At the time of this writing I am in southern Nevada, having spent a few weeks editing around 8,000 photos after returning to Utah from Delhi India. One week in Paris followed by three in northern India left us a little road-worn. But not sufficiently so as to keep us off the road. Down here we’ve attended another edition of the Las Vegas Vintage home tour put on annually by the Nevada Preservation Foundation. Upcoming stuff should include a photography trip to Newport Rhode Island or New York City and another annual event, a couple of weeks in coastal and central Oregon.
Paris was a condition of mine as part of the grand family bargain that brought us to India. My daughter, who married an Indian fellow amidst the red rocks of the Valley of Fire two years ago once again celebrated the relationship atop a high rise in Chandigarh India. This time in the Hindu tradition for the benefit of his family.
The remainder of time in India was spent in Delhi and McLeod Ganj with a brief bendy-road blast up into the Shimla hill country immediately following the festivities with two guests, friends of the groom, whom I had met at the wedding. One, a programmer, and the other, a helicopter pilot, could not have been more welcoming and cordial.
It is the Indian tradition, I suppose, this willingness to impart a sense of fitting in and wonder with India on her national guests. The parents of my son-in-law were, likewise inclined to hospitality.
Indians ask to have their photos taken and often ask to take selfies with you. In one encounter I was seated at a bench by a water feature at Humayun’s Tomb, when a group of around sixty school children in school uniform approached. First one and then several kids asked to take selfies with me. The teacher arrived and took a picture of me with all sixty kids.
None of the Indians I know would agree with me entirely, but I continue to think that the future belongs in no small part to places like India and Mexico.
The largest population on earth with an average age just under 30, the thing that strikes me most about this vast amalgam of humanity is that Indians are extremely proud of India. With all of its woes and lack of functionality I found over and over again that the cavalry has appeared and it is technology. Public train and bus systems and Uber-based transportation networks, a digital currency and banking system open to even the smallest merchants, airbnbs, e-commerce with instant delivery of almost anything, Whatsapp enabled communication with all of its bells and whistles, cheap wifi access. The list goes on. India struck me as both the country most burdened by bureaucracy and most free of it, at the same time. The industries where technology has disrupted old ways are now highly efficient by United States’ standards. Years ahead of us in some cases. It all revolves around the cell phone, and pretty much everyone has a cell phone, and, so, is quite new and to some extent unresolved.
Costs were also very low in India which was refreshing after an expensive week in Paris.
On arrival I came informed by the standard travel guides, a limited perusal of Indian literature of note in the United States: Roy, Lahiri, Kipling, Forster, several films set in India of both Hollywood and Bollywood origin, and numerous YouTube travel accounts. My favorite text on India is “City of Djinns, A Year in Delhi” by William Dalrymple. Although published in 1993, it captures the historical situation in northern India better than most other things I’ve read.
The YouTube videos had me concerned about many things, chief among them garbage in the streets, lack of personal space, incessant honking, traffic in general, men harassing women, chaos and food sickness. None of these proved to be a major issue.
We had the extreme benefit of local connections. Obtaining cash from an ATM proved impossible so we came up with a work-around which involved Venmo and someone with an Indian bank account. With the exception of one night at a Shimla hotel for myself we stayed exclusively at Airbnb’s booked before arriving in India with the help of someone familiar with the territory. After a few rides arranged for us by locals we started using Uber often and independently with satisfaction and free of language barriers. Another benefit was our t-mobile phones worked well both across wifi and using roaming services.
We experienced Holi, the holiday of color, in a very real Indian setting. We toured one Alhambra after another. Delhi and the area around it were once Islamic strongholds of a similar age to the similar fortification in Granada Spain. The Alhambra is a better operating example, it still sort of functions as it once did, but the Indian counterparts are of like grandeur and scale. Ours included The Red Fort, Humayun’s Tomb, the Lodi Gardens, Hauz Khas and Sheikh Chilli’s Tomb. We took the chaotic walk up the colorful Chandi Chowk market street to the spice market in old Delhi.
In Mcleod Ganj, above Dharamshala, we stayed in an airbnb next door to the Dalai Lama compound, took a Tibetan cooking course, walked the main road across the Rudyard Kipling hill station, and took the aerial tram. In Shimla I walked the British mall road, saw yaks in snow, and visited the Monkey temple. A highlight of the trip came with a crazy drive out of Shimla on perhaps the curviest road I’ve ever been on through vast forests and two nature parks only to connect with the curviest highway I have ever been on.
In Paris we stayed in the Latin Quarter near the Pantheon, the Sorbonne and the apartment of Emily in Paris, uphill from the extreme touristy bits. We spent a lot of time at museums of sorts on this trip. My normal approach is just to wander and visit things that appear along the way. This time we arrived with itinerary in hand. The main purpose being visiting some of the larger museums which I have not visited before. These included Musee Carnavalet, Foundation Cartier, Musee Artes Decoratifs, and Musee d’Art Moderne de Paris. Return visits were made to Notre Dame, a first visit following the fire, the Pantheon, Place des Voges, Luxembourg Gardens, and Enfants Rouges. A few other new things included the glass ceiling of Samaritaine, the Little Red Door, L’Escargot, the SO Paris hotel, Rue Cremieux, the Banksy Museum, Maison Victor Hugo, the restaurant Balzar, and a quick perusal of Zeus the cyborg Olympic steed now outside of the Musee des Arts et Metiers. The best meal was had at the Bullion Racine in the Latin Quarter. I also tried snail for the first time at L’ Escargot on Rue Montorgueil.
As to the bad: I survived one cold, which appeared as we were leaving Paris and ended a couple of days into India. We boarded a connecting flight to Delhi in Amsterdam to look up and see on the airport televisions that the United States and Israel had just then started a massive bombing campaign of Iran. Our flight took the Azerbaijan slot route along the Iranian northern border. We went back that way as well. Then it was three weeks into the bombing. I wasn’t crazy about all the cows in India. For that I am sorry. But they didn’t seem to be well cared for and often were eating garbage. The dogs I did like. But never petted. They are more ubiquitous than the cows and appear to be cared for by everyone. I also could live without the common method of showering in India which involves very large bucket, ladle and a hole in the floor. In Paris I caused visible harm to both big toes with walking in tennis shoes. Twenty-thousand step days in Paris. Also the costs in France were a tad worrying. But we didn’t stay long.
I’ve just added just under 8,000 new photos to my photo galleries. These are grouped under new locations: delhi india, chandigarh india, shimla india and dharamshala india, and old locations: ile d’ france and las vegas nevada usa, and just a few under southern nevada usa. As always the photos are organized by place and otherwise are not organized at all. Each photograph in the initial gallery is a link to usually 250 other photographs from the same place. In the case of ile d’france there are now 35 pages with around 8,750 photographs. I guess I like Paris. I like India too.
Shout-outs are due to the Yadav family. We are family now. I have no doubt about that. To the basil margaritas at the Indian Mexican place in Hauz Khas. And the spicy french fries. To Atishay and KD for the sprint to Shimla. The return part of that trip was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time. Laughter and dangerous curves in the middle of nowhere go together in surprising ways. And to the place we ended up staying in McLeod Ganj, nextdoor to the Dalai Lama, of all places to stay.