Mission to Mirissa

Posted on April 30, 2013 by hilarylust

When we told the hotel manager that we wanted to see a tea plantation and make it south to Mirissa beach to lie in the sun all in one day, he laughed at us.
“You can’t do that! Do you know how far Mirissa is from here? It’s an 8 hour drive at least, and the tea plantations don’t even open until 9:00. There is a direct bus to Matara, which is twenty minutes outside of Mirissa, but it leaves at 7:15. If you take that, you’ll miss the plantations. Or you can take a connecting bus at 12:30 and switch busses half way, but you won’t get to the beach while the sun is up! 8:00 at the earliest if the busses connect.”
Great. We wanted to do both! There’s no way I’m going to be in one of the most famous tea regions in the world and not see a plantation, but all I want to do is hang out on the beach with an icy beer. So that’s what we’re doing, No matter what. Where there’s a will there’s always a way!
We were at the plantation before opening, and finished by 9:45. We arrived back at the Nuwara Eliya bus station by 10:15.
“We want to go to Matara!” We announced. We had missed the direct bus, and the usual connecting bus didn’t go until for another 2 hours.
“We don’t care how we get there, we just want to be there as fast as possible.”
The guy looked at us for a minute and thought. Then he turned around, dragged us to a bus that was pulling out a couple rows down and told us to get on. He yelled to the ticket man about where we wanted to go. He nodded and we sat down.
“Hmmm, where do you think we’re going?” I asked Kelsi
“Who knows!”
“Well wherever we’re going, I promise you I will have a beer in my hand, sitting on the beach in Mirissa, watching the sun go down, this evening!”
Everyone on the bus was curious about where we were going. Two guys in front of us each came up with their own plan of were we should change busses. Nothing made sense to us, and no two people had the same plan of action. As long as we were headed in the right general direction, I was happy.
We drove for a couple hours, pulling over in small towns here and picking people up on the side of the road there. I had no idea where we were. Finally we pulled up to one stop and the conductor motioned for us to get off. He pointed at some random man that was standing next to the bus stop. Without a word, the second man motioned for us to follow him.
“Where are we going?!” I asked like an excited little kid.
“To the hospital.” He said nonchalantly.
I looked back at Kelsi confused. She shrugged.
“Ok” I said.
“Yeah I have a bad heart. I Need to get it checked out, you know?”
I most certainly did not know. I had no clue what was going on, and yet we continued to follow the man through the bus station.
“Okay, get on” he said as he motioned to the bus. We looked at each other and decided his guess was better than ours. We climbed into the packed bus and the man walked off.
Is he coming with us? Is he going to the hospital? I have no idea what’s going on…
The bus was so full Kelsi and I grabbed the last two seats a few rows apart from each other. About 15 more people piled on as the bus pulled out of the station.
“Hello,” said the little old lady beside me, “Where are you from?”
“Canada” I replied.
“And where are you going?”
“Hopefully to Matara. Does this bus go to there?”
“Oh yes, you should be there by 4:30” she smiled and then offered me some of her roti bread to eat.
Victory! I don’t know how we did it, but we ended up on a bus going the right way!
The bus system in Sri Lanka looks like a disaster, but I honestly think it’s one of the most efficient bus systems I’ve ever been on. Every conductor knows the routes, everyone knows when and where the connections are, and which bus leaves from which stand. Yes, people jump on and off the busses while they are moving, and yes sometimes they are so full that there are twice as many people standing as there are sitting, but, we never once waited longer than 5 minutes for a bus going our direction. It was unreal.
We got to Matara, switched buses, grabbed a Tuk Tuk to a guesthouse and sat on the beach with a beer in our hands in perfect time for the last hour of sunshine. We watched the sunset, had an amazing dinner on the beach and called it a night. Success! And the rush was worth it. Mirissa beach is a beach that should be photographed for travel magazines. Perfect white sand, excellent for surfing, leaning palm trees that stretch all along the coastline. This place is paradise! On top of that, April is off season for tourists in Sri Lanka, so although there were enough people lounging on the beach to have a good time, essentially the place was our own. Our little escape from the bustling world, to relax and unwind. Exactly what the doctor ordered after a month in crazy India!

Tea Plantations in Nuwara Eliya

Posted on April 30, 2013 by hilarylust

When we left Sigiriya we bussed the long trip to Kandy and spent a whirlwind couple hours checking out the lake and the Tooth Temple. I have to admit, most of our Kandy experience was spent in KFC. We’d been craving American fast food for weeks now and when I spotted it I nearly jumped out of my skin in excitement. As usual with fast food, the idea is always better than the experience and we left too full and feeling sick.
When we were done with Kandy we make the final three hour trek to Nuwara Eliya.
Nuwara Eliya, meaning “city on the plain” or “city of light” is nestled in the center of the beautiful tea plantations of Sri Lanka. Its slightly higher altitude made it the perfect weather to walk around, even in the height of the day.
Nuwara Eliya is considered the most important area for tea production in Sri Lanka, so Kelsi and I took full advantage of exploring the region. The next morning we were up early and on another state bus heading into the plantations. We hopped off at a plantation called Mackwoods Labookelie a half hour before it even opened.
The backdrop to Labookelie was sensational. Green hills covered in rows of tea plants, small temples scattered off in the distance, and a river running through the bottom of the ravine. We watched the little old ladies walk down the dirt road with their baskets to begin work. They trudged off into the plantations to begin harvesting for the day.
We sat down at an outside seating area to have breakfast. We sat, staring out at the landscape, eating the fresh fruit and yoghurt we had bought in Kandy the day before.
Finally, a guy that worked there came around.
“Are you here for a tour?” He asked.
“Yes we are!”
“Okay, come with me” he led us towards the factory. There were only two other people, an older German couple, and us on the tour. And as a bonus, the whole thing was free!
For someone who drinks tea all the time, and I mean ALL the time, I actually have no idea how to make it. I don’t know where it comes from, or how different teas are classified; this was an eye opening experience for my tea ignorance.
So here it goes…
Black tea, green tea and white tea are all made from the exact same plant. Yup, probably common knowledge, but I had no idea. Only the top three to five baby bright green leaves are used to make the tea. When they are picked, they go through a drying process, the leaves are separated from the stems, fermented, and are finally broken down into different grades of tea. This is black tea. Green tea is the exact same process from the exact same leaves, except they are not fermented. Who knew! White tea, on the other hand, is made only from the buds of the plant. Each plant has a single bud on the top of the plant, and that is what is used for the tea. Five kilos of picked leaves makes one kilo of black tea. Seven kilos of buds makes one kilo of white tea. Thus why white tea is more expensive than black or green.
There are a few different grades of black tea. This depends on how coarsely the leaves are broken down. The coarser the leaves, the higher the grade. The fine, dust-like powder tea that comes in the cheapest, pre-packaged tea bags is the lowest. The chunky leafy teas are considered the highest grade, and yet the midrange grade (where the tea is finely ground, and yet not quite dust) is the most favored, because of its more rounded flavor.
All of these black teas are orange pekoe. Another one of my ignorant tea moments. Orange pekoe is plain, black tea. All black teas have a base of orange pekoe. If you are trying a rose tea, or earl grey, or fruit flavored, that is made by adding oils or spices as a mix afterwards. I seriously had no idea.
The tour of the plantation was about a half hour. We wandered through the factory, saw the whole tea-making process, and finally sat down to a wonderful cup of tea in the tea bar.
It was exactly what we wanted to see in Nuwara Eliya and was perfect timing to get back on the road. In just a short hour I had learned more about tea than my whole tea knowledge of the past 26 years! Pretty successful morning if you ask me!

Sigiriya: The 8th Wonder of the World

Posted on April 28, 2013 by hilarylust

Like Anuradhapura, Sigiriya was yet another, albeit short-lived, capital of the Siganese empire. Also known as the Lion Rock, Sigiriya was built by King Kasyapa in 477. The royal fortress was built on the top of a 200m high rock that unnaturally emerges out of the earth. In an otherwise flat part of the Sri Lankan countryside, Sigiriya’s impressive-looking rock anomaly is awe-inspiring to see. When the palace was abandoned after King Kasyapa’s death it was then used as a Buddhist monastery until the 14th century. Sigiriya is considered by many to be the 8th Wonder of the World, and is one of the many Unesco World Heritage sites that Sri Lanka offers.
We woke up in Anuradhapura and were back on the road at a ridiculous time of the morning. We switched buses in Dambulla and made the final 45 minute trek to Sigiriya’s base: it was 9:30am. Not bad!
Even from the road, Sigiriya was impressive. It just seemed so unnatural. The surrounding area was a beautifully kept garden that spread out across the flat land. Right down the center of the garden was a path that led towards the rock face.
Sigiriya was impressively huge.
“It’s going to take us hours to climb this” we both said. But surprisingly it didn’t. Without stops, you could climb up the 200m in less than a half hour easily. Along the climb you can see perfectly preserved fresco paintings, coloured into the side of the rock. On a small plateau 3/4 of the way up, was a massive gateway in the shape of a lion. The lions paws create the entrance for the final steps to the top.
From the top, the views are breathtaking. Just endless miles of green jungle and palm-fringed lakes. Apart from a couple smaller hills, the land is flat, making Sigiriya even more of an oddity.
Kelsi and I sat under the shade of a tree with a little stray dog just taking in the scenery. Apparently the little dog climbs the huge rock every morning with the first tourists. At 6:00, when Sigiriya closes, she climbs back to the bottom with the last stragglers.
The shade was wonderful and the breeze even nicer on such a scorching hot morning. We explored the ruins for about a half hour before finally making our descent.
At $30 US dollars, Sigiriya is a pretty expensive entrance fee. But the climb is fun and the views are worth it; you can’t come to Sri Lanka and not visit it. And who knows, maybe one day this wonder will make the top 7 list! Either way, I’m glad I can check it off the bucket list.

Anuradhapura

Posted on April 28, 2013 by hilarylust

Marshall had told us that it would take us all day to get to Anuradhapura.
“If you leave really early, you may get there by 3. Then you can see the city the next day”
Well we didn’t have two days, so we were determined to do it all in one.
Well, where there’s a will there’s a way!
We woke up with the sun, grabbed some crackers and water at the bus station and set out. The train that Marshall had told us to take didn’t leave until 9:30. From there we had to stop in a city half way up, and take a bus to Anuradhapura.
“We have to get out on the road earlier than that. Let’s take the bus and figure it out from there.” We decided.
Everyone at the bus station (all bus stations in fact) were so helpful. Their chaotic, rapid yelling of destinations and gridlock mess of moving busses seemed daunting. But their state bus system is actually incredible. We never had to wait more than a few minutes to catch a bus heading in the right direction.
The bus operators found us a bus heading half way to our destination.
“From there, you change busses and go straight to Anuradhapura!”
Perfect! We hopped on the bus heading off to the middle of nowhere. Let’s hope for the best!
Our bus transition was effortless and we were on a second bus within minutes of arriving at the station. Just a few hours later we found ourselves at a guesthouse in Anuradhapura, with a juice in hand, organizing a tour of the ancient city for that afternoon: it was 1:30. Where there’s a will there’s a way!
By 2:00 we were on a whirlwind, 4 hour tour of the best sites in Anuradhapura.
Anuradhapura was the royal capital of Sri Lanka over 2200 years ago. For nearly 1000 years, Sinhalese monarchs ruled from the palaces of this ancient city. Today, a network of ruins exists. The ancient city is full of history, and as a tourist you are free to explore the palaces, gardens and ancient monasteries in the area.
Kelsi and I were lucky enough to have a young guide take us around the area. He was wonderful at bringing the ruins back to life by telling stories.
“This is where the king and his concubines bathed” he would start, “this place was full of running water, it rushed over the rock walls and created private rooms.”
The whole place slowly came to life as we passed through sleeping quarters and bathing ghats and bathrooms. The area was interspersed with ancient monasteries where monks would come to meditate. The whole place was full of lush green trees and big lakes; it was a stunning place to put a palace.
Still today there are working temples in the area. Large domed temples dedicated to Buddha, and monasteries built around sacred rocks or trees. The Bo tree found in Anuradhapura is considered the oldest tree on earth. It is supposedly 2000 years old. We arrived at the tree just before 6:00, when all the women and men came to pray at the temple. For some reason, I had expected the oldest tree on Earth to be massive: but it wasn’t. It was actually surprisingly unclimactic as we realized it was just a normal looking tree, half shrouded by the walls of its encircling temple. In the end it was the rituals of the people that were most interesting. Women crowded their way up one staircase, while the men did the same on the other. They all prayed at each of the four altars, and then somehow ended up in a procession line that circled around the grounds. Kelsi and I were as much a spectacle there as we were in India, but it was more curiosity. The school girls giggled and waved and shyly came up to shake our hands before running off to tell their friends. Parents would point us out to their small children and get them to wave to us. Our guide said the school girls would be gossiping about us in class for weeks to come. The whole afternoon was incredible. Our guide had wonderful insights into the Buddhist religion and was happy to share his beliefs with us. There’s something about the Buddhist culture that I really like; it seems like everyone is so at peace with the world, no matter their situation.
The day was busy, but in the end successful. We had made it half way across the country and seen the ancient capital all in a single day. It was home to eat and off to bed early. Another long day ahead of us tomorrow…

Negombo Beach

Posted on April 26, 2013 by hilarylust

Our first stop in Sri Lanka was a city called Negombo. Only 16km from the airport, Negombo is a two part city: town and beach. We opted for beach: clearly. At the bus stop we paid less than a dollar to catch a Tuk Tuk to a guesthouse at Negombo Beach.
The beach was beautiful! White sand, palm trees, warm water: it was paradise. There were little fishing boats with huge sails scattered across the horizon and locals and tourists swimming in the waves (in bathing suits might I add. Completely opposite to India). We headed immediately to the beach to lie out on the sand as relax in the late sunshine. We’d been in the country only a couple hours and I was already in love.
The guesthouse we stayed at was called Marshall’s Beach Guesthouse. Marshall, the owner, was so lovely. He was also a tour guide around Sri Lanka, so he had a million suggestions on places to visit and stay for the night. When I asked him about guesthouse recommendations for Anuradhapura, he gladly flipped open a huge binder with guesthouse business cards all in alphabetical order according to city. So helpful.
But although Marshall himself could not have been any nicer, the man that ran the guesthouse when Marshall was away wins as my favourite person in Sri Lanka. Although his English wasn’t perfect, his hospitality and his constant concern about our happiness made him the sweetest person we had met in ages!
“You happy?” He would ask us with a huge grin. “You happy then I am VERY happy!” He would genuinely ask us this after every meal, or showing us our room, or after we’d come home from the beach. We wanted to stay forever!
The town of Negombo Beach was small but lovely. It was a single street with a mix of restaurants, souvenir shops and beach guesthouses. All the restaurants served delicious fish curries or traditional Sri Lankan cuisine. Everyone in town wanted to say “Hello” but no one seemed pushy about coming into shops and buying their wares.
“Do you hear that?” Asked Kelsi when we were walking down the street.
“No, hear what?” I asked.
“Exactly.” there were no honking, screeching, deafening car sounds. It was amazing. I don’t understand how two countries, right next to each other can be so different! But I’m not complaining.
We wandered the town, relaxed on the beach, and spent a whole lot of time doing nothing. It was great.
That night I met an English guy named Max that had been traveling Sri Lanka by motorbike for three months already. By luck, he was able to offer us the best places to see in Sri Lanka. With his suggestions, we tweaked our original plan and had an epic 5 days ahead of us. Next stop: the ancient ruins of Anuradhapura!

Sri Lanka

Posted on April 26, 2013 by hilarylust

Kelsi and I had absolutely zero expectations about Sri Lanka. Until the night before we arrived, in fact, the only thing we knew about the country was that Colombo was the capital and it has tea. Yes, we’re ridiculous. We had expected Sri Lanka to be our relaxing vacation time. Check out Colombo for a day or two, then lie on the beach for 5 days and unwind. Then we googled it…
Sri Lanka has SO much to offer. It has pristine beaches, ancient ruins and abandoned palaces, a rich history of Buddhism, and some of the most incredible tea plantations in the world. It has the most Unesco World Heritage sites for a country of it’s size (8 in total) and is home to the ancient fortress Sigiriya, that is considered by many to be the 8th Wonder of the World. On top of that, Lonely Planet has rated it as one of the top ten places to visit in 2013. For a place that was wrapped up in a brutal civil war until 2009, the country is still off the beaten track to most tourists. Wow.
This meant both good and bad news. The good thing was that we were about to see most, if not all, of these things. The bad news was, our relaxing five-day beach holiday was going to have to be put on hold.
In only a few hours we put together a 14 day sightseeing tour of our own. The problem was, we only had 5 and a half days, and a small budget. What to do?
Wen it came to our week in Sri Lanka, I think the phrase should be “where there’s a will, there’s a way!” We were not about to let limited time and money get in our way. We would wake up at the crack of dawn, figure out the local bus systems, eat the cheapest street food we could find, and make it work!
Our first hour in the country was almost discouraging. We stopped at a tourist office in the airport to ask directions to the bus.
“Why would you take a bus? I can organize a taxi for you to Colombo no problem: 1600. Or we can organize a whole tour for you! What’s your budget?”
“$25 a day!” we replied with a smile.
“$25 a day?!” The two tour agents laughed and laughed at us. “That’s impossible. The entrance fees to
Anuradhapura and Sigiriya are $25 and $30 alone! You can’t have that low of a budget!” They laughed until finally pointing us in the direction of the bus stop. We were going to do it! We didn’t have any more money, and we weren’t going to miss out on anything.
And in the end, we came back 6 days later having spent $28 a day and we managed to visit BOTH Anuradhapura and Sigiriya! It could have been $25 if we hadn’t spoiled ourselves with beer and seafood on the last night! As I said, where there’s a will, there’s a way! Sri Lanka, here we come!

Spice Jet and the Madurai Airport

Posted on April 25, 2013 by hilarylust

Flying to Sri Lanka meant our second time flying with Spice Jet. Spice Jet is just one of the few bargain airlines that India has to offer. What you get is dirt cheap flights and a wild ride…
For two people who have never been afraid of flying, Spice Jet flights were a whole new ball game. Normal airline rules are apparently just guidelines here: welcome to India. On our first flight down to Chennai, we had zero safety procedures. The plane just started rolling down the runway towards take off. No one was in their seats: kids ran around and mothers had children in their laps (I’m talking eight year olds, not babies). When the flight attendants started rolling the food cart down the aisle, instead of waiting until they moved through the rows, people just ran up and bombarded the stewardess.
“Two juices!”
“A coke! A coke!”
“Bring me some water please”
The stewardesses had money shoved in their faces, while people grabbed at the pop cans on the top of the cart. Meanwhile, they were still trying to move through the rows in an orderly fashion, so the swarms of people were slowly pushed toward the back of the plane. Absolute madness. Kelsi and I watched, appalled, as all this went on. Is this really happening?
As we neared Chennai we spent about five solid minutes in turbulence. People were still out of their seats, moving around. We finally came out of a group of clouds right over top of the city.
“Oh my god it feels like we’re going to hit those buildings!” Kelsi said in horror. We were right up next to some of the taller buildings in the city. Luckily for us all, we didn’t hit any of them.
Before we even touched the ground, yet again, people were out of their seats, grabbing their bags from the overhead compartment, and waiting to get down the aisle and off the plane. Cool it folks! We aren’t even on the ground yet! Once off we all piled into a bus that waited ten minutes before driving us 100 feet to the front door. We could have walked it in less than a minute. Welcome to Spice Jet, have a good flight.
Sitting in the Madurai airport we remembered back to that first flight.
“Are you equally as nervous to fly with Spice Jet again?”
“Yup!” We giggled nervously.
Then all of a sudden two young pilots with Spice Jet uniforms on came in. They had collars popped, hair styled and they were wearing dark, reflective aviator glasses… INSIDE!
“Oh my god,” said Kels, “are those our pilots?! They look like they’re actors in a Bollywood version of Top Gun!”
They strutted through the airport towards security. This is crazy.
We had a lot of time to sit and contemplate our demise in the airport. We’d arrived almost three hours early for our international flight. We gave ourselves extra time, so we could grab breakfast and hopefully catch some wifi while we waited at the gates. To our disappointment, there was no wifi, there was no food (apart from some guy selling old chicken sandwiches behind a glass compartment) and our check-in counter didn’t open until an hour and a half before the flight. Fail.
So we just sat around, watching our crazed Spice Jet employees strut their stuff around the airport waiting room.
At one point, I looked up and out the front window of the airport to see a crowd of about 100 people. Considering up to this point there were only 7 people, this was quite a shock. People flooded through the front gates with chairs and cameras and lights. They set up more rows of chairs in the waiting room, everyone sat down to fill the seats, our pilots perked up and walked over to talk to an official looking woman in a red suit. The camera crews moved around the room, setting up lights and screens and moving people around… What’s going on?
Turns out they were a film crew. Our Top Gun, Bollywood pilots were ACTUALLY actors (thank God) and the people were there to film a movie? Commercial? Documentary on how safe Spice Jet flying is? Who knows… But man were we confused.
We removed ourselves from the film chaos and sat on the other side of the airport. We’d had our fill of being photographed in India. At this point, we had already checked in; however, we had to continue waiting in the front of the airport until immigration opened. It opened only 45 minutes before our flight, and 15 minutes after our check-in gate closed. This is the most bizarre airport system. While we were waiting, the immigration officer walked over to us and sat down right next to me.
“Hi” he said “where are you from?”
“Canada” I said.
“Oh, Canada, very nice.” He pointed to my immigration form. “Have you filled out your form yet?”
“Yup!”
“Oh, but you haven’t written down your address and phone number.” He said.
“Oh!” I looked back down at the paper. I wouldn’t put it past me to forget a line on my immigration form. “I don’t see a line for address and phone number” I said confused.
“On the other side” said the officer
I flipped it over. How silly, I should have checked the other side. But when I turned it over I was even more confused. There was nothing to fill out, it was just the front of the form with a logo that read “Indian Immigration Form”
“Where do I put it?” I asked
“Oh just anywhere” he said as he smiled at me.
I looked at Kelsi. This is weird. Why would I have to just write my address and phone number on the front. That doesn’t make sense. I looked back up at the immigration desks across the room. The officers were all standing there giving the guy sitting next to me a thumbs up. Oh my god, is he just hitting on me for my address and phone number? I didn’t want to lie on an immigration card, but I did want to be accepted into Sri Lanka. So I cut my losses and wrote a fake address.
“And phone number?” He asked
“Sorry, don’t have one”
“But your phone is sitting in your lap” he said as he pointed to my iPhone.
“Nope, not my phone!” I smiled back at him, daring him to challenge me. He looked confused and had no way else to argue, so he got up and walked back to immigration.
“Immigration is open” he said to us.
When we got up to the line, a man at the front divided everyone into different lines. Hmm, I wonder which officer I’m going to get. Creepy phone number guy was at booth 4.
“Just down to number five please” he said to me. Then he panicked. “No wait! Number 4! Number 4!”
I rolled my eyes. Fantastic. Two other lines were totally empty but I had to wait in line for desk number 4! When I got up I got all the stupid lines. He passed my passport photo around to his friends, gave me the thumbs up looking through all my visa photos and after a few questions about nothing official I grabbed my passport back and walked through to security. And guess what? No one else had to give their address or phone number. Pretty sure people have been fired for that in every other country in the world. At this point, I was looking forward to getting out of India and into somewhere new. Just had to survive my Spice Jet flight to Colombo!
Sri Lanka, here we come!

Tamil Nadu

Posted on April 25, 2013 by hilarylust

After the Holi Festival, we trained to Delhi and flew down to Chennai in the far South of India. The state of Tamil Nadu is an extreme off shoot from the rest of India; they honk and screech to a deafening degree, they refuse to speak the national language of Hindi and they express their religion with even more colour than Rajasthan (if that’s even possible). We spent five whirlwind days in the Tamil Nadu state and it’s all a blur to me. Up early, on a bus, next city, quick tour, back to sleep, up early, repeat. By the time we hit Madurai Kelsi and I were walking zombies.
Chennai was just another big city. Most backpackers skip the city all together, but the idea of flying across the country and figuring the bus system all on the same day seemed daunting. So we spent the night.
Despite it’s noisy city core, Marina beach, which lines the city in a 16km stretch of white sand, is a beautiful escape. It is where I fully rediscovered my love for street food. The beach is loaded with food vendors selling anything under the sun! Gobi pakoras, deep fried plantain chips, fresh fruit, popcorn made right there from fresh corn cobs. You could buy barbecued fish caught that day, rice dishes, noodles, chickpeas with chilli and fresh mango slices… I was in heaven. It makes me sad that Kelsi gets sick off of 95% of the food here in India, because I would eat street food for every meal if I could! We spent the afternoon trying the various vendor foods before wandering up the sand to George Town. However, when we found ourselves lost in the slums as the sun went down we decided to grab a Tuk Tuk home.
Our second day we moved along to Mamalapuram: a quaint little backpackers beach town with some unique rock temples and some great seafood. We were ripped off and lied to by five different people on five different occasions before noon that day. I wanted to rip someone’s throat out by the time we cruised up to the city hours later than scheduled and out three times the money. I’m not even going to go into details because it will just put me back into a rage.
But the laid back, friendly locals in Mamalapuram changed us back into positive people. Despite the whole town not having power for most of the day, we had a great time. Mamalapuram is the first place we realized how lax copyright laws are here in the country. We realized that most of the Lonely Planet recommended restaurants coincidentally have doubles. The popular “Moonraker’s” restaurant now has a rival location directly across the street. Or when looking for “Gecko’s”restaurant, you can also find “Little Gecko’s” right next door. It amazes me how there are not lawsuits.
We ended up eating at Gecko’s (the original) and had the best Keralan style coconut fish curry I’ve ever eaten. The staff were so friendly and the rooftop restaurant overlooked a small lake in the middle of town. Definitely my top choice for places to eat in town.
By the third morning we were off to Pondicherry. Pondicherry (or Pondi) is a beautiful, French colonial meets Tamil Nadu style city. The East part of the city has a wonderful boardwalk that fills up with people and food vendors as the evening approaches. We stayed at the end of the walk in a gorgeous ashram. Although it had rules and a 10:30 curfew, the Ashram is still the cheapest and most sought after location in Pondi. We had a third floor room overlooking the meditation garden and the ocean. Big palm trees lined the shore and we sat our on the balcony watching the daylight disappear. It was calm and relaxing (unlike anything else in India) and a wonderful way to relax for a couple hours after such a whirlwind trek through the state.
The relaxing was short lived, however, since we were up and back on the road to Trichy. By the time we hit Trichy, we had scoped out our bank accounts and realized we’d need to budget if we wanted to last our final month. We found the most dilapidated looking hotel in the area, figured out the local bus system to explore the city, and ate at a restaurant that had no menu and no English. The waiter just kept bringing us stuff, and in the end our meal cos us less than a dollar each. We had done well.
The temples we saw in Trichy were neat. They were colourful and detailed and we had to hike up 500 stairs just to get to one. Unfortunately, in Tamil Nadu there are few temples that foreigners can go into. So after all our hiking, we just had to take a photo from outside and then climb back down. Even worse, the views weren’t worth it…
Our final stop was Madurai. Five days, five cities, a good chunk of a state complete. We were exhausted. Finding a hotel in Madurai was a trying experience. When we realized that all the pricing in our guide book had more than DOUBLED since its publication (6 months ago) we were unimpressed. The hotel we stopped at was nice enough to point us in the direction of a cheaper place around the corner. When we walked outside to go find it a man came up to chat to us in the street.
“Hello! I am a tailor are you looking for some clothes?” He asked
“No, we’re just looking for our hotel now thanks, maybe later”
“Which hotel?” He inquired
Kelsi showed him the scrap of paper with the name on it.
“Ahh, yes, I know where it is, ill show you” he snatched the paper from Kelsi’s hand and put it in his short pocket. “Follow me”
When we’d walked down the street and around the corner we found the place.
“This is it!” I said, “let’s go in”
“Why would you want to stay here?” The man asked. “I know a much better place for the same price. It has Internet and power, come see it, it’s right here. Just looking! If you don’t like it, you can come right back” he smiled and pointed just down the street.
” I’m going to check on this place” I said. But he grabbed Kelsi by the arm and dragged her to see the other hotel. I ran in to check on prices in the recommended one and would catch up with them in a second.
“How much for a room for two people?” I asked.
“200” said the man behind the desk.
“And do you have one available for tonight?”
“Of course!”
“Ok, I’ll be right back, I just have to grab my friend.
I walked out on the street and saw Kelsi just down a ways. I yelle her name but she couldn’t hear me. So I ran off to get her. I was bombarded by guys all asking if I wanted a room for the night.
“No thanks, not now” I said as I ran past them to catch up. I met up with them as she was walking into the hotel.
“How much for a room?” We asked
“Come see first then you can see if you like it”
“No, we honestly don’t care what the room looks like, as long as it has a bed. How much?”
“Just look first”
“No, how much?”
“600”
“I’m sorry, that’s three times the price as the other one, I’m sure the rooms are nice but we can’t afford that”
We left to head back to the other hotel, the tailor followed us…
“You should stay here, very cheap! Good room!”
“No, I’m sorry, the other is only 200”
He laughed. “They won’t give you a room for 200. If they do, I will pay for it, if they don’t, you owe me 300 rupees”
“No, leave us alone”
We walked up the steps of the first hotel.
“No!” The man at the counter shouted to us. Another man came up and started waving his hands in a dismissing motion at us.
“No room for you, go!”
“What?” We said, startled. “But I JUST asked you, you said I could have a room for 200”
“Rooms full!” He said. We stared at the wall of keys behind him. Glared at him and stormed out angry.
The tailor laughed at us. “See! You owe me 300 rupees now! Come back to the other hotel.
“NO!” We both shouted.
We walked into the hotel next door where men had been beckoning for me to come get a room.
“Room full. Go away.” They said.
The next hotel was the same, and the one after that. Finally we entered one hotel and when they were about to say how much a room was they looked out the front window. The tailor was standing there shaking his head at them.
“Sorry, no room!”
We were exhausted and tired of carrying our packs and now we were furious.
We rushed outside and faced the tailor.
“STOP FOLLOWING US!! GO AWAY!” I shouted at him.
We stormed off one direction and he followed, then we doubled back the other way and he followed until we yelled at him again. Finally he slinked away into the crowds. The next hotel we walked into was only a slight improvement.
“How much for a room?” We asked
They stopped and turned to each other, then in Tamil, discussed how much they should charge us. When they kept discussing we spoke up.
“It’s simple, how much are the rooms here?”
They kept discussing so we stormed out of the building. “Never mind” we said. Then we saw two old guys beckoning us across the street at the Neethi Lodge.
“Room?” They beckoned us towards the place.
We walked in.
“How much?” We asked.
The old man sitting down behind reception gave us a big smile.
“475.” He said immediately. Finally a no bullshit answer. He seemed nice, the place looked clean and we were so furious we didn’t care anymore.
“We’ll take it”
The place had no power during the day, but the staff were so lovely it didn’t matter. Nonetheless, Madurai was not turning out to be a favourite destination of mine.
We spent the afternoon and evening checking out the one and only big temple in the city. After that it was dinner and off to bed. Our final morning of getting up early (we thought) to head to the airport and fly to Sri Lanka!

Holi Festival: Mathura

Posted on April 25, 2013 by hilarylust

The Holi Festival is one of the craziest holidays in India. It is a celebration that marks the coming of spring and the demise of the wicked spirit Holika. Otherwise known as “The Colour Festival,” during Holi, men and women gather to throw coloured powders at each other and hug in the streets. The celebrations usually start a couple days before the Holi date, with vendors selling powders in the streets and a few hardcore fans wandering around looking very pink for a few days prior.
This festival has been on my bucket list for years. I have been trying to celebrate every major world festival in its original place. The Holi Festival, which 1.6 billion Indians celebrate every year, had to make the cut. It is the reason we flew to India during the hottest time of the year and it is the reason we ended up in the city of Mathura.
Mathura is considered the birthplace of Krishna. Usually just a nothing little city, Mathura hosts the largest and craziest version of Holi. Masses of locals come from around the country to celebrate the festival here. We had been told for months that Mathura was “the place to be” if we wanted to experience the festival in full force… Who could turn that down?
We stayed at a place called the Hotel Sheel Gopal just a 15 minute walk from the main Krishna temple in Mathura. The men who worked there were a little strange (and that’s being polite). Their English was almost non-existent and their sense of appropriate social queues and situations was even worse. They stared and gawked and awkwardly watched as we ate lunch and dinner in the restaurant. A few of the men stood next to us, holding out an empty cup when we sat out on the patio wanting a glass of our whiskey. It was like a battle to see who could outlast the other: the staff members pointing at their empty glass and our bottle of whiskey or us shaking our heads and telling them to leave. By the third night we found putting the whiskey in a water bottle and telling them we were just drinking coke worked the best (who knew high school tactics still fooled people). The staff drank our booze, on the job, well into the night and then decided to do housecleaning at ridiculous times of the day. The first night, Kelsi and I forgot to lock our door. We woke up to Lurch (the nickname we gave one guy) standing over our bed with fresh towels: it was 6:00am. We kicked him out only for him to come barging in 5 minutes later with soap. In the end he exchanged our two towels for one and our one bar of soap with eleven. Dealing with these people was like dealing with children on drugs. I had no idea what was going on, but our door stayed permanently locked from the inside from that point forward; yet even that didn’t stop them from trying. At all times of the day they would ring the buzzer and try to open the door handle to get in. It nearly drove me mental.
Luckily however, we had friends for Holi Festival! My friend Myles and his mother came to join us for the festival and on the second night, Myles’ friend Ian found his way up from the South to join us on the final day of celebrations.
The first day of pre-Holi celebrations was on the 26th. We dressed in our newly purchased white outfits and hit the road in search of trouble. Before we’d even made it around the corner we were met with the first Holi celebrators.
“Happy Holi!” They shouted to us. A couple old, blue men came up to us, smeared blue paint on our faces and gave us a hug. It is apparently the tradition here to do this. Coloured powder (although this was mixed with water which makes a staining paint that never comes off your skin… Thanks a lot guys) a handshake, and a double embracing hug: first to the right, then the left. Side note: it’s weird to hug to the right… I never noticed until Kelsi pointed it out, but the whole world hugs to the left. Of course India would be backwards.
Now blue, we wandered down to the ghats for a big thali breakfast at the Agra Hotel. The ghats were beautiful and a lot quieter than the ones at Varanasi. We hopped on a boat that would take us up and down the river for an hour. The ride would have been peaceful if it weren’t for this blabbering idiot that jumped on the boat last second. He wanted to act as our tour guide (probably for a tip) along the way. He didn’t stop talking snapping and clapping for the entire 40 minutes.
“Look over there!” He would say “Look! Look! Look!” he snapped his fingers in our faces until we turned to see. “Very famous temple.” He would explain. We ignored him as much as we could. He ruined the otherwise beautiful and calm boat ride down the river. The driver dropped us 20 minutes early claiming it had been the full hour. (Everyone will rip you off here). Even though we knew it wasn’t time, we wanted off the boat.
When we arrived back on land, the celebrations had begun. We bought some coloured powder from a vendor and joined in. Everyone was pretty careful about not throwing powder on people who were dressed nicely. But if you already had colour on you, then watch out! We tried to stay as clean as we could until we made it to the hotel to drop off our cameras and valuables. Nothing was making it out alive in this chaos. Still, by the time we reached our hotel my hair was neon pink, and all four of us were 50 shades of Holi. When cameras were dropped it was time for the big guns. We filled up litre bottles and added powder to colour the water. We cut a small hole in the lid so we could squirt the stuff out the top. We bought a shade of colour each and then went to town. Kids were excited to see us tourists in full Holi mode. They threw powder but then ran away giggling, as if afraid of our retaliation. Within blocks we were covered. We were the biggest spectacle in the city. Four white people (there were zero tourists in the city. We maybe saw 6 other people over three days, but they never walked the streets of Mathura covered in colour) loaded up with ammo and completely destroyed with coloured powder. We not only had photos taken of us, we had professional photographers and video cameras following us at one point ( I can only imagine what newspaper or television program we ended up on). We were so exhausted by the time we hit the city center, that we needed to take a break. Along the main stretch of road we came across a group of young hooligans throwing paint in the streets. They were a completely dark blue mess of wet when we found them. They didn’t just throw coloured powder and shake hands, these were the hardcore guys. They tossed 10 litre buckets of blue-black water on top of each other’s heads. Their hair, clothes, face, arms and teeth were all stained by the colouring. They danced around as the water was poured over them, probably high on the popular Bhang lassis that are so common around Holi Festival.
We tiptoed around them. No one wants to be fully blue on Holi. That would stain your skin for weeks. No thank you. We managed to escape with only one large bucket being sprayed across us. If it weren’t for the fence going down the middle of the street, we would have been annihilated. We grabbed a cold drink and sat on the steps overlooking a small water tank. Although we drew a crowd of stares and beggars asking for money, it was still somehow relaxing.
When we were ready to go again, we grabbed a cycle rickshaw to head to the parade. We had no idea what “the parade” meant, but we were willing to check it out. The rickshaw drove us back towards the ghats that we had been at earlier. But this time the city streets had transformed. Huge parade floats full of people with coloured water and foam and powder moved in procession down the streets. Music blared, people yelled, cars honked, and a giant camel strolled down the street, covered in pink and blue. We jumped in with both feet and started throwing powder. Immediately we were attacked from all sides. The people on the floats poured down onto us, and groups of men in the streets crowded around to spray us. People from their homes in apartments above soaked us with buckets of water, powder, water balloons and squirt guns full of colour. It was madness. The powder got into your eyes and blinded you. I had a huge chunk of it go into my ear and I couldn’t hear out of my right side for ten minutes. People rammed into you at all sides, yelling and shouting “Happy Holi” in celebration. We moved off to the side of the road for a breather. People came to shake our hands, but otherwise the worst of the attack subsided. It was crazy, but we were having a great time!
Unfortunately, as the parade continued, people started getting rowdier. I went to take a group photo of Myles, Liz and Kelsi when five more boys jumped in the shot. As they posed the boys started grabbing at Kelsi and Liz. We shouted at them to stop, but it only provoked their mob mentality more. More people joined in the inappropriate groping until we decided to leave the parade. We were having so much fun until some guys began to ruin it. We needed a drink.
Unfortunately, all the liquor stores closed and none of the restaurants sell booze. So we left for dinner in the main square to wait for Ian to arrive.
We had a quiet night playing cards and trying to wash all the colour out of our hair and skin. We looked ridiculous by the time we came home. Not a square inch of our bodies was white anymore. My hair was a rock hard matted mess of caked on powder and paint. You couldn’t even feel my head under the mess of it all. I can’t believe this was just the beginning… Pre Holi celebrations complete: real Holi celebrations commence.
The next morning Kelsi and I wandered downstairs for breakfast in our now dyed pink outfits from the day before. It was about 9:00 and we were unaware of the outside world. We ordered food and watched 5 mice skitter around on the floor as we waited for our meals. Great.
Before the food came out we saw Myles poke his head in the restaurant door. He and Ian had apparently gone to the train station to book tickets for the following day. The masses of Holi celebrators had already began and they were mobbed with colour on their way there and back.
Myles was covered in a pink dust.
“Oh my god” he said “today is a totally different day. It’s insane out there! Everyone is already in full force.”
Then Ian walked in and Kelsi and I burst out laughing. We was about 10 times worse off than Myles. You couldn’t even tell what colour his shirt and shorts originally were. In fact, you could hardly tell he had a beard with the amount of powder that covered his face. Welcome to Holi.
We all sat down to eat as we mentally prepared for the day. It was going to be carnage. Ian had managed to steal a potato sack full of pink powder off some kids that attacked him in the streets (All’s fair in love and war and Holi) so we had sufficient ammo for a little while.
When breakfast was over we braved the outdoors. We hadn’t made it half a block when we came across our first batch of hooligans: a group of young men throwing colour at each others’ faces just around the corner. When they saw us they all stopped: fresh blood. They came running at us with colour. Throwing it in our faces and blinding us. Ian and Myles went in full-fledged with water bottles and the sack of powder. They entertained a few of the boys while the rest came after Kelsi, Liz and I. The difference between boys and girls at Holi is simple. When the men see Myles and Ian, they see it as a challenge: throw powder on them more than they can throw back. Beat the white men! They laugh and fight as boys do. When they see us women, however, the men see it as an opportunity to grope and grab at our chest, pinch our asses while blinding us with colour. That’s when we realized that there are no women at Holi festival. Occasionally there is a woman or a young girl standing by the door of her house with a handful of colour, but never in the streets. Probably because they know something we don’t… Like Holi in Mathura is dangerous for females. Well thanks for letting us know.
The groups of men we ran into in the streets weren’t huge. Usually it was three or four people, and occasionally we would see a group of ten or so together. But five white tourists wandering the streets of Mathura was like dragging a magnet through lead filings.
We would pass three guys, then they would start following us. Four more would go by, then change direction to follow the previous three. Soon enough we had a mob of fifty or sixty men behind us… There was no going back.
The smaller groups were easier to handle.
“Happy Holi!” They would shout coming towards us. They shook hands, put powder on our faces, gave us a hug, then dragged their hands across our chest grabbing at us as we pulled away. Sometimes people would come at us from behind and do the same thing. Myles and Ian stood beside us like brotherly figures watching each guy as he hugged us. When they were there, men behaved, but as soon as they turned their heads the grabbing began again. This infuriated us.
Kelsi and I don’t get shy and upset about things like this; we get angry. If some guy things he can get away with that, he’s in for a surprise. We called out the perverts, shouting and swearing at them. I grabbed hands that pinched at my ass and twisted their arms around at a violent angle. The most infuriating thing was that they didn’t care. They grabbed at us, then walked next to us with a blank expression like nothing happened.
Larger groups were worse. The boys couldn’t watch all three of us at the same time. At any given time, one of the three of us was being grabbed at. As a mob formed around us, Kelsi and I started fighting back. Kelsi cracked some guy in the jaw with her elbow while I yanked one guys hair until he smashed heads painfully with another guy. Our following was getting larger, and we couldn’t stop at the side of the road for a break this time. I was blinded by paint, and flailing my fists at anyone that came by. One guy saw how angry I was, and pulled out a cane to fend off the hoards of men. Then all of a sudden litres if cold water came splashing over my head from an apartment above. My clothes became so waterlogged, that I had to hold up my pant to keep them on. My sandals were so slippery from the wet, that I couldn’t move out of the crowd. Ian and Myles were literally throwing people around, as well as the random local guy with the cane. Kelsi and Liz ran ahead but were attacked by young guys with blue paint. Liz got the paint in the eye and couldn’t see. When I had finally made it up to join them, a guy in a motorcycle stopped to talk to us “hey, don’t go that way” he warned “people heard you guys were here and they are so many of them coming this direction.”
All of a sudden the police showed up. Liz still couldn’t see and we all looked like drowned purple and brown rats. They called us a Tuk Tuk and sent us out of the city.
“No! We just want to go to our hotel” no one spoke English and no one seemed to have heard of the Sheel Gopal hotel either. Eventually, we made our point and directed the Tuk Tuk driver back home. Exhausted, angry and violated we went to our rooms for showers. We had lasted one hour in the streets. It was the longest hour of my life.
Kelsi and I were still furious. We’d fought back, but no one can take on 100 men against 5. We spent the afternoon recovering then ventured out when the festivities had finished to grab dinner. Hours later Liz still couldn’t see out of her eye. Myles grabbed her some food from a vendor while Ian, Kelsi and I wandered around some festival in the park nearby. We walked around a little looped path in a large garden. One young boy came up to us, “happy Holi!” He said and hugged us. We flinched, but hugged him anyways. Then everyone saw us. People came running from across the garden, leaping over bushes to see us.
“Happy Holi”
“Happy Holi”
“Happy Holi”
The ringing of that phrase will forever be burned into my memory. Boys came rushing towards us in a hoard, shaking hands, pulling us in for hugs and asking for kisses.
“Go away” we shouted “no kisses”
Then it started all over, the boys started grabbing at our chests as we walked past. Even all covered up in traditional clothing we were targets. We ran out of the crowd while Ian held back as many as he could.
“Screw Holi”
We stuck to quiet streets and avoided crowds are we made our way towards the much needed liquor store. Kelsi and I walked around like abused dogs, jumping at every “Happy Holi” cry we heard in the streets. We made it to the bottle shop and bought ourselves enough whiskey and beer to forget about the days events. We went back to the hotel and drank away our anger well into the night.
All in all the Holi Festival has been my least favourite of the world festivals, which is really unfortunate. The first day was so much fun! Throwing colour and getting into the spirit of it was all amazing. It is the men here that ruined the experience. We ran into a couple other tourists that had celebrated the festival in Mathura. All the girls we talked to gave us the same story: they ended up running away in tears from the groups of men.
Fortunately, not everywhere in India has a Holi festival like this. Even Vrindavan, the neighboring town, had a much more family oriented celebration. An Irish couple we met at the hotel said they celebrated it there and had a wonderful time.
So my recommendation as a woman: don’t go to Mathura. Celebrate Holi somewhere else, or avoid India all together and celebrate in Los Angeles. Their version looks exactly like how I was expecting Mathura to be.
Either way, mission complete, and another world festival down! Thank you India.

PS. 2 weeks later and my hair still has bright pink streaks through it.

Varanasi: Cremations on the Ganges

Posted on April 22, 2013 by hilarylust

Varanasi is crazy. It’s bustling, large and has a deeply rooted culture. It is also considered one of the least changed cities on earth; so it’s like walking back in time a thousand years. Lonely planet describes it as “one of the most blindingly colourful, unrelentingly chaotic and unapologetically indiscreet places on Earth. Varanasi takes no prisoners.”
This is most noticeable down by the shores of the Ganges. There are over 80 ghats along the river in Varanasi. The steps are filled with people at sunrise, when pilgrims come to pay respect to the sun, and again in the evening when cremation rituals are performed along the waters edge.
Varanasi is one of the holy cities of Hinduism. It is one of the longest, continually inhabited cities on Earth, and is aptly named the “beating heart of the Hindu Universe”. It is an honour to die and be cremated in Varanasi. People migrate from all over India to have their loved ones burned at the funeral pyres on the Ganges river. Hindu’s believe that cremation on the steps of the Manikarnika Ghat offers Moshka (liberation from the cycle of reincarnation). The entire city is ominous and magical and eerie; it is unlike any other city in India.
We grabbed a cycle Rickshaw and took the painfully (literally with all the potholes and the tiny seat) long 20 minute journey to the Assi Ghat. The ghats are beautiful in their own unique way. They are bustling with people, strewn with litter and they ominously emerge from the Ganges river. From the water, the ghats look like they should be part of a horror film. Tall, rustic and almost gothic style buildings loom over the ghat steps. It is the perfect setting for a Sherlock Holmes murder to take place, in the dead of night, shrouded in the mist of the river and covered by the shadows of brown brick buildings.
But the ghats are never quiet. People, boats, stray dogs and cows constantly exist along the rivers edge. It’s where Varanasi comes to life.
We walked about a kilometer, up and down the steps of the ghats towards Old Town. The atmosphere was chaotic and full of anticipation. Men got their boats ready for the evening surge of visitors, funeral pyres were made, bodies were swathed in cloth and set on wooden stretchers and people of all ages swarmed the riverside.
We came across hoards of old, bearded medicine men. They were stark naked and painted white with a chalky powder. They wandered around with walking sticks, their beards and hair in dreadlocked tatters as they prepared for the evenings events. With them, walked religious men in the bright orange robes that seem to be so popular here. They huddle in groups under makeshift shanti tents and drink chai tea in the heat of the day. If you’re ever looking for quiet contemplation by the river, Varanasi is not the place…
We hopped on a boat in the early evening, with two lovely Indian couples from the South. Boating along the river is definitely the best way to see the full beauty of the Varanasi ghats. Although still noisy, being in a boat left us with a slight sense of serenity in an otherwise busy world. The old man slowly paddled us along the river towards two of the cremation ghats. The burnings had already begun.
Apparently there is a precise art to a perfect cremation. Each piece of wood is weighed and measured according to the size of the body. Each block of wood costs money (all depending on the type and size of the wood). There has to be an exact right amount to completely cremate a body without going overboard. The pyres are all set up accordingly during the day, then the bodies are carried down the steps at 6:00 for the ceremony. At the second ghat we saw three bodies, all swathed in cloth, dipped in the sacred Ganges river before being placed upon the fire. It’s an eerily beautiful sight.
From there we watched the nightly ceremony. Rows of men stand in a line to perform the ritual for the dead. They are all lit up in golden lights and surrounded by a fiery glow. The beating of drums and bells echoes across the river and children hand out small candles to all the spectators below. The candle is surrounded by flowers and, once lit, is placed in the river to float away. If your candle floats a long way, it means you will have a long life. Both Kelsi and my candles went far, although Kelsi’s had a near escape with a boat oar on the way (sounds like Kelsi’s life). The river was beautiful when it was all lit up with floating candles and crammed full of row boats. I have to admit though, the ceremony was just too long. They performed the same dance over and over again with different object in their hands. What at first was awe-inspiring to see, soon became just an uncomfortable boat bench and a crowd of people. After 2 and a half hours, our boat began to slowly sink and so we cruised back to the shore to go home. We walked the ghats to see the final cleanup of the ceremony before grabbing dinner in old town and heading home.
The following day we only had the morning to explore. We checked out the bustling markets of old town and stopped in for a lassi in the afternoon. The markets in Varanasi are crazy. All of them spread out into an eternal maze of thin alleyways and hoards of people. You could get lost in a second in the market streets, but you are bound to end up at the ghats eventually to find your way home. We wandered around the labyrinth of markets until we found the Blue Lassi.
The Blue Lassi is a Lonely Planet recommended lassi shop that is said to make the best lassis in India. The shop has been in the same location, selling lassis for over 70 years. The grandson of the original owner still sits in the shop front whipping up homemade lassis right in front of your eyes. It is quite a process to make yoghurt, believe me. It took a little while for him to make them, but the wait was worth it when Kelsi and I had two huge bowls of food in front of us. I had a banana one and Kelsi an apple flavored. Both had huge chunks of puréed and sliced fruit in them which made them irresistible. Finding the Blue Lassi: greatest decision ever.
After our afternoon treat, it was off to the train. It was too short of a time in Varanasi, but an experience I’ll never forget. Probably my favourite city in India so far, Varanasi was a magical city to visit on the trip!