The town of Fatehpur: nothing to get excited about. The first time I saw it, I said to myself: "What did you get yourself into?"
The first shock were the garbage collectors: everywhere you see pigs and cows eating the rubbish that people just dump in the streets.
At least they work all day and never go on strike but one big disadvantage: they don't eat plastic!
And plastic bags are everywhere.
The cows are gentle, but they have priority and one day one of them tried to steal my pineapple.
Indians feed all stray animals: dogs, cows, even birds.
But worse than all the animals are the motorcycles and the "tuk-tuk", sort of motorized rickshaws which speed down the streets with their horns blaring. Before ten o'clock in the morning, the streets are fairly clean, have been swept. But after a few hours, you must watch where you place your feet: besides the regular filth, there is cowshit and spit everywhere. Some people chew betel and spit the red juice that looks like blood.
I try to go as early as possible to the market to avoid the worst. Sometimes we go back to the market at night; it's closed most of the afternoon. At night, all the cats are grey as the French say so you don't really see how disgusting the streets are. I still wash my feet when I get home and take a shower every night before going to sleep, just because I always feel covered with dirt and germs whenever I go out. I wonder how long this will last... Already the streets seem less shocking to me.
The first shock were the garbage collectors: everywhere you see pigs and cows eating the rubbish that people just dump in the streets.
At least they work all day and never go on strike but one big disadvantage: they don't eat plastic!
And plastic bags are everywhere.
The cows are gentle, but they have priority and one day one of them tried to steal my pineapple.
Indians feed all stray animals: dogs, cows, even birds.
But worse than all the animals are the motorcycles and the "tuk-tuk", sort of motorized rickshaws which speed down the streets with their horns blaring. Before ten o'clock in the morning, the streets are fairly clean, have been swept. But after a few hours, you must watch where you place your feet: besides the regular filth, there is cowshit and spit everywhere. Some people chew betel and spit the red juice that looks like blood.
I try to go as early as possible to the market to avoid the worst. Sometimes we go back to the market at night; it's closed most of the afternoon. At night, all the cats are grey as the French say so you don't really see how disgusting the streets are. I still wash my feet when I get home and take a shower every night before going to sleep, just because I always feel covered with dirt and germs whenever I go out. I wonder how long this will last... Already the streets seem less shocking to me.
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