If you are a mother, particularly if you are my mother, and in general if you typically want to believe that I'm safe, not getting into trouble, not testing my limits of survival etc., than you may want to skip this particular post.
However, if you've resigned yourself to the fact that I'm a complete clutz and a total moron, if you've accepted the fact that worrying about me from afar wont keep me safe, if you have some modicum of confidence that despite myself I will manage to find a solution to any situation, and if you want to hear all about my latest and completely insane adventure, keep on reading.
I'm not exaggerating by the way. This is absolutely ridiculous. 24 hours in India, and the past 2 and a half months in Korea seem like child's play. One adventure is dwarfed by the next. I hope you realize by this point that "adventure" typically has come to mean "fucking things up as much as possible and somehow managing to get out relatively in tact.
But before we get to India, lets go back just a bit. A little over two weeks ago, I posted that I would soon be homeless and jobless, and I want to at least tell you how that went. Homelessness in Korea was strangely liberating. There was a freedom that I've never quite felt before. It was quite an effort to pack up my apartment into boxes, and move the majority of it over to my one friends house for storage. After that I took everything I needed for day to day life, a few articles of cloths, a towel, toothbrush etc., over to my other friends very tiny apartment where I lived for a week while making plans to come to India. I kept surprisingly busy. I spent my afternoons exploring new parts of the city. I got my affairs settled with India, with the Korean Government, and with my new school. I watched movies with my temporary roommate and made her dinner a couple times. It was a nice week. Not too much to mention, but I did want to mention it.
So...India. Wow.
I packed lightly for India. Just a couple pairs of pants, a couple shirts, a blanket, and bathroom stuff as far as checked luggage went. That all fit into my duffel bag, and only filled it slightly more than half way. Then I had a small checked back with my ipad, my important documents, a novel for the flight, etc. Leaving Korea everything went smoothly. I grabbed 300,000 won (about $300) from the bank. I figured it would be a good deal more than I would need, but its good to have a safety net. I caught a Bus to the airport, got through the airport just fine, and got on my plane with no problems.
The plain stopped in Hong Kong on the way to New Delhi. It wasn't a layover exactly, just a stop. I didn't have to change planes. I fact, I wasn't even allowed to get off. But I did get too see Hong Kong from the air. Beautiful city. Reminded me a bid of San Francisco with it's city built in the hills style, as well as the fog. Not what I ever Imagined Hong Kong to be, but beautiful.
And then I get to New Delhi. I had a 15 hour layover in New Delhi, which I wanted to take as an opportunity to explore just a bit. The Ashram was a bit in the country, and I knew once I got there I wouldn't have another opportunity to see "Modern India". I had booked a room in a very cheap hotel, and my plan was to get a cab there, get up early, and do a bit of sightseeing before going back to the airport for my flight at 1:15 PM.
This is where things start to get crazy. I go to exchange my money, but it turns out that I can't. The Airport Bank doesn't have any interest in trading in South Korean currency. No exceptions. I ask him what I'm supposed to do. He points to the ATM machines. I go and try them, every one of them, but I have no luck. You see, I only have a card for my Korean Bank account, and an expired credit card. Both of my valid credit cards are in the United States with Derek (Turtle). And the machines aren't accepting my Korean Bank Card.
So I'm kind of stranded. I'm have no valid currency, and no way of getting any. I have no working phone with which to contact anyone. I have no way of paying a Taxi to take me to my hotel. I feel very very stuck. Well, it could be worse, at least I have my passport.
So for the very first time in my life, I find myself in the unfortunate position of having to beg strangers for money. It's called "spanging" or asking people for spare change. It's not a good feeling, let me tell you. But I figured if I could pull together about 800 rupees, it would be enough to get to my hotel tonight, and back to the airport in the morning. I knew once I made it to Chennai and met up with my meditation group, I would be able to get things taken care of.
I made it to about 300 rupees when a taxi driver came over and promised he could take me to a place where they could change my money. I told him they wouldn't change it in the airport, but he said "don't worry don't worry, in India, anything is possible." I decided to trust him because, really, what other choice did I have.
So we're driving, and he's making phone calls trying to find a money changer who would accept Korean currency. Unfortunately, after about 30 minutes, he's still had no luck. So he says to me, "Is ok, ok. Do not worry. We get you to your hotel tonight, and in the morning the banks open, and we get you your money." And he asks me for the address for the hotel. I hand it to him. He looks at it. "What is the block number?" "What do you mean? I'm not sure, that's the address I copied from their website." "Yes, but this area that you write is very big area. 700 hotels there. You need block number" "I don't know, that's the entire address that they had for me to copy." "Oh no, oh no. Not good. But don't worry, don't worry. I take care of everything."
So we drove to the general direction of the address, and asked around, but nobody knew of the hotel I had booked a room in, and everyone agreed that the address was not specific enough. So my new friend, this poor cab driver who picked up someone who couldn't pay him, and yet was kind enough to do everything within his power to help me, told me again not to worry. He took me to the India Tourism Bureau, where we explained my issue with money, and my issue with the hotel. They couldn't help with the money, but they were able to find the phone number for my hotel. I call them, and say I can't find them, what is their block number. They tell me the block number, but tell me it is too late to check in. I say what do you mean it's too late, I have a reservation, I've already paid. They say sorry, after Midnight, no check ins. I say it wouldn't be after midnight if they had provided a complete address on their website. They sorry again, no exceptions. I hang up.
So now I have no money, no phone, and no place to sleep. I explain this all to my new friend the unlucky cap driver who ended up taking care of me. He bought me a hamburger from McDonalds India. It was surprisingly delicious. He said, "Not to worry, not to worry, I take care of everything." I was starting to doubt this mantra of his, but I was appreciative of his optimism and his confidence, as well as his loyalty, for it probably would have been in his financial best interest to ditch me ages ago. I ask him, can he take me back to the airport and I'll just sleep in the terminal? Not possible. They would not let me check in until three hours before my flight, and if I try to sleep in the lobby, they will arrest me. I ask if there's a place safe enough for me to sleep on the street. Not in India there isn't, even if I don't have anything valuable....such as money.
Eventually we find a hotel that will let me check in, and that will let me pay in the morning in stead of upfront. My new friend has been acting as a translator all night by the way, I never really mentioned that. He explains my situation to the hotel, and they make some calls. They find an exchanger that will accept Korean Currency, but will only give me 6,300 Rupees for it. It should have been worth almost 13,00 Rupees, so it's not a good deal. The hotel will cost 4,800 rupees, leaving me with only 1,500 rupees for the next 3 weeks, less than 1/10 of what I had planned. It doesn't feel like a good situation. He says he will check with the banks to see if he can find me a better exchange rate in the morning, but no promises. My friend says he will return in the morning to help me figure everything out. I go to bed.
I'm woken up at 9:30 AM by a knock at the door. It's my new friend, (his name is Kumar, by the way) and hes holding a thermostat and a red bag. I invite him in, and he sets the things on the table. He tells me I'm in for a treat. He told his mother all about me, and so she cooked us breakfast. In the red bag is stack of Pratta (a kind of Indian bread) and a few picked mangos (which are salty and spicy and amazingly delicious. Everything is homemade by his mother. In the thermos is fresh brewed Chai Tea. We have breakfast and he explains the situation. The hotel could not find a bank willing to accept korean currency, so we will have to work with a money exchanger who will not give me full value. I sigh, and say alright, at least it's something.
We go outside, and he will take me. Except today he does not have his cab, he is on his bike. He tells me to hop on the back and hang on, and off we go.
Let me tell you a little bit about Indian driving. There don't seem to be any clearly defined, and certainly no enforced, driving laws. No blinkers, no lanes, no discernible right of way except potentially to the person who honks the most obnoxiously. People swerving around each other, driving on both sides of the far to narrow road. Bikes darting in between vehicles going any direction as well as pedestrians, and the occasional cow. And me, in the middle of it, on the back of Kumars bike, no helmet, loving ever second of the craziness.
So we get to the money changer. He offers me 6,000 rupees, but Kumar haggles him up to 7,000 rupees for me. I take it. We go back to the hotel, I pay, the guy makes photo copies of my passport, I grab my bags, and I leave. I'm gonna grab a Taxi, but Kumar sais no, I'm short on money, he will take me on bike. I hop on again, wedge my duffel bag between the two of us, through my other bag over my shoulder, grab into the seat for dear life, and we're off. The ride takes about 50 minutes to the airport. It involves all the same craziness before, except this time a little over half of it is on the free way. This is why I said maybe mom shouldn't read. But don't worry, I survived to tell the tale. And truly, I had very little choice. Besides, I have to say...I wanted to explore New Delhi I bit. I wanted to see modern India. And truly, the adventure I had with Kumar was the best way to do it. I realized this on the way to the airport. It's a beautiful day, sunny, 78 degrees, it feels like late June in Cleveland, and I feel wonderful. Despite the problem with money, and the fact that I'm now somewhat broke, I'm very happy for the experience I've had.
We get to the airport, and I give Kumar 1000 rupees for all his trouble and help. I know that between driving me around last night, having to get fuel for his bike, letting me use his phone to call my bank, and buying me a hamburger, he might be lucky to be breaking even. I am sad that I can not offer him more. But he graciously accepts. He gives me a hug, wishes me luck, gives me his e-mail address, and tells me to look him up next time I come to New Delhi. I can not express in words how heart warming it is to meet such a generous and friendly person when you are so deeply in need. There is something truly humbling about having to rely on the kindness of strangers, but it also ends up giving you hope for humanity.
So I start to walk into the airport, and I see the security guard at the door checking passports. I reach for mine, but its not in my pocket. Fuck. I search frantically in my bag, but it's no where to be found. Double-fuck. I think back. I payed the hotel, he copied my passport, and I grabbed my bags....but did he ever hand it back? No, no he didn't. FUCK!
I look back at the road. Kumar is gone. So now I'm stranded in a country with no money, no cards, no phone, AND no passport. I think. I have just about 1000 rupees left, which isn't a lot, but it is just enough for a taxi to the hotel and back. Except I don't know where the hotel is. I don't know the hotels phone number. I don't even know the name of the hotel. West something. Yea, that's not happening. Besides, my flight to Chennai leaves in just over an hour, and if I miss that I really AM stranded, because I don't have a valid credit card with which to book a new flight or pay any penalty fees. Kumar knows where the hotel is, but the only contact info for him I have is an e-mail address, and I don't currently have any way to access the internet.
So once again, I make the only decision I can. I decide first and foremost, I need to get to Chennai. Once I meet my meditation group, everything can be worked out. From there, I can e-mail Kumar, ask him to get the phone number for the hotel, I can call them, and ask them to mail it to me in Chennai.
But, now the problem of getting through the airport without a passport. The security guard at the entrance stops me and asks for my passport. "Oh, I didn't realize I needed it to get in. I gave it to my girlfriend so I wouldn't lose it. She's already inside." He roles his eyes and waves me in. They don't ask for it at the check in counter. They print my boarding pass, I put my luggage on the belt, and they point me in the direction of security. All flights both international and domestic have to go through the same security, which means every single person has to walk by the desks where they check your passport. Fuck.
I decide my only option is to try and explain my story, and beg him to let me through. I'm determined to make it work. I have no other choice but to get to Chennai. I go up to the man and start rambling the entire story. He just looks at me confused. He says if I don't have my passport, I have to go to the police station. I try to explain that I know where it is, and that even though it's here, I can only get it back fro Chennai. This seems to really confuse him, and he points me in the direction of some special security desk and says "tell them." So I walk over to them, ready to tell them the whole convoluted story all over again, but as soon as I get over there, much to my surprise, they just stamp my boarding pass without asking any questions. I sort of stare at them for a moment, decide I'd better not questions it, and walk off to the other side of security. I get on the plane to Chennai without anyone asking to see my passport again.
The plane makes one stop before Chennai, in a city I don't know the name on. To my great relief and fortune however, the portion of the meditation group that had been traveling around, that was also due back in Chennai on the same day as me, gets on. One of the ladies from Cleveland is in this particular group, and recognizes me. I'm greeted by hugs, and welcomed, and everyone is happy to see me. For the first time since arriving in India, I feel a sense of release and of calm. Now I know everything will be ok. It turns out almost every passenger on the plane is part of the meditation organization. I tell my story of the past day, and a man hands me his smartphone. He says type my e-mail in there, and it will be sent as soon as he gets off the plane and switches off airplane-mode.
And that's mostly the end of the story. I should add, just for kickers, that my luggage didn't make it to Chennai. I filed a report of course, and am waiting to hear back from them, but yea, just one last laughable the comedy of errors that is the beginning of my trip to India. I'm not really worried about that so much though. After everything else, it really feels rather insignificant.
This morning I heard back from Kumar. He has my passport safe in his position. We've sent him the Ashram Address and he will mail it. I will have it within a week. I still haven't heard back about my luggage. But, I've gone and bought some cloths locally. These cloths remind me a lot of garb. Cotton and loose fitting. Extremely comfortable. Upon hearing the details of my story, money was thrust upon me from every direction, without allowing me the option of refusal. It really is very family like here. And I truly have nothing to fear or worry about. The Ashram is absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous. I will take pictures and share details about the rest of the stay when I come back.
But I'm here, and I'm safe. I'm feeling more than ever that there really is no situation that can not be overcome with a degree of determination and a calmly optimistic outlook. And to think....I used to be afraid of getting lost in Cleveland. Lolz.
-Mongoose
