Take No Prisoners

As most of you know, Brittany and I, by the grace of God, made it back to our home in America perfectly safe. Of course, there was around a week or so that my posts yielded little or no information concerning my whereabouts, which is most unfortunate. Things got a bit busy, is all.

We will start with Friday the May 23rd since that's the furthest I can remember back to. That was the night we fed the monkeys! We were doing some walking, and stopping along the way at any stores that looked like they had any sarees Brittany might like, when we rounded the corner to find a wall of monkeys. They were about the size of a 7 or 8 year old and there were about 20 monkeys sitting on the wall and swinging in the trees. They were white with black faces and hands and long tails. Then at the very end of the wall a small and old Indian man in a grayish-white shirt and pants was feeding them vanilla cookies. We spent the half hour (it was around 6:00pm) feeding the monkeys with him. They were pretty greedy, and if you approached them without food in hand they bared their sharp black teeth. It wasn't so much a grimace as much as just opening their mouth as if to show a dentist their teeth.

I think it was feeding the monkeys that got me to realizing just how incredible this trip was. Sure, we've all seen monkeys in the zoo, tamed by captivity, but here I was half-way around the world feeding wild monkeys. Sure, there are plenty of tourist and backpackers, but I'm not sure I personally know anyone who would willing go to India for fun, and so it was kind of cool knowing I was in India feeding monkeys. It was great.

Sunday afternoon, Kailash's brother's son Abhay (I know that's a grammatical nightmare) escorted us to a grocery store. We were hoping for a bigger place we had heard rumor of, but this was nice. We stocked up on breakfast food to save money resolving that tomorrow we'd find this mega-mart.

Sunday night we went to the City Palace restaurant Shiv Niwas. Now, the City Palace is $350 a night, and the restaurant is proportionally expensive, but we went to watch my sitar teacher Suresh play flute and sitar, which he apparently gets handsomely paid for. We each had a drink and shared an entree, and Saresh did terrific. He called me over and asked me to play the sitar he was playing. Up to this point I was feeling reluctant to buy a sitar, but I played this particular sitar and loved it. I told him if I had the money and I could buy this sitar I would buy.

Brittany and I had heard rumor of a mega-market, complete with bar-code scanners and employees in uniforms and just had to go. The first mega-market we went to, was actually only a grocery store, which was nice as we stocked up on breakfast food. Unfortunately, this didn't satisfy our desire for the closest thing to Wal-Mart we could find, and so we invited all of the Soni kids to come with us to Vishal's Mega-Mart. After all the Soni family had done for us, it was nice to do something for them for a change. This took two autos. There were two girls, 17 year old cousins, and four boys who were each a year older than the other, the oldest being 16 who was actually a cousin of an older Soni brother that didn't live in their house.

Vishal's was a success. We didn't buy anything, but we went through each of the five floors looking at housewares, groceries, clothing, and toys. We then stopped for glass-bottled high-fructose-corn-syrup-free cokes at the mega-mart's outdoor fast food restaurant.

By this time the afternoon was simmering down and we discussed further plans. "The most important thing is that you have fun; where should be go now?" I asked. Most of the kids seemed to agree that Fateh Sageh Lake was the place to go. The girls, who were most sensitive to our budget, said that we would have to take autos there, but could easily and safely walk home from the lake. We took an autos there and got to the edge of the lake. It's a bit hard to describe, but it was more or less a road that sat slightly elevated to the shore of a lake. There was some sort of garden island in the middle we never made it to, but along the road there were plenty of restaurants and shops. We took the kids to a small street-food vendor, sat down and had masala dosas. Delicious.

A lot of things are close on Sunday and any shop that isn't is closed on Tuesday. We had become intense friends with the Soni family by that time, spending most of our days with them in their home. The Soni family consisted of two brothers, each of their wives, and their respective children. They all lived in a house connect to a long strip of building and across the street from their house was another portion of garages and rooms. You might have called the part we were staying in more of a commons. Two blue double doors opened to the public, with signs advertising heena and miniature art. You walk up the stairs to the side of the door and enter a small area with a glass case, bench, various plastic chairs, and a family of artists meticulously painting.

Kailash is the youngest of his siblings and because he spoke English so well, we grew close quickly. He was quick to invite us over, or if we were walking by ask us to come in for chai. Normally, whether we had eaten lunch or not, they provided a meal for us, which was no help to my attempts to lose weight. It might have been easier to deny food from them had it not been so delicious. Their wives, who had separate kitchens, always had food going. If it was late at night, Kailash would often provide beer, which he usually sold to me 10 rupees above cost. Merry making with Kailash was a great time.

Sometimes, if we requested ahead of time, and fronted the money for the meat, he would cook chicken or mutton for us. I'm not sure why, but most of the time we ate it in his bedroom. His kids were always coming and going and his wives would always stop and talk in what little English they spoke. We found the chicken and mutton delicious, but tenaciously spicy.

We had agreed on Monday, that Tuesday I would get my haircut and then we would go to the zoo. So, we came over mid-afternoon, only to find that the barber was closed. So, the boys showered and we walked to the zoo. We got all the way there to find it closed. We stopped for ice cream to make up for it, and on our way back saw a few Australians who hitched a ride on an elephant. After making sure the kids got home safely Brittany and I took an auto to the more metropolitan side of the city and ate at south Indian restaurant called Sankalp, which we loved.

The next morning Brittany and I went to our favorite lunch/breakfast place Cafe Edelweiss, grabbed a couple of tuna salad sandwiches and took them to a garden we had seen a few days ago. It was beautiful and well-maintained and we had a small picnic on a couple of rocks in the shade.

We then met up with the Soni family again and the boys escorted me to the barber where I got my haircut for a steep $1.50. It was actually just about the best haircut I've had. I suppose I should mention that during this whole time (the last few days) we had managed to complete our saree shopping and were having them tailored, just so you know. Once we were done with the haircut, we managed to get the same group together and venture once more to the zoo. There were four of us total and it cost $3 for all of us to get in. It was actually kind of a waste.

I really do think Indians put a lower value on life than the West. I know it's a generalization, but this wasn't the first or last time I had seen so little disregard for life. The zoo was supposed to have a crocodile, hyena, and wolf, but they had all died recently. On top of that the snake was missing. The zoo had tigers and lions who we could barely see through the bars of the dens they slept in, and most of the deer and bears were hard to see through the small fencing. The monkeys were the best show as the baboons neighbored the same kind of white monkeys with black faces Brittany and I had fed. They sporadically wared with one another, and pretty soon the baboons took interest in us. Had I wanted to reach through the fence and touch it, I could have, but it was pretty obvious it wouldn't end well if I did. Some of the boys did motion their hand towards the baboon as if to give it something and when they opened their hand to reveal nothing the baboon promptly turned around and waved its butt in the air. The sight was terribly crass, but all the more hilarious.

We moved on to find a leopard coming out of its cage. The excitement turned to horror and sadness when we realized the leopard was sick. It clumsily came out of the den, barely able to stand or move. As it paced in a circle, it seemed to be spiraling towards death and blood began to drip from its mouth. I don't know if you've ever seen a spotted leopard up close, but it's one of the most majestic creature I'd ever seen. Even in death, its beautiful coat of fur, powerful muscles, and captivating eyes were beautiful. It made it all the more horrifying to watch it die and know that no one cared. We left feeling pretty down. We, of course, couldn't tell the zoo keeper because we didn't speak Hindi, and convincing the boys with us (who were bilingual) was difficult. They didn't seem to understand that anyone should care. But we told the man at the door, and he said, as if making an excuse in the name of laziness, "oh that animal is just old". I knew it wasn't true. I knew that this leopard was succumbing to the same fateful neglect the hyena, wolf, and crocodile had. It was probably a matter of a proper diet, some sort of simple medicine, or even just easing the summer heat and all of those animals would probably still be alive. The fact was, no one cared, and that was what was most depressing of all.

After sorting some money matters I was able to get a sitar on Thursday. Brittany's sarees were done and looked great on her. Things seemed to be going well. We were quite worried about the riots in Jaipur. Jaipur was the place of the bombing, which was by Muslim radicals in opposition to India's support of American policies. The Gujjar riots were something entirely different. In short, the Gujjars are a low caste who wanted to be a lower caste in order to qualify for government jobs with caste affirmative action. They decided to riot and pulled up train tracks and blocked roadways. They attacked a police station, where police killed 22 to of them. It did little good as the Gujjars continued to protest up through to Agra. They had blocked our way to Delhi where we were scheduled to fly out. Our bus ticket was canceled and we ended up paying almost three times as much for train tickets that took us an alternate route to Delhi a day earlier than planned.

We had to cram our shopping into Friday and managed to get almost all of it done. We bought a chai set for each of the Soni families and a table for them to use in their commons. We had a fish fry, had a long goodbye of hugs. Brittany and I left upset for so many reasons. We had to leave earlier than we thought, we had a long day of travel ahead, and our time with was cut short.


The next day we woke up and took the train to Ajmer. Ajmer was kind of depressing. We were stressed from travelling, in a strange city, and starving. There was no good food to be had. Most of it didn't look safe or filling. While I was hunting down food Brittany witnessed a mother punching her few-month-old baby in the face just because it had wet itself. Who would have though a baby that can't even walk would wet itself?

We just waiting an hour in the train station until our train came and we hopped it and it took us to Delhi. We shared the train with a slightly annoying, but helpful young Indian. By the time we got to Delhi we were so tired we were nauseated. Furthermore, we were passing by slums on the train tracks, which was a little disturbing, even after all the poverty we had seen all along.

I've said it before, the first night in the city is always the hardest. Brittany and I each had a hefty backpack, she carried our carry-on duffel bag and I had my massive sitar case to tote. We exited the station without a plan and almost no money. We figured we'd just go to the airport and sleep inside. Let me explain (it's a bit complicated). Our plane flew out June 3rd at 12:50AM. This means that out flight left Tuesday morning, but we needed to be at the airport by Tuesday night. Our bus tickets had been perfect. We would have left on the first, gone over night until the 2nd and gotten to Delhi sometime Tuesday afternoon and flown out that night. This was totally different. We had taken an all day train on Saturday and had arrived at the airport that night.

That's right, we got to the airport two and a half days early, and for some reason we didn't realize it. In our heads, we'd sleep at the airport and catch our flight the next day. So, we got to the airport only to find out we couldn't even go inside until 3 hours before our flight, but we were so tired and broke we just slept outside the airport. We weren't the only ones. There was a large tiled area, and even though it was open air it did have a roof. Inside the actual building was a small waiting room with AC you could enter within 8 hours of your flight.

We slept outside, and besides the mosquitoes and flies we were so exhausted we rested easy. The next morning I woke up and called my dad who was like "Um, your flight doesn't leave until tomorrow night". This shocked me, we had the entire day of Monday and Tuesday to kill.

Brittany and I sat talking about what to do and I watched a huge red bus pull under the airport pavilion across the road from us. Within a few minutes a crowd, news crews, and an ambulance were on the scene. Airport employees came out with buckets of water and were squeegeeing it from the bus to our side of the street where the drains were. We watched as they used the squeegee to push the water to us and then we realized the water was red. "Is that blood?" Brittany asked. I thought that it surely wasn't, that we would have seen something, and the workers so casually cleaned it. I went over to the scene and sure enough a couple of people might have died.

We were pretty disturbed by this and found out later that three young tourist were getting their bags out of the back of a bus when another bus pulled in and hit them. Two were killed and the other was in critical condition last we heard. Reflecting on the scene and how it must have unfolded, it's nothing but pure negligence and recklessness on part of the bus driver who was deservingly arrested.

I reluctantly withdrew some money from the ATM and we made our way into town with all of our stuff. We had a taxi drop us off at a cinema, which was in an upscale shopping center with several restaurants to chose from. We watched Indian Jones and Prince Caspian. There was a small stand where, for a dollar a bag, they would watch our stuff for three hours. We had McDonald's for lunch and Subway for dinner, which both really hit the spot.

After the movies we decided to do a little grocery shopping for our day outside the airport tomorrow. I have to say that God really provided for us at this point, and it's hard to explain, but if you had been there you'd know what I mean. After some shopping I checked my e-mail at an internet cafe and my dad had offered to put us up at a hotel. We were really grateful and asked some random Indians if they knew of any good hotels in the area. They spoke decent enough English, but unfortunately couldn't give directions to save their life.

With all of our stuff in hand we probably walked 2 miles before we gave up. We agreed to grab and auto back towards the airport and if we saw a hotel along the way we'd have him stop. We were so exhausted that we agreed to the steep price of 200 rupees ($5USD). There were no hotels along the way. It was incredibly asinine that we would go all over Delhi and not see a hotel. We arrived at the airport and before I even gave him the money the rickshaw driver insisted on 300 rupees. Brittany and I had both made it clear that Rs200 was the price, even using our fingers to notate numbers. He repeated back, "Yes, 200", and now he insisted on 300, but I was too tired to argue. I just walked off and left him with the 200 and told him that I don't know how he can do pooja in the morning.

We slept outside again Monday night and woke up early the next morning. The day went by slow and we had stooped to new lows creating a card deck out of our own paper. It was peanut butter and banana sandwiches for breakfast and lunch. There was a shower in the well-maintained public bathroom, which we did use. We passed the time with Dave Sedaris and naps. By 4:50pm we were allowed in the AC room, where were finaly allowed to sit in a chair and drink purified water from a fountain (as opposed to the expensive bottled water sold outside the airport).

There was an older Indian couple in front of us who made friends with us. The man, Sandi, gave us his book Code Blue 99, which is about his near death experience where he allegedly met God. I'm not sure what to make of it, yet, but it is interesting. The wife, Janet, gave us the most delicious mango I've ever had. Their flight was earlier than ours. He was good enough to change some of my American currency (dollar coins that the currency exchange places wouldn't trade) for rupees, which was enough for dinner. Brittany and I each showered and then had a bit to eat. The restaurant was a dim, but clean bar with delicious chicken friend chicken and fish and chips.

After dinner, it was time to check our bags. We made it through the airport, spent the last of our money on a midnight snack of Subway, and eventually we were able to get onto our plane. In all honest, this was uneventful enough that the brevity of my account might make it seem like it was fairly simple, but I assure you the wait alone was tedious. We were exhausted from traveling with little real sleep and nothing to look forward to but more travel. We did finally get on the plane and slept for most of the flight.

Amsterdam wasn't as bad the second time around. We easily found our connection, but had a five hour lay over. I soon discovered a McDonald's and as I hadn't had beef in over a month Brittany and I each got a Big Mac. Delicious.

We laid around the airport a few more hours and eventually got on the plane. It seems miraculous how on-time everything really was. I watched Vantage Point, a couple of episodes of 30 Rock, and a couple of episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Afterwards I took a dramamine and slept most of the rest of the flight.

Landing in America wasn't as climatic as I had hoped. By the time you navigate through the passport check, pickup your baggage, get through customs, have your baggage rechecked, have your carry-on scanned, and go to re-pickup your baggage the idea of being back in America loses its charm as you want nothing more than to get the heck out of the airport. But we came out of the carry-on check to see my family. Not just my dad and his wife Rebecca, but my Grandma and Aunt Carrie as well. They took us to the Cheesecake Factory where Brittany, Grandma, and I all split three different dishes.

After gift giving and story telling it was time to go home. The drive to Chattanooga wasn't that bad as we were already in north Atlanta. We got home about 7:15 to Kristina (who was watching our house and is now staying with us for the summer) and Kashmir (our cat).

Well if you think that's a lot to read, it's also a lot to type. This time I'm on my own computer and have the time and resources to proofread, and I know this needs it badly, but I simply am worn out from this. Maybe later I'll go back and do some serious revision to everything.

If you've read this far, good for you, I'll post more Facebook pictures in the next couple of days. I actually have a project I want to work on where I sort out the best pictures, enhance the color and lighting with photoshop and make proper Facebook albums out of them, but that will take time.

I also hope to post a debriefing in the next couple of days. I got a lot of out this trip I think I finally found a way to put into words.