Alarms ringing at 4:45am, Beth and I get dressed in silence and make our way downstairs to meet the group for the Ganges sunrise boat ride. Similarly to yesterday, the boys revved the engine and we chugged to the middle of the river, only for the engine to be turned off a few moments later and we sleepily floated downstream back towards the mosque. The sun rose on our right, behind the sandy shore and loosely moored little boats. Children were playing and bathing while mothers hollered at them. A boat floated along side us aimlessly, its owner asleep under a blanket. To the left, men washing clothes. Slapping their clothes furiously against large rock slabs, swinging their garments around their head and hammering them back down toward the stone. All of their previously washed items laid out already to dry. The bank steps were covered in colourful squares which were women's saris drying in the morning heat. Mothers and children bathed and played, all the women staying fully dressed, while men submerged themselves into the water with only underwear on and lathered up shampoo in the hair. Some swimming lessons were underway. Cricket matches in play. Dogs chased goats. Cremations had already started at the two ghats and morning prayer took place as others. It was 6:00am and the river Ganges was an entirely different place, but equally bustling to how it had been the night before. We drifted towards the mosque at the opposite end of the river, did a u-turn and chugged back to Assi ghat in a sleepy silence. Once back at the ghat Raj recommended we go for breakfast at a small café called Aum Café. The café was run by a local family and an American lady. I think the only business owning westerner in the town- at least that the impression I got. The café was tucked off the main road on a small corner plot, which judging by the quantities of poo on the streets was popular for the roaming cattle to pass through. The ground floor of the building was a clothing and jewellery store, first floor the kitchen and the second/top floor, with an open wall all along one side, was the café. 6 tables of four set out and standing fans positioned toward each table. On the tables were little sugar pots with small square pieces of paper in them, we picked a piece each. Mine said ‘shining star’. JohnMiller’s said ‘don't force it’ which made us all laugh. First thing I clocked on the menu was iced latte, Jess nearly cried with contentment when we tasted them. I cannot recommend the café enough. We all agreed to go back the next day. We returned to the hotel and jumped into tuc tucs to the Buddhist temples. Raj had said that the journey would last 45 minutes to one hour, but he always exaggerated with travel times so that we were always surprised, this time he was right. A very sweaty, dusty tuc tuc ride and we arrived. It is believed that the grounds we were in were at the exact space that Buddha gave his first sermon. We viewed the ruins, museum, temple and tree. As we walked from the temple to the ruins a little girl, maybe four or five (still terrible at this age guessing stuff), is squatting on the pavement pooing. My first thought wasn't that I was shocked at her pooing on the pavement…it was; where's her toilet paper? India, you're changing me. Mads, Dom and I got back into our waiting tuc tuc back to the hotel. Before we had left for the temple we had negotiated a 600 rupee fee for hotel > Buddhist site > wait for us > back to the hotel. Four hours work £6… Half way back, as we approach a busy roundabout, under an overpass, a policeman stops the tuc tuc and pulls us over to the side. The driver gestures to him that he has passengers but it makes no difference. The driver gets out of the tuc tuc, hand over his license, and is told to stand behind it and us. It's loud, the roundabout is jam packed busy, and dusty, and quite frankly if Dom hadn't been with us, with his Indian mobile, with Raj’s number on it, I'd have been really scared. The policeman says ‘five minutes’ to us. I watch in the wing mirror as the policeman stands inches away from the drivers face. Looking down at him aggressively, he was wearing a face ask to cover his mouth. He swung his wooden baton over and over again and I realise that the driver is pleading quietly. A few minutes later, another tuc tuc driver arrives and hands our driver some money, around 1000 rupees. The money is then passed on to the policeman and we are allowed to leave. This driver had only earned 600 rupees over the past four hours. He was now nearly short 400 rupees for the day. The rest of the ride we sat in silence. When we got back to the hotel Dom paid the fee plus a 400 tip. But I felt so horrible about the situation and handed the driver another 1000 rupees. Everyone gave me a lot of grief about it; I shouldn't have done it, that was too much, he might expect that now. Thing is, I can spend £10-15 on a single cocktail. This guy drove us, waited, sat in the sweltering heat and was driving us back for £1.50 an hour. It's all relative and if the police are the ones scamming you then how on earth are you meant to feel safe trying to make an honest living? 
After the tuc tuc debacle Raj asked to speak to me, he wanted to discuss my crematorium comments. I apologised and reiterated that I didn't think their process is ‘gross’, it was just the shock of seeing a burning body like it. Although, I don't think it made much difference and the damage had been done. There's also been a couple of instances throughout the trip where he's taken a joke seriously so I just need to be careful. I spoke to Beth about it and she said I had nothing to worry about, it's just miscommunication. I think he thinks I'm too good for India, or too precious perhaps. I don't know, but I really hope that isn't the impression I've given of myself. One thing I did disagree with though was Raj said I should ‘be accommodating to the Indian men on the trains’. No. I will not. Being stared at while you're sleeping, fully covered up, by men who make you feel like you have two heads is not ok. While they try to take a sneaky photo or video? Beth wasn't so diplomatic in her response when I told her about that part. 
With a free evening Raj suggested we go to the cinema. On our way there we had our first tuc tuc crash! Nothing serious at all, just our tuc tuc crashing into the back of another. No harm done. There weren't any all singing all dancing shows on unfortunately so we saw ‘Mr X’. It. Was. Brilliant. It was the best worst film I've ever seen. It was all in Hindi, apart from the odd English word but it was simple to follow. We loved it. It's about a secret agent who has to kill someone to save his fiancé, is infected with radio active stuff, has a dodgy injection from a doctor to save him, has a side effect of making him invisible, sets out to take revenge on the men who made him kill in the beginning. 
I started to feel a bit sniffily in the tuc tuc on the way back so went straight to bed.