Gettin' Around: part 2

Delhi autorickshaw drivers are a devious bunch, quite persistent in their attempts to rip off foreigners. By law, they are supposed to use a meter, but they have developed many scams to get around it. During the exciting surprise visit of friends VT and JM last week, I passed along a few tips for dealing with the drivers, but then thought it might be of broader interest. These are some of my favorites, but feel free to add those I’m missing/probably currently getting scammed by!

To set the scene, imagine you’ve just waved down a rickshaw and told them your destination. Have you slid into the backseat and demanded the meter yet? No? Then it’s probably too late for you: the driver has cited an insane price, cheerfully saying “very good price, best price” and perhaps calling you his friend, which you certainly are not. Your only resort is the “smile, snort and walk away”, causing them to lower their prices slightly, but often not enough. Be fast, be aggressive, and don’t fall for the following tricks.

1. “My meter is broken” scam: at any moment, 99.9% of Delhi autorickshaw meters are “broken”, perhaps causing you were to wonder why such delicate machinery would even get installed. The percentage that are actually broken is closer to 1%, but this is how they try to get you take their inflated fees. While JM/VT were visiting, a driver tried this on them. As they wisely walked away to get another one, he chipperly shouted “Ok! Meter working now”, ably exhibiting the lack of shame that drivers feel about their lying, lying ways.

2. The “night meter scam”: by far the best and most prevalent. The meters in autos only record the distance traveled, but not the amount of money that is supposed to be paid (slight simplification). Thus drivers are supposed to carry around laminated sheets that give distance/price used for the meter. However, this sheet has two sets of prices: with a higher one for after 11pm. Drivers almost always try to charge the ridiculous night meter price unless you carefully monitor where they pull the price from.

3. The “I lost my sheet scam”: Often drivers will pretend that they lost their sheets and try to charge ridiculous prices. A couple of times I have gotten really annoyed, and started pawing through the driver’s possessions until they miraculously find the “lost” sheet. I can usually argue my way into the correct price, but am planning to go buy a sheet of my own to be like “ok, let’s check MY sheet” the next time they try to pull this stunt.

4. The “government surcharge” scam: where they pretend that there is some sort of tax so they have to charge you extra in addition to the meter price. If you’ve spent much time here, you should realize there is no chance that they’re paying any kind of taxes (unless you count bribes).

5. The “I’m only going to make you pay extra if you want to go to your EXACT destination” shake-down. Unless you’re aggressive, they’ll dump you out as soon as possible, demanding full fee. One time I was so irritated that I started to shout “[expletive], I will BURY you”, but cut myself off at the “will”, looking like a complete idiot. My anger did win the negotiation!

6. I’m loath to leave out old favorites such as the “do you want to stop at a shop on the way for a discount?”, “your hotel burned down, so let me take you to another one that is still intact” and the “there are riots right now, let me take you the very roundabout way around them” scams. But I should eventually move on from this list, as the creativity of scammers would make any comprehensive documentation quite long. Perhaps I’ll share more about other good scams in a later entry.

I should say also that not all autorickshaw drivers are like that. Specifically, there is one, and only one good autorickshaw driver that I have ever encountered. I had to drop off a package at the DFID office by 3pm, and because our central office had not gotten me the paperwork until around 2:20pm, still needing to be fully assembled, my stress levels were off the charts. Throughout the journey there, I had my laptop out in the backseat, frantically Google Maps-ing the unfamiliar destination as we sped through windy streets. We arrived at 2:57pm, and I nearly gave him a hug in addition to a generous tip*. That guy rules. But all others are pretty much thieves and scoundrels, if often amusing.**

To avoid some of this nonsense, I got a bicycle to ride to and from the office. It’s a short ride, and probably the best part of my day, though the heat means I’m usually covered with sweat by the time I arrive. However, I often draw a lot of attention for my strange get-up while riding, specifically wearing a helmet. While helmet wearing is mandatory on motorcycles for men, I have not seen even one other person wearing one on a bike. The other day, a truck was passing by, slowed down as the driver did a double take, and then came to a complete stop as he started laughing. Through the laughter, he managed to say (in Hindi): “What are you doing? You don’t need to wear a helmet.” I mumbled something back and kept going.

Recently, I have been quite tempted to go even further and buy a motorcycle. The main catalyst has been the start of more field work, where taking any other form of transit is a huge pain (autorickshaws often won’t take us to slums, and public transit can’t necessarily get us there). Lately I’ve been doing a lot of scouting, which basically consists of cruising around on the back of my project assistant’s motorcycle and trying to find slums to survey in. It is a pretty awesome way to explore Delhi; however, while I can now tell you accurately where a lot of slums are (a sample set of directions: go down Africa Ave, take a right at the market, and then a left at the three goats with the weird tumors), I am completely clueless about the main tourist sites. Fortunately for the sanity of my parents, I’m pretty sure I won’t get one: with Delhi traffic as it is, I don’t really feel like getting hit by a truck anytime soon.

Finally, many of you told me that for my birthday, I should have as little fun as possible, get more intense, and work until my eyes swelled shut. A few others said I should work less and do something fun, which of course seemed kind of silly. However those clowns in the silly second group won: it was also another RA’s last night in India, so we started at a classic Indian restaurant, Karim’s, home of the least healthy wraps on earth. The title wrap is somewhat misleading, as the dish is pretty much as greasy meat as possible stuffed in a little bit of naan, but my carnivorous friends assure me it is delicious. We then hit a nearby favorite bar, where there happened to be karaoke. The selection of the other groups present was interesting: all Western music, and bands like Linkin’ Park rather than the typical karaoke canon. Unsurprisingly, it was all REALLY bad. I think our group peaked when serenading the departing RA with “Leaving on a Jet Plane”, but there are plans to go back and make me do 50 Cent’s “In Da Club”. I’ll let you know if I top it.

*Tipping is not customary, and you look like a real tourist if you do it.
**One driver seemed to think Americans were all lotharios: asking me “in India, how many girlfriends you have?”, “how many times you sexed with your girlfriends?” (use of sex of a verb is both quite prevalent and hilarious), and “why not want girlfriend in India?” among other questions that are too inappropriate to post here. One being a five minute discourse on how pale and beautiful his wife was, which was painfully off-putting. At the end, he told me I had the “heart of an Indian”, which I thought might be a compliment.