While I get things up and running around here, I thought I’d post my India notes, scribbled and scrawled with love, inspiration and revelation during the five weeks I spent scurrying around India last year. I was thrilled with the feedback the first time I posted them, and they should give you an idea of the flavour I’ll be trying to create here. Sorry for the redundancy if you’ve already seen them on Facebook.
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10:46pm Monday, Jul 9
Sorry in advance for the incoherence - I can see a ramble coming…
What a shock this place is — incredible contrasts between amazing beauty and complete destitution. I’ve never seen anything like it in my little sheltered life so far, and my brain is having trouble making sense of it. My flight got into Delhi last night around 11:45, and it was 2:00 a.m. before I managed to check into a hotel. The cost was a ridiculous 2100 rupees or about C$60 — about 2 or 3 times what I probably should have paid — and I know it was a scam and that the taxi driver likely got a nice commission from the deal, but I wasn’t really in any position to bargain hard at 2am in a bad part of a city I don’t know… Reading this morning, I learned that Lonely Planet says most locals avoid the area. And at any rate the room wasn’t bad — AC and a clean bed.
The streets are crazy at night — skeletons walking down the street in loincloths and little else, or lying on sidewalks giving no indication of whether they’re dead or alive. Culture shock is one of the things I was looking for when I came here — one of things I thought I needed as a well-rounded person, to appreciate what I have — and culture shock is setting in big time. An amazing thing about this place is that everywhere you expect to see a person, you see four — in corners, alleys, under stairs; everywhere humanity is teeming and boiling over in this place.
And still it’s so beautiful. I only got to sleep around 3:30 a.m., and exhausted though I was, I was up at dawn. I had breakfast this morning on the roof of my hotel, simple toast and butter. I ordered coffee, it came lukewarm, and after two sips I thought better of drinking something that probably hadn’t been brought to boiling to kill the nasties that give India’s water it’s reputation for travellers’ diarrhea. And looking at the other rooftops in varying states of disrepair, and at the throngs of wild dogs that roam the street at night and bark at the sunrise, I was amazed at how beautiful it all is. And it really is.
I think the biggest comfort zone wrecker for me is the is how everything here seems to be decided on the fly. I was supposed to have a room booked at another hotel last night, for example, for half the price I paid, but it had been rented out… It’s a little unsettling, I have to admit, to know that at any time I’m dependent on the honesty and professionalism of a taxi driver — or a plain-clothes “tourism officer” who shows up unannounced at my hotel and announces that he’d be pleased to give me a free ride to the “tourist office” where I’m sitting now. Even though I’m pretty sure this place is a privately run tourist trap, I’m glad the fellow showed up, because I was having a heck of a time finding an Internet access point — free or otherwise. Likely he’s a friend of the hotel manager or of my taxi driver from last night, and has paid a little commission for the heads-up on the latest backpack-toting fresh meat. I have a feeling the next few weeks will be an excellent opportunity to hone my instincts about things like that… I’m definitely someone who likes to be in control of my situations, and this is pretty crazy for me, but I’ve been in this country maybe ten hours and already it’s been an education.
I read most of Siddhartha on the plane from Paris, and at one point the main character is asked why things just happen for him, why things he wants/needs just fall into place and good things seem attracted to him. He replies that when a stone is thrown into the water, it needs no effort to find the quickest way to the bottom, and that he is like the stone - always moving towards his goals simply by refusing to have thoughts that interfere with them. This is long before the Ramtha nutbars and that Secret book started on about the law of attraction and the power of intent… Sometimes I see a little of myself in that Siddhartha analogy — for as long as I can remember, people have been telling me I have horseshoes up my ass.
Cliché though it is to talk about spirituality and India, it would almost be dishonest not to. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to come here, and now that I’ve arrived I’m still not entirely sure, half a world away from everyone I love and everything I know. And the only answer I can come up with that makes any sense is that I guess I’m looking to love and know new things, in ways I haven’t yet discovered, and at the same time gain a new understanding of what I already love, what’s already important to me. Maybe it’s the heat. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something for me here — even if I seriously question my decisions when I’m lying in bed in a rip-off hotel room, too tired to sleep…
The air is so thick that it’s almost liquid — I thought 100% humidity would be the same in Montreal as it is anywhere else, that 100% was a maximum, but the air feels easily ten times as saturated as I’ve ever experienced it before. And there are police at every roundabout, three to an intersection, all over the place.
Today’s plan was to head to Dharamsala in the North, but I’ve been informed that there’s only one flight per day, and today’s is all booked. I’ll keep trying anyway, but no word on where I’ll spend the night. I just know that this time, I’ll be sure to reserve something before 2:00 in the morning! Hopefully I get to Dharamsala before the 13th — the Dalai Lama lives there and is giving talks nearby until then. Apparently there is a “deluxe tourist semi-sleeper” bus — whatever that means — leaving Delhi at 4pm today and reaching Dharamsala around 9am tomorrow, for the low low price of 600 rupees ($17). Nil, if you’re reading this you’re shaking you head — I know you warned me against the buses — but I’ll give it some serious thought since it might be my only way to get there before the Dalai Lama packs it in. If nothing else, it’ll be an experience! Plus, there’s got to be something amazing about driving into the Himalayas - I can always see them from the air on the way out, but something tells me I won’t be in a big hurry to leave the gorgeous views and the cool mountain air…
Ha! As I’m writing this in the government tourist office, a little mouse just scurried by.
Take care all of you — I’ll try to post notes whenever I can, and I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I know I’ll enjoy writing them.
Oh, Sumi, what’s your cell number in Manipal again? I didn’t think to write it down… And how the heck to I get to Manipal? Train from Goa or Bangalore? And Nil, how can I get in touch with your parents in Delhi?
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