Dave's Travel Journal

India's capital city was somewhere I had heard much about, mainly from fellow travelers; unfortunately the majority of what I had been told was negative. So when boarding the train from Varanasi to Delhi I was pleased to leaving the former, but not eager to arrive at the later. Not a good mindset to be in for anyone traveling!

The train journey was surprisingly trouble free and not dissimilar to those I experienced in China, with of course, the extra and unnecessary bureaucracy and hassle, which should be expected when traveling in India.

On arrival in New Delhi we managed to get to the hotel, which we had chosen from the Lonely Planet whilst on the train. Finding it however including a lengthy and pointless argument with a pedal rickshaw driver who attempted to double the arranged price and take us half way to the arranged destination. This unfortunately, is a common first experience in Delhi and after only a couple of days of tout and hassle impeded exploration (and some visits to 5 star hotel's for an occasional rest bite) I was dreading having to leave the (relative) comfort of our hotel and face the touts and con-men again.

The brand new, Japanese built Metro system, which just doesn't seem to belong in Delhi, was the answer. It was by using this that I ventured out of my budget hotel and was able to see the grandeur of the colonial architecture at India Gate and the Central Secretariat, and pay my one Rupee (using a friend’s student card) and visit the mediocre National Museum, as well as explore other parts of the city tourists rarely venture to.

Whilst in Delhi, plans were being forged for our future travel around India, and we (Marika, Annie, Glenn and I) stuck by our earlier convictions (despite seeing the traffic) and decided to look at second hand Royal Enfield Bullets with a view to purchasing in Delhi and selling them in Southern India. After 2 full days looking, we finally ended up purchasing 2 bikes, a red 1981 Bullet 350cc and a silver 1995 Bullet 350cc (named Boris and Doris respectively). Marika and I owned Doris.

After purchasing the bikes, Glenn and I had to negotiate Delhi’s rush hour, on bikes, not only completely unfamiliar to us, but with the brake on the left side, a configuration neither of us had ever found before! We arrived at the Hotel safe and sound (not before some stressful moments) and started packing, ready to cover the 250km or so to Agra the following day.

We spent a total of 4 days in the frenetic, crowded and filthy city of Varanasi, during which time we sampled our first taste of authentic Indian Cuisine, visited some of the more significant Hindu temples, witnessed public cremations on the burning Ghats along the West bank of the river Ganges, and saw locals and pilgrims alike bathing in the same (septic) water only 50 yards or so downstream. On our penultimate day we (Marika and I) took a dawn boat trip on the river which gave us the opporunity to see the sun rise over the misty water, a beautiful sight. Unfortunately, but not uncommonly, our small boat floated past, and almost collided with one of the corpses which are said to litter the Ganges, this will remain my most poignant memory of the city. When I recall the time I spent there, the intense heat, ferel animals and incomprehensibly crowded streets are the thoughts which enter my mind. Varanasi which is undoubtably charismatic and bursting with life, is possibly the first city I have visited so far which I genuinely dislike and would not wish to return to, although I am very glad to have been.

We left Pokhara bound for Varanasi before daybreak on the 2nd of January. I was in melancholy mood, owing to the great time which had been had in Pokhara and the inevitable, and much talked about, hassle which would have to be endured in India. The bus to which we were shown, at the shabby and unsealed Pokhara bus station, bared no resemblance whatsoever to the photograph of the comparatively luxurious tourist coach which we were told we would travel on. However we had seats and our luggage was safely(ish) placed upon the roof. The journey to the border at Belahiya took about 8 hours, somehow I managed to get some sleep, I think this is due to the late night the previous evening. The border crossing was unbelivable informal, our Indian visas were stamped, by ununiformed officials and we set off, by foot, into India to find our bus.

We were assured in Pokhara that the bus which was to take us from the border to Varanasi was even better than the craft which carried us to Belahiya. Unfortunately, this was not the case, it made the previous bus look truely opulent. After boarding and loading the luggage the bus soon filled up, and we set off just before nightfall. The journey was to take about 10 hours. After travelling for about 20 minutes we were confronted by an agressive young Indian who demanded more money off us (by this time Marika and I had met with 2 American girls) and threatened that if we didn't pay, he would throw our luggage off the bus. After a 15-20 minute long ugly confrontation, which almost resulted in a fight and during which the bus was stopped several times and we obstinately refused to move (knowing we were in the right and were being ripped off) we gave way, paying 250 Rupees each. Welcome to India!

Arrival in Varanasi was as expected. Even though it was 4 o'clock in the morning we were still pounced upon by the army of touts who prey off tourists who have just arrived in India. Eventually we were taken to a suitable guesthouse and settled down (on a bed seemingly made from rock) for the remainder of the night.

DRAFT