All geeked up was I after finally making the decision to take the car trek to Mussoorie, India in the Himalayan Mountains. Gautam, one of the dancer/teachers I was working with still has family there & after weeks of much hemmin’ & hawwin’ I finally made the commitment to accept his generous offer. The dancers had been all too aware of my dissatisfaction with Delhi & were afraid I’d never come back to teach them [hell, that’s if I’m ever invited again!]
‘OOOOO Júhk-eeee, she don’ like Dehy-léeee, she neváh gonah come bak to teech oussss’ became the chant as time went by & as their concerned increased, they began to flood me with ideas of places to visit, telling me that Delhi was not a good representation of the true India. ‘Arrre you go-eng to trrrrrrrah-vúl to other pahrts of EEEn-dia? Dehy-léeee does not show the trrrrue EEEn-dia, it ease a small parht. Each rrrrreeeeee-jun ease so verrrrr-eeee dee-firrent. You must góh to trrrrah-vul!’ I felt like I was looking into the eyes of children as they begged ‘please go see more of my country. Please?’
In an earlier post, I wrote that 2 days after my arrival I was casually told by the executive director he was leaving THAT SAME DAY! Now this was the man I negotiated my contract with. The other bombshell was there were no classes my last week due to a special workshop that was scheduled [AFTER my contract was negotiated!] & the teachers would all be out of town. Oh, let me not be remiss in saying that by the time my job was coming to an end, I was faced with not only being alone over the holidays but there was also a bomb threat! I found out a few cities had been bombed & the terriorist group claiming responsibility was threatening Delhi directly. [within a month after my return to the states, they did carry out their threat bombing Delhi, including a couple places I frequented while there]. All-n-all, I decided to take Gautam up on his generous offer to visit Mussoorie & get the heck outta dodge. The deal offered was so off the hook crazy the question became why NOT go to the Himalayas? 10,000 rupees [approximately $250.00 US] for transportation was all I had to shell out. He had a friend who owned a cab company so I would have serious chauffer service!! Food & living expenses were FREE! Why not treat myself, I sure as hell deserved it! I wouldn’t have to do a damn thing but kick back &…
have oodles & oodles of PATIENCE! It was Independence Day so I thought I’d beat the craziness by leaving at 5AM, figuring I'd get out ahead of the mad traffic. WAY—YAL, the driver didn’t arrive until 8:15, he got stuck in traffic on the way DOWN from Mussoorie! & of course he didn't call. So here I am franticly waiting for hours & wondering if the trip is going to happen at all. At this rate if I’m lucky, I was going to get to Mussoorie by late afternoon & by that time the sun would be winding down. Not exactly what was in the plans. I wanted to get there early & have all day to explore. I had been told the trip could take as little as 4-5 hours but I find that people often exaggerate travel time making it less than it really is. That & how long it takes to walk somewhere. ‘Oh just 10 minutes to walk there.’ Meanwhile 50 minutes later you’re still looking for the park they said was 10 minutes away.
I digress but hey, it’s me. Anywho once my chariot arrived & I got over being overjoyed to see it, the actual condition of the car began to appear in my mind’s eye like a mirage wearing off—it was small, funky & dank, the seats high in the eeee-uuuu factor. The back windows were of a pallid tint akin to someone with bad breath goin’ HAAAHHH all over it. However, since I was in the Seeing Things with a Different Perspective Thang, I chose to suck it up ‘cause i had a long trip ahead of me & didn't want to spend it being miserable. So I put my pillow & survival goods in the back, rolled down my window to photograph the sights & settled in for the long haul, blocking out the O’du Funk scent permeating the air waves.
And what a LONG, BUMPY, POLLUTED haul it was. Going through many villages, the roads in varying degrees of bad, so bad & worse, the trip took 10 HOURS & I was happy I’m made of very strong stock or I’d been pukin’ my guts out.
I don’t know what I thought I’d see, but it was the same as the journey to Agra—traffic, seasoned to a fevered pitch with horrendous driving, garnished with cows, trash, & tons of people. Women carrying impossibly enormous loads on their heads, oxen attached to carts pulling massively huge cargo including humans; & intense gut-wrenching poverty in the slums, OHMYGAWD. [much like the slums in the film Slumdog Millionaire]. I can see it even now when I close my eyes, the tin and/or wooden huts with children playing barefoot in front, their clothing dirty & WHAT?! there’s a TV in the shack???!!! Whoa. What a combination.
My able driver Unna [I could be way wrong about his name but that’s what it sounded like] was silent but sure behind the wheel, keeping my back seat driver-isms to a dull roar inside my head. One thing I know about being a passenger in India, it’s best not to see what the driver sees, just look out the side window to keep your heart rate in check. So after practicing this rule, I’d fallen asleep unbeknownst to myself until I softly heard ‘Maddum…’ We had pulled up for our first stop after close to 4 hours & I had awaken to complete chaos. The heavens had opened, sending a deluge upon our heads so I quickly pulled out my umbrella but it was too much like right to put on my rain parka as well [what was the point of having it Missy, huh, huh?]. When I get inside the rest stop I see people everywhere & the din was deafening. Many restaurants smacked under one roof, it was the Indian version of a food court, cute & all but I needed the loo, where the hell was it? I ask a harried waiter whose first concern was had I ordered, & when he finally understood my question wearily pointed toward the outside & around the corner—aw man, I gotta go BACK outside?!
