Cochin-->Delhi

13 March 2012

            Another airline on another continent.  We (me, Colleen, Abby) got off the ship and negotiated with a taxi driver on the price to get to the airport.  Since it was 4:30am and no one else was around, he was able to rip us off.  We drove through the heart of Cochin and I stayed focused on the road and the surroundings.  Even though I was exhausted and feeling crappy from my food the night before, I refused to take my eyes off the road.  There was no one around at this time; the city actually sleeps. After our driver sped through what little traffic there was, honking at anyone we passed or wanted to pass, we got to the airport.  In order to even step inside the lobby, we needed to have an e-ticket with our confirmation and proof of purchase.  Colleen did not have hers, so we had to explain to the security guard that spoke broken English what our situation was.  I was convinced we weren't all going to make it on the plane at that point.  After pointing and using multiple hand gestures, he finally understood and she got it printed and made it into the lobby.

            The security checkpoint has two different lines: one for male, another for female. After we placed our bag on the belt to go through the x-ray machine, we walked through the metal detector. Even if it went off, the security officials would ignore it and use a hand-held detector and frisk us in a curtained-off room.  Once we were through security, they stamped our luggage tags to verify that the bag has been through security.  How would a bag even make it through security without being checked?  The airport was filled with SASers going on all kinds of trips all over the country.  We were going to Delhi and Agra.  Many were doing the same thing but some went to Jaipur as well.  We boarded our flight to Chennai, where we had a layover on our way to Dubai.  Of course I got stuck next to one of the only fat men in India. Most of the people on the airplane were men. Indians have a very different view on women than we, as a western country, do.  Very few women are high up in the corporate ladder and many stay at home with their children.  They still go to school for continuing education, but their main goal and purpose is to reproduce and serve their husbands and extended family.

            Once we arrived in Chennai, I ventured into the bathroom. There was a long line I've noticed Indians have been cutting me, so when the door marked 'IWC' opened, I ran into the bathroom.  I should've waited for what was behind the door marked 'EWC'.  I thought the 'EWC' was the normal toilet and I was definitely correct.  'IWC' was a hole in the floor that looked like a urinal flipped upside down.  I put my feet on the marks on the side, pulled down my pants, and prayed I would not fall in.  After successfully aiming away from my feet, I carefully stepped forward and lifted up my pants.  There was a hose in the bathroom and every other bathroom I went to; still not sure of the purpose.  I walked out of the bathroom in shock.  The Indian women had smiles that were mixtures of snickers, confusion, and pity.

            Still shocked from peeing in a hole, after I went through security again I was hungry.  I knew I had to buy packaged goods in order to stop feeling sick.  I bought a bottle of water and a can of Pringles and went back to my seat.  As I opened the bottle of water, I listened for the clicks when the plastic breaks. It made the comforting noise and I enjoyed my first sip of water of the day.  The Pringles can was a different story.  I opened the top, expecting to peel off the second 'fresh-keeper' label.  To my astonishment and horror, the top was already opened and half of the Pringles were gone.  At first I was just going to throw away the can and not eat anything.  Then I got angry.  Did they think that because I'm not Indian that I wouldn't notice the lack of chips or freshness?  I marched up to the snack counter and explained that half the chips were gone and that it was previously opened.  He examined the contents then handed me a new can.  I expected him to throw away the obviously used can of Pringles, but instead he placed the can back on the shelves and started to help the next customer.

            I eventually got over the way they handled the Pringles situation and boarded the plane to Delhi.  Once we arrived in Delhi, we walked outside and were greeted by the driver for the hotel we were staying at, Aster Inn.  The driver was holding a sign with friend's name on it and I got really excited—I've always wanted someone to hold my name or my friend's name on a sign at an airport! The three of us got into the small car and drove through Delhi to our hotel. Throughout the drive we were weaving in and out of the lanes and at some points I swore we were in complete gridlock. After about a hundred honks of the horn and close calls with the tuc tucs and moped drivers, we made it to the hotel. 

            The hotel was in a weird area, surrounded by auto repair shops.  The front and inside of the hotel reminded me of a small hotel in NYC.  Everyone at the reception was really accommodating and friendly.  Once we placed our bags down and freshened up, we hailed down a tuc tuc to take us to Cannaught Place circle. The concierge at the hotel told us to only pay 50 rupees maximum to get to Cannaught Place, so when one driver told us it was going to be 200 rupees we walked away from him.  There were 5 tuc tucs following us, trying to get us to pay way more than we were advised to.  The drivers rip off the tourists because they know they can get more money from us.  One driver told us it would be 20 rupees to get to our location, so we hopped in his tuc tuc.  He took us to a store that was in a small circle of shops and we thought we were at the correct location.  Since we were sick of being hustled, we did not buy anything in the store and started to walk around the circle.  This was definitely not the right circle.  We walked around it at least 5 times, attempting to use the poorly written map and non-english speaking store owners to guide us.  Finally we understood where we were. We were about 2 kilometers away from our desired destination. Instead of risking the tuc tucs taking us to the wrong place again, we walked down the long road to the correct circle.  So much for attempting to pay less for a tuc tuc.

            Cannaught place was in a nicer part of town and was lined with many shops.  Similar to Times Square, it had many international brands of clothing and food.  We found a hookah bar and decided to have a snack and a drink. Women are frowned upon when they smoke and drink in India.  We made sure we were in a secluded location and ordered our first round of drinks and hummus. After our snack we walked around and shopped a little bit more. It was getting late so we asked a tuc tuc to take us back to our hotel. I showed him the hotel's business card and told him that's where we wanted to go.  He looked at it and read the directions on the back that were written in both Hindi and English and it became obvious he had no idea where we wanted to go.  Once we talked to about 5 different drivers and none of them knew where we wanted to go, we decided to try a different method. 

            We went to the metro and bought a ticket to the station closest to our hotel.  The metro was relatively clean and there are different cars for women. At first I was angry that they would separate us from the men but then I realized it was actually a blessing in disguise.  The men's car was much more crowded than the women's. We reached our destination successfully and walked down the stairs onto the main street.  Now we were lost. It was dark and there were barely any streetlights.  We walked back up the stairs and asked the metro security guards which way we should go to the hotel.  Again, they did not know how to read the directions on the back of the card and looked at us like we were martians.  We walked down the stairs and started to head in what we thought was the correct direction.  There was a man walking not too far ahead of us that looked around our age and was very nicely dressed.  We started to follow him because he looked like a generally reliable person.  After about 5 minutes he realized we were following him and turned around to ask us if we were lost.  Even though I didn't want to admit it, we were pretty lost.  We gave him our hotel's business card and he called the hotel to ask for directions.  Once he got the directions from the hotel he walked the three of us to our doorstep.  I found that people in India are generally nice, as long as they are not trying to get in your pockets. 

PS--I travelled for a total of 4 days with ONE BACKPACK. There are pictures to prove it.