Travel
with the Wine Skinny:
Mildly Bewildered but Totally Enchanted
in India
For nearly two decades before I went there,
I had heard about mysterious, beautiful,
infuriating India. Having decided that the
Taj Mahal was on my short list of "things
to see before I die," I was fascinated
with all stories of India - of ashrams,
yogis, yogurt, the significance of turbans,
cremations, tapeworms, spice markets, crushing
poverty, Hindu temples, filthy streets,
spiritual transformations, loincloths, street
food, palaces, train cars, monsoons and
cows - from acquaintances who beat me there.
At the end of each story, I would mutter
to myself, or to my friend and fellow India-dreamer,
"I have to go."
Funnily enough, even after some 15 years
of thinking and dreaming about this trip
to India, neither my friend D'Lesli nor
I had any idea what to expect. Or, rather,
all of our expectations turned out to be
either slightly off or flat-out wrong.
We decided to team up with a travel agency
- no small decision for two very independent
and relatively experienced travelers. But
the thought of dropping into India with
no guidance just seemed overwhelming; plus,
we wanted some of the insider info and access
that local guides should offer. After considerable
effort with other companies and frustrating
attempts to suss out answers on the internet,
we signed on with Anshuman Khanna of SITA
World Travel for a private, customized
tour. The idea was to have guides and drivers,
but also have some independent time for
solitary wandering.
We were eager to experience the "magic"
of India, whatever that meant. The Taj Mahal
- the 17th-century tomb, often said to be
the most beautiful building in the world
- was obviously on our list. But so were
Hindu and Jain temples and the people in
them, reasonable doses of art and architecture,
riding an Indian train, holy lakes and rivers
(for viewing, at least, if not actual immersion),
a camel ride, wandering through old town
markets, and more.
 Our
first morning was a tour of Delhi. After
meeting our city guide and driver, we climbed
into a quite nice SUV/mini-van and hurtled
into the city streets, accelerating into
oncoming traffic, braking briefly for a
man on a bicycle, and careening around corners
at full speed. Over the coming weeks, we
grew used to rattling over potholed roads
filled with Honda scooters, camel-drawn
carts, fuel tankers with "Highly Inflammable"
emblazoned on each side (something that
stayed funny the whole trip), impossibly
old trucks full to bursting with workers,
roosters emerging from roadside huts, pigs
rooting through smoldering piles of trash.
Like everyone else, our driver honked constantly
to ensure our collective safety.
 And
then there are the cows.
It is estimated that as many as 40,000
cows wander the streets of Delhi, and I
believe it. Delhi cows are even more nonchalant
than your average cow, and they seemed downright
bored by the insanity swirling around them
as they meandered across busy roads to munch
on a patch of grass or pile of garbage.
This wild Indian ride was our introduction
to the country, and, it turns out, one of
the most memorable themes of the trip. City,
town or country highway - all roads were
a study in the particular chaotic mix of
machine, human and animal that India offers.
Our guides and drivers worked very hard
to shield us from the really grueling condition
of some areas, but there's just no hiding
the Indianness of those Indian roads.
 Yes,
Indian roads are an attack on your senses.
As are the breathtaking array of rainbow-hued
saris, the colorful turbans, the golden
sprays of flowers that drape auto-rickshaws
and camels alike, public cremations, the
sea of intensely colored spices mounded
in bowls at markets, the wafts of incense
and lilies that seem to come from everywhere
and nowhere, spicy curries, and the never-ending
chorus of "ma'am" and "please"
that came at us from all corners.
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