The Last Leg

Prior to the 11,000 mile and 80 hour trip back home I stopped in a few more cities of India. I arrived late one evening in Jaipur to find Chad watching television and lounging on a fluffy couch surrounded by cylindrical, soft pillows. The remains of potato chips, cookies, and soda scattered the room as the air conditioning roared on full blast. He had found a little slice of paradise in the furnace otherwise known as India. I had no hesitations in joining his escape from our surroundings. For a few extra rupees we enjoyed a night of luxury. The hotel even had a swimming pool, which we made sure was not left unused.

Unfortunately we had to leave our little Shangri-la the next day to see some of the sights of the city. The most fantastic sight was the towering fort which watched over the city from a high mountain to the north. The fort was built by the Mughals hundreds of years ago and used to fight off invaders, including the British. I gained a new respect for the Britons that day. By the time we hiked to the base of the fort we were so weakened and worn by the rough turrain and the sun's stifling rays that we nearly collapsed then and there. Those imperialists of the 17th century must have been pretty robust if they made that same hike and then drove the local inhabitants out. After a lengthy rest we explored the fort and only to be attacked by hordes of Indians wanting to shake hands and take pictures with westerners.


The rest of the city featured camels pulling carts, elephants wandering the streets and pigs by the bucketload sloshing in the sludge heaped on the street corners and gutters. Jaipur also has a McDondalds and I decided to give it a second chance although the smell of curry still lingered at the doorway. I enjoyed the experience a little more this time thanks to a strawberry milkshake and McChicken sandwich.

The final city to see in India was the nation's capital--New Delhi. I must have got on the wrong train, because it stopped in Delhi, instead of New Delhi. It took a little bit of orienteering, but with my exceeding intellect and a keen recollection of my scouting skills I was able to find the metro and make the lengthy two-stop, five minute journey to New Delhi.

I found a place to stay and just as I layed down to relax the lights went out and the fan shut off. In less time than it would take Einstein to solve a rubik's cube my arms had become sticky and my head was covered in sweat. I took to the streets, hoping that my movement would create some sort of breeze and reduce the heat. My hopes were dashed, but I spent the evening shopping and wandering the streets of New Delhi anyway.

The next day I attended the New Delhi branch, which was a bit bigger than I expected. I was quite glad to be a returned missionary, because talking with one of the elders in the branch, I found that 40 additional visas will be issued for Americans to serve as LDS missionaries in India. I don't envy whomever they may be, but I am sure they won't know any better and consider it the best two years of their lives.

All things considered, I would say this trip has been a successful adventure. We set out to do something which we hardly knew anything about and were glad to make it out with only some noxious diarhea to go with terrific pictures and a thousand stories.

Actually, I am the only one who made it out. Chad remains wandering, perhaps disappearing amongst the innumerable multitudes of India.

Seventh Wonder of the World

I arrived in Agra on a steamy, smoggy night. After finding a place to stay just a few blocks from the Taj Mahal, I scaled the narrow stairwell and climbed to the roof of the hotel to catch a glimpse of one of the seven wonders of the world. The moon was nearly full and it's light struggled to penetrate the smog and touch the marble of the monument. As inspiring as the moment was, it was interrupted by an obnoxious blaring loudspeaker which polluted the air with an Indian women squeeling a traditional song. I guess it must have been some local holiday and they had installed loudspeakers all over the city, which blasted annoying noises until nearly midnight. I still have yet to aquire the taste for traditional Indian music.


The next day I decided to get a closer look at the Taj. Believe it or not, I was able to sit on the same bench that George W. Bush, Bill Clinton an many other US presidents sat when they came to see the Taj Mahal. The Indians all refer to President Bush as "the fighter", but President Clinton's nickname isn't much better: "the lover".

After spending a few hours walking around and admiring the architecture, I decided to see what else I could see in Agra. I went the "baby taj", which slightly resembles the Taj Mahal, except the guy building it didn't have a woman to impress, so he cut some corners, made it a lot smaller and didn't use any pricey marble. I actually enjoyed the "baby Taj" more, because no crowds come to see it and I was able to peacefully watch the water buffaloes swimming in the mosltly dried up river basin.

The rest of my time in Agra was spent with my drunk auto rickshaw driver taking me to his friends' stores where I was nearly forced to by unwanted carpets, marble tabletops, and gemstones. Upon saying I was not interested for the 100th time the salespeople realized that I might not be interested. They usually got upset for a moment before allowing me to leave their store. The only good thing was that I usually got a free glass of water and it was a lot cooler inside than out.

I also experienced my first taste of McDonald's in India with the Maharaja Chicken Mac. Although the name sounds rather appetizing, the burger is a deadly combination of curry, veggie-chicken paddies and a repugnant, unknown orange substance. Word of the wise--when eating at McDonalds in India stick with the Filet-o-fish or McChicken-- anything else is certain trouble.

Overcoming the suffocating heat and annoying salesmen was a bit of a struggle, but seeing the Taj Mahal was everything I hoped and dreamed it would be, so I must give Agra a 9 of 10.

Penetrating the Subcontinent

Coming back to India we had our first taste of the well-renowned Indian Railway System. The floors of the station in Kolkata, and any other station in India, are covered with people and luggage. How is that different from anywhere else in the world? you ask. Well, none of the people or luggage is moving, the people just lay all over the floors and the luggage sits being used as pillows or obstacles for other people. We made our way through the labrynth of bodies and baggage to find a restaurant where we waited for our train.

Punctuality is not a priority with the Indian Railway System. For that matter, neither are signs or friendly conductors or anything that might indicate any kind of order. When our train arrived it was absolute chaos. People squeezed, pushed, and squirmed their way onto the train. The reality began to set in that we had no clue what to do. We weren't even sure if it was the right train. The wagons were poorly labeled and we squished our way up and down the platform trying to figure something out. All of the Indians at that moment conveniently forgot how to understand or speak English, so asking for help proved useless. Just as we were about to give up all hope and collapse to die in an obscure railway station far from home, a young man came and guided us to our wagon, read the passenger log posted in Hindi on the side of the wagon and told us that our names were there. I think the young man must have been one of the three nephites. We climbed on and within a few minutes the trauma of the ordeal had subsided.

Our travels in India so far have taken us to the ancient city of Varanasi and the remote village of Khajuraho. Varanasi is one of the oldest cities in the world, dating back over 5000 years, according to our local sources. The city is where Lord Shiva resides, the greatest God in the Buddhist religion. The legend is that if one dies in Varanasi he/she will automatically reach nirvana and go to heaven. Thanks to this legend, the city is filled with old people waiting to die. We decided we weren't quite ready to die, however, we did decide we needed a relaxing trip down the Ganges, so we hopped on a boat and enjoyed the sunset before moving on.


Khajuraho is also an ancient village situated around ancient temples built over a thousand years ago. We took a long, hot, crowded bus ride through the Indian desert to reach the village. The locals said that the thermometer hits 110 or 115. The bus ride from Khajuraho was even worse than getting there. I was excited to get the window seat, but the leg room was insufficient and the heat made me feel like I was opening a hot oven the whole way. To make matters worse, the man next to me took the liberty of using my shoulder as a pillow. The situation was a little awkward, but if I closed my eyes and imaged a cute girl resting on my shoulder it made things easier.

The heat has been pretty rough, but we have seen some pretty impressive things and I would give this part at least a 7 of 10.

A Delightful Surprise

Both Chad and I were blown away as we stepped onto the tarmac at the Dhaka International Airport. The wind was not the cause, but rather the conditions of the country. The hedges were well trimmed, the roads were paved and painted, the people were friendly, the cars were modern. We had heard that Bangladesh was one of the poorest countries in the world and were expecting something worse than scout camp with filled up latrines and a moss covered lake. Now don't get me wrong, Bangladesh is no Singapore, the streets still had dirt and the people are still poor, but our expectations were easily eclipsed.

Having no idea what to do or where to go, we were half-forced and half-swindled into a taxi ride with a pair of singing, money-hungry, disoriented Bengalis. We went around the city in circles for a couple hours. It took us about one loop around to realize what was happening, but since it was already dark and we did not know our way around, we were a helpless. We could picture the cogs in the hooligan-driver's head computing how much money he would get out of us. Before long we learned the only words he understood in English were "dollars" and "taxi". Finally we got off the joy ride and found a place to stay. The driver wanted 1500 takas for wasting all of our time and taking us to an overpriced, giant-cockroach infested hotel!! We ended up giving him half of that, but he still left with a smirk on his face, knowing he was making off like a bandit.

The stay in Dhaka was uneventful, especially since there isn't much to do. We decided to leave the country on a bus in order to catch a glimpse of the countryside. Climbing onto that bus in Dhaka was like climbing into a brand new Escalade with everything. The coach had plush seats, special beverage holders and best of all--air conditioning. The back of the bus was entirely empty, so we found space to stretch out and get some well-deserved rest for some hard-working travellers. Unfortunately the roads in Bangledesh are not so even and just as we were falling asleep we would hit another pot hole or bump, which would abruptly bring back consciousness.

The monsoon season is just beginning in Bangledesh, so much of the country is already underwater. This, of course, created a problem for our unamphibious bus, but thanks to the ferry system, we were able to cross large, seasonal lakes and rivers. On one crossing we had to drive through about a foot of water to reach the ramp of the ferry, but some how the bus slipped into deeper water. The water went up the tail pipe and almost into the luggage compartment. The back end of the bus was sinking fast, but thanks to our experienced driver and front wheel drive, we surged out of the water and onto the boat. The rest of the ride to the border went by without a glitch.

Although our trip to Bangladesh was short, it was more than we ever expected and deservedly gets an 7 of 10.

Don't Meddle with the Maoists

The search for the yeti began the instant we arrived in Kathmandu, Nepal. The overcast weather and distance to the mountain ranges dampened our hopes of finding the beast. We quickly were informed that we had a few days hike from the biggest mountains, which according to our calculations would be precisely where the yeti would most likely be found. Unfortunately, our schedule would not allow for such an expedition. We did, however, scour the entire Kathmandu Valley. We, like the scientists, explorers, zoologists, and travellers upon whose shoulder's we stood, left Nepal without any concrete evidence of the existance of the yeti. We did however observe burning bodies, diving monkies, menacing maoists, and the highest mountains in the world.

Our second day in Nepal was spent on an extensive tour of one of the most elevated valleys in the world, which is also home to half of Nepal's population. We went to a number of ancient temples which were mostly filled with people trying to sell us Nepalese knick-knacks. Of course, the temples were also filled with carvings of elephants and buddhas. The most impressive temple was one where a cremation ceremony was being performed next to a small river. The river was filled with swimming monkies. Not only, were monkies in the water, but many climbed the structures that lined the river and, with flailing arms, belly-flopped into the water.

The exit from Nepal turned out quite adventerous. Our taxi driver said that the roads through the downtown were all closed off because of a huge maoist rally. They were expecting about a half million people to come to the rally, which meant we would have to go around the city to get to the airport. Driving down one of the bumpy, dirt roads we ran into a traffic jam. Within a few seconds a UN SUV passed. Violence was breaking out at the rally! We had to get to the airport before the maoists overthrew the city and declared marshall law! Our driver found an alternate route. We passed masses of marching maoists, mostly young men, with red headbands and red, waving flags which proudly displayed the hammer and sickle. We arrived at the airport and made our escape only to find out later that the violence was just a little skirmish and only one person got hurt.

Feeling relieved after taking off, we relaxed in the airplane as it burst through the cloud layer and the snowy peaks of the tallest mountains in the world stretched out in front of us. Mt. Everest, it turns out, isn't so easy to identify, because it is only slightly taller than all the other mountains. However, with the help of a knowledgable Nepali sitting behind us, we pinpointed the highest place on planet earth.

The trip to Nepal was certainly a relief from all the heat of south Asia and although the yeti still remains a mystery I give this leg an 8 of 10.