Our train stops at a Kolkata suburb (it’s usually called Kolkata, not Calcutta). We get an expensive (280 rupees) prepaid taxi to city center, where our hotel is supposed to be. We are dropped off at city center 2. It’s basically a highway with a big mall. Like we had done at the taxi booth and when we got in, we yet again show him the address. Some local guys walking by have to translate, telling us this is where we have paid to go, and going to our hotel will be an extra 300 rupees. Angry, we get out of the car and start walking towards a group of parked autorickshaws. It is intimidating approaching so many guys, curiously staring at us, only to get refused. Apparently, only taxis can go to the city center. What the fuck is this bullshit? How were we supposed to know there are TWO city centers!?
Now, it’s fortysomething degrees, we are both wearing two heavy backpacks, we are sweaty and haven’t showered or slept on a real bed in two days, so what do we do? At the mall, a golden M lights up, and fuck it, we go there.
We have some fries, a soda and an ice cream, and our spirits are back. We find a bunch of cabs, all asking for 500 rupees to go to the hotel, even though this is the exact place we were dropped off after refusing to pay 300 extra. The very last cab driver in the row is being stubborn and so are we. If he refuses, there are no other places to go to find another cab. Luckily, he finally agrees to take us there for 300.
The hostel’s okay. We want to go ship some of our stuff at the Post office, but it’s closed. We decide to go see a movie, Youngistaan, but we go to three different cinemas and none of them show it. We get lost in the bazars, and it’s annoying us, but this is definitely the place to shop, if that’s what you need. We already have our backpacks full, so that will have to wait until some other time, probably when we get to Thailand. Now we’re just waiting to go to the airport. We’re ready to get out of here!
After spending the night on a train, we end up in Varanasi and reunite with the Ganges river. As our time in India is running out, we have to book a train to Calcutta on the same day, so we have about 6 hours to spend in this holy city, which I wasn’t happy about at first. I soon realize we don’t need much time there.
After leaving our luggage in the railway station’s cloak room, we go to the Assi Ghat (steps leading down to the holy river), where we have an awesome breakfast and sundae on a Sundayat Aum Café. There is an eccentric woman sitting there, talking to a girl, who can do nothing but listen, as this woman takes being hippie to the next level. She claims she’s never been to Goa in her seven years of coming to India. She says she only eats boiled vegetables with hummus at night, and that she avoids food during the day. Her body feels stronger when she doesn’t eat – red flag. Yet, while the girl is in the bathroom, the woman takes a bit of the girl’s cake. She claims yoga is bad for you and ruins meditation. Basically, she talks about herself and all her weird beliefs for all to hear, because the restaurant is so small, and we all chuckle a bit to ourselves. Unfortunately, the place is so small and popular (the Lonely Planet recommendation curse), that we are politely pushed out after our meal. My back has been killing me since the night before, and it is only getting worse, making me less willing to walk around just for the sake of walking. I want to stay and have more ice cream!
We take an autorickshaw to the main ghat, Dashashwarnedh, which is pretty empty when we get there. We move on to the main cremation ghat, Marnikarnika. From here, we see a few bodies covered in cloth being dipped in the Ganges, while the fire is being prepared. A priest trying to lure us into a building for a better view tells us, that they walk around the fire 5 times for every element; earth, water, fire, wind and soul. It takes about three hours to burn the body, after which they discard the remaining bones in the river. No wonder this is one of the most polluted rivers in the world! It isn’t graphic, or smelly, like I had imagined, but there is a very calm and respectful atmosphere, and I kinda like it, although there is not much to be seen. We head to a rooftop restaurant and share a beer(!!), the first one in ages, while looking out over the Ganges river, where people are bathing, washing clothes, and playing. In seriously dangerously polluted water.
We go back to the railway station for our stuff, and on our way there, we see the main ghat again, and it is quite busy and beautiful at this point. I wish we could stay! We take an autorickshaw to our next railway station, and patiently wait for our train at 20.10. 3 hours and 20 minutes later it arrives, with a guy already sleeping on my bed. I wake him up, but he tries to make me get the bed under him, which is for a guy waiting just behind me. How rude! Finally, some locals come to my rescue, and that young guy is pissed off. Whoops. I guess you can’t win no matter what.
We have a decent sleep on the train – no more fear of falling off the top bed – and wake up to being the main attraction at the circus yet again. Yes, people are already up and staring at us. Next stop: Kolkata.
Agra is bigger than I expected. I guess I thought there would be a few sights, a handful of hostels and a restaurant or two. Not much. Instead, we’ve been more out here than say, Rishikesh.
After the movies and going back to the hostel, we go to McDonald’s for dinner. For reals. It’s right between the hostel and the cinema, so why not? Behind the counter, about 8 young guys are standing, ready to take people’s order. I would say it’s a bit over-staffed, but this is definitely not uncommon in India, from what I have observed. Of course, all the guys behind the counter are all giggly, but hey, I get fries with that.
We get up at 5 in the morning and put on our clothes from Jaipur – Sara her custom green maxi dress, and I my pink sari. We meet up with Steve from England, we call him Papa Bear because he looks out for us, and we share a tuk tuk to Taj Mahal. After paying the 750 rupees fee for tourists, and waiting in a painfully long line for the “high value ladies”, Taj Mahal is right in front of us as the sun is rising. This place is more beautiful than you can imagine. I’ve never given much thought to how it would look up close, but the details are pertty amazing. Damn, Shahjahan could make buildings.
If we are to believe what they say, he built this as a memorial for his third wife, Mumtaz Mahal, who died during childbirth. Their bodies are buried in the center of this glorious building. Now that’s a real monument of love! The view from Taj Mahal – quite an impressive gate, hey?
We spend ages at TM, just admiring it, talking and taking awkward pictures like these:
With Papa Bear
Once we are done, like 3 hours later, we go see “Baby Taj”, which is also a tomb. We are the only tourists there, which is quite nice, although kind of creepy too. Coming from one of the most crowded places in Agra, the silence at Baby Taj is almost unsettling.
After breakfast at a rooftop restaurant, Papa Bear goes back to the hotel, while we check out Agra Fort, which is the prettiest fort we’ve seen so far – but also like the 3rd or 7th, so we’re not that interested.
This has been a magical day… Except this is what I look like when my Sari comes off (sorry to those who get offended by my red butt)
After a bumpy, painful 13-hour busride, we arrive in [insert random name] at 6 in the morning. I honestly don’t know the place, never heard of it before. Anyway, the busdriver makes us get off the bus and wait for a public bus, that we get on with our backpacks. Didn’t see that one coming. I was never told by the travel agent that we had to switch busses. It’s our first time on an actual local bus, and it gradually fills up with young people, probably students, and they all seem very interested in the two tired-looking chicks in the back. Thirtysomething kilometers later, we stop somewhere in Agra, and the bus is almost empty. I ask the bus driver for directions, but he just tells me to stay on the bus. He parks it on a parking lot full of empty busses, and he and his friend get out and ask us to follow them. We do for a little while, until it becomes pretty obvious that they’re just trying to take us somewhere we can’t get help. We run away silently.
Once we’ve reached a street with lots of tuk tuks, we begin to bargain for ages for a reasonably priced ride. We finally arrive at Pyrenees Home Stay, which is perfect by the way. We have breakfast on the roof, and we can see the Taj Mahal from there! Since it’s Friday, it’s is closed, so we decide to do all the sightseeing tomorrow. After a nap and a shower, we get dressed for lunch. Since all my pants and shirts are in the laundry, I wear this.
Bad move. After lunch at Pinch of Spice, it is only 3.30, so we decide to go to the movies. There’s a 2.5 hour long horror movie in Hindi playing at the moment called Ragini MMS 2, starring Sunny Leone (yes, the pornstar). Bruno recommended it to us. We are about ten minutes late for the movie, same as two local guys, who insist on showing us the way to the auditorium and sitting next to us. It becomes very apparent that this was a bad idea.
First of all, people in India seem to be very responsive to the movie they’re watching. When something’s supposed to be funny, they’ll almost exaggerate their laugh. When something’s scary, they scream a little louder than I’m used to. It’s also very apparent that sexuality is still a bit of a taboo, so people have to repress their sexuality a lot. That often leads to an overreaction, so here we are, watching a movie starring a former porn star in her underwear. We’re talking about a tank top and panties, and the guys around us go absolutely crazy. That’s when I realise that we are almost the only girls in the auditorium.
The guy next to me keeps offering to translate the movie for me, but I insist that I’m fine. The overexaggerated acting, the simple plot, and the fact that half of the lines are in English makes it a lot easier to understand a foreign movie than you would think. Still, the guy makes a few translations here and there, before going in for the kill: he leans in and asks me if I want to “french”. Completely shocked and disgusted, I almost yell out “no!” in a much ruder way than I intended to. He doesn’t seem too fazed by my rejection, but tells me that my skirt is very short and daring, and that I should be more careful – guys will be grabbing my ass if I keep wearing that. Just like that, my life is more scary than the horror movie.
During intermission, we both go to the bathroom to get away from the guys, but even more of them are standing in the lobby. I tell Sara what happened during the movie, and we agree to find new seats. We scoot in a few more seats, but people behind us start shaking our seats and carefully touching the top of my hair. Jeez, we’re just two pale people watching a movie, leave us alone. The attention is pretty intense, so after the movie, as everyone gathers by the elevator, we decide to wait until everyone has left before getting into one. When we come out of the elevator and walk out to the parked tuk tuks, some of the guys from the auditorium are still hanging around, and they even follow us on their scooter for a little bit, while we are on a tuk tuk back to the hostel.
So this was the story of how I wore a skirt and we went to the movies, and people followed us around and probably wanted to rape us. Talk about a scary day.
I’ll end this post with a picture of Sara walking next to a lady with a big bowl of cowpoo on her head.
When we wake up, it’s cold. Very cold. The sky is cloudy and grey, and it seems that the sun won’t show today. The power is out again. We desperately need a shower, but have to settle for a bucket of ice water. Shark week’s coming (all you ladies should feel sorry for me).
But then I have a cup of masala chai and everything’s alright again. I am insisting on having masala chai everyday until we leave India from now on. I’m going to miss that stuff like I miss clean clothes and watching Saturday Night Live by myself instead of going out. We have breakfast and apple-beetroot-carrot juice to get some vitamins in our system, while a Brazilian guy tells us that we are being paranoid about getting raped, and how bad McDonald’s is for you. Then he starts talking about meditation. What a hippie.
We decide to head out for the day. Our hostel is on one side of the Ganges River, while everything else seems to be on the other side. A long bridge crosses the water, and on this bridge you will find a lot of people… and cows. Seriously, cows are just everywhere in this country and I find it hilarious. When will you ever see a cow just casually walking on a bridge in Denmark? The answer is never.
So, back in the 60’s, The Beatles visited Rishikesh for a few months and wrote some of The White Album here, so it’s kind of a big deal. We walk all the way out of the city center to the Beatles Ashram, which is hard to find and impossible to get into – at least when we get there. We are even joined by a young Indian couple that is just as lost as we are. The ashram is just an abandoned hotel in the woods, so no big deal, but now we can say we’ve walked in the footsteps of James Bond (in Udaipur) and The Beatles (in Rishikesh).
I’m kind of liking this place. The nature is very different from what we’ve seen so far in India. It’s my version of Paradise, with silver sand, green grass and little purple flowers growing everywhere. It’s just so lush. The Ganges river is greenish-blue, and looks so warm and clear and calm. It’s not. We head to the beachy riverside and dip our toes in – they nearly freeze off, which makes it all the more impressive when a local man in a thong goes there for a bath. He has a nice ass by the way. The main part of Rishikesh smells like weed and is swarmed with flies, though. None of the buildings really interest me, but I’m loving the nature.
I just wanna picnic here.
We go to the bazar and pick up a few things. The sellers aren’t really into bargaining here, which is too bad, ’cause I see the maxi-skirt of my dreams in three different shops, all charging about 300 rupees, even though all the skirts had a hole somewhere. We go to Little Buddha for lunch, which has a nice (touristy) atmosphere, but the food and service isn’t all that. I can’t complain about my Oreo milkshake with ice cream though!
A cow just wanting to enter the store and buy his mom a birthday present.
BLIIIIING!
Since we’re leaving tomorrow to go to Agra, we go to the hostel’s travel agent to book a bus, but he claims there aren’t any busses going for the next month. We hurry over to the closest travel agent for a second opinion and wooptie!, 2 tickets for a double sleeper to Agra tomorrow evening. We have a lot of hours to spend between check-out and the bus, so we book an appointment at a massage clinic next to the hostel. I don’t remember telling this, but in Jaipur we had a full body oil massage, which I found out isn’t really for me, so this time, I just book a mani, pedi and henna instead.
I am amazed by how many erotic novels Sara has on her Kindle at the moment.
To be honest with you for a second, I have never felt so unattractive in my life, and I’d like to remember that, so I’m actually writing this down. My hair is greasy and tangled, although completely blonde again, my skin is breaking out, my clothes are dirty and there are still traces of Holi in my ears, nose and under my nails. Like Pete would have said, my face looks like shit. I just want to curl up and hide from the public until I’ve had a decent shower and look like myself again. People just keep staring at me because I’m different, and I can’t stand it when I feel this uncomfortable in my own skin. We’re starting to lose weight, and I’ve gotten a tan, so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.
Also, happy birthday, grandpa. Don’t worry too much about me!
