Tuk-tuks-
My brother once asked the New York City taxi driver if he had a license..
A license to kill.
Taxi’s in India have absolutely nothing on New York City taxi drivers. India has no stoplights, stop signs, speed limits or dotted lines. India’s taxis also have no running meters. Everywhere you go, regardless of the distance, it costs 10 rupees. (Roughly $0.20)
Take that New York City.
This three wheeled taxi, called a tuk-tuk (took-took), is ornately decorated with tapestry hanging from the ceiling and if you are lucky, a speaker that can pack some major bass and bollywood radio. The tuk-tuk itself is driven like a motorized scooter, but with pedals, and an extremely aggressive attitude.
When riding you grab onto the rail in front of you or above, bracing yourself for impact at any time as you weave in and out of oncoming traffic, cows, and bobbing heads. Comfortably and legally, these sit three in the back, but we pack 5-6 each time because traveling in groups is just the safest option all the time.
It’s fun and I have yet to see an accident, so my comfort level and faith in tuk-tuks grows each day.
Food-
Hey America.. Remember silverware and plates? I don’t. Anywhere you go to eat, you walk in, pay a base fee of usually 60 rupees ($1.20) and pray that what you just paid for is good. After paying you are given a ticket that you give to the “hostess.” The hostess then takes your ticket, splashes water on the back of it and slaps it onto a table where someone is almost done eating. This means that your seat has now been chosen and you must wait here behind the person eating until they are done, then take their spot. (It is at definitely at maximum occupancy, but this is not a word in India.)
After you sit down a young boy washes off the remnants of what the previous customer ate and rolls out a green leaf in front of you. This leaf is your plate.
Then another boy comes with a huge bowl of steaming white rice and scoops a large portion onto your leaf. Following him is another boy carrying curries, herbs and sauces to mix with your rice.
I am such a wimp when it comes to spices, but I am getting better. Thank God for the dried herbs, they are the least spicy and the most delicious..I have never wanted vegetables more in my lifetime. But voila. Lunch is served, and God said it was good.
In India, you eat with your hands. Uh, I mean hand, and only your right hand. Mixing is done with your fingers. I unintentionally began using my left hand and instantly received judgmental stares because the left hand is reserved for the restroom. (toilet paper is not a thing here).
The head bob-
Imagine those Hawaiian bobble heads some people put on their car dash board. That bobble is India’s way of saying so many things. The bobble can indicate yes, I guess so, maybe, I don’t know and what in the world are you saying white girl. At least No is the same, so that narrows down the responses a lot for us.
Being White-
To be honest, I just feel like a main attraction at a zoo. Like the endangered White Tiger or something. Everywhere we go everyone stops, looks, points and observes us in our unnatural habitat.
