The Wrong Footing

So, India and I didn't really get off to the best start. To be fair, with a day behind me, it wasn't entirely India's fault. Our day started relatively normally. We got up early and headed for the tourist bus station in Pokhara for the 6hr(?) bus journey to Sonauli, at the border with India. A fairly run of the mill journey for the most part. Unfortunately, about an hour away from our destination, outside a town, whose name for the life of me I cannot remember, we encountered a fairly huge traffic jam. It took quite a while for us to get to the bottom of the cause and it appears that the story was essentially this. A man (who?) was killed the previous evening, either on or by a bus, and no one knew who did it, so as a result there were mass protests and unease. The bus driver told us we would have to wait an hour, then till 6, then till 8. We had to get to the border and on to Gorakhpur to get our train, so being the panicky person I am, I insisted we would be better to walk and find some other mode of transport to the border. After a walk into town, said mode mode of transport transpired to be a cycle rickshaw -for a 20km journey. He was young, fit and healthy, and eager to take the fare, but that didn't stop us feeling guilty and embarassed, two westerners and their huge bags being pedal pushed a huge distance. But, options were thin on the ground, the roadblock was getting stricter, only pedestrians, bikes and cycle rickshaws getting through and in some cases even the latter were refused!

After a painful 2 hours, we eventually arrived. The road block lifted about half an hour before we arrived and we spent the remainder of the journey dodging angry juggernauts! The air was filthy, you could see the black soot in the air .... we were manky! Shortly before Sonauli, the driver switched with another young fella and paid him to take us the last 15mins or so, although that didn't stop him trying to cod us out of a few quid when we got there.

The border was manic. People everywhere, noise, bright lights (it was dark at this stage). We had no idea where to go and eventually resorted to asking the Nepali police, who are relatively tolerant of tourists!!! The told us where to go, so we pushed through to the immigration counter in India, whereupon we were promptly sent (by a gruff Indian immigration official) back to the Nepal immigration counter for our Exit stamps. Eventually, with everything in order, we sought out a bus to Gorakhpur. For 5Rs, which miraculously grew to 55Rs as soon as we took our seats. Tired, faces black as coalminers, we just paid up and sat. Maybe the extra 5o was for the stunning Bollywood movie we were shown - the enduring power of love, the fickle sons who abandoned their parents in hard times only to return to share the spoils, when their father found new wealth! When Harry Met Sally meets The Little Red Hen!

The journey was fine and we arrived in a Gorakhpur which more than surpassed our expectations. We had been warned by several travellers that it was a dump! It was hideous. The hotel left a lot to be desired, collections of fungus that would fascinate some scientist, a foul stench that never really abated, bed sheets and blankets which we'll be lucky if we don't get scabies from!!! (thank god for sleeping bag liners!). On the plus side, I was lulled to sleep by "Gone in 60 seconds", yes, the room had a TV!!!

I've never jumped out of my bed so quickly at 5am! Our train was leaving from the station across the road and we had wisely opted for 2nd Class AC - fancy! The 250km journey cost about 7.50 euro each. It was pretty comfy and in retrospect, a redeeming factor for India.

Varanasi itself is interesting. Cycle rickshaws from the station are notorious. Our driver took us to where we wanted to go, then followed us for a further hour and a half (sitting outside the restaurant we had lunch in (first meal in over 24 hours!). They get paid a commission by hotels if they bring guests. Given my tired state and the intimidating nature of India when you first arrive, I didn't last long. Eventually, I snapped - a shout of no! and slashing my arms through the air and he went scurrying! I've since learned that the following techniques are effective:
1) The Ignoro - most eventually leave you alone
2) The Ignoro - No Englisho - for when 1 fails, eventually say "No english" (we actually got commended on this one, when a boatman on the ghats told us "Nice technique!"
3) In times of crisis - a brisk and sharp "Go away"

India does not bring out my best side.

Perhaps this is why I've yet to warm to it. That said, I'm not giving it the same frosty reception I did yesterday, so perhaps with time, I'll come to appreciate it. It is a place I was so excited to see and I'm disappointed that thus far I feel so much like a fish out of water - but we've Agra, Jaipur, Jodphur and Dehli to go, so who knows?