Saturday, June 24, 2006

Left Foot Yellow, Right Hand Blue

OK, we're here in India, New Delhi to be exact. Though what's new about it we're not quite sure. Old Delhi looks newer. So maybe this is Old New Delhi. How we came to be here we shall tell, all in good time...

A lot of ground has been covered since our Last Post. No trumpets though :P.

We saw tigers and monks in Kanchanaburi, and this was an amazing, peaceful experience. Then the tourists arrived and turned tiger-patting into a fast food drive-thru. All through the day the tigers were sedate. Or is that sedated, we wonder...? Or is it just the positive energies of living in a monastery that tame the violent spirit? We'd like to think the latter.

The Death Railway was alive with people - everywhere you looked there were tour groups - mostly with Japanese, which seems weird as it is the site of their atrocities against Thai people and P.O.Ws during WWII. We went on our first Thai elephant ride and got our first elephant bum bruises. And John got kissed by a nine-month-old elemaphant on the belly :). Tiff was jealous. Bamboo rafting just below the surface of the water was a relaxing way to spend half an hour, and then a trip to the surreal War Museum showed just how far Thailand has to go in terms of cultural preservation.

A quick sojourn back to Bangkok led us to Chiang Mai, where the biggest tourist attraction is, take a guess, a market (like you can't find a market in every other town in Thailand). There were lots of touristy things we could have chosen to do, from "trekking" to mountain biking through jungle. We chose lots of sleep in an extremely comfy hotel bed. Oh, and we also spent an amazing day with the elephants at Mae Sa Elephant Camp. Here we saw soccer-playing elephants in World Cup Fever, bathing elephants (they looked like they were having SUCH a good time!) and the most adorable three month old elephant calf born in March this year. We were so fortunate to be able to get close to all the elephants, and to have precious moments of contact.

On our way back to Bangkok we stopped off at Sukhothai, the first capital of Siam, where the oldest ruins live. The age of the ruins was tangible, and the character breathtaking. From the 20 metre Buddha, to the Angkor-style towers, the ceylonese stupas and the abandoned hilltop Wat, all areas were indicative of an age of Thailand more beautiful than the present. The best thing about the area being Thai, was that we were able to walk on and among the ruins and not just view them from afar (as we would have had to do in an Australian World Heritage site). This made the experience that much more affecting.

Back in Bangkok, we counted down the days until our departure for India. We spent our time preparing as best we could, in the only way we knew how - by holding on to the last bits of known comfort - in Gold Class Cinema luxury. For a fraction of the price it costs back home, we were treated to tea, coffee and biscuits on arrival to the ultra-schmick lounge, the most gorgeous bathrooms we are likely to see for a very long time, blankets, pillows, reclining chairs and a 'tucking in service'. Pity the movie was only so-so (The DaVinci Code). The book made a better movie, but as always, Ian McKellen stole the show.

Finally the day of departure dawned, and we nervously packed our bags, cleaned our room (thanks for the loan Tae!), drank many coffees (free as we'd bought five each previously), and said our farewells to our gracious Thai hosts. Leaving for the airport 10:30 at night was bliss as there was little or no traffic and we actually made the 25kms in less than an hour.

Our first Indian experience left us startled and unsure. It came in the form of a kindly-looking old lady. She approached John first, smiling and gesturing towards our bags (which we had carefully kept under 20kgs). It wasn't until some time later that we understood (with a little help from her LARGE 'son') that she was asking us to check a bag of hers in with our luggage. We politely declined (much to their exasperation), but anyone who accepts anyone else's gear is just foolish. This was something that the lady and her son obviously did not understand. The son even lifted our bags to see for himself that they were at the 20kg limit. They tried others at the check-in counter but to no avail - this left us wondering what the old lady was packing. Should we be afraid, should we alert authorities, should we be alert but not alarmed? Or were we just too tired and paranoid? Everyone and everything else took on a shady cast. Our hand luggage was searched before boarding, but the old lady got through with only one of two bags searched - what was in that second bag? I guess we'll never know.

Because the plane didn't blow up, but someone on it sure did. The floor in front of our toilet was covered in vomit for half the flight - not sure if the air hosts were unable or unwilling to clean it. So it was covered in newspaper and left to wait. Eventually the stench permeated the entire cabin and we thanked our lucky stars that it was only a four hour flight. Ahhh, welcome to India.
It's not at all what we had expected or imagined, not at all the big modern capital we had pictured. Instead we see a strange mix of filth, decay, culture and cows. Yes, that's right, cows, lots of them.

5am Indian time, we staggered off the plane and into the waiting arms of the hoards of taxi touts. Armed with information from our Lonely Planet, we prepaid a driver to take us to the 'tourist strip' (Khao San of Delhi) for accomodation recommended to us by a friend. John panicked as we turned into a narrow lane, lined in dirt and massed with cattle. Surely this was a mistake! Getting out of the taxi, we opened the door to immediately be in a herd of cows congregating in the alley. Holy Cow indeed.

The hotel turned out to be fine, if deceptively low-life from the outside, and we stayed, using it as our base for short spurts of activity into Delhi when we had summoned the courage to brave the streets.

The Khao San of Bangkok goes foreigner, foreigner, foreigner, Thai person, foreigner. The Main Bazaar of Pahar Ganj goes Indian, Indian, Indian, Cow, Foreigner, Indian. Where we found the commoness of foreigners on Khao San to be ugly and disconcerting; here, to see a foreigner gives you comfort and relief.

Despite the dirt, the grottiness, the people pissing on walls in the streets, the constant barrage of people 'wanting to help', there is a well-defined character about the place, of a city caught somewhere between the dark age ruin and capital metropolis.

...but we're in India. A fact that we still can't believe. India India India. Nope, still can't believe we're here. It's everything you've heard, but nothing you're prepared for. Such a brutal attack on your senses, in a very different way to Bangkok. The smell of spices, incense, cows, piss and curried floor detergent; the sounds of horns, always horns, the tinkling of rickshaw bells, the 'excuse me sir, madam, I am not wanting to sell you anything but please listen to me' (in the typical Indian accent accompanied by a friendly head wobble); the heat, and contrasting chill of airconditioning, the airborne dirt and sweat that you don't notice until you're inside because it's not so humid; the sickly sweet, spicy, everything - they even have a spicy softdrink; and finally, the most amazing sight of all is late in the evening, against the setting of the sun, hoards of people taking to the rooftops to fly their kites. Magical. Perhaps this is the way they rise above it all.

Tiff is liking Delhi more than Bangkok, John is too scared to look. Where Bangkok is annoyingly different in small ways that make you ask, why can't it just be like home? Delhi is so different that there's just no comparison. The total saturation of colour, smells, sounds and sights causes you to hide behind your hand at first, as if looking into the sun; but slowly, as your eyes adjust to the light, you can come out from behind your hand and recognise what is.

Quick Tips for Delhi:
Hold on tight and just dive in. It may help to close your eyes.
People stare, deal with it.
John looks like an Indian Movie Star.
"Don't trust anyone, not even me." -'Helpful'? Indian
We should have listened to said "Helpful"? Indian
The drivers are soft in Bangkok.
If you haven't made your peace with God (whichever one you choose), don't leave the house.
Cows need hugs.
Tiff is John's wife. This is our second time to India. My name is Bob and hers is Rebecca.
Don't come to India if you are dairy intolerant.
Dairy is in EVERYTHING. They've almost found a way to put milk in a hard-boiled egg.
Be polite, even if noone else is.
If that big guy with the machine gun says no photos - you should listen.
Everybody wants to be your 'friend'.
A healthy dose of skepticism is good. Paranoia will ruin your trip.
You can be paranoid about anything.
Book trains well ahead, or you may have to catch a long-distance mountain bus, at night, in the rain - everything Lonely Planet says not to do.

More later: we're about to catch a long-distance mountain bus, tonight and it's raining. Eeeekkk!

saintrinity
John and Tiff

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home