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Published: October 3rd 2010
Mum’s visit marked a milestone for our stay in India. It meant that we are a month or so from the Games starting, a month from my 30th birthday and only months from saying our final farewell to India. Now suddenly the trip is over and now it’s up to me to recount our stories, which I do not mind boring you with!
The first day in Delhi proved to be chaos as usual! Since the rain was showing no signs of subsiding, we headed for the mall in Saket. Now I know this is not a genuine “Indian” experience per se but something has to be said for the air conditioned shops, pleasant smells as we pass the Body Shop, and relative lack of people crowding the halls. Granted it was 11am on a Sunday and Delhi is still sleeping - yes, still sleeping. It could be equated to 7am on a Sunday in Joburg. Having spent the morning shopping, we lunched at a regular favourite called The Big Chill Cafe and then caught an auto/tuk tuk home. I am surprised mum did not inhale some bugs given that she was grinning from ear to ear this whole death
defying trip home! Clearly a highlight for her and a genuine Indian experience - so the day was not a total Western bust!
Come Monday morning, we head for Varkala in Kerela. But first we have to tackle airport staff and security. Now I realise that smiling and being polite do not form part of any general job description but over time most of us have learnt that it will get you a hell of a lot further should we employ these tactics ... the airport staff at Delhi domestic airport have not twigged! Approximately 120 minutes later and we’ve checked in, had our hand luggage scanned and tagged, had an intimate moment with a female police officer (behind closed “doors”) while being frisked, queued to board, sat waiting on the bus to board, queued at the aeroplane to board, queued in the aeroplane waiting to be seated and finally queued on the runway to take off! Yes, it’s lengthy, not too effective and enormously frustrated but at least we did not have any screaming kids or chaps of the larger variety sitting next to us.
Or so I thought. This would prove to be the first of
4 internal flights mum and I would take together all of which contained at least one screaming child, one proverbial fat man and many, many sets of staring eyes! My tolerance levels have been truly tested and I will have to get back to you regarding the success of this!!! 4½ hours later we eventually land in Trivandrum airport having gone via Mumbai and find ourselves in a teeny, tiny airport jam packed with people. Naturally mum’s bag arrives within 5 minutes of waiting but we are stuck another 25 waiting for mine - think someone is testing my tolerance levels?!?!?!?
At least our driver is standing at the exit ready to whisk us away to Varkala, which is an hour and a half away. We finally pull up to the hotel, not before begging the little man to slow down, trying to convey via sign language that he is not in fact Michael Shumaker! The Gateway Hotel was lovely albeit under construction, hence the great “deal” I managed to get for a 5 star hotel - oops!!! Ah well, it was clean and pleasant enough.
Finally the rain clears up enough and we decide to stroll down
to the beach and explore. Once again, I was expecting a gorgeous, long beach with some foreigners strewn along it. When will I learn? The sand was mostly black, the sea was incredibly rough and there were very few foreigners all huddled on one end of the beach since there was a large festival taking place on the main part of the beach. Luckily it wasn’t “sit on the beach” weather so we didn’t feel too hard done by and were therefore happy to stroll along the cliff which was dotted with little stalls. This was the start of mum’s bargaining lessons and practical training:
Lesson 1: only enter a shop if you are willing to be hassled. Lesson 2: only touch something you are willing to buy. Lesson 3: always suggest a third of the price initially quoted. And lesson 4: when you fail to secure the price you want to pay, simply execute the “walk away” as the shop next door will more than likely be willing to sell it to you at your price. Fool proof. After one demonstration, mum had it nailed! And it was hilarious to see - who knew my sweet, caring, generous
mother could be such a hard-ass! Go mum!
After a very successful and exhausting afternoon, we decided to take a short cut back to the hotel. Well, not such a short cut as it turned out. Two hours later with darkness approaching, we finally found ourselves in a familiar place - at the wrong end of the cliff where we started! Now truly shattered, we take the long way back and are in bed by 8:30!
Day two in Kerela started slowly since we were both fairly stiff from our walkathon the day before, not to mention that the bloody rain was back! Eventually, it cleared up and we were more than happy to test out lunch at the pool. While the food was good, the sun was shining and the water was warm, the crows were however very annoying! They have no shame and happily stalked us to the point of sitting on the edge of the lounger just gagging for a tasty morsel. We did find one technique to ridding ourselves of these oversized rats with wings. For those who have seen the film Australia (where Nicole Kidman plays the role of a pompous English woman
in the 40’s) you might remember the scene where she is trying to demonstrate her equestrian skills by rounding up cattle? And in true form, she chooses to shout “Rah, Rah Rah” to get the stubborn cattle to do as they are told.... remember it? Well, when performed in a pompous accent and with some volume, this worked like a charm for these bloody crows and caused much giggling and much more staring!
Our last day brought with it a discount on the hotel fees at check out (following some constructive criticism from yours truly) another death defying trip back to the airport, a children-and-fat-man-infested flight and delayed luggage retrieval. But we were back in Delhi safe and sound!
We spent the Sunday lying by the pool at the Intercontinental Hotel tanning, swimming, reading and having an extravagant, boozy lunch - bliss!
Monday took us to Darjeeling - the tea district of India. We endured the same procedure at the airports but at least our driver was waiting for us. He did however resemble Gollum from Lord of the Rings yet keeping the faith is something I have learnt while living here. My primary concern was how
this little guy was going to reach the pedals and see over the steering wheel at the same time? And the answer was simple, he wasn’t - he was the “porter”. And by porter I mean he was sent by the driver to stand with the name placard to wait for us. The cheeky little freak then demanded a tip by tapping loudly on the window as we were getting into the car - ah India, gotta love it!
Darjeeling, or more accurately the Bagdogra region in general, had not escaped the monsoons! And the driver informed us the drive up the “hill” would take 3-4 hours due to the poor quality of the roads resulting in man-sized potholes and at times wiping the road out altogether forcing us to ride on the kerb. This was a ridiculous journey as I never quite knew if we were going to make it safely, what with the numerous animals, potholes, rain, landslides, hairpin corners and since the drivers coming down the “hill” or overtaking us felt the need to do to was a hair raising pace - what’s with that?!??!?!? They are in SUCH a rush when driving but do most
other things at snail’s pace? A country of contradiction to say the least!
EVENTUALLY, we arrive at the Elgin Hotel. I have never been so glad to use my legs! The hotel is gorgeous, quaint and colonial - just what we ordered, at last! One of my favourite parts was being welcomed with a glass of cherry flavoured port especially since it was wet, chilly and rainy outside. One of my least favourite parts was being made to pay for that welcome drink - ha ha!
Now exhausted and with the weather not cooperating, we decided to treat ourselves to tea and cake in the little parlour followed by an Indian head massage. This was not a fun experience - funny, yes but relaxing, no! The masseuse man was holed up in one of the converted rooms with no windows open and the heater blasting - sweat much? I was then required to sit on a dining room chair: wooden back, thin cushion and severely lacking the comfort factor. Anyhoo, the dude tipped a bottle of olive oil (extra virgin I think ;-) on my head then proceeded to scratch it. Now, if I were a dandruff sufferer
I could imagine this would have been a fantastic feeling, sadly I am not and thus it was altogether awful. After an hour of this I had enough hair on my t-shirt to have made a wig and a very sensitive head!
After a lovely breakfast the following morning, served with real silverware, we went exploring but sadly were unable to see the rolling hills of tea plantations that we were promised were just beyond the candy-floss clouds. We hit the zoo first and saw some weird but cute animals - our favourites being the red Panda and the black bear, just wanna cuddle them! Next was the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute museum, which was a bit of a letdown but interesting enough. Then it was time to trek up and down the paved hills of Darjeeling, popping into the odd shop here and there in the search of somewhere to go tea tasting! Finally thanks to mum’s flirting with Habeeb, the owner of the oldest shop in Darjeeling, we were guided to Golden Tips. Here we were welcomed like royalty by the owner, Nalin. It has to be said that I have NEVER met anyone so passionate about tea,
his trade, his country and its people - what an awesome guy! 90minutes later having tried 12 different varieties (who knew there were SO many), we received written brewing instructions for the R500 worth of tea we purchased. We finally headed back to the hotel, now busting for a wee! Great day!
Our trip back to the airport was once again terrifying but as we were driving down the “hill” I saw a blind man being helped across the road, when it struck me that of all the places I have seen in India, being blind in a gem like Darjeeling must be a real curse. It was just breathtaking with its rolling hills, friendly people, rich history and extreme diversity - a definite favourite!
Sadly, Delhi beckoned as did Agra - it was time to go and see the Taj Mahal. En route, we stopped to grab a bite to eat and were accosted by monkey-wielding locals. Mum decided she wanted to take a picture and in true Indian fashion, she was then required to part with Rs50 for the pics. The poor monkey - not fair putting him in a dress with make-up, for so many
reasons!!! Being my second time to the Taj I was less inspired but loved seeing mum’s reaction to it - it is one of the New Wonders of the World after all! Delhi however is not, but has so much to offer nonetheless.
We explored Chandi Chawk in Old Delhi, had a veg Paratha for breakfast at one of the oldest stores followed by pothole, crap and wee dodging before catching a bicycle rickshaw back up the road to an awaiting Vic - our driver/saviour! We also explored Dilli Haat, Okhla and Sarojini Nagar market, where I am proud to say mum executed her theoretical and practical bargaining training with perfection! While these two weeks were remarkable, the over-riding highlight was the dinner we were invited to at Vic’s home.
Vic is a man of extremely humble beginnings. Through the tourism industry he has taught himself English and managed to secure work as a driver working for a tourist agency in Delhi. He has 2 brothers, Pawan and AJ. Each of the boys is married and all have two children. Their parents are still alive and this whole family (14 members strong) lives in a 4 room house
with 1 toilet. This is a very proud, generous and humble family who honoured us with “chicken lollipops” (drumsticks), Kingfisher beer, Sula red wine, mutton curry, rice, dahl and chippaties. Bearing in mind that only Vic is employed, this was a certifiable feast but no expense was spared. We were treated like royalty despite being hosted in Pawan’s bedroom as it was the only form of seating.
There were certain points of interest that only became apparent to us, as foreigners, when dining in an Indian home - AJ and Vic, who are both younger than Pawan are required to give up their seat should he enter a room since he is the eldest brother and thus head of the family. While Vic has sisters, tradition dictates that the wives move in with the husband’s family - hence 14 of them living together under one roof. Both Vic and AJ’s wives are expected to cover their faces when facing Pawan, again a sign of respect for the eldest brother. These traditions are as common to them as locking the front door is to us - it needs to be done, so it is. I have never been as humbled
as I was that night nor as proud to be invited to this home. For me, that night depicted what India is truly about but often takes so many people so long to discover. 11 months, that’s how long my journey has been and I now feel that I have only just scratched the surface.
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pam fair
non-member comment
It all sounds like a fantastic experience! Meggie I hope you intend publishing a book on your experiences in India. I know how much I love your blogs and I am certain many other people would thoroughly enjoy to read them. XXX