India

Last week, I spent eight days exploring the Golden Triangle of India (mostly from the comfort of an air-conditioned bus). It was a whirlwind affair, with quick stops in Delhi, Jaipur and Agra. Much like a buffet, we sampled delicacies in bite-size offerings and still came away full. Travelling companions Jadek, Nish and MrsC were good company, as were new travel-mate friends.

I was pretty sick before leaving, so the flight over is a blur of antibiotics and pain meds. I really thought I had irreparable damage to my hearing (especially since it took a full two days before my ears popped). I do remember the food being good and Jadek being an excellent pillow.

Within about twenty minutes of being out of the Indira Gandhi International Airport, Jadek had already relinquished his luggage to a non-Indus Crew member. We learned quickly: everyone is out to make a buck in India. And I mean everyone. From tuktuk drivers to street peddlers, from legit state emporium stores to our very own tour guide – it was, as my parents would say, a moneymaking racket. However – for the price we paid to go over ($2350!), I couldn’t have reproduced that trip. Heck, I could barely get a flight and a hotel for that. So, there we were, ready to embark on our very first “canned” tour.

Everyone asks for the highlights.  It's difficult to pick, really.  But, here goes.

Amer Fort (also said as Amber Fort) was divine. I mean, the Mirror Palace alone was spectacular! The sheer attention to detail and extravagance of attention just made my jaw drop. And, it was nice to so much of it preserved.

I expected cows and lizards. I also got camels, elephants, white chipmunks, monkeys and peacocks. Just hanging around the way black squirrels do in my neighbourhood.

Riding a rickshaw in Old Delhi, weaving through traffic of human, hoof, and wheel, under a tangled knot of wires, past stalls of silk, jewels, and spices.

The Taj Mahal.  It is truly magnificent, taking 22 years to build – a labour of love not by slaves, but by the best of paid craftsmen. I shall paraphrase Bill Clinton and say this: there are two kinds of people in the world: those who have seen the Taj and those who should. May I wax poetic for a moment? May I share with you the gentle sparkle of inlaid crystal as the sun’s first rays hits the famous Makrana dome? The highlights of crystal on the white marble? The shock of realising that the Taj is not white, but covered in green and blue and red? The black onyx Arabian poetry surrounding each entrance? May I tell you about the cool feeling of stone against my hand, the overwhelming amount of love poured into each chisel? Alas, I would do it no justice.
… I find it poignant that Shah Jahan spent his last years gazing upon it from far away Fort Agra, imprisoned by his murdering son; his tomb, beside his beloved Mumtaz Mahal, the only part of the entire structure that is not in perfect symmetry).

So much of India is neglected and defaced. Amazing that the people think so little of their own history and architecture. Then again, to see the living conditions of so many, I suppose it’s ludicrous to think of preserving history when they can’t seem to preserve humanity. There seems to be no worth placed on the labour of one’s body: a rickshaw driver will cycle you for 25 minutes for a mere 150 rupees ($3). And that, too, may be haggled down. A carpet that takes two men five months to make for a paltry $400. Can you imagine your work – your hard labour - being valued at so little?

India – incredible India – is a place that stays with you. For all the wonders I saw, the image that resurfaces is this: one night, on our way back from dinner, through the now-quiet streets of Jaipur, our luxury bus stopped at an intersection. Outside my window, a low-burning fire made from piled trash is almost out.  Next to it, a man curled up sideways on his rickshaw, his head on the passenger seat, his feet looped around the handlebars, his front wheel inches from from our own.  Everything that man owned was under his body.  He was still considered luckier than the several children asleep on the pavement, huddled together.