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

Leaving Dharamsala, Rishikesh Round 2, and My First Ashram Experience

Hello, friends! So yes, it has clearly been a long time since my last blog entry and for that I apologize. Much has happened since I have left India, and now that all the dust has (long since) settled from my travels, I am finally ready to write the final installations of my India blog. So since we last spoke, I had been in Dharahmsala dancing with Ms. Tibet and marveling at the natural beauty of the Himilayas. I had previously written about going back to Rishikesh and spending time at the ashram, but I never did talk about getting back there, so here goes: Our bus ride back to Rishikesh was quite an adventure. We took a night bus to save money and just figured we’d sleep on the bus. Our past experience getting to Dharamsala should’ve reminded us that any kind of rest or relaxation on a bus in India was somewhat of an impossibility, since the roads are either dirt or in disrepair, the turns are sharp, fast, and reckless, and the horns are insanely loud, even with earplugs. We left Dharamsala once I was able to find a functioning ATM to be able to buy my ticket. This in itself took almost half the day since there were 3 ATMs in the town and on that day, all 3 weren’t working. There was a fourth, actually, but you had to be a member of that particular bank to withdraw money and in order to be a member you had to be a citizen of India. So, my only option was to wait around until one of the ATMs got fixed. We began our 475 kilometer journey in the evening and from the very beginning it was a nail-biter. We had to descend the mountain on which Dharamsala was located and the path was narrow and full of turns. You literally couldn’t relax because if you did, the force from the turns would send you flying from your seat, so you had to hang on to whatever you could at all times. A positive note from this hellish descent was that during this time, the sun was setting over the mountains and the view was absolutely stunning. In between bumps and turns, I was able to admire the tranquil view and appreciate the amazing natural beauty that was so abundant in India. Then a hairpin turn would send me flying into the aisle. We did stop a few times on the way to refuel, stretch, and eat. During our first stop I exited the bus and noticed a nice, big, fan-like pattern of orange vomit on the side of the bus: A testament to the gut-wrenching experience an Indian bus ride can be. I was just glad it wasn’t me. Throughout my time in India I would find myself in certain places or situations and would pause and think to myself, “Wow, it would REALLY suck to get sick right now” and I concluded that a 9-hour bus ride would be one of the worst. I was almost a month into my journey and still no “Delhi belly” so I was feeling most fortunate. Anyway, we were given about 45 minutes to eat dinner at the gas station/restaurant where we had stopped. After making a pit stop at a bathroom that would make your average porta-potty seem luxurious, I went into the restaurant to get my grub on. While in line, I befriended an Indian guy around my age and he invited me to eat with him. He even insisted on paying for my dinner. At first I refused, because I still had my Indian salesman repellent mindset and was convinced that if he bought me dinner, I would have to buy something from him. But, since he was not a salesman and seemed very nice, I accepted. I even let him choose my food. We sat down and I proceeded to have the best meal of Indian food I had ever had. I kept asking my new friend what it was so I could remember for later…but seven months later, I forgot. I was very hungry and the food was so amazing that I ate it all very quickly and even asked if there was time for seconds. During our dinner, my friend (whose name I sadly cannot recall) asked me all about my perceptions of India and then told me that while all my destinations were interesting and significant in their own ways, the only way to see the “real” India was to go to the villages and see how life happens there. He was a very smart and ambitious young man, but told me of the difficulties of succeeding in India due to overwhelming poverty of the villages and overabundance of smart, driven, talented people. I remember thinking to myself: Man, if India ever gets rich, we are screwed. By that I mean that a large percentage of the people I met in India was very intelligent, motivated, and driven to succeed. However, due to overpopulation and crushing poverty, opportunities are few and far between. In the U.S. it seems to be quite the opposite. My dinner buddy told me that intelligence is one of the most important things one can possess. During our conversation, I told him I was from Israel and his eyes lit up and he told me that the man he respects most in the world is Jewish, and then proceeded to make me guess who it was. After a long string of “uuuuum”s I finally landed on the correct answer: Albert Einstein. After the best Indian meal of my life, we got back on the vomit-decorated bus and continued our nocturnal journey through the mountains of northern India. I was listening to my iPod for about half an hour and then it happened: a small but steadily growing discomfort in my stomach. This is it, I thought. After a month of being here and now in the worst possible spot, I’m going to puke my guts out and/or have diarrhea and there’s absolutely nowhere to go. I’m trapped. Shit. My inadvertent negative mental cheerleading of the situation wasn’t helping in any way. I was hot, sweaty, and uncomfortable as all hell, and now part of my brain is telling me that the next six hours are quite possibly going to be the worst of my life. The other part of my brain was fighting a losing battle with its evil half, trying to convince me that it’s all going to be ok, it’s probably just a little indigestion, or at worst you may just puke out the window once and that’ll be it. All I could do is breathe slowly and try to think happy thoughts…quite the challenge at the time. We kept on rolling through the darkness and while the stomach pains got worse and worse, there was no “moment of release” one way or the other, so all I could do was deal with the pain. We finally stopped at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere and I bought myself a Coke in the hopes of slowly sipping it and calming down the brawl in my stomach. Once when I was eleven years old I ate some Michael Jordan fruit snacks really fast and then vomited, no lie, seventeen times. Afterwards though, I slowly sipped on some Pepsi and felt much better, so I was hoping this Coke would have the same effects, sans vomit. And you know what? It DID! Hooray!!! I had dodged the Indian food bullet once again and after sipping the Coke, the pain slowly subsided. I concluded that it was in fact indigestion and next time don’t eat your Indian food so fast, you little piggy. Seriously though, I can still clearly recall how amazing that food was. Oh man, I want some right now. We arrived at the bus station at about 4 in the morning, so it was still dark outside. We had arrived in the city of Haridwar, which is near Rishikesh, so now we had to get to Rishikesh, but the first bus going there wouldn’t leave until 6. At first I was insistent on waiting because I didn’t want to pay for a rickshaw, but after sitting on the ground waiting at the bus station for about ten minutes I said ok, let’s take a rickshaw. The rickshaw ride we took was something I’ll forever remember. The ride was about an hour long and it was at dawn, so the beautiful morning light was steadily increasing, and the whole way to Rishikesh, the driver was blasting Shakira from his rickshaw’s speakers. It was beautiful. We even stopped a few times along the way to take pictures of the sunrise over the mountains. I was still bathing in the gigantic wave of relief that had washed over me from avoiding being sick on an Indian bus, so anything and everything during that morning seemed beautiful to me, including Shakira blasting in my ear at 5AM. We got to Rishikesh and headed to our ashram, but our room wouldn’t be ready until the next day, so we would have to spend one night in a hotel. Ok, no problem. We’ll just go back to the same hotel we stayed at previously. We did so, but they were sold out! Ok, no problem, we’ll just go to another one. Sold out! We went through a few more like this, but finally found one. At this point we were both exhausted and just wanted to get some rest. After settling in, Juliana went to the internet café and I decided to get some reading done. I lay on my bed, sweating as usual, and started reading a most entertaining book about a British youngster traveling in India. I was pretty engrossed in the book so I didn’t notice at first, but after a while I saw a few tiny green insects crawling on me. I put my book aside to brush them off, but then I noticed that they were ALL OVER my body and my sheets, so I got up and brushed them off and shook out my bedsheet and then realized that they were probably coming in through the cracks in the window and door frames. Duct tape to the rescue again! I sealed off the room, but only after I liberally sprayed myself and the door and window cracks with my bug spray. Not a good decision. After lying back down on my bed, the air thick with the aroma of bug spray, I tried to read, but very soon I started having difficulty breathing. I had never had asthma or anything like that, so I had to really restrain myself from freaking out. I concluded that it was the bug spray combined with the lack of ventilation that was causing my breathing difficulties, so I just went outside and after a few moments of breathing in the “fresh” Indian air, my breathing went back to normal. So now our dilemma is that if we keep the door closed, I’ll asphyxiate thanks to the bug spray, and if we keep the door open, the little green bugs will take over. We decided to leave. We payed the hotel lady half of our bill (which was not even two dollars) and thankfully found a decent room nearby that even had a swamp cooler. This device used water to cool the room, but it made everything extremely humid, so you had to choose: cool and wet, or hot and dry. We finally went with hot and dry. We were wet enough with our own sweat, we didn’t need a swamp cooler making us wetter. The next day we checked into our ashram and settled in. I honestly had no idea what to expect from this experience. I envisioned lots of yoga, meditation, chanting, and mind-expansion, and that seemed cool to me. What the ashram experience ended up being was somewhat similar to my guesses, just with lots and lots of free time thrown in the mix. We stayed in a dormitory style room at the ashram and had breakfast, lunch, and dinner there at the same times every day, but aside from that, there were no real obligations we had to meet. We were free to do whatever we wanted. For the first few days I attended several of their yoga classes and really enjoyed them, but then the yoga classes were interrupted by a group of folks who came to the ashram specifically for a 10-day yoga course, so no more free yoga classes. So now I really had a lot of free time, which I mostly spent by reading and wandering through Rishikesh and its surrounding areas. I also spent a lot of time sketching the various Hindu deities that appeared in statue form around the ashram. One of my favorite parts of the ashram was the people I met when I was there. People of all ages and backgrounds were there, and for all varieties of reasons, as well. I met a Canadian couple who told me amazing stories of deflecting baboon attacks during their travels in Africa. I met a Brazilian man who lives in Canada who quit his job as a scientist to come here and study to become an Ayurvedic doctor. I’m convinced that this man was one of the smartest people I had ever met. Every conversation we had I came away with incredible amounts of knowledge that he passed along with great enthusiasm. Through the conversations I had with the people I met, I was exposed to so much knowledge and ways of thinking that simply don’t exist in the western hemisphere (or at least that I hadn’t been exposed to). I met a couple of Hare Krishna followers there who had actually opened a temple in San Diego back in the 1970s. The conversations I had with them got really philosophical and abstract almost to the point where I wanted to cut them off and say: Ok, you realize that everything you’re saying is total bullshit, right? But they were so enthusiastic and friendly that I would just listen and in the brief moments they would give me to answer, I would reply with my own succinct opinions, which were usually contrary to theirs. It was all very interesting though, because it made me aware of how much more knowledge and religious scripture was out there that I had no idea existed. Towards the end of the stay, I wandered out one evening and sat on the banks of the Ganges and reflected upon my time in India. Although I had Polish death metal playing through my iPod headphones, I was calm, reflective, and a little bit sad to be leaving the place I had called home for the last six weeks. But, I was also excited to be going to a completely different environment. After a while, the crowds, pollution, heat, and overall filthiness of India can wear on you. I was on my way to Cuneo, Italy to see my good friend Tyler get married and I could almost taste the gelato. Speaking of ice cream and filth, after my reflection on the Ganges, I went to a local shop to get a mango popsicle for dessert. I had finished the delicious treat before I got back to the ashram, but I still had the popsicle stick and the wrapper in my hand and no trash can in sight. Walking through the crowded filthy street, I spent at least ten minutes trying to find a place to dispose of my litter, while the entire time it was dripping sticky, sugary mango juice onto my hand. As I was searching, I thought to myself ”just drop it on the street, there’s a million other pieces of litter, your little stick and wrapper won’t make a bit of difference.” But I told myself no, I was not going to perpetuate the problem of garbage everywhere. I was going to keep looking for a proper means of disposal. Eventually, I found a small yellow trash can outside of a gem shop on the main street of Rishikesh. I disposed of my trash with a clear conscious and a sticky hand. Mission accomplished. Beside the gem shop with the yellow trash can, there was a book store that I decided to check out. I had started leafing through a book that suggested Jesus had traveled to India in his youth when I noticed the owner of the gem shop exit the shop and pick up the little yellow trash can. Hmmm, I thought to myself, I wonder where he’s taking that trash can? Just as I finished that thought, the owner inverted the trash can and dumped its contents, along with my mango popsicle stick and wrapper, on the street. Awesome. Well folks, thanks for reading! Coming up next, my final day in India and how I spent it. Hint: I wore a helmet. -Matan

International Hookah Sessions, Dancing with Miss Tibet, and Overcoming Hotel Adversity

Hello from Rishikesh! I apologize for keeping you all in suspense for so long, but...No, I did not meet His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Sadly, there seems to be a lot of mis-information and rumors regarding His Holiness' appearances in Dharamsala, so no dice for us. We did, however, meet many many Buddhist monks who have met him and have told us, as expected, that he is an amazing person and very very funny.
Our time in Dharamsala was unique because, lucky for us, we had a local to show us around. Way back in San Diego, my travel buddy Juliana was browsing the local swap meet when she came across a man selling Tibetan relics and struck up a conversation with him. She told him she was soon departing for India, and the man excitedly replied that his family lives in Dharamsala and he gave her his brother's phone number and insisted we call him when we arrived. So we did, and for the duration of our stay we were shown around town by Thupten, who is one of the man's brothers and probably one of the genuinely nicest people I've ever met. He took us around to all the Tibetan temples, all the best Tibetan restaurants, and even took us to the Tibetan Center for Performing Arts, where many young Tibetans were rehearsing for the upcoming Miss Tibet Pageant.
Thupten is the assistant to the organizer of the Miss Tibet Pageant, which is held annually in Dharamsala. We were able to see first-hand the preparations for the pageant, which began on June 6th (after we had departed Dharamsala). Thupten admitted to being extremely busy and frantic the entire time we were there, but never ever lost his cool and always took the time each day to meet up with us and show us a little bit more of Dharamsala. Such a cool guy. One night there was to be a welcoming party for the four Miss Tibet contestants and for all the people who helped organize the event, and Thupten invited us as well. The reason there are so few contestants in the Miss Tibet pageant, Thupten explained, was that Tibetan women are typically very shy, conservative, and reserved, and very hesitant to participate in an event which requires them to speak out for their country and for the rights of all citizens of their country, so having even four young women participate in such an event is a source of great pride for all Tibetans. When I spoke to the main organizer, he said he was quite happy with the outcome, but also admitted to be frustrated with the low number of participants and said next year, he wants at least ten. So, the party was quite a fun time. Free food, free booze, great tunes, and gorgeous Tibetan woman. Good times. We sat and drank and talked for a while, but once you combine drinking and music, dancing is bound to happen. I danced with several of the contestants for a while and had a pretty interesting conversation with one of them. At one point later in the night she shyly asked "So based on what you've seen, who do you think is going to be Miss Tibet?" I smiled at her and said "Oh that's easy! You, of course!" She liked that response. There came a point in the conversation where she admitted she couldn't understand what I was trying to ask, but fortunately, Michael Jackson came on the speakers and I said "Nevermind, let's dance!" If there's one universal language, it's good ol' MJ :)
Earlier in our stay in Dharamsala, we befriended a guy named Kenny who was working for the Tibet Post. He invited us out one night for a going-away party for his co-worker so we gladly came along. We had some coffee and ice cream but pretty soon found ourselves just three people, since the rest of the gathering "had to get to bed early." Laaame. So we found a rooftop hookah bar and sat on some pillows near a low, round table and asked for a hookah. As it turns out, this hookah bar is in possession of one, single hookah, which was being used by two Israeli girls nearby. The owner told us we had to wait one hour before it became available. I didn't feel like waiting, so we simply asked the Israeli ladies if we could join in. They said sure, and three was now five. After a pleasant conversation in a Hebrew-English hybrid, I found out that one of the girls knew my cousin's best friend back in the Holy Land. Small world, huh? No, not really. We just say that when situations like those arise.
It seems that news of this singular hookah spread quickly, because not ten minutes later, five became seven, the latest addition being two Indian girls on vacation from Delhi (where at the time, temperatures were in the high 110s). A few coals and several Kingfisher (the beer of choice in India...very strong) liter-sized bottles after that, we had one hookah and about eighteen people smoking, drinking, talking, and dancing with us. This group consisted of citizens from Israel, India, New Zealand, Canada, China, England, France, Egypt, and of course, the good ol' US of A. During my drunken good time, I made sure to take a moment and remember this event. I found it pretty darn cool how through one hookah and a few (OK, not a few, a lot) beers people from so many different places can come together for a night and have a great time as if we'd known each other for years. What a great model for foreign relations. Maybe the UN should start having keggers?
After being gently kicked out of the bar, we went to one of the party people's hotel rooms to keep the party going. That lasted maybe ten minutes, and we were kicked out again. Fine. One my way out of the hotel, I was going down a dark staircase quite fast and banged my forehead on those roll-down steel doors so hard it left a mark for a week. Yay for drunken injuries. I stepped out onto the street and after realizing I had no idea where I was, I took three steps and found my hotel. What luck. Another party-goer was staying at the same hotel and confessed to having two more liter-sized Kingfishers in his bag, so we sat on the roof of our hotel drinking, with an amazingly clear full moon providing the lighting. I then realized I couldn't remember the last time I had heard a night as quiet and peaceful as this one.
The next day, while battling a relentless hangover, we came back to our hotel after dinner and found a scorpion in our sink. Not a spider, not a cockroach, a scorpion. And not a little one, either. After spending many many minutes deciding what should be done about it, we opted to cover him with a small pitcher provided by our hotel and then set a melon on top of the pitcher in case the guy was stronger than we thought. Oh yeah, Thupten gave me a melon earlier, so, we had a melon to use. I had never seen a scorpion in real life before (except maybe behind a layer of protective glass), so I had no idea how it would react to anything we did. With the scorpion trapped, we slept a very uneasy sleep and first thing the next morning, packed our bags and went looking for a new hotel.
We found a nice hotel along the next street, and since our room was on the third floor, we felt safer than we did before from different types of arachnids that might want to share our beds. Our previous room was along a slope of a hill and it had rained the day before, so we guessed the scorpion was trying to keep dry. So we go out and grab a bite to eat and when we come back, a British couple staying one door over from us approaches me and asks "S'cuse me, you didn't by chance see an iPhone around, did you?" I told them I hadn't, and they said they're pretty sure it was stolen. They had gone out on the common balcony for not even ten minutes, but had left their door open and when they returned, no iPhone. Maybe they just left it in a bag or something. The next day, the hotel manager comes and asks us to give him our passports for record-keeping, because there had been a robbery at the hotel. Upon further questioning, we find out that the man staying directly across from us had befriended a local Indian man who had drugged him while having tea in his room and then stole all his cash, credit cards, and camera. Sheesh, what luck. We go from a scorpion in one place to a thief in another. And to make matters even worse for the man across the hall, the drugs he had been given had apparently done a number on his digestion, because the day after the robbery, we came back to the hotel to find little pieces of human feces leading all the way from the lobby, up the two flights of stairs, and directly across from our room. As if having your stuff stolen wasn't bad enough, he had the digestive discomfort and the embarrassment of having shat all over the hotel to deal with. And I won't go into much detail about it, but the smell was f**king horrific. Ugh.
But, even with those little bits of adversity to overcome, Dharamsala was an amazing place with scenery like I've never had the pleasure of seeing before. Seeing the snow-covered foothills of the Himalayas every day just makes you a little happier than usual. Everyone we met was extremely friendly and I will definitely miss it.
And now I am back in Rishikesh for the final leg of my Indian journey. I am staying at an ashram here (just like the Beatles did) and it is SO relaxing. My days have become a bit of a routine, but a very welcome one. Wake up, eat breakfast, read and/or draw, eat lunch, take a nap, walk around the gorgeous grounds and admire the many statues of the various Indian deities, do yoga, meditate, eat dinner, read some more, go to bed. Ok, so it's not quite that routine. Yesterday, for example, I had my first sitar lesson and it is nothing like playing a guitar. My index finger in both hands throbbed and ached for the entire day as a result of a single, one-hour lesson, but it was so worth it! Once I caught a good groove on the sitar, my teacher got on the tablas (small Indian drums similar to bongos) and we were jammin'! I even had my eyes closed and head bobbing around to the hypnotic sounds, almost as if I knew what I was doing. We then listened to many Indian sitar masters on his computer and of course, talked about George Harrison.
I have about a week left here on this incredible sub-continent before I take off to Italy so I hope to give you all one more entry before I depart. I am already making plans to come back and further experience this country. While I feel I have seen so much during my time here, I know I have seen so very little. This is a journey I would highly recommend to anyone and everyone, especially for those who want to see something "different." No amount of mental preparation can ready you for actually being in India, but to me, that's what makes the place so darn interesting.

Take care, my friends!

-Matan

P.S. To make up for the disappointment of not meeting the Dalai Lama, I'll leave you with a joke instead, courtesy of my good friend Raphael:

What did the Dalai Lama say to the hotdog vendor?

Make me one with everything.

A Change of Pace, the City of Le Corbusier, and Chillin' with the Tibetans

Hello and greetings from Dharamsala!

It's been a while since my last posting, and that's because, I'm happy to say, not too much has happened since. Rishikesh was a great change of pace from the crazy and hectic cities we previously visited. There was one day where I literally did nothing other than eat, drink, take a nap, and read. It was awesome! Did I feel guilty about not utilizing my time a little more efficiently while on the other side of the globe? Nope. I'm on vacation, so I shall treat it as such.

Not every day was spent in such a sedentary manner, however.

The first full day there we hiked down to the main village and wandered through the local shops, which sold pretty much what every other shop in India sold: jewelry, clothes, souveniers, and toiletries. But these stores also sold literature about yoga and spiritualism in the Buddhist and Hindu fashion, as well as CDs used for meditation. We walked down to one temple on the bank of the Ganges river and witnessed the Ganga-arti, which is a religious ceremony performed every night at sunset where hundreds of Hindus gather on the river's edge and sing devotional songs to the all-mighty Shiva. There's a fire pit, and at one point plates of fire are passed around and everyone grips the plate and shakes it in a circular motion. There are also small rafts made of flowers and leaves that you can buy, and in the raft there is a candle which you light and set adrift down the Ganges, along with a wish or devotion to Lord Shiva. It was cool to see, but sitting amongst so many people got rather hot and uncomfortable, and since I was sitting on marble steps, certain parts of my body got "un"comfortably numb after a while. Still, the tunes were pretty cool.

Another day was spent walking in search of "the waterfall" which we had heard other hotel guests mention. The info about the waterfall, however, was mixed. Specifically the distance it was from the hotel. The main source we talked to said "a few kilometers." Hey, that's not that far at all! I could even wear my flip flops for this hike :) So off we go, chasing waterfalls. For some of the time I did have TLC in my brain, warning me against the journey upon which I was embarking. So we walk...and walk...and walk some more. We walked through the main village, then another village, and pretty soon we were walking on a road with nothing but trees and monkeys around us. After a while, we started asking anyone we passed on the road if they know where the waterfall was, and every one assured us it was "just a little ways down further." So, after about two and half hours of walking, topped off with twenty minutes of climbing a rather steep mountain, we found THE WATERFALL. To be honest, it really wasn't that impressive. Sure, it was pretty, but nothing to write home in a blog about. But I decided to make the best of it and even showered off a bit in the falls, which were freezing cold and very refreshing. By the time we got back to the hotel, it was dark and my legs and feet were on fire, but at least the monkeys didn't attack us. All in all, I guess we hiked about 12-14 kilometers for this journey. A little further than we thought, but at least we got some great cardio!

The next day I did something I had never before done in my life: yoga. I wasn't quite sure what to expect, but to sum it up, it was about an hour and a half of stretching. Not to say that it was boring or slow. There were times when I was really feelin' the burn and stretching muscles I didn't even know I had. And the poses really did wonders for my aching calves and quads. Our instructor was a delightful Indian guy about my age who pronounced the number 13 like "t-HAR-teeen." It was pretty funny. Every time I would get in a pose and stretch myself to the point of near agony, he would come along and gently position me right into agony. Thanks, dude!

On our last full day there, I walked down to the bank of the Ganges, because during our long waterfall hike I saw many pristine beaches which I wanted to further investigate. I brought along my bathing suit and a good book, ready to relax for a few hours. For a few minutes, it was pure tranquility. Nothing but the sounds the Ganges and a few birds here and there. I sat in the freezing waters (it was really hot outside, so this contrast of temperatures was great) and let my mind wander.

Then I noticed two Indian guys about my age wading in their underwear nearby, and sure enough, they made their way towards me and started asking me all sorts of questions about my home country and how I like India. I didn't mind much, they were very friendly and curious. We spoke for quite a while about Rishikesh and India in general, and they were even kind enough to tell me all sorts of curse words in Hindi, as well as the various slang terms for both male and female reproductive organs. What nice fellas :) They then told me where in Rishikesh I could find the best hashish as well as the cleanest prostitutes. Awesome. I then said, "So, what do you guys do?" They replied, "We're police officers." At first I laughed, certain they were joking. But a few minutes later, they emerged from behind some nearby rocks, fully dressed in their Indian Police Force uniforms, saying it was "time to get back to work." I guess they do it a little differently here in Rishikesh, haha.

Since the travel time from Rishikesh to Dharamsala, our next destination, was 15 hours by bus, we decided to split the journey in half and stay for one day in Chandigarh. This city, located in the state of Punjab and mostly populated by Sikhs, is significant because it was planned out by the famous Swiss-born architect LeCorbusier. Unlike any other city in India, this one is laid out in a very rigid and organized grid system and the entire city is divided into "sectors." This made traffic slightly less chaotic and certainly gave the city a greater feeling of organization and control. I foolishly thought that since we were so much further north than Rishikesh, it would be cooler. WRONG. Holy crap I don't know how these folks do it. We did go see this amazing sculpture garden made entirely of recycled glass and ceramic (www.nekchand.com), but after that, we had to get indoors. I was excited to see Chandigarh's Museum of Architecture featuring the planning process of the city and plenty of models and drawings outlining the city's evolution, but no, all city buildings are closed on Monday. Crap! I napped instead.

The next day was spent on what was probably the most uncomfortable bus ride of my life. We sat about eight-and-a-half hours in seats built for children tolerating dusty, bumpy roads, hairpin turns, and constant honking from a horn that I swear was an air-raid siren in its past life. But then I reminded myself how much worse this whole experience would be if I had traveler's diarrhea, and suddenly life wasn't so bad. We made it to Dharamsala in the late evening and if the direct views of the Himalayas weren't enough, the air was cool and the roads were clean! It was like we had reached Nirvana.

So Dharamsala is the home of the Dalai Lama and the exiled Tibetan government. There are many many Buddhist monks roaming the streets here and today we took a tour of the main temple and discovered a juicy bit of info: His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet will be here TOMORROW!!! He will be at the Temple and will deliver a speech and with any luck, I'll be able to see him speak. Wow, what luck! The entire time in India everyone had told us "That's cool you're going to Dharamsala, too bad the Dalai Lama's never there."

Well, I'll let you folks know tomorrow if I saw him or not...wish me luck!

Thanks for reading,

Matan

You know they wrote the White Album here

Hello friends! I have just arrived in Rishikesh, the famous ashram-riddled town in the northern Indian state of Uttarakand where the Beatles came and wrote the legendary White Album. I am extremely happy to be here for one reason: it's not triple-digit weather. This town is quite near the foothills of the Himilayas so the heat isn't ridiculous and there are more breezes to cool you down. Today is the first day we didn't book a hotel with A/C. The tab? A whopping 300 rupees, which split down the middle equals 3 bucks a day. Not too bad.
So since my last posting, we had a few days in Varanasi, considered by many to be the holiest city in India. Varanasi is one of the oldest continuously occupied cities in the world, having been constantly inhabited for over 3,500 years. What makes Varanasi different from other ancient cities like Athens, Jerusalem, and Beijing is that religious tradition hasn't changed one bit over the millenia. The practices we observed along the ghats (steps) of the holy Ganges river were the same thousands of years ago.
We took an overnight train from Tundla (about 30 minutes east of Agra) to Varanasi in a 4-person sleeper car which we shared with two Muslim pilgrims from Indonesia. They were on a religious pilgrimage from Indonesia through Bangledesh and India which was to last about 4 months. The more talkative pilgrim, Habib, told me that my name in Indonesia means "tiger." Cool. After a surprisingly pleasant sleep, we woke early in the morning and observed the pilgrims in their morning prayers, which was very interesting to me. One of them even had a compass to insure the prayer was directed in the appropriate direction, which in this case I would assume to be West, since India is east of Mecca.
We arrived at the Varanasi train station very early in the morning, but not too early for the rickshaw drivers, who came up to us immediately with offers of rides. Since we were both still tired and dirty, we took the first offer presented to us, which turned out to be quite a fortunate decision. Our driver, Khan, ended up being our driver for the entire stay in Varanasi and somewhat renewed my faith in the rickshaw drivers in general, because while they're all trying to make money, there are in fact some who are trying to make it honestly and fairly. Our hotel was quite comfortable, but in Varanasi there is a shortage of electrical power and the city is prone to frequent blackouts during the day, which means no A/C at times. This proved to be frustrating since Varanasi was the southernmost location so far on the trip and it...was...HOT. But we just sweated it out and dealt with it. Most of the first day was spent indoors trying to stay cool. A bit later Khan took us to a few temples, including one founded by Ghandi himself. To our amazement, we actually heard thunder and it even rained a little bit! This was only temporary though, and along with the rain came strong winds which created terrible dust storms which made riding through the choatic streets nearly unbearable.
The next day we woke at 4:30AM and Khan took us to the Ganges river for a sunrise boatride. This was my favorite part of the trip so far, due in no small part to the fact that it was cool and breezy. The boat ride took us along all of the ghats of Varanasi, where we saw locals bathing, fishing, washing clothes, playing water polo and cricket, and of course, burning dead bodies. In Hinduism, Varanasi is considered a holy place to die, and if you are cremated along the banks of the Ganges you get an instant, one-way ticket to Nirvana. Funeral processions led by Hindu holy men are quite common in the streets and always lead down to the banks of the Ganges. There is a very precise science to using the right amount of wood to cremate a body, and prices can vary from a few hundred to many thousands of dollars, depending on the type of wood you use. Photography of the burning ghats is strictly forbidden, but I got lots of good pics of everything else.
After the boat-ride, we were taken to several Buddhist temples about 20 kilometers north of Varanasi. We went to one Buddhist temple where the Buddha himself gave his first sermon. Kind of a big deal. We also saw the Indian Archaeological Museum which featured many carved stone depictions of Buddha from the 11th and 12th centuries. I also had an amazingly refreshing mango creamsicle.
We had lunch at a very nice hotel and invited our driver to eat with us, since before he always waited outside for us in the scorching heat while we dined in comfort. We spoke with him for quite a while about his life, his family, his goals and ambitions and this made me realize how incredibly fortunate we Americans are. Khan has no education of any kind and driving the auto-rickshaw is all he is able to do to make money. He said he wanted to be a police officer, but since this requires bribing the police academy many thousands of dollars, this dream will forever be just that. The average Indian citizen earns about 95 dollars per year, yet I had spent this much in my first 3 days in India. Wow. Khan did say he was very happy though, because he had a wife he loves very much and two wonderful children. Indians place great importance on family and divorce is nearly unheard of and is treated as a shameful act in Indian society.
The next morning we took a train from Varanasi to Haridwar, which was a journey of 18 hours. This was actually quite enjoyable, since we got a chance to speak with a very intelligent and friendly Indian man about life, philosophy, cultures, and family. It was nice to see that even though our cultures are quite different, they're also very very similar. Towards the end of our journey we found out that he is a very high-ranking police officer in the Indian Police Force (he's in charge of 1,200 officers) and even though he had several Indian police officers come on the train with him, carry his bags, and salute him, I didn't detect one trace of ego or entitlement from him. A very pleasant experience.
And now, after a noisy and dusty busride from Haridwar, we find ourselves in Rishikesh, the yoga capital of the world. This place is quiet and clean, and surrounded by mountains and tranquility. I am relieved to be here and wouldn't mind staying a while...it's nice to get away from the crowds and noise of the Indian cities. There are many tourists here, most of which have come either to learn yoga and meditation, or go trekking and rafting. I look forward to just sitting and relaxing for a bit, and not hearing the constant honk of a rickshaw or bus horn. Maybe I'll even pick up a sitar and write my own White Album. Or maybe I'll just take a nap.
Yeah, that sounds good :)

Leaving Delhi, The Taj Mahal, and some lessons of India

So here I am sitting in an internet cafe in Varanasi thinking about the past 5 days in India, although it seems more like 5 weeks. Even though I'm not even a week in, I'm already exhausted from traveling.
The rest of our stay in Delhi was nice, but after 3 days I was ready to leave. Our timing was unfortunate because the Commonwealth Games are coming to Delhi, so there's construction everywhere, which of course means lots of dust and noise. Combine that with intense heat and sweat and you don't get the most pleasant of combinations. One day I ventured out past our main hotel's street to see some of the older monuments of Delhi and soon found myself in near desperation trying to find a subway station that's "right around the corner," according to our hotel clerk. Any person offering help was just ostensibly attempting to guide me to another government tourist office, which is just one of many scams in Delhi where you are taken to a very cozy air-conditioned office where they offer you tour packages of India for insanely inflated prices. Pretty soon I found myself greeting any person on my way to the subway with "Hi, I'm looking for the subway station, and no, I'm not going to the government tourist office, thank you." After navigating through a maze of construction obstacles and endless offers of rickshaw rides, I found the station! The Delhi Metro is very clean and organized, although not used by many non-Indians. I was the only non-Indian in the station and was getting many lengthy stares. But the ride was quick and easy and although I missed my stop and was fined 50 rupees, I had made it to the Jama Masjid, an old mosque built by Shah Jahan, the same guy who built the Taj Mahal. Once I got there, I was denied entrance since it was prayer time for the Muslims. I took a cycle rickshaw over to the nearby Red Fort, was hassled again by sales people of all kinds, took some pics of the Fort, decided it was too hot to go in, and headed back to the Metro. I got back to the hotel and relaxed in the delightful A/C and realized that yeah, I'm ready to leave Delhi.
Our train to Agra was scheduled for 6:15 the next morning, but when we carried our heavy backpacks to the station bright and early, we saw that it had been re-scheduled for 9:30. We decided to use this delay to our advantage and booked train tickets in advance from Agra to Varanasi. In India there is a separate booking office for foreigners and it's always a good idea to book as far in advance as possible, since trains fill up very quickly. An estimated 18 to 20 million people use the Indian railway system daily.
Since we booked a first class car, our trip to Agra was very very comfortable. We got a full Indian breakfast (including Corn Flakes served with warm milk...sounds kinda gross, but it was actually really good) and English newspaper with Delhi news. Once in Agra, we took a taxi to a recommended hotel and after some hard bargaining, found ourselves in a room with a direct view of the Taj Mahal. After a quick shower and lunch, we made our way towards the Taj on foot, since it was only about half a mile away. We had hardly stepped out of our hotel's gate when we were accosted by sales-people of every sort. "Hallo! Hallo! Come see my shop! I give you good price on sandals, hats, cold drinks, cold beer, tobacco, marble, hallo hallo!" The sales pitches were intense and unrelenting all the way to the Taj and severely tested our patience, but we made it! Even with the large crowds and afternoon heat, the Taj was still just as amazing as I had imagined. Truly a magnificent structure. The inside was nice, but I was distracted since we weren't allowed to wear shoes and the marble floor was HOT. I kept thinking back to the scenes in Slumdog Millionare and to prevent my shoes from getting stolen and sold on the streets, I just kept my flip flops in my back pack :) Not that this would've really happened...they had a guard and an organized cubby system.
The next morning we saw the sunrise from the roof of our hotel with the Taj again in plain view. We had been told that the best time to see the Taj was at sunrise where the quality of light makes the view most splendid, but sadly it was cloudy and hazy, so the view was just kinda amazing, not totally. I was able to create a nice sketch of the Taj while sipping delicious Indian coffee, but very soon after the sun rose it got a little too hot for comfort, so back to the comforts of the room I went. We were taken around Agra that day by a taxi and saw the Agra Fort, where Shah Jahan was imprisoned by his son for the last 8 years of his life. While this betrayal was a terrible one, the Shah did have a sweet view of his own creation out of his tower prison cell window. Upon exiting the Agra Fort we had to wait a few minutes on our driver, which left us wide open and vulnerable to all the beggars and sales-people waiting by the entrance. After almost 15 minutes of unrelenting persistence, I finally caved and bought a portable wooden chess set from a guy for 100 rupees (2 dollars). He started his offer at 1200 rupees, so as I said before, haggling is a good skill to have.
Then, our driver took us to see "the finest marble crafts in all of Agra." I had been warned that some drivers would take you to their friend's shops in hopes of collecting a percentage of whatever you buy. And in this case, our driver did indeed collect, because not only was this place air-conditioned (it was around 110 degrees that day), but the marble crafts in there were nothing short of astonishing. They had boxes, plates, tabletops, chess sets, carved animals, and many other objects all carved from the same white marble used on the Taj and imbedded with precious stones. Not your typical souvenier shop. I found a very beautiful gift for a very beautiful woman (sorry to spoil the surprise, Mom). After another delicious meal we were taken to another temple known as the Baby Taj, but decided not to go in and asked our driver to take us to Tundla, where our train would depart. We waited over 4 hours at the station, but this gave me time to sketch more and play a game of chess.
So some lessons and observations I've made on this trip so far include a fascinating look into Indian culture and the differences in everyday behaviour from our own culture. First off, Indian people stare. A lot. Even though I'm sure they're quite used to seeing foreign tourists, they still walk by you and stare the entire time, especially if you're female. If you're sitting down and eating in the same restaurant, rarely will you see them looking anywhere but in your direction. It's not any kind of rudeness, just an interest in the unfamiliar. Also, Indian men and woman both pick their noses openly in public without any attempt to hide it. They also spit a lot. However, any Indian person I've spoken to has been extremely polite and friendly. They almost always ask the exact same questions, those being "What is your country? How long you stay in India? and What is your profession?" They are also very curious to know what we think of India and are always extremely delighted with any positive response.

Coming up next: Varanasi, the Holy Ganges, and staying where the Beatles stayed!

Journey, Arrival and First Impressions

Greetings from Delhi, India!

So after traveling for 34 hours (which included a wonderful 15 hour layover in NYC with my brother and sister-in-law), we arrived in Delhi at 9PM last night and made it to our hotel via an extremely aggressive and honk-prone cab driver. The first thing I noticed when I left the airport was the air quality, which is comparable to standing near a bonfire or barbeque pit. The heat is very much there, but not as unbearable as I was led to believe. Even though the ride to the hotel was at night in the dark, I still saw many interesting things I wasn't used to seeing in the States, including a man and a woman on a scooter with an infant sandwiched in between them on the highway (no helmets on any of them), several men urinating openly on the road, and of course, cows peacefully roaming the narrow streets munching on random piles of garbage. The Delhi I have seen so far is extremely filthy and dusty, but full of character. After an uncomfortable few moments of the cab driver insisting on a tip (which was already paid through the hotel), we arrived to a very friendly hotel clerk assuring us that no matter what tip you give, the cab drivers will always want more. Our room is small and dirty with several little bugs sharing accomodations with us, but it has A/C, so it's all good. The plumbing hose was disconnected from the sink bottom, but I fixed it with the duct tape I brought, which quickly quieted the nagging voice in my head warning me of over-packing.
We rose early this morning to seek out food and cash, as I had arrived in Delhi with only $23 American in cash. Our hotel's street, appropriately named Main Bazar, was already swarming with residents and tourists alike, as well as cars, bikes, scooters, and auto-rickshaws, or three-wheeled taxis. The street is extremely narrow, so having cars and motorbikes pass inches from you is pretty common. There are many many shops selling clothing, food, electronics, musical instruments, and random Indian souveniers as well as street vendors selling fresh-squeezed juices and freshly-cooked Indian dishes. We ate a delicious and cheap breakfast (with a Coke made with real sugar, not that corn syrup crap) and then headed out to find an ATM. On our way we met a very friendly Indian man who took us on a very long walk to the ATM, and then to the tourist information office, which led us to believe he is employed by them and directs tourists there for commission. We got some great info on visiting nearby cities like Agra (home of the Taj Mahal) and Rishikesh and then decided to head back. At this point it was close to noon and the weather was getting pretty hot.The jeans I was wearing didn't help much. On our way back through Main Bazar I picked up some Indian pants and a shirt made from very thin cotton for a whopping 400 rupees, or about 8 bucks. Bargaining is an essential skill to have when buying from local shops and it was nice to get back in the practice. I was also pleasantly surprised to see many shop signs written in Hebrew, as India is a very popular spot for Israelis to visit. I have already heard several conversations in Hebrew, from both Israelis and Indians.
Tomorrow we will visit the popular spots in Delhi and get a greater overall feel for the city. I have yet to take one picture or create one sketch, so time's a-wastin'!

Thank you, come again!