It's the Little Things Part Deux

I just have this sense often in India of being taken care of. It sort of reduces me to feeling like a child again, or a teenager...I feel like I did when I went to study abroad in Italy in high school. I like that feeling. It's very nurturing. I can juxtapose this "taken care of" feeling with another feeling of imminent danger...but more often, it's being taken care of.

This hotel is a good example. They are just wicked nice.
How do they show this?
The little things.

I arrived in my room tonight to this little display and note:
 

Can you read that? They want me to relax my mind. They want me to eat their nice, wet almonds and feel good. Now that's care-taking.

They like to soak things, by the way. I find fresh rose petals in my bathroom each day:

But I'm not quite sure what to do with them. Do I use the rose-scented water?
Do you dip your fingers in it? Drink it? Splash it on your face? Rub the petals all over your body?
I'm not really certain, so they just remain there...looking pretty.

I will miss these little touches. I'm not sure if my husband is going to leave me rose-soaked
almonds on my bedside table in the mornings, but I could be wrong.

It's the Little Things

Repost: I accidentally deleted this!!!

India is very different from the United States. Blog Post #1 on my first trip suggested I thought otherwise while still in the airport, but the truth is the smells, sounds, sights...all very different. Exotic. Fascinating.

But I'm staying in a 4 star international hotel this time around, and there's not getting around a little bit of genericism (not sure that's a word) when you do that. They're trying to appeal to a mass audience and so--you get a look not unlike a Westin in Philadelphia.

But the little things remind you that you're not in Kansas anymore.

So here are the little gems I've noticed in my hotel room that I won't find in Walla Walla:

* Flashlight, for the frequent power outages here

* Strange toiletries including lip balm and rose water

* In my bedside drawer: the ever present bible but also the Hindi "Bhagavad Gita"

* And last: courtesy. I almost forgot how amazingly kind the Indians are. The gentleman who checked me in also escorted me to my room. He then brought me all sorts of coffee and tea and water. Another gentleman brought my bags. I was then sent complimentary wine to my room. Then another man came to check my electricity and finally I received 2 phone calls ensuring all was working and I was satisfied. That doesn't happen in Cleveland.

Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings!

Taken For a Ride

Marianna and I have had a bit of difficulty this time around visiting India. We're realizing some of the constraints of the more adventurous travel when you're female, blonde, and just don't look that tough. In other words, we might as well have bulls-eyes on our backs . We're clearly easy targets.

We are full of enthusiasm and really are trying to hit the ground on our own and see as many things as possible, but to date, we've had failed attempts at the following:

• Booking a hop-on hop-off bus tour
• Navigating an underground passage to a major temple
• Meeting up with a cab we'd hired to wait for us while we dined
• Locating a restaurant in a simple, American-style mall

Clearly our inexperience and inherent handicaps were working against us. So in the interest of saving time, money and frankly, ourselves, today we gave in and went the tourist route. Like, I mean the really, really TOURISTY route.

We hired the more expensive hotel car and driver to tour us around today.

It's a little like admitting defeat, but man--did that defeat taste sweet!

Our driver, Malik, pulled up in a fancy new leather-seated BMW. We slid smoothly into the back...gone was the sticky upholstery of our prior cab experiences. Inside, the air was pumping out, so cold it made my hair stand on end. I loved it. No more wet, sticky back attached to the back of the seat. Marianna and I looked at each other and smiled. It was going to be a good day!

And for the most part, it proved to be. Malik asked us where we wanted to go, provided interesting commentary along the route, and ushered us to the entrance of each site we wanted to visit like a nanny pulling along her young charges. We felt safe and protected and rocked to sleep by the heavenly Malik.

He even had ice-cold Diet Cokes waiting for us in the car when we returned from touring the Qutab Minar! We were in heaven.

But like all knights, there was a chink in his armor. Upon our casually mentioning that we'd like to do some shopping, Malik perked right up and insisted on taking us to this amaaaaazing emporium that he just had to bring us to! We were assured again and again that this was the best high quality stuff we could get...we'd be treated well...it was a secret place...not for everyone.
OK, OK...we didn't know how to politely say that we were actually trying to sneak off to the Benetton in Connaught Place...that would make us look like ugly Americans! So we went meekly with Malik to his emporium.

Total setup.

We walked in to a huge, spacious store. Let me set the scene: air-conditioned, soft music playing, beautiful Indian women bringing us tea, and then the Sikh owner with his smooth English, leading us to chairs...I knew this was no good. The first room he brought us to was dripping costly jewels from all of the walls...yep. We were in trouble.

They began bringing out necklaces, laying them across our chests, showing us mirrors, encouraging us to take photos to see how marvelous we looked dripping in gold. Yep--we were in trouble.
Marianna and I just stole irritated glances at one another. It was like being at a Tupperware or Silpada party...where you know you're in for it and will not leave without purchasing something to save face.

I don't know how we got out of the ruby room, but over 1 hour, 36 offers of beverages, 760 rejected necklaces and 5400 "no thank yous" later, we managed to get out there without breaking our banks. And I have a couple of lovely pashmina shawls to bring home as gifts. And Malik got his kick-back.

Ah well. We did have a great time touring and didn't break a sweat. All in all, a good ride.

India Take 2!

Years ago when I would travel to Italy, I'd find myself an emotional mess each time I'd leave...sure I'd never be back and I was seeing the places I love for the last time.

I was a bit dramatic.

But after returning again and again for many years, it finally sunk in that I always could come back,  and would. So the last time I was in India, walking down the steps of the guest house, I didn't have that sad feeling that I'd never be back. Instead something told me I would. Guess I've learned my life lessons after all these years.

So here I am, less than 2 years later back in India! And I decided to revive the one and only blog I've ever written to recapture my experiences again. Will I be already bored and jaded this time? Will I experience new things, or will I fall back on what's comfortable? We're all going to find out.

So Namaste, India! It's good to be back.