2/18/05
I left Goa on Feb 14th and was in Bombay early Tuesday morning, outside Victoria Station, strolling the surrounding the streets, and awaiting the sun’s appearance.
I spent a good part of the day trying to get my camera fixed… hoping I didn’t have to purchase a new one and not wanting to get jacked on any sort of prices. I picked up my camera the following day, slapped J.P. my 1200 rupees, went to Haseena Aunty’s for lunch, and headed to Mumbai Central because my train for Delhi was at 4:55… I sat seated in my AS3 Sleeper compartment 15 minutes prior.
There was a family sitting directly to my right and there was nothing but laughter and excitement from their jurisdiction for over half of the 17 hour journey. They were headed to Delhi for the first time, there was a wedding to attend on Saturday, and it was the uncle’s birthday today- they had good reason for cheer and so did I.
Two beautiful Punjabi children sat behind me with their parents and I spent half of my time trying to get the 6 year old boy to crack a smile… no luck.
I felt like it was so cliche for me to be sitting on the train, starring out into the countryside, watching the sunset, with my phones on…no not for any of these reasons… but because I had Jack Kerouac’s ON THE ROAD open in my hands. I hadn’t grabbed it out of my bag before this ride, because I felt it was completely cliche to be reading this book on the journey that I’m on. Lara would nod her head in agreement, because she says that people who just read the acclaimed work of an author are lame( Lara, I plan on reading Dharma Bums as well). But as I finished the first few chapters, grinning to myself and nodding in agreement; I discarded my previous thoughts.
I arrived in Delhi at 10:30 a.m. and walked from the train station to the taxi stand with more skepticism than a guy playing paintball wondering if his teammates have just turned against him. The horror stories that I had recently heard from fellow backpackers and the summary & advice from the Lonely Planet had created a medieval shield that I would hold with a firm grip unless someone chopped my hands off. The L.P. said to beware of auto-rickshaw drivers and the various scams that they love to pull- overcharging, taking joy rides, telling you that places don’t exist so that they can throw you to a hotel or agent that they are in cahoots with.
So when I got off the train, I walked to the taxi stand and asked a few drivers how much to certain places in Cannaught Circle, and got ridiculous answers like, “150 rupees (3 dollars), “You can’t go there because of the Metro project, It’s impossible,” I thought I now understood a portion of the horror. One guy told me he would charge me 30 rupees to take me to the Indian Tourism Bureau. So it was there that I was told the truth, I think.
There IS massive development going on in Delhi. The main bazaar is closed, the guest houses there are closed, and there is a doctor’s conference currently being held.
So I told the gentleman what my itinerary was. Delhi, Agra, Jaipur, Jahlasamer, Mt. Abu, Udaipur. He told me that they could give me a driver, car, gas, and full accomodations for a fixed price. I bargained him down a little and decided to cancel my train ticket from Delhi-Jaipur in 4 days.
I met the driver, Suresh, we went to to his home where he said good-bye to his family for 14 days, and we cruised around Delhi a bit.
We got caught at an intersection for 25 minutes: buses, rickshaw wallas, auto-rickshaws, motorcyclists, pedestrians, and bicyclists……all hollering at each other to move their asses.
A difference between Bombay and Delhi was evident: Better infrastructure and no rickshaw wallas in Bombay. I mean how can a guy peddling passengers on a bike move with the flow of traffic? I mean its a traditional mode of public transport and its a job that many depend on to live…But the huge negatives are apparent.
Indira Gandhi’s memorial was quite moving, interesting, and emotional. To read newspaper clippings, see photos, memoirs she wrote, and know the details of her life - are things I’m glad I saw and know now.
We left that evening for Agra…
I think according to Lara, 95% of the world is lame. I know what you mean about feeling so cliché though. It’s hard not to … especially when you look out your train window and everything is so national geographic. Sometimes on the travel “circuit” it feels like a competition of each western traveller trying to appear less cliché than the next. It’s hard to get away from that and just be.
After On The Road and The Dharma Bums (and Big Sur!), you’ve got to make sure to pick up You Shall Know Our Velocity! by Dave Eggers. There’s this one scene where the two guys reverse bargain with a dude in Morocco. Classic stuff here - and I’ve always wanted to do it in Delhi.
So you’ve got to live out my dream for me. Next time someone asks for some ridiculous price like 200 rupees to Connaught Place, you gotta say “170,” then he says “190,” then you say “210″ then he looks confused and you say “250″ and you keep talking him up, then start throwing crazy numbers at him “73,” “87.” ‘Cause yeah, lots of people try to rip you off in Delhi, but it’s always with a smile on their face. I like that - easy to have fun with.
Looking forward to hearing more about Northern India and seeing some photos.