Archive for June, 2008

Our Malaysian Paradise

Thursday, June 26th, 2008

Landing at the Kuala Lumpur airport, one of the major cultural differences between Thailand/Cambodia and Malaysia became readily apparent to us. Whereas the Thai and Khmer population is overwhelmingly Buddhist, the majority of Malaysia is Islamic. Though we had certainly grown accustomed to seeing veiled women a few weeks ago, the sharp transition between these two nations made it feel like something new all over again. We had to spend a few hours waiting at the airport in Kuala Lumpur for our flight to Tawau, a small city in the southern part of the state of Sabah, on the island of Borneo. We didn’t really know what to expect coming to Borneo. Though it wasn’t originally on our itinerary, we ended up being spurred to come as a result of Dr. Fred Sheldon’s encouragement. Dr. Sheldon, who is the director of the LSU Museum of Natural Science, invited us to spend some time with him at his field site. I was particularly excited about getting to see a real ornithology camp as well as the prospect of diving off Sipidan Island, widely acclaimed to be the world’s greatest dive spot. So, several weeks ago, we adjusted our itinerary so that we would be able to spend about 10 days on the island of Borneo. We were expecting things to be a bit primitive, but once again, Southeast Asia has surprised us. Either we are becoming quite comfortable with traveling and thus our standards are decreasing, or Asia really is just much more developed than our preconceptions had led us to believe, but we have truly enjoyed our time here and haven’t really felt homesick for “western comforts.”

Once we landed in Tawau, we had to take an hour long taxi ride to Semporna, the coastal village that is the gateway to Sipidan Island. The quality of the roads and the sub-tropical flora and fauna really made us think of Louisiana. We had planned to stay in a hostel operated by a dive operator, but when I made reservations over the phone, I apparently did not understand them when they told me that their hostel was on the island of Mabul (about 3 nautical miles from Sipidan, which is about an hour from the coastal village of Semporna). Long story short, we arrived in Semporna late at night to nothing more than a closed dive shop. We checked into another hostel down the road and planned to figure out everything in the morning. When we arrived at the dive shop the following morning, we ended up opting not to stay at their Mabul Island hostel because they only shuttle people back and forth twice a day, which would interfere with Katie’s planned day trip to Tawau Hills National Park as well as make us miss our next bus ride. So, we decided to go snorkeling that day together and I would go scuba diving the next alone. We ended up being quite happy with our decision; the hostel on Mabul was really ugly and we had heard stories later about large rats cuddling up to sleeping backpackers in the middle of the night. It was also really crowded with local buildings. The overcrowding, and the huge amounts of trash, kind of ruined the otherwise idealistic tropical island. We later learned that a very classy (and private) 5 star resort exists on the opposite side of the island. In another interesting twist, an old oil rig nearby has been repainted and turned into a very fashionable boutique hotel for scuba divers.

Years ago, resorts were permitted on Sipidan island, which is just a few miles from Mabul. They’ve since closed due to “environmental concerns.” Little did I know until I arrived in Sabah though, this island has actually been the center of many recent confrontations. Nearly 4 years ago, Indonesia, which compromises the bottom half of Borneo, effectively “sued” Malaysia for control of the island – – the ICJ ruled in Malaysia’s favor. (Scuba divers must pay a fee to scuba dive the sites around Sipidan. I’m sure Indonesia wouldn’t mind having a chunk of this revenue.) Additionally, a decade ago the entire eastern side of Sabah, which is only 50 miles from the Filipino border, suffered from a number of acts of piracy, Sipidan notwithstanding. Though I made jokes about the Malay soldiers who were mostly playing cards on the small base that has been established on Sipidan, about 10 years ago, a few tourists were kidnapped by Filipino pirates. The nearby town of Lahud Datu was literally raped and pillaged by a pirate gang around the same time. Since tourism is a major industry in Sabah, a stepped up naval presence has all but eliminated any present real danger, but it is interesting how recently the area was a source of conflict. On a much more upbeat note, however, the snorkeling ended up being amazing. We saw countless turtles, all varieties of fish, and just the most stunningly colorful coral at depths of less than 10 feet. The day was a bit overcast, so the colors were probably not as vivid as they could have been, but it still was probably the best snorkeling either of us have ever done.

We got totally soaked on our ride in and during the day. It worked out well, though, because we had just run out of sunscreen so we got spared the brunt of the suns’ rays. At the end of the day, we were dropped off in Semporna by the boat and got a wonderful dinner of pizza and beer from a pub in town. The next day Katie and I parted; I went diving and she caught a bus to Tawau to visit the National Park. Fortunately, it was a beautiful, blue-skied day and it gave me the chance to see the coral in an even more striking light. The one bad side about diving here, at the world’s greatest diving spot is that at 22, is I think in some ways everywhere else I dive may be a disappointment in comparison to Sipidan. We also started to joke that the sea turtles were “getting in our way.” I saw dozens of huge, beautiful turtles as well as hundreds of baracudas and schools of small black tipped sharks. Katie’s day proved to be a bit less successful because much of Tawau Hills was dense forest, with little areas of broad clearance, so though she heard birds quite a bit, actually seeing them was a more difficult in the thick overgrown canopy. We rendezvoused back at the hostel in the afternoon and after a quick dinner of some delicious Malay food, we collapsed asleep around 9:00 PM that evening.

We woke up early the next day so that we could catch a bus to Sandakan, about 300 km away. We were hoping to go out with a tour operator for a few days into the jungle so that we could observe some wildlife. The operator, Uncle Tan’s, had told us originally that we would not be able to arrive from Semporna in time enough to leave for the jungle tour on the same day. Fortuitously, they ended up being wrong so we were able to leave a day early and more importantly, add a day to independant travel plan around the Crocker Range with Dr. Sheldon and Mt. Kinabalu park. Our tour was just about 48 hours. We were taken an hour away by truck to the Kinabatangan River, where we then spent another hour on speedboats to the lodge at which we were staying. It was fairly primitive with no running water or electricity; sleeping under the mosquito netting at night felt much like sleeping at Camp Avondale in the dead of the summer, I must say. The tour itself was a little bit disappointing because we didn’t feel like the staff was all that professional but we still nevertheless saw tremendously more wildlife than we could have otherwise. On a nightboat ride we took, the guide would shine a spotlight at Kingfishers, stunning them I presume like a deer in headlights, and we could pull up the boat and observe them from only a meter or two away. We also went on a few (very muddy) treks through the swampy forest where we saw some neat reptiles and insects, as well as a nightmarishly scary looking scorpion. We also saw several types of monkeys (including one orangutan!), hornbills, and some huge lizards (2-3 meters!). With no running water, we were understandably quite dirty by the end of our stay. But when we arrived in Kota Kinabalu via an overland bus on the third day, we had become so used to being dirty, we felt like we almost could go another week longer more and not even notice the difference. Fortunately, the hostel had very nice showers though! Though we had arrived late at night, the hostel had a contract with a very reasonable car rental company that was able to drop off a very nice Viva shortly before midnight so that we could leave early the next morning.

We took off for the Crocker Range the next day. The weather here has been so chaotic. Our driving cycled twice through basking sunshine and torrential downpours as we drove up the coast on the way to the Crocker Range Substation where we were scheduled to meet up with Drs. Shedlon and Moyle, a former student of Dr. Sheldon’s and now assistant curator of birds at University of Kansas. We ended up getting a bit lost along the way, taking our small compact car over roads we likely shouldn’t have, but after a few hours we finally found the station, almost by accident! The ranger substation was a bit of a surprise for me, even though Katie had warned me that the museum’s expeditions are rarely as rough or romantic as they sound. That certainly seemed to hold true with what I saw! This station was equipped with brand new furniture, gas stoves, electricity, and running water. Perched up on a hill, there was a gorgeous view of Palau Tiga Island (site of the first Survivor series) and the sandy coast. Unfortunately, at an elevation of about 400 m and surrounded by rainforest and mountains, the station got the brunt of the rain for the rest of the day. We spent most of it reading our books and watching Drs. Sheldon and Moyle skin the birds that they had already caught in mist nets (guns are illegal in Malaysia so researchers stick to the nets almost entirely). By late afternoon the rain let up so Katie and I got to hike a bit on the trails that surrounded the shelter. We also saw what was in my opinion, likely one of the most beautiful sunsets of my life.

The following morning we got a small personalized birding tour in the jungle around the station and helped collect birds from the mist nets. After having a small breakfast, we took off in our car for Mount Kinabalu National Park. Along the way, we stopped in a small town Dr. Sheldon recommended to us for lunch. The island is not very densely populated (I still keep thinking about the fact that when flying or driving through India, you always saw human habitation) and the parts that have been are kept quite clean and free of litter. It has reminded me a lot of Hawaii; the previous day we saw spectacular, beautiful beaches and today, driving through the most beautiful, lush green mountains. We arrived in the afternoon to the National Park, but our timing also coincided with the start of the afternoon, montane showers. Eventually the rains subsided and we managed to do about an hour of hiking in the cloudy woods. Governmental tour buses drop off backpackers inside the park by its headquarters. Unfortunately for the independent traveler, hostels beds inside the park cost upwards of $40, a huge sum for Malaysia. We drove our car just a few kilometers down the road and managed to pay only a quarter of the park’s cost. We had been a bit unsure what kind of accommodation or facilities we could have expected with Dr. Sheldon the night before, so we had bought cans of sardines, crackers, and other sundries en route to the Crocker Range. Since Dr. Sheldon’s hired Malaysian help cooked dinner for us the night before, we decided to eat our humble provisions in the hostel.

We rose with dawn the next day so that we could bird early in Kinabalu Park. It is a huge birding destination spot for many well-to-doers around SE Asia; we saw a lot of groups with very pricey binoculars and huge tripod-mounted telephoto lens. By 9:30, the heat was starting to set in, so we decided to leave and go about 40 kilometers to the other side of the mountain and check out the Poring Hot Springs. The hot springs area was quite more developed than we had expected. The “hot springs” consisted of copper faucets positioned over individual bath tubs that one can sit in. A little weary of their cleanliness, I only ended up jumping down a slide into a freezing cold swimming pool. Rain cut our time here a little short once again, but we did manage to go walk across a really spectacular canopy walk, some 200 feet off the ground.

Driving back to Kota Kinabalu in the rain, on winding mountainous roads wasn’t too much fun, but we managed to arrive in one piece. Dr. Sheldon had given us the name of a delicious Pakistani restaurant in town, so we went there that evening. Our flight the next morning was at 7 :00 AM so we went to bed a bit early in preparation for our 24 hr journey to our next adventure, the island of Ko Tao off the eastern coast of Thailand!

Pictures from Semporna

Pictures from Sandakan

Pictures from Crocker and Kinabalu are coming!

Posted in Malaysia | 14 Comments »

The Temples of Angkor

Sunday, June 22nd, 2008

Cambodia was, overall, a hugely pleasant surprise. When planning the trip, we both agreed we wanted to go to Angkor Wat. Prior to all this travel, my geographic knowledge was pretty lacking; I asked Tommy where it was located. When he said Cambodia, I thought we would have to skip it. I didn’t know much about the country, but it had definitely negative connotations in my mind: poverty and genocide. Not exactly a prime vacation spot. For anyone who has wanted to go to Angkor Wat but has held back for similar reasons, I unhesitatingly recommend going. Even if my mental picture had been correct, Angkor Wat would have been worth the trek–and I’m happy to report that my impressions were pretty far off.

One thing that makes a visit to Cambodia easy for someone from the States is that you won’t have to change any money. The US dollar is pretty much the official currency. Cambodian Riel are basically used as small change instead of US coins. Prices are quoted in Riel, but it is understood that you will pay one dollar for every 4000 Riel. It was really odd to go to an ATM and have it spit out dollars… it’s a currency Tommy and I haven’t really looked at in months.

We got a prepaid taxi from the airport to our centrally-located hostel, which doubles as an Irish Pub. A quick walk around revealed that it was not the only foreign restaurant. Phnom Penh has every niche filled for tourists, including a Spanish tapas bar and a Mexican cantina. The restaurants are clustered along the river, where in the evening you pass lots of tourists sitting outside sipping drinks. We were both really foggy after our extremely short sleep the night before and paused for some breakfast or lunch, whichever it should properly be called at that time of midmorning. We found the food a little expensive. Looking at prices in dollars makes it seem worse, of course, but we would convert them into Baht or Rupees for a quick comparison, and found them still high for what we considered a poor country. Phnom Penh was looking more like a popular, slightly overpriced tourist destination than the foreign and untouched city we expected.

It was not at all evident that, just over thirty years ago, Phnom Penh had been a ghost town. The Khmer Rouge, an oppressive communist regime, took power in Cambodia in 1975. Their exact motivations and philosophy are still a little foggy to Tommy and I, even after several tries to understand it. Tommy brought along a book by Ben Kiernan on the Pol Pot regime and had read through most of it by the time we reached Phnom Penh; still, many of the policies of the Khmer Rouge seem so senseless and cruel that it is hard to divine much logic from them. They believed that the foundation of their new country would be in agriculture, and that the perfect citizens would be the village workers. They forced everyone to evacuate Phnom Penh and other cities, and herded them out into the country in a cruel death march during which many people died. The years that followed were filled with suffering and death for the Cambodians. The Khmer Rouge killed anyone who had been affiliated with the government or military of the old regime, as well as academics and other professionals. They deplored foreigners and anyone with familial connections to them. Outside of Phnom Penh and other cities, there are killing fields where executions took place, and huge mass graves have been unearthed. Estimates of how many people died vary, but Kiernan believes it was around 1.5 million. Pol Pot’s reign ended in 1979 when the Vietnamese invaded, but Cambodia still languished in destruction and internal conflict until 1993, when they regained their independence.

We visited the killing fields on our first day in Phnom Penh. There is a large stupa in the center that is filled with human skulls to commemorate how many people lost their lives there. As you wander around the area, there are signs to mark the sites of mass graves and terrible killings. It is a sobering thing, like visiting Auschwitz. We went next to the school which had been turned into a prison, Toul Sleng. Many of its rooms were filled with stories photographs of prisoners who had suffered and died within its walls, and more still gave information on the Khmer Rouge and the genocide. It was enlightening but, as the prison’s brochure pointed out, they desperately need money to keep up and improve the museum.

After some time in an internet cafe, Tommy and I were pooped. We decided to eat an early dinner and head to bed. We walked along the river, where all of the restaurants advertised western food and tacked on a few Cambodian dishes to the end of their menus. In the end we opted for the Mexican cantina to try something different, as we’d been eating strictly spicy Indian and Thai food for the last three weeks or so. Afterwards we went to the Foreign Correspondents Club, a rooftop restaurant known for its journalist clientele, for dessert. Then we went to bed and slept for nearly twelve hours to make up for the night before.

The next day, our bus to Siem Reap left at 12:30. It is worth noting that the State Department says on its website that foreigners should “exercise caution” when using intercity buses and recommends flying. However, the bus that we took was luxurious compared with those we rode in India (which I doubt the State Department has listed any qualms about). It was air conditioned, had plush seats, left from an actual bus station at a pre-ordained time, and issued actual tickets with seat numbers. As in India, we pulled over at rest stops, which are built along the same vein as those in the US, but look quite different. This one had a small open restaurant with a thatched roof and lots of people selling snacks. As we got closer to one woman, we realized exactly what she was selling: bugs. Roasted crickets and tarantulas. The man sitting across from us on the bus bought a big bag of crickets and ate them as we drove, munching on their meaty thoraxes and tossing legs and heads on the floor of the bus. Ick.

We arrived in Siem Reap without incident and took a rickshaw to our hostel. It was a nice, cozy place with a pub downstairs. It promoted several projects to help the Cambodians get back on their feet. In fact, everywhere we looked in Siem Reap there was an advertisement for one project or another. In this tourism hub, the effort to recover was blatant and genuine.

The next day we ate breakfast on the hostel’s open veranda, where multiple rickshaw drivers stopped and asked us if we were going to see the temples. For a fairly standard rate, rickshaw drivers are hired for the day and will take you on a typical tourist’s circuit of Angkor. It’s actually a large complex that would require several kilometers of walking to see everything once you are there. We eventually said yes to one of the drivers, and he waited while we got our things.

The first stop on the ride is the ticket booth, situated well before any of the temples. We were very impressed with the operation. They even take digital photos of you and print them on the passes. The tickets aren’t exactly cheap (about $20 if we remember correctly), but we would soon realize that they were well worth the cost. We continued on after obtaining ours. The road curved along a reservoir, across which we could see an ancient stone bridge stretching across to the entry way of the most famous of Angkor’s temples, Angkor Wat. We pulled up across the reservoir from the temple, where we were bombarded with children offering souvenirs and cold water. Trying our best to wave them off, we headed for the bridge.

It was nothing short of magical walking across it towards the wall on the other side. We went through one of the passageways and were suddenly standing in front of a wide green courtyard, with a stone walkway leading straight across it to the massive temple of Angkor Wat. We made the scorching walk to the temple (the day was particularly hot), pausing to see the two small structures on either side of the walkway (the libraries). Rules apparently keep the hawkers and restaurants confined to a small portion of the courtyard hidden by trees, so we were free to explore without bother or interference.

The temple is spectacularly preserved, especially in comparison to the other temples we later saw. A covered walkway runs along its outer edge, protecting walls covered in elaborate murals depicting scenes from Hindu mythology. Venturing in, we stepped carefully around one of many Buddhist shrines in the temple, where people were lighting incense and praying. There are more corridors and rooms inside, all lined with beautifully preserved relief sculptures of devatas, or nymphs. The inner courtyard is made of stone and surrounds the tall towers in the center. There are stairs to enter each one, but they are roped off. Behind the temple is a long road leading to a small, crumbling building and another reservoir. We explored it all, enchanted by its size and preservation. It was truly spectacular.

Our driver took us next to the complex of Angkor Thom, where the other temples are located. We stopped at Bayon, and our first glance at it positively took our breath away. Its intermediate state of disrepair has given it a characteristic, elaborately crumbling appearance that is strangely beautiful. The courtyard, rather than being immaculately clean as at Angkor Wat, was filled with fallen stones we had to climb over to reach the temple. Inside was a maze of dark, narrow corridors periodically opening to the light and offering glances of the towers above, which were adorned with giant human faces. Angkor Wat had been a beautiful and intriguing tourist attraction, but this was far more fascinating and fun. There were few other people there, and as we climbed through the ruin, exploring where we wished, we likened it to being in a video game or movie. I half expected to stumble upon a pitfall or spear trap. It had an unmistakably genuine feel that was exciting and wonderful.

We climbed a narrow metal staircase that had been installed over some crumbling stone steps in order to reach the upper part of the temple. Here was a flat roof from which the towers ascended. There were no ropes or guards here; we could climb and investigate where we wished. Many of the little rooms harbored by the towers contained Buddhist shrines. The sky became increasingly dark and stormy, and we thought we had better head on. We briefly visited the Royal Palace next door before the rain began to fall.

It was a substantial downpour, surely meant to remind us of the meaning of “monsoon season.” We took shelter in one of the many tourist restaurants set up nearby, watching as the souvenir shop owners closed up their tents to protect their merchandise, while the occasional rat ran from one to the other to keep dry. We sat and munched on spring rolls while children came up trying to sell souvenirs.

We waited it out because we were really excited about seeing our last temple of the day, Ta Prohm. It is the least well-preserved of the three, and its crumbling walls overtaken by huge trees with their roots dripping over the sides have produced some of the most evocative images of Angkor. (We also understand it is one of the temples used in the Tomb Raider movie, but neither of us have seen it.) If Bayon could be imagined as a treacherous place fraught with danger and challenges, Ta Prohm actually was. The pouring rain had surrounded it with a substantial moat. We had to make it across by balancing precariously on tree roots and loose stones. That brought us to the temple’s outer wall, which is surrounded by piles of rock, all pieces which have crumbled off the temple over time. Ordinarily the route for visitors would be to walk around the temple to the back side entrance, but the entire courtyard was flooded, meaning in order to keep our feet dry we had to clamber over the rocks to reach it. Inside was no less exciting. The crumbling ruin made for an even more dramatic and exciting setting. We had to navigate several more substantial moats and once came upon a small passage so dark we had to briefly illuminate it with our camera flash to make sure it wasn’t a deep puddle or bottomless pit. Comparing Angkor to the other sites we’ve seen, like Petra or the Pyramids, is difficult because it is so dynamic. None of the other “new world wonders” we’ve seen has allowed for so much exploration. And the complex is big–there is much more hat we didn’t see. A proper visit would allot several days for the whole thing. It was a genuinely magical experience wandering through those temples. Definitely a site well worth a visit, even if it does require a plane ride half around the world.

We came back wet with rain and sweat and pretty exhausted. We had dinner at a more upscale Cambodian restaurant called Viroth, and it was really delicious and still very cheap. Our hostel had lots of DVDs available, so we watched a couple of episodes of the British series The Office before we went to sleep.

Air Asia was a good deal more strict when flying out of the small Siem Reap airport than out of Bangkok. Whereas they let about three kilograms slide for us on our way to Phnom Penh, this time the lady checking us in was not going to budge on weight restrictions. Rather than pay $5 for every additional kilogram over 30 total, we ransacked our bags for everything that added significant weight and put it all in our carry ons. Tommy changed out of his shorts into his jeans and belt. Despite the heat, I put on a jacket and hat. We filled our bookbags until they were difficult to zip. We ended up checking in with one bag at 13.75 kg and the other at 16.25 kg. Perfect. There is a superficially enforced 7.5 kg limit for each carry on, but all of the Air Asia employees must know full well that all the passengers violate it. People show up with huge, heavy bags, trying to cram them into the overhead compartments. Our carry-ons weighed far more than 30 kg combined. The important thing was, we got on the plane, and were soon flying towards Borneo.

Photos from Phnom Penh

Photos from Angkor

Video of Bayon

Posted in Cambodia | 1 Comment »

Don’t Bother Us, We’re Sunbathing

Thursday, June 19th, 2008

We’re currently on the island of Koh Tao, in Thailand. Since we changed some of our plans for the last few weeks of the trip, the map doesn’t match right now. However, our listed itinerary should be right. It’s like paradise here, except the internet is quite pricey! So we’ll be back in touch in a few days.

Posted in Thailand | 4 Comments »

The Land of Smiles

Wednesday, June 11th, 2008

Arriving in Bangkok from Delhi could not have provided a greater contrast. We were amazed at how stunningly beautiful the Bangkok airport was. Though we wish it hadn’t been the case, we felt as though most people we had interactions with in Delhi were not particularly welcoming. Imagine our excitement when upon landing, we discover that the unofficial slogan of Thailand is “The Land of Smiles.” After a seamless transit through immigration and the baggage check line, we took a taxi to our very fashionable and ultra-modern hostel, Take a Nap. Having not gotten any real sleep in almost 24 hours, we ate breakfast at the hostel and quickly crashed into our beds, whose sheets had been washed to a shade of brilliant white that we had never seen in India. Waking up in the middle of the afternoon, we breathed in a deep breath of centrally air conditioned air with enormous relief. We had made it to Thailand.

One of our favorite restaurants (and one that will cater at our December wedding) is Rama in Baton Rouge. This Thai restaurant, run by an awfully sweet Thai woman, was our first introduction to genuine Thai food. One of the reasons why we were so excited to come to Thailand was to sample the food! In preparation for the trip, I had read that Thai people are fairly meticulous about cleanliness, so we decided to seek out our first Thai meal in the form of some delicious street food. We certainly didn’t have to venture far– dozens of vendors were just down the street from our hostel. We were so excited, and shocked, to see how many vendors had their arms elbow deep in basins, washing used dishes in soapy water! Much of the food we found in Bangkok was like this– served in settings that can better be described as street restaurants than just simply “street food” per se.

We slurped down two huge, hot bowls of soup. Full, but a bit more sweaty after it, we caught a taxi to a Thai inspired Catholic Church for mass. After mass, we video conferenced with our parents and tried to finalize a few more last minute details regarding our upcoming trips to Sabah and Ko Tao. With our sense of time a bit warped from our early night flight and late afternoon nap, we decided to go see the new Indiana Jones at a nearby cinema, since we had not been able to in Delhi.

An interesting twist to our movie viewing experience occurred before the feature film was projected. Everyone in the theater rose and a “music video” of the Thai king doing ordinary, everyday tasks (like he was running for reelection or something) was played to the accompaniment of the national anthem. Afterwards, everyone sat down and the fourth Indiana Jones movie began! While watching the movie, I had the sense that the crew must have had a lot of fun making it; it was a bit sillier than what I was expecting so I didn’t enjoy it quite as much as I had hoped. A bit hungry after the movie, we went on a midnight quest to find pad thai, likely one of our most favorite Thai dishes. Though it is likely Thailand’s most well known culinary export, we couldn’t find a restaurant serving it! Evidently, its status in modern Thailand is a bit like America’s hamburger- a bit too “junk food” to find its way into most restaurants. Fortunately, after catching a taxi to our hostel, we found some street vendors serving some, along with huge bottles of beer. Entirely satiated, we slept deeper that night than we had in quite a while.

Everyone had told us about how fabulous shopping in Bangkok was. So, our first activity of the day was to go checkout Siam Square, home to several shopping malls and countless stalls in a market area. We suspect that some dual pricing takes place there because though there were lots of Thais shopping as well, the prices we were quoted were so similar to the costs at home, we opted not to get anything. Many of the fake Polos and Lacostes that I saw were a bit too obvious, so although they were actually well made, it would have been a little embarrassing to wear such an obviously counterfeit name-brand shirt. Better to just shop at Target.

We had lunch at a noodle shop in the square, but unfortunately, Katie’s was so spicy that it made her feel a bit ill for the rest of the day. Weeks ago, I had also heard that Thailand is a great place to get custom tailored suits at a fraction of their cost. I figured that since I will need to upgrade my wardrobe from t-shirts and flip flops to something more dignified for medical school, I decided that I wanted to get several shirts and pants made. I explored several shops in the Sukhumvit area. Some were too expensive, some were too pushy, but I ended up settling on one that had a beautiful store front, a very pleasant staff, and quite reasonable prices. I decided to sleep on it, but had a good idea that I would be returning the following day. Our final activity of the night was a trip to the Suan Lum Night bazaar where all sorts of fun trinkets and things can be bought.

The next morning, we decided over breakfast to go ahead with the tailor. $25 a shirt and $40 per pants is hard to come by in the States. Here, I had full control over detail and it would fit perfectly- color, texture, collar shape, if I wanted French or barrel cuffs, chest pockets, you name it! It was wonderfully fun getting to pick everything. I decided to have a special suit made for the wedding. Considering I scoured Baton Rouge for a suit for under $250 a few years ago, I considered the $220 suit I got made from Italian Merino Wool to be quite the steal. Fortunately, they will also hold my measurements for the next 10 years, so just in case I can not come back to Bangkok anytime in the next decade, I can request to have fabric swatches sent and then “my tailor” can make it and send it via DHL within the week.

We had also hoped to obtain a wedding dress for Katie as well while we were in Bangkok. Based on a few pictures we had seen, plus a few ideas of our own, we went to go see one particular dressmaker on the opposite side of town that had been particularly well recommended to us by a friend of Mrs. Faust’s that travels abroad, and to Bangkok specifically, quite often. Unfortunately, the amount she wanted for it was almost double the US retail price so we decided that it made better fiscal sense to just wait till we returned home. Not to mention that she’ll actually get to see herself in it at home, whereas in Bangkok we were a bit limited to imagination and sketches. We had heard that “backpacker central” was this pedestrian street in Bangkok called Khao San Road. Our hostel actually wasn’t located there; it is more in the CBD. We nearly laughed when we got there, though. It looks almost like Bourbon street. It was just filled with Americans sitting at bars promoting cheesy happy hour specials or shopping at “trendy” t-shirt shops. We couldn’t tell if it was really cool, or just lame, but we left with the impression that we basically weren’t missing all that much.

We each needed to make some calls to Boston so after a pleasant beer and pad thai dinner, we ducked into an internet cafe for some time. The previous day, we had actually arrived too late to really appreciate the night bazaar– many stalls were closed or closing when we finally got there. So, from Khao San Road we caught a taxi back there. What has been interesting in Bangkok has been how closely integrated the taxis are to what one could consider “traditional” public transportation. Because we often need to transfer from the subway to the monorail to go to those areas that interest us most, it has usually been cheaper to simply take a taxi. We have felt like we’re in a Seinfeld episode- we have had lots of conversations in the back of a taxi! We got dinner at the market, bought a few things, but decided to just think about a few other ones before we bought anything else.

Bangkok doesn’t have too many sights you normally would think of as being “touristy.” It’s mostly a place you come to eat, play, and shop I think. Well, on our fourth day here, we felt as though we had to go see some kind of cultural site so we decided to go see a few temples and the Grand Palace. Thailand has had a king for the last several hundred years. The one now, Rama IX, has mostly a figurehead role, but it is amazing how much the Thai people adore him. His portrait is everywhere. (Interestingly, he is technically an American citizen; he was born in Mount Auburn Hospital in Boston because his father, who was not Rama VIII, was at the time finishing up his final year of medical school at Harvard.) Unfortunately we were not able to see either the Wat Po temple or the palace because we had taken a bit too long that morning and but were nearing their mid-afternoon closing time.

Since, I was scheduled to see the tailor at 5:30, we took off first to Bangkok’s Chinatown in search of a restaurant that I had read about in a New York Times travel article. Though we ended up sampling lots of snacks along the way, we weren’t able to find the specific restaurant. The hour was getting late so we returned to the tailor. It was so exciting putting on one of my newly tailored shirts. We checked out how flexibly I could move in it, tucked in a few baggy parts and gave my suit jacket a try. It was nothing more than a vest full of white threads at this stage, but I could tell that it was going to fit beautifully– it was tapered in a very flattering way on my torso, but at the same time, not at all restrictive or uncomfortable. I know now that I’m going to have to stay in shape during med school! After we were done at the tailor, we were fortunate enough to find a nearby internet cafe where we solved our restaurant riddle. The place we ate at was wonderful, as NPR and NYT told us it would be. I can also add that though it was better than Rama’s in Baton Rouge, it wasn’t by much. They really know how to cook! We ordered mee krob, a sweet fried noodle dish, a sauteed eggplant dish, a whole fried fish, and tom yum soup. Full and happy, we decided to spend our third night at the night bazaar one last time where I was able to buy cheaply a few very nice silk ties as well as get a few other things for our future home.

We got up early on our final day to ensure that we could visit the Grand Palace. It’s name certainly didn’t disappoint. Part of the extensive self-tour you can take is visiting the temples that are part of the palace. Never before had we ever seen such elaborate and painstaking work on a building. Millions of small glass tiles, all laid by hand, covered the temples. I was hoping we could visit the king’s mansion, but it wasn’t part of the tour unfortunately. Another part of the palace was closed for a lying-in-state ceremony. Despite the closed parts, we still believe that this was one of the most impressive palaces that we’ve seen on the trip; I’d put it second only to the Hapsburg in Vienna or maybe the sultan’s Haram in Istanbul. On the way to Wat Po, we got some bubble tea and a few snacks to hold us over through lunch. Wat Po was quite impressive; it contains the world’s largest reclining Budda, and gilded in gold at that!

On the way to pick up my shirts and suit, we stopped by Siam Square one last time to make sure that we weren’t forgetting anything that we had intended to buy. Unable to find anything, we just went over to the tailor. It felt great to put on my suit. It fits wonderfully and my name is even embroidered on the inside breast pocket. The shirts all came out well, too. It was a bit risky because it was difficult to predict how a shirt color would look on by only putting fabric up to one’s body, but they all turned out to be great. We had intended to go to bed early that night so that we could get some rest before our 07:00 flight, but between using the internet, eating dinner, and packing, we only managed to get little more than a “nap” before our alarm clock woke us up at 03:30.

I had intended to carefully pack my suit and take it along with me till we got back in July. Well, when checking into our flight for Phnom Penh, we discovered that we were nearly 9 kilograms (almost 20 lbs) over the tiny budget airline weight limit! At the rate they would charge us for oversize luggage over the next few flights, we could just mail the suit home. Fortunately, a post office was open at the airport and we were able to mail it with insurance back home. After repacking our bags a bit more, we returned to the counter only to find we were still 3 kilograms over the 15 kilogram limit! But right when Katie and I began visibly stressing about if we should pay for the surcharge with a credit card or cash, the airline employee, who by now was beginning to blush a bright shade of red, gave us our boarding passes and activated the conveyor belt. We smiled back, thanked her as discreetly as we could and headed off to passport control. Shortly after a delicious light breakfast of gourmet chocolate muffins and coffee, we took off for Cambodia!

Photos from Bangkok 




Posted in Thailand | 4 Comments »

Wild India

Sunday, June 8th, 2008

India and I just ended our two-week relationship. It was not an amicable parting. I think we just need some time apart.

Tommy probably described India better than I ever could. I think he captured the contradictions well. Now it is my unfortunate task to describe the frustrations. For while we encountered many of India’s backwards ways during our first week there, it was in our second week that they actually began to affect us in a way we could not ignore.

I should mention also, one person’s experience is not going to be the same as another’s, especially coming from different backgrounds. We would hate to offend anyone from India with our description of our time in the country. We have lots of Indian friends who have told us great things about their homeland, and we were looking forward to experiencing this ourselves. The fact that we were left a little disappointed may have stemmed from the fact that we were obviously tourists. The stares we received, the many times we were heckled or overcharged, and the misunderstandings caused by the language barrier would of course not be problems encountered by someone who is Indian themselves. We are not trying to be overly critical, only honest. If anyone feels we have misrepresented India, then perhaps we were simply unlucky. But we think we have traveled to enough places that could be considered “rough” to not overreact about little inconveniences. What we experienced in India was unlike anything we had been through before.

It began when we tried to leave Agra. Most tourists apparently do Agra as a day trip from Delhi, and there is a quick, clean, and expensive express train that will bring them there in the morning and return them in the evening. That may be why we saw so few foreigners at the Taj Mahal; we went in the evening when they were probably all heading to the railway station already. Anyone who does not take this tourist train is at the mercy of the highly complicated Indian Railway system.

Tommy’s friend Michael, who we met in Varanasi, was nearing the end of his time in India, so he gave us his copy of the rail timetable book. You would be hard-pressed to find a more complicated volume. Trying to determine how we would reach Amritsar had almost been a task beyond our abilities. Getting to Corbett National Park, our new destination, was a little easier. There is an express train from Delhi to Ramnagar, the gateway town to the park. So all we had to do was get to Delhi in time to make this train.

Since the railway book was so complicated, the train station so far away, and the internet so accessible, we decided to book our tickets online. This was our first mistake. There must be a disclaimer somewhere which states that online reservations are not actually guaranteed reservations, but if there is, we didn’t find one. After booking tickets to and from Ramnagar, we saw that they had a big “WL” on them. This, we found, indicated that we were “waitlisted.”

We went to the train station to try to determine exactly what this meant, but had a little trouble. There were lots of helpful people, actually, but the problem came again with that word “why.” It was all that was left to ask when we finally clarified that, although we had paid with a credit card online, we did not actually have seats yet. That, and how we were going to get seats.

Everyone directed us to a single window at the reservation counter, behind which was a stern man who seemed completely disinterested in helping us at all. Next to us, we heard two tourists in similar straights arguing with another railway worker. At least we weren’t the only ones who were confused. We saw a well-dressed man coming out of an office, and begged for his help. He checked something on a computer and informed us that one of us had a seat but the other didn’t yet. He seemed optimistic that we would both get on the train.

We suspect now, looking back, that no one who books online actually gets a ticket, and that the day of the train these large “charts” are drawn up with all the passengers. We think they fill in the online reservations on this chart until they run out of room, and then everyone else has to apply for a refund somehow. It seems strange, but the India Rail website is also the only site I have ever seen which closes–you can’t make bookings between 11:30 pm and 5:30 am. Everyone kept telling us not to worry, and that we would get our money back. We couldn’t seem to explain to them that we were only in India for a few days, and couldn’t wait around at a train station for most of them.

Then there was the matter of getting to Delhi. Trains can run chronically late in India. The reason for this, and the very complicated timetable book, is that one train will run for days, meaning that every delay on day 1 accumulates until, by day 3, the schedule is several hours off. It was for this reason that we knew we had better leave a good three or four hours of buffer time in order to make our train to Ramnagar, just in case. But none of this mattered. Every train, every class, for the entire day, was booked. This is one thing we can’t blame on India– we should have gotten tickets much earlier. But until we knew whether or not we had tickets to Ramnagar, it seemed silly to buy tickets to Delhi.

We hurried back to the hostel to ask their advice, and they were very helpful in getting us to the bus station to catch a 12:00 air-conditioned bus to Delhi. The bus station employees assured us it was coming. We waited. At 12:30 they said it would be a half hour late. Then they said an hour. At 1:30, we asked again and were told that it was cancelled. So was the 2:00 bus, but they assured us that a 4:00 bus would arrive.

Luckily, there is also a “regular” bus for non-tourists to Delhi which leaves very frequently. It was old, a bit dirty, and not air-conditioned, but it was just fine to us. We hopped on and were moving within a half an hour. Five hours after that, we were in Delhi, 120 miles away from Agra. We had enough time to check our bags at the train station and take the subway a couple of stops away to get some dinner. When we boarded our train to Ramnagar, we were really thankful we had gotten the air-conditioned class this time. It was so much cleaner, so much cooler, and they even provided sheets and pillows.

We arrived in Ramnagar feeling pretty well-rested. After a couple of cups of masala chai from a stand at the station (the tea in India is just always delicious), we took a rickshaw to the Corbett NP reception center in town.

“The only train into town, the Corbett Express, arrives at 5 am,” Tommy said. “Knowing India, what time do you think the Corbett reception center opens?”

“10 am?” I guessed. I was wrong–8:30. And we found a long line of people already there waiting, all Indian. Someone informed us that they were waiting for day passes, which are issued beginning at 6 am, and that overnight passes would be issued starting at 8:30. When the doors opened at 6, we snuck in after the initial onrush of people and procured a price list. It outlined not only permit costs, but also accommodation and some activities. We knew we needed a driver to get there and for safaris, and we knew a guide was required as well. But no one at the reception center seemed interested in helping us to understand how to procure either. We decided to get some breakfast, buy our permits, and then hopefully hire a driver near the reception center and a guide at the park.

We walked down the street with our bags and into the first restaurant we saw, a place called Govind. Over our pancake and porridge, the owner provided us with two books filled with comments from tourists who had booked safaris with him. Thankful for someone actually offering safaris, we talked with him about prices. He explained how it worked–everything was standardized by the park except for driver costs. Just to check, we returned to the reception center. We found one other person offering to hire a driver, for slightly less, but we felt much more comfortable with Govind. And we met two other travelers from the Netherlands who also wanted to do three days in the park. Together we booked a driver with Govind. By midday we were heading to Corbett.

The park is pretty spectacular. It’s made up of about 200 square miles, and boasts an impressive list of birds and other animal species. Of biggest interest to most tourists are the tigers, and Corbett is doing good things to take care of theirs. While tiger numbers are dropping in most of India, in Corbett the number of tigers has actually increased in the last few years. Some say it’s the highest density of tigers in India. Even considering this, most people are lucky to see one on their visit, but we were hoping.

Corbett has a lot of rules and regulations, but this probably adds to its success. Only a small fraction of the park is open to visitors, and this fraction is divided into three separate zones. Two are open to day visitors, but the largest, the Dhikala zone, is only available to overnight visitors. Even within it, visitors must stay within the Dhikala campsite, which is surrounded by electric fence, except when on safari with an official guide. Safaris are only allowed in the morning and evening; between 11 am and 3 pm, everyone stays at the camp.

We met our driver, Imran, at the park gate. He was really nice, and very knowledgeable. Even thought it was 1 pm, we had to drive to Dhikala, and Imran saw this as an opportunity for an impromptu safari. We saw baboons and black-faced monkeys, and three of the four species of deer found in the park: Spotted Deer, Sambar Deer, and Barking Deer. We also saw lots of birds, including a Crested Serpent Eagle and two Brown Fish Owls. Imran knew all of the English names of the birds, which was really impressive. Our safari guide in Africa couldn’t tell us much more except that male antelope were the ones with horns. The park is really lovely. We followed a river to the campsite, which was pretty dried up. It’s the beginning of monsoon season, so in a few weeks the park will be closed and heavy rains will begin to fill the river for next season’s visitors. The forest looked more temperate than we expected from the Jungle Book-inspired descriptions we had read, but it was beautiful.

We reached Dhikala some time later. It’s like a little compound which includes park offices, a buffet restaurant and a canteen, and several grades of accomodation from fancy bungalows to the log cabin dorm. We were staying in the latter, of course. It was pretty basic, just several bunks with rubber matresses. They gave us each one sheet and a pillow at night. There was nothing to keep mosquitos out, but Tommy and I bought a mosquito coil that seemed to do the trick. There were enough other bugs to keep us from recommending the cabin to subsequent visitors, but it was an okay place to sleep for the two nights we were there. Bathrooms were in separate buildings, and there were no working showers, so we were only able to do a quick rinse that night. The whole place looked like it had been really nice when it was first built, and had fallen into a bit of disrepair.

We got some stuffed parantha (flatbread) for lunch at the canteen, which was thankfully very reasonably priced. Then it was time for our afternoon safari. We were joined by an official guide who would stay with us for all our safaris. He too was very knowledgeable about the flora and fauna of the park. They took us on a road that went through the jungle along the river. We saw lots of birds, and the fourth species of deer in the park, Hog Deer. Along the road there were thick stands of wild marijuana plants. We heard an elephant crashing through the brush on the hill above us, and soon a small herd walked across the road. The Indian elephants look a little different from African elephants (you can famously tell by their ear shape–the African elephants have ears shaped like Africa, the Indian elephants have ears shaped like India). We thought the Indian elephants looked like they had perpetual smiles on their faces.

Another safari group came up the road and reported that they had just seen a tiger cross the road and head into the jungle. Our guide diverted us back to the main road in hopes that the tiger would cross on its way from the river. We waited there a while but didn’t see it, so we continued. We drove now into some high grass plains which flood during the wet season. There were more deer, elephants, and birds. As evening fell, the plains filled with Green Bee-Eaters catching bugs–I’ve never seen so many at once.

At night they show a wildlife video on an old film projector in an open building at the back of the camp. It was about tigers, and was in English. We watched most of it before getting dinner at the canteen and getting to sleep.

The next morning, our safari began at 5:30 am. We went along the same road, still spotting new species of birds at every turn. When stopped to see the sun rise over the river, our guide spotted a tiger moving in the grass. We all watched with bated breath as it emerged from the brush and swam across the river. It was quite far away, but even without binoculars it was a sight to behold. Unfortunately we were not the only safari vehicle on the road, and others beat us to where the tiger climbed up the bank and crossed the road right in front of them. We saw his tail disappear into the brush. We went up to the main road to try to intersect him again, but to no avail. However, we were all quite happy with what we had seen. We also went down to the river and saw the two species of crocodile in the park, Freshwater Crocodiles (huge!) and Gharials, which have very narrow snouts.

We went on a midmorning safari and an evening safari, but neither yielded much. We did see some tiger and bear scratches on trees, and we found a large porcupine quill on the road which Tommy and I kept. In between we ate lunch and set up our travel hammock between two trees for an afternoon nap. We’ve been carrying it with us for nearly five months and haven’t used it once, but it was worth it. The evening movie was in Hindi, so we got to bed even earlier.

On our last morning, we got to go on an elephant ride safari. It was something we had particularly been looking forward to, but when we arrived at the park we found out it’s actually hard to get one. There are only four elephants which can carry four people each, and Indian visitors receive priority. But we suspect Imran helped us, and we were able to do a safari. The elephant wears a saddle with a big cushion, and we climbed on with the help of a special concrete “elephant mount” with stairs. His lumbering gait made us sway back and forth, making it hard to take pictures or look through the binoculars while he was moving, but we were able to get closer to the animals than we would have in a car. Our guide spotted tiger tracks in the mud, and we followed them to where a monkey far above in the trees was making an alarm call. The guide was convinced the tiger was nearby, but combing the area produced nothing, so we headed on. It was okay, though–one tiger was all we had hoped to see!

After that, we returned to Ramnagar. Tommy and I wanted to catch a bus to Nainital, a town in the foothills of the Himalayas. Everyone seemed to agree that the bus was at 1:30, but nobody seemed able to agree where. Most people indicated spots along the main road, so we sat down to wait. Then a helpful fellow came along and told us it would come to the bus station, and insisted we should follow him. When we got there, while some people said it would arrive in a few minutes, most agreed that it stopped on the main road and not at the station. We went back in time to see it pulling up, thankfully marked in English. It was an old bus, with no air conditioning and an engine humming away beneath a metal cover next to the driver. We got to see it ourselves when the bus stalled about two hours later. A little tinkering and fluid exchange, however, and we were running again. We climbed higher and higher into the hills, with some lovely views of lakes and mountainsides.

Nainital was even more charming than we expected. Dubbed the “Switzerland of India,” it has a much more temperate climate and lots of European-style houses dotting the hills around a picturesque lake. It reminded Tommy and I more of Gatlinburg back in the States, however, with attractions like horseback riding and small theme parks and the endless rows of souvenir shops lining the lake selling mountain products like honey, candles, and wood carvings. We checked into our somewhat questionable hostel and went for an evening walk along the lake. We went in a small restaurant with lots of locals dining and had one of the best Indian meals of the trip so far. It was really delicious.

The next day, we didn’t have much time. We thought boating out on the lake would be nice, as we had seen many rowboats and swan-shaped paddle boats out the day before. Tommy was pushing for the more dignified rowboat, but they came with an Indian rower and a much higher price attached, so we opted for a white swan boat, to my delight and his disappointment. Sure, paddling along wasn’t too fast or efficient, but we were able to enjoy the lovely views and the peace the lake afforded, Indian families in passing boats taking photos of us aside. That is actually something we have forgotten to mention. Here in India, and nowhere else we have been on this trip, people want to take photos with you. We have had people beg to take pictures with us, and when we acquiesce, they will shoot off half a roll of film to get different combinations of them and their friends of family in the photos.

From the lake, we spotted the Swiss-made cablecar going up the hill. When we got back to the bank, we followed it to its origin and ticket booth. Because the cars can only fit six people each, there was a two-hour wait to go up, longer than we could afford. The top was called “Snow View,” and both of us loved the idea of seeing the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas. So we took a taxi up the hill for the same price. We were more than a little disappointed when Snow View turned out to be nothing but a circle of touristy restaurants with hawkers aplenty and a view of more tree-covered hills as far as the eye could see. Perhaps there is snow in the winter there.

After that we had to pick up our bags and get to the bus station. Prior to renting our swan boat, we had spent some time asking around about what time buses ran to Ramnagar. The man at our hostel thought they ran at 11:30 and 1:30. To double check, we asked at another hotel, where we were told noon and 5:00. Subsequent inquiries yielded answers of 1, 2, 3, and 4 o’clock, as well as a couple of people who assured us there was no bus to Ramnagar at all. Everyone seemed to agree that there were very frequent buses to another town located halfway, from where we could catch a bus to Ramnagar. So we decided we had best just head to the station when we were ready and hope for the best.

We’re used to this by now, but by “station” we don’t mean a building–it’s more of an area where the busses happen to congregate. Our taxi driver helped point out one to Ramnagar, which was leaving at 3:00. We got a quick lunch and some masala chai at a nearby restaurant and then got on. It was much quicker going downhill. We were stopped just outside of Ramnagar at a bridge where construction was going on. Someone informed us that it could be “one hour, maybe two, maybe more” before we would be able to cross. So we hiked the last bit with a friendly Indian couple who showed us the way.

Still nervous about our waitlisted train tickets, we went first to the railway station. They told us we were waitlisted 2 and 3, but that we did not have train tickets yet. We saw them drawing up the large, complicated “charts” behind us, which list the different passengers on the train. We kept asking whether they thought we would get a seat, but they didn’t seem to understand the question.

We returned to Govind very nervous. We had to get to Delhi. We knew there was a bus which could be our backup, but we weren’t too keen on spending the night in a cramped, non-A/C bus. The owner of the restaurant said sometimes there are train tickets that can be purchased for a little extra baksheesh (about 50% more). He took Tommy back to the station on his scooter to check, but even those tickets were gone. It was the bus or a very long walk. We got some samosas and snacks and headed straight to the bus station. It was a long night. We both managed to catch a little sleep.

When we arrived in Delhi, the door of the bus was filled with eager rickshaw drivers. They ignored the Indians getting off the bus and followed us, each trying to get us to ride with them. We always try to avoid over-eager drivers, who are apt to overcharge, so we kept telling them no and walked over to a man who was just sitting in his car. When we got in, one of the more forceful rickshaw drivers got angry and began arguing with the man. We couldn’t understand it, but he seemed to gesture back at us and say, “They chose me.” The other driver became even more angry and attacked our driver. Some of the other drivers actually tried to pull our bags out of the rickshaw. It was one of our scarier travel moments. Our driver got out and disappeared, and then all the other drivers began gesturing at the rickshaw’s wheels and telling us it was broken. We had heard this ploy before, when people say a train is canceled so you will take their tour bus, or a sight is closed so they can take you to another. We didn’t believe it. But our driver was gone so we got out. We walked far down the road, far enough that we lost the bulk of the crowd. Suddenly our chosen driver pulled up and gestured for us to get in. We hopped in and began speeding away, thankful to be escaping. It was 4:30 am after a sleepless night and we were exhausted.

But then, after only a few feet, the driver stops, gets out, and begins fixing his wheels! He got angry when we got out to catch another rickshaw, but he seemed to be making substantial repairs (or worse rigging the meter), and we didn’t want to wait. Just when we selected another rickshaw, a police car pulls up, preventing us from driving away. Suddenly all the other drivers are there, talking and pointing, at us, at the other driver, at the rickshaw we are in. We are completely bewildered. We tell the police, we are tired, can we leave? We’re still not sure to this day exactly what went on and why the police were involved. But when they let us go, our rickshaw driver proceeded to take us on an unrequested tour of Delhi to run up the meter. We might not have realized except he made the mistake of passing certain landmarks twice. By the time we finally arrived at our hostel, we were so exhausted and angry we could barely function. We were, however, cognizant enough to refuse him the additional night surcharge; he had driven us around so long it was already morning. The fare would have been the same had he not driven around in circles so we felt that our justice was fair. It was wonderful to go to sleep.

We slept until well into the afternoon. After a quick breakfast, we went into one of the many “saloons” in the area so Tommy could get a much-needed haircut. He decided to also get a professional shave. It was really nice, and very cheap–only 50 rupees, slightly more than a dollar. We thought for once we were getting a good, honest deal. But the hairdresser decided to throw in a 500-rupee “facial.” We were able to argue him down to 300.

Disgruntled, we headed to the subway, where we were charged 13 rupees each for tokens by the worker there, only to insert them into the machine and find out they were worth 8, and he had pocketed the extra change. We took the subway to Connaught Place, one of the major centers in Delhi for shopping and eating. We found a cinema and thought we might go see the new Indiana Jones movie, but they did not allow cameras inside, and there was nowhere to check a bag, so we could not go in. We visited a recommended bookstore and ordered a couple of drinks in the cafe, but after waiting 20 minutes we were told that they could not make our drinks, but we would have to order something of equal value because they had “already made the bill.” We had to argue a while before we could get our money back and leave. As Tommy mentioned, inquiring “why” doesn’t do much good in these situations. Even though this part of Delhi was probably one of the nicest in town, we still passed enough people urinating openly in the street to convince us that it was time to leave India. We got some dinner and hurried back to the hostel.

The next day we wanted to check out some of the markets in town. We went to the State Emporium, where prices are regulated by the government, but everything was very expensive. So we went to Chandi Chowk, a market area in the older part of town. There we were able to find masala for both tea and cooking to bring home with us. Our two favorite things about India were definitely the tea and the food!

When we headed to the airport that night, we both felt relieved to be leaving the confusion that was India. However, it wasn’t over. The Delhi airport was like two weeks in India summed up in one crowded, inefficiently-run building. First we panicked when our flight was not on the electronic board. All we had was a paper ticket we had booked months ago with India Air, and we were terrified that they had canceled it. We waited in line to check in and check on this, but were turned away to have our bags security screened first. Tommy waited in the immense line to have this done while I ran frantically to and from the help desk, trying to make sure we still had a flight. They would point me in one direction and then another. Finally I gave our tickets to someone who seemed to know what he was doing. He typed some things in a computer, disappeared for a while to check, and then directed me correctly to the check-in desk (across the terminal from the other India Air desks, incidentally). Tommy met me there. There were only three groups ahead of us, but it took an hour for us to get to the front and check in. India Air is one of only two airlines we have used on this trip which required us to have paper tickets with us that had been mailed to the travel agent back home. We think the man at the desk re-typed every single thing on the tickets into the computer.

Once we were finally finished checking in, there was immigration: a long, curving line that snaked through two forests of turnstiles and then doubled back on itself three times before it ended. We forlornly fell in step at the end.

We made it through immigration about 25 minutes before our flight was supposed to depart, and it was still on time according to the boards. Security was surprisingly quick. We made it on board, only to wait on the tarmac for about an hour and forty minutes before finally taking off. We suspect at least some of the waiting was for the remaining passengers–we were at the front of the check-in line, so no doubt others behind us were even later than we were stepping on the plane. It was with no small amount of relief that we took off for Bangkok.

Photos from Corbett National Park

Photos from Delhi

Video of a Rickshaw Ride in Varanasi

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