As today would be a taxing day of travel, I slept in for a little while, finally waking up at around 10 in the morning. I went downstairs in my hotel, lugging my bags along with me, and deposited my room key to the front desk. I was not surprised at all to learn that my taxi to the airport had not been called yet, so I sat and waited about twenty minutes for it to arrive. I wasn't at all worried because my flight to Mumbai on Jet was scheduled to leave Delhi at around 8:30 pm.
The taxi was typical of the kind often found in Delhi, which only come in two styles it would seem. The first is an ancient car, from before the cars of the 50's that so haunt Cuba's streets. The second style is the exact same as the minibus van used by the Libyan terrorists in Back to the Future. I know it's a stretch reference, but it's completely true. Needless to say, by the transitive property of "Grant gets to ride to the airport in uncomfortable vehicles" I was left with the latter option and also without things such as proper suspension or enough headroom for any creature other than a hobbit. After the lengthy, mostly unpaved, and somewhat uncomfortable ride to the Indira Gandhi International Airport, my driver dropped me off at the wrong building, so I had to walk from the Air India check-in building to the building designated for all other airlines.
I was flying domestically to Mumbai, where I would be connecting with a late/early 2:30 AM flight on South African Airways to Johannesburg. I wasn't going to be let into the domestic terminal without a receipt or some proof of purchase of a ticket, which I did not have. All I had on my was the itinerary provided me by STA (my travel agency), but the Indian Military Guards were not pleased with this and directed me to the Jet Airways ticketing office. After a significant time waiting in line behind a family of confused Europeans, I got to the ticket window, where I managed to change my flight to Mumbai to an earlier time. This really just changed which airport I would be waiting in, but I had been told that there was free wifi at Mumbai's, so I wanted to wait there. The flight change took the attendant about 15 minutes to process, as well as 15 dollars to approve.
I then headed into the Delhi domestic terminal, where I had to wait in line with my ticket receipt to check my bag and receive my boarding pass. Once into the terminal and past security I went up to the second level and had some KFC for lunch. The terminal really reminded me of the international terminal that I had spent so much time in last summer in Guangzhou, China. Even though I had moved my flight time up by several hours, I still had about an hour to wait before boarding began in Delhi, so I found a chair and settled in, with Waterloo Sunset playing in my ears. After some waiting and reading I got on a bus which took me out to the plane on the tarmac, and then boarded.
The flight was relatively short, only about 2 hours, and also pretty rough as we flew through the monsoon clouds, which were themselves moving quickly in the opposing direction, towards Delhi. It was nice, upon touching down in Mumbai, to note that the rains had lowered the temperature here, so that it was 30 degrees cooler. Of course, that still meant that the temperature was in the high 80's, so it wasn't quite as perfect as it could have been, but I had no complaints. Once I picked my bag up I had to take the terminal transfer bus, which goes across the runways and along the airport fences, which are bordered by the same slums seen in Slumdog Millionaire. Once I got off the bus and gathered my bags I made my way to the South African Airways check-in area of the terminal, where I was curtly informed by a uniformed guard that I would not be permitted to enter the terminal until precisely two hours before my flight, and not a second sooner, which left me with about five hours out in the heat with nothing to do. This terminal policy was due to security concerns, which were understandable given the Mumbai terror attacks of last year.
Irritated now, I was approached by a member of airport staff, who recommended that I wait in a nearby hotel, but the price to do so was ridiculous, and so I passed on the offer. I went instead to the airport waiting area,which had a two dollar entrance fee, and sat down. There I found some AC, but not wifi, and so I did a lot of reading, some picture uploading, and journaling. It was boring, but not the end of the world, and I soon lost my temper. I also spent about $5 in various trips to my only outlet for food and drink, a small coffee stand that was nominally affiliated with the Cafe Coffee Day chain. I also went just outside the waiting area and used a pay phone to call home and tell everyone I was fine and dandy.
Eventually, and mercifully, enough time elapsed and I was allowed to enter the terminal. The check-in process was typical, although the presence of a good number of South Africans did a lot to lift my spirits. Getting through security was a little more convoluted than normal, due to a combination of India's poor understanding of queuing with their insistence on gender separation in security lines. Once through I got myself some very belated dinner, again at KFC, and plopped down to watch the final twenty minutes of the Spain vs. Portugal World Cup game. Obviously I didn't have much time to sit and wait in the terminal, which was the only nice thing about Mumbai's policy. I was very pleasantly surprised to find that my plane was only about one third full and that I would thus have plenty of room to stretch out on the flight. As it was now three in the morning I slipped off to sleep soon after the plane took off.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Delhi, Part Two
Hello again to all my loyal readers. Again, sorry for the delay, work has been getting in the way of constant updates, and I understand how frustrating that can be for some of you (my parents included). I will definitely be better in the coming weeks, as my trip reaches its final third, in Paris, Geneva, Madrid (for two days as a layover, not really as a stop for research, unfortunately), and Lima/Cusco, Peru. I will have my time in South Africa detailed and expanded upon by the end of the weekend, I promise, and after that, my time in Europe will follow in the next week. That's my plan, and I'm sticking to it.
Now that we've got some formalities out of the way, let's get down to India. Given the amount of walking I did in the sun in Agra, even with those resting times at the Amarvilas, I was pretty knackered out on Wednesday. That didn't stop it from being my most important, and productive, day in the country up to this point, though, as I had a whole day scheduled with the Apollo Indraprastha Hospital, on the outskirts of Delhi. I got up, had myself some early lunch and made my way over there. It was a 30 minute drive through the heat, in an autorickshaw, in dress clothes, and so I prayed that the inch thick layer of deodorant I had applied would do the job. Only time would tell.
When I arrived at the hospital, my first thoughts were of an ageing, yet very impressive complex of buildings. The hospital is a very modern complex, but the buildings which house it were under renovation because they are being expanded later this year to deal with Indian legal demands. In short, there is a certain percentage of beds in any public hospital which are required to go to Indian patients who cannot afford their own medical costs. To offset this, many of the most advanced hospitals have been engaging in a trend called "medical tourism" which is precisely what it sounds like: rich foreigners, most frequently Americans and Africans/Middle Easterners, coming to India for medical care at fractions of the price that would be found in their home countries. In order to more properly offset the costs of supporting Indian patients at no charge, Apollo has been expanding their hospital, so that it will soon be fairly immense in size, and not just very large.
I walked in to the main lobby of the hospital, which was bustling with patients, family, and all manner of hospital staff. After some help from the information desk I was directed downstairs to the administrative section of the hospital, where I could find the office of the woman I would be meeting, Mrs. Banasree Basu. She showed me to the conference room of the board of the hospital, where we both sat down and had a very long, very interesting meeting. I asked her a huge variety of questions, mostly focusing on the stark contrast between Indian and foreign care. I was very interested in how it is possible for certain hospitals in India to have standards that are up to those in any other country in the world, but how those same hospitals could not offer even the most basic care to large sections of their own citizens. We sat there and discussed the Indian health care system, worldwide health standards, and many other pertinent topics. It was very important that I be discrete in my questions, in order not to offend my host with insinuations that they were not doing enough for India, even though it is my opinion that they are not. I had to be very careful with the phrasing of my questions so as to appear benign and blissfully unaware of the poverty and health situation outside the gates of the Apollo campus. Apollo is an amazing corporation, with several hospitals all over India, and a few in Africa as well. Their hospitals have been the only ones in India to be certified by the most prestigious of American and European hospital standards boards.
After the interview with Mrs. Basu, I was taken on a tour of the facilities by one of her assistants. The hospital tour was exhaustive and I was proudly taken to all corners of the campus, from the special waiting area for foreign guests, to the emergency room, to the Afghan medical desk (apparently, India is the nearest country with reasonably sophisticated medical technology and no real political animosity to Afghanistan, and is thus the most attractive to their wealthier citizens). I was also taken through the various specialty wings, from oncology to radiology and beyond. I was very happy with the tour, and it certainly shed some valuable light on the medical profession in India, at least at its most sophisticated. I was very impressed with the level of sophistication of the facilities, all in all, both for foreigners and Indian citizens.
After the tour it was getting a little late in the afternoon so I went back to Karol Bagh for the evening, had some dinner, did some work, watched the USA versus Algeria World Cup game, and went to bed. I was very happy once again to have my own room, and thus own TV on which to watch US soccer glory. The next two days I took as days of rest, although there were certainly a few highlights. On Thursday, for instance, to follow up on my trip to Apollo Indraprastha, I visited a hospital in Karol Bagh, to properly understand what the average hospital available to India citizens is like. The hospital, which will remain nameless, since the officials there asked for anonymity, was a stark contrast to Apollo, although it was at the same time not nearly as backwards as I had preconceived. The level of care was certainly fairly high, although the level of investment was far too low to allow for proper access by all of Delhi and India's poor.
I went to lunch at McDonald's in order to keep up my streak of having had a menu item not available in America in all of the countries I was visiting. I also went to the Oberoi Hotel to do work and relax because my hotel was out of power and the heat meant that it was not a feasible option. On Thursday the skies opened up for about an hour, to provide a warning of things to come when the monsoon rains come to Delhi. They were raining down on Mumbai when I arrived in India and were slowly making their way towards the capital. Fortunately they were expected to arrive in Delhi just after I left. While I have been no fan of the heat, having to trek around in humid heat would have been even worse. Though the skies opening up momentarily, they did cool down the day by about 15 to 20 degrees, which was very nice. For dinner I had dome boneless (this deserves several exclamation marks, as boneless anything is a rarity here) chicken korma, which was delicious. On Friday I spent half the day doing prep work for my time in South Africa, and then went over to the government emporiums for the other half of the day. These are a long set of government licensed stalls which sell wares from all over the country, as well as some from Tibet. I bought a few souvenirs, a Rough Guide for South Africa, and some jootis (Rajasthani leather shoes) for my sister.
The next day, which as a Saturday was a day of rest, would be a grand day for exploration of the city, I decided. I chose to focus my attention on the older sector of town, north of the more modern, British sections. This part of the city is, helpfully, called Old Delhi. I first traveled to the Digambar Jain Temple, which is a beautiful example of Jain influenced design. It is a large two story building with three conical domes capping it, and an exquisite inner chamber for prayers and meditations. Jainism is a religion which values the sanctity of all life very much, and as such Jains are strict vegetarians. To further add to their care for animals, the Jain Temple I visited also has a bird hospital on its grounds. The temple was an enlightening place to visit, not least for the reason that the preponderance of swastikas was a good reminder of the strange and different world I now found myself in. After exiting the temple, and making my way across the road and past the numerous touts who latched onto my foreign appearance, I found myself at my next stop, the Red Fort.
The Red Fort is, as with the fort in Agra, a product of Mughal power. It is neither as immense nor as illustrious as the Agra Fort, but it is still a very impressive monument to the military and economic might of the Mughals. As with its cousin in Agra it was both a military garrison and the grounds for several palaces and royal buildings. I got myself a guide to lead me around, and with him I explored the fort for about two hours. Upon entry I came upon a long covered passageway which is still used as a market, much as it would have been used for the palace's inhabitants. Passing the market I next came to the Hall of Public Audience, which was once the site of the famed Peacock Throne, which is now housed in a museum in Tehran. The grounds of the fort are dotted with typical examples of colonial architecture, as the British built several military barracks here to house their troops. The palatial buildings were also very interesting, with all of their splendor and luxury.
After my time in the fort, I made my way around the markets of Old Delhi, experiencing a bit of old world spice. It was a very fun time, as I love wandering past street stalls and bargaining for prices on exotic fruits and such. I got to visit a smaller, more personal, Jain temple as well while doing this, which was neat. I also finally caved in and bought a qorta and pijam (a local style of clothing here, which consists of baggy pants and a long, flowing top) because they are much better suited to deal with the heat. I thought it was a pretty good look for me, if I'm honest. In the old markets of Old Delhi, though, sits the largest mosque in India, the Jama Masjid, and so I stopped there as well. The mosque was absolutely immense, as you would expect, and it was also very attractively designed. It was a testament to the power of religion as a motivator and force in people's lives. I was slightly annoyed at having to pay to enter, which was a rarity in India, and most countries for that matter, but other than that it was an eye opening exposure to the grandeur of Islam (something I had not yet experienced in all of my travelling as India was the first country I had ever been to that had such a large percentage of the population as Muslims).
For lunch I went to Karim's, which is widely regarded as the best restaurant in Delhi. The chefs at Karim's claim to be descendants of the chefs that served the Mughal emperors, so they must have some pretty good family recipes. At any rate the lamb biryani that I got was delicious, scrumptious, extraordinary, and all other manner of good. After lunch I made my way over to the Raj Ghat, which is the final resting place of the cremation ashes of Mahatma Gandhi. The place was serene and, given the man in focus, an inspirational place to sit and think. I stayed there for a while and just meditated.
The next day, Sunday, I spent almost the whole day out on the southern fringes of the city visiting the Akshardham Hindu Temple, which is the largest such temple in the world. It opened fairly recently, within the last five years, and is just too large to really comprehend. As I said, I spent most of the day there, wandering around, examining the exquisite carvings and decorations with a close eye for detail, being amazed at the level of attention that every layer of devotion received there, and so on. I was particularly impressed with the lotus garden, a carved garden in the shape of a lotus flower featuring quotes extolling peace and equality from great men in history.
On my last full day in India I took it easy, as the weekend of adventure had tuckered me out a little. I went and had lunch at Connaught Place, had a very nice (and cheap!) Ayurvedic massage, and spent a considerable amount of time packing up for my travels tomorrow. For my last full meal in the country I had my best one, a plate of mustard coated tandoori broccoli. I know it isn't strictly traditional, but all of you readers need to make this for yourselves. It is a fairly simple thing to make, but my taste buds still haven't recovered from how tasty it was. Anyway, after all that I went to bed and prepped myself for an exhausting day of travel tomorrow. The next post to the blog will cover that day of travel, so get ready!
Now that we've got some formalities out of the way, let's get down to India. Given the amount of walking I did in the sun in Agra, even with those resting times at the Amarvilas, I was pretty knackered out on Wednesday. That didn't stop it from being my most important, and productive, day in the country up to this point, though, as I had a whole day scheduled with the Apollo Indraprastha Hospital, on the outskirts of Delhi. I got up, had myself some early lunch and made my way over there. It was a 30 minute drive through the heat, in an autorickshaw, in dress clothes, and so I prayed that the inch thick layer of deodorant I had applied would do the job. Only time would tell.
When I arrived at the hospital, my first thoughts were of an ageing, yet very impressive complex of buildings. The hospital is a very modern complex, but the buildings which house it were under renovation because they are being expanded later this year to deal with Indian legal demands. In short, there is a certain percentage of beds in any public hospital which are required to go to Indian patients who cannot afford their own medical costs. To offset this, many of the most advanced hospitals have been engaging in a trend called "medical tourism" which is precisely what it sounds like: rich foreigners, most frequently Americans and Africans/Middle Easterners, coming to India for medical care at fractions of the price that would be found in their home countries. In order to more properly offset the costs of supporting Indian patients at no charge, Apollo has been expanding their hospital, so that it will soon be fairly immense in size, and not just very large.
I walked in to the main lobby of the hospital, which was bustling with patients, family, and all manner of hospital staff. After some help from the information desk I was directed downstairs to the administrative section of the hospital, where I could find the office of the woman I would be meeting, Mrs. Banasree Basu. She showed me to the conference room of the board of the hospital, where we both sat down and had a very long, very interesting meeting. I asked her a huge variety of questions, mostly focusing on the stark contrast between Indian and foreign care. I was very interested in how it is possible for certain hospitals in India to have standards that are up to those in any other country in the world, but how those same hospitals could not offer even the most basic care to large sections of their own citizens. We sat there and discussed the Indian health care system, worldwide health standards, and many other pertinent topics. It was very important that I be discrete in my questions, in order not to offend my host with insinuations that they were not doing enough for India, even though it is my opinion that they are not. I had to be very careful with the phrasing of my questions so as to appear benign and blissfully unaware of the poverty and health situation outside the gates of the Apollo campus. Apollo is an amazing corporation, with several hospitals all over India, and a few in Africa as well. Their hospitals have been the only ones in India to be certified by the most prestigious of American and European hospital standards boards.
After the interview with Mrs. Basu, I was taken on a tour of the facilities by one of her assistants. The hospital tour was exhaustive and I was proudly taken to all corners of the campus, from the special waiting area for foreign guests, to the emergency room, to the Afghan medical desk (apparently, India is the nearest country with reasonably sophisticated medical technology and no real political animosity to Afghanistan, and is thus the most attractive to their wealthier citizens). I was also taken through the various specialty wings, from oncology to radiology and beyond. I was very happy with the tour, and it certainly shed some valuable light on the medical profession in India, at least at its most sophisticated. I was very impressed with the level of sophistication of the facilities, all in all, both for foreigners and Indian citizens.
After the tour it was getting a little late in the afternoon so I went back to Karol Bagh for the evening, had some dinner, did some work, watched the USA versus Algeria World Cup game, and went to bed. I was very happy once again to have my own room, and thus own TV on which to watch US soccer glory. The next two days I took as days of rest, although there were certainly a few highlights. On Thursday, for instance, to follow up on my trip to Apollo Indraprastha, I visited a hospital in Karol Bagh, to properly understand what the average hospital available to India citizens is like. The hospital, which will remain nameless, since the officials there asked for anonymity, was a stark contrast to Apollo, although it was at the same time not nearly as backwards as I had preconceived. The level of care was certainly fairly high, although the level of investment was far too low to allow for proper access by all of Delhi and India's poor.
I went to lunch at McDonald's in order to keep up my streak of having had a menu item not available in America in all of the countries I was visiting. I also went to the Oberoi Hotel to do work and relax because my hotel was out of power and the heat meant that it was not a feasible option. On Thursday the skies opened up for about an hour, to provide a warning of things to come when the monsoon rains come to Delhi. They were raining down on Mumbai when I arrived in India and were slowly making their way towards the capital. Fortunately they were expected to arrive in Delhi just after I left. While I have been no fan of the heat, having to trek around in humid heat would have been even worse. Though the skies opening up momentarily, they did cool down the day by about 15 to 20 degrees, which was very nice. For dinner I had dome boneless (this deserves several exclamation marks, as boneless anything is a rarity here) chicken korma, which was delicious. On Friday I spent half the day doing prep work for my time in South Africa, and then went over to the government emporiums for the other half of the day. These are a long set of government licensed stalls which sell wares from all over the country, as well as some from Tibet. I bought a few souvenirs, a Rough Guide for South Africa, and some jootis (Rajasthani leather shoes) for my sister.
The next day, which as a Saturday was a day of rest, would be a grand day for exploration of the city, I decided. I chose to focus my attention on the older sector of town, north of the more modern, British sections. This part of the city is, helpfully, called Old Delhi. I first traveled to the Digambar Jain Temple, which is a beautiful example of Jain influenced design. It is a large two story building with three conical domes capping it, and an exquisite inner chamber for prayers and meditations. Jainism is a religion which values the sanctity of all life very much, and as such Jains are strict vegetarians. To further add to their care for animals, the Jain Temple I visited also has a bird hospital on its grounds. The temple was an enlightening place to visit, not least for the reason that the preponderance of swastikas was a good reminder of the strange and different world I now found myself in. After exiting the temple, and making my way across the road and past the numerous touts who latched onto my foreign appearance, I found myself at my next stop, the Red Fort.
The Red Fort is, as with the fort in Agra, a product of Mughal power. It is neither as immense nor as illustrious as the Agra Fort, but it is still a very impressive monument to the military and economic might of the Mughals. As with its cousin in Agra it was both a military garrison and the grounds for several palaces and royal buildings. I got myself a guide to lead me around, and with him I explored the fort for about two hours. Upon entry I came upon a long covered passageway which is still used as a market, much as it would have been used for the palace's inhabitants. Passing the market I next came to the Hall of Public Audience, which was once the site of the famed Peacock Throne, which is now housed in a museum in Tehran. The grounds of the fort are dotted with typical examples of colonial architecture, as the British built several military barracks here to house their troops. The palatial buildings were also very interesting, with all of their splendor and luxury.
After my time in the fort, I made my way around the markets of Old Delhi, experiencing a bit of old world spice. It was a very fun time, as I love wandering past street stalls and bargaining for prices on exotic fruits and such. I got to visit a smaller, more personal, Jain temple as well while doing this, which was neat. I also finally caved in and bought a qorta and pijam (a local style of clothing here, which consists of baggy pants and a long, flowing top) because they are much better suited to deal with the heat. I thought it was a pretty good look for me, if I'm honest. In the old markets of Old Delhi, though, sits the largest mosque in India, the Jama Masjid, and so I stopped there as well. The mosque was absolutely immense, as you would expect, and it was also very attractively designed. It was a testament to the power of religion as a motivator and force in people's lives. I was slightly annoyed at having to pay to enter, which was a rarity in India, and most countries for that matter, but other than that it was an eye opening exposure to the grandeur of Islam (something I had not yet experienced in all of my travelling as India was the first country I had ever been to that had such a large percentage of the population as Muslims).
For lunch I went to Karim's, which is widely regarded as the best restaurant in Delhi. The chefs at Karim's claim to be descendants of the chefs that served the Mughal emperors, so they must have some pretty good family recipes. At any rate the lamb biryani that I got was delicious, scrumptious, extraordinary, and all other manner of good. After lunch I made my way over to the Raj Ghat, which is the final resting place of the cremation ashes of Mahatma Gandhi. The place was serene and, given the man in focus, an inspirational place to sit and think. I stayed there for a while and just meditated.
The next day, Sunday, I spent almost the whole day out on the southern fringes of the city visiting the Akshardham Hindu Temple, which is the largest such temple in the world. It opened fairly recently, within the last five years, and is just too large to really comprehend. As I said, I spent most of the day there, wandering around, examining the exquisite carvings and decorations with a close eye for detail, being amazed at the level of attention that every layer of devotion received there, and so on. I was particularly impressed with the lotus garden, a carved garden in the shape of a lotus flower featuring quotes extolling peace and equality from great men in history.
On my last full day in India I took it easy, as the weekend of adventure had tuckered me out a little. I went and had lunch at Connaught Place, had a very nice (and cheap!) Ayurvedic massage, and spent a considerable amount of time packing up for my travels tomorrow. For my last full meal in the country I had my best one, a plate of mustard coated tandoori broccoli. I know it isn't strictly traditional, but all of you readers need to make this for yourselves. It is a fairly simple thing to make, but my taste buds still haven't recovered from how tasty it was. Anyway, after all that I went to bed and prepped myself for an exhausting day of travel tomorrow. The next post to the blog will cover that day of travel, so get ready!
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Pictures!
In order not to gum up the blog with slideshows running at the bottom, taking up valuable bandwidth, I have now posted a link near the top of the blog page that will direct you to the website where all my pictures can be viewed. The link is to the right of this post, just click on Pictures and you should be taken there, where I have separated the countries into their own albums. In case that doesn't work for you, the URL is http://picasaweb.google.com/104855326514869836667
More updates to come shortly.
More updates to come shortly.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Agra
I am going to make an exception to the Blog 2.0 adventure for this one day, which was an amazing day, full of fun, adventure, and too much not to be its own entry. So, here you go, Tuesday, June 22nd, my day in Agra, India.
Today was my big adventure day in India. I would be travelling to Agra to see a great many marvelous things, but I also knew that I needed to be careful so as not to allow the heat or the touts to get to me. My train left early in the morning, so I awoke even earlier, at about five in the morning, a task made easier by a phone call from my family (we had discovered last night that if they called the phone in my hotel room there would be no charges on either end, through the miracle that is Skype/Vonage). I took a taxi to the railway station, where I was surprised by how busy it was at six in the morning. My train was already at the platform, so I boarded and found my seat. I was yet again surprised how few people around me were tourists, even on the very tourist oriented AC Shatabdi Express train to Agra.
The train ride itself was pretty uneventful. I was sitting next to two Japanese girls who took it upon themselves to giggle at everything the entire way to Agra. Couple this with the screaming baby a few rows away and it is easy to see why my attempts at napping bore neither fruit nor rest. To their eternal credit, the operators of the train route thought it best to include breakfast in the ticket, so I was fed during the two hour trip. The airline food certainly wasn’t a revolution in taste, but it did get my engines going for the long day ahead.
Upon arrival; at Agra Cantonment Station I was immediately bombarded by people offering me deals on taxis and every manner of service that it was legal to offer. After passing through this tout gauntlet I found myself at the prepaid taxi stand. Having momentarily deflated the hopes of my aggressors, I bought a reasonably priced and safe ride to my first stop of the day, the world famous Taj Mahal. On the long drive over (Agra’s main sites are all built along the river which has led to them being spread out) my driver, Gudu, offered to be my driver for the day, with AC included, for a reasonable price. He seemed like a nice guy and he certainly know a great deal about his hometown, so I told him I would take him up on the offer. Gudu dropped me off at the West Gate of the Taj. There are three such gates, to the West, South, and East, and each is the barrier past which motorized vehicles cannot pass, about a kilometer away from the monument. This is due to fears of corrosion of the delicate white marble exterior of the building from the exhaust of the numerous cars in Agra. I was thus required to walk the distance, being held up by touts, rickshaw drivers, and cheap souvenir hawkers every few steps along the path. Although it was only nine in the morning at this point, the sun had already begun to beat down on the city with a fearsome ferocity. The walk left me feeling pretty sweaty, but eventually I came to the ticket window. The entrance rates for Indians and for foreigners are vastly different, but it’s not a policy I am opposed to, as it allows the poorer segments of the Indian population access to a world heritage site in their own country, while also taking maintenance fees from the tourists, who can afford them.
I’m not really sure what I had been expecting of the Taj Mahal. It’s an image that everyone has seen, so I knew what to expect to some extent, but the majesty of the building and the grounds were still completely captivating on a level I hadn’t quite expected. No matter how much preparation I had done, there was no escaping the fact that the building is a masterpiece of human architectural design, as well as a very moving tribute to the love between an Emperor and his Queen.
The complex itself has a giant gateway building, on one side of which is a large plaza, while on the other side is the monument itself and its accompanying buildings. The gateway arch, as with most arches in Mughal style, is inscribed with Quranic verses written in Arabic calligraphy. Upon coming through this gateway I got my first view of the Taj Mahal, across the gardens from me. I cannot presume to be able to fully capture its splendor in written/electronic words, and thankfully most of you reading this will have seen pictures of it, and some of you may have seen it with your own eyes even, so you will have some idea, but I was completely blown away by it. In a serene garden complex stands a beautiful, pure, pristine, remarkable tribute to a lost wife. It displays all of the most wonderful elements of Mughal design, of which symmetry is the most important. The octagonal structure of the Taj Mahal itself, with slightly onion shaped domes, and four surrounding minarets is amazing enough, and the two buildings on either side of it only add to the splendor. For symmetry’s sake, on one side is a mosque, while on the other side is an identical building which scholars believe was used as a guesthouse for those coming to visit the tomb. The white marble and the geometric designs shone off the dullness of the hazy Indian sky (on a side note I would be grateful to see the sky again, even if it was cloudy. As it stands, this hazy gray ambiguity is a tad unnerving). I could only imagine how amazing the whole thing must look on a clear day, as would have been more common in the pre-Industrial time of the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan. It was enjoyable just to walk around the grounds, looking at the Taj from different angles. The interior was also beautiful, in a more heartwarming way, as both emperor and queen were entombed, side by side.
After my time at the world’s greatest monument to love and mourning, I walked back to the West Gate, to reunite with Gudu and proceed to my next stop. Unfortunately, I got out of the Taj a little early and Gudu was not yet there. I wasn’t going to wait around in the heat, especially when there were so many things to see, so I found myself an autorickshaw. I had the driver take me to the Amarvilas Hotel, where I could get a cold coffee and a small meal while sitting in the AC.
The Amarvilas, dubbed one of India’s finest resorts, was an experience in and of itself, and one I was happy to have. The road there passed by some very poor areas, as well as numerous animals, from cows and camels to goats and dogs. It was a very interesting contrast to see such poverty and such wealth, and indeed this contrast is the reason I chose India as a research destination. I will be going tomorrow to conduct my main research trip for India, visiting a world renowned hospital in Delhi, which treats both very wealthy foreigners and locals who cannot afford primary care. I am very excited to see what kind of differences in care I can observe. Enough of that for now though, and back to my day of travel in Agra. I spent about 45 minutes at the hotel (brilliantly positioned hotel, by the way, as every room has a beautiful view of the Taj Mahal) where I had some smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on a bagel, for $6. Even the luxury hotels are cheap in this country. My dinner last night, for instance, was only $2 for more food than I could even contemplate finishing.
After my brunch I got an autorickshaw to take me to the Agra Fort, the lasting masterpiece of Mughal military might and palatial splendor. What the Taj Mahal is to love, the Agra Fort is to strength and sheer intimidation. On the way there I again noticed how all of the roads in India seem to be under construction. I also saw a troop of monkeys walking down the road on the way over, which was cool, although I had been told by the locals not to approach them because they can be fierce if they sense you might have food. As I said previously, there were cows everywhere, and they were all chained to rocks or trees, in an effort to keep their good spirits in the vicinity. At the Agra Fort, after paying the modest and un-Taj Mahal-like ticket price, I found myself a guide to show me around the absolutely massive grounds. My guide, who remained nameless throughout the tour, led me through the various sections of the fort which were open to the public, which was only about a quarter of the total grounds, since the other 75% are still used as active military grounds by the Indian Army. My guide told me all about the various structures, including the immense welcoming gate, where the emperor would come in resplendent on the back of an elephant, the defense system (crocodile moat, high wall, lion and tiger park, thick wall, ramp on which burning oil would be poured, gate with archers), both of which left no doubt in my mind as to why no one ever attempted to conquer the fort while the Mughals ruled here. I was also shown the myriad palace buildings, which were all beautiful even though they had long since been stripped of their gold, jewels, carpets, and riches by marauders. Of particular interest was the prison palace where Shah Jahan, he of Taj Mahal fame, was kept by his son after he had been overthrown. All of the palace buildings had very innovative engineering designs to allow for primitive AC in the hot summer months, and heat preservation in the cooler winter months. I was really enamored with the Agra Fort, and I spent a very long time there. Although it was not as scenic or worldly renowned for its beauty as the Taj, I think that the fort impressed me more. I eventually paid my tour guide and bid him adieu, as well as saying farewell to the fort. I was now off to see my next stop, the Mausoleum of Emperor Akbar the Great.
I had decided to see this because I was fascinated by the artwork and carvings he commissioned on some of the palaces inside the Agra Fort which so beautifully and geometrically integrated the symbols of the great world religions present in India: Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Islam, Sikhism, and Christianity. The ride over to the mausoleum took forever, and the ever growing heat did not help matters. Learning from past mistakes I kept myself well hydrated, but it was still exhausting doing all this hiking around in the heat of the day. The mausoleum was yet another striking example of Mughal architecture. The gardens surrounding it were inhabited by both monkeys and spiral-horned deer, which was a neat thing to see. The mausoleum itself was also very neat. The interior tomb chamber was reached by way of a long, dark passageway, and inside stood a man making prayers to Allah (Akbar, and all of the Mughal Emperors for that matter, were Muslim), which echoed off of the perfectly designed chamber walls. This echo effect was mirrored by more than 50 arches and domes making up the outer colonnade of the mausoleum. I would have loved to stay for longer, but the heat was becoming brutal and I needed respite, since even pouring water on my head was not helping.
Again the ride was very long and even the wind in my face was the enemy, as it blasted me with heat. I just managed to stay in a physically safe condition by pouring more water over my head. I was dropped off at the Amarvilas again, where I quickly found the bar, sat down, opened both my book and a cold bottle of water, and relaxed in the glory o modern air conditioning technology. I stayed there for about an hour, before moving to the nearby reading lounge. I was pretty sure that I was done for the day, as far as sightseeing was concerned. I had hoped to perhaps find a place at this resort to lie down and take a short nap, but the only option available would have been to rent a room, which was so cost prohibitive as to be laughable. While I sat in the lounge, reading the excellent book, “The Language Instinct” by Steven Pinker of MIT and Harvard, new hotel arrivals continuously shuffled past me to the balcony, where they all inevitably were left speechless by the view of the Taj Mahal across the floodplains of the river. It wasn’t so much the noise they produced that annoyed me as their insistence on opening the balcony door and letting all the cool air escape into the Agra evening.
I stuck around and had dinner at the hotel. As I was having a somewhat early dinner, especially by Indian standards, no one else was in the restaurant. This meant that the service I received was top class, and the food was excellent, although relatively cheap. I had some wonderful risotto with feta cheese, artichoke hearts, spinach, and kalamata olives. The chef even came out of the kitchen to check on how I was enjoying his meal. After dinner I got an autorickshaw back over to the Agra Cantonment Railway Station, as I had no more excuses to hang around a hotel I wasn’t staying at.
I arrived a little early, about 2 hours before my train was scheduled to leave for Delhi, and so I wandered around the station to see what my options were. After thorough examination, I surmised that my platform offered neither AC nor mental stimulation, so I left it. I next came across a sort of hotel on the second floor of the station. I inquired about renting a room for two hours, but upon seeing the room, which had very odd stains on the musty bed and rats crawling across the floor, I decided it was not for me and left it. I finally found the 1st class waiting lounge, which my ticket entitled me to as a foreigner.
For a return journey to Delhi on the same day, which had been very desirable, I had been forced to purchase a higher cost ticket. This meant that on the ride back my seat was larger and my meal was better. Other than that, there was little to no difference between the classes on the train. The change in class did not mean, for instance, that I would stand out any less in my whiteness, that children would not be shrieking, or that I would be able to nap, thanks to one person’s insistence on playing all their various ringtones for nearly the whole 2 hour ride.
We pulled into the Delhi Station at 10:30. I was a little nervous about being out in Delhi that late at night, but it was a needless worry. I quickly found a cab, who took me back to the hotel, albeit with a few directions from yours truly since the place is a tad hard to find. Seeing Delhi at night was totally different, as more people were out on the streets, enjoying the cooler temperatures, now only in the 90’s. Back at the hotel I spoke with the family, watched a little soccer, and then promptly passed out.
Delhi, Part One
Delhi, Part 1
So, welcome to my new style, I think we’ll call it Blog 2.0. Hopefully it all works out, especially since I don’t think my parents would recover from their disappointment if it doesn’t. All right, I guess it’s best to start off right where I left off. This update will cover the time between my second day in Delhi and my day trip to Agra, which will make up its own entry. I am not putting my whole time in the country into one update in order not to overload your brains with too much information, as I was there for 12 days or so. I have decided not to do a straight forward chronological entry for India because there were some days which I took off as rest days (for my own sanity/physical wellbeing. This is not to say that they were unplanned, as I had always known I would need them about halfway through the trip, as per the very helpful suggestion book that the Circumnavigators Club provided me), and I am assuming that the majority of you, excluding my mother, don’t have much interest in hearing about days on which I mostly stayed inside and did reading/research. Suffice it to say that due to language barriers, as well as other extenuating circumstances, I did not have as many meetings/interviews here in India as in Australia and New Zealand. That being said, I learned a great amount, and it was a successful stop on my trip to be sure.
I started out on my second day in India with a trip to the restaurant upstairs at the hotel next door. I did this by accident (going to the wrong hotel’s restaurant that is to say) because the lobbies of my hotel and the Hotel Raunak are attached, and as far as I can tell they are run by the same people. It is my understanding that the difference between them is price and quality of the accommodations. Needless to say, being on a budget, I was staying in the cheaper of the two. Anyway, back to breakfast. Upstairs in the restaurant/room full of chairs and tables with a kitchen kind of attached, I ordered something called the “American Breakfast” because I was curious what that would entail. It turned out to be a glass of milk, a glass of orange juice, a bowl of corn flax (as spelled on the menu), some toast and jam, and a bowl of scrambled egg whites. It was a good attempt, but it was also obvious that the cook was not comfortable with non-Indian cuisine and the food was accordingly unappetizing.
I do understand the irony of beginning Blog 2.0, whose purpose is to avoid stories about my food and other mundane topics, with a recounting of my breakfast, but I felt the anecdote was useful for understanding both my hotel and the sort of experiences I had in India. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy my time there, just that it was a more difficult country to adjust to than those of Oceania, obviously.
Following my breakfast I went off to Connaught Place, because it’s a good jumping off point in the city, due to its central location. I spent some time there wandering around and had some delicious Paneer Korma, and then got in an autorickshaw to do some sightseeing. Since it was the weekend I decided to make the most of it and see the sights of New Delhi, which is the British and Later section of the city. Delhi itself has had eight incarnations, or which the British and Indian ones are the seventh and eighth respectively. I went first to the Rajpath, or Road of Kings in English, which is a very good Indian approximation of the National Mall in DC. On one end is the India Gate, a massive war memorial, while at the other end sits the Presidential Palace, National Parliament, and a few Executive Ministries (budget and finance I believe).
I went first to the India Gate. As I mentioned, it is a war memorial, much in the same vein as the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. It is a very large arch, inscribed with the names of famous battles, as well as British India’s war dead. It is important to note that British India’s war dead included many soldiers who would now be considered Sri Lankan, Pakistani, and Bangladeshi, but were at the time of the First World War (which is the war this memorial stands for) members of the British colony of India. Underneath the massive arch is an undying flame representing the Unknown Soldier. It is a moving tribute to a war which cost the Indian subcontinent over 100,000 men in battle, which is, coincidentally, more soldiers than the ANZAC forces sent over, in the war that defined their nations. Nearby is an empty, but ornate, pedestal, which once upon a time held a statue of newly crowned King George V. The statue has been moved to a park near the zoo, where it is much less conspicuous than in the center of Delhi.
Following this stop I took another autorickshaw way out of town into the urban sprawl. My destination took about 30 minutes of hectic, Indian driving to reach, but it was well worth it since I found myself at the Baha’i Centre of Delhi, known by most as the Lotus Temple. It is an amazing temple built in the shape of a gigantic lotus flower. It reminded me very strongly of the Sydney Opera House, since they both share curved, sloping walls in the shape of circular triangles. The whole building is absolutely surreal. It is just not easy for a human being to comprehend something like the Baha’i Lotus Temple. I spent a long time there, walking around the grounds, and praying inside. All faiths are welcome, as per Baha’i beliefs, and the interior is a place of silent meditation. I felt very privileged to have gotten a chance to see it. I eventually had to leave though, because I was feeling all the classic symptoms of heat exhaustion (thanks, Florida and MSC 201 for teaching me that the following can become very bad in a hurry: not sweating, extreme thirst, feeling cold despite being in a city which might as well be on the surface of the sun, etc).
Needing a respite from the heat, I went, for the first but certainly not last time, to an oasis of modernity and air conditioning in a sea of heat and fans: the Imperial Hotel. Rated as one of Delhi’s most luxurious hotels, I just took advantage of the AC, had a cold drink, and read the newspaper. It was a nice way to experience being in the lap of luxury (much needed after wandering around in the heat) all while spending only about $2 for the drinks. It was a routine I would follow for many of my more strenuous days in India: go exploring for the morning and early afternoon, regain strength at nice hotel/coffeehouse, do a few more things, go back to hotel. Obviously meals were also interspersed in there, although at very different times on different days. After the Imperial I went back to Karol Bagh, where I got to bed a little early from all the jetlag and heat exhaustion.
The next day I kept up my explorations by going to the National Museum of India. In a country with a history as lengthy and rich as India I knew I would be in for a good time at any museum, so for it to be the culmination of all the historical museums of the whole country just made me all the more excited. The museum was pretty easy to get to, and even easier to get into, as the student entry fee (which I qualified for with my ISIC card) for the museum was Rs 1, or a nickel in US currency. The museum, although not air conditioned, did not disappoint. There were more exhibits than was humanly possible to see in one visit, but I did my best. The exhibits ranged from very early Indus River Civilizations on through the development of Hindu artwork, Buddhism and its accompanying art forms, and eventually into Mughal exhibits and British/Modern Indian exhibits. I had a great time just walking through the hallways and seeing everything I could. I was blown away by the history of this country.
After the museum I had an autorickshaw driver take me around the other end of Rajpath, so I could see the government buildings. The Presidential Palace was the first building we passed (none of them are particularly easy for visitors to gain access to). The place was extravagantly amazing. It was built in the heyday of the British Empire for the residence of the Governor-General, who was, after Queen Victoria, the most powerful person in Indian affairs. The palace is larger than Versailles by a good margin, has over 500 rooms, and once employed 50 boys just to keep birds away from the gardens, or so the legend goes. Next we drove by the circular and colonnaded Parliament building, which was also quite impressive, although not nearly as extravagant. The proceedings are normally conducted in Hindi, and to gain access your embassy must present a letter of introduction on your behalf to the proper Indian authorities, so I did not enter. This was by far the most restrictive Parliament I had been to on my trip, considering I pretty much just walked into the Australian and New Zealand versions.
My driver was a little crafty and he took me on a longer trip than I had asked for, stopping by the ruins of the Old Fort. While they were breathtaking and I was happy to have seen them, I was very much annoyed when my driver asked me for a much higher amount of money than we had agreed on at the start. After some very tiring arguing I ended up paying him 50 Rs more, and that was very grudgingly. I regained my strength and then was off again. In the middle of Delhi, near Connaught Place, there was a festival being held at the Cervantes Institute to celebrate the International Day of Spanish Language. It was a very unexpected diversion, but one I enjoyed nonetheless. All the pertinent embassies had sent staff over and there were exhibits for all the Spanish speaking countries. There was also a food tasting room, and dancing lessons being held in the basement. I stayed and enjoyed myself for a while, particularly loving the Peru room because it got me excited for my later journey there.
After the festival I went back to Karol Bagh, had some Uttapum for dinner, and went back to my room for the remainder of the evening. The next day, Monday, I took as a day of rest. With the exception of what should have been a short trip to the Delhi Railway Station, I didn’t do too much except for relaxing in my room with AC and the TV and doing research. Mostly I spent time reading the numerous materials I had been gven in New Zealand and Australia. I also spent some time reading up on the situation of healthcare in India as it pertains to the power sectors of society.
So Much Time in Airports
Thursday, June 17th
I had to wake up a tad early today, in order to get to the airport and catch my flight(s). Once I got up I strapped on my various backpacks and was out the door. I walked from the YHA to the Southern Cross Railway Station in no time at all, passing by Batman’s Hill on the way. Looking at my watch, I deemed it both necessary and possible to go get a coffee before catching the bus to the airport. I walked upstairs to Starbucks (hey, sometimes you just need some Americanism) and had a cup of delicious caffeine elixir. Much to my chagrin, because of my coffee pit stop I missed the bus and had to wait another 15 minutes, which was a bad thing since I had cut my time planning a little short. This was a bit odd, since I normally play travel pretty conservatively.
I got to the Melbourne Airport with no time to spare and rushed to the check-in counter. I got my bag tagged for Sydney and ran to security, which I breezed through, only to get to the gate and find that my flight had been delayed due to unforeseen circumstances in both Melbourne and Sydney. Not only had my flight been delayed, but my plane was actually yet to land in Melbourne, which meant, of course, that it also was yet to be refueled, cleaned, and prepped for my flight. I was relieved of all my previous travel anxiety, since I had a long layover ahead of me in Sydney and even with this late flight my overall schedule wouldn’t be changed. The plane eventually arrived and we took off about 45 minutes behind schedule for the two hour trip between Australia’s two largest cities. I was sad to see Melbourne go, as I had had an absolutely great time there. The flight was uneventful, which is, as I have stated previously, the best thing a flight can be.
In Sydney I proceeded to baggage claim, since I was switching airlines from Virgin Blue to QANTAS. I was quite excited to fly on one of the two oldest continuously running airlines in the world (for those not in the know, the other is Royal Dutch Airways, or KLM). I was hoping that the Queensland and Northern Territory Air Service would live up to my expectations. After getting all my bags (3) in order I hit a barrier, which was that there was no clear way of telling where my next flight would board fro, so I followed the signs pointing toward the “QANTAS Terminal,” through an underground passageway and up into a gigantic atrium. This was, unfortunately for me, the QANTAS domestic terminal (and yes, in much the same way that BA dominates sections of Heathrow, QANTAS likewise dominates all airports in Australia). Thankfully, since I was flying on QANTAS, the people behind the counter helped me out, arranged my tickets, and checked my big bag in, before directing me through domestic security and onto a transfer bus. I did finally get to the international terminal, with only about 5.5 hours left to go before my next flight, from Sydney to Singapore. From there I would have two more legs on my journey, from Singapore to Mumbai (also on QANTAS) and then from Mumbai to India’s capital city, Delhi (on Jet Airways). The international terminal was immense, and very luxurious. I had some Italian food for lunch, and bought a Lonely Planet for Delhi, Agra, and Rajasthan, which was the section of India I would soon find myself in, if everything went according to plan.
At the gate my ticket wouldn’t work, but this was due to the fact that, unbeknownst to me my seat on the flight had been changed, so I was immediately given an alternative boarding pass once they realized who I was. My new seat was still a window seat, but I had been moved up considerably, to the first set of emergency seats, meaning I had a good amount of leg room and a fold out entertainment system. As with Air NZ, the entertainment system was so robust as to make me forget about my reading materials and iPod. Dinner was a tasty chicken dish, with some slight Asian flair, which was, I suspect, a product of our destination in Singapore. I was somewhat surprised to hear, over the loudspeaker system of the plane, in both English and German (since our plane would be carrying on to Frankfurt) that even those passengers who would be only stopping in Singapore to refuel would have to deboard the plane, along with all of their hand luggage. This seemed to me to be even more of a security threat than keeping them on the plane, but who am I to question the decisions of the Singaporean Aviation Authority. A very noteworthy, and somewhat unexpected, feature of the flight was the spectacular view. Since I knew out route would carry us mostly over the uninhabited Australian outback, I had thought that the view would be barren, as with flying over the desert in Arizona. How wrong I was, however, because as soon as the sun began to set the whole landscape and clouds took on the most spectacular and ludicrous hues of red, yellow, orange, pink, purple, and colors without names. The glowing kaleidoscope below me was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen nature offer up, without question, and I can only imagine what it must look like from ground level. I might add, also, that once the sun had set, the night sky was no less miraculous, with an unfathomable amount of stars suddenly visible. Since there was no light down below to wash out the stars, I was witness to a field of vision eerily familiar (in that it was similar to the glorious night sky out West in those unpopulated parts of the US) and unfamiliar (in that none of the stars nor constellations were recognizable to me, as I was in a different hemisphere). There was almost no difference in looking down on Northern Australia and looking down on the ocean, and the only reason I noticed when we crossed over the coast was because we happened to cross over Darwin, the Northern Territory’s sole city.
As we descended into Singapore, we began to see the bright lights of this tiny, yet worldly, metropolis state. The forced deplaning of the entire list of passengers caused a bit more hassle than I deemed necessary, but I was in no position to argue, so I grinned and bore it. I was more than a little disappointed to learn that I was not in the new terminal at Singapore International (that’s the one with the free massages and extravagance that makes the Dubai sheiks shake their heads) but rather in the old one, and would have no need to leave it. This terminal was fine, by most standards, but Ryan’s tales had gotten my hopes up. Technically this was the 3rd country on my circumnavigation, although I don’t really count it since I never left the airport. I was delighted to find that the convenience store sold a normal sized Symphony Bar, something which Publix still remains completely unable to offer. Feeling a bit peckish, I got a burger at the BK Lounge, happy to see that it isn’t called Hungry Jack’s here.
Eventually I got on my next flight, again on QANTAS, to Mumbai (or Bombay as it had been known for some time until a recent name change). Unfortunately my flight was on a normal Boeing 747, and not an Airbus A380, despite the fact that half of QANTAS’s flights between Singapore and Mumbai are carried out on the newer double decker planes. My flight was the first place on this trip where I had been in the minority due to my skin color, as the flight was, understandably, full of Indians. For out in-flight meal, we were given a choice of curries, one chicken and one vegetarian, and then I went to sleep, as it was very early in the morning according to my body clock. The only noteworthy part of my flight was that we were forced to change course in order to avoid a freakishly powerful monsoon storm settled over southern India. Being bumped around somewhat violently several miles above the surface of the Earth, while simultaneously being surrounded by lightning is not an enjoyable experience, let me tell you. Since we landed in Mumbai in the early hours of the Indian morning, I will leave it until the next day’s entry for the rest of my travel tale.
Friday, June 18th
I was very tired when I arrived in Mumbai, despite (or perhaps because of) the panicked sleep I had been able to have on the previous flight. Walking off the plane and onto the tarmac, I was immediately hit with the heat of an Indian summer. Despite it being the coldest part of the night, the temperature was still easily in the high 80’s/low 90’s. Since this was my first return to summer, after a month of antipodean winter, I was ecstatic. A bus took us from the plane to the terminal, where my visa was checked by Immigration Control, and I found my luggage. I then breezed through Customs, as I had nothing to declare. I now was in a bit of a jam, since I had no idea how to get to the domestic terminal, which I knew to be too far away to walk to. The fact that none of the signs were clear, and hardly any were in English, was not helpful in my quest. In all my wanderings I went outside, where many touts tried to offer me absurdly expensive taxi rides between the two terminals, and then went back inside to wander past the customs officials 5 separate times, something that would have gotten me arrested in the USA. Eventually, with no help from the nonexistent airport information desk, I found my way to the transfers area, where I got my next boarding pass to get to Delhi, and checked my bag in, before getting on a coach bus to travel across the runway to the other terminal. It was an annoying convoluted system, but I bested it, and for that I was a tiny bit proud of myself.
The terminal was quite modern, and I had no problem waiting there during my layover in Mumbai, which was a relief, because I had been unsure of what level of amenities to expect. I had a doughnut ($1.00 thanks to the dollar to rupee exchange rate) and a bottle of water, and sat in a café for a little while, just contemplating things. When I went through security the guards were not quite sure how to treat my didgeridoo, but they did eventually let me pass through with it. My plane arrived on time and I boarded with no major problems, along with a full flight’s worth of other passengers. There was to be no room on this flight for lounging, unfortunately. On the flight I spent most of the two hours trying to sleep, since I had to regain those lost hours and adjust to a new time zone 4.5 hours earlier than Australia’s. As a side note, that extra half hour is ridiculous and annoying India, please do something about it. Make you country either 4 or 5 hours different than eastern Australia, for your own sake, since I’m sure it’s inconvenient to you too. I did wake up for the descent into Delhi, though, so I could get a feel for the landscape and the area surrounding the city. The first thing I noticed was the dust and haze, a product of Delhi’s position near the dry Rajasthani desert and her position as a world leader in pollution, which gave the whole scene a very eerie feeling as it was impossible to see the sky above or very far into the horizon. The landscape varied between fat plains, small villages, small canyon like ridges and hills, and then finally the rich enclaves for the powerful built well outside the city, with mansions, private grounds, swimming pools, gardens, and all the accoutrements of wealth.
Upon landing I was still a little heavy lidded, but I pushed through it. Stepping out of the plane and onto the tarmac, one thing became immediately and immensely clear: Delhi is a very hot place in the summer. It was early in the morning, but already well over 100 degrees. The wind actually made the situation worse, as hot air and haze was pushed towards me. The humidity was pretty low, although not nearly desertesque. As a Floridian, it took a few minutes before my sweat glands opened up, but they eventually did, which is a rare occurrence for me. Once I got my bag I walked back outside the terminal to find my ride to the hotel in which I was staying, which I had arranged before leaving Melbourne. Unfortunately, none of the signs and placards being held up by expectant drivers said anything remotely like Mr. Blumberg. After some calls back and forth between home and the hotel we learned that they had forgotten to send anyone, but that they would reimburse me for the taxi ride. I took a prepaid taxi from the airport to my hotel, in the area known as Karol Bagh. Once we got there the first thing to strike me was the level of construction. Almost every road was either being torn up or had its sidewalks suffering the same fate. Several buildings were missing everything but their skeletons. It was not the most confidence instilling sight, although thankfully my building was complete and I had nothing to worry about. The building attached to my hotel on the right, however, was undergoing serious construction, which proved to be a bit of a nuisance during the daytime hours.
As a side note, having ridden in from the airport, I am now absolutely terrified of traffic and driving in India. As someone who has not only seen but also driven in the worst traffic in the world, in terms of mortalities per day, in Vietnam, I had assumed I would be able to handle anything. Not so. In Southeast Asia I was in awe of their traffic. While at first it appears to be chaotic, there was actually a very sensible basis to the driving style, which was more like a school of fish than the regimented driving system of the US. Here in India most vehicles on the road are either cars, trucks, or autorickshaws, which makes the chaos much more dangerous than it is in motorbike infested Vietnam.
Anyway, back to the hotel. After being dropped off at Hotel Delhi Heights Hotel (they used hotel in each position equally, so I have decided to refer to them as such) I made quick work of checking in and was shown to my room, 905, on the fourth floor. The room was fairly well kept, with two twin beds pushed together, a nightstand, bathroom, desk, and a flatscreen TV which for about 50 channels (40 of which were in Hindi). Although it certainly wasn’t the Ritz, it was a nice step up from the hostels in which I have been staying. I did feel, though, that I would miss the communal sense one gets from living in such a shared space. I turned on the AC and took a nap.
After my nap I took a walk around the area, again struck by the heat of Delhi, although I was told this would get better once the monsoon came, approximately right when I was leaving. Almost everyone I met was in agreement that I had come to India at exactly the wrong time of year, but it was inevitable given the nature of my trip, and so I was unperturbed by the conditions as much as possible. My first stop was at a barbershop, since I hadn’t gotten a cut since a few months ago in Miami and I was getting pretty shaggy (which is a bad recipe for dealing with heat). I got cleaned up and felt much better, although the barbershop was a little more expensive than I had planned due to the fact that they kept adding services without asking me. It was still cheaper than I could have found in Australia or New Zealand, though.
After that I walked around until I found the Karol Bagh Metro Station, which is an elevated station towering above the road. For 10 Rs I took the train into town to the Rajiv Chowk Station, which lets you off right under the meeting point of old and New Delhi, Connaught Place. It’s a large circle with a park in the center and many circular roads and axials running out from it. Along all of these circular roads are shops and I spent some time wandering around and through them, just getting a feel for this part of town. I was, after some time, hungry for dinner, and so I found a place that suited my tastes and was cheap, called The Embassy, and got some very delicious Chicken Korma with rice. Getting meat off the bone when it is covered in goop, though, can be a challenge.
I then took the metro back to Karol Bagh, along with hundreds of locals who do not believe in the application of deodorant, apparently (although for all I know it may just be useless in this heat). I took a rickshaw back to the hotel, where I watched some soccer on the TV and then went to bed. I had noticed, interestingly enough, throughout the day, how very few foreigners there seem to be in Delhi. I blame it on a combination of the time of year and the fact that even if 10,000 American descended on the city, there would be enough locals to surround each many times over. Anyway, it just took some time getting used to being the only white person in some places.
Conclusion
This brings me to a point of introspection in my blog. I have a very annoying habit of falling behind in these things, and this has certainly not been helped by the lack of reliable internet access in India and South Africa. Nonetheless, given the fact that you, my loyal readers, don’t need to know that I did in fact go to lunch every day, and the fact that it will suit my style of writing and updating much better, I have decided to change the nature of this blog. It will, of course, still focus on what I have done, in both my exploration and research modes, and where I have been, but rather than give daily updates and keep falling behind, I will give larger city updates, after each is complete. In that nature, very soon I will post the following:
- 1. India (including both Delhi and Agra)
- 2. Travel from India to South Africa
- 3. Johannesburg
- 4. Pretoria
- 5. Cape Town
- 6. Travel from South Africa to London
From there on out I will be kept on schedule and this change should work out for the best. Just bear with me for a little bit longer, I know my absences can be frustrating. I really do appreciate that you take the time to follow me, though, and I thank you for it. Keep on being awesome!
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