Impossible India: 6 Days Of Surrender – PART I

11 February 2009
TG 324 – Thai Airways
Delhi, India to Bangkok, Thailand

20 years. Probably more. That’s how long I’ve dreamed of going to India. Unexpectedly I am given an opportunity to attend a project meeting in place of my boss in Delhi for three days. I’m ecstatic, then angst-ridden. I have an enormous program of work in the next two months and I cannot take more than 3 personal days for myself on top of that. How on earth can I see India in 3 days? It’s impossible! But three is better than none. I will see Delhi and visit some colleagues there and go to Agra on a day trip to see the Taj Mahal – it is one of the 7 Man-made Wonders of the World after all, how could I miss that. So… plan in place. HA!

India respects the plan of no man.

India, Day -2: Travel

I leave Canberra at 8pm on Tuesday for Melbourne and catch a Thai Airways flight to Bangkok and then on to Delhi. Man, these are purple planes! – the carpet is purple, the pillows are purple, the blankets are purple, the seats are purple and pink, as are the stewardess outfits. It feels like being in a bubble gum factory (though somehow more soothing). I surrender to the long day and the purple world.

(Can’t find a good example of the purpleness, but these give a hint:)

Thai Airways cabin2

Thai airways cabin

India, Day -1: Travel, Recovery and First Business Meal

After 20 hours of travel time I arrive in Delhi at 10.30am on Wednesday. My first experience is feeling inappropriately dressed. I have on a longish skirt that comes to mid-calf. Everything I’d read said that as long as you are reasonably conservative (no sleeveless/spaghetti strap tops, no shorts, no midriffs) you should be fine. But honestly, I can’t see a single ankle anywhere and in my ¾ length skirt I feel like I’ve walked into the Ritz hotel in a bikini. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I could have just gotten into a taxi and driven to the hotel. I am supposed to be met at the airport because there are lots of taxi scams. I emerge from customs and do not see a WCCA placard anywhere. First hiccup in my well-crafted plans. But I’ve been in the developing world before and I do not panic – yet. But I have to hang out here, in the arrivals terminal, with mostly male taxi drivers, with my ankles hanging out. I’m sure it was fine, but I somehow still felt like Erin Brokovich.

Julia Roberts as Erin Brockovich

After about 15 minutes I see a guy come rushing in with a WCCA placard. Ah, relief. But it was short-lived. Through very poor English and pointing to his roster (on which I clearly see my own name) he indicates that he has to wait for another man whose plane is arriving at 11am. I’m disappointed, but I am also flexible and so I sit down, with my naked ankles, to wait. Now here’s another embarrassing thing. In the past I have prided myself on being sure to know phrases in the local language order to show respect. In the case of India I was assured that most people spoke some English and with the rapid turnaround on the trip I didn’t bother getting a book on Hindi. Well it seems that many people do know some English, but it depends on your definition of the word “some” – certainly two dozen words does count as “some”, but without any grammar to form sentences it’s pretty difficult to communicate. I was irritated with myself for not being better prepared.

The exchange with the taxi driver was a tiny foreshadowing of the quintessential Western tourist I was to become on this trip – a significant identity crisis for me both in its undesirability and its unavoidability. With the business nature of the first half of the trip, it was inevitable that I would be removed from local life. We were ferried from hotel to business meetings in the company of only ourselves. We ate at the hotel and at the conference facility due to convenience and time. Only before dinner on the last day was I able to take a brief walk in the streets/alleys behind the hotel – an eye opener and painfully brief.

But back to Day -1. Finally, at 12 noon, with no sign of the other delegate, I managed to convince my driver to take me on alone. Out of the terminal and into a construction zone – piles of rubble, concrete, trash, rebar, tires and a bunches of men wandering around in the dirt. They are building huge numbers of new terminals at the airport and so this construction site environment didn’t seem unusual. But ultimately I was surprised to find that this sight – rubble, trash, tires and men wandering around in the dirt – was to be ubiquitous through out much of Delhi and the rest of my journey. To be fair, there are parts of Delhi that are cleaner and more pristine, I suppose, but I never saw them.

After a few minutes getting away from the hotel, we finally hit the first bit of really city – what a fantastic site. I was enthralled. We drove down a fairly narrow street, brimming with activity everywhere I looked – and most of it objects or activities I’d never seen before. Amazing. Unfortunately I was too mesmerised by the sight to remember to take photos.

I arrived at the hotel and stepped out into the dirt on the side of the road, before entering a gate guarded by a few men. The gate opened onto a tiled courtyard (though a little bumpy and chipped), through which I proceeded to the “lobby”. Then we proceeded even further into an inner courtyard where the rooms were:

Sara Hotel inner courtyard 1

Sara Hotel inner courtyard 2

Sara Hotel inner courtyard 3 (the lobby is at the end of the colonnade on the left)

I tried to confirm that we had internet in the room only to be informed that no, it was only in the office (their office to be precise). I surrender and proceed to my room, which was pleasant but far less than I would have expected for AUD 225 per night. I dump my bags and head back to the office for a quick check of email (kicking hotel staff off the machines temporarily) then back to the room to nap til supper time. Around 7p, I went to the outdoor garden restaurant of the hotel to meet my colleagues (for the first time) and have dinner. There was a stage at one end of the restaurant and there were traditional dance performances and then a couple of guys playing instruments and singing traditional Indian folk songs. Somewhat interesting, but much too loud. And there was a very strange guy dressed up like Charlie Chaplin wandering around. I learn that Anita, the main coordinator of this event and the “go to” person for a number of my questions, has been trapped in London since Monday because of the cold and snow and isn’t expected until late Thursday night. I surrender.

Day 1 – Work

Eight of us pile into a coach meant for 40 and begin our ~30-90 minutes journey to the National Agricultural Science Complex across town (this time it takes about 40 minutes). I take photos from the coach. Not great, but you are getting my experience here …

Delhi from coach

Delhi from coach 2

According to John, the project leader, the organizers of the 4th World Congress on Conservation Agriculture, with whom our project has been associated, have not yet found us a place to meet. When we arrive there is much standing about and then much walking about the enormous complex and then much unpacking and packing up again as we are erroneous led to three different locations only to be moved again within 30 minutes after our hosts again discover the space has been otherwise committed. At first I’m a bit frustrated, but I quickly learn that this is just the way things happen here and surrender to whatever happens next. What happens next is that we end up in the meeting room of one of the nonprofits that are located in the centre and are given the password to access their wireless internet service. Hooray. Except that the connection is so painfully slow as to be virtually unusable. I surrender.

We have lunch with the hundreds of other delegates to the conference on a large outdoor lawn with glamorous gold and red draperies and a stage at one end, which is for the evening entertainment. None of us stay for the evening dinner, but at the end of the day pile into our large coach again for the ~30-90 minute ride back to the hotel. We are stuck in what seems like a colossal traffic jam (but was minor compared to later ones I was engaged with) and arrive at the hotel 90 minutes after leaving the conference site. As we all freshen up before dinner, John tells me that the wireless internet has allegedly been installed. But when I try it in my room, I get nothing. I go back to the office but after 30 minutes I still can’t get a page to load. I surrender and go make merry with my colleagues at dinner.

Day 2 – Work

Fairly identical to Day 1 except coach ride TO the conference takes 50 minutes and ride back takes 70.

Delhi from coach 3

Delhi from coach 4

Great joy of joys, however, when I try the wireless internet again, it works! I’ve been extremely cautious about food and am now hungry for something that isn’t too spicy, but I accidentally eat a few things that are way to hot for me and my palate is quickly burnt out. I surrender and just eat nan bread and drink water.

Day 3 – Work

Our coach and drivers of the previous two days are no longer with us and we pile into a different, much older coach and head out for our big day – presentations to policy makers and the food security community. After about 60 minutes, some of the Indians on the bus (multi-national group from India, Nepal, Bangladesh, Japan, UK and Australia) jump up and start yelling at the driver. The Bangladeshi gentleman I’ve been talking with says that apparently the driver never had any idea where we were going and was just driving, apparently waiting for someone to tell him where to go, and everyone was involved in conversations and didn’t really notice that we weren’t actually going the right way until then. We are now nearly late for our big event (the trip totaling 90 minutes), but arrive with 30 minutes to set up everything and prepare to receive the guests (some fairly high profile). I had planned to engage in conversations with a number of people, but with our late arrival, my opportunities were limited. I surrender once again and make the best of the situation.

The return trip to the hotel at the end of the day was less eventful and we manage to get back before sunset. I’ve been told over the preceding days by a number of people that I simply must go to Jaipur and to Agra (Taj Mahal) in my remaining three days. I say it is impossible. They say “hire a driver”. I’d asked the hotel staff to tell me how much it would be. I think it is more than I can afford but Anita tells me to talk to the travel agent she’s been working with when he arrives that evening to settle their accounts. I’ve also been told that to get my phone to work in India, all I have to do is buy a SIM card for India. But I need to show ID that I live in India, so the hotel staff agree to get the card for me. I give them a few hundred rupees (about $10) and they say to come back in an hour.

I decide to go for a walk – finally a few minutes of daylight to actually walk around and interact with the city directly (though it doesn’t feel much like city where we are). I head out into the dust and rubble and climb around and over the various bits of debris and miscellaneous cars and bikes and turn left down a narrow road with shops on either side. I’ve got a shawl over my head, but there is no mistaking that even with foreigners at the hotel, few of them venture down this street/alley. I walk determinedly, as if I know where I am going and soak in the life around me. I wander the streets for an hour until it gets to be late dusk and I think it is wise to return. I wish I had more time to stop and visit. I get friendly smiles from shopkeepers, but I feel compelled to keep moving.

Back at the “hotel”, the mobile phone SIM card doesn’t work – I have to “unlock” my phone but can’t do that without talking to Virgin Mobile in Australia. The hotel bell boy goes back to try to find a Virgin Mobile SIM card, but no luck. I now have a SIM card that’s no good to me and they can’t sell back. I surrender, and give it to a colleague. I’m waiting to talk to the travel agent guy, who is now on site, but he’s been working on processing the credit card in the hotel office for about an hour. Ultimately, it take over two hours to get the thing processed and most of the hotel staff and 4 members of our project have been involved in the chaos and frustration. I surrender, and simply wait my turn.

At last he is ready to talk to me. He gives me the same price quote as the hotel did and I am disappointed. I suspect, in fact, that this is the guy the hotel called. I say I don’t think I can do it and he says that’s the price for the nice car/driver but I tell him I don’t care how nice the car is. He gives a discount and then says he can arrange the hotels in Jaipur and Agra. I didn’t really want him to, but he’s a bit pushy and I don’t really know how the “driver” thing works. I’m agonizing in front of him because it is way more money than I was prepared to spend, but everyone keeps telling me I should see these places and god knows when I’ll get back to India again. And I have to decide tonight because it is for pickup tomorrow. Aaaaggghhh! Okay. Yes. I will do it. Ugh. I feel like I’ve been pressured and feel uncomfortable about it. But there it is. It’s done. I surrender.

Dinner, good-byes and bed on an anticipatory stomach.

Next post: Impossible India: 6 Days Of Surrender – PART II