What is Happening Now?

What Is Happening Now?

Two nights. Two long-haul, overnight flights. Barely a moment of real sleep on the flight from London to Dehli. By the time we land in Delhi, exhaustion has settled deep into our bones. But adrenaline kicks in. We have arrived in country #30, India!

Determined to start our adventure, we make our way to passport control as fast as our travel-worn bodies will allow. The line is long—longer than anyone would want after two nights of upright, restless sleep. It crawls forward at a pace so slow it feels like a test of patience. Every passport, every visa, every Arrival/Disembarkation Card must be scrutinized. And in a place where over 160 nationalities require a visa to enter, this takes time.

I glance around at the collection of printed eVisas, amused by the irony of their existence in an era where everything is digital. I printed our e-visa, and am amused that so many other passengers did the same. Around us, travelers shift on their feet, sigh, and check the time.

I tried to think ahead of how we would feel after 36 hours of travel. Based on this, I pre-booked a private car service to Jaipur, the Pink City, because I knew we wouldn’t be thinking clearly after all this travel. A suited driver with my name on a sign would be waiting for us in the arrivals hall. No stress, no haggling for taxis—just straight into a comfortable SUV.

At least, that was the plan.

While waiting in the unmoving line at Passport Control, I discreetly message the car company. Stuck in a long immigration line. Just wanted to check if the driver is there.

A reply comes almost instantly: “Yes, ma’am. Driver is waiting.”

Relieved, I focus on getting through passport control. By the time we make it into the arrivals hall, a sea of men stands before us, each holding signs with passenger names or names of specific organized tours.

I scan the signs. Walk up and down. Then again.

Huh. I don’t see my name.

I call the driver. “I’m here,” he assures me. “I’m coming.”

“Do you have the sign?” I ask, wanting to be absolutely certain before getting into a stranger’s car.

The hesitation in his voice is unmistakable. “Sign?” he repeats, as if hearing the word for the first time.

A pit forms in my stomach. He has no idea what I’m talking about.

For the next hour—yes, an entire hour—we play a game of wait and call, call and wait. He sends his location and I send mine. Mike FaceTimes him. The driver is actively driving somewhere. He says he’s coming back. Coming back? We landed early, but where did he go?

Finally, we give up. Mike walks off and returns with another driver. No suited chauffeur, no SUV—just a tiny four-door sedan. So tiny, our luggage has to ride shotgun.

Fine. Whatever. Let’s just go.

Delhi reveals itself immediately: the chaos, the honking, the ever-present thick pollution. Google Maps tells us the 3.5-hour journey is now four hours.

A few miles from the airport, we come to a standstill in traffic. We are seeing first hand what we anticipated—Delhi traffic is notorious.

But then something very strange happens.

Our driver stops the car on the side of the road.  Mike asks firmly, "What are you doing? Why did you stop?" The driver explains that he is waiting for our car.

Mike’s voice sharpens. “Our car? We’re already in a car.”

The driver looks ahead. “I can’t take you to Jaipur, but someone else can.”

And that’s when it clicks. Our car is geographically limited to where it can go, and we need to ride in a city-to-city vehicle.

We’re on the side of a Delhi road, two Westerners with all our belongings, realizing the driver wasn't transparent or clear about the process.

Whispering, we try to figure out what to do next. Mike starts using his phone. Can we order an Uber? Maybe we can just get out and wait on the side of the road.  This is unfathomable that we think this is an actionable idea but given the circumstances was an option we had to consider.

The driver suddenly understands a lot more English than he did before an must have heard our conversation about an Uber.

He suddenly starts driving again.

We demand to know what’s happening. He insists we’re just going to meet the “real” driver. Narrow streets, trash piles everywhere, not a tourist in sight. Now, we feel trapped—we’re being taken somewhere we didn’t agree to go.

Mike looks at me. “This is about to go Delco bad.”

You can take the boy out of Philly, but you never take Philly out of the boy.

We are in a nondescript yet undesirable part of Dehli, moving at a relatively slow speed for traffic. Mike notices two taxis parked nearby.

“We can get out here,” he whispers. "There are two taxis, plus I bet we can call an Uber from here, too.”

I agree, and am in complete disbelief that this is our best option. We need to be fast. I see the word Bar in English on a nearby building, next to what looks like a budget hotel.

We need to do so in a frenetic and chaotic manner that prevents him from taking off with our things. The driver is irate and shouting at us. We practically ran into this hotel, which is a beacon of safety and civility. It's ironic because we never would have thought of it that way if we were looking for a place to stay.

The driver is shouting. He is absolutely furious.  Mike turns to him as we enter the hotel lobby and says loudly, "Look man, you weren't honest and you know it.  We are out."

Sitting in the lobby, we decide we need to recollect ourself. What should we do?  Return to the airport? Looking  at the Uber app, we see that there are drivers nearby and we decide to order an Uber.

But here’s the thing—every driver that accepts the ride immediately cancels when they see our destination. Jaipur is 170 miles away.

After several failed attempts, one Uber driver finally accepts.

We load our belongings in and settle into the car. It was hardly the experience I wanted,  one with plenty of space, air con, and a relaxing vibe, but it was certainly better than the scam we were part of.

Adrenalin is running high, and we are looking out the window. We see cows, monkeys, and trucks moving with one another. Lane markers are only a suggestion, and the chaos and frenetic motion are indescribable. The constant horn honking assaults our senses.

We are now in Gurugram, a major business hub just southwest of Dehli. We are continuing to drive, and suddenly Mike says,

“What is happening now?”

I look up. A man is standing in the middle of the highway.

Our driver pulls over.

I squint through the bright light and dirty windshield to see the word police on the man's vest. We were pulled over -- not by a patrol car -- but by a man standing in the middle of the highway just motioning with his hand.

Our driver gets out to speak to the officer.  The language barrier prevents us from knowing the issue, but we can ascertain it is quite the disagreement. Mike asks what’s going on. The driver mutters something about a dress code.

A dress code? What does that even mean?

We may never know.

We continue moving, and now we seem to be in fight or flight mode, with our attention on high alert. We continue to watch the Indian landscape pass us by. What we thought would be an excellent opportunity to see the country was a nightmare.  What we see can only be considered chaos.

Mike nods off, and I am left on watch. Despite the intense jet lag that is setting in, my eyes are wide open as I watch for any more challenges or danger.

Just when things seem to be settling down, we  pull off the highway again, and I think to myself, "Now, what is happening?" I am referencing our route against Google Maps, and I hadn't anticipated an exit. The slowing of the vehicle wakes Mike, and he looks at me to say, "What is happening now?"

We realize that we are stopping for gas. I am not sure what kind of petrol is used, but the pump had two parts and we had to vacate the car as it isn't safe to be in the car while pumping the gas . As I was standing on the dusty Indian ground, I am looking at the car with my things, most importantly thinking how my passport is in the car and I don't want it exploding because I want to make it home at some point.

At this point, Mike is on watch and on high alert, and the jet lag is too much for me, and I can't keep my eyes open.

I awaken to realize we were within the city limits of Jaipur.

Remember, throughout all this, we thought that everything would be okay once we got to Jaipur. Jaipur is on almost every Indian itinerary -- from the most opulent experiences to budget ones. All my research indicated that all visits to India must include Jaipur. We are about 3 miles from the hotel when we say, "What is happening now?" You guessed it. Another man in the middle of the road is pulling us over with the wave of a finger. This time, our driver hops out and massively argues with the policeman. The officer won't have it and is arguing back. Listening to the shouts in Hindi and using frustrated body language is all we have, but we can tell it isn't going well.

What is happening? I do my best to look pleadingly at the officer, as I don't understand why we are pulled over. Will he come and ask if I am okay? Will he determine if I am safe? Will he call another ride for us?

He is not interested in speaking to us, conversing with us, or determining whether we need help.

The argument continues, and our driver throws his hands up in disgust, walks over to an adjacent food cart, and scans a QR code. He returns to the officer and shows him his phone, presumably proving that he was successful with the QR code on the food truck. Was this a shakedown? Did the policeman demand his dinner be paid for? What is happening here?

We finally arrived at our hotel 8 hours after landing in Dehli. We are greeted with heavy security, including putting an object under the car. Mike, at this point, shouts, "Oh My God, they are scanning for car bombs. " Yep, as a loyal IHG member, we were greeted with a car bomb sweep.

Exhausted, horrified, and grateful to be in the lobby, we check in and go to our room. We unpack and want to explore to stay awake and acclimate to the time difference. I had read about these bazaars that are a must to amble through, and we decided to head there, anxious for this day to redeem itself.

We get to the Johri Bazaar and are accosted by aggressive sellers hawking their items. Trash is everywhere, and the merchants are so aggressively selling their items that we aren't even remotely comfortable with shopping.

We decide that we are  just spent. Lacking any sense of adventure, we decide that trying to find a restaurant is entirely outside our abilities as exhaustion sets in. We choose to return to the hotel to eat at the hotel restaurant, a lovely Chinese restaurant. Defeated, we retreat to eat Chinese and lament that, of course, we would want to travel to India to eat Chinese food. Sigh. No, not at all.

Sitting at the restaurant, trying to keep my eyes open, I seek the positive. There has to be positivity in India, and the good in people has to be found. It certainly couldn't all be bad.

I firmly believe that travel shows you that people are inherently good and want to do the best for themselves, their family and loved ones.

I decide I need to find this in India. I am on a mission now.