What I'll miss most about India

People really like having their picture taken. After you show it to them, they inevitably thank you.

Most of the time on this blog I complain about India—the men are too aggressive, the postal system sucks, I got robbed, etc. It’s easier (and more fun) for me to write about the bad than the good. But now that I’m back in the States, I want to mention all the things I'll miss about this enthralling, vibrant, lively place.

I’ll miss sitting in the open doorway of a train, parking my feet on the steps, and watching the sun set on some of the most beautiful landscapes I've ever seen.

I’ll miss seeing cricket games in the weirdest of places—narrow alleyways, mountainside trails, a slum’s garbage heap—and the kids who let me play with them (as it turns out, I’m not a bad bowler).

I’ll miss getting afternoon chai in the office, and drinking a cold lemon soda on a stifling hot day.

I’ll miss those random sights that never fail to surprise or delight me: women draped in saris, swinging pickaxes and doing construction work alongside men; the colors that look like a rainbow exploded; the little girls and women in the south, wearing flowers in their beautiful sleek hair.

Backpacker strong

One thing I have to be careful about coming home is gaining weight. When I returned to the U.S. after spending a year in Vietnam in 2006, I quickly gained five pounds thanks to my fierce desire to hit up the dollar menu of every fast food joint within a five-mile radius.

Right now I’m in good shape, even though I don’t work out (I brought a jump rope on my trip and used it twice). I call it backpacker strong. Like how construction workers are fit not because they exercise, but because it’s what they do.

When I was traveling, I’d walk for miles each day. In the steep hill stations of Shimla and Darjeeling, I worked up a sweat just by getting lost.

I’d also stand for hours. Once I couldn’t get a seat on one train’s general seating area and stood for 4.5 hours. Another time I couldn’t get a seat on a bus through the winding hills of Wayanad, and had to hang onto a hand grip for dear life. My arms and shoulders are toned from carrying my heavy backpack from hotel to hotel, in constant search of a good price.

On top of that there are the touristy things you do that make you strong—trekking, whitewater rafting, renting a scooter, etc. I don’t know if I can keep it up now that I’m home. I may have to join a gym.

The kind of traveler I am

As much as I’ve loved my trip, I have to admit that I didn’t really do India the way I should have. I spent two weeks visiting Rajasthan when I first got to India, lived and volunteered in Delhi for ten weeks, and then traveled what seems like the entire country in my final seven weeks. I visited Mumbai, Goa, numerous places in Karnataka, Kerala and Tamil Nadu, and then went north to see Kolkata, Darjeeling, Varanasi and Rishikesh. At some point I liked the idea of criss-crossing the entire subcontinent.

I realize now that I just tried to see and do too damn much. I get bored easily and so insisted on doing something almost every day and visiting every damn site that the guidebook says you should see. But it also exhausted me. And when you don’t sit in a hotel or café and linger and read for a few days, you also don’t meet other travelers to see and do the stuff with. I think learning to be independent is important, but the highlights of my trip still involved seeing and doing things with other people. I don’t think I had nearly as much fun as other backpackers.

The other mistake I made was just being too cheap (it feels like blasphemy to say that, but it’s true). I spent $40 on a 30-hour AC train instead of $150 on a two-hour flight. If I was traveling for months, maybe that makes sense, but I had just seven weeks. I think we can agree that I might have lost a bit of perspective there.

If I did it all again—if only there were a time machine!—I’d see less, do less, move less, spend more, and soak it all in better. 

My home before going home

After seven weeks of traipsing India—from south India to Darjeeling, Varanasi and Rishikesh—I went back to Delhi (where I lived for ten weeks) to fly out. Literally, I pulled into the city at 11 pm, crashed with a friend, and headed to the airport the next morning.

It felt just a bit like coming home. For seven weeks I’d pulled into a new city, uncertainly pulled out my guidebook, and slowly figured out where to go and how to get there. Sometimes I walked for ages, unsure if I was being cheated. But when I stepped off the train in New Delhi Railway Station, I was all confidence.

To the rickshaw drivers: “How much to Vasant Vihar?”

“Vasant Vihar is very far, ma’am. It is 25 kilometers. 350 rupees.”

“Sir, I lived here, and it is not that far. So how much?”

“300, ma’am. This is night price.”

“That’s still too high. Night price is just 20 percent higher than the meter. Why don’t we use the meter then? Or maybe I’ll take the metro.”

“The metro is closed now.”

“Metro closes at 11 pm, sometimes later. It’s only 10:45 now.”

We settled for 220, although when he asked for more I threw in another 20 rupees.

I’m glad I took the rickshaw. On the way to my friend’s place we passed several of my old haunts—Connaught Place (where I had jeans tailored), Palika Bazaar (where I fixed my camera), Sarojini Nagar (where I bought cheap scarves and clothes), Chanakyapuri (where I played softball), Safdarjung Enclave (where I lived), R.K. Puram (where I volunteered), and even, from far off, the Gateway to India, the first tourist spot I visited.

I loved how familiar it all felt, and was saddened that I didn’t leave at least a few hours to see Delhi one last time. 

Hiking the Singalila Ridge Trek from Darjeeling, India

Day 3: Our first--and only--clear views of Khangchengzonga.

Place: Singalila National Park (from Darjeeling)
Dates: April 30-May 4, 2012 (five days)
Cost: 1,400 per day (7,000 per person, for a group of two)
Distance: 86 km
The Travel Agency: Himalayan Getaway, down the street from Tower View Hotel in Darjeeling
Difficulty Level: Moderate

This the most popular trek from Darjeeling, going through the Singalila National Park on the border of West Bengal, Sikkim and Nepal (for the first three days you’re weaving in and out of India and Nepal, and the numerous border outposts means you’ll have to register your passport about 6-7 times. On the fourth day, you can briefly trek in Sikkim).

Day 1: Passing Chitrey Gompa.

It’s a pretty trail, taking you through rolling green hills, meadows, rhododendrons, villages and pine and bamboo forests, and on clear days you’ll have amazing views of Khangchangzonga, the world’s third-highest mountain (8,598m). The best times to do the trek are May-June or October-November. Most days start around 7 am, though the guide (required in the national park) will get up around 5:30 am to see if the views are clear and worth waking the trekkers for (we never got up that early). I did the classic five-day trek. See below for how the three-day and four-day treks differ, and other suggestions.

Day 1: 11km from Maney Bhanjyans (2,100m) to Tumling (2,895m)

We hopped in a jeep around 9:30 am and by 11 am reached Maney Bhanjyans for breakfast. The first 2.5km was sharply uphill, the rest more gently sloping. You’ll pass Chitrey Gompa, the only gompa on the trail. We arrived at Tumling (in Nepal) at about 3:30 pm. You haven’t yet entered Singalila National Park, so you can actually do this bit by yourself (get there using shared jeep or public bus from Darjeeling). The scenery is pretty, green like Ireland. 

Robbed in India! (AKA ‘Reached my breaking point, Part 2’)

So guess who got robbed? If you’re saying me, you’re right! Hey, it had to happen sometime, right? At least it was just a phone. A phone that sells here for 6,000 rupees ($120).

I was charging my Nokia Nuron at one of the train station’s phone charging points. I was loosely keeping an eye on my phone, but was also distracted by my first mosquitoes in a week and the havoc they were wreaking on my ankles. Instead of sitting by phone I was standing and scratching like mad.

I suddenly noticed a man disconnecting my phone from the charger. “Hey!” I said. He pointed innocently to his own phone. He just wanted to use the charger! I was reluctant, since I was mad about him not asking before attempting to use the charger, but I’m often rude to Indian men who are intrusive and then feel guilty about it. And when I lost my charger and couldn’t replace it for a week, I’d wished I could borrow someone else’s for just a few minutes. So it seemed a harmless thing to let him use it for a bit. “Two minutes,” I said, leaving my phone on the shelf next to the charger.

How being so cheap I didn't want to waste 20 cents saved me almost $200

This post is dedicated to my mate-in-cheapness, Andrea.

So a few weeks ago I found a one-way flight on Thai Airways from Delhi to Los Angeles for $640. It was far cheaper than anything else I’d seen in weeks. I booked it, but with Thai Airways in India, you can’t pay for the flight online; you have to book the flight and then come into a Thai Airways office within 72 hours to pay for it.

It was my last day in Kolkata (and my last chance to make the payment, as I wouldn’t be in a major city with  Thai Airways office again for another two weeks), and it was around 3:45 pm, almost two hours before the office closed. I went online for half an hour to look up the directions and check email and then rushed out, intending to go straight to the office. I asked how much for the Internet.

“Twenty rupees,” the man said. Forty cents.

I paused. In Kolkata, 20 rupees is usually what you pay for an hour, so half an hour should have been 10 rupees (20 cents).

“How much for an hour?” I asked.

“Twenty rupees is the minimum,” he said.

“Yes, but how much for the hour, sir?”

He tried to ignore me. I poked him.

“Twenty rupees.”

I went back to the computer and sat down. If I had to pay for an extra half an hour anyway, I might as well use some of it. 

I started to check my favorite news sites, and then thought, oh, I should re-check the price of my flight. Of course, I didn’t expect it to fall. $640 was already a good deal.

The lowest price was still with Thai Airways. But for some reason, the price had dropped to 22,298 rupees. I did the math and my jaw dropped—it was now about $440 for the exact same flight I currently had booked. I quickly re-booked the flight at the new price, and soon after left to pay for it.

I was literally on my way out the door to pay $640 for a flight that was now $440, and the only thing that stopped me was the café owner declaring I had to pay 20 rupees regardless of whether I used half an hour or one hour. Thank God I’m so cheap I won’t even waste 20 cents. It saved me $200.