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7-9 Apr-08 I asked for the cheapest fares so I got a flight that arrived in Calcutta at 3 am local time. I had to change some money because I couldn’t find an ATM at the airport. I bought a prepaid taxi into the backpacker quarter of Calcutta. The roads were deserted and the sidewalks were littered with bundles of rags which on a closer look turned out to be people sleeping.
The driver tried a couple of hostels but everything was closed for the night. Finally, one opened up. Expensive and crummy, at least it was a place for the night. There was a used bookstore a few doors down where I finally found a copy of Lonely Planet for India.
I found a new hotel and an ATM and then started wandering the streets. Along the way I stopped at a juice stand that had a place to sit. There I met Allison, who made a living as an eco-tourguide. We had a beer at the Fairlawn hotel. The more she talked about Nepal, the more I wanted to visit. I booked the same flight as Allison for the next day and we shared a taxi to the airport. 12-Apr-08 Needless to say, by the time I finally arrived at the border I was 8 hours over my visa. I had to pay a visa fee and a two dollar overstay charge and get a copy of my passport and attach a photo. Argh! When I finally walked into Sunali, India I was ready for a hotel room and some sleep. But, the hotel wasn’t open. I saw a bus to the town where I would have to catch a train so I jumped on. I finally put my head down in a mosquito infested railroad hotel room. When I went to the railway station, I was introduced to the phenomenon of Indian Bureaucracy. When the slow moving line finally delivered me to the ticket window, they asked for my booking form. Booking form? So, I gave up and booked the ticket with a private agent. I arrived in Varanasi and had picked out a hotel near the Ganges. I asked the rickshaw drivers who knew the way to the hotel and negotiated the fare. At least I picked a young peddler. He toiled his way uphill sometimes having to get off and push the rickshaw down the crowded streets. After he had asked directions several times and doubled back once or twice it was pretty clear that he didn’t have a clue as to the location of the hotel. Eventually he announced that we had arrived. I couldn’t see the hotel. He pointed. I asked a local traffic policeman and he pointed in the same direction and explained that the road was too narrow for rickshaws. Too narrow for a rickshaw! So I saddled up and started walking. It was hot and I was suffering from some kind of bacterial bronchial infection which made it hard to breath. Of course everyone except the cows wanted me to buy something. It was a struggle. When I got to the hotel it took me a while before I was able to catch my breath enough to climb to my third floor windowless cubby hole. After a short breather, I headed for the rooftop restaurant with visions of an icy cold drink dancing in my head. Ice…what Ice? A couple of slivers in a barely cold lime soda had to be enough. I spent some recovery time and the next day went looking for an inhaler. That evening I went on the free sunset boat ride on the Ganges. Varanasi is a holy town where people come to die, be cremated and then thrown in the Ganges. I saw a building with lots of people lying on mats just waiting to die. Along the Ganges there are Ghats where people are burned. What’s amazing to me is the people who swim in and drink the water from the river. On the boat ride the guide told us that young children, pregnant women and priests are not cremated but are wrapped in cloth, weighted with stones and placed in the river. The people with money pay about $35USD for a wood fire cremation and the poor spend $3USD for an electric cremation. I was shocked to see dogs munching on the head of a charred corpse along the river bank. We paid the guide a little extra to park in front of a big ceremony on the banks of the river. Music, dances and colorful lights were duplicated side by side. That’s right…two identical ceremonies side by side. There were several thousand people on the banks and hundreds of boats like ours parked on the river. It was memorable. After a few days in Varanasi I decided it was time to head for Agra. I made internet reservations for 3rd class AC on the train and allowed myself plenty of time to get to the train station. The Varanasi station has a special office for foreign travelers so I checked in. When it was time for the train I was directed to platform 6. I went there and waited with four other foreigners. The train was never posted. We trooped back to the office and were informed that there must have been a platform change and we could catch the train again tomorrow. Not good. We pressed the office manager for a solution and he said we could share a taxi to another town with a station on another line. So, Xuan, Jung-Nam, Eun Hee, Taketoshi and I set off on an Indian taxi adventure. The traffic in Varanasi was really heavy but once we cleared town we sailed right along. The driver kept turning off the headlights maybe to save money? Xuan was a French woman of Vietnamese extraction. Jung-Nam and Eun Hee were a Korean brother and sister. Taketoshi was a Japanese dentist. Xuan and Taketoshi had pretty good English but the Koreans were struggling with getting information. We arrived at the station in the smaller town and got our tickets. Unfortunately, we could only get open seating tickets. In other words, we would have to find any open seat we could. I clearly remember that the train 2650 was to be on track 9 at 10:20pm. When we got there we saw a dark train but people were getting on so we found a spot. When a soldier asked where we were going we said Agra. He said, “Not on this train”. Needless to say, we panicked. We didn’t want to miss another train. Xuan went running up and down all the platforms and managed to find the right train. We all hustled up and down the ramps to get there before departure. When I arrived, gasping for air, there was only one berth available… an upper berth near the toilet. I chained up my backpack and fell into an exhausted sleep. When I opened my eyes around 3am the first thing I saw was my passport laying on the berth. My sleep fogged thought: “That’s not right”. Then I reached down to check my wallet. A THIEF HAD SLIT THE BOTTOM OF MY POCKET AND STOLE MY WALLET! I looked for a train conductor through four or five cars but apparently sleeper class is un-attended. The other passengers were sympathetic but couldn’t offer any help. I had about 6 rupee (15 cents) left in coins. My heart was warmed by the tea wallah who, after hearing my story from the other passengers, gave me a free cup of tea. I’ve traveled enough to have a back-up credit card a small amount of dollars tucked away in a safe place. But, I wasn’t about to open my bags until I was safely locked in a hotel room. The Agra station master found me a motorized rickshaw driver who would wait for payment until I had some money. He took me to my first choice hotel but it was full. Then he took me to the Sai Palace. Raj, the owner, was really helpful. He said I could pay for my room and my food when I checked out. I headed for the roof where I had breakfast with a stunning view of the Taj Mahal. There was an internet connection so I downloaded Skype and used it to cancel my credit card and my ATM card. I put Sai Palace on www.traveldodo.com to let people know what a great host Raj is. Then I began what was to become a familiar challenge: finding a place that would do a cash advance on my Visa card. I had to go across town to Thomas Cook before I found a place. It costs more to take a cash advance than to use an ATM card so, not only did the thief steal $300USD, he also cost me more for the rest of the trip. Citibank said they would have a replacement ATM card waiting for me in Delhi in a few days. So, I relaxed and enjoyed the sights in Agra. I toured the Taj Mahal and the Fatepur Sakri, a red sandstone fort about 30km from Agra. When I arrived in Delhi, I found a reasonable hotel near the train station and settled in. I tracked down some new books to read and wandered the streets for a while. I found a good rooftop restaurant that put lots of ice in my tea and had some good but somewhat pricey Western food. I tracked down a rickshaw to go to Citibank to pick up my ATM card and took a long ride across Delhi only to find that no card had arrived. Even though I gave them an extra two days Citibank let me down. I booked my shuttle to Delhi International Airport and I must confess, I was very happy to leave India. Independent solo travel in India is hard. Reliable information is not easy to come by. Transport is confusing. The bureaucracy is daunting. Cheap hotel rooms can be found but the quality is not a good value compared to the rest of my Asian experience. Some Indians were kind to me but most were greedy and grasping. India replaces Russia as my least favorite destination. |
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