I'm blaming the whole thing on Bunty - or why Amritsar and I will never be friends

Yesterday, I finally made to Amritsar - but all things do not go smoothly. No, quite the opposite - perhaps my travel jinx is back just before I leave on my tour of Southeast Asia (I'm praying otherwise).

I arrived in Amritsar bright and early, without any problems, and made my way to the Golden Temple. The Golden Temple is the holiest temple for Sikhs and includes a temple surrounded by a sacred pool called the Amrit Sarovar and gilded with 750 kg of gold. It's breathtaking. After visiting the temple, I also walked around the complex - listening to the chanting by the priests being broadcast to all of us, it's strangely peaceful and soothing.

The Sikhs have a long history of inclusion and charity. Each temple, including the Golden Temple, includes a kitchen and eating hall - anyone who wants to be fed is fed for free. At the Golden Temple, this means 60-80,000 people daily - and the cooking, cleaning is all done by volunteers - it's truly awe inspiring. (pics to be posted).

After hanging out at the complex for a while, I went in search of food. Despite the free food available at the temple, I had been told about this really great Dhaba - or local diner - called Brothers Dhabha - which I had to check out. and I wasn't disappointed. The food was really yummy - but of course it had to be, since there was probably about a pound of butter in it. I was definitely steered in the right direction when given this recommendation.

After lunch, I needed to walk around so I went to visit Jallianwala Bagh. Jallianwala Bagh is a park near the Golden Temple which is the site of a massacre of Indians by the Britishers in 1919- the Brits, in an attempt to strike at sedition sent in a Brigadier General who opened fire on over 5000 Indians at a peaceful rally - killing over 1500 people - including women and children. The park is now a memorial to the fallen where bullet marks can still be seen as a reminder of the event.

I stayed at the park for some time - both to sit in its quiet and take in the scene while it was briefly drizzling. After a bit, I received a call from a couple of other tourists who I had met at Brothers - with whom I had discussed sharing a ride to the Wagah Border.

What is the Wagah Border? It's a border between Pakistan and India where nightly there is a flag-lowering/border closing ceremony. The ceremony, by the way was pretty cool - involving a bunch of goose-stepping and pomp - with soldiers walking along this short march to and fro the border in what can only be described as walking forms reminicent of Monty Python's Ministry of Silly Walks. The event is worth seeing for its patriotic air and ceremony.

But I digress, I went to meet these new found friends at their hotel, when the skies opened up and despite my having (and using) my umbrella - I got soaked. and my blackberry then suffered an early death (I'm still hoping it's a coma and it will wake up again). Fortunately, I was still able to meet my friends and we got in the auto rickshaw to go to the order. And this is where Bunty comes into the picure. Bunty was our illustrious rickshaw driver. Never get into a rickshaw with a man named Bunty. Now, normally, I wouldn't have taken an auto-rickshaw to the border - the guidebooks suggest they aren't supposed to leave the city, but at this point, my new friends had arranged for this and it was too late for anything else. So, off we went in the rickshaw and, to Bunty's credit - we did make it to the border. Of course, a ride that would have taken 45 minutes took far longer. I probably should have paid attention to how much longer, but I didn't. I figured there would be plenty of time after the border ceremony to make my 10pm flight. (intentional foreshadowing....)

The ceremony finished at about 715 - giving me about 145 to get to the airport. Plenty of time. Except I forgot Bunty does not drive at the speed of light, or even the speed of 30 km an hour. So, by the time we are getting towards town, it looks like by the time he drops the others off, and then takes me to the airport - it will be cutting things too close. and it turns out that Bunty has taken a liking to me. So, he kicks out the my friends and tells them to take another rickshaw so he can take me to the airport. I'm not in a position to argue so off we go - and I make it back in time for my flight - and in time for Bunty to ask me for my digits. Yes, my friends, this is what it has come down to - me telling the auto-rickshaw driver that he's not getting my number. I finally get away to the safety of the airport.

This my friends, is not the end of my adventure. As I told you earlier, my blackberry died that afternoon, which means that I had no idea how I was going to call my driver to pick me up when I got back to Delhi. Oh, and did I mention he had my house keys since he was watching Jai during the day?

When I left in the morning, I had told my driver that he I would be arriving back around 11. It was now 1130 and I knew he would be waiting for my call. Normally, I called when I landed and he met me outside. Hmmm, what to do? I tried putting my SIM card in another phone - and it turns out the phone numbers were saved on the hardware not the SIM card. I tried a new battery in the phone - no luck. And, no, I didn't have his number anywhere - it was in the phone! I walked up and down the area where Madan normally comes to pick me up. no luck. I walked up and down the aisles of the parking garage for three floors - for about 40 minutes. no luck.

I am just about out of ideas at this point. So, I decide to take a cab home and see if the guards at the apartment have 1. either Madan's number or 2. they have an emergency key to my flat. yes, you guessed it, no luck! AGHHHHHHHH! What now? The guards try to call management and then I remembered that my friends in J Block are back from their trek and must be home - it is after all 130 in the morning. If I can get to their computer, I can get Madan's number! Fortunately, they were home and woke up after some scary pounding on their door. I was so relieved! and within another 30 minutes, finally made it into my flat (where I found Jai resting in bed).

So, what is to be learned from this? First, carry the number of whoever is giving you a ride home from the airport in a secondary location; and second, and most importantly, don't get into a rickshaw with anyone named Bunty.

Driving Madam

So, this morning, I walked to my trainer's studio. What's the big deal, you say? Well, in most cases, this would not be novel - I walked everywhere in Baltimore, to the drugstore, the supermarket, the movie theater, the wine store (oh, wait, those are all on my block!). And that's just it, in Gurgaon, I don't really walk anywhere - mostly because nothing is really in walking distance.

However, what was novel about walking this morning is that normally my driver takes me to the trainer (I usually go at 7 am right and need to be home quickly to get ready for work). Last night, however, I decided that I would walk so I didn't have to have my driver come get me so early.

Now, I know he "works" for me and so its his job to pick me up and take me places regardless of the time of day, but I feel really guilty about having him get up really early on a Saturday, drive an hour to come get me to go to the gym and then wait around the rest of the day until I need to go out again. Usually, I try and plan my day so that I have a bunch of driving related stuff grouped together. But today, I didn't really have a lot planned between going to the gym (at 830) and going to a party tonight (at 8) other than needing to get some groceries. So I thought it was rude for me to ask Madan (that's his name) to come get me at 8 and then sit around all day. Is that odd? Am I the only one who does this? (this is obviously geared to expats)

Having a driver has been an interesting experience for me. First, let me say this, Madan is great - he isn't late, he never grumbles (no matter how early I ask him to come or how late he has to be out) and he loves Jai. He not only drives me around, but he also serves as Jai's dog walker during the week so Jai gets time out of the flat at least twice during the day. Naturally, Jai loves him too.

Madan is also a great driver. He's aggressive in a way that I could never be here and yet I never feel unsafe in the car with him AND he knows where everything is located. He's the driver the other drivers look to for directions. Then there's the added benefit of never needing a designated driver when I'm out with friends. Having a driver is a luxury I never imagined having.

All that being said, I don't really love it.

The thing is, I am an American and that means I love to drive - myself. I really miss the freedom of driving myself where I want when I want. Which can't happen if I've told Madan that I'm done for the day and he leaves and I realize an hour later that I need to go to the store for milk. I also really kind of find it weird that someone knows my whereabouts, what time I was out until, where I went this morning - all the time. It's kind of like checking in but with a total stranger.

Sure, its convenient to have someone else drive so you don't have to stop and park the car, but I've found that being stuck in traffic as a passenger is just as bad a being stuck in traffic as the driver.

Then there's the whole Madam thing. Madan will not call be by my first name. I tried. I insisted - but it was a no go. So it's always Good Morning Madam, Good Evening Madam, Where to go Madam? - I'm too young to be called Madam! I obviously would prefer to have him call me by my first name as I do him, but I've come to accept, it's never gonna happen. It just bothers me that the culture imposes this class division.

I'm sure there will be times when I'm back in the US that I will very much miss having a driver - but as a whole, I don't think I'll be too sad about giving it up.

a happy accident

Yesterday, my plans to go to Amritsar were thwarted and I ended up staying in Delhi instead. It turned out to be fortuitous and a great day.

I came home from the airport and caught a nap before heading out to do some touring in Delhi. Notwithstanding that I've been doing a lot of traveling in India, I have been delinquent in seeing all the sights in Delhi. I think it's because it is so easy to put off being a tourist in your own city, but I don't want to leave here without having at least visited most of the key sights. So, now that I have only 2 months left in India, I'm focused on making sure I spend more time sightseeing.

Yesterday, I focused on visiting memorials. I saw the Gandhi Smirti (the place where Mahatma Gandhi spent his last days and was assassinated), the Indira Gandhi Smirti (the place where Indira Gandhi lived her last days and was assassinated - with a memorial to her son Rajiv Gandhi - who was killed in a terrorist attack) and the Nehru memorial and museum (the place where the first prime minister lived/worked and died). Is there a theme here? I also went to Safdarjung's Tomb - a tomb built in the mid 18th Century built by his son (I guess this isn't doing anything to dispel the theme).

Each of the sites were on beautiful grounds and were interesting in their own right. I probably spent the least amount of time at the Gandhi Smirti since I've visited a few memorials to Gandhiji already and they each seem to contain the same information - yet I still get chills visiting places where Gandhiji had been.

Indira Gandhi's memorial gave me the impression of a family that had sacrificed so much for their country. In a way, the family history reminds me of the Kennedys. Father (Nehru) is Prime Minister of India, subsequently his daughter Indira is Prime Minister, the first son, Sanjay, probably groomed to follow in his mother's footsteps, died in an airplane accident, forcing Rajiv, the second son, into politics, only to be killed. His wife, Sonia is now the head of the Congress Party and their son Rahul is active in politics as well. A family legacy that lives on.

The Nehru memorial was not as well established as I would have expected for the first Prime Minister of India. I didn't find it as informative about the man himself and his struggles, but it was informative about the revolutionary movement here.

I'm glad that I got to visit these sites yesterday, but it was more than being able to be a tourist in Delhi that made yesterday a great day.

I stopped in at the Italian Cultural Institute for a bit of lunch and lo and behold ran into a couple of friends. After I left them, but before I left the Institute, I ran into another couple I knew. Now I know like 10 people in Delhi - it was so strange and yet so sweet that I would run into 4 people at one place (and seriously, Delhi is not a small place).

Later in the evening, I joined some friends at the Alliance Francaise (like the French Cultural Center) for some music. The amphitheater was full so a number of us (like 150 people) were standing outside listening to music (watching it on a screen) while sipping wine, eating pizza or some grilled chicken). It was such a nice evening, meeting new people, enjoying being outside and taking in some culture.

I'll take these change in plans any day.