Arrival in India

I've finally found a computer so here goes:

I couldn't face the thought of a 15 hour flight crammed in coach so I used a bunch of frequent flyer miles and upgraded to Business class. From the minute I landed at Newark and went to check in for the flight to New Delhi I began to discover how the other half lives. I get to skip the extremely long check in line for coach and go through the shorter security line for "elite" flyers and then I enter the sanctum sanctorum - The President's Club - for the 2 hour wait for the flight to New Delhi. I had always wondered what went on behind those heavy wooden doors and now I know: free drinks, free snacks, comfy leather club chairs, SHOWERS, newspapers, magazines. It was a real revelation! I boarded with the other "elites" and found my seat. It bore no resemblance to the seats in coach and I tried not to look like an imposter while fumbling with the seat to figure out how to operate all the bells. I sat next to a very nice Indian born doctor flying to his brother's funeral in New Delhi and we conversed throughout the multi-course, bottomless champagne glass meal and then came the best part. The seat silently converted into a near horizontal bed! I didn't wake up until an hour before we landed in New Delhi. I am now hopelessly spoiled for life!

The New Delhi airport was far from a world class airport even though ND is the capital city - rundown, dirty and crowded with masses of people. I was almost beginning to question my decision to make this trip. I finally found Carol and the rest of the group and we boarded the bus that was to become out second home for 3 weeks. From the window of the bus I was amazed at the startling ontrasts of poverty and wealth that I could see in the light cast by the streetlights. The entire city seemed to smell of wood smoke. We arrived at The Imperial Hotel which was built in 1936 while India was still a British colony. It is a splendid cocoon totally isolated from the world outside - Art Deco in style with polished marble, brass. mahogany and sparkling crystal for miles. The air throughout the entire building is perfumed with jasmine. You are never far from an Indian staff member in imperial style uniform. They glide by, putting palms together, bowing their heads and saying "Good morning", "Good evening", "May I help you?". It is a world I have read about but never could I have imagined the actual experience. I knew I was out of my league when I spotted multi-billionaire Henry Kravis and his French wife in the buffet line at breakfast (don't even ask how I recognized him - just google him). After breakfast we went to the National Museum which was a shabby setting for such priceless collections (I especially liked the 17th century miniature paintings), lunch at an Indian restaurant and then to the Craft Museum (gorgeous textiles baskets and wood carvings). The traffic is insane - cars, buses, trucks, donkey carts, motor-scooters, motorcycles, motorized and bicycle rickshaws all careening around and obeying no discernible traffic rules while honking every horn available. I will never complain about Houston traffic again! After a lovely bubblebath in the huge marble bathtub I crawled into my heavenly bed (with, of course, extremely high thread count sheets and a cashmere blanket) and slept like a baby. After breakfast (no other billionaires sighted) we checked out and were off for the 4 hour drive to Agra to see the Red Fort and the Taj Mahal.

The drive was a constant assault on the senses. We drove a long time on the divided highway before we finally escaped the sprawl of New Delhi. And what a sprawl - masses of people, vehicles and carts of every description milling about everywhere right up to the edge of the highway. Vehicles on the highway were weaving in and out and honking and, in the midst of it all, there are dogs lying sound asleep (no, not dead) in the sand almost at the very edge of the road oblivious to the chaos. We finally escaped New Delhi and reached the countryside. It is flat, brown, hazy and dusty (it is a desert after all) and there are gradually fewer buildings and more agriculture. There are more and more animal-drawn carts (the cart being crudely made of wood with 2 car tires) and more frequently the animals are camels. I am definitely not in Kansas anymore! Our driver stops occasionally so we can view things that may be of interest - 2 snake charmers sitting on the edge of the highway, for instance. The bus stops and everyone piles over to the side by the charmers as they whip off the basket covers, pull back a towel and the cobras pop out. Someone says the cobras mouths are sewn shut and I believe it because the charmers sit within a foot or two of the snakes and wave their hands right in the snake's faces. Immediately the charmers start asking/yelling/begging for rupees as our cameras click madly. It is a scene that will be repeated many times every day in various forms. I find it horrifyingly fascinating - like a car wreck you can't look away from. At our next impromptu stop we get out of the bus to get a closer look at the dung patties being prepared and laid out in the sun to dry. This lovely task is delegated to the women (of course) and they don't seem to mind - actually they seem to take pride in this enterprise. They take cow/water buffalo dung, mix it with water and form large flat patties by hand, dry them in the sun (even along the highway) and then stack them in intricate and really quite beautiful patterns. Some are stored in small, square, sheds also made of dung and topped with thatched roofs that keep them dry during monsoon season. These sheds frequently have artful designs carved into the walls. The patties are used as fuel for cooking and heating - you see women in saris coming to the pile and regally gliding home with a large bowl of patties balanced on top of their heads. Surprisingly, these patty piles do not smell or even attract flies - why not is a mystery to me! We have lunch at the restaurant along the highway and continue on until we reach the Red Fort at Agra.