...the hourglass. We're stuck in traffic on the bridge over The Ganges River in Varanasi... for over 2 hours we're part of this metal crush of horns and screeching bikes. There's people everywhere, like nothing else we've seen ever.
Thoughts cross your mind... we think nothing, then we get impatient, frustrated, then back to nothing, check in on the time, still nothing, get impatient again, frustrated... again and again. Finally, we make a decision and we bail out of the taxi and join the queue on foot. For nothing other than the fact we're actually doing something about the state we've found ourselves in here on this bridge. Looking down, it's a long way to the dirty water and I don't know how strong these pylons are into the ground. We head out on foot for our 3.5km walk back to our hotel.
We see a lot along the way... I think this is life changing actually. I know it's gonna be hard but we're moving. We try both sides of the bridge, at first moving with the flow of the crowd, till we're stopped by a wave of motorbikes coming our way. We cross over, hopping over tow bars and squeezing between tuk tuks and cars, and busses... who drives things that size in this place. At the end of the bridge, there's a rubbish dump running down to the river and a cow chewing on something in a plastic bag. The smell is terrible... bit like cow sht, but dusty. There's pot holes everywhere, roads crumbling away and wheels hanging off the edge as if they don't value their safety at all... and in this position, we do the same.
Further along, we see stall holders sitting in puddles of mud, shoes strewn beside pots of boiling grotty water and plastic bags full of deep fried everything... at least they're wrapped. Theres kids, old people, families all trying to get across the bridge and no one gives an inch... and yet they're calm. Some even wave at us and the eyes we meet share an understanding... we've been here too.
It's mind blowing this walk... it's as if we cannot have ever imagined ourselves in this situation from our couch. Between dodging puddles and protecting my toes, we talk about this... how to travel the way we want to, even when you can't go anywhere... it's pretty inspiring. We ring the tour guide to opt out of the fire show that night, there's no way we can get back across this bridge... Don't worry he says, I've found another way, we'll pick you up in an hour. Another driver picks us up... the first is still stuck somewhere in town, and we drive through this village to the riverbank to board a boat. The flat sandy plains of the Ganges eek out in front of us and he waves the boat driver over. As he approaches, he cannot pull into shore and we need to walk out. I've read this, that it's like holy water in this river... well to them it is I guess but to me it's kinda gross. The guide takes his shoes off, rolls his jeans up to his knees. Brendan does the same. I slip my jandals off, tuck my dress up and he offers me a piggy back. The old me would've said yep, I'll take it thanks. "no" I said "thanks but if you're going in there, I will too" and off we go. Water laps over our knees... and ashes, presumably from the mornings cremations. But it's ok.
