Had it with Delhi. The noise and the air is too much. Kutub and I booked flights to Bubaneshwar on the Eastern coast, with the intention of spending some time by the beach area of Puri. There were a few interesting places we wanted to see around the area and we intended to do some day trips and hang out there for about five days before he headed back to Delhi and me onto Goa.
Flight was three hours delayed, and at the cost of US$250 was a total shock (when I had just paid US$50 for the equivalent flight with NZ).
We arrived in Bubaneshwar and took a taxi to the local bus stop. Kutub and the driver chatted the whole way there and I just switched off. We just had time to clamber aboud the bus to Puri (about 30 km away) before it sped off. Kutub asked me - 'did you understand anything that driver said?'. 'No - of course not' I replied. 'Well, he was criticizing me for telling you that you can get the bus for 20 rupees. He said if it wasn't for me, he could have charged you 500 rupees to get to Puri as you're just a tourist and you can afford it'. 'Whhhaaatt???'. I was pretty angry at this but it's a good example of the way they work here. Everyone but everyone looks at you and goes 'ch-ching!' and all they see is money money money and how much can they ring out of you. That is one of the main reasons why travelling here is so tiring ~ not the bumpy lumpy roads that have you feeling like you been sitting on a washing machine for three hours, not the crap everywhere that you have to step around and not the men peeing at the sides of the streets. Not the noise, the lack of hot water in your shower and not the challenge of finding a clean restaurant for lunch. What makes you so tired is dealing with all the hacks who are out to rip you off. Side-stepping these guys is like avoiding landmines - you know you're going to come across a few and you just pray you can survive the damage they do to your wallet, not to mention your pride.
We had booked a really lovely hotel in Puri with a balcony and view over the almost deserted beach which had large waves lapping it - such a lovely change from Delhi it was worth all the effort to get here.
Monday, November 24, 2003
Taj Mahal - Agra
Today we went to the Taj Mahal in Agra, about a three hour train ride away from Delhi. You can take various tourist buses there for a princely sum but Kutub and I decided to do it ourselves. The Lonely Planet would have you believe there are only two trains heading there early in the morning, but Kutib, not being very much into getting up before 8am, wasn't keen on my idea that we get the 8.30 train. So we met up at the train station around 9am and he figured out how to get tickets for us both. Turned out there were loads of trains going there, they just took a little longer. We sneaked into second class and when the ticket inspector came around we paid him a little more cash so we could stay in our seats. The landscape quickly changed from foggy urban sprawl to countryside slums.
I've been trying to figure out how to best describe Indiam streets. The best thing I can come up with is to have you imagine taking the entire contents of your local rubbish tip. Imagine several dozen huge diggers each unloading tons of debris directly onto the side of your local street. Scatter it about a bit. Leave large piles at various intervals. Insert several thousand mangy flea-infested stray dogs. Now, take all the cars in a parking lot and honk their horns simultaniously. Double the volume and pipe it into the very same street with all the garbage. Pile onto this the population of India and there you have a pretty good idea of what it is like. The countryside is not much better but at least these people aren't dealing with the severe dust or quite so much noise pollution.
Finally we rolled into Agra around lunchtime adn headed for the nearest restaurant. "Only Restaurant" was located not far from the Taj and I had a wonderful meal of roti bread, chicken curry (ala milch nahi) and basmati rice. Kutub had the Tandoori chicken. Service was excellent.
We'd read that the best time to visit the Taj was just before sunset so we headed for the Red Fort instead. Foreigners 350 rupees, locals 20 rupees. I try not to get angry at this blatent racism... particluray in light of the fact there are so many rich indians with loads more dosh than your joe-average backpacker. I could probably understand it if the difference wasn't such a huge percent but they really take the piss.
After the scandelous entrance fee, we brushed off all offers of personal guides and wandered around the fort ourselves. (nb - Insert various facts about the fort from LP at later date). One of the Taj's son's was mad at him not handing over the crown so he imprisoned his father in the fort for the rest of his life. The father's only wish was to get a view of the Taj Mahal across the river. The first glimpse of the Taj we got from high on he fort and it does take your breath away. It is gleaming white (nb - insert interesting story about how they cleaned it) and situated next to the flowing ....... River. There are no buildings around the Taj (by law) and therefore no traffric noise either.
After the Red Fort we finally got to see the Taj. They had a special women's queue for tickets and a bag-search but this didn't help me because I still had to wait for Kutub. The Taj Mahal's outragous entrance fee was 750 rupees for foreigners, 20 rupees for locals... Ouch!!! Taking the piss big time! When I asked what the 'tax fee' was, I was told it was the maintenance fee. So there you have it - the tourists pay for the maintenance of the Taj Mahal, not the locals. Hmmmm - something wrong with that picture. The LP explains that up until 2000, all tourists paid the same 20 rupees, but that so much 'environmental' damage was being done to the Taj Mahal that they increased the fee (for foreigners only) in order to discourange us from going. (It's that good old Indian 'logic' again). Well, I observed approximately five foreign tourists and approximately 5000 locals, so not sure if it's worked or not, but whose going to come all the way to India, survive the carnage that is Delhi and not see the Taj Mahal?? Finally it was my turn to get my bag searched and I had my mini-calculator confiscated (hmmm... you can see the headline - "Kiwi Sabotages Taj Mahal with Dangerous Matriculation") and was sent back to leave it in a locker. Waiting for Kutub to get frisked, I witnessed the most vicious attack between two women - the Calculator Confiscator (not rooting for her) and another very upset local woman who went for her eyes.... it was a major catfight! All the men just stood around staring and finally some of the male guards with long rifles slung over their shoulders intervened and pulled the women off each other. They continued screaming what I imagine to be Hindi obescenities at each other for quite some time and I don't mind admitting I was a little scared. No idea what it was all about but got the heart rate going that's for sure. I used the time wisely by secreting my calulator into a pocket and banking that Calculator Confiscator woman was too upset to notice - it worked.
Eventually we had made it! The Taj from the outside is a stufy in symetry ~ if you go all the way around it, it is idenical from each direction. We had a nice quite couple of hours there exploring the grounds. The detail in the tiling was very impressive, as were the figures - 40,000 men 40 years of hard toiling and labour to complete. All because the Taj at the time loved one of his wives so much he gifted it to her as a present. She was quite sick and didn't make it to see the completed structure unfortunately but it's the thought that counts.
The inside of the Taj is much much small than it appears from the outside - no bigger than the size of couple of large living rooms really. Inside are the tombs of the Taj and his beloved, but it was so dimly lit I couldn't see properly.
Finally we called it a day and after a brief cycle-rickshaw ride through the smelly markets around the Taj, headed for a light dinner at another great and very cheap restaurant, before getting the express train back to Delhi.
I've been trying to figure out how to best describe Indiam streets. The best thing I can come up with is to have you imagine taking the entire contents of your local rubbish tip. Imagine several dozen huge diggers each unloading tons of debris directly onto the side of your local street. Scatter it about a bit. Leave large piles at various intervals. Insert several thousand mangy flea-infested stray dogs. Now, take all the cars in a parking lot and honk their horns simultaniously. Double the volume and pipe it into the very same street with all the garbage. Pile onto this the population of India and there you have a pretty good idea of what it is like. The countryside is not much better but at least these people aren't dealing with the severe dust or quite so much noise pollution.
Finally we rolled into Agra around lunchtime adn headed for the nearest restaurant. "Only Restaurant" was located not far from the Taj and I had a wonderful meal of roti bread, chicken curry (ala milch nahi) and basmati rice. Kutub had the Tandoori chicken. Service was excellent.
We'd read that the best time to visit the Taj was just before sunset so we headed for the Red Fort instead. Foreigners 350 rupees, locals 20 rupees. I try not to get angry at this blatent racism... particluray in light of the fact there are so many rich indians with loads more dosh than your joe-average backpacker. I could probably understand it if the difference wasn't such a huge percent but they really take the piss.
After the scandelous entrance fee, we brushed off all offers of personal guides and wandered around the fort ourselves. (nb - Insert various facts about the fort from LP at later date). One of the Taj's son's was mad at him not handing over the crown so he imprisoned his father in the fort for the rest of his life. The father's only wish was to get a view of the Taj Mahal across the river. The first glimpse of the Taj we got from high on he fort and it does take your breath away. It is gleaming white (nb - insert interesting story about how they cleaned it) and situated next to the flowing ....... River. There are no buildings around the Taj (by law) and therefore no traffric noise either.
After the Red Fort we finally got to see the Taj. They had a special women's queue for tickets and a bag-search but this didn't help me because I still had to wait for Kutub. The Taj Mahal's outragous entrance fee was 750 rupees for foreigners, 20 rupees for locals... Ouch!!! Taking the piss big time! When I asked what the 'tax fee' was, I was told it was the maintenance fee. So there you have it - the tourists pay for the maintenance of the Taj Mahal, not the locals. Hmmmm - something wrong with that picture. The LP explains that up until 2000, all tourists paid the same 20 rupees, but that so much 'environmental' damage was being done to the Taj Mahal that they increased the fee (for foreigners only) in order to discourange us from going. (It's that good old Indian 'logic' again). Well, I observed approximately five foreign tourists and approximately 5000 locals, so not sure if it's worked or not, but whose going to come all the way to India, survive the carnage that is Delhi and not see the Taj Mahal?? Finally it was my turn to get my bag searched and I had my mini-calculator confiscated (hmmm... you can see the headline - "Kiwi Sabotages Taj Mahal with Dangerous Matriculation") and was sent back to leave it in a locker. Waiting for Kutub to get frisked, I witnessed the most vicious attack between two women - the Calculator Confiscator (not rooting for her) and another very upset local woman who went for her eyes.... it was a major catfight! All the men just stood around staring and finally some of the male guards with long rifles slung over their shoulders intervened and pulled the women off each other. They continued screaming what I imagine to be Hindi obescenities at each other for quite some time and I don't mind admitting I was a little scared. No idea what it was all about but got the heart rate going that's for sure. I used the time wisely by secreting my calulator into a pocket and banking that Calculator Confiscator woman was too upset to notice - it worked.
Eventually we had made it! The Taj from the outside is a stufy in symetry ~ if you go all the way around it, it is idenical from each direction. We had a nice quite couple of hours there exploring the grounds. The detail in the tiling was very impressive, as were the figures - 40,000 men 40 years of hard toiling and labour to complete. All because the Taj at the time loved one of his wives so much he gifted it to her as a present. She was quite sick and didn't make it to see the completed structure unfortunately but it's the thought that counts.
The inside of the Taj is much much small than it appears from the outside - no bigger than the size of couple of large living rooms really. Inside are the tombs of the Taj and his beloved, but it was so dimly lit I couldn't see properly.
Finally we called it a day and after a brief cycle-rickshaw ride through the smelly markets around the Taj, headed for a light dinner at another great and very cheap restaurant, before getting the express train back to Delhi.
Delhi - Agra
Met up with Kutob today and we decided to explore Old Delhi. The tour basically took in most of New Delhi, consisting of the embassies, Parliament, Museums etc.. But we were both eager to see the real Delhi and away from all the touristy places yesterday (which quite frankly, even on more than an hour's sleep, mostly bore me to tears. I only did that tour yesterday to save me from having to walk all over Delhi by myself being accosted by men every step of the way offering 'assistance' and enquiring several times over whether I would like to see their shop: 'Scuze me Mam? Mam? MAM? You look for something? You like scarf? You come with me. See my shop. Come. COME!")
We jumped in an auto-rickshaw (fume-spilling green and yellow painted three wheeled hunks of metal that run all over Delhi in vast numbers and add to the pollution in staggering amounts). We had a delicious breakfast of a circular hollow and crispy deep-fried bread, with a chickpea and potato curry, washed down with very sweet chai tea. Then we had a sweet of carrot, cashew nuts and almonds with cheese curds, which was still warm from being freshly made that morning. It kind of looked like un-cooked carrot cake and it was delicious. Kutub ordering everything for me and telling me about it all. I am writing down all the important words like 'milch nahi' (no spice!). Lots of people asking us all the time where we are from and staring in the most incredulous way because (I guess) it is unusual to see an white girl with an Indian guy. (Although he is so western it is difficult to believe he is Indian sometimes - I don't think he feels much like a local at all and sometimes gets hassled more than me even which I find a great relief that it's not just me). The locals can certainly spot you a tourist mile away, even if you look just like them.
Into another autorickshaw and on to the Great Mosque. Delhi is a lot like Indonesia when I was travelling through there after Uni 10 years ago.... in a way I am glad as turns out it is not as much of a shock as if I had never seen this before. The first thing that strikes you is the pollution - air and noise. You can literally see the air and not much else past a couple of hundred meters. It's horrifying that millions of people are breathing in this much dust every day of their lives. I noticed some street-side leaves on a bush are all covered in about 2-3mm of dust, and,oddly enough, appeared to be thriving in the watery sunlight. There are homeless men women and childern everywhere and filthy kids begging on the streets amongst the chaotic traffic and people maimed with legs and arms missing, or if not missing, sticking out at all odd angles. These people mostly seem to crawl around in the squalor, covered in so much dirt it is a wonder they aren't all terribly sick. Near the Old Mosque is a huge market with people selling all kinds of crap laid out on the very dirty streets. The rickshaw had stalled in traffic and it was quicker to walk so we hopped off and picked our way through the market. A lot of used computer books I noticed, all very outdated. (Fontran??) We picked our way around the market and into the mosque (take your shoes off at all mosques so feet getting a little dirty). It was very calming and with it's huge vaulted ceilings, had the effect of making you feel instantly like a small child. Also very quiet. Did I mention the noise pollution? As if the air quality isn't bad enough, they make it all the worse for themselves with this nonsensical and fanatical obsession with honking their horn. Kutub has been explaining to me that it is their way of saying 'I am here'. There is no such thing as a formal driving licence he tells me... none of this makes sense and it occured to me today that many things in India defy all logic. On the way to the railway station after the Great Mosque, we were on a cycle-rickshaw (the ones where a little skinny guy cycles big fat tourists like myself and the more affluent locals through the streets, while you perch on the a little forward sloping seet and pray he doesn't brake too hard and you get thrown off and land in a cowpat). Anyway, we were on this bridge and on the other side there was one guy on some kind of converted bicycle, carrying what looked like about fifty large cans of oil. They reached at least a story high and how they got them all to balance on there is a total mystery but how this guy could lug them up the bridge (and think - down it!) just defies all logic. Well - that kind of sums up India - there appears to be little sound reasoning, but somehow it works.
Anyway, we've had a South-Indian lunch of dosa (a large very flat bread that I'm quite coming to like) and more types of curry that I'll never remember the names of, and sweet chai tea. We think we will hang out together a bit longer and go to see the Taj Mahal tomorrow for a day trip and then maybe take a flight to Goa for a week or so. Then I will stay in the South of India for the remainder of my time in India where I am assured there is plenty to keep me occupied for three more weeks. I can't wait to get out of Delhi - three days is definately enough. But so glad I met Kutub - he is teaching me a little bit of Hindi even so I can get around later. I am also learning relative costs, bargaining for rickshaws, ordering food, what it means when people do strange things, (like when they make the sign of the cross when you give them money. This is because it is the first money they have received that day and they are thanking the Indian God of money).
We jumped in an auto-rickshaw (fume-spilling green and yellow painted three wheeled hunks of metal that run all over Delhi in vast numbers and add to the pollution in staggering amounts). We had a delicious breakfast of a circular hollow and crispy deep-fried bread, with a chickpea and potato curry, washed down with very sweet chai tea. Then we had a sweet of carrot, cashew nuts and almonds with cheese curds, which was still warm from being freshly made that morning. It kind of looked like un-cooked carrot cake and it was delicious. Kutub ordering everything for me and telling me about it all. I am writing down all the important words like 'milch nahi' (no spice!). Lots of people asking us all the time where we are from and staring in the most incredulous way because (I guess) it is unusual to see an white girl with an Indian guy. (Although he is so western it is difficult to believe he is Indian sometimes - I don't think he feels much like a local at all and sometimes gets hassled more than me even which I find a great relief that it's not just me). The locals can certainly spot you a tourist mile away, even if you look just like them.
Into another autorickshaw and on to the Great Mosque. Delhi is a lot like Indonesia when I was travelling through there after Uni 10 years ago.... in a way I am glad as turns out it is not as much of a shock as if I had never seen this before. The first thing that strikes you is the pollution - air and noise. You can literally see the air and not much else past a couple of hundred meters. It's horrifying that millions of people are breathing in this much dust every day of their lives. I noticed some street-side leaves on a bush are all covered in about 2-3mm of dust, and,oddly enough, appeared to be thriving in the watery sunlight. There are homeless men women and childern everywhere and filthy kids begging on the streets amongst the chaotic traffic and people maimed with legs and arms missing, or if not missing, sticking out at all odd angles. These people mostly seem to crawl around in the squalor, covered in so much dirt it is a wonder they aren't all terribly sick. Near the Old Mosque is a huge market with people selling all kinds of crap laid out on the very dirty streets. The rickshaw had stalled in traffic and it was quicker to walk so we hopped off and picked our way through the market. A lot of used computer books I noticed, all very outdated. (Fontran??) We picked our way around the market and into the mosque (take your shoes off at all mosques so feet getting a little dirty). It was very calming and with it's huge vaulted ceilings, had the effect of making you feel instantly like a small child. Also very quiet. Did I mention the noise pollution? As if the air quality isn't bad enough, they make it all the worse for themselves with this nonsensical and fanatical obsession with honking their horn. Kutub has been explaining to me that it is their way of saying 'I am here'. There is no such thing as a formal driving licence he tells me... none of this makes sense and it occured to me today that many things in India defy all logic. On the way to the railway station after the Great Mosque, we were on a cycle-rickshaw (the ones where a little skinny guy cycles big fat tourists like myself and the more affluent locals through the streets, while you perch on the a little forward sloping seet and pray he doesn't brake too hard and you get thrown off and land in a cowpat). Anyway, we were on this bridge and on the other side there was one guy on some kind of converted bicycle, carrying what looked like about fifty large cans of oil. They reached at least a story high and how they got them all to balance on there is a total mystery but how this guy could lug them up the bridge (and think - down it!) just defies all logic. Well - that kind of sums up India - there appears to be little sound reasoning, but somehow it works.
Anyway, we've had a South-Indian lunch of dosa (a large very flat bread that I'm quite coming to like) and more types of curry that I'll never remember the names of, and sweet chai tea. We think we will hang out together a bit longer and go to see the Taj Mahal tomorrow for a day trip and then maybe take a flight to Goa for a week or so. Then I will stay in the South of India for the remainder of my time in India where I am assured there is plenty to keep me occupied for three more weeks. I can't wait to get out of Delhi - three days is definately enough. But so glad I met Kutub - he is teaching me a little bit of Hindi even so I can get around later. I am also learning relative costs, bargaining for rickshaws, ordering food, what it means when people do strange things, (like when they make the sign of the cross when you give them money. This is because it is the first money they have received that day and they are thanking the Indian God of money).