Category: Travel List

India. We didn’t get through the entire trip unscathed, as there were bumps, and mishaps… but I expected culture shock. I expected being swindled. I expected chaos.

No, I wanted chaos. I wanted my senses awakened.

At Delhi customs, the machine wouldn’t pick up my prints. Each time I laid down my fingers, the man behind the counter would roll his eyes, and say “again”. I half expected him to stamp my passport and just let me through, as Indian after Indian the next booth over seamlessly captured their prints. Finally, by the grace of God, or after a good machine wipe down, they had my prints.

Once through we picked up a SIM Card from Airtel at Arrivals, past baggage, even though the couple behind us were told that they don’t sell that late at night (They’re open 24 hours). It could have been because we had US dollars, and gave them the $10 each that they wanted… I’m unsure how much a SIM card really costs in rupees (or dollars), but for $10 (which “provides unlimited calls throughout India and 1.6gb of data per day- for a 2month duration”), we took the SIM card. I use air quotes around the plan, as we never got the SIM card to actually work and, in the end, I was too “overwhelmed” to call tech support and sort it out. Although, it would have been hilarious to call and receive tech support, from an Indian, while actually IN India. Thankfully, we were able to bum hotspots, if there wasn’t a Wifi option.

Also, when it comes to ATM’s in India, if the first you don’t succeed, try and try again. You’ll eventually find an ATM that will give you cash, but only up to $130 USD (10,000 Indian Rupees) per transaction.

I had ordered a private driver pick up from the airport via Viator, as I figured I didn’t want to get scammed fresh out of the gate, but it turns out it was just a guy with a placard, that put us into a cab…

Driving to our hotel late at night, it was like driving through the streets of Cambodia or Vietnam… Dirt roads, roadside vendors, dilapidated huts, wild drivers… With a nice store or two thrown into the mix… We chose to stay at the Hilton in Saket, and thankfully the hotel and rooms were clean and safe, as well as, attached to a very modern and expansive shopping mall.

Due to the shenanigans at the airport and the drive to the hotel, we arrived close to midnight and our first tour to the Taj Mahal, was a 2:30am pick up.

We were picked up by a handsome driver (Chotu) in the middle of the night, and whisked off to Agra for a sunrise at Taj Mahal. Enroute, we stopped at a local rest stop- and among locals we were, for a traditional, masala chai tea that was served in small, clay pots.  

We picked up our guide (Ankur) closer to the Taj Mahal, and made it just minutes after sunrise. We walked through a park, as monkeys, dogs, and cows walked along side us… until we reached the entrance of the grounds (a 42 acre complex) leading up to the Taj Mahal. We then passed the towers where the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan’s first and third wives are buried.

No wonder, it’s a wonder.

The Taj Mahal is everything you would expect and more. It is picturesque and seems as though you are looking at true perfection. There are amateur photographers there, with professional cameras, asking if you’d like a photo shoot. They’d print out any photo you like for 100 rupees, or about $1.30, or could digitally transfer the pictures to your phone. We chose to have all of the pictures transferred to my phone for 800 rupees (Negotiate!) … out of the 40 oh so, I’d say 2-3 are decent at best, but the mini photo shoot at the Taj was memorable and entertaining. You’ll feel 18 again, at your Senior Year photo shoot. In the end though, just throw your tour guide the extra rupees, as they also do this daily for a living. Ankur’s photo skills=insta worthy.
The detail of the buildings are impeccable. In today’s currency it had cost 1 billion dollars to build. Individual gems were used throughout the Taj Mahal to create various floral designs and patterns. Outside of the doorways are inscriptions from the Toran. Inside are the grave sites of Shah Jahan and his 2^nd wife, the love of his life, Mumtaz Mahal.

The outlying sandstone buildings are in perfect symmetry (one being a mosque) and the gateway to the Taj is stunning. It was also intriguing to learn how the Taj came to be, the wishes of Mumtaz, as she lay on her death bed, and what came of the family post her death. What a family scandal! Seriously, look it up.

Take a pair of socks with you to the temples in India, as you will be required to take your shoes off. Which makes sense, as the majority of your time in India, you’ll be walking on flattened cow manure.

We took the tram from the Taj Mahal back to the entrance/exit where Chotu was waiting with cold waters. They took us to the Lotus Restaurant for lunch (even though the restaurant was westernized and more so for tourists, we still popped a Travelan), where we ordered garlic naan, basmati rice, butter chicken, and mutton with spinach- all delicious! After lunch, we tried a small handful each of fennel seeds (saunf) with little bits of rock sugar… which is supposedly good for digestion, as well as, a mouth freshener.

We were then taken to a shop where they showed the process of how the gems were placed on the Taj Mahal, and sold pieces that used various gems and semi-precious gems. The pieces were beautiful to see, and by a miracle, they weren’t a hard sell. A “no, thank you” sufficed and we were out of there.

Our last stop was the Baby Taj. The Baby Taj was created years prior, by Shah Jahan’s Mother, as a Mausoleum for her parents. It is near identical to the Taj Mahal, just on a much smaller scale and was fascinating to see and compare/contrast.

Our Taj Mahal tour had come to an end, and we were driven back to Delhi. We popped off at another rest stop for coffee, a sweet lassi, and diet cokes for a refreshing, and caffeinated, pick me up.

With only a few minutes to spare until our next tour, we quickly freshened up and met our driver in the lobby of our hotel. We embarked on the tour I was most excited for- an afternoon of shopping. I had imagined rolling back up to the Hilton… flaunting bags full of shoes, purses, kurtis, sarees, jewelry, housewares and whatever else caught my eye. I brought an extra-large, empty suitcase for this venture. Instead, we were slighted. I don’t want to use the word, “scammed”, as we did visit a local market and Connaught Place (which had streets of stores that you can find in any major city- H&M for example). However, even though a few pieces jumped out to me, we were told not to buy from the local market, as our last stop would be the “best stop”- a textile factory that the government has allowed permission to create and sell authentic pashminas… When we arrived at this “textile factory”, a multi-level, nondescript building off the main road, we were ushered in to the basement and the lights suddenly turned on. There, many fabrics were on display and we were shown where the workers (5 sweating men) produced the “pashminas” amongst other specialty items… Everything was absurdly overpriced, the fabric was stained, and absolutely nothing in this place was genuine, nor authentic. They pushed us to buy $100USD+ “pashminas”, and jewelry that came with “certificates of authenticity”… a “sapphire and emerald” bangle was selling for a mere $30USD, *what a steal*. I bought 2 pairs of pajamas, that you can most likely grab at a Vera Bradley outlet, just to get out of the place.

I ended up “rolling” into the Hilton with one measly grocery bag, which held my PJs and a knock off Apple phone case.

Before leaving for India, I had feared for my safety (due to various mediums and stories relayed), and overpacked the itinerary with tours, guides, and private drivers. As a seasoned traveler, I should have known better… in foreign countries, just like America, there are good and bad. You have to trust yourself, be aware of your surroundings and belongings, and remain alert while out and about. The only piece of advice that was factual… pack toilet paper. That’s no joke.

If I knew then, what I know now, I would have booked a tuk tuk through uber, to wizz me around Delhi to the various local markets for 30 rupees, equivalent to 39 CENTS rather than the extravagant private driver fees we prepaid for.

For our 2^nd day in Delhi, we woke before the sun, yet again, for a 19 hour tour to the Ganges River in Rishikesh and Hardiwar, driven by Mr.Sharma, a kind and knowledgeable man. We stopped at a rest area, twice for gas, and at an off-road sugar cane factory, therefore, the drive to the Holy River was 7 hours. Many cars in India are now CNG (Compressed Natural Gas) and do not go over 50mph to conserve gas. There are also SOS buttons at every door, as well as, a fire extinguisher that sat right under my feet. Our minds were totally at ease…

I also began to panic in the early morning hours, as Mr. Sharma couldn’t seem to pick a lane… which worsened as we delved in conversation. I later realized, after we drove in between two lanes the majority of our trip, this was because there are no (or minimal) traffic laws in India… and motorbikes, cars, vans, tuktuks, and actual trucks, whip past one another, so he chose to ride the middle, so that others can pass on the right and left of him.

At some points, even though we were on the highway, and there was clearly a differentiation of traffic pattern, trucks and cars would be driving the wrong direction, straight toward us. “Idiots” are driver would yell. This is when we learned there are 3 things you need in India. “A good horn, good brakes, and good luck”.

A few hours into our drive, we pulled into a tourist rest area, with Western toilets and we were able to try a traditional Indian breakfast. Paratha. It is similar to a flatbread, with a potato and masala filling accompanied with butter and cup of thin yogurt.

A few miles from the rest area, Mr. Sharma pulled off the side of the road. I thought a flat tire, but he opened our doors for us. He had brought us to a sugar cane factory. Again, what I expected, was not what we saw. It was so cool to see, but equally horrifying. A handful of men used obsolete machinery to distract the juices from the sugar cane, which was sent through a garden hose to a large, boiling hole in the ground. There, another man would begin to clean the juices, removing dirt? Manure? It would filter through two other holes, the furthest hole, being the cleanest/most filtered. They would then take the boiling, filtered sugar cane juice and put it on a castor iron pan (10-foot circumference) and move it around until they were able to create individual sized, solid balls of brown sugar- which are then sold throughout India. Flies flew over the finished product. Actually, flies swarmed the entire area and all around us. This is why no one should be ballsy enough to attempt street food.

We were so intrigued by the chaotic driving and scenery. At times, my head was spinning because I wanted to see it all, in every direction… a family of 5 on a single motorbike (including an infant, toddler, young child, and parents), vans full of adults and children (hanging out of windows), herds of cows walking the highway…various road side stops, gas fill-ups, and passing by roadside villages. At last, we were in Rishikesh and picked up our tour guide, Naveen.

Rishikesh, also known as, the Land of the Gods.

Our first stop was the Rishikesh Ashram, which is a sacred space for mediation, chanting, and spiritual awakening. They follow the motto, “Love. Serve. Remember” and the teachings of Neem Karoli Baba. This Ashram is one of the many temples devoted to this Baba. He has influenced many including Steve Jobs and Larry Brilliant (who both came to India to practice at his temple) and Julia Roberts, amongst others.

The temple is clean and peaceful, as many chanted and meditated within the various rooms. They were far from thrilled, listening to Naveen explain things to us.

At the end of your visit, you are given a bowl of *chana dal halwa* which resembles brown sugar with chickpeas atop. I hesitantly took a few small bites remembering the sugar cane factory we just came from… it tasted mildly bland, with a hint of sweetness.

We then went and drove through the Himalaya’s, stopping near a bridge which we crossed over. As we did, we saw many rafting enthusiasts making their way along the Ganges River. Quite a few had fallen out due to the intense conditions- some were able to clasp on to the raft, others let themselves go with the flow, and some were luckily pulled up on to the raft and CPR was immediately performed. No, thank you.

We went to another smaller temple, off the beaten path surrounded by small pools of unsanitary water. They also had many large and smaller statues for people to stop and worship… which Naveen did. At each one. Dee and I just stood around him, and I wasn’t sure if I should nod my head, make the sign of the cross, or what not… all I knew was that I was not throwing my body on to the floor, stretching out my arms, and kissing a ground full of germs.

We were driven back into town where we were dropped off to walk along the narrow streets, again alongside cows. We popped into a few local stores, including a jewelry store with an astrologist. I called my Mom at 4am Chicago time, demanding my exact birth time… I wasn’t playing around. I gave him my birth date, time, and location and he provided me details of my future, what colors are best for me, and stones that will illuminate positivity in my everyday life… Next thing I knew, jewels were all over the place… sapphires, rose quartz in gold, moon stones, citrine, topaz. That “free” reading, comes with a hefty price tag. After paying for a rose quartz bracelet and moon stone ring, I added him on insta. I recorded our session, so if 2023 doesn’t pan out like he predicted, I’m asking for a refund.

We crossed the Lakshman Jhula Bridge, which was a bit frightening, as it swung with the herds of people… and stray cattle… and wild monkeys. I panicked a quarter of the way through. At this point it’s safe to assume there aren’t any safety guidelines going on in India. I literally had to push past people as they LEISURELY strolled the bridge. Apparently, I was the only one worried about ending up on the nightly news, being the American at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Across the bridge, we came across numerous markets, and the loveliest café: Little Buddha Café. I was hoping to make it to Nepal this trip, but due to Indian Visa entries, we weren’t able. Having lunch at the open café overlooking the river, is what I thought Nepal would FEEL like… Open air concept, rock jams/easy listening playing, ceiling fans on full speed, sitting a top floor pillows and cushioned lounge chairs, with Tibetan prayer flags strung throughout. Rishikesh is a holy land, therefore there is no meat or alcohol consumed within the city. We ordered lemon-mint ice beverages, avocado toast, and a vegetable sizzler.

Just give me a month in Rishikesh (and Goa)… practicing yoga and meditation, eating vegan, and drinking daily kombucha… I’d come back a whole new lady…

We then bought Tibetan Wool shawls, blankets, and scarves, as well as, a few “hippie” headbands from the local vendors. I read about the art of negotiation in India, and loved haggling in China, but found myself paying what was asked at the local markets as I thought the prices were reasonable. For the exception of the moon ring, which I got taken for a ride on.

We continued on, and took a path less traveled. Dirt, garbage, tents, and outdoor kitchens… where cows strolled in and out of temples… and where you definitely had to watch where you walk… or what you walk along side of. I never feared the stray animals, until one cow in particular, had LITERALLY explosive diarrhea inches from my sandaled feet. As Naveen and Dee had walked ahead, they missed the incident and my keeling over, dry heaving response.

Rather than crossing over another bridge, we took a ferry across to our car. We loaded up on the small boat with numerous locals, and were approached by a few, sweet teenagers who wanted to practice their English.

I wasn’t going to do it… not a toe, not a finger… but there I was dipping my whole hand in the Ganga River as we cruised across. Wiping away all of my sins, and hoping for all the magic.

In the car, I drenched myself with disinfectant.

At Triveni Ghat, we witnessed the Ganga Aarti on the banks of the River Ganges. At first, I was disappointed we weren’t going to be apart of the prayer ritual in Hardiwar, that attracts nearly 10,000 people each night… however, attending the smaller scale ritual in Rishikesh, was much more intimate and inviting. We sat along the steps inside the Treveni Ghat and watched in awe the “Ganga aarti” (Maha-aarti) performed to recited hymns, as participants offered fire and rose petals to the River. After I placed my petals in the Ganga, I placed my hands over a fire before dipping my finger into the ashes. Before I could place the ashes on my own forehead, a Hindu approached and placed the ashes on my forehead while chanting. I was then brought to the entrance of the temple where a Hindu man painted sandalwood paste on my forehead using a carnation flower as the brush, and finished by placing a bindi (red dot) in the middle. I sent the video to Grandma, who had assumed I had converted.

After the Aarti (offering), everyone participates in spiritual dances to Hindu bhajan music. The entire experience was peaceful, powerful, and unifying.

Our last stop was Hardiwar. The magnitude compared to Rishikesh was intense. I can’t even imagine 10,000 people gathering for the ritual and curious if the take away would have been the same. We walked through the bustling night market and along the Ganga River. We were 15 hours into our tour, and after minimal sleep the past nights, we were exhausted. We were thrilled to be back in the car with Sharma. We wrapped ourselves in our new shawls, and took a little nap… all the way back to the Hilton.

On our final day in Delhi, after sleeping more than 3 hours, we packed up and headed down to Starbucks. We also were able to indulge in the complimentary, continental breakfast at India Grill at the Hilton… where we ordered Belgian Waffles and pancakes, as well as, a Dosa (Indian crepe) with potato and masala filling. I have to admit… even though we were only two full days in, I was ecstatic for an American breakfast dish accompanied by a Starbucks Venti.

We ordered an Uber- for 30 CENTS- and our Uber TukTuk came and whisked off to Miniso. How I love Miniso and have missed it since my days in Beijing. Miniso was a staple in my life, and a place where I bought hair and beauty products, fun accessories, and random items that were not needed, but wanted.

I stocked up on new face masks, face wipes, shower items, and an elephant “plushie” for one of the kiddo’s back home.

We tuktuk’d back to the hotel in perfect timing as our driver (Faeem) for our farewell Delhi tour had arrived. We loaded our luggage and headed towards Old Delhi to meet with our guide Riyaz.

In Old Delhi, we rode a TukTuk through town, as it was more accessible to move about the traffic. We visited the Jama Masjid (Friday Mosque) where we (women) were provided robes for a small fee, to walk about the Mosque. The same architect who constructed the Taj Mahal, had built the Jama Masjid and the details and structure were very similar. We were not able to go within the Mosque, as tourists/non-Muslims are not allowed, but from the outside looking in, it was very beautiful. We were told that Muslims in Delhi were to live within 3 minutes of the Mosque… as Riyaz pointed out his home to us.

Pappa-Papparazzi…. We were “famous” in Delhi. Everyone wanted photos with us, and at times, we would notice people following us or angling their phones in various way to capture us in their picture. At one point, on the plane to Goa, I saw the 2 men in the row ahead of us, tilt their phones a certain way to ensure I was in the photo— I then purposefully waved and posed with a big, cheesy grin on my face.

We then rode through the congested Spice Market. Men carried hundreds of pounds of spices atop their heads, and others pushed thousands of pounds on wheel barrows. We asked to stop and were told only a few places package the spices acceptable for travel… We bought various teas: mango, blueberry, white, masala chai, as well as, spices for cooking butter and tandoori chicken. We were told this was not apart of the tour, but this store felt set up for tourists. I later checked my Credit Card account and saw that I was incorrectly (and almost double) charged. What they added on their calculator is not what was charged. They also told us all teas were 560 rupees each, but after check out informed me that certain teas I purchased were 1800 rupees each… tricky tricky.

We continued on, passing by the Red Fort and the Shri Digambar Jain Lal Mandir Temple. We all met back up with Faeem, and the air-conditioned car (Alleluia!) and drove to Raj Ghat where Gandhi was cremated. Since his cremation, many presidents from around the world have come to pay their respects and each have planted a tree in the garden. It is very beautiful and captivating.

Agraden ki Baoli was completely unexpected. From the street it looks like a single wall, but stepping inside you find a 60-meter long, 15-meter wide step well, and has 108 steps. There is no history as to when or who built it, but it is believed to have been commissioned by King Agrasen in 3000BC and rebuilt in the 14^th century. It has served as a community for locals to collect water, bathe, and a place to provide shade in high temperatures.

The Gurudwara Bangla Sahib, known for its association with the eighth Sikh Guru, was once a palace. There everyone must cover their head and not only take off their shoes prior to entering, but also wash their feet in the communal area. We were advised that it wouldn’t be sanitary to wash our feet, as the water is shared with thousands of others… and therefore, we weren’t able to access the temple. We walked around the temple, which has multiple entrances, to represent the temple is open to all people and religions. They also serve food for all people in the “langer”. I wish I wasn’t so scared of (or prone to) infection, because I can only imagine how breath taking the interior would have been.

After many stops, we had lunch in Connaught Place: butter chicken, naan, and rice… clearly our go to meal choice.

We stopped by the Gate of India, where the names of those who lost their lives in World War 1 are inscribed. The structure is comparable to the Arc de Triomphe and amazing at sunset.

The Lotus Temple was closing for the evening and we made it through the entrance with a few minutes to spare. We walked towards the temple, but weren’t able to go inside as it has been closed since Covid. The temple is a Baha’i House of Worship and was built in 1986. It can seat 1,300 people, and hold 2,500. Inside there are no pictures, statues, or altars. The gardens are well kept, and all of the caretakers are volunteers from the temple. It reminded me of the Sydney Opera House and I am so, so glad we made it in time to see.

Again, people came running in all directions to have their photo taken with us… at one point, we could see a very pregnant woman racing toward us as she saw the cameras out, and threw her phone (camera) at her husband as she jumped in the photo amix strangers.

Last stop stop: Delhi Airport. I thought China was difficult. India… brutal. You can’t even get in the airport without a boarding pass… which in reality, is excellent for the safety of those traveling… However, for two ladies without data, and no electronic boarding pass, this proved to be a challenge. We needed to find the ticket office, to have our tickets printed. Once in, we lucked out. They accepted our luggage on Air India without too much issue. We were schlepped off to “re-organize” and “lose a few kilos”, but we were able to stuff our carry-ons. I don’t understand how we lost water weight** and still were over the limit.

** Advice told to us via blogs and actual accounts… that in India, vendors and stores will scam tourists by filling used water bottles with tap water and then glue back on the tops… so we each loaded our suitcases with bottles of water from home. I can only imagine what TSA thought as our checked baggage went through… Truth- no need to pack water… just be sure to buy from a trustworthy shop… hotel lobbies, grocery stores, etc. Listen for the “click” as you turn the top. Also, at every restaurant we asked about THEIR water filtration system… and were always met with the same annoyed look and response, that yes, their water is filtered.**

There weren’t many people on our flight, so we were able to spread out, and we quickly passed out. I dreamt we had landed, so when I awoke I thought we were on the runway about to pull into our gate. I was about to wake up Dee to tell her we arrived, but then turbulence hit and I realized we still had a bit of ways to go…

When we eventually landed at 1am, we walked along an “under the sea” themed carpeted walkway, and past gigantic lite brite’s on the Airport walls.

I saw our driver from Serenity Resort outside, as he quickly flashed our placard, and Dee asked, “Are you sure you saw your name?” as we entered his car. Moments before, I had dreamt we had landed, and now I was mind f*ed that I also imagined seeing my name and got into a car with stranger danger.

It was an hour and a half drive to South Goa, and I was on full alert the majority of the ride as Dee slept. When she awoke a quarter of a way through, she couldn’t have opened her eyes at a less perfect time. We were just turning on to a dirty and desolate street, in the middle of no-where with a group of men just standing around at 2am in a well-lit parking lot. She was like a deer in headlights and looked at me with concern. I calmly told her it was fine, but internally, I was losing it. Thankfully, we kept on driving, right past the loitering crew.

Then I saw a Catholic Church, and a few blocks later, a cross, then a makeshift chapel/shrine. I immediately calmed down, as I told myself we were in God’s state. I took out my rosary, held it tight, and slept until we pulled up to the resort.

As it was after 2:30 AM when we arrived, we were led through the sand, with a staff member who carried our suitcases a top his head. He led us into our beach hut, and turned away. It was everything I wanted it to be. A bed with mosquito net covering… simple… a makeshift outdoor-ish bathroom/shower… AC… and the most adorable porch. 

Pure exhaustion had taken over. Shortly into my sleep, something awoke me: a flashing light in the corner of the room. Blinking lights equate to a warning. I opened the curtains with the Arabian Sea spread before me and saw numerous blinking red and blue lights. Typhoon season doesn’t start until June… but were we all going to be washed away? I went out on the porch and there wasn’t any activity; no one abandoning their huts, rushing to safety… But to be safe, I WhatsApp’d the manager I had contact with. Go figure, there was no response for the crazy American… There was nothing left to do, but to slip on my eye mask and go back to sleep… for 2 hours until I woke to check on the “weather situation”, which was sunny and clear. At that point I was up, and chalked the light up to needing to be changed. I facetimed my Grandma, who told me my face was swollen and I looked tired. Well, ain’t that the truth.

& Good Morning to you, Jesus! I’m telling you, South Goa is all about the Big Guy. Leaving our resort was a statue, with a picture of Jesus, and people were leaving offerings-plants, flowers… You couldn’t walk a few feet without a shrine of some sorts.

I picked our food spots based on TripAdvisor reviews. Our first breakfast was at Zest… For the girl who normally orders the most carb heavy item on the menu, with a side of bacon, I chose the pineapple kombucha and the pink smoothie bowl with fresh fruit and granola- which had me feeling good inside and out… I’m telling you, give me a month here, it’d be all I need.

We walked down to Krishna Massage which is highly ranked, and each got the 90minutes pamper session. It was a massage, with a hot bundle treatment. At first the “hot bundles” shocked me, but after the first hot “pounding” of the rice bag filled with herbs, I was yearning for the heat on my muscles. All in, with a generous tip, it was $32. If you aren’t getting daily massages while in Asia, you are doing something wrong.

Walking to and from we stopped into some of the mom and pop clothing and souvenir shops. Some of the boutiques had really nice jewelry and boho chic beach wear, especially the one attached to Zest.

Back at the resort, everyone was hanging out at the beach bar and restaurant. Only the cows and I sprawled out on the sand, working on our summer glow. The waves were intense, but with my private life guard nearby, I risked it… up to my waist. The man in red, didn’t seem to be very “alert” if a save was needed.

After a bit of R&R, I rejoined Dee at the bar, where we ordered a bottle of champagne and pastas. The afternoon shrimp and chile pasta was some of the best I’ve had.

Thankfully, that didn’t deter us from going to Kopi Desa for a late dinner. On the way we stopped at a local shop for souvenirs and I got some fun trinkets for family and friends back home. Luckily, I had Dee and her hard-core negotiating skills, although I almost cringed a bit over the haggling… he tried telling us he was closing for the season after that night, but that was just part of his schtick as we waved hello’s to him the next afternoon.

I gleefully walked the rest of the way to the restaurant with a bag full of fun gifts We ordered a round of cocktails- a mojito and daquiri, and Dee ordered the pork chops and I the spare ribs with corn, fries, and coleslaw. The portions were ridiculous… I kept eating and there was still so much meat! Tyson, the restaurant pup scoured the restaurant and knew to perch up next to me. He was the absolute sweetest. At the end of my meal I scraped the sauce from my pork and asked the wait staff if we could give some of my leftovers to Tyson. He had a feast!

I then took the rest of my pork with me in a napkin… Which I passed out to the numerous strays on the way… more like chucked it out of the moving tuktuk’s window. It made my heart happy watching the dogs dig in.

I had hoped to have ONE morning over my Spring Break to sleep in, without an alarm set, but the “warning” light continued to flash and the lure of a Goa-n sunrise got me up as the sun rose. I walked the beach with other sunrise enthusiasts and enjoyed the quiet.

A bit later, as we walked to Mandala Café, we saw parents picking up their children from St. Anne’s school. It was the 2^nd day in a row that we saw kids leaving school around 10am. They must get out early due to the heat as the summer season was just beginning for them. Sign me up for that gig. I’d love a 10am dismissal, any day.

At Mandala Café we ordered an Espresso and Iced Chai as we relaxed in their open aired restaurant with ceiling and floor fans blowing in our direction. The café is vibrant and full of good energy. All of their food is made fresh and all vegetarian or vegan. We shared the dutch pancakes with strawberries and Nutella, and attempted the overnight oats… unfortunately, we didn’t get far with the oats. We finished off with a vegan tiramisu and a to-go rose brownie. As we ate, many cows wandered about, and I continue to question how they know not to come into the restaurants. I saw one of the school girls giving them water, and have been told that the people of India take care of the one billion stray animals including cows, dogs, and monkeys. Well, thank God for that.

I absolutely loved the feel at the cafes where we had breakfast… both stunning in their own way. Zest was chic, where Mandala had me wanting to trade in my jcrew for elephant pants and loose tie dye.

Both were frequented by those staying in Goa to attend Yoga retreats, and the instructors/participants suggested we get that day’s massage at the Agonda Cottages- Kerala Ayurvedic.

Rather than walking back in the intense sun, we called for a tuktuk. At the resort, we lounged about, going down to the beach, and beginning to pack for our final adventure (or so we thought).

We made massage appointments for 4pm that afternoon and each took yet another 90-minute session, but this time along with my 60minute massage, I had a 30min shirodhara treatment. I laid there as my masseuse poured oil over my head. It is supposed to improve sleep quality, manage insomnia, and lessen anxiety… yet as I laid there (naked), I felt my anxiety increase. We’ll see if I’ll eventually manage a good night’s sleep.

Both Krishna and Kerala were excellent, and are a must when in Agonda!

After the massages, Dee finally got her Indian wish- a ride on a motorbike… by the spa owner. Pure joy!

Dinner reservations were at 8pm, and even after 3 hair washes, I still looked as though I SHOULD have been one who lives in elephant pants.

We hired a tuktuk to take us to Palolem Beach, about 15minutes from Agonda, for dinner at Ourem88. A large outdoor patio with candle light under twinkling lights. The perfect date night spot… or “friend date” spot! The menu also included beef fillet! I thought to myself, ‘I’m not sure how this import is possible’… (as ‘sacred’ cows laid on the dirt road outside of the picket fence).. but I ordered it, and devoured it… and pray that we were truly eating beef.

We ordered a bottle of red, each a beef fillet and sides, and phenomenal desserts… a toffee sticky pudding and lemon tart. The affordable prices alone should make anyone want to travel to Goa.

Back at Serenity, I drank a Kingfish, while being swooned by the live musical entertainment for the night. The cutest pup and her little puppies chased each other throughout the sand filled lobby. I could have zen’d out, if it weren’t for the fact we were flying out only a few hours later.

Our drive to the airport started at 3:20am on our last day in India. We were flying into Mumbai for 11 hours, and 8 of them were spent on an all-day tour of Mumbai. Mumbai… just walking out of the airport, had a totally different feel then Delhi. There were cafes, outdoor plazas, drivers with placards (but ones that don’t yell or harass you), palm trees, and a sky that was actually blue.

We met Dipendra and Fahim at the Starbucks, and were driven around in Dipd’s brand new sedan! He was so proud, and we felt so fortunate to be his first passengers.

We drove into Mumbai over the Bandra–Worli Sea Link. What a stunning piece of infrastructure! It is a 5.6 km long, 8-lane wide bridge that links Bandra in the Western Suburbs of Mumbai with Worli in South Mumbai and is the 4^th largest bridge in India.

We began our day at Dhobi Ghat, an open-air laundromat built in 1890 during the British Raj. About 500k pieces of are sent there each day (sometimes by wheelbarrow, bicycle, on people’s backs, etc) by businesses, hospitals, and lesser known hotels. Larger chain hotels and wealthier individuals once had contracts with Dhobi Ghat, but have since built laundromats in their hotels or within their homes.

The Dhobi’s first sort the clothes according to barcode (owner), soak them in soapy water, beat the clothes on a flogging stone, and finally, intricately place the garments on a rope, in a way that is precise and expeditious. 7,000 individuals work at the Ghat per day, for 18 to 20 grueling hours, and clothes are returned to the owner the next business day throughout the city.

For example, to have a saree washed at the Ghat would cost 5 rupees, equivalent to 6 cents. That includes pick up and drop off.

From what I learned, the Dhobi Ghat is quite profitable, despite the low washing costs. However, when you put into perspective how many washers there are, the annual income can still be quite low. Based on how many contracts washers have, and with who, some washers make much more than others. Dhobi’s are apart of the lowest caste system, but considered one of the higher subcategories.

There is also a sense of community at the Dhobi Ghat, where two hundred families live. Each family lives a “hut” or “container” that averages 150sq feet. Families of 2 to 5+ people live in each. They have communal bathrooms. Outside of the washing, you can see children playing, men giving each other haircuts and shaving one another’s beards, women conversing… It’s all rather beautiful.

The caste system in India fascinates me. I had many questions for Fahim and Dipd, and they told personal stories and provided much knowledge. The caste system is what you are born into, your last name. I asked, “What if one of the Dhobi’s children, created the next Apple?” They would remain in the same caste, regardless of accomplishment.

Dipd was born into the Kshatriyas: The second caste, known traditionally as “Warriors”. Fahim and Dipd both laughed when I asked if people date prior to marriage… I found quite a few eligible bachelors while “playing” on Tinder… They told me yes, but secretly and without their parents’ knowledge, nor consent. Also, you are not allowed to marry outside of your caste, and Dipd told me personal stories of dating while growing up outside his caste, and his Father ending the relationships.

Fahim explained to me “honor killings” and I am still and will always be appalled. Love marriages exist in about 5% of marriages in India, however you are never to marry outside your caste. If you have a love marriage within your caste, your families will threaten to shun you. Most will eventually welcome you back, especially after children are born. If you marry outside your caste, your parents or another family member may put “a hit” on you. A few month ago, a woman with a successful and well- known father married a man in a lower caste system. Her father put “a hit” on her and her new husband, and she went to all social media platforms, posting if she and her husband turned up dead, it was her father who had them murdered. The history and statistics of “honor killings” are absolutely horrifying and inhumane.

Although, families are becoming more laxed with arranged marriages, as parents are now waiting until their children are ready to wed- whether it be their child wants to have a career, become financially stable, or live their dream (Sharma- our driver on our tour of the Ganga River- his middle daughters dream is to become a Bollywood star, living in Mumbai, and asked that her Father wait a few years, until her late 20’s to arrange her marriage. His eldest daughter will be married in the next year or two, but they have already chosen the family/husband for her 6 years ago. Both his daughter and future Son-In-Law are in their final years of law school, have met, and are “talking/going out to lunches”. He laughed, saying, “I hope so!” when we asked if they loved one another.

Most parents also now give their child the choice of their future spouse, where it used to be they met them the day of their wedding. The parents will arrange the matches, and the children will have their say in if it is a good match or to move on to the next.

Forget temples, historical events/people/places, I just wanted to know more about arranged marriages… especially since my Tinder was blowing up with Indian singles. Mind blown.

As we drove past a large statue in a turnabout, we were told about “Dabbawala’s” aka “one who carries a box”… and it hit me, that DoorDash was created on something that has been in the works for over 130 years. The Dabbawallas pick up the food from the home or a restaurant in the late morning, drop off the ‘canister’ with the meal to the workplace/client, pick up the canister in the afternoon, and return the empty canister to the home or restaurant at end of day. This began in 1890, to ensure the people did not go hungry at work, and received food to their tastes, ie home cooked meals.  

Personally, I don’t understand the need for the afternoon canister pickup and drop off… Wouldn’t it be more efficient to drop off the warm food, and just let the individual bring home their own canister? Food for thought.

There are 5,000 Dabbawala’s in Mumbai and the daily service only charges $12-$15usd per month, which is equivalent to what we sometimes pay for one meals service charges, taxes, and tip. 200k lunches are delivered each day.

We drove around Billionaire’s Row, Altamount Road, which in America, looks like a typical middle-class neighborhood. Some condo complexes even look worn down, a far cry from a price tag of millions each month.

We walked past the 2^nd most expensive residence in the World (the 1^st being Buckingham Palace), Atilia, owned by Mukesh Ambani. It is a 568 foot skyscraper, 27 floors, and has an ice cream parlor, a movie theatre, a temple, a garage that can hold 168 cars, and a snow room (which blows snow around the clock, whether it is occupied or not). After taking a few minutes to google stalk this family, I realized his son went to Purdue the same years I was there… what was I doing? Just another missed opportunity.

At Malabar Hill there is a children’s park (Kamala Nehru Park), stunning views of the city, and the Municipal Water Works where a beautiful garden was constructed atop the Reservoir in 1880.

Next to the Reservoir is a Tower of Silence. A circular structure built by the Zoroastrians for exposure of human corpses. The corpses are taken here, brought within the hole by the caretakers, where vultures and other scavengers, consume the flesh. Days, or weeks later, they will move the skeletal remains to another area to wither down.

Onto Gandhi’s Mumbai Residence from 1917-1934. They have recently turned it into a museum, with a library, photographs, artwork, and his bedroom has been preserved. The artifacts chosen to display were captivating.

Before lunch, we drove along Marine Drive, taking a few pictures with the vast skyline.

I asked to lunch at Leopold’s Café. A Café that “tourists love to hate”. Irani’s opened Leopold’s in 1871, named after King Leopold of Belgium. In 2008, it was one of the first sites of the terrorist attacks on November 26^th, killing 10 people, before the gunman went down the street to the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel, which was the main target of the attacks. Unlike the other sites, Leopold’s left the bullets and some of the damage, untouched.

Leopold’s is also famous as it was mentioned in the novel Shantaram and its sequel The Mountain Shadow… Or some people just go for the continental cuisine (We had the butter chicken, garlic naan, rice, wonton soup, Kingfisher beer and chocolate opium for dessert), mouthwatering dessert display, and beer towers. Cheers!

We then trekked the short distance to the Gateway Of India and the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel. The Gateway of India was constructed to celebrate the visit of King George V in 1911- the first British Monarch to visit India. However, construction did not start until 1913, and was only completed in 1924. ‘The Taj’ Mahal Palace Hotel has variations of history, but was opened in 1903 and commissioned by Jamsetji Tata. It is a Five Star hotel and has welcomed very famous guests.

We drove past churches, the stock exchange, and the University of Mumbai before our final destination: Victoria Station, now known as, Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. What a gorgeous piece of architecture!! Naveen and I walked through the underground tunnel, past numerous stands and shops, through herds of people, before we entered the grandiose station. Every detail stands out and is exquisite… the mini carvings of animals on the pillars, the arches, and tiles. It truly looks like a grand palace. The construction began in 1878 and was completed on the 50^th jubilee of Queen Victoria’s rule. In the 1950’s the statue of Queen Victoria was removed from the exterior, central focal point, and in 1996 the stations name was changed, to further remove themselves from the British.

Naveen was telling me how crowded the train cars get and I couldn’t quite understand the magnitude until he showed me images on google… people hanging out of windows, doors, and even atop the train cars… Naveen used to take similar risks, but now that he has children to feed at home, he now ensures to have a space INSIDE of the train. When I googled more about this, in 2020, 12,000 railway passengers were killed (from falling out of the train or being run over), which equates to 32 people per day. Some government official needs to start doing their job.

We said our goodbyes to Naveen, as he’d cautiously be taking the train home, and Dipd took over as guide and driver. He drove us past the largest slum in Mumbai- Dharavi, and from the outside, it is not how I imagined. It is about 520 acres, with a population of one million people. There are 5,000 businesses and 15,000 single room factories within Dharavi. The slum is lined with these shops, and above is where the families live. Even though there are many businesses and factories, the income per family is still extremely low. Those that live in Dharavi suffer from poverty, illness, pollution, amongst other factors. Tours of the slum are provided by residents and tour companies, but it would not feel right… it would break my heart to wander their streets.

Nearing Mumbai’s airport, we asked Dipd if he would take us to a local grocery store. Dee and I always stop at a grocery store during our travels, as it is the best way to bring back local goodies for our family, friends and my students. I picked up cookies, lays chips- Indian Masala Magic flavor, Indian tikki masala versions of “Cheetos” and “Doritos”, mango candies and teas. The products are always a huge hit back home and it’s always a memory in itself to shop alongside true locals.

It was a lovely day… If you ever find yourself in Mumbai, be sure to spend your days with LindaTours.

We unluckily had to fly back to Delhi, as United canceled all US flights from Mumbai shortly before our trip. Once in Delhi, the pollution, dirtiness, and stank hit hard. We landed in a terminal that required us to take a dilapidated bus that reeked of exhaust, and lord only knows what filth we were sitting on, to the correct terminal. We stood in a short line and on the window it said, women rode free, but we were still confronted by the Indian “police” men with rifles, for a few rupees/ticket. I was over all of the nonsense and flat out told them, the sign reads “women are free” and that we literally, have no money left. We are going home.

Again, Indian airports are difficult… without a printed boarding pass, and especially when flying stand by. Unlike other airports, India doesn’t allow you to check in or even through customs or security. You are to check in one hour prior, and if granted a seat, rush through the lines and hope you catch your flight. That’s if they even care enough to put you on a flight in the first place. With 45+ open seats and first on the stand by list, we thought for sure, 17 hours later we’d be sitting pretty in Chicago. Joke was on us, they said maybe tomorrow night we’d catch a seat, or the next night… I lost my shit. Complete meltdown. They also mentioned if we wanted to get home, we’d have to find our own way, without further explanation. So, resort to Orbitz and their $4,000 one-way flights home?!? There was not a SINGLE chance I was going back out into that smog. India, you were an amazing and cultural experience, but you’re one and done.

They also didn’t tell us when we first arrived at the airport, that hey, maybe you should try for the 11:30pm flight to Newark? Now it was 1am, and I was stuck in Delhi.

I went up to the Air India-Star Alliance counter, threw down my credit card, and asked for the next flight out of Delhi. I booked the 2:30am flight to Paris. I boarded a plane that threw out 1970’s vibes and hoped for the best on the 9 hour + flight to Paris.

Peace out India and to those traveling to India, I wish you good brakes, a good horn, but most importantly, good luck.