Solo WomanTravelling—Do’s and Don’ts

Boys under a Banyan Tree, Village Jharki, Jharkhand

[A U.S. American female friend had once told me after her trip to India about how she felt safe in spite of everything—“ I think I loved India in that you can feel the presence of the Divine Mother the second you hit the ground.” As I reflect back on my travels, I also have come to hold, you need grace to travel, to travel safely and to travel alone as a woman.

Those of my readers who are atheists/agnostics or who do not believe in a Divine Feminine, please excuse the references. There is material for you beyond the references-:)

India, in my memories as a woman, was never a safe place. Whether it was the road across the lakes in Kolkata, or trains in Mumbai or buses anywhere in the country, heck, even the car of a family doctor was not safe for me! The house was unsafe, friend’s house when she was not around was unsafe, office rooms were unsafe, clinics were unsafe, heck, even the temple courtyard was unsafe. India made me walk very fast, awakened all my senses to a hyper alert state, and I always walked ready to fight. I do not remember many peaceful, sweet strolls.

But United States was not safe either. Try taking a 9 pm bus on central in Albuquerque and sit with almost-drunk, stoned, and high passengers or worse, those who did not get a fix today, you will know. Try checking into a motel in not-very-fancy parts of New York post midnight, a brown girl obviously travelling, and watch scamsters move into action. Try walking in one of those not-fancy alleys in San Francisco where you smell weed everywhere, where one can sense desperation and watch yourself taking to your heels. Or perhaps you don’t need to sense, observe a car slowing before you in a well-lit road in Albuquerque, and thank your luck that you started running before they began the chase.

One event sealed the fact that United States was no more safe than India. A 20-year or so female student in my public speaking class ended a tumultuous semester with a speech recounting her rape, her confusion whether her “no” had been convincing enough, forceful enough, and if she should have fought harder, as she crescendoed into a forceful “No” to those moments, to all the moments after that—her dark brown hair flaying, her eyes screaming, her hands gesturing shapes and symbols in the air—the Goddess avenging, the Goddess on the rampage.

No woman is safe anywhere in the world.

And yet, women do travel. Women travel well. I travelled. I remember a brilliant, talented woman of Indian-origin, after her uncomfortable journey through India, asking me if I could open routes for women like her to travel the off-beat path in a country that still elicited her and my passion and curiosity. I wanted to give her that. I wanted to give myself that—the sense this was my birth land and I had every right to know her whole.

I wanted to visit her villages. Not touristy places. Not architectural routes. Not scenic places. But rather villages where majority of her people lived. I did visit close to 60+ villages spread over 9 states in this year (2012). Mostly alone.

The following is what I learnt from that experience.]

You cannot visit Indian rural side looking vulnerable or fragile, unless you are a celebrity/politician and you arrive in a car. You have to look confident, strong, and able. Indian villagers are tough nuts—whether male or female and have no intention of being in awe of you just because you are from the city. 

It always makes sense to have contacts/connections in the areas you wish to visit. It allows you to see the Indian rural side from a local perspective. It also helps to keep you safe. Take time to develop those connections. In my case, my position as the program director for a rural development program helped gain access and trust. Further, I had given few impressive presentations on village development which had won respect from influential people in the field. The “blessings” in turn proved to be very helpful in gaining access.

You have to learn to do away with creature comforts. Sometimes it is too hot, sometimes cold and musty, sometimes the journey is rough and the place is too dirty, sometimes you walk in muck and dung, sometimes you have no place to sit for many hours. You have to constantly accommodate new cultures and new norms. Sometimes you have no time to wash and dry clothes and you wear the same set of clothes. For women, the condition of our hair and face makes a huge difference on how we perceive ourselves. While my hair survived (miraculously), my face did not. I had more eruptions than during my teens and it used to be horrible to look at myself in the mirror. In all such moments, when you are feeling depressed and sick, it helps to dress up for that one day—a way of saying “I am ok.”

Proper washrooms with clean toilets are an issue. Women tend to hold for hours which lead to urinary tract infections and other complications. I had learned by going on overnight treks with Chennai Trekking club on how to use the outdoors effectively but when you are walking around with men you have just met, it is very difficult to withdraw and use the “outdoors” alone!

It sucks to travel when you are having your periods. And it sucks even more if you are in villages and in stranger homes or rather hutments. Whereas you can take medicines to postpone your dates, I do not like any external interventions. I pray for grace and if grace does not come my way, I prefer to rough it out. In between, it horribly sucks when you are near the dates and your moods go crazy and you feel very tired and yet need to keep up conversation and movement.  I think I lost my temper more than once on unsuspecting people during the times-J

Rourkela, Odisha

In my travels, I spent 80% of the time exclusively with men. “Dehati” (native/rural) men are tough and from what I noticed are not used to “welcoming” and “hosting” women on-the-move. Often they shifted uncomfortably, as I sat in dinners and lunch as the guest-of-honor, the first one to be served and the first one to start eating. They winced when conversations centred around me, when I had the final say, when my speech was the one to be looked forward to. I felt no less uncomfortable. But I had to win their confidence, their respect. I sat as confidently as possible, ensured I got everybody’s introductions, always added in expert comments (it helps to read non-fiction of a great variety and listen carefully). I did not hesitate to give speeches in Hindi and adapt my accent to what I was listening locally. I spoke to kids in a hostel in Karanjo, I addressed orphan girls in an orphanage in Bishnupur, I spoke to guests on Independence day.  And then slipped into English for a Rotary presentation. Those speeches were important as they procured me respect.  On one occasion, an elderly man walked me through a garden path and asked me to identify trees and shrubs. While I did not know many of them, I did know some key not-well-known herbs and shrubs which saved my day. You are put under test. Rural folks are not in awe of urbanites (only young boys dream of a great city life but even they don’t think much about the knowledge levels of urbanites).

If you are well-educated and enter a village area with influence, men do take up most of your time and attention. I sometimes was embarrassed to have women serve me tea/snacks/dinner while I carried on animated conversations with the men. I had to always figure out a way to get alone time with women. One of my sweetest moments was in Uttar Pradesh when the woman of the house bunkered down with me and her kids. When the lights were switched off and the kids rolled to sleep, she whispered—“Didi, even I write poems!” and went on recite some of her very feminist poems.

Woman sitting in village Jharki, Jharkhand

I thought it would be easy for me as a woman to take photographs of women. But no, it was difficult when I was travelling alone. I saw women in various veils in trains between towns and villages in north India—whether a full face veil, a burkha, or head veil, and I saw the multiple moods in their eyes and often longed to click them. But as a solo traveller, men watched my actions carefully and I always felt unsafe in shooting “their” women. It was often better to hide my camera and seem docile in such cases. Most of the photographs of women were in homes with explicit permission of other family members or with other women.

As women, like men, we do have the right to dress as we feel fit. However, I have learnt to balance my right with respect for local cultures and traditions. It is okay to dress exotic for a night out in town in New Orleans, but not so when you are visiting Indian villages. I never wore jeans or stayed without a duppatta (scarf). I tied my hair as per local norms. In south Indian rural side and towns, I made every effort to look like a Tamilian girl. I dressed in styles that I noted local people wear and wore jasmine in my hair to complete the effect! In one amusing incident, I noticed a lot of women were staring at me, I realized I had not worn bangles (I hate anything around my wrist for long) and quickly try to correct the problem. In Uttar Pradesh I walked as an Upadhyaya, hair tied into a bun, with a certain attitude that no one would have ever thought of me otherwise. In Jharkhand, I dressed almost as a renunciate wearing white duppattas and absolutely no make-up. In Odisha, knowing the cultural mix of well-dressed marwaris and colourful tribals, I dressed more elegantly, more like a Bengali without ever giving up the very conservative attire. My clothes got me both access and safety.

Tweeting helps. My most important companions through my journey were my twitter mates-J The replies to my tweets, the RTs, and the many DMs all helped to not feel too alone and to get encouragement when the spirit was down. Twitter is also comparatively safe unless you give out your credit card number! Further, twitter helps you shape your reactions and reflections as you move along—at least, that was true for me. Some of my favourite twitter handles from the travel period: @alok_bhatt, @RURALINDIA, @Purba_Ray, @imai83, @artisdiary, @magic_eye, @santoshnc, @adithyaiy, @waatho, @subho65, @devilonwheeels, @JMR_CHN, @ShadowsGalore, @sudhagee, and @Iamtssudhir

[Caveat: Nisha, veteran woman traveller who blogs at http://www.lemonicks.com/Travel/about/me/ has added in some words of wisdom that I found important to add here. She does not give her exact coordinates on twitter as there may be stalkers out there. She calls her husband on an almost daily basis and lets him know of her whereabouts and next day's plans. Please do note this point.]

Finally, it helps to pray and ask for grace. For one never knows when things may turn awry. Especially for women like me who have the taste for the morbid and enjoy going to places where there is danger, grace is needed to maintain reason and emotional balance. Like the time I decided to go for a walk in the night in a strong naxalite-area in Chattisgarh and worried many...

Jagadalpur, Chattisgarh

For posts in this  Sa Ham - I am She navratri series

1.       Sa Ham-I am She

2.       She is She-Girl Child in India

3.       Mother Managers

4.