We have arrived in Delhi! Two months have really come and gone, I leave on Saturday morning (like 2/3 am.) Tonight we get to go see Norah Jones (if our tickets show up at our hotel.)
Insert complaining: We originally bought them thinking they'd send them to The Thackers within 2 weeks, but when we realized they wouldn't even be sent until after we left, we tried to switch to window pickup in Delhi. To which we got this reply (after many emails and phone calls) "we would like to inform you that there is no provision wherein we could make any manual modification in the transaction once details entered while transacting as opted for home delivery." Thanks bookmyshow.com. This is also the site that wouldn't refund us our money when the Swedish house mafia switched their concert to the next night because they got delayed overseas. America spoils us with customer service.
Anyways, today was our last day in Mussoorie and we definitely enjoyed it. We had our usual 10 stops for chai, walked down camel back road, which our hotel is on, and enjoyed the mountains and crisp air. It's amazing how we spent about the same time in Mussoorie as we did in Rishikesh, and Mussoorie went by in a flash while Rishikesh just dragged and dragged. We made a good move getting out of there!
This evening we had a very local bus ride experience. First, a porter came to our hotel to lug Ale's backpack and bag of gifts. The past several days, we kept seeing these smaller older men lugging big gas tanks around town and commenting on how sad it was. When the porter came to carry Ale's stuff, he set up her bags like the men set up there gas tanks and she immediately felt really guilty. He was hunched over and it looked so painful. But let me tell you, this guy could move. I had my bags on and was dying. If it had just been Ale and I, we would have taken a handful of breaks, but not only was this guy not breaking, he was sprinting. I could feel my asthma acting up, my back was aching... But the porter was breaking his back and I couldn't stop because we felt so bad for him. I cursed Ale the entire twenty minutes. She did take my smaller backpack, and felt guilty as can be about her porter. I told her at least she was supporting the porter fighting off heart disease (and killing off her travel buddy.)
Many steep hills later (the porter chose the uphill route, when there was clearly a downhill route), we got to the bus stand. I rolled myself onto the bus and caught my breath in the back after my sprint 5k with 50 kg on my back. Since the bus was full, we were sent to the back of the bus. This was not a good location for a 7 pm night bus going down the very twisty roads of a mountain. We got to witness 3 little kids and 2 women vomiting out the windows in front of us (and on themselves and the floor) for the next hour. The smell of puke, and essentially being hurled in all directions in a black box, was almost enough to send me hurling out the window. Luckily (unluckily), the two windows were occupied by said family, so I held it in and only felt like puking for an hour. I also was very prepared (Ale gets nauseous a lot) so I had my pharmacy on me and immediately self-medicated.
Eventually, we got to the train station and I recovered from my sprint 5k/asthma attack and vomit filled bus ride. We waited a couple hours for the train to come. To entertain ourselves, we decided to look in Ale's bag of gifts. We counted 6.5 scarves (the .5 is really flimsy and she insists doesn't count as one) she bought herself and she said "well, this is really all I bought myself." I then counted her 2 purses, 2 dresses, yoga mat and yoga mat bag, tapestry, the 5 pairs of sandals (they were a good deal - she wants me to put in), a bag of chai spices for tea, a painting, and the actual bag itself that she bought for weekend trips back in the states. The good news is, to all you friends/family of Ale- she has plenty more in the never ending bag of gifts (that helps porters fight off heart disease.)
We arrived this morning in Delhi, managed to avoid getting completely ripped off by the rickshaw (it's called a prepaid taxi stand) and now we wait in the lobby for our room. We want to go to sleep, we (I) don't like this waiting thing.
Picture: here is Ale realizing she is paying someone to lug a gas tank (albeit much lighter.)
Monday, March 4, 2013
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