INCREDIBLE INDIA! (Volume I) A Baptism of Fire

Kevin

Tuesday, November 18 @ 19:54

First of all, I should take a little time to explain the name of the post and how it came about. While still traveling in Turkey, we were fortunate enough to sometimes have English speaking television, usually in the form of CNN or BBC. On the latter network would often run advertisements sponsored by the tourism and culture departments of various countries around the world. The one that was most enthralling and poignant was the one for India. A series of short clips highlighting many beautiful and interesting sites that lay within the border of this massive country. All visually stunning and made even better with the soft and melodic harmony with the words “Incredible India” sung in the background by an Indian woman with a beautiful voice. We decided to assist the tourism board of India by using their slogan to title all the posts for India, and there should be plenty, and exposing our hoards of dedicated readers! So there you have it. Each entry will still have its own ingenious title, but will be an installment.

Second of all, and on a more serious note, though this is technically not our first trip to Asia, as 97% of Turkey lies within the Asian continent, this is our first taste of what may be called an un or under developed Asian country. For all intents and purposes, India is growing by leaps and bounds in many respects, but perhaps most as an emerging global market. Unless you have been here, there really is nothing that you can see, including tourism commercials, or hear that can prepare you for this very unique experience. I am not qualified to pass any judgments or provide commentary in the form of details or specifics. However, as you know, this blog is a way for us to share our experiences on this adventure that we have chosen to undertake.

Upon arriving in Mumbai from Istanbul I think it is fair to say that we both may have experienced a bit of shock. The airport terminal is not all that bad or crazy, but suffice it to say that once you leave it, you are in a completely different environment. For us, one that we had never had any exposure to and could never have prepared for. The Indian people are truly beautiful in so many ways. They are incredibly colorful, charming, helpful, gracious and at times quite persistent. Their food is a cornucopia of spice and flavor, their music cheerful, their crafts intricate and beautiful. However, there is also a rather gloomy side. Again these are entirely based on our individual observations and are in no means intended to offend or judge. There is a gaping and drastic divide between the haves and the have nots. There is a level of poverty that neither of us could have ever envisioned. Mumbai is a city of sixteen million people and the better part of the community is incredibly poor. Without becoming graphic, suffice it to say that both of us were so moved by what we saw on a daily basis that we were practically brought to tears at the end of each of the three days that we were in Mumbai. Growing up in the west is a privilege that I will never take for granted again. Part of my upbringing is to blame for my inability to accept what I saw as “normal” or “just the way it is”. Entire families live in the streets and immediately adjacent to traffic, people sleep in gutters and little naked children relieve them selves in catch basins. Mostly everyone is in search of a way to secure a rupee, a currency that holds little value to the dollar that we are funding our travels with. It is so overwhelming at times and yet, there seems to be nothing that one person could possibly do to relieve the situation. No amount of rupees that we could ever supply would make much of a difference in the lives of some of the more unfortunate. Through it all, Idalis and I have been prompted to have some very intense and deep conversations that usually revolve around how to make sense of it all.
For the most part, India still subscribes to the caste system, which binds people to a social strata, from the time they are born, which most are never able to deviate from. A hopeless situation that is justified as the karma one must endure for actions in previous lives. A hard pill to swallow for a pampered westerner such as myself. Through all the noise and chaos that is India, we have committed to trying to work through it in the hopes that we could learn something from this experience and even better perhaps do something to help.

Our arrival into Mumbai was, for the most part, flawless. The planning that we had done had come in handy. We found the ATM, secured a fixed price taxi, slathered ourselves in mosquito repellent and managed to find our hotel without much difficulty. It was not the greatest hotel in the world, but our twin bed, rectangular room with a detached and shared bathroom was to serve us well, at least for one night. It pains me to once again have to advise everyone of yet another complication that my dear Idalis had to endure. It appears as if on the night of our arrival she brushed her teeth and simply overlooked the fact that the water could be hard on the gentle gut of a tourist. It was probably close to 2:30 in the morning when she awoke me to advise off pain, fever and a compulsion to visit the shared toilette...frequently. We suffered through the night together and first thing in the morning, I headed out into a city that I had yet to see in the light in search of water (of the bottled variety), re-hydration salts, bananas, crackers and toilette paper, the only item I did not return with. I then secured us an upgrade, a room with an attached bathroom and moved my Mum and all of our stuff one floor below. We set up, locked the door and settled in for what eventually became about twenty-four hours of intense fever (103.1), aching muscles and bones and an all liquid expulsion. I stayed with her the whole day and did whatever I could, which was not much, to try to help ease the discomfort. Had the hotel been decent, it may have made it a bit, just a bit, easier. But unfortunately, we got a pretty bad place that I virtually had to scrub just to make usable. (Worse than the Acrapolis in Rome, by far!)

Eventually, Mum's fever came back down to normal, the frequent visits to the lou lessened drastically and we found ourselves up, dressed and ready to tackle the city on our second day. I can't really say tackle, it was more like a tiptoe. We managed to see the Gateway to India, built in 1953 for the visiting British King, some of downtown and the train station, where we spent a great deal of time trying to figure out exactly where to order the tickets, how to complete the required form and select the most appropriate coach class from seven different varieties. After that, we eventually found ourselves navigating the very busy, very loud and very crowded streets to the furthest stall inside of the Kamat restaurant, where we would dine on our first real meal in over forty-eight hours. It took a great deal of fortitude for Idalis to feel secure about ingesting our menu selections. But, it turned out to be an incredibly tasteful, enjoyable and above all, safe meal. So much so that we would return the following night to sample more items that we had not had the room for on the previous night. There are many things to do in Mumbai, the touts will create or customize any tour imaginable for the right amount of rupees, “good price, good price”. However, we really did not get to do too much of the touristic things and were somewhat anxious to try and get out of the city after our few short, though very intense and taxing experiences. The most impressive of these experiences being our actual train ride out of town. It was the Kolkan Kanya train to Arangabad and it would be the second class, non a/c sleeper for us, seeing as it was the only thing available. We arrived an hour early, got a decent fare on the taxi ride and managed to find the correct platform and staging area for our designated coach, S3. As the train approached, we stood confidently at the platform ready to board until all of the sudden and out of nowhere the space between us and the train, no more than four feet, was immediately occupied by at least on hundred screaming, pushing and very determined Indian passengers. At first, we had no idea what to do, simply returned our lower jaws to their appropriate location and stepped back so as not to be a casualty of the mayhem that was ensuing before our very eyes. Second class is comprised of two categories, unreserved seating and second class sleeping berths, consisting of eight bunks per compartment. These classes are the cheapest and the ones most used by the locals. We had no idea and only accepted what was available to us the date and time that we wished to leave. Thankfully, after seeing the dilemma that we were facing, an Indian Transit employee cleared the coach of the unticketted guests allowing those with tickets to eventually board. We did and were somewhat relieved to eventually find our compartment, very much resembling a jail cell, and settled in for what we hoped would be a restful overnight train ride to our next destination. As you may have guessed by now, no such luck. We were, however, pleased to have the opportunity to meet another couple traveling through India, Klara and Zenik from the Czech Republic. They were kind enough to provide us with some insight on the art of traveling in India, including the top bunk theory, for which we are eternally grateful (thank you if you are out there and read this!). At first, the coach was only moderately occupied and a majority of the passengers were students of Architecture from Mumbai University. However, as time passed on our seven, eventually eight, hour journey, the coach became more and more crowded, to the point that people were lying in the aisles, cubbies and even restrooms. Another funny thing about train travel, if you want to call it funny, is that there is a very precise schedule for each and every train and rarely do they ever manage to adhere to those schedules. So imagine how complicated it is to know if you are at the right stop when your scheduled time arrives, it is completely dark outside and there are absolutely no signs indicating the station that you are at, or if they do exist, they are written only in Hindi. Thankfully, once again, the generosity of the Indian people shown through and one of the passengers advised us of when our scheduled stop to Arangabad had arrived. It was five in the morning, again, pitch black and we put on our packs, said good bye to our new friends and set off through a swarming crowd of touts to try and find our way to a hotel along a dark, dirt road.

Idalis:

Mumbai and I did not get off to a good start. As Kevin mentioned, on our first night, I became violently ill. The traditional “Delhi Belly” that many visitors get at some point in their travels here happened to me right away. I woke up at 2:30 AM, sweating and with horrible abdominal pains. My head was pounding, my entire body hurt, and although my fever was over 103 degrees, I could not stop shivering. I will spare you all the details. Suffice to say that it's the sickest I can ever remember feeling. I was somewhat scared, being in a new country, in a crappy hostel that perpetually smelled of turpentine, with no relief in sight. It was a horrible experience, the one good thing coming out of it was feeling, once again, Kevin's constant love and dedication to me. Kevin helped me take cold showers to bring down my temperature, ventured into Mumbai's dirty streets to buy me hydration salts, force fed me bits of banana so I'd have some food in my system, took my temperature religiously, and wiped my tears away when I couldn't stop crying. Not once, in those 24 hours, did he leave my side, choosing instead to stay with me in our hot, stinky, claustrophobic room. He watched over me, soothed me, and kept telling me I would get better soon. Kevin has done many romantic things for me. He's a guy who's not afraid to be affectionate, and his loving gestures have been numerous. This, by far, takes the cake. I will never forget his dedication and concern, his gentle hands helping me into bed when I was too weak. Some girls like diamond rings and roses, but for me, this has been the greatest show of love I've ever felt. Thank you, Amor, for calming my despair and making me feel safe.

I will not lie. Mumbai was hard. Kevin and I felt a range of feelings while there: awe towards the women dressed in beautiful colored saris, sadness at seeing so much poverty, delight at tasting our first vegetarian thali, revulsion at the smell of feces and urine which permeated so many corners, wonder at our first glimpse to the Gateway of India, frustration at the endless touts and beggars, and a million other conflicting emotions. We felt guilty for at once wanting to be pleasant to everyone we met, but having to say no to the millionth outstretched hand. We were greatly humbled by this experience, and our time in Mumbai further solidified our feeling of gratitude. Gratitude for having each other, wonderful families and friends, a roof over our heads, and food in our belly. For me, Mumbai was like having to drink cod liver oil as a child: I didn't like it, but I knew it was good for me.