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One of the most intriguing observations we’ve had while traveling in Asia is the plethora of skin products on the market designed to make the user whiter. While in the West we’re spending millions of dollars to make our skin darker (from tanning salons to self tanners), in the East they’re spending a corresponding amount to go lighter.

I spent the few days we had on the Thai island Koh Phagnan working to get my tan on.

I scour the pharmacies for anti-wrinkle cream by my favorite brands including Olay, but all I can find are whitening products. They even have products for men.

Where's the anti-wrinkle cream?

The TV commercials hawking these creams are an additional source of amusement with the women in them gazing approvingly in the mirror after a graphic explains this whitening lotion just made them 2 shades lighter.

Will it ever be possible to abandon our world-wide obsession with skin color? Our preferences towards melanin levels clearly have more to do with the culture we’ve been born into than any degree of worth.

Although to be fair, if I wasn’t so obsessed with getting a little color on my face, I probably wouldn’t need that all that anti-wrinkle cream either.

~ Molly


India can be quite assaulting at times. I’ve heard people call it overwhelming. Lonely Planet calls it “bamboozling.” But let’s be honest. It’s assaulting.

First of all, there are the horns. Every single moving vehicle on the road from bicycles to auto rickshaws to cars to trucks have ear-piercing horns which drivers use about as often as they use the break and gas pedals.

But just when you thought the horns were assaulting, you meet the touts. As a foreigner in India, you are the primary target for all kinds of touts: vendors, drivers, would-be tour guides all wanting your money (and if they’re good enough rip you off) at every given opportunity no matter what time of day or day of the week. You are constantly being bombarded by “where you from?” and “where you going?” not because they care. It’s clear they believe by engaging you, you’re more likely to follow them into a store, get into their auto, or give them a tip for their information.

The scams are similar to ones that we’ve encountered in other countries including the simplest of them all: jacking up the price on everything from water to rides. But in India it feels institutionalized. And in some ways it is. When visiting the sights in India, as a foreigner you are often charged 25 times more for admission than Indian citizens. I understand they do this so their own citizens can afford to see the landmarks of their cultural heritage, which is very important. But it also sends a message to touts that its ok to charge foreigners more, they can afford it.

These kind of experiences make you so defensive that even when people are just being nice or chatting you up because they’re curious or really do want to practice their English, you’re waiting for the moment they break out the full sales pitch or demand money.

And you get stared at lot no matter what you’re wearing. I always thought we blended in but that illusion has been fully shattered. By the end of our time in India, I stopped noticing the stares for the most part. But every once and awhile it would still make me feel super self-conscious. My two favorite kinds of stares: 1) slow stare and 2) the backwards bike stare. The best example of the slow stare happened one day Nellu and I were walking home from the store. Eight shirtless, grown men stood perfectly still only slowly moving their heads with dumbfounded expressions on their faces as we walked by. I couldn’t help but laugh. I wanted to shout, “We really can’t be that interesting!” The backwards bike stare is just what it sounds like. People on bikes (motor and manual) stare back at you even as their bikes continue to move forward up the road. Sounds safe, right?

I don’t want to make India sound all bad. It’s certainly not. It’s just a lot more upfront, even honest, about it’s not so niceties than a lot of other place we’ve been. It’s bad and it’s ugly aren’t hidden. They’re all out there right in front of your face and sometimes in your face. Even the scams are relatively transparent and easy to spot once you’ve got your wits about you.

The good news is that the good is right out there too. We’ve certainly seen the good in a lot of people that we’ve met and the hospitality we’ve been given in so many places around the country. And sharing our experiences with our new friends only made things better. (It turns out that you don’t have to be a foreigner to get harassed every five seconds at Connaught Place in Delhi. I was feeling bad by having such strong negative reactions to the constant bombardment, but locals often feel the same way. Knowing that made me stop having such strong reactions.)

The food in India is diverse and delicious. And the country is chock full of color and beauty at almost every turn.

Oh and I almost forgot my favorite thing about India – the Indian nod. It is this strange head swagger response you get to questions that looks more like maybe than yes, but it means yes. Our friend Hamilton described it as the head gesture equivalent to “It’s all good.” I asked our host Nyamat, a Delhi native, to demonstrate:



The challenge for us on this trip to stop reacting so hostility to the bad. As full-time travelers, we already feel exposed, which makes any negative situation grate on us further. But we can’t let the bad dominate so much that we miss the good. In the weeks that we spent in India, I think we largely came to peace with all of our experiences there and even look forward to coming back.


You may remember from our earlier post that we attended a fundraiser for Nyamat’s work at the Real Medicine Foundation. At the party, we chatted up some of Nyamat’s American co-workers and other expats. We wanted to know if they had similar impressions of India. They did but added some insight, “India will give you both its best and its worst,” they told us. I don’t think we could have found a more honest assessment.

~ Molly

View from the backseat of an auto rickshaw

On this trip, Nellu and I try to avoid taking cabs whenever possible for several reason. 1) It is often very difficult to explain to drivers where you are trying to go, even if you have it written down in the local language. Drivers know where the big locations are but very few know the neighborhoods. 2) There’s no guarantee that if you get in you’re going to get where you want to go. (Remember Nellu’s fun ride in Beijing?) For us its much easier to determine where we want to go via public transportation. 3) Cabs tend to be relatively expensive. 4) Even if the fare should be reasonable, when many cabbies pick up foreigners, the meter suddenly breaks and the price automatically goes up in multiples…that is if they bother to stop and pick you up at all. This last reason is by far the most irritating.

In India, we had no choice but to rely on a not cabs but the hordes of auto rickshaws (or autos as the locals call them) that pack the streets. (Delhi does have nice new metro but it mainly runs vertically through the city and not as far west as we needed to go. We hear that they’re building a new line, which would run east/west. I’m sure it will be quite lovely and convenient when it’s up and running.)

It took us awhile to get used to taking autos because in India drivers see dollar signs (or rather rupee signs) when they see foreigners. To be fair, the fares were mostly reasonable. We could get clear across Delhi on less than USD$2.50. But some drivers would try to charge us double. We tried to insist autos use the meter when we got in. This barely ever worked. Our Delhi host Nyamat told us she often offers to pay autos the meter plus 10 rupees (about 20 cents). We did relatively well using this strategy although most drivers sternly resisted. When it did work, it gave us a chance see how much it cost to get certain places so that we could more efficiently negotiate with those who refused to use the meter.

The frustrating part about the negotiation process is that there are always dozens of autos sitting around doing nothing in most places. It was hard for us to understand why they would follow us for three blocks trying to pick us up, but they wouldn’t take us for honest fare (and frankly a good tip if they get us there without much hassle).

Here are the standout stories of our attempts to take auto rickshaws in India:

Trip to the Taj – Agra – 8am to 6pm on a Wednesday

The train station in Agra has a pre-paid auto rickshaw booth. We love pre-paid booths because they seem to provide a small sense of order to the chaos of the auto world. When fares are published, you don’t feel like you’re getting ripped off as much (even when you are). It cost us 80 rupees to get from the train station to the South Gate of the Taj Mahal. Totally reasonable. It was clear across town. We met an Australian kid at the station and offered to share a ride. One of the drivers insisted we could not take three people in an auto, which of course was a complete lie. The guy who did end up driving us downtown seemed nice. On the way to the Taj, he shared a diary with us of testimonials he had from other foreigners who had hired him to drive them around for the full day. He would take you to the various spots around town, wait while you saw the sights, and then take you to the next place for a fixed price of 500 rupees. Nellu and I had already decided that we were going to walk as possible so we politely declined this offer. He continued with the hard sell until we got out.

Later on in the day, we went looking for a driver to take us from just outside the Taj to a bar halfway on the road to the train station. We first got into an auto with a driver that said yes to the meter but then changed his price to 70/80 rupees when we got in. We quickly got out. We started walking and found a bicycle rickshaw that said he would take us for 10 or 20 rupees, but it was clear he didn’t know where he was going. To make matters worse, instead of peddling on the bike, he walked the rickshaw on foot the way you would walk your bike up a steep hill. Our four legs were better than his two so once again, we hopped out. After roaming around and getting lost for a while, we were finally picked up by an honest driver who took us where we needed to go for 30 rupees.

From the bar we needed to go to the train station still about 4km away. The first driver we passed was another bicycle rickshaw driver. When we asked the fare to the station, he replied, “As you like.” Ha! Truthfully, I would like to pay nothing. We offered 30 rupees. He countered with 40 rupees (apparently he didn’t like our “as you like”.) We got in. The one detail that I left out is that this particular driver looked a lot older than many of the others we had seen. I don’t know if it was an act but he appeared to struggle as he peddled us there. I felt horrible, swore off ever taking bicycle rickshaws again, and we gave him 100 rupees for the effort.

The Cheat – Delhi – 11pm on a Wednesday

Our fun with drivers didn’t stop that day in Agra. When we got back to the train station in Delhi, there were swarms of drivers waiting but no one would take us for the meter or the meter plus 10 rupees. The standing offer was 250 rupees or about $5. This was more than double what it should cost. Even though there were easily 50 auto rickshaws waiting outside the station, they all seemed to stick together on this outrageous price. Finally, one driver quietly told us he would take us for the metered fare.

But we should have known there was a problem from the beginning. I was never sure this guy knew where we were going. I kept asking him and he would just shake his head yes. He also kept looking at us in the rearview mirror. By this point in our trip to India, Nellu and I had been around Delhi for about a week and we had started to get to know the city. We were both suspicious that he was driving us around in circles (very easy to do in Delhi because it’s a lush green city with hidden landmarks and many traffic circles). When we passed Humayun’s Tomb on the east side of city north of the train station, when we needed to go west and south, our suspicions were confirmed. Nellu asked him if we was driving us around and he wiggled his hand in a “kind of/so-so/little bit” motion. We insisted he pull over right away and only did when Nellu put his foot on the ground outside the rickshaw. We refused to pay him the fare and walked away (there was a lot of yelling involved).

Less than two minutes later, we were picked up by another auto rickshaw driver, who took us for the metered fare and didn’t drive us around. He got a big tip.

In retrospect, our strategy should have been to walk out of the train station and down the street where we would have found a driver less intent on ripping us off. That was the advice our guesthouse host had told us in Rio de Janeiro: If you walk a block a way from the station (in Rio it was the bus station) you are more likely to find a ride that hasn’t been cooking up a scheme.

The Joy Riders – Amritsar – 4:10am on a Monday

This is by far the most entertaining of all our auto rickshaw rides. Nellu and I had to catch a train that left from Amritsar station at 5:00am. We checked out of our hotel room and walked out into the street. The street was empty but we were soon approached by several drivers. The first two drivers insisted on charging double what it cost to get from the train station (We paid 40 rupees, which was clearly double the locals price already.) Once again, they thought if they double-teamed us, both holding firm on their inflated prices, we’d have no choice but pay it. While I was negotiating with these two drivers, Nellu started talking to a pair of kids who agreed to take us for half. We hopped in.

What was interesting about this trip was that the two kids appeared to be quite young. As they sped to the train station, they talked and laughed, and every once in a while you could clearly understand them saying “40 rupees” and they would laugh again. Of course we’ll never know the real story, but to us they seemed like two kids joy riding around town in someone else’s auto rickshaw getting a huge kick out of making 40 rupees for taking two tourists to the train.

Overly Suspicious – Delhi – 10:30pm on a Saturday

This last story doesn’t quite count in this list because he wasn’t actually an auto rickshaw driver. In fact he had a van. But our interactions with autos across the country shaped this experience so I feel justified to include it.

We headed back to Delhi after our brief tour around Northern India. After arriving by train for the last time, we walked out of the station (a different station this time) to find the usual mob of auto rickshaws. We were approached right off the bat by several drivers asking for 200+ rupees. No way. We kept walking. We were approached also by several cab drivers. Cab fare is usually double that of autos even when they use the meter. No way. Finally, we found a driver who promised to take us home for 100 rupees. Great. As we approached his vehicle, we realized he had a van and not an auto. We repeated several times that we were only going to pay 100 rupees total and would not pay more for a real car. He confirmed again and again and we got in.

For some reason on the way, the driver turned on the meter. This made Nellu and I weary. Was he going to insist we pay 100 rupees over the metered price? Was there another scheme here that we hadn’t seen before? I started to protest but it was clear he didn’t understand. The driver stopped the car, pulled over, and turned around to address us both. In exasperation, he tried to confer that he didn’t understand our English. He repeated over and over that he was only going to charge us 100 rupees total and turned off the meter. He stuck to his word.

. . . . . . . . .

By the time we left India, most drivers offered to drive us for the metered fare. I don’t know if we gained a certain air of experience evident only to auto rickshaws but our suspicions never subsided. Instead of being grateful to drivers who gave us the courtesy of going by meter, we thought to ourselves, “Why does he want to use the meter?”

~ Molly

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