Before arriving, I asked several experienced travelers their thoughts on
India. "Memorable", said with a wry smile and hint of euphemism.
"Magical?", with head tilted to side and gaze astray, implied more as a
question asked to himself, than an answer to
mine. "Insane", bestowing zero cues whether this was meant in a good or
bad way. "A once in a lifetime experience."
India as a travel destination is a different animal. I flew into Mumbai (pop. ~23,000,000) and in the time it took from the airport to the hotel, I realized I needed to go back and redo my Bangkok write-up. Mumbai makes Bangkok look like Prairie Village. In a 5km cab ride I basically completed my Indian scavenger hunt: child pooping on sidewalk, cow strolling roads eating piles of trash, suffocating smog, cabbie using horn more times in one drive than I have my entire life. I met my friend Nick at the hotel and embraced in a proper man-hug, knowing I might not have been able to face the chaos outside again alone!
I'll let Nick tell most of the story in what should be a highly anticipated/dreaded guest blog. But since he's dragging his feet, I'll share a few glimpses of our time there. A trip to India seems defined by such moments, both marvelous and maddening.
- Momentary shock as an Indian man casually cut in the Immigration line. "Oh yeah, mental note, queueing rules are over starting now."
- Turned around to see old non-confrontational Nick being bestowed a Bindi (forehead dot) at our very first tourist stop in Mumbai. Sometimes you can't avoid them though. And then it's the old Catholic school Ash Wednesday dilemma. When can I sneakily rub this off?
- Indian trains. Cue low-level PTSD. Not talking about them.
- Looming Indian waitstaffs staring until we ordered, then elegantly presenting bottles of Kingfisher for our approval each and every time. "Yep, looks like a Kingfisher alright, pretty much the only beer in the country."
- Constant stares. Constant.
- Hearing the beautiful and entrancing Muslim call to prayer at the perfect time, right as we were atop Jaipur's old minaret.
- Waking in the middle of the desert, couldn't have been more than 10k from Pakistan, to the brightest full moon, serene silence, and the shadowy outline of a huge, stoic camel 15 yards away.
- Indian ATMs. I hope to one day compose a poem about the only working one in Jaisalmer. A 45 minute experience of stares, closely guarded spots in line, shouts in Hindi at people taking too long (everyone) because the machine only dispensed 10,000 at a time. Did you know one vestibule holds at least 8 people? It's a real group effort. Originally guarded, by the time our turn came I was exasperated and no longer cared. A large Army man with a saluteable mustache wanted to cut in front of us. "Sir, no. We'll be quick. Everyone watch how this is done!"
- Thinking the Taj Mahal can't possibly live up to expectations only to have your breath taken away the moment you step through the main gate.
- Trying to get out of a shop without buying anything. "Looking is free." "You my first customer, I make you lucky deal." "Morning is lucky to buy." "Evening is lucky to buy." "Yes, your dad can fit in this." The best is watching Nick. Sometimes I felt if their first offer was say 600, Nick would counter with 800. Not much of a bargainer. And it was a blast tailing him down Baghdad looking alleys as a man who looked like the one-armed bad guy from the Fugitive (though he had two) walked him to either the perfect Pashmina store or the perfect abduction point, 50/50 chance.
- A few of us sitting in a parked Jeep, discussing the lack of sanitation infrastructure, even basic trash bins, and how none of us could bring ourselves to do as the locals and "just put that anywhere!" Amidst this discussion, a child of maybe three, who could neither have heard nor understood us, sauntered within feet of the Jeep, deliberately flung trash into the alley, and gangster stared up at us as we all died laughing at the impossibly perfect illustration of the subject at hand.
I could go on but Nick will be delivering a War and Peace length post very soon. After that, I'll put one up about my more mellow experiences in Goa and Hampi.
I'm proud of the two of us. We did true independent travel in a place that could conceivably eat tourists up and spit them out. I reserve the right to change this if I marry a bitty of Indian descent, do a safe and fully planned retiree tour in the distant future, or go all Eat Pray Love (though my style's more Into the Wild....without the angst and death and money burning), and head back to Goa (never read EPL so that might not make sense). But otherwise, if I'm asked what I think of India by future intrepid travelers: "Utterly amazing....and may I never go back."
* Author's note: There's a chance we'll both be overly dramatic in our descriptions of India.
Some pics to get you started:
India as a travel destination is a different animal. I flew into Mumbai (pop. ~23,000,000) and in the time it took from the airport to the hotel, I realized I needed to go back and redo my Bangkok write-up. Mumbai makes Bangkok look like Prairie Village. In a 5km cab ride I basically completed my Indian scavenger hunt: child pooping on sidewalk, cow strolling roads eating piles of trash, suffocating smog, cabbie using horn more times in one drive than I have my entire life. I met my friend Nick at the hotel and embraced in a proper man-hug, knowing I might not have been able to face the chaos outside again alone!
I'll let Nick tell most of the story in what should be a highly anticipated/dreaded guest blog. But since he's dragging his feet, I'll share a few glimpses of our time there. A trip to India seems defined by such moments, both marvelous and maddening.
- Momentary shock as an Indian man casually cut in the Immigration line. "Oh yeah, mental note, queueing rules are over starting now."
- Turned around to see old non-confrontational Nick being bestowed a Bindi (forehead dot) at our very first tourist stop in Mumbai. Sometimes you can't avoid them though. And then it's the old Catholic school Ash Wednesday dilemma. When can I sneakily rub this off?
- Indian trains. Cue low-level PTSD. Not talking about them.
- Looming Indian waitstaffs staring until we ordered, then elegantly presenting bottles of Kingfisher for our approval each and every time. "Yep, looks like a Kingfisher alright, pretty much the only beer in the country."
- Constant stares. Constant.
- Hearing the beautiful and entrancing Muslim call to prayer at the perfect time, right as we were atop Jaipur's old minaret.
- Waking in the middle of the desert, couldn't have been more than 10k from Pakistan, to the brightest full moon, serene silence, and the shadowy outline of a huge, stoic camel 15 yards away.
- Indian ATMs. I hope to one day compose a poem about the only working one in Jaisalmer. A 45 minute experience of stares, closely guarded spots in line, shouts in Hindi at people taking too long (everyone) because the machine only dispensed 10,000 at a time. Did you know one vestibule holds at least 8 people? It's a real group effort. Originally guarded, by the time our turn came I was exasperated and no longer cared. A large Army man with a saluteable mustache wanted to cut in front of us. "Sir, no. We'll be quick. Everyone watch how this is done!"
- Thinking the Taj Mahal can't possibly live up to expectations only to have your breath taken away the moment you step through the main gate.
- Trying to get out of a shop without buying anything. "Looking is free." "You my first customer, I make you lucky deal." "Morning is lucky to buy." "Evening is lucky to buy." "Yes, your dad can fit in this." The best is watching Nick. Sometimes I felt if their first offer was say 600, Nick would counter with 800. Not much of a bargainer. And it was a blast tailing him down Baghdad looking alleys as a man who looked like the one-armed bad guy from the Fugitive (though he had two) walked him to either the perfect Pashmina store or the perfect abduction point, 50/50 chance.
- A few of us sitting in a parked Jeep, discussing the lack of sanitation infrastructure, even basic trash bins, and how none of us could bring ourselves to do as the locals and "just put that anywhere!" Amidst this discussion, a child of maybe three, who could neither have heard nor understood us, sauntered within feet of the Jeep, deliberately flung trash into the alley, and gangster stared up at us as we all died laughing at the impossibly perfect illustration of the subject at hand.
I could go on but Nick will be delivering a War and Peace length post very soon. After that, I'll put one up about my more mellow experiences in Goa and Hampi.
I'm proud of the two of us. We did true independent travel in a place that could conceivably eat tourists up and spit them out. I reserve the right to change this if I marry a bitty of Indian descent, do a safe and fully planned retiree tour in the distant future, or go all Eat Pray Love (though my style's more Into the Wild....without the angst and death and money burning), and head back to Goa (never read EPL so that might not make sense). But otherwise, if I'm asked what I think of India by future intrepid travelers: "Utterly amazing....and may I never go back."
* Author's note: There's a chance we'll both be overly dramatic in our descriptions of India.
Some pics to get you started:
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| Tried to get the pig 100 feet up the road to get in on this. |
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| This meeting is called to order. |
My tactical scarf has way more documented uses than yours.
ReplyDeleteI rue the fact I passed on the street corner shave.