Losing the fear of being a woman: 8 tips for solo women travelers in India

This post is dedicated to my July-25^th-2013-me and to all the women who forgot to put inside their backpack their fears, so they could travel lighter, far away, as far as they wanted to go.

“Boluda, you don’t know how it is! It drives you crazy ...It's a mess, it’s a mess! Good we didn’t go there as backpackers, because I swear we would be dead. I tell you one thing: the woman who makes India on a backpack deserves my whole admiration.”

A cloud, like those ones that appear in cartoons, is framing my best friend, who shares her experience about her honeymoon in India. Meanwhile, I lay further down,terrified in bed in a fucking hostel in Delhi, victim of the first panic attackin my life, and ready to return home with borrowed money just 12 hours after I’ve arrived. What the HELL did I have inside my head when I decided to come to India alone?

Transit in Delhi.

I can’t explain precisely why, since forever, I was infatuated with going to India, to the extent that it was on the second place of my top 3 countries to visit. Especially if we consider that, when I arrived to Delhi, I realized that besides from the cliche Taj Mahal, I had NO fucking idea what to do there. In my mind, characterized by certain chronic adolescent traits, I think that, besides an utopia as big as The Arabian Nights, I had in mind that in no country I would see so many human extremes as in this one. I was right: India is a land of hyperbole and I think it is ESSENTIAL that appears in the curriculum of every traveler who claims to be one.

The problem was precisely the fear. That fear of, simply, being a woman.

I arrived to India a few months after the brutal attack to Amanat (a student from Delhi named like that by the media), who died a few days after six men put an iron bar inside her vagina during a group rape, while traveling in a moving bus, from which they threw her away. I arrived to India just a few weeks after an U.S. student was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress after a holiday in India. Anyway, I arrived at a time when all the backpacker horror legends about India have risen more strongly than ever from the newspapers pages.

But there I was. And I wouldn’t go back.

Today, I wish I could travel back in time and give my July-25^th-2013-me a very big hug. This post, in fact, I think is dedicated to that Andrea who the next morning, when she woke up, said: “I don’t have a husband who takes me to India for our honeymoon. I don’t have anyone else who makes my dreams come true, except myself. I don’t want to write the story of how I remained in Asia just for two days. I want to write the story of how I decided not to think about all the stories I could have told. "

Really. I want to go and hug that Andrea, and tell her I will be grateful UNTIL THE VERY LAST DAY OF MY LIFE for believing in herself, for swallowing her fear with a cup of coffee the next morning and for staying four months to live the most impressive country in which I have been so far.

Golden Temple. Amritsar.

So this post is dedicated to her and to all the women who have traveled alone to India, and especially to all those women who now are packing to go there, and have left on purpose, in their closets, what others may think, the tabloids, and the fear of, simply, being a woman.

Tip # 1. In Rome do as the Romans do

This is the first of my backpacker commandments, and since I'm writing these tips based on my personal experience, I honestly couldn’t start otherwise.

I am interested as well in improving the women’s situation in India, as any human being would be if he can feel at least some empathy for a country where even the simple fact of finishing being gestated is a challenge, given the high number of sex-selective abortions, calculated in 12 millions.

However, although I don’t believe in borders, much less in a passport, I personally don’t consider myself as one of the rights ones to make radical changes in the Indian mindset, imposing my Western habits all the time, something that even sounds neocolonial. So, if that means following sexist rules (from which in my country I would have rend my garments and I would have cheerfully begun neutering its precursors), either way, I will follow those rules in India.

First of all, I wield selfish and personal reasons. As a solo traveler woman in an unknown country, I don’t place my ideals over my basic personal safety. If this means to cover myself with clothes until my wrists and ankles, even when I am melting because of the heat, I will do it. If this means avoid smoking on the street, even when for me that doesn’t indicate that I am a prostitute, I will quit smoking. If this means staying locked at night alone without going out, I will stay.

Second, India is one of the most complex countries on the face of the earth (probably the most complex one), so pretend to understand its culture in a short time is naively utopian, to say the least (if not stupid). So I think us, foreigners, we are not the right ones to question and disobey certain practices in India. For me, that is the same as going to somebody else's house and start changing his bedroom’s furniture so feng shui energy can flow better, without even asking if this person believes in feng shui or not... At least, if you do that in my house, you would be in serious problems. So, don’t do it.

Therefore, if you go to India, even if it hurts you deep in your rational humanity, follow the crowd. There will be opportunities to share your opinion with other people and help to make a change in smarter ways than swimming against a current of 1.2 billion people.

Me at India's biggest mosque, with my head covered, following the rules.

Tip # 2. Before going to India, get married!

“Wuich contri, madam , wuich contri?” One of the typical questions from the Indian-street-tout repertoire. “Costa Rica and my husband is from Germany,” PLOP!  Just like that, direct and nonstop.

“Are you married?” One of the typical questions from the Indian-restaurant-Casanova’s repertoire. “Yes, I have been married for six years”. PLOP! Just like that, direct and non-stop, even when you have been married only for six seconds on your mind since the guy made the question.

“How are you today, madame?” One of the typical questions from the Indian-well-educated-guy’s repertoire. “Good, I am married.” PLOP! Just like that, direct and nonstop. “Do you want some coffee?” “Yes, I am married.” PLOP! “First time in India?” “No, I am married.”PLOP! (do not forget to ALWAYS say that IT IS NOT your first time in India) “What time is it?” “I am married.” PLOP! “Excuse madame, could you please ...” “No, I am married.” ALWAYS, ALWAYS, FOREVER AND EVER: “I am married!!!”

Before going to India, get married. Do not stick to a simple boyfriend. That's not enough: GET MARRIED. Many Indian men seem to have no respect for women, but they seem to have respect for marriage. I understand that many Indian guys may think that foreign women come by default with vaginas that don’t discriminate anybody, and they will try to hook up with you at all cost, but only with the verbal hologram of an imaginary husband is enough to keep them away most of the times.

I have to admit that, with this, my retro-romantic-literary side had a lot of fun. My husband during 4 months was a handsome German doctor (I gave him the passport of a more impressive and recognized world power than my humble Costa Rica, not to mention that I've always had a thing for learning German), who was in Nepal doing some volunteer work while I was taking a few days of holidays. He loved Russian literature and playing the piano in his spare time.

Unfortunately, as soon as I left India, we got divorced.

Tip # 3. Never go out alone at night

This tip was given by Pryanka, a very nice Indian girl whom I met in Berlin. I have to say that she was one of my biggest motivations to visit India just a couple of months after meeting her (although we could not meet each other at the end), because she said that, with all the bad things people talk about her country, she still wants to raise her future children in India. That made me feel curious and I wanted to know, by myself, why she said that.

If someone who has the better opinion of her country gives me this advice, then I will follow it as I follow the law of gravity. Therefore, after 7 pm, I didn’t go out alone, as if I couldn’t detach myself from my hotel room’s floor, attracted by the force of caution. It was not always easy: many times I was hungry at 10 pm and I had to take a sleeping pill because I could not go out to have dinner. It was very frustrating to feel that I had lost my freedom, but at least I knew it was temporary, just until next morning. Thank God, every day the sun rises.

India-Pakistan closing border ceremony. 

If I was able to take this picture at sunset is only because

I was with someone else. :p

Tip # 4. Travel at least in 3^rd class

Soon, there will be an English translation of a travel mini guide about India. There I explain how to book trains in India. For now is only available in Spanish.

Overall, India is very, very cheap, so it really worth paying a little bit more and travel in 3AC or 2AC in case of the trains, where families often travel with you and you will feel safer (some of them will even share their food with you). Much better than being with a bunch of single men in other classes like the Sleeper, where I even ran into a wagon full of soldiers, who were very willing to look at me throughout the 7 hours of the journey.

For buses, the same thing applies. If you have a long journey, avoid using local buses. Pay for what they call “Volvo” (please note that the “deluxe” buses were only deluxe in the 80s, when they bought them). Many bus lines even offer booking exclusive seats for women, as well as in Delhi and Mumbai’s subways there are carriages only for women.

Metro stop only for women. Delhi.

Linked to the previous point, avoid as much as you can arriving or leaving a city at night time. You don’t want to be in the same situation I was, when I was by myself at 4 am at a bus station, with a dozen men looking at me and a taxi driver who kept following me with the typical question “du yu nid rickshaw, madam?”

Tip # 5. Yeah, take a taxi or a rickshaw, but...

Who said you can’t take a rickshaw or a taxi by yourself? Only the fear. Of course you can! Just take into account that:

1.The safest way is to catch one of the police prepaid taxis or rickshaws (yes, they are managed by the police, because those who work with them must pass a test before starting), which are available in booths outside major airports and main train stations. In addition, you have guaranteed a fair rate.

2. Another safe way is to ask the people at the hotel to pick you up at the train station, especially if you are arriving at night. Many hotels even offer a free service. However, it happened several times to me that they didn’t show up at all (in India you need a lot of patience), but anyway, at least give it a try. Once at the hotel, you can ask for a recommended taxi or rickshaw driver. Some of them even have a system: they may show you a notebook in which their customers have recommended them in their native languages.

3. If you have no choice but to get on a taxi or rickshaw on the street, look for the license number (usually, it is written with white paint inside the vehicle), take your cell phone and  make a very loud ghost phone call. Remember to scream to your husband (yes, to your husband) that you are already on your way and you're in the taxi number XXXXX. At least, I always let it know to my husband, in a very basic English (although both of us could have spoken German :p ). Actually, my husband was never there to meet me. That was one of the reasons why we got divorced.

4. NEVER, NEVER EVER allow the driver to be with someone else in the taxi or in the rickshaw at the same time as you are there. IT DOESN’T matter if he says he is only his brother who is going just around the corner, if he says it’s only for your own safety, if he says it will be cheaper for you ... NO WAY. Get this motherfucker out of the vehicle now because while I'm in it, I pay and I call the shots. Period.

Line of rickshaws. Jaisalmer.

Tip # 6. Never look them in the eyes

In Costa Rica, we use a verb we call “enjachar”, which means staring at someone with an expression like bastard- I-am- going- to-smash- your-head-in-segments- as-if-it-was-a- tangerine, more or less. This, in India, doesn’t work at all. Men interpret that if you are looking at them you are inviting them, almost like if you were opening your legs. Avoid to stare at them the same way they stare at you.

For me, there is nothing worse than the look of many men in India. In Latin America, while it’s true that women are victims of a lot of sexual harassment on the streets, at least here men talk to you. Even when they may say something like: “Come one, baby, let me suck your tits”, at least we know what we are dealing with and we can react. In India men don’t say anything at all: they just stare at you. But that’s even worse, because you don’t know what this man may be thinking: you don’t know if he likes you, if he is undressing you with his eyes, if he is just curious about you, if he dislikes you, if he wants to jump over you... Once at a train station, I counted how long a guy stared at me. He was staring at me for 13 minutes. Thirteen minutes, with all its eternal seconds, nonstop, not even for a single moment.

If you stare back at them, for many of them it can mean: “Yes.” So they will approach. In Delhi, once I decided to “enjachar” a guy with my a-thousand-knives –coming-out -from-my- eyes kind of look. After a few seconds, he just approached me to see if I wanted to take a picture with him. PLOP!

Tip # 7. Defend yourself

Unfortunately, I learned this after two months, when after having gone to Nepal (in what some backpackers call “take a vacation from India”) , I returned to India so overwhelmed, that I was about to do some tolerant activities such as set fire to a rickshaw.

The truth is that I was really sick of guys staring at me and of being photographed all the time (I have the theory that the term paparazzi wasn’t coined in Italy, but in India, where many people take pictures of random foreigners walking down the street as a hobby). Actually, I have a rather strong character and when I have enough, I start to see everything in red due to the rage that clouds my bloodshot eyes. So one day, while walking in Calcutta, I realized that a kid of about 18 years old was taking pictures of me from the front sidewalk. Enraged, skipping Calcutta’s traffic (I don’t know how Mother Teresa didn’t die before, hit by car), I crossed the street and I stand in front of him: “Give me the camera!” Stunned silence. People staring. “GIVE ME THE CAMERA!!!” The guy, completely puzzled, gives me his camera. Delete.Delete.Delete. Every time I pressed the “delete” button, I felt more and more liberated.

In fact, as long as you are in a public place with enough people around you (which is not unlikely to happen in the second most populous country worldwide), just verbally defend yourself if you don’t like something. In India, what people may think of you is super important, it’s a society strongly based on the family and on the opinion of others, so if a man does something that bothers you, just say it very load. He knows he is doing wrong and he may even LITERALLY run away from you.

I felt infinitely powerful when I discovered how easy it was just to defend myself using my own word in public. It was like being human again, after being an object. Neither Pinocchio becoming a real child felt so good. And I assure you that you will count with the support of the people around you. In that wagon full of soldiers, in which I had to travel, after two hours of dealing with twenty pairs of eyes looking at me, I just said very load: “It's so annoying to have all these soldiers looking at me ... we still have five more hours to go. There is nothing interesting to look through the window?” Immediately, every single soldier started to look other way and a guy, a young Indian man, approached me and offered me change places with him, so they could no longer stare at me anymore.

That's right: do not generalize. Not all Indians are annoying. There are many gentlemen, Ghandi’s compatriots, walking around.

There are many kinds of men in India, as anywhere else in the world.

Tip # 8. Lose the fear

Thousands of women have traveled alone in India and thousands will continue doing it. And if we could, there is no reason for you not to go. While traveling, I met a Chinese girl who spoke no English, but NO ENGLISH AT ALL, not even “Where are you from?” And she was traveling all by herself, with a smartphone’s translator. It was not practical at all because each answer used to take about 10 minutes to get through the bilingual Chinese microchips, but well, anyway she shook the fear off her, she packed up and left. Personally, I think to this point she must be dead in a ditch, but if not, hopefully someday she and her translator will give us a blog post, because she is quite a heroine.

Chances are that if you go to India, you will survive. As I survived as well, even when I think no one could be more terrified than my alter ego in India on July 25th, 2013. I also survived. And nothing happened to me, except for one guy who touched my breast with his elbow on a street in Delhi. In fact, it was not until I sat down to write this post that I confirmed it, meanwhile I was reviewing some other articles from solo female travelers in India to be sure to contribute as much as I could. At that time, I had doubts because it seemed such a bizarre way to touch me that I didn’t know how to react. Rather, I felt sorry for him, because if touching my breast with an elbow (how much can you feel with an elbow for a second!) was his only satisfaction in a society in which so much pleasure in life is repressed, then poor guy who have to content himself with something so simple.

Anyway, the feeling during a second of a stranger’s elbow on my chest, a guy I will never see again in my life, it’s nothing compare to the feeling of the Himalayas weird skinny air in my chest. Being dressed from head to toe on a hot day is nothing compared to the chill that will shake your body in front of the Taj Mahal, until almost makes you cry. The eyes of many Indians on you are nothing compare to the eyes of the Milky Way in all its glory looking at you, in the midst of a night in the desert of Rajasthan.

So just go to India and lose the fear of, simply, being a woman. Your future self will thank you until the very last day of your life.

In Jodhpur, the blue city.