Adventures in Asia: Part I - India via Hong Kong

So we went to an ATM. Foolishly I hadn't brought my ATM card, and Hilary's was Mastercard and the only ATM in the so-called "international" airport only took VISA. Paula, fortunately, had a Visa ATM card and she was able to get out 6000 rupees, about 130 USD. Pissed off and tired and with little money, we went outside to get a taxi to our hotel. Mistake. Once outside we found out we had to go back inside to get a prepaid ticket for a taxi, but found our way blocked by security, and we were permitted to send 1 person in with no bags. We chose Paula because she had the hotel information and the only money. Another mistake - we probably should've sent me because I'm a man. While Hilary and I waited outside we spotted a Korean family and asked them about the money issues, but the guy just said "sorry I live here" and left. 

When Paula came out, she had the taxi slip but she was pissed off. Inside, she'd gone to the Delhi Police Prepaid Taxi stand where she was informed that the taxi would cost 410 rupees. With a purse full of fresh 500 rupee bills from the ATM (and only 500 rupee bills), she quite obviously chose to give the guy a 500 rupee bill. After glancing down at her purse and then back up, the guy plopped up a 100 rupee bill and said "it's 410." She fought him and insisted that she had given him 500 (especially since it was literally impossible for her to have given him anything else except Korean Wons) but in the end she had to give him another 500. All in all, things were off to a great start.

We got in the taxi, an old-school affair resembling a VW Vanagon but quite a bit smaller, and without any A/C, and headed off towards who knows where (hopefully our hotel). One of the first things you notice in India is the smell. The air is just thick and heavy and very very smelly. The next thing you notice (if you're in a car on the street) is the absolute lawlessness of the roads. I thought Koreans were bad with their red-light running and making turns from the wrong lanes and scooters going the wrong way but Oh. My. God. India takes it to a whole new level. Many cars are lacking functioning brakelights and most don't have - or use - turn signals. We had arrived late at night and cruising down the "freeway" with us at about 1am were a bunch of kids sitting halfway out the windows of their cars, high-fiving and waving their arms to music, and touching their friend's car, all while their drivers weaved and swerved with zero regard for the lines on the concrete. I don't think Indian people even know that you're supposed to stay in the lines. 

Then there's the things you see on the sides of the roads, which our first night was mostly people sleeping. People sleeping on the dirt roadside, people sleeping in the luggage rack on their taxi, people sleeping in their rickshaws, and people even sleeping in/on the divider in the middle of the freeway. It was dark and there are minimal street lights so we didn't see much but we could tell from the rough dirt roads that Delhi was gonna be a shock. We finally got to our hotel and before going to bed we tried to ask the hotel manager about taking the train to Agra the next day to see the Taj Mahal, but all we could get from him was that his driver would be there in the morning and we could hire him to drive us there, which we didn't want to do. Eventually we made it to sleep at around 3am-ish.

In the morning we looked out the window to see a shocking sight. Delhi was just about the opposite of Hong Kong. Dirt and dirt and dirt. Not exactly encouraging on our first day after the previous night's experience, but we had to head out and try to catch the train. We had some information from Lonely Planet and stuff about the possible trains to Agra, but we'd had to sleep past the fast train (2 hours) because we got in so late the night before. We had a time though, so we headed off the train station, ignoring our hotel manager's suggestion that we hire his driver for 5,000 rupees. We also missed a crucial piece of information in Lonely Planet's entry about Delhi and the train station.

We only had to walk a couple blocks but the experience of being out on that street makes any short walk quite the experience. Not only that but it started to rain hard as we approached the station. Exhausted and dripping wet we approached across the taxi parking lot and saw a giant building, open with no clear "main" entrance, and filled with people. I'm pretty sure that all the taxi drivers and everyone had gone inside because of the rain and so there was a giant wall of people facing us, pretty terrifying to enter. They all pointed us down further so for some reason we kept going, following their pointing. We found a ticket-buying area, where we were quickly intercepted by an official looking guy who asked us where we were going, and we told him. Mistake. He led us away from the ticket office back into the rain and started telling us a bunch of stuff and confusing us and something about construction and that the train we wanted we had to buy tickets somewhere else and then go to Old Delhi station (we were at New Delhi station) and so we foolishly listened to him, foolishly got into an auto-rickshaw, and found ourselves at the West Indian Tourism Development Company(?), talking with a tour guide about our options for going to Agra.

We went through a lot of stuff about trains and possible classes and waiting lists and all this stuff and also hiring a car and we could see other stuff in addition to the Taj Mahal, but we really just wanted to see the Taj Mahal. Uncertain of what we were doing and really exhausted, we (I) made the (wrong) choice to take the car for over 7,000 rupees, which I paid with my credit card, because at this point everything had sucked and I wasn't interested in messing with the trains and just wanted something to be easy and good (fat chance). We also talked to him about our possibilities for booking an overnight train to Varanasi from Delhi the next day, and eventually he guaranteed us tickets on a 3 o'clock train getting to Varanasi at like 6:30 am and we left, planning to go back to the office to pick up the tickets around noon the next day.

We got in the car with our driver and started the loooong journey to Agra.

I don't know if it's the existence of Bollywood or what made me think India was modern but I had no idea just how undeveloped it really is. If you're interested, read some of the info on Wikipedia, starting with Poverty. You hear about cows causing traffic jams in India but until you're actually there you don't realize that that's not a rare occurrence at all. It's hard to describe everything you see on the side of the road driving through India but there's a ton of cows, a ton of people just standing around, a ton of people doing manual labor, people pooping, people peeing, people everywhere, biking or walking along the street. Generally, unless disrupted by a cow as in the above photograph, car & truck traffic sticks to the right lane(s) and the left lane is populated by all other traffic - pedestrians, cyclists, rickshaws, autorickshaws, slightly-less-adventurous cows, goats, pigs, etc. One of the cooler things about traffic in India is the trucks and buses, which are colorfully decorated with handpainted logos and graphics, usually instructing you to "Blow Horn" when passing, or to "Use Dipper at Night" i.e. flash your lights instead of blowing your horn. Everyone is always honking in India, except at the cows, and I think it's because side-mirrors seem to be considered an unnecessary addition to the width of your vehicle which should be folded in (if possible) or sheared off ASAP. So, when you pass someone, you have to honk the whole time so they know you're there and don't try to change lanes. Also, it seems that they just change lanes without reason, without signal, and without looking, so if no one is honking then you're free to assume that the lane is open and they just go. Suffice it to say, it is an unbelievable experience to ride in a car in India.

Along the way to Agra, we left Delhi (it is its own state) and entered Uttar Pradesh, at which point we had to stop and pay some tax. Conveniently located at the place where we stopped our car were a bunch of guys with monkeys on leashes. While our driver was out paying the tax, the guys surrounded our car, putting the monkeys up on our windows and holding up crap for us to buy. Not interested in buying anything, we were interested in taking a picture of the monkeys, which Paula did. Mistake. The guys started asking for money. "Picture money! Picture money!" and we were still in our low-cash situation and really weren't that desperate for a crappy picture through a car window, so Paula deleted the photo. She tried to explain to the guy and show him that she had no picture on her camera, but he was not satiated and continued to yell "Picture money!" and get really aggressive. Fortunately we'd had the foresight to lock the doors so when he pulled on the door handle we were safe inside. At this point we were a little bit scared of the monkey guys and our driver finally came back from wherever the tax office was. W told him that we didn't have a picture, and he said "no problem" and we drove away. It was our first really bad experience with trying to take pictures, and this would have a large impact on the rest of the trip.

A while after that our driver decided, despite our objections, to stop at some touristy restaurant for lunch. We weren't very hungry and just wanted to get to the Taj Mahal, but we took the opportunity to go the bathroom, where I accidentally used the offered tissue to dry my hands and then didn't have any money to give the guy, and then we found ourselves waiting around for our driver. Our best guess is that he has some agreement with these people where he brings tourists there to eat and buy crap and they give him food for free, probably one of the rare chances for him to get a meal, judging by how skinny he was. It's sad, but it kinda sucked because we were ready to get out of there and we had to wait around a while doing nothing.

Finally, after about 5 hours or so of driving, we arrived in Agra. At one point, we caught a glimpse of the Taj Mahal in the distance and started to get excited, but in typical India fashion our excitement was soon crushed when our driver drove past the entrance and we found ourselves parked on some other street waiting for his "friend" who was a "guide" who we "couldn't" get into the Taj Mahal without, and of course would require an extra fee. At this point, Hilary started crying (the 2nd time, she cried earlier in the tour guide's office) and we told the guy to just take us to the Taj Mahal. Lonely Planet had said nothing about a guide and no one had said anything before but our driver insisted that we "had" to have a guide to get in. Also, Agra and the whole area around the Taj Mahal is no cleaner or nicer than anywhere else in India, which is a bit shocking compared to the Taj itself, and dampened our excitement a little bit as well.

As soon as we parked and exited the vehicle we were beset by some guy who flashed some credentials and started talking, and we soon figured out that he and the other two guys crowding around us were "official guides" who would be our Taj Mahal guide for about 500 rupees or something like that. We weren't exactly sure what was going on at this point but the guys swarming around us like bees were pissing us off, so we just started walking into the entranceway hoping we could find some other foreigners or something. The guides followed us/led us in by just walking the same direction as us, and the one guy seemed to be under the impression that we had hired him. We finally found some other foreigners (not Americans) but they were on their way out so we asked them if they had a guide and they said no, they'd shown up early and waited in line for about 30 minutes and gone in, no guide no problem. So we walked on. Then some random other Indian guy started asking us if we had hired the guides and we said no and he started yelling at them in Hindi. While they argued we decided to slip off to the side so we could have a moment to think. By this time the guides had admitted that we didn't need them to enter the Taj Mahal BUT they could slip us in past the queue (now probably an hour and a half wait) for a fee of 300 rupees per person (like 6 USD).

We decided to hire the guide to skip us past the queue, and so after he had argued with the random guy he came back over to us and we told him we'd hire him to get us past the line but not to go inside. They led us to the ticket office where we got our tickets and shoe covers (to be used on the white marble) and complimentary bottles of water. The line skipping turned out to be a slight rip-off since the line for ladies was basically empty and Hilary and Paula just waltzed right in, and I actually had to wait in line for 5-10 mins because as it turns out the process is totally unofficial and illegal, and they don't really get you PAST the queue they just slip you in near the front. I was feeling a little awkward about it as I stood out like a 6 foot 3 white man in India, I didn't know if we'd get away with it. Quite obviously though, the guides have some sort of arrangement with the security as they were able to just walk in with me without showing a ticket or being wanded and patted down, but their agreement is not quite good enough I guess, because our guy started walking away from us, instructing us to follow close behind and put the money in his hand, but he wouldn't look at us and when he got the money he slipped away and went back out. It was worth it though, for about 6 bucks each.

We were in.

One of the first things you notice about the Taj Mahal is the quantity of people, and the lack of foreigners. Considering the Taj Mahal's status in the world you would have thought there'd be more foreigners there, there's a few, but not as many as you'd expect. Also, the Indian people all stared at us. Like, hardcore staring. And taking pictures of us, right in our faces. It's weird, but you can sorta tell when someone is taking a picture of you and not just a picture that has you in it. There's also a large amount of clearly off-limits gardens and reflecting pools that the Indian people didn't seem to have any qualms about going into to take a picture, or just sit and hang out, or like some kids did, play in the reflecting pool. They all got yelled at for it, but they kept doing it. Like everywhere else in India, there's also a large contingent of people trying to sell stuff, namely photographers, but also guys who would just tell you where to take photos (which is annoying when you're already taking those pictures).

Classic Taj Mahal with reflection

I think just about everyone and their brother knows that you are supposed to take pictures of the Taj Mahal with its reflection in the REFLECTING POOLS. I mean, could it be more obvious? But no, this guy followed me around telling me where to take photos, photos I was already planning to take, and then expected money from me. He probably didn't want very much, but I wasn't exactly psyched about the "service" he'd provided, and I had 0 rupees, so he got nothing. The photo above is one he "suggested". It's amazing how the experience of seeing one of the most amazing artifacts in the world can be totally squashed and dampened by people trying to sell you stuff or get money or stare at you. It was really hard, in the moment, given everything that had happened to us, to appreciate the experience. Looking back it was worth it but at the time it was just so frustrating.

We made our way around and checked out the whole thing, putting on our little shoe covers to go in. Inside the Taj Mahal is actually a little disappointing, it was a bit crowded and you couldn't see the coffins very well, and you weren't allowed to take pictures which of course means I didn't like it by default. Tell me I'm not allowed to take pictures and my interest level drops about 30%. I just love taking pictures. We also had an interesting experience with some middle-age guys who I'm pretty sure took a picture of Hilary and Paula, and then kinda followed us around the outer inner rooms of the Taj. On the way out, the sun started to come out from behind the clouds so we slowly made our way out while taking even more pictures. 

We hadn't really made a plan for meeting back up with our driver so we were worried but when we got back out to the parking area, he was there just hanging out in the car. His English was not so good, so we had some communication difficulties, which really manifested themselves in our attempt to go to dinner. We tried to tell him that we wanted to go back to the place where he had stopped for lunch, the lunch we didn't eat, because it was in the middle of nowhere and we were ready to get away from people, and he said "Oh, quality restaurant!" and we thought "Oh, that's good, let's go!" HA! He quickly drove in the wrong direction back onto the road where Hilary had cried and took us to Quality Restaurant, where we could get dinner. I guess he had friends there too or something. The food was actually pretty decent and the price wasn't bad but there weren't any other people there which I think maybe should have been a red flag for us to not eat there, given future events and hindsight. 

It was starting to get late and we needed to get back to Delhi so we made a quick stop at the Red Fort just to take pictures at the entrance and then we got back in the car and started the adventurous drive back.

In addition to all the same things we saw on the way there, driving through India at night is doubly as harrowing as driving during the day. First, our driver waited a loooong time to turn on his headlights, and would frequently leave them off for a minute or two after flashing them when passing a car. Second, there were NO streetlights, None. Zero. Not a single one until we got back into Delhi. Third, most cars and trucks and all rickshaws and auto-rickshaws and bike-rickshaws and cyclists do not have brake lights. Most of those vehicles also don't have headlights, and of course there's no reflectors. Although, some motorcycles would have a CD tied to the back as a reflector, and I also saw trucks with hubcaps hanging from the back that maybe acted as a reflector, but seemed pretty dull. 

As scary as it was to rocket up behind a guy on a bike-rickshaw only to discover at the last possible moment that he has a big bundle of metal pipes sticking out behind him and realize that you just narrowly avoided being impaled, it was a bit more troubling that our driver seemed to be falling asleep at the wheel. I wasn't as worried as Hilary and Paula but they could see his eyes in the rearview mirror and said it didn't look good. After a few hours we actually stopped so he could have some tea and we let him take a nap, waking him up after about 20 mins to start driving again. We encouraged him to put on music and turn up the volume, he had one song he really liked that we heard about 70 times going there and back. Hilary and Paula tried to get a party atmosphere going in the car but I don't know how well it was working. Eventually we hit some serious traffic when we got closer to Delhi and then there wasn't any problem since the stop-and-go nature of the traffic kept him on his toes. 

Upon return to our hotel, he wanted a tip (ugh, we'd already paid over 7000 rupees to hire him, but that was through the tour guide so we don't know how much money they'd give him), and we gave him 100 but he wasn't happy and wanted 200. We laughed, told him that he fell asleep, and went inside leaving him standing there with his 2 dollars, looking unhappy.

That was our first full day in India, we'd seen the Taj Mahal, and yet we were not exactly excited given the things we'd been through, and we were feeling a little nervous about the Varanasi train situation (we didn't have tickets yet) and we had to be in Varanasi by the next day so we could stay in the hotel we'd already booked and make the flight we'd booked the next day. We'd also just read the paragraph in Lonely Planet about how we should just go straight to the Delhi train station International Tourism Bureau and ignore everyone and everything they say to you, which is basically the opposite of what we did, because they will try to redirect us to overpriced and unreliable tourism offices, which is exactly what happened to us. So we went to bed unsure of whether our tour guide's "guarantee" would come through with our train tickets. 

At this point, I was wishing we were still in Hong Kong.