My Last Day in India

Well folks, here we are. My last blog entry for my last day in India. This journey has been absolutely amazing and I am genuinely sad to be leaving. I am already planning in my head how I will return so I can explore so much more of this magnificent subcontinent. Perhaps you will see me on the Amazing Race, haha.

My last full day in India consisted of me having to get from Rishikesh to New Delhi and then to the New Delhi airport and onto my plane, which left at 9:45PM. From Rishikesh, it was about an eight hour bus ride to New Delhi, and the first bus out of Rishikesh left at eight in the morning. So, that means I would arrive in Delhi at four in the afternoon at the absolute earliest, assuming nothing goes wrong along the way. The Delhi airport requires you to be there at least three hours before your flight, so again, assuming nothing went wrong, I had almost three hours to get from the bus station in Delhi to the airport in Delhi, and I knew where neither one was. As I ran over these numbers, facts, and variables in my head, I started to think that maybe I should take a night bus instead and just bear a very long wait at the airport, because if something happened to the bus along the way or we hit some really bad traffic going to Delhi, I would more than likely miss my flight to Italy and if I missed my flight to Italy, I would miss the wedding. I had left no wiggle room in my schedule for this type of situation, and then my ashram buddy Praveen told me that bus breakdowns are fairly common on long jaunts across India, so I decided to take a night bus a day early, arrive in Delhi in the early morning hours, and then wait at the airport for SEVENTEEN HOURS until my flight took off. Wow…just saying that number is pretty incredible.

While I wasn’t looking forward to the marathon wait at the airport, I figured I’d be ok. I had my iPod loaded with music and movies (including the Star Wars trilogy…the force was strong with me), I had my journal for drawing and writing, I had a couple of great books I had picked up in various bookstores across the mighty subcontinent, and I had six weeks’ worth of travel memories to sift through and relish as I waited for my plane.

My last evening in Rishikesh was spent dining with my new friends at the ashram. My travel buddy Juliana had taken a day trip to a nearby village to study some Ayurvedic plants and I was starting to get worried that she would not be back in time for us to say goodbye. Thankfully she made it back about half an hour before I had to leave and after a great meal and a long embrace, we parted ways after six amazing weeks of traveling together. With my heavy backpacker’s pack and my regular backpack also weighed down with my old and new possessions, I rushed to get to the Rishikesh bus depot and arrived out of breath and very sweaty, only to end up waiting inside the idling bus for almost an hour before we took off. What I discovered in India is that a lot of the time, the bus doesn’t leave when it is scheduled to leave, it leaves when it is full. Whatever, I didn’t care at that point. I just tried to get comfy and catch a little shut-eye.

Our bus ride was typical: uncomfortable, hot, and dangerous. But it also seemed to go by rather quickly because I managed to get a good amount of sleep. We arrived in Delhi at right past four in the morning and the scene as we all left the bus was ske-tchy. Hardly any streetlights, beggars, filth, and stray dogs and cows everywhere, and already it was probably 90 degrees. I sat down on the dirt and figured out what I should do. I had spoken with a few people at the ashram about what there is to see in Delhi and they had suggested several temples and landmarks to go see. I had wanted to do this, but at this point, I was pretty much flat broke and had left myself 500 rupees for the rest of my time in India. 500 rupees was about 10 dollars and half of that was what it was going to cost me to get to the airport in a rickshaw, so getting around Delhi in a rickshaw and checking out temples for the day was pretty much out of the question. This actually really disappointed me because there was one temple in particular, the Lotus Temple, that I really wanted to see. This temple was a Baha’i temple and was shaped like a lotus flower and from the pictures I saw looked simply amazing. As an architect, my interest was significant, but I would have to accept my situation and just be happy that I even have enough cash to make it to my plane. Oh well, next time. At around 5:30AM and what seemed to be at least a twenty mile rickshaw ride, I arrived at the International Terminal in Delhi airport and now the wait was about to begin…I just had to get inside the terminal. I get to the sliding glass doors and the promise of air-conditioning and cool tile floors to touch when the guard asks for my itinerary. What itinerary? I have a e-ticket in the system, I don’t need an itinerary! Well, apparently I do, and if I don’t have one, I can’t get inside the terminal. And oh the irony, of the ten flights I had this entire trip, this one flight from Delhi to Abu-Dhabi is the ONLY FREAKIN’ FLIGHT for which I didn’t print out an itinerary. I was hot, tired, weighed down with all my bags, and now I was being told I can’t even go inside the airport and wait for my flight. I had to wait outside the terminal in the heat and noise and dust. Not a good time. I walked around for a while in frustration and found a bench by a taxi loading area to sit on for a while. I put my backpack on my lap and wrapped the straps of my big bag around my legs and holy cow (haha, literally) even managed to sleep for twenty minutes or so on this crappy bench but then the heat crept up into the triple digits and any trips to dreamland were immediately cancelled. Thankfully there was a restaurant/lounge area across from the terminal with A/C and much to my surprise, I was able to sit in there without being hassled to buy something. It was now about 6:30AM and I just sat at a table and tried to figure out how the hell I’m going to get a printout of my itinerary. I thought at first it would be easy, since there are internet cafes with printers everywhere in India, but it seems that the Delhi airport was the one place there weren’t any to be found. After much asking and walking around, I found the offices of my airline and begged them to print out a copy of my itinerary so I could just go inside the airport and for the love of god just sit down and rest and know that I can board my flight in 15 hours. Nope! Computer’s down! Wow…I was starting to think that maybe I wasn’t going to be leaving India today. And to make matters even better, along with the probably sixty or seventy pounds I was carrying everywhere with me, a very sharp and deep pain had developed in the front part of my left foot and every step I took was excruciatingly painful. I went back to my table at the lounge area and took out my journal and started to write. Reading back on it now I can still recall the intense frustration I was feeling, especially since about every third word I wrote started with the letter “f” and ended with “uck.” Haha, oh man, I was so pissed.
But, as my time in India had taught me, everything happens for a good reason and there was a good reason I wasn’t able to go into the terminal and there was a good reason I had sat down at this one particular table at this one particular section of the lounge. A few minutes after I was done writing my curse-filled rant, a young Indian man approached me and asked if he could sit down at my table. Rather bluntly, I said sure, I don’t care. I was watching a movie on my iPod so I didn’t really speak to him or take much notice, but then he asked me if I minded if he read. Why the hell would I care if you read? I thought. I said sure, go ahead. So from his backpack he takes out not a magazine, not a paperback, not some work papers. He pulls out a hardcover copy of War and Peace and starts reading it as casually as if he were on a beach in San Diego. Once my frustrations had subsided a bit, I couldn’t help but ask him what he thought of the book, and we proceeded to engage in a fascinating conversation about Tolstoy’s character development and perceptions of French society in Russia. Much to my pleasant surprise, this guy, who was probably no older than twenty two, was incredibly intelligent and excited to converse about not only his current literary conquest, but also his life and present situation as well as mine. We talked for what seemed like over an hour, and then he said something to me I will never forget: “Hey, I was thinking about riding over to the Lotus temple and meditating for a bit. Would you care to join me? I’d be happy to take you.” When I heard those words, I almost broke down in tears I was so happy. It just goes to show that regardless of what events occur, whether you perceive them to be good or bad, just keep an open mind and open heart, and things will work out. I didn’t have to talk to this kid, but I did, and now my one last Indian desire was going to happen.

However, there was a catch. My new friend, whose name was Anituhab (Ani, for short), drove a motorcycle, so that’s what we had to get around on. Thinking back, I don’t think I had ever been on a motorcycle, so this was going to be quite the adventure for me. Along with being a passenger on a crotch-rocket style motorcycle, I also had all my luggage with me. I had thought when I had gotten to the airport I could leave my big backpacker’s bag at a baggage storage place, but was informed that since they were building a new international terminal, any extra space is being used for administrative operations. So it was my entire body, my huge backpack, and my regular backpack sitting on about 10 inches of motorcycle seat. Sure, why not? Seemed like as good a day as any to die. When we started moving I actually felt OK. I had placed my large bag between Ani and me and my regular backpack on my back, so it kind of balanced me out. All I had to hold onto was these little handles on the side of the seats, but as long as the speed was kept under 15 MPH, I was good. But of course, once we got out of the terminal roadway and onto the main highway, the speed went WAY past 15 MPH and then I started to get really nervous. As I’ve previously mentioned, the traffic in India isn’t like traffic here in the States. Things like traffic lanes and traffic signs and traffic lights are merely suggestions to Indian drivers. I had already witnessed many collisions during my stay, so all I really had to comfort me was the thought of “Gee, I hope no one hits us.” Fortunately, Ani was a very safe and conservative driver (unlike most of the rickshaw drivers) so my fear never really reached panic mode. Once I got past the initial fear of being on the back of a motorcycle on the main highway in Delhi, I started really enjoying myself and the combined sensation of exhilaration and fear. The thought was something like “Well, I could die, but until that happens, this is really fun!” After a really long time of riding and weaving through traffic, we reached the Lotus Temple and made our way through the sprawling and beautifully landscaped campus. However, once we got off the motorcycle and had no wind blowing to cool us down, the heat really started to work its magic on me. That day it was over 110 degrees in Delhi and with all my baggage, it wasn’t the most pleasant of situations. As we approached the Temple, we had to stop and remove our shoes and place them in cubbies and wait in line outside in the heat and at one point I recall I was waiting for Ani to remove his shoes and I started to feel light-headed and saw my peripheral vision start to disappear. Fortunately Ani had some water which I grabbed from him and drank without asking. He simply laughed in a very understanding manner and said “Hot, isn’t it?” The temple was a sanctuary in more ways than one. Speaking was forbidden, so it was very quiet as well as cool. Ani and I sat towards the back and meditated silently for almost an hour. I also drew a few sketches of the interior architecture and of the lotus flower shaped design carved in the pews. It was a very beautiful building, so by the time we left, I was spiritually, aesthetically, and physically rejuvenated. We still had plenty of time before I had to return to the airport, so we drove to a nearby shopping plaza and I had my first taste of McDonald’s in India. I had a potato burger with some fries and a coke and it was really good. I ended up getting another one I liked it so much. The fries are basically the same, and of course, there’s no beef on the menu. Not a lot of ketchup to be found, either. Ani was still hungry after so we went to a Ruby Tuesday’s in the same plaza and watched some cricket and talked more about War and Peace and our plans for the future. After we had worn out our welcome in the nice air-conditioned restaurant, we got back on the bike with all my cumbersome luggage and Ani took me around some of the more popular tourist sites in Delhi. We rode by a few different temples and parks and I took some pictures, but after a few destinations, it was time to get back. Ani and I rode back to the airport and made it in one piece to the exact same spot where we left many hours before. We exchanged emails, said our goodbyes, embraced, and then he sped off into the Delhi evening. What an awesome chance meeting.

Now, finally, I was able to get inside the terminal (by the McDonald’s we found an internet café with a printer for my itinerary) and just relaaax until it was time to fly. I went in to the bathroom and changed clothes, brushed my teeth, and realized I hadn’t worn jeans or shoes in a month and a half. I didn’t miss it either, but probably best for the flight. After an hour of reading, I checked my bag, went through security, and waited at the gate. Much to my happiness, they were televising a World Cup match, but I was told unless I was drinking, I couldn’t sit at the bar and watch. Fine. Then I noticed an attractive young girl sitting at the bar watching the game, not drinking. I brought this up to the bartender and he rolled his eyes and said, “Fine, you can watch, but if customer wants to sit in your seat you have to leave.” I looked at the empty seats to my right, looked at the empty seats to my left, laughed, and said OK. The final bit of good fortune on my last day in India came as we boarded the plane. I was flying to Milan, Italy with a layover in Abu-Dhabi through an airline called Etihad Airlines, which was based in Abu-Dhabi. As you probably know, Abu-Dhabi has a lot of money, so the airline was quite luxurious. I boarded the plane and shuffled through 1st class, which was ridiculous in its opulence, and wished that I had thousands to spare for a comfy seat and good food. Then I was walking through business class, which wasn’t as ridiculous as 1st class, but still way better than any “peasant class” I had ever seen, and noticed that my economy class seat number was the same as this business class seat. I stood for a moment looking back and forth between my ticket and the seat number and then a very nice flight attendant confirmed that this was in fact the correct seat. Did I get an upgrade I didn’t know about? Nope, this was just how Etihad rolled. We got oodles of money, so we’re gonna make our economy class look like regular business class. Score! I was excited. The seat was SO comfortable and cushy. Plus I got a traveler’s kit with a sleep mask, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and socks (!!!). The food was amazing, the entertainment center was great, and there was no one in the seat next to me! I was flying in comfort. I was also highly entertained by the girl sitting across the aisle from me who was from India but lived in Ireland, so she had a most excellent combination of accents for me to enjoy. The only negative part of the flight was when we had our pre-meal fruit salad and I noticed a single pea pod on top of the salad. Strange, why would they have a single pea pod with all this fruit? I hadn’t even seen a green bean in all of India, so this was kind of strange. But, I do love green beans, so I grabbed the pod and quickly munched it down. Right away my taste buds informed me that’s not a pea pod, that’s a chili pepper. My mouth ignited with unexpected and intense spicy pain. No amount of water I drank could quell the fire on my tongue and lips, so just like the weather in India, I had to sit there and tolerate it. It sucked.
But, after a few hours, we made it to Abu-Dhabi airport (with its free internet) and I hung out with my Indian/Irish plane buddy and checked World Cup scores online and asked myself when I got to Italy, which flavor of gelato will I eat first?

Thank you to everyone who read my blog and even though this last one comes about a year after the events, I appreciate all your comments and positive feedback. This trip was the most amazing of my life and I would highly recommend going to India to anyone, so if you do, get in touch with me so we can talk about it!

-Matan