Anyway, I am digressing from the point of this post which is catching you up on India so far.
This weekend we took a weekend off from playing with the World's Cutest Children to visit Rishikesh, a town a few hours drive from our local town Mussoorie, made famous in the 1960s by the Beatles christening it 'Yoga Capital of the World'. Knowing little of the geography of the North of India (Flo, do correct me if I'm wrong here!), we were both gobsmacked when, when driving up and over the local Elephant forest (in which resides the 'Killer Elephant' - don't ask), we spotted a slither of water expanding before us. The Ganges.
In the evening (every evening) the Ganges Aarti is celebrated in Rishikesh, which is a ceremony organised and run by the local Ashram residents as opposed to a more 'theatrical' Pundit as other ceremonies are. While it is ever-so-slightly overrun with tourists and tour groups, it is still a particularly spiritual experience. Both Flo and I let our garland float down stream, without capsizing I hasten to add, and it was a wonderful experience to see the sun set just beyond our reach.
Among this, we played many a travel scrabble game, drank street Chai, read, and even partook in a very non-legit seeming Yoga class for £1.50. Needless to say, the week-long ache that followed was definitely not worth the small amount we paid. On the Monday we returned to Sainji which, oddly, felt much like coming home. We were welcomed back today to sunshine and cool mountain air, and I wouldn't have rather been anywhere else.