Ready for the Himalayas

Hi again, it's time for another update before I jump on a train to the mountains. The other 17 University of Washington students arrived the day before yesterday, so I moved into a new hotel to meet them. This one is much nicer than any I've seen so far, though I wonder how much we're paying for it. It's in a more upscale neighborhood with expensive shops and trendy lounges, but still poverty, pollution, and chaos line every street. Mostly because of the pollution, I'm quite anxious to be leaving Delhi today. To ride an auto-rickshaw to another neighborhood for shopping is to breath nothing but exhaust for 20 minutes. To get out of a taxi and walk around is to breath nothing but thick, sticky air until you find a shop A/C. But A/C is dry and aggravates the cold I caught a couple days ago. If I could live in a personal bubble of cool, Seattle air, then Delhi would be a pleasant place to be. I can't even imagine what it would have been like 10 years ago before they switched all the vehicles to compressed natural gas and banned diesel trucks.

The members of my group are all very friendly. The others have only had about two days to explore the city, so they're frantically moving about to see sights and do last-minute shopping. Because Nathan and I have spent a week in the city and know a little Hindi, we've achieved a sort of celebrity status helping the others. Most shopkeepers speak very broken English, and you're lucky to find a rickshaw-walaa who speaks any at all. Another girl, Monisha, also has taken a year of Hindi and will join Nathan and me as the only three second-year-Hindi students.

There are two important aspects of Delhi that I've not yet told you about. The first is the constant chaos of the roads, which only a select few four-letter words can describe. Delhi's many neighborhoods are connected by large roads, usually six lanes wide. But marked lanes are completely meaningless here — why restrict yourself to six lanes of traffic when 18 can squeeze into the same space? In heavy traffic, cars never have more than twelve inches to spare on either side. Rickshaws are much narrower than even the super-compact cars here, so motorcycles fill the gaps. Most people drive with their side-view mirrors folded back. Each and every car, truck, rickshaw, motorcycle, and pedestrian — as well as the occasional cow — shares the road by constantly ducking and weaving, swerving, braking, and accelerating, in a chaotic dance. Individual vehicles move relatively slowly, 15-40kph, but traffic as a whole hardly ever stops.

I'm convinced that this "non-system" is actually more efficient than American road rules. When a truck (or cow) breaks down in the middle of the road, traffic simply flows around. Discounting drunken driving after dark, it is apparently safer to drive here, too. Traffic seems to achieve roughly the same average speed, but the top speed is slower and therefore less deadly. Anything imaginable can happen at any moment, but everything imaginable is completely anticipated. Pedestrians need not wait for a special signal when they can cross safely between moving cars. Finally, Indian drivers never stop blowing their horns. This not only eliminates the need for side-view mirrors, but makes sure that every vehicle is constantly aware of the exact position of every other.

The other story I wanted to tell is about a couple of little punks Nathan and I met at the Delhi Zoo (दिल्ली चिड़ियाघर, dillī chiṛiyāghar, or "birdhouse"). Soon after we entered the gate, we were approached by two little kids, probably 12 years old. We've found that it is not abnormal for Indians at touristy monuments to approach and ask to take pictures with us, as if the two westerners are as much of a spectacle as the monuments. The kids then proceeded to give us a little tour of the zoo, which also is not unusual as most Indians are very friendly and helpful, especially to westerners who can speak a little Hindi. But fairly quickly we realized that these two kids seemed to be spending a little too much time asking us about our cameras and the contents of our pockets. At first their tour was helpful, but next thing we know they are trying to lead us on a roundabout path back to the exit instead of to the larger animal exhibits. They ran the perfect scam — wearing schoolboy outfits and backpacks (though their lack of any English skills should have tipped us off that they weren't students), and they tried to make us comfortable with their expertise as guides, and with their hands being around our bags. They also started begging for money to disguise their motive. If they had gotten us to the exit, surely they would have grabbed our stuff and ran. These are apparently the first pick-pockets I've encountered, but it's no surprise that less wary travelers could easily fall for the scam.

But we didn't fall for it, so as I pack up this morning I find myself safe and sound, complete with all my money and belongings. The crickets chirping in my hotel room are getting a little annoying, so I'm going to wrap this up and eat some breakfast. We're told that there will be internet access in the mountains, but it sounds like it will be in the form of a single cell-phone connection which we'll all have to share. So I'll continue writing stories about my adventures, and posting them periodically, but it might not be possible to upload any pictures for a while. I've had regular internet access in Delhi but the connections are dog slow and so unstable that I haven't been able to upload a single photo. I'll keep trying, and in the meantime, stay in touch.

-Peter

Touring Delhi

Hello all,

I've been moving from place to place in Delhi, staying at a couple different guest houses (basically hostels but with private rooms). On my first day in Delhi I talked to the manager of the Ajanta Guest House, named Manoj Dewan. He was extremely friendly and showed me around the city in his own car. Before meeting him I was quite nervous, worried that I'd get ripped off or robbed or that I would simply not know what to do in this enormous city. But he made me feel much more comfortable. Because of his own business as a travel agent, the first place I toured was the Taj Hotel, a 5-star joint that made my hostel seem like one of the ratty tents that line the sides of many streets.

With Manoj I had my first chai and learned how to eat Indian-style, using a piece of roti (रोटी, pronounced with your tongue curled back to make a hard 't' sound) in your right hand to scoop up the vegatables (सब्ज़ी, subzee) or meat. It seems most Indians would prefer roti or nan as a base instead of rice. All the food here is basically what you'd find at any Indian restaurant, but saltier, with more spices, and tastier, and costing one fifth the price.

On each of my three nights at Ajanta, Manoj invited me down to eat and drink with himself and his staff. Some could speak better English than others, and others spoke Hindi that was easier for me to understand. Basically no one except the super-educated speaks English that is easily understood, and the people upon whom you rely for basic services — rickshaw drivers, waiters, hotel attendants, dhobis (laundrymen) — speak very little English at all. Most of the time, they speak about as much English as I do Hindi. Nathan and I have found it easiest to attempt to speak in Hindi and ask for responses in English. This limits the range of possible expressions but ensures that both sides of the conversation are understood. We have become well practiced in expressing wants and needs, asking for directions, and explaining that we are American students going to study Hindi in Nainital. I haven't yet tried to find the words to explain "forest ecology and sustainable development", but most people seem to understand "computer science".

On the third day we took a tour of Delhi to see a bunch of old mosques and monuments. Qutb Minar was by far the most extravagant — a tower 65 meters high built in the 17th century. We took a bicycle-powered rickshaw on a tour through Old Delhi (पुरानी दिल्ली, purānī dillī), which was basically a roller coaster ride through streets so narrow and crowded it's a wonder we didn't crush any pedestrian's toes. Above each street was a massive tangle of electrical wiring.

On the fourth day we hired a car to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. It was a long trip (the whole day) but absolutely amazing. The Taj is everything it's chocked up to be.

That night we moved to the YWCA guest house in the center of the city, near the largest shopping/business district. The staff here is friendly (but not like Manoj). The city center is lined with shops, so-called tourist agencies (usually nothing more than scam operations), theaters, restaurants, and bars. It is also lined with poor, abandoned and unwanted people who shit on the street and each try to sell you the same wooden chess set or package of handkerchiefs. The only thing to do is to ignore them — especially the hawkers, for whom the slightest acknowledgment or eye contact is an invitation to follow you down the street. I'm not sure how to feel about the situation of the poor people here, except to recognize the problem and that I can't do anything about it.

I think speaking even a little Hindi has made the trip much more enjoyable so far. I don't think that Manoj would have been as friendly, nor the taxi drivers or numerous other people who heard that I was trying to learn Hindi and suddenly opened up, striking Hindi conversations and trying to teach me new words and give me practice. I haven't bought anything yet (except a long-sleeved shirt in a non-touristy market for 35 rupees, about $0.80), but I noticed that although shopkeepers normally raise their prices for westerners, after speaking to them in Hindi suddenly their prices go down by 50%!

Delhi would be a horrible place to live -- hot, muggy, dirty, poverty all around, and polution so bad that although the sun sets at about 6:30, by 5:00 it's already hidden behind a haze so that you can look directly at it without any problem. I have yet to see any blue sky in Delhi. The first time I saw the sky was in Agra, where no industry and only battery powered vehicles are allowed within several kilometers of the Taj Mahal. Thus there were several kilometers of open sky, completely surrounded by haze, smog, and clouds.

I have taken some good photos of monuments and stuff but at first I was too nervous to bring my camera out and about in the city. I think I'm more comfortable now, though. I'm really looking forward to getting out of the pollution and heat, into the mountains, about 4 days from now. I've done and seen all that Delhi has to offer.

Internet access has been available in all the guest houses but it's been difficult to find an up-to-date computer (they run Windows 98, with no USB port to transfer photos) or to find time enough to do more than check my email. We got word from our program leader that there will be access in our living quarters for the rest of the program, so I will publish more updates whenever I can.

I miss you all, and thanks for the support and good wishes you've offered in email. For those who asked for my postal address, I don't have one yet, nor do I know whether the postal system can be relied upon (there is no standard addressing system in place for any city).

If you've read this far, I apologize for making this so long. My time in Delhi has been such a whirlwind of places, people, and sights that there's simply no way to summarize it all. Today the rest of the program's students are arriving and Nathan and I are moving to a new guest house where we'll all stay together until we depart for Nainital.

Stay in touch,
Peter

Arrival

Contrary to what I heard before booking my tickets, China Airlines' planes were comfortable and provided plenty of entertainment, with a touch-screen TV in front of every seat and a wide selection of "on-demand" movies. After 12 hours over the Pacific, I landed in Taipei at 05:30. The airport was barren, both of passengers and of maps or any other (English) information to help me find may way around. Looking lost, I approached the "transfer" desk, meaning to ask from what gate my next flight would depart. But before I could get a word out, the clerk handed me two meal tickets. Well that was nice — generosity something I've never experienced in a US airport. I guess he felt sorry for my having such a long layover.

I pretty much had no choice but to stay in the airport for the next 16 hours. It was poring rain outside and, though US travelers apparently don't need a visa to tour in Taiwan, where would I go? Fortunately, I found a room with free internet access (and 120V power) and was able to entertain myself on the web for a while.

Taiwanese food, or at least the fast food you get in the airport, is very different from any Chinese food I've ever had before. Let's just say my so-called "vegetarian" noodles had several ingredients I couldn't even come close to identifying.

I met — er, smelled — my first Indians at 18:00. Yes, really, I smelled the curry wafting from their clothes before I saw them. A large group was transferring planes from Vancouver. Now we were all in the same boat, with another 4 hours to kill before the final flight. A Canadian Panjabi girl, about my age, as well as a Muslim man, took a seat next to me in the waiting area. Meanwhile, whenever someone would walk up to the check-in counter, a mob of traditionally-dressed Indian women would follow. They were chattering in Hindi, but none had any clue why or where they were going — each blindly following the crowd. The Panjabi girl thought this was especially amusing because she could understand what they were saying enough to know how truly confused they all were.

I thought for a minute, trying to formulate a Hindi sentence. I practiced what I was going to say, in my head, but of course I still stuttered as I spoke. Thus my first Hindi words in several long months were, क्या आप उन्हें समझ सकती हैं? (kyaa aap unhẽ samajh saktee haĩ — can you understand them?) This struck up a conversation that at least kept me occupied until we boarded the plane. The girl said she had been to Nainital (where I'm headed) and claimed it was and is the most beautiful place she's ever seen.

Upon landing in New Delhi at 01:45, I quickly passed through customs. They didn't even ask any questions — the man just rubber stamped my passport and sent me on my way. That struck me as a little strange considering the recent terrorist bombings.

And on the final leg of my long journey, a taxi driver was waiting, with my name on a placard, to take me to my hotel. He drove very slowly, so I have not yet experienced the insane driving I've heard so much about. I suppose the speed was a tactic to get a better tip after some conversation, and in that case it worked. I told him that I was here to learn Hindi (not wanting to explain what "forest ecology" is), which prompted him to begin a Hindi "lesson". He'd say something in English and I'd start to translate, and he would correct me or provide vocabulary. Then we'd repeat the completed sentence a couple times. This was a very interesting process, given that he himself spoke very broken English and claimed to be uneducated (which is how you get to be a taxi driver, I guess). He said he learned a little English in what schooling he'd had, but that he'd learned everything else from conversing with his fares. At one point he explained that "Nainital" means "seven lakes", and said that he had also been there before, agreeing with the Panjabi girl that the scenery was breathtaking. After these two conversations, the rest of my trip will have to meet some very high expectations.

The Ajanta Guest House would not win any awards for outward appearances, but what can you expect when you're paying $10 a night. Here's my room — functional, and relatively clean. In particular, there were no cockroaches in the bathroom (or at least the staff scared them away before I checked in). I'm looking forward to a bucket bath in the morning.

-Peter

Hello from India (almost)

I hope you don't mind that I subscribed you all to my mailing list, namaste-2006@u.washington.edu. I'm going to do the "in your face" updates-by-email thing, to send you all updates about my trip to India. I'll be simultaneously posting stuff (including pictures!) to my website, http://pediddle.net/. So if you'd rather read the website (or ignore me altogether) you can unsubscribe yourself from the email list with the link at the bottom.

I'm sending this from the Taipei airport, where I have a 16 hour layover. I'll be in New Delhi tonight.

Talk to you all soon, Peter

Departure

And it begins. Mom didn't get too sentimental in the airport, but she still insisted on tagging along all the way to the security gate. The mechanics of the start of my trip were quick and painless — e-ticket check-in, non-existant lines, and friendly security agents obviously relieved to be rid of swarms of cranky travelers. But the lonely trek to the end of the empty terminal was bittersweet.

At 23:30, my new travel partners were a family of elderly southerners, twanging their complaints about $11 deli sandwiches. What business they have in Asia — or in Seattle for that matter — I can only imagine. Plantation owners trading textiles from Taiwanese sweatshops? No, the old ladies' poke-a-dot jumpsuits say otherwise. The other travelers, mostly asian, are quiet and pay no heed.

Now the southerners have fallen asleep by the window overlooking our plane. A long day lies ahead for all of us.