Day 50 - 55

"I'm leaving, on the midnight train to Varanasi... leaving on the midnight train..." Actually its the 9.20 but I feel like singing. It is very exciting getting the train at night and our only fear is that we are not actually booked on it. One of us has a seat and the others are 'waitlisted'. Despite paying in advance, the system is you don't always get a seat and have to wait and see who doesn't turn up. We get on the train anyway and befriend two friendly Irish girls who offer to let us sit with them until we find a guard and establish if we can travel. We sit anxiously until he arrives and sure enough, we have three seats. Not four. One of us has to share with Clover and nobody offers. I feel like asking the Irish girls if they will take the wriggly teeth-grinder as she is half Irish anyway but I desist. The lovely girls agree to swap with us and it turns out, due to a stroke of Irish luck, we end up with four beds together, all in the same little section. We pull the curtain and all get some sleep. At 11.30am, 14 hours later, we arrive in Varanasi. It doesn't smell too bad and feels like everywhere else in India. We pass two McDonalds and a Pizza Hut which disappoints. We get to the hotel and have a swim in the beautiful infinity pool. I am not showing off, these are not expensive hotels - we are off season and everything is really cheap. This hotel is the same price as the Travelodge on Paisley Road West and believe me, I would know.

Later on we venture out, at 5pm, to see 'puja' where people offer their prayers to Mother Ganga. I am excited to see the Ganges and maybe a burning body.

One tenth of the world's population live in the Ganges river basin. Isn't that incredible? One out of every ten people IN THE WORLD live here. I can't get over that fact. And it looks like they are all gathered here, today. Varanasi is packed. The streets are completely full - it is like some kind of religous Mardi Gras - and all the religious zealots, monks, missionaries, tourists and freaks have turned out. The people are a mass of orange as the monks head down to the Ganges, carrying something that looks like a pinata stick, covered in plastic flowers. I feel frightened and insecure. It is far too busy. I clutch the hands of both kids - at least I hope it is my children, I can't afford to look down in case I miss something. Large monkeys leap from buildings, cows and pigs push past motorbikes. It is insanely hot and the noise is deafening. Horns, chanting, techno music, people chatting. It is too much for me and I don't like it. For the first time in India I feel threatened and freaked out.

And then I see something. A strange little man, barely taller than Fern, dressed all in black with white ashes smeared all over his face. I can tell straightaway he is up to something. There is a wicker basket in his outsretched hands. As we get nearer - and I don't take my eyes off him for a second - he opens the basket as if in slow motion and pulls out a snake which he thrusts in my face. A coal black, thin, evil snake whose tongue flickers in and out. It is inches from my face. I scream and run away. Literally run away but I have no idea where I am going. The crowds are thick and the streets are so narrow you can touch both sides at the same time. I keep running until I make it back to the safety of our rickshaw driver who is waiting for us. At this stage I notice Clover is with me and I have been dragging her by the hand. I can't stop crying and hyperventilating. The usual group of nosy Indians forms around me wondering what has happened. Rufus and Fern have realised what has happened and have caught up. I am calmed down by the group who say supportive things which are lost in translation like 'be cool, manage yourself better' and encourage me to try again. They tell me he is a stupid drunk man who carries the snake about and gets money off tourists. Now I find out he is pissed in charge of a badly kept reptile I don't feel any better. My breathing has calmed down though and I agree to try again. I am now flanked by several Indian men who want to help and try and get me through the crowd. No sooner have we gone another 100 yards than the little b****** reappears - as if he is specifically seeking me out. The snake and I make close eye contact. Now I am sobbing and running in complete terror. People look vaguely interested. I feel like telling them that I have been in India for 7 weeks and am not some naive European spirituality-seeking tourist straight off the Golden Triangle luxury coach. I have seen and been and tried and eaten and lived and loved India. I know what I am doing. But this, I just can't manage. Rufus tells the rickshaw driver we have to go home and I cry all the way back. I can't explain my fear and once the threat of the snake is out my way, I start to feel embarrased and irrational. But it is too late and we go home. The girls are very supportive and are not surprised. I can't look at one in a magazine or on the telly, let alone have one stabbed into my face. My family know this and they are very sympathetic.

We don't go out the next day and Rufus has to get a doctor anyway. He has a rash and a throat infection and is unhappily leaking clear liquid out his ears. The doctor arrives in tracksuit bottoms, rummages vaguely in his case and then gives Rufus an injection and such strong painkillers that he is immediately stoned out his head. I leave him to think he is Jimi Hendrix by himself and the girls and I enjoy the infinity pool (I can't stop giving it it's full name, I have never been in one before and they are amazing). We see the strangest insect the size of a large shoe. It flies, has brown, hard, thick wings and long black pincers at the front - AND it does the breast stroke. It can literally swim underwater. We tell the lifeguard and he looks panicky and fishes it out. See - am not afraid. Doesn't bother me in the slightest, not even when it landed on me. We watch Pretty Woman and Mamma Mia on Star Movies. I read the memoirs of an alcoholic with a Kingfisher in my hand; the irony is not missed. It is a quiet few days. Plans to sail the Ganges at dawn are in place for Monday morning.