. . . but we don't burn the monkeys - they're special

For pictures of our trip so far go here . . .

http://picasaweb.google.com/corachan/IndiaPart1?authkey=bHH7XGvNEWM

and for C's parallel blog, though vastly more focused on food :)

http://www.headingwesttogoeast.blogspot.com/

It was with some degree of pride that our guide on the Ganges river told me the various creatures of the Earth that do and do not receive cremation by the river. Men and women yes, children no, pregnant women (no - count under children), priests no(too holy), cows no, and the kicker - monkeys are put in a little box which they sink. As I pondered the meaning of crossing a lake full of boxed up expired monkeys, I had to pause on Varanasi.

It's really a tale of two cities for us. Having left the rankerous confines of Delhi just a day ago, we had made the decision to book a little higher end. For as badly as Delhi scared us, the book said Varanasi was worse, much much worse. (Thunder clap) So in Western desperation we booked two nights stay at the Ramada in Varanasi - a four star hotel charging the outrageous sum of about 2750 Rupees per night, or just under 100 a night - I know not bad.

The flight out was surprisingly comfortable. I've been advised in hindsight that Air India really is the worst airline in the world and all others are seemingly quite clean and normal - this time Spice Jet demonstrated that readily. In the airport departure gate we spotted the prepaid taxi stand for a trip to our hotel. Advised that the rate would be ~250 we discovered a charge of 610. Thinking we could do better on the street with luck, we emerged to discover that was only the fake prepaid taxi stand - the real one was outside. I'm not kidding people, there's a charlatan taxi stand that they put in the airport - that's India for ya folks.

So Varanasi. As we drive through tiny roads of people pumping water, and cows pulling carts of red carrots piled high atop with little school children, we wondered what we were really in for. As we arrive, it's a compound, glittering glass doors and golden lobby, an attendant wearing something I could only describe as a military pompadour so profound I nicknamed him the rooster, it was a glittering mega hotel - in the middle of all this 18th century bedlam.

The ganges is more than a little green. Having been informed that this mighty river was now polluted so badly that it actually retained no (that's zero) oxygen content and had a fecal coliform count 500 times the acceptable level, I wasn't about to bathe. However a row boat ride by our prostheltizing guide was quite nice. Then he took us to a crappy shop. Sigh - there's really no end to the ATM treatment - we returned to our glittery and quite empty palace.

Having now departed the cow belt we've landed in sunny Goa. What a change of pace, quickly from sweaters, Hindi, and cows we descend to Portugese, beaches, and 85 degree paradise. Goa is a former Portugese colony South of Mumbai. Picture coconut palms, sand, the Arabian sea, and me and C lapping up some rays. It's vacation from the vacation time. I left our room this morning to find a tiny plastic crab outside the door - how cute I remark - and then he runs away. That's awesome, he was so cool! So I ate one of his friends for dinner to celebrate - tasty.