The last leg of journy has begun--India and her olfactory adventures have welcomed us into her saried bollywood bossom. Things got off to a good start with us being upgraded to first class on our Air India flight from Bangkok due to an overbooked flight. The 3 hour delay couldn't dent our cool as we looked forward to free wine and slippers. We arrived in Delhi around midnight and kicked ourselves for refusing our hotel's airport pick-up service because it was 100 rupees more than a regular cab. We must watch the budget! Everything worked out fine once the taxi driver got his car started (aided by a couple of guys pushing from the back). He blared Indian pop music and we flew through the streets, our drowsy senses exhilarated by the wind in our hair. We made it! The heat of the next day evaporated the enthusiasm, but just barely, keeping our gleeful giggles from escaping our lips too often. The controversy which faces the tourist in India is complex. As I stepped out into the streets, the dung and decay, the disorder and dagger-like stares made me want to leave then and there. At the same time I felt pulled into it, feeling the desire to stay forever.
We decided to escape Delhi's heat as soon as possible and booked a train to Haridwar, one of the four holy cities (for the summer pilgrimage) on the Ganges and 4 hours north of the capital. We spent our little time in Delhi scoping out the record stores and getting lost in Connought Place trying to find a bookstore. That's when we found our little guide, Raaj, who navigated us through the underground passageways and to our destination. He explained to us that he was a shoeshiner but could not afford a box like the professionals and so he had to carry his tools in a little sachel. He also wanted to go to school but could not afford books. He asked us repeatedly, "Box problem solved?", hinting that he wanted us to fork out the few hundred rupees for his box. We helped him out and promised to find him again when we returned to Delhi. Brandon has promised we can adopt him for a week. He got to me that little Raaj.
We arrived in Haridwar after dark and as we bartered with a rickshaw-walla outside of the train station, a holy man wearing a human skull around his neck, face powdered white, brandishing a cow's femur bone, began dancing around us trying to scare us into giving him some coins. When he began nudging me with the femur bone in his hand, I looked at him wearily and shrugged that I got the message but we were in the middle of something. He stoped the charade and said "Chapati, chapati" meekly. Looking back I"m amazed that the situation failed to faze me. India has already superceded my expectations and I'm now prepared for the 4 months ahead of us.
We are now in Rishikesh, the "yoga capital of the universe", and have yet to get our head-cold ridden selves to a class, but Brandon had his first music lesson and we are content with our books. We will make our way to Manali, stoping along the way, and our only plan is to be in Amritsar by the end of August. We have our eye out for any political strife that may occur after the bombings in Mumbai and will leave if things look too dangerous. Perhaps an escape route via Egypt...
