another cliché
travel blog

a poorly kept travel journal

Agra and the Taj Mahal

Getting there

We got breakfast at the hotel, then got into the car Andy had arranged to take us to the Taj Mahal. I was expecting traffic to be crazy, but not like this. Wishing five minutes of starting out, we almost got hit by a bus. And that was no big deal. People park on the highway. There was even someone driving the wrong way down the highway like its no big deal.

At traffic lights, near the slums kids peddling shiny trinkets like balloons on sticks surrounded the car and tapped on the glass trying to get out attention. Once they started kicking the car, our driver popped the locks, opened the door and yelled at them to back off. Honestly, I can’t even process such complete poverty.

After we made it out of Delhi, it was just farms for miles. It’s amazing how, even across the world, things look familiar. The green belt between Delhi and Agra looks exactly the same as the green belt between Sebastopol and Santa Rose. Large green areas with an occasional lone tree.

Agra

The city of Agra itself, our driver told us, is extremely old.

Zurich to Delhi

Up at 7:30 after a decent night’s rest (guests entering a leaving s bar aren’t known for being quiet, and(at one point Bethany exclaimed “I don’t want to be half a house in Copenhagen!”) we grabbed breakfast at a cafe (prosciutto, Brie, and arugula panini for me, croissant, muslie with yogurt, cheese, and seeded bread for Bethany) and coffee before meandering back to Zurich Main Station to take the train back to the airport.

Bethany got the standard harassment about her visa at the gate, but it ended up working out.

Once we landed in Delhi, it was dead simple getting through immigration. The immigration officer didn’t even question Bethany’s visa. So, glad everyone else had been so thorough up to this point.

We collected our bags and made it the hotel, where were promptly made it to our rooms. I ordered s glass of wine, set out my things, then talked with Amy via WhatsApp till nearly 4:30, when I finally started feeling tired and passed out.

Zurich

After landing, we took the train from the airport to Zurich Main Station. From there we wondered for a bit, awed by Zurich’s quaintness. Tiny little alleyways hidden until you’ve all but passed them that open up to courtyards with fountains. We found our Airbnb, a room above a bar that specializes in traditional Swiss music originally built in 1294, dropped our stuff, and went hunting for dinner.

Along the way, we did some window shopping (watches everywhere, because Switzerland), and ended up at what seemed to us a very Swiss place. One weinerschnitzel and jaegersnitzel later, we left to wander more.

Though most chocolate shops had closed up for the evening, we found one that had live music and picked up half a dozen bonbons each. Though the clerk’s English was quite good, his descriptions of each bonbon were flat out wrong. “That one? That’s a caramel.” Nope, truffle. “This one? It is a truffle” ok? Nope, filled with kirsch. The strangest description though was “this one is filled with….you know apricot? The nut from an apricot.” Definitely just hazelnut. So eating them was a bit of a landmine, unexpected flavor caused surprise.

Post chocolate, we practiced the choreography for Natasha’s wedding, then around midnight we passed out completely undisturbed by the enthusiastic accordion player and the stomping, whistling, dancing patrons downstairs.

Leaving on a jet plane

Starting something always seems like the hardest part. Once things are in motion, the easy thing to do is to continue. You have s goal, you’ve started working towards it, any obstacles that crop up are just part of getting the job done. But starting, taking that sometimes literal first step is always more difficult than it has any right to be.

Today, I left the house like I pretty much always do, bag on my back and a place to be. But knowing wasn’t going to return for another three weeks totally changed the feel of it.

Made it to the airport just fine, no rush or last minute “oh shits!”. Bethany ended up being right in front of me at the ticketing desk. While I was being processed, I could see that the ticketing agents were running into issues. While my very official looking piece of paper passed muster, it appeared that Bethany’s did not. Evidently the typed out email she received from the kind folks at the Indian Consulate didn’t contain the word “granted” in it, which was cause for concern. After threatening that they couldn’t let her on the flight without her visa, they pointed us towards a travel agency, which turned out to be a tiny little shop that sells travel size cosmetics and rents out computer use at absurd prices. Luckily, Bethany was able to call the appropriate office in India and get them to write out an email with the word “granted” in it and print it out.

Real secure, guys. Bang up job.

We got through security just find (with only a little extra scrutiny of my passport because I look real suspicious ) grabbed out last Mexican food for the next three weeks, a Sierra Nevada, and got on our plane bound for Zurich.

I hate travel books

Seriously. On the one hand, they’re a great place to start. I know next to nothing about India, and after spending some time with google and getting an idea of what I’m looking for, I immediately reach for a travel guide. And then hate it because I’m sorry, Tibetan Buddhism isn’t a place on any map.

How the hell do you capture any place in a book? Even calling it ‘a place’ isn’t right. San Francisco now is totally different than Yerba Buena was then. It’s the people, the practice, life that makes it what it is.

Larkspur ferry, again

Is ferry thing is becoming a bit of a tradition. Part of it is its convenience, but I also just like the view.

Four days.

Mt. Tam is pretty beautiful
Mt. Tam is pretty beautiful

Prepping for Tahoe

Just getting ready for Tahoe and testing this shit out.

The weekend in Tahoe was pretty great though.

Home!

Travel back to SF

Traveling back to SF.

Because real humans are too expensive?
Because real humans are too expensive?

Day Thirty Four: Bangkok (again)

After basically not sleeping all night, we pulled into the Bangkok train station around 7am. I was well back on the train, while Kerry was up ahead in the Women & Children only train (which she later reported was entirely pink and purple. Shrink it and pink it, it would seem, is alive and well in the Kingdom on Thailand). Despite the weight of the extra gear, lack of sleep, and hunger, stepping off the train, I felt amazing. Just ecstatic. So as I walked towards the front of the train to find Kerry, I put in my headphones, threw on Aerosmith’s Rag Doll, and rocked. the. fuck. out.

I didn’t get awkward looks or the disaproving gaze of people attempting to avoid me. I got their wide-eyed, terror filled attention. Imagine Pharrelle’s 24 hours of happy in a city where every morning, thousands of robe-clad monks wake up before dawn to walk the streets collecting alms and blessing people. For the cultural insensitivity, I do apologize. For the Rag Doll, I do not. God help me if a more fun song was ever written. Even Kerry, when I found her, had no idea what the hell was going on until I gave her one of my headphones. Then she smiled and her whole face lit up.

After that, the hunger set in and realized we needed to eat. Our plans for the day were food, Thai massage, and a pedicure before putting Kerry on her way back to Australia, so we got on the subway to make our way towards that trendy district I wanted to check out

The laughable metal detectors at the entrance. Walking through the station, everyone stopped moving. What the shit?

Trying to ask around for breakfast. No one really having a good idea. Then we found the farm. A half acre of green and brown in the middle of urban sprawl. They had an open air cafe, gardens, chickens, goats, and at the back of the lot, a remarkably well appointed bathroom. The farm appeared to be abandoned, so after a moment’s deliberation, I grabbed my towel and toiletries and showered off. I don’t think a cold shower has ever felt so good.

While brushing my teeth, I heard an alarm clock go off and saw someone stick their head out of the hut that had escaped my notice on the way in. I had definitely just walked into someone’s bathroom and helped myself to their shower. Smooth.

After coming out refreshed, I found Kerry petting the goats, waiting for the guys sleeping on the floor in the cafe to wake up and open up shop. So we pet the goats. Eventually, two people came out of the hut, showered up, fed the chickens and goats, woke up the guys in the cafe, and opened up shop.

GOAT!
GOAT!

Kerry and I had a little food, a cup of coffee, and sat out in the sun reading and planning out the rest of the day. There was a couple restaurants we wanted to check out, and knew we’d pass a couple massage parlors on the way there, so we set that as our destination. On the way, we stopped to get some more substantial food at some carts along the side of the road. It wasn’t bad, but the meal underscored that just because something is authentic, it doesn’t mean it’s tasty.

Hunger sated, we found a massage parlor that would take us and proceeded to get to it. An hour and a half later, I was no less tense than I started and at one point had to stop the guy from injuring me. After spending a week in the only royally recognized massage school with a bunch of LMTs out for continuing education, it was a disappointment. But I guess you get what you pay for.

Following that, we wandered over to **trendy restaurant here, to find that it was closed, but had a nice conversation about slow food with several friends of the owner. They recommended we head over to a vegan japanese place, where we had lunch. It was quite delectable, but it was bitter sweet, as it was the last thing Kerry and I did before she got on the subway to the airport.

Trendy
Trendy