India! ... ... ... ... Chennai.
I arrive quite late as our flight was delayed due to the involuntary disembarkment of the six passengers with the improperly (un)checked cargo/baggage. Still, I'm pleased to be in India and see the lovely Indian faces. I forget I have to pass through customs, but as I approach the exits I remember, and see that the lines are short, the airport is clean, and it's nothing like New Delhi airport. I'm happy ... and then the line slows. The customs agent for my line is a young man with an intense expression on his face. As I approach, I get the same intense glare, and then he looks me squarely in the face, eyeball to eyeball. He scowls; "How long will you be in India?" Hmm, "Is this a trick question? It's a six month visa, what's the right answer? "Oh, less than six months, or, so," I answer noncommittally. He stares back. Stamps my visa with an unnecessary fierceness, and hands me my passport. Whew, where did he learn customer care skills, with the KGB? Anyway, India! My heart wants to sing, but I know I have to first find a hotel room, and it's now past midnight. I have a list of phone numbers I got off of what looked like a very helpful website compiled by a traveller. Also, I thought I'd try the tourist bureau. I exit the immigration lines ... and I'm outside the airport. ... Warm, and bustling, with the smell of India! in the air. The tourist bureau is not so clearly in sight, so I keep walking, and walking. The usual lines of taxi drivers holding cards with the names of their clients surrounds me. I momentarily wish I had a card with my name on it, but, well, I had not much time for such planning considering my visa was only hours old.
I keep looking for the tourist bureau. Not finding it, I ask a security guard where it is.
"Where are you going?"
"Chennai. I need a hotel."
"Where did you come from?"
"Sri Lanka."
"That's international, that's all the way back there."
"Yes, I just came from there. Once you go through immigration, you're out the door. (Did he just smirk?) I didn't see a Tourist Bureau. Shall I go back there?"
"No, it's in the National Terminal."
"Oh, do I enter here?"
"No, yours is an international ticket. You can't go in here."
Chennai, I'm starting to think not quite wanting to grind my teeth.
"So, I can't go there, even though I want the Tourist Bureau?"
"No, you have an international ticket."
"I'm a tourist" I try.
"You have an international ticket, you can't enter here. Anyway, it closes at 9:00."
I did see a smirk.
Not wanting to ruin the joy of returning to India!, off I go to find a phone with my helpful phone numbers. More walking. Phones inside the national terminal ... but then, I'd have to go through Checkpoint Charlie again. I try; no go. "Yours is an international ticket ..."
Across a street before a parking lot I find a phone. I make my calls ... not one goes through. Seems the helpful traveller with the website forgot the prefixes for all these hotel numbers. None will go through, and when I ask for help, I get a phhh ... these aren't complete numbers and a wave of the hand. Off you go.
What to do? Hotel New Victoria? I refuse to give in. There were a number of hotels on the same road, so I negotiate a ride from the pre-paid taxi counter. They were not so helpful either, and the driver I got looked like a combination of drunk and sleepy. He drove without swerving, so I'll go for just sleepy.
"Where are you going?"
"Egmore." The name of the area.
"Why are you going there?"
I start bashing my head against the window; the pattern of always giving the wrong answer to drivers, be they Indian or Sri Lanken is starting to wear on my nerves. It's now almost 1:00 a.m., and I need a hotel room.
"Where would you like me to go?"
"No, where are you going? Do you already have a train ticket? Why don't you go to ..."
He names another city and tells me we can go right back to the taxi booth tear up the pre-paid voucher and he can drive me all night to the other city.
Does this guy live there and would he like to go home and just get paid for the ride? Possibly. Or will he just get a lot more money for this? Possibly. Or does he already have a fare from there, back to Chennai? Possibly.
Nevertheless, his motivation is to his advantage, never mind that I need to go to Chennai. "Take me to Egmore." He tries to talk me into his chosen destination a few more times; I just hold my head in my hands and don't reply.
Finally, he leaves for Egmore, complaining. He drives much too fast, and the traffic is actually quite congested from the airport into the city even though it's late. We make it to Egmore, and I explain I don't have a reservation, so could he please wait until I make sure I have a room. Hah! Steam practically starts coming out of his ears. He keeps trying to leave me in the street, but I won't give hm his voucher until we try a couple more hotels (they are all on the same street, just a few meters from one another). They are full, or really looking bad, and it's past 1 a.m. at this point. So, The Hotel New Victoria for one brief moment, looks not so bad. Should I try? No, I really am convinced I'm on their "banned" list, and I don't need another smirk or failed effort at this point. So, even though the driver is hurling insults my way, I refuse to cave in, and keep looking for a room on this street.
Eventually I find a room, still perplexed as to why so many people would want to stay in Chennai, oh well. It's while I'm getting ready for bed that I turn the TV on and see the breaking news about the bombing in Hyderabad .... and six men had to be disembarked from my plane I can't help but remember. I plan to get up very early to get to the train station to make sure I can get a ticket to Delhi. The regular seats will have been sold out, but there's a very good chance that there still will be seats left on the tourist quota.
I'm at the ticket counter early, never mind breakfast, that can wait. I'm the only one there, except for a few joking counter workers, who are taking amongst themselves. No one acknowledges my presence. "Uh, hello ..." Their conversation continues, and finally the conversation breaks up, well, moves into another room, anyway. Now what -- "Hello!"
Someone finally looks at me with complete indifference, and gets up and walks away. Another ten minutes goes by, and a woman walks in just as I'm stuffing my face with the crackers I remember I have in my purse. As I start to spit crackers out with my greeting, she disarms me with her warm smile and sweet tone. "I'm so sorry you had to wait ..." She was lovely, and apologetic, and making faces at the idiots who did not explain her absence to me. I got my ticket quite easily, and my only complaint is that the train leaves at 10:00 p.m., meaning I have a full day to kill in Chennai. She recommended a restaurant near the train station, "Where you won't get sick" and offers all sorts of advice, including "and don't drink before you get on the train - it's not nice." Is she a mind reader, too?
I have my ticket, almost the seat I want (I can always re-negotiate once I'm on the train), and I'm off for breakfast ... with a whole day to spend in Chennai. This is getting exhausting. I wander along, hoping to find the restaurant she's mentioned. I can't find it, but am clearly searching for something. In other words, a sitting duck for scamming rickshaw drivers. One finds me, and I'm too tired from the heat and humidity, not to mention lack of sleep, so I get in, with little struggle at negotiations. We negotiate some, but this guy is trying a soft sell. His scam is to agree to a somewhat reasonable price at the start of the ride, and then go on and on about why it should be higher. As I said, I'm too tired to struggle. He offers me an all morning rate, and although I know there's more involved here, I agree. What's the difference at this point; there will be no honest rickshaw drivers in Chennai. I check out a few quick spots, have some breakfast, and I'm ready to go back to the hotel. He's talking all the time. He offers me an afternoon sightseeing package, and he suggests some spots, and admits to knowing the one spot I do want to go to; something other rickshaw drivers wouldn't do, as it's a bit of a drive. So, we agree he will pick me up at my hotel around 1:30 ... He's there early, already suggesting shopping, places to get water, and alternate locations. We start off. Yelling at each other and the price keeps going up. We go past the beach, and I see the water, the boats, the people, and make him stop. I walk out and he sits back. It's lovely. The fishermen are coming in, a few are heading out, and children jump and squeal with joy at the luck of the catch for the fishermen. This is exciting, and immediate, and real. Not a video game, not MTV, but real people making a living and children rejoicing in the excitement of the success. Women in burkhas in the water with their children, splashing in the waves. Perhaps it should have looked odd to me, but I could see the enjoyment of mothers playing with children; it was beautiful. Men picking up whatever garbage they can use for recycling, and lovers stealing a kiss under beached boats. Vendors preparing their carts for the afternoon crowds, and dogs and goats roaming about, scavenging for food. A peacefulness to the sea, and an embracing warmth to the air.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Regrettably, my driver came looking for me ... "you're taking too long here." Who's hired who, but I'm too tired to object. We go to the next site, and I just want to return to the beach. He's finally silent for a while, the traffic horns seem to have quited for a moment, and there are seconds of stillness, with a sun shining down that is warm and clear. I start to melt. Somewhere in these moments I fell in love with India, and Chennai, all over again. There's a dazzling surrender, a question of "what is it?" that's so special here, and a knowing of "it just is."
It's when the noise stops, even for a moment, that India can work her magic. Something just moves in. It's always there, but the distractions of the car horns, arguing drivers, agitated hotel clerks, and distraught shop keepers can posses our mind, and we remove ourselves from the beauty and peacefulness of that magical presence.
In meditations on the sacred "OM" it is often brought up that it is the space between the Om, where it is that one arrives at the state of Perfect Bliss. It is the space, the silence, that fills us and brings us to fullness, peace, and love. India, always there, between the noise, the agitation, the weather, the challenges, always there; Magical. I fall in love with India, all over again, and of course, now everyone smiles, is at peace, full of love and hope, and absolutely perfect. As it always is, in the stillness waiting to be discovered, over and over again. I had tears in my eyes that evening as I left Chennai, wishing I had more time for the beach, the beauty, and the magic.
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