Nimbin

Posted on February 24, 2014 by hilarylust

Nimbin. Probably some of the best people watching on Earth. An entire town, in the middle of Australia, totally devoted to drugs. Still stuck in the past, when the town hosted the last ever 1973 Aquarius Festival, locals live to keep that hippie culture alive.
The town is just an hour and a half from Brisbane by bus, and although this place is beyond strange, I’m glad I made the trek. The old Nimbin museum is a house turned art gallery on acid. The walls, doors and floors have been painted with floral designs, covered in newspaper clippings and scrawled in mantras that only the stoned could make up. Broken down cars lie about, and banana leaves with Ghandi quotes hang off the strange decor. Yup, the Nimbin museum is one of a kind.
From there I walked up and down the streets, checking out the stores and cafe’s along the way. Herbal teas, palm readings, incense… It’s a hippie dream here! I have never in my life seen more dreadlocks and tie dye in 2 squared blocks.
The town is, however, very small. Not a lot of things to do in the hours that I had before my bus this afternoon. Then I realized, all I wanted to do was sit and have a coffee and watch the strangeness around me. So I did.
Pretty much anything goes here as far as people. The outfits, the age groups, the rooster crowing in a garden bed behind me. There is a strangely hypnotic trance beat mixed with a didgeridoo emanating from the “happy high herbs” shop next to me. I’ve heard the word “groovy” three times in the last five minutes. Rainbow seems to be the favourite colour to wear here. I saw a woman with a leather vest that said “classy gal” in giant stitched lettering in the back and then immediately after saw an old lady, in head to toe purple, jump for joy when she found a dead sunflower. She broke the sun flower in half and started eating the seeds… The same sunflower I saw two chickens eating only moments earlier. Yup, this place is weird.
Although, according to the Nimbin museum, the word “weird” comes from the Germanic word “weirden” which means “to become”. So there’s your English lesson for the day. Who knew I would learn so much!

Byron Bay

Posted on February 23, 2014 by hilarylust

The morning after Cheekie Monkeys I woke up sick as a dog. Big surprise. It doesn’t take long partying and living in a hostel before you ultimately get a cold. But Byron Bay awaited and I wasn’t about to miss out. So I grabbed a quick bite and set off to the beach.
The long stretch of main beach was full of swimmers and surfers alike. I found a shady spot under a tree and read and people watched until my nose stopped running and I had the energy to explore. Someone along my way down the coast had said the hike to the lighthouse in Byron is an absolutely must see! From the beach, I could see the lighthouse sticking out above the crest of a little hill. Couldn’t be more than 20 minutes or so, I thought to myself, might as well wander over.
Well, 20 minutes was a little bit of an understatement, and “wander” isn’t necessarily the verb I’d use to describe the hike. The lighthouse was significantly further away and much further up than it looked like from the town of Byron. The hike took close to 2 hours to complete, and the elevation change was slightly more than I wanted to endure with a cold… But it didn’t matter. The lighthouse hike was my favourite hike in Australia to date! The beaches and the coastal hikes were stunning! The path to the lighthouse takes you to a lookout point that is considered the easternmost point of mainland Australia! From there you can watch the sunrise before any other person in the country. Although I didn’t see any, the surrounding waters were home to pods of dolphins and whales and all sorts of sea turtles! The following day, Keelie and Laura (two girls from my hostel room) raved about all the sea creatures they had encountered on the trip. But my favourite part about the hike was stumbling across Tallow Beach.
Just after the lighthouse I came across a lookout to a breathtaking stretch of white sand beach. The windswept land stretched way off into the distance and, to my surprise, there was not a human soul on it.
I MUST get to that beach, I thought. Finding a deserted beach on the east coast of Australia is line finding a needle in a hay stack: especially during the summer months. How could this beach, that was so beautiful that people were stopping in their cars to gape at it’s views, be completely void of people?
I had just discovered my newest mission.
So the following morning I google mapped the area of Byron Bay and found a small road through a national park that would take me there. I grabbed a picnic lunch, my bikini, my book and a beach towel and set out. 45 minutes later I came stumbling out of the jungle and onto paradise. Tallow Beach.
I had found it! All on my own, I found it!
I walked along the surf until I found a spot to lie down in the Sunshine. I watched the waves for a few minutes while I tanned, then rolled over to start reading. All alone. On my private beach.
Not a half hour later I felt a drop of water, I turned around to see a massive black cloud that had snuck up somewhere from the South.
Nooooooo, I thought. I was prepared to camp here for the day!
Too late.
It began to rain. Before I had packed up my backpack it was pouring!
I was an hour from shelter and stuck in shorts and a tank top. This would happen to me.
I sprinted back into the shelter of the trees and popped out into the back of a random parking lot. There was a single car parked there and a young couple that I hadn’t seen before packing up some fishing gear.
“Hey, are you guys headed towards Byron Bay?” They looked at me, startled to hear a persons voice I think, and even more startled to see how soaked I was.
“Ya! Jump in! We’ll give you a ride!”
They were life saving. Every kilometer closer to Byron Bay we drove the more I realized how miserable I would have been trudging through the rain. They even went as far as dropping me off right outside my hostel doors, despite my insistence that the edge of town was just fine!
The rains didn’t stop for the rest of the afternoon. My cold had gotten so bad, that I was forced to go to the chemist for some drugs. I took it easy that evening, grabbing dinner around the corner and heading to bed early: envious of my roommates who were headed out on the town once again.
“Have a drink for me!” I said as they wandered into the night. And then I passed out as my head hit the pillow.

Cheekie Monkeys

Posted on February 21, 2014 by hilarylust

I feel like Byron Bay is the happy medium between crazy Surfer’s Paradise and relaxing Coolangatta. The beaches are perfect and the hiking is great. A person could spend the day relaxing at a cafe, or partying until dawn at the Cheekie Monkey. Something for everyone.
The Nomads hostel I stayed at was loud and party oriented and completely impersonal. But with hundreds of backpackers staying at the hostel, each nightly event was sure to be a big one.
My first evening there I got dragged into VIP night at the Cheekie Monkey pub down the street. $5 dinners and no line. Okay fine. I met an English Girl named Hayley who had also just arrived and the two of us set out towards cheap food and more chaos than we had expected…
Cheekie Monkeys is the be all end all of backpacker bars. They have cheap food, drink specials, thousands of dollars worth of prizes to give away, and some sort of event occurring every 20 minutes: for those with extreme ADD. Raffles. Speed Dating. Bikini Contests. Table Dancing. Any kind of bar game you could imagine. They gave away free skydiving vouchers. $300 worth of hard cash. Trips to the Whit Sundays. People were winning prizes, getting involved, or in Hayley and my case, getting dragged into being involved. We just barely escaped the speed dating round, only to be pulled up on stage with the three other girls we were with for some unknown contest. Oh god.
“This is a very easy game ladies and gentleman!” Said the guy on the mic “you ladies don’t have to worry about a thing!”
Right there I knew he was probably lying.
“All you have to do is find things that I ask for and bring them back to me”
Okay. Seems simple enough. Only rule was, you couldn’t get it from yourself.
And luckily it was that easy. A two dollar coin… Check. An unused condom… Check. A girl’s bra… Check. A sock… Check. A pint of water… Check.
Each one was done one at a time. Each item supposedly slightly harder to get than the last. The last person to bring up the item was disqualified, then the remaining were given another task.
“Okay!” Said the announcer “now that you have everything, I want you to take the bra, and put it on over your clothes. Then take the sock, and put it over the water glass. Then, through the sock, you have to chug ALL the water in the glass! First person to do so, wins a $400 dollar voucher for skydiving. GO!”
It was cruel. The socks were worn by dirty, smelly backpackers that had been sweating and dancing all night. Who knows when the last time those socks were washed! I thanked my lucky stars I had been forced out on the last round. But the four girls I was with were the last survivors. And they did very well…
After only a little hesitation, all four girls started chugging the water back through the socks. The girl who finished first choked back at the end and all the water came spewing out her nose. The crowd’s cheer was deafening. It was going to be one of those nights.
Welcome to Cheekie Monkeys: my first impression of Byron Bay…

Tamil Nadu

Posted on April 25, 2013 by hilarylust

After the Holi Festival, we trained to Delhi and flew down to Chennai in the far South of India. The state of Tamil Nadu is an extreme off shoot from the rest of India; they honk and screech to a deafening degree, they refuse to speak the national language of Hindi and they express their religion with even more colour than Rajasthan (if that’s even possible). We spent five whirlwind days in the Tamil Nadu state and it’s all a blur to me. Up early, on a bus, next city, quick tour, back to sleep, up early, repeat. By the time we hit Madurai Kelsi and I were walking zombies.
Chennai was just another big city. Most backpackers skip the city all together, but the idea of flying across the country and figuring the bus system all on the same day seemed daunting. So we spent the night.
Despite it’s noisy city core, Marina beach, which lines the city in a 16km stretch of white sand, is a beautiful escape. It is where I fully rediscovered my love for street food. The beach is loaded with food vendors selling anything under the sun! Gobi pakoras, deep fried plantain chips, fresh fruit, popcorn made right there from fresh corn cobs. You could buy barbecued fish caught that day, rice dishes, noodles, chickpeas with chilli and fresh mango slices… I was in heaven. It makes me sad that Kelsi gets sick off of 95% of the food here in India, because I would eat street food for every meal if I could! We spent the afternoon trying the various vendor foods before wandering up the sand to George Town. However, when we found ourselves lost in the slums as the sun went down we decided to grab a Tuk Tuk home.
Our second day we moved along to Mamalapuram: a quaint little backpackers beach town with some unique rock temples and some great seafood. We were ripped off and lied to by five different people on five different occasions before noon that day. I wanted to rip someone’s throat out by the time we cruised up to the city hours later than scheduled and out three times the money. I’m not even going to go into details because it will just put me back into a rage.
But the laid back, friendly locals in Mamalapuram changed us back into positive people. Despite the whole town not having power for most of the day, we had a great time. Mamalapuram is the first place we realized how lax copyright laws are here in the country. We realized that most of the Lonely Planet recommended restaurants coincidentally have doubles. The popular “Moonraker’s” restaurant now has a rival location directly across the street. Or when looking for “Gecko’s”restaurant, you can also find “Little Gecko’s” right next door. It amazes me how there are not lawsuits.
We ended up eating at Gecko’s (the original) and had the best Keralan style coconut fish curry I’ve ever eaten. The staff were so friendly and the rooftop restaurant overlooked a small lake in the middle of town. Definitely my top choice for places to eat in town.
By the third morning we were off to Pondicherry. Pondicherry (or Pondi) is a beautiful, French colonial meets Tamil Nadu style city. The East part of the city has a wonderful boardwalk that fills up with people and food vendors as the evening approaches. We stayed at the end of the walk in a gorgeous ashram. Although it had rules and a 10:30 curfew, the Ashram is still the cheapest and most sought after location in Pondi. We had a third floor room overlooking the meditation garden and the ocean. Big palm trees lined the shore and we sat our on the balcony watching the daylight disappear. It was calm and relaxing (unlike anything else in India) and a wonderful way to relax for a couple hours after such a whirlwind trek through the state.
The relaxing was short lived, however, since we were up and back on the road to Trichy. By the time we hit Trichy, we had scoped out our bank accounts and realized we’d need to budget if we wanted to last our final month. We found the most dilapidated looking hotel in the area, figured out the local bus system to explore the city, and ate at a restaurant that had no menu and no English. The waiter just kept bringing us stuff, and in the end our meal cos us less than a dollar each. We had done well.
The temples we saw in Trichy were neat. They were colourful and detailed and we had to hike up 500 stairs just to get to one. Unfortunately, in Tamil Nadu there are few temples that foreigners can go into. So after all our hiking, we just had to take a photo from outside and then climb back down. Even worse, the views weren’t worth it…
Our final stop was Madurai. Five days, five cities, a good chunk of a state complete. We were exhausted. Finding a hotel in Madurai was a trying experience. When we realized that all the pricing in our guide book had more than DOUBLED since its publication (6 months ago) we were unimpressed. The hotel we stopped at was nice enough to point us in the direction of a cheaper place around the corner. When we walked outside to go find it a man came up to chat to us in the street.
“Hello! I am a tailor are you looking for some clothes?” He asked
“No, we’re just looking for our hotel now thanks, maybe later”
“Which hotel?” He inquired
Kelsi showed him the scrap of paper with the name on it.
“Ahh, yes, I know where it is, ill show you” he snatched the paper from Kelsi’s hand and put it in his short pocket. “Follow me”
When we’d walked down the street and around the corner we found the place.
“This is it!” I said, “let’s go in”
“Why would you want to stay here?” The man asked. “I know a much better place for the same price. It has Internet and power, come see it, it’s right here. Just looking! If you don’t like it, you can come right back” he smiled and pointed just down the street.
” I’m going to check on this place” I said. But he grabbed Kelsi by the arm and dragged her to see the other hotel. I ran in to check on prices in the recommended one and would catch up with them in a second.
“How much for a room for two people?” I asked.
“200” said the man behind the desk.
“And do you have one available for tonight?”
“Of course!”
“Ok, I’ll be right back, I just have to grab my friend.
I walked out on the street and saw Kelsi just down a ways. I yelle her name but she couldn’t hear me. So I ran off to get her. I was bombarded by guys all asking if I wanted a room for the night.
“No thanks, not now” I said as I ran past them to catch up. I met up with them as she was walking into the hotel.
“How much for a room?” We asked
“Come see first then you can see if you like it”
“No, we honestly don’t care what the room looks like, as long as it has a bed. How much?”
“Just look first”
“No, how much?”
“600”
“I’m sorry, that’s three times the price as the other one, I’m sure the rooms are nice but we can’t afford that”
We left to head back to the other hotel, the tailor followed us…
“You should stay here, very cheap! Good room!”
“No, I’m sorry, the other is only 200”
He laughed. “They won’t give you a room for 200. If they do, I will pay for it, if they don’t, you owe me 300 rupees”
“No, leave us alone”
We walked up the steps of the first hotel.
“No!” The man at the counter shouted to us. Another man came up and started waving his hands in a dismissing motion at us.
“No room for you, go!”
“What?” We said, startled. “But I JUST asked you, you said I could have a room for 200”
“Rooms full!” He said. We stared at the wall of keys behind him. Glared at him and stormed out angry.
The tailor laughed at us. “See! You owe me 300 rupees now! Come back to the other hotel.
“NO!” We both shouted.
We walked into the hotel next door where men had been beckoning for me to come get a room.
“Room full. Go away.” They said.
The next hotel was the same, and the one after that. Finally we entered one hotel and when they were about to say how much a room was they looked out the front window. The tailor was standing there shaking his head at them.
“Sorry, no room!”
We were exhausted and tired of carrying our packs and now we were furious.
We rushed outside and faced the tailor.
“STOP FOLLOWING US!! GO AWAY!” I shouted at him.
We stormed off one direction and he followed, then we doubled back the other way and he followed until we yelled at him again. Finally he slinked away into the crowds. The next hotel we walked into was only a slight improvement.
“How much for a room?” We asked
They stopped and turned to each other, then in Tamil, discussed how much they should charge us. When they kept discussing we spoke up.
“It’s simple, how much are the rooms here?”
They kept discussing so we stormed out of the building. “Never mind” we said. Then we saw two old guys beckoning us across the street at the Neethi Lodge.
“Room?” They beckoned us towards the place.
We walked in.
“How much?” We asked.
The old man sitting down behind reception gave us a big smile.
“475.” He said immediately. Finally a no bullshit answer. He seemed nice, the place looked clean and we were so furious we didn’t care anymore.
“We’ll take it”
The place had no power during the day, but the staff were so lovely it didn’t matter. Nonetheless, Madurai was not turning out to be a favourite destination of mine.
We spent the afternoon and evening checking out the one and only big temple in the city. After that it was dinner and off to bed. Our final morning of getting up early (we thought) to head to the airport and fly to Sri Lanka!

Varanasi: Cremations on the Ganges

Posted on April 22, 2013 by hilarylust

Varanasi is crazy. It’s bustling, large and has a deeply rooted culture. It is also considered one of the least changed cities on earth; so it’s like walking back in time a thousand years. Lonely planet describes it as “one of the most blindingly colourful, unrelentingly chaotic and unapologetically indiscreet places on Earth. Varanasi takes no prisoners.”
This is most noticeable down by the shores of the Ganges. There are over 80 ghats along the river in Varanasi. The steps are filled with people at sunrise, when pilgrims come to pay respect to the sun, and again in the evening when cremation rituals are performed along the waters edge.
Varanasi is one of the holy cities of Hinduism. It is one of the longest, continually inhabited cities on Earth, and is aptly named the “beating heart of the Hindu Universe”. It is an honour to die and be cremated in Varanasi. People migrate from all over India to have their loved ones burned at the funeral pyres on the Ganges river. Hindu’s believe that cremation on the steps of the Manikarnika Ghat offers Moshka (liberation from the cycle of reincarnation). The entire city is ominous and magical and eerie; it is unlike any other city in India.
We grabbed a cycle Rickshaw and took the painfully (literally with all the potholes and the tiny seat) long 20 minute journey to the Assi Ghat. The ghats are beautiful in their own unique way. They are bustling with people, strewn with litter and they ominously emerge from the Ganges river. From the water, the ghats look like they should be part of a horror film. Tall, rustic and almost gothic style buildings loom over the ghat steps. It is the perfect setting for a Sherlock Holmes murder to take place, in the dead of night, shrouded in the mist of the river and covered by the shadows of brown brick buildings.
But the ghats are never quiet. People, boats, stray dogs and cows constantly exist along the rivers edge. It’s where Varanasi comes to life.
We walked about a kilometer, up and down the steps of the ghats towards Old Town. The atmosphere was chaotic and full of anticipation. Men got their boats ready for the evening surge of visitors, funeral pyres were made, bodies were swathed in cloth and set on wooden stretchers and people of all ages swarmed the riverside.
We came across hoards of old, bearded medicine men. They were stark naked and painted white with a chalky powder. They wandered around with walking sticks, their beards and hair in dreadlocked tatters as they prepared for the evenings events. With them, walked religious men in the bright orange robes that seem to be so popular here. They huddle in groups under makeshift shanti tents and drink chai tea in the heat of the day. If you’re ever looking for quiet contemplation by the river, Varanasi is not the place…
We hopped on a boat in the early evening, with two lovely Indian couples from the South. Boating along the river is definitely the best way to see the full beauty of the Varanasi ghats. Although still noisy, being in a boat left us with a slight sense of serenity in an otherwise busy world. The old man slowly paddled us along the river towards two of the cremation ghats. The burnings had already begun.
Apparently there is a precise art to a perfect cremation. Each piece of wood is weighed and measured according to the size of the body. Each block of wood costs money (all depending on the type and size of the wood). There has to be an exact right amount to completely cremate a body without going overboard. The pyres are all set up accordingly during the day, then the bodies are carried down the steps at 6:00 for the ceremony. At the second ghat we saw three bodies, all swathed in cloth, dipped in the sacred Ganges river before being placed upon the fire. It’s an eerily beautiful sight.
From there we watched the nightly ceremony. Rows of men stand in a line to perform the ritual for the dead. They are all lit up in golden lights and surrounded by a fiery glow. The beating of drums and bells echoes across the river and children hand out small candles to all the spectators below. The candle is surrounded by flowers and, once lit, is placed in the river to float away. If your candle floats a long way, it means you will have a long life. Both Kelsi and my candles went far, although Kelsi’s had a near escape with a boat oar on the way (sounds like Kelsi’s life). The river was beautiful when it was all lit up with floating candles and crammed full of row boats. I have to admit though, the ceremony was just too long. They performed the same dance over and over again with different object in their hands. What at first was awe-inspiring to see, soon became just an uncomfortable boat bench and a crowd of people. After 2 and a half hours, our boat began to slowly sink and so we cruised back to the shore to go home. We walked the ghats to see the final cleanup of the ceremony before grabbing dinner in old town and heading home.
The following day we only had the morning to explore. We checked out the bustling markets of old town and stopped in for a lassi in the afternoon. The markets in Varanasi are crazy. All of them spread out into an eternal maze of thin alleyways and hoards of people. You could get lost in a second in the market streets, but you are bound to end up at the ghats eventually to find your way home. We wandered around the labyrinth of markets until we found the Blue Lassi.
The Blue Lassi is a Lonely Planet recommended lassi shop that is said to make the best lassis in India. The shop has been in the same location, selling lassis for over 70 years. The grandson of the original owner still sits in the shop front whipping up homemade lassis right in front of your eyes. It is quite a process to make yoghurt, believe me. It took a little while for him to make them, but the wait was worth it when Kelsi and I had two huge bowls of food in front of us. I had a banana one and Kelsi an apple flavored. Both had huge chunks of puréed and sliced fruit in them which made them irresistible. Finding the Blue Lassi: greatest decision ever.
After our afternoon treat, it was off to the train. It was too short of a time in Varanasi, but an experience I’ll never forget. Probably my favourite city in India so far, Varanasi was a magical city to visit on the trip!

Dealing with Train Stations

Posted on April 22, 2013 by hilarylust

Arriving in the Varanai train station was a less than pleasant experience. Looking back, it makes me upset that such an incredible city gave me such a terrible first impression.
Kelsi and I had pre booked an onward train ticket from Varanasi to Mathura weeks earlier in Delhi. Unfortunately, when the ticket finally got to us it had no departure time. There was a train number, and class and berth and date, just no departure time. No problem. When we arrived in Varanasi we’d just ask at the counter when the train left… If only it was that easy.
While Kelsi watched the bags, I waited in three different counter lines. It was jam packed, people pressing up against me from all angles. No one actually waits in lines here, they just shove and push aggressively to get to the window. As a Canadian, I could wait in line forever; but I didn’t have time for that. I pushed my way to the front of the lines only to get waved to the next counter. By the third line I was exhausted, cranky from not having slept properly on the over night train, hungry from not eating breakfast and ready to kill the next person that grabbed me in line. I pushed my way to the front of the line to get to the window.
“Hi. I have a train ticket to Mathura tomorrow, but it doesn’t have a departure time. Can you help me out?”
“No.” Said the man behind the counter without looking up at me.
“Look, I just want to know when it leaves. What time is the train to Mathura tomorrow?”
“No.”
At this point I was getting pressed to the side, other people were pushing their hands in the ticket window and getting their tickets. I put my ticket down, took a deep breath and pushed myself back in.
“Okay. I would like to purchase a ticket to Mathura tomorrow please” I said in my most polite voice, trying a slightly new tactic. “What time do they leave at?”
“No.” He said again.
“Why? I want to BUY a ticket!” I said, not so politely.
“No.”
“Why won’t you help me?!?” I yelled at him through the glass.
For the first time he turned up to face me, he looked me in the eyes and said “Because you’re a woman!”
I stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to say. I was pushed aside by the rest of the men in line and the man behind the counter continued printing out tickets.
I was livid: beyond furious! I stormed back to Kelsi in a rage and grabbed my bag.
“Let’s go” I said
“What time does it leave?”
“He won’t tell me” I snapped and walked outside. We walked into a throng of Tuk Tuk drivers.
“Hello madam!”
“Tuk Tuk?”
“Where you going?”
We walked past four of them before talking to one guy. “How much to the Siddartha hotel?”
“100 rupees” he smiled.
I was insulted. Kelsi and I both knew we should pay about 30 rupees to get there. I didn’t even dignify him with a response, we just pushed him aside and kept walking.
The prepaid Tuk tuks were all charging 55 rupees so we walked outside. When I told Kelsi about
why we still didn’t know the train time she was equally as upset. We pushed our way past Tuk Tuk drivers that quoted anything above 60. Finally one guy came up to us with a slightly better price.
“Hello madam. I will take you there for 50 rupees” he said with a smile.
“THIRTY!” I shouted at him. He hadn’t done anything wrong to me, but if you’d told me that then I would have bit your head off.
“Okay 40” he said.
“30!” And I walked away. I would have kept waking all the way to the hotel if I had to.
“Okay, okay.” He grabbed my arm “30 rupees.” He walked us to his Tuk Tuk and helped Kelsi with her bag on the other side. My bag is huge. It’s a fight every time I have to get in a tiny Tuk Tuk. This time was no exception. Two guys stood next to me with their arms crossed staring down my shirt every time my scarf moved while I struggled with the bag. When I got it half in I turned to them.
“Well aren’t you two gentlemen!” I snapped in the most sarcastic tone possible. “Please! Just go ahead and stare at me while I struggle with my bag! Thank you so much!” They didn’t even seem phased as I glared them down and pushed my way into the Tuk Tuk. They just kept on staring. I felt like killing someone.
As the Tuk Tuk drove away, I watched our driver in the side mirror. He was an old man and looked like he had some sort of tourettes. He couldn’t keep his eyes open for longer than a half second, then he twitched and bit his lip and squinted and licked the side of his mouth. Something was definitely going on with him. But he was the nicest person ever.
“Hello! My name Samesh! This is my license and this is my story!”
He handed me his license and a little scrap piece of paper. Obviously some tourist that he had driven around wrote about how nice he had been as a driver and gave it to him. He had laminated it and proudly showed it to us. It broke my heart.
“See! Samesh! That’s me!” He smiled as he twitched and blinked wildly. I was slightly concerned about how in the world Samesh was driving through this crazy city with his eyes closed, and then I remembered how I yelled at him over 20 rupees difference in price.
20 rupees is 40 cents. I just about snapped his head off over 40 cents. He was driving us all the way to our hotel for 60 cents. And this is his living, the way he survives and feeds himself. I sat quietly in the back of the Tuk Tuk on the brink of tears. Breaking point!
When we got to the hotel I couldn’t handle life. I let Kelsi pay Samesh as he smiled and waved goodbye to us, yelling about how much we were going to enjoy this hotel. We checked in and I went straight to bed to lie down.
It was silent and cold in our room. Two things that I hadn’t experienced in ages. We both recovered for an hour before walking back out into the crazy world.
It turns out, nearly all train stations have different lines for men and women. The Varanasi train station didn’t have an open line for women, it was only men that were dealt with. As a foreign woman I had to go to the tourist office on the other side of the terminal if I wanted to be helped.
Still, the reason why they have a separate women’s line is because women are groped and grabbed in lineups. I’d managed to fight my way through three lines, and not a single person told me where I needed to go. You’d think, after all that trouble, the guy could just look at his computer screen and tell me when the goddamn train left.
All of my train station experiences since have been equally as frustrating. It took us over two hours to book a train in the Mathura station and about 6 different lineups to push through. Kelsi tapped out after one guy grabbed her in line, and had I not met two very lovely gentlemen in my line I probably would have done the same. I think we’re going to stick with buses when we hit the South. No one wants to be around when we finally snap and kill someone, right?
Good thing Varanasi was worth the trip…

Camel Safari in the Thar Desert

Posted on March 28, 2013 by hilarylust

We woke up early after our first night in Jaisalmer and saw some more cenotaphs. They were a peaceful escape from the city, apart from the few young boys harassing us. I don’t care what Bollywood movie star I remind you of, and no, I don’t want my photo taken from every possible angle. I just want to enjoy the serenity of the cenotaphs alone!
There was no escaping though. When we had successfully dodged a couple clingy young boys and wanted to leave, Raju had an entire photo shoot for us in mind.
“Stand by pole. Ok. And you, over by wall” *groan* There’s nothing I dislike more than an awkward photo session where every limb has it’s exact place.
When we got back in the car it was a relief. We were excited to go see inside the fort, then head off to the camel safari in the afternoon.
“Okay I get tomatoes and then after maybe we chello camel safari” said Raju as we pulled up on some street corner and he got out.
What?
“Did he just say he was going to get tomatoes?” I asked Kelsi.
“I think that’s what I heard”
“What does that mean?”
“No idea.”
Big surprise. Kelsi and I still have no idea what’s going on. We watched Raju disappear into the crowd. We waited in the scorching heat in the car. While we waited, we looked around at the busy street.
Motor bikes, bicycles, rickshaws, vendors, cows, goats, children, shoe polishers it was dizzyingly busy around us. And once again, all eyes were on the two blondes in the car. Great. I feel like I’m in a zoo: gawked at behind glass with loads of farm animals around me. What more could a girl wish for?
There was a bottle shop on the corner where Raju had left to.
“Bet he’s gone into the bottle shop” I said. We had joked that we have never seen Raju eat anything since we’ve been on the tour with him.
“No wonder he doesn’t eat!” Kelsi exclaimed, “he’s an alcoholic!”
“Or maybe he went in there to buy us a bottle of whiskey now that he thinks it’s our favourite drink!” We laughed.
“I wonder what he meant by tomatoes…”
Then just as we were pondering, Raju came back around the corner with a big green box in his hand. He walked up to the window of the car and dropped it on Kelsi’s lap. Then he turned and walked back into the crowd.
Inside the box was a big bottle of whiskey.
“Oh god, you’re kidding me. Did he just buy us a bottle of whiskey! What the hell are we going to do with a bottle of whiskey!? And where did he go?!” We had no choice but to sit there perplexed until Raju came back.
When he came back the second time he had a black bag with him. Without a word, he once again walked up to the window, dropped the bag in Kelsi’s lap, and walked away…
We opened the bag. It was full of tomatoes, cucumbers and chili peppers. Okay, what the hell is going on. What’s with the vegetables?! We were so lost. Was this some weird Indian drink we were about to make? Like a Caesar, but with fresh tomatoes? Do Indians eat vegetables while they sip on whiskey? Was this even for us?
Raju came back again with another small black bag. This one had a handful of peanuts in it.
“Eat” he said. It was the first thing he’d said since he’d left us in the car.
We were so confused as we sat in the back of the car, eating our peanuts, that we didn’t even notice we were driving in the wrong direction from the fort.
Apparently the fort wasn’t in our agenda anymore and instead, we drove straight out to the camel safari in a town called Khuri, 40km outside Jaisalmer. Lunch was also not in the program it seems. We arrived at the camel safari start point 2 and a half hours before anyone else, and just had to sit there, with the man who worked there, until everyone showed up. Plenty of time to have explored the fort and eaten food. We were cranky to say the least.
The guy that worked there was at least nice. Love was his name, and he only works the camel safari part time. Normally, he is an engineer that specializes in wind power. Sadly, engineers in India don’t get paid well, so he has to work with camels part time to pay the bills.
Love chatted to us about life in the desert.
“People just work with camels, and relax when it is hot and eat opium.”
Oh, ya. Wait, what was that last part?
“Did you say EAT opium?”
We asked.
“Yes, we eat, it clears brain! Wait, I have some in my pocket.”
Sure enough, the man pulled out a black chunk of opium from his back pocket. I don’t think I’ve ever seen opium before, so I just had to take his word for it. I have also never heard of people eating it in small chunks.
“Is opium illegal here?” We asked.
“Yes, but in the desert no one checks, so everyone eats it here.” So weird. Turns out the man carries hashish and marijuana in his pockets too. I had to laugh about how absurd it was that he just walked around with all sorts of drugs in his pockets and didn’t seem phased by it at all. Only in India.
Soon enough the other tourists arrived and we set out on camels for the sunset. It was deathly hot, and we still had four hours of trekking round the desert until sunset. Plus we were starving. Nonetheless, we were excited to head out in the desert and finally meet some other tourists!
The camels we jumped on were massive! I thought the camels in Africa were large, but these ones are insane. I bet some of the larger ones reached 10 feet high with their heads up! I felt like I was sitting on top of the world on my camel, Kaloo.
Turns out, it didn’t really matter that Kelsi and I had waited two hours for the rest of the group. Three minutes into the ride, our two guides split off from the group and we went our separate ways. So much for making friends!
We walked for a while in the sun, then decided to take a break in the shade for a few minutes. Kelsi and my guides could not have been more different. Kelsi’s guide was a young boy at the age of ELEVEN! Yup, eleven years old and working hard. My guide Luna, on the other hand, could have passed for one hundred and eleven. Either way, they were both very nice, and seemed to get along great with each other as well.
In the shade of the tree is when Kelsi and I realized how funny looking camels are. They chew out of the side of their mouths, which looks hilarious in photos, and although they apparently don’t spit, they do bite! Kelsi’s was a mean little camel and tried to nip at her when she stuck her face close. Mine was older and a little less temperamental, but both camels left us entertained for a good half hour as we took stupid photos of them. When we turned around from the camels, we saw that both our guides were asleep. What a great tour. So we went back to the camels.
“Let’s just take them and escape to Pakistan!” We said. We were only about 30 kilometers or so from the Pakistani border. It would be easy! I grabbed the reins of my camel and pretended to run. But Kaloo wasn’t having any of it and just sat there with a stupid look on his face.
It’s hard to believe it, but eventually we got bored taking photos of the same two camels over and over again. Unfortunately, our guides were still passed out. So we decided to go for an adventure. We ran around the desert (literally running. The sand was so hot on our bare feet we could hardly stand it) searching for more fun. We climbed up hills and sand dunes, got tangled in some prickle bushes and finally we found the goat.
There were a number of black goats roaming around the desert, but this goat was our target.
“Let’s see if we can get it” we said.
He was a sneaky goat, that’s for sure! He saw us coming and immediately went skidding away in the other direction. There were so many prickles on the ground at this point that we were at a disadvantage with our bare feet. I chased him around one bush and then got very close as I hid behind a shrub before creeping up behind him. Then a lizard skittered by me and I got distracted. The goat saw me and ran off again. Foiled again!
Kelsi tried next, running round and round this big bush. The goat outsmarted her too and just climbed into the depth of the prickles to get away. Damn you goat!
We give up… Back to the camels.
The camels were sprawled out on the sand and scratching themselves when we got back. Kaloo swung his legs around and flung a goat pellet, hitting me straight in the chest with a thud. Excuse me! Kelsi burst out laughing.
We’d been stopped in the shade for an hour and a half before our guides woke up. Hi. Remember us? You are our TOUR GUIDES and we are supposed to be riding camels! They seemed unphased.
We hopped back on the camels and towards our sunset viewpoint. Kaloo was apparently still tired, because he stumbled his way up the hill and got stuck trying to walk over a huge bush. Kelsi broke out into fits of laughter once again as I struggled to stay on. When Luna freed my camel from the tangle of the bushes, we carried onward up the dunes.
About 20 minutes later we came to our viewing point and back off the camels to sit in the shade. Kelsi and I entertained ourselves by playing xhonu in the sand and taking photos of a camel who’s lower lip was flipped outward and stuck. I was in stitches laughing at this camel, until we found out that his lip is probably permanently stuck that way. Then we felt a little bad for making fun of it.
The sunset was incredibly disappointing. Even in the middle of the desert, the sun hit a layer of smog long before it touched the horizon. We didn’t even stay for the whole thing. We were so hungry at this point, having not eaten more than half a handful of peanuts in 12 hours.
When we got back to camp, we were greeted by Raju.
“Look! I made you a treat!” He said with a smile. He pointed into the back of the car. It was a salad of sliced tomatoes and cucumber and chili peppers. Next to it was three glasses and a bottle of whiskey. My stomach churned. What a surprise!
“Now you go eat your dinner. But drinks, they maybe are too expensive, and many tourists, so no talking to them. Then when your dinner over, maybe we drink whiskey and eat the tomato!”
What? First of all, don’t talk to the tourists?! Kelsi and I have been craving ANY conversation with someone who speaks English for about a week now! Also, do we want to eat a salad after we’ve already eaten a four course meal? Probably not. And I really don’t want to drink a bottle of whiskey right before bed. But Raju looked so excited and had prepared everything for us, so we politely said we would join him after dinner.
Turns out we sat next to Italians and French at dinner, so our excitement to speak English was shot down anyways. Dinner was lovely, and came with wonderful dancing and fire breathing entertainment. When dinner was over, Love came around asking if we would like to sleep in cabins or in the desert.
“Desert, please!” We said.
“Okay, we leave in ten minutes then”
Oh no, we hadn’t even seen Raju. We rushed out to the car to tell him we couldn’t join him, but he said “no problem” and filled our glasses with whiskey. “Eat” he said and pointed to the salad.
Oh my god, I was so full. I couldn’t eat a salad now! But we had a few bites to be polite. When it had been a minute since we’d touched the food he repeated “you, eat”. No!!! I don’t want to. But our polite ‘no thank yous’ were brushed away with another “yes, you eat”.
Meanwhile, we had a cup of whiskey to drink. Why oh why did I mention the whiskey yesterday! To be honest, the whiskey wasn’t bad. It was very smooth and reminded me of drinking Sangsom back in Thailand. When we drained our glasses he filled them up. “Oh, no thank you” we said.
“It’s okay, it’s okay” and he poured in more.
This was weird. We were sitting in the desert, in the back of our car, eating slices of cucumber and tomato and drinking back shots of whiskey like they were water. ‘I just want to be sitting inside meeting people’ I thought.
We downed our second cup and jumped out of the car before he could fill it up a third time.
“See you in the morning” said Raju “be very safe, and no talking to anyone!”
We hopped on the back of a camel drawn cart and rolled out into the desert, feeling a little tipsy.
It was pitch black out there. We couldn’t see a thing as we rolled along the sand dunes and into the night. All you could hear was the grunting, growling, snoring sounds that were coming from the camels.
We slept apart from the group with two girls from Italy. We had no choice in the matter, that’s just where they put us. But our guide set up little cots for us, and full bed rolls and lots of blankets. It was the most comfortable I’d been in weeks!
Kelsi and I watched the stars for a little while, then I fell asleep quite quickly. I was woken a couple times in the middle of the night with the sounds of singing and drumming coming from somewhere way off in the distance. It could have been the small village, or perhaps it was somewhere in Pakistan. Apparently you can hear the village on the other side of the border when the wind is right. Then finally it was morning. The sunlight looked incredible over the sand dunes. It was the first time we saw where we had been sleeping and it was beautiful. Kelsi and I hiked up a small dune to see the sun rise, but really it just came out of a black cloud just like the sunsets.
Just after daybreak we were back in town, having breakfast. Then we were herded back to the car.
“You sleep good in the desert?” Asked Raju.
“Yup!” We both said. Then Kelsi looked down at the back of her seat with a horrified gaze.
“Look” she nudged me.
It was another bottle of whiskey….
Kill. Me. Now.

Bikaner

Posted on March 23, 2013 by hilarylust

Bikaner was our next destination. Slightly larger than the quiet streets of Mandawa, Bikaner hosts many bustling, four lane streets and crazed markets. It also is home to Jungarh Fort, which was home to many royals of the past.
Our first mission was food. We were hungry and needed some lunch. Even by day two, Kelsi and I were tired of being carted around to various tourist driven restaurants. I didn’t come to India to sit safely in a plush restaurant with a bunch of whiteys and eat food that caters to European tastes. I want to sit in a dingy hole in the wall, with a bunch of locals and have a menu that is entirely in Hindi. I want to pay dirt cheap prices, have to sit on an overturned pail as a chair, and eat food that is both killer spicy and will probably give me food poisoning for a week. Yes. To many people that sounds insane, but that’s the kind of India I want to experience.
“Are there any local restaurants in the area that serve great Indian food?” We asked the man at the front desk.
“Yes, we have a wonderful restaurant here at the hotel”
Ya… And at 10 times the price we can get anywhere else. But trying not to offend, we said we wanted to have dinner at the hotel but try a new place for lunch.
“Okay!” He said, “try the hotel next door. It very nice”
*sigh* we were too hungry to explain any further. We walked out the gates and realized there was nothing around but a long dirt road of hotels. Across the street was a little restaurant with a sign that read “great Indian food”. In a small act of defiance, we decided to forego the other hotel and cross the street to the little restaurant.
The place was very quiet, with only one Indian family sitting in the corner. Well at least the locals eat here, we thought. We sat down and ordered some food.
“Look at us Hairy! We crossed the street all on our own!”
When the food came out it was delicious! Some tomato curry with cheese in it and stuffed potatoes. Just delicious.
Actually, I’ve been enjoying ALL the food I’ve tried here in India so far. I have been keeping a strict food diary for Kelsi and I.
First I write down the item that I ordered. Then, I describe a little what is in it and how it tastes. Then I rate it. Not on a 1-10 scale or anything. It’s much more subjective, like “oh my god this is incredible” or ” holy cow, I can’t believe I’m actually eating this”. Unfortunately, after so many incredible foods, I’m running out of creatives ways of saying its amazing.
Kelsi’s food log is a little different. For those of you that don’t know, Kelsi is allergic to capsicum: all kinds of capsicum. That means no green peppers, no red peppers, no chilli peppers, no jalapeños, no paprika, and pretty much nothing that gives an Indian curry it’s spiciness. So Kelsi’s food log goes like this: we write down the name of what she orders. Then we wait 4 hours. If she throws up, it gets an X. If she’s still okay, it gets a tick.
For the first week the only ticks she had were plain naan bread and vegetable kofta… Then a couple days ago we had to change the vegetable kofta to an X again. Sad day. Looks like Kelsi is going to have a rough couple months eating naan!
When lunch was over we applauded ourselves for going somewhere other than the hotel. It wasn’t far, but it was baby steps. The food was still pricier than we wanted, but at least the locals ate there! Then, as we were leaving, a huge French tour bus unloaded and everyone piled into the restaurant. Fabulous. We hadn’t succeeded at all… So back to the hotel for a rest. Next time we’re anywhere NEAR the vicinity of some local eateries we will go there.
When our rest was over, we drove out to Jungarh Fort. Raju dropped us off and shuffled us towards the front gate. We didn’t even know where we were. We were told we were driving 40km out of the city to the Karni Mata temple that we wanted to see. Instead, we drove a couple blocks away and stood outside this massive fort. Okay, whatever: we never have any idea what’s going on these days.
So we paid our fee and walked in. The fort was lovely, and had a tonne of beautiful passages and ornate rooms. Apparently this is where all the royals of the past had lived. But we didn’t have a guide, and all the tour groups around us were French so we couldn’t even eavesdrop. (So many French tourists here in India! Wasn’t expecting that). We moved from room to room, and courtyard to courtyard taking photos then back out to the car. This isn’t where we wanted to be! We were so excited about the Karni Mata temple we just wanted to get there.
“That was so fast!” Said Raju when we came out of the fort less than 20 minutes later.
“Yup! Let’s go!” We said and we drove off to our intended destination: Deshnok’s Rat Temple.

Mandawa

Posted on March 23, 2013 by hilarylust

We’d only had about 5 hours of sleep when the alarm went off. Time to explore Rajasthan! We packed our bags and checked out before anyone else in the hotel (staff included) had woken up. Then we climbed into our waiting car.
We had a new driver, Raju was his name, and he seemed to be very nice. We slept on and off for most of the trip, but Raju kept turning around every hour or so to see if we were still okay.
When we pulled up to our hotel in Mandawa we were surprised at how beautiful the place was. Mandawa is just a tiny town. It has dusty streets, a small food market with rickety wooden stalls, and dilapidated looking homes built in a maze around the city. But when we pulled into the lot where we were staying, we were faced with a beautiful white building, painted intricately with Indian designs. The lobby was gorgeous. It had lovely seating areas scattered around, and an open courtyard through a doorway next to it. The place had a rooftop restaurant that looked out over the tiny town and towards the setting sun. If this was the budget tour, I can’t imagine what the mid-range and luxury people were experiencing!
We rested for a couple hours in the heat of the day, then had a local man walk us around the city and show us the sites. There really isn’t much to do in Mandawa. It’s very untouristy, there aren’t any major temples to explore, and the place is very small. But, it is a beautiful town to see if you want to get a feel for a real Rajasthani town. Mandawa used to be the major hub for the exporting of textiles and opium. Hard to imagine given its size, but it’s true.
The town was influenced by both traditional Indian art, and British business culture, leaving it uniquely beautiful. The town sports wall paintings that are over 150 years old. They are found on so many buildings as you wander around town. They depict stories and tableaus of Indian gods and animals, and also of British colonialism.
On many buildings, the paintings are faded or ruined from years of sun damage or structural collapse. But Mandawa still has many homes that have paintings inside as well. We were lucky enough to explore a few of them.
One building we went into was a home that must have belonged to a fairly wealthy family. Our guide said that it was probably home to a family of about 25 people (children, parents, grandparents etc). When you come ducking through the main door, you stumble into an open courtyard. Stairs lead off in three directions: left, right and straight ahead. We walked to the right and up into a little room.
“This is the business room” our guide said. This would be the room where the family would entertain its guests, or talk business with partners. It had a large square cushion on the floor where men would sit together, discussing the world and smoking opium. A small area in front was for dancing and entertaining, then a raised section in the back was for musicians to play. Right around the room, close to the ceiling were small wooden doors.
“That is the ladies section” he explained. The women were not allowed to join the men in business discussions. So instead they sat in the ladies quarters and could stick their heads through the little doors to watch the entertainment below. Prime viewing seats if you ask me!
The entire room was ornately decorated with carvings and paintings. Hardly a spot on the wall was bare. It was exquisite! I can just imagine how amazing it would be to sit in one of those smokey rooms, watching the dancers and listening to the musicians play over 150 years ago.
The rest of the home was slightly less ornate, but equally as unique. Brightly painted doors, a slave’s quarters, stalls for the livestock and a stunning rooftop with views across the city. This place was magical.
We continued our walk around the town, exploring homes here and admiring paintings there. At one point we went into a place called “The Golden Room” it was a beautifully crafted business room much like the others we had seen. This one however had paintings embossed with real gold detailing. The room sparkled in the light and was wonderful to see. It wasn’t a fully golden room, as we had sort of hoped from the name of it, but it was gorgeous nonetheless!
The paintings and old homes were absolute gems within an otherwise dusty old town. It gave spirit and culture to the area, and a look into what Mandawa used to be like.
My initial reaction of Delhi left me missing South Africa, but seeing Mandawa gave me a glimmer of hope that India is more than just chaos and bribes. I was glad we had stopped in this nothing town, and I was looking forward to exploring deeper into the rich history of India over the next two months.

Whirlwind City Tour

Posted on March 23, 2013 by hilarylust

Our second day in Delhi was a whirlwind of temples! I honestly have no idea where we went, but the places were amazing!
I walked down the little alley by our hotel in an attempt to get money again when a young boy stopped me.
“Hello, madam, hello! Do you remember me? I took you to dinner last night”
Oh yes, it was guy #2 with a friend in Delta.
“Yes, I remember you”
“You have a tour! Your guide is here! He has been waiting for you for three hours!”
What?! A huge misunderstanding. No one knew who was supposed to tell us about our city tour, and in the end, no one did. I ran back to the hotel to grab Kelsi.
“City tour! Lets go!”
We left in a mad rush and were shoved into our driver’s car.
“Okay, let’s go!”
We had no idea what was happening as we careened our way through the Delhi streets. Our guide kept pointing and saying short sentences about the things around us. Most of what he said was lost in his accent and the honking, screeching and yelling that was going on outside. We just nodded and smiled.
“Old Delhi!” We heard him exclaim, then he stopped the car and let us out.
“You see temple, then you find car in parking lot” and he drove off.
What’s going on? One minute we were quietly waking up in our hotel, and the next we were standing in the bustle of old Delhi with no clue what was happening.
So we wandered towards the temple.
“Shoes off here!” Someone yelled.
“200 rupees for camera!” Said another man.
“You need robe. 100 rupees!” Shouted a third.
What? What? What?
We doled out money as needed and stumbled into the temple in horrifically tacky flowered moo moos and 400 rupees short. Okay, welcome to the temple!
The robes they gave us didn’t cover anything more than was already covered, but every single white tourist had to wear one. Just another money making scam. Cameras also cost money. Anywhere between 10 to 400 rupees it seems. But they won’t let you go in without a ticket so unless you hide it in your bra (which we ended up doing for the more expensive places later on) you’re stuck with the fee.
The first temple we went to was beautiful. A wide open courtyard, gorgeous structures and walls and huge domed ceilings. Okay, so actually I think this was a mosque. Mosques are Muslim and temples are Hindi. I’m trying to overcome my ignorance of Indian culture and learn what I can about the different religions and customs. It’s a slow process.
Either way, it was gorgeous. We spent some time milling around in our moo moos and taking photos, then we left to find the car. On the way out, the man standing by our shoes demanded money.
“I watch shoes. You pay me” he shoved Kelsi when we stared blankly, unable to understand his thick accent. You want money because we left our shoes on the ground?’ You don’t even know that these are our shoes! We could be stealing anyone’s! We were upset, but handed him a small note and angrily walked away. Next time, the shoes went into my purse before we walked up to the temple. Later on we just shook our heads at all the poor tourists getting ripped off by guys watching their shoes as we strolled on by. By the end of the day we were pros. We walked through, camera in our bra, shoes in the purse and following closely at the heels of another tour group. If you walk in, with a dazed and confused look, being herded behind other white tourists, the guards just think you’re on the tour and wave you through. First day in Delhi we probably saved ourselves over $20 dollars in shoe/camera/entrance fees!
After the first mosque we carried on to Gandhi’s grave sight. A lovely little monument in a beautiful garden, we took some quick photos and carried on.
Thirdly, we came to a place called Humayun’s Tomb. It was a pricey entrance fee, and we weren’t sure even what it was! When we entered the first gates though we were amazed by what we saw. Humayun’s Tomb is the second most elaborate mausoleum in India, next to the Taj Mahal! I’m glad we decided to go in!
The place was stunning, with a rich, red color and intricately detailed stonework the tomb is quite a sight. It is roughly 4000 square meters, 50m high and has 160 royal members buried in it. (We counted 24… Such a fail)
This mausoleum is where we really discovered how much Kelsi and I stood out in India. Two blonde haired blue eyed girls traveling alone is apparently pretty uncommon here. Out of the two places we had visited that day, we had two groups of guys come up and ask to have their photos taken with us. (Apparently the joke was lost in translation when I told one guy I was going to charge him for the photo. Seemed only fair considering everyone sitting in the temples did the same thing to us!).
While we were at Humayun’s Tomb, we stopped and asked a lady to take our photo while we stood in front of the building. As she was preparing to take the photo, about 10 other groups all took out their cameras. We posed for our shot, and 15 or so clicks went off as EVERYONE took a photo of Kelsi and I. So strange.
Since then, even women have come up to us excitedly wanting to get their photos taken with us. Every time I assume they want US to take a photo of THEM, but every time I’m sorely mistaken.
After the tomb came lunch. We had no choice in the matter. We were dropped off at a restaurant full of tourists, with costs 5 times as
expensive. If we weren’t so starving we would have protested more. Instead we ate a couple of lovely curries and cured our hangriness.
When lunch was over we visited the beautiful Lodhi gardens. They were a peaceful escape in the middle of such a crazy city, and a fabulous place to clear our heads. Then came the Lotus temple, which we were totally lost in. We kept getting pushed from one line to another, herded around like sheep, only to enter into a temple that was unadorned, in total silence, and allowed no photography. Not worth the visit, apart from the beautiful lotus shape of the building itself.
Afterwards we drove 10km outside the city to another temple. I was lost with names at this point, and exhausted. The place was lovely, just like all the others had been, and had a huge tower in the middle of some ancient looking ruins. It’s too bad we were so sleepy, because it was hard to fully appreciate how gorgeous the place was when all I could think of was bed. We’d been on the tour for nearly 8 hours. That’s insane.
Apparently, however, this was our last temple. Oh good!
What our driver failed to mention, was that we would now be brought to a three story, textiles and carving market, where we would be harassed by merchants to buy their wares. Kill. Me. Now.
We wandered the floors of the building, trying to make small talk with each and every merchant that approached us. It was overwhelming. The stuff was beautiful, but we weren’t about to carry trinkets in our bags for 2 more months when we could but all the same stuff in
Mumbai at the end of our trip. So we dragged our sore feet back the the car empty handed. Home time.
But it wasn’t! “One last temple!” Our guide said. Oh god. He pulled over at some lit up temple all sparkly and white in the darkness of Delhi and dropped us off. We were over it. We both walked around the corner, took a photograph of 80 percent wall and 20 percent temple and stormed back to the car. We took a photo, happy?
Then there was a mandatory stop at the office for final details of our trip,
and finally we were dropped off at the main bazaar. We couldn’t quite get to our hotel by car, because there were a bunch of cows blocking the road (only in India) so we got out and walked the last few hundred meters to make it home.
What an exhausting day. We had no idea what was going on or what we had just seen. We searched each place out in our lonely planet guide in an attempt to piece together the day. Eventually we just ate dinner and went to bed. Our new driver was scheduled to pick us up at 7am the next morning.
Road Trip #2: Rajasthan!