Reflections on a journey: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

When you spend two months in India, people expect you to come back with something. Not like a scarf or a tan,  but something equally tangible. So, what am I bringing back? Besides several scarves, some sparkly bangles, and a new found appreciation for probiotics and Imodium? Lots of things. Most of them I'll keep to myself, but I have been composing a list in my head for the past few days. Actually, it's two lists - Things I Will Not Miss About India and Things I Will Miss About India- but like most things having to do with India, the opposites intersect and edges blur and intertwine in such a way that they are sometimes indistinguishable. 


Appropriately, a mashup ensued - please see below. In the coming days, I'll be going back and adding photos to the blogs I previously posted (sorry, the Internet situation in India goes snugly in the "WON'T MISS" category; posting photos while there was a three-step process that was usually hampered by slow or non-existent WiFi connections). Also, one of the immediately tangible items from my trip is my shiny new blog, The Skeptical Yogi. It can be found here: http://theskepticalyogi.wordpress.com/. It will be primarily focused on healthy living topics and yoga. I'll keep this site for personal use, but I'll be updating regularly over there.


Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.



1) I will not/will miss the driving. My driver, BK, told on the first day of my Rajasthan road trip that Indian drivers require only three things: Good brakes, good horn, and good luck. I've been to some countries where traffic "laws" have been treated more as "suggestions", but never anywhere like India. In India, there aren't even any discernible suggestions. It's total mayhem all the time. It's great and it's terrible. It's loud and noisy and stinky, but teeming with life and more representative of real life in India than any museum diorama could ever hope to be.


2) I will not/will miss the cows. In India, cows are everywhere. It's not unusual to see traffic stopped because some cows decided to take a midday snooze in the middle of the road. They have free reign of the place (meaning, the whole country), and as such, walking anywhere should never be a mindless activity. The smell of cow dung permeates the air, sometimes bringing a whiff of freshness and life, other times a malodorous tiding of a ruined shoe, moments too late.


3) I will not/will miss the complete lack of privacy in India. I will miss it because it really made me appreciate American culture, a lot, on a daily basis. We may be considered prudes in the eyes of more liberal countries, but in the U.S., we take our personal space and privacy seriously. I didn't realize how much I valued that until it vanished. In India, there are very few boundaries. Few questions are off limits, and "personal space" isn't part of the national vocabulary. In a country where it's not uncommon to see a dog and a person sharing the same strip of grass to do their morning business, such notions are laughable. 


4) I will not/will miss the food. Lots of my fellow students complained about the food we had during our month of training. I thought it was great. I happily ate (most) everything we were served, and occasionally paid for it. I will miss the wonderful flavors and aromas of the food. I am looking forward, however, to some variety! It won't be long before I try my hand at cooking some of the meals we were served regularly.


I mostly won't miss the hygiene situation in general. Both the bathrooms and the cultural hygiene mores I am happy to leave behind. The morning routine is one I especially won't miss. The first time I heard it, I had just settled down to a delicious-looking breakfast at my hotel in Jaisalmer - a fresh mango lassi, paradtha and pickles, and piping hot Marsala chai. I was starving and began to dig in, when I couldn't help but notice a ghastly sound coming from a nearby outdoor bathroom. It sounded like someone was getting horribly ill. Retching and hacking sounds emanated from the poor fellow inside. I felt bad for him, and the barf concerto in B flat put me off my breakfast completely. 


It wasn't until that guy skipped out of the bathroom looking fresh as a daisy, and the next guy stepped in and began a new series of horrible retching sounds, that I realized this was just part of the daily routine. It doesn't have a name that I know of, but it's a terrible-sounding sort of throat clearing process that most Indian men do every morning after brushing their teeth. I can happily live the rest of my days without hearing that sound again. 


The last thing that bears mentioning is treatment of women. Even though living it gave me a new appreciation the why, I still found myself chafing daily at the assumptions that were made about me again and again, just because of my gender.  I understand that women there are, for the most part, respected and revered. The part I couldn't wrap my head around was the "I'm such a delicate flower" part, where because I'm a woman, I can't walk around by myself, or drive, or wear a tank top because my lady powers might make the menfolk crazy and then who knows what could happen!! The part where I walked into a shop to buy some pencils and have to  run out because the proprietor of the shop  thinks it's okay to put his arm around me and try to kiss me because I'm a delicate flower (also, because I am a hoochie momma Westerner, thanks a lot, Hollywood) - that part?! That part I won't miss. 


As I was getting off the plane in Helsinki, I was flooded with relief that I was back in the "West". Not surprisingly, some Indian dude tried to elbow past me on the jet way, and at first I acquiesced. Then I remembered, I'm not in India anymore! "You're in my house now, bitch!" I thought, as I elbowed him back and strutted off without the slightest bit of remorse.

This is bat country!

Udaipur – Day 7

I woke up in my comfortable hotel room and met BK, who immediately informed me there was a problem.

“Madam, today is strike,” he explained apologetically. Strike? I looked around, and noticed that all the shops were closed. The streets weren’t as crowded as usual, and the traffic was strangely thin (I later learned from the newspaper the strike was due to raising gas prices). It was sort of a relief, to be honest. While I am used to urban living, the traffic and crowds in India are something else entirely. The best comparison I can think of is New York’s Chinatown on a particularly busy day.

We headed off to the City Palace, which overlooks Lake Pichola. Udaipur is supposedly one of the most romantic locales in India - a title I think is a bit remiss, but more on that later. We reached the palace, resplendent and white, with carefully tended gardens, and I hopped out to check it out. At this point, the palaces, forts, and temples are all starting to run together in my head. They are all ancient, magnificent, and huge. After the Palace tour, I found the boathouse and waited to board my tour boat for a ride around the lake.

As I sat under a tree, admiring the view of the city and mountains overlooking the lake, I noticed a strange sound emanating from the tree overhead. At first I thought it was birds, but there was something off about the tone. To my horror, I realized I was sitting under a tree filled with sleeping (some stirring, hence the screeching) bats. Huge, furry bats. Most were bigger than the typical squirrel; some were the size of small dogs. They were hanging upside down, their immense, leather-like wings folded around them – right over my head.

I inched my chair out of the range of any potential guano and spent the rest of my waiting time eyeing them nervously. The boat finally appeared, and I boarded with an Indian family of three. We stopped at Jagniwas Island to look at the fancy hotel, and as I happily snapped photos the memory of the bats receded. We all re-boarded the boat for the mainland, and as I went to grab my camera to take a parting photo of the island, I spotted a huge, yellow spider on my hand. I shook it off, but remained completely freaked out (I HATE spiders). Between the bats and the spider, the city on the lake’s romance quotient had evaporated for me.

That evening, I was hoping to make it to a Haveli (“wind house” in English – beautiful old manors with exquisite arches, stone lattices and courtyards), but it, too, was closed due to the strike. I was bummed (it had the world’s largest turban inside!), but not as bummed as I became when I learned BK had planned yet another Medieval Times India dinner for me that evening. It, as luck would have it, was still scheduled to go on, in spite of the strike.

I managed to talk BK out of making me go. They are expensive, and at the last one, I felt like a bit of a side show (people were taking almost as many photos of me as they were of the dancers). Instead, he took me to a great restaurant that reminded me of New York’s Vatan. I was content, and happy to know that in the morning we’d be heading out of Bat City (as I now refer to it) and towards Pushkar.

Paging Peter from New York! And, tales from the road

Jaisalmer - Jodhpur - Udaipur

May 30

After the camel safari, I didn't write anything for a whole day because I was so irritated by the whole experience. The particulars are now irrelevant, but I will say that, for the amount of money I spent that evening, I could have started saving towards purchasing my own camel. However, the camel ride itself was nice, and watching the sun set on the Sam Sand Dunes was beautiful.

Speaking of camel purchases:  My camel driver, upon finding out that I am from New York, launched into a soliloquy about the last guest he had from New York – a fellow named Peter. Peter enjoyed his camel ride so much that he decided he would like to purchase a camel, and asked the young man to arrange the sale. So, Peter from New York, you jackass, you have a teenaged boy in Sam, India, waiting desperately to hear from you regarding this exchange! He probably stands to make considerable money off the commission, and actually took you seriously, you ignorant blowhard – he’s tried to call you several times but hasn’t been able to get through. He spoke about it almost non-stop the whole ride.

Afterwards, I was taken to something that amounted to Medieval Times Rajasthan. Traditional music played and girls in richly decorated dresses twirled around a circular dirt stage while the audience was served snacks and beverages. Afterwards, we went into a dining hall and had a meal of traditional Rajasthani food. All told, the evening ended up costing me nearly $50, which may not sound like much but is a freaking FORTUNE in India, where a typical dinner at a nice restaurant costs around $5 (including beverages). To put it in perspective, my driver earns around $80 a month.  It wasn't as much the money that vexed me; it was the fact that I wasn't given a choice.

Ahem. Moving on. The next day we headed off through the desert to Jodhpur, the "Blue City". When we first arrived, I was bitterly disappointed to discover there was not even a single blue building in sight. It wasn't until I headed to Mehrangarh Fort, which is perched on top of the mountain range that overlooks the city, that I realized I was wrong. From a distance, many (and in some places, most) of the building are blue. It's quite beautiful.

Yesterday evening, I went to dinner at the house of a local family. I assumed, rather cynically, that it had been pre-arranged by the tour service and that I would be expected to pony up some Rupees at the conclusion. I was somewhat humbled when, at the conclusion of the dinner (which was delicious home-cooked food, served on the patio of a modest but tidy house), the family merely thanked me for coming and waved goodbye.

This morning, I met BK at around 9:30 and we headed for Udaipur, the "city of lakes". Or maybe it's the "city on the lake". I'll figure it out tomorrow. The drive here was very cool, probably the coolest yet. We traveled through small villages and towns, stopping twice at interesting temples (one Hindu and one Jain; the Jain temple was incredible) and passing through an animal sanctuary (where we saw monkeys!).  The coolest part was the scenery, though. The landscape seemed to change every hour of the nine hour journey. We started out in the desert and then climbed some mountains, which turned into rolling hills, which turned into farmland, which turned back into mountains. The day went by very quickly.

Tomorrow I'm going to tour Udaipur - check out the City Palace and apparently, go for a boat ride. Should be interesting; so far, if anything, India has proven to be anything but boring.

Into the Desert - Hotter, not harder

Jaisalmer Day 3/4

May 28

Yesterday, I awoke at 4:30 AM on the train to Jaisalmer. We had stopped at Jodhpur and when the woman in the bunk below mine vacated her seat, I seized the opportunity to climb down and enjoy her window. We rolled out of Jodhpur and into the desert to Jaisalmer.

It was quite remarkable, the desert in the early morning. It was the direct antithesis of everything Delhi. It was serene and quiet. There were no garbage heaps lining the train tracks, only miles of endless desert, pocked with scrubby brush and sparse grasses.

By the time we arrived in Jaisalmer at 11 AM, the searing desert heat was beginning to overwhelm the train's puttering air conditioning. I put my palm to the train window and felt the warmth pulsing through. In Delhi, people kept telling me with a smile, "Rajasthan much harder than Delhi!" It wasn't until then that I realized I had misunderstood them. They were saying hotter, not harder. Hotter than 115 F?

When I got out of the train, I realized they weren't exaggerating. It must have been close to, if not actually, 120 F.  As I pushed through the crowd (I'm getting the hang on this India-style crowd surging), I was relieved to see my driver holding a sign with my name on it. It wasn't going to be another fiasco like Delhi.

He is a cheerful fellow who goes by the name BK. He informed me he will be accompanying me until I meet up with my fellow students in Jaipur. He has since proven to be an excellent driver with a good sense of humor, which is good news because he's my only companion. Last night he took me out to see some very nice Jain temples in the desert, urging me to run though a herd of goats while he snapped a photo with my camera.

Today I toured Jaisalmer fort. It's a majestic, massive structure that rises, golden, out of the desert. It's a beautiful, fascinating place that is still inhabited by some 4,000 people. I had an excellent tour guide, who I was reticent to use at first but am very glad I did. Tonight I head to Sam Sand Dunes for more touristy fun with the desert gypsies.

If India is teaching me anything, it's how much I take for granted living in the States. Right now, at the peak of the desert heat, I'm sitting in my hotel room (too hot to do anything else) with some fans blowing. The AC stopped working this morning because it runs on a generator which needs to juice up before it can turn on again. I hurriedly emailed my mom and lovely boyfriend from an Internet cafe this afternoon, because the hotel (which is a very nice hotel, it's not some hole in the wall!) has no Internet or WiFi. I am glad I have my driver because, as I learned the first day I was in Delhi, going around unaccompanied causes quite a stir. I try to ignore the blatant sexism and just pretend I'm on "Mad Men: India". While the people are warm, hospitable, and cheerful, most of them are so desperately poor, I spend at least a full hour of each day saying "no" to some tout or another (or on days of weakness, I cave). While the surroundings are astonishingly beautiful, when you look down, the streets are still filled with garbage and cow poop. It's a land of extremes, and it's still taking some getting used to.

No Sleep Since Brooklyn

Day 2 - Delhi (May 26 2012)

I'm writing this now from the top bunk of a train bound for Rajasthan. My day in Delhi was highly uneventful. I went to bed last night at 7 PM after a decent dinner at a vegetarian restaurant near my hotel. I woke up at 3 AM and couldn't get back to sleep, so I decided to just wake up and take a nap later. I managed to keep myself occupied until 7 AM. After I had breakfast, I felt my eyelids getting heavy, so I laid down for a "quick nap".

I woke with a start. My room had no outside facing windows, so it was pitch black day or night with the lights off. I turned on the light and fumbled for my watch. I guessed it was about noon, and I was mentally kicking myself because I had things to do - I needed to buy a cell phone and I wanted to find an internet cafe (the internet service at my hotel was nonexistent, except for the first morning when I managed to steal a neighboring place's WiFi for about 5 minutes before I lost the signal). I hoped I had enough time to accomplish both, and maybe some time left over to check out the local market before I had to leave for the train.

When I saw my watch, my jaw dropped. It was 3:30 PM! My car was coming to pick me up at 4! I scrambled to pack my things up in time to meet my taxi. Apparently the 3 days with minimal sleep finally caught up to me.

The train station was only about 3 km from my hotel, but it took about 40 minutes to get there. I am finding this to be par for the course in Delhi. Traffic is horrible.  Also, it's not "traffic" in the way we think of it in the States. Cars, lorries, bicycles, rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, ox-drawn carts, motorbikes and pedestrians all vie for the same strips of unevenly paved road. There are no "lanes" as far as I can tell. Much like the concept of "queuing up" or "standing in line", this seems to not exist here. Everyone just crams themselves and whatever form of transport they have in the same general direction, laying on their horns incessantly. It's loud, smelly, and confusing.

Which is exactly how I found the train station to be! Delhi station is a huge cluster of old cement buildings with dim lighting. Inside, it's filthy, hot and crowded. People push and shove their way through throngs of passengers. I was actually glad the travel agency sent a guide to get me on the right train. Carrying a heavy bag, navigating the snaking passages to the tracks, and trying to hear the track announcements over the din of the crowd on my own would have been difficult, if not impossible.

We got to the right track, and as the guide led me to my seat, some clown stuck out his foot and tripped me, which prompted a wave of giggles behind me. What a dick.

So now I'm here, on the top bunk of an overnight train. I hate the top bunk (no window!  Also, it requires acrobat-like skills to get up and down). I am looking forward to getting to Jasailmer tomorrow. I've only had one real meal since I arrived, which may be contributing to my crankiness and overall lack of humor at the moment. Rajasthan is supposed to be even hotter than Delhi, a fact that my brain cannot even comprehend. My guide told me it was supposed to be about 48C tomorrow (around 120F).  

Temples, Touts, and the High Price of Fame

Delhi, Day 2

When my plane was landing in Delhi, I saw the local fire department outside, playing a game of volleyball. It was 5 AM. "Hm," I thought, "Things seem to be different here."

I had no idea how right I was. One of the first things I realized when I got to India was that I was going to have to forget everything I knew and start from scratch.  Basically, press the reset button on my whole understanding of "how things work".  None of that applies here.

My first day was very long. I got in at about 5:45 AM local time after a 7 hr flight from Helsinki. I had managed to eke out about 2 hours of sleep on the plane, so when I arrived I was  exhausted. Since I left New York two days earlier, I had gotten a total of around 5 hours of sleep. A driver was supposed to meet me at the airport, but when I didn't see him I jumped into a taxi and went to my hotel. Immediately I went to my room and after a quick breakfast of toast and tea, passed out.

About half an hour into my nap, there was a knock at my door. I stumbled for the door, still half asleep, and opened it to find the proprieter of the hotel standing there with a small, mustachioed man. "This is your driver, he wait for you at the airport since 5 AM!" They both stood there, looking at me expectantly. The driver looked so dejected you'd think I had stood him up for prom. He clutched a now hot bottle of water and a neat folder holding my typed itinerary. Still dazed and groggy, I accepted both items, apologizing profusely. I explained that I went to all 6 gates at the airport looking for him, but I was carrying a heavy backpack and was very tired, so I gave up after about 20 minutes. They both nodded and left, giving me disappointed looks. I felt terrible, but sleepiness soon overwhelmed the guilt and I fell back asleep.

I woke up about an hour and a half later and spent the rest of the day sightseeing. I was shocked to learn that the travel agency had booked a driver (same guy! augh!) to take me to all the major sightseeing spots. I am a pretty independent person, so I was a bit chafed at first. I was all set to do the sightseeing by myself - I had even mapped out my routes on the metro before I learned about the car.

In the end, I was very grateful for the car for three reasons:  One, Delhi is huge. It's probably the largest, most sprawling city I've ever seen. Trying to navigate the metro would have been a nightmare. Two, it's hot here. Really, really hot. Yesterday was around 47 C (which is about 115 F). Walking around is exhausting. After five minutes in this heat, even my sweat is sweating.

Three, it turns out that a white woman traveling by herself in India is a Pretty Big Deal. All day long, everywhere I went, I got the full celebrity treatment. Long stares (one guy even rolled down his car window to stick his head out for a better look), random people touching me (nothing pervy, usually just on the shoulder), and hoardes of school children waving and yelling "Hi! Hello!". I had experienced a bit of that in Vietnam, so I wasn't too fazed. I just smiled back at people and took photos with them when they asked (which they did, a lot).

The only time it was actually a problem was at Jama Masjid, India's largest Muslim mosque. It's a breathtakingly beautiful structure in the middle of Old Delhi that can hold up to 25,000 worshippers at once. I made sure to follow all the rules - I removed my shoes and made sure my head was covered with a scarf. I wandered around in awe, snapping photos and trying to take it all in. A young man approached me and asked me to take a photo. I obliged, and his friend snapped our photo. Then it was his friend's turn. Okay, sure. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by young men, eager to get a photo on their cell phone with the White Lady. I took a few more photos and then beat a hasty retreat back to my rickshaw. That was the only time it was a little unnerving.

This country isn't a place that is easy to describe. It's one of extremes - extreme beauty, extreme hospitality, but also extreme poverty and extreme need. The need is something I will struggle to get used to; the endless touts (my driver took me to no less than FOUR "special shopping for you!" pit stops yesterday) and feeling like everyone is definitely trying to scam you (but being really nice about it!) can wear on a person.

Tomorrow I have a "free day" before I board a night train to Jaisalmer. I will try to purchase a cell phone and practice my woeful haggling skills. I have a feeling being a keen haggler will come in handy.

Day 1: Finland - Yeah, no, it IS the destination...

24 May - Helsinki

I'm sitting in the Helsinki airport now, wondering what the hell I was thinking when I booked a flight that had a 12 hour layover.  I actually know what I was thinking - "Oh! That will give me enough time to check out Finland for a bit!" Bad move, Past Meg! Bad move! The crucial element that I overlooked when I pressed "complete purchase" was the time factor. I just got off a red eye from New York. I haven't slept in almost 24 hours. I don't really feel up for sightseeing just now.

Scandinavia has its own unique charms, though.  I look forward to checking out the city on my way back from India. I imagine it will be a bit like Iceland with neat, low buildings and shockingly tidy streets. The airport is very similar to Reykjavik - all clean lines and wood with exposed metal ceilings. It looks just like an Ikea store.

At 7:30 local time tonight (about 12:30 PM NY time), I will board my second flight, which will take me to Delhi. Just the other day, my lovely boyfriend and I had a conversation about antipodes, or polar opposites. I can't help but think about that now, as I sit in the carefully climate-controlled, extremely clean and orderly Scandinavian airport.  In a matter of hours, I will be in Scandinavia's antipode - chaotic, hot, and (this is just a guess but I don't think it's that big of a stretch) dirty Delhi.

By the time I actually arrive, I will undoubtedly be roadkill and ready to fall into the nearest bed I can find.  Whoever said "It's the journey, not the destination" was definitely not referring to a 36 hour haul across the planet. It's a special kind of eye-watering, slowed-thinking, bone weariness. At the end of it, you're ready to sell non-essential organs for a shower and a bed. And on that note, there's a cheerful lounge chair across the way that is calling my name. It's the closest thing I'll see to a bed until tomorrow. :)