When I was in Goa, the rickshaw drivers went on strike. Most of the tourists here are Russian. But the Russians have set up their own tourist companies, thus depriving the locals of their share of the tourist dollars.
The municipal gardens in Margao, Goa.
The lifeguard house at Colva Beach, Goa.
Men working.
Man working.
The gym where I worked out in Mangalore
Everyday there is a Hindu festival somewhere. You'd be walking down the street, and there is a prosession of some kind.
St. Aloysius College Chapel
The Sistine Chapel-like ceiling of St. Aloysius College Chapel, Mangalore
Sultan Battery, Mangalore
Boat on the Gurupur River, Mangalore
Dead rat on the sidewalk. It took more than a day for someone to take it away.
Flowers in the park
An advertisement sign in Mangalore. I didn't think the words "Burkha" and "fashion" could go together.
Tagore Park in MangaloreBefore I plunge head first into another story, which probably will be perceived as negative, let me get something clear. Of all the countries I have visited so far, India is the place I feel most at home. Sure, the guys spit and pee everywhere, and no one has any concept of waiting their turn in a line, and the food is too spicy, and there is garbage everywhere, and.....but I could live here.
Dishonest travel agent
I had been in Hampi for a few days and was chatting with Raj, one of the many shop owners who go where ever there are tourists, to sell stuff, that apparently tourist want, but I can't figure out why. Anyway, we were talking about where I am going next and how I will get there. He suggested that I purchase a reserve ticket in advance, because it will be a long trip, and I would be better off in sleeper class rather than 2nd class seating. I had to agree with him, because I had a potentially inconveniencing experience with 2nd class on my way to Hampi.
Usually, when I want to go somewhere, I just show up at the bus or train station and take the next available bus or train. I get packed in with the local people and consider it “experiencing India.” I wanted to travel from Margao to Hospet to get to Hampi. I packed up my bag and headed to the train station early in the morning, only to discover that that train does not run on Saturdays. I only runs on Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. So I went back to Colva Beach, spent a few days, and returned to the train station on Tuesday.
Because I do not like to arrive at my destination at night, I decided to break up the trip and stop in Hubli, then continue the next day. I purchased my ticket and waited for the train. At this time, I still had not figured out how train stations worked. I knew which platform to wait on, but I had no idea if I should be at the front or the back of the train. And there was only a two minute window to get onto the train before it starts moving. I just jumped onto the nearest car.
Turns out, I was on the reserve sleeper car, but there were many other people who didn't belong there, so I didn't worry about it. Eventually, someone came around to check tickets. I was booted out of the seat and told to get off the car at the next stop and go to the 2nd class car. Ok, that's fair, no problem. At the next stop, I walked to the 2nd class cars, but they were all full. Not just full, but bulging with people. People were hanging out the doors. I tried, but carrying my backpack in my hand, I could not get onto the train. And the train started to move.
Oh no. I had no idea where this tiny train station in the middle of nowhere was. And the train passes only three times a week? I must get onto this train. I jumped onto the AC car. I figured they won't kick me off until the next station. They just sent me back to the reserve sleeper car, where I was before, and I sat next to the toilet.
So I was receptive to the idea of buying a reserve ticket. I picked a travel agent close to my guesthouse and settled on a Saturday night train, the earliest available, to Hyderabad. She told me this was the earliest train with available seats. And the only seats available were Tatkal. What? She explained to me that they set aside a few seats for taxes, so they cost more. Ok? How much. 630 rupees I said that seemed really high, but she said she was taking only 50 rupees commission. The price is high because it is Tatkal. I paid for the ticket, and she told me I'd get it the next day.
Late the next day, I received the ticket. I looked the ticket over very carefully because I wanted to be sure I knew exactly where on the train I was supposed to go, and how much time I had to board the train before it started moving. I noticed the ticket said T.CASH Rs. 431 and Rs. FOUR THREE ONE ONLY. I pointed this out and said I think you're taking much more than 50 rupees. She insisted that in fact, she was taking only 49 rupees, that Rs 150 Tatkal is added to the total shown on the ticket. I said this doesn't sound right. Why isn't the Tatkal shown on the ticket. She said that's the way it is done. Ask anyone. You can even go to the train station in Hospet, and if I'm lying I'll give you back all your money.
A round trip rickshaw ride to the train station costs about Rs 200. The bus costs just Rs 24, but stops at the bus station and you either have to take a rickshaw to the train station or walk 1.5 km. No one is going to go to the trouble over Rs 150, roughly $3. I'll just let it go. But then I spoke with Raj again, and he told me that Tatkal means emergency. Tatkal tickets are reserved for people who need to travel at short notice. Nothing to do with “tax.”
Saturday morning, I checked out of my room and took the bus to Hospet. I walked to the train station and just for the hell of it, I went to the ticket counter to inquire about the cost of my ticket. The lady at the counter told me that the price paid for the ticket is the price shown on the ticket. But maybe she didn't realize that it was Tatkal. So I asked her if Tatkal affects the price in any way. She said yes, but it is included in the total price shown on the ticket.
Now I was getting mad. That travel agent lied to me, then lied to me further when I pointed out that she was lying to me. I went back to Hampi to ask her for a refund. She refused to admit that I had caught her lying. She insisted that Tatkal is added to the price and she is only taking 49 rupees. She said the woman at the train station lied to me! You can ask any travel agent, they will tell you the same. I said call the train station. She refused to dial the real number and dialed some bogus number that was switched off instead.
She asked what I wanted her to do. I said give me back 150 rupees. She insisted that she was not lying and I could go to the police if I wanted to. So....that's what I did. On the way, I stopped at another travel agent, and he said Tatkal is included in the total price, that she took 200 rupees profit. At this time in Hampi, there was a festival that happens once every 12 years. The place was filled with Hindu pilgrims who came to bathe in the sacred river. At least 3 persons drowned in the river one day. I'm sure someone drowns everyday. Surely the police have their hands full with more important things.
But they listened to me and agreed that she was dishonest and had charged an excessive commission. They told me to wait a while, and after about 20 minutes, they returned with a guy from the travel agency, and we went in to see the police chief. The guy tried to explain, but the chief just waved him off and made him return 150 rupees to me. Then the chief told him to close down the shop. It turned out that they were operating illegally. Oops.
I felt kinda bad. I didn't mean for them to go out of business – especially over $3. But when you are caught lying in business, just own up to it and move on.
Tuna sandwich
My first night in Hampi, I was approached by a few guys, who worked at a restaurant. They were trying to entice me to come to their restaurant by offering special drug laced dishes. Apparently, this is a big hit with tourist. I just wanted meat. Because Hampi is a very important Hindu site, the restaurants are not supposed to serve meat. So I asked them if they had chicken. They did, so I went back to eat there later.
But I did not order a chicken dish. Instead I opted for a tuna sandwich. It took 45 minutes – after I realized that they were taking an awfully long time. I opened up the sandwich and looked inside. And for the first time in my travels, I took my food back. Where is the tuna? It is in there. No, I'm looking at the sandwich, and I don't see the tuna. That's because it is mixed in with the mayonnaise. No, if I can't see the tuna, it is not a tuna sandwich.
He took the sandwich and threw some tuna on it. Fine. Still not a proper tuna sandwich, but at least now it has tuna. I begin to wonder if I'm becoming an irritable traveler who needs to take a break? But really, do not give me a tomato and cucumber sandwich and tell me it is a tuna sandwich!
Tiny Wandering Hands
I was sitting on the steps to the Tungabhadra River, watching the pilgrims bathe in the river, when some kids spotted me. Now, if you know me, you know I don't like having kids around me because I don't want anyone to ever accuse me of molesting their child.
These kids, 3 boys and 1 girl, all probably less than 10 years old, wanted me to take their pictures, pictures of lots of things in the area, including their parents who were down by the river. Then they would climb all over me to see the picture in the viewer.
At first I was concerned that they would try to pick my pockets or my bag, but then they started to talk about sex and if I wanted. I tried to pretend that I didn't know what they were talking about, because surely these kids were not trying to pick me up. I was finally convinced when I realized that one of the boys' hands was slowly moving up my inner thigh. At that point, a white couple passed by, and they ran off to meet them.
Later, I was thinking about this. They probably have a regular scam running. If they succeed with some inappropriate touching, they could ask for money and threaten to tell if the victim does not pay up. And who wouldn't pay up, if the alternative is being accused of pedophilia - in a foreign country?
Before I continue, I must say that Hampi is a really amazing place. It is the ruin of an ancient metropolis in Southern India and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. If ever you have the opportunity, you should visit.
Sunset with a Scam Artist
I met Vicky, or whatever his name is, at the same shop where it was suggested that I purchase my ticket in advance. It was four of us sitting in the shop talking. They told me about how the Kashmiris had been kicked out of Hampi, because some of them were terrorists with stockpiles of weapons. How they are sometimes mistaken for Kashimiris and get hassled by the police. They are from Punjab, a state that borders Jammu & Kashmir.
Vicky asked me if I wanted to go have some tea. Sure. We went to one of the rooftop restaurants and talked. He, it turned out, does not work in any of the shops. He's just traveling around, and had been in Hampi for about a month. Actually, he and his uncle were staying in Hospet, in a nice AC hotel room. And everyday he rode his motor bike into Hampi. I felt comfortable enough that I had no problem with him coming to my room to see pictures from my travels on my computer.
He told me about a sunset point where lots of tourist go to watch the sunset. I had been there, but not for sunset. We agreed to meet there at 5. Before going to sunset point, I stopped in to see Abbas, an Iranian shop keeper. Abbas is convinced that I am Muslim, and nothing I say or do would change his mind. Earlier, we had been talking about a Muslim festival that would take place the following day, and I had agreed to go with him to the mosque.
Abbas had seen me speaking with Vicky, and told me to be careful, that he was a bad man and would take my money. What? This guy was in my room. What did he take while I was right there watching?! I ran back to the room to do a quick check before heading up to sunset point. Everything was fine.
The first thing Vicky wanted to know was what Abbas and I were talking about! The Muslim festival and going to the mosque. But now he seemed different. Shifty. He was constantly looking around. Being at sunset point was not what he really wanted. Eventually he suggested that I go with him to Hospet for dinner, because the restaurants there serve real Indian food, whereas the restaurants in Hampi serve western food. That would not have worked on me, even if I had not been warned about him. I had just come off a week of really bad diarrhea and was really happy to eat western food! When I told him I would not go to Hospet with him, he pretty much got up to leave. But when I told him I would go swimming with Raj, the guy from the shop, his interest returned. He would come too.
I didn't go to the mosque with Abbas, nor swimming with Raj. I spent the day riding a bicycle around visiting many of the temple ruins. I did not return until near sunset. The following day, Vicky spotted me while I was eating. He and a friend came in and joined me. What were they doing? Oh, just hanging around. They suggested that I come to Hospet with them to see a movie. When I told them I had seen just one movie in the past year, they realize that wasn't going to work. Then they said they were leaving for Mumbai the next day and I should come with them. I would like to be spontaneous, but no, I will not up and go with anyone to Mumbai. I asked for his mobile number and said I'll call him and let him know. When they left, the restaurant owner asked how I knew them and told me to be careful with them.
I went to see Raj. I asked him why his friend wants me to go to Hospet so badly? He replied, he is not my friend. His name is not even Vicky. He just comes and hangs out here, but he won't be coming back. I kicked him out last night. I heard all about him from Abbas. I don't know what they do in Hospet. They just get the tourists and take them to Hospet. Their boss is there. Somehow they get money. And as for the swimming - Vicky had told Raj, not to go swimming with me, that he would go instead!
My wonderful travel agent, when she and I were on speaking terms, thought maybe they were doing an insurance scam. There is a government insurance that covers medical expenses for injured tourists. They would file a fake claim for you and split the money. But since she turned out to be a lier, I don't know if there is really any government insurance to be scammed.
I never saw Vicky again, nor did I call him. Unless his scheme involved physical violence, I don't think he had any chance of getting money out of me. I am really tight with my money, something I got from my mother. But it made me uneasy. I had gotten used to meeting really nice people here in India. Now, I go back to thinking that everyone I meet just wants my money in some way.
