The Worst Day of my Life (Seriously)

**I posted 2 entries today... check out the post below this one for a giant India update.

Before I close the India chapter, I thought I'd share the worst day of my life. It begins in Darjeeling where we are scheduled to take a 16 or 17 hour, overnight train ride to Varanasi. According to Lonely Planet, the city is one of the holiest spots in the Hindu religion. The diseased and dying migrate to Varanasi (which is situated on the Ganges river) in hopes of dying along the river banks. Because of the religious significance, the city is jampacked with tourists hoping to catch a glimpse at one of the body-burning ceremonies, rickshaw drivers trying to overcharge you for a tour of the city, and the terminally ill. I knew that Varanasi would be the most shocking part of India, but what I didn't realize was that the train ride to the city would be the most terrifying experience of my life.

Per a suggestion from Marco, a fellow traveler we met in Darjeeling, the third class sleeper train was the way to travel; it was cheap, comfortable, and totally safe. Marco was clearly smoking something, because the second I set foot in the train car I wanted to turn back. There were 8 beds per compartment and about 8 compartments in each train car. If you do the math, there should have been 64 people per car; but India is not logical and people do not follow rules.

In our 8-person compartment there were 14 people crammed in. Men slept 2 to a bed that was 1/2 the size of a twin, and a few others slept like sardines on the floor. (We reserved one bed per person and were the only people in the train who slept solo). There were over 100 people, easily, shoved into our non-airconditioned train car. The smell was horrific: a mix of stale air, body odor, feces, fried food, and urine. At each stop peddlers came through trying to sell chai tea from a dirty kettle or some fried dough balls covered in flies.

WARNING: The next paragraph is slightly graphic.

I don't even want to get into the bathroom situation. The floor was covered in a half-inch thick layer of God knows what and the smell made me gag. I walked in and immediatey turned around, grabbed a pack of antibacterial wipes, and wrapped a scarf around my face to mask the scent. A few hours later I tried to brave the bathroom again, but the second time was so much worse. It's as if the entire train splatter painted the bathroom. No more details necessary.

As I mentioned before, people come to Varanasi to die; therefore, the train is packed with the diseased and dying. They sleep along side of you in the cars, they sit in their own feces in between the cars, and they hack, cough, and excrete wherever they please. I think we were the only tourists on the train, which only added to our discomfort; people stared at us for hours at a time. The whole situation was awful and depressing.

Here is an excerpt from Brett's blog that describes the train ride:

"On the train, we were some of the only people who had purchased an individual bed. Most people slept two to a bed with two or three other people on the floor between them. Feet and hands poked out from every crevice. Eyes peered over the beds and in between broken boards. The stares were unnerving and the smells were revolting. People slept in feces near the bathrooms--lying in the dark space between cars too weak to move. Our train crept along at a pace that makes the FDR during rushhour seem like an abandoned highway in middle America...
The whole experience felt like a nightmare from which one cannot wake. I kept thinking that if I only pinched myself a bit harder, I would wake up somewhere comfortable or tolerable, but all I could see were hundreds of people, poor, dirty, and desperate. I clutched my passport and money belt tighter." I think that sums it up pretty well.

I was emotionally spent after 10 hours on the train and on the verge of a breakdown. I hadn't slept more than 2.5 hours, I felt so dirty, and I had to pee. Then we found out that our train was indefinitely delayed. We were stranded in Patna, 7 hours outside of Varanasi.

With no other options, we jumped off the train from hell and decided to hire a car to Varanasi. That is when I saw it: the bodies of two young men huddled together, dead, and covered in flies. I lost it. I broke into tears and wanted nothing more than to be safe, comfortable, and as far away from India as possible.

Hiring a car proved to be impossible. The only tourist agency in the city tried to overcharge us (shocking, I know!) and when we tried to discuss the details about 50 people swarmed us. They just came to stare, but the crowd was so big that we couldn't move. An hour later we were strong-armed into buying another train ticket and booking it to Varanasi.

We safely made it to Varanasi after 20+ hours, but I have never been more miserable, dirty, or tired in my entire life. This experience was the last straw for our group; it was time to get out of India. After reading this you might think we were being prissy, but I can honestly say that the things we saw on the train were some of the most awful, heartbreaking sights I have seen on my trip.

On a more positive note, this was my rock bottom. Everything post-Varanasi (sans the motorbike accident) has been absolutely amazing. I'll update more when I can!

xoxo

Highlights from India

Unfortunately my laptop broke and my camera only works 10% of the time. I'm going to go ahead and use my broken electronics as an excuse for why I haven't posted in over a month. Sorry for the delay. (Also, if you want an even more up-to-date post, check out Brett's blog. His most recent entry is a bullet-pointed list we made up of all the things we don't have time to blog about).
___________________________________________________

When I left India I was dirty, tired, and (probably for the first time in my life) speechless. It took me over a month to digest everything I saw and experienced... not to mention their spicy curries. That being said, this entry is going to be a highlight reel of sorts, but I'll save my scariest, saddest, funniest, grossest, and weirdest stories for separate posts.

I. Hippie Paradise: A few Days in Dharamsala (aka MacLeodganj)

While Avery was back in the States sorting out her passport/visa stuff, Seth and I fled from the Delhi heat and booked it up north to Dharamsala. This city/town/village is set in the foothills of the Himalayas and acts as a capital for the Tibetan government-in-exile and homebase for the Dalai Lama.

The Abridged Version:
-We visited (and loved) all of the major tourist attractions: the Dalai Lama's temple complex, the Tibetan Refugee museum, etc.
-We freed ourselves from our bad karma by spinning the Mani Prayer Wheels. (Side note: I decided that over the past year I must have been a terrible person. Spinning the wheels did NOTHING for my karma; the proof is in the motorcycle accident, Varanasi train ride, and hellish overnight bus trips. I'll get more into my string of bad luck later).
-We got suckered into buying over-priced prayer beads. But they're from Dharamsala, I keep telling myself.
-We helped Tibetan refugees improve their English as they told us their exile stories.
-We meditated and got in touch with our Buddhist sides. Om.
-I drank 2 pots of tea per day.
-We met the Dalai Lama.

Okay, the last one is a lie... he was in NYC when we were in Dharamsala. Go figure.

II. A Night at the Golden Temple

On our way back to Delhi, Sennai dropped us off in Amritsar to see the Golden Temple. This is one of the most holy and significant temples in the Sikh religion with thousands of pilgrims visiting the temple daily.

Long Story Short:

-We ate in the communal kitchen with hundreds of other pilgrims. The kitchen is run by volunteers and feeds every person that comes into the temple. The food was pretty debatable, but I had a piece of bread and called it a day. Seth, on the other hand, devoured every last bit of the gray, goopy curry.

-We got to see the priests putting the scriptures to bed. According to Sennai, this is a rare occurance and a very cool thing to see. I would have to agree.

-The temple is incredible. We went at night and the reflection of the temple in it's surrounding lake was beautiful. Sennai also agreed that the reflection was pretty and tried to take artistic shots of the temple and the lake. The pictures are terrible, at best, but the man tried. (Seth will be posting Sennai's shots in the near future).

-Before this whole pilgrimage to Amritsar, Sennai dropped us off at the India-Pakistani border for the changing of the guard ceremony. It was hot, muggy, and Yom Kippur (and Seth was observing the holiday). Although Seth was feeling faint, we still had a good time. The area was PACKED with Indian tourists chanting, singing, and dancing and the guards were completely synchronized. I have a video of the event, but it won't let me upload.

III. Sunrise Seranades at the Taj/Brett Joins the Group

So for some reason we always get talked into taking sunrise tours/trips/excursions. Why do we willingly wake up at 4 to do this sort of thing? Pictures look better in the early hours. It's less crowded than at noon. Sunrise is peaceful. Who knows? But the Taj at 6am could not be cooler. Oh, and Brett flew in from China to travel with us through December.

Quickly:

-The Taj is way more impressive in person. I know this is obvious, but I wasn't too keen on seeing it in the beginning. I assumed that this was an Eiffel Tower/Statue of Liberty type thing that I could see a picture of and be perfectly saisfied. No way.

-We had an awesome tour guide who not only dressed like he was a cast member of Saturday Night Fever, but also told us little bits and pieces of lesser known Taj trivia.

-We met a 60-somthing year old Taiwanese man who seranaded us as the sun came up. He proceeded to tell us how Taiwan wants to be the 51st American state; after he chanted Tai-wan-five-one! he would do a little jig and awkwardly laugh. Laslty, he told me that next year he's taking his girfriend to the Taj at sunrise (because it's so romantic) and he will sing to her and if he can't help himself, he will touch her. Inappropriate? I think so, but the man was hilarious.

IV. Sucking it up and Hiking the Himalayas/Avery Returns

Some how I was talked into signing up for a 3-day trek through the Indian and Nepali (Nepalese?) Himalayas. As you know, I don't typically engage in any sort of outdoorsy activities, but the boys pitched the idea, argued that it was a once in a lifetime thing, and convinced me that seeing Mount Everest would be worth every rupee. To physically prepare I combed through Darjeeling's markets and bought a big, itchy sweater, a knit hat, and some baggy socks. (I looked gross, obviously). To mentally prepare I begged the boys not to hike too far in front of me.

In Short:

-We hired a guide, named Buddha, to lead us on our trek.

-The actual hiking was really fun and not too exhausting. I kept up with the boys the whole time.

-The Himalayas are unbelievably gorgeous (I have 384204 pictures on my semi-broken camera) and the people in Nepal could not have been more inviting.

-We were supposed to see Everest on our second day of trekking, but a serious rainstorm crushed that dream. I am still pretty bitter.

-The rain was so heavy that the threat of landslides and hypothermia kept all of the hikers from climbing. That means we stayed in a Nepali guesthouse for 24 hours playing cards, drinking tea and some weird mustard beer, and trying to keep warm. They don't have heaters up in the mountains.

-Me and the boys had to share one queen-sized bed and use 12 comforters to keep from freezing during the night.

-On the third day we got to see the third highest Himalayan peak, Mount Kangchengjunga.


V. Operation Get Me Out of India

Overall, my feelings on India are completely polarized. On one hand, the diversity, holy sights, and culture are unbelievable and unlike anything I have ever seen before. On the other hand, the dirt, poverty, and constant chaos are absolutely jarring. I think I am oversimplifying it by saying I was culture shocked.

Our original itinerary had us gallivanting all over India for about five weeks; however, after three and a half the vote was unanimous: we were over India. I was a bit disheartened, mostly because I was SO excited for the Indian portion of my trip. All summer I learned about the entire country, read India-related books (of the travel and fiction variety), and had a few lengthy discussions with my Hindu Lit professor about his time in India; despite my research, I could not have been more unprepared. At this point Avery decided to part ways and the boys and I changed flights around and decided to take an island vacation from our vacation. Sun, beaches, bars, what could be better?

______________________________________________

I hope this post will tide you over for a few days, but here's what's coming next:

-Taking a 24 hour train (stuffed with diseased and dying people) to Varanasi. (Yes, I will be backtracking to India, but this experience deserves its own post).

-Being a beach bum in Ko Chang (Thailand)

-My motorbike accident (also in Ko Chang)

-Going on a safari and exploring the rainforests in Sri Lanka

-Why I absolutely LOVE Vietnam and never want to leave

Oh, and it's official: i'll be home at 4:30pm on December 6th. Let the countdown begin!

xoxo

A Day in Chandigarh

Judging by the phone calls my mom received, my last post apparently caused a bit of a panic. Don't worry, Seth and I are safe and sound; we were both a bit neurotic in Delhi, but we are enjoying ourselves up in the Himalayas.

I'll pick up from Thursday, when Senni (our driver), Seth, and I booked it out of Delhi and headed to Chandigarh. On our way out of the city, the streets became less crowded with people, but the traffic did not let up. Buses, trucks, and auto-rickshaws were packed to the gills and people had no reservations about hanging off the sides or tops of the vehicles to get to their next destination. Even motorcycles were piled high with two or three adults and a small child--all without helmets--and swerved in and out of trucks recklessly.

As we chugged along the highway my culture shock started to fade a bit and the guilt set in. Here I was sitting in an air-conditioned car with a scam artist/driver, while people were packed like sardines in neighboring cars and buses. The guilt only got worse as the poverty became more apparent. Most of the housing outside of the city was made up of sheets of corrugated metal, plastic tarps, and piles of brush or garbage molded into walls.

(I just want to mention that Vodafone and Pepsi are probably the most advertised companies in and around Delhi. They slap their logo on the sheets of corrugated metal that people use for doors, walls, and ceilings, and for a minute I thought that Vodafone was the only cell phone provider in India. Then I realized that I was an idiot).

Back to the trip…The route from Delhi to Dharamsala is roughly 13 hours. To cut the long drive down, Seth and I decided to spend an afternoon and night in Chandigarh, the capital of both Punjab and Haryana. This city was built in the 1950’s and was completely designed by Le Corbusier, a modern architect. It’s known for being an affluent city (although Indian affluence is very different from American affluence) and is also one of the cleanest cities in India. I don’t know if I agree with the latter half of that statement, but apparently the population in the city surged over the past five years. More people, more garbage.

Chandigarh is relatively new and lacks any trace of traditional Indian architecture. There are no fancy domes or intricate facades; instead, the buildings are geometric and mostly made from gray concrete. I know it sounds pretty gross, but what makes the city so attractive are the thousands of flowers that bloom in February. Since it’s September, we didn’t see one blossom, but the city was still nice. (Truthfully, anything would have seemed nice at this point. I was--and still am--scarred from my 24 hour run in Delhi).

So we get to Chandigarh and Senni takes us to the Rock Garden.

This is Seth in front of a terracotta wall. Obviously.
The story goes something like this: a Pakistani refugee, Nek Chand, was horrified by the amount of waste that accumulated when the city was being built, so he hoarded a ton of it on his property and started making sculptures.

Some houses made of recycled plastic and glass.

When Chand had tens of thousands of sculptures he illegally designed and constructed a garden on government land. It took 15 years before the Indian government heard about his project, but they granted Chand permission to continue.

Some of Chand's glass people.

The Rock Garden is now recognized as one of Asia’s most significant recycling programs; how ironic, considering India is filled with mountains of garbage.

Monkeys made from plastic and glass.

Afterwards we wandered over to the man-made Sukhna Lake (Le Corbusier designed this, too) and rented a swan-shaped paddle boat to kill some time.

Here are some paddle boats. If the picture looks muggy, it's because Delhi and Chandigarh seems to be constantly shrouded in a cloud of dust. My lungs are suffering.

Chandigarh might have a reputation for being clean, but the lake was a different story. The water looked toxic and when I asked Seth how much it would take for him to jump in, he said at least $5,000. (I don’t think I could ever be persuaded to take a dip).

We ended our day with an early dinner* (read: feast) of super spicy chicken, parantha (a stuffed bread), and some vegetable-sauce-spice medley and went to bed.

*Even if Senni was/is a scam artist, he is GREAT at letting waiters know that I am allergic to dairy products. I find this priceless when traveling in a country that depends heavily on ghi (clarified butter) and yogurt-based sauces.

Sensory Overload

I don’t know where to begin. I think I am suffering from a severe case of culture shock and can’t properly sort out my thoughts. Seth and I boarded the Athens-Delhi flight, but had a layover in Bahrain (an island in the Persian Gulf). As soon as we entered the terminal we were the odd ones out. I was wearing a long dress and a sweater--to respect the conservative dress code-- but was the only lady without her head covered. When I went to use the bathroom there was a porcelain squat toilet (basically a hole in the ground) without a door. Let’s just say I had to put my ideas of privacy aside and adapt to the Bahrain style. Oh, and while I was waiting for the squat toilet, the lady in front of me asked me to hold her baby. She took her sweet time and I awkwardly held her baby who looked absolutely terrified. It was an uncomfortable experience for both parties.

When we got to Delhi I was completely speechless. I had no idea what to expect, which was probably for the best. It’s hard to describe the city, but I am going to try my best., First of all, a few people warned me about the smells. Apparently the hot September heat just exacerbates the natural smells of India. Lonely Planet describes the smell as sweat, chai, smoke, urine, and curry all mixed together, yet individually identifiable in one whiff. I think this description is dead on. The smell sounds terrible, but it’s actually not bad. Distinct, but not bad. The heat bakes the scent onto your skin, hair, and clothing, but I got used to it quickly. In fact, the smell is the least of my troubles.

As to be expected, the city is noisy: people are shouting at each other, taxis and trucks honk their horns constantly, and every once in a while music is blasted from a store front. Lastly, people were everywhere. Pedestrians, shopkeepers, vendors, and beggars crowded the sidewalks and spilled onto the streets. The people weaved in and out of the auto-rickshaws and taxis cabs, without hesitation, and it causes more honking and reckless drivers. I experienced all of this from behind the window of my taxi.

Here is a picture of a bus in Delhi. It is common to see people sitting on top of the bus or hanging off the side, because the city is so crowded.

Seth and I checked into the hotel, took a nap, and then attempted to find the only government approved travel center in Delhi. It was essential that we went to this specific travel center, because many to the travel agencies in Delhi are scams. It was also important that we booked our next few days through an agency, because India is huge and transportation is confusing.

It took us a few hours to find the travel center. During the hunt we were harassed by male students who “just wanted to practice their English.” This is one of the most prominent scams in Delhi; men pretend to be students around the Connaught Place area and then give you false directions, usher you into stores and taxis of their bosses, and you end up pay money for something you didn‘t want. Don’t worry, we ignored them and kept on walking. A little bit further down the road a lady came up to us with a child who wasn’t properly fed and missing a leg. I know that you aren’t supposed to give anyone money, so I didn’t, but I was so emotionally overwhelmed at the sight of her child that I teared up. I was wearing sunglasses to hide the vulnerability in my eyes, but I guess you could tell I was foreign from a mile away. Other people tried to heckle us into their stores or buy their unidentifiable food substances from their carts, but we just kept going and tried to look like we knew what the hell was going on.

This is a picture of women hanging off the back of a small pickup truck. Some of the ladies on the sides (not pictured) were holding babies on their hips, while other small children held on tight.


(Side note: I was wearing my ugly walking shoes to navigate the dirty streets. 10 minutes in, I was covered in 8 blisters and within the half hour they were rubbed raw.)

We finally got to the center and we were warned by the person helping us: “If you pick the wrong travel agency, your wonderful trip will be an absolute NIGHTMARE.” He really emphasized the word nightmare. I’m not going to go into what I was thinking this moment, but I was so stressed out and worried with all of the “what ifs.” I asked the man to suggest a reputable agency in the area and we were pointed to some place down an alley that was conveniently used as a public restroom.

Is it any surprise that the travel agency was a hole in the wall? When Seth and I were walking down the alley the smell was so atrocious I wanted to turn back around. There were people with little make-shift stands set up on the side of the road and they were all shouting at us to visit their area. We tried to pretend we didn’t speak English to throw the vendors off, but Seth speaks Portuguese and I barely speak any Spanish. That plan clearly failed.

(Unfortunately I din't get a ton of pictures of Delhi--I was too nervous to whip my camera out--but I will when I return to Delhi in a few days).

I am going to try to make this novel of a post a bit shorter. Cue the bullet points:

-We get to Grace Travel (or whatever it was called) with the intention of traveling to Dharamsala (the home base for the Tibetan government in exile and the Dalai Lama) or Varanasi (on the Ganges River). We have 6 days to kill before Brett, another friend from Columbia, joins us in Delhi and we still aren’t sure when Avery is meeting us.

-We settle on Dharamsala, because its in the Himalayas and should be much cooler than the inferno that is Delhi. A friend of mine also studied abroad here and sold me on the city.

-The agency tries to figure out our itinerary, but I have read up on scams, and even though this place was government approved, we were not giving out any more info then necessary. The man tried to tell us that if we have extra time after Dharamsala, we should head up to Kashmir, stay on a houseboat, etc. RED FLAG! Kashmir is very dangerous and many
Delhi agencies try to con you into heading up and exploring. They have connections in the city and make a commission off of your ignorance. (At this point I am kicking Seth under the table and say, “Wow, that sounds awesome! I wish we could, but we are leaving for Vietnam on the 29th [bold-face lie] so we can’t make the trip.”)

-We book our Dharamsala trip: a driver picks us up, takes us 5 hours away to Chandigarh for the night. The next day we set off to Dharamsala and spend 3 nights in the mountains. On the fourth day he meets back up with us and we go to Amritsar, see the Golden Temple, and head back to Delhi to meet Brett. We get all the details written out in the contract. I make him add “no hidden fees” and a bunch of other things to secure what we were promised. I get copies of all of our hotel confirmations and receipts. The men think I am neurotic, but I am just taking all necessary precautions.

-And then we passed out at the hotel. We were exhausted, my feet were in pain, and we had big plans for the next morning.

Despite my somewhat alarming post, we are enjoying ourselves and absolutely love what we have seen of Dharamsala.We are at the mercy of internet cafes, since there is no Wi-fi in our hotels, but I will write our update on and Dharamsala before we leave. Oh, and I will add pictures next time I am at an internet café. I’ve been here for 2 hours and I have places to go and the Dalai Lama’s Temple to see.