MID LIFE AT THE OASIS

Well we made it out of Mumbai, but not without India throwing us some final punches on the way to the airport. We caught a safe looking private taxi from outside our hotel to the airport, allowing 2 hours to go less than 20 km based on Mumbai’s legendary reputation for traffic. Everything seemed great after the mandatory 5 men finished their discussion about the pending journey for another few minutes (It appears to take a minimum of 5 men to complete most service tasks in India, I think this may be law)

Now there is a way to get to one train station closer to where we were staying, take a local train to a station closer to the airport (but not that close) and then catch a taxi form there, but it would have been at rush hour which every guide book says is a crazy thing to attempt, especially with backpacks on. The trains are packed and nuts. Just take a taxi they say. And getting to and from each end would have meant even more tedious negotiations with taxi divers. Now believe me if this was Vienna, we would have taken 8 connections to get to the airport as needed and it still would have been easier and less stressful. (In fact, we did take 3 seamless connections to get to the Vienna airport)

So the drive started out calmly enough as we settled into the thick traffic heading out of the Colaba neighborhood of South Mumbai, but then we started to slowly realize that our 20-something driver was a testosterone laden nut. He proceeded to use the oncoming lanes frequently to try to pass on quasi-highways and alternately would use the inside “curb” lane to try to make some progress when things had stopped for about 10 minutes halfway into our trip. He was not gaining anything as the inside lane was clogged with throngs of carts, people, and dogs also trying to make there way along the streets. When he passed on the outside, he would often spend more time trying to merge back into traffic then those just residing themselves to the slow pace of Mumbai’s nightmare transportation system. (And yes, we felt guilty that we were adding to this mess). Meanwhile we passed glitzy new high rise “neighborhoods” with lines of nice cars streaming out into the clogged mess alternating with some of the worst slum living that I have seen, including piles of trash burning, tarp cities, and men defecating 5 feet from the car traffic. India is so disturbing, that I still get upset with people who glamorize it in any way. It’s a mess, both socially and environmentally. Sure, it’s not all bad and you have to look forward, but please be realistic. Any yes, I know the South is much different, so again I speak for the 13 places we visited.

So when traffic really started to crawl, he turned and asked what time are flight was and we told him midnight, so we still had plenty of time. No panic, my crazy friend was the tone of both our voices….but it did not seem to matter. He proceeded down a side six lane boulevard which seemed to have a variable flow traffic system in place similar to the Golden Gate Bridge as the crush of traffic was taking 4 to 5 lanes and only one lane was managing to squeeze by in the opposite direction. (Of course this system was voluntary) That of course was until our brainiac driver decided to take the sixth lane as a “shortcut” and then couldn’t merge back into the other lanes as the intersection ahead was completely and seemingly girdlocked. So one of the old 1950’s style Fiat like black and yellow Mumbai meter taxis approached and slowed as it looked like he might be able to squeeze by. Sccreeeunhch! Nope, his bruiser taxi with 3-inch thick steel bumpers proceeded to tear off the back corner panel and part of the bumper of our taxis shiny new Tata compact sedan. So the two taxis actually got stuck together with interlocked bumpers and no way to maneuver out. If the bruiser taxi had proceeded then our car would have lost the whole bumper and probably part of the small trunk. So now we’re thinking great, we really are never going to get out of India and this now going to take an hour to sort out, although clearly our driver was completely at fault for being three lanes over into oncoming traffic. The frequent feelings of claustrophobia that I had in India came back quickly, filling me with a panic that being in a sea of 20 million people can only induce.

Well, luckily 20 of the 1000 men on that particular block of Mumbai all started to offer their opinions on how the two cars could get apart, and then proceeded to help lift the back and back bumper of the bruiser taxi to the side. More crunching steel on plastic and other bad sounds as the cars finally came apart. Now, clearly our driver did not own this car and it was obvious from the expression on his face after surveying the damage that he was going to be in a world of hurt when he got back to the boss man. Despite his “Fast and Furious” inspired driving style, we felt really bad for him. But there is no need for paperwork since only the one (at fault) car had real damage, we were actually on our way in about 5 minutes. We still think that the bruiser taxi did this on purpose as his tank was untouched and he wanted to teach our driver a lesson for gridlocking all the oncoming traffic. Yup, cars are stupid, and they are multiplying in India along with young males and an advertising campaigns showing blinged-out hipsters racing through the imaginary streets of the new India.

So did he proceed to mellow out and take it easy the rest of the way? No way. We were both certain that he might have at least 1 or maybe 2 more accidents before we made it to the airport. He was just a bad driver, but we had no choice as we were where the taxis would only be passing by full, since no taxi would be cruising empty in 10 miles of crawling traffic. But we screeched into the terminal 2 hours later, completely wigged out and shaking a bit, but happy to have made it in one piece. I’m sure he’ll have a completely different story for his boss (the Camel came out of nowhere!), but I still gave him a good tip out of sheer pity for the fact that was clearly a fellow in the wrong profession and I suspect would be looking for other work now. It’s hard to be a saint in the city of Mumbai.

So we had a short 3 1/2 hour flight to Bangkok and managed to get a few hours of sleep prior to a 5-hour layover in the somewhat cavernous new Bangkok airport. Everything in the airport was orderly. We got off in Surat Thani, got our baggage in 5 minutes and then asked how we could get to Ko Samui island. Here is your ticket, there is the bus that will connect you to the ferry terminal in an hour or so and so were getting off onto the island about 4 easy hours later. No hassles, everybody mellow. Taxi from the pier to the area of island that we wanted to look for housing. Everything easy and only one person completes each task. Very strange.

So we lucked out and got two nights at my first choice little place called the Lodge, on the Bo Phut beach. It was fabulous and probably one the most pleasant places that I have ever stayed. (and for $34)

They were booked from today on, so we took a little walk down the beach yesterday and checked out a few other places and found one we liked for a similar price. No hassles, they tell you the price and show you the room. I can’t really describe the difference from India as a traveller. The Thai people are so nice, and so mellow. Ho honking, no running you off the road out of sheer motorized arrogance, and they ask you once if you wold like something and give a clear answer to questions. Granted, this is an uber tourist island, so it may be different as we hopefully encounter more genuine Thai life in the interior and mountains of the North.

Oh, and yes the food is great, with the more casual and local looking places off the beach strip serving the best food. (An easy rule of thumb anywhere).

Yup, it’s paradise here and on Saturday we are going to head to the more coral laced Koh Tau for another 4 nights, as long as we squeeze out some accommodation prior o the Holliday onslaught due in a week or so. Then we’ll be ready to get back to some more challenging travel again, as we now just need now a vacation from our travels.

Peace to all and especially the 1.1 Billion Indians. May you rise and prosper.

We have survived 32 days travelling in India and are soaking up one last day of the frenetic life on the streets of Mumbai. It’s seemed like about twice as long as a month, as the intensity of experiences here just pushes the limit of comprehension. The amazing thing is that millions of people here survive these rough, dirty, and unforgiving streets for their entire lifetimes, maybe never even experiencing clean air or water, not to mention the joys of education and opportunity in life.

As I have read numerous books on poverty and India while travelling here, and I know that India has already changed me. I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything or certainly another month in an office back home. Every beggar that has gazed deeply into my eyes or even grabbed my arm in desperation will haunt me forever. Every smile and enthusiastic “Hello, what country are you from?” from kids just desperate for a better life that they can see on the horizon will always echo in the back of my head. The incredibly friendly middle class that you meet and chat with on trains or in cafes. Everyone. They all have a fire in their eyes, but they still have to deal with the realities of an overburdened and impoverished country of a Billion people still rife with corruption and nepotism. I am confident now that they will rise and that this place will be very different by the end of my lifetime.

As for Mumbai: Did you ever see the movie Logan’s Run, with its post-apocalyptic vision of Washington, DC in decay? Well, Mumbai has an extensive collection of colonial era buildings built by the British (well, by Indian laborers I’m sure) in the late 19th and early 20th centuries that all appear to be in varying states of decay. However, as we have seen in India, it appears that 95% of the infrastructure is in decay while 5% is being rebuilt and renovated. Finally it appears that the post-colonial India is finding its own way, and a unique way that no longer relies on the guidance of outsiders. Even here in Mumbai, some of the buildings are being restored along with some lovely gardens in the interior streets of Colaba, the somewhat touristy district that we are staying in in South Mumbai. Local architectural preservation and neighborhood groups are getting organized around restoring a more livable Mumbai. Of course, with 18 million people living in a vast sprawling and polluted mess, there is endless work to do, but a new metro is being built and they have concrete plans for the first two lines of bus rapid transit, including dedicated bus lanes. Now you have to understand that the idea of dedicated anything on a street in India is more than novel. It’s unbelievable. Unfortunately Mumbai also has the disastrous elevated freeways built right through the “center” of the city so ubiquitous in America, but there are so many more pressing issues that clearly starting with some new bus and rail infrastructure is the best approach to help the most people soon. But I diverge into transportation planning policy again….

We left Delhi on the overnight train to Udaipur last Monday and arrived relatively fresh to the semi-arid city of Udaipur, in Rajasthan. Rajasthan is kind of quintessential India, as it has palaces, forts, elephants, monkeys and lively streets and alleys all surrounding a nice lake and hills that make it quite enchanting and even romantic. We watched a wonderful performance of native dance at the local cultural center and best of all, rented bikes to get out in the countryside a bit. It felt so good to be moving on a bicycles again, not to mention being able to see things at a slow pace and away from the more touristed centers of town. Having a boy hitch a ride for quarter mile on my bike rack will be one of the funniest memories of the trip. He just jumped on and off and we all exchanged hellos and thank yous.

The kids are great, especially when the interactions are real and not involving forced begging or touting. All you need to do to get these real interactions is get a few hundred yards from the tourist centers (ghettos) that exist in every know hot spot, but it seems especially in Rajasthan.

Everyone says that we will look back on our time in India with positive and longful eyes, and I am certain that is true as you just can’t help but be mesmerized by the vastness and depth of the culture, land, and people. However, I will not say to anyone in the future that asks “Oh yeah, India is a joy to travel in and I would highly recommend it!” No way. The realities are that it is incredibly difficult to travel here, the rewards are slow and deep, with little tangible joy at many places. The museums, temples, and other sights are not always that great or have other major difficulties associated with them. But most of all, the people and streets can drive you insane; in a very short period of time. I’m not sure that Cheryl will ever recover from her frustration at the men here. First of all, there are thousands of them, everywhere, all the time. And always, always, always staring. Staring for a long time, and right at you, everywhere, and all the time. You get the idea. It’s been much harder on her than me and if you search the web for blogs of female solo travellers, you will find similar sentiments. Many describe complete emotional break downs (as I’ve even seen with some tough men traveling here).

And India can take it’s toll on your health and well-being too, as exercise is either impossible due to the air, traffic, or safety, but mostly the traffic and general lack of space to recreate. We did find a nice park and rose garden in Udaipur which and we walked the morning circuit with some of the few locals with the time or inclination to exercise for recreation.

Now I’m not saying any of these things are impossible as you can jog, bike, hike, and walk all over India. But it’s not easy, and it seems to me that there are much better places to do these things in the world. And besides, you almost feel silly even worrying about such things in a land of such immense poverty. So you can add guilt to the list of limitations on activity. Good thing we did this at 40, and not 60.

So it comes back to the people. As the land is often compromised, the people are what make a journey to India. And it is the people that I will remember.

But that’s it. We fly out at midnight to Bangkok and Surat Thani in the Southwest gulf of Thailand. It’s a short flight to Bangkok with a 5-hour layover, so we’re looking forward to pretty much a sleepless night, but that’s o.k. since the thought of a beach, clean water, and a new culture is definitely getting us excited. We have over 2 months planned to explore SE Asia and hopefully, this won’t be the shock of Vienna to Delhi, but as we are learning, every place is different than you expect. Way different. And this is why we travel on.

By the way, has the Christmas holiday season started yet? We would never know.

Rich

Our trip through the mountains of Himachal Pradesh ended spectacularly, as we hiked up in the snow above Manali, taking in some of the highest glacial peaks. Our hotel, Johnson’s Lodge was pleasant and rustic and we got the upside of of the off-season with the best room for 50% off. Of course there is often a reason that a time is the off-season and in this case it was clearly the cold and accompanying lack of heat in any building in the mountains, except for a few wood stoves and space heaters. However, we choose this place because we had been freezing the past two nights and it had a small rustic wood stove in our room. So the room included a little wood fire heat in our room rate that they stocked and lit during dinner for us. Sounds lovely.

Of course this being India, you always need to make choices about your comfort, and in this case, it was a simple choice of oxygen or heat for the first three hours of the wood fire, since the discharge pipe was clearly too small or choked with soot to accommodate the smoke. We returned the first night to our room to find it uninhabitable with thick smoke and literally had to crawl on the floor to open some windows and clear the place out in the next hour, which of course negated any effect that the heat from the fire was having on the room temperature. It was pretty funny as I can just never believe how there really is “always something” with everything in India. But we laughed it off (as you must do to stay sane here) and the second night were better prepared for waiting out the smoke clearing, as after a few hours the hotter coals actually produced a bit of nice heat and the smoke was below coughing level. And for those of you asking about smoke detectors, then you have obviously not been to India as they do not exist, anywhere. Fire is a small danger here compared to the many others.

Johnson’s Lodge also had a laid-back and excellent restaurant reminiscent of North Coast California (which we miss) that we ended up eating every single meal at, despite being a stone’s throw from town. We have found that when you travel for months at a time (we are now 5 months into our vagabond state) that you need to take every advantage to replenish your body and soul with things that make you happy and in this case, with amazing hearty oatmeal, spinach lasagnes, and pizzas that tasted so good after weeks of various Indian cuisines. We are also finding that since we both for a bit sick from some Indian food that our bodies seem to have lost a taste for it and guess that this feeling may be nature’s way of protecting ourselves. (Kinda like my first and last BAD experience with Jack Daniels in high school!!) Of course, we have still had more tasty street front Indian chow, as it’s the only way to eat most places.

We then headed to McLeod Ganj which was a 7-hour drive from Manali on roads that had about 10 meters of straightaway in about 200 km of gorges and small villages. Needless to say we were happy to get out of the car and send our nice driver, Rana, on his way back to Shimla, passing on the next morning of “sightseeing” planned (we paid him the same) as we would have gladly paid him more not to drive us another day. Having a driver was wonderful for certain stretches, but we were ready to walk, walk, walk, and get back to the calmer train travel as possible.

McLeod Ganj is a kinda backpacker, Tibetan refuge, mixed with the usual dose of touts, beggars, limping dogs, and marauding monkeys. It is home to the exiled Dali Lama and a substantial community of Tibetan refuges that fled the Chinese slaughter ( 1.2 million Tibetans) and cultural elimination over the past 40+ years. The setting is nice at 1700m (about 6000 feet) with thick forests of evergreen trees and trails extending up to smaller villages and the bigger peaks of the Himalayas. We finally found some really nice and peaceful hiking, including spotting 5 red pandas climbing trees and apparently fighting (or maybe it was mating?) on a very secluded trail that we wandered onto. The second day we hiked further to a ridge at 2800 m (over 3000 feet above McLeod!) which had stunning views of the snow capped mountains just a few mile away. The day trek also had two nice huts along the way where you can emjoy snacks, water, and of course, a nice Chai tea while crossing paths with other locals , drop-out gringos, and even monks.

We also passed older traditional Tibetan women carrying impressive loads of firewood on their backs at a speed greater than ours. What the men are doing is often a mystery here in the mountains of India. Important business, I’m sure. These two days hiking really put us back in a nice physically and mentally happy place as heavy exercise has been lacking in the past three weeks.

The fourth day in McLeod we walked the Kora prayer circuit which most practicing Buddhists do daily around a small ridge which passes by a temple and the Dali Lamas residence. It was thick with prayer flags, carved rocks and prayer wheels which you spin clockwise as you walk in lieu of reciting the extensive prayers contained on them. It was pretty cool as we were in the middle of natives and got a good sense of the scene. I like a religion that incorporated walking into the daily ritual and clearly it keeps people fit as we saw very old women making this very hilly Kora circuit.

Back to dangerrous activities…. here in India is to be on the roads after dark in any form of transportation is risky as the death rates are close to 10 times (per mile) of most industrialized nations. There are no street lights in most places, overburdened two-lane roads, and a traffic mix that is unbelievable. We say this since we survived a 3 hour shared taxi ride to the Pathankot train station from McLeod Ganj that took us into the evening. Everytime we passed a unlit cart into oncoming traffic we thought it was the end. We all closed our eyes after awhile as it was just to much to take….so we will be avoiding any more night travel. Period.

We had a great overnight here in Delhi and are on our way to Rajasthan (Udaipur) via night train to spend 4 days, while finally heading on to Ahmadabad and Mumbai. Yesterday was especially pleasant as we finally got to the wonderful National Museum of India and their deep and beautiful collection of artifacts from 4000 years of societies on the Sub-continent. We also met a very nice British guy named Pete, who we rode the train with, and hung out in Delhi with for the day. He is on his way to Sydney and the US to work for the NIH in Washington DC. It was great to share our stories of India and the world.

Well, better push the post and get to our train as the honking in Dehli is growing…must really be rush hour now. Photos soon…..promise

We got to Agra Friday night and got up a the crack of dawn to beat the crowds and experience some solitude at the Taj Mahal before and during sunrise. It was mysterious and a wonderful to see the over-touristed and greatest “Monument to Love”, but as always, it seems the most hyped places are not the ones that stick with you and are certainly not the essence of world travel. We had a more memorable interaction with a boy in the grungy Taj Ganj neighborhood afterwards who appeared to be on his way to a better life outside the slums. We also really enjoyed laughing at the “gone native” British women decked out in saris and chatted with a gung-ho Belgian couple for nearly an hour while watching the sunlight change the mighty structure minute by minute. Not that I’ll soon forget the Taj.

So we left Agra the next day and after another somewhat aimless day in Delhi, left that evening on a nice Shatabdi Express train to the (relatively) affluent and (relatively) green city of Chandigarh http://chandigarh.nic.in/, in the northern state of Punjab. Punjab is mostly Sikh, (they are easy to spot as they wear turbans) and we could easily notice the difference in friendliness from Delhi as there seems to be a bit of attitude around the capital. Chandigarh had a more laid back and straightforward ambiance. We are glad we made the two night stop there on the way to the mountains as we saw a totally different side of Northern India. Middle class. Chandigarh is also notorious for two other reasons, it was planned and designed by the famous architect Le Corbusier in 1958 and it has a rock garden park like no other in the world. So lets get to these two things.

Corbuiser laid out the city in “Sectors”. Our budget ($10) hotel was in Sector 22 while the shopping District was in Sector 17. The room price included the usual luxuries of Northern India, such as a trickle of hot water, a broken toilet, 5 guys hanging out in the “lobby” 24/7, and free wake-up throat and phlegm clearing at 5 a.m. In between each Sector are large boulevards that were intended to move the new auto traffic, but make walking between sectors difficult at best. But as this is India, we took the death-defying multi-lane ped sprints across the boulevards in stride as the rest of the country serves the pedestrian no better. Actually, Chandigarh has some sidewalks and paved bike paths which truly does separate it from other places we have seen. It also has loads of trees, but there is really no great center other than a large concrete plaza surrounded by a mishmash of shops and interrupted by stretches of dirt, mud, and the usual trash. Ironically, I got the sense that the vast layout of the city is actually serving the new middle class quite well as new car-oriented developments are going in at at breakneck pace as Corbusier’s plan meshes with this US 1950’s development quite well. Older chaotic Indian cities often struggle as the auto-centric lifestyle pushes aside the old ways of life, but Chandigarh was built for the new India.

As for the rock garden, pictures are necessary and will be forthcoming, but basically this one “crazy”, “Eccentric” “Brilliant” man led the creation of acres and acres of canyons, waterfalls, bridges, trees, and most of all, thousands of pieces of folk art figures and murals. It is brilliant and was the highlight of our visit to Chandigarh. (Corbusier’s architecture there left me a bit cold) The locals love it too as the place was packed in the late afternoon. The creator of the rock garden, Nek Chand was a Road Inspector in the Engineering Department of the Chandigarh Capital Project. He roamed the Shivalik foothills and picked up stones resembling bird, animal, human and abstract forms. He brought them on his bicycle. The first seven years (1958-65) were spent collecting natural material, urban and industrial waste. Gradually his collection mounted to a staggering twenty thousand rock form of amazing beauty.

We headed out of Chandigarh to the dusty city of Kalka where you change to the narrow gauge railway (Toy Train) that winds up to the old British hill Station of Shimla at 2100m. We headed for our reserved seats and found that we were in a packed car with no room for any baggage. None. The two local women sharing knee and leg space with us had their baggage in the middle, leaving us with zero leg room and a 6 hour journey ahead. My hulking mass of legs and arms would not survive this situation, so we tried to move to a little more open space, but found those seats reserved as well as people packed in. This was going to be a bad India day now wasn’t it?

But wait, so here is the trick with Indian rail: they post the entire reservation lists on the outside of each car so you can find your seats, but in this case, I scoped back to Car 4 and found NO RESERVATIONS on the car and one person sitting in this empty car while we all packed into 3 other cars. So I grabbed Cheryl and we headed back to the car and spread out nicely with windows and room for baggage. About a dozen other backpackers from a big Aussie group in Car 2 had figured out the same thing by this time and had also spread out nicely to fill car 4 and relieve the crush in the other cars. Ahh bliss for a minute, until the conductor boarded and started to throw a fit that we weren’t all in our proper seats. Logic was not going to work on this guy as he really wanted us all in the other cars and was clearly content to run the train up the mountains with 3 packed cars and one empty one. But this was not our first week in India and we have learned to be patient and vague in out intentions or desires as most people in power are here. We all stalled and talked about the situation a bit until there was only 1 minute to departure and we realized we had won and broken the man down. He was not happy, and we were all convinced that our rebellious car 4 would somehow end up on a siding half way up the mountain. It did not and the ride was quite lovely through 103 tunnels and loads of stone trestles all built in the early 1900’s.

Shimla is really unique, as its one of the few mountain cities that I know of that is actually built right on a ridge. It also has swaths of car-free space in a 2-mile long “mall” that forms the backbone of the ridge and serves as the civic gathering space for thousands who stroll, hang out, and even do a little business in this vertical town. There are also amazing local bazaars that wind along the hillsides in a maze of alleys, stairs, and paths. The highlight of Shimla though was the climb up to the Jakhu Hanuman temple, which sits on a small peak above the town. It is a shrine to the monkey god and sure enough, hundreds of marauding monkeys hang out there. Remove glasses and loose things in your pockets warn the signs as you approach. The monkeys were crazy, but fun to watch, although a few did look ready to attack. A big stick really is needed to keep them away.

We also decided to hire a driver and transport for the next week out of Shimla as exploring the mountains in winter by bus was a bit daunting and frankly, we were weary of constantly spending half our time planning transport or waiting for transport to the next place. Our driver, Rana, is a nice mellow guy who speaks just enough English to get by (he is not a guide) and basically takes us from town to town (and wonderful little places along the way), sleeping where we sleep or nearby, and meeting us in the morning. It has made the past 4 days much more enjoyable as I can actually put more energy into absorbing the culture and landscapes, and less time trying to figure out our next move. He is getting a good deal from us too, since we generally leave him as soon as we arrive somewhere, as we always want to spend the rest of our time out of the car and walking in the hills. (or mountains now!) We figure we’re due this little luxury ($45/day) after years of being car free in SF.

So the mountains are magnificent and all freshly snow capped, and we are just blown away by the intact villages of indigenous Tibetans who still live completely traditional existences, complete with shoulder baskets to haul goods, traditional dress, and terracing farming methods that make the hillsides just mystical. And they are so warm and friendly that it just astounds your sense of well being. I will take the warm conversations, smiles, and interactions with me forever.

So after 3 days in Varanasi, we had booked another night train to Jhansi and headed out fearlessly into the alleys from the river, certain that this time “we would not get lost!!!” Well, we got lost again. After getting lost in the alleys (for the 10th time) again, we finally made it to the main road and got in a cycle-rickshaw, which is basically a partially covered tricycle with just enough seat space for two (although this one was narrow).

This is where our our small packs came in handy as we balanced them on our laps and held on for dear life as our peddler struggled to move the two large Americans and their luggage though the completely girdlocked streets of Varanasi. It was the most memorable 30-minute ride of our trip, as watching this man maneuver the traffic was just astonishingly, as he brushed bus bumpers, took back “road” “shortcuts” and then merged into the complete chaos that is know as the Varanasi Junction Train Station. We tipped him well in awe, as I have a hard time bargaining with cycle-rickshaw riders as they work HARD. It doesn’t seem fair to me that they get less money for taking you the same distance as a taxi or auto-rickshaw with no pollution or noise.

We were in a second class 2-tier sleeper that most guidebooks say is just fine, except of course, the hardcore backpackers who prefer to sleep with the masses in “sleeper” class which usually makes up 90% of the train cars, and is the way most Indians travel. (our car was full of middle-class Indians). The ac cars are sealed up and the windows are always dirty, so your view is not nearly as good as from the open bar window cars of the sleeper class. Well, we boarded the train and lucked out with a semi-private two bunk area that had curtain separation from the aisle and side sleeper bunks. So all is fine and we were looking forward ( o.k. resigned) to another night on the train, which I actually kind of enjoy the surreal nature of dozing off and on as the train rolls through the night. We locked our packs under the seat and played some cards to pass the time (we are becoming ferocious gin rummy players). Suddenly, a small cockroach wanders up the wall in front of us, and then another on the bunk behind us…..then another, and another…….you get the idea. Well, after trying to control the population with about 40 paperback book kills, we gave up. Now, neither of us are freaked out by bugs that much, but the problem here was that the walls and bunks were connected on two sides, so the little guys had free access to your sheets, pillow, and face. It was pretty awful.

We kinda rocked in place on the lower bunk and then Cheryl decided to brave it and pushed her sheet into the corner, climbed up and went to sleep. i tried to kill another dozen and then, too decided to give sleep a try. It was actually fine if you just closed your eyes and ignored it. The only problem was waking up and seeing 2 or 3 right by your head. I only had one actually crawl across me. The fact that we got 4-5 hours of choppy sleep is a miracle and a sign that we have adapted a bit in our year off. And to add to our malaise, the cockroach express was 5 hours late, so we got to enjoy the entire morning with our little friends while stopped on the tracks for hours at a time. This was not a high point of the trip.

But to our relief, Jhansi is a much more sane city than Varanasi, and the train station looked like Vienna compared to Delhi and Varanasi. (well, almost) We took a nicely decorated auto-rickshaw (18 km, way too far for a bike) driven by a cheerful guy who could appear on postcards for friendly India. He chatted and pointed out the sights with one hand while dodging oncoming trucks and cows with the other. Our destination was the wonderful little town of Orchha, which rises up out of the plains in gently rolling terrain and is just flush with 16th and 17th century forts, temples, and other ruins, all along a scenic and unpolluted river. We had lots of nice interactions with the locals, as the tout pressure was much less here. These few days were a high point for me. We explored the forts and temples for a few quiet days and headed out for Agra and the might Taj Mahal slightly recharged.

Up and down in India…..but never dull

-R

So as you have probably guessed by the long gap in my blog, that we made it to India. We got our visa Thursday evening and flew out of Vienna on Friday As for India so far; there really aren’t any words to describe it, but I’m going to give it the old college try. India has been so intense from the moment that we arrived that it took about 5 days to catch my breath. The hectic pace of the transport “system” is almost too much to handle, but then you find yourself lost in some amazing sight, smell, or sound that you know will be etched into your brain for life. 100 monkeys that have taken over a train platform in the night. (or on your window ledge of your hotel!) Watching thousands pray and bathe in the holy Ganges in Varanasi at dawn. The cheerful smile of all the kids you meet and talk to in the smaller towns. And it’s only been a week.

That seems to be the trade off for travel to India. A lot of almost constant hassle for some memorable encounters and sights that you will see nowhere else on the planet. Moments of despair and frustration countered with moments of beauty and warmth. Whether its all worth it is up for debate, but I’m certainly warming to the ways and sights as we enter our second week here. It is getting easier and as everyone has said, “after India, Asia is a piece of cake”. Well, thank god for that. After a truly inspiring visit to the Taj Majal at dawn this morning, we’ve found a friendly internet cafe here in Agra, and its giving us the opportunity to catch up on things a bit and even burn some photos to CD, so hopefully we’ll get them up on our Flickr site in the next week or so.

Our arrival in Delhi was fine since we had prearranged pick-up from our guest house in quiet south Delhi, our home for about 9 hours until check out the next day. We soon immediately realized that walking is nearly impossible in large Indian cities for three reasons: 1) there are no sidewalks 2) Its dangerous (because there are no sidewalks) 3) You are exposed to the endless “touts”, which is perhaps the greatest threat to your mental stability as a newbie.

Now anyone whose been to India does not need to have explained the persistence and consistency of interactions on the streets of the major tourist areas of India. And the poverty. Y’all can skip down a few paragraphs. It is truly unbelievable how harassed you can feel as a Westerner on the streets here. Literally hundreds of offers or requests for rickshaw rides, stores, tours, drugs (Varanasi), or food. Now after awhile you learn that 99.9% of it is harmless, but it still factors into every move you make and every place you decide to go to. But you can’t blame them either, so you must reside and stay calm….very zen Ricardo….very zen.

Then are the beggars and omnipresent poverty at every turn which you can’t help but feel awful about, especially when you have to literally push aside a crippled man grabbing onto your leg. It burns at your gut and puts being a “tourist” in new light, since you know in your heart how much more resources you have than these people, but where to start. This is the way of a struggling country of 1.1 Billion, with 400 million living in clear poverty. It’s also something you have to get over to travel in developing countries, but I’m not sure how well I can deal with this. We can donate to charity (and have) to offset some guilt, but it still doesn’t change the daily realities of travel in India. We are also realizing that we will face many of these same challenges in SE Asia and are already questioning our will to go on with as extensive travels in all of these places. Of course, tourism can help people, especially if the money goes to locals and trickles down a bit as it clearly has in some of the areas we have travelled. Croatia has virtually replaced fishing with tourism and Thailand is a model for other SE Asian countries wishing to develop a strong tourist infrastructure. But India is thriving on other fronts and there is a growing middle class, something you see in many of the cities, restaurants, hotels, and television ads. But there is such a long way to go, such a long way.

So we chilled in Cannaught place in Delhi until catching a night train to Varanasi. The train was no problem as we had splurged for first class sleeper and had our own compartment with little veggie dinners brought in and loads of Chai tea. We arrived at 9 am and headed out of the mess that is the train station to catch a taxi to the hotel. The train was no problem as we had splurged for first class sleeper and had our own compartment. Well, one of the other lessons you soon learn travelling in India is that almost everything is an adventure and almost nothing goes as planned, but somehow it all works out. Our taxi driver graciously offered to lead us through the most confusing maze of alleys in the old city to our budget hotel overlooking the Ganges highly recommended by Lonely Planet and another website that I have come to trust, Seat61.com, a train geeks travel site extraordinaire.

As we dodged dozens of cows, touts, scooters, goats, and beggars, we realized that we must be getting close. Well, our driver told us that we couldn’t get through to the hotel since they were filming a movie and walked us aback out to the main “road” where we decided to call the hotel. Now here is my second lesson on the Indian people so far. Most are extremely nice and generally they really do want to help you. But I had read too many stories of taxi drivers telling you your hotel is “closed’, burnt down, or booked and proving their story by calling the hotel, so I was highly dubious. “Filming a movie in this chaos and filth?”, I couldn’t help but think. So I made him show me the phone number as he dialed the hotel and low and behold it turned out to be true, they were filming a real Bollywood film right in the alley of our hotel! India gives and India takes….The hotel porter came out to lead us through the police line and we made it intact. I gave the taxi driver a big tip and apologized for my scepticism. Learning to trust makes at times is necessary for travel here.

So we actually got to listen and watch them filming from our balcony and from the hotel entrance onto the alley, along with seeing the main stars roll through the small courtyard of the Alka hotel with their entourage. You could feel the buzz. The second day they were filming a big dance number on the steps of one of the most beautiful river “ghats”, which line the Ganges for miles in Varanasi and provide access for thousands of Pilgrims and locals to contact this most holy of rivers for Hindus. We can’t wait to try to see the movie “Apocolypso”, as signed on the stars chill room.

The little hotel was a small gem, as our modest and tiny $19 room had million dollar views, complete with a caged in balcony. We thought at first that this was for security (from people) but we soon learned that it was to protect you from the hundreds of marauding monkeys. They crawled all over the hotel, leaping from trees to balconies and even roaming the landings, stairs and courtyards at night. We heard one woman scream at night followed by screeching monkey sounds as we think she was startled or attacked by one of the cute little guys. The funny feeling of the cage was that it felt like the monkeys were free and we were caged. But it sure was fun to watch them, especially when they would be having turf wars with the local scruffy dog brigade.

We got up the second day and took a row boat down the river, rowed by the kind Ajay who had transported us the day before to see the cremations on the river further south. The river scene is one of the wonders of the world, and will be much easier to explain with photos. So I will wait.

Well, we are off in the morning from Agra to New Delhi again, where we have a day to hang out while waiting for a late afternoon train to Chandigarh, (a Le Corbusier planned city?!) where we will stay for a few nights prior to heading up to the mountains of Shimla on the edge of the Himalayas We are looking forward to walking and hiking again, as the options were limited in Varanasi and Agra.

Perhaps tomorrow I will finish the first week, as we haven’t even discussed the most amazing cycle-rickshaw ride, the “Cockroach Express” night Train or wonderful Orchha, my favorite place so far.

Ciao -R