Sunrise on the Ganga - Almost

Varanasi Day 3

We’ve committed to the sunrise boat tour of the Ganga and we’re on the go (in the car) at 6 a.m. with our newly-arrived guest, Janna from Winnipeg.  A hoot of a traveler with lots of tales and what sounds like an interesting career with the CA government.  Well, it’s raining again so we get as far as the chai stand and decide to sit it out and see if the rain stops.  It doesn’t but we have a fun chai time anyway.  I felt like I was in a Donovan song . . . 'Suzanne takes you down to a place by the river . . '

Mishra, our driver and some early morning chai drinkers catching up on the news.

Another patron.

Janna and the two of us (with our smashable cups).  We decide to bag the boat trip and head home for breakfast.  (Note Tim's new scarf!)

Our pals from Mexico City are leaving this afternoon and en route to the airport have arranged a brief stop at Sarnath, where the Buddha delivered his first sermon and established his first monastery.  We arrange to tag along to Sarnath (only a slight detour en route to the airport) and then go on to the airport and ride home.   

Sarnath is beautiful, green, and peaceful, except for the hordes of beggars.  God, this is hard – if you had told me I could sit inside a car and stare straight ahead while a woman held up a sad, undernourished infant while begging for something . . . I would have said you were insane.  But there they were, her fingernails scrabbling on the back window, the baby nearly against the window and all of us just ignored her.  Some photos of Sarnath but not the beggars . .

Our sweet new friends from Mexico City.

We drop the kids at the airport and it’s almost 4 p.m.  Tim and I are starving.  We ask our driver, Mishra, if we can treat him to lunch.  He checks in with Harish, gets his okay, and asks if we want ‘veg’ or ‘non-veg’.  it’s been forever since we’ve had any kind of meat so we opt for the latter.  It’s hard to imagine a real restaurant in this city but we pull up in front of a rather upscale looking place, Lemon Grass.  

We get out, he goes to ‘park’ (I can’t imagine what that means in this city) and we get a table.  It seems like a long time before Mishra shows up and when he does, he’s obviously rattled.  Apparently, the doorman gave him a bad time because he was a ‘driver’ not a real patron.  Drivers and drivees don’t eat together – period.  The disapproval from the waiter was palpable.  When we get home, Harish also seems put out – with Mishra.  We tell him we’re very put out because the restaurant was rude to our guest.  Fortunately, the food was worth it – yummy!  I think we've committed a social, cultural gaffe but, oh well . . .