Hi Everyone
We have spent a pleasant weekend here in Alice Springs, some walks, some runs, dinner at Barra on Todd; but the definite highlight was visiting the Desert Park on its Open Day this Sunday morning. It has been twenty years since it began operations providing a place to see many Australian Desert animals. Including Numbats, Mala, Bilbies, phascogales, hopping mice, to mention some of the more famous marsupials, denizens of the wonderful Tanami. We saw phythons, geckos, goannas, and a thorny dragon. Birds included Zebra finches, painted finches, red capped robins, red tailed black cockatoos, dotterel, and many more. 
There were lots of children and families, Indian, white Australian, Aboriginal kids, Mums and Dads, and everyone having a terrific day. 

All in all it was a super day.

All in all, a super  

We are sitting in the shade beside the hotel pool, it is just after 1 pm and it is beautiful sunny yet cool day with a delicious breeze in the streets and here nestled behind the hotel. Both of us have had a freshly poured glass of chilled glass of Sula Sauvignon Blanc, which is a very good domestic wine.

Last night we walked into Connaught place and went to Zaffran, the restaurant in the Palace Heights Hotel. We had a Murgh sagwala ( chicken and spinach ) and a Aloo dormeer ( steamed cauliflower) as well as roti and butter nan. It was a fabulous meal. The steamed cauliflower, steamed in a clay pot was the highlight.the chicken was the most tender we have had in India; as they generally tend to be a little tough if flavoursome.
This morning after breakfast we hired a taxi to go to Qutb Minar. This mosque, minaret and tomb complex was built over the twelfth century by early muslim kings of Delhi. The minaret is reminiscent of a Saturn five rocket, its covered in Arabic text, and would provide a wonderful view of Delhi.
However, there is no longer any access into and up the minaret, as a few years ago there was a terrible disaster when a power failure caused a loss of lighting and then a panic amongst school children – 45 died.

The complex contains ruins of the oldest mosque still extant in India, the famous iron pillar which is thousands of years old but had never rusted in all that time, there are ancient tombs. There are well maintained gardens and trees, with brahmany kites and green parrots circling or perching on branches or the sandstone masonry of the ruins. A beautiful last outing.

We had planned another to the Mughal Gardens, but there was some function on and it was too crowded and complicated to bother going in. So we walked the two kilometres from there to the hotel, crossing the busy streets. Pedestrian crossings do not mean any car or vehicle actually stops, they are more suggestions to walkers about the best opportunity to cross the road. It still takes time and a judicious burst of speed to get across. Yet i think it is only a matter if time before one of us will get hit by something.

So we are sitting by the pool, relaxing.

I am sitting in the lobby of the Haifa Hotel not far from Assi Ghat. It’s warm now, the air is barely moving, despite the afternoon breeze in the street. Ray is fast asleep on the sofa chair immediately opposite us.
Last night we took an evening boat cruise. The wind was cool over the Ganges, the river barely moving. I lent down and felt the silky warm water with my fingers. The bridges to north and south are in haze. The river is wide here at Varanasi, and so the many boats do not crowd up as madly as do the roads. In the evening, the boats carry tourists like us, but also pilgrims for the night ceremonies along the shores of the Ganges. At the second, larger Burning Ghat, two furious funeral pyres burnt tall and brightly, sending a long orange reflection toward us. Other lights on the waterfront and far into the distance likewise shimmered on the water, patterns of yellow, red and gold. We stopped in the river not far beyond the Burning Ghats, and each of us launched small cardboard bowls, each with a lit candle and a small flower. Every one a wish. This is the flower ceremony. They seemed to hover in the darkness as they flowed away from the boat, forming small gay flotillas of flickering light until the candles were blown out by the wind and they began their voyage to Bay of Bengal. The boat handler picked up the heavy black steel crank and started the motor, and steered us back the way we had come. We stopped at a large ghat, it was brightly lit, light displays shining iridescence into the crowds on the ghat and into the water. Many, many boats began to cram the space, boat handlers ran along gunwales, securing or pushing, jamming all the boats together. It was dark behind us but in front the white clothed priests sang out, all was light and sound and smells as Bollywood guitars, sitars and tabla supported three singers; these men are dressed in gold and red brocade. They sang and did motions with their arms, a slow ritual dance of the gods, then held up and swung a burning beam of incense, the smoke still pungent even as far away as we were. The performance went on for 40 minutes or more, and concluded after flaming ” candelabras” were held into the air and laid on the ground at their feet.
This same ritual was performed on at least four locations on the Varanasi Ghats. The reason is this; each night the faithful must sing the gods to sleep and in the morning to sing and rouse them awake. Most of the people in the boats, and on the ghats were pilgrims, watching and enjoying one of the great traditions of Hinduism.
In every Hindu home, small temples are used to perform similar ceremonies every morning and night. Each family has favourite gods and saints.
We had dinner at the hotel, then went to bed. At dinner, Alejandro told an amusing story. Alejandro arrived in Delhi too late for the briefing but had checked online to see if there were other single people, especially a girl, on the trip. He discovered that Anna was single. Okay, so far so good. The tour commenced, and Alejandro met Anna. Anna is in her late fifties. Oh well. But then Alejandro was amazed. He hear Anna volunteering to wash Peter’s clothes. Alejandro was impressed, this man is a master. On only the second day of a tour, Peter had so quickly conquered Anna, that she is not only doing his washing, but is happy to be hugged and kissed by him. Wow!!! The truth is that Peter and Anna are well and truly married and that there is a second young Anna, much closer to his own age.

This morning, we said goodbye to George and Grace now on their way back to Canada.

A few of us braved tuk tuks for a trip to the Buddhist temple ruins in Varanasi. This area is one of the four most sacred locations for Buddhists. It was here that Buddha gave his first sermon after his enlightenment under the Bodhi Tree. There are ruins of a large Buddhist community, as well as an immense stupa commemorating Buddha. On it are carved letters, flowers and designs. There is a museum with many artefacts of Ashoka and the Gupta kingdoms recovered from Sarnath. The centrepiece at his fine museum was his capital pillar. Ashoka lived in 273BC. SO It is over 2200years old. On top of the huge sculpture, standing on a great wheel are four seated lions. All are symbols of Buddhism. Around the wheel, and below the lions are four smaller wheels, and between each of them is an animal, an elephant, a bullock, a lion, and a Horse. It is sculpted from a light brown marble. The base is an unfolded lotus. There is some damage but it is still an excellent and awe inspiring example of Gupta art and religion.

Th other really notable stone sculpture is a Gupta period Buddha with the most delicate of features, face and hands, and behind it a stone umbrella carved with intricate motifs. Nearby is a Jain temple, and a giant Buddha – 80 feet high.

We were conveyed back to our hotel by the waiting tuk tuks , through god awful traffic. Typical! Then a super lunch at Open Hand cafe. Ray joined us on the tour and lunch. It is now 4pm and in a few hours we board the train to Delhi. We have noodles for Jennifer and muffins for me, to gave on the train.

I am lying in my hotel room, Jennifer is checking ATM locations in a wooden chair by the door. We have been in Varanasi less than 24 hours but it has certainly impressed us in that very brief time.
We arrived at the train station after noon, about three hours late. A big part of the delay were police boarding in the middle of the night to investigate a bag that had been stowed, its owner having abruptly left the train at a previous station. The police woke up some of our party, but thank goodness they did not check passports, as Alejandro comes from Colombia!! We were oblivious in the next carriage and slept reasonably well on this overnight train from Agra, me in the top bunk and a Jennifer in the very bottom one. We paused 45 minutes just before the station just to enhance the fatigue of the journey. At this point, Jennifer and I decided to go upmarket on our accomodation in Delhi! We booked the Park Hotel in the centre of Delhi, five star bliss. The morbid thought of the dog chorus at three in the morning was an additional motivation to move upwards.

We are staying at Haifa Hotel in the old quarter, only a short walk from the Ganges and the many ghats which are spread along this side of the river. After a pleasant lunch at the hotel and a freshen up, including a shower and shave, Api and a local man, took us for a walk. We walked along a dusty, rough road, past shops, cows, beggars, holy men all dressed in orange, and other tourists. At the riverbank, there is a wide path to walk along, with steps leading to the sandy beach. On the beach, wooden poles are dug firmly in, and tied them are the many boats that are used for short trips on the Ganges. As I looked north, I could see the guest houses and temples, disappearing into the distance as the city followed the river as it curved to the east upstream. The boats are old, spacious vessels without any shade, their paintwork fading from what must have been brightly coloured when first done. I passed a man standing in a boat high up on the path, his hands covered in pitch to the elbows, and the interior of the boat covered in freshly applied black pitch. The water would be still but for the many boats criss crossing, some are power boats but many are rowed, a single rower somehow managing to row up to 12 tourists!

There are paintings on the walls to our left, there are paintings of Shiva, Ganesh, bright blue backgrounds and gaily painted gods, with gold and red ornaments in their hair and around their arms. There are paintings by the local white counterculture, not Indian at all, of cannabis smoking men or of Yggdrasil portrayed on a sloping wall. On a long pair of ropes, are many rectangular blue cloths, drying in the air – they form a visually interesting scene against the sandstone of the steps and walls.

The path is not all flat, I have to negotiate steps, avoid cricket games, and frustrate holy men who will bless me then demand money afterwards. Children and women in dirty neglected saris, try to sell small foil cups with a few flowers, to be dropped into the Ganges. Men grasp my hand, and call me friend, Namaste, and I pull my hands back as this is one more scam. Api our ever watchful, always competent guide shoos them off with more politeness than me.

At one spot, at a temple complex on the Ganges, the crowds got thicker, there are more people sitting and standing around, boats are filled with people, really filled, and the susurration of prayers is thick in the air. The smell of burnt sandalwood envelops the shore.
We reach the first of two outdoor crematoria on the Ganges at Varanasi. Before explaining about and describing these areas , I want to talk about the importance of this place in a Hindu’s lifespan. Through life there are many milestones, some unique to certain castes, birth, first haircut, second birth ( peculiar to Brahmins and occurs after much study and acquiring the capacity to read and recall sacred Sanskrit writings), marriage and death; and there us no place holier than Varanasi to perform these rituals. People who live locally or have been living here for at least six months can be cremated on the riverbank or concrete verandahs adjacent to the water. Other Indians are cremated locally then their ashes can be scattered into the Ganges later.

The crematoria are truly weird to a westerner. The process of cremation is not something we see in our culture while here in Varanasi, the experience is vivid and powerful, a sensation of sound ( the changing of the priests and family), of smell ( the burning cedar, sandalwood or teak and the body itself) and sight( the flames and ashes, the massive piles of timber stacked against the blackened temple walls and the untouchables who carry wood and wash down the concrete with huge hoses).

We climbed the narrow winding stairs beside the Burning Ghat, past the stacked timber, past ash rippled walls, and the little the shops selling gaudy, golden relics for the funerals and tourists. We entered tiny lanes, with shops at our elbows, the occasional motorbike braved the pathway but mostly pedestrians walk briskly beside us. We arrived at the Blue Lassi – this cafe provides low seating and on the walls are thousands of photos, all passport sized and stuck to the interior brickwork. The lassi artisan sits in the window, he ladles yoghurt with a steel spoon into a bowl, then adds fruit or seeds or coconut as per the order, to produce delicious lassis. I had banana and pomegranate and Jennifer enjoyed banana and coconut. Each one was served in a single use clay cup. They cost 70 rupees each, which is about 12 cents a cup. After we left there, we visited a fabric shop, I nearly passed out from heat stroke as he piled up blanket after blanket on my legs. No one bought anything, too tired and too late.

We walked through a narrow market that glittered with the local products for sale here, the metal work and jewellery, the lavishly bling infested clothes and bags, and the brightly wrapped spices and foods and into a political rally. The prime Minster of India, Modi, has been campaigning in Varanasi in support of his local BJP candidate for Uttar Pradesh, while Ravi Gandhi arrived later to campaign for the Congress Party. There were crowds supporting both parties in the elections, lots of car horns honking, and an excited populace singing out for their preferred party. Chaos in the flesh, so we walked the opposite way, and caught tuk tuks back to the hotel.

We had dinner at a pizzeria which overlooks the Ganges; during the meal the power went off, and so we ate with candle light; the lights of buildings further upstream were still working and I saw those lights on the water of the Ganges, scattered from vertical lines in the wake of the few remaining boats that still plied offshore.

This morning some of us were up to meet the boat owner to take us on a cruise. We climbed into his boat, taking seats along the ledge below the gunwales. The trip was slow and beautiful, the diesel motor was not obtrusive. We passed the ghats and the buildings above them, the air is clear, reflections rich and dark in the water, and we pass swimmers below us, their heads above the surface. Others are standing on the lowermost steps of the ghats washing themselves and letting the water run down their bodies, repeating the action again and again, then suddenly dive forwards to immerse themselves fully, while most splash out a few meters, there are some hardier souls who risk the boats going up and down the river. The Ganges is a magnificent river. On the other bank there are no buildings visible but there is a group of people, singing as the sun rises above them.
We met Api for breakfast at the Open Hand Cafe. A terrific venue with western style coffee, muesli and breakfasts. We chatted with Ray and Api over breakfast. Api told us about the situation with Indian women, they are still frustrated with the slow progress they are permitted to achieve by men. Intrepid is actively trying to develop women as tour guides.
After breakfast, we have decided to have a chill-out morning and afternoon before the cruise and flower ceremony tonight.
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It is 4:30 pm and we are sitting in the middle of a lawn at Abhaneri Niwas. Getting to Abhaneri is an effort, 2 hours on a local bus. We have two big bags and we could only get them in by sitting them together on one seat. It cost 100 rupees, and was worth every cent! Amazingly, the bus held together for the duration. The most apparent thing on the trip was the appalling amount of air pollution, visibility was 300meters. In addition to the traffic, there were many tall stacks belching smoke into the air. The highway is in excellent condition and the trip was swift. We got off at an isolated spot on the highway, getting off as quickly as we could. We were collected by jeeps and taken another twenty minutes to the Niwas. The guest house is a walled enclosure on the edge of the isolated village of Abhaneri.

It is a beautiful place to stay, there is a large lawn, a fine dining area, and each room is not only spacious but individual. We had a wonderful buffet lunch, cauliflower, potato,, dhal, chicken and chapatti. After a short nap, a guide from the village walked us through a local temple and a step well. Both are quite famous, the temple was built in the ninth century as was the step well. The step well is 90 meters deep, and has rooms built on one aspect for the nobility and king. The steps provide access to the water at the base of the step well. The water that fills the step well is rainwater from the Monsoon. The stones that form the step well wall, are connected together with no mortar at all. They form a mathematical pattern so intriguing that many films have used this location including a Batman film.
We have spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing, Jennifer with a beer and me with a lime soda. It is cooler now, a gentle wind, shade, pleasant company, what more could anyone want?