An exercise in awkward, part 1

At the end of our 48 hour stay in Agra, we left around 7 to catch an 8 PM train to Jaipur. The train finally pulled into the train station a little after 10 PM. A young Indian man with next to no English was awkwardly following us around the train platform. We  moved. He moved. A few times he tried to engage us in conversation, but was largely unsuccessful. I'd sweated off my bug spray within the first half hour waiting, so every mosquito in a 5 mile radius was getting their evening meal from me. I saw a puppy get kicked purposely by two different people. There was no place to sit or set my backpack down. When the train finally came, we had to share our compartment with 4 Indian men. Aside from eating fragrant food that ended up mostly on the floor for the first part of the ride, they were okay, until it came time to sleep. Since the train was so late, I was planning on sleeping a few hours, and setting my alarm for our arrival to Jaipur. I had the bottom bunk, and the guy on the middle bunk did not want to climb up there. So instead he sat next to me, on my "bed" the entire time, preventing me from laying down. He sat cross legged, with his bare feet dangerously close my legs. I spent most of that evening giving myself a pep talk. 

"You wanted to come here. You love to travel. Traveling is fun. Traveling is fun. Traveling is fun. This 20 year old Indian's feet centimeters from your lap is all part of the experience and it won't kill you. Traveling is fun. Traveling is fun. Traveling is fun. You wanted to come here. You've dreamed of coming here. Pop some Advil for the backpack induced back pain and rub some tiger balm on the mosquito bites and tomorrow you'll be good as new. Traveling is fun. Traveling is fun." 

Finally, sometime between 2 and 3 AM, the train arrived in Jaipur. Luckily, we knew our hotel was a short rickshaw ride away from the train station. As we descended the stairs in front of the train station, we were bombarded. About 20 drivers were forming a wall at the bottom, ready to pounce as poor unsuspecting tired tourists made made their way out of the station. Anya and I tried to make our way through the crowd to the prepaid taxi stand. We eventually shook all the drivers except one, a guy named Raja, who was probably in his early 20s and 6 inches shorter than me. He followed us to the taxi stand, and at this point we were both too tired to care. We paid at the taxi stand, and made our way to Raja's auto rickshaw. 

We knew it was coming, so we were not surprised when Raja pulled up in front of out hotel and started his sales pitch, trying to get us to hire him for the next day. His price was good. We were tired. And we knew we'd have to hire a driver to go see the places we wanted to see. So we agreed. 

Our hotel was a delight, which was exactly what we needed at that point. Even though the shower was less than a trickle, it was wonderfully warm. The room was bright and even had a little balcony. 

After a solid night's sleep and breakfast at the lovely rooftop restaurant, we met Raja at our agreed upon time. It was obvious from the get go that he was...something. I could never figure out if he was sincere or a first rate schmoozer. He blared the Hindi tunes while trying to convince Anya and I to take a turn driving his rickshaw. I would have considered it, if Indians drove on the right side of the road. 

Raja was very insistent that we see the "real" Jaipur. So, as Anya pointed out, the first place he took us was to the Jaipur destination deemed "top choice" by the good folks at Lonely Planet, Iswari Minar Swarga Sal, which is a minaret built by someone or other. Going to "top choice" touristy destinations doesn't bother me. I don't think I've ever gone to Paris and not visited the Eiffel Tower.  I always figure places become popular for a reason. So I was fine with this "top choice" location. The views of Jaipur were incredible. And the climb to the top was spirally and just a tad bit scary. 

On top of the minaret, this is one of just a few pictures of Anya and I on the trip. I like it because my money belt is oh so conspicuous. By the end of the trip I was just carrying it around in my purse, because it was uncomfortable and all the bread I'd been eating was causing me a lot of stomach discomfort, and it wasmade worse by the pressure from the money belt. But at this point, I was still wearing it with gusto. 

At the bottom of the minaret. The tour guide insisted we do this cheesy shot. Indians don't take no for an answer.

Another stop on Raja's nontouristy tour of Jaipur was some tomb. I never understood what he was saying when he told us the name. I've tried googling it, and have found several possibilities. The problem is all the pictures of  "Jaipur tombs" look like the place we went, but the names are all different. So does this place not really have a real name? Or do all the tombs in Jaipur look the same? Is there only one tomb in Jaipur people visit? I don't know, but if I were a betting person, I'd call it the Royal Tombs. 

Our next stop was the Amber Fort. Sometimes it's spelled like Amer Fort. I don't know why the difference. But the Amber Fort is a bit outside of the center of Jaipur. It sits atop a hill, very formidable. If I were an intruder back in the day, I'd have skipped the Amber Fort. It was really beautiful, but hot hot hot, with little shade and no breeze. And it was also gigantic, and Raja seemed to think we'd only need an hour to get through it. After an hour of the sun beating down on us, all the rooms were starting to look the same, for real. So I wasn't too broken up to take a shortened tour.

Our first views of the fort

The gardens

This picture makes me laugh, because it's clearly roped off, meaning stay away. But this family didn't seem to notice/care, and climbed through the ropes for the perfect photo op

After leaving the Amer Fort, we drove past Jal Mahal, which tourists can only admire from a distance. Raja said it's used for government meetings now, or some such thing. Though other bits I've read online say it's not used for anything, though there is talk of fixing it up for tours, a hotel, etc. But who knows? Those are probably stories other rickshaw drivers told their tourists, who then went home and wrote in their blogs about it, as I'm doing. 

It was at this point in the day that Raja became less of our "friend" and more of a salesman. He took us to a gem/silver shop, owned by the most powerful guru in Jaipur. The jewelry was pretty, but not being into wearing much jewelry, I didn't buy anything. He also said he could read auras, and both of our colors were amiss. The only fix? Crystals, which he sold at his shop, naturally. 

Our next stop on Raja's real experience tour of Jaipur was a textile shop. While I was able to leave the jewelry shop without spending any money, I was no match for the textiles. I'm a sucker for bright colors. I bought some scarves for my mom and sister, and my absolute favorite souvenir from the trip-a bedspread, which is currently brightening up my room. The shop was cool. They showed us their work space, and how they block print the fabric, etc. Like most other shops we visited on our trip to India, this one claimed to help support poor widowers from the villages outside of the city. Whether or not that is true, I guess I'll never know. But I like to think it is. 

After the hit our bank accounts took from the textile shop, Raja took us to a temple. He assured us it was fine for tourists to visit, but as Anya and I removed our shoes and climbed the stairs, the looks we were receiving from the locals made us think otherwise. We quickly peeked inside, then put our shoes on and peaced out. By then, it was pushing 6 o'clock, and we were tired and hungry. We asked Raja to take us back to our hotel. Raja decided our day wasn't done, and we just needed a bit of down time. He took us back to the hotel, and said he'd pick us up in an hour and a half or so for dinner. Ummm...? It caught us so off guard that neither of us could think of an excuse fast enough. So a short time later, we found ourselves once again in the back of Raja's auto rickshaw. He took us to what he claimed was his favorite restaurant in Jaipur, which happened to be the rooftop restaurant of a different hotel. He didn't eat anything, saying he'd already eaten at home. He only had chai. After a few short and awkward minutes of conversation, a puppet show started. The marionettes were beautiful, but the show itself was lackluster. We had no choice in watching it, and of course after it was over we had to give them a tip as the puppeteers tried desperately to sell us the marionettes. I am sure the proceeds from the puppet sales went to help poor widowers in the villages.

After the puppet show, Raja's friend joined us. The boys chained smoked and talked in Hindi, while Anya and I awkwardly sat across from them. Raja himself wasn't a particularly threatening person, but for some reason the two of them together upped the creep factor a bit. The evening had a double datey feel to it, and I didn't like it. They were both Muslim, so they didn't drink, but told us several times it was okay if Anya and I wanted to start drinking. We both knew that was a bad idea and declined.

Eventually, Raja's friend left, but the creep factor did not return to it's original nonthreatening level. Raja made it obvious he was seeking Anya's affection. He told us sob stories about his former girlfriend (from Japan, or Germany, or somewhere, I'm getting the stories told to us by different Indian guys mixed up), and how he has to support his family now. He told us about wanting to be a Bollywood star and wanting a foreign wife. I don't remember why, but at one point he was touching our hands across the table. He started talking about wanting a vanilla girlfriend, and calling himself chocolate. So so so so massively uncomfortable, and it wasn't even me he was after. 

Finally, mercifully, the evening came to an end. We left the hotel at same time as several of Raja's friends, all auto rickshaw drivers. The street was dark and quiet, and this little rickshaw gang made me uncomfortable. Of course nothing happened. They all parted ways, and Raja took us back to the hotel with no more talk of vanilla mixing with milk chocolate. 

I am fairly certain this evening is one Raja has a lot. He did not pay the hotel for his chai. He seemed to know the hotel employees, including the guys doing the marionette show. The hotel dog seemed quite familiar with him as well. The only thing that changes is the tourists he brings there. The idea this whole evening was a set up did not make it less awkward. It did not erase the vanilla and chocolate reference from my brain. 

The best thing about the evening, aside from the lifelong memories we created, was the food. Raja suggested we try the thali. I'd never heard of a thali. I felt like a complete failure and could no longer call myself a fan of Indian food. A thali is a 3 or so small portions of different curries, a couple different breads, yogurt, rice, sometimes a sweet, etc. I always pick my meals at restaurants based on what has the most variety. I want to try as much as possible. I don't want a gargantuan portion of one thing. It's why I love tapas so much. So being introduced to a thali was maaaaaaaaybe worth the awkwardness we'd endured.

Even though that was definitely one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life, when Raja asked if we wanted to hire him to drive us again the next day, we agreed. Though strange, he was nicer than the other drivers we'd had, and cheap. 

Anya and I returned to our room, sort of laughing, sort of relieved, asking ourselves what the heck just happened, and wondering what young Raja had in store for us on our second day. 

Lady Taj and her court

People go to Agra for one thing, and one thing alone, the jewel of India-The Taj Mahal. Sure there are a few other sites to see while there, but let's be real. No one goes to Agra to see the "Baby Taj" and there's a reason why the most crowded place in Agra Fort was the room with impressive views of the Taj Mahal in the distance. Agra's other sites are kind of just things to kill time before/after visiting the Taj Mahal.

Having just arrived from Delhi, Agra seemed peaceful in comparison. But, much like Delhi, it was impossible to walk down the street without being pestered by men trying to get tourists into their restaurants and shops. It was here that I learned an effective way to get them to leave me alone was to brush them away with one hand, as if I were shooing a buzzing insect from my ear. It sounds insensitive, I know. But politeness means yes to them. A response of  "no, thank you" would result in them following me down the street, yapping in my ear about whatever goods they were selling.
In order to protect the Taj from pollution, cars and other pollution causing things are not allowed within a certain distance from it. Our hotel was located in this pollution free zone, which made walking around much more doable than in Delhi. And the hotel was situated a bit off the main road, complete with a garden courtyard, and a male dog named Fifi. It was a wonderfully peaceful oasis. The food at the hotel restaurant was subpar, but that didn't stop us from eating every meal there. The atmosphere was that perfect.

We arranged for a taxi to take us around for a day. The plan was to wake up early, visit the Taj before it got toooooo crowded, eat breakfast, then meet the driver. We learned quickly that it is impossible to beat the crowds there. We arrived shortly after it opened, and it was already packed. The hoards of people ever so slightly took away from it, but not really. It was beautiful, majestic, and sparkling white. One on side of it is a fake mosque. On the other side is a real mosque. We went to the wrong one.

My Taj Mahal complaint- I read somewhere about bringing a flashlight to the Taj Mahal to shine it on the marble and jewel to see the sparkle. I didn't plan on doing that. But I did have a flashlight in my bag, because electricity is shaky in India. Every place we stayed lost power at least once. So I had a flashlight, and I didn't think it would be any problem. Security to get into the Taj is similar to airport security. There are metal detectors, bag xray machines, guards, etc. So they scanned my bag, and told me I had to have it searched. I had two prohibited items-a pack of gum, no biggie, I usually only chew gum on airplanes, and my flashlight. The guards grumbled at me, and started to throw my flashlight away. I said "NO!" I asked if I could come back for it, they said no. Why? I have no idea. So the best I could do was have them throw away one of the batteries from it. As it turned out, they might as well have thrown away the whole flashlight because AAA batteries are impossible to find in India. And as luck would have it, the electricity in our hotel bathroom was out upon our return to the room, and the bathroom two hotels later had no light. Each time I peed in the dark, I cursed the guard for throwing away my battery.

We met our driver, and he took us around to a few sites in Agra. And like our driver in Delhi, he also took us to some tourist trap shops, one for jewels, one for marble stuff, and I think there was one more he suggested, but we refused. By that point, we'd caught onto their gig-they see foreigners as clueless walking ATMs. We ended up asking him to take us back to the hotel before our time was up. We'd seen all there was to see in Agra, and the temperature was in the upper 90s. We were tired, hungry, thirsty, and hot. We didn't feel like riding around in his car, looking at nothing, just to get our money's worth. We knew it was time to part ways when he dropped us off at some dodgy path in the middle of nowhere, with a camel tied to a tree, and told us to walk down the path to see the "backside" of the Taj Mahal. Ummmm, ok? We did as we were told. As we walked down this deserted path with the sun beating down, we were positive this is where it ended for us. The view, though it was through a chain link fence, was nice, I guess. Was it worth the drive all the way out there in a hot stuffy car with a not hot but definitely stuffy driver? No.

On our ride back to the hotel, the driver was doing his best to persuade us to hire him to drive us to some place whose name I've forgotten the next day, but it would have involved a several hour car ride to the middle of nowhere and skidding back into town just in time for our 4 hour train at night.
-You must see it. Very beautiful.
-No, thank you.
-Yes, yes, very beautiful.
-We are tired. We want to stay in Agra tomorrow.
-Back for your train. No problem.
-No, thank you.
-Yes, ok, for you, nice price.
-I'm sure it's lovely, but no.
-How much you want to pay?
-Ok, give us your phone number, and we will call you about it.

That was the only way we were finally able to end this conversation. I am pretty sure we threw his number away as soon as we got back to the hotel. Though I never found it amusing when I was hungry, tired, and thirsty, I have to give the Indians credit for their persistence. For a lot of them, they rely on tourism to earn their living. If I had even a fraction of their persistence, I'd at least be self sufficient and have a full time job.

Entering the Taj Mahal complex involved a lot of gates, like this one, which was inside other gates. 

My first glimpse of the Lady Taj

I hope when I die someone loves me enough to build something like this for me

I took a whole lot of pictures, most of them look like this or the one above. I'm not very creative. 

On the left is the real mosque, not the one we went to. 

Side view

Fake mosque, built just to even things out

Every 17th century mausoleum needs a flashing electric sign board

Taj Mahal mosque

If anyone can tell me what a wazoo or a namazie is, I'll for real bake you something delicious 

The Taj Mahal is covered in carved things like this, and I can't even cut a loaf of bread evenly.

She's also very bedazzled. The ladies selling stuff on Home Shopping would approve. 

Agra had lots and lots of monkeys. Most places in India had monkeys, and I never got tired of seeing them. I had to hold back a squeal every time. 

Agra Fort

Agra Fort

Agra Fort

The aforementioned room in Agra Fort with the good view

This is the Baby Taj. I could pretentiously write out its real name, like I knew what it was, but come on now.   I'd have to google it. It's someone's tomb, but I don't remember the name. It's something foreign sounding. If you want to know more, you can google it the same as me. 

A bedazzler was also used on the Baby Taj

Travelin'

As per my previously mentioned OCD, Agra is the next logical India post. And that is what this started out as. But, our trip to Agra was a big deal. A huge deal. Huge. Quintessentially Indian. Yes, there's the Taj Mahal and all that. And yes, Agra is the name of every Indian restaurant, ever. But I'm talking about the train. The trip to Agra was my first time on the Indian train. Huge.
I'd rambled for a few paragraphs about the train with little mention of Agra, when I realized the train really needs its own entry. Agra will have to wait.

As excited and ready as I was to leave Delhi, I was also slightly nervous. At least in Delhi, I (sort of, not really) knew what to expect. My nerves were getting frayed, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to keep my cool for three weeks of this. But, our train tickets were already paid for, so we were going.
After a final meal at our beloved Tadka restaurant, we timidly asked the surly front desk employee for a taxi to the train station. Having NO CLUE what time to arrive for our train, we decided to err on the side of waaaaaaay too early. We left the hotel a laughably safe 4 hours early. Neither of us were super eager to spend any extra time at Hotel Namaskar anyway.

Oh, the train in India. Despite not doing a lot of my travel homework about India itself, I had spent a lot of time reading about the train. It more than slightly intimidated me. Before booking the tickets, I'd read every travel blog I could find about do's and don'ts. I'd read about everything from robberies to fires to derailings.

The first journey was a quick and easy 2 1/2 hours. The trips got progressively worse after that.  Our Agra to Jaipur was 4ish hours. Jaipur to Udaipur was 7 hours. To get from Udaipur to Varanasi, we had to take a 12 hour train, then a 12 hour layover in Delhi, then a 14 hour train to Varanasi. But the worst train was our final voyage. The train that took us back to Delhi was scheduled to be 14 hours, leaving at midnight and arriving a little after 2 PM. It was about an hour late, then somewhere along the way we lost a couple more hours. Our actual train time was a little more than 16 hours, sharing a compartment with the farty old man and booger picking and wiping on the window child I mentioned a few posts ago.

So the 2 1/2 hour ride to Agra was a good way to get our Indian train feet wet.

There are several classes on Indian trains. I knew I wanted to avoid this, which I'm sure everyone has seen this picture or ones like it floating around the internet.

But I also didn't think a sleeping compartment with a locked door was necessary for this short train. So we ended up on the 3 tier air conditioned car, which basically was a sort of sleeping compartment for 6 people, with no door or anything, and three levels of bunks that folded down during the day. And most importantly, air conditioning. 

Friends, before you judge me, hear me out. I'm not one of those people who needs air conditioning. I can stand a lot of heat better than most people I know.  I'll go running or ride my bike happily when it's 85, 90, even 95 degrees.  My black car currently does not have a functioning AC. If it's hot, I put the top down when it's parked in the driveway, to keep the inside cooler. The seats are light tan, so they absorb slightly less heat than the black roof. Then, when I go somewhere, I put the top up and go. It sort of works, as my make up only partially melts off instead of entirely. Most times air conditioning in shops and restaurants makes me too cold. But, the train in India is a different sort of beast. The cars are packed full of people eating very fragrant food of questionable freshness. The temperatures hover in the mid to upper 90s. There is not a lot of air circulation.  Air conditioning is a must. Yes, there are plenty of travelers who want the "true" experience and travel with the masses. I'm fairly certain they do that for a travel trophy story, and little else. So maybe I lost some street cred in their eyes by going for the air conditioned class. But what I lost in street cred, I made up for in comfort by not having my legs sticking to the vinyl seat for the duration of the ride. Plus, the difference in price is not that much. Slam dunk. 

Our first train station in Delhi, while not being the main station, was still big, packed with people, and intense. Like all the other train stations, there was a help desk specifically for foreigners, that looked like no one had been inside there since the days of steam engines, which actually in India probably wasn't that long ago. Hahaha, but really. 

We had about 3 hours to wait. Ho hum. We found a waiting room for women only, and sat down. But the smell from the adjoining bathroom was overwhelming, and I couldn't take it. However, the only seats at the train station were literally within feet of the bathrooms. No thank you. We eventually accepted defeat, found a less dirty spot of pavement to sit on, and waited the few hours for our train. 

Even with the hoards of people pushing and the hard to understand announcements, we found our car and seats fairly easily. And right on time, we happily bid farewell to Delhi as the train left the station. After the train made its first stop, we realized there was no announcement as to what station we were at. Unlike Amtrak, no conductor walked down the aisles to make sure sleeping passengers didn't miss their stop. India sure keeps a girl on her toes.

As long as the train was on time, things were fine, because the tickets had an arrival time. But, as it turns out this was one of only two trains we took that was on time. So I became that annoying person on the train who ran to the train door at each station to see if I could see a sign, or asking someone sitting around me what station we were at. Thankfully, we never found out what happens if you miss you stop, or get off too soon. 

I talk about bathrooms a lot. Do I feel that makes me juvenile? No. Bathrooms are universal. It's something everyone can relate to. So, a bit about the train bathrooms is a must. Like most other public restrooms in India, it's a squatter. No biggie. I'm kind of a pro at using a squatter, though the motion of the train did present a new challenge. But what got me about these squatters is that there was no tank or anything. It was just a hole that went straight down to the tracks. Hahahaha. I didn't take any train pictures, so while googling to try and find some to post on here, I found several articles saying all the human waste is actually corroding the tracks, and they are working to fix that problem. It wasn't fixed when I was there. 

But truthfully, aside from the last train back to Delhi when I saw the evidence proving that Indians are in fact not immune to Delhi Belly, the train bathrooms were not that bad. They didn't smell too horrible, and there was running water in the sink. I'm not saying I'd like to read the Sunday papers in there, but the train bathrooms in Morocco were unusable...or maybe my standards are way lower now. Either way, they were better than I expected. 

I also shared a bathroom stall with a rat at the train station in Udaipur. 

Why is it my descriptions of India all sound so negative?? It really wasn't a bad place. If someone offered me a ticket to go back tomorrow, I'd go. India was shocking, exhausting, and so different from anywhere I've been. And maybe I'm coming across as negative, but it was a lot of the things like rats in the bathroom and flaming piles of trash that made it unlike any place I've been before. So naturally that is what stands out in my mind. But there's also so much positive. The food, the food, the food! The locals were kind. The beautiful colors of the fabric were irresistible. I bought 7 scarves while there, and I don't wear scarves. It's cheap. The landscape is stunning. The "can I take my picture with you?" requests made me feel like a celebrity. And so on. 

Anyway, back to trains. There was plenty of food available on the train. There were nonstop parades of men walking up and down the aisles, loudly announcing what they are selling. "Chaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiii! Chaaaaaiiiiiiii! Chiiiiips! Chiiiiiiips! Veg cutlet! Coffeeeeeeee!" And so on. However, I read many times that the train food is not safe for my delicate western stomach. So in order to avoid spending too much time in the train bathroom, I did not partake. But that meant for the duration of all the rides (no problem for the 2 1/2 hour trains, not as okay for the 14 hour trains) my meals were made up from chips and cookies I'd purchased from the station prior to departing. 

And several of the stations were lots of monkeys. Win! 

 Here are some pics courtesy of google image. 

This is more or less what the compartments looked like, except this is a non air conditioned car. There windows were only covered by those little bars, not glass or anything of the sort. 

This station is considerably cleaner and waaay less crowded than any of the ones I saw, but you get the idea.

And because I have to-

Shout out

I'm putting India posts on hold.

When I was in 7th grade, we had to write 2 book reports a month. This was never a problem for me, as I enjoyed both  reading and writing.  However, as made very evident today by Facebook, Twitter, and various other forms of social media, basic English writing is a problem for many people. Maybe it was more of a secret in the preFacebook days of the mid 90s, but I'm sure English/reading teachers were still acutely aware of this problem. So in order to make things more fair for the students who never took the time to learn  the difference between your and you're, every so often in lieu of a written report, we did some sort of "fun" project. Truthfully, while more time consuming than reading a book, writing a little blurb, throwing in a few original thoughts, and getting an easy A, I didn't really mind the special projects. It was fun to cook a "pioneer" recipe after reading a Laura Ingalls Wilder book, or make a timeline of Mark Twain's life. The only thing that got me was when the special projects required me to speak in front of the class. I wasn't voted quietest in the PHS class of 2000 because of a love of public speaking. So even though it's been a little over 18 years, I still remember with horror I felt when it was announced that our book report project one month was to read the same book as a partner, choose a selection from the book, and perform a skit in front of the class. Due to a band lesson on library day, my partner and I got the last selection of books, and ended up with some boring book that took place during the Revolutionary War. I don't remember what it was called, but I do remember it involved me having to ride a horse made from a stick pony and a chair, while singing Yankee Doodle. Oh, the humiliation. But, my friends, that is when I peaked, at the ripe young age of 12. I'm fairly certain that was the last time I took the stage, aside from a few times during high school speech class.

Now, my point.
My beautiful sister and I don't share that trait. She glows on stage. One of the worst parts about being in France and Korea was that I missed all of her performances at college. Sniffle sob. I've seen most of the shows she's been in since my return, and every time I'm still blown away at how much poise and talent my baby sister has. It seems like just a short time ago she was army crawling her way around the living room in order to find things such as box elder bugs to put in her mouth.

Please take a second to appreciate how talented she is. I'm not biased, but someone give this girl a record contract! And if you ever get the chance to see her on stage, go go GO!