I've become an international babysitter. Last month my brother flew me from CT to Ohio to look after his kids and today I'm watching my cousins kids in the UK. Since, I'm all about travel and getting the 'insider' experience, I'm wondering if this is the way forward career-wise.
My cousins kid's are pretty cool. There's something about little kids with British accents that crack me up. Aged 7 and 4 with white blond hair and blue eyes, all proper and smart like they stepped right out of some turn-of-the-century English children's novel like Dicken's or Peter Pan. There's kind of a nostalgic fairytale feel with them - old school charm. I wake up in the morning to the eldest playing piano and go to bed after a family viewing of my pictures of India - all cuddled round on the sofa, the kids completely engrossed in my tales of the Taj Mahal, camels, elephants and monkeys.
At the same time, it's culture shock after India and some of the stuff I encountered, but didn't put in my blog. It's hard to reconcile and comprehend that both worlds exist at the same time. Driving to the airport in the early morning leaving India the sidewalks were home to sleeping dogs and people. I'd been out walking the night before and kept coming across piles of what I thought were discarded trash bags and burlap sacks in my path. Garbage is everywhere, so it's something you get accustomed to. Then, I'd see a hand sticking out from beneath the rags and realize with a shock I'm about to step on someone. Those that were lucky had beds tucked into alleys that were woven from rubber strips of tire and fashioned to a handmade frame crafted from recycled wood. The most haunting moment came when trying to exit a rickshaw. A woman with anremmaciated baby blocked out way out of the cart. The child was curled in a fetal position tucked against her breast sleeping. It's head was bald with a giant wound wrapping from ear to ear across the back of its head. It looked like it had been scalded by hot water or worse.
It was the afternoon after my visit to the non-profit where I'd been warned by the director about parents who harm their children intentionally to be able to beg more 'efficiently' from tourists. It wasn't the first time I'd heard this since telling people I'd be visiting India and, then of course, there's the scene from Slumdog Millionaire. (I'd heard an interview on NPR with the film's director, he had validated the validity of the scene and so did the women I'd met with earlier that day.) I was told explicitly not to encourage the practice by giving to anyone who approached me with an injured child. It seemed logical and obvious when I agreed, but how do you walk away when actually faced with it?
Co-existance can be a strange thing - leaving all that and boarding a flight back to England. (Did I mention the flight path took us right over Afghanistan? Isn't that restricted airspace or something? We flew directly over Kabul... Just how effective are those surface to air missile launchers?? I mean, really, is that the safest route home?? ) On the plane I was given a British paper to read - the headline story recapping two police detectives who share a job and watch each other's daughters on their off days. The government has deemed their arrangement illegeal for some reason I can't figure out, and put an end to it. Then this morning the call-in on BBC radio taps the outrage over postmen leaving "sorry you weren't in" notices on people's doors and not attempting to deliver packages when the residents were indeed home. Really? The difference of the two worlds has left me in a head spin. I think I've lost track of where I am....
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Flat Tires & Proposals
Am back in the UK now doing the family thing. Fed went back to the US last week and I'll head home this weekend.... despite all kinds of craziness I am safe and relatively unmarried.
Our last day in India was insane. Rakesh drove us back to Delhi after a couple days in Jaipur. His car had been hit by a tuk-tuk whacking one of the rear wheels out of alignment before starting the trip with Federico and me. Not sure why he didn’t get it fixed, but for the entire trip we listened to it thump awkwardly. Finally, as we entered Jaipur it went flat, but because of the holiday/festival Rakesh couldn’t get the problem fixed or buy a new tire. So, here we are, about to return to Delhi, a 250km trip on a bum wheel – should take four hours.....
Eight hours and five, yes FIVE flat tires later, we arrive. Basically we’d go 40kms, the inner tube would pop, we’d put on the second tire. We’d then take the first tire to a ramshackle roadside hut, where some guy would take out what looked like a bicycle repair kit and patch the tube. Never mind the tire itself has a giant cartoon style jagged edge hole in it. We’d then go for another 30 mins, it would explode again and we’d repeat the process. For someone who complained it their last blog about getting a watered down sterilized India experience this was comically absurd and I was loving every second. We also get invited to Rakesh's for dinner that night. Fed declined because he had work to do, but I agreed.
It ends up being one of the most bizarre nights of my life, culminating in Rakesh offering an arranged marriage between me and his 24 year old son. Honest. I can just imagine my father getting a crackling phone call at 3.15am from a distance Indian man offering to take me off my father's hands for the price of a cow. Apparently when Rakesh's other son married he got a bunch of furniture and a ceiling fan with the new daughter-in-law. No joke. But the daughter-in-law can't speak in front of Rakesh or show her face. I made the faux pas of trying to speak to her when Rakesh was present and was told to stop.
The whole set up of 'dinner with my family' was really weird - it ended up being just the two of us eating while his family served us (mainly his wife). Weirder still, we sat at a makeshift table in the bedroom Rakesh shares with his wife.
I'm still trying to process, but did decline the marriage proposal.... If you want the full story you're going to have to ask - I swear I couldn't make this stuff up...
I did learn that 90% of marriages in India are arranged and found the following comparison which I though was interesting. It's from an Indian speaking to a BBC correspondent:
“In your country you marry the woman you love. Here, we love the woman we marry. You fall in love and then get married. We get married then fall in love.”
I think I'll stick to the bar scene.
Our last day in India was insane. Rakesh drove us back to Delhi after a couple days in Jaipur. His car had been hit by a tuk-tuk whacking one of the rear wheels out of alignment before starting the trip with Federico and me. Not sure why he didn’t get it fixed, but for the entire trip we listened to it thump awkwardly. Finally, as we entered Jaipur it went flat, but because of the holiday/festival Rakesh couldn’t get the problem fixed or buy a new tire. So, here we are, about to return to Delhi, a 250km trip on a bum wheel – should take four hours.....
Eight hours and five, yes FIVE flat tires later, we arrive. Basically we’d go 40kms, the inner tube would pop, we’d put on the second tire. We’d then take the first tire to a ramshackle roadside hut, where some guy would take out what looked like a bicycle repair kit and patch the tube. Never mind the tire itself has a giant cartoon style jagged edge hole in it. We’d then go for another 30 mins, it would explode again and we’d repeat the process. For someone who complained it their last blog about getting a watered down sterilized India experience this was comically absurd and I was loving every second. We also get invited to Rakesh's for dinner that night. Fed declined because he had work to do, but I agreed.
It ends up being one of the most bizarre nights of my life, culminating in Rakesh offering an arranged marriage between me and his 24 year old son. Honest. I can just imagine my father getting a crackling phone call at 3.15am from a distance Indian man offering to take me off my father's hands for the price of a cow. Apparently when Rakesh's other son married he got a bunch of furniture and a ceiling fan with the new daughter-in-law. No joke. But the daughter-in-law can't speak in front of Rakesh or show her face. I made the faux pas of trying to speak to her when Rakesh was present and was told to stop.
The whole set up of 'dinner with my family' was really weird - it ended up being just the two of us eating while his family served us (mainly his wife). Weirder still, we sat at a makeshift table in the bedroom Rakesh shares with his wife.
I'm still trying to process, but did decline the marriage proposal.... If you want the full story you're going to have to ask - I swear I couldn't make this stuff up...
I did learn that 90% of marriages in India are arranged and found the following comparison which I though was interesting. It's from an Indian speaking to a BBC correspondent:
“In your country you marry the woman you love. Here, we love the woman we marry. You fall in love and then get married. We get married then fall in love.”
I think I'll stick to the bar scene.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Independent India??
Last full day in India tomorrow - yep, time flies.... Did something a litte unusual on this trip and hired a driver to do the outside of Delhi excursion to the "Golden Triangle" - Agra (Taj Mahal), Jaipur, Delhi. Usually I do my backpacker thing - take public transportation, stay in local family run hotels, eat at local restaurants and try to absorb into the place as much as I can. What I didn't know is that this is a big holiday weekend in India, so all the transport was booked months ago. Our hotel in Delhi offered to arrange a driver, hotels and everything in between for us. A 'package' trip. Didn't have much choice and figured why not....
Ironically a writer friend of mine recently wrote a piece on the pros of cons of independent vs. group travel. I helped with the critique and struggled to remember what organized travel was like.... now I remember.
We have a great driver, Rakesh, and nice car with a/c. Huge benefit as everyday had been mid 90s/30s and humid - and women need to be covered shoulder to toe. The downside is I feel like I'm experiencing the country through a vaccuum sealed viewing pod. Every restaurant, hotel, shop has been pre-determined by a highly elaborate ring of commission and kickbacks to both Rakesh and the hotel in Delhi who organzed the trip.
The restaurants are purpose built for tourists - not a scrap of Hindi on the menu, but plenty of club sandwiches. The shops are designed to accomodate buses full of Euro-Yankee travellers, complete with inflated prices and limited room for negotiation. We're corralled and lead through room after room of mass produced products unable to escape. Each stop commands an hour of our time. Rakesh gets paid $4 for bringing us there and 2% commission on whatever we buy. How do I know this? He told me.
I like the guy and understand he has a family to feed, but I feel like a puppet to the king pin of India's tourism trade. They are controlling most of our moves and watching where Rakesh's car travels to ensure he takes us to assigned stores and does not cheat the king pin. It's twisted - we are 6 hours from Delhi, but Rakesh recieved a call this morning asking why we missed a stop yesterday that was in the middle of nowhere. Yes, we missed it. Yes, we had a flat tire. Yes, Rakesh was questioned. The network is vast.
It appears that tourism in India is about controlling where the money is spent and ensuring your network is the one benefitting - something that sucks when you're here to learn about the country and experience the life. Marketing and consumerism are wiping out India's abilty to showcase is history, culture, people with a sense of passion an ethnic pride. Instead I am held captive by an invisile man who wants my dollars and nothing more. I guess that how the word works today, but form now on I'll stick to ackpacking.
Don't worry though, I've found ways round the system and my independence is still intact. Just this morning I hired a rickshaw, hit an outdoor market (with no room for tour buses), bought a painting directly from the artist and, dog-forbid, ate tandoori chicken from a man who spoke no english. Mmmmm delicious.
Ironically a writer friend of mine recently wrote a piece on the pros of cons of independent vs. group travel. I helped with the critique and struggled to remember what organized travel was like.... now I remember.
We have a great driver, Rakesh, and nice car with a/c. Huge benefit as everyday had been mid 90s/30s and humid - and women need to be covered shoulder to toe. The downside is I feel like I'm experiencing the country through a vaccuum sealed viewing pod. Every restaurant, hotel, shop has been pre-determined by a highly elaborate ring of commission and kickbacks to both Rakesh and the hotel in Delhi who organzed the trip.
The restaurants are purpose built for tourists - not a scrap of Hindi on the menu, but plenty of club sandwiches. The shops are designed to accomodate buses full of Euro-Yankee travellers, complete with inflated prices and limited room for negotiation. We're corralled and lead through room after room of mass produced products unable to escape. Each stop commands an hour of our time. Rakesh gets paid $4 for bringing us there and 2% commission on whatever we buy. How do I know this? He told me.
I like the guy and understand he has a family to feed, but I feel like a puppet to the king pin of India's tourism trade. They are controlling most of our moves and watching where Rakesh's car travels to ensure he takes us to assigned stores and does not cheat the king pin. It's twisted - we are 6 hours from Delhi, but Rakesh recieved a call this morning asking why we missed a stop yesterday that was in the middle of nowhere. Yes, we missed it. Yes, we had a flat tire. Yes, Rakesh was questioned. The network is vast.
It appears that tourism in India is about controlling where the money is spent and ensuring your network is the one benefitting - something that sucks when you're here to learn about the country and experience the life. Marketing and consumerism are wiping out India's abilty to showcase is history, culture, people with a sense of passion an ethnic pride. Instead I am held captive by an invisile man who wants my dollars and nothing more. I guess that how the word works today, but form now on I'll stick to ackpacking.
Don't worry though, I've found ways round the system and my independence is still intact. Just this morning I hired a rickshaw, hit an outdoor market (with no room for tour buses), bought a painting directly from the artist and, dog-forbid, ate tandoori chicken from a man who spoke no english. Mmmmm delicious.
Taj Mahal
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- speechless.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Subway Vindaloo
So there's not much night life here in India.... just in case you're wondering why I'm spending every night on the blog!
Visited the volunteer agency this morning which was really impressive. They've partnered with a bunch of NGOs in the area and really have their stuff together. They've set up volunteers to do everything from a three hour project teaching street kids how to brush their teeth to a year long internship helping women sell their handmade crafts. They're also doing a bunch of stuff that I never even considered, but could definitely develop into. I was buzzing when I left the place thinking of the possibilites. Plus the staff is very efficient and exactly the type of program I want to be working with. Best of all I felt like I was able to capitalize on the BA gift. The woman even said to me, as if cued, "How lovely to see a face and not be on the phone." Ha!
the rest of the day was an adventure in eating. We landed in a place featuring South Indian cuisine and had to share a table with a local guy. Wasn't too happy at first - I mean I already felt self-conscious enough not knowing what the heck I was ordering or how to pronounce it. But when he ordered before us, I just followed his lead and said I'd have the same - a little food roulette. Turned out it was some Thali thing that came with 10 pots of sauces on a banana leaf tray, a bowl of rice, 3 puffed bread and pompadon... yeah, right? What the heck?? Luckily this guy, Jaipal, saw my confusion and showed me how to eat it like a local. Next thing I knew I had chucked my cutlery and was mixing sauces and rice by hand on the banana leaf . (The leaf has some property that helps sooth the stomach, so he says.) Then he showed me how to properly pack the rice mixture in my hand and eat it. India's one of those countries where you onlyeat with your right hand and save your left hand for 'dirty' work. Dig it. Anyway, loved the whole processa nd the food was AMAZING - felt like a kid making mud pies... and so tasty! Just not so sure about the yellow fingernails....
The only problem with the food here is that it's all Indian. (That's meant to be funny.) Seriously though, breakfast, lunch and dinner is all curried something.... though not the holy cow. I love Indian, but once a twice a week is usually my limit - I know my dad and brother would say I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth, but I caved and went to Subway tonight. I tried to stay cultural and got a chicken tikka sub, but they didn't warn me it was more like a hot, fiery vindaloo. The only Subway in the world that needs to add heat ratings to its food. We did stop in to look at the McDonalds menu too - not a beef burger in sight.... just chicken and veggies.
The other event of the day was my encounter with a palm reading fortune teller. He gave me some interesting info and told me I'd die in my sleep at age 85. Seriously? Are they allowed to do that? So with this new found confidence, I stepped off the curb directly into traffic....
So tomorrow we leave Delhi and head to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal and then spend two nights in Jaipur. Excited to get out of the city and see what the rest of the country is like. Keep you posted....
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Delhi Dolly
I realized today that the time difference from here to the US is 9.5 hrs. Don't usually get the .5 hour, so decided to celebrate it... just not sure how yet... or why.... just feels like it deserves it. Maybe I should drink a mango lassi every 30 minutes? Or throw down some Bollywood style dance moves?
The only other time I encountered something like it was in Nepal, where Kathmandu is Xhrs and 45 mins ahead. Now that really throws off the time/space thingy, but anyway....
So one of the 'extras' that Fed negotiated for our upgraded room was a divine view of a show that was taking place next door. There's a mini outdoor amphitheatre (located in the middle of the surrounding slum), microphones, loud music and lots of kids. What a treat! Except it started at 8 and didn't finish until 2am. I really have no idea what it is or why people send their kids to it so late... it's kind of a British pantomime type thing, but on a school night. At one point there were four grown men pretending to paddle an oversized canoe though dry ice across the stage while singing in Hindi. I enjoyed the first 4 1/4 hours, but got bored around midnight and developed a migrane by dawn. I've only had about a half dozen migraine's in my life, but the show plus a hot day in a black t-shirt and jeans knocked me out. Lucky me just learned the 'show' is a regular nightly feature and we'll be treated to a sequel tonight. Maybe I'll record it for you.
I also got to play dress up today. The morning was a waste thanks to my head, but made it out to go sari shopping after lunch. We walked into a shop and it was like stepping into a rainbow. The colors are just unreal and all the glittery little beads... it's hard to say no... so I didn't. I tried on a million combinations - trying to find one stylish and modern enough to transition to the streets of NYC. The greatest thing is that you buy a giant dress and then the onsite tailor takes your measurements and custom fits it for you. The guy sits outside of the stall with an old-school hand operated sewing machine resting on a table with only three original legs. The Singer looks identical to the ones in a museum my aunt once took me to and is probably a leftover from the British Raj. Even so,I came back an hour later and my clothes were a perfect fit. Yes, clothes. I couldn't decide which outfit to get..... so I bought three (my trademark manuever when faced with indecision), complete with leggings and scarves to match. All for the price of a single pair of mid-range jeans back home. BARGAIN!
I also bought a new pair of shoes - and the FUGLIEST shoes I have ever put on my feet. I swear they will not make it home with me. Bought them out of necessity after my flipflops tore a hole in my foot yesterday. Nothing like walking through India with an open wound just inches from the filth and pestilence smelting below your feet. Potentially I'm doomed to one nasty infection, please pray the new kicks save me.
So yeah, this trip is taking on a absurd vibe. For one I'm not really a pantomime viewing shopper when I travel, but then I don't usually have company either. The first thing Fed said he wanted to do while we stood waiting for his bags at the airport was get a manicure. His hotel requirements demand WiFi and he was really excited about finding a store last night that sold Lindts, Doritos and Ben & Jerry's. In fact, he's so excited he's taking his camera back tomorrow to film it - no joke. Usually, I'm just excited to find a foreign bed that doesn't contain fleas - brand names optional.
Thing is, I appreciate the different outlook. It's amusing ( I tease him openly, so don't think I'm being mean) and plus it distracts both of us from the poverty and unsettling sites we've seen. I worked at a homeless shelter for a while, so I'm not completely unaccustomed to people who are down and out, but India is bad. There was a guy today sleeping beneath an underpass (actually there were about six or seven men) - his clothes, hair and skin were all stained the same grimy color of the dirty ground where he made his home. He slept with his mouth wide open while a parade of flies camped out on his cheek. Maybe he was too far into slumber to feel them or maybe there comes a point when you no longer bother to wipe them away. Either way it's an image that hit me, but also why I'm here. Tomorrow I'm meeting with a volunteer placement agency and will learn the true depth of the needs here.... based on what I've seen it'll be a sobering day. Maybe Fed will have some Ben & Jerry's waiting for me when I get home.
The only other time I encountered something like it was in Nepal, where Kathmandu is Xhrs and 45 mins ahead. Now that really throws off the time/space thingy, but anyway....
So one of the 'extras' that Fed negotiated for our upgraded room was a divine view of a show that was taking place next door. There's a mini outdoor amphitheatre (located in the middle of the surrounding slum), microphones, loud music and lots of kids. What a treat! Except it started at 8 and didn't finish until 2am. I really have no idea what it is or why people send their kids to it so late... it's kind of a British pantomime type thing, but on a school night. At one point there were four grown men pretending to paddle an oversized canoe though dry ice across the stage while singing in Hindi. I enjoyed the first 4 1/4 hours, but got bored around midnight and developed a migrane by dawn. I've only had about a half dozen migraine's in my life, but the show plus a hot day in a black t-shirt and jeans knocked me out. Lucky me just learned the 'show' is a regular nightly feature and we'll be treated to a sequel tonight. Maybe I'll record it for you.
I also got to play dress up today. The morning was a waste thanks to my head, but made it out to go sari shopping after lunch. We walked into a shop and it was like stepping into a rainbow. The colors are just unreal and all the glittery little beads... it's hard to say no... so I didn't. I tried on a million combinations - trying to find one stylish and modern enough to transition to the streets of NYC. The greatest thing is that you buy a giant dress and then the onsite tailor takes your measurements and custom fits it for you. The guy sits outside of the stall with an old-school hand operated sewing machine resting on a table with only three original legs. The Singer looks identical to the ones in a museum my aunt once took me to and is probably a leftover from the British Raj. Even so,I came back an hour later and my clothes were a perfect fit. Yes, clothes. I couldn't decide which outfit to get..... so I bought three (my trademark manuever when faced with indecision), complete with leggings and scarves to match. All for the price of a single pair of mid-range jeans back home. BARGAIN!
I also bought a new pair of shoes - and the FUGLIEST shoes I have ever put on my feet. I swear they will not make it home with me. Bought them out of necessity after my flipflops tore a hole in my foot yesterday. Nothing like walking through India with an open wound just inches from the filth and pestilence smelting below your feet. Potentially I'm doomed to one nasty infection, please pray the new kicks save me.
So yeah, this trip is taking on a absurd vibe. For one I'm not really a pantomime viewing shopper when I travel, but then I don't usually have company either. The first thing Fed said he wanted to do while we stood waiting for his bags at the airport was get a manicure. His hotel requirements demand WiFi and he was really excited about finding a store last night that sold Lindts, Doritos and Ben & Jerry's. In fact, he's so excited he's taking his camera back tomorrow to film it - no joke. Usually, I'm just excited to find a foreign bed that doesn't contain fleas - brand names optional.
Thing is, I appreciate the different outlook. It's amusing ( I tease him openly, so don't think I'm being mean) and plus it distracts both of us from the poverty and unsettling sites we've seen. I worked at a homeless shelter for a while, so I'm not completely unaccustomed to people who are down and out, but India is bad. There was a guy today sleeping beneath an underpass (actually there were about six or seven men) - his clothes, hair and skin were all stained the same grimy color of the dirty ground where he made his home. He slept with his mouth wide open while a parade of flies camped out on his cheek. Maybe he was too far into slumber to feel them or maybe there comes a point when you no longer bother to wipe them away. Either way it's an image that hit me, but also why I'm here. Tomorrow I'm meeting with a volunteer placement agency and will learn the true depth of the needs here.... based on what I've seen it'll be a sobering day. Maybe Fed will have some Ben & Jerry's waiting for me when I get home.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
India....?
I'm in India... don't ask how I got here. Or where I've been. I'm not sure I know myself. It's been about three months since my last entry and most of you just gave up following me. I get that, but here I am drunken with jet lag in the middle of India wondering how cows became a staple feature in the afternoon rush hour. Seriously.
I arrived this morning courtesy of a trip I won through British Airways. My business brought me here - it won the contest. Kind of a boring story, but BA was looking to help small business grow internationally by flying them out to have face to face meetings with their international partners. I applied, they liked my gig and now I'm eating curry for breakfast.
It's all good timing though and probably the push I needed. The Central American trip just kicked my butt - tougher than I thought and super exhausting. Travelling solo, being constantly on the move and covering hundreds of miles can be toxic. Throw in a few extra unexpected problems and that wristband beach resort doesn't sound so hideous after all. Truth is, it took me the rest of the summer to get back on my feet. Just need to get over the final hurdle now and what can be more therapuetic that landing in the chaos of Delhi?
Luckily, the terms of the prize allowed me a travel buddy, so I recruited my friend Federico. Known him for a few years and he's been helping me with some webstuff, so figured this was a good way to say thanks. Plus he's good fun and the only person out there who can actually take off for three weeks on short notice. See, I applied an hour before the deadline, was told I won the middle of last month and left a week ago. We spent seven in London and never really adjusted to UK time before getting here. Guess I'm now ten hours ahead of the US? The flight was nine hours, overnight, the city just lost power (thank dog this computer lab has a generator) and two plus two doesn't seem to equal four anymore.... my space time mathematical continuim is all kinds of screwed up.
So we landed this morning in a 92 degree soup of smoggy humidity. (I only brought jeans - whoops.) I can't even figure out how to describe this place either. Frantic chaos? I mean we took a cab from the airport to our hotel. The driver goes along a four lane highway at top speed, but nobody pays attention to the lane markers, so it becomes six or seven lanes as cars straddle the lines and lanesplit like motorcycles. We witness an accident and the tow truck pulling a car away. It looked like an old yellow tonka truck and it just dragged the wreck sparking and smoking down the highway by a single piece of rope. We get off the highway and enter morning rush hour, battling it out with buses, tuk-tuks, rickshaws, and carts pulled by bikes, manpower, cows or elephants all ramming each other without care. (And don't forget the holy cow who decides to take a nap in the middle of the vehicular mess.) It's scary when you realize you need to hire a taxi just to pick you up do a u-turn and drop you on the other side of the street.
Buildings, alleys and people are just as manic. Fed got freaked out by the original hotel we booked and insisted we go to a different place. Fine by me and he pulled great deal - something to be said for not going solo. The guy's got an advantage though. He's born and raised Connecticut, but his family is from Peru - over here he looks native. It's working both for and against us. People talk to him in Hindi and taxis give us local rates, but then people look at me like I'm some kind of Euro-Yankee Sugar Momma..... except I'm broke and bed sharing just isn't our thing.
The other thing is how much the locals are fascinated by white people. Kinda surprising when you remember India is a former British colony - I woulda thought they'd had enough of us. Either way, I've already posed with six random people who found me more interesting than the local tourist attractions.... ??? I always wanted to be popular.
Will try to get some pics posted tomorrow and promise to never complain about I-95 again..
I arrived this morning courtesy of a trip I won through British Airways. My business brought me here - it won the contest. Kind of a boring story, but BA was looking to help small business grow internationally by flying them out to have face to face meetings with their international partners. I applied, they liked my gig and now I'm eating curry for breakfast.
It's all good timing though and probably the push I needed. The Central American trip just kicked my butt - tougher than I thought and super exhausting. Travelling solo, being constantly on the move and covering hundreds of miles can be toxic. Throw in a few extra unexpected problems and that wristband beach resort doesn't sound so hideous after all. Truth is, it took me the rest of the summer to get back on my feet. Just need to get over the final hurdle now and what can be more therapuetic that landing in the chaos of Delhi?
Luckily, the terms of the prize allowed me a travel buddy, so I recruited my friend Federico. Known him for a few years and he's been helping me with some webstuff, so figured this was a good way to say thanks. Plus he's good fun and the only person out there who can actually take off for three weeks on short notice. See, I applied an hour before the deadline, was told I won the middle of last month and left a week ago. We spent seven in London and never really adjusted to UK time before getting here. Guess I'm now ten hours ahead of the US? The flight was nine hours, overnight, the city just lost power (thank dog this computer lab has a generator) and two plus two doesn't seem to equal four anymore.... my space time mathematical continuim is all kinds of screwed up.
So we landed this morning in a 92 degree soup of smoggy humidity. (I only brought jeans - whoops.) I can't even figure out how to describe this place either. Frantic chaos? I mean we took a cab from the airport to our hotel. The driver goes along a four lane highway at top speed, but nobody pays attention to the lane markers, so it becomes six or seven lanes as cars straddle the lines and lanesplit like motorcycles. We witness an accident and the tow truck pulling a car away. It looked like an old yellow tonka truck and it just dragged the wreck sparking and smoking down the highway by a single piece of rope. We get off the highway and enter morning rush hour, battling it out with buses, tuk-tuks, rickshaws, and carts pulled by bikes, manpower, cows or elephants all ramming each other without care. (And don't forget the holy cow who decides to take a nap in the middle of the vehicular mess.) It's scary when you realize you need to hire a taxi just to pick you up do a u-turn and drop you on the other side of the street.
Buildings, alleys and people are just as manic. Fed got freaked out by the original hotel we booked and insisted we go to a different place. Fine by me and he pulled great deal - something to be said for not going solo. The guy's got an advantage though. He's born and raised Connecticut, but his family is from Peru - over here he looks native. It's working both for and against us. People talk to him in Hindi and taxis give us local rates, but then people look at me like I'm some kind of Euro-Yankee Sugar Momma..... except I'm broke and bed sharing just isn't our thing.
The other thing is how much the locals are fascinated by white people. Kinda surprising when you remember India is a former British colony - I woulda thought they'd had enough of us. Either way, I've already posed with six random people who found me more interesting than the local tourist attractions.... ??? I always wanted to be popular.
Will try to get some pics posted tomorrow and promise to never complain about I-95 again..
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