The cycle of days

From the depths of a down day the only way is up. There is a cycle in solo travelling, the highs followed by the lows. That is what keeps me going when homesickness strikes. Last night I lay  on the 'mattress' (plank) in my small hostel room feeling unable to make even the smallest decision.

My problem: window open...mosquito feeding time and the risk of awaking to find a monkey staring in through the grill. Windows shut... Sauna time. I went for the open windows as I am past caring about the wildlife. Pulling the sheet over my head, I went to sleep craving my home, my family, my own comfy bed.

This morning my gloom persisted but as the day progressed the genuine good nature of people here won me round.  Walking the ghats towards the furthest northern outposts where poverty predominates and tourist rarely venture I was met with kindness and generosity. A local tea stall for Indian pilgrims offered me a cup in a clay pot and refused payment. The street children wanted me to play cricket or fly kites without begging for money and women waved and smiled as I wandered past.

A street child following me in the hope of money

Returning for a siesta as the sun has returned with a vengeance I found that Sanjeev, the manager here, had arranged for me to have an aromatherapy neck and shoulder gentle rehabilitating therapy which really helped my bruised back. It also poured balm on my soul. I felt guilty about my tantrum yesterday as he obviously felt awful about my disastrous massage.  This is a genuinely friendly guest house so thankfully normal good humour was restored all round to mutual relief.

Entrance to my Guesthouse

Narrow streets in the old City by the river

On impulse afterwards I answered the cry of 'boat, madam?' with a ' yes' rather than my normal refusal. For an hour a sweet young man with good English rowed me around the river. We meandered over to the far banks to watch the swimmers, cruised along the calm waters cleansed by the rain (relatively!) admired the architecture of the ghats and chatted about life in Varanasi.

The Far side - like a British Seaside scene

Popular bathing spot

From the boat the level between low and high water here was striking. For months the now 'far‘ bank disappears and the treeline barely visible in the distance takes its place. The steep steps of the ghats are submerged. The monsoon  level is marked by the exceptionally high windows which are visible now only by neck straining stares skyward. As the waters recede the infrastructure is damaged further each year, hence the derelict state of buildings and subsiding ghats.

Water reaches the windows during the monsoon!

Cramped banks lead to higher building - against the rules in theory! 

Architectural mismatch

Stunning architecture - well above the high water level

By the time I disembarked the sun was setting and the moon was rising. The evening blessing was soon in full swing. The seven brahmin in white at one ghat competed in noise with the five brahmin next door.  As the chanting rose to a crescendo, tonight it brought me the solace of peace.

The 7 Brahmin in white versus...

...the 5 on the next ghat

The Brahman blessing

No takers!