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Published: October 15th 2008
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For a country we nearly slayed from our itinerary, India has surprised and delighted us a million times over. A fascinating land of contradictions where 4wd porsches weave through dusty slum-fringed streets and anorexic donkeys haul loads of bricks on their rickety backs for construction of the newest mansion.
Visually, India aligned perfectly with our expectations, (understandably considering the Western obsession with Indian imagery). The luminosity of this country, however, must be experienced in the flesh to achieve true heartfelt appreciation. Not until you meet real live Indian people do you fall in love with their homeland. The people embody the magic and mystery of this land built on colour and smiles. Time and time again we were blown sideways by the depth of hospitality, kindness and generosity bursting from personal interactions with Indian locals. They ooze love, compassion and respect. And best of all their overwhelming positivity has entered our blood and altered us both in so many wonderful new ways. No other culture has affected us so strongly, and for this reason alone we will treasure our Indian experience forever. We love India so deeply we've altered our flight dates to prolong what has emerged as the most
exciting and eye-opening leg of our world trip.....
Where do we begin? At risk of regurgitating Indian stereotypes, we'll limit our blurb to the most enlightening moments. Add these to everything you've previously heard about this country and you'll be somewhere close to understanding our experience.
The gap between rich and poor is more pronounced here than anywhere else in the world. The secret to a seamless transition through the culture shock phase is to befriend royalty, (as we were lucky enough to do). Our very best friend, Princess Sarah, is such a celebrity within India's elite 5-star hotel network, when she enters an establishment such as "The Sheraton" you can literally hear whispers echo across the polished marble lobby, "Sarah Andrews has arrived! Quick!". Suave managers scrabble to introduce themselves and offer complimentary drinks accompanying sparkling grins. Room upgrades are a given, chauffers summoned and any hint of dissatisfaction on the part on our Princess is buried in a barrage of Indian delicacies and, (her personal favourite, known throughout the hotel network), luscious chocolate brownies.
Our adventure began in Delhi. We joined forces with Sarah and her parents: John and Vicki. A far-too-early morning found us
skirting rabid dogs, piles of dozing bodies and rather persistent beggars awaiting a 6am train to Agra - home of the magnificent Taj Mahal.
Our hotel-organised guide presented well at first, until his dodgy side began to emerge via a few suspect occurances. Subtle 'business' questions assessing our financial status preceeded a run of insanely high-pressure sales situations. The most scary involved an automatic rifle and a carpet factory after dark. Dave missed this moment as he was tucked up in bed dealing with acute Delhi Belly, (as cliched as that is).
The following day we ditched our mafia guide and acquainted ourselves with our brand new private mini-bus and two permanently smiling drivers. An 8-hour road-trip ensued cross-country to Rajasthan with 10 eyeballs and multiple camera lenses glued to the windows for the most culturally action-packed stretch of highway any of us had seen. We witnessed so many special sights a list is in order:
* Elephants trudging the streets adorned with full-colour face paint.
* Camel trains lugging piles of tree-trunks.
* Monkeys with mini-monkeys clinging to their underbellies.
* Illegally knocked-up homemade vehicles with oily exterior motors transporting hoards of turbaned men.
* A
truck full of Holy Men on the road to enlightenment, drag-racing our mini-van and bursting with smiles.
* Three Muslim men dressed in white kurta pyjamas squeezed onto one motorbike. (They were just as amused by our flurry of flash photography over their apparently normal mode of transport as we were by them).
* Crumbly brown disks of cow-dung fuel drying in the sun.
* Village courtyards shading the odd pet camel or cow.
* Chickens beheaded and plucked roadside.
* Water buffalo bathing.
* Colourful sari-clad women balancing water-pots on their heads.
* A fantastic watermelon-sun setting over the horizon.
Our Rajasthan roadtrip wove in and out of villages where makeshift huts afforded voyeuristic glimpses into everyday lives. Men bathing outdoors using wells and buckets, local food being prepared and cooked, grandparents slumbering on the hard soil and holy cows being hand-milked for tea.
We were reminded of how blessed our Western lives are as we paused to photograph a gypsy colony. Three happy children ran out to greet us, begging hands outstretched as we tossed pens and paper through the can windows. In the blink of an eye, the three became thirty. We verbally beat our
drivers to a hasty retreat moments before our precious mini-van was mobbed. Off the kids ran to parade their wares to waiting parents with all the excitement of Christmas morning.
Jaipur was a bustling, energetic city and a welcome relief from the heartbreaking poverty of Agra and Delhi. Hundreds of malnourished cows crowded the streets, snake charmers beckoned and we found ourselves lost in a whirl of colour and nostril-tingling spices.
Sarah, John and Vicki checked into "The Sheraton" whilst we scored a fantastic room in a real Maharaja's palace round the corner. Princess Sarah's connections reached as far and we too were upgraded to a luxury suite. Woo-hoo! (Thanks Sar). We found ourselves breakfasting under leopard heads and rifles, mementos of the Maharaja's hunting exploits. Surreal to say the least.
Our mini-van tour of Jaipur involved a much more trustworthy guide than our previous mafia don: a professional palm reader. He accompanied us through palaces, forts and elephant rides, before allowing John to fulfil a life goal upon visiting the Jantar Mantar ancient observatory. Composed of monstrous and impressive astrological instruments designed and built by the 18th century genius Sawai Jai Singh, John, Vicki and Dave
marvelled and wilted in the sun whilst Sarah and Penny cornered our guide in the shade for a glimpse into their futures.
As our daily custom would have it, we inevitably ended up back in the air-conditioned comfort of an extravagant hotel restaurant as midday temperatures topped 43 degrees celcius. (Indian food is utterly delectable, by the way. Far superior to the stuff we get back home). Bathing in the oasis of hotel pools was another bonus luxury of which we took full advantage.
Pen and Dave continually thanked their lucky stars, (and the unbridled generosity of the Andrews family), that they weren't backpacking independently around India's north. The scammers, pickpockets, fiesty street urchins and persistant rickshaw touts make for a frighteningly overwhelming environment, one that seems almost impossible to negotiate without some insider knowledge. This is the India we'd heard about, yet it's pungency was thankfully diluted as we toured around in our airconditioned mini-van bubble, with our personal guide to help negotiate the most notorious areas.
One week later a sad goodbye to the Mumbai-bound Andrews clan saw Pen leading Dave to the airport on a sneaky mission. Dave's 30th birthday was coming up and
a secret plan had been concocted.....
(P.S. Dave's version of his birthday surprises coming soon.....)
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Vicki Andrews
non-member comment
Hi Penny and Dave, great blog, can't wait to find out how Dave liked his birthday surprise. We had a great time traveling with you, don't forget to come and visit when you return to Oz. We have lots of great pictures, I will be starting my book soon, bought a book on Indiacolour which has given me a good idea on how to set it out. Bit hard to start back at work! it has even rained and is quiet cold compared to Mumbai. Vicki