Rock Garden, Chandigarh

Bus Station, Chandigarh

People stand very close in line, generally to prevent budging. Here's a line at the bus station.

Sukna Lake, Chandigarh

Since I arrived, I've received at least a half dozen requests to be in photos with strangers.  Other Americans who've been to India are probably familiar with this phenomenon. I was in about four different pictures with these fellows.

Chandigarh, Punjab

I spent the weekend in Chandigarh. Planners, architects and the like will perhaps recognize the name of this city for its (in)famous designer, Le Corbusier.  I wish I could report more on the planning of this city, but I was there during the weekend, and it was about 95 degrees with humidity through the roof.  So my pace was slower than usual.  I did not make it to the must-see Secretariat building, so I figure I’ll go back sometime in a few months.  I can tell you that the city is laid out in a grid pattern consisting of numbered sectors.  It has a spacious plaza area, even by non-Indian standards, with a fountain and lots of young Indians and people watching.  On this particular evening there was a critical cricket match on, so dozens of Indian men were gathered around the television cheering for India (I believe India lost to Sri Lanka). 

While I am enjoying most of the Indian food I eat, I was spoiled by the insurmountable options that New York offered me for the ten years I grazed the city’s restaurants.  So, finding myself near a Lonely Planet-recommended Italian restaurant, I decided I could use some pasta and Chianti.  Pasta I had; alas no Chianti. The bread was accompanied by, oddly enough, and a clear indication that I was still in India, butter. While Adam Platt may not have given it more than a star, I was satisfied, especially with dessert, which was a nice gooey chocolately cake served with vanilla ice cream. 

The following day I went down the street to Sai Sweets for breakfast.  Often it is easy to feel that a lot of the most common Indian dishes repeat themselves on menus, so you sometimes forget you’re in a different restaurant than the one yesterday, four days ago, last week.  And then occasionally Krishna is smiling down on you, and you enter a place like Sai Sweets, with new and varied offerings.  The menu described them as “onion filled crusty balls with chickpeas.”  While one side of my brain was telling me to run for the hills, the other side knew a crusty ball could never be a mistake.  On a side note, I’ve been trying to avoid potatoes while here; no small feat, as you can imagine.  The reason being because I believe potatoes were the culprit in the severe Delhi belly I got last time I traveled in India.  So I thought I would be safe given the description of this menu item.  So I was disappointed when I sunk into one of the crusty balls and the encased potato; however, one bite told me it would be worth it.  It was something akin to a biscuit with spiced onion and potato, and then a soupy mixture of chickpeas surrounding the buscuits.  This description is not doing the dish justice, but I am no Frank Bruni, nor do I receive anything near his salary for these reviews, so I’ll leave it at that.  I washed it all down with a sweet lassi.  I was joined by two French travelers for my meal.  We were then all joined by a Mr. Narinder.  He is apparently a fixture in this place (one of the French people had actually met him four years ago, also in Sai Sweets!), and asked me to stage a photo of him handing me a rock garden brochure and one of the French woman enjoying one of Sai’s sweets.  

Besides chasing down a Tata store that was doomed to be closed (Mr. Tata owns nearly everything in India.  I am most appreciative of his colorful trucks.  He was supposed to be my key to the enigmatic Indian Wi-Fi.  Apparently all stores in Chandigarh are closed on Sundays, by mandate from the Chandigarh government!)  and a vaccine that will hopefully prevent some rare but god-awful disease transmitted by the lowly mosquito (such a small creature to be hefting around all these diseases), I spent the rest of my Sunday at the adorable rock garden designed by Nek Chand.  Chand came from Pakistan shortly after partition and was appalled to see the waste generated from the demolition of villages that made way for the newly planned city of Chandigarh – intended to be a testament to India’s leap into the future.  See the pictures I’ve included.  I did my best to capture the whimsy of the place.

Next was a stop at Sukhna Lake – a man-made lake designed by Le Corbusier and dotted with colorful paddleboats.  I entertained myself watching these paddle boats after a cooling beer at the Mermaid Pub.  

A bus station is a good place to know the local language.  You don’t get very far when all you can say is “I don’t understand Hindi,” or “I am American.”  After some time, I figured out the system and realized why I was being pushed and shoved and ladies* were butting in line in front of me.  Essentially, you can buy a ticket only about 15 minutes before the bus is to leave. The bus should be parked and in the station before any ticket purchasing can be done.  So sure was I that I should wait for the a/c bus, I left the ticket line and went to the comfort of the small air-conditioned waiting room.  I was told to return at 5:45, fifteen minutes before the bus was to leave.  Return I did – to a line about a dozen ladies long.  Luckily, the man who had earlier told me to come back in a half hour recognized me and pulled me to the front of the line.  After boarding the bus, I realized that not everyone was going to get a seat for the two hour ride.  We left the station, but it frequently slowed down to accept more and more riders.  They just kept coming and coming.  We were so packed in there that the a/c could not keep up with all the summer body heated radiating from all of us.  It wasn’t a terribly long bus ride but I was happy to land in Ludhiana a couple of hours later. 

*Interestingly enough, women and men are still quite segregated here.  At the bus station, there were two lines. All women sat at the front of the bus and the men towards the rear.   Quite a few parents still forbid their children from having friends of the opposite sex.  Therefore, you see a lot of boys and men riding scooters together and holding hands.

I should most definitely get this for my niece

Plaza in Chandigarh

Watching the cricket match

Mr. Narinder. He gave me his email so I could send him this picture.

Happy Hour!

I ventured to the mall today to find myself a hat and instead found a popcorn vendor!  How exciting, I thought.  Brought said popcorn back to the room and had myself my own private happy hour.

Cows, cows, more cows

I'm sure you've all heard about the cows in India. I stumbled upon these recently hanging out in Ludhiana.

Warnings from the Ludhiana Police

I'm regularly now getting text message warnings from the Ludhiana Police.  Here's a sample:

“Don’t mix drinking and driving.  Have a safe day. Ludhiana Police.”

"Caution and care make accidents rare.  Have a safe day. Ludhiana Police."

And more recently: “Be alert: Accidents hurt. Have a safe day. Ludhiana Police.”  And: “Chance takers are accident makers.  Follow traffic rules.  Have a safe day. Ludhiana Police.”  

While these are coming a little too frequently, I still find myself smiling at the little rhymes they come up with.  Given that traffic rules are not really followed by drivers here, I’m not sure that these texts are effective.  I was at first confused about the meaning of a red light here because whenever I was in a car, the driver never stopped at it.  So I had to ask someone. Apparently, it means the same thing it means in the U.S.; it's just no one really pays it mind. 

New neighbors

Feral dogs are very common here. This mama just had baby pups outside my guesthouse shortly before my arrival.

First dinner in Ludhiana

Kamal, my advisor here, graciously welcomed me with a tasty dinner at Las Vegas - a little, happening spot across from campus.

No gambling here, but tasty chicken and some decent English stout

Destination Ludhiana

What a day!  After carefully laying out everything I would need for my early-morning departure to the train station, I missed my train.  Which is not to say I did not try.  I first took a taxi to the train station.  This station was in a bit of a, uh, transitional state.  The roads were mud, the traffic rendered the area impossible to move, and it was raining.  After dragging my rolly bags over construction mud piles, I arrived only to be told that I missed my train and I should head to the tourist office.  My scam-dar immediately went up; rightfully so, it turns out.  After being told both the 8:30 AM and 11 AM trains were sold out, I was offered a car for hire at Rs 7000 ($155).  Luckily I reached the USIEF office, promptly took a taxi back to the hotel, filled up on free breakfast, and was rebooked on a later train, sans air conditioning.  


I was lucky enough to have two USIEF staff drive me to the station and one to help with my bags.  After dealing with a crabby coolie (Red jacketed bag porters who are very adept at carrying passengers' bags. They twist and roll a scarf for a cushion for their heads, upon which suitcases go on top the scarf and provide cushion.), we, the self-described USIEF office boy and I, waited for an hour for a delayed train.  This man was beyond nice – buying me bananas and rushing to my defense to ensure I wasn’t getting ripped off when I purchased some crackers and cookies from one of the train station kiosks.  


The man sitting across from me on the train was a very nice man returning to Amritsar with his mother and father.  His mother was not well, so she took up the entire seat, while this man carved out what little space was left.  He insisted several times I use the rest of his seat to rest my feet.  Anytime he ate he offered me some and he bought me a “sandwich” (The sandwich consisted of two pieces of white bread cut on the bias and stacked, coated in batter and deep fried.  It was a bit like a very bland form of French toast, although the bread was not soaked through with the egg mixture, as in French toast. It was served with hot sauce.  Other train treats looked much better, but my concern for my digestive system overrode my hunger pangs.) from one of the men filing through the aisles approximately every two seconds shouting helpful, né redundant, information about their wares.  (I found out later that those sandwiches normally are filled with aloo (potato))

Our other fellow passenger (the seats on this section are two benches facing each other), the one sitting next to me, was a Punjabi man traveling to the capital to take his TOEFL test because the test in Delhi was sold out.  This man was also quite nice, and offered to warn me a bit about living in India.  But instead of just informing me of his concerns, he wrote it down.  Issues one: “Beware of Punjabis.” Which he later amended to say “Beware of Punjabis/Indians.”  This seemed extreme to me, but he concluded that it was his duty to protect foreigners living in India.  He respectfully did not want his country to get a poor reputation for the way it treats women.  Issue two: “Do not eat meals from Indian restaurants.”  Knowing me as some of you do, you can probably imagine that this is not an option.  The man was only concerned for the hygienics of the city.  I’d say he’s on the right track but is a little OCD about the whole hygiene thing.  “What else?” I asked.  “That’s it,” he says.  “That’s it?” I say.  “That’s it,” he says.  So there you go, only two concerns, although very broad ones, I need to have in India.  I like it!


To give you an example the kindness and helpfulness of many Indians, I leave you with this story. There was a man on the platform that first helped the USIEF office boy find my coach when the train approached the New Delhi stations. He thought for some reason I was to get off at Amritsar (probably because this is a popular tourist destination).  So when he saw me depart at Ludhiana he steped outside the train and warned me that I was not at the correct stop.  Very thoughtful of him.

Destination Ludhiana

Nice man from Amritsar on the train.

Nice man from Delhi sitting next to me on the train

Hot, hot, hot train; the fans helped a bit, but the breeze helped more when we were moving fast enough to catch some

Peepli, but not live, unfortunately

yums

After traipsing through the construction, we were rewarded with this yummy dinner

Much of the area around our hotel was under construction in preparation for the Commonwealth Games in October

The wonderful Delhi Metro map - expanding as we speak

Office building near the mall

My consolation prize

Unfortunately Fun Cinemas was not so fun for me because the movie wasn't playing with subtitles

Attempted to see a movie today.  The rain came today in spurts, so I thought it best to check out Delhi’s cinema offerings.  After some searching on the sparse Time Out Delhi website, the movie Peepli Live stood out as a good option – a satirical look at farmer suicides in India, this Hindi indie was I believe the first ever screened at Sundance.  Ironically, I think all the folks back in the U.S. will see it before I do – I could not locate a cinema where it was playing with subtitles.  This after a Metro ride to northwest Delhi and a cruise around a slightly downtrodden mall area.  I settled for a coffee from Café Coffee Day and the Times of Delhi instead.

Dinner was with fellow fellow Jenny -  we had lamb kebabs and wonderfully greasy roti served with raw onion and a tasty green sauce of unknown origin.

In the distance, that is a cow grazing on grass near the mall

I am determined to find the Japanese Encephalitis vaccination here in Delhi, which the doctor giving the presentation to all Fulbrighters said was available at her hospital.  Told it was a well-known hospital, we negotiated with auto rickshaw driver (I was with a fellow Fulbrighter looking to get some shots himself) to take us there. After a bumpy and petrol-filled one hour ride (For a trip of this length, I highly recommend a taxi with a/c) we sputtered up to the new and modern looking hospital.  So you can imagine our disappointment when the receptionist tells us that the good doctor is at a different location today.  We fueled up on Gatorade, Immodium and water and headed out to find another auto rickshaw.  

Again, negotiations, and this time, only a half hour ride, to a smaller clinic.  After filling in a form in which I had to note either my father’s or husband’s name, and paying only Rs 300 ($6.67) as the consultation fee, I was eventually told by the pharmacist that the JE vaccine has been banned from India.  WHAT?  The doctor assures me that these things come and go and I should call her mobile later that evening. More water, more Gatorade, and we’re off: I did not get any shots.  No such luck, she says, when I phone her later.  But I should call her tomorrow, because she is checking with her supplier.  

That afternoon we visit the lovely Red Fort.  The planner in me loved the Metro ride.  The Delhi metro is fairly new – built about five years ago.  It’s extremely user-friendly, and, despite the bag x-ray and the body scan, it went smoothly and quickly.  After the Red Fort we stumbled upon a Sikh (pronounced like sick) gurdwara – a large, white temple with friendly Sikhs taking our shoes and offering head coverings.  As we ascended the stairs, barefoot and treading lightly on the slick stone, the sounds of Sikh music became clearer and more vibrant.  Sweets were offered at the door for all visitors.  

Not feeling well, dinner consisted only of a raita – a yogurt drink; this one had puffed wheat or rice balls floating around it.

Old Delhi and the Red Fort

A Hindu temple

Lots of jewelry shops down this crowded side street

Part of the Red Fort

Me, Matt, Shoshana

Guard at the Red Fort

No smoking, littering or spitting, please!

Red Fort

Fixing a fixer-upper

The streets of Old Delhi, on our way to the Red Fort

More Delhi

A ride in an auto rickshaw (most people just call them simply, "autos"

still at the tombs

These are the machetes used to cut the grass

Tombs again - note the man in red is cutting the grass manually with a machete of sorts

More tombs

Humayan's Tomb

kids on a school bus buying trinkets from a local vendor

India Gate

Man toting ice