Leaving Delhi, India and arriving in Dubai, United Arab Emirates

After my altercation with the hotel management in Delhi I decided that of course I would not be joining them on a daytime tour through the city but more than that, that in fact I had had enough of India altogether and so the sooner I reached the airport the better I would feel.

I took another brief walk with my rucksack trying to find a bus or shuttle service to the airport but as far as any of the locals were prepared to tell me there was none, although I did find a few places that wanted to see me private taxi tours to Acra for a little over 2500, almost half of that of my own hostels.

In the end I chose almost at random one of the many travel agencies price of 250 for a taxi to the airport, which was very much the standard, and after a bit of a wait I ended up sharing with a youthful Afgan guy who had lived in India for the last two years and was now under a US government contract for their propaganda machine over there.

The drive was only about half an hour but by the time we arrived he had told me plenty of how India was a much confusing country, not much worth wasting time with in its core but along its many beaches could be found plenty of idyllic places of both natural and cultural beauty. I would have to take his word for it, as I have no plans to return here, and my view was further increased when I was told that I could not enter the airport until at most three hours before flight time despite having nothing but an expensive newly opened restaurant to visit on the outside.

The five hour wait outside the cafe was long and boring, but not so hot as the weather had chilled noticibly and almost on cue it began to rain lightly but consistently for the last three hours.

Finally my three hours deadline was up and I could go inside, though once inside there was as little to do inside as outside and it was a huge relief when I finally cleared checkin and was able to go to my boarding gate. There was one moment of doubt however, when the check in clerk asked me if i needed a entry visa to visit Dubai, but I did my best to sound confident and said that I didn't, hoping that I was correct and that when I got to the other end I could indeed pass through without any lengthy explanation or delay in the airport.

The flight across was not as basic as some, having movies and tv to watch plus free drinks and a meal, but the flight was long and I arrived much later than I first thought, around 11:30 instead of 10pm. Thankfully my guess was correct and it was nice to be fast tracked past all my fellow passengers who had to cue up for visa clearance and just be waved through to the passport check line, where again I was barely registered before being stamped and passed through for travel.

Once out the other side I changed some money over and then got a airport organised taxi for 33 Dhs, which considering the time was not too bad, and the hotel was only minutes away but on a side street so had I tried to catch a bus or shuttle and then head on over it would have been very tricky to find.

I was very puzzled that despite booking it last August and paying £26 as a deposit to book my room the hotel had no record of my booking and so I had to pay the full balance of the hotel, which meant that I was further out of pocket but possibly this at least is something that I could claim on my travel insurance when I get back.

I was shown up to my room and soon was plugging my stuff in to recharge and falling fast asleep, happy and dry and only slightly miffed that the hotel had no wifi or internet facilities.

Racism and racists

I have now been travelling for around seven months and I have discovered that I am becoming a bit of a racist, but in my defence I would say that it is a racism born from being used, abused and mistreated by those who I put my trust in and should have been on my side when all others were indifferent.

 

When I book online to check out a hotel, I was chosing the hostels and hotels with not the best price, but a low price combined with the best ratings to ensure that my stay would be as smooth as possible and that perhaps I could avoid being ripped by the local hawks and touts that can be found in most airports and major train stations, especially near places considered of high importance on the tourist trail.

 

When I arrived in Delhi my hotel had arranged for me an airport pickup and charged me 440 rupees, the standard being 250 but it was early in the morning so they felt they could increase the price accordingly.

 

During the ride into town the taxi driver said that if I wanted to go to Acra then I had best use their personal taxi service as the trains were very busy, hot, expensive and booked full for weeks in advance. I thanked his for his advice and took it under offer.

 

When I arrived at the hotel the owner said the same thing and so I originally cancelled the trip til in the end the tour desk clerk convinced me that it would be worth it and again that the train was not possible as it would be very hard to book for me and be a very long, expensive and uncomfortable journey even if I could book a seat.

 

With three people all telling me the same advise I decided to trust them and so did not go for a wander to find the local train statoin myself, but agreed to go with them that day. The car's air conditioning was not working properly, it broke down twice and the traffic on the way back extended a 3 hour journey into a 5 hour journey.

 

That was yesterday.

 

Today I had no plans and as I finished my blogging early, due to being woken very early by the pigeons mating outside my room, I decided to go for a walk and randomly found the train station after a bit of walk just at the very end of the road that it was off of. At the station was a nice big blue sign saying that international tourists should go upstairs to the booking office and avoid talking to touts or locals saying that the tourist place is closed.

 

When I went upstairs I easily found the place and within ten minutes I got to talk to a clerk who confirmed that there were several trains that left for Acra each day, that a luxury train including a meal and air conditioning was only 400 rupees each way and that I could book as many tickets as I wanted for whichever day I wanted, including today, quickly and easily then and there, and if I booked in advance and didn't mind slumming it a bit I could get a ticket for a normal train even cheaper.

 

My hotel charged me 4200 rupees for a return journey that was long, boring, hot, without working air conditioning and without a meal. Five minutes up the road I coud easily get a ticket for 800 that would not be delayed by traffic and offered all the luxuries and comforts that the stuck in traffic private car ride would not.

 

When I went back and confronted the tour desk and hotel owner they were both very blazais about it all, suggesting that it was my fault, denying that they put any pressure on me to book with then, denying that they blatantly lied about how difficult or expensive the train was and refused to give even a partial refund for their treachery.

 

And remember all this was from a hostel voted #1 in Delhi in 2007 and was still receiving favourable reports when compared to other places in Delhi.

 

People who claim that racism is bad and wrong are often suffering from the bleeding hearts syndrome and are people who have never been on the rough end of trying to deal with the locals fairly and honestly. I believed that the hotel I was staying in would offer good advice and failing that would at least offer some apology and partial refund if I was unsatisfactory with their tours or advice given, but what I got was a rude brush off from a staff who unanimously gave me the go-tell-someone-who-gives-a-fuck atittude.

 

Asuming that the people who gave the hostel good reviews had even one brain cell between them it is highly likely that they gave it a good rating after visiting other places and feeling that this place was good, yet under my analysis it is not good just possibly better than the other local hostels and hotels.

 

Thus it feel that it is unwise to trust most indians, that I do not want to get close to most indians, that I do not want to visit India again and that if I never saw an Indian again it would not be a bad thing. If that makes me a racist then so be it, but I say that they started it and when confronted with their own lies and unscrupulous behavoir were neither apologietic, understanding nor made any effort to remedy the situation so that I would leave on happier terms.

 

All men may be made equally, but by their behavior, beliefs and attitutude to those around then some show themselves to be lesser men than others. If as a race of people you live off lying and cheating others then do not expect to be granted the same sympathy or compassion that those from other races benefit from, and especially not from the very people from whom you treated unfairly in the past simply by because you feel you want it. Instead be ready to receive nothing short of contempt, distrust and dislike. Unless and until you as a race can first learn to treat others fairly I feel you have no ethical or moral right whatsover to complain when you receive less than an equal treatment away from home soil.

 

I began my travels with my eyes and heart open to all and a dislike for no race, only individuals. However time and again I have been cheated and lied to and when I find out that far from being unexpected this behavoir is considered normal I can only feel that those responsible are sadly not a disgrace to their race but instead a reflection of them as a whole.

A day in India and the Taj Mahal, India

Before making any firm plans I decided to visit the Internet lounge upstairs, which moved slower than the O.A.P. queue on pension day at the post office, and also just happened to be next to the tour booking desk in the hotel.

As any good tour guide would, he did his best to engage me in conversation to figure out how much of my money he could get out of me for offering me his tour, what he didnt do was tell me the truth about how best to get to Agra or the hidden upselling cost of the entrance fee to foreign tourists who visit the Taj Mahal.

Apparently the place was closed tomorrow, not that I would have time to visit it and return in time for my flight anyway, so if I still wanted to go then today was the only chance I would have. He told me about the slow buses or the even slower stopping train so suggested that I take his companies private car but that even that would be at least 4 hours going and longer coming back with the Indian traffic, all for a cost of 4,200 IR.

What he didn't tell me what that it did not include a guide at the other end, as the driver was not a guide and knew not much about the place, that the entrance fee was a staggering 750 IR for tourists, but only 20 for Indians ( I tell you we really should be like this in the UK, it would cut down the amount of foreigners who stay here for sure and it seems like us Brits and the Americans are the only countries that DON'T overcharge toursits by standard government policy !). No, I found that out just a few minutes away from the entrance and although I paid it in the end it meant that I decided not to take their tour tomorrow daytime and my review of this hostel was not going to be so good.

The driver of the bus chatted to me as best he could for the four hours we were in transit, but he had a bit of a fixation on women and kept asking for jokes and tips on how he could seduce the female tourists that he escorted from place to place. Not the he wanted to love or marry one, of course not as he was a good Hindu Indian, but he had seen enough blue movies to be sure that western women were very open and good at sex and he wanted some fun before getting married to a clean Indian woman.

It was a hot drive and we stopped twice to pick up drinks and twice more as the car broke down, but luckily they were only minor engine stalls and semi flooded engines rather than complete mechanical failures and so he was able to coax the car back to life both times with no more than five minutes delay. We also passed at least three traffic accidents along the road which is no surprise after witnessing how overloaded they pile their vehicles, be it trucks pulling caravans, oxen pulling bags or tuk tuks carrying passengers.

Once at Agra he pulled into a parking lot almost one kilometer away from the main entrance at the western gate of the Taj Mahal, not being allowed to go any further by a barier right across the road, but told me it was direct ten minute walk and not to stop or talk to anyone on the way there, not that I had any money left which was the other reason why I was so angry at the tour guide. So it was that I passed pedalos, donkey carts, horse carriages and even Camel wagons on the route to the gate, which in the end did take me about six minutes and saved me the 150 rupees that everyone was asking for the ride at the parking lot.

The Indian government try to suggest that the reason for disallowing cars to drive all the way up is to prevent pollution at the site, but having seen how much garbage and trash is abslutely everywhere I tend to believe my own view which is that it is just a way of milking that little bit more out of tourists, as there is no way the taxi driver was going to give me the money to pay for a ride that last kilometer.

Once I bought myself the entrance ticket I was told to go to the side and pick up my free bottle of water, my free government guide ( who was not much of a informative guide but it was nice to have someone semi-trustworthy to take photos of me once inside the complex ) and also my free tiny shoe webbing, as otherwise I would have to take my shoes off at the main entrance to the white marble temple.

Walking around the Taj Mahal with my guide took about one and a half hours, all the while he patiently waited for me to take my own photos and was fairly competent at taking shots of me standing at the classic locations along the main route to the entrance.

The Taj Mahal is not the largest temple in India, but it considered to be the most impressive and spectacular to view, was built for the wife of one of their rulers a few hundred years ago and took 15 years to complete the main building and another 7 for the twin buildings, courtyard and gate houses at a cost said to be arond 14 million rupees at the time.

The history also goes that the same ruler wanted to build a black Taj Mahal for himself just across the river for his own future burial, complete with expansive bridge across linking the two for all eternity, but his eldest son decided that this was a waste of money and as he would rather spend the money on himself he had his father arrested, ( who subsequently later died while still in prison ), seized power for himself and halted the construction with barely the foundations laid for the second temple.

After the main tour my guide took me out via a second exit so that he could show me how the inlaid artwork was done by craftsmen whose descendents had worked on the Taj Mahal itself, if you chose to believe it, and after a brief demonstration led me over to a side stall where they tried to coax me in to buying an ornate box or souveneir for a family member of friend back home.

I don't often buy souveneirs as a rule and so today thanks to my hostel tour desks ineptitute I was saved the awkward dilemma of trying to whether to bargain for a small trinket of not just to make him happy, as I just didnt have anything left to give, which sort of left me free to shrug and just walk out feeling that I could not have bought anything no matter how low he wanted to drop his 'very good price' for me down to.

Palming my guide my last 50 IR note as I left, I walked back to the parking lot where I was picked up by my driver and we started off going back to Delhi. So far I had not seen anything that showed there was any real money in India at all, and knowing that everywhere has some rich folk, I asked where the rich lived in Delhi and my driver said south, so I am guessing that the north is the poor area, the central is the business district and the south is the affluent area, almost worth a small side trip to visit tomorrow.

Feeling more than slightly peckish I gladly stopped off at the McDonalds about half way back, but of course it is forbidden to eat Cow here in India, so thankfuly Chicken and fish were still on the menu and best of all was a ATM just around the corner. I was sorely templed to go for the Marharajah Burger, which looked like a Big Mac only I wasnt sure of which meat was in it and it had so much salad and weird coloured relish that in the end hunger drove me to stick to the safe option of a chicken burger meal. It was hardly food for the gods, but it was very hot, not luke warm like most places, the chips were properly cooked and not soggy and the coke wasnt too watery, so apart from not having beef as an option you could get a lot worse than trying a Delhi McDonalds.

The remainder of the ride was a bit of a comedic duel between us and another car, whose driver loved to race off ahead whenever he got onto a clear stretch of road but had no overtaking skills whatsoever and so without even trying we would catch and overtake him the moment the road got even slighly congested. Over five hours after leaving the Taj Mahal, and passing only a few big shopping malls which were the only hints of any real wealth or prosperity in India, we made it back to the area where my hostel was, where the driver dropped me off and gave me directions to find my way back along the main road.

I headed on back, changed the last of my Chinese money along the way getting a bad deal despite haggling yet better than no deal at all, and after settling my bill so I knew how much I had left to spend went out into the night to see what mischief I could find. What I found was the pimps offering to help me get 'whatever you are looking for', and rows of homeless all sleeping huddled up next to each other on the side of what passed for roads here in this area.

Of course being normally paranoid at being out after dark, before stepping out I had removed all my valuables and left them all back in my room, so the worst that could happen was that I would be robbed or pickpocketted of a few hundred rupees, but as it happened all that did happen was that I was approached by a couple of beggars til I reached the end of a main street and decided that without a map and paying for directions the best I could do was find a half decent Indian restaurant where I could try some local curry before gonig back to my hotel room and sleeping the last of the heat exhaustion away.

Arriving in New Delhi, India

As I flew in from Beijing the inflight tv screen showed that Agra was only about fifteen minutes flight away and so I thought that my trip to India, even though it is barely more than 24 hours, would still be very possible to visit the Taj Mahal and have a nice time.

My hopes began to sink as the plane landed and despite being the capital and the busies airport I have ever seen at gone 2am in the morning, it also seemed the most backward in terms of technology and clenliness. Having completed the immigration form on the flight along with everyone else, I queued up to pass through the human beaurocracy that was all that stood between me and my luggage and sleep.

I didnt mind that my teller was an archetypal dour faced Indian lady with little chatter and a face that would curdle milk and as she processed me she only once glanced up to see that I was not hiding under a false nose and glasses before tapping a few keys and then stamping in.

All around me the airport was still alive, from the mosquitos and bugs crawling on the floor, the traders calling out todays super deals and the locals lining up the all along the entrances waiting for friends and loved ones, not to mention the other passengers all doing the same as I was.

I still had some Vietnamese and Cambodian money left to change and so along with the Chinese Yuan that was left over from Beijing I headed on over to the International currency exchange clerk, a weasley guy who upon hearing my request didn't even bother to uncross his arms as he simple shook his head twice and then went back to ignoring me along with everyone else.

Glancing around I could not see any ATM's here, so I had little choice but to filter out and hope that in the main arrivals hall there would be some, but before I could look for it I spotted the hostel representative who had my name and flight number written out in large letters on a piece of paper, being the second or maybe even third time now that I have been met thus.

He wasn't much of a talker, or perhaps it was just the ungodly hour, but he did manage to give me directions to the ATM machine where it grudgingly gave me 5000 Indian Rupees, around £70, which I figured would be just enough for my hotel including pickup, a small snack and a visit to the Agra where I could see the Taj Mahal.

The pickup ride was extremely bumpy, made moreson by the unbelievable inclusion of speed bumps, totally unneccesary as anything traveling fast over the road surface as it was would be risking life and limb!

The airport was around thirty minutes ride away and although I could not see much fine detail in the darkness and gloom it took little effort to imagine the dirty and squallor that the locals were living in by the state of the roads and streets viewed under the light of hotel neon signs, packed in tight like so many sardines in a tin.

The driver said that I would be woken at 7am for the visit to Agra and when I asked about a train ride the gave the usual garbage answer that he would give to any tourists that all the buses and trains would be full and booked weeks in advance, so I would have to use their private car at a price he wouldnt disclose.

When we finally reached the hostel, after passing numerous wild dogs and driving down ever increasinly small and dingy side and back streets that I would never be brave enough to walk alone at night, I was greeted by a locked door that required plenty of knocks before the inhabitants within roused themselves and let me in.

I was tired, jarred and grumpy but still had enough wits left to ask how much the one day tour would be, to which he told me that it would be over 4250 rupees which I just didn't have and so after a bit of failed negociations on my part I just told him to forget it and staggered on up the stairs hoping that someone would follow soon and show me to my dorm room.

They did and they didn't, in that someone did finally follow me but they showed me to a private room, took my passport for safe keeping ( or so that I couldnt go elsewhere in the morning ) and then left me to my own devices. The room has aircon, a grubby bathroom and a tv that had about 40 local statoins but with so many other buildings in close proximity the chances of getting a good signal on any of them was pure fantasy.

I half chances getting out my laptop to see if any of the other hotels around had a wifi signal without success and so I just threw myself down on the bed and fell asleep to the sounds of the air conditioning.

Around five hours later I was awoke by a combination of cocks crowing, locals yelling and pigeons roosting just outside my rear view window, and once awake I decided that without ear plugs or a pellit gun, the chances of getting back to sleep were slim so despite being still a bit dog tired I got up and started making plans for the day.

Leaving Beijing, China for Delhi, India

It was with a lot of stress and trepidation that I logged on the internet first thing this morning on the Indian Embassy website and checked out my visa application status only to find out that it had "still with embassy" and did not have a time or date or completion and arrival back at the pickup point. I called them up only to hear the same confirmed over the phone but was offered here a glimmer of hope in that they get two deliveries of visas each day and that I should phone back after midday to hear if it was in the second post of not.

If my visa did not arrive today then my choices were limited on what to do and even less so if it was not hear by tomorrow after tomorrow I would also not even be able to arrive in India with enough time to catch the onward flight to Dubai in the Emirates, meaning that both flights would have to be cancelled and a new last minute flight booked taking me direct to Bahrain as a cost I did not want to imagine.

So with barely a wing and a prayer I packed up my rucksack and left to meet my up with H' for lunch not really knowing if this was our final meeting in Beijing or not. We chose a pizza place just around the corner from her work that was also nearby the Indian embassy, at least according to the map, and shared a meal all the while I was waiting to see if my visa had arrived and I could fly today or not.

Around 12:10 the Embassy called to say that my passport had indeed been returned to them with a successful application, which was good news, and although their offices closed at 3pm I felt supremely confident that I would be able to reach them in time knowing how close we were geographically.

Saying goodbye to H' I fatefully decided to try and take a bus to the nearest metrostation stop, which was along the same main road it was heading, where I could then hop on and catch a train the two stops needed to reach the visa offices, it being right on top of the station at the other end.

I had the map and the help of three locals all waiting at the same bus stop all doing our best to make sure that the bus conductor knew where I wanted to get off, yet the stop she ushered me off at didnt look like it was anywhere near a metro stop. With time to spare, but not wanting to put myself under too much pressure I asked a couple of times for directions to the metro station entrance, each time given poins and Chinese chatter in the same direction so I guessed I was in the right direction but after wandering onto a main road after a fifteen minute walk I knew that something was amiss. Either I had got off at the wrong stop or I got on the wrong bus in the first place, as I was clearly nowhere near the station which by all rights should have been right underneath me the second I hopped off.

Laziness took over next so I flagged down a taxi and agai, using the map, I told him that I wanted to go to this metro station stop, feeling very sure that he would not know where the hell I was talking about if I asked for directions to the Indian visa application centre. Twenty minutes later I was dropped off by the taxi driver who pointed in the distance and I guessed he was trying to say that it was a long roundabout and main junction and to get me to the other side would be a big detour.

However after asking for more directions and again for walking for another fifteen minutes in a circle I knew that I had been ripped off, either accidentally or deliberatly as I was miles away from the metro station and by now time was ticking past far too fast.

This time logic prevailed, and I got out my receipt for the phone number so once I flagged down the next taxi I called up the visa office direct and had them give the directions to the driver and this time I was not getting out of the taxi until I was sure that I was at the right place. So all in all I took a 1 yuan bus, a 33 yuan and a 27 yuan fare just to go a couple of miles from where I started and by now it was 14:30 and I had only half an hour til the offices closed.

Thankfully it was a lot easier to collect my visa and passport than it was to drop it off, and within minutes I was in the lift coming back down and wondering what I could do to fill some time constructively til I headed off to the airport. I killed almost an hour in the free wifi starbucks coffee bar on the ground floor after which I decided that I was just going to grab a quick bite to eat and then find the metro station that led to the airport.

It did not really amaze me to find that that along any of the other metro lines 2 yuan is the maximum fare between two station regardless of the length of the journey, but the only line that goes to the airport is the express line which has a fixed fare of 15 yuan, but what was surprising was that it was not better signposted and I had to ask at least four times til I reached a place where I could buy a ticket and be shown which platform to use.

At Beijing International airport it was nice and clean, efficient and with plenty of semi - english speaking staff all eager to help, yet their main answer was no which I later realised was more a polite "I am sorry but I dont understand what you mean or how to advise you" rather than a "no, that is incorrect or not possible here" as I was told that I could not use a laptop or the internet several times til I finally got creative and pulling out my power lead plug and waved it at them til suddenly they realised that all I wanted was to recharge my batter which then got plenty of nods as in fact this possible almost anywhere.

Checking in was not a hassle, neither was security or taking the shuttle to the E wing departure gates and I was almost in heaven when I reached there and found a business centre where I could both recharge and go online for only 30 yuan for an unlimited time ( but a bit restrictive on which web sites you access ) and here I spent the remaining time in Beijing, sat in a comfy leather armchair with a hot chocolate and surfing the net.

The flight was delayed by half an hour by a very late passenger arrival and once we took off it seemed that a few of the Indians liked playing a game of silent musical chairs, as I had at least three different people sit / sleep next to me during the 7 hour flight, but by the end I was alone. I had hoped for perhaps a movie as the flight was certainly long enough to warrant one, but I think they prefer not to show movies on overnight flights and so I just tried to ignore the dim lights, the noise, the seat hopping and the occasional turbulence til we landed a little after 2am the following morning.