Day 4: Taking selfies with a selfie stick at the Lotus

3.7.2016

Today's start of the day is probably one of the most beautiful and impressive of the past. We set off early, this time for real, to meet our captain at the agreed meeting point, as we actually want to take the boat tour along the riverbank today. On the way there, we are repeatedly fooled into believing that various people are our guides. All nonsense. Poverty makes people resourceful. But we toughen up and get smarter, at least a little bit. More on that later.

Arriving at the boat, I quickly realize how tight this nutshell is and how much I should trust its stability. A fall into the water would not bring refreshment and well-being like in my beloved Weißensee (which I usually visit at this time of year). Instead, it would probably offer a freely selectable range of more and less deadly diseases. Of course, only in case of no heart attack or collision with a floating corpse, which would already make everything else obsolete earlier.

However, the tour is paid for, ten minutes after our arrival, the boat paddler even manages to put on more than one pair of underpants and off we go. We drive along the picturesque riverbank for a while, enjoying the new perspective and the - more or less - casual view of the locals. Only one or two boats pass by to sell us all sorts of knick-knacks. The Indians really don't miss an opportunity.

The sunrise is really nice at first. It really creates a nice mood and atmosphere. It is noticeable that we initially thought we were the only white people in this city. But suddenly, in the morning, a lot of other white-skinned people crawl out of their holes. What a homey feeling. The staring of the Indians, which is sometimes really uncomfortable (especially for the ladies), is now divided... well, 5,6 boats with 2-3 people each. A relief. It's amusing that we initially make fun of other tourists who are equipped like professional photographers and take pictures of every corner of the city, but soon realize that we also fulfill a certain East Asian stereotype quite well. So we are also equipped with a SLR camera, digital camera, selfie stick, mobile phone, etc. and indulge in the old Japanese art of "everythingthatthereiswillbephotographed". We grin about it, we pose and we take pictures. Anyway, my hobby has been to use the two young ladies as photo objects throughout the whole trip. Which they don't like at all. However, I really like this fact.

At the end of the trip, we have chai. Nice. It's forbidden to say no to the street vendor because of his friendliness, of course. But it also tastes good.

Afterwards, we fall back into bed. After a short time, not only Gudi, but especially her abdominal area becomes active. We analyze: it was the chai, or rather the dirty glass of good Gudrun (so much for "We get smarter" before). So we spend most of the afternoon in the hotel, where the otherwise rather resistant to travel diarrhea-afflicted patient climbs far up in the general chart of Lotus visits. May she be granted this victory, but it is countered with stomach cramps and curses towards the street vendor. After a short reading of the recently published "Travel Doctor for Dummies" (Gudi's father has compiled a pretty comprehensive list of medications including explanations for us), the condition of the young lady improves to a relative stability of certain activities.

Hetti (Gudi's sister by the way, in case you didn't know, she is also with us in India and Nepal) and I can therefore visit the cremations again. And we are already expected there. Not by the men with fire, fortunately, and not on the pyres. But by my nice friend from the day before, who wants more money again. Therefore, a very abrupt end to our visit and a quick departure towards the Blue Lassi Shop. But this time for real! Hetti eats a mango-coconut lassi with chocolate, I treat myself to a mango-papaya vitamin boost. It's amazing, it's so good! Freshly made on the ground, served in a clay pot, garnished with all kinds of toppings. Although the restaurant is very small and quite well-known internationally, it still makes the effort to provide a continuous program. So, if you look out of the open windows, you can definitely see singing mourners passing by every 30 minutes. The corpses are no longer singing, it's the mourners. Well, we mourn more quietly in Europe, but that's okay. Dogs don't gnaw on the bones of our dead either. To each their own culture.

After a short but intense rain shower, we manage to pick up Gudi and march across the city to the main road. This is necessary because only motorized vehicles (apparently motorcycles don't count) are allowed to travel there and we need to go to the train station.

I must say, we are all getting much better at choosing and negotiating means of transportation and their prices. Even the way through the crowd is no longer such a gauntlet. But it's also not quite a walk in an English garden in the spring. Well, maybe more on that another time.

Arriving at the train station, we just fall into the train and fall asleep totally exhausted at eight o'clock. India has once again enriched, challenged, and fleeced us in all its facets.