Leaving the airport I expected it to be chaotic and time consuming. It was neither of these. We had preplanned to get onto the Metro tram which would then take us to the central train station. I expected this to be confusing, which it was not. It was a fast, clean and a very pleasantly unexpected trip to the centre of Delhi.
Then the shit hit the fan!
After dodging swerving tuk-tuks, mini buses and trucks to cross a busy intersection we were at the train station, the bloodline of India, and the final leg to our first stop in India, Agra! I suppose I kind of expected the mayhem of Indian train stations (having been through them years ago), with the masses of people and the fresh stench of spicy bodily oder. This was no surprise to me. I was feeling quite confident. For my wife Ceri however.... lets just say it was a little overwhelming.
We approached the enquiries desk. A man approached us, smartly dressed and most welcoming. We showed him our ticket to which he replied, "Sorry sir, your train is cancelled". "Cancelled!?!?", I said, hoping for a moment that that was some form of India humour. The bloodline had clotted, and having not anticipated this, we were now stuck.
"Don't vorry, don't vorry", the neatly dressed gentleman told us. "You will get to your destination no problem". Taking me by the arm, he led us down the stairs of the station back to the main road we had just crossed. He called up a tuk-tuk and said to me, "this man vill take you to the main Indian tourist office. They vill get you to your hotel in Agra no-time".
I suppose at this point I felt a bit like a rabbit in headlights, unsure to go left or right. Was the train really cancelled? Where was the guy leading us? What choice did we really have?
We hesitantly jumped into the tuk-tuk and started our 20 Rupee rollercoaster ride, narrowly scraping past oncoming traffic, swerving left, right, left, the sound of honking hooters coming from all directions. It is no exaggeration to think that at some point we were going to have an accident.
By some mercy, possibly by one of the many Hindu gods, we found ourselves out of the busy roads and heading down a narrow alley way. And then, there it was, in all its glory, a 1x1 metre flashing sign reading "Main Indian Tourist Office". Well, at that point this sign wasn't the only thing flashing. Alarm bells were ringing loudly in our minds. My anxiety hit the roof, and like an India sewage line, my stomach started to move... fast!
We were warmly welcomed into the office, sat down, and asked "vhere vere ve from?", and "vhere ver ve going?". After looking through our itinerary we were told of the beautiful places we had chosen to go to, but that there were many places we weren't going to. Also, apparently "all our booked trains had been cancelled due to a group of rural clansman that were attacking the railway lines". "We would now have to take a taxi for the rest of our trip". "But no vorry, very cheap price for you, I like South Africans. A.B de Villiers best cricketer ya".
Ceri and I looked at each other, stood up, and politely (but intently) walked out of the office, gathering together all of our luggage as quickly as possible.
At that point we realised we had just dodged a bullet, we had read about the scams in India... just not this one. Ceri half heartedly joked that it was a cover for a sex-trafficking ring, haha haha, huh? For a moment we breathed easily, until... what now??? It was no lie that our first train had been cancelled, and so we still had to find a way to get to Agra.
Sleep deprived, hungry and thirsty, we walked back along the dodgy alleyway until we got to the main road again. Looking very lost and bewildered, a young man approached us, asking if we were lost. We told him that our train had been cancelled, that we had just avoided a scam, and that we were now looking for a way to get to our hotel in Agra. With much sympathy for us, and disgust for his own countrymen he proceed to give us directions through the city to another international tourism office that would be able to help us. We thanked him and went our separate ways. We weaved our way through the city until we were lost again. We asked another man if he knew where this tourism office was, and he guided us just a few more streets until we arrived at the offices.
This time the building we entered appeared a bit more respectable. The sign was much bigger, and the offices seemed clean and very official. We entered, and again the staff we very friendly, kind and very accommodating. By this time my stomach was in such knots. The gentleman assisting us told me to take a seat, but unable I told him I'd rather stand. He took the time to tell listen to us rant about how we had almost been scammed, shaking his head in disgust. By this stage Ceri had taken the reigns in talking to people while I stood, crouched over in pain. Eventually I couldn't take it any longer. I asked, "Do you have a toilet". "Of course", replied another man. "Come with me. Not too far." I grabbed the toilet paper from my locked bag as quickly as I could, fumbling on the lock combination. Leading me down two blocks, the man pointed to the the public toilets at the end of the street. In any normal circumstance I would have looked at that toilet and said "No Way!!!", but this wasn't any ordinary day. I tackled that smelly, dirty, squatting toilet like a real India.
I returned to the office a new man, ready to make decisions and get us out of Delhi. By this stage Ceri had chatted to the man at the office and had worked out how we should get to Agra. Like the previous place, he to tried to sell us taxi's to all our destination. With my new found energy I decisively declined his "generous offer" and asked for him to get us a taxi just to Agra. He reluctantly agreed. "Ok, taxi to Agra I give you for 10000 Rupees (about 2000 Rands)." Ceri and looked at each other for moment, slightly shocked by this number, looked back at him and said "Ok!" Having not yet learnt the fine art of haggling when settled for this figure, not yet knowing we had just paid more than double the price of a normal taxi to Agra.
A car pulled up. It was a TATA, built tough for the India roads. We loaded our luggage, got in the car, and got out of Delhi as fast as we could... or so we hoped! The driver had assured us that the trip to Agra would only take three hours. We thought this sounded right, the train was going to take the same amount of time. Content that it would only take us three hours, we decided to have a nap in the car to catch up on some lost sleep. But not 30 minutes out of the city, poof!!! Our car stuttered to a halt. The driver hopped out and started to potter in the engine. Minutes later the car was running again, but unlucky for us, this time without aircon. Six hours later, stuck in a non-airconditioned car, in 36 degree temperatures we finally arrived in Agra. The driver stopped the car outside our hotel, offloaded our bags, and asked for a handsome tip on top of our already overcharged cab ride. We kindly turned him down. "Phew!!!"
Not yet entirely sure where our hotel actually was, a thin, young bell-boy guided us down a dusty alleyway. Hoping this wasn't just an extension of a days scam we tightly grip our bags, entered a door to the left, and... with a smiling face a man opened the door and greeted us saying, "Mr and Mrs Kerrin... welcome to Ray of Maya". We made it! Absolutely exhausted, we checked-in, went to our room, collapsed on the bed, and... Zzzzz.
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