Varanasi- 'A Festival Every Day'

Guest House Concierge: 'You can get the boat tomorrow morning at 5:30. There is a festival at that time.'

Ben: 'Oh, wow. We're lucky. What good timing!'

Guest House Concierge: 'Yes. Actually, there is a festival every day.'

Part 1: The Good Luck Man

I was smiling smugly to myself on the way to Varanasi from the airport around noon on Saturday. I had forgotten one of the many printed itinerary sheets at work in the midst of scouring my iTunes to reassess my opinion of Jay-Z. These print-outs are vital to navigating Indian airports, and by forgetting one, I nearly got Carrie and me stuck in Delhi, halfway to our destination.

I had rushed to no fewer than 5 desks alternately trying winning smiles, a brusque business-like manner and angry swearing at the airline officials. In the end, I ended up in Executive Class eating something like taquitos, which Carrie, the responsible one, has been craving since our first week in India. She checked in early online, sat in economy, and had a sandwich.

I was thinking about this when our taxi driver pulled over and called out to turbaned man walking in the street. The man came up to the car and began chanting, placing a bindi on our driver's head and wrapping yellow and red strings around his wrist. He then repeated this with Carrie and me, stopping occasionally to collect a few rupies tip.

As we drove away, the driver turned back to us to tell us that this was the 'good luck man.'

Then, we screeched to a halt to barely avoid hitting a dog, leading me to think I should have tipped more.