Never in my life have I experienced such a drastic change in scenery as the day I flew from Dubai to New Delhi. Just hours ago I stood in front of the Burj Khalifa watching a mesmerizing water show that puts the Bellagio in Las Vegas to shame and wondered what India would be like. I was in a brand-new city of the future full of all the glitz and glamor that only absurd amounts of oil money can buy, and within 24 hours I would be in one of the most overcrowded, congested cities of the world. Up until this point, I feel my entire trip through Europe and the Middle East has simply preparation for this leg of my trip - India is where I would finally put my traveling skills to the test. As I boarded my flight there was a mild feeling of anxiety when I realized I was the only white guy on the entire plane.
In Europe and the Middle East, I could conceivably “pass” as a local at first glance, but in India there’s no denying it - I’m the odd-ball-out.
I’ve heard remarkably entertaining stories of India since I’ve been on the road, but I never once heard a story where a person uttered the phrase, “Meh, India is okay.” The reviews I heard of the country were either “I absolutely love India” or “India is a dump,” but there never anything in between. I will admit these two extremes are not mutually exclusive, but at the end of the day I was told that either I will love India or hate it - it all depended on how I looked at it. If I attempt to impose my Western ideas and customs on the country, India will steamroll right over me and I will come to hate the experience; but if I go with the flow and accept the country for what it is, I will come to love its uniqueness. I arrived into the Indira Gandhi International Airport with an open mind ready and willing to accept whatever this country had to offer. Honest to god, I had no idea what to expect.
When I was planning out possible itineraries back in NYC for my trip across the world, the furthest I ever planned was to the UAE. I gave absolutely no thought to India, didn’t know where the major cities were, or even had the slightest idea of what I was going to do. I just assumed that I’d figure it out when I arrived. When people asked me how long I’d stay in New Delhi and where my next stop was, my only response was, “I haven’t a clue.” My trip from the airport to the hostel was surprisingly easy, but when it finally came time to sit down and figure out what I wanted to do I was inundated with options. India is massive! Even before I began my exploration of New Delhi, I was overwhelmed by the sheer size and breath of this great country.
As tiring as it was just to orient myself, figure out what I wanted to do, and where I wanted to go next, the confusion I experienced was nothing compared to actually walking through the streets of New Delhi. From the perspective of a first time traveler through the region, “overwhelming" is an understatement; the feeling would be more accurately summarized if you could somehow combine astonishing, mind-boggling, and deplorable into a single word. From the densely packed swarms of people that course though the city at all hours of the day, to the countless variety of smells ranging from the delightful to the atrocious, I’ve never felt further from home in my entire life.
And I love it.
I can only begin to describe the feeling of walking around New Delhi and it is something that you can only fully appreciate if you experience it first hand. I quickly learned that there is no such thing as a “leisurely stroll” through the streets of New Delhi. Every time I left my hostel I have to be on full alert to everything going on around me. Maintaining this constant, 360° awareness of my surroundings quickly drained my batteries in much the same way that simultaneously talking on your phone while sending a text, downloading a video, and transfering files over Bluetooth drains your cell phone. I was flying through energy, and it doesn’t help that New Delhi is a massive city even larger than Berlin.
Sidewalks in India are optional; cars, rickshaws, pedestrians, and animals all share the road and create one massive, chaotic traffic jam. My first day in the city I walked around my neighborhood just to get a feel for the environment and within a few hours I was completely exhausted. The entire time I was on the streets, I was on constant alert for stray cars, potholes, carts, rickshaws, low hanging branches/ledges, people, dogs, uneven flooring, high steps, puddles, and gaping sink holes in the sidewalk - and that’s just the tip of the iceberg! Add to that the plethora of foul, cringe-inducing smells wafting through the air, untold amounts of dust kicked up into your eyes by the cars, and a hazy, pollution filled sky above that almost obscures the sun!
But wait there’s more!
The most difficult thing for me to acclimate to is the omnipresent sound of blaring, obnoxious car horns that permeates every single square inch the entire city. Since nobody in India follows the lane markings, pays attention to speed limits, and cares about stop lights at intersections, people here nonchalantly use their car horns to signal for EVERYTHING.
Turning? Honk. Merging? Honk. Notifying pedestrians of your location? Honk. Pissed off? Honk. Stuck in traffic? Honk. See a friend? Honk.
…and the list goes on.
Since I arrived in India the first thing I hear every morning and the last thing I hear every night are car horns. Regardless of how isolated a park is or sound proof a hostel may be, the piercing sound of car horns is unavoidable. It is the soundtrack of India and while I’m slowly becoming desensitized to the noise, if feels like my ears are constantly being raped by the high-pitched whine of countless automobiles.
Like I said… India is overwhelming.
I have to agree with my fellow compatriots, India is definitely not for the fait of heart or the casual tourist. To all you one-week vacationers out there on holiday from work, India will chew you up and spit you out without hesitation. India is a culture mecca full of incredible sights, but it is an unrelenting bashing on your senses where only the strongest, most durable travelers can survive. I know countless family members and people back home that would detest a visit to this country, but thankfully I have a more unique perspective when it comes to traveling, and as mind boggling as it may sound…
I actually feel at home in India.
For any of you out there who are even vaguely aware of my life back in college you’ve invariably heard of my old home in Austin called El Campo. For any of you familiar with the movie Animal House, El Campo was the physical manifestation of the Delta Tau Chi frat house from the movie. El Campo is where I made many of my lifelong best friendships, hosted countless parties, drank copiously, and generally acted as a fool throughout the second half of my college career. I loved it, but everyone who stepped foot into my humble abode walked away with great memories and one thought…
What a dump!
El Campo was the most disgusting place a person could possibly call home, but what more would you expect from duplex housing eight guys in college? The floors were always dirty/sticky, the sink was always full of used pots/pans, and I can’t tell you the countless strange smells I encountered during my residence there. India for me feels like I’m returning to El Campo; the similarities between the two abound and I can’t help but smile. Just like El Campo, India is full of people, loud, cramped, dirty, sticky, just about everything is broken, there are no nice things, I find strangers randomly laying around the place, and if you’re not careful you might step into a puddle of urine (and yes, there’s an El Campo story behind that last one). Plus, just like in India, rampant illnesses and bacteria plagued El Campo, particularly the large blue couch everyone used downstairs that was teeming with all sorts of biological goodies for one to pick up. It was a right of passage for any new tenant to get sick when they first moved in.
El Campo was a classy place.
On my last night in El Campo years ago, three of my closest roommates, Andrei, Swegler, Sean (from my UAE stories) and I went for one last night out just the four of us before Andrei and I moved out officially. We got a nice bottle of whisky to celebrate the occasion and drank it before going downtown to the notorious 6th Street. When we fished the bottle we all signed our names and left it behind as a memento for the next group of residents. I’ll never forget the phrase Andrei wrote on the bottle that night because it perfectly encapsulates both our experience at El Campo and what I feel I’m going to walking away from India thinking:
“We lived in a dump, and we loved it.”