This is India

Instead of explaining the absence of a post, and telling you all how tremendously busy I have been, I have decided to skip it all and jump right in to taking you with me on the trip to India.



In early October it was decided that four of us, Allison (now called the sleeper…Allison will fall asleep as any given moment on our journey. Sitting up, standing, on the floor of the airport, on safari…at whatever point you read in this recollection of India, you can bet she was asleep at some point of it) Kent, Emily and myself, would be traveling to India during our November break. What an experience of a lifetime. I am so happy to have the memories of the past week and have been itching at sharing them with whoever decides to read this dilapidated, sorry excuse for a blog.
I’ll skip the fun had in the Abu Dhabi airport and begin this tale filled with excitement, awkward moments, and much laugher.

Allison sleeping in the airport...in the way of everything.


Day 1

We walk out of the airport in New Delhi and are hit immediately with a smell like nothing we have previously had the pleasure of breathing in through our nasal passage. It doesn’t sting the nostrils, but it doesn’t allow them to relax either. This is when we first utter the phrase I will provide an acronym for: TII (this is India). We search for the guy that should be holding a sign with our names. We find him – our names aren’t on the sign, just the hostel’s name is printed – oh well. He speaks broken English and we follow him across two busy streets. Rickshaws and taxis are honking as though we have just caused a massive pile-up and should anxiously await the Indian police. No such luck – we make it across safely while dealing with a few perplexed individuals that find it utterly delightful that four “white” people are coming to Delhi. We squeeze into the small van that is provided and make the half hour journey to our hostel and into the heart of Delhi.

As we drive our eyes are more open than they have been since leaving Bahrain. To our left we see the slums of India that we have read about and witnessed on television. The scene of this helpless poverty provokes a feeling that will remain with me for the rest of my life. Small children are running around, naked, through piles of garbage. The elderly are walking slowly and by themselves on the side of the road seemingly without a destination to ease their troubling minds. Wild dogs roam the streets searching for something to eat, most of them lay dead on the side on the road without receiving even a glance from the those who pass the carcasses. Doing the same are at least thirty cows. Its commonplace for a cow to walk in and out of a market place, your hut, and the road – constantly causing traffic to come to a standstill for several minutes. Its strange and amazing at first, but over the week we come to accept the fact that we can come face to face with a bull without thinking twice.

The slum huts are small, but a family fits inside and manages during the dry months (which is now). During the monsoon season, however, the huts will leak leaving the inside drenched. The entire family will find the one dry area (if there is one), huddle together, and stay the whole night sitting up just to remain dry. They don’t want anyone to get wet, because getting wet can mean easier chance of getting a cold, and they can’t get a cold because there isn’t a doctor to go to, and there isn’t money to pay for one even if a doctor was held up in a hut across the garbage laden walkway. The first sights of these slums will not soon leave my thoughts or my heart. I wanted to take these children, put them in my suitcase, show them that there is a world beyond their small slum village, and beyond the wild dogs. How can there be people in this world living like this? They seem to go about their lives unnoticed and to be honest I think they would prefer it that way. Throughout the entire trip I met not one person that seemed as though they were unhappy with their less than extravagant existence in a very poor country. Each person we became acquainted with was energetic, enthusiastic, and friendly.

We make it to our hostel. The driving is incredible with the horn honking every few seconds and with quick swerves, fast accelerating and abrupt braking. We all sigh in relief that it looks as though it is a stable building – no cows, no feces in the road, no wild dogs, no small children to rip at your heart, and much fewer people. We wait for a bit, are offered free breakfast, and then check-in. We haven’t slept much and know we can’t sleep now. And so begins our first walk in the streets of India.
We make it to the metro station after passing cows, a slum, a gentleman receiving a very close shave on the side of the road, and some very nice people incredibly eager to help us find our way. The metro station is only a few years old and we are expecting – I’m not sure what we were expecting, but what we saw was not it. IT WAS CLEAN! No trash, no awkward smells, it looked brand-new and we loved it…until our train arrived.

We see on the ground next to the tracks that there is a section for women only. “Odd”, Kent and I think, but that’s an excellent idea. Little did we know the real reason why there was a woman’s car. Our train arrives, the doors open, and we fail to see an area in which we could place our bodies. If there was ever a time that the phrase, “packed in like sardines,” would be more relevant than for the situation unfolding in front of my eyes, I would be shocked. There simply isn’t room and no one seems to be making any adjustments to allow our entry so…we push our way into the car while Allison and Emily head towards the women’s car.



Here we are. In the middle of India. Backpacks obviously pointing out that we are tourists and have little to no clue where we are going, or what we are doing. Faint looks on our faces, as we can’t inhale without our bodies expanding far too much for the next person to handle the pressure. Its one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life, and Kent agrees. It takes about 30 minutes to arrive at our stop, but we have a problem. We are nowhere near the exit door and for the next 20 seconds we struggle, push, shove, and exchange dirty looks with the seemingly 100s of people standing in our way. We are at times even pushed back in to the train as we are obviously fighting for our way out. We finally land our feet on the platform and see Allison and Emily approaching with smiles from ear to ear. “What could you possibly be smiling about,” I ask. Apparently the two girls were treated as celebrities and had several cell phones fixated on them for the entire ride. They were packed like sardines as well, but they enjoyed it. Kent and I – never again. Squished on the metro….check.

As we make our way out of the metro station we pause for a brief moment with feelings of being completely overwhelmed. Dirt roads, thousands of people within a few hundred feet, elephants walking down the middle of the road, people walking, people riding bikes and horns honking continuously. A city bus passes and the scene is one fit for a comedy. People packed into the bus so tightly that the door to get on the bus is filled with people doing all they can to keep from falling out. Hanging on the outside of the bus are a few men clutching the bars on the windows while their feet dangle in the dust being produced from the bus. We take it in and immediately wonder, “What the hell are we doing here?”


We find a nice man perched atop his bicycle rickshaw and tell him where we wish to go. He smiles and seems to understand what we want and the four of us hop on the rickshaw not knowing that for the next 20 minutes we were to be treated as celebrities. Everywhere we passed time seemed to stand still as person after person stopped whatever they were doing and either stared or snapped a photo. Hilarious to us and amazing to the people were the four white people traveling through India. We were at the heart of the city and everywhere we look we see families in their shops hoping someone will buy a useless item to provide food on their table. We love every minute of our ride and are seeing some of the most amazing things any of us have ever gazed upon. Rickshaw ride around the city…check.

We arrive at our destination and realize quickly that a picture is in order to properly end our journey on the rickshaw. Emily and Allison pose for a picture as a little Indian girl (no shoes, ripped clothing) runs up into the picture and sticks her tongue out for a nice pose. We all laugh and find it terribly amusing. The small girl runs to me with her hand extended and begs for money as she takes her closed hand and motions to her mouth. We all laugh again as she knows how to play the game with the white people who travel in her parts. We give her a small amount of money, of which she is very displeased with, and go about our way exploring the city. Giving money to a beggar child…check.


We aren’t walking alone for very long until a man who wishes to make a few rupees targets us for a ride. He tells us that he be our tour guide and show us the sights we wish to see while at the same time showing us things we would never find on our own. We agree and begin our tour on a rickshaw around Old Delhi. We are shown many amazing places, but the biggest experience I will take from this trip is one involving drums, a groom, and Indian cakes.

We are enjoying our bumpy ride as our driver…er…peddler…takes us around the city. We pass a small village and hear shouting, drums beating, and music. Of course we must investigate. We stumble upon some sort of party, take pictures, and ogle at what is unfolding in front of us. I see someone wave us over – I jump out of the cart and run to the party. I am immediately showered with hugs and Indian cakes. The rest come over and we dance for the next 10 or 15 minutes with this Indian family. Turns out we participated in an Indian engagement ceremony for the soon-to-be groom. It’s a send-off party for him before he jumps on a horse and rides to his soon-to-be wife’s house for a proper proposal. Participate in an Indian engagement ceremony…check.
Our guide takes us to an amazing place for dinner. We eat, and sweat, because our bodies are not yet accustomed to the traditional Indian spices. We walk around for a bit, then grab a rickshaw to the metro. We take the very empty train home. We fall asleep knowing we already have had the experience of a lifetime.



Day 2

We sleep in (the only day in the vacation where this will happen) and wake-up to a free breakfast and nice music. We take our time eating breakfast and then head out to the metro station. Today we travel to New Delhi and have properly prepared ourselves to expect anything and everything. The walk to the metro is the same as the day before. The train isn’t as busy, and we are able to sit.

As we climb the towering stairs out of the metro and reach the top we are greeted with a calming atmosphere. It’s clean. It’s quiet, except for the cars driving, but without honking their horns. We are in the government sector of India. To our left are all of the different ministries, and to our right sits the houses of parliament and the Prime Minister’s palace. Beautiful old buildings surrounded by nice paved roads and clean sidewalks, as well as stunning red sand.





As we walk around we run into a few families that look as us as though we are celebrities. Pictures are taken with each member of this very large family. After feeling as though we have survived an attack from the paparazzi, they leave smiling, laughing, and waving. Emily eats up her newly found social status and loves every minute.

Once again a nice man offering a guided tour through New Delhi meets us. We hop in his motorized rickshaw and begin our five-hour tour of New Delhi. We pass the India gate, numerous national monuments, Gandhi’s temple, and end our day having one of the best meals of our trip. We share several types of curries, garlic and butter naan, seasoned onions, and white fluffy rice. We ask our driver to take us back to the metro and thus ends our day in New Delhi.



Day 3

The next few days are spent at a Tiger reservation, deep in the jungle. Agra and the Taj Mahal. We also visit an orphanage/school in the heart of Nagpur. STAY TUNED!

Whew.