Clean clothes

Am writing this from Vartanasi, spiritual home of Buddha and some of the scariest city driving seen yet.  Three things are a must for driving through Indian cities: an accelerator, agrresive nature and big f*ck off horn.  We have two of theser things, with an accelerator sorely missing at this point of the race.

Post Gorakhpur; one of the more ordinary towns you'll see on an Indian safari, drove through the night to a little town called Chittapur (?), truck stop in ricksha lanaguage.  Found the tropish dodgy motel, checked in then found the o9nly restaurant in town.  Served wicked dahl, rice and bread and rididulous black tea, and we all sat on top of tables with no chairs, cutlery or lighting available.  The two teams from rikki tikki taxi and Busta Naan have teamed up well, currently enjoying some R&R in a semi-plush hotel in downtown Varanasi.  First (cold) shower in three days was very much enjoyed.

Rickshaw is driing ok, tonight will make it four days since having to seek out a mechanic (harder when you don't speak Hini, even harder when everyone thinks ther'yre a mechanic).  Moving on, looking like we'll settle in here for tonight and possibly tomorrow, will then put the 'shaw on a train and head for Agra (Taj Mahal).  The lads from Ontweeb chose the NOrthern route and headed for Pokhara in Nepal, and while we were keen to join, we didin;t have as much faith in the vehicle and time was pressing.

Lastly, clothes are being washed since first time on the trip.  We stink, its 30+ degrees and beer is easier to find than water. Most of the annyoance we've had from locals is surely related to odor rather than disposition.

Dead dog count on the road is up to 3, but we did see a happy little fellow rolling round with half his head missing yesterday.  No sh*t.  Make it 3.5.

BN