India's Golden Triangle - Delhi, Agra, Jaipur

This past week we took a trip to see India’s Golden Triangle. We have lived in a place that claimed to be a Golden Triangle, which is Beaumont, Port Arthur and Orange, TX. That may have been a geographical triangle but there was little “golden” about it. Other areas in Pittsburgh, Denver, SE Asia, etc. claim to be golden triangles. There is a Golden Triangle of great English Universities too. Our adventure was to go from Mumbai to Delhi to Agra to Jaipur, known in India as the Golden Triangle.

We took an early morning flight to Delhi and spent our day going through a famous Red Fort and the bazaar areas nearby. If we thought Mumbai was crazy, Delhi is the same, only on steroids. The crush of traffic, mobs of people and crazy busy shopping areas made our heads spin. We moved from the airport to the train station to drop our bags off so we wouldn’t haul them around all day and planned to pick them up before boarding our train at 6 PM. After our pedi-cab driver found the key street blocked, we struck out on foot and got caught in the crush of people headed into a huge mosque for mid day prayers. We eventually found our restaurant destination. This is where I had my first authentic Indian meal, and it was quite good. Some veggies, some naan (bread), some kebabs and little mystery meat in sauce. Pretty tasty and certainly satisfying. Then we strolled the bazaars finding some great photos of people before going to another palace area, near the train station so we would be sure to get to Agra that night. There was a Taj Mahal-like dome that posed for me.



We went to the train station to find our first travel hiccup in a while. Our four hour train ride was now scheduled for 9:45 PM, not 6 PM. We were in a remote station so we hunkered down with books and luggage and waited. A while later, while dining at the train station food spot (snacks, not Indian food), I noticed our train was now 11:15 PM. Not liking the trend, I asked what our options were. The clerk calmly replied, “There is a different train leaving for Agra in 15 minutes.” You have to realize this is 3rd world, so the ticket with the same company for the other train was not usable for the earlier train. The clerk never imagined someone would go on an earlier train even as the one we were scheduled for was being delayed. The only accommodations available were 2nd class, not first. First class is a bare minimum most of us would agree to and is not expensive ($15). We decided to take this 7:45 train and insure our arrival as we planned on seeing the Taj Mahal at sunrise. The upper berth we were given was roomy for an infant but not an American. Laying flat on my back, my right shoulder touched the wall and my left touched the rail, even so, I was happy to be on the train and headed to our destination. I was able to nap for a while, no surprise considering we walked 8 miles that day. The trip was generally uneventful and we arrived in Agra at 11:15 PM.

Up early to grab breakfast and take some photos of the Taj Mahal in the early day light before the harsh sun reflected off of everything. Most of you will remember my earlier blog comments about hating to take photos of buildings but for the Taj Mahal, I was willing to make some exceptions. One early photo shows the softer morning light…



So what is the Taj Mahal? For years, I have only known the location as the answer to a very popular crossword puzzle clue that was typically worded as, Taj Mahal site. Anyone who spent much time doing these puzzles knew that the answer was Agra but until last week, I didn’t really know much else. The Taj Mahal was erect by a mere 20,000 people over a 22 year period as a place to put the tomb of a Shah’s wife who died in childbirth of her 14th child. (Maybe she was just tired.) It has ornate marble work and is perfectly symmetrical from all four sides. The construction of the pillars causes an optical illusion making you think they are angled, they’re not. On the exterior wall, the marble is set such that as you look up at it, it appears to be a raised surface, which it’s not. The building itself houses the tombs of the Shah and his wife.





Of course, while I’m very interested in all of this and I will probably never return, it didn’t take long until my interest waned. I went off on my own to see what strange creatures I could find. Well, there are some birds that inhabit the grounds that I have only seen in the wild in Ecuador and then it was from quite a distance.





After another excellent Indian lunch and a nap, we did return that evening to try and capture sunset at the Taj Mahal and found a few interesting photos.





Agra didn’t strike me as a nice or fun place and I was happy to be leaving the next day heading Jaipur, the third leg of the triangle. This time because we couldn’t get a train ticket, we were traveling by Air Conditioned Deluxe Coach bus for 5.5 hours. We were warned not to take the non-AC vehicle.

Waiting for the bus I found a barber shop...


So off we went in this monster sized bus on these crowded streets. We would have a break in 2.5 hours, so we settled in. The bus driver was working hard to get through the narrow areas and the bus rocked around for a while before we got on decent, somewhat open roads. We observed some amazing gatherings and movements of animals, people, vehicles along these narrow streets in pretty impoverished areas. We did see many instances where cattle were walking around in the "high" speed lane on a highway. At one point, a bus passed going in the opposite direction with more than 40 people riding on the top of the bus. I guess those were the non-Deluxe AC vehicles we were told about.

About ten minutes into our drive, I heard a noise behind me that sounded like spitting. Well, the lady sitting directly behind Susan tossed her cookies and in her attempt to cover up, redirected some of the “spray” onto the back of my neck! No amount of wiping could remove the feeling. Let’s just say that made me a little uncomfortable for the two hours or so until we got to a wash room.

After reboarding the bus, we were able to make some good time until we got near town. I did notice the young man next to me (4 years old or so) couldn’t wait so his mom was helping him relieve himself into a water bottle. I guess that’s similar to what they do in Jaipur where I observed some outdoor restrooms across the street from our restaurant…



We did spend our AM in an interesting fort, where the ticket seller tried to rip me off by not providing any change. When he initially denied it, I just told him to reach in his pocket and give me money back, which he did. At the fort, there were some interesting things to see among the ruins but what captured my attention was a single bright color among the earthy ones…



And a sea of a single color among a gathering of religious men…





Besides the people we were able to photograph along the streets, we came upon these people waiting to be shipped out at a mannequin factory…



The final photo from this trip is a composite of five photos taken from the base of this temple. The result of taking these from the peculiar angle and then stitching them together in Photoshop is an appearance of a curve in the building, which is definitely not there. I liked the effect and wanted to share…



On this trip we traveled by plane, train, bus, car, taxi, electric rickshaw and pedi-cab. We walked around 28 miles in 4 days and were actually quite happy to be back in Mumbai, which I would have thought to be a silly idea a few weeks ago but really is true.

Remembering a dear old friend

Since the purpose of my blog is to reflect thoughts and feelings during my time outside the U.S. in 2010 and 2011, there are times when real life intervenes and personal issues must be dealt with. This blog entry is written with a sad and heavy heart. My best friend, Dave Garrison, has lost his wife to a combination of diseases that have haunted her for the past 20 years. I’ve known Dave and Sue since 1982 and have shared many, many good times with them. Their daughter, Christine, was born on 9/24/84, exactly one year before our first child, Michael. Dave and Sue were one of those rare couples who got along so amazingly well that they seemed like one person, not two, and did it without either losing their personal identity.



They met in college (if Slippery Rock State College really exists) and were together for 35+ years. Dave and I are very similar, we laugh at stupidity and, if there’s none around, we create some. Both of our wives were named Susan and Sue Garrison had more tolerance for our nonsense than Susan Spiegel. Sue had battled diabetes her entire life and she eventually needed a new kidney or would on dialysis forever. Sue had two kidney transplants and one pancreas transplant. One kidney came from Dave, which is a rarity because a non-blood relative can only match something like 9 of the 25 possible comparison points to qualify for a kidney donation. Through mismanagement of her medication, the transplanted kidney stopped functioning. Sue’s sister donated a second kidney and all seemed to be going really well. The Spiegel clan descended on the Garrison home in December, 2006 for a visit that was quite enjoyable and will be our life memory of our families together. (Note: Those photos are on a computer in WA and can't be retrieved for this blog.) Recently, a mass or growth was discovered on Sue's intestines and liver. I guess transplant patients are more prone to rare and fast growing cancers. Sue succumbed to a combination of illnesses earlier this month. When I think about the amount of time Sue had been in a hospital in the past twenty years, it is truly mind boggling, probably one whole year, if not more. I think I have been in the hospital for three days in that time. Sue's will to live was strong and she had a lot to live for but, eventually, the incremental issues could not be overcome.

Here are the three of us in good times. The Garrison's daughter Christine is mostly out of sight with just an arm showing, Michael is on my back and Susan snapped the photo taken sometime around April 1986 when Dave had hair, I was skinny and Sue Garrison was healthy and smiling, just the way we want to remember her.



Finally, in remembering Sue Garrison, I want to post a photo I took in April 2005 during one of my visits. Sue was interested in photography but had some trouble holding her camera steady but we went out to a local park to take some photos. This hopefully humorous photo became a source of laughter for all of us and ended up hanging in one of the bathrooms in Dave and Sue's home in Plano.

Faces of India

Since we’ve traveled through a bunch of North India areas recently, I thought a “Faces of India” blog would be a good way to show the various people we encountered. Generally, people were warm and friendly, asking us to take their photos, asking for photos with us and obliging our requests for photos in their natural environment. Few words and lots of photos.

Here a Muslim boy is rushing to the mosque for noon time prayers in Delhi.



A young lady reluctantly, but agreeably poses at the Taj Mahal in Agra



This gentleman was taking a mid-day coffee break in one of the bazaars in Delhi













There's this guy who looks like an Indian version of Buddy Ebsen





This gentleman is very proud to be an Indian Sikh and was overjoyed to meet an American at the Taj Mahal.





Ladies waiting for their men at the Taj Mahal...



Here's an amazing series of two photos to end this blog. These young girls were in line waiting to get into the Taj Mahal building to see the tombs inside. The first photo is on my initial approach as I asked to take their photo.



Then I smiled, showed them the photo and the barriers came down and they relaxed and showed a different attitude.

Hindu Wedding in Mumbai

I was invited to a Hindu wedding by someone in the Staples office in Mumbai. While I don’t really know the young lady, I thought this would be a great opportunity to observe some rituals here in this strange and amazing place. I had no idea what to expect since the only Indian wedding I had ever seen was on a Seinfeld show. This show was famous (and infuriating) because it was a two part show shot from last scene to first scene which confused many people. This took a few viewings for me to fully figure it out. While tempted to repeat the reverse order of activity in this blog, I opted not to for two reasons. First, it’s a lot of work. And second, I’m not sure it makes any difference as things seemed to happen in random order.





While most of us are used to Jewish or Christian weddings full of pomp and circumstance (actually, the Wedding March), with specific religious rituals that happen in a solemn and specific order, this wedding was a jumble of people moving about tossing rice at the couple during all parts of the ceremony. People were constantly entering and exiting, clattering about, looking around for others, etc. It was like just another day on the streets here except for a few things. The wedding takes place over a period of several days. The bride and groom are taken through specific religious rituals in a specific order. The attire for the bride and groom is stunning. The people were very, very friendly and welcoming to outsiders. I was constantly being given prime spots to take photos and was invited onto the stage for a photo op in the middle of the service. (I thought maybe because this was day #4, they were running out of things to do and wanted some diversion.)



Rice played a key role in this day’s activities as the bride and groom were involved in various rituals where rice was placed on each other’s head. Sometimes it was a little, other times it was a pancake like thing and at others, there were overflowing handfuls. I had to wonder if this was the same rice they were serving downstairs for lunch.



A future groom



Feet are also important in this ceremony. There is feet cleaning, toe ring ceremonies, etc. I didn't buy a guide book so I couldn't keep up.



Here are two videos of the ceremony, with the usual silly commentary.





Then I saw Susan sitting here watching with great interest along with two of my co-workers on either side of her. Of course, I preferred the part where the bride kissed the groom's feet.



When we got tired of watching, we did what everyone else did, we wandered away. The plan was to go eat lunch downstairs while the ceremony rambled on. And boy, did it look appetizing when we walked into the dining area and people had their hands firmly in the rice on their plates shoveling food into their mouths. I was tempted to join in to say I did it, but there is just no way. Susan joined my co-workers and got a plate a of food while I held back my gag reflex long enough to get outside and buy a Diet Coke and wait for them.

So I go to buy a Diet Coke from a restaurant with a "take away" area for sales to passersby. In India, every retail item has an MRP, which is maximum retail price, stamped on it. I grab two small Diet Cokes from the refrigerator and walk over to pay. The guy looks at the bottom for the stamp which says RS 20 (20 rupees or $.45), he tells me it's 41 rupees for two and then asks another guy there what he should charge and that guy says 44 rupees. I give them my 100 rupee bill and get 56 rupees change and I turned to the guy who said 44 rupees and asked why it wasn't just the 40 rupees allowed by law. (This is a $.09 extra charge) He starts to blather on about cost of electricity for the cooler and some other nonsense so I just burst out laughing and say, "Dude, you're just ripping me off. The legal maximum price you can charge is 40 rupees, not 44. If you're going to rip me off, please come up with a better story. I'll pay you but next time at least give me a better excuse." There were four people who worked there gathering around and they were laughing at my comments as I walked away with another third world experience.

Dhobi Ghat, a Mumbai Experience

Mumbai has many unusual sites that most people don’t see in their daily lives. I will chronicle some of them in this blog to point out how different lives can be here. One of the things we were told to go see is a place called Dhobi Ghat. Dhobi Ghat is basically an outdoor Laundromat staffed by up to 10,000 people, so its size and scope is beyond what most can imagine. The locals tell me that when the British were here they wanted locals to clean their uniforms. Since the people here were not expert enough, the British imported some people from Northern India to do this work. This began the development of a migrant community which over the years has grown in amazing numbers. Now that the British are gone, the laundry business has two locations, one for commercial companies like hospitals, hotels, clothing manufacturers and another for locals to get their clothes cleaned.





While there are some machines present for spinning clothes to extract water, much work is done by hand. Of course, since there’s no OSHA here, some of the job related injuries leave permanent marks. For our photographic interest, there are places where the saris are cleaned and the color combinations are brilliant.






Another interesting activity is the “agitation” process. Most people use washing machines with this cycle that soaps the garment, adds some water and slowly rotates the center core back and forth spreading the soap. At Dhobi Ghat, this is a manual process. They use a brush to scrub soap into the garment and then lift a small number of them and smash them against a big flat rock called a flogging stone. Not the job I’m looking for but if you can slow down your shutter speed, the camera reveals some real interesting photos. Note: None of these have Photoshop tricks in them, what you see is what the camera captured.







And then finally, a video of some of this amazing place...

Mumbai... the introduction

To fully understand Mumbai, you have to know that the senses are absolutely assailed with amazing and sad sights, sounds and smells. I frequently cannot believe what I’m looking at, how bad things smell which when combined with the textures, makes me want to run away… and all of this is just at the Breakfast Buffet. Today, I actually asked Susan to sit at another table if she insisted on sampling the local fare.



Anyway, the first week in Mumbai has been a real challenge. Adjusting to the climate, the people, the workplace, etc. has been tiring so I’m happy it’s finally the weekend. Kind of weird, to be here, knowing we have only three weekends and then will leave. The commute is very interesting as is the dining so here goes the story.

We are staying at a very nice hotel on Marine Drive where we have a two mile stretch of walking/jogging path which is 15 yards wide. We actually moved from our first hotel to a different one a couple blocks away on the same street due to lack of services in the first. There are two other hotels nearby plus a couple of Western restaurants close by and many more 10 minutes walk away.

Here a video clip on the view from our room (pretty funny, I think)



The things that attack you first are the way of life, the combination of Hindi and English which is spoken here, the congestion whether walking or riding and the noise. Let me explain some of these to put future blogs in context.
The way of life is very difficult to grasp and understand. There are people and cars everywhere. There are many, many poor people, many, many vehicles and a lot of disabled or deformed people. The poverty is inescapable. You are approached by beggars when walking the streets, riding in a cab, eating in a restaurant, anywhere. And, of course, because Westerners are softer touches for the downtrodden and less steeled to dismiss it, we are all targets for them. Some of the people are really sad and have little or nothing to live on. It’s not like in the U.S. big cities where you’d expect pan handlers to drink or drug their way to escape. The people here strike me as having such meager possessions that they would use anything they get to provide for the basic needs. It is hard to constantly look away but we’ve been warned that showing money and paying one person will garner immediate attention from those on the sidelines watching. Leaving a restaurant, you are immediately approached for your doggy bag. In one somewhat amusing scene on Sunday, a child approached our car, saw Westerners and began singing “Jingle Bells”. After the intro, he moved on to made up words but it was a cute moment.
From there, let’s talk mobility. While in China, walking and riding the Metro was my favorite pastime, here, I mostly ride in cabs to get around. I have taken more cab rides in one week than I did in six months in China. The taxis are not expensive. It costs around $1.50 to go from my hotel to the office which is a 15-20 minute ride. There are 40,000 black taxi cabs in Mumbai so it is very easy to find one. Of course, it hasn’t rained yet so the taxis aren’t hiding. I’m sure when it does; you won’t be able to locate one. There are lots of motorbikes here, just like in Shanghai. While the ones here do not drive in the wrong direction like they do in Shanghai, causing total chaos, the drive just as crazy weaving in and out of traffic and filling every little gap in traffic. Couple this with roads that are severely inadequate and you have a traffic nightmare. Now take all of that and tell everyone to honk their horn at approximately, but not quite, the same moment. Look up the word, “cacophony” and that’s what we’ve got. The noise is never ending and you can’t get away from it.

Some photos from my commute...




The food is another story. I do not have a death wish so I’m not eating the local food, at all, period, end of story. I know some would say this is short sighted and I won’t get to “experience” India and enjoy it as much as others. Well, as Archie Bunker use to say whenever he was one-upped, “Goodie for you.” The food here is unidentifiable, very spicy, eaten with hands (mostly) and neither looks nor smells appetizing. Susan can try all of this she wants but I only have one set of intestines and I’m not prepared to give them up yet. There are enough Continental (Western) restaurants around to keep me satisfied. The scary thought is, my father would never try anything that wasn’t meat and potatoes, no Chinese, Italian, Mexican, etc. ever. I really don’t want to be that narrow minded, but so far, I’m standing my ground.

The last thing to cover is communications. While people here they claim to speak English, it is an interesting variation from what we’re all used to and it takes a little while to get acclimated to the sounds and accents on different syllables. The advantage is almost every cabbie has some understanding where in China; it was a small number who did. If you’re not familiar with this accent, check out Jerry Seinfeld’s old buddy, Babu Bhat. Now, I understand that Babu was a Pakistani, but the English accents are pretty close. Babu was famous for wagging his finger at Jerry and saying, “You a very bad man.”




Still to follow in the next few days are blogs on our first weekend in Mumbai and a special invitation to a Hindu wedding we attended today. It was kind of like the reverse Seinfeld Indian Wedding episode (think Peach Schnapps)