Some notes (and pics) on my trip to India

 I went to India twice.
Once, with then my best friend, and the other time with my now hubby and my best friend (who is still, thankfully, my best friend!). The pictures are from the last visit there, because I seem to have left all my pictures from the first trip back home (which is far, far away from where I am right now). Anyways, I picked this pic of the auto rickshaw and the rickshawallas because the rickshaw was my first shocking experience in India, the first time I went there. (The second time, I knew what to expect, and how to behave..)

Some background info on my first trip to India.
It was in 2004 SUMMER (yes, I know, I must have been crazy), and I chose that time because a) I had just graduated, and had the entire summer before entering grad school, and b) because my friend insisted that we go, right now! We thought, that after going to grad school (she was to begin her life as a scholar in the fall as well), we would never have the time to travel. So, that was our reason. We had NO FRIGGING IDEA THAT IT WOULD BE SO DAMNED HOT. (we should have done some background research, come to think of it..) But we did make it there. It took us around 8 hours, to get from Seoul to Delhi. This was before the Delhi international airport was renovated. And, the plane landed us in the airport at 2 am. How was the overnight stay in the airport? Terrifying!!! Here we were, two girls with no knowledge of India, other than what we had just found out-- the airport was shabby, the bathroom smelt funny, and there was a lady sleeping on the bathroom floor, making sure to collect coins from us whenever we needed to use the loo. The coin part was not that shocking, as I had experienced that in European countries as well....but, the sleeping on the bathroom floor part, we could not quite understand.

Because the first shuttle out of the airport began running around 6 am, (I think) we spent some four hours sitting on the airport benches, along with tons of rickshawallas who constantly asked us where we wanted to go, whether or not we had booked a motel, and yadiyadiyadaaaaa. They were not exactly rude, but a whole group of men talking to us simultaneously, trying to win our attention, was not exactly soothing. And, we were really tired from the flight. Oh boy.

When we got out of the airport, we took the shuttle, which dropped us at the Delhi train station. The plan was to get to Pahar Ganj (not sure about the spelling), where we had in fact booked a tiny double room at a motel. I know now, that the motel is quite close from the train station...but at that time, because it was dark, and because we were complete strangers to the town, we did not walk, but took an auto rickshaw to Pahar Ganj. hahaha...and the walla could TELL THAT WE WERE NEW, WE DID NOT KNOW ANYTHING. so, he took this chance to rip some money from us. lallala. What a first day, huh? He took us round and round the neighborhood, then, let us off in front of the motel. On that round-about trip, we saw random men gathered around fire places (as it was still dawn? I don't know what the fire was for, because even at dawn, the place was really hot) which kind of intimidated us. The streets did not really look safe, to the eyes of the newbie travelers. Anyways, so we did get to our motel. And the rickshawalla told us to pay 200 rupees. 200 rupees!!! For what could have been a 2 minute drive! He actually told us that we should pay him 20 dollars, but what-ever! Even we knew that this was not the right price. But, we STUPIDLY thought that the man would harm us if we did not give him that 200 rupees...so we gave him the money, and RAN. *SIGH* And THAT, was our first encounter with an Indian man. *another sigh*

 I don't mean to say that the entire trip was terrible, although the weather certainly was. The streets of Pahar Ganj, we actually learned to love-- once you get used to it, all the bothersome people who ask you for money are not so bad. Just walk away, or maybe spare them some coins you might have in your pocket. They go away. Once in awhile, you run into a beautiful cow with a cool turban-- I had never seen a cow up close until then, so everything was, to me, quite interesting. The tea we drank, the food we ate there, and the small trinkets we bought, were all really enlivening our very hot but exciting stay.

HOWEVER, there was something we could never get used to. EVE-TEASING, is it called? There were SO MANY MEN not just staring at us, but approaching us in an....inappropriate manner. Gosh, I sound like a "young lady from a Victorian novel" but really, it was inappropriate and VERY tiresome. They would just accost you with comments like "will you marry me?" "you are sexy" "be my girlfriend"...and all that you can think a guy might say to a girl. And I've heard worse. AND, I actually had to put up with men who would DO worse--like squirm really close to my legs, touch them, and...I should probably not say more. Now, I kind of understand what happened. I was this "alien" who was sauntering around in their neighborhood, looking like I had not much to do. I was a traveler, who had put myself on display. I was dressed different from the locals. (Although I did try to show less skin by wearing long skirts) And everything that is DIFFERENT, no matter where it is displayed, gets noticed. I see that now, and perhaps I saw that then. But man-- you should see what I wrote down in my traveling notes I kept rigorously then! I don't have that note with me now, but I can really remember what I said-- I said, "Indian men (esp the young men, but even the older ones) are TERRIBLE. They will not stop bothering me! They will not stop making me feel like a doll on display. I feel sexually harassed." If I can count having seen a man masturbating from a distance, looking at me and my friend as sexual harassment, I certainly had been. And the journal has a lot of such accounts. The travel in Indian cities, as a girl without a male companion, was really difficult. (And yes, these did not occur as many times when I had JK by my side on my second travel to India) Like I said. I know that not all Indian men are like this. I know friends from India and places nearby (like Pakistan--yes, I mean you, Handi, if you ever see this post) who are perfectly nice. But if a friend (especially if you are a petite girl without the courage to fight off the gaze of these men) tells me that she is going to India alone, I would tell them to maybe find a friend to go with them. If the friend tells me she found a girlfriend to accompany her, I would tell them to be careful. This is just from my experience-- and perhaps I would have gotten to be friends with some of these guys if I had taken a chance, and TALKED to them instead of running away from them....maybe I should tell that friend to strike up a real conversation with them. But what do you say to men who yell out "marry me!" all of a sudden on the street? "No, Thank you!" and a smile was the best I could do then. Tell me a better phrase if you can think of one.

Like I said...I really loved India. I loved Pahar Ganj, the "dangerous" street people told us to steer away from. I stayed there the second time around, and I still loved it....but when I think of my first day in Delhi, I think of the rickshaw walla and the guys. I laugh now-- they have become good stories to tell, and I know that it was all a game for the guys, and that the 200 rupees I lost may have made the rickshaw walla's day. So, all things good, right? I wonder if there are still guys like those on the streets. If I ever go to India again (and I hope to), I might not have to deal with such guys, since I will be older, I will have a man next to me, and I will know how not to get too offended. And all will be good. Or, I will think so, but will scream out, "Those rude boys!" once again, on the streets of Pahar Ganj.

I heard from a friend that the narrow, dirty streets have been cleared away now. I almost regret this-- I liked the dirty streets, the crowded and noisy streets. But this is all coming from a nostalgic blogger, who can't really think straight when it comes to the places she has visited. As time goes by, all the events that happened during travels become more and more cherished, to the point where even the bad stuff that happened becomes a beautiful memory. Like that one time, when a cow almost stepped on my toes.

(2013. 2. 2)