IndiaIII

Indian transportation presented a challenge as we tried to decipher the jungle of classes available. Semi-deluxe, deluxe and super-deluxe buses are anything but luxurious and the trains have a secret code language for the seemingly dozens of different ways to travel. It was also hard to find a place to crash in between all the guesthouses and dumps using any combination of the words Hilton, Carlton, Continental, Royal, Regal, Plaza, King, and Queen to attract gullible tourists.
In the last week we could no longer look at the culinary staples of chapati (flat bread) and dahl (thick lentil soup). The bland alternative of traveler food was not that exciting either (all-day breakfast and banana pancakes). We felt we had reached new standards of living when we didn�t mind the rats running around at our feet in one restaurant. At least that dinner didn�t cost more than 40 cents per head.
Our concept of a space bubble was completely eradicated in India. There was a constant invasion of curious children pulling at our leg hairs, touts pushing rickshaw shopping tours, and semi-aggressive monkeys. However, it was this in-your-face contact that made us love India so much. We were constantly smiling and chatting, learning to nod our heads like the locals. After some time we got used to nod no to mean yes, to the point that it became second nature. Wherever we went, there was a constant play of mutual fascination and curiosity.
We enjoyed the innocence of India. Whereas the rest of the world seems more and more molded along the same lines, maybe because of globalization and the western cultural imperialism, India manages to retain its own identity, like its very own Hindu planet. We couldn�t even find an American movie playing in the theatres. They don�t need them. The Bollywood industry in Mumbai (former Bombay) produces more movies than Hollywood. The Indians know how to entertain and have fun, producing epic love stories with lots of heroic fighting. Every ten minutes, the entire cast bursts into song and dance, like a 50�s musical featuring turbans and saris.
We enjoyed being in a country where ritual plays an essential part in daily life, whether that is represented by the strong presence of religion, or the way they wash, peel and slice vegetables in carefully studied movements, giving each single gesture its own importance.
Most of all, we will never forget the rainbow of colors that so often stung our eyes. We particularly remember the glorious patterns of the five-meter long saris hanging out to dry in the sun next to a group of chocolate-colored West Bengali men, all wearing a Madras-checkered sarong in all the hues of the color blue one can imagine.
Call it sado-masochism but we will definitely go back to India.

When we reached Kolkata (former Calcutta) we had come to the end of our Indian adventures. We won't lie: after a month and a half we were relieved to leave. But in line with the contradictions of the sub-continent, we were already discussing when we could return for more as our plane took off for the Philippines. Budget travelling is hard work and although India is amazing, it is definitely not the easiest place to lug around a backpack.
There were the constant power failures that erased e-mails and hours of work on the web page. Because of the state�s failure to provide a consistent power supply, half the country has invested in a personal generator. When they are all turned on at the same time, it creates a deafening raucous similar to a contemporary music concert performed by millions of percussion ensembles. The Indians seem untouched by noise however; they just crank the volume of the TV to drown it out. Indian television programming consists of 95% music videos where female falsetto voices are constantly screaming at the top of their lungs. Try to imagine the mixture of the two. Very peaceful.
India has a serious trash problem. We never saw any official garbage collection. People just wait for the next rain to fall. Since the streets flood within minutes, they just open their door and dump the refuse on the street. The newly formed river will remove it to a more appropriate location, i.e. the neighbors down the street. The pigs and cows that roam the cities devour whatever trash remains in the gutter and rapid decomposition deals with the rest. We realized why incense burns everywhere. The aroma of lavender and sandal wood, together with the spices of the street food, the diesel fumes, the smell of cow shit and bidi cigarettes almost manage to mask the stench of cheese and curd that has gone bad. (Scroll down for more)