India: The Wrap-Up

I've been trying to compose this entry for a few weeks now. There is so much to say about India that it's difficult to wrap up. We had spoken to numerous other backpackers before heading there. The most memorable description was from a Swedish pair who said we would see the most amazing thing followed by the most disgusting thing we'd ever seen, on an almost daily basis. The general consensus was that we would have a love-hate relationship with India. Based on this, we had built up some expectations.

We've been to Central America, and can make some comparisons between places like Cuba, Panama, and Costa Rica. We've travelled throughout Europe, and the similarities between countries there are many. Even in South East Asia, places like Laos, Cambodia and Thailand can easily be likened to one another. That said, India is like no other place I've been in the world. Travelling there, you will see grandeur and poverty living side-by-side. You will puzzle over how anything gets done in cities that, to the foreigner, seem strangled by chaos. You will experience gracious hospitality but often feel uncomfortable from the constant staring. You will eat delicious food in a place where thousands upon thousands go hungry every day. Oh, and you'll get sick. The air is so thick with dust in parts of Delhi that you'll cough all the time. Food poisoning will become routine, forcing you to eat toast, plain rice or bananas - and trust me, you'll get plenty sick of toast, plain rice and bananas.

We experienced all of this, and every day fell more in love with India. It certainly took some time. At first, we weren't so thrilled about holy cows and their holy shit all over the streets. We needed time to learn to ignore the honking. We were used to garbage cans, not garbage piles, and these were all the worse due to rats scavenging for food in them. We felt that rickshaw drivers were taking advantage of us, and would get frustrated by their incessant pestering. "Madam, where you go? Mister? Where you go?"

But as we got better at India, we would let our guard down; a little more each day. We got to the point where after declining a ride to various tourist spots and markets, we would ask the rickshaw wallahs (as they are called locally) about their home towns, whether they were married, and if they had kids. And they invariably turned out to be nice, friendly people. They may have been persistent, but they had to put food on the table, just like everyone else.

In fact, we turned the rickshaw haggling into an art of sorts. Whenever we showed interest in a rickshaw, three or four more drivers would invariably show up. As foreigners, we would always have to pay more than locals. It's an unwritten law, and really – fair enough. We would get a few quotes on the fare and then haggle down to almost the local price. Agnes proved to be a genius at this. By this point we'd worn down the patience of usually all but one rickshaw driver – the one who probably most needed the money. We'd load up, enjoy our ride, pay the fare, and most times tip the driver enough to bring the total up to almost what was originally asked. And this was one of the best parts. Upon receiving payment, the driver would count the fare and look at us to see if we'd made a mistake. Agnes would shoot him a knowing smile, and in return we'd get a grin from ear to ear.

It wasn't just the people that made India so amazing. There was something else, almost indescribable about it. I've heard of cities being described as alive but until India, never really experienced it. Kolkata, for example, is situated next to the Hooghly River and for years the only way to cross it was by ferry. In 1943 the Howrah Bridge was built and today holds the title of the busiest bridge in the world. Each day one hundred thousand vehicles and an uncountable number of people cross it. I've never before seen anything like it. And then there was the Taj Mahal. Aside from knowing that it was a white marble building with unique onion shaped structures on the roof, I didn't know much about it. I suppose I thought it was a temple or something like that. I learned, however, that it is in fact a testament to love. The Mughal emperor Shah Jahan had it built between 1632 and 1638 as a mausoleum to house the tomb of his second wife Mumtaz Mahal who died delivering their 14th child. It is, with no exaggeration, unbelievable.

You can read about the Taj Mahal, and see pictures of it, but until you've seen it with your own eyes; you'll never really grasp it. You might read that you have to take your shoes off before entering the inner wall, but until you go there you won't know that the marble walkway gets so hot in the mid-day sun that you'd better run to the front entrance or you'll risk burning your tender bare feet. You can look at pictures of it taken from every angle, but until you walk around the back, and peer over the ledge separating it from the Yamuna River, you'd never guess that there's a family living in a tent back there.

India is a fantastic place. Magical, even. And although you probably won't understand the chaos and you may even hate it at first, you should go there if you ever get the chance. Go and wake up to a panoramic view of the Himalayas. Go and visit the ghats of Varanasi where thousands of Hindus bathe each sunrise. Go and meet doctors that provide free health care to the poor people of Manali (subsidized by the vacationing 'rich snobs' from New Delhi). Go haggle over 10 rupees (30 cents). But make sure you go for longer than three weeks, because it will take you that long to adjust to the chaos that is India.