Day 11 + Travel Home – Reverse Yaks

Our final day in India was primarily spent in the Delhi marketplace.  We had not intended for a down day like this, but with the travel itinerary we ended with, it was inevitable.  I still had a lot of names on my souvenir list, so I was looking forward to getting the full market experience. 

Yesterday, I talked about longing to get the full India bargaining experience, I thought I did okay buying my knife, but today I one upped it.  I found one store I got very comfortable in, buying souvenirs for my whole family, one at a time, negotiating a bit on each.  With each growing bargain, I eyed the endgame of this budding buyer/seller relationship.  I had my sights set on some of the nice chess sets here on the first venture and today I was ready to negotiate for one. 

When I asked the price, he started much higher than I would even considered paying, we countered a few times, eventually, he came down to my offer that was roughly 40% of the starting price.  I could have taken that deal, but instead I decided to get a combo out of it.  I also had been eying a nice marble vase on the wall, and offered him double the price of the chess set he had offered for both the set and the vase.  He refused, saying he couldn’t make the deal.  I advised I’d be looking elsewhere then.  He shouted different counter offers as I left the store and I ignored him, and headed out. 

I wandered into a few other stores, finding I was not nearly as interested in their sets or prices, and decided I should head back and negotiate a bit more.  On the way back, the man I had been bartering with at that store found me on the streets, advised he was looking for me, and told me my offer had been accepted.  He then led me to an ATM, where I pulled out the needed cash, and completed the transaction, getting both items for $25 less than he originally wanted for the chess set alone.  Now I truly had the India bargaining experience.

Another highlight was the same guy that had driven me crazy as a street vendor 10 days earlier just ignoring me and badgering other people.  It was nice to not say no over and over again this time around.

After lunch, we returned to a restaurant we had eaten the week before for a lunch that was destined to be cursed from the heavens.  The chicken came out looking a bit too tender, which I pointed out to our guides.  He advised it was fine and I, like a fool who forgot that he had already seen guides have phones taken from our leader and tell me midnight home invasions were normal, believed.  I ate a bit of the chicken, less than planned, but clearly too much.

After lunch, we had planned a trip to Baskin Robbins.  We thought.  We were taken to a place one used to be at, then taken somewhere else to try out Indian ice cream.  I’m sure the BR would have offered much better things, but we got was terrible.  It was really just a Popsicle that tasted like honey and cantaloupe.  At the bottom of it, there were anonymous brownish chunks waiting to be devoured.  I decided I had tried enough, and promptly tossed the rest instead of wading through the chunks.

On the way back to the car, we wandered under the street through a Subway tunnel.  As we walked through, we had to step over people just laying there, clearly homeless, hopefully alive, just looking for relief from the heat in the middle of the day.  That was among the hardest moments of the entire trip, literally just walking over poverty, knowing I was helpless to do anything about it.

We also took a visit to the India gate, where we encountered our most aggressive street vendors yet.  One of them grabbed a lady in our group by the hand and started to draw Henna on her arm.  Later, the artist would request payment, which a translator had to reject, as the artwork was never requested in the first place.  The lady was not happy that her forced artwork was not being rewarded.  Not much further ahead, an older lady pinned an Indian flag to my chest that was about a third of the size of a business card to my shirt and asked for the equivalent of $3 for it.  I rejected her request, and later handed her the tiny flag back. 

After seemingly days of drifting through Delhi traffic later, we ended back at the hotel to wind down our trip.  We had to be at the airport at midnight, so sleeping was pointless.  We had some long devotional and sharing time with the entire group.  I did my best to pay attention, but my attention was really being held by the after effects of that tender chicken lunch.  In a beacon of the hell that would be the next eight days of my life, stomach pains and sudden needs to burst to the bathroom in abject terror became the focus of my evening. 

Also worth noting, I pet two more dogs today while several others looked on in shame and disapproval.  The dogs seemed happy, so their feelings on the matter are irrelevant.

At midnight we loaded into a bus and headed to the airport.  Because it was international travel, we had to be there early.  Our flight didn’t leave until 4 AM.  Most of our group crashed on the airport floor for a few hours.  I took about six more trips to the bathroom, and discovered my sudden and explosive bursts of discomfort were shared by others in the group.  I wasn’t even on the plane yet, and this looked to worse than the flight there already. 

The first leg of the flight wasn’t too bad.  I rejected all food, it was only about four hours to Dubai, and since it had been nearly 24 hours since my last sleep, I managed to actually doze off for about two hours. 

And that was it.  The next 24 hours of my life would have no sleep in it.  When we landed in Dubai I again made a mad dash for the bathroom.  There was open stall, and it was something I thought was a chapter closed on my life on the Indian trains, a squatty potty awaited me.  As awful as that experience on the train was, the airport version turned out great.  The forced position it puts you in, really does wonders for making quick work of the bathroom trip.  I don’t want to be too crass, but let’s just say I cleared out fast.  I was hopeful that this had been a thorough trip to the restroom, I had emptied the previous days lunch completely, and would not have a safe and secure flight home. 

I was wrong.  Throughout the remaining two hours of the layover, I had five more visits to that restroom.  There were no other encounters with the squatty potty, only their normal toilets.  The interesting thing about the toilets here is that somehow, when they flush, they bring a waft of humidity in with them. They are automatic flushers, so that happens two or three times every visit.  It’s not a comfortable feeling to suddenly have moisture and heat run across your nether regions for no discernible reason.

I spend stupid amounts of money on the most basic and unimpressive hamburger of my life, because beef, that’s why.  I missed it, and couldn’t wait for home, regardless of my digestive tracks current unhappiness. 

There is truly nothing really to type about the rest of the trip home.  It’s just complaining.  I did not sleep again, I watched two movies, made about 40 more trips to bathrooms, my back hurt, my knees hurt.  After two weeks in one of the sketchiest places on earth, I can safely and confidently say that the airplanes there and back were the hardest things I put up with.  Home’s not much these days, but I’m happy to be here.