Well it’s been fun India, but so long. I’ll miss your cheap prices, friendly faces, chai and food, but not your touts, beggars, garbage everywhere or lack of infrastructure. I guess I have the love/hate relationship that many foreigners who visit India have.

The last few months we’ve been trying to decide what to do after this trip, on the fence between going back to Canada or going back to China. I guess the best way to decide is to just buy a damned plane ticket and be done with it, so we got tickets to Hong Kong.

As a going away present, India decided to give me a case of Delhi belly at the last minute. I thought China gave me a stomach of steel since I’ve been immune to any intestinal issues since I arrived in India, but I guess not. So, I got to spend a lot of time enjoying the interior of the New Delhi Airport washroom before the plane left.

As a bit of a disgusting side note, the airport mens washroom – while very clean – was pretty awful. There were about 20 stalls, all full (which was something, considering the airport was not that busy), horribly unhealthy flatulent sounds echoing through the large concrete room, men groaning in agony, 5 cleaners who seemed dedicated to the toilets. The guy in the stall next to me kept breathing heavily and saying “Oh my god…”

For the novelty factor, we went and ate at McDonalds in Delhi. I’m no fan of the golden arches and am definitely not lovin’ it, but thought it would be interesting to visit one in India.

I went at breakfast time and there were some chicken items on the menu, but mostly veg stuff (even the sausages in the egg mcmuffins are veg). For breakfast I had some bland muffin veg things and a surprisingly tasty hash brown. Next to the registers there was a surreal plaque with the McDonalds logo in gold and a message proudly stating “This restaurant serves no beef or pork products.” Unfortunately, the McFascists wouldn’t let us take pictures in the restaurant.

From all the bad things I heard about Delhi before – big, dirty, noisy, crowded – I really don’t think it’s that bad. That’s not to say I like the city either. It’s really, really spread out and definitely a car city, so not at all fun to walk around. The heat didn’t help either. We stayed in the Pahar Ganj area which was a mistake. It reminds me of the Thamel tourist ghetto in Kathmandu, but much dirtier and with more aggressive touts.

I feel like every other post I’ve been complaining about touts in India and hate to sound repetitive, but it really is that bad. If I ever come to India again, I want to have business cards made to hand out to anyone who comes up to me so I can avoid having the same annoying conversation 100 times a day:

FROM CANADA
ENGLISH PART
I CAN SPEAK A LITTLE FRENCH
OH YOU CAN TOO
BONJOUR COMMA CA VA HAHA
IN INDIA FOR ___ MONTHS
IN ______ FOR ___ DAYS
NEXT GOING TO ________
(tedious small talk about the city and its sights)
OH YOU HAVE A SHOP. THAT IS NICE
NO I DON’T WANT TO VISIT YOUR SHOP
NO I DON’T WANT TO BUY ANYTHING
REALLY
NO I REALLY REALLY DON’T WANT TO BUY ANYTHING
I’M SURE
THANKS, BYE
NO I DON’T WANT HASH

I read recently that groups of street kids are actually trained to beg or tout which explains the identical conversations I’ve been having. Apparently classes are held to train street kids to beg in different languages for all the expected foreign tourists coming when India hosts the Commonwealth Games next year. Get your tickets now!

So, we just hopped on an emptier and more expensive sleeper class train with the plan of playing the dumb foreigners if our tickets got checked. Everything was fine until 2 hours later the ticket master came and checked. I played dumb, and we were going to just head to the general car (at this point we were less than an hour away from Delhi so I didn’t mind standing) but the guy wanted us to pay the difference, plus a bribe! After arguing for a bit I finally just told him I had no money, so he gave up and at the next stop we switched to the general car, stood crammed by the car door, and got off at the last stop which was actually one before the one we needed to get off. We then had to wait an hour for another train, and get on that one without any ticket and hope not to get busted again. Luckily, there were no hassles.

After several days of being lazy in Varanasi (at 48 degrees C I couldn’t do much else) and sitting around drinking bottles of Coke and lemon soda, we got train tickets to Agra. The station had a ‘Foreigner Traveler Lounge’ which for me sums up the mind boggling bureaucracy of India quite well: it’s a waiting room, but you’re instructed not to wait, not to look sleepy, not to miss your train, it’s for ‘reservations only’ and there is a big sign than says NO SMOKING, NO PHOTOGRAPHY, DO NOT SIT IDLE.

Anyway, the one and only reason to visit Agra is to see the famous Taj Mahal, the monument of love commissioned by the grieving Mughal emperor in memory of his second wife who died during childbirth. Seeing the Taj was kind of a last minute thing for me; I never really planned it, but figured it’s on the way to Delhi where we’ll be flying out so we might as well. I guess I’m not much of a fan of temples or palaces, so I wasn’t all that interested in it. But I’m glad we did make the stop.

If there’s any monument I would recommend seeing in India, it’s the Taj. The intricately carved marble structure is pretty impressive, especially when you go early in the morning while the sun is still low and before the crowds get there. The courtyard is clean and peaceful, and you can just sit around and take it all in without feeling rushed or bothered (until you’re hungry that is – you can’t bring any food with you and nothing is sold there).

Unfortunately I can’t say the same for the city of Agra, at least in the budget area near the Taj. Our hotel was alright and conveniently a 5 minute walk from it (complete with rooftop restaurant view), but the area is so dirty, polluted, and full of touts and crazed rickshaw drivers that I could not wait to get the hell out.

We arrived in Varanasi and from the train station headed to the old city, where we checked into the budget Alka Hotel with view of the Ganges river and the best veg thali I’ve ever had.

Probably the holiest city to Hindus and (supposedly) the oldest living city in the world, Varanasi is famous for its many ‘ghats’ (or steps) lining the Ganges river. At these ghats you see locals praying, bathing, washing clothes, washing buffaloes, kids playing cricket and other daily rituals that have probably been taking place here forever. Hindus believe that if you die in Varanasi you receive instant ‘moksha’ (or freedom from the cycle of rebirth), so you see a lot of older people that came to Varanasi to live out their final days.

The ghat that gets the most interest from foreigners is the infamous ‘burning ghat’, where up to 2000 bodies are cremated every day and their ashes placed in the Ganges. Photography is (understandably) strictly forbidden at this ghat, so I didn’t take any shots. But to be honest I didn’t really see the big deal (among foreigners that is). I mean, I haven’t seen a lot of dead bodies in my day or anything, but it didn’t seem all that interesting to me and I felt a bit like a voyeur watching somebody’s funeral take place while a bunch of backpackers sat around gawking.

The ‘old city’ is a labyrinth of really narrow pathways too small for vehicles (motorbikes still worm their way through though). It’s easy to get lost in this area at first, but even that is interesting as the alleys are bustling with chai stands, silk shops selling colourful saris and smells of incense, fried food, spices, and urine. There are some pretty big (and sometimes angry) cows and bulls wandering through here though, so it pays to be careful. I think a good rule of thumb is that if the locals look worried about a certain bovine, proceed with caution!

Unfortunately, Varanasi is also notorious for being one of the worst touting and scam cities in all of India. Until the touts get to know your face and associate it with “no”, expect about a hundred propositions a day for boat trips, several friendly strangers wanting to shake your hand so they can turn it into an instant palm reading or massage, and virtually every conversation you have with anyone who approaches you will lead to them wanting to take you to their silk or handicrafts shop to ‘just have a look’. There are also a ton of pretty determined dudes selling hash and weed too; when I used my foolproof line of “thanks, but I don’t smoke” one guy called me a liar and said “I can see it in your eyes!”

After spending my last days in Nepal sick with the flu (but managing to still stuff myself on some pretty great Korean food) it was another long bus ride from Pokhara to the Indian border. We were heading towards Varanasi, so this time the border was at Sunauli.

If there was ever any doubt before, this trip confirmed that I loathe traveling by bus in Nepal. This time, instead of going to the local bus stand, we decided to book a ‘tourist’ bus like all of the other rich foreigners. Unfortunately, this seems to be another scam! The only difference between ‘tourist’ buses and regular buses is:

* tourist bus tickets cost more
* the tourist bus leaves from a ‘tourist bus stand’ which is actually just a dirt parking lot full of touts selling overpriced snacks
* the tourist bus loads up with tourists who paid overpriced tickets before going to the regular bus stand to cram the bus full of locals

Other than this, I couldn’t see any difference.

Arriving back in India was interesting. If I thought the eastern border with Nepal with lax, the southern border took the cake. On the Indian side it consisted of a painted sign saying “INDIAN IMMIGRATION” in front of a wooden table; the table was housed by a tarp and shared space with a snack shop. “Immigration” was one guy with a big ledger.

We caught a bus to the junction town of Gorakaphur, which I couldn’t wait to leave. It was crowded, dirty, noisy, with almost nothing of interest (to me at least). We got up early the next morning and caught a train to Varanasi.

After sadly leaving Sikkim, we decided to check out Darjeeling. Everyone told us that it wouldn’t be very impressive after visiting Sikkim, but I think it has a charm all its own. The views aren’t as nice (or maybe they are; there’s so much mist it’s difficult to see anything), but the bustling market/bazaar and community here is really interesting. Its full of cool buildings and very steep and narrow alleyways, and has a feel that is very distinct. People are pretty modern and stylish here, there is very little visible poverty, and (like Sikkim) with all the kids walking around town in school uniforms it sorta feels more like a rural Japanese town than India.

We met a Chinese couple here who have been traveling around the Middle East, and it’s provided me with a great opportunity to brush up on my very rusty 中文.

Ok, we came across this on the long way up the mountain Khechiopalri Lake. All my better judgment tells me this is not a human skull. It’s probably just a monkey skull. But I need confirmation! Where is that red-headed asshole from CSI: Miami with the horrible one-liners when you need him?

*takes off sunglasses*
“Looks like this hippie…”
*puts sunglasses back on*
“… had a bad trip.”
*YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!*