There is only one word that currently comes to mind when describing India - hectic. The traffic, as previously mentioned is intimidating, but also every inch of each city we have been in so far has been swarming with people and walking the streets is an intense experience.
And Out Come the Wolves...
We arrived by train in Ahmedabad yesterday. As to be expected, we look like tourists. In addition to clearly not dressing like Indians, we also have backpacking backpacks strapped to us and a confused look on our faces. So, as has been happening lately, once we stepped off the train the tuk tuk drivers and others trying to prey on tourists ("wolves" as I have come to call them) swarm around us trying to offer "premier" guide services and knowledge of the best hotels.
While we try to get our bearings (not always easy in this country) and book our next train ticket we have to continually say no and tell them to leave us alone. I try to be patient, but their perseverance runs the line of harassment more often than not. They seem to not understand the word "no," despite their otherwise working knowledge of English, but the statement "leave us the fuck alone" seems to be working out pretty good (at times, living up to the ugly american traveler stereotype is essential).
The Walk of Shame
In order to spite the wolves and their brethren I told them we would not be needing any taxi services because we would be walking. The map in the Lonely Planet guide made the walk seem not only short (maybe 2 miles), but also easily navigable.
So we were off. Taking our destiny into our own hands, knowledge be damned. The sun blazed down and the humidity reared its ugly head, but nothing, including 20 pound backpacks, was going to deter me (nor mylinh, though she took some convincing).
Almost an hour later, we were lost. The map was not nearly as complete as we had hoped and half of the street signs were only in Hindi. Still I, arrogant and stubborn, insisted we push on, lest we admit defeat. Mylinh wasn't as sure. She, reigning in the field of common sense, made the obvious statement that we would save ourselves much hassle and lots of body fluid if we took a $0.50 taxi ride. This did not convince me.
One thing about walking in crowded Indian cities is that it takes 10 minutes to go even one block. This makes being lost even more frustrating because to backtrack or "try" a route requires quite a time commitment. Mylinh, becoming ever more frustrated by my testosterone inspired adventure finally wore me down. As we stood at a six way intersection without a single sign in English I admitted defeat and we jumped in a tuk tuk and were off to some possible hostels.
We found suitable accommodations and hunkered down for a much needed nap.
The Well
Today, we took it upon ourselves to ignore the rain and explore the city. First we visited the Dada Hari Wav, which was built in 1499 by a woman of the Sultan Begara's harem. It has steps leading down to multiple levels finally ending at a well about 100 ft below the surface. It was a fascinating, but eerie place. Likely, it was once in the middle of nowhere, it is now surrounded by houses and the trash that goes along.
A nice surprise was that about 200 meters behind this well was another sacred well and Hindu temple called Mata Bhavani's Well. It was less ornate, but equally interesting as the man who cared for the temple led us up a spiral staircase to the roof which looked down upon western Ahmedabad.
Gandhi's Ashram
Next, we visited Gandhi's Ashram, which he lived in from 1918 through 1930 while struggling for independence from the British Empire. It was from here, on March 12, 1930 that Gandhi set out on his famous salt march to the Gulf of Cambay in symbolic protest of the British salt tax.
The ashram was wonderfully serene, as it was set back from the noise and turbulence of the city. It contained a massive collection of handwritten letters from Gandhi, pictures of him and his family, and a history of his life. The ashram still has religious followers living there, but it has mainly been converted into a Gandhi museum. They even recreated the exact set up of the room Gandhi lived in while at the Ashram. While it was sparse, the Ashram as a whole was a palace compared to many of the slums we have seen throughout India.
The Waiting Game
Now we are biding our time until we catch our night sleeper train, which will take us further north. The internet cafes here are a far cry from Thailand or Costa. They usually consist of small cramped back rooms with no air conditioning and require photo identification (by order of the police - wtf - to catch Osama Bid Laden I suppose).
And Out Come the Wolves...
We arrived by train in Ahmedabad yesterday. As to be expected, we look like tourists. In addition to clearly not dressing like Indians, we also have backpacking backpacks strapped to us and a confused look on our faces. So, as has been happening lately, once we stepped off the train the tuk tuk drivers and others trying to prey on tourists ("wolves" as I have come to call them) swarm around us trying to offer "premier" guide services and knowledge of the best hotels.
While we try to get our bearings (not always easy in this country) and book our next train ticket we have to continually say no and tell them to leave us alone. I try to be patient, but their perseverance runs the line of harassment more often than not. They seem to not understand the word "no," despite their otherwise working knowledge of English, but the statement "leave us the fuck alone" seems to be working out pretty good (at times, living up to the ugly american traveler stereotype is essential).
The Walk of Shame
In order to spite the wolves and their brethren I told them we would not be needing any taxi services because we would be walking. The map in the Lonely Planet guide made the walk seem not only short (maybe 2 miles), but also easily navigable.
So we were off. Taking our destiny into our own hands, knowledge be damned. The sun blazed down and the humidity reared its ugly head, but nothing, including 20 pound backpacks, was going to deter me (nor mylinh, though she took some convincing).
Almost an hour later, we were lost. The map was not nearly as complete as we had hoped and half of the street signs were only in Hindi. Still I, arrogant and stubborn, insisted we push on, lest we admit defeat. Mylinh wasn't as sure. She, reigning in the field of common sense, made the obvious statement that we would save ourselves much hassle and lots of body fluid if we took a $0.50 taxi ride. This did not convince me.
One thing about walking in crowded Indian cities is that it takes 10 minutes to go even one block. This makes being lost even more frustrating because to backtrack or "try" a route requires quite a time commitment. Mylinh, becoming ever more frustrated by my testosterone inspired adventure finally wore me down. As we stood at a six way intersection without a single sign in English I admitted defeat and we jumped in a tuk tuk and were off to some possible hostels.
We found suitable accommodations and hunkered down for a much needed nap.
The Well
Today, we took it upon ourselves to ignore the rain and explore the city. First we visited the Dada Hari Wav, which was built in 1499 by a woman of the Sultan Begara's harem. It has steps leading down to multiple levels finally ending at a well about 100 ft below the surface. It was a fascinating, but eerie place. Likely, it was once in the middle of nowhere, it is now surrounded by houses and the trash that goes along.
A nice surprise was that about 200 meters behind this well was another sacred well and Hindu temple called Mata Bhavani's Well. It was less ornate, but equally interesting as the man who cared for the temple led us up a spiral staircase to the roof which looked down upon western Ahmedabad.
Gandhi's Ashram
Next, we visited Gandhi's Ashram, which he lived in from 1918 through 1930 while struggling for independence from the British Empire. It was from here, on March 12, 1930 that Gandhi set out on his famous salt march to the Gulf of Cambay in symbolic protest of the British salt tax.
The ashram was wonderfully serene, as it was set back from the noise and turbulence of the city. It contained a massive collection of handwritten letters from Gandhi, pictures of him and his family, and a history of his life. The ashram still has religious followers living there, but it has mainly been converted into a Gandhi museum. They even recreated the exact set up of the room Gandhi lived in while at the Ashram. While it was sparse, the Ashram as a whole was a palace compared to many of the slums we have seen throughout India.
The Waiting Game
Now we are biding our time until we catch our night sleeper train, which will take us further north. The internet cafes here are a far cry from Thailand or Costa. They usually consist of small cramped back rooms with no air conditioning and require photo identification (by order of the police - wtf - to catch Osama Bid Laden I suppose).
* picture - Thor wandering the streets on Ahmedabad, positive he thinks he knows where he's going....
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1 comment:
sounds like an incrediable experience. how is the curry. do the cooks tone the curries down for americans?. what types of meat and veges are part of the normal cuisine? do many people who aren't after your money, approach you for conversation? how are the trains? is easy to get from one city to another. does your guide have hindi spell next to english interpretations? at last lots of questions, but please ignore my babling and have a great time. love dad.
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