Varanasi and leaving India – 9th to 12th April

Varanasi

Sadly my mountainous retreat to Darjeeling came to an end and it was time to return to the heat of the lowlands. Specifically, my final major destination in India was Varanasi.

Varanasi is one of the most culturally significant cities in India. It’s both a prime destination for pilgrims and the centre of some funeral traditions for Hindus. The Ganges, which the city lies on the west bank of, is a huge part of these traditions. People bathe in the river to wash away their sins, and near enough in the same place people are cremated and then deposited in the river to float away. Interesting note here, children and priests do not need to be cremated as they are seen as ‘pure’.

While, what is the word here… interesting to see… Varanasi’s charm didn’t really rub off on me. Primarily as it was 40-42° during the day. The city was also one of the least clean parts of India I’d been to, which is saying quite a lot. Pretty much the opposite of Darjeeling in a lot of ways.

Despite this the city was beautiful and bubbling with life and energy. The river was stunning and always a hive of activity from dawn to dusk. Old temples sat amongst the city’s stylish but somewhat run down buildings.

Given the heat, I didn’t really want to leave the safety of the hostel between 12 and 6. I found the city much more peaceful around 5am, still busy, but cooler and more relaxed. Maybe more bearable is the term.

The one redeeming factor was the Bhang Lassi(s). 

Now, cannabis is illegal across India. I mean I get offered weed or opium most days, but it’s still illegal. However, due to thousands of years of tradition the leaf of the cannabis plant is legal. From the leaf they make Bhang, which tourists (both foreign and domestic) consume in drink form. I’d received a few warnings about the stuff; that it wasn’t the same as weed back home and was more trippy, and more unsettling, and more intense. But fuck me it was hot and I needed someway of passing the time. So I went to the local Bhang Lassi stand (government approved of course) and having dabbled with edible weed before I ordered a moderate strength Bhang Lassi.

The man poured the lassi, opened the fridge and added two scoops of bhang. He mixed it and I drank it. Taste wise, the bhang didn’t add to the lassi, mango would have been much better however it was palatable for sure. I paid up (about £1.30), and he said “30 minutes you’ll be flying to heaven.”

With that vote of confidence I headed back to the hostel. I found a seat in the quieter communal area and got to writing the Darjeeling blog. Typically with edible weed it’s a fairly slow and long build up that last 6-8 hrs – I mean or so I’ve heard. Bhang however, well, kicks in with more a Bhang. The initial sensation was pleasant but ramped up quickly. Overall it felt broadly similar to what I’d expected but just very strong. Needless to say though I was not in a state to talk to anyone, thankful I went unbothered. Overall a great way to bear the unbearable heat!

Anyway, on my second day in Varanasi, I met a German guy who I’ll call J. We got chatting and he twisted my arm into trying another Bhang Lassi with him. He said he didn’t have much experience with weed so we agreed it was best if he tried a weaker one. He also very sensibly only had half of his initially. However, what he failed to mention to me was the fact the previous times he tried weed he’d passed out repeatedly at the beginning then recovered and been fine… So it did surprise me while sitting having lunch, he passed out in the chair opposite me. 

Not gonna lie – it stirred an element of panic in me.

I was kneeling next to him when he came back to and the only word that he said was ‘toilet’. I found out the restaurant didn’t have one but pointed to a public toilet across the street. Fuck.

I tried to explain that there wasn’t a toilet and we should go back to the hostel. But J looks up at me, and very seriously said ‘toilet’ again. With an arm under his shoulder and mostly carrying him I got him about 4 metres onto the pavement until he passed out again.

If I was clearer headed I likely would have recognised we were never getting to the toilet while he was in this state and we needed to wait it out.

What I couldn’t fucking believe was this was the only time in India when I couldn’t find a tuktuk. After 6 weeks of being hassled by these guys endlessly, when I actually needed one there wasn’t one in sight.  

J comes back to, I got him up and maybe another 5 or 6 metres across the street. Where he passes out again. This time attracting a fairly large crowd of concerned locals. However, he comes to again. Looks at me and says ‘hostel.’

We got him back on his feet and within 20 or 30 steps he was absolutely fine. At which point he casually says to me:

“Yeah, that’s exactly what happened the last time I smoked.”

I’m amazed I managed to contain my disbelief at the fact he didn’t share that info with me. 

Lol – what a joker. But in the end we had a nice time chilling and playing some ludo, for about 4 hours.

He was completely okay in the end – for the avoidance of any doubt.

Varanasi, having now seen it, likely won’t be a city I rush back to. Well definitely not in April, January may be nicer.

Anyway, the culture was only partly why I came to Varanasi. The main reason was to use it as a launching pad for my crossing to Nepal.

Nepal crossing

Given my two days in the 40°+ heat of the Indian’s lowlands, I was very excited to once again retreat to the safety of altitude. 

Quick fact: on average Nepal sits at 3600m above sea level, making it one of the highest countries in the world. Sounds like my sort of place…

Leaving Varanasi by train I stayed the night at a city called Gorakhpur. The guides I read said avoid staying here if possible, and I get why, it was fairly unremarkable. Although I had a comfortable stay.

The following morning I took a bus to Sunauli, the Indian town on the Nepali border. I checked-out of India so to speak at their immigration office. Then with my passport exit stamped at the border I walked across the 30m of no-man’s-land into Nepal.

The Nepalese side was incredibly relaxed. I had to walk a good 200m to find their immigration office, which had remarkably little signage. I easily could have easily just walked in – although I’m not sure what I would have gained. Also no bag check or anything. I just handed over 25 pristine US dollars and did some paperwork and I was in. They were very anal on the dollars actually, I gave him a ten, two fives and five ones – he probably inspected these for 3 or 4 minutes before accepting them. I was told notes with any rips or even pen on them would be rejected. Luckily I had made sure mine were in good order beforehand.

With the paperwork sorted. I then headed to the bus station. I had been told the last day bus was 1.30pm however that wasn’t the case and I had to wait for the first night bus at 6pm. Obviously this was also a good half hour late as well. But the pause gave me an opportunity to get a sim card and some lunch. On google maps the drive was 8hrs to Pokhara. It was likely the most uncomfortable 11 hrs of my life. To be fair, the ticket was 700 (Nepalese) rupees or about £4 – I should have known it wasn’t going to be great.

I recorded a bit of my crossing, in a sort of vlog style (with some lovely shots of the road on the Nepali side). Just bathe in the optimism of Hugo before getting on this bus:

Firstly no AC, so the windows were open letting endless dust into the bus. Although choking was preferable to melting. The second issue was the ratio of passengers to seats. I ended up sharing my seat and then just opting to stand for the first 5hrs or so. I was also feeling fairly nauseous before I got on the bus, the endless bumps on Nepal’s endless dirt road hairpins didn’t help. Finally, at around 6am we arrived in Pokhara.

I ended up sharing a taxi with a couple of foreigners from the bus. I had a night booked at a hostel but at 6am it seemed pointless so I ended up sharing a room with my new Swiss friend Bea. Bea being short for the Swiss version of Beatrice which is pronounced somewhere in the middle beer and bear (-trice). Think Beawolf but without the wolf bit.

Neither of us had a firm plan of what to do in Pokhara but we both knew we wanted to do some trekking so the team up just made sense!

Final reflections on India

Well my time in India has come to an end after 6 weeks, staying in a substantive 14 destinations, and covering well over 4000 km by land alone. Across all of that I was only unwell once (as far as I can remember) – a good track record if you ask me.

So what did I make of India?

Firstly, its fucking big. I feel you’d need a good 6 months for India and that would still only be scratching the surface.

It’s also incredibly regionally distinct. Both on a macro north/south divide, but also between states the variance is mindblowing. From food, to language, to fashion, to infrastructure, to the people and through to architecture. It just changes so much, and so quickly. The states feel like countries loosely tied together more than one cohesive country. Even the geographical differences are staggering, with deserts, rainforests, beaches, and mountains all in the same country.

Exploring and uncovering the rich history and culture of India is a treat! From the warring kingdoms (such as the Mughals and their forts), to some of the greatest gestures of love (the Taj), to the absolutely fascinating religious mythology and practices, to its struggle for independence – there is an unbelievable amount to learn about and endless stories to get lost in.

The Indian railway is hugely different to that of European networks – almost incomparable. Its sheer scale is mindblowing – moving billions of passengers each year across an area similar in size to Europe. It’s cheap, it’s reliable, it’s safe and it takes you 100s or even 1000s of miles in a single journey. However, whereas our trains run hourly or even several times an hour, Indian trains run daily or even weekly or anything in-between. And Indian trains can be late in a way incomprehensible to European passengers – but when you’re boarding a train 2 days into its journey the delays can build up! There is also absolutely no turning up at the station to get a ticket – they’re sold out days if not weeks in advance. But I fell in love with travelling on the Indian railway and couldn’t recommend it enough.

As a foreigner, you’re treated very well. Whenever you meet people who aren’t trying to get money off you (or handjobs), you are treated like a distinguished guest. One Indian described the ethos as “guests are god.” And in my experience that was the case, people were always friendly, if at times a bit excited to see you. But also welcoming and keen to ensure you had the best time possible.

There is an absolutely huge wealth divide. On the same street you could get a bottomless lunch for 50p there would also be a Levi store or a Baskin & Robins selling an ice cream for £5 or whatever. There were big mega-mart type shops next to people selling their grapes from their bicycle.

India can feel quite aggressive, actually unrelentingly aggressive at times. It was definitely a bit of a shock at first, especially landing in Delhi. But once I’d adapted it was fine, almost quite comforting. I mean without a doubt getting pestered was at times annoying but no great hindrance. It’s a loud country with lots of shouting and even more honking, but it’s India and it’s charming (in a very in your face way).

There are loads of unpleasant bits you could list here: pollution would be right up there (and it really is an issue there), littering, scams, poverty, and some real problems around sexism. On that last one, while it is a huge issue for India, you can see its changing picture. You meet some couples and you ask a question to the lady and their husband answers without hesitation, or before doing something (like accepting a beer maybe) she would seek permission first. However, you’d then also meet some (typically younger) women who were confident and independent and wouldn’t let men speak for them – something I assume would have been much rarer years ago.

It is by no means a perfect country. But it truly is a beautiful one. All in all, it should be a place you should consider going if you haven’t been. Its an adventure.

While not a reflection on India itself, having no agenda and a long time is a lovely way to travel. Following your nose, chasing a tip on a beautiful bit of scenery or a temple you have to see (or where the weather is cooler) – it’s a lot of fun. The idea of going on a week holiday somewhere feels very alien to me now, although that said I wouldn’t say no to a week in Fiji.

Peace.