Back at 59th

Reporting from our room in the 59th street abode, it seems like there's not much more we can say aside from "can't believe it's over!"

The last leg of our trip panned out perfectly. We had the foresight to leave our big backpacks at the cloakroom at the Delhi train station, which seriously reduced the hassle of transit (including that which comes with visibly not having lodgings planned out yet, which rickshaw drivers tend to take advantage of). We also had the opportunity to ride the trains, which we had done only once in India before this last week. In most ways the trains are about what you'd expect: somewhat rickety compartments equipped with vinyl-upholstered beds stacked 3 high up the walls. What makes the ride worthwhile is experiencing the joining of people from all walks and endless opportunities for 5 rupees worth of chai in disposable terra cotta cups.

Our first stop was Varanasi, which is the holiest city to die in/ be cremated. Varanasi was surprisingly peaceful and certainly thought provoking. We had been warned of relentless touts and scams but, in our experience, the warnings themselves were the only hassle we encountered there ("I am not a guide, but beware, there are many guides who will take your money." Where were they? The only person who was even remotely guidelike was a 9 year old kid who followed us into a restaurant, where we bought him a banana lassi. He then walked us to the train station, for 45 minutes, as a favor, asking people in Hindi for directions for us along the way). The city is one of the oldest continually inhabited places in the world, so the streets are narrow and mazelike, and are made up of an amalgamation of buildings from a seemingly endless timeline. Our time there was spent strolling along the praying ghats, observing the cremation ceremony, and on a boatride on the Ganga, from which we watched the nightly pooja ceremony.

Then, in a blink, we were off to Agra, to see the Taj Mahal. Our train had arrived early in the morning, at about 7, and since we weren't planning on staying the night, we went straight there. Agra, which was supposed to be another major hassle zone, was pretty quiet at this time of day, and so aside from the absurdly inflated amount they charge foreigners as an entry fee to the Taj (750 rupees versus 20 for locals), it was an easy visit. As expected, the Taj Mahal is pretty amazing: intricately designed with marble inlay, marked with beautiful arabic caligraphy, surrounded by lush gardens and other equally impressive structures. Since we were early, we got the chance to take the quintessential "we're in India!" photo with the Taj backdrop and not too many tourists standing around behind us. Moments after that mission was accomplished, the monsoon kicked in full power. We enjoyed walking along the wet marble, barefoot, and admiring the iconic (and, by the way, ENORMOUS) structure from all of it's perfectly symmetrical angles. And then, once again, we were off.

Our experience in Delhi was markedly different from that of any other city, completely due to the fact that we were with my friend Yasha, who grew up in the nearby city Meerut. Yasha and her family's driver picked us up from the train station and took us to her apartment in an area on the outskirts of Delhi called Noida where her family sometimes stays if they want to be closer to the city. Yasha, with the expert help of her mom's phoned-in directions, took us on what was basically the shopping tour of Delhi (we had a lot of last minute purchases we wanted to make), which included everything from fly-covered street markets to gargantuan shopping malls to hip little alleyways with cafes and clothing stores. All the while, Yasha shed light on a lot of the cultural questions that arose, both about Delhi and about India in general (random tidbit: apparently like 90% of Bollywood songs from the 1960s-1980s were sung by either of two sisters. crazy!). Our experience of the geography of the city was a bit strange, because as it turns out, ALL of the city is under construction for the upcoming Commonwealth Games. This means that the roads are all at least partially blocked, and every walkway includes a few men on the floor laying tiles or new concrete. It's hard to say what it will look like when they're finished, but if the turnout reflects how major the demolition looks, it should be pretty amazing. Even under construction, Delhi is like any super metropolis, with a really nice subway system, fairly organized traffic, fancy areas and less fancy areas. Since we didn't have to deal with all of the language barriers and technicalities of getting from one place to another (once again thanks to our lovely hostess), it was a really easy place for us to be.

And then, suddenly (well--not SO suddenly considering the 30 hours we spent in transit) we were home! As this random Berkeley hippie at Kinko's said to me when I was getting my passport picture taken "the real culture shock is when you return." While I wouldn't describe what we felt last night, hanging out with our housemates like any usual night, as "culture shock," there was a certain strange feeling of how normal everything was. Where will we have to pack up and run off to tomorrow? Nowhere. Yotam put it most insightfully as we arrived at SFO; that returning from a trip is like changing from a cold room to a hot one. You will remember being cold, but you don't feel cold anymore. India was so many things, it's impossible to really sum up. The feeling of being there, our senses constantly bombarded from every angle, disappeared as soon as we left the Delhi Airport. What we're left with is a memory of an amazing (unforgettable, lifechanging, etc etc etc call it what you will) journey.

So, that brings us to the end of this blog...Namaste!