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My trip up to the north of India with my aunt took me to many cool places and fun experiences, but it was not without its troubles. Along the way we experienced many setbacks and delays due to health and, in my opinion, a bout of general bad luck. So, because my last article was about the differences between Delhi and Bangalore, I think it would be right to continue the story by telling you how the rest of the trip went.

We left Delhi by train. We struggled for some time to locate the correct platform, and upon finding it, we climbed aboard. Unfortunately we climbed aboard the wrong car, so with people coming in and out from both directions we had to force our way through with all of our luggage only to reemerge outside the car alive and whole if not entirely happy. We moved onto the next car and found our seats next to a nice elderly couple. There was plenty of room even if the seats couldn’t have been any harder. The bullet hole in the window pane that had made a spider-web of the glass was a bit disconcerting, but easily ignored with the curtains shut and my iPod on. It was a stressful endeavor, but ended fine and as the old saying goes: “all’s well that ends well.”

So, we climbed out of the train in Agra and upon stepping onto the platform we were immediately greeted by taxi and rickshaw drivers touting us for business. I told the first guy to get lost in Hindi (a sentence I’ve become rather good at in my own opinion) but it was to no avail. We were followed all the way to the doors and beyond. My aunt had tried to explain to the one most pesky fellow that we would not be securing his services under any condition, but he was relentless. I climbed over some obstacles to reach the pre-paid taxi stand and told him our destination hotel, only to have the same pesky fellow demand that the stand worker write down HIS rickshaw number on my slip. I was furious! I took the slip of paper and walked back to my aunt where she had found a nice quiet taxi driver to give us a ride. The other fellow was still demanding that we go with him as the paper had his number on it. This was about the time when all of the days stress had become a weight heavy enough to break through my earnest attempt at being calm and polite. I told him in no unsure terms that I would rather throw away the money I had spent on the pre-paid slip than give it to him! We climbed into our taxi and, feeling slightly childish and smug, I waived goodbye to that insufferable man with that little pink slip in my hand.

We spent the night in a very modest hotel room that was located a short distance from the Taj Mahal-our main destination in Agra. We hired our taxi driver to chauffeur us around the city the next day, and he arrived at six in the morning to bring us to the Taj. I had some troubles getting in. First, I had to pay the tourist price as they rejected my resident papers by saying that the pricing was for INDIANS or tourists, not merely residents. I grumbled, I lived. Then we went through security, where of all things, they confiscated my flashlight. My camera, my phone, and everything else in my purse was fine, but the flashlight was not allowed near the Taj. I was confused and annoyed, which quickly led to furious, but I handed over the flashlight and we continued ever closer to our goal. As we walked through the gate to finally see the Taj, a man demanded I pay the 250 rupees to take in my video camera or lock it up in his lockers. I gave him the camera and told him that I hadn’t even been able to get it to take videos lately so it shouldn’t be a problem, but he was not in a caring mood. I refused to pay money for videos I couldn’t take though, so I handed him the camera and walked through the gate hoping that the awe of being there would ease my righteously angered mind. Unfortunately I can’t say that it did entirely. I did enjoy myself, it was beautiful, and it was impressive, but after walking around it for awhile I was ready to go get breakfast and take a nap. (Which is exactly what I did!)

Breakfast was at a charming blue and white hotel/restaurant combo called the Maya. Later we found out that a German-Jewish woman and her Indian husband owned it, which is why the entire thing was coated in Star of Davids’ and the color blue and white. The restaurant was so cute and the food so good, that we decided to stay in that hotel for the night. We checked in right away (must have been 9:30 a.m.) and I took a nap. My aunt did some more touring of the city and later we both did some shopping. We had the Saree material we bought in Delhi made for us (blouses and underskirts) and my aunt wore hers the very next day. This was the cause of a very cute experience, as a group of ladies had come in to another saree shop we were in and saw my aunt all dressed up. They were so pleased by the fact that she was trying to wear it that they took the liberty of re-wrapping her, so that she was perfectly dressed. It was humorous and enjoyable for everyone, and one of my aunts’ favorite experiences in India I’d wager.

Our next destination was Jaipur, also by train. The hotel we were staying at was under heavy construction, but the room was very comfortable and the price was unbeatable. We had some plans for sightseeing, but they were all cast aside when my aunt got sick. Hoping it would pass and she would feel better, we didn’t stray too far from the hotel. The following day she felt worse though, so she ended up calling her friend that is a Doctor back home to see what she should do. It ended up being that she was simply severely dehydrated and although she felt like dying, all she need was some electrolytes. I set out for a pharmacy, found the electrolytes, and 24 hours later she was feeling good again. Disaster averted, we got on a plane for Chennai.

In Chennai we went to a very nice hotel that we realized later, was not near anything else we needed/wanted. The room was by far the loveliest we had stayed in, and the manager was very helpful, but there was not an internet cafe within 15 minutes. There was not any restaurants or shopping centers that we could easily walk to either. Inconvenience would be the title of our stay in Chennai. We hired a driver for half a day and saw quite a few things, the most impressive of which was Saint Thomas’ Basilica.

We were having a good time in Chennai, especially as we had found a store that sold many imported US foods, and I bought such things as Skippy peanut butter and ritz crackers. Once again though, travel is never without its difficulties. As we planned to leave the next day, we found all of the trains to Bangalore to be completely booked. We ended up coming to the conclusion that we would fly, but by then, we had to wait until morning. So, after our second night in Chennai we woke up trying to secure a plane ride out. It was not to happen. There were problems with the website, there were problems with the computer, there were problems with the credit card, and finally when all of the problems should have been exhausted the airlines would not let us book a flight with a departure so soon. Thus, we stayed another night in Chennai. My aunt decided that Chennai was like the song ‘Hotel California,’ with the lyrics “you can check in, but you can never leave.”

The one good thing about staying that extra day in Chennai was that I was able to get to a shopping center with internet access, where I received an e-mail from my father telling my that my cell phone bill was over $1000! At this point, I was exhausted of traveling and desperately needed to get back to my apartment in Bangalore, where it seemed the world made more sense and life was simply easier.

We boarded the plane on time and arrived in Bangalore. My spirits were soaring! (Until we got to the taxi stand of course) this was the point were India is always India, even if one town feels more like home. After shelling out a ridiculous amount of cash and driving for an hour we arrived at my flat. We promptly rushed the elevator with all of our bags and headed up to the third floor (fourth floor in the U.S.) except we never arrived. Standing in the tiny elevator with all of our stuff, the power went out. It was pitch black, but I pulled out my flashlight (collected from the security guard at the Taj on the way out) and we pried open the first set of doors. My aunt found a release switch for the second set and we looked out the doors to realize that the elevator had stopped in-between floors. We made the 3 foot jump down, gathered our bags, and walked up the last flight to my flat.

I wish I could say that was the fullest extent of my adventures, but it was not. When the power came back on at ten in the evening, I used Skype to call AT&T about my bill. After some time on the phone we came to the conclusion that my sim card had been stolen. (Rather, I dropped it at the airport on the way to Delhi and someone had picked it up and was using it.) An hour and a half later my theft report was filed and I was told that I should not have to worry about the $2000-$3000 bill that this person had racked up. Finally I was free. I went to bed exhausted at one in the morning.

I thoroughly enjoyed the trip, even if there was a whole lot of stress involved, and I am quite pleased to be sitting at my own computer in my apartment writing out the story now. I’m pretty sure today is gonna be a great day…I am in India after all!