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Published: November 27th 2011
Giver!
Apparently it was Hawaiian day at wherever we were. On October 27
that 2am I landed in Mumbai, India – my first time in the homeland. Right off the bat, I gotta dispel the first big myth about India, it doesn’t stink at all once you land. You gotta wait 15 minutes after driving away from the airport first, and then the stink hits ya. The airport itself was actually one of the nicest buildings I saw in Mumbai. And I had the fortunate experience of spending 2 extra hours there because I was held in immigration, so I was able to get pretty comfortable in there. No, it wasn’t because they needed time to roll out the red carpet, but because I didn’t write down where I was staying. I figured if I wrote it once to get the VISA, I shouldn’t have to giver again. I was only let out because I became buddies with the head officer and after that he waved me through, no problem. Whata beauty!
Although most of my family lives in Mumbai, we didn’t really stay there long. The ‘we’ I speak of is me and my Grandad. The prototypical ol’Indian stereotype in the flesh. He is the most difficult man on the
Trailblazers
Couple a brown clowns makin the trek back to the homeland. face of the earth, probably the cheapest, and hes an absolute beauty. One way or another, he was a highlight reel onto himself. I’ve never seen someone argue about money to everyone he made a financial transaction with, it was a real treat to witness. More on that later…
With only 3 weeks in India, we had to move fast so after a day or so we took a 36 hour, jammed packed, non AC train ride up to Kashmir. And when I say jammed packed, I mean jam packed, not a single open space in the entire train, aisles included. Although the train ride might sound brutal, especially for you sweethearts out there, it actually wasn’t bad. It gave me a chance to see the Indian country side and to my surprise, it looked a lot like Canada. Alls we saw were trees and farms with the odd town in between. Of course, there were also the shanty towns. India is a crazy mix of middle class, a lil upper, an then the poor, basically all in the same spot. For instance, at the Mumbai airport, you got this beauty building, airstrip, and then a giant neighbouring shanty
town. You can really see the country growing economically and the farms look like there in way better shape than the ones in Tanzania, but people are still suffering. Now, saying all that, atop of most shanty roofs I saw satellite dishes – so how poor some of these people are maybe questionable. I Guess everyones getting pumped for the Bombers in the 99th Grey Cup, eh!
Our final destination was Jumma. As a town, its pretty pretty. But there is nothing to do. I quickly realized that India isn’t really a solid place to party. No bars or clubs up where we are and you can’t drink and eat at the same time, you have to go to the bar first, then the restaurant, brutal. We had a tour of the town the next morning and I also realized that I am not a tourist. Buildings and temples are great and all but I’d much rather have a pint and a kabab with a couple locals and shake some shoulders with a few bitcharies as oppose to starring at some ancient architecture.
The next morning we took about a 14
hour car ride up to Srinagar, through the mountain range driving on a road that looked similar to the one your see on that Ice Road Trucker show when there in India, right into the heart of Kashmir. When I was young, my Granny said that of all the places shes been to in the world, this was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. Well Granny, maybe from your vantage point upstairs but if ya ask me, I’d take Whistler BC any day of the week over this joint. Don’t get me wrong, the mountains looked cool and we stayed in a boat house which was romantic and all, but given the fact that we went up when there is no snow, it really wasn’t that great. Our tour of the area was about 3-4 days and we saw lots of gardens and some mountains. We did get to go on a horsey ride and that was pretty sweet. Again, real romantic, but it wasn’t our cup of tea and Grandad let everyone know about it.
The food and how much we were payin for what we got really stuck in his craw. And when we went
Jumma
Like I says, nice lookin town, just nothin to do in it. to the bank to get some more money, he let his financial frustrations loose on the bank manager. Its not that he was yelling at the guy or anything, but what he said I thought was priceless. The exchange rate was listed at 47.19 rupees per Canadian dollar, eh. Grandad tells the guy, “OK, give me 48.” The guys jaw hits the floor, “Ahh sorry sir this is non-negotiable.” I laughed the entire time, and then I got in trouble. This also occurred for every time he dealt with the boat manager, the tour operator, the hotel people in Jumma, the drivers, the shop keepers, and the tour guides. They’d see me smiling and look at me like, “is this guy for real” and I’d be like, yes sir! It was pretty entertaining and laughing at it all was worth the trouble I got in. After another long car and train ride, we landed in Delhi.
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