between everything and then he shot up a dark alley. It was really narrow and there were no lights, so I could hardley see him let alone see what I was standing in.
It was a real labyrinth of passages and alleyways.

As we arrived at the hotel I gave the lad a small tip which he just scowled at me for.

Welcome to Varanasi I thought to myself as he continued to glare at me.

He had seen me give the driver a quid more I am guessing and he wanted the same.
After giving me the evils I wished I had not given him anything.
In Uk money terms I had given him about four quid so I dont know why he hated me so much.
I checked where my rucksack was as I figured he was about to go take a dump in it.

The hotel manager could hardly manage to even look at me as he huffed and puffed through what was clearly me asking too much to which was to check in.
I had tried to book a nice room and splash out but they were full and only had cheap rooms left, but as the hotel had been suggested by the website seat61, I was guessing this should still be ok.........

He gave my key to Chucky to show me the room, funnily enough this time I was carrying my own bag.
We walked past some nice rooms and then down some stairs.
He was in front of me and I was tempted to boot him down.
Then down some more stairs towards a huge noisy generator.

My heart was sinking again.

Then we went down some stairs actually under the generator, and Voila!
A small passage with 4 doors and no windows.

I am sure Chucky was laughing inside as he took me to the door and threw the key at me.
The noise of the generator was deafening.
Hell had continued with avengeance.

I stormed upstairs to see Basil Fawlty and told him I was not staying in that room.
It will turn off later he said as he took a call on his mobile and turned his back to me.

I was hot, sweaty, full of cold and ready to turn in to the incredible Hulk again.
He finished his call and then started to talk to someone else.
I interrupted and said that I refused to stay in that room.
I do not have any more rooms.
Then he continued his conversation with the other person.

As I put my head in my hands I could see Chucky stood behind me loving every second.
So I had to accept the room or find another hotel.

It was getting late and I doubted I could find my way to the end of the alley let alone the main street.
So I went back to my room and cried.

When I was in the cadets I was taken on a trip on a warship, and as part of the tour they took us down to the engine room.
It was so noisy you could not hear anyone talk.
This is how it was in my room. At least on the ship you got headphones.

I had no appetite at all because of my now super bad flu, but I knew I needed to eat something.
My heart sank even deeper as I read the words "pure vegetarian" on the menu.
I cant remember the last time I had so much fun I thought.

I retired to the engine room and put in my best pair of ear plugs.
It was now ten o clock and it was still going full pelt. So much for turning off later.
I can tell you now it swicthed off after midnight and then woke me up again at half six.

I looked like I had slept face down in a plate of mushy peas I was so full of cold.

But I had only the one day, so once again dragged myself out in to the world to visit the place.
The hotel was actually in a good location over looking the river, so I was right on the gats.

They were a frenzy of activity, a mix of touts, tourists, locals going about their business, holy men and of course lots of cows.

I had a good wander up and then headed down to the other side where they did the cremations.
I took a photo from afar and out of respect did not take any pictures as I went in close to the area.
I was not sure if I actually wanted to get very close knowing what went on.

Then a young lad started talking to me saying he had seen me take a picture where there was a sign saying no pictures. But he would let me off if I gave some money to help the poor people who he cared for before they died.
But of course I had to give the money to him and he would make sure they got it.
By now I was quite deep inside the area and it was just mountains of wood, people with their departed ones, loads of people rushing about.
I felt I was now intruding so decided to turn back, but as I looked up above the main area I saw loads of western tourists up on balconies right in amongst the families as if they were having a day at the races.
Absolutely no respect, I felt ashamed to be a tourist.

I went back to see Basil as I had noticed a sign about the boat rides. One of my objectives was to take a ride at either sunrise or sunset. Not being one who likes to get up early I opted for sunset.
Come back at five he said without looking up from his booking sheet.

Just as I was leaving another chap called Charles asked the same question, so I said he can join me if he wants.
We met back at five and started chatting on our way to the boat as to how many attempts to get more money from us there would be. We laughed as we got in the boat and a girl tried to sell us flowers, then another man jumped in and started to give us a guided tour.
Oddly enough he also helped the poor before they died and asked for money on their behalf.
We told him we were not interested and he soon jumped off.

We thought the trip was an hour but we were bored after half an hour, and I had got a bit of a sunset picture, so we asked him to take us back.
We decided to go for a wander and get some food. Charles reckoned he knew the way back and we got ridiculously lost down the alleys.
There were loads of troops everywhere you went, so going down some crazily crowded alleys and brushing past men with rifles was not my idea of fun.

We found a restaurant with a really pushy owner who reckoned he did a superb tandoori chicken.
Dripping saliva at the prospect of meat I hurried inside.

He was just way to friendly to us for me to believe him and all over the walls were drawings or writing from alleged previous guests saying how great it was.
I also noticed there were only westerners in there so it was not a good sign.

The prices were double everywhere else but we decided to go ahead and placed bets as to how crap it would be.
Well the food turned up and even an anorexic would have complained about the portion size.

And the chicken.......
Well once I saw it I almost cried as I started to imagine just how hard a life it must have had before it met it's fate at the hands of captain bulls***.

If chickens did a prisoner of war camp I reckon it would have come out healthier.

After giving up looking for some meat amongst the bones I was wondering if it was in fact chicken at all.
Somehow we found our way back to the hotel and I needed to leave for the station to get my overnight train to the border of Nepal.

Can you help me with a tuk tuk I asked Basil.
Again without looking up he said the porter will help you and tell the driver which station you need......

i turned round and felt the scowl before i even saw his face........Yep - it was Chucky!