The Eternal Optimist

Friendly man love after the border-closing ceremony.

Other than posting some photos from Holi (which I’m still waiting to see photos from … ahem, Adam), I’ve covered the bulk of my trip (even if it has taken me four months).

A few last random bits that didn’t seem to fit in my other posts.

Indian toilets. I have to say I didn’t use any that were in an open setup like these.

Indian toilets
I think each person in our group was very proud the first time he/she used an Indian toilet instead of the Western toilet. (The hotels we stayed in all had Western toilets. Many public places had both options. Trains also had both options.) We also had a number of conversations that revolved around toilets and the typical bathroom setups of open showers or (in some cases) bucket baths. I won’t go into details here.

Friendly man love on the streets of Jaipur.

Man love
I’m not sure if the term “man love” was Adam’s or where it started, but we had plenty of chances to use it. Indian men don’t have the same stigmas that Americans do as far as hugging each other, walking arm-in-arm, etc. So we often would be walking down the street and see two twenty-something guys with their arms around each other. And, no, that isn’t a declaration of homosexuality. It’s simply a declaration of friendship. It was yet another thing that was difficult for us to wrap our heads around, but it’s very normal there.

Ganesh, the very popular elephant god, was everywhere.

One of the aspects of India that I found fascinating was the integration of religion. In the States, religion doesn’t often intersect in everyday life. Sure, there are varying levels of religious devotion, but for many religious people church appearances occur once a week (or less) and a cross on a chain is the only outward sign you notice as you pass them on the streets.

A busy temple next to shops in Jaipur.

I was amazed by how much religion was part of everyday life. (Maybe I’m just missing some obvious signs in America. For example, Christianity is the major religion here. Are there Christian aspects of everyday life that I don’t even recognize as being religious because I’m so used to them? If so, I still think they are much less prominent.) In India, there were small temples all over. I don’t think I walked down even one street that didn’t have some sort of small temple or shrine. Even when we drove through the mountains to reach Dharamsala, we saw temples in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t go inside many private Indian homes, so I can’t speak to those, but many hotels and shops had a small shrine set up, too.

A random temple in Pushkar.

When I was in Jaipur, I was awakened at 5 a.m. by the Muslim call to prayer. When I was in Dharamsala, I woke up to the sound of hundreds of chanting monks.

Religious icons were for sale everywhere. Religious symbols were painted over many doorways.

In Jaipur, I met some 20-year-olds who brought me to a couple temples one evening. First, we stopped at a small Shiva temple, where about six men had gathered after finishing their work days. They were praying and playing worship music, and I was able to join them and participate for a bit. Then, we went to the much larger Govind Dev Ji temple, which was crowded with people praying, singing and worshiping on their way home from work.

The devotion was amazing.

Another random temple in Pushkar.

Every imaginable type of vehicle crowds the streets.

Our taxis from the airport.

My first introduction to India traffic was our taxi ride from the airport. It was dark and we had these old-fashioned looking cars. We take off down the highway and I quickly realize the driver is straddling the white lines. What I soon learned is that he wasn’t the only one. In fact, I’m not sure I ever saw a vehicle in India that drove in the designated lanes. The constant honking, swerving, passing, etc. had me scared for my life the first day or two. But by the time I left, I had to admit that since everyone drives the same way and knows what to expect, the system works. And at least Indians use their horns to communicate and not just as a sign that they’re angry. (In the end, I often thought I would die trying to walk across an intersection since the streets are crammed with traffic and obeying traffic lights is often optional. That turned out to be more of a risk than getting in a vehicle.)

Auto rickshaws

All six of us ride in an auto “Indian style.”

My favorite — and most-used — vehicles were auto rickshaws. These are basically motorbikes with bigger frames. They look somewhat like a golf cart, and they are the “taxi” of choice in most places. They’re all over, can navigate the crowded roads fairly easily and are cheap! (Of course, everything is cheap. But an auto rickshaw ride across Delhi was about the equivalent of $5 or less.) As with all vehicles there, Indians are adept at filling up these puppies to the brim. They would probably cram eight or more people in a space that Americans would say comfortably seats two or three. We did cram all six people of our group into one on a couple of occasions, but often we splurged for two rickshaws.

Real Indians show us how it’s done.

One of my most amusing auto rickshaw moments came when I was on my own in Jaipur. I hired a rickshaw to drive me to the Monkey Temple. He waited for me while I made the trek up the hill and down, and then he drove me back to my hotel. On the way back, we were on a fairly open, empty road. He stopped and turned around to me and asked if I wanted to drive. Or, at least I’m pretty sure that’s what he asked. He motioned me to the front, mimicked driving and said, “You drive tuk-tuk.” (Tuk-tuk is another term used to describe auto rickshaws.) I said, “No, no.” But he wasn’t convinced. “Very easy,” he said, which made me laugh because driving anything amid even a small amount of Indian traffic seemed like a death wish to me. He gave in and continued on.

Another interesting experience was my last day in Delhi. I had convinced my friend I could hail a rickshaw near my hotel and meet him at a marketplace, instead of him rickshawing across town first to pick me up. (This was after I had spent five days on my own, so I had no fear in dealing with one rickshaw driver.) My friend told me the night before that I should be able to get one who would agree to deliver me to Khan Market for Rs. 100 or less. This is actually more than any self-respecting Indian would pay for that ride, but since I was obviously a tourist (white skin!), no driver would give me an “Indian” price. The first guy I met offered the ride for Rs. 250, I believe. To which I looked at him incredulously and offered 80 or 100. He basically laughed at me. I said, “No, I was told it shouldn’t be more than Rs. 100.” He offered Rs. 200. So I walked away to head to another rickshaw. (There were about 10 in the area.) Once I started talking to the next driver, the first one yells over, “Okay, 100!”

Auto rickshaws were often decorated in various ways. Photos of Bollywood stars on the rearview mirrors were popular. The rickshaw I took to the Monkey Temple in Jaipur had black leather fringe, complete with white and red stars in the upholstery. And the rickshaw I took to Khan Market ended up having gigantic speakers in the back that were about half the size of the vehicle. The driver was very proud of them and tried to show them off to the American, I could tell. He pumped up the music as we cruised across Delhi to the point that I could feel the bass.

Cycle rickshaws
Cycle rickshaws are a little more rare these days as the autos have replaced them. But we took a couple cycle rickshaws for the experience. I felt particularly bad for the driver of the cycle rickshaw I was on in Jaipur because the poor old guy seemed to have trouble with the load. (And it was just me, so I’m going to say I was probably one of the lighter loads he carries.)

Long-distance taxi trip
The group took a long-distance taxi for a five-hour trip from Amritsar to Dharamsala, in the Himalayan foothills. This was probably my most terrifying ride ever. In the mountains, the roads were narrow and we were going pretty fast while turning corners and passing other cars. We had many hairpin turns, and we encountered a lot of big trucks. At some points, our driver was navigating these with his stick shift and horn while talking on his cellphone. But he did splendidly. At one point earlier in the trip, traffic had stopped, so our driver went the wrong way down a divided road. Others followed him, too. But we ended up getting flooded with cars going the other way and had to cross back over at the first opportunity.

Trains
Trains were another great way to get around India. We took a few, including one overnight train. Notably, though, we were always in a/c cars, meaning it wasn’t as hot and the setup was more spacious than the general Indian train cars. Those cars were crammed s
houlder-to-shoulder and must be pretty hot when it’s 95 degrees Fahrenheit outside.

Other than my train scares (three canceled trains all during the portion of the trip when I was alone!), I thought it was a great system.

Oh yea, and the mice. I definitely saw a few mice aboard those trains, even in the a/c cars. And the thought of sharing quarters with a scurrying furry being was not comforting. Luckily, I did not see any during our overnight ride. (Yea, I’m sure they were around, but if I had seen one, I might not have slept much at all.)

Buses

Rooftop bus rides.

I had two overnight bus rides. The first was with the group as we traveled from Dharamsala back to Delhi. It looked like an American travel bus (reclining seats, etc.), except it was an old, outdated and dingy one. Most notably, with the way Indians drive, a bus is not the smoothest ride — and that makes it difficult to sleep. Also, these buses didn’t have restrooms. We did have some pit stops at roadside eateries. Unfortunately, it was at night and dark, so the Indian toilet was pitch black. But we really had no choice.

My second overnight bus ride was a little cushier. I had booked it last minute after one of my trains was canceled. These seats reclined and had portions that popped up for your feet. And it was a little smoother and easier to sleep. Slightly.

My other long-distance bus ride was also in place of a canceled train ride. The bus ride started out normal. It had seats on the bottom and then a second level above with little compartments that families would crawl up into. I did notice partway through that we had people climbing onto the bus roof to ride up there (a common sight in India). And the farther we went, the more crowded the bus got. At some point long after all the seats had filled and people were standing in the aisle, a woman got on. I was sitting in a single sit on one side of the aisle. (There were single seats on my side and sets of three across the aisle.) I noticed the woman staring at me a bit. And after a few minutes, she just sat down next to me. That is, she decided to share my seat. So the rest of my trip was a bit cramped as I sat there thinking, “This is so weird. And probably somewhat typical here.”

I had a hard time capturing the essence of the streets. This makes the whole thing look much calmer than it is.

We saw quite a few amusing signs in India. Many of them were especially amusing to my copy editor side. I didn’t photograph all of them, but here are a few.

This whole sign was ridiculous, but I like how they wrote queue (which they say all the time instead of line).

“Cuppachino”

“Use me”

TMNT in India!

I barely see KFCs in D.C., so seeing one in Delhi surprised me.

For all your Western food cravings: McDonald’s, Subway, Sbarro, Domino’s and Ruby Tuesday.

“Innerwear”

This repetition of Coke signs in one place was common all over. And they only have two or three versions of their Coke signs.

The bar next to our hotel in Amritsar has the same name as a classy establishment in Brooklyn, Ill.

Ruins in Delhi. They’re pretty much everywhere.

Qutb Minar

In my last couple of days in India, Adam showed me around as much of Delhi as possible.

Lotus Temple. The pavement was so hot and we had to remove our shoes. I kind of wanted to jump into the pool of water.

We visited Old Delhi and snapped a photo of the outside of the Red Fort. Then we walked past the “Friday mosque,” Jama Masjid, and visited a renowned kebab place for one of the many meals of the day. (This was our “food tour” day, which I’ll recount in an upcoming post.) We checked out Connaught Place and its circles of modern stores as well as its traditional bazaars, where I bought my dad and nephew matching Indian kurtas.

My hand just after the mendhi artist finished.

We went back to Green Park, where I got mendhi on my hand from a street artist. While that dried, we walked around some nearby ruins and then Deer Park.

On my last day, we visited the Lotus Temple, a Bhai’i temple for meditation.

We also stopped at Qutb Minar and walked all around the complex.

By the time my plane left, I was exhausted. I arrived back in the U.S. in the wee hours of the morning (something like 14 hours later) and from my layover in Newark airport, I was able to watch the sun rise over the New York skyline. A pretty great way to cap off the trip!

See the rest of the photos from the end of my trip here.

Sunrise over New York.

A scene of the sunset over Pushkar Lake.

Note: I’m hoping to FINALLY finish up my India trip posts in the next week or two. The only thing I don’t yet have is photos from the celebration of Holi, so I’ll add that whenever I have them from my friend.

Hanuman Temple

This town is packed with hippies, but I’ve still not run into many Americans. Each time I think someone is American, they end up being from Europe or Australia or anywhere else. The hippies, however, are all over. They are also a pretty good indicator as to which locales sell the bhang lassi and other treats Pushkar has a reputation for. (See a place crammed with hippies? I bet they serve something special.) I chatted with a few hippies, and the conversation was rather fascinating in that some of them had come to Pushkar and planned to stay just a week and had ended up being there for four to six weeks (and counting).

In the rest of my time in Pushkar, I saw the Brahma Temple, the old Vishnu Temple, the new Vishnu Temple (from the outside because visitors aren’t allowed inside), the Sikkh temple (Gurdwarn) and the Hanuman Temple (monkey god).

I spent my last evening at a place by the lake called the Sunset Cafe, and I watched the sun go down across the lake. A drummer was playing by the ghat and hippies were dancing all around.

Hot sun makes it dangerous to walk on the marble steps at the old Vishnu temple.

As I left Pushkar, I got stranded in Ajmer. Once again, my train was canceled. The next air-conditioned transportation I could find left at 8:30 p.m. (six hours after my train was scheduled to leave). So I found a restaurant from the guidebook, ate and stalled a long time. Then I found a small Internet cafe to chill in. (But I didn’t access the Internet. At that point, I figured I had gone more than two weeks without it, so I could survive a few more days. Plus, I feared seeing my overflowing inbox and preferred my current state of serenity.) But the owner was really nice and had some family in the U.S., even. He let me stay and watch part of the cricket game that was on TV. He even was nice enough to explain a little about the game to me (which is a lot more than I previously knew about the game).

My overnight bus trip to Delhi ended up being kind of fun. I met a family from Bangalore while waiting for the bus. It turned out they also had a train canceled so were taking the same bus. They all spoke very good English and were really nice. They had a 25-year-old daughter traveling with them who ended up sitting next to me on the bus trip. She was so amazed that I was traveling in India without my family — and alone! She said she was really jealous of the freedom to do that and hoped that someday she could, too. Basically, she made me feel like I was really awesome and also made me thankful for some of the independence that our American culture offers. She has a cousin in New York and was hoping to be able to spend some time in America eventually.

Sitting quietly by the lake as the sun sets.

See more photos from Pushkar here.

Savitri is that little shack at the top. I followed that path up.

View from partway up, with monkeys in foreground!

Pushkar has a couple mountaintop temples located just outside town. (Does it count as a mountain if you can walk up it? Perhaps this is technically a large, rocky hill.) I woke up before sunrise when morning to make a trek to the farther one, Savitri temple.

First, I realized the door of my hotel was padlocked. At this point it was about 6:15, so it was actually later than I had planned to leave and the sun was on its way up. I had to wake up the guy sleeping on the cot inside the door so I could get out. (Yea, I felt bad, but I had no other options.)

Man with big stick poking monkeys off his tent.

This little monkey was ready to fight back.

Pushkar was so peaceful in the morning. The usually busy street lined with shops was quiet. As I neared the edge of town, I saw a shopkeeper who had a tent under some trees. He was chasing away the monkeys, and it was excellent entertainment. He had a big stick that he poked up into the bottom of the tent. Then, the monkeys jumped into the tree. Then, he screamed at the monkeys in the tree and shook the tree to get the monkeys to go farther away.

As I approached the “mountain,” I saw the bottom of the path was large steps. Not such a bad way to climb. I started up. After a little while, though, the path turned rockier. It was still a semblance of steps made of stones, but these were not smooth, not large and not easy. And the sun was now partway up. It grew warmer and more difficult as I approached the top.

A monkey chills on the rocks along the path.

Luckily, the views of Pushkar and the lake were breathtaking. Also I could see surrounding mountains and villages. And I ran into an excellent area of monkeys. They were climbing on the rocks, hanging from the trees and (at one point) eating the remains of some sugary offerings another pilgrim had left. And there were lots of babies, too! I’m not sure many experiences can beat watching baby monkeys play and wrestle on the rocks in the early morning sunlight. I took LOTS of photos, and monkey-watching gave me an excellent excuse to stop climbing and take a break.

Baby monkeys at play!

A baby and its mother.

When I reached the top, I saw another great view, the temple and a common Pushkar sight: a group of hippies smoking. The temple itself was fairly unremarkable. But the view and the entire experience were so amazing. I almost returned the next morning, despite the exhausting climb. (My legs ached for a few days afterward.)

Hanging onto the gateway at the top.

Second and third floors of the open courtyard at my hotel.

Half of my room at the hotel.

My hotel in Pushkar was a gorgeous converted haveli with an open courtyard in the middle and a rooftop restaurant. Although the setup was very nice, the amenity level was similar to most of the other places (typical Indian bathroom, etc.).

I headed into town (after a nice 10-year-old boy corrected me when I almost went the wrong way) and quickly fell prey to the guidebook scams.

The other half of my room at the hotel. This was by far the most spacious room I stayed in.

First, a little background. Pushkar is a tiny town that has turned touristy for two reasons: pilgrims and hippies. The pilgrims come because it is situated around Pushkar Lake, a sacred lake where many pilgrims bathe and pray. The pilgrims came because bhang (marijuana usually laced into food) was readily available here for religious purposes. The town still has rules signs posted for tourists, asking them to be respectful. The rules include: no alcohol, no meat or eggs and no PDA or kissing. So, yes, I had a vegetarian few days.

In this small town, there are few or no street signs. So I began by wandering around and getting my bearings. I walked through the bazaar-filled streets and along the lake ghats. I had one guy suggest I should visit the lake itself as my first stop. I declined and continued on my path. Then, I had another guy suggest I stop at the ghats, so I headed that way only to have him follow.

Brahama ghat, as seen from across the lake.

Now, one of my concerns was that I would disturb the pilgrims or do something that would offend them. Other than removing my shoes and not photographing bathing pilgrims, I didn’t really know what I should or shouldn’t do. Because of this, I let the guy lead me to the ghats and through a ritual puja (prayer). Then, he tied a red string from the “puja platter.” on my wrist and requested that I donate 500 Rs. “for my family.” In a more-broken form of English, he basically said if I didn’t pay I was risking wasting the prayers I just said for my family and isn’t my family worth that much? Yes, I could have been watching a televangelist on TV.

My “Pushkar passport,” as the guidebook called it.

The guidebook had warned me about this; I just wasn’t entirely sure how to get around it. So I gave in. In my defense, while 500 Rs. is quite a bit there, it equates to about $13 US. It’s hard to argue that I needed that $13 more than the people in this small Indian town. So I was marked with my red string (which declared both “tourist willing to be scammed” and “I already paid my 500 Rs.; find someone else” all at once. It was actually a blessing in that many other people over the next couple of days approached me for the same purpose, but then stopped when they saw my string.)

The guy’s name was Rohit, and he next wanted to show me all the other temples. I was rather suspicious this would lead to more fees, so I declined over and over. (He ran into me at least once a day during my stay. It’s a small town and he hung out on the main drag. Each time, I had to decline his offers.) I did, however, agree to drink some street chai with him. I could never tell if he was mostly friendly and curious or mostly a scam artist. I’m guessing it was a combination.

The ghats along the lake include the Brahmin ghat (where my puja was), which is where Brahma bathed. There is also the Gandhi ghat, where some of his ashes were sprinkled.

This was a perfect town for shopping, and I wandered up and down the bazaars a lot.

Sign: rules for tourists.