My Whirlwind Week in India...

Asia » India
February 5th 2009

Published: February 5th 2009

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Sunset in India

Who would have thought that the best sunset I would see over here would be from a train...

My Whirlwind Week in India…

On Tuesday morning I said goodbye to Kevin and grabbed a jeep down the mountain to the New Jalpaiguri Train station. I had originally booked a ticket to Varanasi that left at 4am that morning, but had not realized at the time that the mountain roads were too dangerous to navigate by night and so would have had to go down the mountain on Monday afternoon and spend the night at the train station. I looked online and saw that there was a train scheduled to depart at 1:05pm the following day to Varanasi, and though the website said that there were no tickets available, I decided to hope for the best and try and work something out at the station.

Big mistake.

The jeep was headed to the neighbouring town of Siliguri, but I figured that I could grab a taxi or bus once I got there. It was a surprisingly comfortable trip down the mountain, and we made it in 2.5hours versus the 9 hour train ride up. Once we hit Siliguri I grabbed a bus that took me directly to the New Jalpaiguri train station. I managed to pull in

On the train

Catching the sunset by hanging out the door of the moving train...very refreshing...

at approximately 11pm which gave me 2 hours to figure out my ticket to Varanasi. I definitely needed the extra time. I had mistakingly thought that I was a veteran at booking train tickets because I had already gone through the process when I booked the toy train up the mountain. Apparently the process for booking a “real” train is completely different. I was confounded right off the bat by the necessity of going to the reservation counter, which was in a building that was completely separate from the rest of the train station. I stood in line there for about an hour before I was able to get to the front of the queue. And apparently being a foreign tourist meant that the locals were free to butt in line. However, I eventually made it to the ticket counter only to be told that there were no tickets available on the 1:05pm train to Varanasi.

I guess the website didn’t lie.

And not only were there no tickets for that train, but there were no tickets available for ANY train to Varanasi. Or to Gorakpur. Or to Culcutta.

He suggested that I take the 10:50pm train

Pradeep Hotel!

...bliss...

to Mughalsarai, which was approximately 25km out from Varanasi and then take a taxi into town. The train was expected to reach Mughalsarai at about 4pm the following day, which would give me plenty of daylight hours to find my hotel. Unfortunately he didn’t have any tickets available for this station at that time, but was more then happy to put me on a waiting list. It would only cost me 850 rupees.

After some consideration, I decided that this was the best plan I had, and so agreed to be put on the waiting list. It was now 1pm. I had almost 10 hours before my train was scheduled to depart, and 4 hours until Kevin was due to arrive at the station to catch his 9pm train to Culcutta.

I decided to head over to the toy train platform to wait for him. A little bedraggled boy in rags came up while I was eating a cookie and mimed that he wanted one. Ignoring the voice in my head that told me not to do it, I handed one over. He promptly sat down next to me and ate it. Uh oh. After he finished, he

My first real shower in a month!

With actual hot water...I drained that tank dry...

mimed that he wanted my water bottle. I said no. He then demanded another cookie. I said no again. A group of his friends came over and surrounded me, begging for food, water, or money. I stayed firm in my refusal. Eventually one of the local men on the tracks yelled at the kids and they scattered. After they left, I chained my luggage to my body and stretched out on the bench for a nap. I was woken up 2 hours later by some security guards who told me that it wasn’t safe for a woman to be alone on this platform, and recommended that I go wait on platform 1 instead. I squeezed myself into a corner on this very busy platform and spent the next 2 hours ruminating on the rats and beating off the beggars.

The toy train pulled into the station 1 hour late at 5pm. Needless to say, Kevin was very surprised to see me there. He was also quite concerned about my new plan of action. I took him out to the station food court for dinner, and in between picking bugs out of our rice, we talked about alternate strategies if

Enjoying my first rickshaw ride in India

You can't see it - but I am employing the white knuckled grip of death on my seat...

I wasn’t able to get aboard this train. We didn’t come up with much. I had been instructed to come back to the reservation counter at 7pm to check the status of my waiting list, and luckily when we wandered back over I was informed that I had a ticket on the train! Whew.

Kevin and I played some cards until he caught his train to Culcutta. I then stumbled upon an “Executive” waiting room which was “Available for 1st Class ticket holders and Tourists”. Inside there were actual chairs. And actual bathrooms (I don’t even want to talk about the public bathrooms that were available on the platforms). I again chained my luggage to my body, stretched out on the ground (as all of the chairs were taken), set my alarm for 10pm, and had a nap.

I woke up later to hear that my train was expected to be delayed for 4 hours. I reset my alarm and went back to sleep. At 2pm I woke up to hear that it was now delayed for 6 hours. I repeated the procedure. At 5am I woke up, bought some snacks and water, and finally boarded my train.

Getting blessed in the Ganges

There were people bathing all down the river...despite the fact that ashes from the crematorium were floating in the water...

I had now been at the New Jalpaiguri Train station for 18 hours. My train was expected to arrive in Mughalsarai 17 hours later. It took 18 hours. I would officially be spending more time in this train and train station then I would be in the entire city of Varanasi. Luckily I had booked first class and so not only was it air conditioned, spacious, and included pillows and blankets, but it also managed to limit it’s “additional occupants” to merely a single mouse and cockroach. I considered this to be luxurious accommodations indeed.

We pulled into Mughalsarai at around midnight and I shared a taxi with some Russian friends I had shared a train compartment with, as well as an older gentleman from California. We had 3 different taxi drivers competing for our business. At the end of some intense haggling we got the 30 minute drive into the city for 100 rupees (approximately $2 dollars split 4 ways). Kevin had recommended a place called the Pradeep Hotel, and though it cost a staggering 1150 rupees per night, it was worth every penny! It had an actual shower. With actual hot water. And the bathroom included toilet

So whats the story with cows?

Do they need to be blessed since they're already considered holy???

paper. And the room smelled clean. I was so excited about the room that I took more pictures of it then I did of the city the next day. And despite being exhausted, I stayed up as long as I could to fully enjoy the amenities. I had two showers. And room service. Bliss.

The next day I attempted to find the Main Ghat to check out the Ganges river and the 24 hour crematorium. Unfortunately I got hopelessly lost, until a nice guy named Asaka took me under his wing and spent the next 3 hours taking me on a tour of the city. I was a little hesitant about this gesture, as Kevin had warned me about a tourist scam in Varanasi a few years ago where locals would volunteer to show tourists the crematorium, and then rob them and throw their body into the fire to destroy the evidence. After some probing I learned that Asaka worked in a silk shop in the city. Ah. That made me feel much better as I figured that the “price” for this tour would be a visit to his silk shop afterwards. This theory proved to be correct, and

And laundry?

Does it cost more to get your clothes cleaned in the Ganges???

I ended up buying a very nice silk pashmina for 350 rupees. Not a bad price to pay for a 3 hour tour of the city.

Varanasi itself was a magical place. I’ve nicknamed it the city of the dead, because this is where Hindu pilgrims go to wash away their sins in the Ganges or to cremate their loved ones. There are two crematoriums located on the Ganges river - a natural one and an unnatural one. The natural crematorium does not use artificial inflammatory substances like gas or electricity to cremate people. There are 7 different classes of people who are not able to be cremated here; pregnant women, people with leprosy, people bitten by a cobra, people who committed suicide, etc. People who fall under any of these categories must use the less auspicious unnatural crematorium up the river. It is said that people who are cremated in Varanasi and have their ashes placed in the river are liberated from the cycle of birth and death. When I visited the crematorium there were only 3 burnings in progress. It seems incredible that something this intimate can be opened up as a tourist attraction. I tried to

Looking out across the Ghats

Spent a peaceful afternoon here walking the ghats

stay as respectful and inconspicuous as possible. While I was there, I was asked whether I wanted to get “good karma” by contributing some money to people who had come to Varanasi to die but did not have enough money to afford the crematorium. I contributed 100 rupees to this lady who consequently blessed me, my parents, and my sister. She was a little pissed off that I “only” contributed 100 rupees, so hopefully she didn’t put a voodoo curse on me instead. Her original asking price was 5000 rupees but I smelled tourist scam all over this, and besides, I figured that the amount of money didn’t matter as much as the gesture of giving it. (ps. I was later informed by a local that this is, in fact, a tourist scam. So don’t be fooled).

Before I left the city, I made sure that I took the time to go down to the riverside and bless myself in the Ganges. I took off my shoes and dipped my hands and feet in the murky water which is considered to be the purest river in the world.

I grabbed my 4pm train to Agra, which was miraculously

Modelling my silk pashmina...

The cost of a 3-hour tour of the city...

only 30 minutes late. No first class this time. It was a long trip.

I arrived in Agra at about 6am Friday morning and reached my hotel just in time to gaze at the sun rising over the Taj from our rooftop café. It was breathtaking, and was the first time that an architectural monument actually lived up to my expectations. Unfortunately I then learned that the Taj is closed on Fridays. Luckily I was in the city until 3pm the following afternoon. And due to one of those obscure friend-of-a-friend connections, I had snagged a free driver to chauffeur me around town for the 2 days that I was there.

I spent the afternoon on Friday going to the fortified ghost cite of Fatehpur Sikri. This city was built by Emperor Akbar to celebrate the birth of an heir to the Mughal throne. This Emperor had three wives; a Christian one, a Muslim one, and a Hindu one. He built a palace for each, and they all resided within the walls of this city.

That night India finally defeated me. I blame the cheese sandwich I had for lunch. Or maybe the pagoda that I had

Holy men parked along the Ganges

Helping people prepare for the crematorium

outside Fatehpur Sikri that afternoon. Either way, I spent about 12 hours that night throwing up the contents of my stomach until I was completely empty inside. I had become somewhat proud, and perhaps a bit cocky, about the fact that I had been here for almost a month with no tummy problems. Apparently 50% of travelers are afflicted within the first 2 weeks of their stay. I was impressed by my iron constitution. No more. But despite the fact that I felt like death the next day, NOTHING was going to keep me away from the Taj.

It was breathtaking. The symmetry, detail, and purity of the building was everything that I had expected and more. I spent about 4 hours wandering around, taking pictures, and lounging on a bench.

Afterwards, I hit up a Dominos Pizza outlet for some much-welcomed Western food to refortify my stomach before jumping on my train for Delhi. I pretty much passed out as soon as I was on board, waking up only moments before pulling into my station. Feeling much revived, I felt able to tackle the madness of this truly confounding city. I spent my first night in a

Day trip outside of Agra

Checking out the palaces and temples in this Medieval city...

very upscale hotel that again had real showers with hot water and room service. The next day I checked out and went to a significantly cheaper guesthouse that was located in the middle of the main bizarre. This room had no end of both mice AND cockroaches - but surprisingly I discovered that they’re not too bad as far as sleeping companions go. I spent the day doing some errands and getting caught up on email - feeling absolutely no desire whatsoever to venture out into the city.

On my last day in India, I woke up with a yen to buy a sitar. I have absolutely no idea where this desire came from, but determinedly set out with a map to a line of Rickshaw drivers with the intention of embarking deep within the bowels of Old Delhi to do some serious shopping. The guy I approached did not speak English very well, but luckily he had a friend who could translate. I pointed at the map and asked if he could take me there. He asked if I was going shopping. I replied that I wanted to go to the music shops. He asked whether I meant

Stairs to nowhere...

As far as I could tell...there was nothing behind this wall...

the emporium. No music shops, I replied. He pointed to the spot on the map and again said “Emporium”. I said sure and asked how much. He said 20 rupees. I got in. With my map clutched in hand, the rickshaw driver started out in the direction of Old Delhi. Until he hit the first intersection, at which point he took me in the completely wrong direction. I tried tapping him on the shoulder, but he wouldn’t respond. I looked back to see that his translator friend was in a rickshaw following behind me. I was essentially being kidnapped in Delhi. We finally pulled up in front of this department store that sold overpriced carpets, wood carvings, and yes, sitars. I was not impressed. It wasn’t the first time that I had been fleeced into going to one of these places, but this time I was on a tight time schedule. And so for the very first time in the month that I’d been traveling through Nepal and India, Jennifer lost her temper. The guy obviously wanted me to pay him for the trip. I obviously wasn’t going to do that since he’d taken me in the opposite direction across

Looking at the beautiful architecture

They just dont build it like this anymore...

town to a place that I didn’t want to shop at. Things got a bit heated. Another rickshaw driver came over to ease the tension - or perhaps capitalize on it. Either way, I ended up paying 20 rupees to get taken back to my hotel - a situation that I was not happy about. And I was no longer in the mood to go shopping.

I spent the remainder of the day getting caught up on my email before making a new friend over lunch. In the whirlwind tour across India, I had forgotten how genuinely friendly and relaxed Nepali people were. The guy I met over lunch came from Pokhara lakeside, and when he had heard that I had recently traveled there, a lot of high fives were exchanged. Before I left he had declared that I was his best friend, shown me pictures of his wife and children, given me his phone number, and made me promise to call him if I ever returned to Pokhara so that he could pick me up from the airport. He also carried my bags for me to my taxi, and we exchanged some more high fives and hugs before

More palaces

It was pretty empty there and so had the run of the place to myself...

I was whisked off to the airport. It was definitely a great way to end this portion of my journey.

Despite the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed my 10 days in India, I was glad to be leaving it for the sunny beaches of Java (more on that to come). And while I’m sure that I’ll be back here one day, I have no regrets about the fact that I kept this visit short and sweet.

Signing out,

Jen

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