Drokpa Journal

Dates Traveled: September 2001 - July 2002
(I spent a total of about 6 1/2 months actually in India during that time)

Delhi

So, what does one do after a good night on the town? Goes for a curry, so I headed off to India! The flight seemed to make a concerted effort to loop below Afghanistan and Pakistan…no complaints from me. I arrived in Delhi after midnight, and got a cab. Even though I told the cab driver roughly where I wanted to go, he still drove me to his ‘tourist office’ so I could book a hotel. Lonely Planet says it’s a scam and you end up talking to somebody in the next room, not the hotel, but are still told there are no rooms available. You are then advised of an alternative - much more expensive room…one where the con artists will get a cut. I didn’t bite (and wouldn’t have even without the LP advice) and so we drove off. He next told me that where I wanted to be dropped off wasn’t safe at this time - now about 1:45 AM. He finally agreed to drop me off on a particular street and I wandered about. There were people trying to get me into an auto or bicycle rickshaw, some wanted to sell me food, others wanted me to follow them to a hotel. There were people sleeping on the edge of the streets, and there were rats scurrying about. I finally found a guesthouse on my own terms around 2:00 AM. No dramas, and a good introduction to India. Basically what I expected.

The next day I was confronted with India right outside my window - horns blaring, dirt, cars, auto rickshaws, bicycle rickshaws, motorcycles, pedestrians, cows, and venders carts all trying to negotiate the narrow street. Touts everywhere were trying to separate one from their money, so you’re constantly uttering the words “no”, “no thank you”, “not interested”, “I don’t need it”, or “get the hell away from me you little brat!” OK, so it doesn’t get to that extreme, but you sometimes feel like it. India can definitely test the patience I’ve learned through previous travels. All you can do is smile and roll with it, as fighting the flow will only lead to frustration and disappointment. In India, you don’t dictate the events of the day, they dictate you.

I walked through the old town, past the mosque, through the market, and finally arrived at the Red Fort, which is pretty impressive - especially some of the marble buildings. Where I walked was definitely the old part of town, with filth and basic living evident everywhere, but it’s those places that exude a certain charm. I’m always amazed at how the women can manage to look so elegant in such an environment. When I got too hot from walking, I took a ride in an ‘Indian helicopter’…a bicycle rickshaw. A good, cheap alternative to walking. There are always a few close calls with the cars/buses/motorcycles on the road, but that’s part of the fun. I didn’t see a lot of the sites in Delhi - never even went to New Delhi, but I know I’ll be back several times in the next few months.

Taj Mahal

I caught a 5:30 AM train for Agra and the Taj Mahal. Leaving that early I witnessed many of those living in shacks near the tracks taking care of their morning business - squatting right on or adjacent to the tracks, a 1 liter bottle of water to serve as toilet paper and hand cleaner. Quite a sight to see so many dotting the landscape at one time. Must be thousands of ‘land mines’ after a week. A bit depressing to see such squalor and poverty as I sped past.

Once in Agra I headed to the Red Fort, which I liked better than the one in Delhi. Very ornate, with some marble living areas and a good view back to the Taj Mahal. I stopped at a carpet factory and marble inlay factory. Both were good, as it was interesting to see how everything was done by hand. I went to the two because my rickshaw driver got a commission…”Help me and you help God”. How could I say no. I awoke early the following morning to be at the Taj Mahal when it opened at 6 AM. It’s a beautiful building set amid some well-manicured grounds. The building itself has some incredible stone inlay work in the marble. Unfortunately, the day was cloudy and overcast, so the pictures didn’t turn out very well. There’s something about being in the presence of a monument that you have seen so often in the media, so I simply tried to find a bench away from all the touts and marvel at the Taj Mahal. Beautiful. Later in the day I was walking the streets when I acquiesced to yet another bicycle rickshaw driver on one condition - that he didn’t take me to a carpet or marble inlay factory. “No problem”. Instead, he took me to jewelry and musical instrument shops, then stopped by an inlay factory anyway. Drivers get a commission if you buy - sometimes even if you don’t. The price of an item can be 20% higher if you arrive via auto/bicycle rickshaw or taxi. I simply let him take me to these places, nonchalantly found out how much he had made from our various stops (even though I bought nothing), and then deducted that from the price I had agreed to pay for the ride. He wasn’t too happy at first, but he eventually had to laugh. Afterall, I’d already stated that I didn’t want to make those stops, and he did get the amount of money we’d agreed upon. It’s just that I didn’t have to pay it all - his shop buddies ended up paying part.

I believe if one wanted to capture the strange, different, unbelievable acts/sights in India, his finger would be constantly on the shutter of the camera. It’s all picture-worthy for one reason or another. After dark I caught an auto rickshaw - with a very dim headlight, to the train station. I’ve experienced some stuff in my travels, but even I was cringing every time we went through a round-about. We couldn’t see others, and they couldn’t see us, and everybody was traveling much faster than they should have been. Always an adventure.

Varanasi

I caught an overnight, 13 hour train to Varanasi, and was promptly introduced to yet another scam. Lonely Planet lists several that are attempted in India. As one woman traveler who had witnessed them all said, she likes to read ahead to see what’s going to happen to her next. Anyway, I grabbed a rickshaw and indicated which hotel I wanted to be taken to. On the way he tried to pitch a different hotel, but I held firm. I got to my hotel - which had the correct name, and was told there were no rooms available. I was convinced that it wasn’t the right hotel - later confirmed. There are several in town with the same name - taking advantage of the hotel with the original name and good reputation. I stayed at the drivers recommendation for one night - later changing to another, but again deducted what I knew his commission would be from the agreed upon fare. Again, one unhappy driver. Everyone I talked to in Varanasi had the same scam pulled on them when they arrived. At least (knock wood) I didn’t have the food scam pulled on me, where they deliberately poison your food. When you become violently ill they take you to a doctor friend of theirs who charges you for his services (sometimes excessive service to get the insurance company involved) and then the participants split the take.

I spent a few days walking along the ghats of the Ganges River - a river which serves as a place to wash away one’s sins, a bath tub, a clothes washer, a cremation urn, a receptacle for burial at sea, a road for boat transport, toilet, and probably much more than I care to know. It was interesting to witness the burning of the bodies. It’s considered good luck to die in Varanasi, as one exits the cycle of rebirths and goes straight to heaven. Talking to one Aussie tourist, he said somebody told him, “I hope you die in Varanasi”. Talk about your back-handed complements! Needless to say, he didn’t take the boat ride offered by the guy. The following morning I did take a boat ride, as I was rowed along the various ghats for about an hour. It was interesting to witness the early morning rituals performed on the river. It rained most of that day, and later I had to wade through water 6 inches deep - and filled with all manner of trash and who knows what else. Seems there was too much rain for the system to cope, so the run-off simply flowed through the streets and cascaded down the ghats.

I took a 1 1/2 hour auto rickshaw ride, through bumper-to-bumper traffic, with all horns blaring, to the train station at Mughal Sarai for a 6:15 PM departure for Siliguri. Shortly before the train was due to arrive they announced that it would be late. When I inquired as to how late they said, “10 hours, sir”. It turns out even that was optimistic - it was actually 14 hours late. With nothing else to do I decided to stretch out on the concrete floor of the train station for the night - as the Indians were doing (and many more Indians than would have been taking my train. Seems to be a common practice to sleep on the floor of train stations.) Anyway, I was leaning back on my backpack reading when a man came running towards me with a stick. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he motioned for me to move my pack, at which point two huge rats scurried away, with him in hot pursuit. I tried to catch some sleep through the night, but the rats, bugs, and concrete floor made anything more than short cat naps impossible. The train finally arrived in the morning, and it was an 18 hour ride to Siliguri - depositing me there at 2 AM.

I was in Siliguri to catch a ride over to Bhutan.

India Photos

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