So we leave tonight. I can't believe this day has come. We left on December 31st each with a backpack and a duffel bag and we made our way through San Francisco, Humboldt, Los Angeles, Palm Springs, London, Oxford, Paris, and then so many cities and states in India I can't even count at this point. I remember being in Goa, only 3 or 4 days in and feeling like this trip was going to last forever. Now that seems so far away, and I've seen, experienced, and eaten so many different things I think it's going to take me a while back in the US to process all of it. I wish I had written better posts on this blog, instead of just chronological and geographical recaps, because I feel I haven't conveyed the essence of what it's like here. But I hope to put the rest of the pictures up soon, and maybe those will give a better idea of our experiences.
If you've been reading, thank you! and I hope it was somewhat enjoyable. We will be home in less than 24 hours, and I look forward to reenacting the anecdotes and ridiculous things that I didn't get to write about on here to those of you who care to hear about them.
It's been quite a trip but I am SOOO looking forward to coming home. See you soon.
xo
Brittany
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Shimla and Delhi
We arrived in Delhi, but only for a night on our way up to Shimla. Delhi is huge, and I felt a little jolted to be back in such a mad place again but grateful that it has a spanking-new metro system (my favorite method of city travel) that will eliminate the need for rickshaw-haggling and the like. Ravi happened to be in town for business, and he met us at the station and took us to our hotel in the Paharganj area of the city. We stayed there because Delhi is expensive, and it's the main budget-tourist area, but centrally located just off of a bazaar. Since it was too early for us to check in, Ravi took us to breakfast and then out of the city center by Delhi Metro to where he lived for two years, and where he stays with his cousin when he comes to town. After a few hours, we came back and I crashed in our really comfortable hotel room while Ravi took Nathan out for a shave and a haircut (cost: $1.50). In the evening we met up with one of Nathan's long lost friends from his Mississippi grad school days, Angshuman (and his wife, Sulukshana). They treated us to several beers at their apartment, and a nice Tandoori dinner in the popular Connaught Place neighborhood of Delhi. Nathan and Angshuman haven't seen each other in 5 years, but they seem to have the kind of friendship that picks up right where it left off as if they just spoke last week. After hours of reminiscing and catching up, they dropped us off at our hotel and invited us to stay with them when we would return to Delhi the following week.
We left early, and hungover, the next morning for Shimla--the capital of Himachal Pradesh (a beautiful northern state). It's a hill station where the government used to retreat to and from where it would rule the rest of the country during the unbearably hot summers. The train station in New Delhi was madness, with touts and scammers around every corner. We had heard stories of them, and it really was as bad as we had heard. We got to our train without any real problems though, and headed to Kalka on a 4 hour journey where we would switch trains. From Kalka to Shimla we took a "toy train" which is an old steam train that chug-chug-chugs up through the hills at a very slow pace. Although the distance is only 90 kilometers, the trip takes 5 hours. We passed through beautiful hills and valleys, through 100 stone tunnels, over narrow bridges and finally into the cool climate of the northern state. We loved it immediately--the cool dry climate, the hills and forests all around, the cleanliness (littering, smoking, spitting and plastic bags are banned in public places), and the fact that the main drag in town is a mall, so no cars, rickshaws, busses, nothing except walking.
Shimla is really beautiful, and was the perfect way to end our trip in India. It looks like a quaint alpine town--it could have been Aspen. And although the town has several buildings that look like old haunted houses (including the one we stayed in which felt like the hotel in The Shining), they really add to it's charm. We spent almost a week in Shimla, lolling around the streets, taking a long hike down to some waterfalls, visiting a beautiful old government building and gardens that have been turned into a post-doc research center, and relaxing in our room (where we had to warm up with a space heater, it actually got that cold and was a welcome change).
I think if I ever come back to India, it would be only to explore the rest of Himachal Pradesh, and the states of Jammu & Kashmir, and Ladakh which are even further north. In Himachal Pradesh we didn't get to make it up to Dharamsala (where the Tibetan refugees are), Amritsar (the famous golden temple), or Manali and Spiti which are supposed to be amazing. And although Jammu & Kashmir are in political turmoil, everyone said that we have to go, it's just so beautiful. And Leh, in Ladakh, sounds like a fantasy-land. The rest of India is too hot for me, and I really enjoyed the culture and environment of Shimla more than anywhere else we traveled to, so I'm interested in seeing the rest of the Himalayan region.
We arrived back in Delhi, just a couple of nights ago and stayed in the Majnu Ka Tilla neighborhood northeast of the main city. We didn't want to stay in noisy Paharganj again, and it was recommended as a fairly quiet place that is a Tibetan colony, so the people and food and markets had that flavor. We weren't there long enough to explore it as much as I'd like because we headed back to Angshuman and Sulukshana's apartment to stay with them for our last two nights. Other than some last minute shopping for gifts at the government emporium and bazaars, we've been mostly lazy here (happily!), playing poker, ordering takeout, and last night going to a party (since today is a government holiday). They've been awesome hosts and I'm glad it all worked out (as they are moving to Chennai next month).
We left early, and hungover, the next morning for Shimla--the capital of Himachal Pradesh (a beautiful northern state). It's a hill station where the government used to retreat to and from where it would rule the rest of the country during the unbearably hot summers. The train station in New Delhi was madness, with touts and scammers around every corner. We had heard stories of them, and it really was as bad as we had heard. We got to our train without any real problems though, and headed to Kalka on a 4 hour journey where we would switch trains. From Kalka to Shimla we took a "toy train" which is an old steam train that chug-chug-chugs up through the hills at a very slow pace. Although the distance is only 90 kilometers, the trip takes 5 hours. We passed through beautiful hills and valleys, through 100 stone tunnels, over narrow bridges and finally into the cool climate of the northern state. We loved it immediately--the cool dry climate, the hills and forests all around, the cleanliness (littering, smoking, spitting and plastic bags are banned in public places), and the fact that the main drag in town is a mall, so no cars, rickshaws, busses, nothing except walking.
Shimla is really beautiful, and was the perfect way to end our trip in India. It looks like a quaint alpine town--it could have been Aspen. And although the town has several buildings that look like old haunted houses (including the one we stayed in which felt like the hotel in The Shining), they really add to it's charm. We spent almost a week in Shimla, lolling around the streets, taking a long hike down to some waterfalls, visiting a beautiful old government building and gardens that have been turned into a post-doc research center, and relaxing in our room (where we had to warm up with a space heater, it actually got that cold and was a welcome change).
I think if I ever come back to India, it would be only to explore the rest of Himachal Pradesh, and the states of Jammu & Kashmir, and Ladakh which are even further north. In Himachal Pradesh we didn't get to make it up to Dharamsala (where the Tibetan refugees are), Amritsar (the famous golden temple), or Manali and Spiti which are supposed to be amazing. And although Jammu & Kashmir are in political turmoil, everyone said that we have to go, it's just so beautiful. And Leh, in Ladakh, sounds like a fantasy-land. The rest of India is too hot for me, and I really enjoyed the culture and environment of Shimla more than anywhere else we traveled to, so I'm interested in seeing the rest of the Himalayan region.
We arrived back in Delhi, just a couple of nights ago and stayed in the Majnu Ka Tilla neighborhood northeast of the main city. We didn't want to stay in noisy Paharganj again, and it was recommended as a fairly quiet place that is a Tibetan colony, so the people and food and markets had that flavor. We weren't there long enough to explore it as much as I'd like because we headed back to Angshuman and Sulukshana's apartment to stay with them for our last two nights. Other than some last minute shopping for gifts at the government emporium and bazaars, we've been mostly lazy here (happily!), playing poker, ordering takeout, and last night going to a party (since today is a government holiday). They've been awesome hosts and I'm glad it all worked out (as they are moving to Chennai next month).
Saturday, March 20, 2010
RAVI SHANKAR
During our confusion at the Lucknow train station we are finally helped by a young friendly man named Ravi who reassured us we were on the right train and chatted with us on the long slow trip (we were five hours late). He's on his way home to Patna to visit his family for Holi. He shows us pictures of his family. As the youngest child, he was the only one born in a hospital, something he seems proud of. He has a fancy laptop and likes to talk about India's mobile network. He has been traveling around on some tech-related business for a year. Is he married?
"Maybe? I don't know? I am married, but it is much responsibility. You have your mother, father. All your family. Then one more. But now for one year I am all alone and very happy. I am like a king! Even when I have not much money I am still a king!"
We talk about our problems with bad advice. "You must understand," he says, "that many Indians are illiterate. Can't read signs. Don't understand their own language."
I asked him the rules of cricket and he tried to explain as best he could. "The thing about cricket is that it is very long. In the U.S. all your game are very short. One hour. Two hours. Football for 90 minutes. But Indians have lots of time. So we don't want our games to end. We want to watch. Four days. Five. It's okay."
While we were waiting for the late train, we had commented, "Why are we the only ones worried and wondering what is going on?" We mentioned this to Ravi and he laughed. "It is is the same as with cricket. Indians LIKE to wait. At the railway station, even in traffic. They like to sit in the shade, eat a snack. This is a good way to spend a day."
"Maybe? I don't know? I am married, but it is much responsibility. You have your mother, father. All your family. Then one more. But now for one year I am all alone and very happy. I am like a king! Even when I have not much money I am still a king!"
We talk about our problems with bad advice. "You must understand," he says, "that many Indians are illiterate. Can't read signs. Don't understand their own language."
I asked him the rules of cricket and he tried to explain as best he could. "The thing about cricket is that it is very long. In the U.S. all your game are very short. One hour. Two hours. Football for 90 minutes. But Indians have lots of time. So we don't want our games to end. We want to watch. Four days. Five. It's okay."
While we were waiting for the late train, we had commented, "Why are we the only ones worried and wondering what is going on?" We mentioned this to Ravi and he laughed. "It is is the same as with cricket. Indians LIKE to wait. At the railway station, even in traffic. They like to sit in the shade, eat a snack. This is a good way to spend a day."
BAD ADVICE
One of the many frustrations of India is bad advice. Our train from Lucknow to Varanasi is late and we're asking around to find out if we're at the right platform, how late it might be, etc. Then some man grabs us by the arm and shouts, "Your train! Your train! Track four! It is leaving! Run!"
So we run. Up the stairs, across the ramp, lugging our bags. And it is not our train of course. We trudge irritated back. This always happens to us. Someone decides what it is we want or need and tells us what to do and they are wrong. I'm not sure what that's all about. They seem to want to help, but they just don't know what they are talking about. It can make you paranoid, because we HAVE to ask for advice, but after getting so much incorrect information (and from police and the people at the information booths too) you start to doubt everything you hear. My theory: I think this is a culture based on talking a LOT and gathering a lot of strong opinions. Our rickshaw drivers often stop and go into a shop to find out where to go. At train stations I see clusters of people gesturing and pointing in different directions. I think you are supposed to loudly voice your opinion and whoever is nearby voices theirs and so and so on until some semblance of consensus is reached.
So we run. Up the stairs, across the ramp, lugging our bags. And it is not our train of course. We trudge irritated back. This always happens to us. Someone decides what it is we want or need and tells us what to do and they are wrong. I'm not sure what that's all about. They seem to want to help, but they just don't know what they are talking about. It can make you paranoid, because we HAVE to ask for advice, but after getting so much incorrect information (and from police and the people at the information booths too) you start to doubt everything you hear. My theory: I think this is a culture based on talking a LOT and gathering a lot of strong opinions. Our rickshaw drivers often stop and go into a shop to find out where to go. At train stations I see clusters of people gesturing and pointing in different directions. I think you are supposed to loudly voice your opinion and whoever is nearby voices theirs and so and so on until some semblance of consensus is reached.
COWS ABOVE JAIPUR
Speaking of "cows everywhere" these guys were hanging out in this falling down temple above Jaipur.
TRAIN COW
Okay, cows are everywhere here. But this cow sitting on platform 9 of the Lucknow station seems particularly absurd. How did he get here? His two options would have been to (1) cross a dozen train lines and then jump up five feet onto the platform or (2) walk in the front door, through the packed reservation hall, through the metal detectors (or around them like most Indians do), up a flight of stairs, across a metal gangplank, and then down another set of stairs to sit here, flicking his tail.
TOURISTS!!!
Back in Oxford, England, we were ordering dinner in a pub and asked the busboy what Yorkshire pudding was. He was classic UK: all forehead, ill skin and snaggled teeth. He looked at us with a mix of shock and grief. "Yorkshire pudding? You don't know what a Yorkshire pudding is?"
"Is it like a biscuit?"
"No, it's not a biscuit! It's a... a pudding. Right, you know your Sunday roast."
I did not.
"You've never had a Sunday roast?!"
B volunteered that she had.
"Right then. So in your Sunday roast you've got your meat, you've got your veg, you've got you mash... and you've got your Yorkshire pudding!"
But what is it?
He'd had enough. "Ask your server girl. I just fetch the dishes."
One month later and we had the same impact on a poor Indian man. We often get confused by the menus, not recognizing words, mixing up pakora and paratha. Well B is asking about various dishes and the man is doing his best to describe them--a difficult thing to do sometimes even when you both speak English (see above). Well B asks about some local dish and he looks relieved. "Ah, yes, this is a kind of dhal." In her defense, B does know what dhal is--a lentils, the most basic form of Indian food above rice--but at this moment she doesn't understand and asks, "Dhal? What is that?" The same aggrieved look we saw in Oxford. "You don't know dhal?" the man says. His shoulders sag. What's the use?
"Is it like a biscuit?"
"No, it's not a biscuit! It's a... a pudding. Right, you know your Sunday roast."
I did not.
"You've never had a Sunday roast?!"
B volunteered that she had.
"Right then. So in your Sunday roast you've got your meat, you've got your veg, you've got you mash... and you've got your Yorkshire pudding!"
But what is it?
He'd had enough. "Ask your server girl. I just fetch the dishes."
One month later and we had the same impact on a poor Indian man. We often get confused by the menus, not recognizing words, mixing up pakora and paratha. Well B is asking about various dishes and the man is doing his best to describe them--a difficult thing to do sometimes even when you both speak English (see above). Well B asks about some local dish and he looks relieved. "Ah, yes, this is a kind of dhal." In her defense, B does know what dhal is--a lentils, the most basic form of Indian food above rice--but at this moment she doesn't understand and asks, "Dhal? What is that?" The same aggrieved look we saw in Oxford. "You don't know dhal?" the man says. His shoulders sag. What's the use?
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