Here it is. The much anticipated, about to be highly acclaimed “Deep Reflective Post.” Try not to feel too overwhelmed. Side note — I’m supposed to be doing homework right now. Naturally, I feel blogging is a better alternative.

Okay, so here we go.

One thing a lot of people said to me before I left was, “You’re going to come back so different!” Well, let me tell you, that’s false. Kind of. Personally, I have to roll my eyes a little at statements like that. It puts too much pressure on the situation. I’m still me, guys. I’m just as stubborn, just as impetuous, and definitely just as cynical as I was before I boarded that 15 hour flight. Sure, I’m a little more worldy now, whatever that means. I’ve seen some things, met some people, and had multiple near death driving experiences on bumpy Indian roads. It’s always beneficial to immerse yourself in a foreign lifestyle, and undoubtedly, you’re going to come back a tad more empathetic, if nothing else. But does empathy equal wisdom and worldy perspective? Not necessarily. Really, what I’m trying to say is: I’m the same person. And I like it that way.

I will say this, though. The travel bug has bitten. Get me out of Grand Rapids, please!

Onto the good stuff. I’ve been back in the States for just over a week now, and having readjusted to American life (supermarkets, traffic laws and high speed Internet are all SO hard to acclimate to, I know), I can assuredly say that there are things that I do and do not miss about India. Wanna read my list? Stay tuned. It’ll be sprinkled with my charm and witticisms, I assure you.

Cliffhanger, ooooh. Gotta keep you interested somehow!

A fort we visited post Taj Mahal. The name escapes me.

I know I owe you guys a good reflective and insightful post, and I promise, it’s on its way! But for now, enjoy the photos!

My first Indian meal: Ghobi Manchurian (cauliflower in sauce) and some tasty potato dish.

Bay of Bengal

Jantar Mantar in Delhi. It’s an astronomy lookout. I can honestly say, I enjoyed exploring it almost more than seeing the Taj. Shh, don’t tell.

Touring a fort after seeing the Taj.

Elephant all dolled up for the Holi festival.

Home in just four days, can you believe it? I can’t.

This past week has been an absolute whirlwind. We’ve spent the past week traveling up from Pondicherry to Delhi, Agra, Jaipur, and back down again. Phew. I’m tired just thinking about all the bus rides and flights we’ve taken. Our little excursion was an unforgettable experience, though, and I can now check the Taj off of my “Wonders of the World to Be Seen” List. Check. 

Our last night spent in Jaipur was, well, incomplete. Holi Day, a springtime festival celebrated by Hindus, fell on Sunday, March 20th this year. And what day were we scheduled to fly out of Delhi (approximately a 2.5 hour bus ride from Jaipur)? You guessed it. Holi Day.

7 o’clock Saturday evening rolls around, and I get a phone call from Austin informing me that according to the travel agent’s broken English, “no bus go” on Holi. Uh oh. The next bus to go out? 10:30 that very night. Needless to say, we packed, ate a quick dinner, and were on our (slightly less than) merry way.

Here’s the thing about Holi: from what I’m told and what I’ve seen, it gets pretty insane. Children, teenagers and adults alike can be seen running through the streets, igniting carefully constructed piles of garbage on fire, spraying each other with (sewage water filled) squirt guns, and throwing paint powder at one another. There’s also a slight factor of inebriation that’s involved. And by slight, I mean huge. Apparently, chemically enhanced marijuana is a big part of the Holi festivities, so I was advised not to accept any sweets or drinks offered my way, lest I want to spend the next 3 hours of my life bumping along Indian highways high as a kite. Needless to say, we both stayed sober. Our rickshaw driver, however, was a different story. 

In order to get to the bus stand as quickly as possible, we went searching the streets for a rickshaw. Usually, you can find them anywhere either nestled in clumps waiting to pester groups of unsuspecting tourists, or whizzing frantically down the streets. That night, though, they were few and far between. Luckily, we did spot one guy snoozing in his back seat, and gently shook him awake. Maybe a rude awakening, but these guys don’t normally turn down an opportunity to make some cash. Anyway, this guy was either drunk, stoned, or some combination of the two that had him blown out of his gourd, eyes watering and mouth drawn into a sort of lopsided half-smile half-grimace. He had a packet of magenta paint powder, and kept trying to mark our faces with it. We were both feeling extremely road safe at this point.  Fortunately, our hotel’s manager saw us struggling, and came out to whip the dude into shape He (the hotel manager) then proceeded to give us a scrap of paper with his email address written on it, and told us we were his “best friends” and that he would miss us. I mean, okay.

We made it to Delhi safe and sound, and got a hotel sometime around 3 AM. After a coma-reminiscent night’s sleep, we ate lunch and went to the airport. Around 7 PM on Sunday, we arrived in Chennai, and immediately made off for the nearest bus station. About 3.5 hours later, we were back to the University in Pondicherry.

Exhausting doesn’t quite cover it.

For the rest of this week, we’ll be doing some sight seeing (and of course a little shopping) in Pondi, and then come Thursday, it’s back up to Chennai to take me to the airport. Like I said, the speed at which this trip has come an gone amazes me. 4 weeks of school when I get back, and then it’s graduation time!

Hello world, and Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Well, not technically in India anymore (or at all for that matter), but happy day nonetheless.

Before I launch into this post, i just want to thank everyone who has been dilligently reading up on my travels … or, at least fakingit all the way. :) Anyway, the support and interest has been truly inspiring. Maybe I’ll look back on this and smile 10 years from now when I’m an alcoholic destitute bag lady who sells plasma and socks for a living. Ah, the life of a writer. Ain’t it pretty?

… But, as usual, I digress. Onto the good stuff.

The Taj Mahal. Really, does it get any better? Tuesday, we spent the day touring Agra and seeing some of the local sights. The hotel arranged to have a rikshaw (think pseudo-taxi) driver take us around for the day. And let me tell you — this guy had some of the gnarliest teeth I’ve seen here. That is, the teeth he wasn’t missing. Nice guy, generally. A little pushy maybe, but anyway…

We started off our day by heading straight to the Taj. Beautiful. Absolutely stunning. Words don’t do it justice. Oh, you thought I was talking about the building? No, no. I meant Austin and me.

You may recall me saying that the two of us attract a lot of attention. At this point, I’ve completely given up on trying to blend in, regardless of how modestly or locally I’m dressed. Everyone wants to look at us, and most people want to heckle or call out to us. Contrary to what you may be thinking, though, my sense of humility is still in tact. If anything, I feel I’ve put less of an effort into my outward appearance here than I normally do at home. Doesn’t really matter. The locals see something different, and they’re going to stare. And shout. And offer me “safari rides for nice people” (to which I congenially responded ‘I’m not a nice person’). Funny stuff.

So what does this have to do with the Taj? It was like being out and about on steroids. At least six groups of people approached us wanting to take pictures of us, with us individually, and with the two of us together. TOO FUNNY. They’d all want group shots, as well as individual portraits. Maybe we reminded them of John and Yoko. Maybe we should have started charging.

After the Taj (really, my words won’t do it justice; I’ll add pictures later), we went to a local fort and explored its insides for a while. Another stunning piece of Indian architecture. By the time we were done, it was in the mid or upper 80’s, and we were pretty beat. Our driver suggested we go to a marble working shop, but we said we’d rather just go back to the hotel. He took us to the marble place anyway.

Let me tell you something. Indians know how to make a sales pitch. The guy who was used car salesman-ing us was thorough, polite, and concise. However, he seemed to have little appreciation for the demographic to which he was pitching his goods. I mean, what 21 year old doesn’t need a marble table? Sure, I’m American, I can afford anything! Let me just pull out my credit card.

Oh. Wait.

Seriously, though, this guy went on and on trying to get me to buy a gorgeous marble coffee table. Sorry man, not happening. We narrowly escaped his grasp when he took a phone call.

Home, Jeeves, and maybe while you’re at it, stop by a dentist. Sorry, is my judgment showing? I was pissed at this point for having been forced into Marble World by Mr. Driver Man. Next, he wanted to take us to a cashmere store. Nope. Not happening.

Eventually, we made it home. After one more night in Agra, we set out for Jaipur, where we’ve been for the past few nights. Today, we’re trying to go on a camel safari, and tomorrow, it’s off to another city for an alleged tiger safari. Good thing I didn’t buy that marble table. It’d be a little heavy to lug around.

… kind of. More like 24 hours in a Tibetan refuge village in northern India.

For the past two days, Austin and I have been on the road. Friday afternoon, we packed up and took a two hour bus ride (my favorite thing in the whole world at this point…but not) to the Chennai airport. After a couple of hours in the sky, we landed in Delhi, and found ourselves a hotel. Now, I think it’s important—crucial even, to mention how much my bargaining skills have improved since I’ve been in India. For an “executive suite” (which would maybe equate to a 3 star hotel back home), the asking price was about 3,000 rupees ($60ish). By my cut throat powers of persuasion, however, we were able to get it down to 1,600. Not too shabby, and I didn’t even have to pull any distressed American female BS. Score. I’ll stop bragging now.

The next day, we met up with my coworker’s brother who lives in Delhi, and he graciously found us a hotel room and took us around town. So far, I’ve felt pretty secure traveling around India, but apparently Delhi is no joke. There’s a lot of petty crime, pushy natives, and apparently some racism against Tibetans. Did I mention our newfound friend and guide is Tibetan? Well, he is. For lodging, he took us to a Tibetan refuge community that’s nicknamed “MT” (short for Majnu Ka Tilla). Have you ever been to Chinatown in Chicago or another big city? You know how it sort of feels like you’ve been sucked into another universe? That’s exactly what MT felt like—completely separate from India itself. The community is comprised of a vast array of winding, narrow dirt paths that are situated tightly between buildings. There are street vendors, restaurants, and monks everywhere. Short of seeing an Indian worker here or there, it was actually like being in Tibet. Well, I assume so anyway. For the record—it’s beautiful, and the food is incredible.

For whatever reason, being in MT made me feel more at peace with myself than I have on any other leg of this trip. Maybe it was all the monks and portraits of the Dalai Lama everywhere, or maybe it was something in the Tibetan tea that I’m pretty much addicted to. It’s still a hoppin’ place, don’t get me wrong, but everyone there is a little less aggressive than a lot of the Indians I’ve encountered.

—-

For the rest of the week, my posts are bound to be scarce. We’re on the road until Sunday, so I probably won’t have regular Internet access for a while. BUT, look forward to pictures of the Taj Mahal, and hearing about my life as a pseudo Indian celebrity.

Until then…