Factiod #1: Indian men link pinkies just because they are friends. No sexual orientation implied! Women, on the other hand, do not.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
fyi - brotherly love
Factiod #1: Indian men link pinkies just because they are friends. No sexual orientation implied! Women, on the other hand, do not.
another strike, strattled
Well wouldn't it be just our luck to encounter the indefinite strike of the Ghorka people as we are trying to leave Sikkim. The Ghorkas are a group Nepali migrants that have been living in the Darjeeling hill area for around 30 years. While Darjeeling is technically within the state of West Bengal, residents think of it as an independent entity. And rightfully so, the culture is incredibly different there. These people were protesting in their demand to declare the area its own state, independent from West Bengal. Which is, obviously, not going to happen any time soon.
This whole strike was a problem for us because the activists had shut down the one and only highway that connects the state of Sikkim to the rest of India. So there was no way out until the Ghorkas said go. Besides the fact that this way an annoyance for me and that I spent five days caught up in this strike business, it was fascinating to see how the residents reacted. They really didn't seem to mind. Shutting down this highway is essentially cuts off their lifeline, forcing them to ration food, petrol, water, etc. And yet everyone is so used to this kind of political activity that the 'wait it out' method is really all they can do.
After being trapped, so to speak, in Sikkim for a few days, we had to assess our options. One was taking a helicopter out of the capital city for about $60. But the waiting list was two weeks long. We could also wait amongst the throngs of people at the government bus station to get on one of the 12 buses that were being permitted to leave town. Or we could walk to the border and beg/bargain with the border police to let us through. People were even talking about making the 120km trek to Siliguri, where they would be out of the strike's perameters, on foot. And being a tourist didn't really grant us any preferential treatment.
Luckily, the Ghorka movement granted a 12-hour period of 'relaxation' for the highways in order for vehicles to come and go from Sikkim. But 12-hours only! We woke up at the crack of dawn to ensure that we would be in one of those vehicles and by the time we arrived at Siliguri, people were literally shoving us out of the car to secure their own places for the ride back.
After all was said and done it was pretty cool to drive through these strike areas and see everything shut down. Such solidarity! I have to admit that I really respect their ability to stage such ruckus. In the U.S., we so rarely stick together and protest against the things that we so frequently get angry about. I think the difference is one of belief. Too often, our opinions exist independently of our beliefs and therefore our efforts to reform have no gumption. We have a lot to learn from you Ghorkas!
This whole strike was a problem for us because the activists had shut down the one and only highway that connects the state of Sikkim to the rest of India. So there was no way out until the Ghorkas said go. Besides the fact that this way an annoyance for me and that I spent five days caught up in this strike business, it was fascinating to see how the residents reacted. They really didn't seem to mind. Shutting down this highway is essentially cuts off their lifeline, forcing them to ration food, petrol, water, etc. And yet everyone is so used to this kind of political activity that the 'wait it out' method is really all they can do.
After being trapped, so to speak, in Sikkim for a few days, we had to assess our options. One was taking a helicopter out of the capital city for about $60. But the waiting list was two weeks long. We could also wait amongst the throngs of people at the government bus station to get on one of the 12 buses that were being permitted to leave town. Or we could walk to the border and beg/bargain with the border police to let us through. People were even talking about making the 120km trek to Siliguri, where they would be out of the strike's perameters, on foot. And being a tourist didn't really grant us any preferential treatment.
Luckily, the Ghorka movement granted a 12-hour period of 'relaxation' for the highways in order for vehicles to come and go from Sikkim. But 12-hours only! We woke up at the crack of dawn to ensure that we would be in one of those vehicles and by the time we arrived at Siliguri, people were literally shoving us out of the car to secure their own places for the ride back.
After all was said and done it was pretty cool to drive through these strike areas and see everything shut down. Such solidarity! I have to admit that I really respect their ability to stage such ruckus. In the U.S., we so rarely stick together and protest against the things that we so frequently get angry about. I think the difference is one of belief. Too often, our opinions exist independently of our beliefs and therefore our efforts to reform have no gumption. We have a lot to learn from you Ghorkas!
Saturday, July 25, 2009
welcome to india
Crossing the border from Nepal to India went like this. The Nepali visa officers greeted us with smiles and said it was a shame that we had to leave so soon. Then we crossed over to India and the Indian visa officer wasn't there to stamp our passports. We waited for him for twenty minutes and when he finally arrived to do his job he was drunk. Welcome back!!
Our first move was up to the beautiful state of Sikkim, which was actually an independent kingdom until 1975 when it merged with India. Although they enjoy Indian statehood, ask any of the Sikkemese people and they will tell you that they don't consider themselves Indian at all. Judging by the special tourist permit that you need to get to enter the state, their government has taken special measures to let tourists know that.
Unfortunately, my first few hours in Gangtok, the provincial capital of Sikkim, were panicked. Jack, my travel buddy, got some serious food poisoning that had him in and out of consciousness. So we went to the emergency room - what a trip! It was not so dirty that you had to worry whether or not the needles were clean. BUT they didn't even have the time to diagnose him before they shot him up with painkillers. I was pretty nervous the whole time and so I was looking up all these mysterious medicines on my phone to see what they were. One of them was a painkiller intended for the digestive system - good. But intended to be used on horses - BAD. Medical waste out in the open, no bandaids. I mean, it wasn't horrible but when the nurse gave him a shot and asked me to rub it (with my dirty hands) my hyper-sterile, Western nature cringed.
But it is always a lesson. What was interesting about the visit to the hospital was that the service was free - but the drugs were not. Right across the street from the hospital was the pharmacy where the patients' chaperons are meant to go buy the prescriptions and walk them back to hospital. In other words, if you could not afford the medicine, it seemed like all the nurses could do was put you on a drip and let you stay on a cot, or on the floor, until you felt better. And judging by the patronage of the emergency room, there were plenty of people camping out just in case they went into critical condition.
Our first move was up to the beautiful state of Sikkim, which was actually an independent kingdom until 1975 when it merged with India. Although they enjoy Indian statehood, ask any of the Sikkemese people and they will tell you that they don't consider themselves Indian at all. Judging by the special tourist permit that you need to get to enter the state, their government has taken special measures to let tourists know that.
Unfortunately, my first few hours in Gangtok, the provincial capital of Sikkim, were panicked. Jack, my travel buddy, got some serious food poisoning that had him in and out of consciousness. So we went to the emergency room - what a trip! It was not so dirty that you had to worry whether or not the needles were clean. BUT they didn't even have the time to diagnose him before they shot him up with painkillers. I was pretty nervous the whole time and so I was looking up all these mysterious medicines on my phone to see what they were. One of them was a painkiller intended for the digestive system - good. But intended to be used on horses - BAD. Medical waste out in the open, no bandaids. I mean, it wasn't horrible but when the nurse gave him a shot and asked me to rub it (with my dirty hands) my hyper-sterile, Western nature cringed.
But it is always a lesson. What was interesting about the visit to the hospital was that the service was free - but the drugs were not. Right across the street from the hospital was the pharmacy where the patients' chaperons are meant to go buy the prescriptions and walk them back to hospital. In other words, if you could not afford the medicine, it seemed like all the nurses could do was put you on a drip and let you stay on a cot, or on the floor, until you felt better. And judging by the patronage of the emergency room, there were plenty of people camping out just in case they went into critical condition.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
i need a reward for leaving this country
Leaving Nepal. Well. I just. Man, I had some difficulties is what I am trying to say!! Our initial plan was to go back to Kathmandu and renew our visas to stay a bit longer (avoiding India, perhaps?) but decided against it when the price to renew was a full $60! So we got on the bus ride from hell instead.
There was an evil man, who kept making fun of us, making the whole bus laugh, and looking down my shirt. The driver was a madman, rip roaring down the mountains and it took us about 5 hours longer than we had anticipated. But the thing that was really getting under my skin was that the bus kept stopping for all the men to get out and take a bathroom break, but not for the women. If it were socially acceptable for women to use the side of the road also, this wouldn't bother me. But the fact that we were all expected to just wait it out completely infuriated me. What? You think you can look down my shirt for hours on end and then not give me the courtesy of a bathroom? Hell no. Sitting in the very rear of the bus where we were jumping like fleas at every pot hole wasn't helping my mood either. Nor was the fact that the whole bus was watching us hold on to the seats for dear life like it was a spectator sport. At the next pit stop, I said 'screw you all' and went to the bathroom right alongside all the other men on the bus. If I thought I had some staring problems before....
In retrospect, I recognize that my actions were coming from a negative, vengeful place and they really only served to perpetuate stereotypes of Western women. I guess when people treat you like you are the stereotype so consistently, it makes you want to give up the fight and just be it. That's immature, I know. But secretly, I sure hope everyone on that bus saw it. I have the right to the side of that road too!
There was an evil man, who kept making fun of us, making the whole bus laugh, and looking down my shirt. The driver was a madman, rip roaring down the mountains and it took us about 5 hours longer than we had anticipated. But the thing that was really getting under my skin was that the bus kept stopping for all the men to get out and take a bathroom break, but not for the women. If it were socially acceptable for women to use the side of the road also, this wouldn't bother me. But the fact that we were all expected to just wait it out completely infuriated me. What? You think you can look down my shirt for hours on end and then not give me the courtesy of a bathroom? Hell no. Sitting in the very rear of the bus where we were jumping like fleas at every pot hole wasn't helping my mood either. Nor was the fact that the whole bus was watching us hold on to the seats for dear life like it was a spectator sport. At the next pit stop, I said 'screw you all' and went to the bathroom right alongside all the other men on the bus. If I thought I had some staring problems before....
In retrospect, I recognize that my actions were coming from a negative, vengeful place and they really only served to perpetuate stereotypes of Western women. I guess when people treat you like you are the stereotype so consistently, it makes you want to give up the fight and just be it. That's immature, I know. But secretly, I sure hope everyone on that bus saw it. I have the right to the side of that road too!
on the road again oohwoohoo
There are certain things that you absolutely must do. One of those things is nature stuff that involves sweating, hiking, biking....etc. So after a sad goodbye to Mel, who had to return to New York for her job training, Jack and I continued north to Pokhara. The town sits picturesque on a lake ringed with rice fields. I'm still curious about how they keep track of which rice field belongs to who because there are dozens of them separated only by thin, grass boundaries. They are so beautiful though the way they are even etched into the mountainsides. And people haul ass up there with their cows even in the pouring rain.
Pokhara is beautiful, but the center of town is quite the tourist ghetto. Even during the low-season, there were too many white people there for comfort! We had a nasty scene in our first hotel room because when we went to bed, we discovered there were dozens of cockroaches under our bed - we ran out of that room at 10pm with the hotel manager swatting at a roach the size of my middle finger. And, I have never been offered so many drugs in my life. While the penalty for drugs is way harsh in Nepal, people were pretty openly selling, buying, and smoking hash. Now, of course, there is nothing wrong with smoking hash. But I couldn't help but wonder what kind of affect this business could be having on the local community. If it is technically illegal, the trade is forced underground and surely dangerous to be involved in. And I can't imagine what kind of perception they must have of foreigners to offer a woman drugs so casually. They would literally yell what they were selling from down the street! When I walked out of a store once and a man as old as my grandfather offered me drugs I knew, rightly - no hash for me!
I did partake in some nature-business, although not without some trouble. We did a four hour hike up a mountain to the World Peace Pagoda, which was incredible! I am not all that into hiking, but the gratification that awaits the top of a mountain is undeniable! Less strenuous was a lot of nice biking around the lake. The rain was pretty on and off, so we got soaked. But that's all in good fun! Biking also gave us the chance to get away from the touristy areas in order to see some real-life. And as it turns out, people don't like tourists all that much! Ha, imagine that! One restaurant we went to actually denied us service. Not formally, of course. But we asked for food and while they were serving a bunch of other Nepali people, they told us that they didn't have any food. Hmmm. As frustrating as that is, sometimes I just have to accept that when I'm in someone else's country they have the right to do that kind of thing. Which, as an American, seems crazy-I don't think of my city or country belongs to anyone in particular. To each country, their own.
Pokhara is beautiful, but the center of town is quite the tourist ghetto. Even during the low-season, there were too many white people there for comfort! We had a nasty scene in our first hotel room because when we went to bed, we discovered there were dozens of cockroaches under our bed - we ran out of that room at 10pm with the hotel manager swatting at a roach the size of my middle finger. And, I have never been offered so many drugs in my life. While the penalty for drugs is way harsh in Nepal, people were pretty openly selling, buying, and smoking hash. Now, of course, there is nothing wrong with smoking hash. But I couldn't help but wonder what kind of affect this business could be having on the local community. If it is technically illegal, the trade is forced underground and surely dangerous to be involved in. And I can't imagine what kind of perception they must have of foreigners to offer a woman drugs so casually. They would literally yell what they were selling from down the street! When I walked out of a store once and a man as old as my grandfather offered me drugs I knew, rightly - no hash for me!
I did partake in some nature-business, although not without some trouble. We did a four hour hike up a mountain to the World Peace Pagoda, which was incredible! I am not all that into hiking, but the gratification that awaits the top of a mountain is undeniable! Less strenuous was a lot of nice biking around the lake. The rain was pretty on and off, so we got soaked. But that's all in good fun! Biking also gave us the chance to get away from the touristy areas in order to see some real-life. And as it turns out, people don't like tourists all that much! Ha, imagine that! One restaurant we went to actually denied us service. Not formally, of course. But we asked for food and while they were serving a bunch of other Nepali people, they told us that they didn't have any food. Hmmm. As frustrating as that is, sometimes I just have to accept that when I'm in someone else's country they have the right to do that kind of thing. Which, as an American, seems crazy-I don't think of my city or country belongs to anyone in particular. To each country, their own.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
on the top of the bus?
Leaving Kathmandu was so fun!!! The city is really incredible, very cosmopolitan and affluent. But the nature in Nepal is something else. We took a short bus ride out to the mountains in Nagarkot and stayed in a grody, moldy hotel room. Three to a bed. And had a blast. The best part was coming back into town and riding on the roof of the bus through the twists and turns of the mountain. Ahhh. At first, I was holding on for dear life. But the fact is, riding those buses is no safe from the inside. There are no rails on the edge of the cliffs and the drivers speed up and down the mountains like hellfire. Well, if I am going to fear for my life, I am at least going to enjoy a nice view! And its cheaper.
I had the most unpleasant, but useful conversation with a Ukrainian girl on the top of the bus. Her first remark after hearing that I was from the U.S. was. "You know there are two kinds of people the world hates: Chinese and Americans" Now, now, now. I know that the world has a poor impression of my country. And honestly, I know better than most the failures of the American way. But I have never felt so defensive about it. I am now traveling with an Australian, so I am kind of own my own as far as defending America goes. My god. I am the worst candidate for that job. But what I really have a hard time with is this idea that people around the world, by and large, don't make a distinction between me and the actions of "my" government. On one hand, it's frustrating that these people can't see the humanity that exists behind every government. But what is even worse, is that that Americans do so little to redeem our country. You don't meet too many Americans out here. But those that I have met, have been by and large, rude and obnoxious. They define the stereotype of Americans. And make it even harder for me to dispel some of the misconceptions of that country that voted Bush in two times in a row.
Although it sounds damn cheesy, the only thing I can do with people who tell me to my face that my country sucks- that it is evil and ruining mankind- is be patient with them. To hear them out and attempt to have a real conversation about is to project an air of diplomacy that our country desperately needs. Because it makes a difference, if I am the only American the meet in the next year - they are going to remember how I carried myself. I had a man rip me on the Iraq War today and I just nodded my head and tried to be in agreement. In most cases, that's the best I can do. Trying to explain my own gripes with the American government is more than broken English can handle! Being in a situation where people are immediately judging you for your nationality is pretty humbling. I have something to prove here. So if you were wondering - I didn't throw that Ukrainian girl off the top of that bus.
I had the most unpleasant, but useful conversation with a Ukrainian girl on the top of the bus. Her first remark after hearing that I was from the U.S. was. "You know there are two kinds of people the world hates: Chinese and Americans" Now, now, now. I know that the world has a poor impression of my country. And honestly, I know better than most the failures of the American way. But I have never felt so defensive about it. I am now traveling with an Australian, so I am kind of own my own as far as defending America goes. My god. I am the worst candidate for that job. But what I really have a hard time with is this idea that people around the world, by and large, don't make a distinction between me and the actions of "my" government. On one hand, it's frustrating that these people can't see the humanity that exists behind every government. But what is even worse, is that that Americans do so little to redeem our country. You don't meet too many Americans out here. But those that I have met, have been by and large, rude and obnoxious. They define the stereotype of Americans. And make it even harder for me to dispel some of the misconceptions of that country that voted Bush in two times in a row.
Although it sounds damn cheesy, the only thing I can do with people who tell me to my face that my country sucks- that it is evil and ruining mankind- is be patient with them. To hear them out and attempt to have a real conversation about is to project an air of diplomacy that our country desperately needs. Because it makes a difference, if I am the only American the meet in the next year - they are going to remember how I carried myself. I had a man rip me on the Iraq War today and I just nodded my head and tried to be in agreement. In most cases, that's the best I can do. Trying to explain my own gripes with the American government is more than broken English can handle! Being in a situation where people are immediately judging you for your nationality is pretty humbling. I have something to prove here. So if you were wondering - I didn't throw that Ukrainian girl off the top of that bus.
Monday, July 20, 2009
kathmandu for beginners
After MUCH deliberation, we finally decided to make the trip over to Nepal. It was so close, we could almost touch it and so the risk of going at a somewhat turbulent time faded away in light of how incredible the idea of Nepal sounded. To make a long, drawn out conflict seem incredibly simple, the problem in Nepal right now is that Maoist activists have been calling state-wide strikes in order to pressure the new government into installing a Maoist leader as the head of the military. Otherwise known as a bandh, the strikes literally shut down all the stores, keep cars off the streets, and butcher any tourists hope of keeping a schedule. We booked our tickets to Nepal thinking that by the time we got there, the whole situation would have blown over - it didn't.
The day before we arrived there was a bandh that had the Youth Communist League rolling burning tires through the streets and beating up drivers and shop owners that failed to comply with their demonstration.
Well it is a good thing that the media does blow things out of proportion! We decided to go anyways and were totally blown away by how calm the vibes of Kathmandu were. What we realized pretty immediately was that strikes are just a very normal part of Nepali culture and politics. It's hard to understand that things are pretty much safe because they ask passengers to get off the bus before the burn it.
For a country that has been so fraught with violence and political turmoil, the country has a ton of tourist ghettos. The first night in Kathmandu, the taxi drivers nearly insisted that we stay in the tourist district of Thamel. Where he would be sure to get a commission and where everything is five times the price. During the low-tourist season this tourist ghetto is especially eerie because there are an overwhelming number of tour operators and curio shops, but hardly any tourists.
One of the biggest differences between my experience in Nepal and India is that while the Nepalis are absolutely welcoming and gracious - they do NOT stare at you. That must have something to do with the population difference. There are just so many people in India that the concept of privacy is very, very different. Staring or taking pictures without someone's permission is obviously not taboo in a country where people wash themselves in the street.
But there are similar tourist traps. On our first night, we were approached by a mother and her two daughters, who at first seemed like they really just wanted to practice their English. But then they started inviting us to their house. We agreed to go to their house in the morning...
So we go their house (a short walk from the city center brought us to the more outer-district of Kathmandu. Their house was incredible. It was made out of just metal sheets posted together. I can't even imagine how it stands up during the monsoon!! We had just gone to hang out, but they were all about impressing up. After the ritual cup of chai, they made sure to let us know that they had converted to Christianity and invited us to pray with them. Or sing with them really for about five minutes! It was so surreal to see these people so sincerely feeling Jesus in a land where I have really only seen Islam, Buddhism, and Hinduism. They explained that they converted after they left their alcoholic father and a Christian church in Kathmandu took them under their wing.
Don't get me wrong, these people were not malicious at all. We were having a great time until we started walking around town and the kids started asking us to buy them things with an urgency that made us think they had ulterior motives. We left them pretty abruptly after we started to get uncomfortable. I feel pretty bad about it, actually. Inviting us into their home was so generous of them and I really wish that we had been able to leave with the impression that people could just be that nice with no strings attached. But that is so rarely the case, even in my own world.
The day before we arrived there was a bandh that had the Youth Communist League rolling burning tires through the streets and beating up drivers and shop owners that failed to comply with their demonstration.
Well it is a good thing that the media does blow things out of proportion! We decided to go anyways and were totally blown away by how calm the vibes of Kathmandu were. What we realized pretty immediately was that strikes are just a very normal part of Nepali culture and politics. It's hard to understand that things are pretty much safe because they ask passengers to get off the bus before the burn it.
For a country that has been so fraught with violence and political turmoil, the country has a ton of tourist ghettos. The first night in Kathmandu, the taxi drivers nearly insisted that we stay in the tourist district of Thamel. Where he would be sure to get a commission and where everything is five times the price. During the low-tourist season this tourist ghetto is especially eerie because there are an overwhelming number of tour operators and curio shops, but hardly any tourists.
One of the biggest differences between my experience in Nepal and India is that while the Nepalis are absolutely welcoming and gracious - they do NOT stare at you. That must have something to do with the population difference. There are just so many people in India that the concept of privacy is very, very different. Staring or taking pictures without someone's permission is obviously not taboo in a country where people wash themselves in the street.
But there are similar tourist traps. On our first night, we were approached by a mother and her two daughters, who at first seemed like they really just wanted to practice their English. But then they started inviting us to their house. We agreed to go to their house in the morning...
So we go their house (a short walk from the city center brought us to the more outer-district of Kathmandu. Their house was incredible. It was made out of just metal sheets posted together. I can't even imagine how it stands up during the monsoon!! We had just gone to hang out, but they were all about impressing up. After the ritual cup of chai, they made sure to let us know that they had converted to Christianity and invited us to pray with them. Or sing with them really for about five minutes! It was so surreal to see these people so sincerely feeling Jesus in a land where I have really only seen Islam, Buddhism, and Hinduism. They explained that they converted after they left their alcoholic father and a Christian church in Kathmandu took them under their wing.
Don't get me wrong, these people were not malicious at all. We were having a great time until we started walking around town and the kids started asking us to buy them things with an urgency that made us think they had ulterior motives. We left them pretty abruptly after we started to get uncomfortable. I feel pretty bad about it, actually. Inviting us into their home was so generous of them and I really wish that we had been able to leave with the impression that people could just be that nice with no strings attached. But that is so rarely the case, even in my own world.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
mother ganga
They say that in India you will never get what you want. And while I have found this trekker’s wisdom to be infallibly true, we finally got something we wanted - sort of. Train ticket confirmation!! That seems so simple, but to get on a 15 hour train ride to the holy city of Varanasi was such a relief. Even though kind people will invariably make space for you to sit, being a stowaway really sucks. Varanasi sits right on the bank of the Ganges river and has an ancient, rusty feel to it. We are staying in the Old City where the streets are incredibly narrow and cows have priority over cars and pedestrians alike. The river sides is divided up into over a dozen ghats where specific rituals take place. Lucky for us - we are staying near the ghat that specializes in cremation….
So right on the banks closest to our guesthouse, there are platforms set up where bodies are burned and the ashes then spread in the river. It’s quite normal to see people walking through the streets carrying bodies covered in bright cloths and flower garlands up on slabs of wood. We were sitting down by this part of the river and actually had ashes falling on us - our signal to peace OUT! About ten years ago, people’s dead bodies were just thrown in the river without being cremated - this practice has been outlawed due to ‘obvious’ sanitation implications. They say that you used to be able to see bodies just washing up shore.
What is most incredible to me about this river is that despite its outrageous pollution, the people of the city still bath in it and even drink the holy water. But the water is literally septic beyond imagination. The Ganges river contains about 1.5 billion particles of fecal matter per liter, whereas normal water contains about 500. And considering that the water coming through most people’s pipes comes directly from the river, you can imagine the rampant disease and prevalence of birth defects that exist here. But the fact is that their faith tells them the spirit of the river cleanses itself of all impurities, so statistics don’t really matter.
Along this these observations, I think it would be important to comment on hygene/sanitation practices here in India. I know it’s a topic that has lead to numerous stereotypes about the country - I should be clear that I don’t intend to confirm or dispute any of them. I can only share my observations. Last night I went to the bathroom on the train and found a hole that only lead to the speeding tracks running underground. In other words, the urine and feces of every person riding an Indian train lands out in the open on tracks across the country. I can’t even imagine how a practice that is considered so incredibly unhygienic around the world would be institutionalized by the Indian Railways. SOmeone told me the other day that during this time right before the monsoon, things are the dirtiest because people rely on the heavy rains to wash away all the garbage and dirt.
And wash it right into the Ganga river! We took a boat ride on the Ganga the other day and as soon as we took off, we just saw giant piles of cow poop floating everywhere. And in such close proximity to the bathers! It was really apparant how grossed out the tourists where. I was trying my best to not show it on my face, because I would hate to be so condescending in the face of their faith. We did learn on the boat ride that the only people who are not burned traditionally are holy men, pregnant women, children, people who have been killed by snake bites, and lepers. So those people are still thrown into the river and further south, peices of flesh surface. Again, it was REALLY hard to hide my gross out!
can i take a snap?
At the Golden Temple in Amritsar, it felt like we were as much of an attracted as the holy temple itself. As the most holy sight of the Sikh religion, there were pilgrims from all over waiting in line to go into this beautiful gold dome on a lake where the original copy of the Sikh holy book is recited. Maybe it is because there aren’t so many tourists in India this time of year, but we were literally bombarded with Indians wanting to take our pictures. And they call pictures ‘snaps’, by the way. People were handing us their babies to take pictures! And to the extent that you really could not sit in one place for more than five minutes without drawing a crowd. After a while, it felt like they must have been viewing us as monuments or something. It is so funny because while this has happened a few times before, it definitely has not been the norm for Indians to do this. And especially upper-class Indian tourists. Why would they want to clutter family albums with some random white girls? Very odd.
The whole scene at the Golden Temple is really quite amazing and utopian. The pilgrims that come their sleep in an open courtyard for free. It actually looks quite like any train station, with all the people spread out on the ground. But everyone is barefoot and with head coverings. They even provide basic meals to all the pilgrims for free. You should see the kitchen, vats of Dhal the size of cars. People didn’t mind at all that we were visiting their holy sight as just a tourist attraction. Quite the opposite, they even have a free dorm for foreign visitors to stay in within the Temple complex. Of course we were subject to the same rules: no shoes, smoking, alcohol, etc. They seemed to almost be guided by a religious duty to welcome us into their spiritual place. One man even scolded me for sitting with my feet facing towards the Temple and then asked me to come sit with him while he explained the tenets of the Sikh religion and the history of the sight.
What did I learn? Well the lake surrounding the Temple has healing powers, which is why all the pilgrims and visitors are encouraged to ‘take the dip’. (No - I didn’t get in the water, there would have been too many snaps!) Also, they carry small swords or daggers around to symbolize the military struggles that defined the early period of the religion Also the turbans that they wear are covering years of uncut hair, cutting your hair or beard is strictly against the Sikh tradition. This was especially interesting to learn because I think people in America most commonly associate the turban with India but not with the Sikh religion in particular. Actually, the Sikhs are the only ones that wear turbans and I have even heard Hindus refer to the Sikhs as ‘Turbans’ - kind of a term of endearment.
The most wonderful thing about the Golden Temple might have to be the bathrooms. WOW! The first time in India I haven’t dreaded going to the bathroom. You would think that a place that sees over 40,000 would have scary bathrooms, but they really clean up constantly. It was not only pleasant for me, but really nice to see them taking such pride in the appearance of the place. It really sucks to see people litter so much in this land, and just generally not seem to care about keeping things nice or presentable. The other day I talking to a kid from Bombay trying to explain to him why he shouldn’t through his water bottle out the window. My argument was, “it’s PLASTIC!” His argument was, “it’s INDIA!” Stalemate.
The whole scene at the Golden Temple is really quite amazing and utopian. The pilgrims that come their sleep in an open courtyard for free. It actually looks quite like any train station, with all the people spread out on the ground. But everyone is barefoot and with head coverings. They even provide basic meals to all the pilgrims for free. You should see the kitchen, vats of Dhal the size of cars. People didn’t mind at all that we were visiting their holy sight as just a tourist attraction. Quite the opposite, they even have a free dorm for foreign visitors to stay in within the Temple complex. Of course we were subject to the same rules: no shoes, smoking, alcohol, etc. They seemed to almost be guided by a religious duty to welcome us into their spiritual place. One man even scolded me for sitting with my feet facing towards the Temple and then asked me to come sit with him while he explained the tenets of the Sikh religion and the history of the sight.
What did I learn? Well the lake surrounding the Temple has healing powers, which is why all the pilgrims and visitors are encouraged to ‘take the dip’. (No - I didn’t get in the water, there would have been too many snaps!) Also, they carry small swords or daggers around to symbolize the military struggles that defined the early period of the religion Also the turbans that they wear are covering years of uncut hair, cutting your hair or beard is strictly against the Sikh tradition. This was especially interesting to learn because I think people in America most commonly associate the turban with India but not with the Sikh religion in particular. Actually, the Sikhs are the only ones that wear turbans and I have even heard Hindus refer to the Sikhs as ‘Turbans’ - kind of a term of endearment.
The most wonderful thing about the Golden Temple might have to be the bathrooms. WOW! The first time in India I haven’t dreaded going to the bathroom. You would think that a place that sees over 40,000 would have scary bathrooms, but they really clean up constantly. It was not only pleasant for me, but really nice to see them taking such pride in the appearance of the place. It really sucks to see people litter so much in this land, and just generally not seem to care about keeping things nice or presentable. The other day I talking to a kid from Bombay trying to explain to him why he shouldn’t through his water bottle out the window. My argument was, “it’s PLASTIC!” His argument was, “it’s INDIA!” Stalemate.
hindustan zindabad!!! jeera Pakistan!!
Well, I have come closer to Pakistan than I had intended - twice now!! We are up in the state of Punjab where, the state of turbans, butter chicken, and bhangra music. The city of Amritsar is about 30km from the Pakistan border crossing where there is a daily border closing ceremony at sunset. The whole ceremony essentially gives the Indians and Pakistanis a chance to duke out their political rivalry by seeing who can be the most patriotic from their respective sides of the border. Lots of flag-waving and chanting. Because this is the Indian travel season, there were a ton of Indian tourists in Punjab, so there must have been at least 1,500 people on the Indian side of the border. Interestingly, the women and men were separated on both sides of the border, although perhaps for different reasons. I suspect that the women on the Indian side were separated for fear that women would be hurt in a crowd of rowdy, patriotic men. I have to be honest that I was worried about going, given the latest news in Pakistan. To be so close to a country that has become so stigmatized by own country was truly surreal. And ultimately, pretty sad. With so many Indians waving their flags and partying it up Bollywood style (literally, they were staging impromptu dance parties), there were, at most, 200 Pakistanis in attendance. This makes sense that such a frivolous event would be poorly attended considering the political situation going on there. I can imagine that Pakistanis would be trying to avoid large groups of people at all costs.
But it was pretty profound, to actually be able to see into this country and see the faces of people living there. It personalizes all the things I have been reading in the news a bit. I did notice that in the VIP section of the Paki side that all the people appeared to be very conservative in comparison to the people in general seating. All the ‘burkas’ were sitting in VIP….interesting that the upper-class would also be the most conservative.
But it was pretty profound, to actually be able to see into this country and see the faces of people living there. It personalizes all the things I have been reading in the news a bit. I did notice that in the VIP section of the Paki side that all the people appeared to be very conservative in comparison to the people in general seating. All the ‘burkas’ were sitting in VIP….interesting that the upper-class would also be the most conservative.
tibet + dreadlocks / hashish = mcLeod ganj
Sangri La! Finally! After a pretty perilous drive up the lower Himalayas (in a crappy bus that felt tilted about 45 degrees) we reached the mountain town of Mcleod Ganj, which is very close to the better-known Dharamsala. This town is the official residence of the Tibetan refugee government and the Dalai Lama and you can feel the vibe change to something that is distinctly non-Indian as soon as you arrive. Mostly in the sense that things are so much less hectic. There is something about the intensity of the other places we have visited. Even where the weather is blistering hot, people are hustling, honking, yelling on their cell phones. Just really intense. So the polite vibe of the Tibetans was much needed and appreciated. (Not to mention the 10 degree weather drop!) It was pretty surreal actually, to go from being the only non-Indians around to this town where there are a ton of Asians, Indians, Europeans, Americans. Such diversity!!
Mcleod Ganj seems to be THE place for foreign tourists to go get their hippy dream on. There are a ton of yoga centers, ayurvedic massage courses, holistic bookshops. In fact, it reminds me of the West Village, with weed smoking as holy as sipping lattes. (The nearby Parvati Valley is rumored to be the number one marijuana exporter in Asia) And so naturally there are many, many tourists of the granola persuasion. Its funny to think of these foreigners with dreadlocks, tattoos, and facial piercings in other parts of India. If we have been getting stared at like animals in the zoo, I can’t imagine how the Indians must look at them. It was really wonderful to have the opportunity to make friends with other trekkers. And there was quite a social scene going on, especially because you are constantly seeing the same tourists in such a small town. Just to exchange stories of triumphs and frustrations reminds you that you are not the only person doing this!
Our very first day in the Ganj, we were lucky enough to see the Dalai Lama! What are the chances? Of course he constantly on the go, making appearances all over the world, but his residence is officially in Mcleod Ganj. So when he comes home, the whole town knows about it and waits outside his house to pay respects. They burn incense, hold pictures, and carry white shrouds. It is so interesting how accessible he is to his people. (although when he came through that day, he literally just waved from the car) When newly arrived refugees come to India, they get to have a meeting with him. Foreigners can even sign up to attend his public talks.
The Buddhist monks are equally human. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I was under the impression that the monks would be pretty much confined to their prayers most of the day. Not so! They go to restaurants, stay in hotels, and even go out at night! We met a monk in plain clothes out at a jam-session one night. He was having fun, but just not drinking or smoking, of course.
I had never seriously considered the plight of the Tibetans before my visit to this town. At a certain point, pop culture swallowed the whole “FREE TIBET” thing and reduced it to a bumper-sticker movement. But the Tibetans themselves are still hanging on to their struggle for independence, despite grim odds that China would ever give grant it. Tibetans STILL living in Tibet are actually paid a sum of money to stay there by the Chinese government and are exempt from China’s one-child policy. And yet, Tibetans are still making the dangerous trek over the Himalayas to seek refuge in Nepal and India. The Tibetans living there wear “FREE TIBET” t-shirts and hold rallies. Many of the local restaurants and coffee houses even screen daily documentaries on the struggle. It just makes me so sad to see them still hopefully engaged in a struggle that the rest of the world seems to have selectively forgotten. At this point it would be a suicide in international relations for any government to speak out against the Chinese government regarding the situation in Tibet. To think that when I went to Shanghai a few years ago, the national museum had a Tibetan art exhibit, as if they are sincerely trying to empower that community.
In all, Mcleod Ganj was a bit of peace. And now after a few cold nights and some yoga classes, I feel prepared to tackle India again!
Saturday, June 13, 2009
crises averted - things could have been worse
So the thing with riding the rails in India is that it feels nearly impossible for newcomers to figure out. And yet it is THE way to travel. First of all, a great deal of the trips are overnight which seems crazy to a tourist. In West Africa, I remember it being totally out of the question for foreigners to travel at night. The sinking sun was a dangerous thing. But it is not so here. Initially, we were taking one of he cheapest train classes, the Sleeper car. Which has no air-conditioning and has three tiers of bunk beds. Picture precisely what the lower class cabins of the Titanic would have looked like. It is pretty interesting that the train cars are so definitively divided on class lines. The people that ride this class look at us like we are crazy for not choosing the more expensive AC cars, because they know damn well we can afford it. That is part of our trouble here in India - trying to convince people that we aren’t filthy rich. Although I am trying to travel modestly, I have to be honest that when I first got on the Sleeper car my New York mind shouted “AW HELL NAH!!” But it is wonderfully curious how things become good enough for you if you just let go of your standards for a minute. Its not so bad sleeping in a sweaty car with garbage on the ground and Indian men taking your photo with their mobiles while you sleep. Totally cool man.
Getting on a train to a major city is not a question of buying a ticket the day of and just finding a seat in a comfortable air-conditioned car. Noooo. You have to go several days (or weeks) in advance and reserve your ticket in order to confirm that you have a seat on the train. Given that this is the busy season for Indians to be traveling - and they sure do travel around their own country - spontaneous movement has been ruled out! We come from a pretty hyper-structured society, so we are more than willing to comply with rules, but as with many systems in India, the rules seem to be largely over-ruled. We had to switch around train tickets to get ourselves up north where is isn’t so damn hot which had us switching train cars at 5am. Jumping off the train with just a few minutes to transfer I decided to meet Mel on the car so I could so buy water. Bad idea.
I will excuse myself by saying that I was still half asleep but before I knew it, the train was blowing its horn and I was jumping onto a car, not sure if it was ours or not. I could also blame the Indian man who told me it was the right car instead of admitting that he didn’t understand my question in English. Regardless, I jumped on while the train was pulling away and immediately realized that I was WRONG in doing so. Tourist panic set over me like damn unstoppable monsoon and I start screaming Mels name out the car door. I can’t even imagine what the Indians must have thought this wild white woman was doing!
Mel called me, equally frantic, yelling, “Where are you?! I’m still on the platform looking for you!!” I start freaking out running through the train cars, looking for the conductor thinking that he could possibly stop the train for me or something. I mean, I was ready to throw myself and all my luggage out of the moving train. This thought truly did cross my mind. This moment of separation was, of course, by far more dramatic than it should have been. Yes I was on a train headed to Delhi and she was in a town that would be 6 hours away. But we could have figured it our! The fact that I had a complete meltdown about it was just embarrassing. Luckily, this one compassionate Indian man took my case up to the conductor who gave me advice on how to reconnect that I should get off at the next stop, take a taxi back, yada, yada.
Ultimately, I think this panic was a blessing in disguise for many reasons. The man that helped me was so incredibly kind and I think that I had to be reminded that this kindness does exist. Not everyone in this country is some kind of swindler. It is filled with good and bad people and I am lucky to have those good people there to help me out. Further, getting on in India seems to be all about shock treatment. Only when you are screwed over, left behind, laughed at, stared at over and over do you learn to just move past it and have a good time. After this near disaster, we got into a minor car accident in an auto-rickshaw in Delhi and you know what? We didn’t even care! We just laughed about our luck and the stupidity of the driver. Sometimes disaster can be positive and can make you more audacious. The next train we took, we even decided to forget about the waitlist we were on and just got on the train as stowaways, knowing that we would somehow
Getting on a train to a major city is not a question of buying a ticket the day of and just finding a seat in a comfortable air-conditioned car. Noooo. You have to go several days (or weeks) in advance and reserve your ticket in order to confirm that you have a seat on the train. Given that this is the busy season for Indians to be traveling - and they sure do travel around their own country - spontaneous movement has been ruled out! We come from a pretty hyper-structured society, so we are more than willing to comply with rules, but as with many systems in India, the rules seem to be largely over-ruled. We had to switch around train tickets to get ourselves up north where is isn’t so damn hot which had us switching train cars at 5am. Jumping off the train with just a few minutes to transfer I decided to meet Mel on the car so I could so buy water. Bad idea.
I will excuse myself by saying that I was still half asleep but before I knew it, the train was blowing its horn and I was jumping onto a car, not sure if it was ours or not. I could also blame the Indian man who told me it was the right car instead of admitting that he didn’t understand my question in English. Regardless, I jumped on while the train was pulling away and immediately realized that I was WRONG in doing so. Tourist panic set over me like damn unstoppable monsoon and I start screaming Mels name out the car door. I can’t even imagine what the Indians must have thought this wild white woman was doing!
Mel called me, equally frantic, yelling, “Where are you?! I’m still on the platform looking for you!!” I start freaking out running through the train cars, looking for the conductor thinking that he could possibly stop the train for me or something. I mean, I was ready to throw myself and all my luggage out of the moving train. This thought truly did cross my mind. This moment of separation was, of course, by far more dramatic than it should have been. Yes I was on a train headed to Delhi and she was in a town that would be 6 hours away. But we could have figured it our! The fact that I had a complete meltdown about it was just embarrassing. Luckily, this one compassionate Indian man took my case up to the conductor who gave me advice on how to reconnect that I should get off at the next stop, take a taxi back, yada, yada.
Ultimately, I think this panic was a blessing in disguise for many reasons. The man that helped me was so incredibly kind and I think that I had to be reminded that this kindness does exist. Not everyone in this country is some kind of swindler. It is filled with good and bad people and I am lucky to have those good people there to help me out. Further, getting on in India seems to be all about shock treatment. Only when you are screwed over, left behind, laughed at, stared at over and over do you learn to just move past it and have a good time. After this near disaster, we got into a minor car accident in an auto-rickshaw in Delhi and you know what? We didn’t even care! We just laughed about our luck and the stupidity of the driver. Sometimes disaster can be positive and can make you more audacious. The next train we took, we even decided to forget about the waitlist we were on and just got on the train as stowaways, knowing that we would somehow
easy camel rider
Well not too easy! We made out way out to the desert city of Jaiselmer which is about 50km from the border of Pakistan. I have never actually been in the desert! It is really pretty phenomenal to see things survive in this dry, still landscape. We managed to organize a camel safari with our hotel manager who happens to own a camel farm. Camel safaris are the thing to do out there, so we had hustlers of all kinds in our face about taking one from the instant we got off the train. But we had been warned about the safari guides by friends along the way that that they are known to molest and rob their clients. So ultimate precaution was taken!
Our journey through the desert was admittedly campy. A bunch of white tourists with broad billed hats and sunscreen clad, riding camels through the parched desert. I know, I know! How silly. But it was so much fun, I don’t even care if it was text-book. Getting on the camels we were pretty nervous because those things lift you about six feet in the air! And one of our friends fell off the camel on his first try getting up! Riding the camel was relatively easy, similar to riding a horse. Only slightly more groin-abuse.
Mid-afternoon, we stalled under a tree where our guides made us lunch. The mid-day heat out there is absolutely unreal. There definitely is a claming breeze, but it is such a hot breeze that you feel like your skin is being lacerated when it comes at you. We saw a fair amount of animal carcasses lying about - a reminder of what can happen to you out here without water or direction. At a certain point, my camel waddled over to a pile of goat bones, picked up a skull, and proceed to chew on it for the next hour. Our heat-induced delirium out in the desert was our first glaring signal that we seriously chose the wrong season to visit India!! 45 degrees Celsius. Enough said.
At the end out of our six hour ride, we ended up at a scenic sand dune at sunset that made the heat of the day absolutely worth it. For one of the first times since I have been here, I was utterly alone. With nobody around to stare at us or sell us on something, I finally felt the decompression I had been craving since I arrived. Experiencing the stillness of sand for miles and miles put things into perspective. Honestly, I was getting down on how hectic the transport and urban movement has been. The first week of being here has just been a process of accepting that things here are the way they are. And I am in no position to be critical or judgemental just because I am routinely frustrated that I rarely get what I want! But that is not all there is in India! There is quiet to be found!
We camped out on the sand dune through a chilly desert night. More campy times between us and our guides had us singing folk songs from our respective countries around our fading campfire. Our guide some songs from Rajasthan (the state that Jaiselmer is in), one of our British friend was singing Cornish tunes. I chose the Dead’s “Friend of the Devil”. Ha! Gotta represent American folk.
monkey mahal
After all was said and done in Agra, I can truly say that the Taj Mahal did not disappoint. Despite the fact that we paid 750 Rupees when Indian tourists only had to pay 20, the Taj Mahal still projects an air of purity that is just really magical. We woke up at around 5:30 in order to avoid the mad crowd which was no problem because at this hour, the city blaaasts Hindi music in the streets through loud speakers. This music was so incredibly loud and shrill, there was no way anybody in the city could have slept through it. Walking around at that early hour was pretty beautiful because the haggling Taj ‘guides’ that are so persistent weren’t there yet and the drivers were still asleep in their rickshaws. We even saw people walking camels down the street! The narrow dusty streets, the run-down buildings, and the massive pearly Taj Mahal looming over it all…sounds like Aladdin, right? (I’m quite positive that movie was based on this town!)
We did, however, have a SUPER scary/hilarious encounter with some local monkeys on the roof of our hotel. We went up to take pictures of the Taj around sunset and we were all elated and blown away when we noticed the number of monkeys running along all the rooftops. And these were not small chimp-size monkey they were more like medium-size dogs. As we were going down the stairs we encountered an angry pack of monkeys that started growling at us. Because we were on a roof, we really have nowhere to run and as soon as we started to become palpably scared, these monkeys lunged. I don’t know who was screaming more, us or the monkeys, but all the people hanging out on other roofs were alarmed and gawking at our scene. Mel actually bore the brunt of the madness, these crazy monkeys even stole one of her shoes! It was such an animal kingdom moment when we had to calm ourselves down and get completely still in order for the monkeys to stop freaking out. It’s possible that we scared them?
We rolled into Jaipur, otherwise known as “The Pink City” for the pink color of all the buildings, past midnight. And there the adventure/stress began. It feels so counter-intuitive to be traveling at night as a tourist, but nearly all the trains riding between major cities only go once a day and depart or arrive at night. So no matter how you try to work it, you are usually arriving in a city you’ve never been to before in the middle of the night. SCARY! Especially scary when all the drivers are immediately upon you shouting prices, trying to take you bags, asking you where you’re from, where you’re staying, how you like India. I mean its nearly impossible to arrive anywhere in a discreet manner.
To be honest, we were getting really nervous and uneasy because it was so late and we had a few male rickshaw drivers following us way to closely. When we finally made our way outside and worked out a price with another driver (with these other creeps shouting behind us the hole time) we were totally shaken up. At the time I was having a hard time not projecting my own nervousness. So I was doing the typical nervous tourist thing, “How far is it? Are we almost there?” and on & on. Finally, we got to our hotel after driving down the longest and most nerve-wracking alley ever and our driver turned to us and said, “Listen I know you are nervous but please trust me and if you want to hire a driver here is my number”. He seemed like a nice enough guy so we took his number but didn’t think twice about him because we were just so relieved to be safe & sound. The next day we did end up calling him and making amazing friends with him and another driver. After spending some time with both of them and going to dinner with them and hanging out the next day, I can’t help but feel extremely guilty for being so distrustful of him in the beginning.
It’s true that you should always watch your back here. Things can be dangerous and people’s intentions are not always immediately obvious. But I am realizing that being so skeptical as a tourist is incredibly alienating. I have felt so little human connection to the people here because I am constantly trying to protect myself. These were the first people that I actually felt like I could trust and that were interested in actually being friends. Islam, my ’driver’ who actually turned out to be a jeweler…?, said to me, “You know sometimes it’s worth it to trust people.” That really stuck with me because I worry that I will miss out on forming relationship with people because I am trying to be so cautious.
My own approach might be the reason I don’t feel a connection to people here, but I also have to say that there isn’t much interest coming from the other side. The majority of my interactions with the locals have been transactional. If they are getting paid, it’s a nice situation but there isn’t much interest beyond that. It feels like all they see in us is our money. They become clearly disappointed when we don’t order enough food, buy enough souvenirs, opt for the expensive hotel room. Not that they will insist we spend more, but they do seem disappointed. But I don’t know what I should have expected. We do come from a wealthy country and we obviously have enough money to take a trip like this. And from their culture’s point of view, it is unexpected that w person with money wouldn’t want to enjoy luxuries they can afford. Here, if you can afford the first class seat, you buy it. Whereas for us, we will take the non-air conditioned sleeper car because we sincerely enjoy traveling modestly.
So it is a money thing that creates this divide and also the fact that we seem to constantly be spectacles. On the last train I took, I had a group of four men stare at me for literally over 2 hours. Staring with an intensity that didn’t even relieve their gaze for a minute. I guess it was pretty hilarious but ultimately infuriating! Because at the end of the day just watching us doesn’t increase any kind of understanding. And it’s not as though too many people actually want to have a conversation. I can’t even begin to fathom how they view us or even whether we are welcome. I’m just not sure.
Monday, June 1, 2009
lets play a game of clue!
Was it the pedal rickshaw driving through delhi traffic? Or the hotel with contaminated water? or the angry monkey attacking outside of the Taj Mahal. Honestly, it's a game of clue with us silly tourists here in India.
We arrived in Delhi this weekend and it already feels like we've been traveling for weeks. My first impressions is that India is just difficult to manuver. Duh. With over 150 million people in Delhi alone, to call it 'hectic' would be a gross understatement. And I consider myself to be pretty city-savy. But things seem to be so unruly here. Their aren't really car lanes on the road, traffic lights are most frequently disregarded, the electrical wires hang nearly 15-wires deep. With such and unimaginable number of people operating with such an unpredicatable infrastructure it seems like the whole thing is about to colapse.
It's important to keep in mind though that this country is rapidly developing into a modern nation. And you can see the seedlings of that. There are billboards around that remind people to drive within the car lanes and to avoid littering. There are even baby trees planted around the city with signs that say "Delhi- Go Green". I can imagine that in 10 years, the city will be by far more managable
But of course it doesn't just like any country, this place survives off of its particular rhythm - i just don't vibe with it yet. BUT I WILL!
We ended up staying in Old Delhi which ironically turned out to be the seedier part of town. Seedy in the sense that there are just homeless people and garbage everywhere. And not the kind that you see in New York, or any other place that I have been. This garbage seems to be 3rd or 4th generation. And the people. My god, it's just so incredibly sad the way they make their home on the dirtiest streets I have ever seen. Truly, the street dogs have more dignity by human standards. And what makes me feel most horrible about it is that when someone comes up to you begging for money (and you can be sure that they will follow you for hours even without the promise of getting anything) you really can't give them anything because it would be totally dangerous to whip out any money. You would have an army of homeless people following you. It really puts you in a tragic situation no matter what you do.
For the most part, I didn't feel like people were hassling us too much. Or shouting out to us because we are white. Although at the Red Fort in Old Delhi we were surrounded by about 30 Indians at one point fulfilling requests to take pictures with their kids. Mel and I now will now be seen in a number of home videos across the country. sweet. My only requirement is that you have a child with you - all the men who wanted pics of us on their mobiles got staunch NO's.
We also had the pleasure of going to our first Hindi film. People here are crazy about Bollywood. And the scene is secure, we actually had to walk through metal detectors to get in. Granted, the detectors were actually made of wood, but the intention was there. We didn't understand a word of it, but could kind of tell what was going on. What was most amusing about it was how vocal the audience members are. They literally laugh out loud and holler at the screen. We only left because some guy came and sat near us just to stare - creepy.
As interesting as Delhi was, it was clear that this was the kind of place we would be trying to leave ASAP. Way too hazardous. And that point was driven home when we decided to take a pedal rickshaw to dinner at 7:30 pm. In India, there are auto-rickshaws (or tuk-tuks in Hindi) which are like carriage mopeds and then there are pedal-rickshaws which are carriages attached to bicycles driven by sadly thin men. These are the two modes of transportation that would be comparable to a taxi in the US. This was a bad decision - and I know that in retrospect. As soon as we negotiated the price and got on the thing, it's as if the spiteful travel gods turned off the lights and suddenly it was dark out. And we were two stupid white chicks driving in the middle of Delhi traffic - on a BICYCLE. We were just stopped in the traffic jam waiting for some one to snatch our bags. We almost got hit by buses too many times! I was boderline paniking, but really there was nothing we could do. To get out on the side of the road would have been more dangerous than to just sit tight. In those kinds of situations where you know you made the wrong decision, sometimes you have to just see it through and pray for the best. The restaurant was not worth the worry.
But the food here is phenomenal. Masala, Aloo, Paneer, Lassis, Nan, Poori, Chapati! Soo good. I don't want to speak too soon - but I haven't been sick yet. Of course we aren't eating from any of the street stands, which is a bummer because I just want to try everything! But the restaurants definitely aren't just for tourists and a good meal usually costs about 50-100 rupees (or $1-$2). Saving money in India, nice!
In all, leaving Delhi for Agra and teh Taj Mahal was a relief. Being there was so incredibly overwhelming. I did come to India to decompress - right?
We arrived in Delhi this weekend and it already feels like we've been traveling for weeks. My first impressions is that India is just difficult to manuver. Duh. With over 150 million people in Delhi alone, to call it 'hectic' would be a gross understatement. And I consider myself to be pretty city-savy. But things seem to be so unruly here. Their aren't really car lanes on the road, traffic lights are most frequently disregarded, the electrical wires hang nearly 15-wires deep. With such and unimaginable number of people operating with such an unpredicatable infrastructure it seems like the whole thing is about to colapse.
It's important to keep in mind though that this country is rapidly developing into a modern nation. And you can see the seedlings of that. There are billboards around that remind people to drive within the car lanes and to avoid littering. There are even baby trees planted around the city with signs that say "Delhi- Go Green". I can imagine that in 10 years, the city will be by far more managable
But of course it doesn't just like any country, this place survives off of its particular rhythm - i just don't vibe with it yet. BUT I WILL!
We ended up staying in Old Delhi which ironically turned out to be the seedier part of town. Seedy in the sense that there are just homeless people and garbage everywhere. And not the kind that you see in New York, or any other place that I have been. This garbage seems to be 3rd or 4th generation. And the people. My god, it's just so incredibly sad the way they make their home on the dirtiest streets I have ever seen. Truly, the street dogs have more dignity by human standards. And what makes me feel most horrible about it is that when someone comes up to you begging for money (and you can be sure that they will follow you for hours even without the promise of getting anything) you really can't give them anything because it would be totally dangerous to whip out any money. You would have an army of homeless people following you. It really puts you in a tragic situation no matter what you do.
For the most part, I didn't feel like people were hassling us too much. Or shouting out to us because we are white. Although at the Red Fort in Old Delhi we were surrounded by about 30 Indians at one point fulfilling requests to take pictures with their kids. Mel and I now will now be seen in a number of home videos across the country. sweet. My only requirement is that you have a child with you - all the men who wanted pics of us on their mobiles got staunch NO's.
We also had the pleasure of going to our first Hindi film. People here are crazy about Bollywood. And the scene is secure, we actually had to walk through metal detectors to get in. Granted, the detectors were actually made of wood, but the intention was there. We didn't understand a word of it, but could kind of tell what was going on. What was most amusing about it was how vocal the audience members are. They literally laugh out loud and holler at the screen. We only left because some guy came and sat near us just to stare - creepy.
As interesting as Delhi was, it was clear that this was the kind of place we would be trying to leave ASAP. Way too hazardous. And that point was driven home when we decided to take a pedal rickshaw to dinner at 7:30 pm. In India, there are auto-rickshaws (or tuk-tuks in Hindi) which are like carriage mopeds and then there are pedal-rickshaws which are carriages attached to bicycles driven by sadly thin men. These are the two modes of transportation that would be comparable to a taxi in the US. This was a bad decision - and I know that in retrospect. As soon as we negotiated the price and got on the thing, it's as if the spiteful travel gods turned off the lights and suddenly it was dark out. And we were two stupid white chicks driving in the middle of Delhi traffic - on a BICYCLE. We were just stopped in the traffic jam waiting for some one to snatch our bags. We almost got hit by buses too many times! I was boderline paniking, but really there was nothing we could do. To get out on the side of the road would have been more dangerous than to just sit tight. In those kinds of situations where you know you made the wrong decision, sometimes you have to just see it through and pray for the best. The restaurant was not worth the worry.
But the food here is phenomenal. Masala, Aloo, Paneer, Lassis, Nan, Poori, Chapati! Soo good. I don't want to speak too soon - but I haven't been sick yet. Of course we aren't eating from any of the street stands, which is a bummer because I just want to try everything! But the restaurants definitely aren't just for tourists and a good meal usually costs about 50-100 rupees (or $1-$2). Saving money in India, nice!
In all, leaving Delhi for Agra and teh Taj Mahal was a relief. Being there was so incredibly overwhelming. I did come to India to decompress - right?
Friday, March 20, 2009
Mad Dogs!!
There are an outrageous number of wild dogs in Nicaragua. I mean, it´s really quite incredible. Although, most of them are not actually wild (they are domesticated for house protection) they still walk the streets like they have no home. And they follow you and bark crazily at you. I´m in a country full of mad dogs!
In addition to dogs, which I do NOT think are cool. Isla Omotepe is home to the howler monkeys. They are about the size of a small dog, but they cry like a much, much larger animal. When we climbed Volcano Maderas, we heard these guys from the distance and thought there were bears in the forest. Although, we didn´t get to see the Howlers, we did see many more monkeys on a hiking trail near Charco Verde. Monkeys are the best, because they don´t run away when you´re trying to take pictures of them. They understand that this is the way of the human species, we see another animal and we must take our pics before we move on. Monkeys. Are Great.
On our way back to the city of Moyogalpa, we had to wait on the side of the main road for a bus that was hopefully going to pick us up. However, after waiting for about 30 minutes, we were lucky enough to discover the facility of hitching a ride. Not quite hitchhiking! But people that are heading in a clear direction and see people standing on the side of the road do stop and ask is you want a lift. So we got on the back of a pick up truck and rode the rest of the way to Moyogalpa with a mini ice cream cart. Its funny that we should think this is safe. In the US, I would never even DREAM of doing such a thing, but here there is a cerain rhythm. And if you are paying close enough attention to that rhythm, you can tell when things are dangerous because they don´t groove with the locals. We figured it was safe based on vibes, and well, there was another chica sitting in the back with us.
One very noticeable between this and my travels in West Africa is that people don´t really bargain here. When you are given a price, for a taxi ride or a craft, you can be pretty sure that they aren´t offering you twice the actual price. And if you find the price to be too expensive, they won´t chase you when you walk away. Despite the poverty that undoubtedly does exist here, people don´t seem to be desperate for your money. This makes transactions so much smoother because there is no argument involved, or assertion of character to knock of a couple bucks. I mean, that ws really exgausting in West Africa, having to haggle EVERY SINGLE thing I paid for. From hotels to cabs to crafts to food. Jeeez.
Besides being easier for me, I think it speaks volumes about their culture that they don´t customarily bargain. In a nutshell, they are not trying to rip you off. They are incredibly laid back here and are dignified in their own chill. I admire that they are so straighfoward with us without even contemplating the glaring power structure that allows two 21 year olds to spend so much money on a short vacation. Nobody seems to be resentful towards us for being from the US, despite our country's undeniably shady dealings with their country. Of course, I am speaking generally and I don´t speak the language. So it would be hard for me to know if people are being fake with us or if we are actually getting ripped off.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
hostel hospitality
Nicaragua is by the far the most backpacker friendly country I have ever been to. In every city we´ve traveled to, there have been cheap and helpful hostels, where we have met tons of nice, like minded, young travelers. The vibe amongst hostel-stayers is really quite unique. Unlike many other non-Western countries, the foreigners actually acknowledge each other's presence and say hello in the streets, offer travel advice, etc. It feels like we are all apart of an adventure and positivity seeking community, temporal although it may be. The notion that this solidarity amongst traveling youths may travel home with us in some capacity is so inspiring in reassuring.
The roughing it attitude of most of the travelers seems to be catching on. Mel and I are taking the cheapest routes possible, because the struggle to stay cheap is just so much more fun. We´ve stopped going to restaurants for all our meals and just buy fruit off the streets and make peanut butter sanwhiches. I do believe a stark low point in the trip has been trying to make sandwhices using a bic pen as a knife...whatever gets you by.
After the second day of surfing, my body just about closed down operations. This sport is so exhausting! And my arms are frustratingly short so getting the paddle speed it takes to really catch teh waves was difficult indeed. Not to mention that Mel ended up with a bruise the size of a frisbee on her stomach.
So we headed off for Isla Omotepe, or the island of two volcanos. Volcanos Concepcion and Maderas stand next to eachother on the same teeny island. Becuase Conception, the larger of the two is still active, fumes spew out the top creating a constant cloud flow around its opening. And if you are close enough, you can actually see the fumes slowly creeping out and away. Truly, its one of the most amazing natural wonders I have ever seen. We ended up hiking up Maderas, which is much more managable at 1,400 meters. Well I say manageable, but by the end of it my legs were a quivering mess and my exhaustion made me feel some kind of stoned.
I had considered myself predestined to be a great hiker, being a New Yoker and all...False. I initially was getting incredibly frustrated with the whole process and wanted to turn back. But applying some brethwork and meditation brought me up and down that mountain and I couldn´t be more greatful. It was so incredibly redwarding to get to that viwing point after all that hard work.
Our hostel on Isla Omotepe is also a farm, where they grow organic coffee. There are a bunch of Western volunteers working on the farm in exhcange for hammoks and meals. Interestingly, I found most of the volunteers were Americans, whereas in San Juan most people were just traveling and were more frequently from Europe or Canada.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
nica nica
And I´m back! Backpacking. lol. We arrived in the capital of Managua on Friday and embarked on this this adventure. It feels so goos to be back out in the world! Submersed in learning and trying to wholly take in the vitality of another country. Makes me wonder how I will ever accept a routine that doesn´t allow me to routine travel.
Managua can be kind of a pass-through city for a lot of tourists just becuase there aren´t exactly many sights to see and it certainly is not a walking city. But we spent a few days going to those few sights and just having fun getting there. The getting there IS always the best part. And in Nicaragua, I have to say that I am completely impressed how efficient their transportation systems are. I was under the impression that the Latin American schedule is somewhat, uh, relaxed. But the buses, which are the main form of transport, leave pretty frequently and on time. And they don´t break down! Which is a huge relief for me! The buses in the city are actually really interesting because they are American school buses that have been partially gutted and installed with bars on the ceiling for people to hold on to. We were so proud of ourselves when we finally rode the buses, for some reason, the locals kept telling us that they were too dangerous. Multiple Nicas(the local slang for Nicaraguan) keep warning us about the dangers to the point of exagurated. I´m not sure if they think we can´t watch out for ourselves or they just want to encourage tourists to take the most expensive route.
I did run into a dangerous situation the other night walking to dinner. We were walking along a fairly busy road and a boy , about 15, approaches us asking for money and offering grass oragami flowers. Because we were walking on a busy road, he was able to corner me up against the wall in a way that I couldn´t quite get away from him. He started bumping up against me, still asking for money and finally he leaned in a spit in my face. Thank God that that he walked away at that point because if he had the nerve to spit on me, I´m sure he could have done worse. I still feel terrible about this situation. It takes serious hatred and contempt for another person to do something like that. It saddens me that this boy could feel that way about me. Cearly I understand that he has had a seriously difficult life and maybe my undeserved luck in life warrants that kind of hatred.
There is poverty in Nica, of course. The clearest example I saw in my short stay thusfar is outside the hosptial in Managua. Sick people set up shacks in a lot adjacent to the hospital because there is not enough space for them and perhaps because they cannot afford the stay.
The most interesting thing about Managua, however, isn´t poverty. The presence of an elite Nica class is in such sharp contrast to the poeple living in poverty. The gap between the two is larger than in any other country I´ve been in. There are malls that house United Colors of Bennetton and Roxy stores and then there are barrios with houses made out of metal sheets. I just couldn´t believe it. We went out on Friday night with some friends we made and the nightlife is equally as elite. They have these complexes with very swanky bars, restaurants and discotheques. People drive nice cars and sing along to American pop songs. Girls wear scandelous dresses and drink with there friends. It´s so similar to America. On some level, I find this enlightening to go to anouther country and be presented with similarities to my own culture. As opposed to just differences.
Our first stop outside of Managua was a trek to San Juan del Sur. It was so easy to get here! Just a few bus transfers and short walks and we were in this incredible surfing oasis. There are an astouding number of young gringos (Spanish for white person OR foreigner) walking the streets. And there are bars and restaurants catering to this niche-like backpackers community. It is so awesome to be around so many young people that are doing exactly what I am doing - wandering around just trying to find something more interesting.
The beaches are just gorgeous and I actually went surfing. I think I´m addicted! Although I got pretty banged up before I finally got the hang of it. Mel (my travel partner) has some righteous bruises. Its the same thing about riding on a motorcycle that makes it so awesome. There is nothing separating you from the elements. Getting in touch with the rhythm of the ocean is actually a pretty spiritual experience. We were going to leave San Juan today, but its going to be necessary to just stay here until my body can´t surf no mo´.
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