Getting that Money Shot In Agra

September 24, 2015

This is, after all, a train journey through India so let’s get some train talk happening!

We had to say good-bye to Shimla and begin the long and winding journey back into Delhi.  Other than a laborious drive (or helicopter rental) the only other way to get back down the mountain is to take the “toy train” (UNESCO recognized!)– otherwise known as a narrow gauge train – to Kalka.  And it really is a toy steam train!  No bigger than something you find at a zoo for children’s entertainment.  Only this children’s ride lasts 6 hrs. and you sit on narrow wooden benches barely wide enough for one person.  There are no doors and the toilet is a hole in the floor.  But what a ride!  The views are spectacular!  Winding down the mountain with your feet hanging out the door.  Your toes dangle into oblivion every time you cross one of the 864 bridges spanning the mountain gorges.  Quickly you retract your feet every time you enter one of 103 roughly hewn tunnels lest you shave off a few toes (or more!).  The longest tunnel is at Barog (1.5 km).  Engineered by Colonel Barog, he dug the tunnel from both ends but was unable to align them.  In jest, his peers fined him one rupee for poor planning but he could not live with the shame of failure and committed suicide in the incomplete tunnel.   A sad end to a glorious engineering feat that remains unchanged since its inception. There is nothing to do but simply be and realize you are traveling exactly as people have for the last 150 years.  And the train shows it.  As do the stations.  Which just adds to the romanticism and the subtle reminder that safety is merely a pipe dream.  Indeed, the day after we arrived in Kalka, the same train derailed, seriously injuring a number of tourists and killing two women from England!

Ah Delhi!  We meet again!  With 24 hrs. to spare we have a chance to get two more important items off our Indian bucket list – visiting that gaudy Hanuman fun house near our hotel and meet up with my “Catfish” Facebook friend – Sandip!  The Hanuman temple was every bit as freaky as we thought.  Sandip, however, was not, so life remained in balance and a good time was had by all.  Of course, this may have had a lot to do with the Starbucks and cakes Sandip got us whereas Hanuman only offered death by motor vehicle accident followed by consumption by wild dogs and homeless people. (Crossing 8 lanes of Indian traffic and jumping a cement barricade only to be cannibalized seems a bit much to demonstrate religious devotion.  But hey – to each their own.)

The following morning it was an early – VERY EARLY – train ride to Agra.  Not early enough, however, to get there in time to view the sites (Or so our guide told us).  So we had a “free day” to explore Agra.  The Taj and the Fort would have to wait until tomorrow at sunrise (Yeah –ANOTHER early start.  Fun times.)

Agra is a shit hole.

Yes the Taj Mahal and the Agra Fort are here and yes they are every bit as stunning as you imagine.  But Agra itself is a total pit of despair and abject poverty.  There is so much irony in that this place, which is the most visited place in India, also has the highest rates of unemployment.  Not to mention the pollution and deplorable state of the river systems here.  If you want a reminder of the privilege in having access to clean drinking water and proper sanitation you need only spend a few days wandering the streets of Agra.  It’s apparent that if you come on a Western tour you are shunted away to clean upscale hotels and ferried by air conditioned behemoths to the Wonders and then back again.  I doubt anyone really “sees” what is actually going on day to day.  I doubt even more that anyone wants to.   We were not in “that” section of town.  Instead we stayed at a local establishment next door to Pizza Hut and a Lavazza coffee bar.  We paid ridiculous prices to eat there.   I must have spent $50 on coffee but that’s because it’s FEAST OR FAMINE when it comes to my beverage of choice so I tank up when I can.

See, that’s the paradox of India.  There is so much vibrancy and intensity.  It takes your breath away – literally and figuratively.  You find it so, so beautiful and then you get up close and personal and you realize that India has a dark side.  Not an evil side – but a side that mirrors back to you how what YOU have is an illusion.  Your world is not the real one – India is.  All that chaos.  All that squalor and disease. All that fighting to survive and remain human in a world where there is never enough – that’s real.  We, in the West have done a good job at deluding ourselves that the gravy train will last forever and that everyone will get enough in the end.  Come here and walk the streets of Agra.  Look at all those plastic bottles you drink from now 3 meters high in what used to be a water way.  Look at the sky glazed over in smog.  See the Taj slowly melting from acid rain and wearing down from our incessant need to violate her at the expense of everyone else that lives in her shadow.  Smell the stench from the river that people depended on for thousands of years now dying an agonizing death.  If you are going to the Taj Mahal you owe it to her to see all of her – even the ugly parts.  You need to embrace them all.  After all, you’d want the same for yourself wouldn’t you?

After Agra it was a 7-hour train ride up to Jaipur – the capital of Rajasthan and another crash course in how to handle chaos and sensory overload.  First thing is actually getting out of the train station which is so congested with people and rickshaws (tuk tuks) that it’s a miracle anyone can move at all.  We meet our rickshaw driver, Khan, who tells me the rats running over my feet are a good thing and I am very, very lucky (yeah – lucky I didn’t get rabies).  He loads us and our bags into his cart and promptly turns on the “disco lighting” and cranks up Shakira on his Bose car stereo.  Another Indian paradox – you can have the shittiest rickshaw in town but in Jaipur it’s all about tricking that shitty rickshaw up to the max.   I shutter to think how many meals this guy went without to pimp his ride.

Our hotel here was interesting.  For one, Ken and I are pretty sure we stayed here 10 years ago so it was a weird déjà vu experience.  Second, it was a “palace” at one time so you walk in and it all looks very India meets 1001 Arabian Nights.  Third thing – and this is important – you are essentially trapped here once you check in.  Sure you can go out on the street but once you leave those gates it’s full on Siddhartha wake up call.  You ARE NOT in Kansas anymore.  The streets are safe enough to walk in but don’t plan on finding any food options worth risking you health over.  This meant we all were forced to eat at the over priced and underwhelming restaurant in the “palace.”  I put “palace” in quotes because it isn’t that grand now.  It’s hot with no ventilation.  The electricity goes off all the time and shorted out everyone’s devices one night when there was a massive power surge.  The drinks were never cold.  The food was never hot.  The rooms are very, very tired and been equally well used. But we were trapped in a PALACE!  We had a pool and we had gin and we had beer.  And we had each other. 

Well sort of…

On our tour of the Amber Fort we weren’t paying attention and one of our group mates was left behind.  It’s pretty pathetic that it was so hot and we were are all in self preservation mode that no one noticed this poor girl hadn’t made it back to the taxi area with us.  Panic ensued and her friends rushed back up to the fort to look for her.  Meanwhile, another member of our group – a retired police officer – thought it would be helpful to say,  “I used to work in search and rescue.  If you haven’t found the person in the first 30 minutes it’s never good.  It’s now been 45 minutes.”   Wow.  I guess we’ve officially entered the Heart of Darkness portion of the India trip now.  As it turns out, she went to the bathroom and lost track of us.  Being a resourceful empowered woman she went “Alright then! It’s hot as Hades here and you all just F-ed off on me so I am going back to the hotel for beers!” and off she went!  And there she was when we got back – sitting on the deck with a cold Kingfisher and all her friend’s clothes in the pool.  Next time she goes to the bathroom, he knows now to wait.

Boy on a train to Jaipur

School's out in Jaipur!

Catfish at Delhi Starbucks.

Guard Dog of the Taj

The life of a florist in Jaipur

Sunset at the Mini Taj

Mini Taj Mahal

Strolling the mini Taj

Train dogs of Agra

Chilling at the Agra Fort

Squirrel security bag check at Agra Fort

Spice is nice in Jaipur!

MONEY SHOT!

Taking it all in on the toy train to Kalka

Winding our way through the mountains

Riding the non-pimped Rickshaw in Agra

Yeah - we're back ;-)

World Vision Women making a difference in Agra

The lobby at the "Palace."  Trust me - the lobby was the only thing looking this posh here.

As luck would have it...

The Hanuman House of Horrors

Delhi Meets the Jedi Queen

September 4, 2015

Another journey, another blog.   So let’s begin at the beginning – airplane movie reviews!  For this first leg I bring you the following:

True Story:  If you are a journalist and a guy in prison for killing his family asks for writing tips DON’T DO IT.  Killer ends up writing for New York Times and you spend the rest of your life holed up in your cabin in Montana mired in ethical conflict and filled with self-loathing.

San Andres:  A 10.0 earthquake of every Hollywood movie stereotype starring the Rock and that guy from Sideways.  Napa Valley is all that survives.

Terminator Genysis:  I’ll be back and this time I’m bringing Mother of Dragons.  Shit gets done.

We arrived at Heathrow on what we found out is the busiest day EVER of the year – the last day before school starts.  This meant that clearing customs and immigration was a 90-minute wait in a line up that snaked its way to the end of the terminal and then back up again.  Fun times.  We had no checked bags to declare which, when you also disclose you are on a 2-month trip to India results in a lot of shady side eye.   Who takes a 2-month trip with no checked bags?!?!  Only those who are magnificently eccentric or terrorists.  Overnighted at an airport hotel where we slept for 15 hours and ate lamb and mint crisps for dinner because night flight jet lag messes you up real good as far as normal eating.  Then it was off to catch the next flight to Delhi.  For this flight we were able to access the new executive lounge at Terminal 5.  Unlimited lattes, hard liquor and mini bagels and lox.  Oh, and facials, manis, pedis, A STEAM ROOM and pods of isolation for being anti-social in.   I was tempted to tank up on prosecco but doing so at 5:30 in the morning seemed rather gauche.  Civilized people wait until 9 am to break open the champagne and gin and tonics.  Shortly after that someone dropped their baby while trying to juggle their Gucci bags and champagne glass at the table.  No screams of pain just the painful thud of over consumption brought to the fore. 

The flight from London to Heathrow was almost entirely empty.  The plane “may” have been a third full and that would be a pushing it.  So those of us who were on it stretched out and took rows of seats to ourselves to lay back and watch bad Hollywood or bad Bollywood movies.  So without further adieu, the second installment of airplane movie reviews!

The Killers:  Sean Penn plays a guy with anger management issues who hits women.  But its all good  - he’s black ops and that woman had it coming to her.

Ex Machina:  AI is a woman and you are not God.  Unless you are Oscar Isaacs in full lumber sexual beard dancing in silk pajamas.  THEN you are a God.

A Little Chaos:  No one does permaculture gardening like a 17^th century woman besot by grief.  Next time you wander the gardens at the Palace of Versailles remember it was the kings’ gay brother and his  beard that really made that place special. 

Arrived in Delhi at 11 pm and began the process of finding an ATM that would actually let you take out more than 10,000 rupees and then book a cab.  BTW, Customs and Immigrations have a list of 6 things you cannot under any circumstances bring into the country.  These are (in this order):

1)   Maps and literature where Indian external boundaries are shown incorrectly.  (So if you’re a cartographer planning on having a seminar on maps of the world circa 1492 you are SOL if you want to have India in your Power Point Presentation)

2)   Psychotropic drugs (leave the mushrooms and E at home.  Just by K and morphine at the local pharmacy once you get here! LOL!)

3)   Goods violating intellectual property (No knock off Iphones or bad science literature).

4)   Counterfeit currency (obviously)

5)   Wild Life Products (No lion hunts for you!)

6)   Live Birds (This means all birds.  So those of you with Service Finches or Therapy Cockatoos  you will have to rely on Ativan and coloring books if you’re in India).

 Along the way I needed a cold drink so I found a drink machine that must have be one hell of a Pepsi product  because guarding it was an Indian Army sergeant with a machine gun.  He warily moved out of the way so I could get a diet Pepsi.  Oh, did I mention that when we paid for the taxi we had the “that was only a 100 rupee note” scam tried on us?  The fair is 470 rupee so naturally, most people hand over a 500 to pay.  The teller very quickly squirrels the 500 under the counter and drops a 100-rupee note on the counter top.  Chitchats a bit to throw you off and then asks politely for 370 rupee more to cover the fare.  We already knew this was normal so Ken reminded him “When I handed you the 500 I confirmed with you it was 500 so you owe me 30 not I owe you 370!.”  Then it was an attempt at quick recovery by saying “Oh I meant to ask for 70 so I could give you a 100 in change.”  Now it was off to the outside mayhem with our pre-paid taxi chit that UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES were we to give the driver until we arrived at our destination.  There must be a billion taxis outside the airport all ready to kill in order to get your fare.  We had no idea which cabs were legit and no one seemed to know where our hotel was.  Eventually we caved and went with a guy driving a mini van that looked like he fashioned it together himself out of old tin cans and cardboard.  Worst cab ride ever. No air conditioning and his windows did not roll down.  On the plus side he did find our hotel, which is located right across the street from the ginormous Hanuman statue and “Fun House.”  Honest to god this thing looks like a 1980’s carnival house of horrors over run by stray dogs and homeless people. So yeah, I will be checking that place out for sure! LOL!!

Last year during the Silk Road Odyssey from Hell, you might all remember we met a Belgian family at the Temple of the Screaming monk.  They now live here in Delhi and this allowed us to have a reunion.  And what reunion would not be complete if we didn’t go to another temple and get screamed at.  Well, technically it wasn’t us this time but there was a moment when we saw a yellow shirt in the crowd and we were sure Ken had caused another international incident with his camera.  We enjoyed our stroll through Qutb Minar filled with parakeets, chipmunks and eagles.  If only it was a billion degrees Celsius with a humidity factor of infinity.  We spent the evening at this amazing place called “The Social” on the Hauz Khas district.  I LOVE THIS PLACE!!!  It is an old warehouse with levels upon levels of great seating and great food.  There are even “anti social rooms” for when you just want to drink by yourself and brood. 

Today we had planned to hang out at a café at the Khan Market but Ken had a dental emergency.  This is where having diplomats as friends pays off.  Babette to the rescue!  Our Belgian connections got us a referral to Dr. Poonam Batra – Dentist of the Diplomats and the Canadian Ambassador.  We went hard-core and took an auto rickshaw to this place.  Talk about taking your life in your hands.  It was a great experience except for when the drive took us on the freeway.  Yep – imagine being on the Deerfoot or some interstate in the USA in a rickshaw.   Fortunately traffic ever gets faster than 40 km!  Ken felt like royalty in that office and I loved that Dr. Poonam was a woman with about 10 male dental assistants and office staff willingly doing her bidding.  $80 CDN dollars later for a procedure that would cost 5 times that back home and were off to the Khan Market for lattes and Internet!

Well no. 

There are lattes but no Internet.  Eventually after pounding the pavement we ended up at the Market Café, which has Internet but also has the worst salad ever.  Like EVER.  Iceberg lettuce should be banned as a food item and people should go to prison if they use it as the main ingredient in a Greek salad.  But there is Internet here and air con so I can suck it up.  After all, there is a Starbucks in Connaught Circle!

Random Observation of India So Far:

They love animals.  There are lots of birds and stray dogs in this city.  The dogs are fat because everyone feeds them.  It isn’t uncommon to see a street person sharing his/her meal with a stray dog and there are always water dishes left out for the dogs and birds to drink from.  You see a fair amount of trans women begging at stoplights but the locals think they just “dress up for money” and go home to a wife and kids and wear normal clothes.  

We meet the rest of the group tonight.  I’m feeling good about this.  Coffee withdrawal is not as bad as I thought and I am staying across the street to the “Mighty Monkey” (Jhandewalan Hanuman Temple). Tomorrow we head out for a tour of Old Delhi and I just read that at the Kashmere Gate there is a plethora of muscled male wrestlers willing to display their prowess.  Can it get any better than that in Delhi?

Young Love at Hauz Khas

Living it up at the Hotel Good Times

Strolling with my Temple Peeps courtesy of the Screaming Monk

9/11 at Qutb Minar

Love in the afternoon at the Minar

Fresh Lime Soda - SALTY!!