Surprises of India

The past seventeen days have seemed longer. It's hard to believe I'm flying out tomorrow. I wasn't mentally well-prepared to come here, and in most ways that was a good thing. I wanted to get a change in perspective, and got plenty of that. Here are some of the many surprises of this trip:

- More animals than in a Disney cartoon. The streets of most towns are filled with cows, pigs, dogs, donkeys, camels, and monkeys. The countryside also has goats and buffalo. A cow wacked me with the side of its head when I walked by it in Pushkar. I'm glad it didn't have horns. In the lacto-vegetarian town of Haridwar, I could understand the presence of cows, but why were pigs of all ages running around in the bazaars?

- Surprising practicality #1: Telephones in midrange hotels are minimal. Most in-room phones can't make long-distance calls at all, and they never have voicemail. Payphones are pretty much nonexistent, so if you want to talk you usually have to do it in a shop or a hotel front desk.

- Admission rates are usually several times higher for foreigners than for Indian residents. In the National Museum, Indians pay about 10 rupees (less than 30 Canadian cents) and foreigners pay 300 rupees. Which leads to surprising practicality #2 (OK, not all that surpising): So why can't they figure out that the foreigners aren't used to using a tap in the washroom stall, and that we would would really appecreciate it if toilet paper could also be provided?

- The as-an-educated-person-I-should-have-known-this surprise: Poverty here can be shocking. I thought it would have been a lot like Canada's urban miseries. The big difference here is that the very poor in the streets are often children: tiny kids wandering among cars and knocking on windows, and women carrying dirty, bare-bottomed infants.

- The nicest surprise: Tourists encounter some pretty obnoxious types, but with time you find people who are worth trusting enough to get to know a little bit. And then you discover that most people are incredibly kind, honest, and open-hearted people.

Restaurant menu misspelling of the day

From the Beverages section of a restaurant menu:

"Diet cock"

More highs and lows

Time for another set... The good:
4) The Ganges river in Haridwar
5) The Ayurvedic massage I had in Udaipur
6) The Taj Palace hotel in Delhi. There are a few times in life when a luxury hotel is worthwhile. Arriving in India for the first time is one of them.

The bad:
4) Riverside jokers who come up to you uninvited and "guide" you through Hindu prayers, then ask to be paid. Pushkar has a similar problem. It's like the main function of these "priests" is to prevent tourists from having any kind of spiritual experience.
5) Cold hotel rooms. It's very cold here at night and in the mornings. Just a few minutes away, people are sleeping under pieces of cotton draped over sticks, that make the Vancouver's tent cities look high-tech. I can't imagine.
6) Disappointing restaurant food. Street food actually tastes better.

Haridwar

I came to Haridwar, a town a few hours north of Delhi, for three main reasons: its repuation as being relatively free from annoying people, its excellent yoga and meditation centres, and the Ganges river.

I spent most of today walking beside the Ganges. Here, near its source in the Himalayas, the river is wide, fast-flowing, and beautifully clear. One can quickly understand why the Ganges is deeply beloved.

As for the yoga and meditation centres, the quick summary is that they don't accept tourists dropping in for a day or two. I learned this yesterday in an epic journey in search of a yoga class. The tourist office sent me to a university, the university people said to go to the ashram next door, I met some very kind and hospitable graduate students in yoga (in India, you can get a Masters or PhD in yoga), and one of the recent graduates gave me a tour of the ashram.

My goodness, what an ashram. The Shantikunj ashram in Haridwar has about 5000 residents, housed in apartment blocks. It has its own temples, gardens, and a meditation hall that's like an amphitheatre with three-dimensional mountain scenery on its stage. People stay there for months at a time to do yoga and meditation.

I took an autorickshaw back to my hotel, the Haveli Hari Ganga. I gave the non-English-speaking driver the address, but he still took me to the Hotel Ganga and then the Hotel Hari Ganga, and then then a field on the other side of the river to ask directions, and then got out and walked me across a pedestrian-only bridge. Ten days ago all this would have scared the living daylights out of me, but now that I'm more used to the impromptu nature of life in India we both laughed.

So no yoga yesterday, but getting there was fun.

Udaipur

On Sunday morning I woke up in Udaipur with no more fever but still with a stomachache. Singh had arranged a guide to show me the sights of Udaipur. Fortunately, I managed to not throw up while walking through the City palace, and I let my guie talk me into trying some Ayurvedic treatment for my ailments the next day.

The Vedic Ayurvedic Treatment Institute consists of about six small, clean, airy huts in a garden, none of which look as if they have running water or electricity, although some do. A propane stove also works hard to heat the many litres of water and oil that I went through in a few hours of massage, steam bath, oil-drizzling, and -- my favourite -- podikhizi, a rub with a herbal pack and hot water.

Steam baths take place right on the massage table, under a huge fibreglass half-cylinder that is hoisted into place and then filled with steam. At one point, with all the chattering and bustling going on to keep the steam bath running optimally, I felt like a guest in an Ewok village. The whole setup is surprisingly smooth and comfortable, and by the end the very kind and skilled masseuse was calling me her "daughter." Strange as everything was, it made me the most relaxed I've been in months.

I'm starting to feel more upbeat about being in India. On Saturday evening, I dragged Singh to a screening of the James Bond film Octopussy, which was mostly filmed in Udaipur. There are multiple restaurants in this beautiful city showing it every night. I have developed an empathy for the tourists who go to Tokyo or Rome and then eat fast-food hamburgers. Indulging in an experience of familiar culture, when abroad, is a form of blowing off steam.

Pushkar

I woke up yesterday with a fever, chills, and body aches, and spent most of the day sleeping. I'm feeling better today, although I think the doctor was wrong when he said it was a throat infection (I don't have a sore throat). It's probably the flu.

Mostly though, I'm homesick. I think this is enough of third-world travel for me. The next time I have a desire for exotic destinations I will watch National Geographic DVDs instead. I miss just about everything about home, even the rain. Here the skies have been clear and sunny for the 9 days I've been here. I miss riding my bike around the Seawall (what's left of it), fresh sushi, not having to worry about disease-carrying mosquitos or food or water, clean streets, hassle-free shopping, my violin, and of course most of all - people.

Pushkar was very good in terms of meeting new people though. I spent some good time with an unassuming, kindhearted Hindu priest who reminded me of how Douglas Todd described Jean Vanier: radiating the calmness of someone "who has fought his inner demons and emerged at peace." People like that are worth seeking out... maybe even to the other end of the world.

Highs and lows

Top three things in my India travels so far:

1) The Taj Mahal, monument to the enormity of lost love
2) The Amber Fort near Jaipur
3) The Lotus Temple, a Ba'hai temple in Delhi

Bottom three things:
1) Thick and crazy traffic
2) The morning-to-night pitch every foreigner receives from hordes of self-described-guides, salespeople, beggars, and scam artists in the tourist areas
3) India's stunning levels of poverty

Jaipur, people, and places

Time for a day-in-the-life posting.

Early this morning, I gladly leave "Ankur Resort" hotel in Ranthambhore, after a free hotel breakfast of "scrambuld eggs" toast, and Indian tea (which we call chai in Vancouver). Ranthambhore, unless you are a really big fan of tigers or arid scenery, is not worth it.

My driver, Singh, and I start the four-hour drive to Jaipur, capital of Rajasthan. Singh and I have been getting along well, and he speaks good English. I have been teaching him bicycle songs (he especially likes "Pedal Powered Goddess," and he has tried to teach me some Hindi songs. Little of the Hindi is sticking. There is lots of time for existential conversation: Is it good to give money to beggars? In the countryside, yes, he says. In the city, no.

As we arrive in Jaipur (pop. 2 million), Singh explains confidently that there are no cows on the road because this is the city. By the evening I have counted eight cows downtown, good for some shared laughter.

We stop at my hotel, the Umaid Mahal. It is five times better than Ankur Resort. I start to cheer up; Jaipur will be more comfortable than Ranthambhore.

I spend the rest of the evening walking and shopping for clothes and gifts. Rajasthan is known for its brilliant colours and handicrafts. I ask the tailor if he can make a dress with a hemline just above the knee. He starts quoting me prices for a long top and a pair of trousers. I don't
need trousers, I say, just the top. What will you wear with it? he asks incredulously. An argument ensues win which I try to explain that Western women don't wear trousers with their dresses; the tailor insists that he already knows everything about Western clothes... In the end, I give up trying to order a dress, and stick to a top and skirt.

I'm tired of restuarants, so I am happy to eat in a samosa/sweets/ice-cream shop, where I meet a group of very nice American students and we talk about life in India. We all wonder, sometimes, what we are doing here. But we all find it incredibly fascinating too.

Roadside villages

Hi everyone. Hard to believe it's only day 4 in India. I'm starting to feel more settled.

I am now at a shop near Ranthambore National Park, after being on the road for most of yesterday. Between the major tourist centres in India are long stretches of countryside, and glimpses of a way of life that is as far from mine as you can get.

I have seen more domestic animals in one day than I probably will in the rest of my life outside India. There are cows, of course, and also pigs, camels, donkeys, herds of goats, remarkably tidy-looking stray dogs, buffalo, and horses. Everything roams around and onto the highway. I think I have seen more of these animals than I have human children. There are wild peacocks and monkeys too.

The farmers grow mustard, with bright yellow flowers blooming now, wheat, and vegetables. Dried cow patties are a commodity here, stacked neatly everywhere and stuffed into sacks for sale elsewhere. I guess all our cow dung in Canada just goes to waste.

As for the people, I can only know them from their clothes. And what clothes -- bright pink and red saris, brilliant colours worn by all the women, every day.

Hello from Agra

Greetings everyone from Agra, India. This is home of the glorious Taj Mahal, and streets even wilder than in Delhi. Delhi has fewer animals. Between the drive here and the Taj Mahal itself, I feel like I've seen everything. I've only been in the country for 48 hours though.

Getting to Delhi from Vancouver took 40 hours, and had me landing at Los Angeles, Taipei, and Singapore on the way. It gave me lots of time to reflect on why I didn't check the itinerary more carefully when my travel agent booked it in November. The flights were well in the "what doesn't kill me makes me stronger" category, although it worked surprisingly well. I slept well, had a wonderful visit with relatives in Singapore, watched a movie ("The Queen") and a few TV shows, and went to a gym in L.A. If you're ever on a long layover at LAX, consider taking the free shuttle to the Crowne Plaza Hotel and dropping into the gym across the street for a bit of exercise and a shower. It saved my sanity.