GREG FRAZIER REPORTS ON INDIA
Subject: Cow Flop, BMW loses to Enfield Bullet, dead people
Date: Thu, 14 Dec 2000 04:02:36 -0800 (PST)Reply Reply All Forward Delete Previous Next Close
Cow pies. In Montana, when cow flop dries, and cowboys are drunk enough, they sail dried cow pies like frisbees. Here in India they cook with the dried dung. Not too bad on the wild frontier where the wind blows the smell away, but in Delhi, where about 10 million people must be cooking with cow shit, the smell is oppressive. The cow is sacred to the Hindus, and when a hefer drops flop a woman is quickly there to scoop it up, bare-handed, and form it into a pie shape. They are then placed in the sun to dry and small mountains of them can be seen next to the road as you ride in the country, ready for shipping into the city. In Delhi my eyes were watering all day, partly from the cow flop smog, and partly because I was crying for a good steak. In Delhi I found the only MacDonalds in the world that had a sign posted that said "We Serve No Beef."
I landed in India with my helmet, riding suit, some motorcycle accessories, and a handful of cash. "Have Helmet, Will Travel" should read my Paladin like business card. It took five days to locate (I needed a local address to purchase a new motorcycle), outfit a new motorcycle, get it broken in, the first oil change, and some riding experience, then I left. Leaving Delhi was like pulling my head out of a pig's ass, I imagine. It took 40 miles to get clear of the smog, which was when I entered the next cloud around a major city. More pigs' butts for four days until I got into the lower mountains of Nepal.
I have often been told how horrible the traffic is in India, but could not imagine it could be worse than Mexico City or Athens. Take a stick to a red ant hill and stir it up. What you see is traffic in Mexico City or Athens. Poor gas on the ant hill and light it, that is Delhi traffic. Add some vodka and you have Delhi traffic during rush hour.
The first rule for surviving motorcycle travel in India must be "Forget everything you have ever learned", because what you know to be about motorcycle riding will kill you. For the India driver the Rule Of The Road is Survival Of The Biggest. The second Rule is "if you use your horn the traffic in front of you will get out of your way...if you are the biggest." The crashes here are better than any I saw in South America or Africa. In the first hours out of Delhi I came upon a fresh, head-on collision between a bus and a truck, on a two lane road. The roof of the bus had slid forward, decapitating 3/4ths of the passengers. It was Sunday, but none of the passengers would have to worry about taking their hats off when entering a church. The truck driver, who was not at fault (the bus was passing another truck), had his knees jammed about a foot behind his ears and the steering wheel was wrapped around his chest. I arrived at the accident about five minutes after it happened. A crowd of nearly 100 was gathered around, just looking at the blood dripping out from the bus. I was able to pull the back door of the bus open and got six people out. Everyone in front of them was headless so my First Aid kit was wothless. I will save it for the next accident.
The First Aid kit came with the motorcycle. This Enflied motorcycle is the only motorcycle I have bought (and I have probably bought several hundred) that came with a First Aid kit. I bought the motorcycle new, from India's largest Enfield Motorcycle dealer. When he handed me the kit, along with the tool kit and papers for the bike, a light started a dim glow in the back of my head. "Why," I thought, "is this guy giving me a First Aid kit? To repair the cuts on my hands from working on the bike?" After seeing the first two or three accidents of 100 in four days, the light now burns white. If you are going to ride a motorcycle in India, you will, sooner or later, have need for a First Aid kit. Hopefully I will not need it for myself.
Another learning function for India is finding the next town or road where you want to go. In Karol Bagh, a part of Delhi where is based the largest motorcycle market in the world, I bought a map from a street person who was hawking maps. About one-half dollar got me a nice, multi-colored road map of India. A monkey with a handfull of crayons could do a better job at map making than could whoever produced my map. Cities on the map shown as big were a mere spit in the road when I found them. Other cities, with well over 100,000 people, were not shown or shown as a small town. I soon learned soon to keep the sun to my right and back as I headed east across India. This system, as well as asking where the next town was upon entering any traffic circle or town, seemed to work as well as any $600.00 GPS would, maybe better. I think the second you take your eyes off the road/cars/cows/rickshaws/taxis/people/potholes/dead dogs/speed bumps in front of you and look at your GPS you are going to be a dead person. I prefer to pullover and appear dumb. Better dumb and alive than GPS savey and mush.
I have not yet seen a cemetary. The Hindus are into toasting the dead, so the cremetoriums go full bore, adding to the air pollution. The ashes are poured into the rivers, as is nearly everything else. In the rivers is also where people bath, wash their clothes and take drinking water. I have dodged the hersey squirts by sticking to bottled water, very cooked or packaged food, but know my time in the toilet it coming. I just hope it is not while having to ride. I have a good supply of Cipro, the stuff I call the Third World Travelers Best Friend.
My new motorcycle is a learning experience. Although the technology for the Enfield 500 cc Bullet motorcycle is 1960-1970 era, it is ideal for the roads of India, where it is manufactured. It will only allow you to go a top speed of 70 miles per hour, which is twice the safe speed given the quality of the roads and the drivers third world techniques. I think, had I been on the BMW "Monster Cow" I was using across Europe, I would have crashed by now, mostly due to the fact that I would have been riding much faster, passing more cars and trucks. A comparison between the huge BMW GS on the last leg of this world tour to the little single cylinder 500 cc Enfield on this leg would be like the rabbit and the turtle fable. I am betting on the Enflied turtle to get me across India, alive.
My route next takes me to Nepal, where I plan to find a Yeti. If you want to see what I think of the Enfield 500 Bullet motorcycle, some of my road adventures while riding it in India, how I got puked on following a bus, and several photographs, you can go to my website at www.horizonsunlimited.com/gregfrazier and click on "What's New" at the bottom of the page. After December 22, web wizard Grant Johnson should have posted some fresh material.
Gregory
Road Notes from India on an Enflied, December, 2000
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