I was safely in the rickshaw and out of the scorching heat. Varanasi is everything I thought India would be - many times noisier, busier and chaotic than the commercial Delhi. I felt like Varanasi was assaulting my senses.
The rickshaw driver stopped at the main road, because I think motorized vehicles are not allowed within a certain distance of the Ganges, and advised me to take a cycle rickshaw the rest of the way. I didn't disagree, the heat was really unbearable.
I tipped the cycle rickshaw an extra 10 rupees because he was so old and cycled a fair bit in the horrendous heat (have I emphasized just how hot it was yet?).
My fist mission was to find the place I'd be staying. I chose a 'hotel' that self-identifies as 'not a hotel but a family home'. I was drawn to it because they said they were an NGO and they helped local projects in education and women's empowerment. It also had a library and seemed like a nice, relaxing, spiritual place.
To get there I had to go through winding alley after winding alley. Cows obstructed the entire alley, so I had to walk up onto the ledge of the adjacent shops. I found it interesting how cows are respected more than humans. A motorcycle passing by the side of the cow came to a complete stop and practically lifted his bike up over a few hairs of the cow's tail. When he had safely passed the cow he came full speed at me, and I had to jump off to the side to avoid being flattened.
I went through some alleys that stunk of ghee - my least favourite smell in the World. Then there was the incessant honking of horns, each one as if the motorcycle was inside my ear as it blasted out. Then of course the people and cows and dogs. It was at that point that the phrase formulated in my head that 'India assaults the senses'. Or may be abuses them? It's interesting how some Hindu philosophy teaches against succumbing to the senses, teaching that as humans we should rise up away from the animal-like sense- dependant world. Only in India, I thought, could this philosophy have been created.
As I was walking through these alleys my nausea from the previous day returned. I started visualizing the clean, spacious hotel room that I was to hopefully find myself in any moment now. Up and down the narrow alleys I plodded, sweat soaking my entire T-shirt. After half an hour of crossing and re-crossing myself I finally found it.
As soon as I stepped in I was seriously considering running away and finding somewhere else, anywhere else. It was completely dark, there wasn't a soul in sight. I found a staircase and wet up then found another level with a faded wall painting that read 'Office'. Inside, there was no one, until I looked behind the door and found a girl sat on the floor. I was restraining myself with much effort from running away. It's not like this was a cheap place or anything, it was actually pretty pricey because I had to become a 'member' before I could stay there. But since something in the place had attracted me online I decided to give it a go.
The girl showed me to my room and the first thing I noticed was the lack of privacy. Instead of doors there were curtains. The windows looked out on a construction site where Indian men in loin cloths toiled in the sun.The light was barely strong enough for me to see my own hands. All in all, not a great start.
I took an awkward shower (the washing lady was also using the shower to fill her bucket) then lied down on my bed, trying to get rid of my nausea. I couldn't open any windows because of the noise and the fact that the entire alley would be able to see me so I just sat in the dark, regretting my decision.
After an hour I wet upstairs to the dining area. Apparently breakfast and lunch were included in the price, so I went up to see if the lunch would be as disappointing as the room. Fortunately it was actually pretty damn yummy.
I met a Portuguese guest eating from a huge baking tray and she pointed me in the direction on the remaining trays to get my own. I ate rice cooked with cinnamon and tofu?, chickpeas and paneer (a type of Indian cheese that I LOVE!), an aubergine/tomato/onion combination that reminded me of my gran's Egyptian mesa'ah (A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!) and chapatti and poori (types of fried bread).
Across from me sat a beautiful woman with curly hair. I asked her how long she'd been in Varanasi, knowing full well that she wasn't a guest. She told me that she owned the house. She was a very interesting woman, She told us that she worked for Oxfam in Afghanistan, Lebanon and Africa, reaching the level of country director for them. She spoke Hindi, Urdu, French, Italian (her husband is Italian) and English. She told us that she didn't come to Varanasi often but decided to bring her son back because she felt he was losing his Hindi.
It was funny because as she went through the countries she lived in I was convinced that she was a national of each one of them. For example she'd say Lebanon and I'd think 'Oh, she'd Lebanese', Italy and I'd say 'She's Italian'. It was complete insanity because she had told us she was from Kashmir but my mind could not understand that she was not also a pure bred Lebanese or Italian. She had one to those versatile faces that could be from any country in the World. How I envied her!
She told me a lot about working in NGOs and I really think that may be where my future is. I want to learn languages so that I can speak with people from that country in their language. Teaching English limits me to speaking English and not really interacting with people the way I want to, so it seems like NGOs are the way to go. She said that because I speak Arabic it'll be really easy for me to get my foot in the door in an Egyptian NGO. So maybe choosing this place was not so bad since I met a interesting woman (made a useful contact) and got some good advice.
No comments:
Post a Comment