The next morning, I packed my luggage and readied my day pack. Having not heard from the front desk that my driver had arrived, I proceeded to the registration desk, leaving my luggage in my room.
I asked the registration clerk if breakfast was included in the price of my room. Yes, continental breakfast. I sat down at the restaurant, informing the waiter that I’d like the continental breakfast: Orange juice, butter/jam toast and a tiny day (or two)-old muffin. While I sat eating I kept my eye on the door to see if my driver/guide had arrived. There was a young man sitting on the couch in the lobby, looking very bored. I wondered if he were my guide, but decided not, as the registration clerk or the man would have informed me when I inquired about the breakfast. At the conclusion of breakfast, I asked the bored young man if he were waiting for “Judy Wong.” He said, “Yes.” I asked why hadn’t anyone informed me. To which he replied it was because I was having breakfast. He never made an introduction, so I will call him “Guy”. He called me “Mam” even though I told him to call me “Judy”.
My luggage was retrieved from my room and placed in the trunk of Guy’s car.
Jamma Mosque
First stop: Jama Masjid Mosque. I knew I shouldn’t have thrown away the shoe covers this morning. I had to remove my shoes at this mosque. My socks saved me from the heat of the red sandstone, as well as a shoe cover fee. I did, however, have to pay a 200 INR camera fee. Women were required to wear a cotton robe. It wasn’t as if I were exposing my shoulders or ankles, but I noticed that male tourists wearing shorts were required to wear the robe as well. Guy walked around with me, telling me the history of the Jama Masjid Mosque, offering to take my picture and allowing me to take as many photos as I pleased.
The mosque is the largest and best known mosque in India. It was commissioned by Shah Jahan and completed in 1656.
We did “drive by” sightings of Chandni Chwok, the central street of Old Delhi. It had alleys of vendors. I believe Guy said that each alley featured vendors of the same type of wares (one for clothes, one for food, one for house wares, etc.)
The Red Fort, which was negotiated as part of my tour, was also a “drive by”, because it was much like Agra Fort. Guy said we didn’t need to see it, as it wasn’t as nice as Agra Fort, and again, only 30% was open to the public, it also being a working Fort.
Raj Ghat
Raj Ghat: Place of cremation for India’s dignitaries, namely Mahatma Gandhi and Indira Gandhi.
President’s Residence
We drove by the government buildings area. We were not allowed to stop, as there were armed servicemen guarding the entrances of each building. We rounded a cul-de-sac to see the gated President’s residence. Guy instructed the driver to stop in front of the gate to let me take a quick photo. Guy stepped out with me to take my photo. I stuck my camera lens through the gate to get a photo of the residence itself. It was like a palace.
India Gate
We drove by India Gate in New Delhi. A police blockade was up for some unknown reason. Guy had our driver stop by the blockade for me to get out for a good photo of the gate. Guy described it as war memorial similar to Paris’ Arch de Triumph.
Huyaman’s Tomb
Humayun’s Tomb: Commissioned in 1562 by Hamida Banu, Mughal Emperor Humayun’s wife, 9 years after Emperor Humayun’s death. The tomb cost 15 lakh rupees (1.5 M) at the time.
It was only Noon and the temperature was still rising. During the tour, Guy commented repeatedly that “It’s so hot.” I commented, “But you’re from around here, aren’t you used to this heat?” Guy replied, “I’m still human.” The ground’s sprinkler system was on. I was very tempted to run through the sprinklers to cool off. There were people sleeping under the shade of the trees on these grounds.
Bahai Temple aka The Lotus
Drive by of Bahai Temple. The building is also called “The Lotus” because it is shaped like a lotus flower – almost like the Sydney Opera House. Guy had the driver stop the car so I could take a photo. We were unable to visit the temple, because we were not members.
We made a short stop at Café Rendezvous an air-conditioned restaurant with delicious, reasonably priced dishes. Murg Tikka Butter Masala with plain naan, including 10% tip and VAT came to a mere 526 INR. Guy picked me up an hour later.
Qutab Minar and Iron Pillar
Qutab Minar and the Iron Pillar: 72.5 meters (237.8 feet) world’s tallest brick minaret constructed in 1193 under orders of India’s first Muslim ruler Qutb-ud-din Aibak. The topmost two sections were added and completed in 1386.
The iron pillar, which is found in the main square of this site, is the world’s foremost metallurgical curiosities. Legend had it, if you could encircle your arms around the pillar with your back to the pillar your wish could be granted. The Iron pillar never rusted through years of exposure to the elements. However, it currently has a fence around it, because all the sweat and oils from people touching the pillar have compromised the iron so that it is beginning to deteriorate.
The rickshaw ride, noted in my itinerary as the “highlight of this tour”, did not happen. It was not mentioned or offered by Guy. It was so hot and the thought of making someone give me a rickshaw ride in this heat was plain cruel, so I didn’t remind anyone of the omission.
My itinerary also included a dinner with an Indian family, to experience real Indian food and hospitality with the tour owner’s family. My tour owner went on vacation that day, so the dinner was off. When I mentioned this in the review I gave upon my return, the owner emailed me to apologize and to say that the proper procedure was to take me to a very nice Indian restaurant instead. Since some services were not provided, the owner offered me a partial refund.
As my itinerary was basically fulfilled and the time was not quite 5:00 pm, Guy suggested that he take me shopping. I said to him only on the condition that I’m not placed in a position of hard sale merchants. Guy assured me, there would be no hard sale. We went to the Design Center, a version of a department store containing Cashmere rugs/carpets, jewelry, textiles of linens and accent accessories, gifts and tea, clothing and pashminas.
After a demonstration of the making of the hand knotted (950 knots to the square inch) by David, the owner of the store, I was shown carpets of various sizes and patterns of their wares. The carpets are wear resistant, more valuable with use and age. Each carpet pattern (very much like a recipe) is a family tradition that is a closely guarded secret. The large carpets are made over several months by several craftsmen at a time. The narrow runners are made by a single woman, because women have more patience with repetitive work and there is no room for additional craftsmen to work along side of the woman. I liked a certain runner that I had in mind to use as a runner for my stairs. David said he would add leather stays for the carpet to be tacked down on the stairs, as well as on the ends, should I decide to use it as a wall hanging. After much negotiation, I ended up purchasing the runner in four monthly payments. I sign the back of the carpet with a Sharpie to ensure that I would receive the exact carpet I purchased. The carpet will arrive in September, after my last installment is received. The carpet would also contain information regarding the women who made my carpet, complete with photo, as well as care and cleaning instructions. In addition, the Indian government was allowing this carpet to be purchased without VAT/sales tax and allowing free shipping to any destination. I was also given a special discount for using my Visa. I had some buyer’s remorse, feeling I had made a purchase I shouldn’t have, but I may never come to India again and, when I look back, I just might feel good about this quality heirloom I’ve just purchased.
I was then escorted to the jewelry section, where I was with a woman showing me ruby pendants and a handsome male assistant, who would help me with placing the necklaces around my neck. If I hadn’t bought the runner, I likely would have purchased a ruby pendant. Despite, her hard-sale, I truly couldn’t justify spending more money on a tiny ruby pendant.
There was a young man who hovered while I was looking at jewelry. Before I was escorted upstairs to check out the linens department, he approached me to offer to show me some pashminas. I said I would stop at his counter on my way out.
I was escorted upstairs to look at the linens. The clerk (Khurshid) spent a long time showing me what I thought were table runners. He demonstrated they were for the top of sofas – much like lace protectors. Though they were pretty, I had no use for them and I’d feel like a grandma. I thanked him for his time and walked away. He followed me to the bed linens, showing me the throw blankets. None of them interested me. David, the owner came upstairs to monitor the progress. David told Khurshid to accept whatever I offered for the throws. I wasn’t interested. Khurshid followed me, picking up wood and stone carved elephants and trinket boxes. No thank you. In the corner was a lone shelf with small boxes of tea. I purchased three boxes for my friends at work, using Indian Rupees. Khurshid was so happy with the “sale”, he gave me his card asking that I tell all my friends to ask for him.
The hovering salesman appeared behind me as I was paying for my teas. I followed him to his counter. As he showed me the very expensive pure pashmina wraps, which could be pulled through his ring – a true mark of authenticity, he told me that he is from Kashmir, where the true pashmina originated. Kashmir (cashmere) is made from the soft fur of a goat’s neck. He also showed me the difference between the lesser grade wool vs. the second tier silk blended pashminas, followed by printed, two toned and sheers. He showed me how to wrap the scarves and drape the wraps around me. Finally, a bus of tourists arrived and I was no longer the only customer in the store. I made my kind getaway as soon as I spotted my guide, who had returned for me.
On our way to the airport, the driver stopped along the way to let my guide off. I quickly handed him 300 INRs tip and a baseball cap. He grinned with happiness and thanks. I glanced at my driver, who was smiling and had a look of happiness for my guide’s good fortune.
The driver made a second stop a few minutes later to pick up Rahul. I returned Rahul’s SIM card to him, reminding him that he never did add minutes, so I was unable to use it, but thanks for the lending. Upon arrival at the airport, I gave my driver 200 INRs and a cap and Rahul 200 INRs and 2 caps. They liked their gifts.
In line to check in my two pieces of luggage, a young flight attendant, assisting with screening fliers, gave me the “third degree” all the way until I reached the counter. Usually, I’m asked whose bags are these, who packed to bags, if at any time did I leave my bags alone, did anyone ask me to carry any objects for them. She checked my passport, asked me for all the information on the passport: my name, nationality, birth date, when did I arrive in India (I showed her the entrance stamp in the passport). When she ran out of questions regarding the passport, she asked me questions that could not be verified, but tried to trip me up by asking in a different manner: e.g., birthplace, where was I from, my parent’s nationality, where do I live, where is San Jose, how far from San Francisco, how long does it take to get there, what was my itinerary, what was the reason for travel, where have I been, what was I doing in India, what did I do in Nepal, where did I go in Nepal, where did I go in India, why? All the while she held on to my passport until I reached the check-in counter.
While checking in, I wanted to see how much my bags weighed hoping the weight of the marble table was below the weight limits so I wouldn’t be fined an overweight fee. The person loaded on the two bags together and gave me a wink. After I was issued my boarding passes and baggage claim stickers, he approached me asking for a tip. I had a 2 INR left in my shirt pocket, which he took, but was clearly disappointed. Although the bags were checked through to SFO, I would have to retrieve them in New Jersey to run through customs.
At the immigration counter, I was hailed by the First/Business Class clerk to get in his line. When I asked if he were sure it was alright for an economy class person to use his line, he smiled at my humor.
One more security check through the Ladies line (metal scanning while in a private booth) before I was able to make my way to the gate. I finished updating my journal just before it was time to board. I started watching Avatar while the airplane was taxiing.
The plane was airborne about midnight.
Travels With Judy 