Poised on the Ganges, Varanasi, the most holy of all Indian sites, is so surrounded in hype that I actually left the place a little disappointed. That said, thinking back now it was a great experience. Maybe it was the disappointment of leaving the beautiful Himalayas and and the frustration re entering the tourist trap hell that we’d experienced in the Golden Triangle.

The evening of the day we arrived we wandered up to see some of the Ghats (steps that go down into the river) to witness a spectacle that I still don’t understand. There were many groups of young men chanting and carrying figurines of Shiva down to the bottom of the Ghats.

At this point they would get into a boat, sail out into the Ganges with continued shouting and dancing, often to the sound of a drum taken on board with them. They would then throw the figurine into the river and embrace each other. To my eyes it all seemed very bizarre, but mainly because I had no clue as to what it was all about. We found out the following day that this only happens once every few years, so we were very lucky to see it, but we didn’t find out what significance it had. If you do know what this is all about, please leave a comment…

In addition to wandering up and down the Ghats, where we were saw both cremations at the river side and pilgrims bathing, we took some Tabla (drum) lessons. Always a fan of percussion I’ve never really tried much, but after three hours on the Tabla I was improving and enjoying trying. I would never have imagined that there are so many ways of hitting a drum, but playing the Tabla is a fine art. As we found out for sure when attending and Indian Classical Music concert where the Tabla player was simply incredible. I’ve never seen hands move so fast.

Leaving Varanasi was delayed somewhat as our train was five and a half hours late. The saving grace was that we were surrounded by Westerners in our compartment and hence there was no over crowding. Our journey was supposed to be 27 hours, however when I woke up the following morning I was alarmed not only by the fact that the train was going the other direction, but that we were now twelve hours late.

After the second (unexpected) night on the train I woke up with a very dodgy stomach. We rolled into the station fourteen hours late. Initially I felt really weak but it was not long before the projectile vomiting and diarrhea started (sooner in fact, than we could find a guesthouse). Thankfully Espe and our compartment companions looked after me until we could find a room.

As a result I was knocked out for two days with a raging temperature. That also just happened to be our two last days in India. As a result I’ve seen very little of Mumbai. The only positive was that on my final evening I managed to hook up with Robbie and Benji and ridding the local trains. I can only apologise to the pair of the for not being my normal self. As for the local trains, they are an experience in itself… the locals pretty much have to fight to get on and off and overcrowding is rife, yet as a westerner I was looked after. The locals made sure I was on the right side and ready to jump of at my station before the madness started.