Exploring new depths in India

  Goa, Goa, India
Monday, December 15, 2008

To be completely honest, I had had so many reservations about going to India before this trip I really didn't think I would bring myself to go one day. I was much more interested in other destinations, and activities such as surfing in Latin America or farming in Australia or even animal care volunteering in South Africa sounded much more appealing. I got invited accidentally by a friend who lives there in Goa and since no one was available to keep me company, decided to take up the opportunity to do smth very wild for a change and travel on my own.
The trip was arranged in such a way so as to cover as many places as possible, as I wasn't sure I would want to go back afterwards ))) and the more I planned it the more I started to look forward to it. I reckoned the fact that I was going alone wouldn't be a problem as I would easily and very soon hook up with a cute English guy on a train (like they always do in American movies), who would also be traveling alone, who would have a hair crest (the way I like them), who would turn out to be a biker, we would hit it off immediately and proceed to appreciate the art of kamasutra on the Khajuraho temples together.

Agra was first on the agenda. It took 5 hours to get there from Delhi by car, the time I tried to use to get some sleep after the flight, but failed rather naturally thanks to the multiple bumps in the road which could really leave one toothless unless you hold onto your seat very tight. We got there very early in the morning, and there were hardly any tourists. I felt like Princess Diana sitting on my own looking lonely in front of the Taj Mahal. I now have one more thing in common with her, apart from my future title of Princess of Wales! There were locals who wanted to take pictures with me and being kind as I always am (in all modesty:) ) I never turned down anyone and posed in all directions, spreading the joy like Madre Theresa :) If you think about it I actually do resemble Lady D a lot: this was sort of a charitable contribution to help the poor. After I get married to Pr William, those guys will be able to sell the pictures for a whopping price of $1000 each to the "Hello" magazine, or any other tabloid edition which will solve their financial difficulties once and for all. I will help save at least half India from poverty (judging by the number of Indians who now have my photos)! 

Had time to visit one more place that day, Fatehpur Sikri, where I had to take off my shoes and walk around barefoot on the open air square with the other natives. Can't say I was completely comfortable with the situation... desperately trying to follow the excursion while at the same time pushing away the slight suspicion that bird excrement might not be the worst thing I was stepping in.

As I got on the train to Katni I was pleasantly surprised. Not at all stinky, as one might expect. A kind of Indian style Orient Express, in my opinion, or maybe I had been just too much prejudiced before. No English guy in sight. Such a shame! It wasn't a complete waste of time, though. As I woke up at 5 in the morning and was frantically running up and down the aisle to find someone awake in the mass of snoring bodies to ask where we were (the thing is that they don't announce the stops on those trains, so there's no way you can figure out your whereabouts unless you ask someone who knows), I was relieved to find an old sikh in the toilet room wrapping up his turban in complete and solemn silence. He did ignore me, of course, while he was at it... doing his business, but at least I knew he would help afterwards. Given the fact that I had already seen how European guys put gel on their crests, but had never imagined what effort goes into arranging this thing I thought it was probably for the best that he was there instead of the cute Englishman in the end. At least I got to see smth new :)

I got off at Katni station, in the middle of nowhere, thankfully the driver was already waiting for me. After a 2 hour drive in what can only be described as a mortuary car - it was so frigging cold, you could really transport dead bodies in it - we got into the jungle for a tiger safari. I got to freeze for another hour and a half, and just when I thought it was gonna end up nowhere, the king of the jungle suddenly appeared. He didn't exactly do the most royal thing - peed on a tree marking the territory - but it still excited all the observers who gathered to watch ))).


My next target was Khajuraho. Got there at dusk and was late for the temples that day, thanks to the retarded driver, who stopped every 2 hours to drink... then wee... then ask for directions (after he lost his way) and what not! And who spoke no word of English to my utter disappointment! No, sorry, one word he knew - "yes". Which he used to answer ALL questions, including the open ended ones. (I really don't understand what it is with the Indians and the constant agreeing to everything, they always say 'yes'! ) Despite my innate and natural kindness, as mentioned above :)) this time I really felt...let's say... upset.

The guy who was meeting me up there was a friend of a friend of a friend... a very rich boy from a respectable Indian family. A sort of local celebrity :)) He came dressed like a glamorous glitterati boy and smelling like expensive perfume, which was nice for a change. I must admit that in general smells are not India's best attraction. I understand his primary task (according to the instructions he received from my friend from Goa) was to keep an eye on me, so that I didn't get myself in trouble, which he interpreted quite freely: an hour and a half after we shook hands, he was already involved in a street fight, which apparently caused a much undesirable stir in all Khajuraho, so to get away from the mess, he then later bought a joint and a bottle of finest Indian wine and drove 30 minutes away from the village to a wild camp, where we sat on a terrace up on a tree (kind of a proper tarzan house) and with a view over a crocodile river, crocos being fast asleep by that time though, to enjoy the night. A couple of people joined us there to share a romantic drink and an exotic smoke. In short, that experience was everything parents, in their worst nightmares, usually fear would happen to their child, and everything the above mentioned child dreams, prays and hopes for when she leaves home for an adventure :)))
And I finally met a biker! Even two! Two Australians traveling all over India on their motorbikes... very "Motorcycle diaries". Very interesting and with lots of stories to fascinate a stupid little girl like me! Only difference they made from my initial fantasy - they were 50 years old, each of them ;)

And yet another train. To Jaipur. I climbed up on my berth. Looked around. I was completely alone. No living creature, not even a rat, in the whole car. After I texted everyone I knew, checked out my photos in the camera until the battery went low and violated my mp3 player, I got bored. The only thing left was to sleep, which I successfully did, but woke up in an hour or so, because I was still afraid to miss my stop after the scary Katni experience. (They really need to work on the "no announcement" part. The names of the stations marked in hindi are soo not helpful!) I opened my eyes, blinked, closed and opened them again... then stared in disbelief... there he was - my English guy! Right in front of me ))) No crest unfortunately (but I think I had a few, not having brushed my hair for the last three days). I was really chuffed! Just because so many people didn't believe I would meet him, and I did! He turned out to be very nice, very typical, very gentleman, just the way I thought he would be :) We got off in Jaipur together and he helped me find my car. After that he rushed off into the dark, down the unlit streets and in search of a budget hotel for Rs200 (!!!) to spend the night. Like I said, he really was a typical Englishman after all:)

The next morning I only had a couple of hours in Jaipur which were enough to visit Amber palace only. And as we got there very early (as usual) no transportation was available to get up the hill so I had to resort to the good old method of climbing the stairs myself. To say I got tired would be an understatement. There was a point I thought I would die on those steps, but never mind. The moment you get there, knees trembling and tongue hanging out, in a desperate need to take one deep breath using the full capacity of your lungs to restore your breath- the air up there starts smelling like elephant shit... And you breath in )))
But other than the smell, the place was very nice and very picturesque. Good photos. Very Indian.

And just when I got tired of traveling alone, away from civilization - I was finally going to Goa. Was so happy to be with someone and get their undivided attention all to myself! And the most exciting of all was the fact that I was finally in a hotel! Like a white person!
Apart from the fact that the friend was almost a native there, knew all the places in and out, knew all the right people (like jewelry shop owners, travel agents, etc) and spoke Hindi, which made me one notch more privileged than other tourists :), I felt very important at the hotel which she runs, because the staff knew me and whatever I needed or wanted, a short assamese guy was immediately available at my disposal, ready to serve.
I spent 4.5 days there, which I think I liked the best (one of the reasons being the fact that I did enjoy feeling privileged and important of course:)))... and it's not sick! It's people's nature!), but also because of the entertainment the place can offer. As an example I had my first ever experience of an elephant ride. Or of a swim under the 2nd highest waterfall in India (google will help find where the first highest is, I haven't looked up yet). And the coolest one - a ride on a scooter along the beach line. Who needs a biker when you have a bike?!
Goa is also well known for its people. The freaks on the Arambol beach smoking pot, fans of aggressively cheerful music which one can only listen under the effects of proper ecstasy, and the Russian tourists, which are a separate race. I went to a pop disco once. Guys were freak dancing in front of a mirror, watching their own reflection with their backs to the dance floor and they didn't even need to drink much to get to that state! Good grass apparently... and a good laugh :). We left for another disco, Paradise, where they play trance music. Do I need to mention that trance equals more freaks? No comment...
A girl I know once said that the best thing about Goa is that you can relax and show all your inadequacy, not caring that others will judge, because everyone else is even worse )))
And the BEACH! Having heard a lot about animals walking in the streets causing traffic jams in India, I was really happy to see them live, fitting in so well into the scenery, but an oxe at the beach was a real treat!:)) And a rare time in my life, I wasn't feeling the only cow on the beach, finally there were two of us!

As a general observation about India - people are really friendly. Regardless of the caste. The little denizens of the carton villages were extremely helpful. Wherever you get off, there will always be a crowd of admittedly younger guys who will follow you like a pack of loyal dogs and respectfully answer whatever question you have. It is of course more fun to hang out with the more influential local guys as they can arrange everything, take you anywhere and show you stuff.. and the impression of the country you get from that angle is much more powerful.
Flattering was also the fact that I seemed to be very popular with the opposite sex in that country (regretfully, with the wrong representatives, but that's a different question). 
Got invited to the movies once (a Bolywood film). By a guy who 2 hours earlier was showing me a statue of Krishna and explaining that he is the right person to pray to for a good boyfriend. Didn't get the hint at first, only after he invited to pay a visit to his sister after the movies :)
Another weirdo was supposed to meet me at the airport to give me back my bag that I left with him at the beginning of the trip in Delhi, and which I was to pick up on my way back from Goa as I was flying through Delhi again. I came out of the arrival hall, watching closely all the faces, desperately trying to remember how he looked like. Need not have bothered. The guy was standing at the end of the line... with flowers! No comment!
A little shy girl in me was touched. But of course the cynical bitch in me could not NOT be amused ;-) 

Can't say much about local cuisine. I really didn't eat at all before I got to Goa, because the rotten stuff they sold off the stalls on the sides of the road looked too dodgy even for a glutton like me. Indian tea with milk and sugar in my opinion tasted like water squeezed from a mop. And the tortilla I was offered on the train with the vomit they put on it looked really unappetizing. But I did make up for all that destitution afterwards. And comforting myself with the usual excuse that I can stop when I'm back in Moscow, but there I should really taste the specialities - I ate, and ate and ate a lot (and not just specialities but everything that was at hand). Why do I always think I will slim down when I get back home? I never do! What convinces me that that particular time will be any different? Unbelievable!

The 9 days were soon over. Too soon, I would say.
And the only thing which can now help survive the harsh reality of life at work is the expectation of my next vacation!