No, no, no, no, no, no, Nooooo!
April 23: Day 22
After watching the Puja ceremony last night, which was even more fantastical from the river, I bumped into Dominic, an Aussie-Scots-Brit who I had met in Agra. After two days of being more or less alone in Varanasi, besides the French travellers from my hotel who I kept bumping into (lovely people but minimal English, aww), some company was refreshing and we decided to go in the hunt for food as neither of us has really eaten all day. I was set on Keshwari, a restaurant renowned for its delicious South Indian dishes, and we found it easily. It was busy and had a good mix of both Indian and foreign customers, both good signs, so we found a table. Although being in the company of other foreigners, especially male, has its advantages in India (as I’ve previously described), the disadvantage at dinner is that the waiter first takes any orders from the men at the table… and then walks away, of course assuming that the women have been ordered for. Wait! Hungry lady here! LOL, I eventually got my order placed (with the waiter looking both confused and peed off), and when our thali (a plate with several small dishes, kind of like an Indian tapas for one) and mushroom masala (the house speciality!) came they were both good. Not mind blowing, but good all the same. Starving as I was, I gladly cleared my plate. Oh, hindsight…
The walk back to my hotel was an amusing one as Dominic and I were ‘befriended’ by a rather hazy-headed Indian man whose sentences didn’t make a whole lot of sense, until he started asking us if we wanted to buy some opium. He was far too out of it to do us any harm so was actually quite amusing, and after a while he seemed to forget we were there and ambled off in another direction! Once back at my hotel I wasn’t quite ready for bed and was feeling quite sociable, so went up to the hotel restaurant for a drink (soft, of course) and to see what was going on. It was there that I met Shinya, an immensely cute and happy Japanese boy who collapsed into giggles almost at the end of every sentence, and with such an infectious laugh that he had me crying with it. He especially loved my ‘easy English’ (his English was good but not fluent, and he sometimes had trouble understanding if someone was talking too fast), and remarked that I was obviously used to talking to Asians… so I did pick up some life skills in Taiwan! He, myself and the waiter, Ganesh, had a jolly little time on the rooftop and when it was time for bed I crashed out straightaway, even in the heat. But not for long.
Somewhere after 2:00am I roused feeling restless, at first thinking that it was because of the heat. This soon changed to hoping it was only the heat, but by 2:30 I’d had no choice but to succumb - the growing nausea in the pit of my stomach became overwhelming and I had to run to the bathroom, vomiting and all, and I quickly became very sick. I’ll spare the intimate details this time(!), suffice to say that it was definitely caused by my earlier meal at Keshwari. It was an hour or so later, when there seemed to be nothing left on my stomach and my body was rejecting even water, that I started to have flashbacks to a nasty incident of food poisoning I suffered a number of years back when the same thing happened (OMG, ten years ago!), that a serious dread began to set in…that incident had lasted five days. The only consoling thought I had was that it had set in very quickly and so might disappear just as quickly - if it got itself out of my system within 24hrs then I would just have to deal with it, however, I was due to get up at 05:30 for a sunrise boat ride along the Ganga and then at 11:30 I was booked onto the train to Mumbai, a journey of no less than 27hrs. Oh gosh.
When 5am came around and I hadn’t gotten back to sleep I felt really, horribly rotten. Goodness knows how I did it, but I managed to pull myself together for the boat ride - I was determined to make it, and it was my only ever chance after all! It had been a half hour or so since I had last vomited, and I was having to restrict myself to only sipping water, despite what felt like an insatiable thirst, as it was the only way to keep it down for any length of time. I hauled myself out of bed, got dressed and was escorted to the boat by the sleepy teenage grandson of the hotel family who, bless him, had no idea of my predicament. My mouth was dry, I had the shakes and my blood sugar was probably non-existent. I have no clue where I got my energy from, but I made it to the boat! The sunrise was beautiful, reflecting on the water and casting a lovely golden glow over the sandwashed buildings on the riverbank, but that wasn’t what I had dragged myself there for. While the streets of the Old City were just waking up, the banks of the Ganga were teeming with life; there were hundreds of people there for their morning bathing ritual, pilgrims who had made the trip especially to bathe at sunrise, people doing yoga, praying, washing clothes, and the burning ghats were still in full use. It was an absolutely amazing experience and, in a weird way as it probably wasn’t very sensible, I’m massively proud of myself for not missing it under the circumstances*! I got some astounding photographs… though what you can’t see is me behind the camera, bent double and praying myself that I wouldn’t make a show of myself by having to puke in their putrid but holy water! I ended up having to cut the ride slightly short, which is a shame but I don’t think I really missed out and I couldn’t have lasted much longer. I was very dizzy walking back up the steps and to the hotel, not helped by some annoying guy who tried to strike up conversation with me and appeared totally ignorant of the fact that I could barely stand. All I could think of was getting back, which I did - it wasn’t very far but I was still very relieved. I was still ill, and was getting even more worried about my prospects of coping with the journey ahead of me. The hotel grandma, who was awake by now, took pity on me and got someone to make me some black tea, the only thing I felt might help. I drank it slowly and did actually feel a little better, and had no choice but to start packing and hope for the best. A hot shower also seemed to help and, after a bit of rest, I decided I should probably try to at least eat something small before going for the train. Ganesh was back in the restaurant and as soon as he saw me could tell something was wrong! He made me some dry toast and a hot ginger and lemon drink, which tasted very medicinal and was just what I needed. I left for the town still feeling fragile but, surprisingly, much better than I had earlier. I packed a couple of 'safe' savoury snacks and some fruit with me so that I had something in case my appetite returned, and when I had survived the rickshaw ride to the station with no queasiness I knew the sickness had stopped. If I believed in a god, I'd have been cheering my thanks to the entire station. YAY!
*An advantage of travelling alone? I’m sure anyone with me would have stopped me from going anywhere...
After watching the Puja ceremony last night, which was even more fantastical from the river, I bumped into Dominic, an Aussie-Scots-Brit who I had met in Agra. After two days of being more or less alone in Varanasi, besides the French travellers from my hotel who I kept bumping into (lovely people but minimal English, aww), some company was refreshing and we decided to go in the hunt for food as neither of us has really eaten all day. I was set on Keshwari, a restaurant renowned for its delicious South Indian dishes, and we found it easily. It was busy and had a good mix of both Indian and foreign customers, both good signs, so we found a table. Although being in the company of other foreigners, especially male, has its advantages in India (as I’ve previously described), the disadvantage at dinner is that the waiter first takes any orders from the men at the table… and then walks away, of course assuming that the women have been ordered for. Wait! Hungry lady here! LOL, I eventually got my order placed (with the waiter looking both confused and peed off), and when our thali (a plate with several small dishes, kind of like an Indian tapas for one) and mushroom masala (the house speciality!) came they were both good. Not mind blowing, but good all the same. Starving as I was, I gladly cleared my plate. Oh, hindsight…
The walk back to my hotel was an amusing one as Dominic and I were ‘befriended’ by a rather hazy-headed Indian man whose sentences didn’t make a whole lot of sense, until he started asking us if we wanted to buy some opium. He was far too out of it to do us any harm so was actually quite amusing, and after a while he seemed to forget we were there and ambled off in another direction! Once back at my hotel I wasn’t quite ready for bed and was feeling quite sociable, so went up to the hotel restaurant for a drink (soft, of course) and to see what was going on. It was there that I met Shinya, an immensely cute and happy Japanese boy who collapsed into giggles almost at the end of every sentence, and with such an infectious laugh that he had me crying with it. He especially loved my ‘easy English’ (his English was good but not fluent, and he sometimes had trouble understanding if someone was talking too fast), and remarked that I was obviously used to talking to Asians… so I did pick up some life skills in Taiwan! He, myself and the waiter, Ganesh, had a jolly little time on the rooftop and when it was time for bed I crashed out straightaway, even in the heat. But not for long.
Somewhere after 2:00am I roused feeling restless, at first thinking that it was because of the heat. This soon changed to hoping it was only the heat, but by 2:30 I’d had no choice but to succumb - the growing nausea in the pit of my stomach became overwhelming and I had to run to the bathroom, vomiting and all, and I quickly became very sick. I’ll spare the intimate details this time(!), suffice to say that it was definitely caused by my earlier meal at Keshwari. It was an hour or so later, when there seemed to be nothing left on my stomach and my body was rejecting even water, that I started to have flashbacks to a nasty incident of food poisoning I suffered a number of years back when the same thing happened (OMG, ten years ago!), that a serious dread began to set in…that incident had lasted five days. The only consoling thought I had was that it had set in very quickly and so might disappear just as quickly - if it got itself out of my system within 24hrs then I would just have to deal with it, however, I was due to get up at 05:30 for a sunrise boat ride along the Ganga and then at 11:30 I was booked onto the train to Mumbai, a journey of no less than 27hrs. Oh gosh.
When 5am came around and I hadn’t gotten back to sleep I felt really, horribly rotten. Goodness knows how I did it, but I managed to pull myself together for the boat ride - I was determined to make it, and it was my only ever chance after all! It had been a half hour or so since I had last vomited, and I was having to restrict myself to only sipping water, despite what felt like an insatiable thirst, as it was the only way to keep it down for any length of time. I hauled myself out of bed, got dressed and was escorted to the boat by the sleepy teenage grandson of the hotel family who, bless him, had no idea of my predicament. My mouth was dry, I had the shakes and my blood sugar was probably non-existent. I have no clue where I got my energy from, but I made it to the boat! The sunrise was beautiful, reflecting on the water and casting a lovely golden glow over the sandwashed buildings on the riverbank, but that wasn’t what I had dragged myself there for. While the streets of the Old City were just waking up, the banks of the Ganga were teeming with life; there were hundreds of people there for their morning bathing ritual, pilgrims who had made the trip especially to bathe at sunrise, people doing yoga, praying, washing clothes, and the burning ghats were still in full use. It was an absolutely amazing experience and, in a weird way as it probably wasn’t very sensible, I’m massively proud of myself for not missing it under the circumstances*! I got some astounding photographs… though what you can’t see is me behind the camera, bent double and praying myself that I wouldn’t make a show of myself by having to puke in their putrid but holy water! I ended up having to cut the ride slightly short, which is a shame but I don’t think I really missed out and I couldn’t have lasted much longer. I was very dizzy walking back up the steps and to the hotel, not helped by some annoying guy who tried to strike up conversation with me and appeared totally ignorant of the fact that I could barely stand. All I could think of was getting back, which I did - it wasn’t very far but I was still very relieved. I was still ill, and was getting even more worried about my prospects of coping with the journey ahead of me. The hotel grandma, who was awake by now, took pity on me and got someone to make me some black tea, the only thing I felt might help. I drank it slowly and did actually feel a little better, and had no choice but to start packing and hope for the best. A hot shower also seemed to help and, after a bit of rest, I decided I should probably try to at least eat something small before going for the train. Ganesh was back in the restaurant and as soon as he saw me could tell something was wrong! He made me some dry toast and a hot ginger and lemon drink, which tasted very medicinal and was just what I needed. I left for the town still feeling fragile but, surprisingly, much better than I had earlier. I packed a couple of 'safe' savoury snacks and some fruit with me so that I had something in case my appetite returned, and when I had survived the rickshaw ride to the station with no queasiness I knew the sickness had stopped. If I believed in a god, I'd have been cheering my thanks to the entire station. YAY!
*An advantage of travelling alone? I’m sure anyone with me would have stopped me from going anywhere...