Planes, Trains, and Rickshaws

Planes, Trains, and Rickshaws

India…WOW, what a place! It is hard to put my experience in the country into words, but here I go.

About an 8^th of the world’s population (over 1 billion people) reside in the ever-expanding country of India, a place that would take a lifetime to fully comprehend. In the six days I was there I was saw four different cities: Chennai formerly known as Madras, New Delhi, Agra, and Varanasi. It was a place that required a lot of patience and a great sense of humor. Upon my arrival, my friend Chris who has traveled to India multiple times warned me “if something is going to go wrong, everything will go wrong in India, no matter what India always wins.” I didn’t believe him at first, but I spent the rest of my trip with these words lingering at the back of my mind haunting me at time and not taken seriously at others.

There was never a dull moment in this country, all of my senses were constantly in action. If you weren’t moving thousands of people were, scattered in all different directions and ally ways and street corners. Although the population was abundant, the infrastructure to support this population wasn’t, which made travel and time so valuable. You needed to plan at least half an hour to an hour in advance to get to places that you needed to go or else you’d be eaten alive by the traffic, the mosquitoes, or the swarms of people that you needed to push your way through to get from point A to B. But India was an exciting place with so much going on that even when your patience was being tested, you could just stop and look around at everything that was remotely different than anything you are used to and feel less worried about getting what you wanted and more interested in everything around you.

My first day in Chennai was my first test of patience. We waited, and waited until immigration was ready to do our face-to-face passport checks, then waited and waited some more until we were finally cleared and ready to disembark. The whole process of getting from the ship and off of the port was very slow. It was mandatory for us to take a short shuttle from the ship to the entrance of the port. Once we reached the entrance, we waited in a line to get our passports checked again so that we could leave the port. I figured that since India was so over populated it needed to be very strict with its immigration laws and regulations so I patiently waited and talked to security guards and friends to pass the time.

Twenty minutes later, Me, Charli, Emily, Chris, Sarah, and Wang Fan made it off the port and on to the street where we were swarmed with rickshaw drivers “berry good price Madame please come with me,” they insisted. At first we attempted to walk into town, but soon realized that it was a lot further than we thought and would need to cross through some of the busiest streets I had ever seen in my life. So the six of us squeezed into a rickshaw, a tiny open sided putt-putt go-cart like car that went no faster than 25 MPH. It was a great way to get around, not the most comfortable in our case, but we got to really feel Chennai with all of our senses.

It was complete anarchy on the streets of Chennai and the rest of the cities I visited. Rickshaws, motorcycles, and cars would be swerving at you from all directions as if your vehicle was invisible, rear ending was just a normal part of driving, and crossing over to drive into oncoming traffic was completely acceptable. There was no organization on the streets, every pedestrian and car for themselves keeping up and alert thanks to the symphony of horns and people shouting. Driving was quite an experience in itself. Despite the scary driving that I had experienced in other countries, really nothing compared to driving in India. At first I was really scared and was holding onto the sides of the rickshaw for my life, but after a while everything just became really amusing and entertaining and out of my control and the only I could do was the make the most of it and laugh about it to pass the time.

I felt as if I had gone fifty years back in time. Majority of the buildings had not been remodeled for ages and people were still working in them as if they were brand new. There were the occasional upscale architecturally designed government buildings, but those looked very out of place next to the aged city. Because we were in the coastal region of India, there were a lot of old British forts and other old infrastructure that the British had left behind throughout the city that were still an important part of Chennai. I had always seen photographs of women dressed up in bright bold colored saris intricately laced in patterns of sequins and had thought that that was part of stereotypical India, but when I arrived I discovered that women really did wear beautiful saris everyday of the week. Although the dress code in India was very strict for women especially for myself as a foreign visitor (we needed to fully cover our knees and wear shirts that covered our shoulders and neckline), the Indian attire for women was so much more colorful and rich than ours that it really wasn’t a problem to wear all that fabric and all those colors. Some of the men dressed in traditional Indian attire as well which consisted of long linen long sleeve tunics matched with long linen skirts or pants. The men who wore more westernized attire looked as if they had stepped out of the sixty’s or seventy’s. They wore gaudy gold jewelry with their bright button down shirts tucked into their high waisted jeans or pants some wearing brown sandals and others walking around bare foot. There were a lot of old fashion cars on the street the type that had no seat belts with seats that connected from one side to the other, along with motorized rickshaws and the occasional bicycle rickshaws. The western cars that you would see zipping around on the street looked very strange in Chennai and stood out more as a sign of wealth than anything else.

We had our rickshaw driver take us to a market that one of the inter-port students had suggested called sow carpet, a mini city of run down shops and narrow ally ways that created a maze of Hindi, saris, three story buildings, motorcycles that would squeeze right past you, and food. It was already an hour past noon and Sarah and I had only two hours to spend before we needed to head back to the ship to leave on our big trip to the Taj Mahal and Varanasi! We wandered though the sow carpet maze and window-shopped. I think us girls were expecting a little more out of the market, but it was really interesting to walk through and observe nonetheless.

We walked down a street filled with saris and couldn’t resist! It was the most colorful store I had ever been in filled with shimmering saris and bright patterns of material. We took off our shoes and walked over pillows that lined the entire store, it was so comfy. I had such a hard time sifting through all of the different fabrics, but Emily found a pretty blue sari that she bought for herself.

By the time we left the store Sarah and I had to leave to go back to the ship to get ready for the airport. We waved down a rickshaw and were on our way, little did we know most locals had no idea where the port was located. We realized this when we got closer to the port and started going around in circles. Neither of us had our green information sheet from pre port but luckily ran into our friends on another rickshaw who lent the driver our sheet and we made it back in time!

It was a long process to get back on the ship. This was the first port where we needed to have our passports on us at all times which made me really nervous. We got to the entrance and had to show them our passports, then got to the dock and had to show them our passports again and go through a security and get our bags searched, then do it all over again once we got to the ship.

Our flight to New Delhi was schedule for 7:45 but had no idea what to expect as far as traffic in Chennai. Sarah and I quickly packed our bags and booked it to the airport with our friend Edmund. Again, we had to go through all of the security and deal with our passports then we were off to the airport. This was going to be my first time flying in another country so I was eager to see what the flight was going to be like but nervous at the same time that something bad might happen.

I had never seen an airport so disorganized and scattered. There were so many people just there outside of the airport and cars speeding though the road that led to the terminal. Soon, most of the people from our independent group arrived. We all went through security and I was surprised to see how loose they were about airport security, but so strict about immigration laws. We were on time and everything went quite smoothly, but we were informed that our flight had been delayed for another hour. Soon, the airport was filled with American students as more people from the ship arrived for their SAS sponsored trips to the Taj Mahal. Ironically we were on the same flight as them. There were over a hundred of us and we made up majority of passengers on the plane. We traveled on Spicejet airlines and it really was like flying on an American airline but the speaker over the intercom spoke in Hindi and we had Indian flight attendants.

It took us three hours to get to New Delhi and by the time we got there it was almost midnight. We were taken to a bus and immediately driven to our hotel after receiving lei’s from our hosts’. It didn’t take long to get to our hotel, we were all so exhausted but were starving. The hotel was quiet and old fashioned with large simple rooms and bathrooms that looked like they had not been properly clean. Everyone headed straight to bed after getting their dose of Nan bread. I had had such a long day and was excited to really get to see India the next morning.

Sarah and I woke up bright and early to start off a long day of activities. We ate breakfast and then were greeted by our new tour guide named Joseph. He was from New Delhi and the first Christian that I had met in India. We hopped on a bus that took us into the city to see Ghandi’s ashes. I didn’t see too much of New Delhi, but from what I saw I didn’t find it all that interesting. From driving around I could definitely see the difference in class that I had heard so much about in India. You would see hundreds of homeless people walking on the streets next to run down markets and squatter settlements, outside of upscale buildings, business centers, and fancy government buildings.

We arrived at a large park in the middle of the city, the only place that I had seen that was maintained and trash-free. I was surprised that Gandhi was buried in this area of New Delhi. His burial site was duller than I had expected. There were no flowers or pictures, just a very plain modern style stone monument. We had some time to walk around the park before heading back on the bus for our five hour-long ride to Agra to visit the Taj Mahal.

It was my first time being on the road for such a great distance, and in India of all places. I couldn’t believe the sea of cars overflowing the highway. Everyone was beeping and rear-ending one another it was such a mess. Driving out to Agra, we passed through many slum communities. The people in these communities lived in some of the worse conditions I had ever seen. It wasn’t like Ghana where they lacked the resources to build sufficient housing, but these people lived in complete squalor. I’d look out of the window and see good houses falling apart with people living in them. These communities were so poorly maintained and with people living next to industrial infrastructure and trash, it just made me question India’s value for their quality of life. It really disturbed me to see people living in such poor conditions in these rural areas. It made me think about rural to urban migration into cities in a place like India. The population was just so large I didn’t see it feasible even if these people wanted to move out into the cities and pursue a better life.

We drove and drove until we reached Agra. It was a city that resembled most of the smaller rural communities that we had passed on the way out there except with more newly renovated shops, hotels, and restaurants. It wasn’t what I pictured the city of the great Taj Mahal to be in. Agra looked like all the other cities I had been in India but even more run down. At first the Taj Mahal was nowhere in sight, but as we drove deeper into town I spotted the monument peering out above the city. We stopped at an Indian restaurant for lunch before heading to the Taj. We were fed a delicious combination of spinach and vegetable curries, Nan bread, and spicy rice.

On our way to the Taj Mahal our driver warned us to not pay any attention to the street salesmen because they were cons that would try to pick pocket us. I brushed off his warning because I thought that I already knew what to expect from the other ports I had visited. When we got off the bus however, we were greeted by the most persistent beggars and salesmen I had encountered in all of the countries. They pulled at me and even followed me for long distances to the point where I had to yell at to make it clear that I did not want anything from them.

We walked through the large gated entrance to the Taj Mahal and immediately went through security. They separated us into lines of white foreign men, Indian men, white foreign women, and Indian women. I didn’t really give much thought to how much of a target a place like the Taj Mahal would before going through such high security.

You couldn’t see the Taj Mahal right after going through security, so the anticipation was building up as I stepped out. There was a long walk way that took us to a grand entrance that stood about five stories high made of ivory and precious stones decorated in sapphires, ruby and pearl. The entrance was so well preserved it looked new. Stepping through the dark passage of the entrance and looking at the Taj Mahal in the distance was one of the most incredible sights I have ever seen. The Taj Mahal really had no fascinating history or purpose behind it, only a monument dedicated to a Mogul ruler’s wife who had died during childbirth; it was nonetheless by far the most amazing piece of architecture I had ever seen. The Taj Mahal looked just as good in pictures as it did in person maybe even better.

In pictures I had always imagined the Taj Mahal as a quiet peaceful monument that people could only experience from a distance. But once I walked through the entrance, I was greeted by thousands of other visitors it was like being in a crowd at an amusement park. The Taj Mahal sat in the middle of two other grand pieces of architecture, on the left the Mogul ruler had built a mosque almost as grand as the Taj Mahal, and on the left was a guest house fit for a king. The entire area was so symmetrically constructed it was almost too perfect. I followed the path alongside the fountain that reflected the Taj in the late afternoon sun. The Taj became more and more surreal with every step I took closer. I stopped to take as many pictures as I could along the way but none of them do any justice to how incredible this monument was.

Walking inside and around the Taj Mahal was even more astonishing. The sun was setting quickly which gave the Taj an opalescent glow. I felt so small standing on its surface, I understood why it was considered one of the Seven Wonders of the World. The sun set behind the Taj as people poured out of the grounds, and soon we had to leave. Nighttime in Agra around was quite dangerous. Men would tenaciously grab on to you and insist you buy their souvenirs. I had to be very cautious walking in the dark and actually yelled at these men a few times to get them to stop following me. Little did I know the night had just begun.

Our next stop was the train station to board the overnight train to Varanasi, the holy capital of India. We arrived in a panic thinking that we were going to miss our ride and have to spend the rest of the night in Agra. As we ran for the train, people starred at us wondering why these 30+ Americans were rushing to a train at 11pm at night. Our group was really unorganized and we did not coordinate our seating arrangements in advance. As a result, many of us were left without seats which put us in even more of a panic. The further we walked down what were supposedly our first class seating arrangements we progressively began to get more. The dim fluorescent lighting made the train look shadier than it really was, the beds smelt like the person who had just been in it, and the bathroom was literally a hole over the tracks. I looked around and knew that it was going to be quite an adventure.

It took me about an hour to find a seat. I had to search the different compartments of the train until I finally found a bed that was in of all places, next to the bathroom. I took the bottom bunk and shielded myself with a cloth, while my roommate Sarah bravely took the top bunk putting her at eye level to anyone who walked by in the middle of the night. Initially I was scared, Sarah and I were far away from the group and could not understand a single conversation that was being said around us. There were constantly people walking back and forth throughout the night some would peer into my compartment out of curiosity. Despite the strange smells, loud coughing, and the constant coming and going of people, I managed to get cozy on my bed and once I settled down began to enjoy the slowness of the train.

I woke up the next morning to a view of the Indian countryside and soon pulled into the city of Varanasi. We all got off waking up in the clothes we had worn the previous day, and headed off to the outer part of the city to our hotel.

There was nothing really remarkable about the area in Varanasi that our hotel was in except for the traffic of bicycle rickshaws and occasional elephant that would walk down our street. I did not enjoy Varanasi until took bicycle rickshaws into the city. The city center of Varanasi revolved around the Ganges River that comprised new and old city features and traditions into its diverse and very colorful scape.

What attracted me the most to the city was its maze-like marketplace that hid from the public behind old buildings and alleyways. If I had more time I would have loved to spend hours getting lost in and explore hidden market. There was even an old mosque at the center of the market that resembled a mini version of the Taj. I turned out a side ally in the market and was led down a series of stairs that took me down to the Ganges River. What was so remarkable about the Ganges and made the city of Varanasi so holy was that people from all over India traveled to the river to have their loved ones cremated and as ashes be thrown into the river.

We boarded a rowboat to watch the cremation ceremony take place during sunset on the river. As we sailed downstream I enjoyed the view of old historic abandoned buildings that lined the river. Our guide quieted the group and explained to us that we were approaching the cremation ceremony. The shore was covered with fire pits and the atmosphere surrounding the cremation ceremony was still no one moved or talked. I watched as bodies were being brought down covered in orange flowers and placed above the fire pit and burnt away into ash.

The entire time I was there I found it so hard to believe what I was actually seeing. At first I was disturbed by the ceremony, but then I began to appreciate the fact that I was seeing tradition at its best. This was normal part of life for most Indians and I was lucky enough to be watching this very spiritual moment. I lit a candle and sent it down the Ganges River to honor whoever’s soul I had seen move on to the next life.

After the cremation ceremony, we watched a concert performance on shore from the river. We parked next to hundreds of other people in boats and watched the spectacle together. Night on the Ganges River was as magical as it was entertaining. I couldn’t have wished for an experience any better in Varanasi.

We spent the next day watching the sunrise at the river and doing a drive through tour of Varanasi University. My last day spent in the city was very relaxed. I enjoyed the slow pace of time mixed with the vast movement of people who comprised only a fraction of the Indian people.

Our flight to Chennai had been delayed, so when we had our stop over in New Delhi we sprinted to our connecting flight and arrived just before they were about to close the gate.

I enjoyed all of the cities I had visited in India, but Varanasi the most. The cities I visited provided me with contrasting perspectives of the lifestyles and development that varied from city to city. The Indian culture was one that at times required a lot of patience from a western perspective. When things went wrong it took a lot of patience to resolve and understand the reasons why. Staying amused and in good spirits really helped to take your mind off what sometimes seemed to be an inconvenience at times. India really tested me and pushed at my buttons, but once I pushed back and explored my own tolerance to difference I really opened up to India and had an incredible time.