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Published: February 2nd 2012
An example of Old Varanasi
With photo editing to illustrate my claustrophobia.
The riciulous scene where we last left our intrepid travellers is worth revisiting:
The streets of Varanasi. Trung and Andy are just finished enjoying their lunch at the Mona Lisa cafe, and have ventured out to an internet cafe to update themselves on the schedule of the upcoming train ride. Its a lazy Sunday afternoon, and the train isn't until Monday.
Ok that's where my third person narrative comes to a stop. I suddenly realize that the date on the ticket matches today's date! CRAP! Our train is in about an hour and a half. Now, if you remember, it took about 45 minutes by tuk tuk to get to our hotel, which is a 30 minute walk away (ONLY IF we get the streets right on the way back).
Trung has some shirts being made at a tailor shop down the street, so we agree to split (our first mistake) so I can go back to the hotel, pack, and check out while he is picking up his new shirts.
On my way back to the hotel, I quickly get myself lost in the thick throng of people in central old Varanasi.
Don't piss off the bull.
On the way past the bull, keep a safe distance from the ragged horns. There are cows, people, scooters, food, poop, slippery streets, its 45 degrees and I have no clue where I am. There's no way to know where you are if you're lost, the buildings are 5 stories high and the streets wide enough for two people to pass. I quickly become claustrophobic and paranoid, I don't know where I am and rushing around definitely isn't helping.
Finally, I make my way out to the 'main' street. I assume that I haven't passed my hotel, so I turn to walk in the direction I think is the right choice. After 20 minutes (I should be here by now) I start into a light jog (why can't I see my street yet?). There's a group of tuk tuks ahead (maybe they can take me there) but there's nobody around, a first for India. More light jogging (ok there's a bend in the road, maybe this is it). I'm not quite there yet, but I see a street sign. Its sill a full kilometer to the street my hotel is on. I'm soaked, head to toe, my cheap linen shirt has split apart because the button holes are so loose, so here I
am, light jog, flip flops, wet, shirt open, running down the street.
Once I get back to the hotel, 45 minutes to spare, Trung is still not back. I throw everything in my bag, and the hotel manager writes out the bill. As I'm getting ready to pay it (who knows what's included) Trung arrives, and he's brought a tuk tuk with him, thankfully.
Once we're both packed and in the tuk tuk we've got 30 minutes to get to the station. We make it with not a second to spare, and actually the train is slightly behind schedule. In a way, it all worked out.
The Last Train Ride Our final train ride in India is actually pleasant. I may have said it before, but the trains in India are way better than anything Canada offers. The cheap seats are ridiculously bad, but for our meagre $10 fare we're in 2nd class and have our own comfortable bunks. Trung and I get the end bunks on the train, so its only the two of us, instead of the usual 4 bunk group. Once I'm changed into my new bamboo cotton ali babba pants and a
dry t-shirt, I snuggle into bed in the air conditioning and wait for Delhi to arrive. The train ride is 14 hours, through the late afternoon and most of the evening. Neither of us really has any money at this point, but we have just enough to order the dinner the train conductor offers half way through the evening. Its a standard India train dinner, assorted curries and some chipati, but its actually really good for premade train food. Trung and I also enjoy a half dozen tiny cups of Chai from the chai guy (at 15 cents each, the price is right!).
Dawn in Delhi The New Delhi train station is as big as you would imagine. There seem to be several dozen platforms and each constantly have trains loading and unloading. Its about 5am, and the sun is rising over the streets of New Delhi. I read a part of our travel book on the train, looking for affordable hotels in Delhi. The city is similar to other heavily touristed areas, where the hotels can be almost ten times more expensive than our rural India experience.
The cheapest, and most concentrated group of hotels seems
to be in the central market of old Delhi. Sounds like a crazy place? It is.
Its anybody's guess where the market might be, and we're both pretty tired from the train ride, and sweaty just from walking out of the station, so we hop into the nearest Tuk Tuk. We try to have the usual conversation with the driver about what kind of hotel we're looking for, and at what price, and where we'd like to go. Also as per usual, the driver takes us to his preferred place, and its like $45 a night in a deserted alleyway, who knows where.
The driver doesn't want to take us anywhere else, and thinks he's got us cornered by taking us in this alley. Little did he know we've been in India for almost two months now, so we simply pay our fare (which is about 50 rupees) and walk. Much to the chagrin of the tuk tuk driver, who yells and waves his arms. Sorry bud, business is business.
Back to the main road, and surprise surprise, the old market is actually only a few hundred feet from the New Delhi train station. We've got a
bunch of drivers following us by this point trying to get us to go with them, but I'm determined to check out the hotel listed in our travel guide. Its not a lonely planet, so the hotels are usually well priced and available. (Lonely planet restaurants and hotels are quickly overpriced and with no vacancy due to the popularity of the books and the management taking advantage of that).
The Vivek hotel is where we finally end up. Its smack in the middle of the market, which is similar to Bangkok's Khaosan Road. Full of hippie backpackers with flowing clothing, t-shirt shops, tattoo parlours, restaurants and hotels. Its a pretty thriving place. The hotel is nice, with clean marble flooring and a clean bathroom, and at only $10/night the price is right.
Delhi Tourism and Counting the Days Trung and I have been on the road for well over 180 days now. In less than 5, Trung has planned to take off, leaving me alone in Delhi until my flight to London. There's a possibility I'll hop on a bus after he leaves, headed for the northern reaches of Himachal Pradesh, if I can get my act
together. But for now I'm feeling thankful that this crazy ride we've been on is coming to a crashing halt. I may just take some time to reflect, relax, and just 'live' in Delhi for awhile.
The next few days are the usual for us: Intense tourism at it's finest. We first discover that Delhi has a surprisingly convienient metro system, if not jam packed with people. Its a bit odd having to queue for a metal detector just to get on a subway (and forget about understanding the ticketing system) but there are several train lines going everywhere we want. Our first day is taking a couple of train rides and discovering a few of the sights in Delhi.
During our touring, we see a flashy new bus drive past with the familiar hop-on, hop-off slogan printed on the side. Compared to the ratty, rusted out, jam-packed busses of Delhi, this brand new, air conditioned, mostly empty tourist bus looks pretty promising. We waved one down during the afternoon and got instructions on how to catch the bus the following morning. At 300 rupees its fairly pricey, but it gets us two full days of hourly service
to all of the main tourism draws of Delhi.
The next few days are a blur of cold air conditioning, ancient forts, temples, markets and people people people. Its super hot outside, but with the mostly-empty tourist bus to hop on and hop off, we get a reprive from the 45 degree heat every hour.
The hop-on-hop-off tourist bus in Delhi is by far the best way to see all of the sights. The city is so tremendously huge that you could easily pay double the fare to see the sights by tuk tuk, and it would take days and days. The bus travels by highway some of the time, so our travel time between sights is really cut down (tuk tuks average 40km/hr, so the hour long drive by bus would be easily 2 hours).
My impression of Delhi is that of a very quickly modernizing city. It is certainly more developed than the areas of downtown Mumbai that we saw, and has all the modern amenities of any capital city. The old British design of New Delhi, with its large public forums, market streets running in concentric circles, and grandiose government buildings to match and
surpass anything in Washington D.C. are really impressive. The contrast between 'Old' Delhi and New Delhi is fairly stark. Within a few hundred metres, you can leave the wide-open, 8 lane thoroughfares and enter into the tight maze of streets and shops that comprises old Delhi. We didn't experience much of suburban Delhi, but we did hop off the bus one day to the shopping district. With shopping malls of a scale to match the Siam Center in Bangkok or perhaps even the malls of Kuala Lumpur (which is a stretch...but just maybe), the malls of Saket have some pretty nice shops. I ended up buying a t-shirt at Zara (of all places). For those who don't know, Zara is absolutely everywhere, so why I felt the need to buy a t-shirt from there, I'll never know! We also ate lunch at T.G.I.Friday's, which was definitely a surreal experience, complete with large American Flag, and a denim-on-denim wearing waiter. Definitely a change from our street food from the markets of old Delhi.
Finally the time has come for Trung to catch his flight home. Before sunrise, Trung is up, packed. I get a final glimpse of the backpacking Trung.
He's got his straw coloured fedora on, in the typical tipped-up fashion, his full backpack, his suitcase rolling behind him and his camera strapped around his neck. There's a particular walk that he has when all this is strapped on; its somewhat forward leaning, smaller steps, with his head on a swivel. Its a sight I've been seeing for the past 8 months. I'm sure I've got some sort of similar gait when I've got my full backpack on, waist strap engaged, and smaller backpack tied to the front of me.
Together, we've travelled over 30,000 km, on foot, bus, train, motorcycle, jet, boat and bicycle. We started the adventure almost a full year ago, when Trung first expressed interest in travel, which got me thinking. With that spark, we spent countless hours organizing, budgeting, selling our stuff, quitting our jobs, buying supplies, researching visa requirements and jumping in with both feet.
It feels like both an eternity and the blink of an eye from the time I was saying goodbye to my friends and family in Ottawa, to this moment. I feel like the world has turned under me, while I have remained stationary, and yet the
changes I've undergone since takeoff at 7am in the middle of winter in Ottawa, have been profound.
Two years ago, if you had asked me what I'd be doing right now, I would have scoffed at you if you'd suggested that I'd have quit my job and left the country. No way, Never! And I actually did scoff at the suggestion. Those who are close to me know how ironic this truly is.
I can remember one day in Northern Vietnam. It was about 10 degrees, raining, and we were sitting on a bus forever in traffic, then sitting in the rain, on a rowboat for hours, then trudging through the mud, for hours. I was probably complaining about this, that and the other thing. I had no idea what was going on, what we were supposed to be doing, what people were saying around me and least of all where we were and when we would be able to get out of our current muddy and wet situation.
Trung had enough at one point and told me to stop complaining or he would leave. We couldn't travel together. Just out of the blue, I've never felt
Delhi Fort
Has a market inside the fort! more isolated than that moment, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by thousands of people. He never did leave, and I learned quickly after being called on it that I did complain a lot. This is what my outlook was like. It was probably for the best I learned this lesson early on, because almost nothing during our travel, aside from the general direction of movement, went as planned.
It was sometime, three weeks after this little encounter, that some sort of levelling shift happened. I suddenly didn't care where we were, what day of the week it was, what we were 'supposed' to see that day, according to the schedule. Life IS the plan. With this in mind, and with Trung being his same self, I was now able to focus on the positive only. Its amazing how much even the worst situation can actually count as a blessing, depending on how you look at it.
I continued to annoy Trung, as any good friend should. He continued to threaten to leave, as any good Trung should. However my feelings of isolation stopped. I knew he wasn't going anywhere, but all the same I knew I would
Our personal bus service.
Felt so wrong to pass a jam-packed bus on the highway in our a/c luxury bus. be fine. It would be a cosmic shift in this year's worth of travel plans if he DID leave, but I would be fine. My mantra became, 'fine, go, I'll see you later, maybe.'
But I digress. This time, he DID leave. I was the end of the road for our pairing. With a quick goodbye and with me telling him to write when he landed, he was out the door.
The Final Few Days Its amazing what travelling with another person can do to your phsyche. With Trung's bags gone, the room seemed pretty clean! Without any pressure to see tourist sights, I was at a loss. Delhi has no beaches, so just laying around felt wrong. The market is fun to walk down, but after a week, it loses its shopping draws.
I befriended an amazing Swedish family that had opened a small cafe in a remarkably quiet alley about 200m from the main bazaar road. Leyah's cafe was named after their *less than 10 year old* daughter, who's preschool was across the street. What a remarkable family, to move from Sweden to this quiet patch of India to open a cafe.
I
spent the following few days lounging in the cafe, discussing world issues with other backpackers, doing impromptu yoga, catching up on writing this blog (ironic that i didn't write this one there), and enjoying homemade Swedish meatballs.
The monsoon chased Trung and I as we moved North through India. A few days of my cafe lounging were spent watching the torrential rains come and go in the afternoon. A few times, on my way back to the hotel, the streets were covered by over a foot of muddy, garbage filled water. It was quite the experience to tip-toe through such huge lakes of water in the center of the old market. A few times, getting caught up in the rain with my camera and wallet in a plastic bag, I simply stood outside and enjoyed getting absolutely soaked. I mean, its exactly like having a bucket of water dumped on your head.
From the surrounding rooftops, the water falls to the street, bursting out of eavestrough pipes in huge fountains. More often than not, kids are out in the streets in their underwear splashing and playing under these fountains. Its a beautiful, joyous chaos, this type of rain.
The Baha'i Lotus Temple
My ring finger is tingling... winner Concrete Magazine's building of the year... The monsoon is welcome here.
Finally the time had come for me to leave India. The final day was quite melodramatic, actually, wandering the streets and sighing over things that perhaps I'd be looking at for the last time in my life. I can't tell when I'll be back, if ever, so I tried to soak it up as much as I could.
Faced with an 8am flight that I was paranoid of missing, I traced my path the night before to the metro line at the New Delhi train station that would take me to the airport. The line opens at 5am, which gives me enough time for the 20 minute train ride, and customs. I went to a bank and took out enough money to pay for the hotel, and settled my bill the evening before, so I could simply walk out of the hotel in the morning.
By 4am, I was packed, awake, and ready to go. On the way out of the hotel, the worker at the desk insisted that I hadn't paid. I had my reciept, but he didn't care and wanted me to pay the bill a second time. I told
him my story again, and he then did a grandiose show on his calculator to show that I owed an additional few hundred rupees. By this time I was pissed, so I told him 'no', once more showed the receipt and walked out. He didn't follow, so the grandiose show was just that.
The streets of the main bazaar are quite strange pre-dawn. Most construction happens during these hours, so there's an army of men wearing short sarongs, sweating, and shovelling sand and concrete around. The tuk tuks are still out, most drivers dozing on the back seats. Dogs have their way with the place, and dog fights can be heard all around. I haven't seen any cows in Delhi yet, but there's evidence laying around here and there.
The walk to the metro entrance takes me up and around the New Delhi train station its a 20 minute walk just to cross the station. There are constant offers from Tuk Tuk drivers who know instinctively that I'm going to the airport. I'm harassed constantly by shouts that the train is closed today, it doesn't run until late in the morning, I won't be allowed in the station
for 2 hours, etc. etc. I learned months ago to ignore the stories, so I plow through. Once I'm at the gate to the metro, it is indeed closed. What the hell is going on, and now I've got a good 15 people surrounding me trying to take my bags into their tuk tuks. Its a two hour ride to the airport in a tuk tuk, not an option. I'm sweating from the incessant heat, its all very unpleasant.
In the back of my mind, I know there are multiple gates into the metro, on all sides of the massive street intersection, so I decide to try the others. Once I start moving towards the correct gate, the tuk tuks dissapear. I suppose they know I've finished my search correctly, and stop wasting their energy. In the back of my mind, I think the other gate was probably closed by the tuk tuk drivers so they could get extra fares.
The metro station is marvellous. It was built specifically for the commonwealth games held in Delhi this year, and its a glimpse of the world I'd left behind when coming to India. Its wide open spaces of steel
and glass are a stark, stark contrast to the stained and dusty streets of the main bazaar I had just left. As I board the train with a half dozen sleepy morning passengers, the doors close and a pleasant voice announces our arrival time at the airport. The train smoothly pulls out of the station while a computer screen indicates our current travel time.
Once at the airport, its again a fairly smooth transition through customs, though the check-in area at the airport isn't exactly air conditioned, and its stifling.
Six hours later, having seen the mountains of Pakistan, Afghanistan and the vast expanse of Europe from the air, I've touched down at London Heathrow Terminal 5.
The air is a glorious 18 degrees, with clear blue skies and low humidity. Just walking outside is an amazingly uplifting experience. After having spent well over 3 months in the sticky oppresive heat of Sri Lanka and India, just seeing a radiant blue sky is the best thing ever.
I'm here to stay with my friend Josephene, who I've mentioned before. We met waaaaaaaaay back in Northern Vietnam, again in Hoi An, Vietnam, again in Luang Prabang, Laos
and AGAIN in Koh Tao, Thailand. This will be our fifth meeting on two continents. Her house is in Chelmsford, clear across the City of London and about a 1.5 hour commuter train ride from Liverpool Station.
I'm in awe as I ride the tube to Liverpool station. I'm a bit self-concious, backpacks strapped to me, sweat stained t-shirt, flip flops, riding the tube with suited Londoners. Its funny how much I inadvertantly know about London. Each station brings up some sort of recollection about something or other. Picaddily Circus, Trafalger, Westminster, Notting Hill.
As I arrive in Chelmsford and meet Jo, its as if nothing and everything is different. She works full time now and is well dressed when we meet. The last I knew her, we were in swimsuits, drinking beer in hammocks in Thailand. I'm wearing permanently stained shorts, a sweat-stained t-shirt from this morning's Delhi adventure, and my sandals. My feet are dirty. I'm self concious that my feet have dust from the streets of India as we walk into her nice English apartment. Strange, for the first time in months, I'm self concious that my feet are dirty. My bag also smells like
a backpacker's should, compounded by the raw leather sachel I bought earlier in the trip. Its really a strange contrast to Josephene's clean apartment in a quiet suburban city. After being 'gone' for such a long time, its a shock to look at what I'd become.
I spent 7 days in London, and each one was amazing. My return to a truly western city was a bit of a culture shock. I'm freezing cold though its 20 degrees, and my stomach takes some time getting used to eating 'bland' food (i.e. not curry).
I'll leave you with this: The morning following my arrival Josephene and I walk through the city center of quaint Chelmsford, aiming for a brunch place, where we sit out on the patio. Its another clear day, 20 degrees, we have eggs benedict and a bowl of steaming hot cappuchino. It all costs more than two days at the hotel I was checking out of yesterday morning. But everything is so fresh and the air is so clear. On to the next great adventure.
xoxo
Andy
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The Travel Camel
Shane Dallas
Humayun's Tomb
One of my favourite sites in Delhi! It can be frustrating forgetting place names, especially when you see so much in a short time. Coming back home can be difficult at times, but if you start planning your next adventure, it makes missing the daily excitement of travel and discovery bearable.