Varanasi, like a city from another world and another time, every sight and sound and smell so completley and utterly foreign. In It's maze of medieval laneways you could be in another century, well besides the odd 21st Century motorbike. On the banks of the Gangees the same religious rituals are performed that have been carried out for hundreads of years. It is an intriguing and exciting and discusting and repulsive and compelling. So far my favourite place in India.
Our guest house was nestled within the maze of shop lined lanes that made up the old city. Colourful and crowded, just mind the cow/goat/monkey/motorbike/unspeakable things on the ground. I loved walking through these lanes, for they sure beat the horrors of the streets. Varanasi drivers just seem to keep their hand pressed on the horn, it is earsplitting and madening to spend any amount of time in the traffic. We were right around the corner from one of Hinduisim's most holy of temples. Also, one of it's most high security locations. The place was crawling with soldiers, with two pat downs and 10minutes at a security post having our passports examined and paperwork filled out. You can not breath in India without a beurocrat filling out a form. The temple itself was a bit disapointing, in the end I think we spent more time getting in than visiting.
The holy Gangies river is most beautiful in the early morning light, as tye soft glow of the morning sun spills over the ghats. It is also the most photogenic time of day. Typically, as soon as we were in the boat for our dawn voyage, my camera ran out of battery, spoiling a wonderful photographic experience. Along the ghats, people bathe in the purifying waters of the Gangies. I myself washed my hands thoughourly after touching that water, nothing seemed pure about it to me. Come evening the river is alive with ceremoney and spectacal. Every night of the year, thousands gather for the hour long religious ceremoney, seven preists performing a carefuly coreographed blessing of the Gangies. Futher up river the funeral pires burn brightly as families cremate their deceased on the river banks. A slightly macarbe and yet strangely beautiful sight, so different to the customs of death in our own society.
Nearby Varanasi is the site of Sarnath, where the Buddah came to teach in the 5th century BCE. The buddhists then built a huge stone stupa over the site.
When the madness became too much we would retreat into the peace and comfort of a German run bakery offering great rooftop breakfasts, pastas and vegi burgers. You see, whilst I love Indian food, it is so rich that it is hard to eat continuously for weeks. I did not have any problem with eating south east asian food for every meal but here you need something thats not curry every once in a while. We also found an oddly placed Japanese restaurant down an alley in Varanasi, with suprisingly good Japanese dishes. My favourite culinary experience however was lassies at 'The Blue Lassi,' an unasuming hole in the wall that served the best lassi I have had in India. From it's extensive menu I chose a chocolate orange, Brodie an apple pear and Mum, a mango blueberry. They were delicious, served in neat little clay pots. As the lonely planet describes, 'The best lassi in Varanasi.'
Our guest house was nestled within the maze of shop lined lanes that made up the old city. Colourful and crowded, just mind the cow/goat/monkey/motorbike/unspeakable things on the ground. I loved walking through these lanes, for they sure beat the horrors of the streets. Varanasi drivers just seem to keep their hand pressed on the horn, it is earsplitting and madening to spend any amount of time in the traffic. We were right around the corner from one of Hinduisim's most holy of temples. Also, one of it's most high security locations. The place was crawling with soldiers, with two pat downs and 10minutes at a security post having our passports examined and paperwork filled out. You can not breath in India without a beurocrat filling out a form. The temple itself was a bit disapointing, in the end I think we spent more time getting in than visiting.
The holy Gangies river is most beautiful in the early morning light, as tye soft glow of the morning sun spills over the ghats. It is also the most photogenic time of day. Typically, as soon as we were in the boat for our dawn voyage, my camera ran out of battery, spoiling a wonderful photographic experience. Along the ghats, people bathe in the purifying waters of the Gangies. I myself washed my hands thoughourly after touching that water, nothing seemed pure about it to me. Come evening the river is alive with ceremoney and spectacal. Every night of the year, thousands gather for the hour long religious ceremoney, seven preists performing a carefuly coreographed blessing of the Gangies. Futher up river the funeral pires burn brightly as families cremate their deceased on the river banks. A slightly macarbe and yet strangely beautiful sight, so different to the customs of death in our own society.
Nearby Varanasi is the site of Sarnath, where the Buddah came to teach in the 5th century BCE. The buddhists then built a huge stone stupa over the site.
When the madness became too much we would retreat into the peace and comfort of a German run bakery offering great rooftop breakfasts, pastas and vegi burgers. You see, whilst I love Indian food, it is so rich that it is hard to eat continuously for weeks. I did not have any problem with eating south east asian food for every meal but here you need something thats not curry every once in a while. We also found an oddly placed Japanese restaurant down an alley in Varanasi, with suprisingly good Japanese dishes. My favourite culinary experience however was lassies at 'The Blue Lassi,' an unasuming hole in the wall that served the best lassi I have had in India. From it's extensive menu I chose a chocolate orange, Brodie an apple pear and Mum, a mango blueberry. They were delicious, served in neat little clay pots. As the lonely planet describes, 'The best lassi in Varanasi.'
My enduring memories of Varanasi are the sunrises and sunsets on the ghats while the chants, incense and bodies curl into the ether. The smell cannot be described.
ReplyDeleteHaving left India, I now can say that Varanasi was my favourite place in that country, such an amazing city.
ReplyDelete