Plattsburgh, New York
December 10, 2010
Altitude: 350'
In the end, India was horrible. That is not something I say lightly. Perhaps it was the way I entered the country, the 14 hours ride from hell. Perhaps it was the chaos, filth, squalor, poverty, mayhem. Perhaps it was the the fact that no one could be trusted, that I always had to be on my guard to protect myself from lies, scams, deceptions. Perhaps it was because I remember a different India from 1998. 2012 was certainly not the India I experienced 14 years ago. Perhaps it was because I was no longer the same tolerant/willing/able to put up with the sheer human presence of 1/6 of the world's population in a place smaller than Australia person I was the last time. Perhaps, perhaps....
In the end, there are over a billion people living in India living in a space less than half the size of Australia. There are 280,000,000 more people than there were in 1998. There is no space in India, there is no way to sit and enjoy silence. It is impossible to sit on a park bench without being harassed in some way. This is not a country for people in search of some quiet experience. It's an assault on the senses, it teems with crowds, it's noisy and it's dirty. And, wuite honestly, while I'm certain there are perfectly nice Indians, they are NOT the ones one meets as a tourist. I was sick of being lied to. I as sick of being scammed. I was sick of smelling urine everywhere. I was sick of the smell of dirty, polluted air. I was sick of being stared at. (One woman and I had a staring match that went on 5 minutes until she finally turned her head. She wasn't going to stare me down!)I was sick of tring to get simple things done. I was sick of India and I was sick of Indians!
In the end I say fast track Mother Theresa to sainthood, and all the men and women who have given their lives to make the lives of the Indian poor a better one. I recoiled at the poverty and recoiled at the beggars and know I am so saint, no Mother Theresa. I did not like the person I became.
In the end, if I ever return to India it will be an in-transit sort of thing, with flights everywhere and with good hotels. Dealing with public transportation is too hard. And dealing with Indians is even harder. In the end, though, it's highly unlikely I will ever return. I could not tolerate the squalor and the poverty and,like a character in The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, I felt as if I was living in some grotesque fantasy. "We have to get out of here. I can't say in this country a minute longer," she quipped. "This country is driving me mad." Well...that's exactly how I felt.
In the end, I'm actually sorry I built India into the itinerary.
December 10, 2010
Altitude: 350'
In the end, India was horrible. That is not something I say lightly. Perhaps it was the way I entered the country, the 14 hours ride from hell. Perhaps it was the chaos, filth, squalor, poverty, mayhem. Perhaps it was the the fact that no one could be trusted, that I always had to be on my guard to protect myself from lies, scams, deceptions. Perhaps it was because I remember a different India from 1998. 2012 was certainly not the India I experienced 14 years ago. Perhaps it was because I was no longer the same tolerant/willing/able to put up with the sheer human presence of 1/6 of the world's population in a place smaller than Australia person I was the last time. Perhaps, perhaps....
In the end, there are over a billion people living in India living in a space less than half the size of Australia. There are 280,000,000 more people than there were in 1998. There is no space in India, there is no way to sit and enjoy silence. It is impossible to sit on a park bench without being harassed in some way. This is not a country for people in search of some quiet experience. It's an assault on the senses, it teems with crowds, it's noisy and it's dirty. And, wuite honestly, while I'm certain there are perfectly nice Indians, they are NOT the ones one meets as a tourist. I was sick of being lied to. I as sick of being scammed. I was sick of smelling urine everywhere. I was sick of the smell of dirty, polluted air. I was sick of being stared at. (One woman and I had a staring match that went on 5 minutes until she finally turned her head. She wasn't going to stare me down!)I was sick of tring to get simple things done. I was sick of India and I was sick of Indians!
In the end I say fast track Mother Theresa to sainthood, and all the men and women who have given their lives to make the lives of the Indian poor a better one. I recoiled at the poverty and recoiled at the beggars and know I am so saint, no Mother Theresa. I did not like the person I became.
In the end, if I ever return to India it will be an in-transit sort of thing, with flights everywhere and with good hotels. Dealing with public transportation is too hard. And dealing with Indians is even harder. In the end, though, it's highly unlikely I will ever return. I could not tolerate the squalor and the poverty and,like a character in The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, I felt as if I was living in some grotesque fantasy. "We have to get out of here. I can't say in this country a minute longer," she quipped. "This country is driving me mad." Well...that's exactly how I felt.
In the end, I'm actually sorry I built India into the itinerary.
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