I
already experienced
before this border crossing between Nepal and India through Gorakpur.
Making
my way among the
noisy crowd of Nepalis and Indians in search of the police post where
I can get a
stamp. It
was getting dark and I didn't want to spend the night in this dark
place, so I took a
a local bus, but this time for Varanasi . The popular city
on the River Ganga
that people can either
love or remained disgusted with.
I decided if I like it
to stay a month
here .
At
3 am after a 20- hour trip from Pokhara I
finally arrived . There were
no
guest-houses
open at this
time of
the night, so I
decided to wait for the sun in
a more central location. Varanasi is a maze of small streets along
the Ganga, where cars and tuk-tuks
do cannot
go. Only cows ,
humans and dogs. To my surprise, some of the shops for religious
items worked around the clock and
even at 4:00
o'зlock in the
morning the streets were full
of pilgrims going
with candles and flowers to the river. I
had a little nap in
front of one
shop with my
bag under my head
and then
I decided to watch
the sunrise over the Ganges. I sat
on the gath,
where they
burn the dead. Immediately one
local guy come to speak
to me and
invited me to his
shop , where it was "safe". His
„Little Shop" was
actually on
the stairs over the river, where during the day they
are selling
flowers,
incense and the like. Then came a boat with tourists who shouted : "
Are you ok? Do you want to join
our boat?" . A
boat ride on the
Ganges at dawn? Why not? Readily I
agreed to
the friendly proposal
. They were a strange company of Belgian , German , British and
Israelis . All they
met on the way.
They were worried about me alone with the luggage in the dark and
they
thought they
"saved" me
from the Indian
guy.
We were
floating around the gaths
while the sun was
coming up and then we all moved into one guesthouse.
I do not know how it happened , but the Belgian , a British and
Germans walked with me and
a friendly Indian -
Raj took us up and down around
the city – to the
cheapest houses for sleeping , ashrams and babas.
So we found ourselves in a surreal ROOF -TOP just above the
gath where people
were
burning,
just for 50 rupees
per person (about 0,70
euro) . Breathing
in the sweet smoke of burnt bodies, drinking lassi and watching
the busy life along the Ganga . Full dose Varanasi ! Walking
down along
the river is full madness
–
everyone offering
you a boat and
everything else from
charas to heroin,
flowers
and offerings.
From time to time a singing
procession passes, making
their way through
the narrow alleys people
are singing and carrying
a corpse on their
shoulders. Amid all
this
craziness
one person strongly
invites us to prasad . I
cannot refuse and I
sit on the stairs
of the river and
eat the
rice-dahl offered together with
smiling Indians. The
locals sincerely
enjoy
that I
eat them. Next
to us starts a fire ceremony with
music that moves
my senses. I
take a basket with
flowers and candles and let
it on the Ganga as pour
on my head some
brown , smelly holy water from the river. Most
foreigners do not
even dare to touch her , but I believe that the appearance is often
false. After
all even babies
bathe in the Ganges.
 |
Kids are flying kites on the next roof-top , just above gath and where they
burn the dead
|
 |
| fire ceremony |
Varanasi
could
be called the city
of death. Everything is
revolving
around death. There
is a belief that if
you die here and burn in Ganga, you will be free from reincarnation.
That's
why Varanasi became
one of the most popular cities to die in.
There are entire buildings full of people waiting their turn. There
were even volunteers who were
taking care for the
dying. Death lurks on every corner, travels
along the narrow
streets, carried in the air with
a sweet smell.
Like any major city in India the
dirt and the smell
is repelling
and there was garbage and cow
shit all
over. Although
the experience was interesting,
I would not stay here a month, as I
planned . Only on
the first long day
here,
I had an
ample dose of
Varanasi. On the third day even I
got sick and
decided I had to make an emergency escape
to the Himalayas , in the fresh air, small , clean and quiet villages
, away from urbanization. So I
headed to the
Parvati valley and I
dragged with
me the Belgian ,
German, British , and
a Finn , and they
took even
Raj – the
friendly Indian
from Varanasi , who
did not separated
from us from
the beginning.
Extremely strange company. The
Belgian/English
couple
decided to take some airplanes
(! ?) - one
of their eccentric ideas. They
wasted lots of
money and arrived 2 days after us because went
to the wrong road.
They
wanted everything
here and now, no matter at what cost. In India , however, things are
slow and want patience, no matter how much money you have . If
you hurry you
usually get there last.
So
I had to travel
with the 18
-year-old German girl
who had no idea
where we
were going, Raj,
who was
travelling for the
first time and although knowing the language anywhere outside
Varanasi he
couldn't manage to get around
and the
Finn guy
, who
did
not give a fuck about
anything. From the
train to
train, from station
to station after a day and night journey, we finally arrived in the
Mountain with a
capital " M"
- the Himalayas. Only now I realized this trip I
spent more
than 7 months in
the Himalayas , in India and Nepal. And that's where I
was going to spend the last
month before I get home. My passport was full and my
bank-account -
empty and I had a ticket to Istanbul . Every day the date was
approaching and this
was giving me a strange tickling feeling in the stomach
. Freedom is not so full when you have a
deadline. The
sense of
unpredictability and uncertainty - too.
We
went to the village of Tosh for my birthday . One of my
strangest birthdays, becoming
31 . I was indifferent. Listening
to music and
silently
watching
the mountain. I did not happy
and I was not sad.
I was 29 when I left Bulgaria . Now
I turned 31 ! Was I that 29 -year-old girl with a backpack and
without any expectations, so naive , yet so happy. As
if it was someone
else.
We
went to a village called
Rashol
for a few days and came across a village festival.
Peaceful
and unremarkable Parvati. I did not want to know the
date or time, but I could not stop time. Soon came the end of April
and had to head to Delhi. I decided to make one last hitch-hiking.
A truck
picked me up in the
back. I was
holding
on tight and still jumping with the
backpack at
the holes and
rolling at
the sharp turns
left and right. I
got all covered in dust
. Looking
back at
the road -
villages , temples, people, cyclists , forests , rivers... were
appearing and leaving behind. As
if the whole India was passing before my eyes,
and disappearing
in the distance. I smiled while I was crying.
 |
| vulture |
 |
| the festival in Rashol |
From
the next town I took a night bus to Delhi. I met a friend from
Switzerland rastaman and we
traveled together.
On the way we were
stopped by police for passport control and they
searched the Swiss
guy and
another girl with dreadlocks and forced them to open their luggage .
Fortunately there
were no problems
and we
continued
undisturbed to Delhi. We arrived early in the morning , and my flight
was at 4 AM
next morning. I had
all day and all night to hang around Delhi. The
Swiss guy had a
local friend, who came
around and
the evening continued with an
unexpected Indian party. It was very interesting for
me to see how
young people in
Delhi live.
We visited two
girls who
were both sari-
designers,
something like " haute couture " for the saris . They lived
together in a small , crowded with things flat and spoke English
with a sweet Indian flavor between themselves.
We went to "Ladies Nights" party
at some club where
they
almost did not let us in because the girls were less
than 26 years old.
The
party was 26 + and
all drinks were free for women. Men , in contrast, had to pay $10 for
a beer. Nightlife in Delhi was quite expensive and there certainly
was no poor Indians inside
. I
drank as much as I
could on
the bar under
the sounds of Nirvana , Beastie Boys and hits from the 90s. Then a
long time I
was trying to take
a cab to the airport. Apparently I had not left enough rupees and
then everyone wanted a double and a triple price
. Finally we
bargained a driver
and my new Indian friends helped
me with some rupees
. I thank them sincerely for the
help in this critical moment in
my last Indian
night.
After
that crazy night in Delhi I
could comfortably
sleep on the plane. I look forward to see my family and Bulgaria . I
fell asleep with a smile , thinking about the way that
was coming. Because
the journey continues and is full of surprises.
