Saturday, November 7, 2009

delhi day 2.

day 2 consisted of 2.5 adventures.

adventure 1
to purchase the train tickets.
in light of the fact that the previous day ended on a somewhat stressful note and i had given up on all of my aims for the day and the sun was already setting. i had to leave this errand for day 2.
and good thing because it took another 2 hours.
getting to the new delhi train station is easy enough via metro.
finding the tourist bureau (which all the guides recommend utilizing) is not terribly difficult. and then sitting down with a customer service agent was proving to work out smoothly.
but the problem was i needed tickets for both myself and my friend.
"Do you have a copy of her passport?"
"Eh - no."
"We need a copy of the passport miss." (I like how one day I'm ma'am and the next I'm miss - i must have looked a little fresher on day 2)
"If i have the number, is that enough? Or is it only a copy?"
"Hm...." he glances at my travel plans, "I can do these trips with the number," as he make little check marks on my already crowded, scribbled on notes.
"Okay, great! Let me just call her!"
"Call her?"
"Yes, to get her passport number. Where is the phone?"
He shrugs.
"Phone? Somewhere? It's a local number, I swear."
"Hm... you can use that over there, possibly."
"Possibly? Eh - right. I'll try, be right back!"
And of course there is no answer or more specifically I'm greeted with "We are sorry, but the number you are calling is not reachable at this time."
Riiight....
Wait five minutes.
Try again - or rather the man behind the counter keeps trying for me because there is some dysfunctional system in which you can only dial when you hear the dial tone, but the dial tone sounds nothing like any dial i've ever known, but there are other sounds which are not actually the dial tone (i know this because i stole the phone from him and tried to use it myself to which he just smiled and looked at me patiently - i know he was laughing inside - in the end of just nudged it back in his direction and read the phone number out loud to him)anyway.
after about 10 minutes of trying the phone. in the end.
just died.
back to square one.
"Is there another phone?"
"Outside."
"Outside?"
more dubious hand circular waving and mumbles.
though he did smile.
and sent me out the door.
a bit of hunting and i came upon the public phone station with a rather friendly attendant.
Tried again. and again. and again.
Evenly spaced intervals.
Not reachable. Not reachable. Not reachable.
Well damn.

I trudge back upstairs to the office. Wait in the queue for my customer service man and sigh as i sit down in defeat.
"I couldn't get the number."
"Hm..."
He then proceeds to look at my travel plans, type into his computer, back and forth, and back and forth for a good 15 minutes.
I have no idea what numbers he is scribbling down, but he has this awfully concentrated look on his face and i have no energy to even inquire.
chai does arrive though.
i love the random little cups of chai that appear.
and finally.
he looks at me and goes, "Hmm..."
"what?"
"I am thinking about your problem."
"And?"
"There is a solution."
"A solution?"
"yes"
"okay? What do I need to do?" (preparing to bribe and counting my money in my head)
"You can go to the reservation centre."
"Huh?"
He then proceeds to tell me that the office I am currently in is tailored for tourists, but the actual reservation center does NOT require passports at all and its just down the street.
However, you have to know all the train numbers, times, etc to know exactly what you are purchasing because they will not help you.
He then proceeds to go through step by step to explain to me exactly what i need to fill out, where on the forms i need to fill it out, and where i need to present it.
i could come to love that man.
and as another chai comes and he is quizzing me on my newfound inner knowledge of train-ticket-purchasing-like-a-local and then proceeds to chat me up.
im so deliriously happy i couldnt care less.
i sat there happily. sipping my chai ever so slowly.
if for no other reason but in gratitude.
one interesting point in our conversation does come up.
i asked him
"if you could travel anywhere, where would you go?"
"to settle or holiday?"
ahh... excellent distinction.
i had never thought of it.
"well, both."
"i would settle in canada, better situation there, but for holiday.... perhaps new zealand."
nice.

adventure .5
after getting my train tickets (which all went incredibly smooth after my intense tutoring) and spending too much time on the internet it was now 3 pm and i had to check in for my bus to dharamshala at 4pm.
so why in the hell did i actually think i had time to run by a tourist site or two?
was i insane?
apparently.
im strolling along wondering where to go for an hour when a rickshaw appears and starts offering all sorts of places.
"how about the red fort?" i inquire.
and off we go.
via pedal.
not only do i showcase my fantastic time management skills, but i pick a pedaling/by foot/human power rickshaw!
and half the ride he is chattering away about gandhi and im only half paying attention - trying to enjoy my examination of delhi.
he is still chattering through alleyways and im still only half paying attention when a boy appears.
now.
im not sure how many bicycle rickshaws you have been in, but they are not particularly fast.
any young thing could jog along and keep up.
hence the boy.
and his sudden questions.
the questions i always get.
and im still only half paying attention.
and then a hand reaches out.
grabs my left breast and he runs off laughing like mad.

what - just - happened ?

um.

what?

GOD wake up woman!

and by this point in time, my rickshaw man is looking around worriedly and the boy is still bloody laughing in the distance and all i can manage is a glare and the finger (which no doubt only made him laugh more) and it takes me a few more minutes to begin wondering (and daydreaming) why i didnt jump the hell off and beat the shit out of him! little punk!
and then i get lost in the daydreaming. it was getting good too.
all sorts of righteous womanly anger.
and then we pull up to the gandhi memorial.

what?

(i was having an attentive afternoon.)

"violence is suicide."

well damn.

"where is the red fort?!"
"just look see miss, look see."
"no! red fort! i have no time!"
(it was now 3:45)
"look see and then we go"
he was already walking in.
god help me.
i follow him in, i glance at a few photos, more brilliant sayings, a few million looms (seriously how many looms did gandhiji have??) and im pulling him out the door.
"we have to go, no time."
"no time?"
"NO time. Red fort, no stop, then metro. Ok?"
"OK miss."

So we make it to the red fort. lovely large.
and red.
he stops to adjust the chain (perhaps the tenth time now) and i hop off to snap a photo - run back to leap on and we're off.
to the metro.
now.
if you ever - ever need to calculate the amount of time it takes to get anything done or go anywhere ive developed a system.
take the amount of time you were thinking of and cube it.
then add 4. or 5. just to be safe.

traffic hit.
and not even the auto kind.
oh no.
we were in another alley.
and stuck in traffic of the cow, cart, bicycle, rickshaw, motorcycle, scooter kind.
seriously not moving. barely a budge.
i was starting to twitch. tapping. wringing my hands.
the bus was going to leave me! ill never get out of this city!
god help me!
"where is the metro?"
"that way miss. straight."
"straight? close?"
"yes miss yes."
"lovely."
i hand him 120 (he meant well - even if he was an accomplice in my sexual harassment - and i could tell he was trying to hurry up after i practically yelled at him outside of the gandhi memorial)
i grab my bags and run.
or try to.
somewhat.
it was now suddenly when my experiences with delhians the past day and half inspired me.
because they shove. and push. and have no concept of queues/lines whatsoever.
for people that take damned near forever to get anything done, they are in an awful lot of hurry all the time.
and so now i pushed.
leaped. shoved. and threw myself in front of moving (though, admittedly slowly) vehicles with no fear for my life (or limbs)
and finally a break away point and i could see the metro sign up ahead.
i swear i ran all the way to that token booth and to the train and from my stop out into the street. i finally showed up to the bus location, out of breath, sweating, dirty, my bags all over the place -
and...
i missed the bus.
by 15 minutes.
it was somehow ON TIME.

what?

WHAT?

india was trying to kill me.

--------------------
tbc... ;)

3 comments:

  1. somehow, this does not surprise me considering that most times you wind up late. Sorry you missed the bus though ;)

    ReplyDelete
  2. BAAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHHAAHA

    ninja titty grabbed by a lil india boy. I'll never let you forget it....nevar!

    You know I like to have papi's efficency when it comes to being on time for things but we all know he just gave us the "oh snap we late" gene right?

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ugh horrifying about the chest grab. I hear so many stories about general harassment overseas I want a full on bodyguard if I have to go anywhere. But then they'll think I 'm rich and try to kidnap me.

    1st world problems

    Keep the stories coming. And learn a Hindi word like "Shame" if you get harassed again and yell that at the top of your lungs.

    ReplyDelete