Travels with my Camera(bag) was intended to be a one-off story, but as you will see…it got a little out-of-hand! The intention was to write a few of my (mis)adventures in one single post, however, this will no longer be the case and this will be the first in a short series of posts. I’ve also decided to not post them one after the other, but spaced out over the next few weeks and months. Perhaps keep them for occasions, when I can’t think of anything to write, or I’m simply too tired! So, there you have it, get your camera(bags) out and enjoy the first installment!
I‘ll let you into a secret…in the beginning, I didn’t know about, or at least, for some reason long forgotten - I was completely unaware of camera bags! I used to use and make do with rucksacks and holdalls. The insides were fashioned, with empty boxes, re-enforced with sellotape to hold my gear – I was adept at this and spent many a year travelling in ignorant bliss! And I got by, without any issues – ignorance really is bliss! I’ve travelled thousands of miles with my improvised camera bags, they are now retired and gone though I still have one of those bags, however, these days it’s been relegated to keeping old equipment in a single place.
It was in the company of these bags that all but one of the following tales takes place with.
After arriving in India – January 1992 after a brief few days with relatives in Bombay, a short plane ride later found me in Delhi – I was a little apprehensive, this was my first trip alone. I took myself of to Connaught Circle, a short walk from my hotel, it was late afternoon and I wanted to experience Delhi on my first day there. I watched in fascination as a young German woman bartered with a hardened local woman sitting on the roadside (along with many others) selling hand stitched Rajasthani waist coats. The work was gorgeous, they looked amazing (the waist coats), and as the transaction was completed, I approached the German woman and enquired how much she had paid for it, “200 Rupees and a real bargain”, came the reply. And a bargain it seemed.
It was my turn now and I was interested in seeing what I could do, I’d never bargained for anything before, though I had seen it done. Her opening offer to me, however, caught me by surprise – 100 Rupees! I bought it for RS.75 from her and the next day I was paying RS.50, I bought several and still have them today, – 50 Rupees was One British Pound back then. No, it’s not stealing, it was 1992 and times were very different and she probably still made a good profit!
There was a realization on that trip to India, that in hotels Europeans and Americans were given preferential treatment, but on the street, that was a whole different matter and here I had a real advantage over most tourists.
During one those few enjoyable and interesting days in Delhi, I had booked myself on a Luxury Tourist bus to Agra. When the day of departure arrived, I set-off from my hotel, just before day light it was about 6.00am in the morning and I knew the journey was going to take a few hours – that was the extent of my knowledge. I was directed to my bus…” no, that surely can’t be it?” I had booked a luxury tourist bus, this one looked like one of the local buses to me – but it was and I soon got used to it.
Though I am an early riser; my system has never been great in the morning, I can get myself going fairly quickly, but I do need to be within decent reach of a toilet or washroom…Well, today wasn’t a bad start, the sun had been up for a while when the urge to pee suddenly came on. What stands out in my memory of that first leg of the trip, was I was the only person on the bus who spoke English and also the only person the bus who didn’t speak Hindi, I couldn’t get anyone to understand that I needed to pee. To compound matters, we were not passing any signs for Agra, there were plenty of signs for Kanpur – I had no idea where Kanpur was, only that Test Match Cricket was played there. I love cricket but just not at that moment!
It was only when the bus did stop and I was able to relieve my bladder and also my mind – Kanpur was not our destination, the bus was indeed going to Agra. What a relief, in more ways than one.
When the bus arrived in Agra, my goal was then to get myself to the Mumtaz, the hotel I would be staying at, I was still an unseasoned traveler, with not very much experience. I decided to take an autorick and having found one, the driver agreeing to take me to the hotel (I had no idea where it was) we set-off.
As the autorick moved off, three additional young men jumped on, one in the front and two either side of me, I was closed in. This had taken me by complete surprise and I admit I was scared – I had heard horror stories of people being waylaid by bandits in India and here I was now in a situation I did not know how I was going to get out of. I feared for my life. There were questions from my assailants of where was I from and what hotel I was going to, I don’t remember what I answers I gave to them, trying not to show them that was scared, and also trying not to give anything away. I did tell them that I was staying at the Mumtaz, which they seemed puzzled by – I guess I didn’t look like the type who would want to stay there, perhaps I looked a bit like a backpacker, who knows!
What happens next may seem incredible to some of you…with no warning at all, I dispatched the two assailants either side of me with furious violence, they never saw it coming…the guy in the front did however and as he swung into the back, I hurled him out of the rickshaw into the road and as he bounced wonderfully along, behind the speeding rickshaw, the driver decided he was better jumping off, rather than dealing with me and I was forced to climb into the front and bring it to a halt. All that and I hadn’t even had a moment to get my camera out and take a single shot. Actually, none of that happened, it only happens in films, we were all still in the rickshaw and I was still scared stiff.
But, you know, the realization soon dawned on me that these guys were not my assailants, they weren’t there to rob me or do me any harm – all they wanted was to know was, did I want to see their rug factory and was I interested in hiring their rickshaw to take me on a tour of Agra?! As I settled down, we had a pleasant conversation, my pulse steadied and when we arrived at the Mumtaz, they wouldn’t even allow me to carry my own bags – they were friendly and very decent people. My mind had run amuck but all was well, it was just another adventure.
The next post will be in two weeks...see you then.