Ariving in Varanasi

after a 25hr train ride i stumbled out of the coach ready for Varanasi, i have heard stories, read up on it and was eager to see what this holy city was all about. by no means was this a food journey this was a cultural experience and one i was excited for. i walked down the tracks sticking out like a sore thumb, regardless of how hard i try to fit in, my scraggly beard, rapidly growing long hair and disheveled look is nothing new amongst backpackers, my 17kilo backpack is also pretty conspicuous. i was approached right away with a ridiculous offer of 400 rupees for a 15kilometer ride into the city center. the cheapest method would be to get back on a connecting train and transfer from there but after 25hrs on my last train i was happy with some fresh air and the wild streets of India.
rejecting my first offer and haggling on the second i was off to Varanasi for 120 rupees. in typical fashion as i approached my stop a random Indian jumped on to my rickshaw, exchanged words in Hindi with my driver. i was dropped off a kilometer shy of where i should have been dropped and i unloaded unknowing where i was heading. i picked my head up after slinging my slowly growing backpack across my shoulders to see the recently boarded Indian gentleman looking at me. Immediately he is my "best friend" wanting to know my name, where i am from, and the most important question "how long have you been in India." this question i have learned is a guide, on how bad you are about to be ripped off, i smiled, answered all the questions honestly except the last one, inflating the real date by a few months.
He smiled as he knew i had no clue where to go, i turned around to see my bastard rickshaw driver turn around and disappear, i looked back at my "friend" and he says "Shanti guest house right? i work there!" and he offers l to lead me to my hotel. quite typically the story would end here and i would allow him to lead me to my guest house or a completely different guest house all together with a similar name. At this point i would have walked passed many, sorted out the area while being led by a local and not being haggled by anyone else at which point i would pull the old "yeah..... i'm gunna go somewhere else" and slip out past him not to deal with the bullshit of a scam or what ever else they may want to sell, but NOT TODAY.
"Bullshit" i said "I highly doubt you work for Shanti Guest House," "why do you say that" he says with such a surprised tone in his voice, with out answering him i responded with a question for him. "what are you selling, where do you want me to go, and are we really heading towards Shanti Guest House?" "I just like to help tourists" he says, we are still briskly walking through the 80 degree heat and 90% humidity, weaving in between cars, scooters, bicycles, on coming pedestrians, peddle rickshaws, dogs, cows, farm animals and children selling post cards.
we squeezed into a back ally off the main road, it was wet, damp, smelling of urine, body odor, and cow shit mixed with a strangely pleasant aroma of fryed samosas, coal grilled flat breads, and Indian sweets. down the allies we walk, my eyes constantly fixed on 3 three things, first, my feet so i can attempt to avoid wet sticky piles of trash as well as the always pleasant pile of shit, Second, any potential hotels, guest houses, or hostels i'm passing just in case "my friend" leads me astray, and last the back of "my friends" head, for the ally was small but packed with early morning activity.
again, typically i would have allowed the conversation to end at "i like helping tourist" but today i felt like fighting a bit. "so whats your deal bro? everyone wants something, what are you after? there is no way you just like helping tourists, that is shit." he smiled "well i own a shop, will you come and see it after i take you to your hotel?" His voice started to fade the second his lips started to move, as he was talking into my deaf ear, my good ear facing the opposite direction i could bearly make out what he was saying. his voice was temporarily muted by aggressive beeping of a scooter horn which obnoxiously plowed through anybody and everybody standing in its way, this was followed by the beating of a drum and very loud chanting of a 20person procession which was headed straight for me.
"dead body" my "friend" tells me as a woman wrapped colored silk is carried on a bamboo stretcher, hoisted above my head and carried past me. "so where do you work" i said now that most of the noise and commotion has passed. "my shop! will you come see my shop after i take you to your guest house?" I smiled and laughed because i understood why he "just wanted to help tourists," commision on a sale. "Sure, was that so hard? i just wanted to know why you were leading me around." Again, typically i would have told him "NO," but after a long train ride i just wanted to get there, and by saying no i would have to find my own way my guesthouse or be at the mercy of where ever this guy wanted to drop me.
we kept walking as more noise was chasing me down the ally, more beating of drums and chanting, i stepped aside in this narrow 3 foot alleyway to allow another funeral procession pass me by. A few more allies, a flight of broken slate steps covered in trash, and i was there. I checked the name to make sure it was the one (which it was) i checked into my room, dropped my bag, and true to my word headed out to see "my friends"shop. A silk shop, what a surprise (that was extreme sarcasm), i looked at some items, bought nothing, smiled, thanked them for their time, and walked back to my guest house for a much needed shower.