Grime, Guts and Glory

The last week has been the most challenging week of my life and I have certainly had some tough ones. I was tested on every level from physical to emotional. Somehow, with the help of Jeni we made it through safely and are now in beautiful Nepal!

July 12, Tuesday. Delhi to Agra. We thought we would tough it out on the non-air-conditioned train because the monsoons had left it slightly cooler than our last visit to Delhi, we would save money and it was only a two-hour trip. A while into the ride, squeezed onto a train bench with three men, sitting across from Jeni in the same situation with her backpack smashed between our legs and mine teetering on a rack above our heads, I thought "this has to be the longest two hours of my life." I was not bored, but rather indifferent to the uncomfortableness of the situation. I was mentally incapable of reading or writing in my journal, I sat nearly comatose, listening to my iPod, sweating in the mugginess and somehow dozing with my head strategically balanced on Jeni's backpack. Just as I was thinking about how this was the longest two hours ever, Jeni blurted out, "I think we're on the wrong train." We checked the time and realized that we had been on the train for four hours! (I rarely look at my watch in India.) Our traveling companions, smelly smoking men with major staring problems, verified that we did in fact get on the commuter train, which stops at every stop, rather than the fast train... Ug.

Six and a half hours after getting on the wrong train, we arrived in Agra. We were aware of the "touts" that try to pick you up at any train station, bus station, airport, busy street etc. and try to convince you to go to a different hotel or restaurant than you've planned, but we were unprepared for their rigorousness and determination. They will say anything, including claiming that our hotel was no longer in existence or diving us to a place with a similar name. They are all after commissions for tricking us into going to a sub-standard place.

We arrived at our hotel and found out that they had given our room away because we were 5 hours late and they were at full capacity. We ended up going to their other hotel and we had to haggle with the rickshaw drivers yet again. The rickshaw driver tried every tactic in order to make plans to take us on our site seeing for the following day. Even the hotel owner warned us against making any plans with these shady men. Apparently they set a reasonable rate and guarantee to take you to all the major sites, which they do. What they don't disclose is that they also make multiple stops at shops where they again try to make a commission on anything you buy. The hotel owner even told us that they would offer us free tea or coffee, but that it may be spiked so that they can steal our passports and sell them to terrorists. I'd like to see some terrorist trying to pass as either Jeni or myself. Hilarious.

The next day we again haggled our way via rickshaw back to our original hotel and we did make arrangements with our driver to have him take us to all the sites. I sternly told him we would only make the deal if he acknowledged that we did not want to do ANY shopping and he would take us exactly where we asked, in the order we asked, with no detours, stops or surprises. We figured it would be easier to deal with the same guy all day than renegotiate every time we had to change venues. He ended up trying to get us to go to a different restaurant for lunch, but we both put our foot down and threatened not to pay. He obliged the rest of the day and only half-heatedly mentioned a "museum" where we could "possibly" buy handicrafts. Of special note, our driver had the most decrepit rickshaw in all of India and took off for a Kingfisher beer while we ate lunch.

The Agra Fort: I actually liked the fort better than the Taj Mahal, but they're both wonderful for different and similar reasons. The fort was much larger than I had expected. We spent two hours exploring and only 25% of the fort is open to the public. I was in awe that people actually lived in such a grand place made of red sandstone and white marble. The highlight was entering the Nagina Mosque. The mosque was built for the exclusive use of the king's harem. I kept thinking, wow I am walking barefoot on the same marble as Akbar and other kings and queens. You can read more about the fort at the link below.

http://www.webindia123.com/monuments/forts/agra.htm

The Taj Mahal. The Taj was also larger than I had imagined. It was as strikingly beautiful and majestic as is rumored. The detail of carvings and inlaid semi-precious stones are indescribable and cannot be captured in a photo, although we tried. I couldn't help standing memorized, running my fingers over marble flowers and intricate designs. It is difficult to believe that a place so grand was built without electricity or machines. It started pouring while we were at the perimeter of the tomb. At first I was elated, slipping and splashing around barefoot on 350 year old marble...until Jeni stopped me in my tracks with "I hope I don't get ring worm from this!" Yikes. We had to leave the main area in order to put on our shoes. This is a link for more on the Taj.

http://www.greatbuildings.com/buildings/Taj_Mahal.html

July 14 to the 16. Agra to Varanasi. The soonest train leaving Agra was at 9:10 pm the day after we visited the Taj. We had only booked our room for the one night because we thought there would be more train options. We were wrong. We had to vacate our room by 10 am and ended up at the hotel all day either sitting in the Internet Cafe, which hardly worked, or playing cards in the garden restaurant. We toughed it out without air-conditioning and were quite proud of ourselves.

We got to the train station at 8:00pm, an hour early to ensure we could figure out how to get on the correct train this time around. After some hustle and bustle we ended up inside the information office. We found out that our train was running a little late...8 hours late to be exact. We didn't want to get a hotel because we were afraid the train would come earlier and we didn't want to stay another minute in Agra. Apparently the train station was prepared for situations like this one and they offered us a train station hotel room. We checked it out and it was 100 times cleaner than the Roach Motel in Delhi and reasonably priced. However we didn't really sleep. Each time a train pulled in, the entire room shook. Plus we were both paranoid about missing the late train. At 5:00am we checked and surprise, it was delayed again to 8:00am. At 8:00 it was delayed to 9:30 and so on. The train finally came at 12:45 pm. It was only 14 hours late. We thought we would be traveling at night, so we didn't book air-conditioning. Oops. Not only was the train late, but it also moved excessively slow. It was so hot and gross, that I slept most of the time. The highlight of the trip was when I woke with my face three inches away from the but of a riffle. A guard was in our area checking tickets. Ironically, my iPod was playing “I Shot The Sheriff” by Bob Marley.

July 16, Saturday. Varanasi. We arrived in Varanasi at 5:30 am. Again we negotiated transportation and we’re "encouraged" to change hotel plans. Again we were stubborn as hell and got to the correct place without incident. Our hotel, which we thought was air-conditioned, was in fact air-cooled. Big difference. We stayed anyways, thinking nothing could be worse than the last 48 hours. We were wrong. Again.

Jeni tried to have her laundry washed, but was told it would take several days. She decided to do it in the room, but nothing dries in Varanasi during the monsoon season, not our hair, our clothes, the ground, nothing. The ground is so filthy in Varanasi, I was afraid some disease would jump onto my flip-flop and burrow its way into my foot. The city is claimed to be the oldest living city in the world and it’s filth reinforces this claim. We decided to leave ASAP and found a train that was “scheduled” to leave at 5:30 am the following morning.

For our one-day in Varanasi we chartered a boat ride to see the ancient ghats along the Ganges River. It was a short ride, but very educational. We got off at the Burning Ghat and were escorted to a platform where they burn dead bodies. It is very auspicious to die in Varanasi and it is believed by Hindus that one is guaranteed to go strait to nirvana if they are washed in the Ganges, burned at a ghat and then their ashes are dumped into the flowing river. It was creepy, but I reminded myself that this was a natural part of the life cycle in India. We witnessed 13 different burning piles of human remains in different stages. It almost felt like it wasn't real, like they were putting on a theatrical show for tourists (though we were the only tourists there).

We got back on the boat and the entire experience would have have been very rewarding, except for this twerp who had decided against our will to join the boat ride and be our "guide." He would not shut-up. We had just had a very emotionally challenging experience (burning human legs sticking out of a fire, etc.) and this jerk was being a smart-ass. He was criticizing America and challenging us to questions like "what is the difference between mentality and heart?" Finally, I used the only Hindi saying I have learned, "Bandar kya jaane, ajdrak ka swaad." It translates as "what does the monkey know of the taste of ginger." A friend back in Leh taught it to me, it pretty much means, "your a dumb ass!" Needless to say, that pissed him off and made the other boat men laugh out loud. We ended up jumping out of the boat and getting away as quickly as possible – looking over our shoulders to make sure he didn’t follow.

Later that day, we took our first non-motorized rickshaw ride to a restaurant that we read about in Lonely Planet that had air conditioning. The driver was jolly and despite his skinny stature, was able to peddle both Jeni and I in the crazy Varanasi traffic. Like many of our experiences so far in India, it was scary but exhilarating. We went to bed early in preparation for our next train extravaganza.

July 17, Sunday. Varanasi to Ayodya. As expected, our train was late, but only by a few hours. We ended up in Ayodya at about 2:00pm and our next train was scheduled to leave at 6:30pm. Plenty of time to see the Babri Masjid. Some of you may remember me talking about this place. At Cal I wrote a 25-page paper on my theory as to why there is so much political-religious conflict around this one Muslim holly site. A quick recap: The Babri Masjid was build in the 16th century by Moguls. In the last 80 years, there has been a huge controversy as to whether a temple marking the exact spot were Lord Rama was born was torn down in order for the construction of the mosque. From my research, I learned that no, a Rama temple did not exist; rather archeologists have discovered Buddhist temple remains. A right-wing religious political party strategically created and uses this controversy to gain popularity and promote an overzealous Hindu-Indian identity. We were a little apprehensive because there was a bombing at the site on July 5 and 6 people were killed, however, our adventurous spirits could not be deterred. Shoot, we made it through Srinagar.

I was very excited to visit this place I spent so many hours reading and writing about in college. We tried to rent a room in order to store our backpacks at the only hotel Lonely Planet recommended, but for some reason they refused us. A rickshaw school bus driver volunteered (for a fee) to take us site seeing and to a hotel that would let us store our things. That hotel also refused us? Ayodya was much smaller than the other Indian cities we have been to and we didn't see any other tourists while we were there. After locking our bags to the rickshaw bus with a bike lock, writing down the license plate number and making a quick prayer to Ganesh, we left all of our belongs and started the trek to the Babri Masjid.

Again we had a local volunteer to be our guide. The Babri Masjid has been fortified since rioting Hindus tore it down in 1992. Since then it has been the site of more riots and occasional bombings. Because of all this, no vehicles are allow within a large perimeter of the area. Our guide took us to several incorrect Rama temples before realizing we could not be tricked. We finally arrived at the entry to the BM and were told that we could not bring anything into the complex, not even our passports. We had to go in one at a time, so the other could watch our belongings. I was so excited, I had to go first. I may have thrown cow poop at Jeni if she tried to stop me.

The entrance was full of civil police guards. They were shocked to see us and even more shocked when they learned we were American. Women officers in a women only booth, just like the airports, searched us. An older man volunteered to escort me into the complex. As we started down a metal caged path (to keep out the monkeys), it started to rain. We had to run to the next checkpoint. Again I was vigorously searched, they even poked and pulled my hair, which was pulled up in a bun. I was stuck at this station because the rain was coming down so hard it would hurt. The women guards pulled me back into their booth and whipped out henna. They drew mendhi designs on my hand and asked me questions in the little English they spoke. It was sweet and precious. It was nice to finally talk to people not trying to make money off of us.

I made my way through several more checkpoints of men and women with riffles and finally arrived at what used to be a mosque. The ground was opened up where the archeologists are actively excavating the temple remains. We walked in metal cages over the open areas; it was exactly like being in an Indiana Jones movie! There was a small Rama Temple erected on the remains of the torn down mosque, monkeys all over the tops of the cages, sadhu's praying to Lord Rama and a musty feeling in the air like I had somehow stepped back in time. The entire area is covered by makeshift metal roofing, which loudly echoed the pouring rain. I made a small donation and ate the coconut candy they hand out at temples. I was so happy! Jeni got the same experience, including the henna tattoo. When she got back to the front entrance, we both exclaimed (both soaking wet by this point) at the same time "It was just like Indiana Jones!"

We allowed our rickshaw bus driver, who was miraculously exactly where he said he would be with our bags protected by blue tarps from the rain, to take us to a few more temples and to see the river. Ayodya is one of the holiest cities in India, believed to be where Lord Rama of the Ramayana was born. There are literally thousands of temples, more temples than houses. We didn't get out of the rickshaw bus, but took some photos of the outsides of the Rama Temples. We arrived back at the train station just in time to catch our train.

Our train turned out to be another commuter train and every car was soaked from the recent monsoon. We finally found a semi-dry set of rickety wooded benches and started to set up camp for the next 6 hours. Within a few seconds of getting onto the car, young local Indian men surrounded us. At first it was just uncomfortable, but then they started saying inappropriate comments and criticizing our nationality. We quickly moved to the next car and sat with some older men next to a family. The boys followed, but stayed back because of the older men. An hour or so into the trip the older men informed us that they had to get off at the next stop. We were very uncomfortable. Jeni had her Swiss army knife in her hand and I was holding a small bottle of 100% Deet that I could use as mace if needed.

As soon as the older men left the train, the gang moved in on us. The ringleader sat so close to Jeni that he was on her jacket tied around her waist. I was not havin' it. I leaned over, and in a voice loud enough for the rest of the people in the car to hear, I simply asked the guy if he had any sisters, how about a mother, how would he like it if someone was treating THEM this way. I then told him to move from our area and pointed out that most of the train was empty. People were staring at him and he backed off, but they all sat several feet away, glaring at us until they all got off about three stops later. Whew! Just as they got off, another older man in a business outfit got on, I immediately invited him to sit with us (for protection). He was fantastic. His name was Shiv; he was funny and spoke pretty good English. He advised us to get off at the station he was heading to and get a new ticket on a better train.

At this point, we again had a large group of men surrounding us, sitting just beyond where our new friend was sitting. Shiv said that some of the other local men had advised him in Hindi that we would not be safe on the train. He volunteered to help us get our new tickets in middle of no-where town called Basti, which was a lifesaver because no one at the station spoke English. Shiv got our tickets, made us eat peanuts and biscuits and stood with us until our train came. He didn't leave the platform next to our car until we were moving along. He ran alongside waving goodbye, smiling because of all the good karma he was sure to receive for being out knight in shinning armor.

I am not sure if he talked to anyone, but two guards sat on our car with us for most of the trip. We were on a much safer, cleaner, more comfortable train. It was also a fast train, so we only made a few stops and reached Gorakhapur at about 2:00 am. I was so tired I could have sat in a puddle and slept, but Jeni was dead set on getting to the Indian-Nepali bordered ASAP. We woke up some taxi drivers, but they either refused us or quoted outrageous prices. We saw a taxi pulling into the station and ran over. They were going exactly where we wanted to go and for only 70 rps a person. Yes! We squeezed into the small jeep, me and Jeni in the front with the driver and four guys in the back seat, our stuff on the roof. We thought, tight fit, but we can survive. A few minutes later two more people got in back and somehow they squeezed one more guy in the front with us. I have not seen one person in India wearing a seatbelt.

July 18, Monday. Sunauli to Kathmandu. Wee hours of the morn. I dozed wile we sped away to the border. We soon learned that the taxi was not in fact a taxi, but rather a paper delivery boy. We would slow down and a guy would jump off the back of the jeep, delivering stacks of papers to still sleeping shopkeepers. The driver was a mad man. Speed bumps were an excuse to go faster, he continuously flashed his high beams to get other vehicles out of his way, if that didn't work he blared his horn. I remember waking up at one point because my head was being flung from side to side. We were swerving wildly in order to dodge several cows lounging about on the road! We made it to Sunauli in record time. For a normal taxi, not making paperboy stops it should take three hours. We made it in two!

At the border we unknowingly bought an overpriced bus ticket on the wrong bus. We were told we were buying a ticket on a government bus directly to Kathmandu, but instead we were ushered onto an overcrowded bus that made around 100 stops to pick up and drop off passengers. It was pretty awful. We were forced to eat shady food and pay several times regular prices on anything we bought. Jeni went to buy a bag of chips, which were labeled 5 rps, they wouldn’t sell them for less than 40-rps. The woman didn’t even lower the price when she put them back.

After a treacherous journey, we finally arrived in Kathmandu, Nepal at around 4:40pm. I am not sure if I could have waited a second longer!

Quick Shout Out: I have had an excessive amount of time to think of all the people in my life who have helped me become the person I am today and who have unknowingly provided me with the assets I needed to make it through not only the last week, but also life. A quick Thank You to: my mom, my dad, m.o.m., my bigger little bro Dallen, my soon to be bigger little bro Jace, my favorite sis Stephanie, my best friends Kelly, Cass and Jeni my Marmar and everyone else!

Love, Jeeni