India

We flew out of Nepal on Good Friday, heading for New Delhi, India and the flight over Nepal offered us great views of the Himalayas majesty which made us once again understand the draw and promise of adventure Nepal offers. Leaving the Kathmandu airport was as thrilling as arriving. Not once, twice but three times each passenger was thoroughly hand frisked and had to empty their total hand luggage and explain the items, which became quite comical with the language barrier. In front of me was an English woman and I admire and still chuckle on how she tried to get across to the male guard the function of birth control pills. “Head ache pills?”. “No, pills for when you do not have headache! “. We were prepared to pay the exit fee of 1750 rupees each (at exit rupees are accepted), made sure to have extra in case the number was not correct but lo and behold, no money was asked of us and now we have 6000 Nepal rupees on our hand which no one wants to exchange in India.

New Delhi airport is comparable with any large, international airport in the world and runs very efficiently. Retrieving luggage, immigration and customs was a breeze and within minutes we found ourselves in the arrival hall where signs alerted travelers to be on the safe side, not be subjected to touts and buy a government approved pre-paid taxi ticket, which we did with our newly acquired Indian Rupees which cost 50 per $1.00 as opposed to the 80 Nepal rupees an American dollar can buy. Armed with a paid ticket from the airport to Hotel Ashiana in down town New Delhi we lined up for our taxi which arrived shortly. We assumed that our driver spoke no English since our greetings were not returned or any other attempts in conversation by us. After giving him our ticket we took off. Almost immediately he lit up cigarette inside the taxi which was surprising but after all we did not know the customs here. New Delhi around the airport area and outside suburbs looks surprisingly like any big American or European city with impressive, towering business buildings and apartment dwellings but the scenery changed abruptly when we neared the inner-city where chaos took over as did the stench of animals and people living on the streets. In the heart of the city, at an intersection of very narrow alleys our taxi driver who had not interacted or acknowledged our existence at all turned around and in plain English said” Get out. Cannot find your hotel. Get a rickshaw. “ We were stunned but refused to get out since a crowd had immediately formed around our taxi and attempts were made to open our backseat doors. Our backpacks were tied on the roof of the car. Quite a bit earlier I had locked my door and Tom later mentioned that right before our driver pulled his stunt, it was a passing child who pointed to the then still up lock- button and made a locking motion which Tom did. Not surprisingly, it was men dressed as Holy Men who where the most aggressive. Tom and I insisted to be taken back to the airport if our driver was unable to find our hotel and that under no condition would we get out. Tom advised the driver to find traffic police for assistance since maybe they could give him direction at which time our driver moved on with a “ No, police”. He was able to find our hotel after all and a combination of exhaustion on my part and the aftermath of the scary and intimidating experience sent me into a weeping spell. It did not help that the hotel was by far not the accommodation advertised on the internet so I booed that this was not where I wanted to be at Easter and I may have added that I was ready to deck the next “Holy Men” who came close. Tom did a great job comforting and reminding me that it was all part of the adventure. It is true, we set out for experience but how we want each and every experience to be enjoyable and pleasant.
It is very easy to let first impressions, good or bad, cloud the rest of vision. In Nepal we had our very first rickshaw ride which has cured us of taking another. While still in Katmandu we planned a trip to Durbar Square and after consulting with owner Bishnu decided on taking a rickshaw. He warned us to be sure and have an agreement of the price before taking off, advice we read over and over in travel guides, and mentioned the customary fee for a ride to the square. Immediately when setting foot in the alley rickshaw drivers surrounded us and we asked one how much. His price was 3 times more than Bishnu’s recommended price and we declined. Immediately the price went down. We agreed and off we went. Rickety is a good name for the bikes, they bounce, rattle and shake and most of the time my eyes remained tightly shut. Fear can do that! The bike had a handmade horn, cleverly crafted from an old Nivea lotion bottle. Our driver decided to stop along the way, hoping to show us additional sights but we insisted that it was Durbar Square we wanted to explore. Upon arriving at the square he declined the money and instead grabbed the Nepal guidebook out of my hand and said he would wait for us. That’s all good and well but our book he was not keeping and I grabbed it right back. Money again was declined and we wandered in the square after being stopped to pay the “foreigner entrance fee”. Blondes do stick out as do men with bushy moustaches and Australian hats. After an hour we were ready to head back and our rickshaw driver must have kept a close eye on us and showed up next to our side We gave him our hotel card with the address and strict instructions to go only there before we hopped on once again. He stopped in a narrow, busy alley quite a while away still from our hotel and demanded payment for the 4 hours we had hired him as our guide. We totally agree that being a rickshaw driver and pulling tourists down busy, potholed dirt streets has to be a very difficult job and in our hands we had enough to double the original price(roundtrip now) and quadrupled it for a generous tip. We had been gone one and a half hours in total. He wanted 24x more!!! What Tom knows and the rickshaw driver was fast learning is that I have a temper and will stand my ground and cunningly not taking us back to the hotel did not sit well. Soon a guard walked close by and the rickshaw driver took off in haste after taking the offered money .
I thought back on this after our first taxi driver experience in India. Even when paying close attention to the warnings and following recommended guidelines, tourists can and will face unexpected encounters, some more pleasant and entertaining than others. We spent two days in the heart of New Delhi. One afternoon we explored and wandered around and again we were overcome with the poverty displayed. There were quite a few puddles on the dirt roads while New Delhi has not had significant rain fall in a long time. After noticing quite a few males urinating on the streets, often not turning around but showing the full Monty, we kept our boots on even with the temperatures in the 40 degrees Celsius mark. We found a great restaurant around the corner of our hotel where the non-veg Thali included an egg curry with a whole hardboiled egg floating on top. It became Easter dinner and was great. We took a guided day tour of the city and saw many beautiful temples including Shri Lakshmi Narain ( Birla Temple) where throughout paintings describe the Hinduism philosophy of life. None of the temples we saw in New Delphi allowed you to bring in cameras or cell phones and upon entrance were placed in a lockbox and we were given the key. Our last stop was the Swaminaryan AkshardhaM, a very unique complex of Indian culture, set in a vast 100 acre site on the banks of the Tamuna River as professed by HDH Yogiji Maharaj in 1968. His vision was fulfilled in 2005 when this grand spiritual monument was blessed by his successor HDH Pramukh Swami Maharaj. It took 5 years to complete. Upon arrival, before parking, all vehicles are thoroughly searched, both inside and out. There are signs alerting all on what cannot be brought inside the temple, the list includes at least a 100 items e.g – No bombs(duh), gum, papers, documents, purse, weapons, drugs, cigarettes, toffee, shampoo(?), brush, comb, pen, etc….the list went on and on. Batteries had to be removed from cell phones and cameras and turned in separate. It probably would have been simpler to post that what could be carried in and that’s the clothes on your back, money (without billfold) in your pocket, one watch per group (yes) and women could keep on their jewelry. Hand frisking before entering. Since our hotel did not have a safe and our sense of security there had not been very high I carried in my little purse our passports/tickets and had no intention of parting with those so Tom and I decided to have one of us wait with my purse on the outside and take turns entering and seeing the site. Good decision however it meant that I missed seeing Tom wander through the complex dressed in a yellow Sari since his knee length shorts proved to be unacceptable. Swaminaryan AkshardhaM is beyond description. It beautifully showcases Indian art, wisdom, heritage and values as a tribute to Bhagwan Swaminaryan(1781-1830)a torchbearer of Indian culture. The carvings out of red stone and marble are so detailed that one could spend hours admiring the craftsmanship. The Holy footprints of Bhagwan bear the 16 sacred signs of God and water is continuously showered on them from four auspicious conch shells in tribute to his (Bhagwan Swaminarayan) inspiring life and work. Walking through the complex is meant to radiate peace, beauty, joy and divinity. I expected to see Alladin floating by on his carpet. This was the India of story books and the fables I grew up with. Upon leaving and only minutes away we again saw the slums and cannot help but wonder how a country which can build such grandiosity as the Sawminarayan Akshardham cannot take care of its people. Why built such an empty extreme while the people still live on the streets and try to find shade with rags over their head while digging through trash hoping for a morsel. Should peace, beauty, joy and divinity not radiate for them also? Our driver was ready to show us more temples but we realized we were templed out. We had seen the temple of all temples and it would have been like going to the county fair after having spent a week in Disney World.
The very next morning, Easter Sunday at 5.30 am we left by train for Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. The train ride was great, once we made it on, and can be highly encouraged as a mode of transportation between New Delhi and Agra. The trip took around two hours and while it does not offer much in views it gives a great people watching opportunity. We were pleasantly surprised by the service; newspaper, bottled water, tea/coffee and a full breakfast were served and it was not until days later we learned that we travelled first class. Our three days in the Grand Hotel in Agra have been good. The hotel caters mainly to Indians and appears to be the place to celebrate special events like wedding receptions. From our balcony we observed a Hindu wedding and as sneaky observers we took no pictures. Enormous firework displays and outside the gardens the groom was kept for hours while quite a celebration was going on for him alone. At the hotel we met Barbara, a delightful woman from Melbourne, Australia who is here as a guest and member of the wedding celebrations which will start today for the son of the Hotel owner. The event will take three days and we would have loved to see more close up but we will head back to New Delhi for our flight to Istanbul later today.
Tom saw the Taj Mahal, our reason for the India stop and I could see in his eyes how much the moment meant. It is monumental to touch and be close to this seventh wonder of the world, built in the 1600’s , also on the banks of the river Yamuna. The entrance gate of the Taj bears inscriptions of the entire chapter of Koran. The most amazing feature of the Taj Mahal is its proportion and symmetric construction. Standing in one of the surrounding temples arches the whole Taj Mahal will be artfully in view. Peeking over the side we saw 14 women who while squatted cut the enormous lawns with small hand sickles while subjected to a male who angrily pushed them on. The other life, once again. We spent the day touring the other sites of Agra including the 14th century built Royal Palace of Fatehpur Sikri. Legend goes that King Akbar had three wives, Muslim, Christian and Hindu, and none had born him a son. After a battle he stopped in Sikri, the dwelling place of Sufi Saint ‘ Sheikh Salim Chisti’, who was famous for his spiritual deeds. The King asked for prayer to bless him with a son and it is said that Sufi Saint sacrified his own six month old son ‘Bate Miyan’ and thus the soul of this sacrificied son was reborn in the womb of Empress Jogha Bai, the Hindu wife. The Tomb of Salim Chisti is a shrine where one can buy a wish and with this purchase comes a sari which then will be donated to Agra’s widows and we hope that will happen with the sari we bought. At the entrance we were again asked to remove our shoes and knowing that we would be visiting temples we had dressed accordingly. It is such a strange culture where I see the Hindu and Sikh women walk in their beautiful silk draped saris, often with their midriff fully exposed, sometimes even from the belly button up, while I have lost the right to bare arms. My sensuous shoulders have remained covered in India and the few shirts with sleeves that I brought are getting quite a workout in the 45 degree heat. While dressed according to culture we notice that in the sacred temples souvenirs can still be sold and while trying to listen to our guide and taking in the history I am being followed by a very persistent young man who continuously holds 7 bracelets in front of my face …chanting “ How much”. Ignoring only goes so far when both vision and hearing are blocked. No, no, no obviously was not working once again and I got to that point where I stopped and asked if payment would mean his leaving. Yes! I bought freedom and the bracelets are a bonus?

This past month has been a whirlwind of travel, we have seen so much and attempted to absorb cultures so foreign to our own. Health wise we are doing great. We each have dealt with “travelers curse” and learned that squatting toilets have both pros and cons. For hygiene purpose they are better than the Western “sitting counterpart” but after a 20 KM hike, mainly uphill, squatting is the last thing legs want to do. Eating strictly with the right hand since the left here is used for another purpose is difficult if one has been raised in Europe where food is never eaten with hands and where the fork belongs in the left with knife in the right hand. It helps that here in India knives are not part of the cutlery laid out at the table. One custom which we do not believe we will ever get used to is the early morning practice we heard both in Nepal and now India. It is the hacking, grunting, attempting to remove every additional fluid out of lungs and sinuses and with lots of retching spit the wad out, preferably in front of our feet. This is common for both men and women, especially in Nepal and seeing this from dainty, delicate, exquisitely dressed women was shocking. These past couple of mornings we have been spoiled once again and are reading the Agra newspaper in English. Election time is getting near here and on both mornings we read of potential candidates found hung without much additional information. We read about a family of 4 traveling late at night on their motorcycle after attending a wedding celebration. Father, mother and two young children, ages 4 and 6. The children both died with the parents wounded. It happened the night after we observed the wedding celebration in our hotel’s garden and with the many children present there we now wonder if we saw them before they,as a family and with their heads unprotected, left for home.

At one of the temples we read the following, one of Hinduism philosophy of life.
Therefore , without attachment constantly perform the (right) action which is your duty for, by performing action without attachment men verily reacheth the surpreme one. “Gita”.Namante India. Take care of your people.
Tom and Els