In a quite literally vicious below the belt move, unprovoked, the world made its move and bestowed on me the full joys of Delhi-belly: 12 hours toilet-hugging, cramping dry -retches, 36 hours of no eating and in the midst the most unpleasant 6 hour train ride I've experienced...Fortunatley Hiren "Florence Nightingale" Naik came to my rescue perhaps remembering the days I nursed him attentively through mumps or perhaps because he was fed up of being kept awake by my vomiting...At least now though I can honestly say I've had the true Indian experience and fortunately it came on the last night in the city and so didn't make too much of an indent into our plans.
Before being struck down we had the most amazing day visiting the Swaminarayan temple, this huge, intricately carved buiding which was architecturally and spiritually breathtaking. It was so peaceful and calming that I almost forgot I was in India. Swaminarayan was a young boy who left home at 11 and became one of the greatest Hindu spiritual leaders and took Hinduism back to its original concepts of peace, meditation and good deeds after it had become lost amongst pedantic rituals that seemed to distract from the principles of the faith. It was a fascinating tour and the most impressive place I have visited in India.
I tried to hold onto these calming feelings during the horrendous Delhi-belly plagued train to Jaipur which unfortunately wiped me out for the day I was there so stayed in bed all day emerging only to enjoy my first bit of food in a couple of days from the gorgeous rooftop terraced restaurant at our hostel, The Pearl Palace, and then going for an evening walk being invited somewhat randomly to a wedding by the rickshaw drivers that had brought us from the station!
The following day we made the 10 hour round trip to Agra, principally to visit the Taj Mahal - pretty gruelling journey but you can't visit India and not "do" the Taj! It was definitely impressive and again extremely peaceful but much smaller than I imagined and most certainly not worth the extortionate entrance fee they charge which has increased from 15Rs to 750Rs in one of the biggest tourist scams considering its pretty much a garden and a mausoleum. Still, I found it interesting that the mausoleum was built by the Prince to hold his beloved wife who died giving birth to his 16th child. For 16 children she got 20 000 workers, 21 years and marble imported from all over the world to create her resting place, not a bad way to ensure you're remembered!
On the way back from the Taj we got "carjacked" by two rogue drivers who instead of taking us to the station took us all over the city to visit shops in order to buy something to gain their commission from the shopkeepers. Every time we asked to go to the station they took us to another shop and every time we entered it was like stepping inside Auntie Wainwright's shop in Last of the Summer Wine where you can't escape without coming away with something, however undesirable it is to you! Hiren and I are now well-versed in the language of no and so made the most of the journey and actually quite enjoyed being taken to the textiles and marble workhouses and being given tours by the shopowners with explanations on how the hand-knotted rugs are weaved by runners on these gigantic looms at lightning-finger pace and the painstaking process of creating a mosaic marble table. How any of the owners, taking a look at us, thought we had money to afford on purchasing a 20ft rug or a five seater marble table and chairs was beyond us but it was fun watching them try to haggle the price down in hundreds of pounds!
In a way the carjack was a blessing in disguise as our train was delayed by 6 hours so not getting to the station earlier meant we reduced the amount of time we waited on the platform trying to avoid the almost continuous rain of birdpooh coming from where all the feathered monsters had come to roost for the night. At about 2am we finally got our train and arrived in Varanasi absolutely exhausted and then had to wander around in the heat of the day trying to find a hostel....
Varanasi is the most sacred place in India as it sits on the banks of the Ganges which Hindus believe if you bathe in guarantees you entrance to heaven and ends the cycle of rebirth. It's also smaller and quieter than the big cities we've been to though the temperature has been 42 degrees for the duration of our stay!
Being a non-Hindu I am considered a pollutant so was not allowed to enter the Golden Temple which annoyed me. I wasn't as irritated as Hiren though who when he came out had been fleeced out of 2000Rs by brahmins claiming he couldn't pray at each individual shrine without paying any money. These kind of attitudes were in complete contrast to the welcoming given to both of us at Swaminarayan and added to the level of discomfort I have felt at times with the attitudes of many Hindus who seem to value making money and personal prestige ahead of the values of their religion. This is a somewhat sweeping statement that does not reflect their faith at all but does perhaps reveal the problems with a decentralised religion that varies from village to village and is easily manipulated by corrupt brahmins with no outlet for objective redresssal and the caste system which still taints their religion as well as attitudes to non-Hindus.
This experience was a shame especially as I have been enjoying the daily arati at dusk on the riverbanks where brahmins lead devotional and prayer sequences for believers that involves an elaborate process of circumambulating spices, petals, candles and a whole host of other objects amongst the clanging of bells, drums, clapping and chanting. Sitting facing the river while this goes on is an extremely meditative opportunity (as long as you ignore the touts trying to get you to buy little floating leaves of petals and candles to place on the river for good luck) irrespective of your religion. It also in no way tarnishes my admiration for the energy of the Indian people who are busy getting on with life and who value the family - its seems a sharp contrast to the sanitised lifestyle in the West where pleasure and enjoyment are far too often sought in stimulants and artificial artifacts or putting aside the joy of what is known here as "spontaneous happiness" in favour of a greener pastured future that is perpetually put off.
Another highlight of our stay in Varanasi was doing the 5am boat trip along the river to see the sunrise. In itself it is a beautiful sight but even more so when you take into consideration the many people who come to bathe in the waters and even more disturbingly send dead bodies into the water (again believing in the purifying qualities it possesses as a gateway to heaven) alongside these people washing themselves and drinking from it!
Initially we stayed in a non-ac guesthouse to try and economise but after nearly melting in the night we moved out of La-Ra India and descended into the labyrinth back alleys before settling on a cooler option at Ganga Fuji complete with a great restaurant in which the owner guides you through the menu (particularly helpful with nut allergies and a newly gained post-Delhi-belly wariness!) to the tune of live, traditional Indian musicians.
We spent our last day taking a daytrip to Sarnath, the birthplace of Buddhism. The temple is still standing and marks the spot where the Buddha gave his first sermon. Subsequently, many other temples were erected and each country now has its own though most are dilapidated and in ruins which is a shame. Still sat under a bodhi tree and tried to find enlightenment in the very peaceful gardens that will help us cope with our train and two buses into Nepal over the next 48 hours.
India has been fast, frenetic, crazy, hot, indescribable, perplexing and hits you like a brick wall. I'm glad we've visited it first as it's pretty energy-sapping and we've really zoomed around taking in everything, so looking forward to a bit of lakeside chilling in Pokhara before hitting up our trek!
Favourite Place: Swaminarayan Temple - peaceful, inspiring and meditative
Favourite Accomodation: Pearl Palace - the rooftop terrace is the closest we'll get to luxury
Favourite Food: Lassis and pineapple raita
Most Bizarre: Cows might be sacred but when you have to vault them during the blackout power-cuts to get back to your hostel you wish they were in fields rather than given keys to the city
What I'm Going To Miss: Sitting in a cafe watching the mad, crazy world go by in all its colours and smells, friendly strangers who sit and chat with you on the riverside or offer you rooms in their houses or to take you to strange parties!
What I'm Not Going To Miss: Hiren pimping out my white-boy skin to flag down rickshaws, bicycle rickshaws (quick way to the pearly gates...), touts that dupe you or call you a "roastbeef" when you refuse their wares, beggars (no matter how many you see you can't ever get used to it), the Indian national disregard for spatial awareness...
Books I Read: A Spot of Bother, Mark Haddon (not a patch on Curious Incident but reclined on a sofa was a good way to pass a day post-vomiting), On Beauty, Zadie Smith (not at all what I expected from her but once I got into it was a good read, albeit inspiring nostalgia for being a student not that anything that happens in Wellington is anyway reminiscent of my time at uni! As always though, when all the characters are so wholeheartedly dislikeable found myself slightly detached and not caring enough for them to make it any more enjoyable than a good holiday read)
Favourite Quote: "(God)...is the atheism of the atheist"
Friday 25 April 2008
Saturday 19 April 2008
Finally, after years of living vicariously through the worlds of Suitable Boys, Midnight Children and Fine Balances I have arrived in India and the sights, sounds and smells have truly been brought to life! It would be very easy to descend into cliches about the culture shock but I want to try and avoid those as the main purpose of this blog is to record my own impressions of my visits to this part of the world.
It was however a proper baptism of fire (cliche number one already...!) when having arrived two hours late at Bombay airport I met Hiren to catch the train back to the apartment we were staying at. Somewhat tired and a bit disorientated I didn't quite cotton onto the fact that we were taking the commuter train from the south of the city all the way to the north which emphasised the tourist motto that Bombay is a city to "survive"...
The commuter train makes the underground at peak time on the hottest day of the year look like flying BA first class. When the train arrives there is a mad rugby-scrum to get on board for the 15-20 seconds the train remains stationary at the platform in a manner that brings proper meaning to survival of the fittest. This Herculean task isn't helped by the fact that everyone wants to cling onto the open doors as this is the best ventilation. If you manage to get through to the door from the platform and then negotiate the hardened Indian travelers you're faced with what is best described as a game of Gladiators' Hang Tough in which you have to swing through the sea of sweating bodies using the tiny hand rail loops dangling from the ceiling. When the train stops you have to hold on as tight as you can as the commuters fight their way to the door using whatever weapon springs to hand. The best way seems to be sitting on the roof, though I haven't quite mastered this one yet.
Tourists never get this train and I received the strangest stares as I barged my way onto the coach. Little did I know that this train would be our only form of transport into the city and if it wasn't for the fact that our stop was at the end of the line and that our destination stop in the city was at the end of the line I'd probably still be somewhere on that train trying to get off! Add to this rickshaws that have lining on the ceiling to protect against the bumps (and crashes from cows, rickshaws, cars, buses, cyclists and angry pedestrians) and you might get the picture of transport in India!
Asides from the train journey our stay in Bombay was fantastic. We were put up by Hiren's family friends who insisted on being called Auntie and Uncle and who, despite having suffered more personal tragedy than one family should, went out of their way to make our stay as comfortable and interesting as possible.
On our first proper day we took a leisurely ferry trip from the impressive Gateway of India (mock Arc de Triomphe only several times bigger erected solely to commemorate the visit of King George in the early 20th century at the height of colonialism) to Elephanta Island which is home to huge caves containing sculptures of Siva. It is considered a holy place for Hindus and is also a fantastic piece of architecture. It was also relaxing to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city and take amusing photos of monkeys!
Given the humidity of Bombay and the constant hassle as tourists - Hiren was constantly stopped by bemused Indians trying to discern whether he was native or not while I simply got offered hash... - we treated ourselves to a meal in the luxurious Taj Hotel right on the seafront enjoying air conditioning, space and cleanliness!
It was also a chance for me to get some food that definitely didn't have nuts in it. India has definitely been a trial for someone with a nut allergy...virtually every dish is cooked either in nut oil or with nuts! Trying to tell waiters that I have an allergy has resulted in some hilarious consequences and meant that being safer rather than sorry I have been indulging in a range of vegetable kormas and French fries...
Luckily Uncle and Auntie took us out to a local restaurant, Cholaas, and treated us to a meal which they could ensure was nut free. Not quite realising eating protocol I stuffed myself on the food that came thinking that the series of chapatis and various dishes were the main course only to find out that it was the main. Not wanting to be impolite to our hosts (!) I forced the arrival of the second round of food down my throat so that when we got back to the apartment I was unable to do much but lie on my bed and groan.
In hindsight it was extremely fortunate as the following day we took the 17 hour sleeper train to Delhi. I still can't quite get over how the size of places on the map does in no way do justice to the vastness of spaces between cities. It was an early evening train and so for the couple of hours of dusk I was able to doze in the evening sun as we passed through wasteland and field with tiny shanty villages built close to the railway and able to watch as nomadic and settled communities carried on with the way of life they have been living for generations. The one thing I haven't been able to get over is how much litter there is in India - on the ferry other passengers just chucked their food and drink wrappers into the sea - everywhere you go there are just mounds upon mounds of festering litter and this was evident all the way along the rail line up to Delhi.
We shared the sleeper train with an actor called Vik who was able to give us some useful tips on coping with Delhi so that when we stumbled off at 9am in the morning we weren't completely unprepared for the heat and hassle!
Everywhere we went we were accosted by touts trying to force things on us. Hiren eventually discovered a useful tactic of getting rid of them by telling them that God was watching them and wouldn't be happy if He could see them lying to us which soon sent them scuttling! We had the name of the hostel we wanted to stay in but no-one would take us there and after two rickshaws dropped us off in the middle of nowhere we eventually got to our destination. We're staying in Raj's Cozy Inn which is cosy in the sense of cheap and empty (!) which lies just off the Main Bazaar - a street that is packed with ordinary Delhi life: cars, rickshaws, bikes and cows competing for the tiny pedestrian walkway, bulging street shops and homemade food stalls, tourists, touts and locals thronged together avoiding the spitting of paan coming from every direction. It's an experience to be in the midst of this and you could quite easily stay on the rooftop terrace of the appropriately named Sam's Cafe all day sipping Lassis and watching the world bubble by.
We didn't as Hiren was on a mission to find the shopping mall, to get a new manbag. After a long rickshaw ride (I don't think that however many I take I am ever going to get used to the life-or-death driving in India...) we arrived at a mall that was spotless, quiet and chic, perhaps a great indication of the contrary and contradictory polar opposites of India's psyche. Sadly everything was out of our price range so we came back with just a couple of second hand National Geographics....
We were proper tourists on our second day in the capital by booking into a city bus tour! Given the whistlestop nature of our trip where we're only spending a few days in each city it just isn't possible to fit in everything we want to do so we're doing it the good old traditional way of package sightseeing!
This trip was particularly interesting as we turned up to find our ac bus with english tour guide was neither ac (unless you count opened windows) nor had an English speaking guide...Still, apart from that it was the best way to see all the sights. We visited the temples, Indira Gandhi museum/memorial house, Parliament, Lotus Temple, Gandhi Memorial, sari-textiles shop, the Qutvminar Tower and Red Fort. I've realised that my sketchy knowledge of eastern religion and politics is hugely missing so did the only thing a tourist can do and bought Gandhi's Autobiography....Somehow I'm not sure this is going to help me work out whether Indira was the great leader as portrayed by the legend of her museum or the author of the horrors of the Emergency as viciously depicted by Rohinton Mistry but it's gone someway to getting me going again in immersing myself in the culture and finding these things out for myself.
India has been totally undescribable, it has been everything I hoped for plus more and what I had hoped wouldn't be. It somehow gets under your skin in every sense of the way so that even when you are trying to fend off a persistent tout you can't help but stop and wonder at the world carrying on around you. A Fine Balance is my favourite book of all time and I think Rohinton Mistry got it right in the title: India is indeed a fine balance, a tiny teetering line on which complete opposites exist, tipping over and causing chaos when they frequently cross the line and co-existing in bizarre synthesis when finely balanced.
We have a couple more days in Delhi (visiting some more temples tomorrow) before setting off to Jaipur, Agra (Taj Mahal) and then a spiritual pilgrimage to Varanasi to bathe in the Ganges. We probably won't get to a computer now to Nepal but looking forward to reporting on our trek and how Mike's getting on!
Sam
x
It was however a proper baptism of fire (cliche number one already...!) when having arrived two hours late at Bombay airport I met Hiren to catch the train back to the apartment we were staying at. Somewhat tired and a bit disorientated I didn't quite cotton onto the fact that we were taking the commuter train from the south of the city all the way to the north which emphasised the tourist motto that Bombay is a city to "survive"...
The commuter train makes the underground at peak time on the hottest day of the year look like flying BA first class. When the train arrives there is a mad rugby-scrum to get on board for the 15-20 seconds the train remains stationary at the platform in a manner that brings proper meaning to survival of the fittest. This Herculean task isn't helped by the fact that everyone wants to cling onto the open doors as this is the best ventilation. If you manage to get through to the door from the platform and then negotiate the hardened Indian travelers you're faced with what is best described as a game of Gladiators' Hang Tough in which you have to swing through the sea of sweating bodies using the tiny hand rail loops dangling from the ceiling. When the train stops you have to hold on as tight as you can as the commuters fight their way to the door using whatever weapon springs to hand. The best way seems to be sitting on the roof, though I haven't quite mastered this one yet.
Tourists never get this train and I received the strangest stares as I barged my way onto the coach. Little did I know that this train would be our only form of transport into the city and if it wasn't for the fact that our stop was at the end of the line and that our destination stop in the city was at the end of the line I'd probably still be somewhere on that train trying to get off! Add to this rickshaws that have lining on the ceiling to protect against the bumps (and crashes from cows, rickshaws, cars, buses, cyclists and angry pedestrians) and you might get the picture of transport in India!
Asides from the train journey our stay in Bombay was fantastic. We were put up by Hiren's family friends who insisted on being called Auntie and Uncle and who, despite having suffered more personal tragedy than one family should, went out of their way to make our stay as comfortable and interesting as possible.
On our first proper day we took a leisurely ferry trip from the impressive Gateway of India (mock Arc de Triomphe only several times bigger erected solely to commemorate the visit of King George in the early 20th century at the height of colonialism) to Elephanta Island which is home to huge caves containing sculptures of Siva. It is considered a holy place for Hindus and is also a fantastic piece of architecture. It was also relaxing to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city and take amusing photos of monkeys!
Given the humidity of Bombay and the constant hassle as tourists - Hiren was constantly stopped by bemused Indians trying to discern whether he was native or not while I simply got offered hash... - we treated ourselves to a meal in the luxurious Taj Hotel right on the seafront enjoying air conditioning, space and cleanliness!
It was also a chance for me to get some food that definitely didn't have nuts in it. India has definitely been a trial for someone with a nut allergy...virtually every dish is cooked either in nut oil or with nuts! Trying to tell waiters that I have an allergy has resulted in some hilarious consequences and meant that being safer rather than sorry I have been indulging in a range of vegetable kormas and French fries...
Luckily Uncle and Auntie took us out to a local restaurant, Cholaas, and treated us to a meal which they could ensure was nut free. Not quite realising eating protocol I stuffed myself on the food that came thinking that the series of chapatis and various dishes were the main course only to find out that it was the main. Not wanting to be impolite to our hosts (!) I forced the arrival of the second round of food down my throat so that when we got back to the apartment I was unable to do much but lie on my bed and groan.
In hindsight it was extremely fortunate as the following day we took the 17 hour sleeper train to Delhi. I still can't quite get over how the size of places on the map does in no way do justice to the vastness of spaces between cities. It was an early evening train and so for the couple of hours of dusk I was able to doze in the evening sun as we passed through wasteland and field with tiny shanty villages built close to the railway and able to watch as nomadic and settled communities carried on with the way of life they have been living for generations. The one thing I haven't been able to get over is how much litter there is in India - on the ferry other passengers just chucked their food and drink wrappers into the sea - everywhere you go there are just mounds upon mounds of festering litter and this was evident all the way along the rail line up to Delhi.
We shared the sleeper train with an actor called Vik who was able to give us some useful tips on coping with Delhi so that when we stumbled off at 9am in the morning we weren't completely unprepared for the heat and hassle!
Everywhere we went we were accosted by touts trying to force things on us. Hiren eventually discovered a useful tactic of getting rid of them by telling them that God was watching them and wouldn't be happy if He could see them lying to us which soon sent them scuttling! We had the name of the hostel we wanted to stay in but no-one would take us there and after two rickshaws dropped us off in the middle of nowhere we eventually got to our destination. We're staying in Raj's Cozy Inn which is cosy in the sense of cheap and empty (!) which lies just off the Main Bazaar - a street that is packed with ordinary Delhi life: cars, rickshaws, bikes and cows competing for the tiny pedestrian walkway, bulging street shops and homemade food stalls, tourists, touts and locals thronged together avoiding the spitting of paan coming from every direction. It's an experience to be in the midst of this and you could quite easily stay on the rooftop terrace of the appropriately named Sam's Cafe all day sipping Lassis and watching the world bubble by.
We didn't as Hiren was on a mission to find the shopping mall, to get a new manbag. After a long rickshaw ride (I don't think that however many I take I am ever going to get used to the life-or-death driving in India...) we arrived at a mall that was spotless, quiet and chic, perhaps a great indication of the contrary and contradictory polar opposites of India's psyche. Sadly everything was out of our price range so we came back with just a couple of second hand National Geographics....
We were proper tourists on our second day in the capital by booking into a city bus tour! Given the whistlestop nature of our trip where we're only spending a few days in each city it just isn't possible to fit in everything we want to do so we're doing it the good old traditional way of package sightseeing!
This trip was particularly interesting as we turned up to find our ac bus with english tour guide was neither ac (unless you count opened windows) nor had an English speaking guide...Still, apart from that it was the best way to see all the sights. We visited the temples, Indira Gandhi museum/memorial house, Parliament, Lotus Temple, Gandhi Memorial, sari-textiles shop, the Qutvminar Tower and Red Fort. I've realised that my sketchy knowledge of eastern religion and politics is hugely missing so did the only thing a tourist can do and bought Gandhi's Autobiography....Somehow I'm not sure this is going to help me work out whether Indira was the great leader as portrayed by the legend of her museum or the author of the horrors of the Emergency as viciously depicted by Rohinton Mistry but it's gone someway to getting me going again in immersing myself in the culture and finding these things out for myself.
India has been totally undescribable, it has been everything I hoped for plus more and what I had hoped wouldn't be. It somehow gets under your skin in every sense of the way so that even when you are trying to fend off a persistent tout you can't help but stop and wonder at the world carrying on around you. A Fine Balance is my favourite book of all time and I think Rohinton Mistry got it right in the title: India is indeed a fine balance, a tiny teetering line on which complete opposites exist, tipping over and causing chaos when they frequently cross the line and co-existing in bizarre synthesis when finely balanced.
We have a couple more days in Delhi (visiting some more temples tomorrow) before setting off to Jaipur, Agra (Taj Mahal) and then a spiritual pilgrimage to Varanasi to bathe in the Ganges. We probably won't get to a computer now to Nepal but looking forward to reporting on our trek and how Mike's getting on!
Sam
x
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)