Back to basics: travelling India with a backpack

Wed, 05 Feb 2014 12:58:12 +0000

I have always travelled; it is the strongest memory I have from childhood. I travelled a great deal with my grandparents during my primary-school years: in June, once school was out, they would take me with them to Calabria and bring me back to Rome in September, just in time for the new school year.

I also travelled quite a bit with my parents, up to the age of about 15 or 16 — skiing holidays, weekends away, my first big trip to the United States for a month, and summer holidays down by the sea in Calabria.

But above all I travelled an enormous amount on my own. And I started doing so very early. I have always been a girl with a strong desire for independence, which my mother knows well; she will probably never forget the days and nights I put her through with worry, because at 17 I was already leaving home — once to Turin, once to Pescara, once to the Netherlands to attend a large international hackers’ gathering. And I always travelled very light: in my backpack I kept only the essentials, a book, a notebook, and my inseparable CD player (a tremendous must-have at the time). I did not even know what a suitcase or a trolley bag was. I kept on like that for years — on Saturdays, the moment school ended at one o’clock, I would run to the station to catch the train and reach all those people the internet had given me and whom I absolutely wanted to meet.

First snapshots from India

Thu, 07 Mar 2013 10:00:58 +0000

10:30 pm, we finally land in Mumbai. After a journey of almost 24 hours that began the previous night at my friend’s home, I finally set foot on Indian soil. A scent of incense accompanies us along the corridor that will take us out of the airport. The first impact is indescribable. Stimuli of every kind arrive from every direction; sounds, colours, smells mingling together. The chaos is incredible; our taxi has yet to arrive and while we wait I find myself unable to do anything but stand hypnotised by what I see before me. However much you may prepare by reading and reading articles, nothing turns out the way you expected or imagined. The impact is strong, at times overwhelming, and I must be honest — not always pleasant.

Our taxi finally arrives; we get in and I discover they drive on the left as in England. This alone, for those of us accustomed to driving on the other side, creates a certain unease; add to that the fact that Indians drive rather like maniacs and you’re guaranteed a heart attack every other moment. Forget every road rule you know, because here they don’t exist. Absurd overtaking, lanes unmarked, the chances of encountering absolutely anything on the road are extremely high. The other peculiarity is that everyone constantly honks their horn — it’s a delirium! But apparently it is simply their way, so much so that you find written on trucks and buses “Horn Ok Please”.

Pune - Simona Forti

We cross a suburban area where poverty appears naked and raw in its entirety. Small children walking barefoot near piles of rubbish or amid the dust and rubble of construction sites; powerful smells of food and something else not quite identifiable; tiny, vividly coloured temples rising up among shacks of every description. India is not a country that shines for its cleanliness — we know this well — so come to terms with it and go only if you have a great capacity for adaptation. And I’m not just talking about the physical kind.

Backpacker on nhaima

Back to basics: travelling India with a backpack

First snapshots from India