India Part I

As you can see we have not posted in a while. India did not have wifi like Egypt did at every turn. Its internet cafes also were not Mac compatible – Lyle is it possible? But, that did not mean we stopped writing, even if its only for ourselves we really want to document as much of this trip as possible, so here is our super long India post. If you’re running late and need a two sentence answer India was mysterious and probably falls under the list of places you should go where you have an “in.” - Annie

Schedule
Sept. 30th – Oct. 1st: New Delhi
Oct. 2nd: Jaipur
Oct. 3rd: Saharia Organic Farm
Oct. 4th: Jaipur
Oct. 5th: Bharatpur
Oct. 6th: Agra (Overnight train)
Oct. 7th – 8th: Varanasi

Delhi
(by Miller) Our flight from Bahrain was uneventful; Gulf Air is great and even has extra flight attendants to regulate the “wee passengers”. Loved the food and as Annie doesn’t like yogurt-type food and it was half the meal, I scored double!

We landed around 6:15am and, perhaps foreshadowing the madness to come, people were practically sprinting through the terminal. There’s always that moment of trepidation as one walks thorough the airport doors into the actual city. We hit that even before we left. Taking the Lonely Planet advice, we stopped at the pre-paid taxi booth to see what the deal was. Good call and HIGHLY recommended. We’d have ended up paying 3 or 4 times the price because we have no concept of the price scale here. The taxi booth guy showed us the distance chart, took our names, and gave us a ticket that acted as a voucher to give to the taxi driver. 2 minutes later we were off, bobbing and weaving through the traffic going into Delhi. Passing high-rise apartment buildings, monkeys, shantytowns, shiny SUVs, and mangy dogs gave a crash course in the paradox that is the India we’ve experienced thus far.

Our hotel was in an area right by the New Delhi train station called Paharganj. The taxi didn’t even attempt to drive down the clogged alley and instead pointed us in the right direction and took off. Bags strapped to our backs and fronts, we were suddenly overcome with rickshaw (both moto and cycle) drivers, their “helpers”, and vendors of all types. Being the cheery, travel-worn beauty queens we are at 7am, we put on the tunnel vision until we found the hotel. The problem was, we never found it. The street we were on is guesthouse after hostel after hotel after rented room. Finally, after 20 minutes of walking we were hungry and hitting the cranky point with the hotel touts. The Camran Inn jumped out at us and we got a deal for 200 rupees a night (though it probably should have been less), about $4.50. Our room was basically in the bell tower, reached only by scaling nearly vertical steps, past the shared squat latrines. The bed was a door with a mat on it, made of what we’re pretty sure is sacrificed tourist hair and threatened to collapse at the slightest touch. No matter, we crashed hard for a nap and went out to lunch.

Walking out, we immediately encountered a marching band and holy cow towing a platform with people giving out sweets. The owner explained it was part of one of the MANY festivals that happen all the time in the area. Free candy, tubas, and a cow? Delhi was looking promising.

Found a hole-in-the-wall restaurant with all the traditional dishes I’ve heard so much about. This was my first real encounter with Indian cuisine and I’m in love. This also may be due to the fact that I was street food starved after Egypt during Ramadan. Though there is a significant Muslim population in India, it doesn’t affect everyone. First meal was dosa (a veggie filled crepe) and curry. It all came with nan, a flat bread that’s chewy and a little sweet. After taking a minute to recover from the glory of that meal, we headed out to change money and get train tickets to our next destination, Jaipur. Money was a breeze and the exchange rate even better than we thought, train tickets proved a bit more elusive. Walking into the main gates of the station, there are a million people who are pointing you in a million directions and trying to get you to go with them so they get a cut of whatever you choose. Really, we just wanted our tickets but the usual “thanks but no thanks” just does NOT cut it here. A guy came up to us and was super convincing, saying we needed to go to a separate office downtown to get our tickets and he offered to arranged a prepaid rickshaw directly to the office and everything. We said we didn’t want to buy them just yet and didn’t really know if we should believe him or not but hey, we’ve heard of odder business practices. So, made plans to head downtown anyways and check out the National Museum first.

The museum was great! Things were labeled and the audio tour was very informative. My favorite part was the section on the Hindu gods with statues and old architectural pieces on display. We stayed until close and asked the two very nice university ladies working the audio desk about train tickets and they said we shouldn’t have any trouble buying them at the station itself….hmmm. Walked home to find beer and dinner by our hostel and decided to conquer the tickets in the morning.

Annie took this as her cross to bear; puffed her shoulders out and walked a little taller as we shot the “nice helpful” scammer from the previous day a withering look of superiority; not today buddy! Followed the sign we should have seen the first time and took the stairs two at a time up to the “foreign passengers” office where they know how to deal with unaware travelers like ourselves. No problems this time and we even bought tickets for later on for the trip from Agra to Varanasi so we wouldn’t have to run the gauntlet again. As we walked out, two women with backpacks and terrified looks on their faces passed by. We watched for a second to see what the wolves would do to them and low and behold, our friend sank his teeth right in and began his much practiced routine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Annie move that fast. She practically flew over to them and didn’t bother mincing words, “this man is a LIAR and you shouldn’t believe a word he says!”. After pointing the ladies in the right direction and scolding him again (she even wagged her finger!) we moved on to see the sights, feeling karma was on our side.

After she out-ed the shamed tout, we headed to the Ghandi museum, not the official one but his house where he spent his last days and was shot down by a Hindu extremist. Really great to see groups of school kids there, though even better to see them leaving as we entered. We all know about Ghandi but his house visit clarified his life and mission even further for me. After paying homage to his meditation gardens, we walked down a path recounting the history of colonial India to present then took a walk through his actual house. There were plenty of people to share it with and every single person had a camera phone to capture the moment (or Annie and I). Ohhhhhh technology.

We walked all over Delhi and thus got to know it pretty well. We had some trouble getting our bearings though and took an auto rickshaw from some random round-point we’d passed three times, to the Museum of Modern Art. Well displayed and air-conditioned! India is hot. What is modern art exactly? Annie said she coveted the definition she’d learned in Art History class as work produced since the 1930-40’s. I said, hey, it’s the new stuff. We chalked it up as one more university elective to toss out. Though the range of dates for the works varied widely, overall, it was a great show commenting heavily on post-colonial India. Spent the afternoon there, and after passing through a park with the WW I memorial arch and monuments, decided to go all out and hit the Red Fort as well.

I’m not too big on military history but this was absolutely stunning. It’s HUGE, the total perimeter running about 2 km. I think the pictures speak for themselves and anyone who’s been to a fort can imagine the layout; an inner and outer sanctum. It’s been relatively well preserved so we got a sense of what walking around back in the day must have been like.
It was the last day of Ramadan so there was a carnival set up outside as people were preparing to break the fast for the last time. As we walked out of the fort at dusk, cannons went off to signify the end and the carnival as well as the big mosque in town lit up with thousands of Christmas lights.
Our rickshaw did a drive-by of the mosque lighting and we continued on to the Posh PVR plaza to see our first Bollywood film. Sold out and we were sad but made plans to see a film in Jaipur, at the ugliest, most famous, movie theatre in the state of Rajahstan.

I needed to get a new bag because as cool as my DC skate pack was, the zippers had already given out and the street we were on is lined with faux gear shops. Annie had an “I told you so” moment and we went off to haggle a fair price for a small front pack and larger day pack (about $15), both tattooed with the North Face logo (looks pretty official though dubbed North Fake by those in the know). Had a beer with the pack shop owner and headed back to play Hunchback of Notre Dame one last time. Our train left for Jaipur at 6am and we made it with minutes to spare. It’s going to be a good day when you break a sweat before 8am.

The Pink City – Jaipur
(By Annie) In general I am indifferent to things pink. I have my favorites – breast cancer awareness and crocs. I also hate when the color is over commercialized – do we really need pink soccer balls? So, I guess it makes sense that Jaipur left me indifferent with many things to celebrate and others to question. Oh yeah, they call it the pink city cause literally everything is painted pink, the buildings, the stores, even the cinema – you name it. Pink is the color of welcome and I guess the story goes that an overzealous ruler got a little too excited when his polo buddy, an English prince, came to visit.

From New Delhi the train ride was perfect. Well almost perfect, we woke up early from our bell tower room headed over to the train station and perhaps did not give ourselves enough time because we made it to our seats with about two minutes to spare. Once there we were treated like royalty – free water, newspaper, and even our own tea thermos. Just try to imagine Rachael’s face, free stuff?! The fun did not stop there; we had a full breakfast as well with a second thermos.

Once we arrived, a prepaid auto rickshaw took us to our next hotel – The Evergreen. A large step above our bell tower complete with a cozy garden and “restaurEnt.” We got to walking right away and headed for our first conquest the Taj Mandir cinema. Proclaimed as the most famous theatre in India we thought it apt to be the site for our first Bollywood movie. Tickets were made easy because women had their own line and nobody was in it.

We then headed over to the old city, which was HUGE! I mean shop after shop after shop. If you can imagine the mall of America on a street well that was it. The problem with shop after shop was there also comes people, cows, Hindu temples, auto taxis, and bicycles taxis. In Benin and Egypt, sure it was a novelty to see an American, but here in India it is an event. People followed, stared, and even took our picture, which just baffles Rachael and I. India for decades has been a tourist haven and especially Jaipur. Maybe it is her hippie shirt and my pants.

After our little walk we headed back to the cinema. We really thought it was necessary to arrive early. Well, we did get fountain drinks, but we also got stared at and really harassed for a full hour. Long story short we were annoyed and maybe even dreaded the movie. Well, we gave it the old college try and oh we were not disappointed.

The movie we saw was Drona. Now, you can’t just pronounce it Drona it must be pronounced DROONNNAAA. Like you are mimicking a strong man from Samoa. Hmmm the basic plot line, mind you the movie was entirely in Hindi, was Indian orphan living with relatives in London (Harry Potter style) and works as a convenient store clerk. He has this special connection to a blue flower and thinks there has always been something missing. WELL…it turns out that DROONNNAAA’s destiny is to save the world from this mad magician…AND in the process fall in love with this Indian Angelina Jolie. There were musical numbers, theatrical two minute cameos of him staring people down, and even a Bollywood sex scene. Well, they rode on a horse longingly together that is about as close as you get in this conservative culture.

It really was magical and the audience participation was icing on the cake. When Angelina Jolie first stepped out of the car showing her batwoman boots it was almost as loud of a cheer as when the White Sox won the World Series. We were amazingly in awe the entire three hours and wisely chose our seats during intermission – right next to the police officers. So, go Bollywood we support and love you. Go check out DRONA, there has to be some illegal copy of it floating around the internet.

Anyway, back to reality. We had some dinner after the movie and called it a night in the pink city. Too dirty and crowded for my taste, but it grew on me after a while and hindsight being 20/20, a well deserved stop on our first leg through India.

Saharia Farms
(by Miller) India is intense, anyone I’ve talked to has told me that but hearing it and experiencing it are completely different things. We needed a little break from the hustle of our holiday (I know, life is hard). Annie had scoped out a place called Saharia Farms on the internet and it was mentioned in the guide book too, so we decided to take a 1 night/25 kilometer side-trip outside of Jaipur to break up our 2 days there. It’s marketed as a functioning organic farm that hosts volunteers and people can pay to stay in the tranquility that is rural Rajasthan. We shelled out far more than normal for a room, but it was a great little cottage with an outside shower and toilet. Nothing starts the morning out right like a little communing with nature.

The owner, Bidon, was a jolly man to say the least and welcoming to his only guests at the time. Offered tea and shown our cabin, we took some time for laundry and just being calm. There was even a pool but it was slightly murky so dangling our feet was sufficient. Meals were extra but eaten in a family atmosphere with relatives he had in from Kolkatta. After lunch, we went a half kilometer away to visit a primary school so we could see how it’s done out in the country and how it varies from Benin. Greeted at the gate by 20 or so kids shaking our hands and spitting out the “hello, how are you?” they must have rehearsed in class; we walked in to find someone in charge. One of the teachers let us observe her English class, about 11 kids; girls and boys. We all know I’m not the most kid-friendly person in the world but wow, there were some cuties! One of the boys even had his 4 year old sister in tow, not too sure what that was all about. The school was a cheery building, painted a periwinkle blue but once inside one of the 8 rooms, you saw all the kids sitting on the floor. No desks and no chairs for anyone but the teacher (who were all women btw). We asked all about the curriculum and government support. The kids all get free books and lunch, bags are supposed to be coming in November. There is no registration fee for class, which is a hugely prohibitive cost in Benin. After about an hour, we went back to relax a bit and wait for dinner.

That night, we sat under the crystal clear sky and talked shop. The farm is more of a hobby for him but he is very involved in the organic world, attending and lecturing at conferences all over the world. We talked a lot about sustainable versus non and what eating organically means versus eating locally. Fabulous time and he even bought us a round of beers. This was exactly the recharge we needed.

The next morning, we were graced with a visit from a newspaper called the Punjabi Times. It’s a Hindi publication so we didn’t have any idea how we were going to be translated. The reporter (if that’s what you want to call him) said this was a piece on tourism and then proceeded to ask us our opinions on Pakistan/India relations, which God is our favorite, and if we ate meat or not. No comment came out a lot and he snapped some photos of us standing in a field throwing ash down for fertilizer… again, no idea how this came out but no one’s recognized us yet so we’re probably in the clear.

Getting back to Jaipur was painless, the local busses here aren’t that bad, even in the crazy traffic. The most concerning road obstacles are the hundreds of cows meandering around, both in the city and countryside. Anyone looking to go to India is HIGHLY advised to schedule some down time in a low-chaos area, Saharia Farms did it for us.

The birds!!!!
(by Annie) After our relaxing farm trip we headed back to the hustle and bustle of Jaipur. We had an afternoon to kill and a palace to see. Rachael handed over the camera to me and I got “some great shots” of her and our audio tour. We are such dorks about these things, but they really do make us feel cooler – why? No idea.

The palace is the figurehead for Rajasthan as Jaipur is its capital. It was cool, nothing shocking or awing about it. There were the two largest silver water jugs in the world and a courtyard where famous Bollywood movies take place. Worth the visit, even if we almost got run over by 40 cows on the way. After the palace we had a liquid dinner. Use your imagination on what that means – but the little bar was a bat cave where smoking jackets would have been mandatory had this been in the U.S. We drank, exchanged stories, and I guess, were the Miller and Annie you all know and love.

We woke up early and hopped on a bus to Bharatpur a smaller town just before Agra. It is known for the Keoladeo Ghana National Park, a bird sanctuary and wetlands that plays host to droves of migratory birds from October to February. We found a cute little hotel that felt more like a family taking us in for the night and then headed out to bird watch.

Well, first and more importantly came our mode of transportation – Bikes! No trek bikes here, but instead Wicked Witch of the West Cruisers, which all PCVs secretly want to ride in Benin. They were awesome, gave you ass pain and bad knees, but still were incredibly cool.

The bird sanctuary was basically a 7 km small paved road in the middle of the wetlands. Armed with our bikes and binoculars we saw and conquered. Birds of all types soaring about and taking a little break on their very own tour around the world as well. Perhaps the most amazing scene was seeing hundreds of storks just chilling on top of branches. The sound and power their wings made was remarkable.

Three hours later we had seen the park and cruised back to our hotel. We chatted with fellow travelers about Nepal, well Rachael did because I was way too hungry to think about anything else. Food came, we ate, and then went to bed early to head out to Agra and the Taj Mahal. By early, I mean catching a 5am taxi.

Agra
(by Miller) We stayed in Bharatpur because we’d heard Agra is pretty nuts. Validated! Staying in a different town and doing Agra as a daytrip worked out great. Caught a 5am mini-bus (Benin hailing style, just scream your destination), in which we were the only passengers, we went speeding off into the sunrise, flying over speed bumps like they were nothing. I was sitting backwards so only got to enjoy all the close calls through Annie’s ever-expressive facials. Arrived in Agra with the sun, at almost 6 on the dot, far quicker than had we waited to grab the actual bus. Grabbed a rickshaw to the Taj Mahal, had to say Taj Mahal like, 6 times and finally Annie was like “Really? You don’t know where the TAJ MAHAL is?” When the point finally got across, we were dropped near the west gate entrance, put our bags in the storage lockers and bought tickets.

It was far more expensive than any other attraction we’ve seen thus far but hey, it IS a wonder of the world folks. And by the way, does anyone know how they select these wonders? Not that it wasn’t wonderful, but who gives the go ahead? So, to the TAJ! Had our small bags searched and among the things that didn’t make the entrance cut were my pocket knife, our reading books except Lonely Planet, an Economist, Annie’s saved cardboard popcorn cup from the theatre, and my bobble-headed turtle… needless to say, security was tight. Got the complete pat down and we were in!

Walking into the entry courtyard and turning left, we were struck by a massive archway and then, there it was, the Taj. Like the other structures of grandeur we’ve seen, it was a little hard to take in at first. The minarets, turrets, and incredible marble inlays are indescribable. After taking pictures in the entry gardens, we took our shoes off (a rule) and walked around on the cool marble the mausoleum is built on. Since we were there so early, the crowd really wasn’t that bad so we took our time and just walked around sitting in different places, people watching as much as appreciating the spectacular views. Some of the photos we posted just don’t do justice to the things we saw people doing… apparently it’s the cool thing to strike a pose at the Taj...

We left around 9 in search of breakfast and internet, both of which abound in the tourist riddled town. The south strip was just one rooftop café after another and after some curry and pepsi, were satiated enough to continue to our second site of the day, the Agra Fort.

I must say, I’m fort-ed out. The one in Delhi and this one are both great, and wholly recommended; I just don’t need to see another one for a while. The best thing about this one was the view of the Taj. Even more so from 2 kilometers away, it is striking. Huge and commanding, it sits on the bank of the Yamuna river.

The day was exceptionally hot so we got drinks and decided to head out of the range of the souvenir sellers. Our train was departing that night for Varanasi at 8pm but we first had to get to some town called Tundla to make the connection. For you Benin folk, Tundla is the Bohicon of Uttar Pradesh. We finally found the city bus out of Agra, and packed on it with a million other sweating people; you know it’s hot when the locals are complaining. After a one-sided conversation with the ticket guy in kind of English, kind of sign language, decided the bus was in fact, going to Tundla (said Tooondla) and spent the next hour dodging cows and screaming over the horn, which I think has been rigged to blow inside the bus as well as outside.

We finally made it, hopped off the bus, which slowed down just long enough for us to pile out, and walked the 2km down a road to the train station. Found food and sat for a few hours (Annie insert: It was four hours and I literally told people I was going to kill them if they didn’t get away quick), amongst other travelers, rats, and flickering spot lights until the train arrived.

This was the longest train in the world! There are three classes and since it was an overnight train, all were sleeping berths. Annie and I chose the sleeper class, least expensive and majority Indian travelers. They look far more intimidating from the outside than once actually in. We hustled to almost the end of the train, looking for our car and realized, “hey, isn’t the train moving?” Hopped on, while the train was moving, (Annie insert: I almost didn’t make it, the train literally had started going down the tracks) and were told we were 7 cars away from our own. We had to “excuse me, pardon me” all the way through, with a gun toting police man pushing us along. Why he didn’t just take the lead is beyond me. I think there are still a few kinks to work out with the rail system here.

Finally found our bunks (which are stacked 3 high), realized: 1. We both had top tiered bunks 2. There were a total of 3 people squatting in our two beds. On the very bottom were a Russian lady and her mother. Bless her, she moved over and motioned for me, a sweaty, large albeit tired girl snuggle right in next to her. Her mom did the same for Annie, who by this time had just had it with the lack of efficiency in the seating system. Annie watched the guard pass by three times and finally, 45 minutes later flagged him down to kick the rapscallions out of our beds. Not that I was uncomfortable next to Natasha the Russian (Annie insert: Rachael was actually kindof upset to leave the Russian’s loving arms), but my own space had a definite appeal.

We passed out practically on top of our bags as luggage theft is a real problem on trains and woke up when the train stopped 9 hours later in Varanasi. Didn’t know how much time we had at the station so we ungracefully grabbed all our stuff and just fell off the car. The picture of collectiveness, we walked out to find a rickshaw to take us somewhere with beds and showers.

What we GHAT in Varanasi
(By Annie) After the train ride and Tundela, I was a little down on India. I guess I needed a little pep trip to leave with positive thoughts. One of my obsessive-compulsive tics is setting my watch. I set the alarm for almost everything and even time transport. Well, I am sure glad I did, because nothing other than the time signaled to us that the Varanasi platform was where we stopped. At 5:21, only one minute late we stopped and after I rustled Rachael from her slumber we, as she eluded, fell out of the train car.

We arrived so early that even the prepaid rickshaw booth charged for an early morning fee. Sixty-five rupees and ten minutes later we were at some hotel. The colonial type alleyways lend themselves to tourist, including us, getting lost and turned around. There also was no real sign on the hotel, but the price and room looked fine. I passed out and napped while Rachael washed clothes and showered. A cup of coffee for her and a nap for me had the same effect and we were out and about to see Varanasi.

The town itself is proclaimed as the spiritual center of India - of course the river Ganga (Ganges) being its focal point. Our mission was to buy our next batch of train tickets and we just could not get our bearings. We walked for a good hour and arrived at the local out of the way train station. Giving up we found a cycle rickshaw and he haggardly pulled us the 25 minutes to the real station. After seeing families of five on these cycles Rachael finally relented her previous position. However, after two more cycle rides neither of us can relax long enough to enjoy them. We are large and in charge and who would really want to pull us that far for only a dollar.

Train station was fine and easy and we have our tickets now for Gourakhpur, the closest city to Nepal’s border via the train and our last stop in India. After walking some ways we again realized that we had no idea where we were going and Rachael wanted to buy some silk, the handicraft Varanasi is most famous for making. A short taxi ride took us to this silk shop and its Santa Clause type owner. His mission: bring his silk to the entire world. He was even in on the Wal-mart market. Free trade he said – we were skeptical. Rachael bargained well and we were out and about once again.

It was hot and a Bollywood movie theatre drew me in, but alas no English subtitles. However, we realized the theatre was actually part of a mall. So, we went cruising in the mall first stopping for ice cream and then cruising up and down the escalators. Our bounty at the end was a chess set and two Bollywood movies with English subtitles. This also was Rachael’s first time in a mall in 5 years, so little by little we are acclimating her back home.

Dinner at the hotel, a few beers, and falling asleep to one of our new Bollywood movies was the perfect end to that day. We were up before the sun the next morning to take a sunrise boat on the Ganges river. You all know the game would you rather. Well, before seeing the Ganges river I would have taken a bath or drank the water before a whole slew of other things. Now, the list is very short.

With that said, I was in awe the entire time. I have read countless books on the Ganges. I knew what to expect and even the process devotees go through while bathing or even burning their dead. Seeing it was something else. First things first, the river is disgusting. I mean raw sewage, dead body parts, and a country that allows cows to do anything – you picture that for a minute.

There were also tons of tourists. In fact I was getting pissed off. A priest was dancing his morning prayers and there were two yahoos three feet away from him with high zoom cameras. Rachael did a wonderful job of giving people privacy and also capturing some of the inner workings of the river. I almost wish there really was an invisible blanket we could have hid under.

A Ghat is for all intent and purposes just an entrance to the river. Each has its own God or group of Gods those devotees have chosen and then there are two funeral Ghats for cremation. My stupid/right on quote while sailing the river was that the bathing process was like a college foam party. It was so interesting to watch the individuals who have been doing this day in and day out their entire lives. And then contrast that with the pilgrims who come singularly or as a family. They wore their Sunday best and tentatively dipped their toe in before taking the plunge. All in all, it was an amazing experience and goes under the list of things I am glad I have done.

With a few hours to kill we ate breakfast and then rested until our temple tour. The boat cruise went well so we had high hopes for the temples. The entire reason we signed on for a tour was not to just see the gods and goddesses in all their glory – but actually do the right and respectful thing. Well, we were shoved in an autorickshaw and told where to go. Yeah, we were pissed and felt a little cheated and don’t you worry we let the owner of the hotel know. However, the highlights of the tour were seeing the monkey temple and taking a ride through India’s oldest university. We bailed on the hotel quickly after that and went back to the train station where we typed most of these blog posts. After food and unsuccessful internet, we were off towards Nepal.