The next morning we gravely took leave of our luxurious lodgings at Hotel Hindustan, knowing that our days of American-style comfort were over, and our future comfort, our future experience will again be largely unknown, but yet will almost certainly be less comfortable. As I was writing this I had a personal insight: As a traveler, when I decide to become better acquainted with a foreign place in an unfamiliar culture, that I may never see again, I have to almost unconsciously resolve that I will give an extra effort to meet these unknown challenges to come and prepare to endure the distress of not knowing just how uncomfortable I may feel as I explore, and accept not knowing what kinds of problems I will face.
These mental preparations took place beneath my awareness as we were checking out, and infused a somber apprehensiveness into my adventurous outlook.
We met a group of Fulbrighters, led by Yoav, an expert in botany, who was particularly interested in the largest trees of the world (though I have a sinking feeling that if he read this he would dispute this claim in some minor way), to visit the Indian Botanical Gardens to see the 250 year old Great Banyan Tree, one of the largest trees in India.
We left in taxis, and our taxi arrived second. As we in the shadows near the entrance, the moist, hot air dampened our skin. Breathing took more effort. Today the weather had the kind of heat that seemed to constantly sap my energy, and nothing....water, cotton clothes, air conditioning, fans could mitigate this effect of continuous sluggishness.
Despite this swampy, tropical heat, I loved seeing the botanical gardens. Paths were well marked and maintained, and, like Rome, all roads led to the Great Banyan Tree. The pictures of the this park are on the slideshow, so I'll let them provide the descriptions...this blog is wordy enough! Except I will remark that the Great Banyan Tree cannot be photographed in one picture; it really needs to be photographed aerially. The tree actually looks like a forest because many branches grow towards the ground and when they reach the ground they root to it, so it appears as if the tree has grown up from the ground, when really it is part of the larger branch above. After walking the circumference of the tree, which took as long as it would take to walk around the Breslin Center,(which, more accurately, was a circular pathway WITHIN the tree; the tree branches had grown over the rocky walkway and took root in the soil on the other side) we were ready to return to our hotel.
We learned that two taxis were not ready, or even present, to meet our demand. After asking locals (translation: after asking Navjot to ask the locals...I have relied on him too much for his fluency in Hindi...the only way I communicate on my own is if I go out and communicate without him) to point us to the bus stand, and after waiting at a lamp post which the locals insisted was the taxi stand, one taxi eventually showed up. Even though our original party decreased in numbers, we still had seven in our group.
Yoav said, "Hey, this is India, hop in!"
Yoav eased his slim frame next to Jorge, who is just a slightly stockier version of Navjot. That left a kind, tall, and thankfully slim woman, Navjot, and three people with a larger, athletic size and build: me, Cailin, and Paul to somehow squeeze into the backseat. Cailin and I ended up getting stuck sitting on laps.
This is India? True, but we were not Indians. If we were the typical height, weight, and economic status of a native Indian who would sit on laps and overfill a vehicle, we would be about five feet tall, if that, and weigh about ninety pounds. We would not be starting out at five feet six, and weighing 135 lbs! My situation was a little better than Cailin's due to the fact I was married to the guy I was sitting on, and we felt comfortable to make little weight shifts and adjustments so that Navjot did not have to hold all of my weight on his upper legs.
We sweltered and squirmed, and distracted ourselves with idle chat as we rode over the Howrah (Hooley) Bridge and onto the road that led to our hotel, AJC Bose Rd. The taxi halted and shut off the car. Far ahead, there was either a red light or a traffic jam, there was no way of knowing. Our sweaty carload of roasting Americans sat in a still, almost eerie quiet, for all the other cars had shut off their vehicles too. I glanced to my left, and I saw a taxi driver with an empty taxi.
I said, "Nav, maybe we can get that taxi...can we ask him the price?"
Yoav good-naturedly claimed I wasn't going with the flow in the Indian way.
Navjot didn't want to bother. "We aren't that far from the hotel."
I thought to myself, isn't it Indian to break the rules....all the time? I presented my size case to the group...we were big people trying to do what smaller people do. I took care to use certain language to illuminate big: strapping, strong, mid-western stock...lest anyone wrongly suspect that my perceptions were negative.
I asked again in my most cajoling voice, "Paul, can you roll down the window...yeah. Nav, what's the harm? Just ask, please." It was a challenge to make these requests sound nonchalant, as if I wasn't desperate to sit in that spacious back seat!
Navjot did and and the driver replied. I looked for a slight scowl that Nav gets when he doesn't like the price. I saw instead a neutral look, and his eyebrows raised slightly indicating a very faint interest in this new track.
Nav said pleasantly, "He said 40 rupees (nearly a dollar), shall we go?"
"Let's go!"
The midwesterners (Cailin, Paul, and I) and Navjot piled out of the car. Around us engines began turning over and roaring to life, indicating a quick end to the strange tranquility of the automotive standstill. We quickly opened the doors to our new ride and hopped in.
Our final five minute ride felt so comfortable that I was very proud of my idea. Our little group continued our new-found rebellious ways by paying our driver and scampering out of the taxi (when the traffic briefly halted) across the street from our hotel, before he could make a tedious U-turn some distance ahead and drive us into the guest-receiving area 'properly.' It felt exciting to lose my meek, timid foreigner persona, even if it was only for a little while.
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