Journazza

This morning I was hit with several flashbacks as I heard the newsreader announce a terror attack in Mumbai.

My first thought, as I was getting out of my deep sleep and into awakeness whilst listening to the radio in bed, was: this can’t be real. – Tell me, it didn’t happen.

Please tell me it was a nightmare, and that the newsreader said something entirely different.

The same sensation struck me during the 7th July bombings in London a couple of years ago when, in my pre-caffeine state, I learnt about the London bombings via an e-mail.

Once, the news is slightly digested, the quest for news hits you. You want to soak up everything you can, and then once you’ve got the gist of it, you’ve had enough of the chaotic and repetitive news stories. Though, the instant the news hits you, most of all, you just want to know your friends are ok. Bearing in mind how the London bombings affected me, when suddenly friends from far fetched cornes of planet earth and friends whom I hadn’t heard from in ages, suddenly got in touch wanting to know how I was, made me reluctant to ask my friends in Mumbai how they were doing. I didn’t want them to feel the same surrealness as I experienced. However, most of all you want to know that they are ok.

- So far, we have no reports of Norwegians or Germans injured, says the newsreader.

Who really cares? Does it matter whether foreign nationals are affected? Naturally, but what I really care about is the native population. They have to stay where they are, and aren’t as fortunate as others – they can’t just get on the first place out of there. And why should they.

Most of all, I’m surprised by my reaction, and it just seems unreal that the places I felt safe in Mumbai, are amongst those places which were targeted. Juhu beach and the train station for instance.

It’s weird knowing that a couple of months ago I was there and everything seemed just fine and then – poof, the situation is changed. For a while. Then slowly, things return to normal. They have to. Otherwise, we’d let fear win, and then life becomes unbearable.

I’m striving to sum up a nearly three week holidays to India. Tons of impressions have left me searching for the right words. I can’t remember any holiday or any country having made such an impact on me before. I returned to Europe with an immense sense of gratitude including a long-lasting calmness. My friend who claimed India changes first time visitors forever was right. At least for me. Equally I can see why some say, either you love India, or you hate it. I totally loved it. I also think I was incredibly lucky to have travel companions with local connections, because most of all I was impressed by the people and the hospitality. We were so incredibly well taken care of! In fact, so well that often we didn’t get a say in matters. You learn to enjoy what’s thrown at you.

So, let me try and grab some of the impressions and visualise them to you! The first one was undoubtedly the arrival at Mumbai Airport. As I saw the sign ”Welcome to Mumbai”, I noticed an intense smell of sweat. That was to be the start of many scents to come… The smells and the sounds, make up a vital part of the Indian experience. And India really is an experience. However, someone told me you get used to the smells, all the dirtiness and pollution after a while, and I dare say that person probably was right.. What I can’t get out of my head is the lack of hygiene! It was incredible. Indian toilets are an essay in itself, but lets keep this brief. The “squatting” toilets consist of a hole in the ground, no toilet paper and either a shower item next to it, or a can of water. I have heard Asians claims this is more hygienic, but does it have to be smelly? And how can it be when there’s no soap?! Why is there no soap? Even where there were Western toilets, we were clinging to the toilet roll which was a constant companion together with the hand disinfectant. On the road you can add flies, and let me stop there and conclude that most of them were pretty disgusting, but when you don’t have a choice you taketh what you get.

Right, I’ll get back to the impressions. So there I was. At Mumbai airport with all my luggage and walking through the customs where I noticed an ATM, but in my naivety and invisible blondness, I thought there would be another one outside. Wrong. So I got outside, only to notice the driver wasn’t there. Instead there were lots of men hanging at the other side of the rack, trying to get customers for their cabs or presumably waiting for someone to arrive. I told myself to remain calm and called the driver. What I didn’t know was that he didn’t speak English.. Lets just say that it was a pretty interesting conversation which was the starting point of my pidgin English. Somehow I had a feeling that the driver told me he was 20min late. Though I seriously wondered how as he had only spoken some English words and they definitely didn’t contain the words above! So, it was also the start of a telepathic connection with the driver. Ask Anni if you don’t believe me. It sure was fun.

Whilst I was waiting for the driver, I discovered mosquitoes and started swearing when I realized the repellent was…somewhere out of reach. Then the driver came with a sign. I’m officially Liz Kolstad now.. Pretty soon we passed streets, with stalls, shelters and houses. I was happy we didn’t book ourselves a budget hotel in the suburbia of Mumbai. There is a particular image that has stuck to my mind: eight adults spread out on blankets, sleeping soundly on a pavement next to a busy road. Another is of the mother with her three children sleeping on a blanket in Mumbai, who we passed on our way home from the funky Not just Jazz by the bay (where no one sang during karaoke..). Thank heaven to the person who recommended the book ”The Fine Balance” to me. It somewhat prepared me for the poverty that was to come.

Trains
Whilst I was expecting heaps of people everywhere, I was somewhat let down. Well, I realized the best place to experience crowds, queues and chaos was at the train stations. Even better, you enter the most disgusting train station you’ve ever been to, and you realize your train is 1hr and 35min delayed. You wonder where you can go in the meantime and you already know the answer. Nowhere. So, you make the best of it, and hope time will pass quickly. In the meantime you watch the stray dogs, ignore the beggars with either one leg or one arm if not both, ignore the flies and hope you won’t catch malaria, you watch the sewage in-between the racks and you watch the boy picking up bottles and hope to God they’re not being filled with water again (although you for sure know that’s what’ll happen). You watch the monkeys jumping around the station ceiling just as if it was a tree, over the stray dogs which by now have started fighting and who are now on top of some boxes which may contain food. You watch the people crossing the tracks, walking into the train and out on the platform on the other. You watch the train and realize someone’s using the toilet, and at the same time people are throwing garbage at the tracks and feeding the monkeys. Then you watch the monkeys entering the train and you’re filled with disgust. You hope your train is coming soon and realize it’s now an additional 40min. So, you try to be mindful and ignore the chaos at the station. You are positively surprised by the public toilet, apart from one of the toilets which is cracked, so whilst you’re squatting you see a huge beadle. You hope it isn’t a mouse and get the heck out of there. Then you start praying for the train to arrive whilst you keep reminding yourself that this is only one day in your life and that it’ll be an experience instead of a daily event. When the train is another 40 min delayed, and your travel companion who is getting worried about catching her plane from Jaipur, says that the train you’re waiting for is usually 5-6 hrs delayed on a daily basis, you pray even harder. Since the effect of your Imodium pills are wearing off from three days before, you’re praying for the train to arrive so you won’t have to travel 4-5 hrs by car, because you just can’t take another Imodium unless you really, really, have to. And even then you can’t stand two days of not eating properly. When two of your fellow travel companions get slightly hysterical you try to find the station master as well, only to discover he is nowhere in sight. You watch the porters to check if there is a remote chance of your train making it on time this time, but in vain. After four hours, and some frustration, the solution is calling the driver from yesterday, and drive the 4-5 hours from Agra to Jaipur. You pray that your stomach will not go into complete turmoil, but the almighty is not listening. Then you pray for the driver to slow down and drive carefully..

Incredible India
So why do I love India? I totally love the food despite the spiciness and lack of hygiene. I love the fact that you cannot expect anything, and most of all I love the experiences.
The newspapers are totally fab, they’re just as dramatic as the Bollywood movies, and the matrimonial ads on Sundays a great read. There’s the fabulous rhythm of the Hindi pop or Bollywood music. Not to forget the honking from the cars all the time. And then there is the no-honking day. Though your driver is still honking! Some situations are so unreal that you just can’t help laughing.

There is so much to watch that your eyes are nearly leaving your body and you don’t know what it means to think anymore. You just don’t have time for it anymore. There is too much to watch; all the beautiful and colourful saris; the local salesmen who touch the food with their bare hands..; men in pink, red and yellow turbans in Rajasthan; the overloaded trucks and the colourful water tanks which look like they’re from the 50s; the beautiful Jain temple in Ranakpur; the holy cow standing in the middle of the street; the elephant running past you in Udaipur, or the camels passing you in Rajasthan. Anything goes, and whilst in India you’ll never cease to be amazed if you keep your mind open and do not have any expectations.

There’s the majestic Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur with audio guides and humorous commentary. There’s the beautiful Taj Mahal, which was a bit of a disappointment, but which still is beautiful. There is Delhi that seems very Western because of its pavements, British style buildings, English signs, menus, and presumably wealth. There’s the smiling Sikh driver in Delhi. Amber Fort and the buzzing bazaar in Jaipur. The sounds of the mosque from the rooftop of your hotel in Jodhpur. There’s the stunning interior of the Rajasthani havelis with lots of mirror items. The sight of people sleeping inside cars, rickshaws, on top of the cars. The total lack of logic. The Mani Bhavan, Gandhi research centre in Mumbai, with an incredible energy. There’s the constant –what country- question and the blank stare when Annika and Phillip respond Germany…. And needless to say, when Iliyana says Bulgaria, and me Norway.

Then there’s the three-day wedding in Aurangabad with the Henna session, the World Heritage Caves in Ellora with amazing Jain, Hindu and Buddhist temple carvings, and the sangeet session where you dance just like in the Bollywood films. There’s the complete calmness at the bride’s house and the lack of a tight schedule is just great. You soon learn not to ask when the ceremonies commence.

There are of course lots more to be said about India, but I’ll leave that for another day.. Expect the unexpected and embracing the uncertainty of life are some of the major gifts India gave me.
Have a fab day.