Final Thoughts on our Asian Trip

Our trip through Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, and India was a great experience. With taking a "Gap Year" common in the UK, Richard felt like he had passed up every opportunity, and with American vacation standards, I never thought longer term travel would be possible. It is such a backpacker cliche to say any amount of time is not long enough, but it's true. Even in 10 weeks (5x what most Americans get per year), we still only caught glimpses. But they were beautiful and humbling and amazing and interesting and...

Here are the flotsam and jetsam thoughts:

Everyday Exotic Creatures

- In Siem Reap, it was great to glance out of your tuk-tuk and see a troop of monkeys in the forest bordering the road. A family also hung out around the roof of our hotel in Agra, and Rich only just missed getting the perfect shot of a monkey framed by the Taj Mahal.

- Even after a week at Elephant Nature Park, one never got tired of the occasional realization of "hey, that's an elephant standing right there" as you go about the more banal activities of life, say, waiting in line for breakfast.

- Throughout our trip, Pepper-like dogs hounded us - sorry, cheap pun. It would not be an exaggeration to say we saw at least one of her twins everyday in India! We decided either a) our girl was sending out her doppelgangers to check up on us or b) the more mongrel the population, the more common are brown dogs with white markings.

The Obligatory Toilet Commentary

I was surprised and very grateful for the prevalence of Western-style commodes in the places we visited. With proper prior planning, squatter use was kept to a minimum. Sometimes, you could even find the perfect trifecta of toilets: Western-style, toilet paper, and soap! If not, arming yourself with a bathroom bag (basic model: toilet paper + hand sanitizer, or the deluxe model: + immodium + cipro) is essential for peace of mind.

Rugrats, i.e. Traveling with Young Children in Developing Countries

Yes, it is true that most Asians, with our love of family, may enjoy meeting and playing with your child. This aspect of the cultures does not grant you freedom to indulge your flaky parenting style and get some free babysitting out of unsuspecting, probably underpaid and overworked hotel employees. A particularly heinous example of this we observed in an Aussie couple with their 4-year-old daughter in our homestay in Vietnam. While Mum was off on a trek, Dad decided to wander off to do some photography, calling over his shoulder, "Dakota, just hang out with them for a while. I'll be back later!" We looked around and to our horror, "them" was the four of us backpackers who were just finishing breakfast. Now, being decent human beings instead of, say, the secret axe-murderers and child molesters we could have been, we had just been thrust into babysitting a tot we only met the night before... instead of also being allowed to enjoy our own vacations. Dakota's precocious Shirley Temple charm already was wearing thin with her habits of sucking on a dirty comb and sticking her snotty fingers in the communal serving dishes. With parents like those, I suppose consideration of others was pretty low on her list of lessons to learn.

Photography (Other People's)

Sometimes photography can be an antisocial behavior like smoking. At the Nehru Trophy Boat Race, we were jostled constantly by amateurs who felt a giant lens attachment on their SLR camera entitled them to front and center seating. Nevermind that we all had arrived 4 hours before the event to get those seats! One woman even had the gall to cast dirty looks at anyone who jostled her tripod in the crammed standing room only section.

Expenses for Curious Minds Who Want to Know

The whole thing cost us about 12000 USD. Almost half of that were flights, many bought not far in advance of the departure. Hopefully, some of you can see this number and be inspired to go on your own great adventure.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to our families for being supportive and not freaking out too much. May I suggest less Andrew Zimmerman for next time? Special thanks to Mom and Dad for watching Pepper and my sister for watching - and not touching- the bank (just kidding, Ate!). Special thanks to Mum and Michael for the great shower, sleep, and steak and kidney pie (!) layover and Dad for bringing us back to Heathrow by dawn.

Final Thoughts on India

Ah, India! We knew going into the country that most people seem to love it or hate it. Despite having already been on the road for weeks by the time we arrived, Delhi was so frickin' hard. The way we remembered where our roach motel (with good reviews - thanks for nothing, tripadvisor) was located was because the alley always had a line of men waiting for the open urinal. Continuing around the Golden Triangle was not much better with the viciousness of touts and autorickshaw drivers. In all honesty, in that first week, we both separately considered getting a flight out to somewhere - anywhere else! - and just coming back to India in time to catch the one home. Grimly we stuck it out, and in our optimism, we could say it was, at least, always interesting. Things got better and better the further we got away from the tourist trail and the giant cities, and we really got to love our time in southern India. It was so redeeming that we half-started a list of places we would like to visit if we come back to India someday... even if we are washing our hands of Delhi, Agra, and Rajasthan (still, the Taj Mahal is worth visiting).

Below are some of other odds and ends on India.

The ubiquitous Indian head wobble is contagious. In practice, the gesture can range from slight to brain-shakingly vigorous, and its meaning seems to also vary from "yes," "no," "maybe," and "you must be crazy." Despite our diligent studying, we never managed to master the movement itself or, for that matter, the exact meaning in each situation.

Granite seems to be common in India. Slabs that your average homeowner would dream of putting in for kitchen counters casually rest in big piles by the side of the road in the Delhi construction. A greasy spoon restaurant in Munnar sported granite tables paired incongruously with their plastic chairs.

Moustaches are alive and celebrated in India! In Rajasthan in particular, we saw some magnificent specimens of the luxurious, bushy handlebar-style reddened by henna. We suspect it is an unwritten requirement for doormen of posh hotels.

India was the fattest country we have been to in this trip. Individuals with more to love were a frequent sight, probably in relation to their relative affluence [For instance, we saw no one in Vietnam with an extra ounce]. We also concluded that Muk is still skinny, even by Indian standards.

These were some of our favorite drinks in India:

- Masala chai (spiced tea with milk): Richard was frequently distracted by the cry of the chai-wallahs, "chai chai garam [hot] chai garam chai." Ten cents at the train station can buy you a tiny dixie cup.

- Lassi (yogurt drink) comes in sweet, salty, and fruit flavors. At times, it could be essential for calming the fire of chillies in your mouth.

- Smokey masala chas was prepared tableside at the Rajasthani thali place. A waiter dropped spices on a burning coal, covered it for a moment with a stainless steel cup, and finally poured a buttermilk concoction into the cup. The result was a sour drink with surprisingly intense smokey flavor.

- Limca soda is like Sprite but heavier on the lime and lighter on sugar. There is also a variation where it is prepared with fresh lime juice at streetside stalls.

-Pepsi gets an honorable mention just because India was the only country we visited where it made significant inroads into Coca-Cola's world dominance. Later I learned this was possibly due to some pro-Indian business policies 20 or so years ago, which weakened Coke's strangle hold in the region.

Chennamkary and Ernakulam (India)

Our final day in the Chennamkary homestay we rented a canoe to explore the backwaters on our own steam. The water is quite flat, and the current strong, so any passing ferry or houseboat creates a ferocious wake. We paddled over to where they were shooting a movie. If you ever see a Bollywood flick with a couple of foreigners zig-zagging in a canoe in the background, it could be us!

We arrived in Ernakulam on our last day in India with just enough time to catch a performance of Kathakali, one of the traditional dances of Kerala. Dancers train for over 10 years in order to develop the supreme muscle control required (tiny movements in the corner of one eye!) and learn how to perform stories from the two great Indian epics, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana. If you come early to the show, you can watch the artist apply the elaborate makeup and hear them describe the significance of the designs. In our play, a prince (green face = good guy) searches for and does battle with a demon who has been harassing the townsfolk. Along the way, he encounters a fight between an elephant and a cobra. All the parts were played precisely by a single dancer accompanied by drums and a singer. The whole experience was interesting... but even with their painstaking pre-show explanations, I am afraid many of the subtleties were still lost on us. To someone walking in off the street, unfortunately, the performance could have easily appeared to be an angry cross-dressing clown prone to seizures! [Apologies for the cultural insensitivity.]

We thought we had just enough time left for a quick nap and shower before heading back to the States, but it turned out that our adventures were not quite over yet. On the way to the airport, an autorickshaw-van-conversion suddenly decided to turn right from the left lane, cutting us off on the highway. Our taxi driver had to brake hard, sliding past the concrete-walled median, and drive into the oncoming traffic for a while to avoid him. Traveling in Asia, near misses become an almost daily occurrence, but this was by far our closest call. We were probably going about 60 miles per hour. Richard reckons the impact would have killed the other driver, but I am not entirely convinced that we also would not have died or been seriously injured. We thanked our taxi driver (who was also shaken up) for his excellent reflexes, and, thankfully, the rest of the way to the airport was uneventful.

Alleppey and Chennamkary (India)

Further south lies the town of Alleppey, aka Alappuzha. Luckily, our visit coincided with the 58th Annual Nehru Trophy Boat Race. Boat clubs from all over the state of Kerala compete on a 1.5 km course in snake boats (long, narrow canoes) with crews from 20 to over 100 men! Transport to the mini-island with our section was via a ferry so packed it threatened to tip when the eager spectators were disembarking. Though we were slightly farther from the finish line than the more expensive Tourist Silver and Gold stands, sitting in the mid-priced Rose Corner meant being right in the thick of the most ardent Indian fans. At times, the raucous chanting and shouting surrounding us could rival those of English football hooligans. The other unanticipated advantage was our location alongside the VVIP (very, very important persons) section, which included such dignitaries as the Governor of Kerala and, the guest of honor, the President of India! This guaranteed some prime photography as the 100-men snake boats lined up to salute Her Excellency during the opening ceremony. Many of the actual races were highly competitive, and it was thrilling to see the athleticism of the rowers (even if some of them have pot-bellies!) as they sped by, casting up sheets of water. In the lull between heats, we amused ourselves making fun of the English announcer, a woman who, speaking over the play-by-play commentator, sounded as if she had just been handed the microphone and knew about as much about boats as we did. Her inane comments included such gems as, "The heat has begun, and definitely, the heat is on" and "Next is a boat presenting the various art forms of Kerala, and you know, Kerala has various forms of art." The finals had the spectators standing on their chairs and cheering themselves hoarse as all four boats were racing neck and neck at the finish. Immediately, another mad rush to the ferry resulted in mosh pit-like crowds and several foreigners losing their tempers in the stampede. All in all, the Nehru Trophy Boat Race was a fantastic outing!

The rest of the year the other reason most come to Alleppey is because it is also the gateway to the backwaters of Kerala. There are two ways for seeing the lakes, rivers, and canals that make up the backwaters - by houseboat or by homestay. We chose both.

Our private houseboat was one of many thatched barges available with its own crew for an overnight trip. As the houseboat drifts slowly along, you catch glimpses of daily life in the tiny communities that line the waterways... Women slapping laundry on stone steps, and men in dhotis (a sort of wrap-around skirt, which seems to be more common in the southern India) bathing and fishing. In the background, coconut palms and banana trees line large rice paddies growing the giant, fluffy rice of Kerala.

For the more up close and personal backwaters experience, our homestay was exceptional. In the small village of Chennamkary, the homestay really is a family affair: staying in Maria's house with her older brother Thomas handling the bookings, her younger brother Matthew guiding walks, and their mother doing the cooking in the joint compound. We took a couple of walks by ourselves around the island, but one of the highlights was an evening guided walk. We learned more about how the families of the different trades/former castes (toddy tappers, mud diggers, fishermen, carpenters, etc) and different religions (Hindu, Muslim, and various Christian denominations) have worked and played peaceably in the community for generations. At dusk, we boarded a canoe to float the rest of the way back with Matthew and the canoeman sharing a few traditional folk songs. It was easy to imagine the call-and-response over the Keralan backwaters, especially when some of the guys on land joined impulsively in on the rendition of the boatmen's chant that had rung continuously in our ears during the Nehru Trophy Boat Race. Richard also took advantage of the opportunity to do some fishing off the pier, catching 3 fish with only a set up of a stick-and-fishing-line with dough as bait! He decided to stop after catching a catfish with spikes that Matthew ran out to tell us were "deadly painful" (clarifying later that they would only sting... but very painfully... for at least a week). But we have to say, the fish were delicious when they arrived fried for lunch the following day!

Our homestay also allowed us to taste an array of Keralan dishes. The homecooking differed from the Indian food we had been eating in the prevalence of its local giant rice (grains the size of your fingernail!), abundance of fresh and saltwater fish, and frequent use of coconut meat and its oil (Kerala can be roughly translated as "land of coconuts"). Some of our favorites were: steamed rice flour cakes with egg curry for breakfast, finely chopped beet salad, a spicy tomato and onion sort of pico de gallo that we took seconds of everyday, water buffalo curry with the stretchier Keralan version of parathas, the parade of vegetable-and-fresh-grated-coconut dishes, and iddlyappam (rice noodles with coconut formed into nests).

Ernakulam and Munnar (India)

Catching the overnight train from Goa to Kerala, a state even further south, was pleasant. Richard booked us into first class sleeper, which meant our two berths were in an air-conditioned cabin with its own sink and wardrobe. Turn down service converted the cushiony bench seat for daytime into a less comfortable bed for night time (go figure). The private cabin was appreciated though since the journey to Ernakulam station was over 14 hours long.

When arranging for a transfer from Ernakulam to our hotel near Munnar, we thought the cost was extortionate. However, we realized it was fair enough when we finally arrived at our destination over 4 hours later. Reminiscent of the Blue Ridge Parkway, most of the drive up towards Munnar winds through beautiful hills (mountains, really) with scenic viewpoints and the occasional waterfall. Also like the Parkway, the person who is driving should actually not be taking in the gorgeous landscape, lest the car end up tumbling down the mountain... with the added bonus of local buses seeming determined to make that so.

The real draw of the Munnar hills (and Richard's first true love) is tea. Tea plantations blanket the steep hillsides interspersed with native trees and cultivated eucalyptus. The tea museum, besides also sharing the history of the region, housed working tea processing machinery. Richard, of course, was delighted with the free sample of masala chai with entry.

Outside the town proper, our hotel overlooked lush forest and cardamom plantings. The location made a relaxed and peaceful setting, but the isolation sometimes could also be a burden. We were at the mercy of taxi drivers and the hotel's restaurant, whose small (and mediocre) menu appeared to shrink even more the longer we stayed. On a positive note, the monsoon rains were very picturesque, especially when viewed from the coziness of our private, covered veranda with a pot of - you guessed it - masala chai!

Benaulim, Panjim, Old Goa, Candolim, and Calangute (India)

A taxi from the airport took us out to Benaulim, a quiet beach town in Goa. Quiet, we discovered, meant absolutely deserted in the off-season of the monsoon. Watching enormous waves crash into the shore in a dismal downpour, we abandoned the idea of a seaside holiday.

Instead, we adjusted and used Panjim (aka Panaji) as a base. Although it is the capital of Goa, the city is easy to walk around and the atmosphere relaxed. With plenty of local options for dining in Panjim, we consistently found reasonably priced and delicious meals. Goan cuisine is very different from the Indian food we have had so far, partly because the state was a Portuguese colony for over 400 years. It features many seafood dishes due to its location on the coast and even pork! The notorious vindaloo seems to also have its origins here, probably related to the proximity of spice plantations. Richard was really pleased with Panjim's central bus station, which was easy to navigate and allowed us to make hassle-free day trips to other towns in Goa for about 0.40 USD round trip.

Before the Portuguese moved it to Panjim, Old Goa (aka Goa Velha) was the capital. The area is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site where you can visit several restored churches. The most popular for the pilgrimage circuit is the Basilica Bom Jesus, which has a blingin' gold altar and a dead guy. The corpse is St. Francis Xavier, the Jesuit missionary famous for converting hundreds of thousands of us Asians... and also for bringing the Inquisition to the East. Ok, so maybe the two are related, but it was good enough get universities named after him! [Mom, you can be glad now that I finally made it into a church on this trip... since I am guessing the Buddhist or Hindu temples didn't count]

Old Goa's archaeological museum houses sculpture (both ancient Hindu and Christian), a gallery of old Portuguese viceroys (including one listed as 'Luis de Miranda' - any relation?), and - most amusingly - a children's activity centre with a sign bluntly admitting that parents drag their uninterested children into dull museums and then wonder why they are not engaged or enthusiastic... so here, we are going to give them some crayons and paper!

When another break in the weather presented itself, we crossed off another item on Richard's list, renting a scooter to explore the towns of Candolim and Calangute. Candolim is the less developed of the two, but it has a couple of forts built in the 1600s that are nice to wander around for views of Aguada Bay and the Arabian Sea. Candolim Beach was strewn with debris, the remains of an erosion control project, and most disturbingly, a giant tanker that had run aground and has been rusting on the sand since the 1990s! Even if it was not a red-flagged day, Rich still would have refused to put a toe in the water.

Calangute Beach was popular despite the no swimming conditions, and several lifeguards were still scanning the waves though only a few men were playing even at the knee-deep waters. Most of the crowd was staying dry, hanging out and taking pictures on the sand. Richard got asked to be in someone's picture, but declined, suspecting a scam although we could not figure out what it could be. A couple of ice creams - cashew/sultana and chickoo (sapodilla fruit?) - marked a pleasant end to our seaside visit (is this an English tradition?).

Udaipur, Ahmedabad, and Mumbai (India)

Arriving at the Udaipur train station over an hour early, we saw and heard no notice that our overnight train to Ahmedabad had been cancelled despite having checked the status a couple of hours previously. We only found out by asking the station manager a few minutes before it was supposed to leave. Our schedule was already tight traveling through Ahmedabad and Mumbai/Bombay to get to the southern state of Goa so this delay threw our carefully made plans for a serious loop.

We hailed another autorickshaw back to the city proper and headed straight for the nearest travel agent with power (Udaipur was in the middle of another cut). Our plans to actually stop and look around Ahmedabad and Mumbai were soon abandoned, and both cities have been hit pretty badly with the monsoon season anyway. However, we still had to get south somehow.

The plan involved taking an overnight bus from Udaipur to Ahmedabad and flying the rest of the way to Goa via a Mumbai stopover. Honestly, the overnight bus was pretty sketchy. Our double sleeper was a mat inside of a cubby hole with sliding glass doors the size of windows, which you reach by climbing a short ladder. The poor folks who only paid for sitting seats were underneath us, and the purported single sleepers were actually doubled up. Our backpacks had to go in the back trunk, supervised by a guy who demanded payment for both depositing and retrieving them. There was no air conditioning so the only airflow was through a tiny window in our cubby. Thankfully, someone on board must have been eating so I was grateful for the wafts of mint and cilantro... the alternative was a packed house of body odor. Sometime around 4 a.m., someone pounded on our "door" and told us our stop was next. We barely had time to grab our stuff before getting rushed off the bus. Deposited in the middle of the night in the middle of the road somewhere in Gujarat, we had no choice but to pay the only autorickshaw driver there his asking price for the Ahmedabad airport. Our hurried exit made Richard paranoid he had left our passports in the bus so we had a few exciting moments of "Follow that bus!" until he found them in our packs.

By comparison, our flights were uneventful. Mumbai airport was a blur through security and grabbing a couple of awful sandwiches. We eventually made it to Goa, where the monsoon rains met us so intensely that the plane actually had to make a second attempt for the landing.

Udaipur (India)

Udaipur has been called the "most romantic city in India" because of a beautiful palace sitting in the middle of Lake Pichola (also seen in the James Bond film, Octopussy). Unfortunately, the lake in question is currently so low that donkeys play on the grass underneath the walking bridge, and the debris is pretty noticeable along the ghats. On the plus side, it still looks charming in the rain of the monsoon, and Udaipur is by far the most relaxing Indian city we have visited yet with the least aggressive touts.

The City Palace is the residence of the Mewars of Udaipur, the longest serving dynasty in the world at 76 generations, and houses a museum. Besides exhibits on weaponry and the days of the British Raj, the palace contains many rooms lined with intricate murals in the Rajasthani miniature painting style or covered in elaborate glass tile mosaics. Apparently, if a fairytale wedding is what you really desire, you can even book the courtyards with beautiful fountains for the big event!

We also visited Jagdish Temple, which is supposed to be one of the largest temples to the Hindu god Vishnu. The structures are elaborately carved, and at night, our dinner restaurant gave us a great view of the multicolored lights illuminating the temple... and the poor man in charge of ringing the bell continuously throughout the long service (he had to keep switching arms).

For my ongoing "anthropological studies," I had a fantastic ayurvedic massage from an Indian matron in a red sari and apron. The head massage portion involved a substantial quantity of fragrant oil poured in my hair and her scratching my head for about 15 minutes, which I could see would be great for anyone with dry scalp issues. This is also the first time someone else has wiped out my belly button, which was a little on the awkward side!

Finally, a note on Indian food... we noticed we have been paying handsomely for lackluster and sometimes downright disappointing meals in India, and we have several theories: 1) we were extraordinarily spoiled with the abundance and quality of Indian cuisine in Cary and surrounding areas; 2) we are too much on the Tourist Trail, and these places are accustomed to catering to Westerners who only ask for butter chicken and other non-spicy dishes; or 3) perhaps, as in Morocco, the best food is at home (cooked by the ladies) and not in restaurants (cooked by the men), which would explain why the best restaurants we ate in were in Delhi, where, presumably, urbanites do not cook as much. It is probably a combination of all of them, but our cooking course instructor seemed to favor theory #3.

Shashi is an admirable Brahmin woman who started teaching cooking classes after struggling to raise her two sons when her husband died. The class took place in her 2-room apartment with another couple of students. Over the 6 hours, we made masala chai (Indian spiced tea with milk); 4 kinds of pakora (fried snacks... cheese, onion, potato, and mixed veg), 2 kinds of chutney (mango and cilantro); vegetable pulao (rice dish); aloo mutter (potato and pea curry); and 5 kinds of bread (chapati; plain, potato, and sweet parathas; and my personal favorite - garlic cheese and tomato naan). Shashi was full of suggestions for variations on the recipes and also explained how to go about making curd (yogurt) and paneer (fresh cheese) at home. Unfortunately, we lost our heads a little with the fried goodness that were the pakoras with chutneys so we could not each much of the rest of the dishes. However, Shashi insisted we at least take the breads for breakfast the next morning, and they went well - even cold! - with a nice pot of masala chai.

Jaipur (India)

Along with Delhi and Agra, the pink city of Jaipur in Rajasthan makes up India's Golden Triangle. We both lost our tempers a little by being accosted immediately off the train by a particularly persistent autorickshaw driver who followed us for a good 20 minutes despite our repeated attempts to discourage him. I would like to blame our initial disorientation on him. Eventually we reached our heritage hotel, which proved to be a perfect haven. I especially appreciated the softer bed (for Asia) in a beautiful room, working air conditioning, and quiet little courtyard when my head cold made me take the day off.

For sightseeing, we headed to Jantar Mantar, which looks like a cool arty sculpture garden (Julie) or the most awesome skate park ever (Richard)! It is actually an astronomical observatory built by the maharajah of Jaipur in the 1700's and includes the world's largest sundial. It was worthwhile to spring for the official tour guide, who besides being able to tell us how each structure worked, also related the importance of astrology in Indian culture.

The City Palace is where the current maharajah resides (in a closed section). Different exhibits included the royal hall for public audiences, elaborate textiles, and really nasty-looking weapons... with a back scratcher in the same case! Unfortunately, cameras were not allowed in the rooms with the really beautiful decor.

The cheapest way to get into the city from our hotel was taking the local stop and go bus. Staring is common and unabashed in India, and our fellow passengers were no exception. No one wanted to sit next to the foreigners. Eventually, as the bus continued to get more and more packed, they decided that we were at least better than the guy with the bag that emanated flies (also very abundant in India) who kept falling asleep on people. As a result, a couple of men were practically sitting on my lap!

We also took the opportunity to take in the latest Bollywood film at the Raj Mandir Cinema, which with its pink and white architecture, makes it look like a 6-year-old girl's birthday cake. Richard did not know that the 3+ hour long film would not be in English and was under the misconception that I told him otherwise. The audience rushes into the theatre as soon as the doors open, and you soon find out why - the film starts showing immediately, no 10 minutes of trailers for cushion. Khatta Meetha (as far as we could tell) revolved around a goofy engineer trying to expand his construction business. His attempts to fulfill a contract to build a road were severely hampered by an employee with a slapstick inability to do his job (i.e. the comic relief). The government official monitoring the lack of progress is an ex-love interest. The complex side stories also involved his more successful thug-like brothers involved in shady political dealings who marry off their sister to the biggest monster of them all. For a film with children in attendance, the mafia-like scenes were surprisingly violent. The requisite song-and-dance numbers were hilarious and extravagant, including a random pirate ship! [Sorry, folks, I did not see Nigel in this one!] Everything works out in the end - the engineer and official get married, the bad brothers go to jail ... except for the sister, whose husband passes her around his friends, and then she gets beaten to death for trying to escape (!).

In Jaipur, we also caught a ride with the cheekiest autorickshaw driver. Crossing the road during traffic, we were able to negotiate a decent price. However, he still outwitted his buddies on the other side of the road (who we were heading to) and flaunted it. Over the course of our 15 minute trip, he managed to stop 1 time for the toilet, 1 time to buy something, and 4 times to ask other buddies for directions! For the last few meters, Rich actually had to direct him. Occasionally, he would just glance back with this giant "yeah, I have no idea what I'm doing" grin and continue on with his erratic driving. We found it pretty amusing... and maybe that is just us settling into a good attitude for India.

Agra and Fatephur Sikri (India)

Our usual commentator is currently out of commission with a cold (don't worry, Mom!) brought on by wildly fluctuating environmental temperatures and general exhaustion (according to our guidebook, this happens to 25% of visitors to India) so Richard is making a guest writing appearance for today. I apologize in advance for the obvious lack of quality.

Following our rude awakening in Delhi (I met someone today that was also shocked by how hard that city was), we were glad to finally catch the slow train to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. Most tourists catch the early train that takes about an hour and a half to get there, but it was fully booked so we caught the evening train the night before and opted for an extra night in Agra. The train ended up arriving in Agra three hours late, which is pretty impressive given that it was scheduled to take only four. It seemed like the Delhi construction had followed us there because we were put up in a room that still smelled of paint on the first night. For the second night, we moved into an older room with "Indian air-conditioning" - a fan that blows air over trickling water - personally, I think I preferred having no AC at all. Power glitches (not uncommon in Asia, but a daily occurrence in India) through the night kept us awake with the fan fluctuating between jet engine speeds and nothing at all.

On our first day in Agra, we decided that we were too good for the Taj Mahal, and took some local transport out to Fatehpur Sikri, an ancient Mughal fortified city about 40 km outside Agra. It sounded interesting, but we weren't prepared for the incredible beauty of the huge red sandstone structures. I think I was expecting "a series of small walls" (as Eddie Izzard claims Time Team always composes), not full structures around well-manicured gardens. Most of what we saw was the palace buildings, including the homes of the dude's (Emperor Akbar) three favourite wives - Muslim, Hindu, and Christian. He was apparently very religiously tolerant. The fort was well-preserved and big enough that you could have some peace from the tour guide touts. The way back to Agra was a bit of an adventure. When the bus finally turned up, the driver got out and (I assume from the shouting and gestures) announced that he couldn't be bothered to drive back for the scheduled return! A pretty big shouting match erupted between him and the trailing Indian passengers, and we (the foreigners) were used as leverage to get him to run his assigned route. He got his revenge by beeping his horn for 80% of the hour-long journey, so trying to have a conversation sounded like a Quentin Tarantino script playing on daytime TV.

The second day in Agra was spent chilling out before our train. No, sillies, we got up at 5:30am to watch the sunrise at the Taj Mahal! Monsoon season is probably not the best time to see sunrises, and we were actually a little late, so we watched the early morning rain at the Taj Mahal instead. Most tourists don't show up until 9 am or so, so it was relatively quiet. Again, we managed to find a few quiet spots to sit and take in the Taj without being bugged by touts. It's funny that it actually looks fake from a distance. Part of that was probably the flat morning light, but one sees so many pictures of the "reflection pool" view that it's a little surreal to see it in person. Once you get up close though, no pictures can do it justice. You have to be there to appreciate its majesty (and consummate vees, for you Homestar Runner fans). The Taj Mahal, commissioned by Shah Jahan at the death of his beloved wife, is built out of semi-transparent white marble and is famous for changing colour with the lighting conditions. We were treated to a short example of this when the sun peaked out for a few seconds to light the building up beautifully. There is a lot of hype around the Taj Mahal, and it's worth every bit of it. I have a question, though: why is everyone obsessed with taking pictures of themselves jumping in front of it?

It looks like no blog post is complete without some mention of food, so here's my take. The food in Agra is god awful! We tried several Lonely Planet-recommended places and thought you could get better Indian food out of a jar. The place with a "great thali for 90 Rs" has the worst thali we've tried so far. Let this be a lesson to guide book readers: don't believe everything you read in that book! We mostly have been finding our own eateries by going to the crowded places. Maybe most travellers don't want Indian food? I have to admit that most people I've seen are eating omelettes and cheese sandwiches. To get around the poor tourist food, we finished off Agra by taking an auto-rickshaw out to one of the bazaars and getting food on the street. Julie got a fairly unimpressive mutton biryani (rice dish with a two pieces of actual lamb), and I had a delicious tandoori paratha (bread) with spicy kebabs and spicier minty dipping sauce. Surprisingly enough, eating meat off the street didn't appear to cause stomach problems... yet.

[Submitted with only minor editting and interjections by Julie. Thanks and good job, Richard!]

Delhi (India)

Delhi was very hot and very dusty. This is because it is one big construction site, as the city prepares for hosting the Commonwealth Games (like the Olympics, but only for countries with the Queen still on their money) in October. For example, picture one of those World War II movies like Saving Private Ryan where they run through the rubble of the town dodging snipers, except change the snipers to touts, and throw in a placid cow chewing rubbish, and you have the road just outside of our hotel and the New Delhi Railway Station. According to a newspaper snippet, we are not alone in thinking it would be a miracle for all the construction to get finished in time for the Games.

Shaking us out of the easy cocoon of Thai travel, India asserts itself immediately whenever one tries to negotiate for an autorickshaw. With the abundant scams and ever present touts, I am counting us lucky if we only get screwed once a day. Our first adventure was getting to the National Museum (filled with artifacts, sculpture, miniature paintings, and other works of art) where we agreed to a price that we later understood to be 2-3x the fare. Our autorickshaw driver talked non-stop the entire way trying to get us to go to other places, finally settling on parking a little away from the museum and pointing at the scaffolding, saying "oh, it is closed on Sunday." We had heard of this possible scam and insisted, and when we walked around the corner we found, of course, the museum was open as scheduled. Let's call this Autorickshaw driver - 1, Rich and Julie - 1.

After our first sour experience, we opted to walk to Connaught Place (a giant 3 circled roundabout with shops all along the way). This time we did not fall for the autorickshaw driver who tried to get us into his vehicle with a new one, "There are protests that way!" It took us forever to find the restaurant in the maze of construction, but we were rewarded with excellent unlimited thalis (trays with a set menu in tiny dishes). The set up was a bit like a Brazilian churrascaria with servers refilling your portions except without the necessary stop/go cards. As a result, you have the same guy asking if you want more parathas about 3 minutes after the last time he asked you. It was delicious though with these thalis having about 5 vegetable dishes, 3 kinds of dal (lentils), 3 kinds of bread, and various sweet things.

We also visited Lal Qila (Red Fort) in Old Delhi, one of the other impressive building ventures of the Mughal emperors. It was refreshing to walk around the different sandstone-edificed buildings without constant pressure from touts. Rich was very happy to have his first proper cup of tea in Asia (i.e. without condensed milk or ice). For lunch, we stopped along Chandri Chowk where Julie had yet another thali (this time, not unlimited) and Rich indulged in some chaat (Indian snacks). The raj kachori (a giant crispy shell filled with yogurt, lentils, and other nice things) and bhel puri (spicy crispy bits, the variation with pomengranate seeds) were awesome. [Special thanks to Muk for introducing us to such things!]

The Delhi Metro - clean, fast, and high tech- was a pleasant surprise. You get an electronic token that scans to let you in, and presumably, will alert the authorities if you try to exit at a place other than your stated destination. The only hiccup was the long lines to exit since there were technical difficulties at the gates, where the agents had to scan each person's token by hand.