“There was a terrorist attack in the main bazaar where you are staying a couple days ago. You need to go to the tourist office to get permission to go there first,” said the man outside of New Delhi Train Station. I almost fell for it the way he said it. He was trying to lure me in a rickshaw and my guesthouse was only a five-minute walk away. Welcome to India. Click here for pictures.
The ride to the train station via the airport express train was clean, fast and made me question all my assumptions about India. However, after getting out at the train station my senses were assaulted with new sites, smells and sounds that added up to overload. Even in the airport I knew I was in a country unlike any other when there was a mad dash for customs after disembarking. People were not queuing properly and customs agents were yelling and motioning at people to keep order.
After asking a couple honest people which way to go from the train station, I was directed to go through it, as the Paharganj Main Bazar was on the opposite side. In the packed station people were sitting everywhere on the platforms, wrapped in blankets for warmth. Dust and a smoggy film hung in the sunlight. I crossed what seemed like ten different tracks via an overpass. Paranoid I fingered my wallet in my front pocket. Curious eyes watched my tense waddle weighed down by a backpack and daypack in front, the threat of pickpockets exaggerated in my head. After finding the proper exit, I found the main bazaar, backpacker and tout central in Delhi.
The pollution stung my eyes. Animal, human and automotive waste aromas crawled up my nose. The constant beeping horns of rickshaws and cars hammered my ears. I was wondering if this India thing was such a good idea; Phnomn Penh seemed quaint and idyllic now.
My budget guesthouse greeted me with an uninviting room with similar grime as the street. I talked to a fellow guest on the roof taking in the manic street-scape below. She assured me, as others had tried to brace me, that Delhi was not representative of all of India, and I would soon get used to it.
After a few days of getting adjusted to and then getting out of the big city, it is apparent that India is magical; I say that without irony or exaggeration. It’s a confluence of extremes. Extreme flavors, noises, smells, colors, cultures, and types of people. I’m not the first person to write about this first impression injection of shock to the system, but to experience it is like entering into a traveler’s fraternity hazing. The shock lays the foundation for the magic though.
The first magical moment was setting eyes on the Taj Mahal. Embracing cliché, this building is like a beautiful star you’ve seen in photographs and admired, but in her presence you truly understand an essence that seems to radiate from within. The grandeur, simplicity, symmetry and curves of this building are unmatched. Different sized arches allow for the duality of scale and proportion that are both human and superhuman. I wondered how something so white, pure and beautiful exists amidst the poverty, pollution and trash not far from it.
After the Taj Mahal, I was off to Jaipur, the pink city, where I found myself under the spell of both benign and black magic.
I arrived during the kite festival. As I walked around the old town section, known for its pink facades, young and old alike were on rooftops deftly navigating hundreds, if not thousands of kites in the wind. A camera cannot do these aloft kites justice like the eyes can. Music was playing everywhere, people shouted from rooftop to rooftop, and it ended with a big fireworks show after sunset. Overall, a sense of joy and fun permeated the air throughout this whole town, in a way I have never experienced before.
As for the black magic, I had never been sick from street food before. I first tempted fate with some fried spicy falafel like balls, tasty danger wrapped in newspaper. Nothing can stop this world traveler now. I think what got me though, were some dessert treats that had maybe sat out for a while outside of Jaipur Palace. I thought myself invincible and tested fate. Fate bitch slapped me. I will spare you the details as to the digestive hilarity that ensued. However, I was under for 24 hours and once I thought was going to throw up and pass out simultaneously. Instead I just sweat profusely. From then on I started to feel a bit better. Maybe it was the Cipro I decided to take. Either way I was lucky the spell was temporary. At least I lost my street cart sickness virginity. It had been weighing on my mind.
The food and drink I have had are amazing though! My dinners and lunches have been filled Palak Panner, Aloo Ghobi, Samosas, Pakoras, Dosas and even my favorite back home Chicken Tikka Masala. The food is so rich and well spiced. The lassis are very tasty. I even had a desert called “Hello to the Queen,” consisting of nuts, raisins and ice cream, on top of crushed cookies covered in chocolate syrup. Yum. All of this has been very welcome in my stomach.
As I sip my Masala Chai, I’m writing this post from Pushkar. It’s a smaller more relaxed town on the edge of the desert that has a power all it own. It is one of the holiest Hindu cities in India, where the pious purify themselves in the bathing Ghats by the lake. Alongside the devout, a few unscrupulous, less than holy men conjure money from tourists by offering them blessings and flowers.
There is little automotive traffic, no alcohol or meat are allowed and the spirituality is tangible everywhere. It’s nestled in a valley and small mountains surround it. The setting is a nice break from cities. As a former hippy town and a budget traveler’s paradise, there are quite a few dreadlocked Westerners wearing the Aladdin style pants, sipping bhang (form of marijuana) lassies and getting the “authentic” Indian experience. But snobby nouveau hippies cannot take away from a sunset listening to the Nagara drum, or walking up the nearby mountain to see sunrise or just enjoying a view of the lake from a roof top restaurant.
There is a lot more of India for me to see on this trip and in future trips. My travels take me in a u shape from here. First I travel west to Jodhpur, the Blue City and Jaisalmer, the Golden city, then south to Udaipur and Bombay, and then finally to Varanasi, the soul of India.
More to follow….
