With our African experience behind us, we had to shift our focus and energies on a new part of the world, the subcontinent of India. From Johannesburg to Mumbai stood a grueling 10 hours of air time, divided into two flights, with a layover in the African island of Seychelles. We had looked up the island, and the scenery is stunning. The type of beaches one would only find on a screensaver. Briefly we considered staying for a few days there, but flight times and arrangements would not permit.
The reviews online about Air Seychelles were atrocious. Every sort of error or oversight an airline could make, someone claimed Air Seychelles had done, all within the previous year. It was most likely for this reason the flights were significantly cheaper than other airlines. Having flown on budget airlines in Europe dozens of times, and never having crashed yet, we decided to take our chances (in case someone is curious as to the worst airline we have ever flown, hands down the answer is Ukrainian International Airlines). Before we even made to the plane in Johannesburg, we were pulled aside by the ticket checker, who informed us that because he had not booked flights OUT of India, we would not be allowed to alight the plane. Our trip ended before it started. It was Ben who applied for the visa, and Ben who read all the fine print beforehand. Not once on the Indian e-visa application website, even in fine print, is a two way ticket a condition or policy for entering the country. After making a consultation, finally the employees gave up and allowed us on the plane. Disaster averted.
As somewhat frequent travelers, we have made a pact that we will upgrade from economy to business on any flight over 8 hours, assuming the costs are not too outrageous, of course. Once you experience the luxury of lying down flat and eating somewhat proper food, it is near impossible to go back to coach. In the past two months Nadine had been from Europe to California and back in business, and we flew from Tel Aviv to Johannesburg in business. The temptation is too strong, and our resistance is too weak. For this particular journey, the 10 hours was not non-stop, so we would have to make some tough choices. Nadine had booked 4A and 4C for us for both legs of the trip, meaning we were sitting in the front of economy, directly behind business. Doing some quick eyeball calculations, we easily estimated that somehow we had more legroom than the upgraded passengers, and could lean back further. No need to waste our money this time.
No amount of research or homework can adequately prepare visitors for what India has in store. There are not enough words in the English dictionary to sufficiently describe what we have seen over the previous few days in India, but we will do our best.
We have been warned dozens of times about the difficulties of not only life in India for Indians, but for visitors as well. Every day is a war, and every task is a battle that needs to be approached delicately and with caution. Our first challenge was to get out of the airport and to our hotel. Simple enough, right? We arrived in Mumbai at 4:00am and spent the next 2 hours like zombies, knowing we needed to make some moves, but didn't know how, and were too tired to think straight. At 6:00am we finally mustered up the strength to go outside the terminal and catch a cab to our hotel, and hope they pity us enough to let us check in super early, or at least let us keep our bags there until we were allowed to enter our rooms.
At 6:01 our India journey official commenced.
The only logical way begin a post about India has to start with our first impression: It stinks. The moment we exited the airport, an overwhelming, gut-wrenching stench entered through our nostrils and down into ours stomachs. The smell is putrid. If we weren't such adventurous people, we would have turned around, went right back into the terminal, and booked a one way ticket anywhere.
The taxi situation is confusing and unorganized, to say the least. After waiting in a "line," we provided the woman at the ticket counter our address, who gave us the total amount of 500 rupees (7 USD), which was paid in cash, and promptly assigned to a taxi driver who didn't speak a lick of English. When we gave him the receipt with the hotel address written on it, he didn't understand. He exited the vehicle, with Ben trailing, and returned to the ticketing booth. A longer "line" had formed. It was extremely difficult to understand what is happening, not only because dozens of people were speaking in Hindi, but also since nobody wears a uniform of any sort. Everyone is talking at once, and it appears no one understands anyone else's language, or what the problem is to begin with. This chaos continued for literally 20 minutes, until someone waiting in "line" that the woman who had issued our receipt had written the hotel address incorrectly. In fact, she didn't write any address. She just put the area where we were staying, which was apparently not helpful for the taxi driver. Without giving a reason why, the woman pulls out cash, hands it to Ben, and dismissed him with a quick wave of the hand. Again, no clue what is happening. The helpful man in line told me that in order to take us directly to the hotel, we must pay another 80 rupees, another dollar. She will not assign us a new taxi driver until I pay again, with the additional 80 rupees, and Nadine, who has been waiting in the car, exits the vehicle. She refused to give us the same driver. Again, no clue why. Our bags were already tucked away in the car, Nadine was already there, and the driver was standing next to me. But no, we were at an unnecessary stand off, and clearly it was Ben who needed to back down, and did. Without any other choice, Ben begrudgingly paid the 500 plus 80 additional rupees, collected Nadine and their belongings, and shlepped to a new taxi on the other side of the parking lot.
Little did we know, this overwhelmingly frustrating situation was merely a warm up for what could come next. This happened three days ago from the moment this blog is being written. In retrospect, the taxi fiasco was nothing in comparison to the horrors and mistreatment we have experienced since then.
The drama continued when we arrived at Hotel Indore, where we had booked for two nights. The two teenaged looking receptions who received us claimed that they we did not, in fact, have a reservation, and even showed us a tablet with incoming guests without our names on it. We countered by presenting our Hotels.com app that shows the correct dates and the amount we paid. Still, they could not find our reservation. It took four or five phone calls to Hotels.com to get them to send another confirmation to the hotel with our details. The next story the receptionists told us was that our reservation was somehow cancelled, we must pay them in cash. They showed us a cancellation email as proof, and even though the dates were wrong, the confirmation number was wrong, and the guest name was wrong, they insisted that it was our reservation. God only knows how this is possible. We couldn't tell if it was a poorly attempted scam, or these two guys were genuinely stupid. This entire debacle went on for over two hours. Eventually we were told everything was fine and that we could enter our room...if we paid them 500 rupees for early check in. We declined, left our bags behind the counter (with the locks on them), and hit the streets for a few hours until we were able to check in free of charge.
We know that we are privileged to be white and Jewish and from upper class families in suburban San Diego. Most of the world hasn't afforded the same opportunities we have been given. Not a single day in our lives have been concerned with where our next meal is coming from. Our parents have provided us with loving homes, financial stability, and higher level educations. For these reasons and more, we are fortunate enough to explore the world and learn about new cultures and customs. Without judging the individuals, our assessments about Mumbai and the Indian culture as are learning it along the way is based on our experiences, and as objective as we can possibly be.
Mumbai is a dump. The sides of the roads are littered with trash and feces
Starving cows, dogs, cats, goats, rats, and humans can be found every few feet in search of scraps of food. There are street signs written that littering and spitting is illegal, but clearly it is never enforced. The pollution in the air is overwhelming and visible. There is not a snowball's chance in hell that the FDA would even consider allowing any of the restaurants or food stands to maintain any business.
One of Ben's Indian schoolmates from university recently moved back to India several weeks ago and wrote this description this week over email:
"After living 11 years abroad, and flying to India after 6 years, I am simply not able to accept this level of pollution, crowd, noise, religious loudspeakers, traffic, traffic horns, dust, heat, power cuts / interrupted power supply, water scarcity, low quality vegetables, low quality milk, toxic drinking water, low quality products, low quality people, low quality life."
To me, it begs the question of the purpose of government if not for the well-being of its citizens. People on the streets here are hungry, unkept, sickly, and many times physically deformed. It is heartbreaking, to say the least. In Africa we had observed poverty from a distance, it's much tougher to see if up close and personal. It truly is a humbling experience for us.
It is commonly know that Mumbai has more rats than people. The population of Mumbai is 22 million...Nadine and I watched a Netflix documentary on the flight from Mumbai to Delhi about a nighttime patrol squad whose sole job is to hunt rats at night, swat and kill them with wooden sticks, and deliver at least 30 dead rats every shift to the municipality headquarters. If not, they will not receive pay for the night's work. There is a very real threat of a plague happening in the city. However, another issue arises in India in regards to killing rats. In the Hindu religion, rats are considered holy. Many Indians believe that the spirit of the goddess Durga was reincarnated through a rat. Therefore, not only do Hindu Indians coexist with rats, they want to, and do not believe that diseases can be transmitted through these rodents.
With our first walkabout through the city streets under our belt, we returned to the hotel to try our luck again. The two boys at the front desk approved us to enter our room, but we had to wait twenty minutes for them to clean it first, of course. Why wasn't the room already prepared?? Rational thought would indicate that they knew we were returning and they should consider arranging our arrival, but we have quickly learned not to make any assumptions in India.
The room itself was nothing to brag about. It was small, quaint, had an ensuite, and a relatively comfortable bed. The main issue we had were the hundreds of bed bugs inside the mattress. We had just come off a long couple of flights without much sleep, and at this point running of fumes, so we didn't really care too much. The funny thing is on wall of the room there was a sign that "come to the hotel as friends, leave as family." We didn't realize they meant the bugs.
Hotel Indore is located smack in the middle of the Muslim section of town, so sure enough, five times a day, the call to prayer blared over above the streets. For many Americans who have seen too many movies, this would probably be somewhat intimidating, but we have experienced it hundreds of times while living in Jerusalem. The streets were crazy busy!
By chance, that night, the first ever NBA game was played in India. The owner of the Sacramento Kings is an Indian businessman who was born and raised in Mumbai. Since purchasing the team in 2014 he has pushed for basketball to become more popular in India, so he spearheaded this project. For reasons unknown to us, the rapper Drake lent his private plane to take the Kings overseas. Unfortunately for us, we didn't know about the game until we saw an advertisement in the airport. All of the tickets except for 1,000 dollar court side seats were available, so we passed on it.
Instead we had our first Indian meal at Cafe Paradise next to the hotel, and went to bed early. Jeera Rice and Tawa Chapati
INDIAN HEALTH TRACKER
Diarrhea-free: 1 Day
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