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| 29 May | Varanasi |  |
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The night's not over yet. I was in agony with my knees up around my ears, my body drenched with sweat, and every jarring impact of the shockless bus sending shockwaves up my spine. It was a bad time. About 6:00, we arrived at Sunauli and were promptly attacked by touts. Two girls and I ducked into a nearby restaurant for shelter. The black market rate was good there for changing Nepalese Rupees to Indian rupees, so I changed my remaining rupees (~US$36). Feeling ready to tackle India, we strolled across the border, stopping at each immigration station. No problem. A bus was already there. 90Rp for me to Varanasi, 45 to Gorakhpur for the girls. The guy selling us the tickets grabbed Rikka's breast while "helping" her take her pack off. Some Indians! He managed to charge another 10Rp from each of them for helping, but I didn't pay because I kept my pack with me. It's already proving useful! And so I find myself on another long, hot, packed ride, this time in India, going to Varanasi... Rikka was also on her way to Iran, but she already had her visa, so she was only staying as long as it took her to pick up mail in Delhi and leave. A friend of her's, Matti, just recently visited Iran in March, and he was sending her as much information as he could remember. She offered to copy this for me and leave it at poste restante if I was interested. Am I interested?!! Quite a windfall for me, as right now, I have no idea what I'm getting into. The girls got off at Gorakhpur to grab a train to Delhi, another 14½ hours. Yuck. Still going... and going... and going. The main road to Varanasi was closed, so we had to take secondary tracks. It added almost 3 hours to the trip. When I finally get to Varanasi, I was exhausted. I decided to just ask the rickshaw driver to take me to Vishnu Rest House, rather than to the ghat and have to search. I deliberately paid extra with the agreement that we would only go to Vishnu. "OK." He peddled off into the eerily silent city. At first we rolled through what looked like just another city. There were cars on the road, wide streets, tall buildings, nothing all that unusual. But then we reached the old city. Suddenly, we were squeezing our way through narrow windy streets that the rickshaw could barely fit through. I was lost in the first few seconds. All I could tell was that we were generally in the area I wanted to be, but I may have even been wrong there. As the streets became more and more narrow, he finally was forced to dismount and told me this is where I must walk. I was immediately suspicious as he left his rickshaw behind to guide my way. Of course, the place he took me to was called the New Vishnu, a place that gave commissions. I was barely conscious by this point, and the place was barely adequate. I didn't feel it worth the trouble of fighting. There wasn't a chance I could find the real place in my current state. Besides, they assured me, yes, they are the only Vishnu now. Yeah, right. Anyway, shower, snore! |
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| 30 May | Varanasi | |
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After a night of utter oblivion, I got up rather late. My place was right next to the river, so I went out to explore the ghats. Almost the first thing I encountered once reaching the river was, of course, the Vishnu Rest House. The Vishnu Rest House. It was a very nice, clean, friendly place. But, all the rooms were full. Shit. I was upset with the New place of course. I'm out of there. Heinrich in Nepal had recommended a place he had stayed at, one not mentioned in Lonely Planet. I even had their card. Why not? While walking back to the New place, I stumbled across it. Shiva Ganga guesthouse had a very nice, friendly, clean, small place. I got a much nicer room, for only 40Rp. Good enough. Back at the New place, I packed my bags, threw some money at the owner, threw a few choice insults, and strolled out the door. He came chasing after me, yelling about check out times, he wants more money... Piss off, you halam jada! (Bengali curse) Into Shiva Ganga. Ah, much better! There were some friendly westerners here as well.
Out to explore the ghats with my trusty lathi! They were interesting, but not quite what I expected. Everything was a bit plainer, more basic than thought it would be. Of course, it was late by this time, so the pilgrims were bathed and gone, the morning crowd finished their ablutions, etc. Now, there were just a bunch of people swimming to escape the intense heat of the day. Having seen enough for now, I turned off to explore the city. Far worse than Venice, this place was a total maze of blind alleys, circular paths, similar looking spots, and overwhelming smells. I wandered lost for over 3 hours, not caring where I walked, just soaking in the atmosphere. I loved it! Very fascinating city. The heat finally grew unbearable, so I returned to the air cooled hotel. Much better. I sat and talked with Arusha, Tongi, and ___ all afternoon. Later, Tongi and I went for food. I hadn't eaten in over 2 days now, so I was a mite bit peckish. I ate my first thali, and found it to be very good. A large metal platter covered with all varieties of curried vegetable dishes, relishes, papadams, puris and tons of rice. I left the plate shinier than when it arrived. Tongi had to go to her music lessons, so I went back alone to the hotel to relax. It was just too hot after the sun rises and before it sets to go out. It is a good excuse to be lazy! At night, Howard (Yank) and I wandered the fruit markets. The hotel has a kitchen we can use, so he was cooking all his own meals to save money. He is living the lowest budget life possible and saving every chance he can. Me, I'm too lazy when having a meal cooked for me costs less than a pack of gum back home... The markets had all he needed, plus some lychees and watermelon for me. It was a strange scene. The city still seemed eerily quiet, the markets which are usually raucous circuses here seemed almost sedate. Piles of fruits and vegetables overflowed into the streets. Vendors had their stands on the side of the road selling fried samosas, pakoras, and other things that looked very good, yet I hesitate to guess what they were. Yum. Back to inhale the lychees, but I saved the melon for breakfast. |
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| 31 May | Varanasi | |
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Still tired from the bus trip, I overslept this morning. By the time I woke up, it was too hot to go out. Shucks... I sat and drew, ate melon, and relaxed all morning.
Around 11:00, Tongi and I went to get our train tickets. She was going to Berouli, a small town about 3 hours east of Delhi, so we got seats/berths together. Or tried to. The guy at the train station wanted encashment receipts. He would only give a seat, no berth, if we did not have one. Tongi had an old one, but all my money was black market, so I had a problem. I needed to go to the bank, change some money, and come back. Our poor rickshaw driver, waiting for us out in the heat all this time, sighed as we told him to go even further from town. The only bank that changed travelers cheques was the Bank of India Overseas, all the way out of town by the posh hotels. When we got there, the man at the desk was surprised and suspicious when I changed only US$20. The black market has better rates, and he knew it. Back at the train station, we stood in the long queue again, fought off the repeated attempts by Indians to cut to the front, and tried again. This time, a different guy at the window didn't even ask for receipts. Argh. Still, we got the berths for a princely sum of 200Rp each, 2nd class. Good enough. Back at the Pasaswandegh Ghat, we paid the (exhausted) rickshaw driver the 50 Rp we had agreed on. It was a huge sum, but it would have cost us more if we had had to haggle separate rickshaws on each trip. We were immediately descended on by dozens of drug sellers, kids, and beggars who saw this transaction. They probably figured, suckers! 50Rp for one ride! We took refuge in a nearby restaurant, the Hotel New Star. The place was dirty inside, but the kitchen in front was clean, with a good turnover. Good food, too. Talking with Tongi. She's an interesting girl. 25, from Austria, but her parents were Taiwanese. She invited me to come with her to Berouli, but she's staying a month there, then going home. I just can't afford the time. And so another star falls. As we finished up our food, the proprietor started closing up shop for the afternoon. He took the benches off the floor and threw them on the tables to sweep the floors. Immediately, the walls turned black as cockroaches swarmed out from under the tables... That evening, a group of us attended an Indian music concert at the music school that Tongi and the others attended. It was very nice. Interesting music style. Someone instructed me that Indian music, unlike Western music, doesn't follow measures like 4/4, 2/4 time. Instead, it uses an almost mathematical matrix, leading to a far more complex music style. I tried to follow along with what I was hearing, but I'm afraid my ear just wasn't trained for it. Unfortunately, the change from relatively cold Nepal to very hot Varanasi (~42° C today) had my allergies going. I felt like crap tonight. Too bad. We all had a sumptuous dinner afterwards, then walked back to our hotel by way of the ghats. They were very magical at night, the heat still radiating from the super-heated stone. Tongi and I talked together the entire way, standing close. |
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| 2 June | Varanasi | |
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Today, I did nothing all day. Good lychees, bad watermelon. The people running the hotel were very hospitable. They let me keep my room until 5:00, for no extra charge. Nice. About 5:00, Tongi and I took our leave of everyone, out the door. It would be a long train ride, so we stopped and got a thali to put in Tongi's trindle. It is a curious device. Sort of a third world tupperware, if you will. Several tin bowls of various sizes that fit tightly together, with a handle, and keep food warm for literally hours afterward.
At the train station, we discovered a problem. It was 6:30 now, the train would leave (supposedly) at 6:55. Which platform? No one knew, or rather, everyone knew, but they all had different answers. Finally, we found a station master. He made a call. The train would be late, it should arrive at 7:15, on track 6 or 7. OK. The station was stifling hot and Tongi and I were both pouring with sweat. About 7:00, we started hearing announcements for our train in Hindi, saying it would arrive at 8:00, on track 4. Argh. Up the stairs again... Finally, at about 8:30, a train pulled up on track 6. There were no markings on the train, so we must ask people which was bogie S1. All the way at the other end... Mm... Not a bad as I expected, but worse than it could be. 3 people to a bench facing each other, then 2 on the other side of the train. It was Tongi, myself, a Swede, and an Israeli, then 4 Indians, politely ignoring us. We shared our thali with the other westerners. Yum. After a couple hours doing the usual traveller exchange of experiences, it was bedtime! We locked the packs to the seat. The back of the lower bench converted to a middle bunk, then there was a top bunk. I was on the bottom, which was good: I could feel the breeze from the window. Even still, my sarong was soaked with sweat by the morning. It was a sweaty night, but I got almost 7 hours of sleep. Not bad. |
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| 3 June | New Delhi | |
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A shout from outside woke me about 5:00. An Indian boy had stolen a camera from one of the travellers onboard. The guy was frantic, but some other Indians took it upon themselves to begin a serious manhunt that soon found the kid. I never saw it, but word floated back that he had been beaten bloody, then thrown off the train. Third world justice... Seeing nothing I could do, I settled back, stared out the window and sweated. The days have been 48° C and above, I wonder what the nights are? About 7:30, Tongi got off at her stop. Bye girl. I still had a long ride yet to go. I was told it would be 12-14 hours. Well 14 hours passed, no Delhi, 16 hours, no Delhi. As we got closer to the city, the train kept stopping and people jumped off. They were pulling the emergency brake, causing the train to stop even though this was illegal, but they disappeared so fast, I doubt anyone was ever caught doing this. After 17 hours we finally reached Delhi. I was filthy from the diesel fumes entering the window and from dirt inside the train, and very hungry. I just wanted to get a shower! The German, Israeli, and I grabbed a tuk tuk. Locals told us it would cost them 25 Rp to the Main Bazaar, but for us, they couldn't guess. No one would take us for less than 40. Indians. It seems there was an agreed upon rate for foreigners here, as all the tuk tuk wallahs quoted the same price (or above), and no one would settle for less. The other two each knew where they were going, so I left them and checked out a few hotels. I found rooms to be expensive, with poor quality, and nothing I would find acceptable, even with my standards. I ended up at the Hotel Namaskar. They only had a triple room left, costing 250 Rp with air cooled and ensuite. The German guy was there (I still don't know his name). We decided to share it. Good enough. That shower felt so good. Out for lychees, 24 Rp for good ones. Yum. I just realized: Tomorrow is Sunday. The GPO, Irish and probably Iran embassies will be closed tomorrow. I must wait until Monday. Argh. In the evening, I went out to find some food. I found a good place recommended by the manager of the hotel. The name was written in Hindi, and I had no idea how to pronounce it, but I had been in foreign lands, illiterate for so long now, that I had gotten very good at deciphering foreign scribbles. I found the place on a narrow alley behind the market. There was no menu, no one spoke English, and there were no other foreigners about, just the kind of place I like. I simply pointed to a few pots simmering out front. I don't know what I ate, it could have been yesterday's laundry for all I knew, but it was very tasty, hot, and filling. I was the only westerner there, so I had an Indian audience (of course) watching my every move, though no one tried to talk with me. 17 Rp for a very good meal. |
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| 4 June | New Delhi | |
| Connaught Place was absolutely closed this morning. Not a single shop was open at 9:00! Spooky. Connaught is an enormous traffic circle, the business centre of New Delhi. About 10:00, food places started opening. I bought a brownie at one bakery. They liked my lathi so much, a girl there gave me a free loaf of bread and some bread sticks (fresh!) as well! "These sticks, you can eat!" Next, I wanted junk food: ice cream at Nirulas! Yum. 15 Rp for large scoops. It seemed safe, the place was already packed 5 minutes after opening. That's a good sign. Then back to my room, nothing else to do there. I have no interest in the tourist attractions at this point. I spent the afternoon writing letters. Dinner, then early bed. | ||
| 5 June | New Delhi | |
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It's going to be a busy day today. I must visit the Iranian and Irish consulates, check my mail, check bookstores for an Iran guidebook, and many other small tasks. The manager at the hotel told me it should cost about 30 Rp for a tuk tuk to the Irish Consulate. Let's see what I get...
Nothing, that's what. I got a tuk tuk to the Irish consulate and arrived about 9:00. A sign on the door stated that they were closed until 10:00. OK... My driver was willing to wait, so we sat by the road and talked. He, like every other uneducated Indian man I've met, was obsessed with sex. Everything with him was fucking this and women that. "How do you sleep at night with no girlfriend?" he asked. He assumed I'm always "fucking" women because, as everyone knows of course, western women will sleep with anyone who asks. How little he knows... At 10:00, I went back to the consulate door. Now, there was a new sign up. They are closed today for an Irish bank holiday. Argh. I haggled a new deal with my driver. Now, I needed to get to the Iranian consulate, to the GPO, and back to main bazaar. He was tough, but we worked something out. So next to Iran. A sign on door read "Closed today for National Day." Argh! Next to the GPO. No mail for me. Argh!! I glumly got back to my hotel rather depressed, and collapsed in my room. The German guy said he did see something for me, under "S" (for Seán). From Sabine! It was the only thing that saved my day. Out to Nirulas to try their pizza. It looked good, but yuck! I didn't even finish. The milkshake was good, though, but I was feeling nauseous, probably due to the heat, and couldn't finish. Bed soon after. |
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| 6 June | New Delhi | |
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I tried again on the visa today. I went right to the Iranian embassy, filled out the forms, making no mention of my other American citizenship of course. But then, US$50 for a tourist visa?! Yeouch! I had to go to Amex to change more money. I tried to buy some more cheques with a personal check for US$1000, but they would only allow me to get US$500. Changed regulations at Amex now require 21 days between accepting personal checks, so I could only get US$500 not US$1000 since I had written a check for US$500 back in Nepal. I decided to take it in US$ to use better on the black market. I'll take my chances. I changed a full US$200 now. I figure I'll live large, then change to Pakistani money at border.
Back at the Iranian consulate, they then asked, "Where's your recommendation from your embassy?" What! Why didn't you mention that last time! My fault, I should have asked. My dutiful driver swept me off to the Irish consulate, chuckling over our new deal. Very nice. A big ol' Irish flag out front, paintings, etc. of Ireland inside. They had old copies of the Irish Times paper there to read. People were very nice to me, "One minute sir." They gave me a very nice recommendation letter. Yes! Finally something good has happened today! Back to Iran... I finally had everything they require. When I handed everything in, I was told "Come back tomorrow." That soon? Well... That was much better than I had expected. I was expecting to wait weeks. I just hope I get the visa... Back to Connaught Place. I shopped around for guide books, but couldn't find a used book shop, and new books were pricey, about what you would pay in the US. I decided to go get Sabine's letter at the GPO. It was a long hot walk, but I was feeling very broke today after paying for the Iranian visa. I got the letter, no problem. It was good to hear from a friend. Sounds like she's doing fine, maybe a new job in Berlin. Good for her. Greedy for more mail, I decided to try the Old GPO in Old Delhi for Mom's package. I know she sent only to Delhi, not New Delhi. In this town, if mail is addressed to Delhi, it goes to old Delhi. I haggled with the drivers outside the GPO until I found one who would take me for free as long as I visited one shop for each place he took me, so he could take a commission (just for bringing me there). I was a bit leery, but I was confident I could handle whatever arose, so I decided OK. I have the time, just no money. Yup, Mom's package was waiting for me. Yes! Now I had to honor my word and visit his shop... I was expecting him to take me to some dingy little place, half expecting a few of his "friends" waiting to jump me. Instead, he took me to this very nice, very fancy shop. I was uncomfortable even being there, it was that nice, I felt shabby. They carried very well made stuff, only mildly expensive. At some other time, I might even have bought a couple things, but my budget just felt too stretched today. There was no pressure, but helpful salespeople in all corners, on all floors. When I left, the charming lady at the front asked "Nothing you like?" and that was it. The doorman let me out. No one tried to charge for tea, electricity, all the warnings I had heard were irrelevant. It was a very laid back place. Sometimes, guide books make us just too suspicious... I just wish I had written down the name of the place, I'll never find it again. My driver was happy when I came out, he must have gotten a good commission. Home, James! Oops, he became greedy, and tried to get me to look at another place. He finally took me home when I gave him a firm No. Back at my hotel, I immediately ripped my package open. Peanut Butter Cookies! Munch, munch. M&M's! Munch, munch. Water filter cartridge! Pen refill! A short letter, plus Grandpa's eulogy. Damn. I don't know how to handle that, so I'm ignoring it for now. The filter replacement worked like a charm, the filter is easy to pump again. Stuffed on cookies, I went early to bed. |
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| 7 June | New Delhi | |
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Out to Iran to receive the verdict. I entered the forbidding gates. As usual, I had to leave my lathi behind with the guards. "It is the staff of Jesus! Yes?" Nervously, I collected my passport... Yes! There's a visa stamp in there! But, wait! It was only a transit visa. One week. My heart died a moment, then I looked on the bright side, at least I can still do the overland bit. Hoping for more, I asked the man behind the window if it was possible to still get the full visa. The guy turned away, grunted, "Extend in Iran!" What? You mean I can still do it? Yes! I'm very irritated, though. I should have just applied for a transit visa in the beginning, and saved my US$50. Anyway, the door has been opened! I will reach Europe overland!
I still had no luck finding used bookstores, even with the hotel manager's directions. Public libraries here are a joke, even if the catalog was computerized. Good thali at roadside place for 12 Rp, then bed rather late after buying a bus ticket to Agra (200 for air con). While I have little interest in the tourist trail right now, who can resist checking out the Taj Mahal when it's just a short bus ride away! |
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| 8 June | Agra | |
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Up very early for my bus. It left about 6:45. It was comfortable, the aircon worked, I had no complaints. Except that it took six hours, not the three I was told. I expected it, but it still was yet another annoying Indian trait. If it always takes six hours, why do people insist on saying things will arrive on time according to some schedule some speed maniac probably pulled out of thin air?
We got to Agra about 1:00. As I was getting off with the two other westerners on board, a guy came up, told us that he was with the bus company and that we could have a free taxi for the day. Yeah right! "No sir, it's true." I decided what the hell, I might as well try, it's still early. A friendly, well dressed Nepalese "student" wearing Ray Bans climbed in with me, just as described in LP! But he asked me where I wanted to go, and actually took me there! Wow, maybe this is legit... I dumped my bag, and we went down to check out the Taj! Wow! It was very beautiful, impressive. I figured what the hell, I'll be a tourist! and shot off half a roll of film. There were very annoying Indian tourists around as well. All staring of course, some took my picture, even after I told them No. I don't take pictures of other people without their permission for the very same reason. It was very annoying. It ruined my mood I'm afraid. I decided that while I have free transport, I'll go to Agra Fort next. It was a very impressive structure, but nothing really to photograph. If you don't know the history, as I didn't, it was not worth it IMHO. Leaving the gates, I was assaulted by some very persistent sales people shoving their wares in my face. I lost it and knocked a couple aside after they grabbed me for the fifth time. Then it was the rickshaw wallahs mobbing me. My driver was late, so I had to suffer many endless minutes of their constant assault. When they finally arrived, the Nepalese guy apologized profusely for their late arrival. He invited me for a drink at "a Pakistani friend's". Hm. Yep, it's happening. The guy was very friendly and could be genuine. He wanted to drive me around tomorrow as well. No shops, just a couple more remote sites. It could be good, only my instincts were screaming "false!". I decided not to go for it. He wouldn't take no for an answer. He became rude, insisting I join him. "Why not my friend?" confirming my suspicions, so I finally lied to get rid of him and said OK, with no intentions of being here when he shows up. I didn't feel the best about it, but as Eman said in Greece almost exactly one year ago, trust your instincts! Friendly hospitality is one thing, but I can't stand manipulative people... I was famished by now. I only had one Thali for food in over 48 hours. Longer if you don't count the cookies. I ordered room service. When it finally arrived, it was very good, but then, I was famished. Chomp! Snore. |
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| 9 June | Agra | |
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That's when it started. Indians! At first, it was just people walking by, stopping and of course staring. No big deal. Then some younger ones walked over and moved my hand away to look at my drawing, without so much as a by-your-leave! Assholes. Then, groups of teenage boys started sitting around me, not talking, just staring. Getting annoyed, I told to go away. They didn't. I moved to another spot, they followed. They continued to pester until one guy got too close, so like the wild animal (they seemed to think I was) that has had enough, I clubbed him across the shoulder with my stick. He just went back, sat with others, and started staring again. Staring back made no difference, they just looked you in the eye for long minutes, with no hesitation. Very rude. I finally went and sat on the stairs in the corner of the mock (right hand side) mosque where they had nowhere they could sit out of the sun, and they gave up and went away. That's when the flies started. Like flies to shit (me being the shit) they came across the grounds just to stand and stare. As soon as one group of Indians left, another came. For four hours! I think maybe they didn't come here to see the Taj. Instead, they were here to gawk at pale foreigners. I was very annoyed and rude and wouldn't talk to any of them, refused to shake literally hundreds of hands. I just wanted to sit and draw - alone! It was very annoying. I think I like India so far, but I am growing to hate all Indians, especially the men, if you can understand the difference. Like little boys, who never grew up. I finally had enough and started walking, fending off the demanding rickshaw drivers (sometimes literally) with my lathi. Some wouldn't give up and followed me down the road for blocks until I attacked their rickshaw with my stick, doing no damage, but usually putting a good scare into them with my antics. Long hot walk down Taj Rd and The Mall, had lunch (food!), drank 3 Fantas (ran out of H2O), and walked back to my hotel. Along the entire way, when I wasn't fending off rickshaw drivers, I was fending off touts. Young, well dressed, well informed (one even knew the Irish president's name), very friendly. But after 10 minutes talk, the offer always came to visit their home "for a cold drink". Either Indians are the most hospitable people on the planet, or a very large number of them are conniving bastards. Call me cynical, but today I believe the latter. Especially after every offer was (tactfully) refused, they usually disappeared soon after, very few even saying good-bye. I somehow don't think it was hurt feelings! Back at the hotel, I tried for a cold shower, but the day was so hot, even the cold tap let out scalding hot water. I had to settle for a bucket shower, only splashing myself. Rest the afternoon in cool room, looked into trains. The people at my hotel told me that there was no need for reservations, I can just buy in the morning. I'm dubious, but will go along. They have no reason to lie in this case. With 16 trains a day from here to Delhi, I'm bound to get on one. Right now, the 7:28 GT Express looks good. I might even buy a first class ticket if it's under 200. It is time once again to treat myself well. Especially since I still seem sick since Varanasi. It is hard to take a temperature when the days are 120° F and my thermometer was always maxed out at 106° F when I took it out of my pack. But I am maintaining a constant 99° F temp. I'm sure little food and bad heat aren't helping... |
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| 10 June | New Delhi | |
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Up early for my train to Delhi. After yesterday, I just couldn't take any more crowds of staring Indians, and I knew this will take longer than the 3 hours everyone insisted it will, so I decided to splurge and bought a 1st class ticket for 223. I found the first class car and underwent the conductor's scrutiny. "First class," he said in disbelief, dubiously eyeing my ragged clothing, my poor old gray shirt, on which the right shoulder by now barely exists. Plus, I was carrying a backpack. Hey mister, I'm not one those dirt poor freaks, OK? I sat down in a nice spacious cabin with only 3(!) others. One guy was very talkative, and wouldn't take a hint I'd rather silence, but he was pleasant enough. Of course, the trip took 5 hours, but it still was better than a bus. Back to Namaskar. Of course, today was a national holiday (they seem to come once a week or so around India) so everything was shut down. Nothing will be open today or tomorrow (Sunday). Still, Nirulas was open. Ice cream, yum. Dinner at Appetite Restaurant. It was decent food, but they also had video TV! I saw a Cranberries video. Strange to finally put a face to the voice... Some country music as well actually had me missing Memphis... Then rap music had me dreading the States. Look Out! |
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| 11 June | New Delhi | |
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An absolutely nothing day. The only thing interesting that happened was that I ran into Kat and ?, two Aussies I trekked with in Nepal. They were staying in the room right across the hall! They had just come from up north, and said everything was absolutely full, chockers with annoying Indian tourists. The Tourist Rest House, the place I was planning to stay, had doubled their rates after appearing in LP. Damn. They also told me they had seen Heinrich at the border, but having problems. The border guards were sending him back to Pokhara because the wrong dates were written on his visa extension and he hadn't caught the mistake. Poor guy, having to take that horrible ride to Sunauli twice! I hope he baksheeshed his way out of it...
Next, at breakfast at Appetite, who shows up but the Flecks Steve and ?. Twice in one day! We sat and talked all morning. They're going to Agra tomorrow, then flying to Kenya. They are jumping ahead of me! Steve gave me a copy of Theroux's Great Train Bazaar, since he had finished it. Good book. They offered to send me Kenya recommendations on ahead of me to Egypt after they leave. Very nice! I sat and read, ate lychees all day. Dinner with them later at the thali place. This will be the last I'll see them, but I've got their address. Bye, "Mr. Canfield"! |
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| 12 June | New Delhi | |
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Phoned home. Hi guys! The phone system was poor here, I could barely hear them. Mom sounds like she's preparing to meet me in Turkey. I should have gotten more details.
I phoned the Pakistan embassy to confirm my information that I could get a transit visa at the border. Huh? I can't? Um. Out to the embassies again. Of course, Pakistan requires a letter of recommendation for a visa, so out to Ireland again. Back to Pakistan, they had closed early. Argh! It happened again! Now have to stay two more days here to get this visa!
Next, to the GPO to check my mail again. There was a package from Rikka! The Finn girl I met on the bus to India. She actually came through for me. She enclosed a copy of information her friend Matti, just returned from Iran, sent her. Good stuff. I borrowed a LP Middle East book from my hotel, and sat all day and researched. Matti said that the book was badly out of date, no surprise. Everything was more expensive now. I was worried about that. The book said no one will touch Amex travelers cheques, and I only have US$500 in cash. It won't be enough for 21 days... But it might be. The book talks of hotels costing US$15-20 a night. But Matti, if I read it right, said US$2-3! I don't know which to believe. The rate in the book was US$1=1600 rials. Matti said US$1=5000 rials, but his writing was too messy to read clearly! He also said the rate was much better than in the book, so what's the deal? US$15 or US$2? If it is US$2, then I'll have more than enough. If it costs US$15 for a hotel, then I'll have to leave the country in less than 3 weeks. I will have to wait and see... The book does say that all hotels charge in $'s at "extortionist rates", but Matti had prices all in Rials. Hm. I decided to pass through Pakistan at a fast run and so give myself a couple more weeks elsewhere. Maybe Iran if prices are low, but if not, helpful in getting everywhere, including home, sooner. |
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| 13 June | New Delhi | |
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Still here... Out to Pakistan. Again. They supposedly opened at 9:00, but everyone outside had to wait until 10:30 before we got in to get processed. 900Rp! It was free for Japanese, 450 for Germans. They must really hate Ireland. It beggars me here...
Back to Connaught Place, I really have to buy some clothes. The law in Iran supposedly requires men to wear long trousers and long sleeve shirts. Damn. The trousers I have are just too hot for this sort of weather, and I now have no long sleeve shirts. I think I need at least 2 shirts, and 1 more pair of trousers. Damn, there goes my dream of a light pack... I bought one nice shirt for 320 Rp, but couldn't find anything else suitable. I don't know how they stand it around here. Everyone wears heavy jeans-weight trousers and shirts. No way. I'll try again tomorrow. This is the ultimate nightmare for me, having to shop! 8-O |
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| 14 June | New Delhi | |
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One last time to the embassies. I was sick of paying through the nose for tuk tuks, so I took the bus for 2 Rp instead. It dropped me off right down the road. Good enough. Again, a 1½ hour wait while they took their thumb out of each other's asses, but I got my transit visa with no difficulty.
Changed the remnant money I had from Thailand and Malaysia to get an additional 1200 Rp to cover my expenses, I hope. And that's it. I am going to try to mail this journal home now, plus the letters people have written, my rain jacket, receipts, an unused plane ticket, etc. I hope I have enough money! So, volume II now ends. The next one should last through to maybe Kenya, maybe. I'm not in the mood for anything too profound right now, but let's see. Volume II covered Thailand, Nepal, India. End of my beach days, some sex life, some incredible scenery, some rude people, some good ones. A tragedy, some fun, some burnout. Same, same. That's enough, I think. Let's see what volume III will bring!
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| 14 June | New Delhi | |
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On to number three! In volume one, our hero learned to relax. We watched as he generally de-stressed, learned to speak, lost his heart several times as his emotions ran wild. From fun and friendly New Zealand, to outrageous Oz, from wet Indonesia all the way up to shopping Singapore, western Malaysia, and on into Thailand, a paradise on earth. We saw as he let loose in Raileh and ended up partying on Koh Samui, a truly mellow guy.
Volume two continued the tale as our hero reaches mythical Koh Phangon, and discovers the truth. On Koh Tao, where he comes face to face with his drug problem, and defeats it in the depths of the sea. Leaving the sand and sun behind, he reaches Bangkok. There he meets a lovely maiden and a tale of true romance and eroticism explodes as they travel together through the Songkran celebrations. Failing in his endeavors up north, our hero returns to Bangkok where he bids her a regretful adieu. Action and adventure then thrills our audience as he dares the mighty Himalaya, emerging unscathed to tell the tale. On reaching India next, he finds himself questioning the purpose of his travels and deep soul searching then follows as he journeys through the land of the Raj. We left him in hot and steamy Delhi, about to begin the long and dangerous sojourn west. Through Pakistan, Iran, Turkey, he will pass until meeting his long distanced mother. Read now, as we resume the tale. What will happen next? Will he find new purpose as he moves through the lands of fanatics? Is another romance destined for our hero? Or does tragedy await him that could cut short his quest to explore the Great Out There. Read on, dear friend, and find out! o o o Humph, well, anyway... The afternoon left me truly pissed off. I tried to mail my old journal, my gore-tex rainjacket, etc. from the small post office near the bazaar. The guy told me it will cost about 1300Rp! He opened my box, searching it. He seemed disappointed to find mainly papers, and asked why I wanted to send it registered mail. When I mentioned "expensive" (the jacket), he perked up, started whispering he could get me a better deal, I can air mail it for only 300-400Rp. "Special service," he said. Yeah right, see you later asshole. I leaned over the counter to get my box back, and caught him pulling my jacket out. He was attempting to steal from me. I knocked him silly. Damn this country. I walked all the way down to the GPO, got my box sewn up in cloth (required for all packages), and went to the counter. "Closed" the guy mumbled. But this sign right in front of you says you are open for another half hour. "Closed!" he insisted. Assholes. Every one of them. Now, I must stay another day in this damn country just to mail this box! Yes, I'm upset! I want to get moving, but one thing after another keeps rising up to stand in my way! Is someone trying to tell me something here? I stomped back to the market. One of the many venders on the street, a drumseller, annoyed me just a little too long, beating his drums in my ears while dogging my steps, so I actually swung at him with my lathi. I didn't try to hit him, I just wanted to make him shit his pants. I missed him by a bare fraction and he jumped back, dropping his drums. The others around us laughed at the eccentric tourist. At least that one won't bother me again. Now if only the other 20 sellers would just drop dead, I'd be a little happier! |
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| 15 June | New Delhi | |
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Up early to buy my train ticket - finally! Shane-Punjab Express. About 120 Rp for 2nd class, but 276Rp for an air con chair, less riff raff. I'll take it! It leaves at 6:50AM tomorrow. I'm finally going to get out of here!
Next to the GPO The place was actually open! My god. It cost 400Rp to send it registered mail. Important stuff to me, so it was worth the extra I think... Back at my hotel, I finished reading The Great Railway Bazaar and thought, yeah, maybe I'm cured of my addiction as well - "sickening myself on my addiction in order to be free of it." Then I thought, wait a minute, I am still a long way from done here! I'd better not be sick of it! Or am I? I need to really consider that maybe I'm nearing the end of my trip, that I've had all I can truly handle at one time. I still think it could be loneliness, combined with one whopper of a burnout. Maybe a new country, a new group will bring me out of it. If not, I think Turkey will be the end of this trip. There is no use wasting my time and money if I'm no longer enjoying myself! It might even just be India itself, full of monkeys and freaks, with so few "normal" folks that it's all just too much... We'll see in about a month of so. At dinner, I ran into the Flecks again. "What, you're still here?" Yeah, yeah. One last 12Rp thali, then I forced myself to shop. I finally sold out and went for some of those pajama pants all the other travellers wear. Very lightweight, black. I also bought a long sleeve white shirt. Paid 170Rp, too much, but I didn't feel like haggling hard, and I did get him to go down some. Anyway, they are cooler than my trekking pants, so good enough. |
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| 16 June | Amritsar | |
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Up early to pack, out. I found out the New Delhi station was rather nice. It even had a departure board telling which track #, departure times, etc. I went to track 6, my train was actually there! There was even a computer printout of reserved seats and names taped to the door. There I am! C2, seat 11. Wow, I actually had no problems at all! At exactly 6:50, we rolled out! I can't believe it to be true. It was a nice cool, clean, comfortable ride. I kept forgetting I was still in India. Definitely worth the extra.
In Amritsar, I got a room at the Tourist Guesthouse, nothing special, but for 85Rp, good enough.
After exploring the grounds, we sat by the water and watched the temple at sunset. The Temple was glowing in the middle of the "Pool of Nectar." A voice reads from the Sikh holy book 24 hours a day. Sparrows filling the branches of a nearby tree almost overcame the loudspeaker with their singing. The people were all very friendly. Children gathered around us, old men told us stories of the fighting, young girls shyly approached us to ask our name, then ran away, giggling. We finally got back to the hotel around 8:45. Rose had ordered dinner and they told her to be back 7:30. Now, the guy started really yelling at her, not holding back at all. For a place with "very very friendly staff" as Matti said, it was not at all what I was seeing here. Payment in advance, offering lousy exchange rates, the most expensive food I've seen in India, yelling at the guests... I don't know. Of course, as soon as I got in bed, the power went out and I lay there soaking wet, sweating into the sheets. Horrible night.
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©Copyright Seán Connolly |
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