Just another WordPress site
I’m always interested in the ways that technology gives us unexpected insight into the world around. This New York Times article revealed that we might be able to use google searches as an early warning signal of fast spreading flu epidemics based on the density and number of “flu symptom” searches.
And for anyone contemplating the flu this winter, 12 Flu Myths.
I’ve now made this journey twice, and just like the last, after 7 days, I can’t look out the window at the people, anymore. I start reading signs on buildings, paying more attention to the details of the cars, avoiding the chaos and poverty. By the last few days of my trip, I’m slightly torn – part of me wants to stay and invest in beautiful textiles (as I’ve only been on work, I’ve spent a total 4 hours across both trips shopping); part of me can’t wait to be on a plane back to my quiet, consistent home.
I’m currently waiting in Heathrow. By strike of good luck, I was mysteriously upgraded, so my first 10 hours of travel were quite comfortable. Waiting an hour to begin my next leg. I’m definitely overwhelmed with excitement to see my family. Can’t wait to hold the littles.
Once I’m home, have bathed, regrouped, and reflected, I’ll post video of our trip through the countryside to the Taj Mahal as well as pictures of our office.
Here’s the team.
Thoroughly enjoying first world internet. Ahhh, bandwidth!
After all the action yesterday, we took it easy only venturing as far as Canaught Place to spend money at Fab India and ride the Metro then cap the day off with dinner in honor of a baby’s first birthday.
Delhi’s Metro is like another country. It is shiny and new, and someone taught everyone to queue.
Proof.
We drove to the Taj Mahal (pronounced Tahhj Meyal), yesterday. It is roughly 200km, 4 hours drive from Delhi on a highway. Just like in the states, small towns have built up around the main road. In India, this is dangerous as it means that a constant stream of people, horse carts, jalopies powered by home-made engines from generators and scrap metal, monkeys, cows, sheep, etc. are jumping out of nowhere. Ken mused that they drive by echo-location, here, which is not far from the truth. During the day, it is customary to use your horn to signal that you are coming through, passing, turning. To pedestrian traffic, it usually means, “I’m not slowing down.” Wouldn’t you know it, 3 hours into the drive, with all the possibilities, we hit a deer. The first and last deer I’ve seen on the road. We weren’t traveling too fast – roughly 25 mph – so I have a mild headache as a result, but the thing is dead. Villagers were chasing it across the street, and from my vantage, it looked like it just jumped out of nowhere. Because the intentions of villagers can never be well known, we didn’t stop right there in town to analyze the impact, but stopped a km down the road. The car lost a bumper cover, but was otherwise fine. Thank heavens. After the stress of 3 hours of Indian traffic, I didn’t want to learn about tow trucks, repair shops and transportation. At least not without seeing the Taj Mahal, first.
Rural India surrounding Delhi is a mix of factories (large American sized), farms, and ranches. We also passed one of the largest refineries in the state of Uttar Pradesh, but our only evidence was the constant flair and a few tanker trucks. The people are more colorful. Women dress in kurtas and saris – more often kurtas – but unlike in Delhi, there are blues, saffron, plum… Most of the shops and homes in the countryside look as though their windows and doors are symbolic, as they don’t appear to be paned in glass or hinged to close. Unlike the slums in the city, those in the countryside are not closed tents, but simply rooftops. The poverty is incredible, but somehow not as jarring. I’ve been trying to figure out why these country slums aren’t as offensive to me. I think it is mainly that I knew Bangalore is competing with first world cities, as is Delhi, and that the people I interact with, daily, in business are professional, living what I expected to be at least comparable lives to mine. To see that it was not so, and their daily struggle to meet their own basic needs is so unfathomably challenging, that abject poverty they have to fight through on a daily basis was just that much more offensive. Anyway, back to the drive…
A scaffolding supply company in Noida, outside Delhi.
Roadside bar, which does not actually serve wine.
Common transportation in the small cities is very different from in the city. Tiny autorickshaws are analogous to buses. It was quite common to see 14 people shoved in every possible space of the tiny autorickshaw – kids folded in laps, strangers cuddled close together. Big trucks were replaced with horse drawn carts or bicycles, both overloaded with gravity defying quantities of stuff. Though, as this is a major thoroughfare, there were proper truckstops, too. Basically just a pile of trucks stopped at a cafe or repair tent. Approaching Agra, camel drawn vehicles became more prevalent. According to our guides, the camels migrated from Rajasthan, a more desert climate. In Noida, just outside Delhi, shops were more construction focused. There was the dirt shop which was no more than a small parcel of land covered in piles of different colored and textured dirt. The marble shop – still not as prevalent as in Bangalore, making up perhaps 1% of the shops, here, vs 50% of those in Banagalore – was a pile of marble slabs. As we headed further away from Delhi, the roadside shops were “convenience stores” and restaurants. Just as in the states, you could find tiny little structures filled with bottles of soda and water, packaged chips and junk food. The restaurants were small, exposed kitchens with patio seating strung in christmas lights. Tourism was definitely a basic part of the ecosystem, but the primary funding for these towns came from the well-established factory or farms. Although as I described the living structures seemed to have symbolic windows and doors, the actual architecture differed dramatically through each town. The farming towns had less established dwellings. The factory towns had some apartment structures that looked as though they’d been bombed and never rebuilt. That “bombed and never rebuilt” state of care is quite common across Bangalore and what I’ve seen of the state of UP, but less so in Delhi where people take pride in their appearance of affluence. (but, mind you, affluence in a purely Indian way.) In keeping with the lack of colors in women’s clothing, the buildings across UP are less colorful than in Bangalore, where it was quite common to see pink or smurf blue apartments. Dotting the landscape were random temples of all shapes and sizes. Some towns had giant marble temples – half the size of the Taj Mahal, others had small shrines down back alleys. Whatever the size of the temple, all of them contribute some amount support to the economic ecosystem as for every shrine, there must be at least one shop selling offerings of flower necklaces or rice… In Delhi, there are enforced laws zoning where you can place deities. In the smaller towns, once placed, they can’t be moved.
A big roadside temple:
Vendors selling offerings:
What is so special about the Taj Mahal? It is said to be one of the finest examples of Mughal architecture in the world. Designed as the mausoleum of Shah Jahan’s favorite wife, Mumtax Mahal, the Taj Mahal is made up of a gated grounds, several symmetrical red stone structures and the famous white mausoleum. All of this set against the Yamuna river. Incredible it is. Over the years, the government has noticed the white marble yellowing with pollution, and as a result, motorized vehicles are banned within a 1km radius. The approach is heavily guarded by horse cart, camel cart, and autorickshaw drivers all fighting for your business. Enterprising young kids identify the suckers and introduce themselves with confident handshake saying, “Remember me on your way out. I’m [insert name here].” I was targeted by young Rajan. Probably 7 years old. As soon as I started heading back to the car, the kid accosted me and with innocent eyes exclaimed sweetly, “You said… on your way out…” then smiling optimistically, “300 for these really nice postcards.” They were really nice postcards, but not worth more than 10 rupees. I countered 50, and he walked along offering lower and lower numbers, finally at the 1km gate saying, “Here. Just take them.” I tossed him a 50 and filed this away in my memories. Oh, Rajan, I wish I could take you home with me.
Common Taj transportation:
Once at the gate, the queuing began. Our guides asked what I thought of this, and quite honestly, it felt like I’ve imagined traveling with Jesus was like – a parade of thousands of people walking to one destination, being badgered by the locals. Natives get cheap, generic arcade tickets; foreigners are required to purchase arcade tickets and then pay a passage tax which is actually a commemorative ticket. Women are forced into one line and men into another, and we all must proceed through security. I must not have looked suspicious as I was basically waved by, while the natives in front of me were patted down and rifled through.
As luck would have it, by the time I reached the Taj Mahal, my camera was out of batteries, so I’ve included a few shots of the outside of the gates.
The queues.
The aggressive shop keepers.
I’m certain I did not enjoy the experience as much as I should have. It was an incredible building. Breathtaking. Absolutely incredible. And covered in literally MILLIONS of people – just beyond words! But, the 5 days and 4 hours of India around me seemed to warrant more of my amazement. I’m learning there is a finite amount of amazement. I just hadn’t used so much before in my life.
(The first picture is of my commemorative tax receipt and Rajan’s postcard book.)
Delhi has a well established Muslim population – according to one site, close to 12% of the population. Three times a day, cars and mosques blurt out the call to prayer. Muslims come in droves to the nearest mosque where prayer mats have been laid on the ground in the street. No one but the foreigners even bats an eye.
For the most part, I’m not as in love with Delhi fair as I was with the food I ate in Bangalore. Everything here seems to have a strong diesel note to it. Everything from the water and air to the food. In the food, it could be the overuse of asafoteda, a finishing spice that on its own tastes slightly of packaging. The other strong note, here, is kaffir lime, which as Cindy pointed out, is common in Thai, where I think it really belongs, but, here it leaves a … um… unpleasant aftertaste.
We’re off to the Taj Mahal this morning. I’m expecting monkeys, trash, incredible opulence, and lots of great Indian countryside en route. It is a 4 hour drive from our hotel.
One of the benefits to staying at this hotel for so long is we get the hotel car for 4 hours. We employed it to “take us to anything lit up at night.”
Which brought us past Red Fort – a giant fortress that looks as though it takes up 1 square mile, Parliament and the President’s house and the Ambassador (car) parking lot, Old Delhi (a predominantly Muslim section of town where they were rocking to wild music), Lotus Temple (below)
Cinderella’s Palace
and India Gate.
Delhi is an amazingly complex city with very distinct sectors. Driving around it is clear just how much history exists beyond the distracting autorickshaws and cows. There are tall western skyscrapers housing foreign banks in a financial district. The Indian Stock Market looks like it is falling apart with it’s economy. Together, I think the two sets of buildings are a physical analogy of the world economy. Parliament and the President’s house are in an eerily desolate area of town. Traffic cleared to a trickle as we approached except for the Ambassador cars – the state vehicle. The buildings are unmistakably English in architecture, and the roads surrounding are remarkably european with roundabouts and all. Old Delhi is where I’d send you to buy a flying carpet or see a snake charmer. The more formal stores are not high-tech as in Nehru, but actually Indian artisan crafts – lots of music stores. There are bazaars down alleyways. On our particular night, the area was lit up in what appeared to be a celebration – women in sparkly dresses, men in pious looking modest white suits. Music screeched out from behind walls. Outside one of the major Sikh temples, Sikhs streamed in and out in plain clothes with turbans and some in military dress. Sikhs are first saints and second warriors. Traditionally, they held positions guarding royalty and elite. Then back to Nehru Place, where the movement is more utilitarian – people are simply coming through on their way to buy appliances or fabric, eat or watch a movie.
Our office is on the 4th floor and has a patio overlooking the shops below.
Here’s the view:
Here’s a closeup of the cafe and barbershop
