Moving around places in the Indian city....

          Unless one is wrapped in the cosy confines of the packaged tour, the independent tourist to India is all alone on the gritty streets. These are narrow, very crowded, strewn with garbage, wandering cows, sleeping dogs, beggars and potholes big enough to sit in, plus any other obstacles you can imagine. The locals don’t speak much English despite assurances from every one earlier in my journey that the population in Tamil Nadu are near fluent in it—just not true. . These self employed drivers are masters of psychology, they seem to know just how much ones feet are aching, how urgently one needs the washroom etc…is it written so clearly on the customer’s (the tourist’s) face?

Bottom-line, any visitor with touristic aspirations, relies heavily on the auto rickshaw driver to be transported from point A to point B, or C or point D…..etc. These guys, never ladies, prowl the streets, like flies, seeking lost souls (like myself) in their noisy, open-sided motorised scooters. Easily identifiable in their uniform green & yellow livery, they come to a screeching halt if one as much as throws a glance in their direction. Here in Chennai at least, all auto rickshaws are fitted with meters that according to their driver-masters, are not working properly so its time to do the negotiating tussle. They quote 300 rupees ($5.50) for the trip, counter at 150 upon threatening to find another auto, settle at 200 rupees. Fun at first, just plain tiring on the 50 ^th go around.

                 Born , high influencer type of salesman, the auto-rickshaw drivers are fast to accept the fare and declare precise knowledge of the required routing to deliver to a specific address—problem being that they only have in general, an idea, a feeling, of the location of the target location. Yesterday, my driver kept muttering ‘25 years experience’---still couldn’t find even the area, let alone my guest-house address.

Having said all that, I have clocked probably a few hundred kilometres so far in auto rickshaws and am still alive to tell the tale. Horrific road congestion and totally in a free-for-all environment---the driver with the loudest horn wins the day.

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             Pleased to note, contrary to my expectations prior to arrival in India, that there are very few flies about, despite refuse and food waste being scattered all over the foot paths and roads. Would have thought this would have been the Mecca, the perfect breeding ground, given the heat & humidity, for the world’s flies. OK, a few but nothing to create undue annoyance. Even more pleasing is the absence of mosquitoes, at least in the list of cities I have visited so far. I am religiously popping my malarial antibiotic pill each day and have carried with me protective netting. Perhaps required later when some of my accommodation is in smaller towns nearer the beach.

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 Passed a “Hitler” clothing store today. Clothing for the stylish modern man, it claimed. ‘Hitler is awesome’ it shouted. Interesting and provocative (as in ridiculous) marketing approach!!