up on a hill

It’s odd, but it seems that the longer I’m here, the more often I’m ripped off. Or maybe I just notice it more. It turns out that auto-rickshaw (a little yellow machine with three wheels and handlebars somewhat like a bike that has three gears and very little power) drivers can put their meters on a crazy double/triple rate setting, in which the fare advances really quickly. It’s designed for being stopped in traffic, but boy have drivers abused it recently. Needless to say, this trick of theirs has brought me into a couple of arguments. And then there’s the whole driving in circles issue.
So in the past few days, I’ve decided that the best policy is to negotiate a fixed price before-hand, something I only recently became familiar enough with the city to do. I still over-pay. It’s one of the many many situations in which I knew a little more Hindi than how to impeccably pronounce “what’s your name?” I know I’ll get ripped off until then, and that’s just life. I also understand why some people get so bent out of shape over being ripped off, but I don’t see the point. The way I see it, it’s best to try to get ripped off in a way that helps you too. And get the guy to stick to his word. A la:
So the first rickshaw driver this morning agrees to take us to the area around our destination, although he’s never heard of the place. We negotiate Rs. 100. A few minutes later, we’re being told that it’ll be Rs. 150. My friend goes a little ballistic, as I chuckle to myself. We inform him that his options are Rs. 100 or Rs. 0. He lives with it, and we bail on the ride early when we see the best Biryani restaurant in Hyderabad on our left (we pay 100).
After eating that magnificent spiced rice and chicken, we are on our way again. But no one has ever heard of the hill-top Buddhist temple that (surprise) Lonely Planet touts. The best we can do is a friendly policeman in a chair who explains to me in English and a driver in Hindi the directions to the vicinity we’re looking for.
And these drivers (the driver’s friend hangs out in the tiny small seat with him – it’s common) are awesome. They’re not insanely aggressive, and they’re intent on finding the place. We set a fixed price beforehand. Anyway it turns out that Banjara hills isn’t the only posh neighborhood around – we end up in Mahanra hills, which is damn well-off. Lots of nice apartments with spectacular views of Secunderabad and Hyderabad. I see a lot of HMWSSB (Hyderabad municipal water and sanitation supply board) construction going on – looks like they’re getting new pipes or some such. High priority for the government, I suppose.
Up in these dusty, narrow, terribly-kept streets, we ask a well-dressed guy where we can find the temple, and he immediately knows, but can’t describe it very well to me. He tells the earnest drivers instead. After I waste a minute to look at a sign with a really ambiguous arrow, we’re up another road and see it.
You know, I had given up any hope that it would be cool. But the place towers over everything around, has a cool bodhi tree painted on the top, and is new but sparse and almost classy. We were content to just look around and take pictures of the magnificent views of the city and the temple, which we knew didn’t open for a couple of hours. But a really nice guy comes down to the gate and ushers us in. We tell the drivers, probably the only ones within a kilometer, to wait and that we’ll go to Banjara afterwards. Don’t set a price. Whoops.
Next thing I know, I’m sitting in front of a monk with a strong face and bad teeth, who studied in Thailand. Can’t tell his nationality. I hear three things I didn’t expect – he’s only been around for a few months; he doesn’t trust Muslims; and he is a huge supporter of President Bush. He likes how the President stands up to communities and people that are doing bad things. Strong opinions that actually make me stop and think about why I oppose that guy so deeply. I should tell the monk that it’s deception, callous war-mongering without forethought; intentions and policy devoid of intelligence or planning; the very antithesis of Buddhism that I perceive in Mr. Bush and his administration, but I don’t. I want to hear his opinions far more than I want to give mine.
The view from the temple itself is even more breathtaking. The inside is kind of empty, but I like the mid-size orange Buddha they have in front. I donate only a little bit, after seeing the list of local big-shot donors on the wall. The monk told me earlier that the temple is very well-known in the area, and any rickshaw driver will know where it is. I didn’t tell him how apart from the city I really felt at that point.
After taking a book each, we’re headed back. The drivers have waited for about half an hour. Traffic is better than usual, but it’s pretty horrible. I really like the drivers’ style, and I’m pretty disappointed when we show up. Because like idiots, we didn’t fix the price, and left negotiation for arrival. These guys are human, and they ask for a crazy amount. And of course we pay.