Amhedabad - Day 18 - 1.26.13 to Day 23 - 2.1.13 - Daman
Day 18 - 1.26.13 - Ahmedabad
Today I became a tourist again. Sightseeing was on my mind and I was excited to walk around again. I did some laundry, ate a breakfast of Indian sandwiches, and got ready for the day. Jayant was my tour guide for the day. I suppose his parents appointed him with these duties, but he didn't seem to mind. He had ridden in my rickshaw last night, when we went to the exhibition, and I felt like he trusted me enough to drive around the city. He never complained once, I was impressed! Actually, if I do say so myself, I'm not a bad driver. But it does get a little distracting when motorcyclists and rickshaw drivers and swerving in and out of traffic to do a double-take of what they think might be a young white woman driving an oddly painted rickshaw in the middle of Ahmedabad. I smile, but ignore them as I need to focus on the road! By now I am used to this bizarre attention, but I wonder how Jayant feels with this being his city. I mean the fact that he is with this foreigner that is attracting so much attention, and he rather reserved. First we go to Kankaria Lake and walk around. Besides the lake, which is completely enclosed with iron gates, there are different exhibits within. There is an aquarium, a butterfly garden, a hot air balloon thing that was closed, a zoo. The butterfly garden was nice, reminded me of when my mom would take me to the Butterfly Pavilion in Denver for my birthday when I was younger. The conversation is interesting, we talk about customs, traditions and culture of both India and America. This isn't the first time I have felt this, but Jayant actually made me a little embarrassed that I didn't know more about my own country, politics mostly. I've never been a big history buff, but he knew far more than me as far as American history. For the first time in a while I had actually brought my good camera and took some pictures, of which I was excited to see the results. I was devastated when I got home and realized there was no memory card in it, and it never warned me about it! AGGHHHHHHHH!!!!! After the lake we went to Sabarmati Ashram, an ashram where Mahatma Ghandi once lived. Again, I feel like I should know more about this man, the father of India. It was fascinating to learn about him, his life and his search for truth and goodness. I bought Ghandi's autobiography, but as I am reading this translated version I wonder what English words he would have used to describe himself. Some of the words used don't quite seem to fit the persona of the man I have heard so much about and learned about in the ashram. Translation is a tricky thing, it's not just exchanging words to make a sentence in another language. A good translator has to capture the essence of the writer and the feeling of the story. Is That A Fish In Your Ear, by David Bellos is a really good book about translation and the art of it, and what it really means to translate. It sounds dry, but it is actually quite interesting and comical.
Neighbors of the family were having a marriage party for their daughter later in the night, so I had enough time to freshen up and head out. I put on one of my dressier Indian suits and we drove to one of the most magnificent parties I have ever seen! Pictures don't do it justice, and I can't explain with words how amazing it was. I cannot imagine the cost of the flowers, let alone the table after table of food for the hundreds and hundreds of guests. This is now my 3rd Indian wedding, but I am astonished and blown away. Orchids hang from the ceiling of the entrance and from wall arrangements in mass. One of the first traditions is to go on stage with the bride and bridegroom and give them a blessing. The couple is gorgeous and seems so happy on their big day. Then food. And more food. Half of this massive party grounds are lined with table after table of different foods. Cuisine from different parts of India, Jain food, Italian, tandoori, a whole side dedicated to Indian sweets. By the time we are only half way through and only a few plates in, I am at my limit. Already being about 11:30pm, we must go so that Jayant and Dushyant can attend. The family does things in shifts, as to take care of the 2 dogs.
Later one of the boys tells me that some women had mentioned to them that it was nice that I was dressing in Indian dress, especially while there are these young Indian girls and women who trade those clothes in for western wear whenever they can. I don't mean western as in the Wild West, Wranglers and Ropers. I mean the western world: jeans, t-shirts. She appreciates that I dress modest and respect their culture and I take that as a compliment.
Kilometers Driven: 0 km
Total Kilometers: 970 km
Day 19 - 1.27.13 - Ahmedabad
With a plan for Sunita and Rajesh to take me to the exhibition again, I get ready and have breakfast of a mixture of rice and potatoes, with onions and crunchy things that Indians put on everything. Rajesh said he wouldn't set foot in my rickshaw before, so I was surprised when he said I would be driving them to the exhibition. It made me nervous, frankly, as I felt he would be the most critical. Rajesh is quite a bear actually, and although I can appreciate the fact that he has resorted to treating me like one of his children, I do not want to be shouted at. We make it to the exhibition in one piece and I am happy to see that he is pleasantly pleased with my driving. He said it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. The onlookers thought it was a pretty good sight though, I think. The market is closed so we decide to go to another one on the university grounds, but it is closed as well. One thing I have noticed in India, they don't go to work very early. At least, shops, restaurants, etc. don't open early and no one seems to be in a hurry. Just an observation, not a complaint.
So I am headed out on my own after dropping them at home. Rajesh had been kind enough to make me an itinerary for the day. It was filled with temples, an akshardam, even a mosque that were all at least on the same road. Once I start driving, however, I feel a horrible pain that I can't get rid of. I can't explain it really, only that it felt like……I don't know, awful and hard to breathe, like in my ribcage or something. I drive on, expecting it to go away. After driving for some time and not seeing most of the sites on my list, I finally find Trimurti Temple. I park, but it is hard for me to walk, to breathe. It's not an intense pain just really uncomfortable. I go in anyway, walk around although not for long. I decide to drive on to Swaminarayan Akshardham, against my will to drive to the flat to rest. I drive and drive and finally pull over. I feel like I will vomit, and this makes me more excited than it should have for sure! I thought maybe I could kick this. Well just in case a white woman driving a weird taxi doesn't draw enough attention, let's add to the picture that she is now vomiting out of the side. The funny thing is, I have seen more street puking in India than I have seen collectively in my whole life. So maybe it's not that weird. I feel a little bit of tension relieved, but still have pain. I am convinced I am dying. But I just sit there until everything is out of my system, at least 30 minutes, and I finally feel better! Ok then, finally find the Akshardham. It is quite similar to the one in New Delhi that I saw in April. It is astonishingly clean, the grounds are well kept, no trash in sight. Nothing is allowed on the grounds such as cameras, mobiles, ….anything. Rajesh recommended that I stay there for the laser show and dinner in the food court. But as it is far from town, I decide I better get into town before it turns dark. Driving on the highways isn't so fun at night with my (1) tiny and dim headlight and other people's brights shining in my uncleanable windshield. After some time I break down. Damn, I was just starting to feel confidence in my ride. But maybe I just ran out of fuel??? I flag down a rickshaw driver, who takes me to get petrol nearby. I can go with him this time, since I'm not loaded with all of my bags. After adding the petrol, the engine still won't start. We check the usual things, but no luck. We try push starting it, no luck. So he decides to push it with his rickshaw to the nearest mechanic. We make it there, but the mechanic is not there, as it is Sunday night. Some more people gather around, and somehow we get it started. I head off and fill the tank completely full, so this won't happen again just down the road. Ha! So it turns out that I miss having a travel partner, as today was far less enjoyable breaking down on the side of the road. No one to laugh and curse with. Also, other than that, sight seeing just isn't as fun alone. I can't have a conversation about the beautiful architecture, or make jokes about the people staring at us. So I definitely have a mission to find a travel buddy.
Kilometers Driven: Probably about 80, but I'm not counting them since it didn't get me any closer to my destination
Total Kilometers: 970 km
Day 20 - 1.28.13 - Ahmedabad
Today I go to the exhibition with Sunita and Rajesh. I have already been, and saw some suit material that I liked. I thought that being with other Indians would give me better prices, but sadly no. Although I am looking for some material for kurtas or salwar/kameez, there was nothing I fell in love with. And unfortunately that is a requirement of mine. I have to be selective, after all I have to carry it around for the next year, and then there's the issue of my budget. But mostly it is the fact that my suitcase is already bulging at the seams, and after a hard tumble from another rickshaw in Udaipur, may be done for anyway. Plus I feel like I have to tip triple time for every man who has to lift the deceivingly heavy bag upstairs at hotels. By the time we are about three quarters of the way through the exhibition, I can see that Rajesh is frustrated with me not buying anything. I know he and Sunita made a special trip to take me, but I was glad that Sunita found a few things for their home. He almost talked me into a few kurtas, but I just couldn't buy them. I leave empty handed but think it is probably for the best. We arrive back at the flat and Jayant has been given the assignment to take me to the textile market in Old Ahmedabad. The market street that we walked down was the single most insane and chaotic place I have ever been. I've been in crowded, busy Indian markets before and I'm not sure why this one was different, but it was. Part of it was the noise and seemingly complete disregard for bystanders from the motorcycle drivers. Part of it was the fact that I don't think Jayant was enjoying this part of showing me around, as I can imagine shopping isn't really his passion. We get out of there quickly and head to the nearby mosque. It is an interesting change from the temples that I have been visiting. Somehow it feels so much older than anything I have ever seen before. I can only walk into the entry of the mosque, as women are banned from actually entering. It's not that I want to enter in defiance, but coming from a different culture I feel offended that I am not allowed. I would actually just rather leave. I try to understand different cultures and religions, and to be honest I don't know much about Islam. But how is half of the population not worthy enough to enter a building? Yeah, it's possible I have it all wrong.
This will be my last night in Ahmedabad, and I am glad to have my first official CouchSurfing experience (I mean actually surfing, not hosting). I think what I took away from this family experience is the difference in views from state to state, from different income levels and class statuses. Just like any other country, there are different views. But I suppose I hadn't ever taken much time to think about what creates those views. I'm certainly not an expert on Indians (yet), but I see some main differences in beliefs about politics, roles, education, attitudes. As I write this it sounds obvious and a common thing among all cultures. But the one thing that I have found within different castes, different states and different incomes is the love for family. Whether I am able to understand the roles of females in this culture or not, I can see the love between husbands and their wives. I can see love for children and respect from the children for their parents. Through this family's happiness and love for each other, and through conversations with Rajesh I learned a lot about what family means to Indians, to Hindus, to Gujaratis, but most specifically to the Dubeys.
Kilometers Driven: 0 km
Total Kilometers: 970 km
Day 20 - 1.29.13 - Ahmedabad to Baroda (Vadodara)
I wake earlier than I have for the past few days so that I can get on the road at a decent hour. I don't have far to travel today, but I enjoy arriving earlier than later and being able to see a bit of the city before dark. I pack my bags and make a few last minute emails and arrangements before leaving. They also help facilitate me writing their review on CS, which isn't quite how it is supposed to go. I understand the importance of references on CS, but thought and time needs to go into them. A young English woman had invited me to stay with her through CoushSurfing. Since I had an overall good experience in Ahmedabad, I have decided to try it again. One more thing before I leave, Rajesh demands me to take out the communal trashcan on the top floor. I certainly don't mind picking up after myself and I thought I did a pretty decent job doing so, but I am a bit confused by this order as I am carrying my bags down the stairs. I suppose I wonder if this is a cultural thing that I don't understand, or a status attempt. Moving on…..I say my goodbyes to the family and agree that it has been a good experience. I have genuinely appreciated Sunita's cooking and sweet gestures, and the two boys showing me around and generally helping me out. Dushyant tells me I can call him if I ever need anything, and I believe he means this. I hope he means it, as not knowing many people in this large country may leave me in a position of needing help someday.
I take my time getting to Baroda, as it's only a short 115 km and I have all day. I'm close within a few hours, so I stop for chai once or twice. And fresh corn! On the side of the road I find small stalls with fresh corn on the cob being cooked. They rub lime and chili powder all over it and it is a treat. Then comes the part where I have to navigate my way through a busy and congested city to a single neighborhood, block or building. With not much to go on, I ask for the general direction of "Akota." People point me here and there. It is worth mentioning that each city I have been to has sort of a different reaction to what they see. While there was a lot of pointing and staring and laughing in Jodhpur, I am getting lots of smiles, nods of respect and thumbs-ups here in Baroda. From different types of people. From a rickshaw driver who I ask for directions, from a woman with her children, from younger men piled on their bikes and from wealthy Muslims being driven around in their BMW. I feel generally welcomed by this city as I drive through. After getting further directions from my host, Katherine, I find the place with relative ease.
My original idea of what I might be doing India was a bit different than driving a rickshaw around the country. It was to settle down a bit in towns that I really enjoyed. By settle I only mean for a month or two. I had all of these dreams of finding a small semi-furnished flat where I could unpack my bags if only for a few weeks. And cook meals from recipes that I had learned along the way. And decorate the small rooms and make it my own. So in this sense I was excited to see that Katherine from England had done just that. It was a great little apartment, mostly furnished and a nice little neighborhood. I had somewhat forgotten about my thoughts of settling down but they all came flooding back. I have been literally living out of a suitcase for over three months now and although I have quite an orderly system, it would still be nice to put my clothes in drawers. Or even piles that I don't have to dig through. And a kitchen! To be able to buy vegetables from a local market and cook, even if just for myself. Katherine was a lovely host, making me chai upon my arrival. Couchsurfing is an interesting concept, and of course differs with each host. I always appreciate time that my host has to spend with me, but don't want them to feel like they have to be with me the entire time, as of course I understand they have their own lives and things they need to do. Katherine invited me to follow her around for the afternoon, as she had to go to the grocery store (first proper grocery store I have seen thus far). I decided to drive so she could get a taste of what I am doing. There is parking in this large supermarket/mall complex and as I park in the basement a security guard guides me. He asks me where I am from and tells me with great pride that he is from Nepal. He is a younger man, probably in his early 20s and gentle. The small interaction that we had was simple, but so innocent and genuine. It is little moments like this that I am glad I am attracting this attention, for otherwise I don't think he would have spoken to me.
Getting into the supermarket is a whole process in itself. There are security guards at the door, as there are in most stores. But was a bit extreme was that any bags or purses must be put into larger cloth bags that are then locked with zip ties so you may not access anything or steal anything. Then upon entering most of the workers stare and I feel as though I am being watched as a criminal. As if there is any place I could put stolen merchandise! I mention this to Katherine and she is probably right when she says that it is most likely just with interest and also to help in case I had any questions. She says that most Indians would probably enjoy the attention and offering of services. I had offered to cook egg curry for dinner, as I would like to contribute something for her letting me stay in her home. But in the store I see tortillas and have the great idea to make Mexican food that I have been craving! She says they even have avocados sometimes and I get excited beyond belief! I still need to improvise, as I can't find the usual items I would use to cook. And sadly no avocados, must not be the season. But we decide on prawn fajita burritos. In order to get the prawns we have to go into a secret non-vegetarian compartment where meat is cut and such. I almost feel as though I am doing something wrong since it is such a big deal. Checking out is a whole other process, then cutting my bag open to get my purse to pay, then they lock it back up so I can't steal anything during my 20 foot journey to the door, only to be cut open again by another security guard at the door. If even a quarter of the effort used here would be used in a more appropriate and useful purpose, India might make a bit more sense and go a bit more smoothly. It's things like this that are frustrating.
I cook dinner for me, Katherine and her boyfriend. He is Indian and I'm not sure how he will find Mexican food. In general I have found that Indians aren't always willing to try other types of food and generally find it bland. I cook Mexican rice with tomatoes and onions, and fajitas, leaving out the prawns for him since he is vegetarian. The food is quite good, but definitely missing something although I still can't put my finger on it. It is a bit bland, even for me, so I wonder what he must think as he eats his food slowly and quietly. I certainly wouldn't be offended had he not liked it and opted for something else, but I appreciate his effort in trying what I had cooked. Katherine seems to be enjoying it and I call the evening a success.
Kilometers Driven: 122 km
Total Kilometers: 1092 km
Day 21 - 1.30.13
Today I planned on seeing a few things around Baroda. I don't know much about the city but don't necessarily want to see all of the tourist things there are do to. So after morning tea and great conversation, Katherine and I head out to Baroda Prints, a small shop where they do hand block printing of fabrics, and then sell them. It was great to see the process, and they even let me help them make the prints. These are the things that I dreamed about when I was studying textiles in college. It is truly amazing to see it in person, direct from the source. Next door I find some suit fabric that I will take and have made into a suit when I find a good tailor. As we are driving the rickshaw runs out of petrol. I'm a bit embarrassed about this, but Katherine doesn't seem to mind too much. I mean it's one thing when it happens to me when I am alone. But she guards the rickshaw as I walk to get petrol and soon we are on our way again. The night before Katherine had talked me into seeing a local doctor at the hospital to get some anti-malaria pills. I am just now getting into mosquito areas and as I get further south and as the season gets later there will be even more. I know it is important, but had previously decided I didm;t want to take the medicine because I had a bad reaction in April after returning from India. Of course there are different medicines, so I decide it will be worth it to be protected from malaria. My mom told me that my grandfather Keith had gotten malaria in India during the war and throughout his life he felt the effects as it would flare up every once in a while. We go to Sterling hospital, where she tells me a good doctor to see. The fee is 200 Rupees, a mere $4 US for the consultation. I expect to wait for sometime but surprisingly, without an appointment, I wait less than I would have in America with an appointment in a doctor's office! Ha….it's shocking when something goes so smoothly in India. But during my short time in the waiting room I witness a sad moment. Not speaking Hindi I can only presume what transpired. Through the sobbing and wails from a woman who rushed in to be greeted by people who seemed to be her relatives, I feel as though someone close to her may have died. Maybe her husband. Maybe her son. Maybe her brother. It's raw and uncensored emotion that I am seeing within feet of me and it is hard not to be affected. In some way this is like an opera. As there are no words, at least for me to understand, I must use other actions and expressions to follow the story. I watch another woman's face as she watches what is going on. Also not knowing the family, her face twists and morphs into sadness, mimicking the expressions of the others. I feel great anxiety as I watch and feel for the woman and the family feeling suck sadness and loss.
I am quickly called in to see the doctor. The anti-malaria pills are sorted quickly and we decide on another type of medicine than I had used before, that also only needs to be taken weekly as opposed to daily. I am also running out of other prescriptions that I need to refill and without many more questions he writes me a prescription for those. I am thankful and relieved, as otherwise I would have had to have them FedEx'd from home. It was the logistics that I wasn't looking forward to, as I never know where I am going to be for more than a few days. So now I can finally call my mother, as I had been avoiding her since I hadn't taken care of this issue. Back at the flat Katherine and I imbibe on a few adult beverages, which are actually quite illegal in the state of Gujarat, as deemed necessary by Mohotma Ghandi himself. But it is so nice to again have another female, specifically another foreign female, to talk to. We have encountered some of the situations in India, and although she has certainly spent more time collectively in India than I have, we can definitely relate to each other and the goings-on of it all. Sometimes it even just feels good to vent, let things out and even complain a little. Not only that, but sharing feelings and even a bit of culture is always great. I plan to leave early in the morning, and we stay up far too late but I have enjoyed myself. Katherine has been a great host and I genuinely appreciate her letting me into her home and into her life for the short period that I was in Baroda.
Kilometers Driven: 0 km
Total Kilometers: 1092 km
Day 22 - 1.31.13
I get off to a late start today after chai and more chatting, but I don't intend to drive far today so it doesn't matter much. My next destination is Daman, a small union territory with beaches, but I decide to stop about half way in Surat for the night. Before heading out I use the internet and am not really able to find a place to couch surf, or many decent hotels with affordable rates. So I decide to go on and see what I find there when I reach it. The drive is relatively uneventful except for this time when traffic is completely stopped on a bridge. I decide to turn off the engine as I have no idea how long we will be waiting here, even though I am nervous about it starting back up again. After about 30 minutes, I ask a man what the problem is. He says there is a police problem. Now, let me just say that I don't actually feel like I am doing anything wrong. But I have heard that Gujarat is very strict, not just about their limiting of alcohol, but in many other ways as well. I am worried they will stop me, question me, and throw me in jail for not being able to communicate with them in Hindi. Also, I don't technically have an Indian driver's license. What I have is an American driver's license (which may have more worth anyway) and an International Driving Permit issued by my local AAA office. Haha, it is total BS, but translates my license into other languages (Hindi not being one of them), but has all sorts of official looking stamps, signatures and most importantly a picture of me. So I have specifically never asked about the rules of driving in India, so I can legitimately play dumb when the time comes that I am questioned. Like I said, I'm not totally sure I am even doing anything wrong, but I know there is no way for me to get an Indian license since I don't live here. I realize I am just creating this whole scenario in my mind but I get more and more nervous. I am convinced that they are searching all of the vehicles for a young blonde traveler. Nothing of the sort happens, and after moving some distance at the pace of a snail, and once or twice my ride dying and waiting on the side of the road to start, or in one instance just coasting down the hill in neutral, I get through the mess and am cruising at the top speed of 40 km/hr again. It is noticeably getting warmer and warmer. I can even start to feel humidity as I am heading towards the coast. As the sun starts going down in the afternoon, I near Surat. As I get closer to Surat, I realize that it is actually about 20 km off of the highway, and although I am not really in a rush, I don't see the point in wasting time going out of my way, especially for a place where I don't know if I will be able to find a place to stay. So I drive on, watching and waiting for a good place to stop for the night. Here is one of the most confusing things for me in India: Apparently "Hotel" can mean "Restaurant, and "Restaurant" can mean "Hotel." But generally "Guesthouse" means "Guesthouse." So I stop at these hotels and ask for rooms available, but nothing is available. They point me further and further down the road. THe sun is starting to set and I am getting a bit nervous as I don't really feel comfortable driving in the dark, for many reasons. I find a decent looking proper hotel, but I am told they are completely full. I have been told this before when it was clear that rooms were available. Not knowing whether this was the case or not, I ask if foreigners are not allowed in the hotel, or there is another problem regarding me not being able to stay, or if they were really simply full. He tells me they are full, end of story. I ask for a recommendation, and he reluctantly gives me the name and number of another hotel down the way. I call and they are full. I am getting more and more nervous, and the people of this town don't seem particularly helpful. But outside I find a man who works at the restaurant next door and he gladly tells me of a couple places along the highway. I hit the highway again, this time a bit more alert to my surroundings. It's harder to see through the windshield, harder to see other vehicles and hot holes and animals. And then what I fear most happens. The rickshaw decides to stop in the middle of the road in the dark. This is exactly why I didn't want to drive in the dark. I have no idea how I will find someone to help me. I think there is no way that I could have fun out of petrol, but that must be the case. I open the engine compartment and look into the gas tank with my flashlight and see ample fuel. Well shit. By this point I am quite scared. I don't know how far it is to a hotel, and if they will have rooms. I don't know what is wrong with my rickshaw, or if I will need to leave it on the side of the road overnight where it can be open to vandals and thieves. I don't know how I will be able to flag someone down in the dark and if they will be willing to help me. But for good measure, I decide to try to start a thousand more times anyway. Miraculously, it starts on the third try! I am thankful beyond belief and remember something that a mechanic in Udaipur told me. One of those quirky things that should be noted as with any old and testy vehicle. The gas tank needs to be able to get air as it releases fuel. So there is a small puncture in the gas cap itself, but in order for it to fit snugly there is a piece of plastic in covering it as well. I remembered seeing the last petrol pump attendant messing with the plastic and I am convinced that the puncture in the plastic has now been covered and no air is being let in. When I opened the cap to check the petrol, I fixed the problem and that is why I was able to start it. Whatever the issue, I am so glad to be back on the road. The recommended place is only another kilometer away, and rooms are available, and even for a reasonable rate! And there is parking, and a restaurant, and everyone seems super nice. It is still quite early as the sun sets around 6:30 so I have a great dinner and sound some time in my room relaxing. I even open my "Learn Hindi" book for the first time in ages. I feel thankful to have found a place to stay and to be safe. I feel very comfortable in this room, maybe it has to do with my relative exhaustion but as I lie there I drift in and out of consciousness and visit dreams. I see my nephew, Vilas, and miss him dearly. I feel close to him even though he is thousands and thousands of miles away. The thought of him makes me smile and I wake myself up laughing. I can just see him talking non-stop, being his curious little self. His sweet little mouth opening with excitement, as he does with even the smallest of things like Rita and Luca playing. I need to talk to him and I pick up my phone before realizing that I don't have Maxine's phone number and will have to wait until another time.
Kilometers Driven: 231 km
Total Kilometers: 1323 km
Day 23 - 2.1.13
I take my time waking up and getting ready today, as I only have a measly 78 km to drive today to Daman. After a filling breakfast of bindhi (okra or lady fingers) and garlic naan, I hit the road. It warmer still, but not yet hot. For a brief moment I debate turning this whole thing around and heading for the hills in the north to avoid the heat. What am I thinking, heading south?!?!?!? I'm no good in hot conditions, my brain does't work and I am generally useless. But no, I have a mission. Generally uneventful again, until I start getting close to Daman. I start to feel the humidity and soon I can smell the warm salt air. My eyes scan for signs to Daman, but none appear. I am surprised by this, as there are signs to every single village or town along the road. Daman, of Daman and Diu, is a union territory and it is under the rule of the president, not the state of Gujarat. In this sense, alcohol is available (not available in Gujarat) and at a cheaper cost since it does;t have state excise taxes. So I am wondering if the signs in Gujarat are not so obvious as pointing out Daman to encourage drinking. I don't know that for sure, but it felt worth noting. I drive a bit too far but after a few directions I find the entrance to Daman! There are checkpoints and customs and I start to get nervous again. No one stops me, but then I think of what will happen once I leave Daman. Will all of my bags need to be checked, personal items strewn about as they look for contraband of beer and booze? Who knows, will have to see what comes. I finally see the sea, which is actually the Gulf of Khambhat. It is horrifyingly disappointing! The "beach" is black dotted with different colors of garbage. The water is dark and murky and the air is think with fog, being winter I assume. So although there are palm trees and waterparks around, I see that is not quite paradise. I now remember something I had read about Daman. THere is a large industrial area in the area with very loose environmental restrictions, as in the rest of India I suppose. They dump all of their pollution into the ocean and it is therefore ruined. I drive up and down the main street close to Devka beach looking for a hotel. There are many, but I want to get a feel for Daman before stopping. I inquire about rooms in a few places, but the prices are quite high. I stop at one small place, called Saraswati House. It seems more modest so I stop. I am greeted by a friendly man on the porch who tells me to sit on a nearby chair. I do and realize that he is another guest, and as I ask about available rooms he is just translating for the worker as he doesn't speak English. The room is decently priced, but still unsure I sit there and chat while I decide what to do. The man's wife pokes out of their room window and I learn that they are both lawyers from Mumbai on holiday, coming back from a family function. They are so friendly and as I ask them what there is to do in Daman, they invite me to spend the evening with them. We drive to some steps on the beach where locals and tourists alike go to have a few drinks. Budweiser is their beer of choice. Haha, drinking Budweiser in India! I insist that I am comfortable and want to follow them as they do whatever they would do had I not been with them. I want to see what the locals do, not just go into a bar or a proper restaurant to sit. Then we go to the boat jetty, another favorite hangout in the evenings. I tell them Mumbai is my next stop after Daman and they invite me to stay in their extra flat they have in the city. It is such an amazing offer, as I have heard Mumbai is ridiculously expensive and I had only planned on staying there for one day. They say I can stay as long as I want, and although they will be busy with work they will arrange for some of their friends to show me around a bit. They also have many family and friends along my route and tell me I have help wherever I am, if needed. I appreciate this so much, as it is always good to have a safety net. We have some late night food at the local stands and we cause a little scuffle among them. Apparently proper guidelines were not followed as to who would get to serve us and men argue about their customers. It is a bit comical actually. Then bed!
Kilometers Driven: 40 km
Total Kilometers: 1363 km
Comments
Post a Comment