Varanasi, page 2 of 4

The next morning we are having breakfast in the garden. But since we are much to late, 9 o’clock, it is very hot already and about a million flies have arrived from God may know where and they are troubling us. So we are sweating while having breakfast.

Meanwhile right above our heads work is going on, they are adding a floor to the hotel. Women, clothed in sarongs, are walking past us, enter the building and climb four stairs, all this while carrying stones on their head! I counted them: each woman balances 9 stones! And I assure you, they are not sweating. I didn’t dare to make a picture of them, because I wouldn’t like it myself when relaxing tourists were making pictures of me while I was doing this kind of manual labor. In fact we saw quite a lot of women working on roads and buildings, all over Varanasi. I even saw women carrying bags with cement on their head, which must have been at least 30 kilo if not more. I didn’t think this was a good example of women emancipation!

Quite close to our hotel was a bank where we could exchange traveler cheques. This is – for mysterious reasons - not possible in every bank in India. As soon as we left the hotel a small boy walked up to us and asked if we wanted to change. Sometimes I really think Indians have second sight. We asked where the bank was. It was very near and he showed it to us very willingly. When we wanted to enter the bank he informed us that there was also another bank quite near and if we were interested he could bring us there. Our LP was very clear on the point that there wasn’t any other bank, so we knew this couldn’t be true. We explained this bank was fine. He explained in very good English that there might be a remote possibility that we would change our minds once inside, it was very busy and so. He would wait for us outside. Fine with us.

Inside the bank we soon found out – as we already feared, because the boy was much to relaxed – that it was really very busy. Some 20 tourists were sitting on a small bench waiting with papers in their hands. One tourist was standing in front of us, for the counter where you seemed to have to hand over your traveler checks before being promoted to the waiting queue. Behind the counter some 7 bank clerks were arguing fiercely. After ten minutes they seemed to relax a bit, but then they started again. The tourist in front of us seemed to have onset this quarrel with a difficult question concerning getting money from his bank in Germany. He was quite broke. After another ten minutes of arguing Jacques got really bored of the situation. Nobody was doing anything already for twenty minutes and the scene didn’t look promising for a quick and efficient restart of work. And then there was this waiting row of 20 tourists + 1 to go before us. So we decided to take our chances and look for the other bank.

Outside we very soon found the boy again and he assured Jacques that it was a real bank and no problems. He took us to a silk shop, somehow not our idea of a real bank. The man inside explained the procedure: we buy something and pay with a traveler check and get the change in roepies – if there is any change what didn’t seem to be his goal. Now Jacques was really pissed of – which normally only happens when he has problems with his car or sees a blue tax envelop in between his post. But I wanted to buy some silk anyway and why not here! I said to Jacques that we could always walk away when things didn’t go right, we were directly next to our hotel.

The silk man showed us all kind of shawls, very beautiful ones, and also some batik. I needed a couple of things for presents and I wanted something for myself. Furthermore I hated the idea of having paid too much in Jaipur in front of the Palace of the Winds, so I was determined to have a better deal over here. It took a lot of time, not my choosing, but the finishing of the deal. I went through it with complete respect for the bargaining theater and so we almost left at least three times (Jacques played his part of totally irritated husband very convincingly). Furthermore it was quite clear that I thought it possible to buy silk anywhere a lot cheaper than here (which was quite right of course). The silk man explained that the first deal was very important to start his day, he must make a bit profit, because otherwise he would have a whole bad day, so we couldn’t do this to him. I heard already a couple of variations on that theme, so I was very concerned for him but didn’t change my price.

At last we arrived a factor three under the original price and I found 30 guilders very acceptable for the two shawls and the batik we were going to buy. I did the calculation from dollars to roepies myself, using the exchange rate I saw in the bank we just visited. After a bit of rounding off in the right direction I was quite satisfied. Our silk man not so much, but still happy enough to sell his stuff. Now we had to wait again for somebody who handled traveler checks. This was an old man who happened to be the Guru of the boy, as the boy very proudly explained to us. He taught the boy his English and lots of other things. The man looked extremely reliable, but I didn’t want to take any chance. So I hurt his feelings - or maybe rather strengthened him in his believe that Western people didn’t have any real civilization - by informing him that we stayed in the hotel around the corner, and we would ask the man at the reception to check our change. I felt very guilty because the man stayed extremely nice and polite and of course everything was completely OK (but I did check it!). And this finishes my story of how we exchanged some money without waiting at the bank… But I think the bank would have taken even longer and here at last I had the feeling that I myself had the initiative!

After this exchange experience we went into town to get some feeling about Varanasi. It is extremely busy; you even have traffic jams with a million (about) bike riksja’s. Many Indian people take bike riksja’s, it is a not expensive and fairly efficient means of transportation, as long as you're not in a traffic jam! We see an enormous amount of bikes and of people, and when we escape towards the smaller streets we end up totally lost in the very very small streets in between the markets and the Ganges. But even here we still meet sacred cows, see the complete surprise on the face of Jacques when he encounters two cows in one of the smallest streets! The markets are full of colors and so are the small Jain temples, hiding between the deteriorating buildings and sometimes looking like a Dutch street-organ, which is in fact no compliment but anyway, it is very surprising!