Incredible India

Delhi's Red Fort... we think

You always hear that you can 'smell India from the plane'.  That's not completely true, you can see the smell from the plane... when you step off the plane and walk into the terminal it hits you... a potent smell, but not the one we were expecting.  We were expecting that waft you get from someones house who makes too many curries.  Instead we were hit with an overpowering smell of pollution.  We landed at 4 in the morning, and when looking through our windows everything was colored with an orange haze.  Visibility was nothing and we could barely breath.

Humayun's Tomb

After clearing customs and getting our bags we went to find the driver sent by our hotel to meet us at the airport.  Several men waited outside baggage claim with names on white pieces of paper, some on paper torn out of notebooks, some even had signs with company names.  None of which were ours.  We took out our cellphone to call the hotel, our SIM card wouldn't connect with the local network.  We tried to walk back into the airport to see if we could get a signal and Skype or find a payphone, but security stopped us... no re-entry.  Apprehensively we approached the taxi stand with the address for our hotel in Old Delhi and were put into a cab hoping we didn't make the wrong decision.  Looking through the night haze, we sat nervously in the back of the taxi getting our first look at India, probably at its quietest hour.  On the side of the road men crouched around fires, people slept under blankets, and dogs dug through garbage.  We passed various cattle pulling carts on the road, and tried to figure out the rules of the road.  There seemed to be only one... the biggest thing on the road had right of way, nothing else mattered.  When our driver got into Old Delhi he started asking tuck tuck drivers for directions, down a few roads then asking another.  Eventually we found the place.  The reception desk checked us in, and when asked why our driver never showed, he replied that he must not have been dispatched for the evening.  We were shown to our room, which appeared to be clean and went to sleep.  

Laundry on a slow day

A few hours later we woke and were to meet a travel agent to help us arrange trains.  A man in the lobby from the travel agency was there, of course this wasn't the man who was supposed to meet us, for that we would need to get into a van and head to their office downtown.  At the same time, Katy spotted a ratty old copy of a Lonely Planet India.  We nabbed this, went back to our room and figured that we'd do it on our own without any dodgy travel agents.

Street wedding

Thanks to the book, we found the one official spot in the city to attain train tickets was about a half mile from our hotel.  The book also had several pages on 'Dangers and Annoyances' specific to Delhi and purchasing train tickets.  "Don't be dismayed by the people outside the office telling you it is closed and trying to take you to a private travel agency".  We grabbed Will's trusty overly large compass, oriented ourselves on the map and spoke to the front desk to verify where we were going.  "Be careful, people will follow you," we were told and then we were off.

Taj Mahal

The streets of Old Delhi during the day were packed.  Rick shaws, bicycles, tuck tucks, cars, cows and people were everywhere.  From every direction horns blared, and we needed to be careful not to get run over.  It seemed amazing that people could survive to adulthood given these conditions; it would take a miracle to make it without any serious injuries.  As we dodged our way through the streets, we eventually made it to the train station, found our way into the Foreign Tourist Office, and for the first time walked into a place we didn't feel we were being taken advantage of.  We were put onto trains to Agra (home of the Taj Mahal), and from there to Jaipur (the "Pink City").

Built for a queen

The next day we set off to see a few sights in Delhi.  We discovered the subway system to be new and highly functional.  While most cars were packed to the brim, Katy was able to have considerable more comfort as all subway trains have 'ladies only' cars.  At the same time, a little girl sitting in front of Will threw up in the middle of the car.  No one went to clean it up, everyone just shifted elsewhere.  When we left the train station, an assortment of beggars and people showcasing their disabilities set upon us.  Others shouted names of tourist sights trying to direct or mislead us; fortunately we had a compass and knew the direction we needed to go.  The majority of the day was composed of running from one safe-haven, inside of a paid tourist sight, to another, followed by bartering with drivers to get between places trains wouldn't go.  We were quite happy to get up before dawn the next day to leave Delhi.  At the train station, we were warmly approached by an un-uniformed man kindly telling us our train and the next three to Agra were all canceled (screw you too, buddy-you approached us), but it turned out our train was delayed.  After waiting around with some Brits for a few hours we departed the wretched city of Delhi.

Hawa Mahal

Agra proved to be an improvement, but not a drastic change.  We still couldn't see the sun due to a combination of fog and pollution.  The noise and constant harassment started as soon as we walked out our door.  We were able to get a tuck tuck driver to show us 'real Agra' for the day while the Taj Mahal was closed.  Kay-Kay, our driver, was great, showing us sights that easily surpassed Delhi: forts, monkey temples, slums, back door views of the Taj.  All the while, he was willing to tell us about Indian life, what it is to be poor, truly poor and how the environment had changed within just a few years.  The main river Yamuna which flows next to the Taj had almost disappeared, and the pollution made the Taj look like a cloud from a 100 yards away.

Jaipur: The pink city

That evening we sat down in a restaurant above the street next to our hotel.  It was a Friday night, in January... wedding season.  As we waited for dinner we watched a busy street turn into a court for a wedding, lights, food, music.  It was our first glimpse into the incredible culture that India has.  For hours women in beautiful sarees were ushered on the back of motor bikes, and the entire neighborhood came out to celebrate.  When we moved back to our hotel, we could hear every drum beat as the party went throughout the night.

Mumbai commuter trains

When standing in line to the enter the Taj Mahal, I was reminded of an article Katy read me that morning.  The TSA wanted to encourage India to set their homeland security to USA standards.  The people at the TSA need to give their head a shake.  Every time we entered a subway, tourist sight, let alone flew in India we were given the most intense screening we've ever been given, in any country.  Katy was already past security, as separate lines are required for men and women, women's generally being shorter. (Makes up for the bathroom lines =) )  When I finally made it to security I was asked to check my oranges in a locker outside the gates and return again.

Two in... two out

Inside the Taj Mahal was quite impressive, but still covered in a cloud of haze.  As we walked through the sight, we were allowed to go through the 'High Cost Ticket Holder' lines to get inside of the Palace, while nationals waited in a line by themselves.  At most sights, foreign tourists pay 50-100 times that of locals.  Its a double edged sword, allowing locals to access their national monuments, but reinforcing the overarching idea that Indians are not to be treated the same as the rich westerners.  When walking back from the Taj we saw dogs laying in the middle of the road, men would walk up to them, tease them and kick them.  Not maliciously, but to remind themselves that even if they are from the bottom caste, there are things that are below them.

Typical India

The Golden Triangle: Delhi, Agra, Jaipur is the main tourist route for the North.  When we arrived at Jaipur it was the first time we saw the sun since we arrived in the country.  As we walked through the city, the roads were lined with powdered chalk and governmental employees continued to refresh the dulled lines.  Little kites dotted the sky.  While we had many touts for taxis or rick shaws, we were actually able to walk down the street.  We did a walking tour of the town, passing the palace, markets and the Hawa Mahal (a 5 storied pink building with 953 small windows. The original intention of the lattice was to allow royal ladies to observe everyday life in the street below without being seen, since they had to observe a strict dress code of covering their face) That evening, Delhi belly hit Will, and he was out for the count. (Never fear his fiancee nursed him back to health).

Luxury accommodations

Our time in Jaipur was short lived, and we shortly were on a plane to Mumbai to meet Ankur (Will's college friend).  We arrived at the airport and were greeted by our new host as his flight had arrived just a few minutes before ours.

Ankur & Smita wedding reception: Part II

Mumbai is the cultural city of India, Bollywood (India's movie industry) is based here, and it leads a much different pace than Delhi and Agra.  When we arrived at our hotel, which was attached to a Hare Krishna temple, there were evening processions going on inside the temple.  People chanting, drums and music going, it was a different and very interesting scene.  But more importantly, it was access to a hot shower, comfortable beds and the first quiet sleep we'd had in India.  We spent one day in Mumbia being ushered around the downtown in a enclosed vehicle, that night we had home cooked pani puri at Ankur's uncle's house, and we were both shown how to shop for traditional 'ethnic' wear by Ankur and his cousin.  Not to mention, we were able to walk outside our hotel with minimal harassment, all in all, the tone of India started to change and our outlook for the next few weeks was starting to improve.

Temples of Hampi

8am the next morning, we're at a the local train station, rush hour, about to board one of the city trains to a hill station outside the city.  We're watching trains without any car doors pass by packed with people like sardines as Ankur starts giving us a pep talk: "Okay, now when the train stops whatever happens PUSH... every year people die on these trains, two people hop on, two fall off".  Of course, with Ankur, everything is exaggerated, still this crash course wasn't for the faint-hearted.  The train stopped and everyone pushed onto the car with all their might; once on all the locals grabbed up the limited number of seats.  Slightly confused and in awe, we were left standing until the next stop when seats opened up.  The beauty of the India train system is your ability to see parts of India otherwise shut off to tourists, on the other hand, as the tracks act as the largest bathroom in all of India, some things are better left unseen.  A few hours and even more train transfers later, we had made it well outside of the city; a taxi ride, painful horse ride and we were in Matheran.
It was low season for the hill stations, so we planned to show up and find the cheapest accommodations we could, but when Ankur's uncle found out where we were going be, he said he would 'take care of everything for us'.  We didn't really know what to expect, but Ankur had mentioned that there might be servants and it was used as a corporate retreat house.  Upon our arrival we were in fact greeted by the bungalow servant Mr. Budhe (later to be known as DJ Booty) who was at our service.  The bungalow was small house, tin roof, with a living room and two bedrooms, although its cleanliness standards were about on par with the rest of India, it was ours for the next few days at no cost.

Bath / laundry time

Having never had a servant we weren't exactly sure what to do, but we essentially had a side-kick for the next few days, he would negotiate prices for us, scare off monkeys and seemed tickled pink when we would buy him dinner.  We had an extra day in the bungalowas Ankur and his brother left early, in which we enjoyed the peace and quite in the bungalow.  At one point we watched a convoy of monkeys approach the house, scavenging through the brush, eventually they attempted to attack the house.  This was a failed attempt, when DJ Booty showed up and started hurling rocks at the monkey posse.

I hear the music!

Back in suburban Mumbai we had a few more days at our Hare Krishna temple with all the chanting, praying and celebrating we could handle.  We saw a Bollywood movie, (Playerz - a spoof on the Italian Job) and attended Ankur's Indian reception all decked out in our ethnic gear.

Washing my ox

Our next destination, Hampi, was to be reached via 12 hour train ride, then an overnight bus.  The train, if you are able to get the right class of tickets (for roughly $15) was an incredibly comfortable relaxing experience.  On a regular basis, stewards would by and offer us chai ($0.10 per cup) or various food items.  Our favorite offering was the 'chicken lollipop', which turned out to be spicy chicken drumsticks.  The overnight bus was our first experience on a sleeper bus, not nearly as comfortable, but was the only realistic option and we survived.

Colors of India

Every once in a while you meet people you can really relate to while traveling, Hampi was one of these occasions, while waiting for a boat to take us to 'the island' where the more isolated accommodations were, we bumped into a British couple (Andy and Charlie) who were on a similar trip.  Over the next few days we partnered up with the two and saw Hampi.  A stark contrast to urban India, Hampi was rural and unspoiled.  In the morning the villagers go down to the river to bathe, during the day its time for the laundry to be done with brightly dressed women laying out brightly colored swaths of fabric to dry on the rocks. The drawing to the area are old ruins and volcanic rock formations, but it acted as an introduction to the villages and less crowded India.  It was a drastic mentality change, children would ask for pens, instead of money, the hotel service was kind and only offered what you asked for, it was incredibly comfortable.  'The island' was a bit figurative, still tourists could only access it via boat which ran until 6pm.  In the evening, no one could go anywhere, so our lodge played movies out in the open, and everyone stayed in.  As an added bonus, the lodge had a German bakery, we did quite well for the few days we stayed in Hampi.  Unfortunately, just as Katy was mentioning how she was looking like she might leave India without getting sick, she was hit... the next day Charlie got sick too.

Bet your barber doesn't have this view!

Our last tourist destination were the beaches of Goa, heralded as a tropical paradise.  The beach we showed up at turned out to be a Russian trans paradise.  We slept behind a disco which played trans music from 5-10pm every night until the party moved inside.  The main form of transportation were scooters which you could rent without any credential, license, name or down payment (or training for that matter).  After a first attempt which almost landed me in a store front, we had a scooter to take us to the different beaches.  Vagator, the Russian beach, proved to meet our expectations of an Indian beach.  Dirty water, hawkers would come by and bother you endlessly to buy whatever you didn't want, cows laid out on the beach, and the Russians sported some of the most horrendously inappropriate bathing suits you could imagine.  On our last beach day, we made the 20km drive south and found a true tropical paradise beach.  Almost no people, clean sand, and the only hawkers waited for you to find them.

Ganesh

On our train back to Mumbai, where we were to fly out, a little boy was screaming after jumping from a top carriage and falling to the ground, while his parents looked on.  A passenger looked over and then made the comment that 'I have traveled through India for 6 months, and I can tell you this is the largest system of anarchy in the world'.  India was a fascinating, beautiful country, and yet it is incredibly frustrating.  The currently outlawed caste system continues to divide people into those of privilege and those who are treated as insignificant.  Every day we'd see people sleeping on the street, and those who struggle for basic existence.  Because of the number of people, lack of hygiene and sanitation, this seemed to be one of the worst countries to be poor in in the world.  Women are not equals, regardless of caste or color.  Men generally would not look at Katy, and if they did it was in an offensive way.  The lack of hygiene meant it was perfectly acceptable anytime, anywhere to grab/scratch yourself, pick your nose, spit and do many other unimaginably unsanitary activities.  Queuing in the country is as challenging as herding cats; people push each other and can't stand in line if their lives depend on it.  And yet, this country was SO COOL.  The colors, clothing, the music, film, the food and culture were more distinct than any other place we've seen on earth.  Still, the problems in India - overpopulation, sanitation, etc, are nothing to be envied by any nation, and just like everything else in the country, it might not make sense, but will be fascinating to watch.

Cows on the beach

A few random thoughts/stories before we leave you. The first tale occurred while we were in staying in the hill station of Matheran. We had walked into town and were strolling through a park. We watched while a woman swept the dirt floor of the park picking up all the leaves and garbage. She also took the garbage out of the garbage bins and made a pile of everything on a piece of card she was using as a dustpan.  We then watched as she picked everything up and then dumped it over the small wall that surrounded the park, not more than 15 cm from where she had picked it up. It was more like over sized edging really, and if you looked over the edging you could see piles of garbage that dogs were rummaging through.  Apparently it doesn't matter where the dirt/garbage goes as long as it isn't in the area that you are designated to clean up.  Secondly, traveling in India was  divided into two distinct categories: 1) What? That makes no sense, I've already talked to that person, given you money, filled out the form 7 times.  I'm so incredibly frustrated I might have aneurysm or 2) Wow, that was easier than I expected.  There was no in between, ever. The reassuring aspect is that despite the complete chaos at all times, antiquated bookkeeping systems, inconsistent rules and general lack of common sense. Things always seemed to work out somehow in the end. You may have to follow different steps to send a package depending on what post office you visit, you may ask 5 people a question and get 5 different answers-but somehow things get done.  Before we knew it, it was time to get on the plane to Africa. Boarding the plane in Mumbai was quite the experience and in truth could be an entire blog post in itself, needless to say it was Indian chaos at its finest...but don't worry we made it to Namibia.

Bond: Will Bond