Picked up by my driver at Indira Ghandi airport, the trip back in the cold, misty early morning was the first of many eye opening sights. The 100s of bundles of rags lining every footpath were not dumped rubbish, but people. A twitching dark foot poking beneath one such pile was my dawning of realization. I had a trip planned to Agra on Wednesday morning, but I crashed into a late bed with swirling thoughts of my itinerary for the days to come and what other things I must be prepared to confront.
Hotel (5 stars) was an unusual luxury, as we prefer to stay in mid-range accommodation normally, but it was relatively cheap and a great central location in Delhi. After (a very satisfying and great choice) breakfast, I saddled up for the first of many day trips. Armed with guide book, metro map, camera etc. I walked out of the hotel to walk the few blocks to Connaught circle and the junction of two metro lines. Within 30 seconds I was “attacked” by the first of many beggars. Ignoring the little urchins’ advances, I couldn’t believe that a major city could be this dirty. Human excrement and the cloying smell of urine was intense, the walls of the adjoining buildings stacked with before said rag piles, wafts of rank body odour mixing with the other scents to make a very unpleasant perfume.
On way to Connaught, I visited the craft centre and the tribal shop at a local government emporium. These emporiums are recommended as, although slightly pricier, they are certified and have genuine products. My shoes were already filthy: no wonder the shoe shine boys are legion in this city! Dogs were either asleep or dead all over the footpath and semi clad old men were sitting in steaming piles of their meager belongings. I arrived at Connaught to be confronted with yet more people seeing my fresh white foreign face as fodder for a good scam I suspect! I escaped into the cavernous Pallika market where I was hand held and praised for all sorts of strange reasons, just to get me to stop and look at various wares. Pashminas, silk, leather, shoes, flash drives, you name it, they had it. I escaped with buying a sheepskin wallet (a strange portent of things to come!) and a pair of “Ray Bans” each for $5. One particularly furtive gent told me I looked like Pierce Brosnan: when I asked him if he was blind, he cracked up! I was starting to get into the swing of things. The initial shock was already turning to a genuine warm feeling for these people with so little, but genuinely friendly and delightful outlooks.
Metro was another major shock. After purchasing a smart card and loading it up with rupees for a week’s travel, I was naively expecting a similar experience to the whisper efficient and squeaky clean Taipei equivalent. Apart from getting patted down by an armed soldier and putting my bag through a scanner (which, by the way, happened everywhere where any large number of people congregated: which is everywhere!) I was literally crushed into a train carriage and dared let out a breath for the duration of the journey. The guy behind me was breathing in my ear and I was uncomfortably crutch to butt with the guy in front! Women actually have their own dedicated carriage which I imagine is a good thing: if they were in this situation, I hate to think what would happen. Spat out and straight to auto-rickshaw for trip to India Gate. The crazy thing was with these guys was that no matter how short or long the trip might be, they always had the meter off and quoted 100 rupees! I got savvy after a while and bargained, but I soon gave this up as well…I didn’t really care about saving one dollar! India gate, the war memorial was impressively tall and golden sandstone solid. The new camera seemed to be getting some good shots, so I spent a while trying to frame up the photos well. As it turned out, the photos worked out really well, I reckon: check them here. Got lost for the first time of many, which is very unlike me: did the old boy scout trick of navigating by the sun and soon emerged froma labyrinth of crooked laneways to find a main road. Back to hotel and ate the BEST Indian food I have ever eaten: when in Rome!
Off to Old Delhi. Now it was getting really confronting and I’m glad I didn’t try this on my first day. I self-guided my way through the impressive Red Fort and wandered down the claustrophobic jewelers street of Dariba Kalan. With a vague notion of sourcing an Indian trinket for my blushing bride, I soon realized that these designs were just not her style. Despite the best efforts of polite and crisply tailored touts, I resisted each approach. I climbed the parapet of India’s largest mosque in my bare feet and hoped that my shoes would still be there on my return. Steep steps and my quads were burning: better give those 1000 steps another whirl when I get home! Great views of the city blanketed in smog and stretching as far as the eye could see in all directions. Down the even skinnier Kinari Bazaar, selling garish trinkets and rainbow coloured accessories for saris. The overhead wiring had to be seen to be believed! Disgorged into a busier thoroughfare, I was starting to wonder why I had not seen another foreigner: perhaps I was really off the tourist trail. A sea of coffee, brown and darker faces packed the streets and the constant tooting of horns and Hindi cries of welcome from shop fronts made for quite a surreal scene: I was really in a different part of the world! This was a long 8 hour day: bit exhausted by the time I got back.
Dmitry Medvedev, the Russian president was to prove my nemisis today! My train to Agra was early morning and the train station was yet another wild scene. The booking office had a breeze of vague heat drifting from a tiny bar heater on the wall so subsequently the floor was full of sleeping hordes. From the look, they lived here semi-permanently. The train ride was great and despite conflicting voices in my head I decided to attempt the train food. Even this was delicious. Mutter Paneer, nan and rice with raita. So far the belly has not complained!
Driver Mukesh was there to greet me after a 2 hour zip through the northern India hinterland. Straight to the Taj Mahal for us. Thwarted at the security gate with my tiny tripod (not allowed) by the time I deposited it in a locker and came back, the whole palce was in lockdown Dmitry Medvedev and entourage were on site, so no one was allowed in. I wandered back up the road to meet Mukesh and we decided to go to the east bank of the Yamuna River to view the Taj. The searing sunlight was not ideal for photos, but that first hazy vision was pretty special. On to the Agra Fort, a larger and even more impressive cousin to Delhi’s Red Fort. I ran into an Indian kid who used to study at TAS, now repatriated back to Delhi! Then to the cute jewel boxed “mini Taj” of Itimad-ud-Daulah’s tomb. It sparkled in the morning light and Aussie boy Peter obliged in taking my photo. A white marble masterpiece, it would probably be a main attraction if only “big sister” had not been built a few miles away. Lunch at a Mukesh selected restaurant and I opted for the non-curry chicken Tikka…again, sensational, could have ordered another but didn’t want to look like a foreigner piggy! That Medvedev made sure we were stuck in an hour long traffic jam, so I was especially hungry.
Well, I’m not too proud to admit that tears welled up in my eyes when I first saw the Taj Mahal: no picture and no words can do this almighty edifice justice. Crystalline glowing white marble of almost unbelievable size, the perfect symmetry of the buildings, the reflecting ponds and the fact that it took 20,000 workers 22 years to build in 1653, all beggar belief. I was more stunned by this sight than I have ever been before. I wandered the grounds for hours, not taking my eyes from the stunning sights for too long. As the sun dipped and waned, the building transformed from a blinding white to a soft melting butter yellow, before metamorphosing yet again into an off gray sheen as dusk approached. A truly memorable experience, worth the trip all by itself. I ate a third (!) Indian meal for the day on the train trip back, back really late.
Wow, this is quite a tome! As usual I have waffled on with no real purpose, so I’ll try to summarise the next few days a little more succinctly. The Lotus temple in the far northern outskirts was only reached after I caught the wrong train the other way. I decided to ride it out for 20 minutes or so, as it went above ground and gave some great sights. Eventually there, this modern structure was quite the impressive architectural piece. I spent the recommended minimum of 25 minutes inside contemplating my thoughts about higher beings in complete silence: it made a pleasant change fro the chaos on the streets, at least! Went to the “upmarket” khan market after that, and it was bit disappointing because the prices were higher, but the gear was the same you could get at any mall in the world.
The south east quarter was next on my list and a bright and early start saw me sauntering through the spacious and well kept gardens of Huayuan’s tomb and surrounds. It was indeed spectacular, but I couldn’t help thinking I should have made my trip to the Taj later in the week: what can compare? I then ventured across th road and down some maze like alleys to the Nizamuddin complex. Here again, an authentic, no foreigner experience. I was mobbed by tiny dirt spattered waifs in rags and by this time I had worked out a method of giving without getting mobbed once more. I tipped all the really persistent, with the undertaking that they would be quiet and go away. A finger to the lips and a wave away secured the deal each time: peace! I de-shoed and strapped an extravagant hanky across my head to enter the mosque here: at least I could go in…no women allowed inside! Purana Qila is a crumbling set of walls and temples in extravagantly spacious gardens. I wandered and studied and photographed until a young group of college kids invited me to play soccer with them. Half an hour and a pocketful of emails later, I had won a lot of new mates. Sweated up from the game, I decided to risk some fresh fruit juices from a nearby hawker….that was a mistake I think as the rumbling growls from my guts started very shortly after! A further rather long walk and I found my way to the craft market. This was a fascinating place and I ended up buying a few trinkets here. The puppet show was a real highlight, and the guy was a super salesman. Testament to that are my King and Queen puppets that I bought: who knows what we’ll do with them!
I was warned by lots of rickshaw drivers that the metro was closed on Christmas day, but I thought that sounded weird. Sure enough, the lines were open and running at their usual bursting at the seams capacity! I was off to the INA market, an Indian only shopping paradise for food and clothes etc. The wet market out the back was shocking. I snuck through to the courtyard and was paid back for my impudence by witnessing the slaughter of various fowls! Similar birds calmly awaited exactly the same fate perched on open cages below their freshly butchered cousins: I wanted to tell them to make a run for it! I helped a dazed looking Korean girl being besieged by some “helpful” locals and figured out we were going back to the same station. She said she was going to a famous milkshake shop mentioned in her guide book. I braved this as well and it was delicious. She was off to organize a taxi to the airport: she was a brave girl: 3 weeks travelling in India with very limited English…we spoke Japanese!
Back to the hotel and I decided that Christmas day deserved something completely different so I decided to go off to a Bollywood picture at Select City mall in the far south west. The quoted 30 minute taxi drive sounded OK till we were caught in a deadlock for two hours! Missed the show, so wandered around for ages getting an insight into how the IT new rich crowd gets their kicks in Delhi: it’s a world apart from the poverty on the street. For some reason, few foreigners must venture here either. I think I’m in about a 100 mobile phone galleries…I should have been charging a fee.
On my last day, I went back to Purana Qila then wandered through the vast Delhi International Book Fair, which had started that day. I’ve never seen so many books in one place: in fact it was so huge, that I only visited one of three exhibition halls: that was enough! Taxi at 9.30 pm to the airport and then began what was to be a 26 hour trip home! Fog had blanketed the runways and we were delayed by 8 hours. Cathay pacific plumped for a hotel, but by the time All the stranded passengers had made it back through customs, got to the hotel and then lined up for a further hour and a half for a room, it was hardly worth going to sleep. I opted instead to watch the unfolding carnage in the Ashes for an hour before my wakeup call! Hong Kong to Taipei flight was held on the tarmac for two hours as they couldn’t close the cargo door and wouldn’t let us off.
India was wild and confronting: I doubt whether I’ll view a lot of things the same way again. From searing highs of grand buildings and friendly people to depressing lows when seeing what a third world living standard really is like, this was a thought provoking trip. I’m hoping that Cass will provide details of her trip soon on here: she’s back on Monday.