Ganga Beach


It’s obvious to see that India doesn’t have a trade descriptions act. Our hotel was optimistically called the Ganga Beach Resort, and after a walk down the very steep hillside the hotel is perched on we could not find anything resembling a beach – not that you’d actually want to step into the churning grey water of the Ganges (apparently down river there is 150 times the safe level of bacteria).
Finding a 10 minute gap between the torrential downpours, we walked down to the town, although after a few days in India we’re now used to the cows in the streets, it was funny to see them queued up in the covered car park sheltering from the rain, and I don’t think it’s ever possible to get used to the resulting “messages” on the streets. Rishikesh has a fortunately sturdy foot bridge across the Ganges, and as such gets used by everything, from the odd tourists like us to locals aimlessly wandering (how come so many Indians do that?) to motorbikes, monkeys and even cows.
Temple fatigue has truly set in (it’s easy to tell – I took no photos!), so we rested in cafes, including one with an odd bloke dusted in flour sitting on a raised chair outside his cafe, greeting patrons. If only the waiters were quite as friendly! With that, the heavens re-opened, nothing to it but to return back to the hotel and do what Rishikesh is all about, chill out and be at one. The tuktuk driver had other ideas, thinking we didn’t need to be dropped off at the hotel as we’d enjoy the walk down the steep hill – don’t worry though, I had my revenge!