Tales from the land of Hindustan (Part 1)

Where to?

India my good sir, and make it snappy.

4:30 AM we drove to the airport just before the pinches of sunlight pierced through. It was eerie and exciting, as if the morning was preparing for my departure. While others were safe at home dreaming about burritos and blue jeans, we were speeding down the freeway towards SFO, beginning my 30 hour journey to Hindustan, a land so unknown, so mysterious, people have poured over how to describe it for thousands of years. Now it is my turn.

My parents waited an hour for me to go through security, seeing their little bobbing heads and waving hands was the last I saw of them before I walked on, walked on. It's always a reassuring way to leave a country, seeing parental bobbing heads in excitement and sadness to see me go, knowing that in a month we can reunite in the same place with flowers, balloons, and more bobbing heads.

The plane took off, and we broke through that oppressive San Francisco fog to find that it was actually quite a sunny and lovely day, but who cares about the weather eh? Let's get to the good stuff.

India Hit. I didn't arrive there, it came and hit me, us, the moment we landed. I met Raleigh in Amsterdam and we flew to Delhi together and arrived at 11:00 PM. As our cabbie offered us a cigarette and we got our first taste of India, we felt safe and secure and ready....little did we know.

-Here is the addi good sir, get us home....

-Ahhh, no street number you say?......Interesting.

The hotel had given us an address without any specifications or phone number to call but our cabbie said, 

- No problem, we can stop by the tourist office and they can help you call and figure it all out.

We got to the office, eerie, dark, sticky. The stray dogs barked outside as the security guard dozed away on his chair. Inside there was a shuffle of feet, men's voices, confusion. Then a handsome Indian man walked in, slicked back hair, light eyes, and in his lovely British accent and said,

-What can I do for you girls?

-We need an address for the hostel we booked.

-Ok no problem, let's call.

He picked up the phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other, right under the No Smoking sign posted behind him. This was Bilal.

-Uh huh. Ummmm, ok. Here are the girls.

He looked confused and handed the phone over to Raleigh. She looked confused. He looked confused. I think in that moment my toes were a little confused.

-What do you mean? 

She asked into the phone confused.

-But I have a reservation, I don't understand.

Before India we made one plan. Just one little plan of where to stay our first two nights and we figured the rest would reveal itself.

India decided to reveal itself much sooner than we planned. The hotel had given our room to some travelers who had missed their train. As a fellow traveler, you feel responsible for other travelers and you kind of watch each others' backs, but in that moment, I was thinking, screw those traveling hussies. How dare they? How dare they hand over our room to a bunch of smelly hippies? Send them to the streets where they belong!

Bilal looked at us quizzically 

-What's the problem?

After hearing our dilemma, he nonchalantly said, 

-That's not good girls. The rest of Delhi is fully booked tonight, unfortunately you wont find room anywhere else. For you see, it's Shiva's birthday and......

Shit. Shiva. What have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE oh wise one??

We called hotel after hotel and nothing. Simply nothing but unaffordable hotel suites. Listen, I say, I am a teacher, there is very little room to negotiate here.

-Ah, girls, dont worry. Welcome to India. Let's drink some chai.

There is always time for chai in India. Even at 2 in the morning when you think you will have to spend the night out under Ghandi's statue hugging his skinny legs for protection from the monsoon rains.

-Every bus, every train, every hotel is booked
 he said rather too optimistically.

- But if you want, we can go out, go out dancing, you know, clubbing. You know you can be my girlfriend,
he said, eyeing me. I was beginning to be skeptical and doubtful and unsure of what we had gotten ourselves into.

-No worries girls, we will figure something out. It is only 3AM, we have all night.

I drank my chai, sighed, and surrendered to India. And believe me you, India did not disappoint.

As more chai and cigarettes appeared and disappeared under our jet lagged daze and as I talked to the chubby-cheeked smiley Indian co-worker about politics in the Middle East, Bilal planned out our full trip in India. In the course of a few late night hours, he planned a trip to Kashmir on a houseboat, trekking, a private driver for 13 days, all hotels, some meals, a camel safari in the desert, overnight trains, beaches in Goa, lagoons, and so much more. By 4 AM we were ready for our full India experience.

We headed back to the airport, my fourth flight in a row. 48 hours of traveling and counting. But the journey had just begun.
Finally we arrived in Srinagar (pronounced Shrinigger), a breathtaking town tucked beneath the Himalayas.

At the airport we were greeted by our guide and our driver holding a sign that said “Miss Anna”. I love being called Miss Anna. It is just so proper.
They drove us through the windy streets to our second taxi floating on a lake. And we journeyed to our home for the next few days.

Our driver rowed us to our houseboat, with one oar mind you. Our boat, named Jupiter was tucked in the back of the lake so as we rowed through lotus leaves and the flowers, the Himalayas reflected in the clear still water and I thought to myself, God,  it can't get much more beautiful than this.

 Here is Mr. Wonderful Flower Man selling tulips

We floated to the gardens. We floated to the mosque. To the University. To the little British colonial town stuck in the 1700s.

-Teacher, teacher

said our smiley little tour guide who had dubbed me by my profession

-Look teacher, look around. This is our Kashmir.

Kashmir is really one of the most beautiful places I have seen; quiet, serene, seemingly endless, and full of resources and arts. That is the same reason that Kashmir has not experienced peace for a very long time. With so many skills, crafts, colors, and beauty, Pakistan and India constantly fight for control over its land and its people. Half of it now belongs to Pakistan and half to India. Though the Indian army patrols every blade of grass along the mountainside and is a complete nuisance, Kashmir is for the time being, safe, and it still manages to keep its aura of beauty and mystery.

Power. Control. Money. War. Ownership. My land. Mine. What's new?

Alas, we packed our bags on our houseboat and with the guidance of our guide John

we took off to the little mountains for a little bit of camping and trekking. And of course by little mountains, I mean the Himalayas.
                                                             Like I said, and will say again;
                                                                 India did not disappoint.