the taj…and it ain’t easy being this ridiculously good looking

I went to see the Taj Mahal! How can you be in India for 2 months and not see it, right? So I took a train to Agra (about 3 hours away) and spent the day there, checking out the Taj Mahal and another monument called Red Fort. I bought a second class non A/C train ticket, because it was super cheap (the equivalent of $4 round trip). There were guys walking up and down the aisles the entire trip, yelling, “Chai! Chai!” or “Coffee! Coffee!” There were 3 or 4 people squeezed onto bench seats where no more than 2 people would ever sit in America. It somehow felt very authentic, if that makes sense at all. It was loud and crowded, and I loved it.

Then I got to Agra and went to see the Taj. It’s beautiful in pictures, but it is indescribably huge seeing it in person. You can even go inside.

So I enjoyed seeing this wonder of the world and all, but here’s the thing. I had people come up to me at least every 5 minutes and ask if they could take pictures with me. At one point, I had four grown men in a row have pictures taken with me, shaking my hand like I was a politician or something. In those pictures, it was all I could do not to start laughing. Then, the professional photographer at the Taj Mahal started posing people in pictures with me, with the Taj in the background. $5 for this picture with the famous Taj Mahal…and a white person! When I realized that he was the actual photographer and that he had a line of people waiting for pictures with me, I said absolutely not and went on my way. It was crazy. I tried really hard to be a good sport, but I couldn’t even look around because I had so many people approaching me. It hit a point when enough was enough, and I had to just keep waving people away. I felt kind of bad, but good gosh! A person can only take so much.

So please, if you ever hear me say that I’m thinking about becoming a celebrity, point me back to this experience and remind me that it is certainly not in my future.

salaam baalak trust

I know I’m posting a ton all at once, but I’m getting ready to leave Delhi, and for the next month or so, my internet access will be much more limited. So I want to fill you in on all this stuff while I still have the chance!

I’ve mentioned at various times on this blog about the poverty that I see in Delhi. People, often children, come up to me at shopping centers, train stations, and at intersections, gesturing to their mouths and then stretching out their hands, communicating that they need money to eat. Sometimes a little boy will beat on a drum while a little girl does cartwheels. Sometimes a mother holding a limp baby in her arms will come over and gesture to the baby, asking for money. I had a few experiences my first week in India that will remain burned in my memory forever.

The first day I was here, I was wandering around an area called Connaught Place, completely overstimulated and overwhelmed. I saw a tiny little woman, who clearly looked older than her age, sit down on the sidewalk, holding the smallest baby I have ever seen. It could not have been more than 5 pounds. Usually the people begging here have been fairly aggressive- coming up to me, grabbing my arm, following me- but this woman just sat there, staring at the ground, saying nothing. She let the cup sitting on the sidewalk in front of her do the talking.

A few days later, I was walking through a shopping center called Basant Lok. It’s an area where a lot of young people come for shopping and to go to bars, so it was swarming with well-dressed teenagers and twenty-somethings all laughing and headed to their destinations. On my way out of the shopping center, I noticed a man sitting on the dirt floor on a mat. He also was probably in his early twenties, but he was dressed in scraps of dirty cloth, and he was alone. When he saw me, he started to frantically drag himself by his arms toward me through the dirt to ask for money, his legs dragging uselessly behind him on the ground. I couldn’t believe that it was real- that people still lived like this. The contrast between him and the other kids who barely seemed to notice he was there made it even more piercing.

I’ve asked a lot of questions about the situation of the poor in Delhi, and I’ve been told that the circumstances are similar throughout India. I’ve heard that some of these people believe that they deserve this position in life, because of bad karma from their previous lives. From what I’ve been told, according to Hinduism, if they live this life well enduring their poverty, they will have a better position in their next lives. I’ve also been told that many of the people begging are working for gang leaders- if they collect any money, they will have to turn most of it over to their “boss”, who in turn provides protection for them.

My friend Laura introduced me to Salaam Baalak Trust, an organization based in Delhi that works with street children. I went on a walking tour of one area of Delhi with them, and it was one of the most amazing things I’ve done during my time in India. They work with two kinds of children: children who live with their families in poverty and children who have run away from their families to Delhi and are now homeless. They provide outreach, family reconciliation when appropriate, education, counseling, and when necessary, shelter for the kids.

We started the walk by visiting a poverty community that has been built up around the railroad tracks. Many of the people who live here are railroad employees. Some of the kids go to school, but other kids are sent out begging during the day to supplement the family’s income. Addiction is also a problem with the kids in this community- I saw one child who could not have been more than 10 years old, who obviously was under the influence of some kind of drugs.

This was my tour guide, Shekhar- he ran away from his home in rural India when he was 12 and came to Delhi. He lived in the train station and various other places for three years, doing random odd jobs like rag picking. He came to Salaam Baalak Trust when he was 15, and he lived in their shelter home until he was 18. Now he has an apartment in Delhi, is reconciled to his family, and is working as a tour guide for SBT. He wants to become an actor. He was excellent, and I really enjoyed hearing his story and his perspective on the lives of the poor in Delhi.

I also got to see one of the boys’ shelter homes in the Paharganj neighborhood of Delhi. The boys were having an art class when we got there.

I was amazed by this organization and the work that they are doing. I am very, very thankful to have had the opportunity to see their work firsthand for a day- one of the days of this trip that I have enjoyed most and will never forget.

www.salaambaalaktrust.com

horn, please.

This is posted on the back of most commercial vehicles in India. When discussing the traffic with an Indian man on the train, he said “If you don’t use your horn often, you are not a good driver.”

the holy ganga

Last week I took a short trip up to Rishikesh, about 4 hours north of Delhi by train. It’s a little town on the Ganges River (AKA the Holy Ganga), known for its great yoga. I left Wednesday morning around 6am (ugh) and arrived there shortly after 10. After some ridiculous hassle (and a little bit of pleading) I found a guest house to stay in. It was called “Hotel Ishan”, and it was great! The best $7 hotel I’ve ever stayed in. It was missing some pretty crucial elements, though…the bathroom didn’t even have a sink! Just a faucet sticking out of the wall that ran down onto the floor. It was pretty funny, but it was clean and had a great view of the river, so I made it work!

Here’s the view of the Ganges from the balcony of my hotel.

Here’s another view that I saw quite often: monkeys! They were everywhere. And they were mean. I was in all seriousness advised not to make eye contact with them, as it would most likely not end well for me. There were times when they were so close that I could have reached out and touched them…but I figured that if eye contact was not advised, surely physical contact would have been a death wish. I barely had to zoom in to get the picture of this guy!

The first day I was in Rishikesh, I went white water rafting on the Ganges. It was a really good time- the rapids went up to 3++, and although everyone stayed in the boat, there were some pretty close calls! The Ganges is considered a very holy river, so by the end of the day, I was thoroughly cleansed.

Here is a picture of me jumping off of a rock into the river. First of all, the rock was way higher than it looks. I am usually afraid of heights, so I want everyone to know that it was super high, and I was very brave. Second of all, I realize that it may look more like I’m falling than jumping in this picture. I assure you, I took a mighty leap off that rock, and the deceiving appearance of this picture surely has more to do with the photographer than with any lack of athletic prowess on my part.

There was a ceremony every night by the river, and these monks would sing and play music. The music was fantastic! Notice the piano/accordian…

So I went rafting, took some great yoga classes, heard some monks play the piano/accordian, took a short hike to a waterfall (I will not include the pictures of said waterfall, because a group of European guys got there right before I did, and the entire time I was there, they were frolicking in the waterfall in their boxer briefs. Again, you’re welcome.)

But one of the best parts of my trip was getting to know other travelers. We would all meet up in little tiki hut restaurants, where there were pillows thrown around on the floor, and we would sit and eat and share stories from home and from traveling. I met so many interesting people- from Belgium, Denmark, Ireland, Germany, California…everything from a comic book writer to a wandering monk from Arizona (seriously). Here is one of the restaurants we frequented- the manager of the restaurant is teaching us to play an Indian game called Carem. We were terrible.

I also really enjoyed getting to know some of the Indians there- all of the places in Rishikesh were really laid back, so a lot of times the restaurant managers or the hotel and shop owners would join us in hanging out and talking. They were so kind, and it made me sad to leave! Like everywhere in India, Rishikesh had its challenges, but it was a well-needed break from the Delhi craziness, and it was so great to hear other people’s India stories. And I rafted in the Ganges! What the heck?! It was a great little side trip.

on culture shock and homesickness

Okay, so I’ve realized that this blog so far has been a little bit deceptively cheery. When I’m thinking through the countless things that I am experiencing every day, all of which I could be writing to you about, the exciting and funny stories always win out. But to be honest, if I had to choose only one word to sum up my experience so far, it would not be “funny”, or “entertaining”, or “exciting”, or “adventurous”. It would just simply be “hard”.

First of all, India is just extreme culture shock waiting to happen. It has its own beauty for sure, but everything is different. For better or for worse. The adjustment to it all has been a process, and there are still so many things I don’t understand about how things work here. The pace of life and the way people interact have been really overwhelming. Everything is so busy; I don’t know my way around; people unabashedly stare at me because I’m different; I constantly have to bargain people down from the special “western” price of anything I want to buy, and I constantly have to forcefully disengage myself from people selling things I don’t want to buy. The begging still jolts me every time. And on top of that, although I’ve traveled to other countries, this is the first time I’ve done it alone. I’m so thankful to be staying with my friends in Delhi (if I didn’t have them here, I think I would have given up and hopped a plane back to the US already), but they’re working all day, which leaves me to explore on my own. My first day of exploring left me completely exhausted and overwhelmed, and it was all I could do to make myself leave the apartment the next day. I kept making myself go out, and it has slowly but surely gotten better. I am learning a lot about so many things, but it has not always been easy.

Also, I have been surprisingly homesick. Up until a few days ago, whenever anyone would ask about my home or my family, I would start to tear up. (Thankfully, I wear sunglasses most of the time, so it’s not quite so noticeable…) I have never in my life been homesick. It has made me realize how precious my family and community at home is to me, and how surprisingly hard it was for me to be “me” away from them.

When I landed in India, I was expecting a fun, exciting adventure, and I thought that I would fall in love with every place I went and never want to leave. That’s what traveling has been for me in the past. But that’s not what this trip has been for me. It has been fun, exciting, inspiring, and certainly entertaining. But it has also been hard, challenging, humbling, and sometimes really lonely. I can say with all honesty that I am glad to be here, but I have had my fair share of teary, overwhelmed moments when all I wanted was to go home.

Two weeks has done wonders for the culture shock. I am no longer overstimulated every time I walk out the front door, and it’s getting steadily easier to navigate this place. I am genuinely enjoying my time here. But I am surely being challenged every bit as much as I am being entertained, and I miss all of you at home very much.

day to day

After my initial “oh my gosh I’m in complete culture shock listen to all the crazy things I’ve seen” post, I thought it might be nice to post some pictures and stories about the things that make up my day-to-day experience of Delhi. And a couple more “oh my gosh you won’t believe this” moments, too. Because honestly, that thought runs through my mind fairly regularly.

I’m staying with my friends Jon and Laura Pitale. Their apartment is in a neighborhood called “Anand Niketan”. I knew Laura from college, and she and Jon have been married for about a year. They are both teachers at a school here called the American Embassy School.

Here’s the guest room where they have so graciously allowed me to camp out for a while- it’s super nice and comfortable.

This is the market near the apartment where I’m staying- it’s called Moti Bagh. I go here sometimes to get fruit.

Usually, I spend my days wandering around Delhi, seeing the sights. There are cows and stray dogs everywhere. The cows are the funniest- they just wander around wherever they feel like going, looking around like they own the place. I’ve seen them in train stations, shopping centers, and even blocking traffic in the middle of the highway. The funniest was to drive down a highway one day and see a cow standing on the raised median in the middle. How did it even get up there??? They don’t belong to anyone; they’re just around, doing their thing.

I have to be careful of what I wear here. It’s not extreme, but tank tops and shorts are not a great idea. Which is occasionally a little rough because it’s been so hot outside! But it really isn’t a big deal, and it’s important to respect the culture. However, one night when Laura and I were in a tuk-tuk on the way home from dinner, I saw two men completely naked on the side of the road bathing. I turned to Laura and said, “Seriously? And I can’t even wear a tank top???”

Although I have no pictures of that incident to share (you’re welcome), here are some shots of some of the places I’ve been in Delhi:

Raj Ghat- the Gandhi memorial

A statue outside of the Gandhi Memorial Museum

Paharganj

Paharganj is the backpackers’ district in Delhi. There are lots of little shops and cafes. It’s pretty chaotic!

Laura and I at the Lotus Temple

(Look, I’m actually in a picture!!! Imagine that…)

A tomb in Lodi Gardens

I was wandering through some gardens one day, and I turned a corner to find a giant old tomb. This was the ceiling on the inside.

Safdarjang's Tomb

Use me.

A trash can is sometimes referred to as a “use me”.

Understatement.

I feel that this sign can accurately describe every roadway in Delhi.

When I return from my day of sight-seeing or tea-drinking or people-watching, I usually hang out for a while with Laura and we share stories from the day. And there are generally at least a few well worth sharing. Then I head off to fall asleep to the sound of our own personal, self-appointed neighborhood safety watch. There is apparently a man in our neighborhood who has taken it upon himself to ride his bicycle through our neighborhood at night, sporadically blowing a whistle to let everyone know that everything is okay. I personally think that maybe he should consider blowing the whistle when everything’s not okay, but hey, what do I know? One thing is for sure- for someone like myself who finds great joy in the peculiarities of life, this country is surely a win.

impressions and funny stories

So I’ve been in Delhi now for a couple of days. I think this is the first time I’ve really experienced culture shock. India is overwhelming, and as my friend Laura puts it, intense. Very, very intense.

The traffic is astounding. Everyone just crowds in and jockeys for position. I read an article that said that the common phrase among taxi drivers is “Good horn, good brakes, good luck.”

At intersections, children, disfigured adults, and women with babies come to the car to ask for money. I’ve been told that if you give money, you will become known as the person who will give, so you will be bombarded with people every time you go out. So you’re supposed to just say no and ignore them as they continue to stand by your window. The kids push newspapers that they are selling into your car, and once when I was in an auto rickshaw, I had a little boy come lay his head in my lap. It’s really hard to know what to do. Poverty is entirely different here than it is in the States.

This is usually how I get around- an auto-rickshaw, or tuk-tuk. I hail one of these, then argue with the driver over how much I’m willing to pay to get where I’m going.

In the markets, people are constantly calling out to me to come this way, buy from them, just come have a look. Some of my favorites have been “Hey, it’s just me! Come on over!” and “It’s only free to have a look!”

I get approached often, I’m told because of my hair color. One interaction that made me laugh was when a group of guys were behind me and one asked, “Hey, are you Australian?” (Everyone thinks I’m Australian.) It had been a long day already, and I was by myself, so I just kept walking. Another guy with them said, “No, she is from Israel.” (because of my tattoo, I’m assuming). The first guy responded, “Oh, shalom.” I started laughing, so they all started saying it. So there I was, walking down a busy street, with a group of guys behind me saying “Shalom, shalom, shalom.” It was pretty funny.

The funniest thing that has happened by far was when Laura and I were catching a taxi home after dinner one night. We walked up to a taxi stand, got a driver, and climbed into the taxi. Before the driver got in, the taxi just lurched forward and started going! With no driver! Our driver was frantically trying to yank the door open and get in, but just before he did, we slammed into the front of another taxi that was parked. Laura and I just turned and stared at each other with our jaws dropped. How the heck did that just happen??? I’m sure the owner doesn’t share my sentiment, but I was sure glad the other taxi was parked there, or we would have shot out right into the road. The drivers discussed for a few minutes, then our driver declared his car drivable and jumped in to drive us home. We were skeptical, but so shocked at what had just happened that we didn’t think to get out and ask for a different car. Thankfully, the car made it home. We never could figure out quite what happened. We asked the driver, but he would only say, “It’s not my fault.”

The other day I visited a place called Humayun’s Tomb. It is a burial site that was built in the 16th century, and actually a lot of elements in it’s design were used in designing the Taj Mahal. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Get ready to hear that phrase from me a lot. I think it will be the only way I know to describe some of the places here.

Overall, after the initial day of culture-shock, I’ve enjoyed India. I’m planning a few small trips from here north to Dharamsala (where the Dalai Lama lives, where many Tibetan refugees live, and with great hiking) and to Rishikesh (on the Ganges River, with great hiking, rafting, and yoga), and south to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. We’ll see what works out! I’m also really enjoying getting to catch up with Laura- I’ve seen her very little since graduating college, since she’s been busy living and traveling all over Asia. Now if only I could get over the jet lag…

getting there

I spent my last few days in the States in Massachusetts for a family wedding (which was lovely, by the way). The day after the wedding, Lauren was going to drive home to NC and drop me off at JFK Airport in NY for my flight. Great plan- the only inconvenience was that my flight didn’t leave until 7:45pm. Lauren was going to drop me off at about 2pm. So I had to wait a while, but it was fine. I could find something to do.

I got to the airport and said goodbye to Lauren, and then I went in and found the Air India ticket counter. But I was a little confused- the only flight listed on their departure board was for 5:05pm. I went to the counter, and I gave the man there my passport and a print-out of my itinerary. “I’m a little confused,” I said, “because my flight doesn’t seem to exist.” He looked concerned and started typing information into his computer. I started to wonder if I would be going to India that day after all. He finally looked up and said, “Your flight got cancelled a few weeks ago. You got switched to the 5:05 flight instead.” What??? So no phone call, email, notification of any sort that my flight was leaving over 2 hours earlier than expected??? What if I hadn’t gotten there 6 hours early? I would have totally missed my flight. I asked the man if there was a reason I hadn’t been contacted, and he said, “Sometimes the flights get changed. It just happens.” Okay…now I will admit that I should have called to verify in advance, but the wedding was a bit consuming…so thank you, dumb luck. Providence. Lauren’s coincidentally fortunate driving schedule. Whatever you want to call it, I was very lucky to have not missed my flight.

Now here was the problem. My friend in Delhi, Laura, did not know I was getting in early. And I didn’t have a laptop with me, so I couldn’t email her. And I hadn’t gotten her phone number, because I never had called her in India before. And I hadn’t gotten her home address, because she was going to pick me up at the airport. I was starting to realize that my careful planning had some pretty fatal flaws. A further complicating factor: my cell phone had stopped working a couple days earlier. And honestly, even if I had been able to get in touch with her, I couldn’t have told her when I was landing, because the man behind the ticket counter insisted that he had no way of knowing our arrival time.

So I came up with a plan. I asked another passenger waiting if they knew what time we landed in Delhi. 4:45pm. (Now was it that difficult, ticket counter man?) I found an old, old, old phone card in my wallet from years ago that I just hadn’t ever gotten rid of. (Who even uses phone cards these days?) For once, my irrational fear of throwing things away and then needing them later was paying off. I called Drew on a payphone. (Who even uses payphones these days?) I gave Drew my email log-in information (because I didn’t even know Laura’s email address), and he looked her up and emailed her. He gave her my new arrival time and told her that if she couldn’t get there to pick me up, that she could email back her address. When I arrived in Delhi, if she wasn’t there to pick me up, I would find my way to an internet cafe, get her address off my email, and then take a taxi to her house. Not the best of plans, but I was pretty low on options.

A 15 hour flight later (with great food, may I add) I arrived in Delhi. I went through customs, got my luggage…no Laura. Oh dear. I started wandering toward the exit. No Laura. Oh dear. Then, I heard someone shout my name from one of the exits. (Security wasn’t letting people in, so they all had to meet incoming travellers outside.) I started toward the voice, and then I realized that Indian men walking in my direction were passing me saying, “Megan? Megan? Megan?” I felt like maybe I had been drugged. But I kept walking toward the original voice, and when I got to the exit, there was Laura. Oh, relief. I guess those men were just trying to help her out? Who knows. It was hilarious.

So I made it safe and sound. And it’s a darn good thing Laura made it to the airport, too. After about 5 minutes of hailing a taxi and starting towards Laura’s house, I was pretty sure that I never would have found an internet cafe.

got ‘em.

summing up dc

My first stop was in Washington DC to get my visas. The visa for India came through in just a day, but the visa for China takes four business days. My friends Dawn and Leslie were kind enough to let me stay with them for the week. Here’s my DC top ten:

1. I touched the top of the Washington Memorial.

2. I discovered that on a rainy day, if you think it’s funny to see people fall, the best place to stand is at the entrance to the Metro while people are trying to run to catch their trains. I’m a terrible person, I know. But it really was absurdly funny. Unfortunately, I have no pictures of this to share.

3. We went to the National Book Festival, and we heard some really interesting authors speak. My favorites were five teenagers who had won state competitions in poetry recitation. They were so much fun to watch and so incredibly talented. We also heard Immaculee Ilibagiza, whose story completely floored me. She was a survivor from the genocide in Rwanda- the only survivor from her village. She was a joy to hear in person, even at the very end of a very long day.

4. I met Curious George. This one is for Tim.

5. One day as I sat in a park in the city, thinking about how much I disliked pigeons, a woman came and poured about a pound of bird seed on the ground right next to me. It was not a pretty sight. But it was probably karma from me laughing at the people falling in the metro station. Again, no pictures. I was too busy running for my life. Ugh. Pigeons.

6. I had an ice cream sundae at a place called Pop’s that rivals Friendly’s ice cream. Yes. It’s hard to believe. And I know…saying such things puts me at risk of being disowned by the family. But it’s true. It really was that good.

7. Dawn’s cat wore this wig. I thought it was very becoming, don’t you?

8. Dawn’s chicken soup. And cookies.

Okay. So that’s my top eight. Not top ten.

I spent my first day in the city wandering around, seeing the White House, memorials, monuments, statues, the aforementioned pigeons (which are a staple for any big city sight-seeing experience), etc. Honestly, I found myself much more profoundly touched by talking to a man who was homeless about how he’s getting his life together by selling newspapers for a living. Or by watching people play chess in Dupont Circle. All of the typical “DC touristy stuff” just wasn’t really holding my attention. I kept getting distracted by things like the trees. They are so much more breathtaking than any building or statue or monument that people have built.
I was feeling a bit cynical about DC, and then I was walking through the World War II memorial. I wondered what it would be like to see it with my grandfather, who served during that war. I wondered if he would have felt appreciated. I wondered if he would have been glad that this memorial had been built to try to help people remember. I remembered that I take a lot for granted. So for that experience, I was thankful. And it made me miss my grandfather.

But I did still love the trees.

Tomorrow, if all goes as expected, and China decides to let me in, I will pick up my visa in the morning and then head to Massachusetts for my cousin’s wedding. Then I fly to India on Sunday night!