DAY 35 - RISHIKESH

We spent our final day in Rishikesh relaxing as we had done the previous two, playing chess, reading, walking and eating, before catching a night train on to Varanasi, a journey which would eventually take around 21 hours after a couple of delays. Once again, however, we found the journey to be pretty enjoyable, appreciating the space, relative quiet and views that the carriages allowed us as we rolled along. I bought Coelho's 'The Alchemist' for the journey, seeking a good, easy book to read, although I hadn't anticipated that I would finish it about half way through the train ride. Even though I got through it quickly, I really enjoyed it - a good holiday read.

DAY 36 - VARANASI

I awoke to the now familiar sound of the train and patiently waited until we arrived at our next stop to get a small snack for breakfast. As the day wore the carriage slowly awoke, a constant stream of people embarking and disembarking in equal measure as we rolled past our various destinations. All different types of people occupied our vicinity, from families with young children to doctors and a university lecturer (I become quite observant on these confined trips), and I spent a while wondering what a group of men ahead of us were arguing about. I guessed politics, but I couldn't be sure. Anyway, we eventualy arrived in Varanasi at about 7, having been delayed by around 3 hours, unfortunately meaning that we had to make our way to a hostel in the dark. After catching a rickshaw to the riverside and having a brief argument with our driver, who desperately tried to walk us places where he was offered commision, we made our way to the Vishnu Rest House, a nice backpacker hostel amongst Varansi's famous riverside ghats, with great views views over the Ganges. We grabbed some food upon arriving and decided to briefly stroll the ghats in our immediate area before going to bed. As we traced the river, we observed with interest the abundant religious decorations that many of them boasted, as well the human bodies burning ceremoniously on the beach below. We quickly learned that many hindus have their corpses burned on the banks or in designated ghats before having their ashes thrown into the Ganges, a holy and supposedly cleansing river. Some even come to Varanasi to die for this reason, those who do believed to gain instant enlightenment. Indeed, one couldn't visit the city without being constantly reminded of their own mortality - a very eerie experience.

DAY 37 - VARANASI

We spent the morning in a nice German bakery enjoying a very acceptable breakfast before once again returning to the riverside, where we would spend almost all of our time in Varansi, in order to relax, play chess and avoid the sun's unforgiving rays. Whilst we sat on the stone steps of a ghat, we watched hundreds of Indians wash their clothes in the river, soaking them before whacking them on the bank where countless items of colourful materials were laid out like patchwork to dry in the intense midday heat. We were approached by a variety of people who were drawn in by our chess set, including a nice group of boaters around our age who we chatted to for a while and a sadhu who asked us for money, complaining that he hadn't eaten for a while, despite the fact that sadhus in the area regularly receive donations from the people and are supported by the temples. Needless to say, he didn't receive anything from us. After chilling by the riverside and getting some lunch, we got a rickshaw down to another area of town where a cinema was located, keen to see if any interesting Indian films were on. After walking around for a while, we settled down to watch a six o'clock showing of 'Dev D', a modern Indian film which we had recently read a glowing review of in a magazine. The film was about 3 hours or so long, with an interval (which I didn't feel was necessary), and was actually pretty good, despite the fact that we could only understand certain parts of the film that were spoken in English, the vast majority of it in Hindi. We managed to follow the plot, however, and appreciated its strikingy modern cinematography, a far cry from the Bollywood films we had seen on TV. There are details of the plot etc on the web if anyone is interested. Afterwards, we made our way back to our hostel where we had some food and watched the evening's activity pass below our terrace, crowds of individuals filtering past to get to one of the many small events that are held by the Ganges, a real hotpot of Hindu and India culture, traditional live music blaring out whilst fires (more often than not containing bodies) burn around - a mix of sound, colour, ceremony and celebration, infused with the spiritual energy which runs through the vein of the Ganges.

DAY 38 - VARANASI

We arose at around half five/six in order to catch one of the many boats on the Ganges and watch the sun rise, a highly recommended acticity for anyone visiting the city. The recommendation was well founded, the sun ripening and spilling beautiful floods of colour over the river, slowly illuminating the ghats as the morning developed. It was interesting to see the whole bank, touring the main ghats, whilst watching the locals slowly appear by the rivers edge, bathing, praying or washing clothes. Bells rung out, piercing the tranquil silence that forced people into whispers of awe or hushed tones, as the city rose to the day, the sun perched at its high spot, slowly rising further and further as people emerged from their homes, hostels and temples. We spent the rest of the morning recovering from our early start, taking things slow before making our way to the nearby markets, walking through its winding streets and colourful corridors. We noticed a large and imposing military presence in the area, soldiers with machine guns patrolling around every turn as we traced the edges of a temple, some even surrounded by soundbags as they waited for a possible terrorist attack. Tensions in the country, and especially in religious cities like Varanasi, are very high. We eventually had a nice lunch (I had a fantastic dosa, perhaps my best meal thus far at the time), before returning to our hostel, tired and weary. I must also note that it was during this time that we came across a guy pushing along a 'Gaylord Ice Cream' cart, something we found pretty amusing at the time, quickly chasing it and getting a few photos. After a couple of hours of tired reading, we made our way down to a small religious music event that was taking place nearby, enjoying its sights, sounds and smells as we watched holy men ring bells and light candles whilst some musicians played from a ghat, the smells of food stalls drifting through the crowds. Once again, upon laying out a game of chess in the area, we attracted the attention of a couple of small crowds and chatted to a few locals. Upon the insistance of one particular individual, we walked to his uncle's shop about 2 minutes away, where he excitedly showed us pictures of his uncle with Goldie Hawn and her family, all of them seated in the same room we were relaxing in at the time. He also showed us a couple of letters of correspondance between the two of them and it became evident that they had become friends over the decades that she has visited Varanasi. It was a pretty bizarre experience, but I found it interesting that a Hollywood star had been in the same cramped little shop that we found ourselves in. As we had an evening train to catch, we bade our friend farewell and made our way back to the hostel where we got our things together and left for the station. Our desire to get the much more conveniant, though much rarer, auto-rickshaw as opposed to the slower cycle variation led us to sharing one with a couple of other travellers. As a result of this, I found myself cramped up against the driver, my right leg dangling out of the vehicle as I clutched my bag to my chest as we breezed through the chaotic traffic. After a couple of delays at the station, causing many confused travellers to panic, we finally boarded our train at around 2, relieved that we could get some sleep before arriving at Gorakhpur, from where we would make our way to the Nepalese border.

DAY 39 - GORAKHPUR/BELAHIYA/BUTWAL

We arrived at Gorakhpur at about 7 or 8 and wearily made our way to the area from which the border buses departed, embarking on the first one we came across. After waiting until the bus was full, we finally got on our way, arriving at the border around 3 hours later after a fairly bumpy, but manageble, journey. After a quick lunch where I dispensed of the last of my Indian rupees, we quickly filed through the bureaucracy and found ourselves on Nepalese soil, visa and all, ready to start the next leg of our trip. Unfortunately, however, there was a false start. It turned out that there was a national strike on in the country and the flat roads had been blocked so no buses were leaving to either of the cities we wanted to get to. As a result of this, there were crowds of confused and desperate tourists dotted about the border town of Belahiya, filtering through the many tourist centres in an attempt to find any reasonably priced way of getting to where they wanted to. We carried out this process, but found that no one could give us a definite answer as to whether they could offer us a bus service whilst the strikes were on (they were 8 days in already and there was no real sign of development). Eventually, after waiting around with a range of travellers in one of the many little groups that had developed, chatting and sharing stories, we decided to take action and catch a 3 hour cycle rickshaw ride to Butwal, where we could catch a bus to Pokhara up the unblocked mountain roads. Only a few other members of the group took the same action, enticed yet again by more promises of the strike ending. The rickshaw ride was actually pretty enjoyable despite its length, passing through loads of little settlements, fields and houses along the way as our impressively fit driver peddled along with determination. The sun set a while before we hit the blockade so it was pretty dark when we got to it. A couple of buses had been parked across the road next to a line of small boulders, stopping even slightly larger vehicles getting through. Next to the road was a crowd of people and I could make out, as we approached, that they were armed with long, thin sticks. Suddenly, one of them moved quickly towards us, his stick raised above his head, shouting aggressive words of warning at our driver. At first, I though he was going to hit us, but it turns out that he was just threatening him and telling us to disembark and push the rickshaw past the blockade on foot. As we walked past, however, a few guys still spoke to him and patted our bags with their sticks, gesturing. There seemed an uneasy air about the whole situation, it all seemed a bit out of control. I couldn't understand why the police and army, situated relatively nearby in trucks, didn't break the whole thing up - perhaps they supported the strike as well, who knows. Either way, we arrived in Butwal at about half 8 and, upon arriving, unfortunately found out that we had missed the evening bus and would have to catch the first morning one at 6am the next day. Luckily, there were a couple of hostels nearby so we settled in one of them and got some food, had a couple of drinks and watched the BBC entertainment channel for a while before getting some sleep before our early start the next day.