Now I’m in Agra…

I spent yesterday afternoon on a train from Jaipur to Agra, from whence I continued on to Fatepur Sikri. I made the trip to Fatepur Sikri by taxi, which was driven by a fascinating conversationalist by the name of Sado. We talked about his vwey unusual life, including how he met his Korean wife on the train once in India, how their courtship-via-commute worked (she came to India seven times in five years to see him) and how finally told her parents if she was going to marry anyone, it would be him—at which point they finally acquiesced after years of resistance.

We talked endlessly of Korea, of Indian culture and films and history. After talking with him I am seriously thinking of writing a book of poems about the Jat Kingdom and all the looting the Jats did (a story first told me by Ritu, of course). He agreed to meet me in the morning and take me back to Delhi after taking me to Fatepur Sikri. In the morning, I was worried as he’d brought along a guide, but the guy turned out to be, as far as I could tel, not only erudite but legit. I didn’t want to ask how it was that someone who knows so much about history tours dumbass foreigners for the equivalent of about $2/hr, so I just shut up and learned from him.

After seeing the city of Fatehpur Sikri (and tons of pictures, though who knows how many are actually nice), Sado and I continued on to Agra. He gave me many warnings about things like how the rickshaw-wallahs will try to screw me out of money, to a stern reminder to be extra-careful about food due to the (apparently continuing, on a lower-scale) food-poisoning scams prominent in the area near the Taj Mahal. I complained that I didn’t wish to eat at Pizza Hut but he convinced me that it might be a good idea just the same. He also took me to one emporium, but you know, it’s almoost understandable considering how much his pay was, and I actually did get to see guys working on marble inlay work.

So anyway, all that was after touring the Red Fort. The Red Fort was great, really interesting to me. Thanks to all the descriptions from Ritu’s wonderful guiding at Red Fort, I could see a lot more in the place, moments of history, how it might have looked. It is funny to say that a friend’s description of the place could actuallymake it completely, wonderfully haunted for me… I’ve not heard any Indians tell stories of ghostly hauntings like you would hear at the Tower of London. But it wasn’t ghosts of the dead, it was more just the atmosphere of history that I could feel there. So many palaces, so many events. The guide I got there was also inexpensive and quite good.

Ah, and one of the highlights: last night I ate the first meal I’d had all day, after arriving at the Sanjay Palace Hotel (I think that’s what it’s called, in Fatehpur Sikri). My God that’s a nice little place. The food is wonderful—best dal I’ve had hands-down in all my life. Including my own dal. I also had this dish with cheese and “fruits” and which turned out to be pecans and raisins. Wonderful stuff! I repeatedly told him it was like heaven. If I’d any reason to be in Fatehpur Sikri again, I’d stay there and eat every meal at the place. Wow!

I’ve not really been eating everyday, though. It’s been a busy time, and I guess that’s part of why I’ve lost weight. My pants are getting loose. I’m not sure I can count on keeping it off… but it’d be nice!

One of the more curious things… the results from that astrologer I mentioned I’d be seeing. I got the idea when I talked to Rosie, just out of curiosity. I figured, hey, I can go blow a few measly dollars for the entertainment value. But the guy said a few things that were quite interesting. Two that have stuck in my mind, for which I can find no explanation:

  1. He said I have a great affinity for Ganesha. This is weird because I actually have reported that before; it’s something I said to John early on during this trip, I put it onto a postcard I sent to Kimberley… there’s even a scene where a drugged character in my novel has these bizarre visions of Ganesha-like beings leading him up to the clouds. So it’s kind of weird.
  2. He told me I would change my place of residence in August, which is funny; he didn’t know my line of work, or my nation of residence, even, when he said that. And such a move is a distinct possibility, or even a likelihood, barring unforeseen circumstances.

I’m still not a believer, but I certainly would not complain if what he claimed about other areas of my life were to come true. It was overall a pretty good horoscope, with other little interesting congruences with real life—like my luck (or lack thereof) with women in the past, and my readerliness (I had no book visible and was rather grubby-looking, but maybe he was betting on my weight and size, I don’t know).

Ah well… I think it’s time for me to find a Pizza Hut, as I’m dizzy and feeling out of it. I am gonna sleep sooooooo well tonight. Tomorrow evening I return to Delhi and Ritu and John’s home. Shoot, I need to find some nice little thing for Koko—I’ve given up on finding anything nice in India for Ritu and John, but when I get back to Korea I have a good idea of what will go back to them in a nice heavy box. They’ve showed me astounding hospitality and kindness.

Oh, Ritu: story crit’s done. Most of what I say is a reiteration of what I said when I read the first few pages, but I’ve written up a little crit and so on, and marked it up. Will look at it again tonight, before sleeping…

Orkut, French, and Rushing About

Since coming to India I have heard—and spoke—more French than in years. Of course, it was very little in Dharamsala, as I was still feeling quite assailed and Korean was slipping out all the time. But today I spoke with a French couple for a while, and right now in the next booth a French couple is discoursing about times for their travel plans, and I understand a fair bit of it. Whee.

As for my own travel plans, the bus-route to Fatepur Sikri is ridiculous, so I am going to catch a train tomorrow afternoon and sleep to Agra, and then catch a cab to Fatepur to see the ghost city in the morning. That means I only have a half day to do shopping tomorrow, as my train’s at 1 pm. But that’s okay. I kind of know where I wanna go, and I’ve done most of my sightseeing already. A nice rickshaw guy DIDN’T rip me off today, but took me to a ton of nice places for only 200 ruppees. First truly nice and trustworthy autorickshaw pilot I’ve met. It did me good to see that.

I was starving for something familiar for dinner, so I had a pizza at Pizza Hut. A nice, but slightly weird, freshman law student from Bangalore struck up a conversation and had dinner with me. Then he wandered off, telling me he’d be back but paying his bill and leaving. I didn’t wait more than 2 minutes for him, anyway, whilee thumbing through my Lonely Planet. Man do I feel like a white man with that thing in my hands.

I’ve decided Ritu was right, I have lost weight and it’s neat. I think I may look younger because of it.

Tonight I’ll be seeing a movie at the Raj Madir, which is basically a palace-sized theater. I’m seeing the late show, at 9:30pm, and will then head back to my room and sleep till about 7am; then I must rush to Old Jaipur, do a little shopping, and hire an autorickshaw to take me to the train station. I lost a few hours getting my ticket today, and it’s disappointing to find the night train full and having to take the afternoon train, but what the hell… I’m still enjoying my trip and I know now what sorts of things need to be planned (and checked for myself—the travel agent in Dharamsala told me getting from Jaipur to Fatepur Sikri is easy but it’s not!).

For now, I have a few hours to kill so I’ll go to the Pink City—it was painted pink as a sign of hospitality when Price Albert visited, and somehow the tradition’s been kept up—and wander among the bazaars a little, and maybe see an astrologer. I requested a past life horoscope out of snide amusement from the Tibetans in Dharamsala, and I’d love to have something to compare it with when it arrives. I’ll have to give them an approximate time of birth, but hey, it’s all hokum anyway, so what the hell.

By the way, Ritu, the movie I’m seeing is the one I said I’d see with you—it’s the only one and I wanted to see the inside of the cinema—but I’ll see it again with you, you know I don’t mind as long as it’s BOLLYWOOD. Heh. (But don’t tell John, he’ll look at me funny forever and he already does thanks to my weirdo music. Hahaha.)

So: tomorrow frantic shopping and a train ride to Agra, and a cab to Fatepur Sikri. Thursday, the ruins in the morning and a cab back to Agra, probably to see the Taj. Then the Agra Fort on Friday morning, and then back to Delhi. Thank goodness I got all my rooms booked this morning, though it took an hour—mostly because of some weird number-dropping protocol that was necessary to call from Jaipur to Fatepur Sikri and Agra. I’ve heard of leaving off first numbers, but never numbers from the middle. It was weird.

Off I rush.

More On Gord In Jaipur

Not to be confused with “Moron Gord in Jaipur”… ahem.

Well, here I am. Last nigth at 4pm I met my pack of French friends for beer and dinner and then I caught a bus to Delhi. I had SO much stuff with me but it was fine because after all I was just taking it to the bus and then sitting for 13 hours. It all fit in the overhead compartment, except my big bag, which sat in the back of the bus.

Now, that boded well for the bus trip, but assholehood intervened, to make the bus trip absolutely miserable. See, buses are designed for, well, I was about to say Indians, but let me qualify that: I think buses were designed for some kind of “average-sized” Indian from 30 years ago. So the space between the front of your seat and the seat in front of you is really quite small. Serviceable, as long as people don’t tilt their seats back, though.

But like in Korea, I always have the luck of being behind a damn 4.5 foot tall person who doesn’t need the extra room, who probably never even imagined sopmeone else having a problem with it; those are the people who invariably sit in front of me, and immediately tilt their seats back as far as possible. Now, in my case I’d bought two seats so I just slid behind the unoccupied seat.

Now, I’m not being a size-ist when I say this, but… the guy who finally clambered onto the bus to occupy that seat was only barely 4 feet tall, and that only if you count his turban. I’m not kidding: he was an Indo-hobbit. And at first, he didn’t tilt his seat back at all.

But after the rest stop, when we all got out to eat, I was one of the last to get my food, and thus one of the last to get onto the bus. Still within the time-limits, mind. I wasn’t holding people up. But when I got to my seat, I found both of these little men had tilted their seats to the full-recline position. I squeezed into the seat, and found I couldn’t even sit facing forward at all, my legs couldn’t fit. I had to sit sideways across the two seats, legs sticking out into the aisle. I banged on the backs of their seats, asked them to slide forward, and I cursed a lot in English and Korean. But they would not move, and so I was stuck in this tiny space. My only revenge was that the seat back was so low I could lean forward, hanging my arm over the front of the head and resting my head on it. That helped the calustraphobia a little, for a while, till it got too uncomfortable. But the Hobbit didn’t notice or care. I was REALLY freaking mad when, after we finally arrived in Delhi, the bastards didn’even tilt their seats back to upright position to let me out… they left the bus with the seats in the same damned position. Jerks.

After that, the 13-hour bus ride was finally, mercifully over. But then, the adventure was only halway complete, little did I know… Then it was just negotiating a taxi to Ritu’s house, which was easy enough; luckily I’d had her write her address out in Hindi for me a while back, and so we found our way after asking about a dozen different crowds of rickshaw drivers. Ah, it seemed like everything would be so easy after that…

When I arrived, Ani (Ritu’s brother) and one of his friends were having breakfast, and Ritu was up and about. Koko was soon awake and made me promise to come pick her up from school. Then Ritu and I caught up on what’s happened in the last few weeks, and I looked at the new draft of part of her novel. Chatterr, chatter, chatter, picking up Koko, and soon after I was off in the taxi to the train station. I didn’t see John as he was still sleeping, but I’ll see him in a few days.

Now here’s the thing: which train station? There’s one in Old Delhi, and one in New Delhi. The ticket didn’t specify which, of course… and I didn’t even realize there were two when I was given the ticket, so…

I could have killed the taxi driver. I asked him if he knew which station, and he INSISTED, 100% sure, that it was the New Delhi Station. Because, of course, it was closer for him. So when I walked into the station, at 2:20, and couldn’t find my train listed, I ignored the inquiries desk that had a lineup 30 people long, and just asked some men standing around the station. The whole crowd told me I ad to go to the Old Delhi station. I asked another group of men and they confirmed it, so I hired an autorickshaw driver. He promised me I’d make the train, 20 min only, and 100 ruppees.

Well, I made the train, but only because the autorickshaw driver’s death wish somehow was not fulfilled today. There was a traffic jam and he ended up taking some circle road, and I got to the station with 10 min to spare; five of which I sent arguing with the rickshaw guy who doubled the price of the ride. Finally I gave in as I was scared to miss the train and sure he and the two men gathered would flip out if I didn’t pay the full 200 ruppees; I guess also the “Aw, fuck it, it’s $2” thing kicked in, plus a realization of the time.

Got onto the train, it still wasn’t moving at 10 min after 3pm, and I read for a while — soem Don Quixote, in one of the more boring parts. Then, one old gyu climbed down from a full-made-up sleeping bunk, so I asked him if he intended to climb back up, and he said no. So up I went, and I think I slept about half of the way. Which brings me to being wired at 11:35 even with no sleep last night. Ah well.

Ah, by the way, Jaipur is a very intense place. The locals are REALLY pushy, and the animals in the street are quite messed up. The Israeli gyu I met and had dinner with told me he’d seen cows and dogs eating plastic bags, he figured for lack of edible trash. We walked past some kind of buffalo that was in obvious pain, and groaning and howling. All the hotels were booked up except one right next to the first place I tried. An autorickshaw guy strenuously accused me of not trustin him because I dismissed him instead of letting him take me from hotel to hotel in search of one with a vacancy. I insisted I could find a room for myself, which turned out to be less easy than I imagined… The guy at the counter of the first place I tried told me he had nothing for me, but was nice enough to call a bunch of other places for me to find a place, let me talk to the proprietors, but there was nothing anywhere. But I scored an okay room, in the end, passable at least for one night. I’m dying for a beer, but ah well, I’ll drop off to sleep soon and won’t knwo the difference.

Tomorrow morning I shall DEFINITELY book rooms in Agra and Fatepur Sikri. But for now I suppose I should sleep. So now, after a few emails I’ve written, I shall away to bed.

In Jaipur

I’m in Jaipur, in Rajasthan. I just thought I’d let you all I know I got through about 18 hours of transport ni thye last 30 hours, just fine. Though the cab driver took me to the wrong train station and it was REALLY close for a few minutes there!!!

More later, nice German guy waiting to go for food/beer with me.