Rishikesh - Town With No Beer
Trip Start
Mar 03, 2005
1
35
235
Trip End
Ongoing
Rishikesh,
India
Sunday, June 5, 2005
The guesthouse owner explained to Goatgirl that while it was 42 degrees in the street near his guesthouse, somewhere across town in a street somewhere, it was 49 degrees. Some form of local weather recording system told him this, and we weren't to argue as it feels that hot. If they were allowed here, you could fry an egg in the streets of Rishikesh. But as it is also a holy place, meat, eggs and alcohol are prohibited. Mmmmm, cold beer - that'd be nice on a 49 degree day.
The main town of Rishikesh is nothing to write home about - dusty, hot, concrete. But heading away fom town in the Lakshman Jhula area which is right next to the Ganges. It is a far better place to hang around, with restaurants overlooking the river. A great place for a Lemon Soda or 4, or a beer. Mmmmm, cold beer - that'd be nice any time.
By late afternoon the clouds had rolled in. I suspect that the Monsoon season is starting to sweep its way across the sub-continent. Mmmmm, cold beer - that'd be nice during Monsoonal rain.
Rishikesh is a holy city, but not quite as holy as Haridwar, so there isn't that religious madness surrounding the area. Still down by the Ganges, people bathe at the concrete grandstands of the Ghats, cleansing themselves and their clothes. Laxman Jhula is actually across the far side of the river, connected by a long 70 year old Suspension Bridge that is about 1.5 metres wide. I hope it isn't of Indian Quality.
You would think that a bridge of that scale would only be open to pedestrians. Somehow when you cross it you meet a mass of people, motorbikes, monkeys and at least one cow. A certain grey cow appears to 'own' the bridge, regularly butting and prodding people out of the way while wandering up and back.
One of the highlights of Rishikesh is the toilet facilities. Strange but true, my obsession with overseas dunnies continues. Only once in my life have I ever stayed anywhere with a Bidet, and that was in a hotel in the home of the Bidet, Paris France. I didn't use it. I was new to travelling, and somewhat less adventurous or curious about all things porcelain, or in the case of China all things concrete chute, or in the case of the streets of India, all things footpath. (yes the locals here do poop by the side of the road in full view of everyone). Anyway - I didn't use the Bidet. And to this day, I regret it.
The toilets in India aren't the grandest of flushers. Sometimes you'll need a good two full flushes to, er, clear the decks. Sometimes it'll be two flushes and a bucket of water. While inspecting the loo in the guesthouse, I found a second water inlet at the side, and decided to turn the tap. Much to my surprise water shot out from the rear of the seat in a forward motion, towards where ones derriere would have been if one was in the midst of using the facilities. But the water spout doesn't actually excit the bowl at all, and appears mess free.
I consulted Goatgirl on this new finding. She was most impressed. We vowed to have at least one go each. Not at the same time of course.
The verdict - Goatgirl described it as having excellent aim. She conservatively called it the Tailfeather Cleanser.
My opinion is best summed up in two words..... Sphincter Tickler.
Rishikesh is the home of Yaga and Meditation, and thus well and truly caters for the hippie crowd. The hippie look is not something I'm likely to achieve no matter how long I travel for. I could go the tie dye shirt, floppy pants, sandles, earrings and glazy eyes if I really wanted to, but the chance of long dreadlocks is long gone and that is what makes the whole look. And as for the beard, well I get toey if I've got a three day growth.... Mmmm, cold beer, that'd be nice as a hippie.
Goatgirl and I wandered through Lakshman Jhula down by the river and into the Ashram centre of town, prior to the main heat of the day kicking in and beyond the roaring forties. It is an interesting place to say the least. The locals have taken to us like movie stars, with regular requests for photos. Actually most of the photo requests are for Goatgirl, but I think they drag me in for the novelty value. The usual process is, if its a family request, then the children of the family will go straight to Goatgirl and chat for an hour or so, then the camera will come out. But if its a request from a male, usually he'll come to me first and say "Can I please have a photo with Madam?"
Madam Goatgirl.
The favourite request so far was from a young guy who asked if he could have his photo taken with Madam Goatgirl, while sitting on the back of his Motorbike, while sitting on the suspension bridge over the Ganges. A unique photo for the fridge indeed.
The Ashrams are an interesting sight, filled with Indians and the odd (and I mean odd in both senses of the word) Westerner. They feature sparse accommodation, temples, statues and Yoga halls. The infamous Mararashi Marash Yogi centre is here, where the Beatles visited in the 60s. I suspect they haven't upgraded the facilities since.
Goatgirl has been saying for the past few days that she wanted to immerse herself into the Ganges for a mix of cooling down from the furnace that is Rishikesh, and, well the sheer experience of having done what the locals do. After a good few hours of walking through the town, she finally picked her spot - a rather pleasant beached area with white and black sands and somewhat bemused and stunned locals. A standard Western bathing suit would probably bring about an arrest and public execution, so she was suitably covered from head to toe. Still the locals were amazed, with the local women wanting their photo taken with the brazen Western women who was splashing around like a zealot.
The water may have been cooly inviting, but I decided to decline her offer of joining in the spiritual cleansing.
Later on in the day we were wandering past the river again, and, call me wild and crazy, but the temptation of getting into one of the world's most polluted waterways was too much for me to handle. It is actually quite clean upstream from the town further towards the source in the Himalayas, though a little dark because the sand is mostly dark grey here. So in I went - up to my calves. I have the most spiritually cleansed lower legs out of any Australian anywhere in the world now. I hope that the thorough scrubbing I gave myself with Dettol Liquid Antiseptic Soap doesn't take away the cleansed spirits.
Hmmm spirits, that's a form of alcohol. Mmmmm, cold beer - that'd be nice after a dip in the Holy Ganges.
