The final journey

Here it is, the last one!

Next stop Udaipur. While I had a rough route in my head, I relied heavily on the ticket collectors to help me pick the best stops to make to get up to Udaipur. I estimated it would be a two and a half to three day trip and I would end up with two days in Udaipur, get a private bus to Delhi (an easy task in Udaipur) and be back in plenty of time for my flight. Well, for some reason I just had the worst time of things. I arrived in Mumbai around 2am the first day, and couldn’t find a single person who spoke English well enough to help me. So I decided to get a hotel and try to move on in the morning. Except all the cheap hotels were full or so much above my price range I was wondering if they were the local equivalent to the Hilton. I finally found a hostel with a room, but it was meant for 7 people and they were asking me 2,500 rupees a night. Compare that to the 350 I paid for most of the other hostels. It was 3 am, I was near crying, exhausted, and sweat dripping down my back. I was so freaked about the thought of having to sleep on the sidewalk with the swarms of rats I had seen every inch of my walk through town I agreed to the exorbitant price. When I went to pay though he handed me a thousand rupee bill back and I couldn’t even bother to correct him and just counted myself lucky. The next day it was onwards again and I braced myself for another long, hot day riding through India in a hot bus. I wasn’t wrong. I arrived in the last stop before Udaipur, waited about an hour and got on my bus. It was about midnight and I found out from the ticket checker we would be arriving about nine am. I am then looking around for a seat and realize there are none. Oh well, the floor it is, and while I am at it I might as well lay down and get some sleep in the middle of the aisle. So that is what I did, or at least what I tried to do. With the rough roads bouncing me several inches in the air every ten minutes or so, only to slam down in a cloud of dust that would coat me every time I hit the floor I decided it wasn’t worth it. Around 2 am I got a seat, but as a passenger got off the bus I caught him giving me a weird look. I watched as he got off the bus, took a few steps, looked back at me and came to my window. He asked me where I was going, and at this point I could feel my stomach drop. I told him Udaipur and he nodded, then he asked if I was going to the Udaipur in Rajastan or in Mumbai. I said Rajastan with a sad note in my voice and he proceeded to tell me I was on the bus to Udaipur…near Mumbai. So all through the night I had been riding on a bus heading back the opposite way I wanted, back to where I had just come from. He tells me to get off the bus. So with no shoes on, my big bag in the front of the bus, my small one in the back, and no idea where I was,  I was yelled at the ticket master to hold the bus. I stepped on ladies sleeping in the aisles and hit people with my bags as I rushed to exit the bus. Once off the bus I sit on the ground,  and attempt to readjust my bags, put my shoes on, and notice how the dirt on me now makess me look black. I realize I don’t have the vaguest idea which city I am in but am happy to realize that my mysterious rescuer has not abandoned me. He introduces himself and asks if I even knew where I was headed on that bus. I told him I didn’t and he said I was going to a town so small that I would never have found an English speaker and would have been out of luck. I find out from him that I am in a town I had been through earlier that day, making me even more frustrated that I had backtracked my exact route, but Parth (his name) is kind enough to tell me about the town and he set me up in a group hostel that conveniently was in the bus station. He also explained how to get to the Udaipur.  The town I was in is called Vadodora  and is a pretty nice town. With only a few days left in the country and not enough time to enjoy Udaipur I decided to just take it easy in Vadodora. I rented a hotel room with wifi and AC, crazy I know,  and took a few nice hot showers then walked around the market area to find gifts for people. I also found a nice pastry shop just around the corner. It was a nice end to my trip, or at least it was supposed to be the end. For my trip back I booked a private bus to take me straight to Delhi, which would leave me  only one city bus or metro ride to the airport.

On the bus

 I got to the travel office where the bus was leaving from early to be safe. When the bus arrived they told me to get on. I gave my ticket to the ticket collector and the driver showed me to my bed so I could sleep the twelvish hours to Delhi. The next day about ten hours before my flight the bus stopped for what I thought was another meal/bathroom break. But as I got off the bus they told me to take my bags. When I asked why they told me it was the last stop, I was obviously not in Delhi so I ask why it was the last stop. They told me the bus was finishing in that town and I had to get off. So pulling out my ticket again I showed them where my bus was supposed to be to Delhi. They then, in broken English, explained that I was again on the wrong bus and I would have to make my way to Delhi from there. Everything worked out in the end with me having to take only one more 5-hour bus ride to Delhi.  So I wasn’t that far off and I ended up at the airport with time to spare.

I wish that this is where my story ended…but it’s not. My last adventure was at the airport. In order to get into the terminal to pick up your ticket you have to have proof of your booking. Not having been told this I was surprised and frustrated as my phone was dead, my computer cord broke early in the trip, and I had no print out of my ticket. I was stuck. So I asked what to do. The attendants told me it was easy, I would just have to call to get the ID number of the booking. Sure, but I had no charge on my phone I told them. They proceeded to tell me to just call the number and I would be fine. Once again I slowly explained I had no charge on my phone, my flight was in a few hours, and I needed to get to the desk to get my ticket which would be my proof that I had a ticket. I was told that all I had to do to get my ticket to prove I had a ticket was call and get the ID number of my booking. Well, this went on for a while. I didn’t keep my cool as much as I would like to say I did, but compared to before I went to Ethiopia I felt I did pretty well with not being too rude to anyone. Still they knew I was not happy. I asked them where I could charge my phone because it was dead, I would then pull up my email and show them. They said there was no charging available inside the terminal but I could find charging outside the terminal. This would have been acceptable except for all the computers plugged into the power outlets, and the attendant's phones plugged into the wall beside them. Finally, I got the ID number written down, along with the flight number and all other numbers I could find. I hand it to the attendant, point to each and explained to them what each was. They pointed to each after I was done and repeated what I had said…in the completely wrong order. (Exasperated) Finally they printed out what I needed and I walked the two steps to the guard to show him so I could enter the airport terminal proper. He then asks me my flight time, as it wasn’t on the ticket they had just printed. I told him, and he told me it had to be on the printout. That was it, I was done, I sat down on the floor in front of him, bags and all, told him to talk to them and refused to move. In the end my phone had enough residual charge on it to pull up the email with alarms going off about the low battery every second. They finally let me through. I wish that was the only frustration at that airport but it wasn’t. I just don’t want to go through them all and make the five pages I am at already longer. All I have left to say is the Indian airport is the worst airport I have even been to in my life, EVER.

So I am at the end of my travels, at least for a little while. I can honestly say it has been amazing and terrible, thrilling and exhausting, hot and hotter. I have met some amazing people, and others I would like to see fall into one of the many piles of cow crap all over India and Ethiopia. But, I have emerged a changed person. I am happy to say that for the most part, all the changes have been good. I am a more patient, well rounded, less judgmental person. I have learned to respect local knowledge, and understand the importance of modern information. I have made some amazing friends, both American and other. I wouldn’t change it for the world. I am glad to be back in America. All of you have made me feel so welcome and missed since being back. I truly want to thank you all for having gone through this with me. I know I wasn’t always positive and I think that is ok. Life isn’t always flowers... sometimes there are thorns. But I hope you a better understanding of the world outside of your everyday lives and have stopped to think about all the privileges and benefits we take for granted in our day to day lives. Remember, no matter what you believe in, helping others is one of the most rewarding things you can ever do.

Love you all and thanks for reading.

Trey

P.S. If you all are interested let me know and as I go through pictures (very slowly) I can continue to      upload them here. Both of Ethiopia and India. If you don't tell me you want then I won't do it.

Beautiful Hampi

Hampi was one of the numerous examples of me getting lost. I once again took the public buses and during my last bus change I ended up getting on the bus to the town that the hostel was licensed under. I didn’t realize until it was too late though that the town the bus was going to was about an hour north east of where the hotel actually was. The bus completely bypassed the little town of Hampi. So upon arriving in the wrong town I decided that instead of having to try and figure out the correct bus, maybe getting lost, and having to walk two kilometers from the main road back to the hostel I would spend the night. It was a night wasted, but onward and forward. The next day I arrived at the hostel in Hampi. During my two hour walk down the side road through the little village I noticed that all the houses had been knocked down. What looked like a once well built, if quaint, village had been destroyed. I quickly ruled out natural disasters, which left me with intentional demolition. This confused me but I figured maybe it had been an old military base or something and the people had moved into the ruins. How wrong I was, but more on that later. Once I arrived I realized why everyone was so caught up in Hampi. I had heard the name Hampi may times on my travels and I don’t blame anyone who brought it up. Just next to my hostel was a rock cliff which I climbed and had a clear view across the little river to the most beautiful temples I had seen in India. There were magnificent multi-story structures intricately carved with stone walls surrounding them and beautiful music playing from them every morning. I quickly decided to take the small boat across the river and explore these temples. I found that not only were there the two main temples, but there was also the old king's residence, his throne room, the queen's baths, more temples than I could count, the elephant stables, and so much more to see. The history and culture just oozed out of this place from the people going to be blessed in the temples, washing their clothes in the holy river, the colors, and foods, and Indian tourists were everywhere. As usual, I spent the day walking, but, this time, I felt rather accomplished. While I did get swindled on one of my rickshaw rides, I quickly figured out the norm and adapted. From then on it was just a matter of getting dropped off and seeing the sites. The royal home was so well preserved, the carvings so beautiful that I couldn’t stop taking pictures. The temple to Ganesh with the towering statue of the deity was awe inspiring, and the hidden temple that can only be found through a single hidden entrance to the underground was completely unlit and I had to use my cell phone to navigate through the corridors to the main worship hall.  In Hampi, I felt like I got my first true taste of how India was hundreds of years ago.

Little did I know that another friend who I had met on the train heading south was in Goa at the same time I was, and thankfully we had exchanged whatsapp contact information so we met up in Hampi. He was a Spaniard, who was also hanging with two Brits and an Aussie and we met that afternoon. We went to a local restaurant and after a few rum and cokes with the owner I learned that the reason for all the destruction was that the government had come and destroyed all the locals houses. The area North of the river is a UNESCO world heritage site so the people weren't allowed to live there. Although the locals had other ideas why the government was kicking them out, it was the third time the people had their houses toppled and their lives destroyed.  It was such a sad thing to think back on all the kids I had seen playing in the rubble with lost toys they had found crushed between what had once been the roof over their heads. Sadly, the government was making no effort to relocate them or help establish a new place for these people. They were simply being told to leave and then, sometimes forcefully, thrown out on their butts.

The next day, despite what we had heard, we decided that since there was nothing we could really do to help we rented mopeds from one of the local businesses and cruised around. It was a great morning followed by an afternoon spent at a reservoir swimming and playing, that is until a local came up and told us it was unwise due to the crocodiles. Then it was time to move on. I was running out of time and wondering if I was even going to make it to Delhi in time for my flight. So I said goodbye to my new friends and set off. It was a two-kilometer hike to the main road to catch a bus that would take me west. My last stop was Udaipur. It was one of the most famous places for tourist to go in India, and one highly recommended to me. I had my hostel planned out, my rough route in my head, and off I went. Little did I know that this would be the most tedious, annoying, and painful trip of my whole adventure.

                                 One of the many rice fields on the North side of Hampi

 

Literally temples everywhere

The Sri Virupaksha Temple probably my favorite that I visited

Worshipers children inside Sri Virupaksha, the showed me around to all the best places

Statue of Ganesh in old Hampi temple

The queens bath

Temple

Hazara Rama Temple

Final post coming soon

Goa

6/11

I know, I know. I haven’t posted in a while and am sorry. I have been in the midst of my sisters wedding, visiting Fort Lauderdale, interviewing in Panama City, more job hunting, prepping for the GRE, and getting caught up with friends. Still, I wanted to finish up on India so I sat down and typed up five pages. After my mother said I was crazy it is now divided up into a few posts that will be posted over the next few days or so. 

In some of these places I took a lot of pictures, in others I took none. I will provide a lot of the good ones when applicable though so I hope you enjoy.

After my trip to Gokarna I was recharged and ready to get on with some exploring. Since the train station was a bit of a trip to get to from the middle of town I decided to take the bus as the station was practically across the street from my hotel. Now this isn’t a nice AC bus. It isn’t a sleeper bus. It is what the rural Indians can afford, a bench row where they often try to squeeze an extra person on, with no AC, and a lot of stops which means no air movement to cool you down. So I get on my first bus and get off at the main bus station for the area. I then ask how to get to Goa, my next stop. Here I was told that I needed to go to the main street and catch it there. Well, I didn’t realize that they were telling me to get on a private bus and I started to freak out when I was told it doesn’t leave anytime except 8pm. As it was hardly 8am at this time I was not happy. After asking around a bit more though I found out, that with a few added stops, I could take a few busses to get to Goa on public transport and so I was off. During the longest leg of my trip that day I was sitting next to a rather interesting local who was more than happy to talk to me. I admit to being a bit unnerved when I noticed his hyper-alertness and the fact that he seemed to be having rather animated conversations with himself, but, in general, he seemed to be a cool guy. At the lunch stop I met another guy closer to my age who was very nice and explained that it would be easier to get to Goa if I went one stop past where I had planned to get off and it would knock off some time on my travels. I was quite happy when I realized that we were actually traveling through a popular, large national park and couldn’t stop staring out the windows as the natural beauty all around me. Finally though I reached Goa proper and had to make my way to the hostel which only meant one more bus ride. But that route took us through back roads and alleys until I was so discombobulated that I was soon lost and would never have found the hostel had it not been for my GPS. Honestly, I don’t know if I would have survived India at all without it.

                Now in Goa I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I had heard it name dropped a few times but only as a popular tourist destination. Online there were a few markets and temples recommended but not as much as I would have expected from somewhere that was so popular. But, after only about thirty minutes of being in town I realized what the draw to Goa is. Booze! I can’t remember if I have mentioned this before so I will review. It is hard to get alcohol in most of India. I am not kidding, like you have to find a secret bar in a dark alley or one or two places in town you can buy bottled liquors and take it home. But it isn’t easy to get. In Goa this is not true. It is like the US where every restaurant offers alcohol, there were tall boys, and liquor drinks, and even some imports. It was AWESOME! I didn’t take any pictures in Goa really, I spent a day walking around and finding out only after I visited them that the markets in that town were not open every day, nor were they open the day I went. So most of my time was spent at the beach and in the awesome infinity pool at the hostel. There I met two British travelers and we immediately hit it off spending the days, and nights together and spending way too much on beer. Before I knew it though it was time to hit the road and head to Hampi, one of, if not my favorite stops.