Kindness of Strangers

Friday, September 26, 2008

This will sound odd to many readers, but the highlight of our trip to India was staying at the Jaipur Inn. Someone told us early on in our trip that our greatest memories would be tied with the people we met, not the sites we saw. Sure, the Taj Mahal was beautiful, but we really connected with the hotel and its owners in a way that was truly memorable.

The Lonely Planet guide, in reviewing the Jaipur Inn, noted that free meals could be exchanged for “creative services.” We didn’t know what this meant, nor did we really believe it, But over the course of the week, Maikael helped Ramen, who started the hotel 32 years ago after retiring from the Indian Air Force, with his persistent computer problems, and I developed a few marketing materials for the Inn. In return, Ramen opened up his home to us, and we shared countless cups of tea on his veranda each day. Maikael went jogging in the mornings with Pushpendra, the hotel’s current manager and Ramen’s son, in a local park, where women in saris and sneakers kept pace. We played table tennis with Pushpendra’s son, on a table that was once Ramen’s father’s. One afternoon I made chocolate chip cookies with Zoya, Pushpendra’s daughter, which required some bizarre substitutions (vanilla extract, granulated sugar, and chocolate chips are next to impossible to find in India) and baking on tiny trays in a jumbo sized toaster oven. There were full days where we never left the hotel, choosing to spend our time simply hanging out with this super cool family.

But the apex of the week was our final day at the hotel, when we desperately needed to find an ATM machine (a recurring theme, I know). The thought of braving the touts and the autorickshaw drivers was enough to make our skin crawl, and Ramen graciously offered to drive us himself to the nearest ATM. “But I warn you, sir,” said Ramen, “my car is very old.” We made our way to the carport, where an ancient blue Fiat stood proudly. “My car is thirty five years old,” conceded Ramen. He explained that, when he bought the car, it was one of only two models available in India at that time: the other was the Ambassador, which are now used all over India as ancient white taxis.

We took a seat in the car, where a simple dashboard greeted us. There were no gadgets or radios or LCD displays, just simple gauges measuring mileage, fuel level. and speed. Ramen started the car, which coughed to life as he pulled out the choke, something I have never actually seen in operation. He placed the car into gear, the gear shift not in its typical placement but located adjacent to the steering wheel. Shifting from one gear to another, then, required a series of complicated arm movement, providing a real upper body workout, along with the manual steering.

We gently glided down the driveway and very slowly maneuvered into the onslaught of oncoming traffic. Indians are famous car horn honkers – I have never heard so much honking in my life – and Ramen was no exception. Although we were traveling five miles an hour, Ramen laid on the horn, sounding like something out of a 1950s movie. “Sir, I am asserting my presence.” Given our snail’s place, cars began blasting their horn, but Ramen kept on course. I don’t think we ever came to an actual stop the entire car ride; we just sort of slowed down and weaved through multiple lanes of traffic. I can’t remember a more memorable car ride in my entire life, and you can see by the photo that I haven’t looked happier on this entire trip.

In the end, we received a week’s worth of wireless Internet access gratis, and they let us stay in our room until 1 am when we had to catch our very early train without charge – talk about a late check-out time! But this was just icing on the cake. The goal of our trip was to have a local experience to the greatest extent possible. We never imagined that could be accomplished by staying in a hotel, but we felt completely welcomed by this lovely family in the same way we would hope if we were staying in someone’s home. In fact, I think we were.