The Taj Mahal

This was definitely a step up from the last train trip... it was only 6 hours late this time. We were debating whether we needed a tuker, however we only had a short stay so we grabbed one. Luckily, this guy took us to a cheap hotel. There was an open court in the middle where we would eventually eat dinner. After deciding our course of action for the day, we set off for the Taj Mahal. But first, lunch. We had a young tuker who took us to an oasis in the desert of Agra. Probably the first kept grass ive seen in an Indian city... and no trash!

We even met the tuker's father there, a man who spoke fluent french. One thing i will give credit to Indians for is language. We ran into a lot of people who spoke English very well. Plus, i hear they are doing algebraic math in kindergarten....

After a nice lunch, with chai of course, we made our way to the Taj Mahal. It was too busy for our driver to pull-up near the gate so he parked in some back alley and we had to walk the rest of the way. He warned us of the typical tourist traps that awaited us on the way to the gate. Like we were odysseus making our way past Indian sirens, people selling trinkets, beggars, and pushy cabbies grabbing our arms... When we actually made to the gate we had to buy a ticket, but due to all the shit everywhere we didn't know if this is where we buy a ticket. We double checked the sign that was painted by an 8 year old. Our deciding factor were the guys with guns who pointed towards the stand.

At least India is blatantly racialist by charging a price that is about 100x higher for foreigners (whities). 750 Rps to 25 Rps... this was way over my 10 budget for my whole India trip.

We make our way through another gate and we are greeted by a massive marble structure shining in the distance. We stood there for a few minutes to congeal with this eye candy. We made a way by a filming crew, crazy foreigners, and thousands of Japanese people with nikons strapped to their neck taking pictures... The pathway towards the Taj is deceivingly long. The size of the Taj is like a mirage that you think your getting closer to, but its always a little further.

Halfway, we came along some fountains and snapped some pics. Some Indian gardeners, trimming grass with their sheers, petitioned us to join them in their endeavor. Very well.
Then we noticed this Japanese babe who was wearing a revealing white dress being hounded by tons of Indian men... much to her parents dismay. ha, I think she was constantly getting harassed to let people take a picture with her.

Nearly at the Taj, we had to take our shoes off and place them in a little plastic bag they provided us with. We walked up a few steps to be on the square which housed the Taj Mahal. Freaking sweet... Marble inlaid with semiprecious jewels. Inside were the tombs of the creator and his wife, who he made it for. Pictures weren't allowed but i tried to get a few. They didn't really turn out well because of the lighting. We exited the back were Indians, Muslims, and scores of other nerfherders were lounging around. Somehow, they showed some restraint and didn't piss on the Taj. We couldn't say the same for the band of monkeys that lived off to the side.

I think they were having a monkey war... they would chase each other up the side of the bu idling, around the side, and then up a tree to continue this process again. Tim decided to get brave and actually poke a giant monkey with equally giant nuts. Unexpectedly, he didn't get his face mauled off. We finished off the Taj by walking around taking some other pictures. And, shiiit, done dropped my camera on the sidewalk... the camera I was borrowing from my coworker. Tim just laughs as I crap myself and pray it still works. Luckily, only a few superficial scratches adorn it like a badge of honor that silently says 'I've been to India.'









Response: The train ride was pretty nice, but after the last couple ones, the train would have had to literally derail to get any worse. As we arrive in Agra, I basically bare knuckle box Hahn right outside the train station to not get a tuker, as we start walking in the direction of the hostel/hotel we want to stay at. Sure as shit though, we get followed by a pack of ravenous drivers, all wanting to drive us. We don't even get a block from the train station and Hahn caves in, and before I can take my pack off to beat him with it, he's in the taxi. Wanker. So our tuker takes us into town, and we get into a decent resting place whose highlight is a cable tv (with channels play music videos and commercials all day and night) and a nice courtyard sitting area that also serves food. We would eat there later, and it was quite pleasant. Anyway, we head to the Taj, and its chaos as usual. There is much more to explain that Tim already hasn't other then then fact that for locals it was basically free, for everyone else it was something like 75 dollars...what a fucking rip off...Im not even sure why I keep writing that about India. So we buy our ticket, head past all the guards with soviet era machine guns, and watch all the tourists scurry about the grounds. The Taj Mahal was impressive by any means, although you did not really get to get to far inside. Most of it was roped off, or the doors just locked. Hahn and I got our picture taken with a ton of locals, and headed off to the right to check out some other buildings...and then came the monkeys. Those fearless bastards. I look up, and here comes this giant male monkey walking down the top of the wall, heading right for me. This thing has three options. Turn around, and head back wherever it came from. Jump off the wall (its a 30 foot drop...probably not the best option).



Or walk by me....So it just keeps on walking right for me, like I didn't exist. So as he passes me, less then a foot away, I slap it on the ass. Nothing. Didn't flinch. It walks another 20 feet on the wall, and then bungees into a tree, and then joins the monkey war down on the ground on the other side. More important things to do I guess. So yeah, Hahn and I get some more pictures taken with locals who've never seen white boys before, and I take some pictures of graffiti strewn throughout the buildings.




Afterwards we head to a couple other places, a small cleared out cropping across the river from the Taj, and a handful of other monuments, complete with kids jumping off a wall into a river (only to then ask for money...of course...because they jumped into the river). As the day turned to night, we decided to pretty much take the night off, as we had early tickets to Jaipur. We would need the rest.

Give Him Money...He's Not Rich!

Oh Jevus...where to begin on this shit...So as Hahn mentioned, after Krishna takes us around to all these different religious sites, and we almost get run out of town by some angry religious zealots (where's the love?), he takes us to a building housing a massive map of India and the surrounding countries, carved out of stone, complete with all the topography. It was recessed in the floor, and you could take steps down to the basement where a little room with a little window let you look upon the map as if you were at sea level...pretty awesome...And I do have to admit the temples and whatnot were pretty dope as well, regardless of the fact that whities weren't welcome. At this building there were also portraits of famous Indian leaders, and one portrait of a little shirtless man with a mustache and a pistol in one hand caught our eye. We asked Krishna about it, also inferring that this guy was totally over the rainbow, but Krishna didn't get the joke...You be the judge. (As a side note, we would later relentlessly search for a print of this guy in shops, asking other Indians if they knew who we were talking about...you know, the shirtless guy...mustache, with a pistol?...likes sunshine and picnics, romantic movies and long walks on the beach...with other men?...no one had a clue)



Anyway, after the dotting of our foreheads, Krishna takes us to the Ganges to relax, in the exact restaurant we ate this morning, where Hahn got yelled at for wanting to order what he wanted to order. Except this time, the owner, a larger woman, was in attendance. The four of us sat down, and we ordered some snacks. Krishna asked us if we wanted a massage, I declined, but Hahn was up for blowing his hard earned yen. So I ate, and Hahn disappeared into the back of the restaurant, were all the rubbing but no tugging happened...or so I was told...Hahn feel free to comment on that shit...If I remember correctly, India once again got the better of us, as some hot chick comes out of the room, but of course, Hahn draws the 60 year old lady to rub him down...hahaha...classic Hahn. So, while all that was going down, I decided to get myself down to the Ganges, and wonder around. No sooner do I get down there, then some kid approaches me and wants me to go to his shop and look at this shit from china. No thanks, and I walked in the opposite direction. I look down the river, and around just around the bend looks like a decent place for a walk, and a picture. The only problem is, all that mud, from the wet season, is standing in my way. I see a two young kids getting paid to use the hose to wash some it away, but they are 50 yards away next to the wall of a building. Hmm. Shit. I take off my shoes, and hike up my cords, and start picking and choosing a path of dried mud, able to hold my weight to my ankles, and wet mud, that Ill sink up to my hip in. I get half way to the kids, when I realize I'm fucked, I have no where to go. So backtrack. As I turn around, with now mud caked up to my shins, I notice a crowd of now 30 Indian adults watching me silently, waiting for me to get swallowed by the mud. Thanks assholes. They have literally nothing better to do with their time, and they are blatant about watching me. Just standing there, all staring me in the face. So pick another route, and barely make it to the kids. As one kid shoots water all over the place, I shimmy against the wall. There is a six inch walkway of stone between the wall and wet mud, and as I struggle to move forward and not fall with my camera in one hand and my shoes in the other, one of the kids comes up in front of me, and reaches for my camera, in order to give me a free hand, so I can get down this wall. No no, you get my shoes. So I hand the kid my shoes, he gets out of my way, and I slip and slide my way down the way onto solid ground. Thanks kid. I turn around, and watch the 30 plus person crowd disperse in disappointment. "That's right you wankers!", I yell, the only ones being able to hear me being the kids, since the sound of the hose hitting mud drowns out just about everything else out. So I grab my shoes, thank the little fella and head towards the bend. Im about half way there, and after being solicited by about 7 boat captains for a ride, a group of young girls, no older then 10, come up to me. Only one girl knew english..."Hey!". "Hello", I return, I dont even bother to stop walking. "You should give me money". "Oh really, why should I do that?". "Because you should!". All the other girls walk behind her as she follows me and holds out her hand. "No no, I'm not giving you money, you crazy kid". I keep walking. "Well how about you buy me some pie!", she shouts. "Pie?...There's no pie in India!". "Yes there is, at that restaurant on the hill". "Im not buying you pie". At this point the girls are dancing around me. Tenacious little bastards. So after about 5 minutes, the girls finally leave me alone in a huff that only a ten year old girl can produce. Sorry ladies. I continue to the bend, and sure as shit, I get there, only to realize that the picture I thought was going to frame out decent, turned out to be just that. Only so-so. I took 19 pictures, trying to set something up, but I was tired, and took what I could get with average effort. Three of them are below. So I made my way back along the Ganges and through the mud, barefoot, passing a tourist giving money to the same little girls, surrounding him like sharks. I walked within inches of them, and they didn't even notice me pass bye....hahahhah...nothing like a little 'dollar dollar bill ya'll'...but just remember ladies, mo' money, mo' problems.






















That was about it for this city, and as Krishna drove us to the train station in the middle of 'rush hour' he made Hahn and I sign in his "guest book?", or whatever he wanted to call it. Inside was the entries of countless travelers exclaiming their love for Krishna, and how great of a guide he was. Krishna at this point looked back and told us we should write in our email, telephone number, and date of birth, whereby he would call us on our birthdays...Im going to take a wild guess and say neither Hahn nor I have a call coming in the future. Anyway, as Hahn took to writing, I noticed two female travelers with heavy packs on, probably in their early 20s, walking the opposite direction. As cars, trucks, and tuk tuks whizzed by them merely inches apart, and consumed by all the dust and black smoke caused by this time of the day, I thought to myself, "Good luck girls...hahahahah...aaaahhhhh shit...Im still in India". Either way, those poor girls had at least 2 miles to go to get to the Ganges. Good luck indeed.

After making sure we signed his book, and the bastard did check, Krishna stopped by the side of the road and bought each Hahn and I a brightly colored yellow and orange lay, made out of fresh dandelion like flowers. He placed them over our head, and headed another 100 yards to the train station. We got out, said our goodbyes, shook hands and had a hug, as Krishna, despite being a nutter, was in fact a good guide and a pretty decent guy, once he's not trying to take your money. But that's India for you. So we walked to rest of the way to the train station, made sure Krishna was out of site, and walked up to two young India kids coming from the train platform, one girl, older, and possibly her brother, who was smaller and looked younger. We walked in front of them, and stopped their movement, and actually startled the two. Their eyes got big, as if we were going to shove them into sacks and keep them in a hidden basement for years until their escape (what's with that fad now a days?...every time I open up the fucking paper some human was being locked in a basement for 20 years?) Anyway, we took off our lays and put them over their heads. This served two purposes, one, you make a kids day. And two, we were in a fucking third world country. You do not want to stick out in a third world country more then your white skin already does. Fucking giant lay around our necks...I think Krishna was trying to get us shived, rolled, and thrown in the gutter...Anyway so the kids, after receiving the lays, just stood there in shock. We didn't have time to stick around so we walked past them as quickly as we stopped, only to notice a large group of Indian grownups, probably parents, slowly remove their hands out of their pockets, and off their cell phone speed dials for 911. Easy everyone, us whities have enough children we can steal in our country...

So we head down to our platform, and once again, right on time...but as usual, we wait...and we wait...The platform is packed, and night has fallen...People of all walks of life, mostly poor, with tattered clothes, tattered bags, and tattered faces line the platform. A public water fountain/basin sits in the middle of a section of the platform. "Hahn!...Grab yourself a drink my friend"..."Fuuuuuuck youuuuuuuu" he responds...I have myself a good chuckle, as I watch a cockroach crawl out of a grate underneath the fountain...Nice. Hahh and I stand near the edge, where the concrete drops a couple of feet to the track. We notice a group of middle school age boys eyeballing up what we are wearing. Not that they were dressed much differently. Jeans are a luxury most people take for granted. And even though denim is the people's fabric, more often then not slacks were choice among Indians. I personally don't pack denim when traveling abroad, since its usually to hot and too heavy in the pack. And at this occasion Hahn and I had slacks on, but not fancy shoes, or anything worth staring at. So we move to another side of the platform, away from those kids, to check out the local food, and grab some ice cream of all things. The vendor tries to fuck Hahn out of some change, and Hahn gives him the 'don't make me come back their and kick your scrawny ass' look, and the guy coughs up the rest. I get mine with no problems after that. By the time I receive my frozen treat, and unwrap it, Hahn has wondered 20 feet away. I would have followed him, but the platform at this point was getting full, and tough maneuvering, even with the medium size pack strapped to my back. So I mull around in a five foot circle, watching people, and watching the tracks. A couple of minutes go by, and someone brushes against my pack and slightly moves me. I don't even bother looking back. I shuffle my position a foot or so to the left, to let the person by, and go about eating my ice cream. 10 seconds later, I get shoved with a force that almost knocks me to the ground. I turn around, "What the fuck asshole!...Oh...". A fucking cow is staring at me in the face. and then walks by me down the platform. The thing was headbutting me in the back to get me to move out of his way. I look up to see if anyone saw this spectacle, and I view at least 20 other natives softly chuckling to themselves as they stare at me. Where the hell am I?

I mosey back over to Hahn, and we walk behind us, to the other tracks sharing this platform. A stand is selling books, and as we mull them over, our train comes. We watch this ridiculously long train rumble by, and we count the markings on the cars to find out where we are. We get to where we need to be, and we are something like 43C. We see 43A. We see 43B. No 43C. Oh man. We walk up and down the outside of the train a bit, and realize we are in a pickle. So we flag down the nearest police guys, and they look at our ticket. No sooner do they point to the other track, then I look up and see the train on the other track pulling out of the station. Christ, they switched tracks on us. I start running, "Hahn, lets go!". Hahn looks at me, and decides to strike up a conversation with the policemen about the state of illegal smuggling of rare exotic plants between India and Pakistan. Good thing the policemen didn't understand english. So Hahn finally gives up his conversation and starts running after me, running after the train. As we sprint down the platform, dodging other travelers waiting for what we assume other trains, we finally catch up to a car as close to our cabin as possible, and as I see other people jumping on as well, the train starts to slow down. It was coming into the station, not going out. And the people on the platform...all waiting for that train. And the natives also jumping onto the train...trying to get onto it first before the other vendors take their customers whom are already on the train. Awesome. Hahn and I have a good laugh as our sprint becomes a walk, and becomes a full on sweat. Fucking India gets us again.

We hop on with no problems, find our bunk, and settle into the nicest beds we will sleep in. We are in 1st class, 2nd tier, and we even get our own blankets. Sometime passes, and Hahn and I are productively wasting time reading, looking at maps, and generally waiting to get tired. As I sit quietly, with Hahn across from me with his headphones on, I get approached by two men, one in his 30s, the other in his 20s, both of whom are dressed like they work on the train. Here is the basis of the conversation, which was spoken in broken english:

"Hello"..."Hi". "I am so-and-so, and this is so-and-so-jr." "Hello". "So-and-so-jr. is my understudy. He is not rich. He comes from a poor family, I teach him and get him good job". "That's very nice of you". "Yes, he is not rich, he comes from...blah blah blah...Where are you from?" "America". "Ahh..you are rich...". "No, Im not rich. Not by any standard in America". At this point I realized that so-and-so-jr. can speak no english. "Yes, but so-and-so-jr. is not rich". "I understand that". "Yes, well...you give him money". "Wait, what". "Yes...you give him money...he is not rich...he comes from a poor family". So-and-so-jr just sits on the other side of so-and-so, staring at me. "Yes, see...because he is poor...". "Yeah I got that. So now why do you want me to give him money. He hasnt done anything but sit there...actually neither of you have done anything..." "Yes, but he is poor. You give him money". The conversation lasts another ten minutes, with basically so-and-so saying the same thing over and over again. Money for nothing. They'd fit right in if they'd come to America. "Alright, well, Im not giving him or you money. This is bullshit, and I can't believe you work on the train and you're begging me, for him, for money". The tone in my voice is getting irritated, and they can see Im getting pissed. And of course, they also get pissed, cause I keep forgetting everyone in American, Great Britain, or Australia, or Europe has a net income of 5 million dollars a year. I just can't seem to remember that every time I take a shit, a roll of 100s shoots out my ass. Anyway, that conversation ends with me crawling up to my top bunk and ignoring those assholes.

One other thing of note, halfway through the night, at about 2-3am, as Hahn and I lay across the cabin from one another in our top bunks, all of a sudden a lady, from what we assume was the bathrooms from in between the cars, which was right on the other side of the wall that Hahn had his back to, lets out a blood curdling scream, as if she was stabbed and thrown from the train. I open my eyes, Hahn opens his eyes, and we sit up and stare at each other through the small light coming from the door leading to the bathrooms. "What the hell was that?". "Nothing good". "You want to go check it out?"..."No"..."You're fucking lazy". So I slide down off my bunk, put my shoes on, and cautiously open the door leading to between the cars. Both bathroom doors are open. I peer into each, looking for blood, or a dead body, who knows. Nothing. Not even an attendant, or another traveler, decided this was anything of note. Maybe someone was having night-terrors...who knows. Fucking weird.

The Mean Streets pt II Angry dot head

After waking up at the crack of dawn and quenching our thirst, we went back to the hotel to rest. No sooner did we get back, than we found Krishna leaning in our doorway, at 7:30. He clapped his hands emphatically and reveled about the night we had. Ready to go for the new day, he urged us to get ready for day numero 2. Clearly, this man was on a mission from god... to get as much of our money as he can.

Krishna finally leaves and we finish getting our things together. I repack my Ronald McDonald plates, a present from Hafer's attic. Nice... although the fate of one of the plates is sealed later in this trip. Stepping outside on the balcony, we found that most of the tourist boats had docked and there were only a few people left bathing in the river. We saw Krishna being all buddy buddy with the hotel owner. Seriously, this guy new everyone is Varanasi.

After booking the trains for the rest of the trip, we left with Krishna to get breakfast. Today, Krishna had a sidekick who would watch our bags while we were in the restaurant. Honestly, I don't think anyone can feel comfortable when leaving your bag in Varanasi. After Krishna reassured that nothing would happen, we reluctantly left our bags to the whim of the India. Breakfast was quite good and we had some new things to entertain our palette. One funny thing happened when I ordered toast... I was quite hungry since we didn't eat much last night. Krishna, instantly changed the tone in his voice, questioned my choice, and asked why I don't trust his decision. Who the hell is this guy? I guess Indians get pissed when they can't order for you...

We left for the Monkey Temple and I still felt like choking Krishna. This was clearly a very religious place experience the fear of religion inside. No items were allowed to be taken inside since there was a bombing by Pakistanis, India's arch nemesis. On a more interesting note, Pakistan is known as Fuckistan to Indians. Back to temple, the walkway into the complex had dozens of monkeys chasing each other. We had to take off our shoes and give them to this haggard looking dude who, in return, gave us a numbered token. And thus, we began our transcendental religious experience.

There were various idols or holy objects scattered around inside the complex which we systematically visited. Touch the holy tree, bow at the picture at some dead guy, rub your hand against the wall as you go around the building. These objects were nearly smeared black with other people's nasty fingers. But when in Rome, touch the dirty wall... We got to the point were this thick bright orange paint looked like it was just oozing out of the walls. I'm not sure if people smeared it there or it magically originated from here. Krishna took the liberty to dab his finger in it and put dots on our heads... this was probably the beginning of people getting extremely pissed at us.

We moved towards the drumming/chanting and entered the innermost part of the Temple. Here, we sat down to take in all the crazies displaying their religious vigilance... Of course, Shannon and I were getting weird looks all day- being the only non-Indian people here. But, more so than ever, we felt eyes burning holes in the back of our head. Perhaps this was the first time I could clearly sense someone's desire to behead a person. I took glimpse up and noticed this guy standing against the wall giving us the death stare. Oh shit... this guy would murder us if there weren't 20 people between us. I looked up again thinking he would go back to praying... nope. He hadn't moved let alone blink. I turned to Shannon and to let him in on the guy contemplating our demise. Already noticing this, Shannon turns to Krishna suggests we should make like a woman reporter in Egypt and get the fuck outta here. Krishna, oblivious to this sits there for about 10 seconds, sees the guy, jumps up, and tries to play it off by saying "Let's go somewhere else."

Walking out, we felt an immense relief and decided to get our shoes and move on to the next place, a mantra temple. Painted skulls adorned the outside of the building, and again, we had to take off our shoes. There was a large pool of water on the inside of the temple that looked like small lake. Near the steps down to the water there was a large pile of clothes... but no naked people. Curiously, we heard how people go in to the holy water, leave there clothes and a precious belonging behind, and exit the water cleansed of their past sins. Way easier than going to church!

Next, we did the customary shopping... err... being taken to places you don't car about. Krishna, took us to the Muslim quarter which is famous for its silk. We entered what seemed to be an ordinary house that turned out to be a small silk factory. Inside, there were some fat guys cooking and dying silk over a pot of water. Other houses had a loom and... wait for it... nothing. Just a loom. and that was their life. Later, we haggled another guy down for some nice silk pieces. We got pretty good at bargaining too. I gave my final price and he refused it so we got up and walked out... as expected, the guy caved in as we were outside... Score! Mom, you'd better like it.

Later, Shannon purchased some small trinkets. And, we went back towards the restaurant to kill some time before the next train.

The Dark Alleys Of Varanasi

So picking up where we left off, Krishna drives us back to the beginning of the alleys that lead us back to our hotel. And sadly enough, even in his drunken state, he navigates the shadows and the darkness of what I recall to be something like 13 different turns. I try to remember landmarks and general items as we hurriedly followed our tuker past old men hiding in corners, huddled over small burning fires, staying warm, and roasting whatever. As we make it back to our hotel, all I can think of is our antiquated concrete walkway and 'not up to code' balcony somehow dumping Hahn and I 40 feet onto the slabs below. This place is a deathtrap when the sun goes down. Anyway, we say good night to Krishna, and he tells us he'll see us tomorrow, and take us to some temples and whatnot. And as Hahn and I sat down, we realized we didn't have any water. In fact, the only thing we did have was a can of pepsi. So Hahn, in his infinite wisdom, and totally blotto state, states that we need to get water...like right now...at 1am. For the next 15 minutes, we debate what it would take to get water, and even though I tell him over and over again what a bad idea it would be for two fucking whities to go back out into those alleys this late, we do it anyway. But first, we have to dress as inconspicuous as possible. So we changed into plainer looking clothes...which made us look exactly not one iota different then what we looked like before, opened our door, and headed into the night. Good thing I had plenty of the brown liquid courage in me, otherwise Hahn wouldn't have stood so close behind me in case something went wrong. So we take the first couple of turns, and for whatever reason, shit seemed dark...really dark. Within the span of that half hour since we got back and ventured out, it seemed like all those crazy old guys with the fires burning disappeared. And it was silent. Really silent. We got to about turn 4, and as Hahn and I ventured half way down yet another mystery alley, a pack of wild dogs round the corner and head in our direction. The 4-5 dogs immediately start barking and snarling, and the alpha or lead dog, whatever you want to call him, slowly headed his pack towards us. I would have taken a look at Hahn and see what he had to say in order to assess the situation, but he was already 15 feet behind me, and ready to leave. Wanker. Not me however, the dogs weren't overly large, but definitely tall enough to get you in the junk with little effort and perhaps the face if they decided to get airborne. So me and my intoxication took a quick stab forward, and the alpha dog backed off a couple of steps, all the while raising hell by barking more. I turn my head and tell Hahn we could probably back these bitches down, but no sooner did I say this, then some mysterious old man appear out of the shadows to our right, and start yelling at the dogs in Indian. And just like that, the snarling fuckers followed the alpha dog back into the darkness.
Afterwards we quickly asked the old man if he had any water, and he looked at us like once again we had purple dongs growing out of our foreheads, and, like the dogs, chased us around the corner. We made it about two more alleyways before we ran into two more Indian men, and the one man, basically insisted that we turn around, yelling at us when we tried to turn either corner to the left or the right. So he beckoned us back, and sent us in the direction we came from. Which was just as well, since even if we made it all the way to the main road, I'm pretty sure we could assume that all of Varanasi was pretty much closed for the night. And with that, we were defeated.
The next day we pretty much awoke with the sun, and Hahn and I immediately set out for the great H2O search. We found water less then 200 feet away behind our hotel, in a small restaurant run by a robust middle-aged Indian man. We both bought 4 litres of cold water, and spent the next 45 minutes hanging out on a Ghat watching the reflection of the rising sun over the Ganges. We were a couple of stoops pounding water and talking about Indian culture while taking in the random stare from a passing native, or a kid looking for a handout. Afterwards we made our way back to the hotel, and shot pictures while waiting for our hotel desk to open up in order to book train tickets.

Drinking & Driving

Legal in India!!

insert video here

Shannon disappears at the concert hall

After the closing ceremony of the ghats, we hop in the tuk-tuk, whiz through the streets and end up at some tiny concert hall. Listen to some shitty music thats turns us to leaving. Tim gets up and goes outside and then I go out a minute later and hes gone... gone. I check the shitter to see if he is clogging toilets again, but he isn't there nor is our driver, Krishna. Back inside, I sat with the guy who drank from the Ganges... and he too is wondering where they went.

The concert ends like 30 minutes later, people leave, save a few travelers... and im getting approached by a she-male version of Steven Tyler. Greatly timed, Shannon and Krishna come back with a bottle of whiskey to save me from the beast... er, just make fun of me. Then the concert hall owner kicks everyone out, and basically tells to the tranny "get the hell out" and its the four of us.

Of course, I'm in a constant state of uncomfortableness which doesn't allow me to fully enjoy the whiskey. Then again, I don't think I ever enjoyed sipping whiskey.

We finish this bottle in about 30 minutes, and Krishna starts humping the air and talking about the kama sutra. Then goes on to explain what to do, in case you don't want to have sex. Video will be uploaded soon!

Response:
Wow Hahn, you left out about 75% of that story. Late that night we get led to another one of Krishna's buddies place, who happens to own and operate an enclosed space next to his house which he built a small stage and sitting area, with a thin rug and some pillows you could sit on. So we were directed by Krishna and his buddy to sit, and listen while Krishna grabbed some really bad tasting snacks for us to eat. So the lights went down, and two dudes sat on stage and played some instruments while we sat and watched them in the dim lighting. Who else was there?...Who the hell knows, but it was about 20 other people, 90% travelers around our age. So we all lined the walls and watched. Oh shit, I almost forgot. As an example of Krishna's tact, before the show started, there was a white girl standing with her boyfriend with their backs to us. The girl had decently short hair and kinda not a feminine face, and as soon as Krishna saw her, he walked up to her, interrupts her conversation with another traveler, and says, "Oh, with your hair, and your face, I thought you were a man". The girl in some european english slang replied, "Ok thanks". Her boyfriend just stood there dumbfounded, and they retired to the other side of the room. Hahn starts dying immediately, and I almost shoot chicken curry out of my ass. Neither of us even bothered to try and correct him. Fucking Krishna.
Anyway, halfway through the concert, doesn't this super lanky, from what I can tell from the dim light, decently looking chick walk in and sit across the way from Hahn and I. She bums a cigarette from the weird white kid sitting next to her, and watches the rest of the show as two younger boys sitting next to me on my left, one indian, one white-ish, eye her up and whisper about, probably, who's going to hit it first. So the concert ends, everyone claps, the lights go up, and apparently now its time for dancing. Well not for me its not. Im tired, my ankle is still fucked up from soccer, and quite frankly, Im not wasting my time dancing in India. I believe I tell Hahn something to this effect, but it's too late for him, Krishna's friend already has him anchored in to dance, and is directing him around to help get this Indian disco started. I walk out into the breezeway where are shoes are stored, and Krishna follows. I tell him the same, and Krishna and I go outside. The man who owns the place, his young son appears, and Krishna gets him to produce a scooter from some shadow somewhere, and Krishna and I go zooming through the alleys to the nearest liquor store, which is a closet shop with metal bars for a door that you reach your money through, and the employees reach back through and hand you want you want. I guess its either lock yourself in or get over run by the crowd of people wanting to get booze. Tough city. So we go back, and apparently while I was securing spirits, fucking Don Juan over there was wooing up the mystery woman who entered the concert late. I walk in with my trophy, and doesn't Hahn have his own trophy that's trying to follow him home by jumping in his pocket. Seriously, I walk in and the two of them are sitting there against the wall. Hahn is straight up, and she's leaning all into him, both all sweating from cutting the proverbial cheap Indian rug. So anyway, the two younger kids that were eyeballing her from the beginning finally admitted defeat, and left, but not after giving Hahn and her a long stare down. As they departed I gave them a hearty "better luck next time". They just looked at me. No one had any idea what I was talking about. No shit. Get out of here you kids, I'm not sharing my whiskey with you dumbasses. So at this point, its me, Krishna, Hahn, the Owner, and mystery girl. 2 minutes go by, and the Owner, as Hahn said, basically kicks her out, but not without a fight. The Owner says there is a hotel with vacancy literally right around the corner, and he'd be happy to call to get her a room. The chick, who was decent in dim light, but now a bit odd looking in the direct, immediately tries to smooth talk Hahn into going back with her for "some drinks", or whatever she said she had with her in her pack. Hahn played it cool though, and sent that crazy hippie floozy packing. That and she had hands the size of an NBA center, and very well might have been hung like one as well. (Hahn, chime in if you remember where she said she was from, or what even her name was...should of just wrapped it up and went with her you pussy...would have made a great story if nothing else...and perhaps a vd.) So she finally leaves, the bottle of whiskey gets popped open, and Krishna and the Owner laugh themselves into tears while they rip Hahn a new one for almost getting taken home by a tranny with glasses and giant appendages, for at least 15 minutes straight. It truly is funny to watch 2 Indian guys, one who can speak english and one who can't, cry themselves silly thanks to your friend. Awesome. At least the Owner learned a new english word, 'tranny': chick with dick.
So to finish this up, we all get straight hammered in about 45 minutes or so, and Krishna goes on about "Never, ever, trust an India man", money, and his family. And for the first time we get a glimpse of an Indian male actually not trying to rip us off, and treating us like human beings. (He would later try to rip us off, but hey, at least we got the real him for an hour or so.) Krishna would later go on, in drunken slur, about his sexual techniques, and as Hahn mentioned, his sexual push-ups that he loves to perform...with full demonstration on a phantom woman underneath him (Where's the picture of that Hahn?)
We also got a great view of regular Indian life, as the Owner, in his drunk stupidity, made us enter is house, and say hi to his wife...its now about midnight. I think he was trying to just play a small joke on her, but as he pushed Hahn and I into his dark bedroom, only illuminated by the glow of a small tv, the awkwardness level went from 0 to 60 in one glance. So now his wife is laying in bed, looking at us, wondering why too white boys are in her house, in her bedroom. I love awkward situations, I find them hilarious and genuine, and it usually gets me into some trouble when I just start laughing. But this was even a bit much for me. So Hahn and I make a hasty exit, and Krishna, the crazy fuck that he is, proceeds to drive us home in the tuk tuk bombed out of his gourd (after telling us he shouldn't), all the while periodically taking his hands off the wheel and howling at the moon. I hope we have enough space on the blog to upload the video, cause it's tits....
Im not even going to go back and correct any blatant grammatical errors...its 2:30am and Im spent...

Varanasi

The city of life, death, abhorred stenches, and home of the Ganges... A very old city (i think i read its a few thousand years old) with maze-like narrow streets. We picked up a tuk-tuk driver at the station. Krishna, was a fun guy but arrogant as hell. He hooked us up with a nice room that overlooked the Ganges for about 10 bones a night. We left the hotel through the narrow streets and were greeted by cows, shit, stray dogs, and other miscellaneous things that were strewn about the road.

The first thing we did was grab lunch at the Lotus Restaurant. It was a roof-top restaurant, situated next to the Ganges that served some good food. The food was a step up from the dried fruit that sustained us on the train. Soon, a friend of Krishna docked his boat in front of the restaurant and we climbed down to take a ride on the infamous Ganges.

Monsoon season must've just passed since people were blasting mud off the steps. We road up and down the Ganges taking in the view of the Ghats. Ghats are the places where people wash/pray/? on the steps. We even saw Assi Mcghat... I'm working on a t-shirt for that. About half way up the river we picked up this squirrely guy who made a leap from another boat to our boat. His momentum almost carried him over the side, but he nonchalantly sad down in the boat. His next action was a bit shocking... he reached down into the water, scooped up a handful of murky water, and drank that shit! swished it around in his mouth... just about everything you don't want to do with that water...

If you wondering why you shouldn't drink from the Ganges, here are a few reasons; raw sewage lines empty into it, people bathe/empty bowels into it, dead people get dumped in it, and almost everything that ever lived in it is extinct, ie. fresh water dolphins. But, being in born in India, you are bestowed with some super power that allows you to drink the Ganges and not die.

Back to the boat... we listed to our squirrely guide retell the history of the Ganges 2 or 3 times. Then we stopped and watched some cremations from the boat... there were 8 pyres going at once. According to the guide, cremations are a continuous 24 thing because getting your body cremated in the holy city sends you straight to Nirvana.

A little further down the stream we watched the closing ceremony... pretty boring actually... the high point was drinking chai. We then went back down the river towards our embarking point. We paid the boatman and went up on the ghat where we could watch a cremation - up close and personal.

Feeling a bit out of place, we were told the ceremonies and customs behind it. There are 7? types of bodies you can't burn, 3 funeral classes, and the more money you have the better wood you can buy. They also pull out the man's ribcage and the woman's hips and toss them into the river. Not as gross as it sounds since there are rendered to charred bones before being thrown in the river.


and now, your moment of Zen


Response:
Ahhh...Varanasi. What can one say about one of the holiest of holy cities in all of India, all focusing on the Ganges River, and the steps, or Ghats, that lead down to it. Many people can be seen praying near and washing themselves in the Ganges. And as Hahn mentioned, numerous festivals and most importantly the cremations. Sadly, with all of these extremely important cultural identifiers, you can on a daily basis also watch the people march down to the river and dump their garbage and waste right into the river. Jesus 'Shiva and Vishnu' Christ. What a bunch of honked out bullshit. Anyway, after picking up Krishna, who was a wanker, and who apparently knew fucking everyone in the city, we headed to grab a hotel, and to eat. Don't get me wrong, Krishna was pretty cool, and would later get into some shenanigans with us, and we were grateful that he turned out to be the coolest tuker we would meet. But anyway, getting to our hotel led us through a literal maze of very small alleys, about 13-15 turns, but it was cheap and right on the Ganges. It was about 4 stories up, and the walkway to our room was thin as hell and the stone railing was about 4 feet high. Perfect for getting drunk and falling to your death at one in the morning. Anyway, we opened our room door, with a key and lock from the 1600s, and entered our 1 star suite. We were in there for about 1 minute when a monkey climbed down from the outside wall and came in to check us out. Hey monkey. Then it disappeared. We also had a 10 inch green guard lizard chilling above one of the beds. I let Hahn have that one. He complained that he would wake up to the thing gnawing off his nose, and I calmed him down by letting him know he didn't really need all that cartilage, just two straight holes to breath that sweet Japanese air through. Ok, so I didn't say that. I just told him to sack up and get his wallet cause he was paying for dinner since I was still reeling from that carpet purchase...fucking carpet. Anyway, Krishna took us back through the narrow alleys, big enough for about 2 humans and a sacred cow, and we ate while taking in the sunset of the river. The rest is described above, sans the fact from the river you could see the gangs of monkeys attacking each other on the rooftop. Awesome. Also, at night, watching a religious festival, people would buy and then light thousands of votive candles, put them on a piece of paper, and float them down the river. That's nice....wait, what about when the candles melt to the paper, and the paper...sinks. Great, more shit in your holy river...way to think that one through. Afterward we wondered the ghats with Krishna and watch dead people burn....
Hahha... Assi McGhat....good call Hahn, almost forgot about that ->
See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Assi_Ghat
And: http://assdetective64.blogspot.com/
Now combine them together and you get season 3...Assy and Sanchez become India's first cops!...you listening Adult Swim?...no, of course not...you cancel all your best cartoons after 2 seasons...wankers.

The longest day

Awakened by some tools playing the radio, it must have been like 5 am since the sun was only starting to rise. The need to go to the bathroom arose and I grabbed the softest newspaper I could find, squatted down on two steel pegs... out on the tracks it went.

The time went by and our companions got off at there stops... yet still we waited, and waited. A guy actually came, sat across from, stared at us for a few minutes, and then left... wtf? We needed to get off this train. Tim was started to bug out, as was I. 22 hours later, we arrived in Varanasi, the holy city.

Response:
Chaiiiii.....Chaiiiii...Chaiiii....India's version of the beer vendor...every stop at a train station the vendors would hop on an off...and you know what, that god damn chai was delicious...Anyway, as Hahn mentioned, we were in the sleeper cabin, and when it got dark outside, that was it...one light at the far end of the car....nothing more. In the picture above you can see me buried in the corner, spooning with my pack, trying to get to sleep. Right below me was another bunk, and below that another. Talk about cramming people in. Once Hahn and I assessed that we were pretty much in no danger, the train ride was actually enjoyable, and the feeling of 'we would actually get back home again' slowly faded. The next morning came, and we would be arriving in Varanasi in a couple of hours. Score a victory in our column!!... Suck it India!!!....Nope. As the morning came, and Hahn and I slowly ventured from our cabin, realizing the people that were bunking with us weren't going to steal our stuff, we took in the sites. There are no rules in India, so damned if there are any on the train. We just walked to in between the cars, and popped open the doors, and sat and watched the country side. I never thought I could see so many people shitting in the open, yet there they were. Just squatting in the fields, with a jug of water by their side to wash the poo from their hands. And trash, and mediocre graffiti....and more trash...and more fields and crumbling structures...and trash. But as the day grew longer, and the train made more and more 2 hour stops in the middle of no where, we realized India just fucked us again. The train ride from Dehli to Varanasi, which was supposed to take somewhere like 10 hours, in which 8 of that was supposed to be us sleeping...took close to 22 hours. At about the 21.5 hour, as I lay in the top bunk, my sweat mixing with the sweat of a billion other India travelers, I thought about jumping from train before I just lash out and attack someone. I had to get off the train. I was becoming delirious. 30 minutes later our train stopped, and Hahn and I poured ourselves out of the train. Make sure you check out the second picture below...there are three bunks with three people sleeping...damn that was some tight spacing.

Smells

My senses were enlightened to new tastes, sights, and sounds but nothing compared to smells. India had some of the gnarliest odors that ever entered my nostrils. The smell of cow shit on the street mixed with cooked dinner, perfume, smog/pollution, with the countless unbathed people on the train. The train was overwhelming at points. We would be riding and suddenly you would smell shit, then food, burning hair, dead bodies, and eventually a mix of them all... we literally had to sleep with our shirts stretched up over our noses.

lucky Shannon brought his stretchy neck warmer

Response:
For whatever reason I did bring my buff, which I guess if you ever watched survivor, its basically a thin piece of cloth that can be transformed into all types of weird clothing items...I guess I was thinking more on the lines of hiding me from pollution, but it also came in handy for the crazy smells that blow around India. About half way through the trip, thanks to taking open air tuk tuks everywhere, my throat started to roughen up due to the fact pollution mandates are no where to be found in India. If anyone would want to make a killing, just open up a muffler shop in Delhi...well...ok, maybe not...90% of the people probably wouldnt be able to afford one. But anyway, yeah, soaking that buff in water and hanging that around my face most of the time helped start to breath right again...well...maybe it was just a placebo...but I felt better...

The train to... Auschwitz?

At the station there were thousands of people waiting on the platform while some peed off the platform onto the tracks. The people surrounding us seemed to take a certain interest in us; foreigners riding the train.

Dusk started to settle over Delhi and from a distance we could see a long blue snake approaching on the track. As it grew closer, we noticed the train was nothing like we had seen or expected. Did the train have electricity inside? we couldn't see any lights. The windows were barred and we could slightly make out the silhouettes of things inside... were we really supposed to ride this? We walked down the line to find our car, sleeper class, and climbed onto the iron juggernaut.

Inside, it was dark and getting crowded. We started recounting the stories we heard about people drugging you, stealing your bags, raping the shit out of you... ok, we didn't hear that last one. Anyway, we stumbled our way through and found our seats with 4 other Indian people. A couple, and possibly another couple but I'm thinking they were siblings. We waited there in the dark and thought the lights would come on after the train started moving. About an hour later the train disembarked from the station, however the light never turned on...

The first hour or so was pretty awkward, darkness, strange stares, and an obvious language barrier. The people who sat with us turned out to be very nice and the one guy spoke some English. The other guy seemed to be the friendlier of the two. With our limited capabilities, the 3 of us tried to discern where everyone was going. After a while, everyone started eating, and we noticed the massive amount of water people brought with them. Our puny 1 liter bottles wouldn't last the whole trip. Looks like we will have to hop off at a station to buy some water. Luckily, we didn't have to do this. At about every station people would hop on the train and walk up and down the car selling water, chai, and other snacks. Awesome...

But there was clearly an art to this. The first person to get on the train would undoubtedly be able to sell the most. So, they would jump on the train while it was still moving.

Eventually, we settled in and moved into the upper bunks. We were in a 6 person sleeper. Crammed into triple bunks, with a metal cage that separated us from the other sides. The beds were covered in the cake of other peoples sweat and dirt. Occasionally, we found bugs too. Sleep came soon in this noisy harmony of chatter, clanking, and chants of chai...