India Trip: Day 3 - Agra!!

First off, I should tell you, "click on the pictures and you get a bigger version of the picture." Some of you knew that, some of you didn’t. Now you all know. I return you to your regularly scheduled blog.

On Day 3 we woke up early and jumped into a car to head Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. Agra is a 5 hour drive from Delhi. In America, a 5 hour drive is actually a destination that takes about 5 hours to get to. In India, a 5 hour drive means there is 2.5 hours worth of traffic where you will move roughly 30 miles in that time. In America, the drive from Delhi to Agra would take about 3 hours.

We met our driver, Dev Singh. He was the nicest of the drivers and tour guides we had. We really felt like we were in capable hands with a guy who had the inside scoop. We spent the next 3 days traveling with him to Agra and Jaipur. In a world of insane driving, he was remarkably cool, calm and funny. He bought guavas primarily for my dad.

Dev also bought me lozenges made of ginger and honey for my persistent cough and ate the package of Nerds that Shelly gave him one at a time. I also didn’t think he liked it very much.

Within 5 minutes of being on the road, he told us the following saying about Delhi traffic. “You need good brakes, good horn, and good luck. And the horror is compulsory!”

Traffic consists of cars jammed in both a parallel and perpendicular manner to your car. Despite the endless sea of cars, the sights were amazing. There is plenty to see on a long drive in India. I present you exhibit A.

I guess this is one way to get to work. I have no idea how you hit the button for your stop when you have a roof seat. But with the bus crawling at 2 mph, you can jump off with very little worry of injury.

But let’s say that bus travel isn’t your thing. You don’t like ladders. I don’t know. Or say that you have 300 various sized buckets that you absolutely, positively have to get somewhere outside of Delhi’s city limits and you can’t trust the inside or outside of a bus to get the job done. If that is the case, then you do what this guy does:

Perhaps you are facing a scenario where you are having a family reunion and all 16 of you have $3 collectively for taxi fare. Then you just have to split a rickshaw. I’m not sure if being on the roof is the worst or best place to be.

Please note that the very front of a rickshaw typically only seats the driver. You can clearly see that two are in the front seat. But you also know that the side you can’t see also has a person or two. In short, 16 family members are getting somewhere together. Of course, I’m making up the bit that these people are related. This could just be a bunch of randoms hating each other for every single kilometer.

And it wasn’t a one-off random experience. Proof that the packed rickshaw is a delhi way of life. Apparently adding carpool lanes in India doesn't make much of a difference.

I know during our wedding, some had said they never saw a car decked out in flowers. Well, we weren't making it up, people.

So those were the cars. What about the people? This picture was of a kid standing proudly with a tshirt that he may or may not have fully understood. Interestingly enough, the guy to the left is an undercover officer about to make the arrest.

We also passed by a band getting ready to go to a wedding. The wedding band in India is a little different than it is here. I guess both play music poorly, but the Indians seem much more excited by everything.

While we were on the side of the road taking a picture of the wedding band, we were trying to get a picture of the woman washing her clothes by hand. These guys insisted to be part of the picture.

Here is a socio-economic study for your. If you are poor, you smile for the camera, if you are middle class or above, you pretend that the camera is sucking your sole out of your body. This picture pose became known as "grim face". This theme returns in this entry as well as down the road during the trip. The only people who seemed to smile were people in abject poverty.

As we continued on our 5 hour journey, we came to the state line. To cross into a different state our driver had to pay a tax. While waiting, there are bunch of guys trying to rip you off with touristy novelties. These guys have their monkey’s ready for your amuzement. They pretty much come right to your car and demand that you pay if you look. So you have to be like Indiana Jones when they open the arc of the covenant. Shelly still proving she’s one of the best at getting covert pictures.

The following two pictures make me laugh. The first was taken in February 2010 on our trip….the next was taken in 1963 after Dev hit 88 mph on our faulty accelerator Toyota Delorian Hybrid. Toyota makes the Prius hybrid and now the Delorian hybrid. However it still needs roads. That’s why it took 5 hours. But alas, the two pics:

As you get closer to Agra, you start to get excited about seeing the Taj. About 30 minutes out, Dev jokingly screams out, “so here we are at the Taj.”

Obviously this is a knock off. Sadly this one was built in 1794 for Shah Jahan’s ex-wife. Jahan was a hopeless romantic and apparently pretty vindictive when he had to be. Please note the sign, you don’t have to pay a fee to enter the imposter taj. Well thank god.

In case you feel you need to look your best before getting to the Taj and want a shave, there is a guy on the side of the road for just that purpose.

I would just make sure your tetanus shots are current.

So that was essentially our 5 hour drive to Agra. I told you, it’s hard to get board when there is so much to see.

Once we were in Agra, we caught a quick meal and got to our hotel. Jay Pee Palace Agra. Despite the name bringing up the painful 5 year run of JP Losman as Bills QB, we found the hotel pretty wonderful.

The whole place smelled like a wonderful garden. And as a nerdy allergic-to-everything guy, I was pleasantly surprised by not sneezing. The hotel hooked us up with rangoli, a traditional wedding flower necklace. The hotel was sprawling. It was only 3 floors, but the building’s shape was that of two tetris pieces. To get to our room, we must have made 9 different turns. I was exhausted.

Once we were refreshed, we decided to go with the tour guide to see the Taj. I’ll skip the bus ride and the walk to the main gate. That was uneventful. Once we were inside the palace complex, you knew that the Taj was going to be as good as you expected.

When you approach the Taj, you first pass this structure.

At the top, there are 11 little towers. In the back another 11. Those each represent one year in the time it took to complete the Taj. This is interesting only in the scheme of the entire building. Symmetry is important to Shah Jahan. He designed the entire palace complex to be symmetrical. It's a nice touch that it took 22 years to complete. His idiot son ruined the symmetry.

Segue in the history of the Taj. Shah Jahan was a good guy who happened to have one really crappy son, Aurangzeb. To make a long story short less short (but still kinda long), Jahan built the Taj as a mausoleum for his favorite wife, Mumtaz. Though he was a Muslim, he respected Hinduism and blended the beliefs together. As mentioned earlier, one of the Taj’s unique design points is that the whole thing is symmetrical. Hindu’s dig symmetry. The Muslims find it offensive. Apparently only God is perfect, so to mimick symmetry is a kick in God’s face, or so the devout Muslims of that time thought. A moderate guy like Shah Jahan respected the ornate beauty of having a symmetrical palace.

When Jahan was close to completing his Taj Mahal, his idiot son, Aurangzeb, put him in house arrest and took over the Kingdom. Some would say it is fitting as Jahan had murdered his brothers earlier to gain rule of the land earlier in his life. This house arrest prevented from Jahan from ever taking a single step inside the completed Taj and was forced to see it from a distance from across the river in the red fort until his death.

This is me in his room that overlooks the Taj pretending to be a disappointed, heartbroken Shah Jahan. Convincing, I know. Authetic down to the jeans and zipper jacket.

The point of telling you the history is that Jahan’s son was such a vile piece of trash that when Jahan died, he had his father buried next to Mumtaz. He did it not as a gesture to let his father be with his beloved wife, but instead to break the symmetry of the entire grounds. It's no wonder where Aurangzeb got his vindictive behavior. His father built a fake Taj for his ex-wife. Ok, I followed that joke too far. Sorry.

When you walk into the main structure of the Taj, Mumtaz is buried right in the middle and to the left is Jahan. There is enough space on the right for another tomb. I suggest that they go and get Aurangzeb's remains and bury him on the right and restore the symmetry. I figure that sticks it back to his son.

That my friends is the quick and dirty of Shah Jahan, his idiot son and the meaning of symmetry.

As for our trip, once you get onto that red building that I mentioned about 12 paragraphs ago, this is your view.

Then you step 5 feet further and this is your view.

We took this photo to prove that the three of us made it there and weren’t using someone else’s pictures.

Our smiles may look forced because the tour guide took about 15 shots prior to this that washed out the Taj behind us.

Shelly and I also took this picture as it is our 3^rd Wonder of the World together.

What were the other two? How about this:

And this:

Once past the first photo op location, we listened to the guide.

I would like to note that my dad and I are not about to kill the guide. That is just our resting face. So next time you ask, “why are you mad,” know that we aren’t. That’s just how our faces rest. Oh and thanks for the compliment.

But we do smile when photographed. Afterall we are abjectly poor Indian people….

If you are looking at the Taj pics and asking, “are those minarets slanted outwards,” then you would be pretty observant. They are slanted outward because Shah Jahan did not want the original structure damaged in the event of an earthquake. So he had them built at an angle outward so if it did fall, it would fall away. For the record, there has never been a sizable earthquake in Agra. I know. I just jinxed it.

Now as pretty as the straight-on shots are, Shelly went into the gardens and found a couple more shots. Sepia tones always make things look cooler. As does black and white.

Apparently beautiful, blonde girls are a novelty in India. As a result, people throw their families at the blondes to be photographed with them. As we exited the main structure, this guy asked Shelly, “Photo?” Naturally your response would be similar to shelly’s. “Sure, I’ll take your camera to get a picture of all these people you know in front of this historical structure.”

But once Shelly said, “Sure,” the guy thrusted his 9 year old daughter in Shelly’s direction and snapped a picture. This was the picture I got of this occurrence.

About 2 seconds later, Shelly said, “thanks.” I guess “Thanks” sounds close to the hindi word of, “why don’t you send your entire family and take another picture.” So this is the second photo I got of this.

About 20 minutes later, a gaggle of highschool/college age boys came up to Shelly and asked for her picture. Of the 6-8 guys, they took every conceivable combination of photos with her. Each one alone, then every combination of 2 and shelly, and a couple 3 and shelly pictures. It wasn’t even the most stunning part anymore. We now knew that people wanted to get a picture with her.

What was stunning was that for all the excitement they have to ask to take the picture, most of them refused to smile for pictures. They put on “grim face”.

I wish I captured this on tape. But literally, when Shelly agreed to take the photos, they were as happy as Charlie winning the golden ticket. And as they each took their picture with Shelly, they were stone cold. It was as if Shelly told them their pet died seconds before the picture.

As we wandered the area even more, we learned that to the left and right of the famous structure are two equally as compelling palace and mosque. You typically don’t see them in the standard photos of the Taj. Both are identical as to keep the symmetry. Shah Jahan also wanted the main structure to be framed within each arch of the mosque and palace.

Hell of design idea Shah. This is the top of the dome inside the mosque. Pretty cool.

As we were finishing our tour guide instructed us to sit on a bench and reflect for a few minutes. That entailed Shelly, my dad and myself sitting down on bench, wondering what we were suppose to think about, noticing that the mosquitos were starting to come out and then haul it back to the bus.

On the way to the bus, a charming lad of about 14 years of age, slid up to Shelly and asked to sell her a book on the Taj. 800 rupees. Quite a steal. A book of pictures, many of which we just took available for the handsome price of $17.77. Shelly said no and kept walking. Then he offered 700 rupees. A special price that we were told was just for us! Maybe it’s cause we are so good-looking or maybe it’s because we are so smart. I don’t even want to make you jealous and tell you that a lot of the street vendors of India were giving us prices they wouldn’t deal give to someone else. This kid was knocking $2.22 off the asking price.

But wait, do nothing now and he drops his price more. We must have gotten more special in our 6 strides because the price just kept getting better. We kept saying no, and the price kept dropping. As he hit 200 rupees, he asked “what do you want to pay for this book.” Shelly said she didn’t want the book. He then said, he’d give it to us free. I’m not sure how that was going to work the profit angle into his free book pitch. Luckily we were back to the bus and didn’t find out how he was going to flip that on us.

We got back to the Jay Pee Palace, ate some fantastic Chinese food, saw a firework or two for Chinese new year and hit the sack dreaming dreams of one of the prettiest tributes to love ever created.

NEXT UP – More palaces, Monkey temple, floating palace, Amazing upgraded hotel at Le Meridien, Dance show.

India Trip: Day 2 - Delhi!!

So as you last read, we had just gotten our bags and were finally leaving the airport. The diplomat helpers were man-ing the bag duties, and we were walking out taking in the distinctive smell of India. I can’t really explain it. But if you’ve been once, when you get there again, the second the cabin is de-pressurized, you know you’ve arrived in India. It's not a knock on India. It's just a robust smell of spices, fragrances and industrialism. It's not bad.

We cleared declarations easily. We pretty much gave the sleeping guard a high five and moseyed out to the main waiting area. In that area our tour guide company had a guy standing there with a sign that said “Shenoy.” Our diplomatic motorcade just grew to two cars and by 3 more people.

I felt like we were Spinal Tap arriving in Japan. Unknowns in the US but rockstars in India, we were felt very loved. A huge thank you to Dr. Patel and his father-in-law for arranging for the first class treatment. We piled into one car, the bags went into another and our driver attempted to follow the bag car.

Leading up to this trip, one of my biggest joys was to see what Shelly thought of India in the first 20-30 minutes. I remember in 1993 when I went for the first time, it was like falling into the rabbit hole. Everything was so wildly different, and it all happens at once. The first shock is the traffic. Traffic is beyond anything you’ve ever seen and anything you could possibly imagine..

The roads, in descending order of mechanical power, have cars, motorcycles, rickshaws, bicycles and pedestrians. And then in ascending order of animals that you would not expect to see walking casually down a major roadway, you have humans, dogs, cows and elephants. Occassionally you'll see a camel. The camel we saw was sprinting down the road. If you can see a camel sprint in your lifetime, you are witnessing one of the funniest things ever.

What you should know (from the cars all the way through to the elephants), is that neither provide any signal that they are changing directions. They can continue straight, make a hard right, a veering right, cut across 3 lanes of traffic to make a right, or simply drive into on coming traffic because its just “easier that way”. Anything other than throwing your car into reverse is accepted. The only reason you aren’t allowed to throw your car into reverse is probably because a lot of the cars play Celine Dion's muzac version of “my heart will go on” when in reverse. The remaining small cars play “Silent Night.” I figured it was best to not ask questions regarding the song choices let alone, “why do you need a back up sound to a car that is smaller than most of the women in the heartland of America?” The key point to navigating the road is that you have to anticipate everyone else’s thought process, be step ahead of them, and be nonchalant about the stress.

No one who drives in India seems to worry about anything. I’m not sure if its because it’s a country full of spiritually satisfied people or whether everyone has made peace with the fact they most likely will die in that automobile. If you took Americans and put them into this type of driving world, we'd all go from road ragers to a higher level of road wrathers. I would also think American's would be livid at being charged to make right turns but getting left turns for free.

Hopefully the sarcasm made it through the blog.

I could tell Shelly’s initial 15-20 minutes was leaving an impression. It was impressing me all over again. We both had our eyes glued to the road as there were about 15 million stories being told in Delhi, and we were passing about 6 million of them on this drive alone.

I’d say less than 5 minutes into the drive, Shelly yanked my arm and said “oh my god. That man is peeing on the side of the road.” I think a state-side road pee-er is trying harder to hide his junk. He’s hiding behind a bush or something. In India, the roadside pee-er is pretty care-free doing his thing. He isn’t exactly facing traffic, but he’s not trying to hide anything from anyone, which of course, is unfortunate.

I’d say my Dad, Shelly and I had collectively seen about 5 road-pee-ers in under 10 minutes of driving. After Shelly’s initial reaction, her second reaction was, “two!” and then of course “three!”. My Dad chimed in with “four”, and I had “five”. As a result, our two weeks had us calling out road side pee-ers by number. It didn’t matter where we were driving to or what we were talking about. “You know the political strife in India can come down to….15…the different religions and their sense of entitlement”. “What I loved about the Taj was the…10…intricate work laid in the marble.” “We’re about 15 minutes from lunch. What is everyone…25…thinking of having this time around?” Our final count was shy of 40. Don't read into that number and say, "oh, i guess they saw less pee-ers." If you're looking to read into it, say to yourself, "i guess they just began to think it was normal and stopped counting as frequently."

When we got to the hotel, it was dusk. This was the first of our four hotel stays, and it was the first of the lackadaisical bomb checks at the hotel gate. Apparently, terrorism in India is limited to putting bombs under the front of your engine and the back of your trunk. That’s the only place security looks. For a country that just had hotel based terrorism, you’d think they’d still try to make you feel a little better about the thoroughness of the car check.

Checking in at the desk went smoothly. The tour agent took all the necessary vouchers and gave us the time of the next day’s pick up. Additionally, like a decent husband, I called prior to our trip to have roses waiting for Shelly when we checked in.

Ladies, you “ooooh and ahhh” here. Gentlemen, I raised the bar on you.

It worked out perfectly. Thank you Crowne Plaza, New Delhi! Shelly and I went to our room, and my Dad went to his. Dad got the non smoking room, and Shelly and I may have been the first people out of 4,000 people to not smoke in our room.

It wasn’t really a big deal because we were only there for that night and the next. The room had what seems to be standard issue in Asia, a button at the side of the bed that turns on and off all the lights. It’s an awesome feature particularly when you forgot to turn off the bathroom light and the jet lag is too strong to do anything about it. The room also had what seems to be totally unique to the Crowne Plaza. The western style toilet was slightly slanted backwards. So much so that your feet actually don’t touch the ground when you sit all the way back.

Surely you must be thinking, “maybe it was just your room.” But when Shelly and I met my Dad for dinner, he said, “what’s the deal with the toilet? It slants backward.” We all laughed.

Dinner had me excited. If you’ve never been to India, you’re missing some good Chinese food. I guess like how Texas and California have good Mexican food by proximity, India follows the same model. We ordered an appetizer and 3 entrees. What you should know about India is that most restaurants serve family style. So we got a ton of food. It was all delicious. Sadly, we left half of it there.

During dinner we had the joy of listening to the Chinese version of the White stripes. An Asian guy and an Asian girl, presumably brother and sister, were the entire band signing classic American songs through the aid of drum machine and their guitar and keyboard.. It was like being at a private taping of Chinese Idol...but really early in the competition. They nailed some songs; they totally butchered others. It was amuzing for music sake alone. Then we looked over, and their lighting consisted of someone turning on and off the light switch as well as dimming Christmas lights. This was the savy penthouse restaurant’s best of the best.

As we were wrapping up, fireworks started to illuminate the sky. We walked over to the window and saw that the fireworks were going off beneath us. It was an Indian wedding. See the video below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M--mkPkjSBA

If you look at the bottom middle of the screen you can kind of see an elephant at the party. That isn’t some colloquialism like "don’t discuss the gorilla in the room." Literally there was an elephant at the party. And if you look to the right near the top, you can see a white horse. Presumably, Andre the Giant found the white horse and told the groom, “and there they were. Four white horses. And I figured, if we ever find the lady…oh hello lady!”

This firework display was interesting to me because seemingly every great trip Shelly and I have been on, we’ve been greeted with fireworks. When Shelly and I arrived in Greece for our honeymoon there were fireworks. When we arrived in Bangkok, there were fireworks. It was only fitting that we got fireworks to kick off an India trip that rocked the casbah.

We returned to our room where we ate the Air India provided cheesecake for Shelly’s birthday. Thanks to the size of the cake, we could have a second slice and celebrate Valentine’s Day.

With that, we headed to bed and got ready for a 9am pick up for Monday morning. We were still jet lagged so waking up was pretty easy. We had breakfast at the hotel. The key to breakfast in India is don’t eat the Indian food and definitely don't eat the American food.

Outside of America, bacon isn't really bacon. We all know of the issues with Canadian Bacon. Indian bacon isn't quite as bad, but it doesn't look so hot either. French toast in India is uncooked wonder bread warmed in the heating tray. Really your best bet is the omelettes and fresh fruit. Also none of the juices are chilled, and they are pretty water downed. After about 3 days of this you miss the kick that Tropicana orange juice provides as it makes your entire face quench into a ball. Watermelon juice by comparison is lacking in just about everything.

Our guide, Sanjay, showed up, and we headed to the Red Fort. The Red Fort was closed on Mondays, so we just kind of took it in from afar.

At the time I was a little disappointed that we couldn’t go in. In retrospect after going to 2 million forts, 1.4 billion palaces, I’m ok we just saw the Red Fort from afar.

After Sanjay explained how the Prime Minister holds some annual speech at the steps of the red fort, he summoned two human powered rickshaws to ride through old delhi. It's worth noting that there are a ton of rickshaw guys who peddle around tons of people on a daily basis. None of these drivers have huge quads. I don't get how this is happening. If they had a protein based diet, there could be some seriously jacked rickshaw peddlers. The bike has no gears and they move at a pretty good pace.

The other thing worth knowing is that our rickshaw ride started right in the middle of a traffic circle. I definitely thought we were going to die when our rickshaw drivers decided to play chicken with a gigantic bus. Please note that the smile on my face in this picture is really just relief that I was still alive.

Old Delhi is pretty old. They aren’t kidding around. We zipped by:

- the oldest man on earth smoking a joint (sadly no picture available),

- a monkey doing a hollywood rooftop chase scene by himself,

- a sikh temple, a jain temple, and a jewish synagogue all within 6 buildings of each other.

Then we turned down an alleyway and got to see the real Old Delhi.

The buildings have been there forever. Electricity has been added as an afterthought.

I’m sure Ralph Nader would be ok with this. The markets are just jammed together like they are in Venice. But the colors were more vibrant in Delhi.

The shops are also a bit more random and more focused on weddings.

Don't ask who the white male bride of frankenstein is in the picture. We were zipping by. One “store” that caught our eye was a hole in the wall. As our rickshaw peddler maneuvered the streets, we passed kids running the store. They were selling Pepsi and what looked like condom packages. That was all that was for sale. I guess your either thirsty or horny if you go to this place.

Shelly and I were in one rickshaw, my Dad and Sanjay in the other. Of course Shelly and I thought kids selling Pepsi and condoms seemed odd, and it was worth following up. Companies are looking for synergies everywhere. Maybe Indian marketers felt sugar and condoms go together.

Later we learned that those condom packages are Paan. Paan is some nasty chewing tobacco that is popular because smoking is illegal in Delhi. Paan stains your teeth a redish color, pretty much all the rickshaw drivers chew it, and it apparently gets you high. That made more sense that Pepsi and condoms, but it didn’t explain why kids were selling tobacco.

We ended up at a Jain temple where a small Jain priest walked us through one of the oldest Jain temples in Delhi. His English wasn't so hot. He asked my Dad if he spoke Hindi. My Dad said “a little”. The Jain priest shifted gears, gave up trying to communicate with Shelly and me, and just talked to my dad. My Dad proceeded to understand every 7th word. I can't say we learned a whole lot from the temple. The paintings, however, were pretty. We also learned on our own that like most Indian religions Jains seem to love ringing bells loudly for at least 3 minutes straight during prayer. You might be thinking, "3 minutes of a ringing bell isn't that bad." but you'd be wrong. Think of it when people say an earthquake lasted for 1 minute. One minute of unnatural shaking or unusually loud bells ringing is a long time. At 3 minutes, you're hope that their god will come down and stop the bell.

We did learn from Sanjay that Jains typically don’t eat root vegetables as they feel you are what you eat. So if you eat food from the ground, you are the ground. But if you eat food that grows from the aid of sunlight, you are spiritually better off. If found that interesting, however, life without onions is no life worth living.

We left the Jain temple with our hearing in tact and rode to a fairly standard issue mosque (no offense to my muslim friends). Before we went into the mosque, we got this shot of my

It's pretty obvious that if he didn't become a fantastic radiologist, his calling was rickshaw driver. If only he had some paan and Pepsi.

We drove to Raj Ghat, the eternal flame and memorial for Gandhi. I have to say on a serious note that I was really appreciative of being there. Having read a little on the independence of India and knowing how principled a man he was, it was nice to take it in.

Perhaps it's a little odd to be smiling in this picture instead of being deep in thought. But I'm not good with serious photography.

It was here at Raj Ghat that we realized Shelly's superstar power. As we were leaving, we passed perhaps 50 school boys varying from ages 12-14. Every single one of their eyes were transfixed on Shelly. Shelly did them the favor of waving and smiling. It was like injecting cocaine into a puppy. The immediate jubilation of 50 school boys whether they are American, Spanish, Haitian, Indian or Jamacian (thanks Will Smith) the reaction is pretty much the same. High fives, big smiles, double takes to ensure they witnessed what they saw. This was only the beginning of something that would occur for 2 weeks intermittently. It was superstardom. It was like we were traveling with a white Bollywood star.

Last stop was Qutub Minar, the oldest tower that took forever to build. In fact it took so long to build that as a different generation started on top of the last generations work, you can see the actual design of the masonry change. According to Sanjay it is exactly the same height as the Taj Mahal. But our Agra tour guide disagreed. Anyways, here is a great picture that Shelly found.

This second one is after we knocked over the arch.

Just kidding, just kidding.

And with that we ended up back at the hotel. Still jet lagged, we went to our rooms and feel asleep at 6:30. We had to be up at 7am the next day to eat omellettes and then get in a car for a 5 hour drive to Agra.

NEXT: meeting Dev Singh (the greatest driver in the world), staying at a great hotel named JayPee which as a Bills fan made me shudder, seeing a fake Taj, seeing the real Taj, and watching Shelly and my dad enjoy a fig based dessert.

India Trip: Day 1 - Getting there

Last time I updated this blog was right before the Dubai trip. I never wrote more because I think the video we made succinctly wrapped up the emotions of Dubai.

We have just returned from 2 weeks in India, and yes, there are slideshows, photos, videos, etc coming to a computer near you. But it is also worth blogging about because so much happened on this trip. The pictures and the video tell what we saw, but this blog tells of what we did, what we smelled, and what we laughed at. In that sense, that’s the real part of the trip that the pictures and videos can’t really tell you alone.

One of the best parts of the trip is the fact that we traveled with my Dad. Shelly and I had a blast with him and hope we get to travel with him again. He was very easy to travel with, very observant about funny happenings, told some fun stories, and was an overall great travel partner. If he says the same thing about us would be another matter. We were routinely 15 minutes behind estimated departure times which left him waiting around for us. But for all that irritation, we provided him great pictures, decent videos, and big smiles. I’m told parents really value smiling faces of their children and their spouses.

So on to the good stuff. The Actual trip.

February 13, 2010 – Shelly’s Birthday, a.k.a. departure day. “Ewww.” I know Shelly loves seeing her friends on her actual birthday. Leaving to be on a plane for the entire day was a huge sacrifice that was not lost on me. She put on a brave face:

But seriously, she did put on a happy face:

My Dad arrived at JFK with no problems with plenty of time to make our flight to Delhi. All three of us checked in at the Air India gate. Before I describe the flight, I have to say that it has become abundantly clear to me that I have become a travel snob. I know this about myself. It isn’t pretty, but it is what it is. I try to control it like Michael J. Fox trying to make sure Teen Wolf doesn’t come out. But when the conditions are right, the Wolf, aka the travel snob, comes out. You’re going to see this a couple times in this blog. You’ve been warned. Try not to vomit.

So that being said, don’t sit there and get angry that I insist to pass the never-ending economy line of passengers for our flight 2 or 3 times asking loudly, “where does business class check in?" Don’t get in a huff that I when I see the business class desk has no line and 3 workers waiting just for us to check in, I like to look back to the economy people and say, “Only three people? Standards of business class are slipping.”

Ok, I didn’t do those things, but I may have thought those things. And for those of you tsk tsking my snobbery, know that karma stuck it to us in the end like it always does (more on that below).

We got through security with no issue and headed straight to the Air India Lounge. With all the chaos of last minute packing, Shelly and I didn’t really eat much leading up to departure for the airport. Entering the lounge, we were greeted with free wireless and some buffet Indian food. It didn’t look so great, but it was really good. It also didn’t hurt that we took a couple water bottles and oreos for the flight when we left. This is the picture of our plane getting ready from the lounge window.

Now, if you look at that picture above carefully, Air India snuffs out the Wolf by providing two gates: one for economy that boards in the middle of the plane, and one for first class and business at the front. Sure, Air India will tell you, “we’re making it more convenient for you.” But they are stealing one of the greatest joys of the trip: the economy passenger pass by.

Some people will say to you that the best part of business class is the roominess of the seats, or the full recline for sleeping, or the food, or the fact you can eat your food in a fully reclined position as you take in all the roominess. I wouldn’t disagree with any of those assessments. But for me the best part of business class is getting on the plane first and then having the economy passengers walk by like refugees being asked to leave their motherland.

I like to fully recline my seat as they look at me like a child being walked into Willy Wonka’s chocolate room. I then like to ask if I get orange juice or champagne prior to takeoff. Then I request both. I also like to open the overhead bins in front of economy passengers waiting in our business class aisles. I like for them to see how my tiny backpack is the only thing in the overhead taking up almost no room whatsoever. Then I like to remove one sock and place it in the overhead as the flight attendant says over the PA system, “Economy passengers, due to limited space in the overheads, we ask that you hold on to your coats until all bags are stowed away.” Once their shoulders slump, I remove the second sock. Then I do a couple full body twists before collapsing into the large, reclinable seat.

By making economy report right to their section, I was left with none of little joys that I had rehearsed for a week leading up to the flight. Now I was the one in an angry huff. “This is not what I paid for,” I said incredulously. Then I turn to see my Dad standing there with the look that says, “You didn’t pay for this. I did. Shut up and board.” And with that, I put aside my self-righteous tone and walked towards the gate. Think of this as Karma lite. Karma heavy is still yet to present itself.

We were finally called to board the plane and we wound through a very long gate. Shelly and I noticed this comment on the top of our plane.

If you can't read it, it says, "cut here in emergency". I can’t say that was terribly inspiring. I don’t know if its worse to think that they’ve figured out that the plane most likely will end with a crash so its worth telling people how to get us out or that the rescuers are so inept that they’ll just stand with their hands cupped over the windows looking in unless notified to “cut here”.

We eventually found our way into our seats without the economy pass by. The seats fully reclined to 180 degrees. Shelly luckily tested out the full recline before take off. Her seat didn’t go back up. It took two people to figure out how to fix the issue, but they got it working again in 10 minutes. Somehow, I know the Wolf was to blame.

Once the flight got going, we had a nice dinner and kicked back and watched 1 of 5 current English-based movies available on the entertainment system. The other 200 hours of film was dedicated to the hyper specific tastes of hindi films. So I watched “17 Again”, a Zach Ephron/Chandler Bing movie, which was surprisingly palatable. Then it was ready for bed. Shelly took a picture of the Wolf fully emerged.

When I awoke, there was only 3 hours remaining in our 15 hour flight. Shelly and I watched “Ice Age 3”, movie 2 of 5 current English-based movies. My Dad was watching the classic movie channel. Which also had 5 older, English-based movies that Air India considers classic. For what it’s worth, “Die Hard” is considered a classic.

Honorable mentions for the flight are:

• At check in, I told the lady that it was Shelly’s birthday. She said she would notify the cabin crew. Our flight attendant seemed very confused at first. Of Indian descent, she read the note in her computer that said seat 8D “Michelle Shenoy” was the birthday girl. She then approached the seat and saw a white girl. I think she double checked with Shelly 3 times to confirm she was Michelle Shenoy. She was very serious in her check. “Are you Michelle Shenoy?” “Yes.” “Michelle Shenoy?” “Yes.” “You are Michelle Shenoy, no?” “Yes.” Deep breath that suggests, “ok, what the hell, let’s give this a try.” And she said, “Happy birthday” with a big smile. She told Shelly that she had a gift for her. During the flight, Shelly saw her struggling to open the cheesecake box to give her a slice. So she came back and told her the entire cake was ours upon landing.
• Shelly asked for water during dinner. The flight attendant returned with a monster 32 ounce water bottle just for her. I’ve never seen anything like that before. It’s only worth noting because Cathay Pacific almost let Shelly and me die of dehydration a year ago. They gave us a mini 4 ounce water bottle for a 16 hour flight. I felt like I was hung over for 3 days. The 32 ounces provided adequate hydration for the 15 hour journey.
• My dad did not use the eye mask or provided slippers. He fell asleep with the seat only partially reclined. I think he eventually reclined to the full bed, but I slept longer than him, so I’m not sure he did. Somehow that seems to stick it in the economy passenger faces who would have liked to use the recline function.

This was perhaps the shortest 15 hour flight I had ever been on. For the record I’ve been on less than ten 15 hour flights, so I don’t have a huge sampling. The plane touched down at 4:30pm, Delhi time and I had only been awake for about 5 hours of it. For such a large plane, it landed ever so gracefully. This is worth nothing due to our inter-india travel. Each landing in India made you wonder if the Pilot was expecting another 1000 feet before touchdown.

We debarked with our cheesecake in hand and went to Customs. Thanks to my dad’s partner’s father-in-law (less complicated than it sounds), we were treated like Royalty. My Dad’s Partner’s father-in-law is a minister of justice in the Indian Government. He is the Indian equivalent of Eric Holder, the current US Attorney General. Not bad!

As a result, when we approached customs, there was a sign, “Shenoy”. We said that was us, and a lady took us to a separate line. We bypassed all of customs and went to a line that said, “Diplomats.” They then escorted us to a lounge to wait as someone else got our bags. This was the personal lounge we had:

I’ll wrap up this entry to prove Karma is king. For all my snobbery and Wolf like impulses with business class, Karma got the final say. Our bags had been tagged “Priority” in NYC so that they come off the plane first in Delhi. However at the Delhi Airport, the cart that held all priority bags got “lost”. Every single person in economy had not only received their luggage but had left the airport about 15-30 minutes before we even knew if our bags made the trip.

NEXT: counting the sidewalk pee-ers, getting to the hotel, watching an awful Chinese band at Valentine’s dinner, seeing an Indian wedding, and taking in the first day of Delhi!