Delhi and Rishikesh

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Delhi Belly, Rishikesh Smelly

Robert and I arrived into Delhi in the late evening, taking a rikshaw from the train station to the Pahar Ganj area. Popular with tourists (frequently of the dreadlocked, smelly variety), Pahar Ganj contains Main Bazaar, a long street composed of handicraft stores, silver merchants, hotels, bars and café/restaurants. The quality and level of rip-off varies greatly. Many places have the same old stock, cheap tack and overpriced. There are a few gems in there though, upmarket stores with clean premises and quality goods. Two German girls (Anna and Lena) we had met in Goa had a room in hotel Satyam, right on Main Bazaar. Robert and I took a room there also. After an unpacking, and a wash, and a sleep, we headed out to see some of the city with the girls.

Delhi is huge, and largely continued the "mixed" theme of India. Poverty and wealth, clean and modern premises and filthy old corners. Even Connaught Place, the central shopping area of the new city, was oddly assembled. Western shops with high prices are located in shabby, poorly built premises, and cheap, low quality knock-off stores are jammed in the free spaces between them. There is a lot more green in Delhi than other Indian cities, and the investment in the city is easily visible. There are more foreign businesses here than anywhere else, and for the first time I saw European and American people on business trips - strictly in the upmarket areas, of course. Deciding to get away from modern India, both rich and poor, we headed for an old monument - Delhi Fort.

Delhi fort was actually not so impressive; there was a nice green area, but not a whole lot to see or that you could go into. Nonetheless, we relaxed on the grass for a while in the sunshine. After a little chill-out, we headed to a nearby Sikh temple. It was a beautiful and quiet place, and the Sikhs were incredibly welcoming. One guy, just a member of the community, gave us a tour around the temple and its surroundings, including down to the banks of the Yamuna river. We also received Langar - a free dinner available to anyone who comes there, regardless of race, religion or wealth. Rich and poor sit alongside one another and partake of simple lentil and rice dishes...in theory at least, the rich probably don't come for langar and risk meeting the "untouchables". To complete the day, we visited the Tibetan neighbourhood. Immediately upon entering the area, the scene changed. The temples looked plucked from the hills of the Himalayas. The buildings were constructed differently. There were square, coloured banners hanging from crossed lines above the streets. Monks in flowing orange robes walked the streets. It was refreshing. We stopped for dinner here, having mo-mos (veg-filled dumplings) and beer.

After that, Robert headed north to Rishikesh. His time was limited, and he wanted to see more there than in Delhi. Anna, Lena and I would join him after a few days. For the following few days, we visited a few attractions in Delhi. The government craft market is a nice, quiet alternative to the busy street markets. Much of the merchandise is similar, and a little more expensive, though the complete absence of beggars and people trying to drag you into their shops was pleasant. They also have some really good food; again, we went Tibetan. The craft museum was an interesting visit, displaying hand-made products from all over India. There was everything from intricately charged figures - incredibly lifelike - to very old carvings of various gods. There were painted weaves, models of villages and even a huge carved balcony, preserved and displayed. The highlight of the Delhi attractions was the Lotus Temple. Built by the Baha'i, a peaceful, open sect of Islam, the Lotus temple is supposed to be a silent prayer space for people of all religions. Indians are not well adapted to silence, so there was a constant murmur. I have only known one Baha'i before, a teacher in my primary school by the name of Joe Sweeney. He was probably the nicest teacher I ever had, so there was a good precedent.

After these few days, we headed to Rishikesh. Famed since the 60's due to the Beatles descending upon the town and writing the White Album there (probably on copious amounts of hallucinogens), Rishikesh is currently home to a vast array of facilities for young crusties. It is thought of as the international home of Yoga; meditation centres and ashrams abound. Alcohol and meat are off the menu. In the evenings, there are free talks on spirituality and matters of the soul. As such, Rishikesh attracts a few "types": dreadlocked youngsters, trying to find themselves, gain distance from the vile western world and learn what the wise old people of India have to teach them (the fact their parents are paying for everything doesn't affect the spiritual journey); those hippies who came here years ago and never left, looking with disdain at the neophytes and wearing "local dress" that an Indian wouldn't be caught dead in; there is the divorcee, taking time to learn about all this spirtual stuff her peers are into now that she has free time (and possibly falling for a young yogi, as a side thought). And what they have in common is that they all swallow the ayurvedism, spiritualism and general nonsense worked out by people who didn't know what rain was. This would not be so bad, but for two facts: their gullability leads them to yoga schools run exclusively to trap tourists, feeding another form of hawker; and they completely ignore the genuine benefits of something like meditation or yoga when used to contribute towards maintaining your health. We went for several yoga lessons, and in each case, the instructor was not very good. Young guys in Nike vests and gold chains are almost all you can find now, due to this spiritual tourism - and people just trust and believe them, because their minds are so open that their brains have fallen out. In one case, the guy actually directly perved on the girls. Not very spiritual.

Fortunately, Rishikesh has other factors in its favour. It is incredibly beautiful, for one thing. The area between the two suspension bridges, Rham Jhula and Lakshman Jhula (where most of the ashrams and hotels are), is home to some incredible sights. The whole town is surrounded by hills, which are covered in trees. It is impossible to see out of the little bowl the town is in. A few kilometers from town, you can walk a little way up one of these hills to a really nice little waterfall, and a very rustic village beyond that. The walk is sweaty and cob-webby, but rewarding. It is difficult to get around in Rishikesh, as there are no rikshaws on the left bank and very few on the right. Large jeeps are the only way to get around, and they massively overcharge unless you share with 14 other people - not an exaggeration, they pack 15 in every time, and you must be heading somewhere on the general route they are taking. As a result, the activity we tended towards most in Rishikesh was sitting in Ganga Beach restaurant on cosy cushions, playing a German dice game called kniffle, and eating. This was also helped along by the monsoon rains. These were not brief, piddling little showers like before. Full on, hours long rain, with drops the size of fingertips. The streets were soaked, and water flowed along every stairway and floor.

However, all of this was perfectly fine. Frankly, after flying around Rajasthan and visiting dozens of temples, forts, villages, the desert and big cities, sitting beside low tables playing games and scoffing good food was just fine. The holiday feeling really crept back in. We just spent days sitting, reading, writing in our journals, watching movies and sleeping late. Robert had to leave to return to Germany; he headed for Delhi, then took a train to Mumbai, finally flying home. The fusion festival awaited him - best of luck with that, and future travels. After another few days, Anna, Lena and I took a bus back to Delhi. My India visa was nearing expiry, and I had to get to grips with crossing to Nepal. In between doing research on that next leg, and getting my bag repacked for moving on, I went along with the girls to some of Delhi's modern malls. Completely western, in design and cost, the malls were a sterile, air-conditioned break from the norm. The service was generally of a higher standard than home, and they tended to have tons of stock - most of the stuff is made in India anyway. I bought jeans - completely impractical, but I missed them - and a new shirt. I also got myself a pair of spiffy new spectacles, though I bought those at an optician on Main Bazaar. With all this packed away, I was ready to rock over to Nepal.

Most of the online resources recommended going to Gorakhpur, near the Nepali border, early in the morning, before heading to Sunauli - on the border. Then when you cross, there are dozens of overnight buses to various destinations in Nepal. Simple! But not, it turned out. My train to Gorakhpur arrived 6 hours late, so I was forced to crash there a night. Simple! But not. Turned out it was marriage season. I had to visit 9 hotels before finding a room; I was seriously thinking I would have to spend the night in the train station. Further, I lost the rag with a rikshaw driver who grabbed me by the arm. I was going to get change for him, and he thought I was trying to leave without paying. I almost took his head off; I reckon the heart attack would have gotten him first. The look on his face...I didn't feel guilty though, he was a pushy bastard. I had to pay a steep 800 rupees for the room, but I got a good dinner in the restaurant. In the morning, I went to travel agents to see about getting to Kathmandu. They wanted 525 rupees; I thought I could do better. Simple! But...yes this time. I paid a mere 60 rupees (less than one Euro) to get to Sunauli. Immigration was a breeze, for once. Nepal charges US$40 for Irish people to enter. You pay extra if you use another currency - even Nepali rupees - so bring USD if you go. They also need Dollars for their foreign currency reserves, and the border posts give fair exchange rates, so bring extra US Dollars please! After the crossing (least secure ever, actually, you could walk straight over), I milled around and checked out the bus options. One of the (very helpful and friendly) staff members at the border post told me it might be best to go to another town with early morning connections to Kathmandu, than to take an overnight bus. Two Australian guys were also doing this, so we paid 115 Nepali rupees (almost €1.15) and travelled together to Tansen (a.k.a. Tensing, a.k.a. Palpa). The bus journey was my first proper view of Nepal, and will begin my Nepal blog entry.

Leaving India gave me mixed feelings. I had a great time there, and would recommend a visit to anyone. On balance, it was a positive experience - with some low points thrown in. It is a land of extremes, so the highs and lows are extreme too. I fell into the 70% of people to experience Delhi Belly - mild enough cramps for me, but irritating. I saw every level of the human condition, from those living on the streets without the money for a chapati (by design of the system, I might add) up to people with wealth beyond most Europeans dreams. I have completely altered my perceptions of what is dirty, or what is unsafe to consume. I have experienced the hottest temperatures and highest humidity of my life. I have met fascinating, fun, stupid, infuriating and interesting people. I have made many friends, and seen a whole lot of remarkable sights. There is no doubt in my mind, especially given how I feel now in Nepal, that it was time to leave; this does not mean it was a chore, but it certainly tested endurance. India was a cheap country, even while we were getting ripped off. It has something for everyone, though it can be tough to find anything genuine amongst the tourist traps. As I say, I really do wish more people would consider visiting India. I must add, though, that it should be done in a conscientious way. Do NOT feed the touts.

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