India

Read at your own peril. This blog contains profanity, bias, and a complete lack of political correctness. It’s also quite long and rambling. This was an epic trip for me!

I started writing these blogs so that when Alicia and I argue about the where and when of things I could prove her wrong (it could happen) but in this case there are things I just don’t want to forget. Previous posts were cleaned up for general consumption by my friends and family. This one is not. I’m just in that kind of mood.

I bought a 10” tablet with a 33,000 mAh battery. I call it the “brick.” It weighs a ton but the battery will last for days. It comes with magnetic and GPS sensors. I have down loaded all of the requisite maps, metro schedules, and other relevant info for getting around.

So, I’m off to India, except that I’m not. Alicia has been reading other blogs about India (I’m a little jealous) and asks me if I have a visa. I have read specifically that India does not require such a thing but she sends me a blog telling me the in’s and outs of getting there. I haven’t performed the necessary online application for an ETA (Electronic Travel Authorization, it’s like a visa) so the day before I planned to leave I have to hit the brakes. Alicia is disappointed in me for not “doing my research.” I thought I was ready. But now I have to listen to her go on about me not doing my homework.

I start filling out the online application and they want to know my references in India and the USA. I don’t have any in India and the form won’t let me skip the question or say “none.” I try faking it, which is not a good idea. The software requires a legitimate address and phone number, which I don’t have. There are questions about the ethnicity and birthplace of my parents and grandparents, spouse, and any contacts I may have in Pakistan. I have to list all of the countries that I have visited in the last 10 years (15). I listed an airport hotel as my reference. It worked! It took hours to fill out and I almost gave up. It took 4 days to process. I’m finally good to go.

I had to go through Cleveland to get to Newark where I was required to scan my passport into the system. There is no information on the website telling people that they need to print the electronic form on paper. The link to do so is buried deep in the site. Making small talk with the agent doing the scanning I learn that his experience is that about four passengers per flight show up at the airport without the necessary form.

Monday in the US. Tuesday in India

After flying Denver/Cleveland/Newark, the flight to Delhi was an agonizing 15 hours in economy class and the food was inedible. I knew it would be so I carried on a sandwich from the airport.

After getting through customs my first task is to get an Airtel SIM card for the brick which required my photo, a photo of my passport, and a paper form where they still use carbon paper (wow), plus about 400R/s ($4.50) for 1.5 gb/day for 30 days. This has to be subsidized.

My taxi to the hotel pulled up to the gate where guards searched the trunk and under the hood before the hydraulic barricades were lowered. I had to walk through a scanner and get wanded to enter the lobby before waiting for my backpack to be scanned. I did not expect this.

Wednesday.

At breakfast I wanted to sit outside. It looked lovely but the maitre’d advised me that there’s too many flies out there. The breakfast buffet was incredible. The southern India section of the buffet was clearly the best and there were tons of things I had never eaten before. Yum!

The air quality in Delhi has been making world news. Visibility was about 1/4 to 1/2 mile. My eyes are burning, my nose is running, and I’m coughing. I have to get out of here now. My plan is to take the train to Agra to see the Taj Mahal.

I found the Metro line easily (I had done my homework, plus I got good directions). There was only one agent selling tickets. He ignored me so he could watch Youtube videos instead. After some time and several attempts to divert his attention, I took a harsh tone which got me a scowl with a ticket. What an asshole! Getting off the metro line at the Delhi train station had some challenges. The escalator was broken down and the stairs were barricaded off for some reason. The elevator was overloaded with too much weight and would just beep and not go anywhere. People near the door refused to get off – even if they could because of the crowd pushing to get closer. I had to resist the urge to panic. The bum rush mentality made it take much longer than it should have. I finally stepped out on the street to this:

You can see the air pollution

In the train station I saw a girl about 6 years old dressed in rags and no shoes. She was filthy! This is right out of Slumdog Millionaire. There is nothing I can do for her, except cry.

Foreigners apparently can’t buy train tickets online, even if I could make sense of the website, and there were no ticket booths. I start asking around and was directed to the “Official Government Bureau of Tourism” via a Tuk Tuk. I was told several time to not pay more than 20 R/s ($0.24) for the 1.5 km ride.

So far the trip is an exercise in frustration because EVERYTHING takes ten times longer and is five times as hard as it should be. I expected to buy a train ticket but was told that none were available today or tomorrow. I will choke to death here. The slick salesman / travel agent at the “Official Government Bureau of Tourism” pitches me on a package deal for $1,033.76 that includes:

Airfare somewhere and back.
Three nights on a houseboat somewhere that includes breakfast & dinner and a ride to & from the airport. I am to arrange on my own activities during the day.
A car and driver for 6 days that will meet me back at the Delhi airport and return me there again.
Two nights lodging in Agra to see the Taj Mahal and whatever else I can find.
Three nights lodging with breakfast in in a town called Jaipur.

I’m running out of options. Take this deal or go home because I can’t take Delhi and I don’t know how else to get out. So, here I am $1,033.76 poorer on the way to the Delhi airport with nothing to show for it except a boarding pass on Indigo airlines. I have no written itinerary or even a receipt. I don’t have any information about where I am staying or how to meet up with the drivers. “Don’t worry, the drivers will meet you.” I will never live down how unbelievably stupid I am when this goes South. But here I go. Mostly I am worried about what my situation will be when I learn for sure I got scammed.

The flight to “somewhere” turns out be Srinagar. The flight took 1.5 hours. It was interesting because on the cabin side of the bulkhead was a touch screen where the (all female, all beautiful) flight attendants go through their checklist. US airlines do it also, but it’s behind the scenes. Indigo is both the name and color scheme of the airline.

After landing in Srinagar I had to fill out a huge form asking hotels, dates, places, names, flight numbers, passport numbers, intended itinerary, etc… They handed me the departure form so I could save time later. When I left the agents were out to lunch or something so I was unable to turn in the departure form. Shows how important it is.

Srinagar is in “Jammu and Kashmir,” the disputed territory between Pakistan, China, and India nestled at the base of the Himalayas. Pakistan is about 40 miles to the West. The US State department has issued a “Do not travel there due to crime, terrorism, civil unrest, and the potential for armed conflict.” But here I am. They failed to mention religious hatred and fanaticism. Probably because it would be politically incorrect. At the airport there are dozens of bunkers for F-16’s and who knows what else. There is a Russian Mig 3 parked there also. No photography is allowed but they should have said that before I took a landing video. A huge military presence at the airport adds ambiance. Soldiers, tanks, machine guns, urban assault vehicles, artillery, etc…

Now I’m driving through Srinagar with a fellow named Rashid. This place is crazy! Right out of a Jack Ryan movie. Let me set the scene: Extreme poverty, donkey carts, burkas, garbage, horns, and dogs. Dogs Dogs Dogs. Every time we pass a Mosque Rashid has to turn off the radio.

Houseboat common room

So I found myself on a wildly decorated houseboat where I learn that “arranging my own activities” is going to be impossible. My sim card doesn’t work here and getting one that will takes about 5 to 14 days, if I could even find one. I’m sure they’re lying about this because they are controlling the wifi so I can’t do any research. The houseboat is a bit like a prison.

I am forced into another package that includes a car and driver, permits, fees, etc… for the next 4 days for $400. It’s funny how the internet suddenly worked for processing my credit card. My anger about being manipulated is quelled by the thought that I will probably see things I wouldn’t otherwise see. I am such a fool.

I was joined at dinner on the boat by two young guys from Germany. They told me the exact same story I experienced. They described themselves as naive. Somehow they found the same travel agent I did. He’s booked them on the same trip basically. I’m just a couple of days behind them.

Thursday

The call to morning prayers begins around 5:00 am and sounds again in the evening. Latef is the houseboat guy. He brings meals and lies about what is on the agenda. I thought I had a car and driver for my $400. I don’t. The plan, I thought, was to drive up in the mountains and ride on a gondola for an incredible view but it is too cloudy today. What is on the agenda then? A 2 hour boat tour of the lake at around 2:00. I did not expect to have such a full day.

Flower salesman

Latef drags his feet about taking me into town to buy an electrical adapter so that guys like this can corner me on the houseboat. They are relentless. I did buy some seeds from this guy just to get rid of him.

I also bought this snappy coat and hat from another vendor, which I needed, for about $15. At about 11:00 Latef finally walked me into town to buy that much needed adapter (it failed with a puff of smoke immediately). With out Latef I had no clue which way to go and I was apprehensive about going through the army checkpoints. Latef is very impatient. I don’t want to lose him so I return with him to the houseboat and waited for my boat ride. There are things I wanted to see and street food to be sampled, but no. It was about a 1 mile walk each way.

The boat ride dock is literally right next door. I saw men sitting there all day, amongst the garbage, smoking a hookah and doing nothing. I read the price for the boat ride which is 600 R/s (7.20/hr) My $100 day could be had for about $15. The boat ride was quite beautiful but tedious. We pulled up to more sales boats that tried to sell me junk. I was mostly polite but refused to even entertain buying something. The guy paddling the boat obviously gets a kick back if I buy something. I’m a captive. Like a dog on a leash. But then – he invites me to his house for tea? WTF! I’m in no position to say no. It turned out to be the highlight of the day.

The whole family, about 7 or 8 people, sit around on carpets in the main room. No tables. No chairs. No electricity. The Kasmere tea was nice. He goes off to play with his grandchildren while I sit in his living room wondering what to do. I’m not there to entertain or be entertained. Just to have tea while he gets out of working for a while. This, I learned, is very common.

His house is on an island, accessible via the “London Bridge.”

Back at the houseboat, I inadvertently interrupted Latef’s evening prayers. He was seething. Fucking infidel! Later, still feeling like a dog on a leash I asked what we’re doing tomorrow? He will let me know. I went to bed early. There is no heat tonight.

Friday

It rained all night on the tin roof. It’s time to get up and the heat still doesn’t work, and there’s no internet. I have been advised that we’re going to the mountains today even though it is raining like crazy and still cloudy. There are, however, three really obnoxious young men from England that came in after I went to bed. After breakfast they asked what’s next. Latef responded it can wait. I had kind of forewarned them about this kind of stuff and the look on their face was interesting. I wanted to see how well they tolerated the dog on a leash treatment. This dog on a leash got in a van and we drove a ways and then pulled into somebody’s driveway – closing the big gate behind us. I was a bit apprehensive to say the least. And we just sat. After a while another guy got in and we drove somewhere else then we waited for what seemed about an hour for a Welsh hiker. He’s trekking and he does this all over the world. We spend about an hour and a half driving up the mountains sharing stories in the back seat.

We made one stop in Naranag to walk around in the markets a bit. It was filthy. I turned around just in time to watch a chicken get his head cut off. It was snowing just a bit.

A Welsh trekker in Naranag

Our Welch trekker is upset. This is supposed to be an overnight hike which, by law, has to be guided. We both question that part but there’s no way to verify it. It’s already noon when we drop him off and the guide is waiting for a horse. So it’s really a half day hike, at best, which is nothing to him. He’s pissed!

I have a policy: I don’t pay for photos. I may however buy something from you.

I bought some water and then my guide and I started at about 9,000 feet hiking up an easy trail along this beautiful backdrop.

Great scenery

Walking the earth in the Himalayas. It’s still raining it’s even snowing a bit.

Me, looking dapper

Summer Homes

Inside a summer home

Around 3:00 we turn around at a”village” called Dumaal. There are two houses! Two. I asked my guide “where is the post office?” He completely missed my sarcasm.

This woman offered to sell me hash. My guide asks if I want tea on the way down? Sure. We stop at a house along the way where he hollers politely. He has a chat with the woman living there. I assumed he knew her. He didn’t. He states flatly: She did not offer us tea.

A little further down the trail we detour a bit past this creek to a house where I, not we, was invited in for tea. Again, one room with no tables or chairs and lot’s of carpets. This one had a wood burning stove used to heat the room and water for tea. It was warm and comfortable.

Kava tea with beans

The father tells me this is where he hangs out smoking. Hash, that is.

The whole family sat around sipping tea including his two teen age daughters. They made me tea then sat on either side of me with big smiles. I have noticed young teenage girls smiling and staring at me frequently. Bizarre.

Why?

Back to the houseboat. On the way, I make the driver who earns 7,000 R/s ($84/mo), stop at a phone store in Naranag. Wow, an 8,000 watt charger was only $9. What a deal. More on this later.

Saturday

I try to get a haircut everywhere I go

Today the agenda is an ancient park kind of place, Old Town, and a fort up on the hill. We’re not leaving until 11:00 which really means noonish so I have time to walk “into town” and get a haircut. The barber quoted me 200 R/s for a haircut and beard trim. When it came time to settle up he wanted 200 R/s for each. I don’t care. It still cost me less than $5. The haircut comes with a vigorous head, neck, and shoulder massage.

The big park was kinda meh. It takes two guys to do this tour. One to stay with the car and one to stay with me. Next was Old Town but along the way we’re going to stop and see how carpets are made. Bull shit! I got the hard sell. I enjoyed telling them that “my home is decorated Tuscan style with early impressionism paintings. These carpets do not fit my decor.” They missed my sarcasm entirely. This is not what I wanted to do, but I’m just a dog on a leash. I never did get to see how the carpets are made. It leaves me wondering what the kickback is from the carpet store? 10%?

Next is the “Old City” with the largest mosque in Kashmir. This was really a site to see. I learned that there is no alcohol, no cinemas, and no disco allowed in Kashmir (Does he mean bars? Music? Dancing?). This is a 95% Shiite Muslim area and they won’t tolerate that crap here. It would destroy their society. Youtube and hash are apparently OK.

This is facing Mecca

I spoke to a shop keeper outside of the Mosque.

Shop keeper: Amerika?

Me: Yes.

Shop keeper: Amerika supports Israel (it wasn’t a question).

Me: That support is waning right now. (I promptly walked away)

It was a short angry conversation.

While waiting in line for a garbanzo burrito from a street vendor another young girl stares and smiles big at me. Why?

View from the fort

The time is about 2:00 and they want to take me back to the houseboat already. No. I want to see the Hari Parbat Fort on the hill. They are quite pissy but I insist. Locals are not allowed in and they have to just sit in the car and wait.

First there’s an Indian Army checkpoint. Then a Muslim checkpoint to make sure I’m not a Muslim. They don’t want their own getting corrupted. Then finally a Sikh check point. This is a Sikh fort and they don’t want the Muslim’s stinking up the place. I am issued a foreigners entry permit.

Hari Parbarth fort

On top of this hill the atmospheric conditions are just right and I can hear thousands of horns honking, people yelling at each other, and panicked dogs yelping when they get hit by cars.

Inside the fort Sikhs wearing turbans “guard” the place from their lawn chairs.

Other nicer houseboats

Back at the houseboat Latef tells me that my flight leaves at 10:50 am tomorrow. What about a boarding pass? Not his problem.

Sunday

Breakfast with my British friends was all smiles cuz I’m getting out of this shit hole. Latif followed me all the way out to the car with his hand out going tip tip tip. Fuck you!

Security at the airport was ridiculous. During the first screening something in my backpack had them worried. They kept asking me if I had a rock or some sand in there for some reason. No. They pointed to it on the X-ray monitor and I recognized it as the charger I bought for $9. They cautiously pull it out and examined it carefully. I told them it doesn’t work well at all. How much did I pay for it? They want to know where I got it. Up the hill from Srinager. Not good enough. Where did I get it? I had to look in my notes to find the name of the town. The moment I said Naranag about four of them broke out laughing. I was sold a very small charger in a large case that was filled with sand so it had mass to it, like an 80 watt charger would. They got a kick out of it. I’m keeping it as a souvenir. There were several more screening points to get to the ticket counter but I just walked right around one of them with my bags! All of his security is a farce.

Happy Diwali. The Spice Jet ticket agent had a boarding pass for me. I was so happy. I’m getting out of here. I was even happier when he handed me a bouquet of flowers and warmly wished me “Happy Diwali” (A Hindu holiday). I was actually foolish enough to enjoy being handed flowers but that ended really quickly when I realized it was scam to get my picture taken. I walked away carrying the flowers like I just won a beauty pageant. EVERY encounter I have had with a local, except for tea, has been negative.

At the gate there was a coffee cart. OMG coffee. I drank three.

While waiting to board two separate teenage girls wearing head scarves grin at me like fools. Why? I am the only white person at the airport. So what.

Now came the worst part of the trip. I was assigned window seat 5A. There is a guy in my seat. No big deal. I tell him that’s my seat. He tells me to take the aisle seat. No. Asshole. He tells me again. No. It’s a clear day and I will get a chance to see the Himalayas. He starts to get up but his ugly wife with man hands is in the middle seat. She stands up to get out but I am trapped and can’t move up or down the aisle to get out of her way. She shoves me backward with her forearm in my chest into the seats across the aisle. I take a breath and then my window seat. He takes the middle seat. Under the guise of getting up from his seat again he digs his elbow into my face and neck. Now I’m fucking pissed. He walks up to the front of the plane. I can see him angrily gesturing at me and pointing to the back of the plane. The flight attendant is having none of it. He makes a phone call. He talks to the flight attend some more before sitting down, again with the elbow. I’m livid! I angrily stick my elbow in his face and right below his earlobe, and keep pushing. Like a power forward making room for a turn around jumper. I know I am about to get my ass kicked but I don’t care. This has been a shitty week an I’m done with it. I can bite and pinch hard enough to draw blood. He will know pain before this is all over. There’s no room between economy seats to really swing your fists, so that’s to my advantage. I let up after about 5 seconds (that’s a long time, really) and he just sits there ignoring me. My pounding heart sounds like it’s up between my ears. I am trembling with anger and I know my face is as red as a tomato. It took a long while for me to calm down. It was worth it.

The Himalayas were worth seeing, as are the flight attendants. Sexism is alive and well in the world of flight attendants. They were all simply gorgeous. They are surely good at their jobs as well.

I decide that if things continue to be as difficult as they have been I will just get on a plane and come home. Not to fear.

Airport in Delhi

The terminal in Delhi is filled with raven haired beauties wearing the most colorful and intricate local dress imaginable. They are dressed up for the start of the festival of Diwali. No one is scowling at me like they have for the last 4 days. I much prefer being around pretty Hindu’s than angry Shiite Muslims.

I was sure glad to see this.

My driver, Narayan, is right where he is supposed to be. He is driving a clean and modern Suzuki dZire. He’s disarming and kinda goofy. We share the same sense of humor. We laugh at our language barrier. Mostly. Narayan is Hindu. Every time we pass a temple he does this ritual of touching the steering wheel, kissing his fingertips, crossing his arms, then his forehead, kissing his fingertips, and finally the steering wheel again. He also has the peculiar habit of talking to himself while driving.

Leaving Delhi

A litter further outside of Delhi

We head strait for Agra. It should take about two hours. It took about five hours because of traffic, cows on the highway, and lunch at Starbucks (Burger King was closed). The highway to Agra is very nice. Three lanes each way. Every now and then there are people standing along side the highway waiting for a bus. When the men need to pee they go over to the barricade on side of the highway. When the women need to pee they just hike their dresses up a bit and squat. Right there with 15 to 20 other people. We saw wild camels, but I was too slow with the camera.

Monkeys in Agra

It’s dark when we get to the hotel. I checked in and went out for a walk and to have a look around. The garbage, dogs, cows, and honking is shocking. So is the smell. I estimated that there are about 40 or more dogs per mile, and about 10 cows. The monkeys come and go.

Beggars

I went to a kind of main street and walked a block or 2 in each direction. I was standing in line waiting for a veggie burger from a roadside stand when a girl about 6 with her younger siblings began begging. The baby was so exhausted they couldn’t get him to hold his head up for a photo. The baby surely increases donations. I gave the oldest several coins which she promptly put in her mouth and held out her hand repeating money, money, money. I’m done with this. I keep my currency in a zippered pocket where it is hard to get to, but I keep some small bills in my front pants pocket. They figured this out quickly and were good at distracting me while sticking their hands in that pocket. I sternly put a stop to this and then felt like a jerk. The veggie burger was 49 R/s ($0.59) and quite tasty.

Monday

The Taj

The Taj is made of a translucent marble with jade, black onyx, and ruby inlays. Because it’s translucent, depending on the time of day, it changes hues. Thus we started at 6:00 am so as to watch it change colors as the sun rose. Meh. The sunlight glinting off the rubies was nice however. The surrounding buildings are quite impressive as well.

Me at the Taj

There’s also a “mini Taj Mahal” (not shown) that’s worth half an hour. Foreigners pay the highest entry fee, but only if they prove they are a foreigner! India is full of stupid shit like this.

Monkeys make a loud ferocious growl when they get hit by cars.

Tuesday

The drive to Jaipur should take about 5 hours. The early morning smell in Agra had me gagging and I was worried about motion sickness.

We start the day at a gas station. I just kind of wandered off to make a call home while Narayan filled up. A man with a machine gun kind of herded me back over to the car and gave me plenty of stink eye. There will be no wandering around this gas station parking lot under his watch!

We watched the sun rise from the “worlds largest fruit market.” Narayan does all of the buying because he’ll get a better price than I will.

Off we go to the “Fatehpur Sikri Fort Agra.” AKA Fort Agra or Akbar’s fort.

Part of Agra’s personal residence

The fort and residences, in my humble opinion, warranted more time than the Taj. Pulling into the parking lot an official looking person was aggressively trying to direct Narayan into a certain lot. Narayan was having none of it and pushed him out of the way with the car. I would love to watch Narayan deal with Eco protestors. There were pigs, squirrels, monkeys, dogs, and people in abundance. None giving the other a single glance. I told Narayan “no guides.” We were approached by guides anyway (Narayan gets a kickback). The one I spoke to was articulate and very easy to understand, so I thought OK. He said follow me. I did. I have now lost Narayan when I get handed over to a guide that was full useless. I can’t understand him and he tell me useless crap like there are 56 steps from the street to here. NO MORE GUIDES! I saw the hoop in the ground where Akbar kept an elephant that was used for executions. I guess the elephant would stand or sit on the victim.

Akbar’s office.

The fort is just too impressive to describe. Google more images.

On the road to Abnaheri

There is “a monument” (Chand Baori) about 15 km off the main road to Jaipour that is optional. Narayan keep asking repeatedly if I want to got here? I answer yes every time (I think he wanted to skip it).

This hole in the ground in the village of Abnaheri is unlike anything I have ever seen.

I photo bombed this family and then spent about an hour with them. The mom insisted on me getting blessed at the Hindu temple which, surprisingly, are very fun and friendly places. I rang the bell and everything.

A surprising number of people, mostly young girls, wanted to take photos with me. ????

The monkey palace right outside of Jaipur was shocking. Monkeys fight mean! Check out the wounds on the front legs of this big male. Many of the younger males have visibly damaged genitalia and anuses from fighting. Their butts are a red orange color to start with but the flesh wounds of many of the younger males makes me wince. Signs warn people not to make eye contact with the monkeys.

Vicious Bastard

I asked Narayan if they are allowed to hunt. It took a while (language issues) but I figured out that yes, he can borrow a gun daily from the government that he has to return immediately after the hunt, if he hunted. I was thinking specifically about this vicious little bastard (he screamed at me!).

This pond is totally gross, but aside from bathing like this guy, many people washed their hands and faces.

Monkey play

A live show at the top of the monkey palace.

Notice how she keeps looking at me

Our 5 hr drive to Jaipur took 12 hours plus. This is where I had dinner. The younger one asked me, and only me, to dance!? As if.

Another segment of the show

I left the hotel and went wandering. I got lost. I was asking directions in a fabric shop and the guy says follow me. He fired up is his scooter and told me to jump on the back. This was the most thrilling scooter ride I’ve ever had in my life! Going the wrong way on a busy street with cows, dogs, and traffic in the dark is normal to him. Not me.

Wednesday

Narayan won’t start the car until we have a little chat. He tells me that the hotel guy told him that I went out walking for several hours last night. This is not acceptable! If I want to go out walking I am to call him and “we” will go out walking together. I don’t think it’s a safety thing. It’s a “you hired me it’s my job” kind of thing. I am weary of having him open and close my car door. When we need to cross a street he steps out into traffic and stops traffic until I cross. For me this is totally awkward.

First stop is an astronomy park with things I don’t really understand, or care to except for this obelisk facing true South. At this angle, it is parallel to the earth’s equator and is used for telling time regardless of the season. It was accurate.

Next stop is the Royal City Palace. Meh.

A snake charmer

Elephant Maximus Indicus is the largest elephant on the planet. I spent about 20 minutes here.

Narayan looking dapper

It’s still early so what do I want to do? How about a walk in the woods? See some nature? To Narayan that meant the local zoo. Not what I meant but ok.

A wild monkey at the zoo

Narayan will not let me go buy the tickets. He parks and insists that I stay with the car while he goes and buys tickets. I have no idea why. I handed him some currency to buy the tickets with and he hands most of it back. He’s angry and cautions me this is the last time! I feel like a dog getting hit with a newspaper and has no idea why.

Does OSHA know about this?

At the zoo a girl about 7 years old walked up these stairs to an observation platform. When she got to the top she glanced at me and then did a double take. She then stared at me with an ear to ear grin. Adult women don’t even don’t even do a first take, lest a second take. But I can stop a 7 year old in her tracks. Bizarre.

Monkeys outside my hotel in Jaipur

I ditched Narayan at the hotel early so I could just walk about some. I bought one of these big green leaves with some “salsa” rolled up inside for 30 R/s ($0.36) I took a bite and the guy who sold it to me got a bit excited. He said no no no. He gestured you put the whole thing in your mouth. No way! I walked away spitting it out. It was a mouthful of novocaine. A fella who saw the whole thing walked over and said you don’t eat that. You chew, and spit. My mouth and cheeks are numb and I feel like I may be poisoned. The gentleman advises me put some water in my mouth, rinse, and spit. I did it several times. Now drink some water, which I did. He stayed with me for a minute or so and said “you will be okay”. He was right but it took several hours for it to completely dissipate.

Dinner at the Green Pigeon was really good featuring more dancing girls. Walking back to the hotel I gently got pushed out of the way by a cow. How rude!

Thursday

Another snake charmer

Another hole in the ground inside The “Fort” near the Amber Palace

The Amber Palace was unexpectedly brilliant, and really the highlight of the trip. The palace is inside a “fort” about the size of Boulder, Colorado nestled in a valley. The surrounding walls are similar to the Great Wall of China, they say.

Just enjoy the photos.

Elephants at the Amber Palace

One of several courtyards

How did they cut these marble panels so perfectly?

Shooting out the window

Just a walk around

The last night in Jaipur I had a great walk through the bazaar, much to Narayan’s consternation. I bought myself a new leather bag and some souvenirs to take home. The people here in Rajastan are much different. They very much just want to speak to you for a minute and want to know where you’re from. USA. Do you mean Amerika? Yes. No one has ever heard of Colorado. They want to tell you a little bit about themselves. It’s not always about trying to get in my pocket. A number of people want to talk about Joe Biden. That was the introduction to what they really wanted to talk about, which was Gaza. I think I did a good job of taking them off track with talk of Biden’s economics. The news feeds here regarding Gaza are much different than the news feed I’m getting reading US publications. No surprise really.

Friday

I need to be at the airport in Delhi by 10:00 am. Narayan called me at 4:08 a.m. and we were gone by 4:10. It’s pitch black out, foggy, and there are no such things as street lights. The road is terrible. Narayan is driving about 70 km/hr dodging pot holes, tuk tuk’s, and big trucks – all without tail lights. Cow’s are mostly black and don’t have reflectors. The first 1.5 hours was terrifying. When it began to get light more traffic joined us, as Narayan said would happen. When we got about 60 km from the airport the traffic slowed to 60 km/hr. 40 km away we slowed to 40km/hr. 20 km away we slowed to 20 km/hr. With even a little math skills you can recognize this as an asymptotic function. Mathematically we will never arrive, and that’s exactly what happens. Several times on this trip when getting to an attraction the traffic gets so bad I just get out and walk the last 1/2 or 1/4 km. I got there with 1/2 hr to spare.

Narayan has been with me, for better or worse, for 6 days. He has taken really good care of me, some times to my annoyance. He chooses excellent restaurants. He refuses to stop for street food telling me I will get diarrhea (I did not get sick, even once). We stop at every shop that gives him a kickback. He scolds me for shopping and paying too much and over tipping, and for other things I don’t understand. I agonize about how much tip to leave him. Google says 300 to 600 R/s per day. I put 4,000 R/s ($48) in an envelope and place it on the dash along with an American nut bar that I know he will enjoy, but refused to accept. I feel cheap, but everything tells me this is generous. I wish him well.

This airline boards by group number. When the gate agents call group number one there’s a bum rush to the gate. The gate agents simply kick them out of line saying you’re in group 3, so they move back about 3 spaces and jump right back in elbowing their way ahead – to no gain. It’s ridiculous. It’s comical. It’s India.

Our route home over the mountains of Afghanistan was a real treat. They are the most extensive and rugged mountains I have ever seen (didn’t photograph well).

I made a big mistake on the plane by eating a pepper or chili. It looked like a green bean but was so hot I started to panic. I had severe hiccups for minutes followed by a gut ache. Not good when your on a plane with 16 hours to go.

Immigration in Newark is horrible. An hour in line after a 17 hour flight. Arg. I walked right past customs with my bags. That makes me feel really safe.

I enjoyed India but it’s nice to be back in Amerika, mostly. I was telling the bartender at the hotel in Newark about the prices in India when I gasped at being charged $9 for a beer. He laughed and said “welcome back to America”.

Some random thoughts:

The average salary per month in India is $384/mo. (https://www.jobted.in/salary). That’s average salary, not average income.

Dragging India forward economically is an impossible task. It is too diverse (yes, tell the liberals I know diversity is good) but being a Mormon in a Mormon community is good. Except when you’re making policy that effects Rastafarians living in Boulder. The government must spend enormous effort making sure that policy and spending is culturally acceptable and equitable to all. There are 23 official languages, 9 main religions, 36 states, with 102 divisions! Jammu and Kashmir want an independent state. The nearby Sikhs want their own independent state as well. Why India doesn’t fly apart I don’t know. It must be impossible to effectively communicate and make policy with the myriad of cultures and languages.

The work ethic is low. 4 to 6 hours of moderate (at best) to low effort is probably the best to hope for.

Only 75% of adults are literate, barely. They show no outward incentive to improve their lot in life.

Basic capitalist ideals are foreign to them.

Religion seems to govern their everything.

English words have different meanings to them than they do to me. This is the only place I have seen that.

The economic bottom of the barrel population (no shoes, rags, living under a sheet of tin, eating from the garbage piles with the dogs and cows) seem to have much darker skin. Is this selective perception because this is what I expected to see based on my limited knowledge of the caste system? Possibly.

Now just a bunch of random photos.