India, land of chaos and wonder

Cape Town publicist, restaurant critic and heavy-set traveler BRIAN BERKMAN took his belly to Delhi. Here’s what he found. Edward Mendelsohn took the pictures.
 

Body fat is a lot like liquid – it takes up all the space you give it and overflows if it needs to. I discovered this while sitting in SAA’s 737 economy seats from Joburg to Cape Town, on the final return leg of two magical weeks in India.

Sitting next to me in the three-berth was an uncharacteristically large Chinaman. If you know anything about fat people it must be that we don’t like to ooze. I was wearing a diaphanous white kurta pajama suit that I had to have made in India as it is easier to buy caparisoning for an elephant there than outsize clothing.

According to the Lonely Planet Guide to India, the country accounts for 2.4% of the earth’s surface area while a staggering 16.7% of the global population live there, so it stands to reason that the notion of personal space goes entirely out of the window. I mention this because if I had had to sit so close to someone on the way to India I would probably have fled the plane screaming before take-off. Mercifully, SAA agreed to upgrade me to larger seating if space permitted, which meant that all other traveling was done in Maharaja comfort, a style to which I very easily become accustomed. Having said that, the Airbus A340-200 only has two classes, super luxury and luxury, and I probably would have got used to the idea of having my backside in a vice if I had to.

Rude shock

Mumbai (formally Bombay) airport is a rude shock. The moment the doors opened, a swarm of mosquitoes boarded the plane. Cleverly, I had kept my Tabard Stick in my hand luggage and covered myself instantly. I understand now that the fat content in my blood must make me the mosquito equivalent of a MacDonalds because they headed straight for me.

The busy airport felt bureaucratic and Third World world but, as I soon discovered, things in India just seem chaotic even though they actually work rather efficiently.

We were connecting directly to Delhi and I was given a tip by a frequent traveler to book a particular Air India flight that leaves from the Mumbai International Terminal. The Domestic Terminal is in another part of Mumbai and requires a taxi journey or free shuttle bus to get there.

The last thing I want to do is to frighten people away from visiting India because I am entirely smitten by it but it is a challenging destination and it is entirely necessary to be fully informed before you travel and to have a clear understanding with your travel companion.

Chill in the air

I had arranged with the Crowne Plaza Surya in New Friends Colony for an airport pick-up. In my anxiety that nothing amiss would happen in India , I phoned ahead from Mumbai airport to confirm. That anxiety was entirely misplaced and they were expecting us, dutifully waiting with a board carrying our names.

We arrived before seven in the morning on Monday, March 1 and the sun was rising over Delhi. Traffic was heavy, even at that hour, and we were surprised by the chill in the air. People were going to work, many on bicycles and scooters, wrapped in pashminas with their stainless steel tiffins. Although very green, Delhi is dusty, with roadsides that look more like dumps than pavements. Most of the people I spoke to before visiting India had warned me about the poverty and beggars. Perhaps I have been desensitised but I wasn’t any more upset about beggars and informal housing there than I am by it living here.

Another thing people advise about India is never to eat off the streets. I’d been warned about that in Thailand too but enjoyed the food at the roadside stalls as much as in the hotels. But something, not least of which was photographer Edward’s continuous tummy upset, warned me against trying the delicious looking deep-fried tidbits.

Edward was also worried about the hotel I had arranged - unsure if the international Crowne Plaza standard would be upheld in India. But the hotel was wonderful, large and luxurious, aimed more at the business than leisure traveler, and with a wonderful spa facility that I’ll come to later. A word, though, about hotel names. Very many spots simply “borrow” the names of well-known hotels. In India, Raj, Palace or even Taj do not necessarily denote quality. If you intend to stay at the Oberoi, make sure you have the real one.

New Dehli was designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens for the British and Sir Herbert Baker worked with him on many buildings, developing a style Baker easily transferred to South Africa. The Union Buildings in Pretoria bear a striking similarity to the parliamentary buildings in New Delhi.

A famous walk for those lighter on their feet than I, is from the India Gate up Rajpath Avenue to the former Viceroy’s palace, now official residence of the President. A large community of monkeys lives around the walls and lawns and it is always a hive of activity. Cars are not allowed to stop near the parliamentary precinct.

Emperor's sarcophagus

Humayun’s Tomb was the first of so many historical sites we visited. It was built in 1565 and houses the sarcophagus of the second Mughal emperor and its perfect symmetrical form is said to have inspired the Taj Mahal. Perhaps because it was the first places we visited, Humayun’s Tomb was one of the highlights of Delhi. Peaceful and magnificently created, I could have spent an entire day there.

Another historic site, interesting for personal reasons, is the Qutab Minar complex, with the highest single tower in India. It marks the establishment of the first Muslim kingdom in North India in 1193 and is a Uniseco World Heritage Site. It is a vast complex with ruins and park-like gardens.

My rotundity enthralled a group of veterinary students who had come from South India to holiday in Delhi. I know this because, seeing I was alarmed at a gang of men approaching me, they whipped out their ID cards to show they meant no harm. The reason for the approach, they explained, was to ask if they could pose with me for a picture.

For most South Africans, Jurassic Park is a distant memory. When the movie came out some people saw a resemblance between the fat guy who gets eaten by Dino while on the toilet and me. In India, both that moment and my resemblance are fresh in people’s minds. On returning to the hotel I decided that a swim and steam were just what I needed to wash away the chaos of Delhi. My right leg ached from pressing the floor of the three-wheeler tuk-tuk in which we were being driven, looking for a brake pedal. The traffic seems to function the way blood does in veins while crisscrossing a heart in spasm. Apart from the noise created by using hooters instead of indicators, the volume of cars, camels, bikes, pedestrians, tuk-tuks and busses was overwhelming.

 The gym, like the rest of the Crowne Plaza, is marble and granite. While others worked out at their abs, I made a beeline for the hair salon where, for the equivalent of R50, I had an Indian Head massage with almond oil, known for its healing properties. Had I chosen coconut oil instead it would have cost half that for the 35-minute treatment.

If Delhi traffic hand't already shaken me up, the head treatment did. Even though it was more jackhammer than gentle rubbing, the end result was awesome.

Imposing Red Fort

On day two we headed to the Old Delhi, famed for Chandni Chowk. With the imposing Red Fort looking on, this maze of tiny bazaar streets can only be navigated on foot or rickshaw as the paths, created in 1648, are too narrow for cars. I had to have my own two-man rickshaw as my weight, combined with Edward’s, would have been too much for the long-suffering cyclist.

I could have spent an entire week there, and it remains one of the highlights of India for me. Shops and stores are arranged by specialty so if you are looking for, say, stainless steel kitchenwear there will be literally hundreds of people selling it. The spice traders are also together and the smell of pepper and chili is so strong you have to cover your face to prevent sneezing or choking. If you can buy it in India, you’ll find it here.

With all the tumult, I tripped over a rickshaw wheel and gashed my knee. I knew from the pain that I had cut myself badly but didn’t realise how badly until I got back to the hotel hours later.

In need of TLC I again went down to the hotel Spa and arranged for a massage – an Ayurvedic synchronized massage where two therapists maintain the body’s energy balance. You’ll know by now that I’m a big man so when the therapist – with limited English, asked me to stand on a step the size of an elephant’s foot, while he disrobed me and tied a paper nappy through my groin and around my waist, I became alarmed. He proceed to effortless tip me on to a wooden plinth with channels for the oil to flow into collection bowls, from which they are reapplied. With
litres of warm, spiced oils poured all over me combined with the rocking motion of the massage, I’m surprised I didn’t slide right off the table.

Turning me over was a real challenge, think sumo mud wrestlers trying to get a hold, but before long I was again enjoying the to and fro motion.

That night, with a sore knee and head full of memories, I drifted off to dreams of Delhi and Jurassic Park. Finally, a place where being fat made me famous.
 

Getting there:
 
South African Airways flies to Mumbai (Bombay) four times a week. Economy fare from Cape Town is around R5,750 plus taxes of R492 while Business class is around R18,920 plus taxes R492. More info from www.flysaa.com

One rand buys around six Indian rupees. It is a surprisingly affordable destination. A lavish hotel dinner costs around R100 per person, tour guides about R65 a day and shopping will yield bargains galore.

Accommodation at the five-star Surya Crowne Plaza costs around 220 US Dollars per room per night. The Crowne Plaza is, according to the promotional material, the only Delhi hotel to offer Ayurvedic treatments. Email: crowneplazasurya@vsnl.com