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!

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

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.

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?

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.

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.