On the morning of Delhi-departure-day, I went to see the Jama Masjid in Old Delhi. It was nice enough, allthough I wonder what makes them say it's the worlds biggest mosque. It didn't look all that huge to me. Perhaps they washed it too hot. Whilst packing I encountered a similar, long-anticipated problem. My pack is getting smaller and smaller. I feel like Alice in Wonderland, and await the fully-dressed white rabbits with clocks and tophats, but seriously: it's shrinking. So I mailed 5kg books to my mother in Belgium. Now my pack closes again. But if this arcane shrinkingproces continues, it is only a temporary solution...
I had a windowseat in the train, so I got a good view of cricket-playing slumchildren, girls herding goats along the railroadtracks, big piles of garbage, colourfull sarees, yellow flowerfields, lazy indian men, working indian women, dying indian cows,... In the dead of night as my eyes followed a mediumsized cockroach on the ceiling of the Kashi Vishvanath Express train between Delhi and Varanasi, it hit me: India is rubbish, but it's also the most magical place on earth and I love it. This nightly revelation was only enhanced when I sat on a riverside terrace, gazing at the rising sun and having a lassi a few hours later. Varanasi, or Kashi, or the city of light, or the city of shiva, no matter how you want to call it is unbelievably dirty. It's full of starving dogs, it's impossible to find your way through the alleys of the old city, and the story goes that a dip in the river means in
stant hepatitis. But it is SOOOOO beautiful. I spent the last 4,5 days wandering about the ghats (on foot or by boat), having lots of chai, good food, and just generally thoroughly unwinding. My room was wonderfully decorated (rajasthani-style) with two huge riverside windows. The curtains caught in the morningbreeze, the first sunlight falling on my gargantuan bed... And then banana-honey-toast and black coffee on the roof. A day that starts like that just can't go wrong.
Apart from this lazing about, I also went to Sarnath for half a day. That is where
our mutual good friend Lord Buddha did his dharmacakrapravartanna-thing and founded his fanclub. The sites' archeological museum has some extremely nice sculptures, that makes one wish one was Alexander Cunningham. Yesterday, on my last night in Varanasi, I had pizza with Rosita, Paola and Robert, and I am astounded by my ability to understand spanish. I guess all that french and latin did make a difference after all. At night, the river is if possible even more magical than in morning. Because both the river, the opposite bank and the sky are completely dark, the boats seem suspended in mid-air. Not today, mind you, today, the boatmen are on strike, because they have to pay the government 50 Rs for everyday they work. Good luck to them. So that's that: I ju
st spent 4 days gazing at a river. I also bought the Meghaduta by the indian poet Kalidasa, in sanskrit. Don't ask why. I just did. So I'll have to start digging up my sanskrit again.
Now however, I am on my way into the jungle. At 14:30, my last indian nighttrain (it's daytrains and flights from then on) leaves Varanasi for Jhansi. Let's hope the cockroaches behave. From Jhansi, I'll catch a riksha (yesyes, in a net) to Orccha, where I mostly intend not to get eaten by tigers. I'll keep you informed. Btw: Thanks to everyone for commenting, here or via mail or sms, you're the best.
The goat ate my blogpost-notes, several relatives were trampled by elephaunts in Amazonia, my alarmclock was stolen by a vicious band of meercats, my train was late (as appears to be my lot in life), terrorists blew up my laptop (they tend to do that), I got stuck in traffic, I was brutally abducted by cabbagy smelling tribals (most likely Assamese), the terrorists also blew up the goat btw (so there was really no way for me to post anything)...
