Oct. 1, 2011 Saturday~
It's my 11th day in India. I'm now sitting in a very modern bakery/cafe near the East West Medical Center in New Delhi with Coldplay stirring out their infamous depressing melodies in the background. Seems a bit surreal that all the mishap and drama just occurred a few days ago, in the remote town of Srinagar that is heavily policed in the state of Kashmir, which is highly advised against visiting in guidebooks and websites of departments of tourism, specifically for the US, New Zealand and Australia! Never mind the Canadians or Brits, I guess...
Back on my first day in PaharGanj, a backpacker's enclave in New Delhi, I was quite bewildered with the noise, traffic, dirt, dust and people. Even though many had warned me, I didn't think it would blind sight me enough to sign up on the first tour package that saw me out of there! I suppose on hindsight, a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car really doesn't know what's coming or is too frozen in fear to react. In my case, and apparently that of countless tourists, the promise of a serene atmosphere and some quiet reprieve hooks us in to pay exhorbitant amounts for a ticket out. I had only been planning to stay in Delhi for 2 nights after all. My own fear was compounded by warnings from friends and family about getting swindled or god forbid, even worse. It wasn't just the atmosphere that got to me but the bit I'd been reading and warned about that pushed my standard tourist vigilance into just plain paranoia over the next few days.
Kashmir, for those not familiar, is a predominantly Muslim state that borders Pakistan. Quran prayers are blasted throughout the dusty town. The lone two year old movie theatre I walked by had recently been shut down by the government of Srinagar as it was touted to detract from the faith of its citizens. Civil war, the cause of tourist heeds comes from disputes between the Muslims and Hindus. By the time I'd reached Srinagar, I couldn't have cared less about being bamboozled off US$400. It was my safety, my life I began fearing for. Neither the sim card I'd gotten in Delhi nor my international sim card from UK worked, and there sure as heck was no internet on the houseboat I stayed at. The tour package I'd been bamboozled into buying didn't even include a return ticket to Delhi or anywhere for that matter. Omer, aka Mickey, my tour agent at the India Tourist & Information Center on Punchkuin Road had promised I'd like it so much in Srinagar I'd probably want to stay longer or even attend his sister's wedding. Yes, I believed him. It didn't help that the hotel managers in Delhi during my first night in Delhi kept urging me from going to Kashmir. They went on about how the Kashmiri's were known to lure ignorant tourists to their "family's house boat" only to further trick them into paying for more things...or later in my case, a ticket out, I thought... And yes, yet I went . As much as I tried tuning in to my inner voice to figure out what to do, the overwhelming noise outside my hotel was just over powering. In the end, I relied on my trust in the tour agent and from his willingness to answer every single one of my suspicious questioning.
My first three days in Srinagar were frought with the beguiling behavior of the houseboat owner, Mr. Fayaz Boktoo, who turned out to genuinely be the father of Omer, who'd said he was coming to Srinagar on the 27th. Over time, I was definitely more assured of my safety after reading my ebook copy of the Lonely Planet that political strife aside, Kashmir, and particularly Srinagar, is one of the safest towns for toutists in all of India. And after meeting two young Belgian female tourists who'd gone there on their own accord, as opposed to the other tourists I'd met till then, I felt quite comfortable heading out to town in Srinagar alone -- army personnel, Formula-1 rickshaws, goats and all!
The third female tourist, Yifat from Isreal, had been thrown onto the house boat as on her third day, she wanted to get out of her travel package from the same agency that was suppose to be a ten day cheauffered tour of a few places around Uttarakhand and Rajastan, northern states in India. At 28 and never having travelled on her own before, she'd been feeling too isolated and wanted to meet more fellow tourists. She arrived on the house boat feeling even more fearful than I'd had been. So, I took it upon myself to calm her nerves as I'd just gone through all that! When it became apparent that she too had been bamboozled, and not only for hundreds of dollars, but two thousand, we began scheming a plan to get her money back some how. At this point, Mr. Fayaz and his houseman, Gulzar, were still treating us with unexplainable behavior. I was still not "allowed" to dine with the girls unless one of us insisted on it. And at any point, they tried keeping us all separated. So, when the opportunity arose for us all to go an a shikara boat ride around the lakes of Srinagar, I literally jumped on it!
The next day, Yifat, still feeling like she needed to escape, and I decided to head into town to research ways we could. I was torn with going on a hike with Stephanie and Audrey but had decided to stick with Yifat since I too hadn't been sure what my next destination was. Omer was suppose to arrive in Srinagar that day, but I wasn't about to rely on him anymore! So Yifat and I spent the whole afternoon researching plans to get some of her money back or our course of action otherwise. We even went to the Srinagar tourism police to learn about our rights! There and at travel information agencies, I often had to speak for both of us as Yifat sometimes had a hard time understanding their English, and vice-versa. Navigating the town was all a learning experience for me, not only from the standpoint of being in unfamiliar territories, but with the Indian ways of communicating and doing business. In India.
With armsful of information, Yifat and I headed back to the houseboat, a bit nervous about the ensuing confrontation assuming Omer is actually there. Hailing a shikara, I knew by then to bargain...which I'd probably gotten overzealous with the whole day in town, turning down tuk-tuks charging 40 rupees! As we unboarded the shikara at our house boat, I see the front doors, which had only been the back door for me until then, were shut and so I urged Yifat to enter by the side entrance, what had been my primary way of getting in all along and that I could see was open. One has to walk along a wide plank to get in this side door, which I later learn is the kitchen entrance, and then step over the side of the boat about 2 feet to get inside. Yifat steps over the side, and promptly disappears into the ground, to the bottom of the boat! Wrought with confusion and anxiety, I quickly get inside to help Yifat out. A board plank had been removed from the boat floor and the hall way was dark. Yifat, thankfully is actually on her feet though at the bottom of the boat, with the floor at about chest high.
As I tried to figure out how to get her out, my heart pounding, she cried out in pain that she couldn't move her right arm. I knew enough not to try picking her or her arm up. Gulzar shows up and I question him about the floor board. He'd been working on the inside of the boat and hadn't realized when we'd be back. Stephanie and Audrey arrive soon after from their hike with Tiger, the guide who'd escorted us the day before on the shikara trip. All of us are up in arms trying to get Yifat out without further injuring her. The fiasco continues with transporting her to a hospital, first on a small rickety boat to shore, then sitting in a tuk-tuk waiting for the car. No ambulance was called for whatever reason, and I'm about to scream bloody murder. We end up waiting for another 20 minutes or so before Omer shows up with the car to pick us up. I wasn't sure if I wanted to choke him or just be thankful he finally showed up, and that he was true to his word about being in Srinagar after all!
In Indian posse style, Omer's mom and Tiger comes along a 45 minute ride in the compact car to the Srinagar Government Bone & Joint Hospital, with Omer navigating bumpy roads, avoiding auto rickshaws, cows, goats, cars, pedestrians, buses, dogs, potholes and what have you! All the while, the three Kashmiris are talking in their language about who knows what. I'm thinking perhaps Omer doesn't really know the way and Tiger is giving directions. And I'm trying to calm Yifat down while inside I was about to explode. We get to the public hospital which is filthy and quite busy. I'm surprised we actually get seen by the doctor within a half hour, who orders an xray of course. The posse moves Yifat to the xray lab where all of us are helping her get on the table with two other unidentified men around. The x-ray technician proceeds to start the process, at which time I bolt out of the room while most of the posse mill around.
As Omer comes out alone, I start yelling at him in as low a voice as I can keep when yelling in a hospital. He gets equally upset at my accusations at which time some old man tries to intervene. I yell at this old man who strangely looks familiar that I didn't want to talk to him not knowing who he was. Just then, Yifat and posse come back out from the x-ray room, and we all hush down. It then suddenly dawn on me the old man is Omer's grandfather I'd met when Mr. Fayaz had taken me to his house to ask me to keep a secret from the other tourists! I go over to apologize and he kindly nods. Within 15-20minutes, the technician comes out with the two x-rays, which are passed around for everyone to examine before Omer personally takes them downstairs to the doctor on call, with everyone in tow.
There is more waiting around before the doctor gets to see Yifat's x-rays and asks for a cast to be put on. But before that her arm needs to be bandaged with a sling. We are shown an empty filthy bed in a wing full of decrepit, destitute people with army guards slinging their guns waiting around. Yifat stops short and tries turning around to probably run away, but then realizes she has no option. As we wait by her bed, some guy shows up to bandage her arm and Omer and I have to put on the oversized sling on Yifat ourselves. The patient in the next bed looked like he'd gotten his hands and the side of his head almost blown off. We try not to knock on his bed as we help Yifat. At one point when Yifat has had enough and tries getting away, the nurse comes by to pull out her i.v. leaving the needle dripping on the floor, making more of a mess. It finally occurred to me to tighten the knob of the i.v. tube. We end up waiting an hour or two before she's called to get the plaster cast put on. While waiting, Omer and I talk in a more calm manner over the crazed situation the last few days, resulting in Yifat's accident. We get to go home once Yifat comes out with her cast and the doctor signs her release form.
When we leave the hospital, it becomes apparent to me that Omer is driving slowly, waiting for his grandfather. I inquire on the situation and learn that his grandfather has poor eyesight. So, he's leading the way for him. As we get out of the hospital, we are almost run over by a truck as now the two cars are moving rather slowly. Grandfather's car is also packed with people and so I ask Omer again. Ah. He likes to give rides to anyone who needs it if he can wherever he goes. I asked several times to drive them home and Omer responds that his grandfather has been doing this for years, not letting anyone else drive his car. Did I think he was about to let me?
The next morning, after phone calls to Yifat's insurance company and discussions amongst Omer, Yifat and me, I decided to accompany Yifat back to New Delhi as she'd been so freaked out with her vacation thus far. I felt compelled to stick with her as I felt partially responsible for her situation and also simply sympathetic that she'd have to travel alone with a broken arm back to Delhi. The journey to get her once again from the house boat to this hospital deserves another chapter! I literally bought our plane tickets 2.25 hours before the flight at the same Internet cafe we'd been researching at the day before. Mr. Boktoo, now a completely changed man, was incredibly sympathetic and the whole family had done what they could to get Yifat taken care of. My madness however continues in Delhi where Omer's colleague, Riyaz, whom Omer had sent to help us around town, befriends me, and spills the beans on the tour agency and wants me to get into a tour guide business with him! I am just glad Yifat's surgery was successful and I'm ready to head out of town! It is Mahatma Ghandi's and Cindy cici's birthday tomorrow...my two favorite people!
