rural uttar pradesh and delhi

Comfortable private transport, unlike accommodation, is inexpensive in India, and so I hired a car with a driver for four days to explore the northern rural areas of Haryana and Uttar Pradesh states, and deliver me to my final stop in Delhi. Which brings me to considering the way people travel on the roads here… I was impressed by the ingenuity and grace of women riding sidesaddle on the backs of motorcycles with babies in their arms and a second child artfully folded between father and mother. It is no news that helmets and safety precautions are only the vaguest of suggestions for drivers of all vehicles. As I people watched from the backseat of a car which was itself diving in and out of traffic with wild abandon, there were many times I just closed my eyes. Motorized pedi cabs (tuk tuks) intended to hold two adults in the back regularly hold 6 to 8 while trucks tear down the potholed roads with 30 people perched high on top of the load. India has a crazed new love affair with the car, and has produced a number of very cheap ones, most recently Tata’s Nano, which sells for about $2K. In the country, there was still room on the roads, but in Delhi, as with other cities, the roads seemed choked past capacity already, with unbearably dense air pollution, and I wonder how this country will adapt to a car revolution.

I found myself surprisingly drawn to India’s northern countryside, with its vast, flat expanses of farmlands, village paths, and huge shady trees. Here is where I came across some of the sights I found most magical. Families of wild monkeys playing by a river, a working train of a dozen camels haughtily towing massive loads, a cattle drive of hundreds of miles (led by barefoot boys) taking over roads, snake handlers, and ingenious rail thin men who ran entire shops and tailoring businesses off lovingly customized bicycles.

Cities in India were a surprise for me because I usually find many things to love in urban settings and am less in tune with countrysides. This trip, it was reversed. In cities, I found the level of harassment as a woman on the street made it difficult to discover or enjoy the beautiful aspects, and the urban overcrowding, slums and pollution for me outweighed the aesthetic pleasures. In the country, I felt relieved with the presence of open clear sky, space for people, and quiet.

On the last day in Delhi, I went to visit Raj Ghat, the cremation site of Mahatma Gandhi, and spent my final hour at midnight watching the dessert wallahs ply their trade on the sidewalk. Eight hours later I flew to England and spent a gloriously peaceful two days in the quiet hills of Devon.

For more photos, please check my flickr page.

the taj mahal

The Taj Mahal is an extraordinary complex of mausoleum, guest house, mosque and gardens, which is one of the seven wonders of the world. To miss the crowds, I arrived at 6 am by rickshaw as the last two miles surrounding the Taj Mahal is not open to cars. The air pollution here in Agra, as in most congested areas of India, is extreme, but cannot detract for me from the overwhelming and mystic, if also somewhat cryptic beauty of this monument of love for a lost wife.

In the 1630s, the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan wanted to build a perfect memorial to his favourite wife, Mumtaz Mahal after she died giving birth to their 14th child. He employed twenty thousand workers, and a thousand elephants to complete the structure, which still reflects the greatest talents of Persian design.

The main focus is the white marble tomb (photography is prohibited inside) which has a spectacular marble dome. At the corners of the plinth stand four minarets, each more than 40 metres tall, and perfectly symmetrical. Because of the Islamic prohibition on the depiction of human forms, the Taj Mahal is decorated with flower and leaf motifs (inlaid with semi-precious stones), geometric patterns and Arabic calligraphy which depicts passages from the Qur'an.

The garden is meant to symbolize paradise. In contrast to the white marble of the tomb, the mosque, guest house and gatehouse are made of dark, red sandstone.

goa

To travel the 300 miles from Mumbai to Goa on the Manavi Express train took 12 hours and endless tiny cups of sweet tea from the friendly circulating chai wallahs. Cockroaches crawled across my first class sleeping berth, but I didn't mind- I was too happy to be leaving Mumbai.

Entering Goa feels like stepping into such a different world that you have to pinch yourself. It is a small coastal state with just under 2 million people; the sky is clear and large, and the air is clean, with the ocean always close by on the west and a small mountain range to the east. Goa was a Portuguese colony until 1961, and local religion, customs, and way of life reflect this influence with white washed churches from the 1800s, and ubiquitous five-point star lights in every home and establishment, side by side with Hindu temples. I was especially captivated by the star lights. At night, you can see hundreds of them glowing against the darkness in every colour imaginable.

It's definitely not the '70s anymore- most of the hippies are long gone- and while Goa still has some laid back, long term beach visitors, raves with Goan trance music are happening less here than an explosion of packaged tourism and a hot real estate market, particularly for the British, Russians (there is a surprising amount of vodka and Versace), and more recently, the newly wealthy from India, seeking vacation homes. This is a place to relax on the beach, and in a delightful twist, a place where cows rule that beach.

For more photos of Goa, please check my flickr page.

mumbai

A city physically smaller than Toronto, absolutely heaving with its 18 million inhabitants. Thousands of millionaires live in urbane, tropical luxury while steps away, 9 million Mumbaikers live in street slums on $2 per day- life without housing, clean water or sanitation. A frenzied hot zone with endless racing commerce, ambition and organized crime, and a steady schedule of overloaded trains packed with Indian migrants from the countryside hoping to get lucky in this overheated metropolis.

Walking the streets I found overwhelming- being face to face with clashing opposite worlds every few blocks. Real estate more expensive than Manhattan's morphs into endless communities of beggars on streets and in medieval markets; swarms of black and yellow taxis play impossible games of chicken on potholed, broken roads without street lights or signs. Time warped Victorian architecture in lush colonial gardens circa 1880 looks out at tiny street urchins, 4 or 5 years old, begging on traffic medians and racing through deadly traffic to no one's concern. Air conditioned SUVs carry the new upper middle class as their private drivers deposit them along a daily circuit of luxurious stores and expensive restaurants and armed guards keep the unwanted out of their rarefied retail world.

The air pollution is crippling, while swirling dust, filth and trash are omnipresent. Yet, almost magically, Mumbaikers are usually immaculate; dressed in pristine, styled and pressed clothing, regardless of station. Rickshaw drivers and food vendors show more pride in their appearance than most of the North American middle class.

There is fierce ambition and creative energy in this city which houses the nation’s film industry, playboy millionaires and much of its aggressive business development, but the abandonment of half of its people to the worst penury in teeming slums make this place one of the strangest, most unsettling, and sometimes odious I have visited.

For more photos and thoughts on Mumbai, please check my flickr page.

my rajasthani elephant

Back in the land of snow and abundant internet access... some photos are up (encountering this beautiful and friendly elephant was one my favourite moments in India). Stories will follow as soon as I get through exams this week. Stay warm and enjoy London FW!

xx Adeleine

P.S. Happy Birthday P!