“You will love India, and you will hate India.” Those were the words of wisdom I had received from one of my Indian tourists last summer when I told her I was planning a visit to her country. After my first week in India, I thought no words could more truly prepare you to visit that country.
I arrived on the night of Dewali, the festival of lights, the festival of good over evil. The day after I’d made my reservation, the hotel sent me an email suggesting I use their shuttle to get from the airport to the hotel. I typically enjoy the adventure of trying to find my hotel when I arrive in a new town and, in particular, I had read about the new sky train from the airport that was supposedly one of the top ten things to do in New Delhi.
As the day of my arrival drew closer, however, I found out that I would be arriving in the midst of the Dewali celebrations. I don’t typically like to arrive in an unfamiliar town after dark as it can quickly turn adventure into frustration. I had also read from reviews that the hotel was in a dark alley with no signage, so I finally capitulated to the shuttle offer and was glad I did.
The air smelled of sulfur the moment I exited the terminal at the New Delhi airport. I was excited to be received by a man holding a sign with my name on it, something I’d only seen in films prior to that night. He walked me to a miniature van that was barely held together by rivets and sheet metal. No doors or seatbelts of course, and I held my backpack on my lap lest the rusty floor give way beneath it.
Because India drives on the opposite side of the road, there was an immediate sense of thrill as we pulled into, what was from my perspective, oncoming traffic. I am not really quite sure that India has a correct side to drive on, as vehicles often drive on either side of the road. The basic rule of driving in India is that if there is a space available, it is free game, and no word can better describe Indian driving than chaos.
During the 30 minute ride from the airport I saw bicycles riding at night with no lights, pedestrians darting among cars speeding down the highway, children being held on parents laps in the front seat of the car, children being held between parents on a motorcycle with not a one of them wearing a helmet, and finally, as we made the final turn towards my hotel, I saw a cow walking down the middle of my street with traffic just buzzing around it. Already, I loved India.
Watching the chaotic nature of Indian driving is one thing, but being subject to it is another. Once I got out of my van, I was immediately assaulted by incessant motor bikes constantly honking their horns. I would spend the next several days trying to figure the appropriate way to walk down a street crowded with pedestrians, rickshaws, cows, and motorcycles dodging through at 25 mph.
There were other times when traffic would just get completely bottlenecked because there are very few signals, and when the traffic does get heavy, the selfish behavior of everyone edging into the intersection at the same time results eventually in a standstill. At one point during my visit, I actually had to lift my rental bike over my head and walk over the back of a motorcycle to get out of a traffic snarl in which I couldn’t move for 15 minutes. So my first negative takeaway from India is that the people are completely selfish and rude when it comes to driving.
The next takeaway was that Indian people are deceitful. Despite all I had read about scams, I was thwarted on my first attempt to buy a train ticket at the station by someone who redirected me to what turned out to be a travel agency. Once I realized my mistake, I left and continued to walk towards the center of town to find an actual tourist office. No less than five times I was approached by strangers asking me where I was from and how I liked India. Every conversation ended in, “do you need assistance with a tour?” It turns out that these guys all work on commission so they try to get you into a “tourist” office where you will buy a tour. Not only will you overpay for a tour at one of these places, often you are sold a ticket that is not actually real; something you don’t find out until you try to board the train.
It was frustrating for me because Indian culture was a new experience, and I was anxious to meet Indian people to learn more about it. Unfortunately every attempt ended up in a request for me to part with money. I am disappointed to say that I finally just stopped looking and talking to people, except the fellow travelers I met at the hostels and on the train.
Riding the train in India can be an uncomfortable experience for a westerner who is used to personal space, as you are inevitably seated amongst an Indian family that is usually spread out among several berths. You will experience people coming and going, constantly changing seats to talk with other family members. The children will climb the seats and visit with you, but this is one of the charms of India, and one of the few experiences I really enjoyed. If you are friendly, you can’t help but get adopted by one of these families who will share food with you, ask you where you are from, and never understand, no matter how much you try to explain, how you could be happy traveling alone.
Riding the train from town to town also exposed me to something I didn’t want to see. India is filthy no matter where you go. I had hoped that once I left Delhi, I would see less trash on the streets, but no matter where I went, there was garbage strewn everywhere. In the streets, in alleyways, in fields, in rivers. How could a country that I had always thought to be so spiritual take so little care of the earth, of themselves? I have to admit it was convenient to not have to search for a trash can when I wanted to throw something away. I just dropped it wherever I was.
The same was true for using the restroom. Not once was I stressed about trying to find a toilet while I was in India. Any wall is fair game, and I found myself enjoying the ease of use of the outdoor Indian toilet. At the end of almost every alley, there is an open urinal wall, but I would see people peeing and defecating everywhere. I learned that the saree is basically designed so that Indian women can also pee wherever they are.
I had hoped to be wearing sandals once I arrived to the warmer climate of India, but I found myself instead in boots as I trudged ankle deep in filth down what were some of the primary thoroughfares in their cities. Everywhere I went smelled of urine and the use of incense by Indian people no longer represented spirituality to me but necessity.
I only lasted a week in India. Though I was encouraged to stay by others who loved it, I just couldn’t see spending any more of my “vacation” there. Some said it was not fair to hold India to western standards. Did they mean standards like sanitation, kindness, and honesty? What I saw in India went against what I consider to be basic human standards so I left.
It was a couple weeks later that I reflected back on the words of my Indian tourist from the previous summer, and it made me laugh. I loved India and I hated India.