Euro Trip

Quitting a well-paying and comfortable job to travel on one’s own expenses has held an almost romantic charm for me. Ever since reading about a few of these stories (Shivya Nath’s blog is a good example), I knew I would someday make good on this pledge to self.

That I did, in October last year, to tour Europe for a good 18 days. This post is a (not so) brief, overdue record of my experiences of the time. I hope it is helpful to those planning such trips. Of course, I’d be lying if I said this record does complete justice to either my experiences or the uninitiated readers’ attempts to accurately envision Europe.

It won’t be wrong to say that the best perk of travelling is self-discovery. If life is a dark room and one’s comfort zone is the window blocking the light of introspection, travelling is the wind blowing outside that incessantly pushes against the window, letting ever increasing trickles of light illuminate the darkness.

In that fashion, my latest sojourn put an end to the mental debate over whether or not I am truly a solo traveller. I love to go solo for 7-10 days. Beyond that, I’d much rather prefer to have (good) company. In fact, solo or not, I probably wouldn’t like to travel for more than a month at a stretch. No more ruing my career choice when I read about a travel writer. Much to my delight, I still can’t lose my bathroom paraphernalia - a 500ml bottle filled with water to the brim, and a bunch of wet wipes - whenever I’m outside India. More importantly, travelling abroad taught me, yet again, the indispensability of Indian food, and that the best Italian food in the world is made in India.

Itinerary and pointers

Mine was an 18-day trip, during which I visited Italy (4 cities, 10 days), Switzerland (daytrip from Italy), Germany (2 cities, 4 days), Denmark (1 city, 4 days) and Sweden (daytrip from Denmark).

My daytrips to Sweden and Switzerland were largely for the purpose of adding to the list of number of countries visited, a pursuit as noble as any.

Below is the detailed itinerary:

First stop, Rome, Oct 4 (Landed from Mumbai)

Second stop, Florence, Oct 7 (Reached by train)

Third stop, Venice, Oct 9 (Reached by train)

Fourth stop, Milan, Oct 11 (Reached by train)

Fifth stop, Munich, Oct 14 (Reached by plane)

Sixth stop, Copenhagen, Oct 18 (Reached by plane)

Oct 23 (Flew back to Delhi)

I have a lot to say, but if you just need to gloss over the bare minimum essentials needed to plan a trip, the brief version below will help. The longer version, which includes city-wise insights, would be of far more help.

TL;DR version

•  Getting Schengen Visa is a near-certainty, but it’s best to apply around 15 days before you fly. Strictly avoid agents. Go for German/French embassy.
• For money, don’t bother arranging for a travel card. Withdraw from European ATMs.
• For hostel bookings, www.booking.com is not a bad idea. But the best way would be to contact suitable hostels directly and negotiate.
• Don’t bother getting a Euro rail pass unless your trip is really long. Book rail tickets in advance.
• For flights, Easyjet is the best option.
• Avoid spending on water by carrying filling up bottles from the hostels.
•  Bus travel in Italy can be done for free
•  Avoid too many museums and historical sites. Europe is best experienced outdoors.
• Take pay-as-you-please guided tours of every city you go to
• Make sure you read up in advance about the sites you visit, and buy audio guides while touring them
• Climb to the highest point of every city. 

Longer version

Before getting there

The best thing about Europe before reaching the continent is the Schengen visa. You have to be a convicted terrorist to be denied one. I got mine within 2 working days, even though I applied barely a week before Oct 4, the day I was supposed to fly. Unfortunately, due to severe paucity of time, I hired an agent, and the experience has ensured that I never repeat the mistake. I would strongly recommend everyone to self-apply, preferably to German or French embassy.

As far as arranging for Euros goes, don’t bother getting a travel card beforehand unless you’re suspecting a large drop in Rupee’s value by the time you get there. The best strategy is to withdraw in bulk from ATMs in Europe, preferably those situated in closed spaces, for there’s plenty a watchful eye in the streets. In my experience, HDFC charged far less than ICICI did.

For hostel bookings, most people would go via intermediaries like www.booking.com. This particular website is good since there is no payment upfront, and you can cancel for free 48 hours or more before the booking begins.  Cancellation within 48 hours will attract charges, though.

A much better option is to look up suitable hostels (for those seeking cheaper accommodations, try camp sites), and contact those directly. This saves the commission the hostels have to pay to the intermediaries, and allows bargaining as well. Offer to pay in cash so that you can save on credit/debit card fee.

Although entirely a function of the traveller’s budget, 6/8 bed dorms are good because they are relatively cheap, and come with a separate bathroom. If you’re booking a mixed-sex dorm with ulterior motives, keep your hopes low.

Many must be conflicted over whether or not to buy a Euro rail pass. For anything under 6-7 weeks, the unequivocal answer is NO. It costs too much upfront, and you still end up paying full fare for a lot of trains. The best strategy is to book the train tickets as early as possible, which shaves off at least 20-30% from the usual prices. The downside, of course, is that it curtails flexibility. When you can’t avoid flights, go for EasyJet whenever possible. The service is good, and unlike Ryanair, it doesn’t land in the jungle. Keep in mind that they charge extra for check-in luggage, which is an added incentive to travel very light.

Non-Indians, especially white people, have a different (and lower) standard of “delicious” when it comes to food. I almost cried when the mouth-watering Domino’s pizza was reduced to a triangular heap of cheese with vaguely similar vegetables/meats unlovingly amassed over it. And oh, European McDonald’s outlets charge 20-25 cents for each sachet of ketchup! Really no harm carrying a bunch of your own if you plan to survive on the insipid burgers, still the best value-for-money food, all the more due to availability of free WiFi. A lot of money can be saved on water – each tiny bottle costs a full Euro – if you make sure you have a big bottle full of it each time you leave the hostel. There’s no harm avoiding the famed Italian Gelato. I’d any day prefer the thelewala Creambell over it.

At the risk of being judged, I must inform the readers that travelling by bus (except the airport shuttle), and sometimes even by train, in any part of Italy requires no tickets at all. During the 10 days of countless journeys within the country, I faced not one surprise inspection. The experience of other travellers suggests mine wasn’t unique. Not even the locals are too keen on buying tickets, so bloody Indians can certainly be forgiven.

Language problems are aplenty, especially in Italy, but certainly not insurmountable. Make sure you’re good at reading maps and always carry one.

While in Italy, you will face a torrent of Africans literally shoving useless souvenirs in your face to fleece you. Be firm in rejecting all such demands.

General sightseeing tips

Touring Europe is about endless achi khabrein and just one very buri khabar, so I’ll get the latter out of the way first: The fucking selfie-sticks.

While in Europe, and especially in Italy, you will face an avalanche of mostly Asian tourists proudly ganging up behind the most worthless, the most irritating, and the stupidest invention of mankind. God, as if the mobile front camera wasn’t enough. Make sure you practice enough Zen before landing in Italy. You will need plenty of it to not end up in jail for punching that pouting face.

Now, back to the good things. For most of us, a great part of visiting Europe is its history and richness in art and architecture. Europe IS the most artistically and architecturally astounding place on earth, and there can be no two ways about it. But let’s face it. Most of us don’t really care as much about art and architecture as we would like to tell ourselves and others. It doesn’t matter if painter/sculptor A made a brush stroke finer and deeper than painter/sculptor B. This self-awareness is crucial to determining which parts of a city you should visit, for the abundance of such places can easily consume all your time.  If you’re visiting a site known for its artistic beauty, make sure you read about it in detail beforehand. Irrespective of your knowledge, I can’t stress enough the importance of buying audio guides. Trust me, this is money well spent.

I would strongly recommend avoiding too many historical site/museum visits. For example, I found nothing amazing about Rome’s Pantheon, mostly because I knew nothing about it, and it paled in comparison to the jaw-dropping Vatican. Thankfully, it was free to visit. Realising my folly, I skipped the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, famous for Michelangelo’s David. Call me a philistine, but I had little interest in paying 23 Euros and waiting in a 2-hour queue to ogle at a dick frozen in time.

The limited time available is better spent outdoors, which offer great views and a better chance of meeting fellow travelers and locals. Europe is all about its Piazza, Platz, Torg, Via, Strasse, Gade. The ever elusive culture of any city, including Europe’s, is best experienced in these open spaces, where people mingle happily over wine, dance and dinner. The air of mirth, freedom and liberty about these places is infectious, and hard to find in India. 

Rome’s Piazza Navona is symbolic of such open spaces.  Even if you’re alone, get there around 7PM, sit down, observe the revelry around you, eavesdrop on the plans of English-speaking travellers to forsake their countries to settle in Italy, fall in love with that pretty young damsel dancing bare-feet on the cobble path, drop the pretence and tear up at the sight of that octogenarian couple ball-dancing to the mellifluous tune of the cello and the violin being played by a group of smiling homeless people. As I said before, Europe is all about its open spaces. Sites can be seen and captured, cultural experiences can be felt and relived. Choose wisely.

Another great strategy I followed was to climb to the highest point of every city I visited. Besides satiating my love for trekking, it offered breathtaking 360-degree views of the city. Below are photos from some such vantage points. The highest point also allows the traveller to observe a commonality across most European cities – its sloping red roofs.

The sloping red roofs

City-wise details

First stop: Rome

As was not entirely unexpected, the immigration officer at the Rome airport made me aware of my colour and nationality by asking me to draw all my debit, credit and ID cards, taking at least 5-6 minutes to let me into his country, as opposed to the precisely 30 seconds each it took the two white Americans ahead of me to clear the same hurdle.

The first thing every traveller must do is to get the 5 Euro ticket to the airport shuttle bus, which travels to various parts of the city. The airport is situated far away, and taking a cab would be akin to scoring an own goal.

If you’re staying in Rome for 2-3 days, which I did, and planning on visiting most sites, getting the 2-day or 3-day Roma pass is a good idea. It costs high upfront, but allows entry to most of the sites, which would otherwise require costly tickets. Some of the audio guides also come cheaper with the pass. Public transport costs are included, but as stated above, you can always take those for free.

Staying close to Roma Centrale station is a good bet, since Colosseum, Vittorio Emanuele II (a grand monument that can be visited for free) are within walking distance, and a bus would take you straight to Piazza Navona (already strongly recommended above) and Vatican, two of the three best places in Rome, the third being Janiculum Hill. Don’t succumb to the temptation of taking the 7-Euro elevator at Vittorio Emanuele II, since Janiculum Hill is perched high enough to offer the same scenery for free. The Hill isn’t far from the Vatican, but can be slightly tricky to find. It’s an amazing short trek, and offers some of the best views of Rome. Besides these, Spanish Steps, Big Mama (a live jazz bar) and Villa Borghese are also worth visiting.

From Janiculum Hill

The curious bit about Rome is its veritable Bangladeshi population. There are not less than 1.3 lakh of those in this relatively small city. Most of them earn their living working menial jobs, the most curious of which is flying cheap plastic toy planes at tourist spots. Most of them are always up for a chat, and can speak at least broken Hindi, so you know where to go when you crave some good old “aur bhai kya haal chaal?”

To me, the famous Colosseum and the ruins around it felt underwhelming. But I won’t say you shouldn’t go there, since it gives you bragging rights every time Gladiator is being screened. Again, make sure you are thorough with its history, and are carrying an audio guide. Avoid men in gladiatorial attire calling for photos, for you will be paying not less than 5 Euros.

Roman ruins from Palatine Hill

For the Vatican, booking the 20 Euro ticket to the museum in advance is the only way to avoiding the serpentine queue. Please, please buy the audio guide, and keep interacting with the guards present at every step of the way. Inside Sistine Chapel, ask for the window from where the pope-declaring smoke emanates. Do your best to ignore that Asian traveller who turns to face all 4 directions one by one with the selfie-stick in her hand.

From top of St. Peter's Basilica

Second stop: Florence

Like Venice, the city has two distinct parts – old and modern. Accommodation is expensive and hard to find in the old city where all the charm lies, so I stayed in a hostel in the modern part. Buses ply all day and take only a few minutes to reach the old city.

Despite the hype, Florence was the most underwhelming stop of my trip. Part of it was because of my limited interest in art (as mentioned above, I skipped Uffizi without thinking twice).  Besides that, Ponte Vecchio and others next to it just did not seem as scintillating (could be a different story if you manage to boat in the river, which is permissible). Another contributing reason was the sudden and excruciating pain in my right foot – it magically disappeared the next day and never came back - that didn’t allow me to explore fully its narrow alleys. That said, I really enjoyed the bird’s eye view from the top of the Duomo, and trekking up to Piazza Michelangelo, the highest natural point in the tiny city. The whole of Florence is walkable in just a few hours. I did not get to witness the old city in its evening glory. I think it would be a good idea to make sure you do that if you make a stop here.

View of Florence from Duomo

Third stop: Venice

Ah, what do I say about Venice? Can words ever do justice to this most beautiful creation of mankind? Even if you’re alone in this epically romantic city, the romanticism in its air will always accompany you like a loving phantom.

After visiting Venice, I wonder how its name evokes nods of disapproval in some. Maybe they visited it during the peak tourist season, which can be painfully crowded. To appreciate it fully, it is critical to know about why and how it was founded, its fish-shaped structure, and why you should strictly avoid contact with the mesmerising waters (they’re used as sewage). Take a pay-as-you-please tour before starting off. For accommodation, few would have the money to stay in the old city, so choose some place (look out for camp sites, too) in the modern town and take a bus.

Campanile, the highest point in Venice, is a must visit. So is Doge’s Palace, the seemingly inescapable prison that Casanova broke out of. Hiring a gondola is exorbitant, so most would have to settle for the vaporetto (motor boat). Make sure you visit the islands of Murano, Burano and Torcello.

View of Venice from Campanile

The multi-coloured island of Burano

All great cities of the world prove faithful companions in life, providing happiness, opportunities, love, and everything else one could ask for. A visit to San Michele (cemetery island) tells you that Venice will prove to be faithful in eternal death as well. Here, thousands of dead lie in serene graves in a place cut off from land, accessible only by boat. I was fortunate to have a long conversation with a widow who had been visiting her husband’s grave every day for the past 30 years. Moments like these stay forever.

Graves in San Michele

Venice is perfect for all momentous occasions in one’s life: sabbatical, marriage, honeymoon, and getting buried. No matter how hard I try, words can’t fully convey my love for the city. Just go there and figure out for yourself.

Fourth stop: Milan

Milan is not the characteristic destination for my kind of traveller. I have zilch interest in anything related to fashion. But I planned to use it as a base for two daytrips: one to Cinque Terre, and the other to Lake Como. Sadly, only the latter came through. On both days the weather wasn’t suitable for the long trek up Cinque Terre, probably the only regret I have about the trip. The silver lining is that I will go back to complete this trek someday, and I would strongly recommend this to everyone else.

Lake Como is just jaw-dropping. It’s a small town with a beautiful lake in the valley formed by high hills all around. The place houses some of the most famous villas on the planet, including one belonging to George Clooney. A friend later informed me that Lake Como was also used to shoot one of the Star Wars movies.

My daytrip to Lake Como also included spending about 3-4 hours in the Swiss town of Lugano (thanks, Schengen visa). The latter pales in comparison to Como. In case you’re not as desperate as I was for a +1 to my list of countries visited, avoid Lugano and spend the whole day in Como. In fact, this place is such a paradise that it deserves much more than a daytrip. It involves a lot of walking/trekking, and a semi-adventurous train ride up the mountain, so gear up accordingly.

The steep train in Lake Como

View of Como from the top of the ropeway

There’s plenty to see even within Milan. The Milan Cathedral, built over seven centuries, is one of the most awe-inspiring constructions in Europe, both from within and outside. I loved taking a long stroll in the gargantuan Parco Sempione. This website provides some worthy recommendations. If you’re an Indian tourist in Milan, do pay a visit to Aangan, for the Punjabi restaurant offers authentic Indian delicacies that made me cry after a 10-day hiatus from Indian food.

Fifth stop: Munich

It won’t be a leap to say that the bordering countries of Italy and Germany are two different worlds. Except the cost of living, Italy would feel much more homely to Indians – warm weather, road rage, small cars, unpunctual public transport, narrow and dirty streets. Contrast that with Germany’s sparkling clean surroundings, big cars, unnervingly punctual public transport, orderly traffic, and most significantly, a 10 degree drop in temperature, and the unsuspecting Indian tourist, almost beginning to feel comfortable in Europe, is thrown into chaos. On the bright side, Germans are far better at English than Italians.

I used Munich as the base for two daytrips: one to Neuschwanstein Castle (Disney castle), and the other to Nuremburg.

The day I travelled to Neuschwanstein was also the only time I encountered snow during my trip. It’s a slightly long ride to the Castle, so starting out early is recommended. It’s a beautiful corner of the German countryside, and if the weather remains clear, there’s amazing scenery all around. Most would neglect what I am about to say next: skip the guided tour to the interiors of the castle. They’re underwhelming, and the tour involves a long queue and costs 12 Euros. Instead, spend this time outdoors and complete the two-hour walk around lake Alpsee. The walk offers such sights that the day, which had till then been almost disappointing due to the hazy weather and the underwhelming interiors, turned out to be one of the best of the trip.

While walking around Alpsee

Europe's multicoloured leaves are a visual treat

I contributed a Rs.20 note to the local restaurant's collection. The recipient instantly recognised "Gandhi"

Do keep in mind that travelling between Munich and Neuschwanstein is tricky. Make sure you know which buses and trains to change.

The next day I had a choice between a daytrip to either Nuremburg or Salzburg. I chose the former because it involves a cheaper, shorter journey from Munich, and I just had to see whatever little remains of the Third Reich. Nuremburg is a quaint city, but don’t expect it to offer startling revelations about the Third Reich. The museum on history of Nazis is a good visit if you’re deeply curious but only partially informed about them. It didn’t add to my knowledge at all. Hardly anything remains of the famed Zeppelin Fields, but they do offer you a chance to tread in the footsteps of one of history’s great devils.

Hitler stood in this place 

In my view, choosing Salzburg (Mozart’s birthplace and home to arguably the world’s best ice caves) over Nuremburg would be a better option for most travellers.

Sixth stop: Copenhagen

The only reason I managed to visit the exorbitant and far-off Scandinavia is the presence of Neha and Sunil, my sister and jija, in Copenhagen. Besides the sheer joy of meeting them, my happiness was compounded by the offering of delicious chole and a warm bed to sleep in. If you guys are reading this, thanks both of you :’)

With Neha and Sunil

Notwithstanding the awesomeness of the trip, skipping Amsterdam had been playing on my mind every second of my travels till then. But Freetown Christiania, a “You are now leaving EU” hippie hamlet in Copenhagen with its own flag, laws and freedom to sell weed, put an end to any such regrets. Christiania has an interesting history, one which needs to be told to the increasingly jingoist polity and electorate of most nations.

The three rules of Freetown Christiania

From inside Christiania

Till the early 1970s, Christiania was nothing but a bunch of abandoned military barracks, when some homeless buggers decided to occupy it, and soon demanded secession from Denmark. In almost any other nation, they’d have ended up with bullet-sized holes between their eyes. Not in this case. The unbelievably chilled out Danes almost completely agreed to their demands, letting the almost crime-free Christiania evolve into the real world sibling of the utopian world of Swarajya, devoid of the concept of nation-state, property, and imposed laws. Sure, Christiania has its fair share of problems, and has not been left untouched by the Danish government, but a place like this needs to be protected at all costs.

One of great attractions for anyone visiting Scandinavia is the Øresund bridge between Denmark and Sweden. Of course, crossing the bridge also lets you do a +1 to the list of countries visited. Both Denmark and Sweden have relatively bland gothic churches, which are a departure from their mind-bogglingly grandiose Italian counterparts, but are a sight to behold in their own right. Scandinavians also starkly differs from Italians (and Germans to a lesser extent) in their near-monochromatic choice of clothing and home interiors.

Lund University

Just a usual site in Copenhagen

To get a bird’s eye view of this beautiful city, climb up Church of Our Saviour. It’s slightly scary at the very top, and is well worth the admission price. Don’t miss the boat tour, and the amusement park Tivoli.

View from top of Church of Our Saviour

If you’re in Copenhagen for a longer period, use it as the base for daytrips to Sweden, Norway, and other cities in Denmark. Lund is next door, and slightly further away lie Gothenburg, Stockholm, Oslo, and Viking Museum in Roskilde.

Copenhagen also offers crucial lessons in acting against climate change. Except battery-powered cars, all others cars attract huge duties, which means even the richest folks don’t own personal vehicles. Public transport is good, and the city is a cyclist’s paradise.

A Book and a Movie

The Revenant and Into Thin Air (a written real account of one of the deadliest summits of Mount Everest), are a must-watch and a must-read, for the duo will make its viewers and readers appreciate the creature comforts that most of us inhabit, and have come to take for granted.

In a classic case of the grass being greener on the other side, the mere mention of mountains, snow, water bodies, forests, and a strong breeze is certain to evoke longing and smiles in those uninitiated to the book and the movie. Not so much after they’ve read the book and watched the movie, for both carry the disturbing knack of making their viewers and readers cower in terror of mother nature itself. Mountains turn into oxygen-thin death traps, forests into homes of killer bears, and the snow and breeze together forever remind one of flying boulders.

Both have mastered the one trait that makes any movie or book great - of compelling the viewer and the reader to not watch or read, but to experience, sometimes so much so that it seems like a 3D-induced reality. It’s hard to not buck Leonardo up while he froths at the mouth during his teeth-clenching attempt to extricate himself from his grave, or to not implore one of the characters in the book to turn back as he drags himself to the edge of a 3000-feet vertical fall in his cold-induced delirium.

Despite the horrors that both inflict on the unprepared viewers and readers, their beauty lies in giving them a hard choice between craving the horrors that lie ahead, and revisiting those they left behind. In that, they turn even the most sadistic viewers and readers masochistic.

All memorable movies and books leave us with something. These two leave us with an appreciation for those little, easily ignored and derided things in life: walking to the bathroom barefoot without having to worry about falling off a cliff, venturing out of home without the fear of a grizzly bear drilling a canine-long hole in the neck, walking ten steps without pausing to catch breath, breathing without an oxygen mask, being absolutely certain about the existence of what the eyes see, and not having to choose between one of the two friends' lives. Most importantly, they leave us with a near-death-experience while shielding us from having to undergo one firsthand - perhaps a near-NDE.

A totally serious, thoroughly researched, and analytical study of white people's views on Indian culture

A few days back, I chanced upon an article - titled (hyperlink) 'How Visiting India Makes You Feel Alive Again' - shared on Facebook by my Indian-American sister. The share came with unqualified recommendations to read the article, claiming that it gave a “refreshing view” of India. She lamented that Indians (especially NRIs) “ignore all that is amazing and magical about India, and harp on everything negative about it.” The comments on her share gave their resounding approval. Of course, the overwhelming likelihood that most of those commenting recognise India only as their hometown and cities with international airports, matters little. Praising India on Facebook tides over these trivialities. And oh, mind you this was shared on Republic Day, one of those two days in a calendar year when privileged Indians all over the globe are stricken by the disease called patriotismtitis. This is the same disease which has led to Airlift being rated higher than Shawshank Redemption on IMDb.

Ok, now let's quickly look at what makes the article sound totally logical (not unlike those foolproof email forwards that proclaim India's greatness) and puts it beyond reproach, unquestionably establishing India as the greatest and the most pious nation that ever was, is, and will be:

1. It’s been written by a rich, white American person. No brown person reading this should have to wonder why that’s critical to the sanctity of the article. After all, it's only the richest, most privilege-stricken white people who truly grasp Indian culture and see the underlying spirituality in each one of us, as they undergo the same daily routine of publicly pushing, pulling, spitting, pissing, farting, abusing and molesting their way through daily life, like we do.

2. Besides being white, the author's authority on India is enhanced by the fact that "yoga changed her life". Oh yeah, the modern equivalent of yoga - bending at the waist once a week while ogling at a semi-nude Shilpa Shetty, and stretching the legs while getting out of bed -  tends to change one's life. And as we all know, letting yoga change one's life from a remote corner of the earth enables instantaneous telepathic mastery over India.

3. As every true India-lover must, the author made sure to visit all "spiritual sites" in the country. What's more, she did a pre-visit crash course in Indian culture to soak in the oodles of spirituality oozing from every open manhole of this country. Lately, I have been trying, in vain, to match white people's level of understanding of Indian culture and spirituality by doing a crash course of my own design. This has included visiting Banaras and Mathura once each, rubbing my nails to grow more hair on the scalp, and watching two full episodes of Ramayan on YouTube, taking only one shag break in between. After much heartburn, a white friend of mine might have finally given me the key to fully understanding the greatness of Indian culture - a selfie in front of Taj Mahal, which must necessarily be posted on a public Instagram account. #indialove #travel #yoga #namaste #indianculture #beautifulwhitebuilding #5000yearsold #PoorAreRichAtHeart #LoveSatiatesHunger

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4. As per the writer, India is not a country that you see, it’s a country that you "feel” - sure, having to stand ass-to-ass/dick-to-ass/elbow-to-elbow/navel-to-elbow in streets, buses and trains crammed with a million people leaves little room for not "feeling" India. The women, of course, are in for a bigger treat when it comes to feeling India this way.

5. The writer’s senses are awakened, in a “visual, loud and somehow suffocating yet happy” way by the the “heavy traffic quickly generated by cars, bikes, rickshaws and cows.” Yes, COWS. Wait, there’s more. To her, the honking here seems like “music”. At this point I was beginning to have respect for the author for her zor ka jhatka dheere se lage ways, but then I realised that since she was a great yogini, this was her way of transcending the sense of touch, as described above, to feel India. The honking allowed her to feel India through the sense of sound. Of course, while mere mortals go deaf from all the honking, a yogini's mind uses Patanjali-manufactured brain filters to convert this noise into Baba Ramdev's exhaling sounds - another prerequisite to experiencing the real India. She was probably too graceful to mention, but she must have also felt India through the sense of smell while having human sweat waft through her nostrils, as they rested against a man's armpit in Mumbai local. I am guessing her Patanjali filters helped convert this most unpleasant scent into Baba Ramdev's cow fodder-laden fart, an elixir for life indeed.

6.  The writer's witnessing of the border ceremony at Wagah gave her a lesson in the "limitation of our mental divides", and made her brood deeply over life-changing questions like "Country borders are a serious thing, but how many unnecessary mental divides do we create in our own head?", as well as "How many great opportunities do we miss because of country borders?" - all because across the border, the soldiers wore hats of different colours and the seating arrangements for men and women differed. Yes, that's it. First off, the author gets the causality completely wrong. Mental divides create country borders, not the other way round. India and Pakistan created a border because they generally hated each other and wanted to live separately. Had she been right, there would have been no civil wars. And what great opportunity am I missing by not going to Pakistan? Sure, I am missing being flogged for my religion, or being blown up while buying groceries. Thank the fucking border for not letting that happen as frequently on this side of the mental divide. But wait, we don't just share a border with Pakistan. There's Bangladesh, Nepal and China too! All nations whose citizens would immediately engage in a mass orgy with Indians as soon as country borders are lifted, because after all, deep down they harbour undying love for us, just as we do for them. In fact, this American author could have simply visited the US-Mexico border to better experience the divide. Wonder why she didn't do that. On an entirely unrelated note, there possibly aren't as many rich Mexican-Americans as there are Indian-Americans to solicit her services as a brand builder. In the comments section you'll find one such Indian-American who praises the author for "seeing India through the eyes of her soul."  Later, he reveals that the last time he visited India was in 2000. But like all dutiful NRIs, he has correctly figured out that the root of all problems in his country of origin is corruption.

7.  Brownie points to the author for admitting that yoga changed her life "in the US in a beautiful small yoga studio with peaceful music." In India, she found it a "much raw and difficult practice", though she recognized that the "true essence of yoga is being able to be in equanimity regardless of what is happening around." Yeah, I clearly recall Mumbaikars being in complete equanimity while they got pushed into and out of moving trains. Upon being enquired about the source of their equanimity, they unanimously attributed it to the at least six hours daily that every Indian devotes to the belly-reducing mind-mastering practice of yoga, with most of those hours going towards that most ancient aasan called muthaasan. In my over a quarter-century of existence here, and the 3657862 Indians I've known during this period, precisely five actually practice any serious form of yoga. Three of them started only after the gym didn't help them cut their belly flab master their mind.

8.  The author's "great Indian guide", one Pramod Singh, explained to her that Karma was a "way of life" in India. According to this enlightened soul, Indians don't really expect immediate rewards for their deeds. Surely, this great guide charged the author no money for his services, because after all, good karma alone ensures a comfortable life and kills the desire to be rich and sleep around. The more I read about white people and their great Indian guides, the more I wonder who's exploiting whom. Is it the guides who charge the poor (not literally, figuratively) white people a fortune for rote BS, or is it the white people who create these hitherto unknown figments of imagination to make their BS sound like it came from the horse's mouth, much like the journalists who break stories through entirely reliable yet always anonymous sources.

So yeah, if you're a 30-year old virgin and the above sounds to you like Sunny Leone preaching the virtues of celibacy while giving you a touch-me-not lap dance, I can't possibly disagree with you.

Again, if you think the rich use the poor as their conscience laundry at best, and as their cash cow at worst, I can't disagree with you. Paraphrasing a dialogue from Full Metal Jacket puts my thoughts in perspective - both the rich and the poor know only one thing: it's better to be rich.

PS: As per Bhartiya sanskriti, I don't watch porn, which is why I could only name Sunny Leone - after I got to know of her sordid past from the papers - in my example.

Some harsh truths about rural India

I just returned from a short trip to Banaras. I didn’t go there as a tourist. Nothing about Banaras appeals to the tourist in me. If anything, the religious hoopla about it has only ensured that I will probably never go there as a tourist.

In the original version of this post, I'd wrongly attributed the temple-like structure of Banaras' railway station to the government. Thanks to my half-Banarsi, half-American sister, I now stand corrected. The structure was built during the times of Raj, so the Indian government isn't at fault.

Now, back to the main topic.

The purpose behind the visit was to spend some time in a quiet, rural setting, and to teach kids from underprivileged backgrounds. The school where I stayed and taught is called Baba Devraha Vidyala, named after Baba Devraha, the Indian mahayogi who allegedly lived to be at least 250 years old, vacating his earthly confinement in 1990, at the banks of Yamuna. Please note the use of the word ‘allegedly’.

This privately-run school is situated in district Mirzapur, just at the border of Banaras. The community around the school has a high share of families running slaughter houses. These people are poor, illiterate, and spend their day drinking and gambling. There are no street lights around this area.

Why this obscure choice of school?

I have known the principal of the school, whom I refer to as Guruji, for a few months now. I was introduced to him by my father, who got in touch with him while designing a scheme to aid private schools in and around Banaras. Guruji is a simple, deeply religious man, who has dedicated the past 32 years of his life to running this school.  He comes from a very rich family background with which he has practically nothing to do anymore, leaving behind even his immediate family. Without any source of income, he depends entirely on donations to run this school, and has made upliftment of the nearby community the sole mission of his life.

Now, I harbour particular distaste for those clad in religious clothing, irrespective of its colour. I probably had similar ideas about Guruji till I got my first chance to have a long interaction with him, at my grandmother’s cremation site in Banaras, in the month of September. I liked how he was open to tackling the umpteen challenges raised by me against Hindu religion. We had quality discussions on the topic of Adi Shankaracharya, one of the few religious demigods I greatly revere. Guruji invited me to spend a few days with him at his school, where I could teach students and engage in religion-baiting. I instantly knew I’d take him up on the offer sooner rather than later.

Being at the school

I walked into a tiny room on the roof of the single-storey school building, which was going to be my dwelling for the next few days. There was a wooden cot in the room with a few blankets on it, making up for what could hardly pass for a mattress. I was informed that it was impossible to spend the night without putting on a mosquito net, something which makes me particularly claustrophobic. The floor was ice cold. There was an ajar window which I rushed to shut because that was the only thing that acted as a form of voluntary temperature control. The little wooden door to the room had no mechanism for it to be shut completely. There were narrow gaps in it which ensured nil privacy and incessant blasts of cold air. Thankfully, there was a gas stove in the room. I knew how I would be spending my nights. The picture below will illustrate my description.

Right next to my room was Guruji’s room - not too dissimilar from my own, except for a tonne of idols within it. The two rooms opened into a verandah which was also the dining area. Of course, the floor acted as both the chair and the table. The rest of the roof had no construction. I can’t say the view was nice. It was barren and dusty all around. The bathroom, thankfully with Indian-style commode (how can people not hate sharing their sweaty thighs with others’?), was on the ground floor.  

All told, the only physically comforting aspect about the place was the Indian-style commode. Despite the unfamiliarity and difficulty of the surroundings, the thought that that this was my only chance at simple living during over a quarter century of my existence, comforted me.

I arrived early morning, which meant I was witness to the morning aarti involving at least 10-15 students of the school. Thankfully, I don’t yet belong to the Richard Dawkins school of fuck-you-theism, which means I don’t entirely mind passive participation in religious ceremonies. But what I did mind was aarti at an ostensibly non-religious school, though this wasn’t unexpected given Guruji’s religious inclinations. The morning aarti wasn’t the only religious chant of the day. Despite my disapproval of the religious ceremonies, I was amazed to find Muslims kids participating enthusiastically in all of those. This becomes still more surprising given the slaughter house background most of them come from.

I also witnessed the school assembly, where I was made to address the students at a rather short notice. Bereft of ideas, I blabbered about the importance of English, internet, and female emancipation through education. It felt good to have done that in chaste Hindi. Guruji also nudged me to praise Bhartiya sanskriti in light of my travels abroad, but I desisted from lying since I firmly believe in the superiority of present-day European culture. My belief was reaffirmed when I witnessed sindoor on some girls’ heads. Almost all of them were under 18.

As already explained by Guruji, certain things were clear to me after my interactions with students on day one: most students had little command on any subject; the girls were far behind the boys in terms of knowledge as well as confidence; most students were totally disinterested in education; they had almost no knowledge of the outside world.

I also found out that being a Hindi medium school, they had learnt all subjects, except English itself, in Hindi. This made things simple: I could teach them only English.

My teaching sessions happened on the roof. Being a first-time teacher, I drew upon Michel Thomas’ methods (from where I’m learning German) of teaching a new language. As expected, the students knew little beyond A B C D...I taught them basic sentence construction by putting together the verb(s), person and tense. The lessons were peppered with my thoughts on the indispensability of gender equality for my female pupils, who were especially shy. Giggles broke into laughter when I told them I cleaned my own house and had started cooking too. I have no idea why there was pin-drop silence when I said it was alright to have girlfriends and boyfriends.

There was a clear uptick in the students’ strength and responses on the subsequent days. That boosted my confidence and satisfaction. It felt good to be a teacher. Besides being able to help the unfortunate bunch of kids, I am sure the feeling of being in complete control also played a part.

On the final day, after what must have been nearly 90 minutes’ worth of English lessons, I turned to maths. As if the condition of girl students wasn’t bad enough, I was told that all of them had opted for home science over maths. That hurt, and I couldn’t keep myself from rambling about how home science was useless shit, and that they must focus on subjects that will ensure their economic welfare.

Turning to the boys, I fumbled for more than 5 minutes to translate the Hindi word for trigonometry, the subject they were being currently taught. Knowing my reach was limited due to the language problem, I started with the most basic question of all: sum of angles in a triangle.

Not one boy of at least the 12 present there knew the answer.

If you thought this was rock bottom, sample this: not one boy knew the sum of angles on a straight line. Not even one.

I used my leverage over Guruji to summon the sole maths teacher of the school. Relatively young guy, he at least knew the answer to  both the above questions, but seemed a little surprised when I drew the sine curve and urged him to use illustrations to put his point across.

To Guruji’s credit, he’s managed a computer with Windows 7 as the OS. There’s no internet connection but he’s even caught hold of a computer teacher. Far removed from any computer-related know-how himself, he asked me to test the credentials of the teacher. I soon found out that she could type with only one hand, and hardly knew anything beyond Paint, Word and (bits of) Excel. Out of all the students, there was just one who had basic knowledge of internet. Dude even had a Twitter account. He had been picking up the nuggets of wisdom from a nearby computer training centre.

Less fortunate experiences

Misogyny and gender discrimination are everyday occurrences in rural India, found in such abundance that they often go unnoticed and unacknowledged.

I got the first taste of this when a bunch of female students enthusiastically volunteered to cook food for Guruji and his guests. As the men ate (I declined to join them and ate privately), the girls happily hopped from cooker to plate, serving them with broad smiles on their faces.  

I’ll let pictures do the talking:

Later on, after being confronted by me over the propriety of his students cooking for him, Guruji dismissed it saying it was entirely voluntary and nothing more than ‘gurudakshina’. No matter how well-intentioned its adherent, religion always leaves its mark.

Of course, urban India can’t be left too far behind. I was pillion-riding a bike through Banaras’ streets when the driver of the bike and I spotted a couple holding hands. That didn’t go down well with the sensibilities of the driver, who quoted at least three different shloks to me to justify how this was a damnable sin. There was no such consternation when he happily swayed past a gentleman pissing almost in the middle of the street.

Future engagement

Despite its obvious shortcomings, which range from demotivated students and bad teachers to gender discrimination and religious teaching, the school is the only ray of hope for hundreds of kids in the impoverished area. I have decided to visit the school from time to time, and donate a modest share of my earnings to it. I will also constantly persuade Guruji to introduce changes in line with modern education. Besides this, there are certain things - getting a broadband connection, installing LED lights, and fixing the loudspeaker - I’ll be directly helping them out with.

Touring Banaras

 

In the very beginning of this post, I mentioned how Banaras has never excited the tourist in me. To the uninitiated, the galis of Banaras will surely offer some charm, but not to me after my trip to Venice. To the religious, the sheer downsides of the city are negated by its religiosity Sadly for me, the latter only aggravated the former.

Wherever I went, I spotted a bunch of bhaiya trolls spending their day next to a tea stall and paan shop, filling their dicks and mouths with fluids to paint the town yellow and red. If America is a melting pot for all cultures, Banaras’ streets are a melting pot for the shit of all species - human, dog, or bovine. The famed ghats are nothing but a massive public toilet, with Ganga as the only flushing mechanism. The most famous cremation ghat, Manikarnika, has veritable armies of dogs scavenging half-burnt human flesh floating in the river. There might be a silver lining to all this: the people of Banaras have managed to dirty the Ganga river so much, that they can now derive the benefits of drinking human and cow urine - a monumental task for the mere mortal - from drinking the river’s water. That probably sounds less odious, and ensures an all-expenses-paid vacation to heaven. Just one little caveat: they should make sure that heaven doesn’t shut its gates to those who unwittingly consume dog urine.

I can script a similar tale of Banaras’ traffic, where honking seems to be an act of honour. But I’ll leave this picture to do the explaining:

If you’re still interested in touring Banaras, I would recommend contacting Ayush and Anchal (http://www.theroobarooproject.com/roobaroowalks/), a non-Banarasi couple who offer pay-as-you-please guided tours of the city. They’re super nice and informed. Anchal took me on a boat tour, from where we also experienced the world-famous Ganga aarti. I wonder why it’s world famous because…..Alright, I’ll hold my tongue on this.