Varanasi

Varanasi is a grimy city. But it certainly has no shortage of character. Crazy dreadlocked saddhus (holy people) getting stoned on the ghats (steps) of the Ganges, dressed like shiva in full orange robes accost you. Monkey, cows, and goats run amok in the streets munching trash...although that's pretty much all over India. There are mazes of alleyways and turning corners around which you will never know what you will find. Twenty women sitting on some steps in colorful saris. Two water buffalo, ownerless and nearly the size of a dumptruck each, munching some colorful piece of fabric or a plastic bag filled with filth and slime.

I spent a lot of the time with two guys from Wales and a couple from England. They were all funny people. Wandering the ghats, me and the two Welsh got taken in by some guys who literally started grabbing our hands and giving us ayurvedic massages. After my generous Indian got up to my shoulder, I stopped him and started to walk off amidst his protests of 'no problem' 'nice massage'. The two Welsh boys got caught up farther than I, and one of them was laying down, the nice Indian massaging all the way down to his ass before he stopped him and said he had to go. He gave the man 9 rupees, or less than a quarter.

I met a saddhu for my interview. He asserted that he could change his anatomy, and bury himself under the ground and still see all over the world. This was a far cry from the humility of the Tibetans. I started to doubt him, after the mystical Sufi who didnt say anything really and the Tibetan lamas who don't mention anything of their abilities, but clearly have some powers.

Anyway, on my birthday I decided to swim in the Ganges. Most sensible Westerners wouldn't touch the water -- Hannah, who I traveled with was concerned she might get a disease when a single drop fell on her hand. But I said fuck it, and with one of the Welsh guys I got in. Cholera, AIDs, Ebola, all that shits probably in this water, which has snaked through thousands of kilometers of the dirtiest country I've ever been to, washing cow shit and dirty rotting food out of every city it passes through. Sometimes people see dead bodies floating down. But there I was, swimming, or rather sitting in it, basking in the grimy sludge. Swimming is quite dangerous during monsoon season, people die every day, so I was just sitting on the ghat. Anyway, I took a nice shower when I got back to the guest house. Indians would laugh at me. They brush their teeth, wash their clothes, and even drink that water. But I can't be getting and of those -osis or -itises. Despite my best efforts, I started to feel ill on the train to Agra.

By the time I'm at the Taj, I've had the worst night in history. Beating out Jammu.