Liars, Cheats, Thieves and probably Murderers too
Asia » India » Rajasthan » UdaipurOctober 13th 2006
We have now arrived in Rajasthan to visit Jaipur (The Pink City), Jodhpur (The Blue city), Jaisalmer (The Golden City) and Udaipur (The White City). However, this epistle only covers our visit to Agra (The Shit Brown City) and New Delhi (just The Shit City). The delights of Jaipur, Jodhpur et al will be revealed in our next novel.
OK, if you're sitting comfortably, we will begin with New Delhi, which for the geographically incapacitated, is the capital of India. Our headline has no doubt given you a clue already as to the type of people we ran into. None of them will qualify for a 'no questions asked' permit through the Pearly Gates. There is a very slight possibility that one or two people in the City can be trusted, but as sure as 'Chicken and Corn' is the only flavour of soup you'll get in Pakistan, their names won't be Singh or Patel.
Our journey from Chunderfar was on the Shatabdi Express, one of the two trains in India that has 'Executive Class'. Naturally, if you live in Bexhill, one simply wouldn't consider travelling any other class so we handed over a wad of funny money which amounted to about 4 quid each and we were on our way. Now, I know you are expecting me to say Shatabdi is an appropriate name for this train, but, for once, you would be wrong. For our journey of around 2-1/2 hours, this ludicrous sum bought us reserved recliner seats with masses of leg room and a foot rest in an air-conditioned carriage, a bottle of mineral water, a free newspaper, two cups of tea, a full hot breakfast and sweets. If they can do all that for 4 quid, one starts asking how British Rail can justify over 80 quid for two people travelling the same amount of time (Bexhill to London return)in a filthy carriage with no added extras.
The journey through the Indian countryside was very pleasant, that is until about 20 minutes from New Delhi. You look out of the window and you can hardly believe the sights that greet your eyes as you travel through the suburbs of this City. At this stage we had been in India 2 weeks and had often remarked how much cleaner and less squalid everywhere looked compared to Pakistan. Our first four places on our Indian itinerary namely Amritsar, McLeod Ganj, Manali and Chunderfar were certainly filthy and run down compared to any Western towns we have been in (Yep, even Glasgow) but the New Delhi suburbs were in a league of their own.
The tin shack hovels that the locals call home come right up to the railway tracks themselves. There are half-dressed, malnourished children playing in pools of rancid water which they are sharing with cows, pigs and rabid dogs taking a drink. In places, this water is bubbling, no doubt through the poisonous gases emanating from the piles of rubbish which literally carpet the entire area; not just the ground but the roofs and walls of the shacks as well. Women are sitting huddled in groups cooking indescribable food in greasy, black pots on open wood fires. The smell of the smoke wafts into the train making your eyes smart. The men are just squatting, either smoking alone or in groups playing cards. Focussing in on two tiny children carrying huge plastic bags over their shoulders, we could see them sifting through the rubbish for any item that may come in handy or that they can sell. This was rubbish that had been here, not since yesterday, last week or even last month. This was clearly several years worth and had a glutinous texture. It was then that you spotted them. First, just one or two were obvious but a closer look around as the train edged forward revealed hundreds of them scurrying everywhere. Large brown rats! What appeared to be drainage channels full of muddy rain water, were in fact just open sewers with people urinating and defacating directly into them in full view of everyone else.
We have all seen documentaries on TV about the poverty and living conditions of people in third world countries so it shouldn't really come as a shock when you encounter it for real but what hits you straight between the eyes is the sheer scale of the problem and the contrast between rich and poor. On top of the filth, grime and squalor, there is the hassle from beggars and touts. Of course, we were expecting a certain amount but we didn't really appreciate that this would dominate our lives for almost 24 hours a day. Anyway, let's return to our arrival in New Delhi.
As we pulled into the station, the door was opened for us, not by a uniformed rail official but by a hotel tout. We were already having cards thrust into our hands before the train had even come to a halt. 'Very cheap price...just 300 rupees', they were shouting over and over again as their noses practically met ours. As with anywhere we have been, we always do our research beforehand and had picked out two possible places to stay just in case the first one is full. Usually, the train and bus stations are within walking distance of the travellers hotels and I had a mental map in my head, thanks again to Lonely Planet, of the route from the station to our first choice of hotel. By doing this, you can walk out of the station as if you own the place and just ignore the rickshaw wallahs, hotel touts and general scammers and pickpockets who surround you. Without seeing an Indian railway station for yourself, it is hard to describe the absolute chaos of it all. Because Indian trains are around 10 times longer than the average British train, the platforms go on for miles to accommodate them. There are people sprawled out or curled up everywhere you look. On the platforms, on the tracks themselves, on luggage carts, all up the stairs and especially in the vast entrances to the stations. It is hard to tell whether they are dead or asleep. You simply step over them or in some cases on them when there is no room to put a foot on the floor. They don't even stir. Because there are a huge number of grain sacks being transported around the country, rats are everywhere in the stations. There are nearly as many stray dogs as there are rats and it is not uncommon to see cows and goats making themselves comfortable in the ticket halls. Oh and did I mention the families of monkeys walking across the signal gantries and roof rafters above your head? The station announcements which are incessant and inaudible due to the volume of the tannoys being at maximum almost hurt your ears. This is when travellers are at their most vulnerable and the local scam merchants are fully aware of this fact.
We headed for our first choice of hotel which was in a quiet side road. It had a lovely garden in front and a nice courtyard seating area at the back. Unfortunately, there were only five rooms and they were all full or we certainly would have stayed there. Our second choice was a budget option in a street called Main Bazaar in Paharganj, the backpacker area of the City. This is one of the busiest streets in the capital and 'Total Lunacy' doesn't come close to describing it. The hotel room we were shown was very basic but it was clean and only GBP 4 a night. We chatted up the porter to see if we could arrange for an extra mattress, pillows, a T.V. and a fridge and he was more than happy to accommodate us for the 50 rupees (55p) we gave him. He made it clear if we wanted any more favours, these could easily be arranged for similar terms and he told us to dial 22 for room service. We found out later that room service was actually number 6 and that 22 was his own personal number. Later during our stay, other staff members asked if we wanted hashish or beer and that quantity would be no problem. They also had a fixation about doing our laundry as they asked 3 times a day during our stay so presumably they also had some scam going with the local washerwoman.
Almost every single person we met or talked to in Delhi was a con merchant. You couldn't get your dick out to have a pee without five people rushing up to you to offer their bit of wall to piss against for 10 rupees.
We spent our first day wandering around the Connaught Circus area which is the commercial hub of Delhi. Whilst there are the smart shops, banks and fast food outlets, there is no getting away from the general grime and seediness that you find everywhere else. People are still lying asleep on the pavements, stray dogs are everywhere and the rats pop their heads up every now and again just to let you know they are around. Like everywhere in Delhi, you can't walk 10 yards in Connaught Circus without someone coming up to you asking for money or more often, trying to befriend you and wanting to be your guide. Indians have a knack of, as John Cleese would say, "stating the bleedin' obvious". They will point to the Presidential Palace and say 'Presidential Palace' or the Taj Mahal and say to you 'Sir, this is the Taj Mahal' as if we wouldn't bloody well recognise it. It happens a hundred times a day, every day and it's starting to get on our t-t-. One time in Agra we just turned round to one guy and said 'Oh bugger, the Taj Mahal you say? We were actually heading for the Statue of Liberty. Can you point us in the right direction please?
The following day we headed for the centre of New Delhi and walked from India Gate (a very impressive structure) to the Rashtrapati Bhavan (Presidential Palace). The street was designed by Lutyens and it's a bit like walking down the Mall in London, only it is much wider. The Presidential Palace is too far back behind locked gates to look that impressive, plus there is a monument right in the middle obstructing your view, so that was somewhat of a disappointment.
The following morning we headed to Old Delhi and its main attraction, The Red Fort. Built by Shah Jahan (yep, him again), its walls are almost 100 feet high and there are 7 or 8 buildings to see within the fort. Most are just open to the elements and sadly, are not well looked after. There appear to be no curators and there is grafitti on many of the walls. Stray dogs are free to roam all over the place with the resultant mess that they make. There is litter everywhere and what could be a fantastic visitor attraction is being left to decay. It makes you realise how very fortunate we are to have organisations like The National Trust and English Heritage and, I for one, won't be complaining any more about their exorbitant admission charges.
Following our fort visit, we went to Raj Ghat which stands on the banks of the Yamuna river. A simple square platform of black marble marks the spot where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated following his assassination in 1948. Jawaharial Nehru, India's first Prime Minister, was cremated nearby as was Indira, Sanjay and Rajiv Gandhi. It was a lovely spot in beautiful parkland and there were many Indian visitors paying their respects. Across the road we visited the Gandhi Memorial Museum which told the story of Mahatma's life and was fascinating.
We then went on to Jama Masjid, the largest Mosque in India but couldn't get in as prayers were about to start for Ramadan.
That evening, we returned to the fort for what was advertised as a 'Sound and Light Spectacular' on the history of India. As it was only 50p, we felt we couldn't go wrong. We arrived expecting a couple of hundred other tourists to be there and were amazed to find only 15 other people, namely 2 tourists and a small Indian family. We were seated in the open air sharing our bit of grass with several stray dogs and a cow. As it turned out, the commentary was very informative but concentrated on the history of the fort rather than on the history of India. The so called light show was a lot less dramatic and simply consisted of the same 4 buildings being lit by a spotlight in turn for about an hour. Still, for 50p we couldn't expect the Aurora Borealis I suppose.
Our third morning in Delhi was spent at the Indira Gandhi Memorial Museum which is housed in her former residence. Many of the rooms have been left as they were when she lived there and on the way out you pass through the garden containing a pathway. This path was where Indira Gandhi was walking moments before she was shot by her Sikh bodyguards. The path has been covered in crystal but there is a clear glass portion marking the spot where she fell.
After lunch we went to Teen Murti Bhavan, the home of Jawaharial Nehru. This was a much grander house although there was far less to see. Many of the rooms were bare but we still got a good impression of his life through the photographs and newspaper cuttings that adorned some of the walls. Strangely, in the grounds of this house, they have seen fit to build a Planetarium and as the English version of the show as about to start as we were leaving, we decided to take a look. Oddly, we were the only foreigners in there. There were two large school parties plus a host of Indian families. The show which lasted for about 45 minutes was very dull as it was all about solar and lunar eclipses and was so scientific that Patrick Moore himself would have had difficulty following it. The best thing that can be said about the place is that it was lovely and cool and made a refreshing break from the intense heat outside.
We then had to go to the railway station to book our seats on the train to Agra for the following morning. One of the biggest scams at the station is for the hustlers to direct you to what looks like one of the official tourist offices across the road. It doesn't seem to occur to them that because there are about 50 of them, it's not too difficult to work out that there can only be one official one. These offices will sell you bogus railway/bus/trip tickets at double the normal price and you won't see your money again as the following day the office has turned into a make-shift ice cream parlour. There is a similar scam with hotels. There are many rundown hotels with the same name as the good official ones and the owners are in league with the rickshaw drivers to take you there. If you arrive in a town late at night, shattered after a days journey, many travellers simply don't realise they are being duped. Anyway, thanks to Lonely Planet we knew exactly where the official ticket office was and got our ticket, again on the Shatabdi Express, with no problems. We were up at 5.00am the next morning for a 6.00am departure to Agra and the hotel owner tried it on one final time by short-changing us on the bill. Sadly, since arriving in India we just assume we are going to be conned everywhere so was on our guard and got the right money back after kicking up a fuss. This was never a problem in Pakistan but they try every trick in the book to extract you from your money in India.
Now, you may think that Agra being the home of the Taj Mahal and a very touristy place, the scams were likely to start immediately on arrival at the station, just as in Delhi. You'd be wrong. The Agra scams start the minute you board the train in Delhi. Postcard and guide book sellers wait until you are seated and then come along with their array of tacky pictures, throw them in your lap and walk off. If you are like the 4 elderly people from Manchester sitting in front of us who arrived in India only the previous day, you might assume these nice Indian men were giving you free souvenirs in anticipation of your visit. Guess what! Oh, you have! Five minutes later they were back asking 250 rupees for a guide book which only cost 100 rupees at the Taj Mahal itself and well over double the normal price for postcards. We couldn't believe it when these 4 Mancunians bought a guide book each because they were too embarrassed to refuse. We left our samples in a neat pile on the floor in the gangway for him to collect. The rest of the journey passed without incident and we arrived in Agra a couple of hours later.
As usual, we were practically lifted out of the train by the hotel and rickshaw touts and had to physically push them away so we could get our rucksacks on. In Agra the rickshaw drivers at the train station ride around in pairs; one to drive the ricksaw whilst the other sells you tours of the City or tries to convince you that the hotel you want to go to burnt down last night, the owner recently passed away and it's temporarily shut or, the best one of all that we heard, Lonely Planet made the hotel name up and it never existed in the first place. As usual, we walked slowly through them all ignoring the shouts and cards being thrusted at us and picked a rickshaw parked over by the side of the road away from the station. As we pulled away, a second person jumped in the front and started the usual spiel. At least we tried! The first question that you are asked by everyone, everywhere in India is 'Where are you from?. The second question is 'How many children do you have?' No matter, what country you say you are from their stock answer is always 'Ah, very nice country. Very nice people'. We normally say we are from Iceland and sign to them that we speak very little English. Many of them have now learnt French, German, Italian, Spanish and even Dutch so they can talk to the tourists but we have yet to find one who can speak Icelandic. A couple of times, just for our own amusement, we have told people that we are from Plonkerland. They look confused and tried to repeat it. When we told them it's between Prattsville and Tossertown, they smiled and said 'Ah, very nice country. Very nice people'. Yeah, I know. It's very sad the levels we have stooped to since leaving England.
We got to the hotel we picked out of Lonely Planet and although they were asking 3 quid more a night than the book indicated (there's a surprise), the room had air conditioning and a fridge and was only a 15 minute walk to the Taj Mahal itself. We decided to stay even though they wouldn't budge on the price. We were told by another traveller later on that the best way to get a discount is simply to turn round and walk out. Nine times out of ten, they will folow you and offer you one. He was right and we always ask for one now as a matter of course.
It was now around Noon on a Thursday and as the Taj Mahal is closed on Fridays we decided to go there that afternoon. As we walked the mile or so down to the entrance, we were once again accosted by would-be guides, beggars, rickshaw touts and what seemed like the rest of humanity in India. Of course, coming from Iceland, we didn't understand a word they said to us.
The admission price is around GBP 8.50 which is extortionate by Indian standards but as it is the main tourist attraction in India, they probably feel they can justify it. Indians, of course, only pay 25p to go in.
As with all major sights, we had our own pictures in our mind of what it would actually look like and the setting. In all of the pictures of the Taj Mahal you see, the water course in front of it looks about a mile long. In reality, it is quite a short distance and the building itself was considerably smaller than we were expecting. At either side of the mausoleum itself, there are mosques which are never shown in the pictures. The building and grounds make a beautiful setting but for me personally, the Golden Temple at Amritsar was much more stunning. We were pretty mosqued out by this time so didn't bother going into either of the ones at the Taj Mahal. The mausoleum itself was exquisite with beautiful ivory carvings and stonework. You will no doubt remember that Princess Diana was photographed on a seat at the Taj Mahal when she visited there and that seat has now become almost as famous as the building itself. We managed to get a photograph of Jo sitting on it without having to pay the touts who were hanging around. Knowledge of Icelandic comes in very useful sometimes.
The Taj Mahal stands on the banks of a river and one trip that we heard was worth making was to the other side of the river to photograph it at sunset. Although you would be looking at the back of the building, it is a mirror image of the front, so doesn't really matter. We decided to take a rickshaw out there in time for sunset. After a bite to eat and a rest back at our hotel, we decided to have a look around Taj Ganj, the village that the Taj Mahal complex is in. Despite the bad reports we had heard about Agra, Taj Ganj was a delightful area to wander around. Although we were constantly hassled by shopkeepers to view their stock, the streets were a maze of interconnecting alleys with plenty to see and photograph. On our way out of the village, we were surrounded by cycle rickshaws asking where we wanted to go. We gave the name of the place on the other side of the river and they all shouted out roughly the same price (around 100 rupees). As we walked away, this price dropped to half and as we walked further still, they were all shouting out 20 rupees (about 25p) for this 4 mile trip. We then heard one young boy say he would take us for 10 rupees (12p). He was no more than 12 or 13 years old and was delighted when we told him 'The price is right'. Cycle rickshaws are usually about a third of the price of auto rickshaws and are much better for shorter journeys but, from experience, we knew this kid wouldn't be capable of taking us more than 100 yards let alone 4 miles to the other side of the river.
Cycle rickshaws are common in many towns and drivers will quite happily pedal along with 4 Indians aboard, still breathing as if they were asleep. However, when us two climb aboard (OK, let's be honest; when Jo climbs aboard}, the poor driver is having a seizure almost immediately, so we tend not to take them very often and use them only for very short journeys.
This poor boy didn't even make it 50 yards before he was standing up on the pedals, panting and wheezing, so as soon as we were out of sight of the other drivers, we told him to stop and gave him 20 rupees for his efforts. We then found an autorickshaw whose driver hadn't a clue where he was going so we got out of that and boarded another one who finally managed to take us to where we wanted to go. As you walk down a narrow path following a sign which says 'Taj Mahal View', you pass another sign off to the left which says 'Taj Mahal View Gardens' and a notice claiming you have to pay an entry fee of 200 rupees. We knew this was utter hogwash so continued on down the now unmade path despite the rantings and ravings of the Indian scammers at the entrance telling us it was private and we couldn't go down there. One hundred yards further on and we were down on the riverbank with perfect views of the Taj Mahal and we just wondered how many people inside those gardens had been tricked into parting with their money for a view which could be had for free. To add insult to injury, the Gardens were asking an additional 25 rupees for using your camera.
Every rickshaw driver you ever use in India always wants to know where you are going next and they are more than happy to wait several hours, if you are looking at a museum or going into dinner, so they can transport you back. Many, especially during the day, will charge waiting time, which although it doesn't amount to much, is something you don't have to pay when there are so many other rickshaws around that you can use. At nightime, when custom is scarce, they will not charge you because they are just desperate for any business and would rather sit around for hours knowing that they have a guaranteed return trip than nothing at all. We always tell them not to wait as we don't want to feel pressurised in any way or feel restricted time-wise and that if they do, it is up to them but we will not use them for the return leg. On many occasions they have waited and cannot believe that we just walk past them when we come out and use another driver. It is not the Asian way to get angry about anything but the confusion is obvious in their face as they look at us dumbounded.
Unfortunately, this viewing point was at a pretty remote spot on the riverbank and there were no more rickshaw drivers around when we decided to leave so we had no option but to walk back towards Agra in the almost pitch black. After a mile or so, we did find a rickshaw with the driver asleep in the cab and he was happy to take us back to our hotel. As luck would have it, the rickshaw broke down on the wooden bridge across the river causing a collossal traffic jam of cars, buses, bikes, cows, goats and chickens. Not much we could do except get out and walk across the bridge and find another rickshaw. It is no use offering to help as it would be taken as an insult against their manhood, so we just left him to it.
The following day we decided to have a look at the other sights of Agra. We actually found it to be a far more pleasant town than the guide books suggested. We checked out the Fort (every town seems to have one) but it had almost identical buildings to the one in Delhi so we didn't spend very long there.
The other two sights we wanted to see was Akbar's Mausoleum about 7 miles north of Agra and Itimad-Ud-Daulah (aka Baby Taj), the exquisite tomb of Mizra Ghiyas Beg, a Persian nobleman. We intended to have lunch after seeing these two buildings. We thought the easiest way to do this was to hire a rickshaw by the hour and we agreed a price with a man standing by one opposite the fort. He called his son on his mobile who apparently spoke fluent English and who would drive us around and be our guide for the day. We made it clear exactly what our plans were and that if we were taken to any shops, we would simply get out of the rickshaw and he wouldn't be paid. He assured us that we would not be co-erced into buying anything and off we went.
Akbar's Mausoleum was identical in layout to one we had seen in Pakistan although there was no decoration on this one. The entrance fee was 200 rupees (GBP 2.50)and because you have to take your shoes off on entering the tomb, you are expected to pay the shoe wallah for doing bugger all except sit on a step smoking a cigarette. I will return to this subject in a short while.
We were then taken to the 'Baby Taj' which seen in its own right would have been far more impressive but after seeing the real Taj Mahal first, it seemed to lack the grandeur. Nevertheless, there was some beautiful decorative work and again, plenty of photo opportunities.
We then told our rickshaw driver to find us a decent restaurant and of course he drove straight to a particular one without hesitation. We saw him being given his commission by the restaurant owner (they are quite open about it and don't try to cover it up) but fortunately we had a very good meal and it wasn't expensive so everyone was happy.
He then suggested we might like to go to a factory to see how the local carpets were made. Naturally, alarm bells started ringing but having no further plans for the day we thought it might be interesting to see the actual work being done as they are all made manually on a loom with no automation process involved. As we drove up to 'Anjits Carpet Emporium' with all the Visa, Mastercard and Amex stickers on the door, we of course knew we were in for the hard sell and decided between us to have some fun. We were introduced to the 'factory owner' who offered us refreshment and a comfortable seat to 'relax' in. He then went over to the corner and kicked a bundle of cloth. A stick like man appeared from under these rags, ran over to the loom and got immediately to work whilst the owner explained the process. After this short demonstration, we were invited to take photographs and were then ushered through a side door. We saw the stick man go back to his corner for some more shut eye, obviously only woken up when visitors are around.
This next room, which was huge, had carpets around all four sides of the wall. The owner said he wanted to show us the various patterns that the region was famous for. After rolling out two or three 5' x 5' carpets, he asked us which ones we preferred. We said we would like to see other sizes and patterns and to cut a long story short, kept saying each was very nice but we couldn't decide what we liked best and would like to see more. We just kept asking to see more until he had rolled out over 20 carpets, some 20' x 30' all over the showroom before having the pleasure of telling him that we had absolutely no intention of buying and that we hoped he would have a pleasant afternoon rolling them all back up again.
We then walked out of the shop, told the rickshaw driver that not only was he a cheating scammer but he was now a poor cheating scammer and marched off down the road. Asians do not seem to understand the concept of anger and will just smile politely and keep saying sorry if you raise your voice. They seem confused by confrontation of any kind. We have on several occasions ordered a meal in a restaurant only for nothing to happen for half an hour and eventually this drives you to distraction. We now just walk out but even if they are bringing your meal to your table as you walk through the door, they just accept it and smile politely.
We headed back to our hotel as we had seen what we wanted to anyway so hadn't lost out.
The following day we decided to take the bus to Fatehpur Sikri, a fortified ghost city 25 miles away from Agra. This is a 'World Heritage' site, so our expectations were high. Once again, although many of the buildings were ornate, they were just shells and there was little to detain us at the main site. It also had the usual problem of being uncared for and stray dogs were everywhere. We headed for the local bazaar which passed a couple more hours but took an earlier bus back than we had intended.
I couldn't put it off any longer......a haircut that is. We headed once again for Taj Ganj and the local Sweeney Todd. For the first time in 35 years, my ears are now visible and I probably won't need another haircut for at least 5 years. The word 'trim' doesn't appear to be in the Indian dictionary. The haircut itself cost less than what I tip my normal barber.
In India, it is possible to buy rail tickets from any place to any place even if you are not in either of those places at the time so we had already purchased our tickets from Agra to Jaipur when we were in Delhi.
Sunday morning saw us at Agra station at 5.30am ready to board our train but full details will appear in our next report.
I mentioned earlier that you are expected to pay shoe wallahs at mosques, tombs, etc even though you have paid for your admission to these places. This is just one of many irritations in India. Admission prices everywhere are always 10 times what an Indian pays plus there is always a fee for using a still camera and a separate higher fee for a video camera. Once you pay this camera fee, you then find that once you are inside the building you are prohibited from taking shots of many of the important exhibits and they are usually the ones you have specifically gone in there to photograph. They justify these higher fees for foreigners by saying that it is mainly foreigners who wish to visit them and therefore should pay for most of their upkeep. Fair enough if this were true but there are just as many Indians at these attractions and there is very little evidence of any upkeep anyway.
Perhaps we had too high an expection of the sights we were going to visit but we are honestly shocked that a country famed for its architecture, takes so little care of it.
At almost every attraction there are people dressed in local costume, dancers, snake charmers, flautists or some other racketeer demanding your money to photograph them. We now simply smile, take their photograph and when they hold their hand out, tell them to see the man at the gate as we already paid 100 rupees to come in. We have complained on two occasions to the administrator but were told on the first that we didn't have to give them any money and on the second that they weren't employed by them. Perhaps not, but they showed no signs of getting rid of them.
Several people have e-mailed to ask if India is anything like we imagined it would be. I think it would be fair to say, that so far, it has fallen short of both our expectations. To be fair, we are less than half-way around at present and we are told that none of the hassles of the North are present in the South. Let's hope that is true.
To sum up, we expected far more hassle from beggars and street children and far less hassle from shopkeepers and rickshaw wallahs. We knew of the many scams in existance and were ready for them but did not expect to be cheated by almost everyone we meet. Compared to Pakistan, there is far less squalour in India but still much more than we had bargained for, particularly in the cities. We certainly didn't anticipate the hundreds of stray dogs roaming the streets. Sharing the streets with masses of human beings (everywhere is crowded)is something we are slowly getting used to. It is perfectly acceptable to be barged or pushed out of the way or have your foot run over by a rickshaw or motorbike without a word of apology. Personal space simply doesn't exist. Cows, goats, pigs and elephants don't even warrant a second glance as they stroll up the street beside you. The other day I found myself swearing at a camel as if it was a caravan on the M25 because we were stuck in a rickshaw behind him. Queueing doesn't exist either and people just simply barge in front of you in stores waving their money in the air. The fact that you are talking to the shopkeeper seems irrelevant. Shopkeepers themselves will often serve you, take your money and start serving someone else whilst you wait 15 minutes for your change.
Jo's biggest whinge is that she wants to get to a town where they have pavements and she is not treading in cow dung every five minutes. She is also not that keen on the various odours of street life and walks round much of the time with a hankie to her nose. My biggest whinge is noise. It is impossible to find peace and quiet any time of the day or night. Life here is 24 hours.
Hopefully, by the time you receive our next report we will have left the noise and shit behind and will be much nearer the tranquil palm-fringed beaches of Goa........but somehow I have my doubts.
Love to all
Mike and Jo
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Ornate pillar at Agra Fort |
Akbar's Mausoleum |
Itimad-ud-Daulah (Baby Taj) |
Tombs at Baby Taj |
Scalped |
Delhi version of a mobile phone |
Sign |
Sign |
All cool cats welcome |
09:10:07 October 16th 2006 - Maddy: Congratulations!
Hello! I have been reading your blog and looking at your pictures and what a pleasure it has been. I am also inspired by your personal story and I could not agree more that we must enjoy life in the time we have! Good luck with the rest of your travels.
Hi Maddy,Thank you for your comments. Glad you are enjoying the blog. How are your plans coming along? Did you manage to sell the house?Best regardsMike and Jo