Noor fixed my plane ticket for me, so I was able to catch the plane to Delhi Tuesday afternoon. That morning I caught a bus into town, and collected and mailed Tom Davis' tables.
Flew on another 737 to Delhi. All the hotels seemed to be pretty full, and I was not able to get into Nirula's until Wednesday noon. Tuesday night I stayed at the Asia International. Tuesday was a very tiring day, somehow.
Wednesday was a "business" day, devoted to getting my train ticket to Bombay, changing hotels, and buying more 35mm film, and some Indian LPs. Getting the train ticket took me most of the day, and stops at 4 different offices. I got it though. Indian Railways has a special office where foreign tourists can go to make reservations, and in effect, jump the line.
Buying the film ended up being a bummer. I bought two boxes of 36-frame Kodachrome, at 125 Rupees each ($14.50), with processing. When I opened one of the boxes that night, there was a roll of Ektachrome inside, with no processing mailer. And I couldn't go back to the store because I was gone all day Thursday, and left early Friday morning. That is probably $ down the drain, since I don't want to use the film.
I also bought myself a small chess set, and 2 good books "Far From the Madding Crowd" and "The Wonder That Was India", to while away the hours. "The Wonder That Was India" was recommended by a clerk in a book store on Connaught Circus.
Thursday I took a bus tour to Agra. Oof. I've never been so hot in my life. I'm glad I had the sense to wear shorts. Saw Akbar's mausoleum, the Taj, Agra Fort, and Fahtepur Sikri. 30 Rupees is real cheap for such a big tour, but it's a real grind. Very cramped seats on a packed bus, which the Indians objected to pretty loudly, and a long long day, with a lot of needless driving around, I got back to my hotel at 1230AM.
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Participated in a great argument leaving Agra. The guide posed the question to the bus, whether we wanted to go directly from there back to Delhi, or turn off and see Fahtepur Sikri, which would add 2 1/2 hours to the trip. Just about the whole bus boiled up at this, the rear half demanding to return to Delhi, the front 1/4 screaming that they'd paid to see Fahtepur Sikri, and they'd go to the police if they didn't see F.S.
The guide abdicated, got off the bus and left us to hash it out. People were up out of their seats, walking up and down the aisle, yelling at the driver and each other, and waving fists. Democracy in action.
I was very worried about the flooded roads and getting back in time to catch the train. Finally after driving in circles for a half hour, a compromise was reached: we'd visit F.S. and skip Mathura. So we were allowed 25 minutes in F.S., which was not enough, but thus the nature of the tour, passed all the flooded spots on the road, and I was under the shower, reveling, by 12:40.
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Before that, I think my hardest day was the trip from Herat to Kandahar. But Thursday beats it easily. Hot!?
Early Friday morning I got a taxi down to the New Delhi Station and got on the Frontier Mail for Bombay. I was about 40 minutes early, and while I was standing around outside of my car, the police apprehended a young guy carrying a blue plastic shoulder bag. I'd noticed him lurking around inside the cars, and I guess a plainclothesman nabbed him for just that.
The plainclothesman and a very distinguished if hard-looking old cop in a uniform of light khaki and a military cap, a lot like a British army officer's tropical uniform, carried and dragged the lurker over to a bench and forced him to the ground while they sat.
Since the plainclothesman had made the nab, the railway cop let him have his jollies with his prey, and the plainclothesman indulged in a small festival of arm-bending, ear twisting, poking, punching and cursing at the boy.
A crowd gathered 'round, all passengers, coolies and catering-men, laughing and enjoying the show. The railway cop took the blue plastic shoulder bag and went through everything that was inside it, questioning the boy all the while, laughing, while the plainclothesman held him down on the ground in front of them in a leg-lock, gouging and twisting all the while. Street justice I guess. I can't really object, because presumably they kept me from being ripped off.
I shared a compartment for 4 with a young Indian guy for the trip. Not unpleasant because we could stretch out and watch the scenery roll by.
Saturday morning at 7:15 we arrived at Bombay Central Station. I took a taxi to a hotel that looked likely in Fodor's, which ended up being way to hell north of the city, and expensive, 96 rupees, but I took it.
Went back into the city right away after showering, to get some more traveler's checks, a ticket to Goa, and find out about city tours. I wasn't able to get any traveler's checks, but I did get my ticket to Goa, which, just like the ticket to Bombay, took me the half of a day to buy, office to office and stand around. Once again it was the Tourist Guide who cut through the paperwork.
The train back to Santa Cruz Station was an experience. Rush hour crowd. Hot, smelly (even to me) and quite crowded. Like an Istanbul bus, but on a bigger scale.
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