Day 19: The Rally Comes To An End

Day 19

As has become second nature, we woke before dawn and headed out of town. It was the last day with the autorickshaws and our last day of shooting. We were determined to do it right.

Back towards Vijayawada seemed like the shortest route to the countryside. The goal was to get a shot that illustrated a roadside intestinal emergency. Specifically Michael running from the rickshaw with TP in hand.

We found the perfect spot out in the desert. It just so happened to be across from the tent city for the School of Surveyors.

The set up was on a small rise of pink granite, just off the highway. The region is solid granite and marble, yet the buildings are all constructed of cheap brick, cement or palm leaves.

The photo turned out to be quite funny with only a few spectators around, all at a safe distance away. The ironic part of the shot was that we barely had any stomach problems at all. At least up until then.

Back in Hyderabad we decided to walk around town some. Our driving was done and the last photo taken. It was time to be tourists.

We struggled a bit under the blazing sun to find the side street entrance to the India Industrial Expo 2007 that I'd stumbled upon the previous night.

Finally it appeared and we paid our 10Rs. to get in.

Where the expo had been hundred and hundreds of tents with thousands of shoppers, now most tents were closed and no people milled about. There were no street vendors hawking blinky necklaces, fresh sugar cane water, mini poories, or watermelon. The expo was basically closed except for the a handful of shops and the ticket office.

They were willing to sell you a ticket if you were dumb enough to buy one.

We were, unknowingly.

Michael and Adam wanted some souvenirs and we got lucky and found a place with some cool stuff from the Indian state of Orissa. They are known for their delicate illustrations. The boys bought some amazing folding wall hanging made from palm leaves. They were intricately illustrated and hand cut. Medallions in each panel flipped open changing from a diety to a form of the kama sutra. Funny stuff.

Back at the hotel we called the Rickshaw Run organizers in the UK, to find out the progress on arranging a hand off. We were told they had a local lined up who would come to our hotel and lead us to a Bajaj dealer.

We cleaned up our chariots and prepared to say goodbye.

What once terrified us had now become a close friend. We never went as far as naming the vehicles, just calling them 'yours' or 'mine' for Adam or my auto.

Regardless we'd come to respect the mighty autos. They'd herded us over 2000 kilometers of Souther India, providing a thin protective layer of metal and vinyl between us and certain, messy death. We were going to miss driving them despite the rigors required. They would be quite fun to have back home.

Someone needed them more then us and we were glad they could provide a way of life for family.

Our contact guy arrived and led us on his moped to a nearby Bajaj place. It was a brief, bittersweet drive down a small alleyway.

Like all things in India, handling off 2 petrol-fueled auto rickshaes from 2 states over, was going to require lots of people staring, much paperwork (hand-written in triplicate,) time and patience. Not to mention frequent explanations of what 3 white dudes were doing driving Kerala-based autos, all of which needed to be translated into Urdu, Telugu and Hindi.

During this long and trying process I became aware of trouble in my abdomen. Instantly I felt the need to get back to the hotel - fast. Being only a couple blocks away I thought I could make it.

I did, but just barely.

After 3 weeks in Indai, nothing gave me "Delhi Belly" including the questionable street food, until I had the lunch in my fancy hotel. It would be the 'nice' place with the contrived cleanliness, utensils and napkins that would do me in.

Luckily, maybe because of the Cipro., I immediately started taking, my affliction was very temporary.

I was ready for culinary action by dinner that evening.

We relaxed that afternoon and let the idea of the end of the rickshaw traveling sink in.

Later that night, well rested and ready to try on our new roles, we set out for a fancy dinner.

We walked, much to the chagrin of the local taxi drivers, to the acclaimed restaurant, The Palace.

It sits atop Hyderabads tallest building, a squat, 8-storied concrete business structure, full of IT and software companies.

It's hard to believe that in one of India's largest urban sprawls, with millions of residents, no structure comes close to 8 stories tall.

Our windowside table afforded a panoramic view of the smoking Hyderabadi nightscape.

We were in a celebratory mood and relishing a rare non-vegetarian restaurant, we all ordered meat of some kind. I thoroughly enjoyed my Rajistani spicy ginger mutton. Michael had fish and Adam the murgh kabobs, also known as chicken.