Monsoon Departure

We are home. The last days of our trip turned out a little differently than we had expected. We did see some more sights in Delhi, including the Indira Gandhi museum (where we saw her blood-stained sari). We did make it the Taj Mahal and successfully avoided being poisoned (unfortunately poisoning is a scam in the budget accommodation area in Agra), endured the worst night of sleep of my entire life (unbearable heat, mosquitoes, illness, and the budgetest of hotels yet) and spent a lovely morning in the opulent presence of the Taj. It was stunning. However, when we thought we were finally leaving Delhi, our overnight train to Udaipur was canceled. Rajasthan (the state that Jaipur, Jodhpur, Udaipur and many other popular tourist destinations are in) had been experiencing some unrest with a tribal group demanding more rights. There had been riots and train tracks had been dismantled. We considered not going to Rajasthan at all, but after seeking the advice of many wise people, decided on Udaipur, which is a significant distance from the disruptions in Jaipur, the capitol. However, destiny intervened. We took it as a sign. After asking the railway officials, "What do we do?" to which they had no response, we stood in various queues in various buildings to refund our tickets. It was only after doing all this we learned we couldn't purchase new tickets at this station, and would have to go the New Delhi station across town, the following morning. So, we entered the fray of the Delhi rickshaw scene once again, and pleaded with the Indian Social Institute to take us in, without reservations. Now that I'm safely home, I can say that that twenty-four hour period was definitely a low.

However, the following afternoon we found ourselves on a two-tier AC car (by far the fanciest class of travel we'd been on yet, the only seats available...again, I think it was destiny) and were astounded by the comfort we had been denying ourselves (which we couldn't have afforded to take all over the country anyway). But, as luck would have it, an extra family had been let on board and they found refuge in our berth, so we didn't get any of the extra space anyway. Since it was the last train we would be on in India, hardly anything could bother us. We enjoyed the delicious curd in little earthen jars, had interesting conversations with the wise and witty legal consultant across from us, Shoeb, who shared a cab with us in Mumbai, and read the morning papers cover to cover. I may have had my best night of sleep in four months.

We arrived in Mumbai three days into the monsoon. The headline on the paper read, "It has begun." We immediately loved Mumai...the familiar green feel of South India, the mango carts, friendly people, less general desperation than in the North, and the curious mix of a cosmopolitan "Western" feel with sardine-packed India. Our last days were easy, and very wet. I ate caramel popcorn and Ambryn, gelatto, in Mumbai's infamous movie houses, we drank plenty of fresh lime soda, and we explored the beautiful city by foot, monsoon and all. And then one very early morning (after hardly sleeping...convinced during the absolute thundering downpour that the streets would be flooded and our plane couldn't take off...and we would never leave India) we boarded a Finnair flight to Helsinki.

When I stepped off the plane in Helsinki, and simultaneously breathed the fresh Nordic air and saw the pines and the birch on the other side of the tarmac, I literally said aloud, "Oh my God!" We marveled at the simple, elegant Scandinavian design of the airport, the cordial and efficient staff, and the comfortable furniture before boarding our plane for Paris.

In France we ate incredible food, drank delicious wine, enjoyed the hospitality of good, kind people and were fortunate enough to attend the marriage of Joy and Beranger. I even signed official French documents as a witness. Good friends, late night wedding dancing, dogs we could pet, and showers, eased our transition back home.

And after time in Chicago, another wedding weekend in Madison, and four and a half hours in Chicago's Union station due to flooded train tracks in Wisconsin, I'm home.

I think I'll write one more blog entry, and then that will be all. Tat sat, as they say in India. Because I wasn't able to post photos for so long, I've included quite a few here as a sort of "review" of the last half of our trip, in no particular order. I've also added lots of photos to my flickr site, which is a link from this page.

"B" as in Bombay

When I give people my name here, they always ask, "B as in Bombay?" and I confirm. When spelling my name (the next step) I've found myself saying things like, "T as in tabla," and I've realized I'm prepared to say things like "H as in Hanuman" (the monkey god) and "N as in Nehru." This corresponds with the fact that I'm feeling quite settled here in India (though I'll never accept widespread public urination), so much that I think some of the shine has worn off a little. I think this is a good thing, all a part of the process. There is less wonderment and awe, and I think that when we arrive in Bombay in nine short days I'll be ready to leave. I think.

We arrived back in Delhi this morning, after a twelve hour bus journey from Dharamsala. We payed more money for a "sleeper" but were unsure what that would look like, and prepared ourselves (as we always do) for the worst. It turns out that this bus has two levels. There are the usual two seats on each side of the aisle, but where there is usually a space for luggage, there are "bunks." Ambryn and I had a double which was considerably smaller than a twin bed. We were very thankful that we were sharing that imtimate space with each other and not a stranger. But this sort of intimacy is one of India's charms.

Rather than bringing us into the center of the city where we boarded, the bus dropped us off at a Tibetan refugee colony on the outskirts of town. As one fellow passenger said with a stone face, "Why would we expect that the bus would bring us where we want to go?" So we selected a dreaded rickshaw after being mobbed by about twelve of them and got in after we brought the price down by a third. Only a few meters down the road our ride was flagged down by "police" and after much scrambling for papers, much harrassment by the officers, about twenty minutes, and our driver looking quite depressed, we were off again. This feels like classic Delhi. We got to the NGO where we are staying but learned we can't check in for several hours. After washing our faces in the handwashing sinks in the cafeteria, applying deoderant in the stairwell, and trying to make ourselves presentable for the morning hours in this cosmopolitan city (in bus clothes we've been wearing for 24 hours) we realized that all of these factors combined with the fact that the place in which we are staying is a "social institute," has a chapel, involves coupons to eat, and has strict check-in and check-out times looks a lot like what "homelessness" looks like to many of the folks we've worked with in Chicago and Tacoma. We realized this with a lot of laughter. This is where we're at. A little ragged, but happy. Enjoying the adventure of it all, soaking it all up because the days go so quickly.

Parts of our off-season Goa travel (largely being a spectacle to North Indian men) and most of our Delhi travel kicked us around a little (but we've stayed level-headed through it all...I think we've managed to stay sane sometimes becuase of our ability to find the humor in ridiculous situations). We didn't really know where that Himachel Tours bus would bring us, but we knew it was out of the city and that felt good. Dharamsala, the home of the Tibetan goverment in Exile, was a true respite. We weren't able to have an audience with the Dalai Llama, but we did see his temple, tour the Tibetan museum, and tried to soak up as much of the place as we could. If and when we return to India, we both would really like to return and do some volunteer work to get a deeper sense of the community. The most refreshing part for us was that even though we were just passing through, we definitely sensed the community, something we've been seeking ever since we left Bangalore (so many travelers say this same thing...interesting). It is so exhausting to be a consumer at every turn...for every meal, every night's stay, every snack, every journey further than walking distance. In Dharamsala we met our neighbors, smiled at people, were able to strike up conversations with strangers, made some friends (including a woman from Belgium who has been traveling in Asia for the last two and a half years and was visiting Dharmsala for the ninth time, and a contemporary modern dancer from London), breathed fresh air, walked everywhere we needed to go, ate healthy food, hiked in the Himalayas, took courses in Reiki I and Reiki II, and received Tibetan massages. We learned about the invasion of Tibet by China in 1949 and the subsequent trauma the Tibetan people have endured since. The city is such an interesting mix of Indian locals, the Tibetan community (which I believe makes up the majority of the population) and all of the foreigners who make that place "home" for varying lenghts of time.

So now we're back in Delhi, and despire the overnight bus journey, some tummy issues, and our inabiltity to check into our room for a few hours, I think we're doing well. The combination of our experience in Delhi with the restorative properties of the mountains is pushing us through these days. We're hoping to see a friend here in Delhi, visit the National Museum, and then we're on another train to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. We'll find ourselves back in Delhi to make a connection, then on to Udaipur in Rajasthan (apparently the most romantic place in India and where Jame Bond's "Octopussy" was filmed), a connection in Gujarat and then Mumbai (Bombay).