Culture Shock
Trip Start
Mar 04, 2010
1
Trip End
Ongoing
Delhi, India
Monday, March 22, 2010
Day 1
We arrived at the airport in Delhi at 10 pm on Day 1. After spending hours on the plane studying cultural norms and the like, as soon as we got off the plane, gathered our luggage and walked toward to the exit to find our ride to the hotel, I, of course, reached out my hand to the hotel cab driver to share a nice hello hand shake. I quickly remembered my manners when he gave me an awkward look and brought his hands together in front of him politely saying "namaste." Oops. Other than that it was a pretty smooth evening. In fact, I was relieved when we saw our hotel room. I think I had set myself up with the worst expectations, so when I saw our room with two beds and a flush toilet I was ecstatic! Of course there was a large window by our heads that looked directly into the hallway, but at least the windows locked and there was a curtain covering the window. We fell asleep agreeing that it was a great idea to have booked a hotel with pre-arranged airport pick-up after hearing horror stories from fellow travelers.
Day 2
We woke at about 4 am and talked until we thought it was late enough to get up. After my first bucket shower (kind of like taking a bath tub without the tub), we walked up to the roof to check out the rooftop garden. When we realized the rooftop garden mentioned in the hotel description online did not exist, or at least no longer existed by the looks of the dilapidated rooftop terrace, we took a seat for a while on the roof and enjoyed the view of chaos below. We ate the buffet breakfast downstairs in the restaurant costing us 250 Rupees each and soon found out that although this is only $5 US, it was a complete rip off. You can find an entire meal for 2 people for less than 100 Rs. In fact, the average Indian lives on 40Rs per day. But this is fine. It would be our first lesson in 'just relax and get ripped off,' because the dollar (or pennies) is not worth the stress. After a variety of delicious flavors thoroughly burned my mouth, we were off for a courageous walk to the Red Fort. Our hotel, Hotel Ajanta (noted online as one of three gay and lesbian friendly hotels in Delhi) was located in Paharganj (the dodgy backpackers' part of Delhi). The first 5 kilometers were thrilling, with my first exposure to the madness that is Delhi. I saw cows, people everywhere sleeping, urinating, staring, spitting, selling food, rickshaws (auto and bicycle), taxis, garbage, everything you ever imagined poverty to look like including dirty naked children, dirty adults, happy children, begging children, differently-abled begging adults, red stains on the ground, in people's teeth, and on clothing...we walked through several bazaars with people selling dirty, dusty food, cheap clothing, there was no telling where we were via signs or landmarks, only our view of the train tracks...so when we finally arrived in the middle of a circle of whizzing cars several hours later (it should have only been 4 kilometers away and we walked about double that), we finally gave in and paid our first auto rickshaw to take us to the Red Fort. What is an auto rickshaw you ask?...well, it is quite the experience which I hope to describe over the next couple weeks of journaling. But for now, imagine a three wheel ATV with a cab over it driving through gridlock traffic in the middle of a massive city with more people than your mind can fathom.
Upon our arrival to the Red Fort, our first venture was to cross the street. Now I am a pretty gutsy Jersey- trained-street-crosser, but this appeared to be a certain death situation. After spending several minutes staring at the road in front of us, overwhelmed at the insanity that lay ahead, we decided to smush up close to a group of Indians and follow them across. Alas, we made it, and after the 20 minutes it took us to figure out how and where to buy tickets (250Rs each, a little over $5), we were in line to get in. Into what we were about to enter, I really didn't know. Then we were rerouted into our first women only line. At first, this was a bit disturbing, but then since there are so few women out and about, the women's line was actually much quicker than the men's line and we had the benefit of avoiding being sandwiched by men! Once at the front of the line, to my surprise, we were quite aggressively frisked. They found my pocket knife and handed it back to me without concern and then we were in. I walked 20 feet further and again entered one of my many bouts of continual staring as I watched women and children walk by starring straight back at me. Women's clothing and the school children's uniforms in particular caught my attention as the unending variety and combination of colors passed me by. Eventually, as she would continue to do many times through out our trip, Maite broke my trance and encouraged me to continue on as we had not yet actually entered the attraction. The Red Fort enclosed a nice grass covered park where we took a rest for an hour or so after walking through a few buildings. A chipmunk ran over my lap as we were snacking on some Mountain bars that Maite's mother had packed for us. After completing our self-guided tour of the Red Fort, we moved on to the temple a few blocks down. We were not able to enter because it was prayer time, which was of course another debacle, but then had the opportunity to sit and listen to the call of the mosque. This was a most beautiful sound. Among the almost unbearable noise of constant horns and construction, the call was sung beautifully and could be heard in such a way that wiped out frustration and stress of the day, at least temporarily. I would soon learn that this, this would be my experience of India. Continual stress and chaos with a few moments of blissful beauty in between.
The trip home was of course an entirely new adventure as our bicycle rickshaw driver only took us half way to our hotel. Luckily we negotiated through the stench a urine in time to arrive at the restaurant for a tasty dinner at a restaurant located across from 'Cottage Yes Please' (another choice hotel I found in my research). The Schwepps ginger ale I chugged was tasty too. We took a motor rickshaw home and fell asleep early.
Day 3
I woke at 4am and went downstairs to use the internet. After a half hour, I gave up on figuring how to get Skype to work on this particular computer, sent a few emails and researched trains. Maite came down after 3 wake up calls from the hotel (at least they cared if we woke up!). We grabbed a free local paper and hopped in a cab to Nazimm train station in south Dehli. It's funny we ended up taking the train in South Dehli since we purposely staying by in Paharganj (kind of a hole) in order to be close to the train station. Oh well. The cab ride to south Delhi exposed us to some slightly nicer views. We had second class seats on the train because they were the only seats left. We sat on hard benches facing each other, three to a bench. A little tight, but I was lucky enough to be able to hang out into the isle a bit and was finishing a good book (The Lone Man). Unfortunately, M was squished in b/w me and a dude and had a tough ride. Beggars came down the isle asking for money. Perhaps most notable were the drag queen that claps in your face over and over asking for money and the little (maybe 4 years old) girl who was doing summersaults down the isle of the train while her mother was banging on a drum at the end of the cart. After the performance, if you can call it that, the little girl walked around with a metal plate asking for money. She stool in front of me for what felt like an eternity shoving the plate closer and closer to my face. I read the same paragraph in my book about 30 times.
Outside the window was three hours of visible poverty, severe pollution and a few half dead trees. There's a lot to absorb here. Cafe and chai chai were being sold on the train by men walking up and down the isles repeating chaieee chaieee. He served the chai from containers that look like pony kegs. Being an adventurous soul, I wanted to try some, but everything was so dusty and dirty, not to mention I have no idea if the water was properly boiled before creating the chai.
The starring was not stop. Everyone was always starring at us. Directly. When I looked back there was no effort made to disengage the starring. It was extremely uncomfortable. That is until I realized, that it was my dream come true. I love people watching and back at home, there is a certain digression necessary when watching. In India, you can just stare. So, why not indulge. After I finished my book, this is exactly what I did. I watch out the window and then looked at the people squished on the bench in front of and unabashedly starred. I starred at the dark make-up the women were wearing. I starred at the beautifully colors on womens' clothing. I starred and felt sad for the little girl continuing to ask for money. I starred at people when they didn't think twice about throwing all their garbage right out the window of the train.
We arrived at the train station at about ten am. And I was really looking forward to going to hotel Sheila. The Lonely Planet reviews were strongly written and gave excellent reviews. Not to mention Sheila is also my middle name. Maite and I could not stop repeating how excited we were to go and stay in the beautiful gardens of Hotel Sheeeeeila! right down the street from the beautiful, historic Taj Mahal.
After being solicited immediately after walking off the train by what seemed like hundreds of swarming rickshaw drivers, we decided to go with the old guy. We had a new theory that the old guys were less of a hassle to deal with and they generally drive slower and more safely. After negotiating for what we thought was a 50 rupees for the ride to the hotel, and paying at the prepaid taxi booth (recommended in Lonely Planet), we followed this old man to his van. What!? Why are we going in a van? Ok. Then the van appeared to be blocked in the parking spot on all sides. The driver then leaves us in the van while he wanders of yelling until he disappears. About ten minutes later, he comes back and we start driving off the parking lot. The funniest part of all this is the lack of communication about what is going on around us.
The cab driver asked us the same question asked by every person we have communicated with thus far. "Where are you from?" and "How long you in India?" etc. Next he started telling us about all the sites in Agra and pointing places out as if to give us a minitour. He began to give us pointers about when to visit the Taj Mahal, sample itineraries and eventually handed us a dirty crumbled card with prices on it for a tour. He began slowly pushing us towards hiring him for the following days. We said ok, thanks for the info and no thanks several times. Eventually, he pulled over in a random internet/vodophone/drinkstand/shop and said one moment. He held up his finger, got out of the van and walked across the street. Fatigued after waking at 4am, we decided not to walk away at that point, sat and waited.
After about 15-20 minutes, he appeared to be arguing with a couple different rickshaw guys across the street. (Looking back I think he may have just been waiting for us to walk away). Finally, after a long, sleepy, confusing 25 minutes, a few guys came walking over towards the van. Our old man van driver, originally agreed to bring us to Hotel Sheila for the 50 Rupees. Now he was telling us that we had to pay 20 more Rupees. Which is only about 40 cents, but still. After the man spoke some more to the rickshaw drivers, we ended up paying 10 Rupees for an auto rickshaw that dropped us on the far side of the pollution free zone (area around the Taj Mahal with no motor vehicles).
Immediately a keen sense of relief came over us as we had finally escaped the constant horn blowing and auto rickshaws constantly coming close to running us over. Vendors and children continued to hassle us, but we showed no care because at least in quiet and calm in comparison. We continued to look forward to finding our little oasis at Hotel Sheila. After walking about 800 meters we saw the hotel sign and entered the path leading to the hotel. For the first time, we were surrounded by nature with a beautiful garden and a cute calm hotel. Immediately excited, we decided to wait to celebrate until we were comfortably situated in our hotel room. Not entirely surprisingly, given our experience so far, we were told that someone was sick and they couldn't leave the hotel. So we had to take the auto rickshaw 500 meters to their overflow hotel. But not to worry because we were told that we were actually getting a better deal because the other hotel is more expensive at 600 rupees and we would be getting a room for only 500 rupees (roughly $12 vs. $10). After putting up a small unsuccessful fight, we gave in and reluctantly went to the other hotel. We ate lunch and took a two and a half hour nap.
When we woke up, we went back to Hotel Sheila, from the overflow hotel (Sheila Inn) and said that we still wanted a room for the next night. The space was just so calm, with the garden and our hopes had been so high. When we arrived the hotel guy was checking two men into the hotel. We were furious. We expressed that we wanted a room for the following night, trying not to react to the men checking in in front of us. Then, Maite and I had a quick conference outside. It was a difficult situation because, though exciting and new, everything had been stressful already. New water, food, new country, different language, dirtiness. Everything is different and dirty and aggressively fast and all I wanted to do was be calm, which is weird because usually I prefer to be hyper. I knew if I went back to complain about the men getting checked in I would become...(ps I am currently writing this from the Indian Coffee Shop in Shimla and the men across from me are holding hands, while appearing to discuss business in suits and they are sitting next to each other, rather than across the table).
We dually noted the men checking in and I walked back in to point this out to the manager. When I began to sound particularly angry, Maite came in to join the conversation. He explained that he felt he was doing us a favor by not turning us away and having an overflow hotel available. He said that we should come back at ten the next morning. We kept arguign with him until he wrote our names down. When we walked away I was angry with every bit of my body. I wasn't only angry with him. I was angry that I felt so angry.
We walked out of the hotel and through the pollution free zone and stopped at Coffee Day, a little oasis in a sea of hell. The coffee was tasty, but the food we ordered never came. When we inquired at the counter, they explained to us that they actually didn't have any food. Ahhhh! We decided we just needed to continue to try and relax. This is when we ended up chatting with some local people. They recommended eating at a Spice of India which was across from the Sheridan Hotel. After coffee, we decided against getting a rickshaw to take us to the Spice of India and walked to the south gate of the Taj Mahal. We ate at a second floor restaurant recommended by the lonely planet. The electricity went out for about 45 minutes while we were waiting for our food. We were seating by a window and Maite became quite upset as she observed a pack of dogs fighting a dieing dog on the street below. The food was fine. I burnt the roof of my mouth. The best thing about this meal was the Ginger Ale I ordered. After we finished we bought five bananas for ten rupees (about 20 cents) and walked to the Sheila Inn. (ps. Men's field Hockey was playing on the TV at the restaurant while the electricity was on. Interesting)
Day 4
We woke at 4 am, taking the advise of many touts (scam artists, local vendors) and arrived to the ticket counter which was about 800 meters away from the gate to the Taj. Tickets were 1500 Rupees each. We walked to the Taj and were around other older, richer looking white people. This was great because the hassling was no longer directed exclusively at us. We then waited in line for the Taj Mahal for about 20-30 minutes. BTW- This was the only time of day that there was a line to Taj, so unless you want to see the sun rise from outside the Taj gate, then don't beat yourself up to get there too early, that is unless you are the very first in line. There were two lines to get into the Taj and all historic sites we visited. Ladies or Gents. We walked through the screening devise, (which didn't pick up my knife at the Red Fort in Delhi) and then I was patted down by an Indian women in uniform. She most definitely felt me up, which was a little surprising.
Once we were in, we noticed our older friends we met at the train station were arguing with the guards. They would not let the guy bring in a teddy bear that Katie got from her mother. Katie turned in the tears and convinced one of the female guards to let her bring in the teddy bear. Once inside the gate, there is a courtyard and a second gate you have to walk through to actually be inside. It was a little confusing because I didn't know where the Taj began or what it included. Once we had a view of what I've seen many times in pictures and know to be the Taj Mahal, the view was stunning. Though I couldn't help, but be distracted by all the people and the beautiful clothes on all the women. I also saw a white lesbian couple and then I was really distracted. I began to watch them and begin doing what I could to give them the impression that we were gay hoping they would strike up a conversation.
Maite dragged me through the lawn to get inside the mausoleum where Shah Jahan and his wife Mumtaz Mahal are in their caskets. It was crowded (lots of pushing and shoving), teh decor was dirty and in disrepair and relatively unguarded. Where does the money go? Why doesn't the government hire guards and caretakers? (There were some guards in the yard, but the garden wasn't all that impressive either) The stone in lay on the in and outside of the building was beautiful. I think the best views of the Taj were truly from further away.
(Some dude just asked to take a photo with me, which is not uncommon. In fact, by this point, I could have called it with their fancy clothes and slicked back hair. I am sitting on the ridge of Shimla, a hill station, writing this entry).
After trying to listen to a few of the guided tours, we learned that there were about 64 different kinds of stone laid into the marble. The only light entering into the mausoleum was natural. Everything at the Taj Mahal was build symmetrical, except for the two tombs. We walked out the back door of the mausoleum and stood in the sun for a few minutes. Then we saw the white lesbian couple so I walked up and said hi. We chatted for a few minutes about the disrepair and then made fun of the poses the women were making outside of the building. It's funny to watch what different cultures common poses are when they take pictures of each other. The lesbian's name I think were Gail and Niki. They then invited us to have a beer with them that night. I suggested 5 since we normally didn't stay out passed dark. When they all looked at me funny, I felt a little silly realizing that was a little early to get a beer I guess. We said good-bye and then walked to the side of the mausoleum and sat in the sun while we watched more people take pictures...many of whom wanted to take their pictures with us.
It was one of my favorite places to sit. I felt very small. Next came my favorite group photo. This Indian women walks by and I commented that she was the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Her sari did her beauty wonders as well. Then she, her daughter and husband came over to ask to take pictures with us. It was weird and fun. It's felt kind of weird that this family, who didn't speak the same language or who we had absolutely no interaction with wanted to take a group photo with us, but to be honest, I really wanted pictures with them too. Can you imagine being at the Statue of Liberty and when you saw a couple Indian people, asking them to take a group photo with you??
We continued to sit there on a ledge outside the mausoleum in the Taj Mahal in the sun for a while longer. Then we walked into the buildings on the sides of the mausoleum and ran into the couple who we met at the train station that tried to sneak in the teddy bear. On the other side of the building was a temple. Then Maite had to use the toilet, (I mention the toilet because was is never a simple endeavor) so I sat in the sun and stared at some more people. She came back and let me rest my head on her lap. It was a nice moment.
We left the Taj Mahal and ate at Joney's, which tasted like the best food we ever ate and the portion sizes were reasonable to boot. We were thrilled, but it's funny because the food wasn't actually that good and the service wasn't that great, but Joney 'kind of' interacted with us and the food had some flavor, so it felt like another mini safe oasis. He handed us a marble notebook with comments from other travelers who had written about their experiences at Joney's and listed what they ate. Choco balls were a reoccurring theme in the marble notebook. It was quite a brilliant gimmick, in comparison with the simplicity of other establishments. So of course, we had to try the choco balls, and they were great, but really, they were just dry, flavorless, do-nut holes. We actually say Joney, ask a kid on the street to run and get something. When the kids returned, he had a package of choco balls. And that's what we were eating. The other fun thing about Joney's was he cooked, sort of hanging out a window. I guess because there is no ventilation.
Our next stop was Hotel Sheila, because it was after 10 and gosh darnit,we were going to get our room. When we showed up, he finally gave us a room. He showed us two rooms and we chose the one without the hot water. I think he overcharged us, but by this point, we were just glad because we felt like we won. After dropping off our small bags, we decided to retrieve our larger bags from the Sheila Inn. On our way, we were in good spirits and decided to go to the Taj garden. It was a nice walk with actually the best views of the Taj we had seen. We took a path that led away from the main path and we were mobbed by eight or ten dirty little children. They kept saying "HELLO" and wanted to shake our hands. They were adorable, and a little scary at the same time. I think they were children of the woods. They offered us an olive-like fruit and I turned it down after watching Maite do the same. I did want to try it though and these were the first children we encountered (after seeing hundreds) that didn't beg us for money or ask us to come buy things from their shop.
We continued on and came upon a tower, in which lovers were hiding and snuggling. They quickly moved away from each other when we appeared. When we passed them a second time, they didn't seem to shuffle around as much. M thought it was because they realized we are white and knew we wouldn't care. At the top of the tower a man told us he was teaching his student, then when we saw him giving her physical affection, he added (perhaps untruly) that she was also his wife.
After retrieving our things from the Sheila Inn and bringing them to Hotel Sheila, we took a motor rickshaw to the Red Fort, where we saw our first monkeys. I made sure to take some pictures for my brother Chase. After being asked a hundred times if we wanted a guide and turning every person down, we decided that we didn't know what we were looking at without a guide. We went back to the front entrance to find a guide. It took us about twenty minutes to find one. The guide we found spoke poor english, but he offered us a discount knowing he was a little more difficult to understand. Most guides cost 500 rupees and offered us the tour for 400 rupees. We guessed that he was likely not an official guide, since his English was poor in comparison to many other guides, which was probably why he was willing to give such a discount. He really did his best to give us a good tour. When he could tell we couldn't understand him, he repeated himself several times until he read in our faces that we understood. He was also patient when we wanted to stare at things, go into the prayer areas or get pictures taken. So at the end, we ended up giving him the 500 Rs. Then after we gave him the money, he was really appreciative and followed us to give us more information. It was the first person that seemed to really want to have an even exchange.
We took an auto rickshaw back to the Taj and went to our new hotel room at the Hotel Sheila. Gail and Nikki, the lesbians from England met us at the Hotel Sheila at 7pm. They took us to a rooftop restaurant that served the 'special,' which was King Fisher beer. I guess it was a dry town? Maite and I shared three 40's and enjoyed a nice buzz as we chatted. Nikki had a law degree that she didn't want to use and Gail was an English teacher. They were involve in some severe lesbian drama, which inspired them to leave their home town for a while. They had spent most of their time in Kerala, before coming to see the Taj Mahal.
Day 5
We woke and when Maite went to the front desk to request a hot water bucket for a bucket bath, she learned that they were full that night and we needed to move hotels again. She was pissed. We packed packed up and headed toward the Taj Plaza where the lezies and the straight Americans were staying. On the way there, we also passed the Taj Resort. Seeing that the courtyard at the Taj Resort was cute and there was no sign advertising that the Lonely Planet had recommended/ruined the hotel, we decided to check it out. It was also inside the pollution free zone which doesn't smell as bad and had much less noise pollution. We spent the entire day resting in the courtyard and in the hotel room. We order tea from room service, I cried and we discussed how difficult and amazing the week had been. It was nice to give ourselves permission to hide out.
The stress had been building. I felt pressure and excitement to see everything. But every time we ventured out, we were harassed by the same 20 rickshaw drivers, the same 30 shop owners and children shop owners selling dirty ripped postcards of the taj and plastic things, were over whelmed by the smells, witnessed severe animal abuse of horses, monkeys, dogs, etc. When the horse drawn rickshaw driver continued to beg us to take a ride repeating "yes please," we would have to stare at the massive wounds on the horses legs covered in manure. Though there were many amazing sights in Agra, the majority of our time was spent negotiating through touts, noise and air pollution and the general chaos and severe poverty of the area. With so much poverty surrounding one of the most famous places on earth, it was really difficult to digest. The Taj had a serious lacking of employees, there was writing on many walls inside the Mosoleum (Bill was here 2009), the cost to enter could have been a lot higher, thousands of people visit the Taj daily and foreigners can afford to pay a lot more. It's hard to see such an amazing historical monument surrounded by such poverty. With a little organization and perhaps a bit less corruption, the town could be a quite wealthy. I'm sure there's a lot more to it, but it was difficult to enjoy the beauty and romance offered by the historical depths of the area, when we spent the majority of our time staring poverty in the face.
By early evening, we were ready once again to venture back out. We went back to the rooftop restaurant where we accompanied the lesbian couple and swung by Joney's for some choco balls. It was nice to have an evening with a few more 'knowns.' As in knowing what to expect when we order something we think is pretty straight forward or what we will get when we order a choco ball. The sunset over the Taj was unbelievable. It lit up the view just like a painting. The sunset was slow and as we enjoyed the view, we noticed our waiter running across the street to a vegetable stand to pick up the ingredient to make the food we just ordered. I have a picture posted of this moment. Our waiter could have been straight out of a picture book about India. The whole scene was just plain cool.
Day 6
We woke up at 5am the next morning. We had asked for a wake up call that never came and then had to bank on the wall of the office to wake up the hotel manager. (Most hotel managers slept in the front office or directly in front of the hotels on a cot in the street.) He finally woke, we were let out and then we went and found a rickshaw driver to take us to the train station. We took the cc class train and it was much nicer, with breakfast served and more space. When we got to Dehli and walked off the train with our packs, we were of course once again a target for a sea of touts. We tried to avoid it all, but somehow were still sucked into one. One group of touts had organized for one particular company and were standing along this route following us and try to lead us to their travel agency. We tried to just head in the direction toward Connaught Place, but ended up going in to talk to an agency anyway, which ended up being moderately painless and slightly informative.
Then we found our way to Barista, the apparent Starbucks of Delhi. I decided to go for a walk around Connaught, because my beautiful wife seemed to need a moment by herself. We sat for a while in the coffee shop and ate some food with a few more calories, which was nice, since we had started to eat mutliple meals when we were in Agra, in order to get full. We had a conversation, with some well spoken Indian men. It started out nice. Then they asked us what we were up to next. We told them we were going to the park. They replied that the park was closed and we we visibly didn't believe them, they began to explain that cameras were not allowed in the park. Now we knew this wasn't true, but I also had this vision that if it was true that we would be standing outside the park with our back packs (which screamed 'come harass us) looking confused. - A big no no in the middle of Delhi - We walked out of Barista, passed one of the guys from inside who was waiting for us and once again tried to convince us the park was closed, to the park and sat down with our cameras. There we had several offers to get our ears cleaned. At what point do you say yes to an offer like that, just because?
After relaxing, we got into a rickshaw and asked the driver to take us to the train station. He asked for 100Rs. We got back out and walked to the prepaid booth. One of the men in the booth said 40Rs. While I was explaining that I had taken a rickshaw there for 10Rs, I noticed the prepaid sign on the wall behind the men. The sign read 29Rs to the train station. I became exceedingly angry very quickly as the three men repeated 40 Rs and laughed at me. I argued until I got my way. The funny thing is the difference was 11 Rs or about 22 cents US, but I was fuming.
When we got onto the train headed north towards Himachel Pradesh, we hadn't yet decided where we would get off. Our choice was between Chandigarh, which was famously designed by an architect and describe in detail in Lonely Planet book, and Kalka, home of the toy train. The Toy Train was described in detail in the LP book, but there was no mention of any hotels there. How could a town where thousands of tourists picked up the Toy Train, not have accommodations? But, the train was scheduled to get there after 9pm and the idea of looking for a hotel in a new town in the dark, without knowing if any hotels even existed scared the shit out of me.
By this point in our trip, I had a severe love/hate relationship/addiction to the
Lonely Planet book. On one hand it often felt like the only source of
information available, with passages I read over and over craving more
depth. On the other, the book was a curse because it started to make me
believe that if it wasn't in the book it may not exist. The Hotel
Sheila experience was also an example of how the Lonely Plant
recommendations could cause an overflow of people flocking to one hotel,
when just a half a block away the Taj Resort was an equivalent option.
In fact, many hotels and restaurants were exactly the same, especially
when they were in the same neighborhood. The motto seemed to be 'if it
works for thy neighbor, it will work for me. Many hotels, restaurants
and shops even had the same name.
Several hours into our ride, we arrived in Chandigarh, and didn't get off. We didn't really decide not to get off, we just didn't. When the train chugged on, we looked around and realized that most people had gotten off in Chandigarh. The was a scattering of Indian people left. The professional looking folks were gone. And it was very, very dark outside. I tried to stare really hard out the window to see what we were passing. Was there civilization? Or were we going to middle of nowhere? I kept squinting out the window and continued to see absolutely nothing. Just blackness. I became hyper aware of my surroundings for the next couple hours. After an hour of my head spinning and imagining every possible scenario and potential solutions, I looked at Maite with my eyes wide open and the fear of death on my face. We agreed we were both freaking out and decided to create plans. We would get off the train, M would stay with the bags, and I would look around the station in search of information about hotels. If nothing, I would look for a rickshaw/cab driver and ask him to drive us back to Chandigarh at any cost. If there were no rickshaws or cabs, we would sleep in the ladies waiting area at the train station. If there was no ladies are, we would sleep where the most people were congregated. OK. plan made. But when I kept thinking about our plans A-Z, none of them were particularly comforting.
We arrived in Kalka and followed plan A. M guarded out bags, while I scoped out the scene. I walked to the lot in front of the small, empty train station and immediately saw a massive sign advertising Hotel Navrang and a line of rickshaws. Done. Hotel Navrag it was. I can't say I was relieved, but at least a bit of hope was restored. I tried to negotiate the rickshaw ride and when all the drivers repeated that it was a set price at 30Rs, in a relatively respectful tone, I realized that I was crazy at this point even trying to negotiate. We hopped in and as the rickshaw took us to Hotel Navrag, we passed about ten other hotels. I began to cuss out the Lonely Planet aloud.
When we got to the Hotel they asked for 1300 Rs, three times what we should have paid, but at this point, I would have paid double that price, for some feeling of safety and security. Outside the hotel was a rather shady, massive, crumbling, empty parking lot. The hotel room, as many did, had a window into the hallway. I did some yoga to relax, but struggled to stay asleep with people walking by our window slowly. The only thing separating us was a thin see through curtain.
Day 7
The next morning, I woke to a man staring in the window at us from the hallway. I quickly woke M as I began screaming at him to go away. He quickly ran away. We took a bucket bath and went out to discover what Kalka had to offer. We stepped out of the hotel into the middle of a massive bazaar with a sea of fresh fruit and vegetables. I was ecstatic until I remembered we could eat any produce. We walked though enjoying the scene and headed towards town. The town seemed relatively well to do with many restaurants and clothing stores. We had breakfast at a local restaurant and I ran into an Indian guy who said he had been to NJ. Random.
We wandered around and then ended up at a travel agency, where after waiting for 45 minutes and talking to a guy on someone else cell phone, a five year old boy told us the Toy train was full and that we should take a bus. We went to the bus station and were told to wait on the side of the road and to hop on any bus to go to Shimla. Since everyone was waiting at the station on benches and nobody was standing on the side of the road, we didn't believe them. I continued to asking around and sure enough, everyone agreed this is what we need to do. It felt like everyone was playing a joke on the dumb whities, but we went and stood on the side of the dusty road with no signs to wait. Within a few minutes a bus came by screatching to a hault in front of us. I screamed into the bus "Shimla!?" When a random guy inside the bus tilted his head quickly to one side (which means yes), we jumped on. The bus started driving away before M was able to firmly plant her foot inside and almost didn't make it on. We sat down and laughed at ourselves as we headed off to what we hoped was Shimla.
Trains and buses were nice. There were sharp turns and I had to brace myself the entire ride to keep from sliding into the isle as we climbed into the foothills of the Himalayas. Himalayan foothills, it must be noted are about the equivalent of Oregon's highest peaks. I looked around and tried to convince myself that all these people would not be riding this bus and looking so calm (some were even sleeping), if they thought they were going to die. So, once that was settled, the ride was nice. M also pointed out that there were hotels and food available at least every few miles. Good news for our future bike ride.
When we arrived into Shimla, we were flung into another swarm of chaos, rickshaws and touts. Luckily, we had less than an hour of stress and one little tiff, before we found a nice looking restaurant with a hotel attached. We ate a slow and tasty Indian meal. Then negotiated the room down to 550Rs and checked in. I was happy because it was simple, though M was less than happy since our room was located next to the loud restaurant kitchen in the damp basement. You could probably even say it was wet. Fair enough, but there was a view from our window of the hills (the size of mountains) and the monkeys climbing around from one rooftop to another. We were close to the Himalayas and I couldn't be more excited. Off to bed.
