To clarify, I had to duck out quickly from my last entry because time was expiring. In that particular internet cafe, you see, you are obliged to guess how much time you will spend. Raju learned the hard way that if time expires you lose everything you have written. Having started about a minute after Raju, I quickly realized I had very little time to post my blog without losing it. Why couldn't we just pay after determining how long we were online for? The answer is blowing in the wind.
Porbander was the next destination. It ended up being quite a bit like Punjab. We were visiting Raju's relatives who were incredibly happy to see us, and were alarmingly hospitable. Raju's little cousin Bitu is a real piece of work. The only boy in the family in a generation, he is quite spoiled. He runs like a monkey, and only really ever wants to play cricket. The people of Porbander feed migrant cows who wander the city. In return, they milk these cows when they need milk. Bearing in mind that a cow is a sacred animal to these people, I found it really amusing to see Bitu eyeing the cow whilst twirling his cricket bat. I told Raju that I believed Bitu was going to try to hit the cow. Raju disagreed. Less than a minute later, Bitu said he was going to hit the cow and began advancing on it. I can't wait to see what he gets up to when he is big enough to overpower his mom.
We went out with Raju's uncle, who really put my negotiating skills to shame. I might get good deals relative to other foreigners, but it is still a foreigner's price. Not so with Raju's uncle. A particular highlight for me, was when he spent five minutes arguing an autorickshaw driver down to 12Rs from 15Rs. This is a difference of under 8 Canadian cents. It was for a 15 minute ride too. Very hard-nosed. We walked around a market, I drank some sugar cane juice (I recommend it to anyone, though I have no useful way to describe the taste). Finally, we went home where the women served us dinner at the table, and only after ensuring that all the men were stuffed, cleaned the table then ate their own dinner on the floor. As in Punjab, I had to swallow my western ideals. When in Porbander...
The next day we went to the planetarium in Porbander. This was a curious experience. The guide talked us through the whole show, in Hindi so I have no idea what it was about. He made sure that we understood at the beginning that cell phones were to be shut off. A fair request. It appears, however, that there was no rule against you and your children engaging in boisterous conversation with people on the other side of the theatre throughout the show. Why should there be?
Mumbai
We ended the trip where we began. After a sad goodbye in Porbander, we took a prop-plane into Mumbai. By this time we were tired of the travelling thing, so we pretty much spent our last few days hanging out and meeting other travellers. If you ever go to Mumbai, there is a restaurant called Leopold's in Colaba that is a great place to meet people. They have good food too, including one of India's only beef burgers.
One night I stayed in, but Raju went out and had a bit of an experience. There was this Aussie chick, Sian, who I believe wanted to be Raju's girlfriend. There was this Indian guy "Batman" who wanted Sian, and there was Raju who wanted to leave as the following scene unfolded. Batman gave Sian his picture. Though not a common practice in North America, it still seems likely that such a gesture stems from romantic intentions. So Sian began to insinuate that Raju was her boyfriend, in order to rebuff Batman's advances. Raju did not want to play along. This bothered Sian, and then Batman took it upon himself to try to explain women to Raju, and in particular why he was upsetting his woman. Then Sian ended up pushing Batman, and visibly distraught he demands his picture back. Then Raju was trying to leave, but Batman didn't want him to. And Sian was telling Batman to leave and he didn't want to. Eventually Raju threw his hands in the air and just left. It really isn't a vacation with this kind of stuff going on.
On my last night in Mumbai, I went out for Karaoke. I did Sheryl Crow's version of Sweet Child O Mine in the key of Axl. It went over quite well, and some girl from some Indian pop culture TV show interviewed me about karaoke, and what I knew about cricket.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Finally Out of Delhi
I realise it has been a while. This is because everything got screwed up on my agenda and Nothing has been happening for several days. Although it is extremely unlikely, and I would be inclined not to believe it could happen, we set two alarms for 5 am on the morning we were supposed to fly to Jabalpur to see some tigers. Lucky for the tigers, I was going to fight one. Anyway, no tigers/bitter disappointment. It also left us with a bit of a conundrum, since we had booked a bunch of tickets. Skipping past all the boring details (which took hours to evaluate) the only decision that made sense for our sanity and our budget was to stay in Delhi. Since we had already seen most of the sights, however, this basically involved a lot of playing cards. As I write, I have finally made it to Ahmedabad, in Gujarat province. In 11 hours, we will be in Porbander, where Ghandi and many of Raju's relatives were born. I bet I won't be able to post anything again until Mumbai. Following are some rather general observations.
Everyone Wants to Rip Me Off
From bums to businessmen and everyone in between. All sorts of people approach me "hello my friend how are you?" I try not to get my guard up, but I know what comes next. First, they ask where I'm from, then they ask whether I'm from Toronto or Vancouver and sometimes Montreal. Next, they try to sell me some of the most undesirable junk I've ever laid eyes on and act offended when I don't buy it because now we are friends.
Autorickshaw drivers employ different strategies. For example, if I'm walking, and an autoricksaw driver sees me, he will coral me much as a sheep dog corals his herd. This consists of running me into a corner. What follows is either a question, a nod or simply a stare. The idea being that I was craving an autorickshaw (and to be clear, you can't swing a dead cat in Delhi without hitting one) and they cracked the code and became a supplier for my demand. If I wanted an autorickshaw, I'd be in one. It sometimes seems as though they outnumber people in India's largest city.
Raju made the mistake of tipping one night at a bar. Since we had a few dead days in Delhi, we went back a few times. As soon as we came in the door, waiters jumped to point out empty tables in their section, they got into fights with each other over us, I bet if the place had been full they would have kicked someone out of their seats in order to have us in their section. This is all over about one Canadian dollar mind you. That was a dollar poorly spent.
When you call Canada, the phones here have displays listing the rate you pay, the time you've been talking and the amount you owe so far. A guy tried to rip me off on one of these too. I must have paid for such phone calls two dozen times since coming here. There is no trick. The display tells you what you owe and that's the end of the story. This bill came to 54 rupees, so I gave him a 100 rupee note. Then I stood there stupidly expecting change. Then he provides some cock and bull story mostly in Hindi (maybe he couldn't speak English, maybe) and draws three or four numbers on a piece of paper, and the numbers add up to a hundred and five. Then he puts out his hand. Then we argue for ten minutes, then I told him he was full of shit. He got my 46 rupees though.
Should you let sleeping Indians lie? No. Nor should you let them lie to you. I'll explain. You see, when a man is sleeping in his taxi in Canada (if ever a man does so) one might not be inclined to think that they would be ecstatic to be woken up so that they could make a two Canadian dollar fare. Such is not true in India. This does not change the fact that they will try to rip you off, however. How much money are you making while sleeping? None. Why then is there a 1500% mark up on the price?
An Interesting Street Fight
I saw two boys punching each other in the head. They were really fighting, so my instincts kick in and I pull them apart. Then their father?friend?MMA fan? waves his hand as if to suggest, Oh just let them fight. Everyone else concurred. So I walked away as they continued to pummel each other.
Sights Seen
I saw several sights in Delhi, nothing terribly inspiring. I saw the red fort; it's red, it's a fort. I saw the Parliamentary area, which includes the houses of a lot of political bigwigs like the PM, AG, Chief Justice and several diplomats. Huge houses, but still not jaw dropping. The coolest thing in Delhi was Ghandi Smitri, the place where Ghandi was shot. I'm rarely touched by such stuff, but Ghandi is one guy who evokes nothing but respect from me. It was eerie to stand where he was killed. Concrete footsteps lead to a two foot tall obelisk with one Hindi word (what word, I don't know) written on it. A fitting tribute to a modest man.
Anyway, My session expires in one minute, so I must go. Sorry about the lack of proofreading.
Everyone Wants to Rip Me Off
From bums to businessmen and everyone in between. All sorts of people approach me "hello my friend how are you?" I try not to get my guard up, but I know what comes next. First, they ask where I'm from, then they ask whether I'm from Toronto or Vancouver and sometimes Montreal. Next, they try to sell me some of the most undesirable junk I've ever laid eyes on and act offended when I don't buy it because now we are friends.
Autorickshaw drivers employ different strategies. For example, if I'm walking, and an autoricksaw driver sees me, he will coral me much as a sheep dog corals his herd. This consists of running me into a corner. What follows is either a question, a nod or simply a stare. The idea being that I was craving an autorickshaw (and to be clear, you can't swing a dead cat in Delhi without hitting one) and they cracked the code and became a supplier for my demand. If I wanted an autorickshaw, I'd be in one. It sometimes seems as though they outnumber people in India's largest city.
Raju made the mistake of tipping one night at a bar. Since we had a few dead days in Delhi, we went back a few times. As soon as we came in the door, waiters jumped to point out empty tables in their section, they got into fights with each other over us, I bet if the place had been full they would have kicked someone out of their seats in order to have us in their section. This is all over about one Canadian dollar mind you. That was a dollar poorly spent.
When you call Canada, the phones here have displays listing the rate you pay, the time you've been talking and the amount you owe so far. A guy tried to rip me off on one of these too. I must have paid for such phone calls two dozen times since coming here. There is no trick. The display tells you what you owe and that's the end of the story. This bill came to 54 rupees, so I gave him a 100 rupee note. Then I stood there stupidly expecting change. Then he provides some cock and bull story mostly in Hindi (maybe he couldn't speak English, maybe) and draws three or four numbers on a piece of paper, and the numbers add up to a hundred and five. Then he puts out his hand. Then we argue for ten minutes, then I told him he was full of shit. He got my 46 rupees though.
Should you let sleeping Indians lie? No. Nor should you let them lie to you. I'll explain. You see, when a man is sleeping in his taxi in Canada (if ever a man does so) one might not be inclined to think that they would be ecstatic to be woken up so that they could make a two Canadian dollar fare. Such is not true in India. This does not change the fact that they will try to rip you off, however. How much money are you making while sleeping? None. Why then is there a 1500% mark up on the price?
An Interesting Street Fight
I saw two boys punching each other in the head. They were really fighting, so my instincts kick in and I pull them apart. Then their father?friend?MMA fan? waves his hand as if to suggest, Oh just let them fight. Everyone else concurred. So I walked away as they continued to pummel each other.
Sights Seen
I saw several sights in Delhi, nothing terribly inspiring. I saw the red fort; it's red, it's a fort. I saw the Parliamentary area, which includes the houses of a lot of political bigwigs like the PM, AG, Chief Justice and several diplomats. Huge houses, but still not jaw dropping. The coolest thing in Delhi was Ghandi Smitri, the place where Ghandi was shot. I'm rarely touched by such stuff, but Ghandi is one guy who evokes nothing but respect from me. It was eerie to stand where he was killed. Concrete footsteps lead to a two foot tall obelisk with one Hindi word (what word, I don't know) written on it. A fitting tribute to a modest man.
Anyway, My session expires in one minute, so I must go. Sorry about the lack of proofreading.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Delhi and Corbett
We spent a few nights in Delhi before going to Corbett tiger reserve (see http://projecttiger.nic.in/corbett.htm). I like to get the flavour of a city more than anything else when I travel (ie seeing how people live as opposed to seeing a temple or a museum). Accordingly, I did about four hours of walking around during the day for the first three days I was here. Delhi has plenty of interesting sights to see and people to meet.
On arriving, we met a German guy. He seemed friendly enough, and recommended his hotel. We gladly took his advice and followed him to a half decent budget place (which is not always easy to find). After we checked in, he told us he was going out for a beer, so Raju and I decided to join him. We went out and discussed politics, had a few beers and some snacks and then Raju and I went home to shower up. Because we were in the same hotel, this guy knew where our room was. Before we were done getting ready he knocked on our door with some food. He came in and sat down. Then he asked if he could take his shirt off. Both of us were unsure about him at that point, but what are you going to say? It's socially awkward. So he took his shirt off. Then he pulled out a little piece of folded paper, opens it up and tells us that it is "brown cocaine," my curiosity got me, and I found the following link somewhat informative on the topic: http://www.hipforums.com/forums/archive/index.php/t-113070.html.
As soon as this guy pulls out this BC, there was a knock on the door. I guess this German guy is high, and paranoid, because he reacts in an unduly rushed manner, trying to hide the mystery substance. Then we open the door, it's the hotel guy delivering bottles of water we had ordered. When we close the door, the German guy starts looking for his BC, when he can't find it, he starts accusing us of spilling it. We can't convince him otherwise. Then he spots a brown stain on our floor and thinks this might be his brown cocaine. He wants to sniff it. I actually think it was paint, or perhaps some kind of makeup that had been successfully cleaned from the tiles when spilled, but had become a permanent part of the grout. Anyway, we ushered him out of the room rather quickly, and spent the rest of our stay in the hotel not speaking and walking quickly and quietly whenever we passed his room.
In other news, Raju and I have found a 5 rupee Parantha (think naan bread, but stuffed with delicious stuff). We figure two of these would be a meal, which prompted us to begin measuring everything in parantha equivalent values. For example, I had a cappuccino that was worth 9 paranthas. I have also had a 40 parantha entree, and a 91 parantha entree in two different restaurants. I have had a 5 parantha bottle of water, and even a 5 parantha parantha if you can imagine such a thing. I also calculated that, depending on the exchange rate, my return ticket to Canada is worth about 4500 Paranthas. So I could eat for over two years, or fly to Canada once. Interesting economics.
Raju and I have determined that we should never again assume that things will be either decent or punctual within India. We have found decent things, we have found punctual things, there are even a few things that are both decent and puntual, those are rare indeed. When one depends upon quality and/or punctuality, however, one begs for disappointment. For example, were you to go into a store and explain that you only have half an hour, then ask whether they could download all your digital pictures in that time, the answer will always be yes. But "yes" itself is a term applied in only the loosest way. It might mean "yes", it might mean "we will be fifteen minutes late" (which nobody really seems to mind here). More recently, we discovered that yes might mean "we will remain pleasant and smile at you and reassure you that it will only be five more minutes every five minutes for the next three hours. Furthermore, we will hold your memory card hostage giving any excuse necessary, such is our desperation for the equivalent of two Canadian dollars." Seriously, Raju and I were in a situation where we really thought that the only way to get his card back would be to threaten them with physical violence. Since we aren't prepared to brawl over this, or in India, or really at all, our hands were tied and we waited and waited. Being upset did nothing. They just kept smiling at us.
Touts are at least as bad in Delhi as anywhere else. They have interestingly uniform sales strategies. Sales basically consists of shouting "YES! Hello my friend. You come my shop, you no like, no buy, no problem." The only variant I have found on this technique is to point at objects in your store, name them, then say "you like" or alternately "very good." For example if you sell sunglasses, the sales pitch would be "sunglasses, very good." Furthermore, the objects repeat themselves every 5 stores or so, so everyone is selling the same thing. This is true to the point that some stores even stock a shirt that says no to all of these objects. The shirt reads:
No autorickshaw
No tour
No clothes
No sunglasses
No fabric
No hash
No tout
No problem
The striking thing about these shirts is that they are sold by the very people who necessitate them. It would be like Hummer selling shirts saying "lower your emissions."
Gurgaon
Gurgaon is a suburb of Delhi. It is markedly different from the rest of India. It is the wealthiest neighbourhood in the country, and it is where Raju's cousin moved with her husband. They moved because of a fantastic job opportunity with Air India. The company puts them up in a fantastic 4 bedroom condo in a fantastic compound. We had to pass armed guards to gain entry.
Most things in India, and indeed many other places I have been, do not quite meet Western standards. Even when people try to do Western style stuff, there is usually something off about it. The apartments in Gurgaon defy this trend. They would be upscale places even in downtown Toronto. Everything is marble, water pressure is high, and the AC can get downright frigid. We also went out to a restaurant where you could order skewers and barbecue them in the center of your table. This wasn't a Western style restaurant, but it was a place I would definitely visit frequently if it was near my house. It was clean, and the service was outstanding Raju and I got our only good sleep since leaving Canada. The next day we went to a mall that could easily have passed for a Canadian mall. It was all western brands, and air-conditioned.
The only thing that didn't really conform to western standards was the fact that support staff were necessary for such a place and such staff are obviously going to be poor. From my bedroom window, I could see construction of a massive new luxury building, but I could also see a shanty town in which the building's workers were living. So I guess Gurgaon represents and example of what India could become, not what it has become
Corbett
We went to Corbett Park hoping to see a tiger. So did everyone we met. Although this plan fell through, as an animal lover I don't understand how anyone could dislike this experience. We saw wild monkeys (two species), deer (three species), owls, hawks, countless tropical birds with vibrant colours, a mongoose, garials, crocodiles, lizards, and... WILD ELEPHANTS! If you don't know how happy that makes me, I guess you don't know me too well. It was awesome. The best part of the day was sitting in Savannah at the bottom of a shallow valley. We were next to a man-made lake, and I counted 21 elephants slowly making their way toward the water. It was one of the best things I have ever seen. I personally feel sights like this simply put the Taj Mahal to shame.
The closest we came to seeing a tiger, was seeing their footprints. Jeeps are only allowed into the park at certain times. The earliest is 6 am. We saw the footprints of a tiger over one of these tracks at 7:15 am. That means that I missed a tiger by at most an hour. Possibly only 5 minutes. This has inspired me to try one more tiger park before leaving. They are WAY more expensive than everything else in India, but a. I want to see a tiger and b. the proceeds go to conservation of one of the 5 coolest animals in the world so I don't mind spending 760 paranthas worth on such an endeavour.
On arriving, we met a German guy. He seemed friendly enough, and recommended his hotel. We gladly took his advice and followed him to a half decent budget place (which is not always easy to find). After we checked in, he told us he was going out for a beer, so Raju and I decided to join him. We went out and discussed politics, had a few beers and some snacks and then Raju and I went home to shower up. Because we were in the same hotel, this guy knew where our room was. Before we were done getting ready he knocked on our door with some food. He came in and sat down. Then he asked if he could take his shirt off. Both of us were unsure about him at that point, but what are you going to say? It's socially awkward. So he took his shirt off. Then he pulled out a little piece of folded paper, opens it up and tells us that it is "brown cocaine," my curiosity got me, and I found the following link somewhat informative on the topic: http://www.hipforums.com/forums/archive/index.php/t-113070.html.
As soon as this guy pulls out this BC, there was a knock on the door. I guess this German guy is high, and paranoid, because he reacts in an unduly rushed manner, trying to hide the mystery substance. Then we open the door, it's the hotel guy delivering bottles of water we had ordered. When we close the door, the German guy starts looking for his BC, when he can't find it, he starts accusing us of spilling it. We can't convince him otherwise. Then he spots a brown stain on our floor and thinks this might be his brown cocaine. He wants to sniff it. I actually think it was paint, or perhaps some kind of makeup that had been successfully cleaned from the tiles when spilled, but had become a permanent part of the grout. Anyway, we ushered him out of the room rather quickly, and spent the rest of our stay in the hotel not speaking and walking quickly and quietly whenever we passed his room.
In other news, Raju and I have found a 5 rupee Parantha (think naan bread, but stuffed with delicious stuff). We figure two of these would be a meal, which prompted us to begin measuring everything in parantha equivalent values. For example, I had a cappuccino that was worth 9 paranthas. I have also had a 40 parantha entree, and a 91 parantha entree in two different restaurants. I have had a 5 parantha bottle of water, and even a 5 parantha parantha if you can imagine such a thing. I also calculated that, depending on the exchange rate, my return ticket to Canada is worth about 4500 Paranthas. So I could eat for over two years, or fly to Canada once. Interesting economics.
Raju and I have determined that we should never again assume that things will be either decent or punctual within India. We have found decent things, we have found punctual things, there are even a few things that are both decent and puntual, those are rare indeed. When one depends upon quality and/or punctuality, however, one begs for disappointment. For example, were you to go into a store and explain that you only have half an hour, then ask whether they could download all your digital pictures in that time, the answer will always be yes. But "yes" itself is a term applied in only the loosest way. It might mean "yes", it might mean "we will be fifteen minutes late" (which nobody really seems to mind here). More recently, we discovered that yes might mean "we will remain pleasant and smile at you and reassure you that it will only be five more minutes every five minutes for the next three hours. Furthermore, we will hold your memory card hostage giving any excuse necessary, such is our desperation for the equivalent of two Canadian dollars." Seriously, Raju and I were in a situation where we really thought that the only way to get his card back would be to threaten them with physical violence. Since we aren't prepared to brawl over this, or in India, or really at all, our hands were tied and we waited and waited. Being upset did nothing. They just kept smiling at us.
Touts are at least as bad in Delhi as anywhere else. They have interestingly uniform sales strategies. Sales basically consists of shouting "YES! Hello my friend. You come my shop, you no like, no buy, no problem." The only variant I have found on this technique is to point at objects in your store, name them, then say "you like" or alternately "very good." For example if you sell sunglasses, the sales pitch would be "sunglasses, very good." Furthermore, the objects repeat themselves every 5 stores or so, so everyone is selling the same thing. This is true to the point that some stores even stock a shirt that says no to all of these objects. The shirt reads:
No autorickshaw
No tour
No clothes
No sunglasses
No fabric
No hash
No tout
No problem
The striking thing about these shirts is that they are sold by the very people who necessitate them. It would be like Hummer selling shirts saying "lower your emissions."
Gurgaon
Gurgaon is a suburb of Delhi. It is markedly different from the rest of India. It is the wealthiest neighbourhood in the country, and it is where Raju's cousin moved with her husband. They moved because of a fantastic job opportunity with Air India. The company puts them up in a fantastic 4 bedroom condo in a fantastic compound. We had to pass armed guards to gain entry.
Most things in India, and indeed many other places I have been, do not quite meet Western standards. Even when people try to do Western style stuff, there is usually something off about it. The apartments in Gurgaon defy this trend. They would be upscale places even in downtown Toronto. Everything is marble, water pressure is high, and the AC can get downright frigid. We also went out to a restaurant where you could order skewers and barbecue them in the center of your table. This wasn't a Western style restaurant, but it was a place I would definitely visit frequently if it was near my house. It was clean, and the service was outstanding Raju and I got our only good sleep since leaving Canada. The next day we went to a mall that could easily have passed for a Canadian mall. It was all western brands, and air-conditioned.
The only thing that didn't really conform to western standards was the fact that support staff were necessary for such a place and such staff are obviously going to be poor. From my bedroom window, I could see construction of a massive new luxury building, but I could also see a shanty town in which the building's workers were living. So I guess Gurgaon represents and example of what India could become, not what it has become
Corbett
We went to Corbett Park hoping to see a tiger. So did everyone we met. Although this plan fell through, as an animal lover I don't understand how anyone could dislike this experience. We saw wild monkeys (two species), deer (three species), owls, hawks, countless tropical birds with vibrant colours, a mongoose, garials, crocodiles, lizards, and... WILD ELEPHANTS! If you don't know how happy that makes me, I guess you don't know me too well. It was awesome. The best part of the day was sitting in Savannah at the bottom of a shallow valley. We were next to a man-made lake, and I counted 21 elephants slowly making their way toward the water. It was one of the best things I have ever seen. I personally feel sights like this simply put the Taj Mahal to shame.
The closest we came to seeing a tiger, was seeing their footprints. Jeeps are only allowed into the park at certain times. The earliest is 6 am. We saw the footprints of a tiger over one of these tracks at 7:15 am. That means that I missed a tiger by at most an hour. Possibly only 5 minutes. This has inspired me to try one more tiger park before leaving. They are WAY more expensive than everything else in India, but a. I want to see a tiger and b. the proceeds go to conservation of one of the 5 coolest animals in the world so I don't mind spending 760 paranthas worth on such an endeavour.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Then there were two
It has been a little while, I realize. That's because I was at Raju's family farm in Lallian, Punjab. They had no interent. The only time I asked about internet, they called everyone they knew in order to see whether they had/knew people who had internet. Their final solution was to drive to town and drive around looking for internet. I don't think any of them have ever used the internet. This was no small task and the connection there was dodgy at best. Suffice it to say that was the only online foray during my time in Lallian.
Patriarchy in rural India
I think the most striking observation from my time on the farm was the extremity of patriarchy taking place. men's and women's work are not mixed. They actually seemed offended when I offered to help clean the dishes after dinners, and they laughed at me when I told them that Melissa and I share cooking duties at home. This isn't the worst thing I've ever seen, but the way in which it is carried out sometimes shocked my sense of justice.
The best example of this was on the night we celebrated Gavin's birthday. When the Lalli's found out it was Gavin's birthday, the two women (auntie and Buljinder) "celebrated" by retiring to the kitchen to slave away on a special meal. The men reciprocated by taking us out for a drink. Now in order to fully understand this situation, you must appreciate that Punjabi culture tends to frown upon drinking. Of course boys will be boys and it happens, but they told us that auntie hates booze so we need to be discreet. Fine with us, we told them we don't need to go out, but they controlled our every move [more on this below] and left us no option. This is okay, however, because I can be discreet when called upon to do so. So we went out and had two beers each, hardly falling down drunk. Then we go back and the following exchange takes place between auntie and her eldest son Binda:
A: It's so late [it's 11 pm]
B: Don't bother us.
A: Is that booze I smell on you?
B: Go make dinner for our guests, stop asking questions
A: [grumbling about booze] Fine.
...
[Auntie spills water while serving us a delicious meal]
B: Clean that up!
If my mom cares to comment on what she would say to me if I came home drunk and demanded that she begin cooking after she told me it was past her bedtime, I will include that comment in my next post. I felt terrible that this poor woman stayed up and felt the need to cook for us. I would have liked to be able to come home earlier, or even try to convince her that I wasn't hungry, but this is not life on the farm. The women cook for guests and that's final. Very awkward situation.
The whole situation is very hierarchical in general. Binda drives. Raju gets shotgun, and Gavin, Jeeta and I sit in the back. I get stuck with the middle seat. We came up with two possible reasons why I am the lowest rung on the totem pole. Maybe it's because Gavin is taller. Alternately, I might look like a servant because I always carry my bag. Interestingly enough, on the one day when the women had the good fortune of not being stuck in the house all day, I got shotgun. This is because the strictness of Sikh culture would not allow a stranger sitting beside/touching a woman who is not his family member/wife.
Binda:
Perhaps the best description of Binda is alpha gorilla. Raju even commented that Binda puts his shoes on as though he is trying to make them submit. I suppose he is a well intentioned guy, but his psychology seems to be an obvious product of always having been the oldest cousin, and thus the big man in the family structure. This posed a bit of a problem for us, because we simply were not allowed to do anything unless it was Binda's idea.
This was the case right from the start, Binda met us in our hotel room in Chandigarh, from where we already had a train ticket booked toward the family farm. Binda, however, knew of a bus that was infinitely superior to our spacious, air-conditioned train (by what measure, I'm not sure). It was like that for the entire time we were there. Every morning, Binda would wake us up at 6 am. Why? I don't know. We never went anywhere before 10 am since he was working on the farm, and he would not allow us to help him work. When we did go out, he took us either to temples, or relatives homes. Both of these places had a routine.
In the temples, Binda would give us a little money outside in order to make a donation. We would touch the steps, then our foreheads, enter without our shoes, and then drop to our knees, make the donation, touch our head to the floor, stand up, walk clockwise around certain stuff in the temple, hold out two hands to receive some holy food from a priest (he won't give it to you if you hold out one hand), eat it, then sit and contemplate whatever you want for a few minutes then leave.
In the relatives' homes, we would show up, the men would sit around talking, the women would get to work making stuff for the guests. There was some variation on what we would get but not much. In all but one of the houses, it started with a glass of pop, then bitings (think Indian style bits and bites). Next would come chai and biscuits (sweet and savoury) and usually barfi. Then the women could finally join us and sit demurely nodding while the men spoke. Then we would leave.
I remember as a kid I used to like sugary things. I do not any more. almost everything I ate at the temples and the houses was full of sugar. This led to headaches and exhaustion. I also think I gained a pound per day. I don't handle sugar well.
I would like to clarify that I am not an ungrateful guest, or a culturally insensitive tourist. I did not go into these people's homes in order to ridicule them in my blog. All that I am trying to say is that certain aspects of the way they operate left me quite uncomfortable. There is no doubt that they were all hospitable. I actually quite enjoy learning about people's culture, this is much more interesting to me than most of the tourist sights. At the end of the day, however, I like the values we try to practice in Canada better than those employed in Punjabi culture.
Anyway, These were our two options when we were with Binda. The other thing that kind of drove us crazy was that we were robbed of all power of planning. One of the things we had to see when we were there was the Golden Temple. On about our third day of 6 am wake ups, and going to sleep at midnight, we were all one step shy of a diabetic coma from the day's sugar intake. It was 9 pm, and we were wondering how many more pops we would need to consume (an answer that would be denied us regardless of how we asked). Binda let it slip that the next destination was the Golden Temple, about a 3 hour drive away. Raju pointed out that this would have us back home at around 4 am, then Binda explained that we were actually going to sleep there, then wake up at 4 am in order to drive back to the farm. None of this was discussed with us, he just thought we were going to do it. Gavin has contact lenses, we can't just spend 25 straight hours without toiletries. I actually might have enjoyed sleeping at the Golden Temple, but not in the state all three of us were in at that time.
We told Binda that we were only really interested in sleeping, but he kept insisting that we go to the Golden Temple. This was the only time on the trip when his resolve was outmatched, we went home. On the way home, he expressed concern that we wouldn't be able to go if we didn't go right then. I think this was premised on the idea that we could not go anywhere in India without someone to hold our hands. A curious perspective, given that he knew we had travelled alone for two weeks prior to meeting him. Binda had to go into the city the next day, so we got our only sleep in on the farm. Nice.
We started our relationship with Binda on a bus we didn't want to be on. Fittingly, we ended it on a train we didn't want to be on. We spent our last day in Lallian much as all the others, visiting some temples and some people. The one variation, was a shockingly uncomfortable trip to some girl's house who was not one of Raju's relatives. I don't know exactly what was happening at this house, but we all got the vibe that Binda seemed to think this girl was, shall we say, without virtue. As far as I could tell, the entire purpose of the visit was to sit around and make fun of her while she served us drinks. Good times.
In the meantime, we had unequivocally told Binda that we wanted to go to the train station. For those of you thinking that we could just book online, you are wrong. If you just haven't felt like killing yourself recently, I suggest you try to book a ticket, for any journey anywhere in India at the following link http://www.indianrail.gov.in/inet_trn_num.html. Calling could also help, but Binda would not do this for us.
We ended up at the train station at 7:05, with Binda and some other guy. This is after an entire day of just trying to get a ticket. They go to the counter, and come back to us to say (in a smiley, would-you-believe-the-luck way) we just missed one by 5 minutes, the next one isn't for 3 hours. Bear in mind that this is a 5 hour train, do the math and that puts us in Delhi at around 3 am. Far from ideal. Then these two guys start going around to different counters in the station trying to "figure things out" for us. I have no clue, what they were doing, but Raju and I went up to the window, and said in English "two tickets to Delhi." Surprisingly, that was all it took. Then Binda proceeds to spend the next several hours before we get on the train telling us about all sorts of things not to do. Don't both fall asleep at the same time, and don't take cookies from strangers etc [he actually told us that].
Now remember that this is not our first time travelling by train in India, see my old posts to understand the depths to which such travel can sink. The process is as follows:
1. You book a ticket several days in advance and you have a reserved berth on the train.
2. Failing that you buy a general ticket (one that gets you into a car that necessitates inventing the word "superchaos") then you talk to a ticket collector in order to upgrade to an assigned seat, which may or may not be available, it is all up to luck.
So we had our lower class ticket, and we are looking for the collector guy so we can upgrade. Now Binda and the other guy start saying that we need to go to the front cars, somehow they are better. If I couldn't find a reason why the bus into Lallian was better than the train, I feel as though I need to go back to elementary school and relearn the concepts "better" and "worse" if the cars at the front of this train were in fact superior in some way. Instead of upgrading, Binda had us run past cars with seats in order to get to the front, the further along the train we got, the busier the cars. I am running in sandals, carrying a heavy backpack to get on a car where I won't have room to turn around. Then, the train starts moving. So now I have to jump on a moving train. This is Binda helping me. Gee, I never would have been able to do that on my own THANKS. wtf? I was just going to get on an air conditioned car where I could sleep, thanks for helping me skirt around that hell. Raju and I got off at the next stop, and just checked into a hotel. We just needed to regroup.
Gorilla.
Golden Temple
The Golden Temple itself was really worth seeing. It was nice (and shockingly easy) to go on a day when Binda was busy. We went with Raju's other cousin Jeeta, a cool dude. Perhaps the most striking thing about the Temple is that about 1000 people at any given time are cleaning it. Constant buckets of water, rags, squeegees and other tools ensure that the temple is the most spotless thing you are likely to find in India.
Though I am agnostic, I found this temple much as I find a Christian church in Canada. It was a wonderful opportunity to peacefully reflect.
A great part of Sikh temples the world over is that they are always serving food. The Golden Temple is no exception, all people are always welcome to eat at any time of the day. I did so, and the food was fantastic.
After the Golden Temple, we went to a border show put on by India and Pakistan. I doubt I will do it justice in the following description, but I will try. The border guards jump around kicking in the air, while some guy on a microphone says all sorts of stuff that whips the crowd into a frenzy. The only part we understood was the chant "Hindustan Zindebad" meaning "long live India." On the other side, there were chants of "Pakistan Zindebad." Then these guards march up to the closed gates and open them. Then they shook hands in a crazy display of ceremonial aggression. Then they jump around kicking the air and glaring at each other and yelling for about 15 minutes. Then they lower the flags of both countries. Finally they close the gates again. The guards from both sides slam them so hard that they spring back open and need to be closed at a reasonable speed. Then the crowd chants more stuff, then everyone goes home.
One of the best parts for me was when several women wanted to sit in a particular spot, and one of the guards, seemingly abitrarily decided that this spot was off limits to them. So he started yelling at them to move and blowing his whistle and generally freaking out. Their response was to smile at him and just not move. Then after about 10 minutes of stand off, they finally moved about two feet, then he turned around and they moved back, then he saw that they moved back and he gave up. Fantastic enforcement.
The Rupee is real money, isn't it?
The following is a sampling of transactions I have had in India. I owed nine and payed with a ten. The girl gave me a candy and said "no change." I owed fourteen and paid with a twenty, and the guy gave me a five back. Then Raju's cousin says "you still owe him one" to which the merchant replies "no, I'll just keep it." I owed 16 and paid 15. While looking for one more, the guy said "I don't want it" and closed his store.
If anyone wants to check out my new favourite Indian song, it's called Boot Polish. I don't know who sings it, but how many Punjabi songs called Boot Polish could there be?
Patriarchy in rural India
I think the most striking observation from my time on the farm was the extremity of patriarchy taking place. men's and women's work are not mixed. They actually seemed offended when I offered to help clean the dishes after dinners, and they laughed at me when I told them that Melissa and I share cooking duties at home. This isn't the worst thing I've ever seen, but the way in which it is carried out sometimes shocked my sense of justice.
The best example of this was on the night we celebrated Gavin's birthday. When the Lalli's found out it was Gavin's birthday, the two women (auntie and Buljinder) "celebrated" by retiring to the kitchen to slave away on a special meal. The men reciprocated by taking us out for a drink. Now in order to fully understand this situation, you must appreciate that Punjabi culture tends to frown upon drinking. Of course boys will be boys and it happens, but they told us that auntie hates booze so we need to be discreet. Fine with us, we told them we don't need to go out, but they controlled our every move [more on this below] and left us no option. This is okay, however, because I can be discreet when called upon to do so. So we went out and had two beers each, hardly falling down drunk. Then we go back and the following exchange takes place between auntie and her eldest son Binda:
A: It's so late [it's 11 pm]
B: Don't bother us.
A: Is that booze I smell on you?
B: Go make dinner for our guests, stop asking questions
A: [grumbling about booze] Fine.
...
[Auntie spills water while serving us a delicious meal]
B: Clean that up!
If my mom cares to comment on what she would say to me if I came home drunk and demanded that she begin cooking after she told me it was past her bedtime, I will include that comment in my next post. I felt terrible that this poor woman stayed up and felt the need to cook for us. I would have liked to be able to come home earlier, or even try to convince her that I wasn't hungry, but this is not life on the farm. The women cook for guests and that's final. Very awkward situation.
The whole situation is very hierarchical in general. Binda drives. Raju gets shotgun, and Gavin, Jeeta and I sit in the back. I get stuck with the middle seat. We came up with two possible reasons why I am the lowest rung on the totem pole. Maybe it's because Gavin is taller. Alternately, I might look like a servant because I always carry my bag. Interestingly enough, on the one day when the women had the good fortune of not being stuck in the house all day, I got shotgun. This is because the strictness of Sikh culture would not allow a stranger sitting beside/touching a woman who is not his family member/wife.
Binda:
Perhaps the best description of Binda is alpha gorilla. Raju even commented that Binda puts his shoes on as though he is trying to make them submit. I suppose he is a well intentioned guy, but his psychology seems to be an obvious product of always having been the oldest cousin, and thus the big man in the family structure. This posed a bit of a problem for us, because we simply were not allowed to do anything unless it was Binda's idea.
This was the case right from the start, Binda met us in our hotel room in Chandigarh, from where we already had a train ticket booked toward the family farm. Binda, however, knew of a bus that was infinitely superior to our spacious, air-conditioned train (by what measure, I'm not sure). It was like that for the entire time we were there. Every morning, Binda would wake us up at 6 am. Why? I don't know. We never went anywhere before 10 am since he was working on the farm, and he would not allow us to help him work. When we did go out, he took us either to temples, or relatives homes. Both of these places had a routine.
In the temples, Binda would give us a little money outside in order to make a donation. We would touch the steps, then our foreheads, enter without our shoes, and then drop to our knees, make the donation, touch our head to the floor, stand up, walk clockwise around certain stuff in the temple, hold out two hands to receive some holy food from a priest (he won't give it to you if you hold out one hand), eat it, then sit and contemplate whatever you want for a few minutes then leave.
In the relatives' homes, we would show up, the men would sit around talking, the women would get to work making stuff for the guests. There was some variation on what we would get but not much. In all but one of the houses, it started with a glass of pop, then bitings (think Indian style bits and bites). Next would come chai and biscuits (sweet and savoury) and usually barfi. Then the women could finally join us and sit demurely nodding while the men spoke. Then we would leave.
I remember as a kid I used to like sugary things. I do not any more. almost everything I ate at the temples and the houses was full of sugar. This led to headaches and exhaustion. I also think I gained a pound per day. I don't handle sugar well.
I would like to clarify that I am not an ungrateful guest, or a culturally insensitive tourist. I did not go into these people's homes in order to ridicule them in my blog. All that I am trying to say is that certain aspects of the way they operate left me quite uncomfortable. There is no doubt that they were all hospitable. I actually quite enjoy learning about people's culture, this is much more interesting to me than most of the tourist sights. At the end of the day, however, I like the values we try to practice in Canada better than those employed in Punjabi culture.
Anyway, These were our two options when we were with Binda. The other thing that kind of drove us crazy was that we were robbed of all power of planning. One of the things we had to see when we were there was the Golden Temple. On about our third day of 6 am wake ups, and going to sleep at midnight, we were all one step shy of a diabetic coma from the day's sugar intake. It was 9 pm, and we were wondering how many more pops we would need to consume (an answer that would be denied us regardless of how we asked). Binda let it slip that the next destination was the Golden Temple, about a 3 hour drive away. Raju pointed out that this would have us back home at around 4 am, then Binda explained that we were actually going to sleep there, then wake up at 4 am in order to drive back to the farm. None of this was discussed with us, he just thought we were going to do it. Gavin has contact lenses, we can't just spend 25 straight hours without toiletries. I actually might have enjoyed sleeping at the Golden Temple, but not in the state all three of us were in at that time.
We told Binda that we were only really interested in sleeping, but he kept insisting that we go to the Golden Temple. This was the only time on the trip when his resolve was outmatched, we went home. On the way home, he expressed concern that we wouldn't be able to go if we didn't go right then. I think this was premised on the idea that we could not go anywhere in India without someone to hold our hands. A curious perspective, given that he knew we had travelled alone for two weeks prior to meeting him. Binda had to go into the city the next day, so we got our only sleep in on the farm. Nice.
We started our relationship with Binda on a bus we didn't want to be on. Fittingly, we ended it on a train we didn't want to be on. We spent our last day in Lallian much as all the others, visiting some temples and some people. The one variation, was a shockingly uncomfortable trip to some girl's house who was not one of Raju's relatives. I don't know exactly what was happening at this house, but we all got the vibe that Binda seemed to think this girl was, shall we say, without virtue. As far as I could tell, the entire purpose of the visit was to sit around and make fun of her while she served us drinks. Good times.
In the meantime, we had unequivocally told Binda that we wanted to go to the train station. For those of you thinking that we could just book online, you are wrong. If you just haven't felt like killing yourself recently, I suggest you try to book a ticket, for any journey anywhere in India at the following link http://www.indianrail.gov.in/inet_trn_num.html. Calling could also help, but Binda would not do this for us.
We ended up at the train station at 7:05, with Binda and some other guy. This is after an entire day of just trying to get a ticket. They go to the counter, and come back to us to say (in a smiley, would-you-believe-the-luck way) we just missed one by 5 minutes, the next one isn't for 3 hours. Bear in mind that this is a 5 hour train, do the math and that puts us in Delhi at around 3 am. Far from ideal. Then these two guys start going around to different counters in the station trying to "figure things out" for us. I have no clue, what they were doing, but Raju and I went up to the window, and said in English "two tickets to Delhi." Surprisingly, that was all it took. Then Binda proceeds to spend the next several hours before we get on the train telling us about all sorts of things not to do. Don't both fall asleep at the same time, and don't take cookies from strangers etc [he actually told us that].
Now remember that this is not our first time travelling by train in India, see my old posts to understand the depths to which such travel can sink. The process is as follows:
1. You book a ticket several days in advance and you have a reserved berth on the train.
2. Failing that you buy a general ticket (one that gets you into a car that necessitates inventing the word "superchaos") then you talk to a ticket collector in order to upgrade to an assigned seat, which may or may not be available, it is all up to luck.
So we had our lower class ticket, and we are looking for the collector guy so we can upgrade. Now Binda and the other guy start saying that we need to go to the front cars, somehow they are better. If I couldn't find a reason why the bus into Lallian was better than the train, I feel as though I need to go back to elementary school and relearn the concepts "better" and "worse" if the cars at the front of this train were in fact superior in some way. Instead of upgrading, Binda had us run past cars with seats in order to get to the front, the further along the train we got, the busier the cars. I am running in sandals, carrying a heavy backpack to get on a car where I won't have room to turn around. Then, the train starts moving. So now I have to jump on a moving train. This is Binda helping me. Gee, I never would have been able to do that on my own THANKS. wtf? I was just going to get on an air conditioned car where I could sleep, thanks for helping me skirt around that hell. Raju and I got off at the next stop, and just checked into a hotel. We just needed to regroup.
Gorilla.
Golden Temple
The Golden Temple itself was really worth seeing. It was nice (and shockingly easy) to go on a day when Binda was busy. We went with Raju's other cousin Jeeta, a cool dude. Perhaps the most striking thing about the Temple is that about 1000 people at any given time are cleaning it. Constant buckets of water, rags, squeegees and other tools ensure that the temple is the most spotless thing you are likely to find in India.
Though I am agnostic, I found this temple much as I find a Christian church in Canada. It was a wonderful opportunity to peacefully reflect.
A great part of Sikh temples the world over is that they are always serving food. The Golden Temple is no exception, all people are always welcome to eat at any time of the day. I did so, and the food was fantastic.
After the Golden Temple, we went to a border show put on by India and Pakistan. I doubt I will do it justice in the following description, but I will try. The border guards jump around kicking in the air, while some guy on a microphone says all sorts of stuff that whips the crowd into a frenzy. The only part we understood was the chant "Hindustan Zindebad" meaning "long live India." On the other side, there were chants of "Pakistan Zindebad." Then these guards march up to the closed gates and open them. Then they shook hands in a crazy display of ceremonial aggression. Then they jump around kicking the air and glaring at each other and yelling for about 15 minutes. Then they lower the flags of both countries. Finally they close the gates again. The guards from both sides slam them so hard that they spring back open and need to be closed at a reasonable speed. Then the crowd chants more stuff, then everyone goes home.
One of the best parts for me was when several women wanted to sit in a particular spot, and one of the guards, seemingly abitrarily decided that this spot was off limits to them. So he started yelling at them to move and blowing his whistle and generally freaking out. Their response was to smile at him and just not move. Then after about 10 minutes of stand off, they finally moved about two feet, then he turned around and they moved back, then he saw that they moved back and he gave up. Fantastic enforcement.
The Rupee is real money, isn't it?
The following is a sampling of transactions I have had in India. I owed nine and payed with a ten. The girl gave me a candy and said "no change." I owed fourteen and paid with a twenty, and the guy gave me a five back. Then Raju's cousin says "you still owe him one" to which the merchant replies "no, I'll just keep it." I owed 16 and paid 15. While looking for one more, the guy said "I don't want it" and closed his store.
If anyone wants to check out my new favourite Indian song, it's called Boot Polish. I don't know who sings it, but how many Punjabi songs called Boot Polish could there be?
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Punjab
First, a disclaimer: the M key on this keyboard is dodgy at best. Please excuse any lack of that letter in the following text. The north is so far decidedly different from any other part of India. As we got off the train, several indicia told us that this place was different. For instance, there was a clean dog. There was art near a train station. We were only approached by two taxi drivers. Most surprisingly of all, there are garbage cans! Still, signs of not being quite like Canada persist. A small beggar boy came up to me to beg. He would not leave me alone no matter what I did. This persisted for several inutes, incuding a few occasions when he grabbed onto my leg for dear life. This was soewhat heart-wrenching, but it was also just a tactic that I can't endorse, to give in to such persistence would only encourage future harrassment for others. I stayed strong. Finally he was deterred by the threat of a smack fro the police, an effective technique, I must say.
We are currently staying in Chandigarh, the capital. Almost everything is clean, and most of it is made out of marble. It is truly nice in some places and so far strikes me as the only place I could live in all of India (my lungs have almost recovered from y time in Delhi). The only downside is that the marble is hard and consequently it hurts my back. Oh well, I'd rather see India than nurse my crippledness.
The other notable thing about Punjab is that it does western style things correctly. I have been eating mostly Indian food, which I love, but not exclusively. Anyway, most of the non-Indian stuff I have had has been a poor-an's version. Not in Punjab though. Great breads, even good hot dogs.
I believe that Punjab is so affluent as a result of separatist mentality. Spiritually, it has never been a part of India and there are strong separatist feelings (think Quebec with turbans). Anyway, for a number of reasons they eigrate ore than ost parts of the Indian population, this is why Punjabis are so apparent in Canada, despite being a smaller fraction of the Indian population. Anyway, Raju explained to me that it is a popular move to get out of Punjab and send money home. This and other differences have contributed to Punjab being a fine exaple of what India could be.
On a final note, we stopped into an air conditioned billiard hall yesterday in order to avoid heat stroke. While there, we met a guy who introduced himself as Deepak (and a last name that none of us caught, but sounded like Chopra). Anyway, I am wary of touts and people who just sidle up to us, he seemed nice but I wanted to keep my distance. Anyway, Raju and Gavin wanted to go to a bar he suggested, so we went with him. The bar was too loud, and too expensive, and too much of a gay bar for our taste. I think Deepak thought we were gay. Also he just wanted us to treat him to drinks. He never really loved us. Anyway, we politely excused ourselves and went home to have a tickle fight. Then Raju and Gavin blamed us as a group, I must object to this ischaracterisation. They fell for it, I didn't. I am the smartest man alive.
We are currently staying in Chandigarh, the capital. Almost everything is clean, and most of it is made out of marble. It is truly nice in some places and so far strikes me as the only place I could live in all of India (my lungs have almost recovered from y time in Delhi). The only downside is that the marble is hard and consequently it hurts my back. Oh well, I'd rather see India than nurse my crippledness.
The other notable thing about Punjab is that it does western style things correctly. I have been eating mostly Indian food, which I love, but not exclusively. Anyway, most of the non-Indian stuff I have had has been a poor-an's version. Not in Punjab though. Great breads, even good hot dogs.
I believe that Punjab is so affluent as a result of separatist mentality. Spiritually, it has never been a part of India and there are strong separatist feelings (think Quebec with turbans). Anyway, for a number of reasons they eigrate ore than ost parts of the Indian population, this is why Punjabis are so apparent in Canada, despite being a smaller fraction of the Indian population. Anyway, Raju explained to me that it is a popular move to get out of Punjab and send money home. This and other differences have contributed to Punjab being a fine exaple of what India could be.
On a final note, we stopped into an air conditioned billiard hall yesterday in order to avoid heat stroke. While there, we met a guy who introduced himself as Deepak (and a last name that none of us caught, but sounded like Chopra). Anyway, I am wary of touts and people who just sidle up to us, he seemed nice but I wanted to keep my distance. Anyway, Raju and Gavin wanted to go to a bar he suggested, so we went with him. The bar was too loud, and too expensive, and too much of a gay bar for our taste. I think Deepak thought we were gay. Also he just wanted us to treat him to drinks. He never really loved us. Anyway, we politely excused ourselves and went home to have a tickle fight. Then Raju and Gavin blamed us as a group, I must object to this ischaracterisation. They fell for it, I didn't. I am the smartest man alive.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Taj Mahal
I saw the Taj Mahal today, cross another wonder off the list. It was, as you might anticipate, way better than the pictures could ever let on. The intricacy of detail in all the marble lets you apreciate why it took a labour force of 20 000 to build the complex. Imagine the kind of power you would need to command in order to accomplish such a project.
I was also struck by the contrast between the magnificence that was, and the terrible care that is now taken of it. It is not on the level of mismanagement of the Egyptian pyramids, but there is still trash, pools of dirty water, and broken benches all around the property.
Outside of the Taj, you are truly back into the third world. It really stinks, there is garabage everywhere, and touts try desperatly to extort any money they can. We saw monkeys chasing each other over rooftops fighting for a scrap of food, cows wallowing in their own filth, and dogs that... well, let's just say that I don't think those dogs will be around when anyone who reads this blog makes it here.
Off to the train station now. My last experience on a train was buying what I errantly thought was a second class ticket, only to get on my car and find that it was no class of any identifiable kind. Picture the hottest place you have ever been (including saunas) then imagine it full, then multiply the size by ten, and the people by thirty, and you have an idea of the worst car on a Indian train. Pushing is the only rule, and no, it does not exclude small old ladies who look as though pushing might put them in the grave. We upgraded.
I was also struck by the contrast between the magnificence that was, and the terrible care that is now taken of it. It is not on the level of mismanagement of the Egyptian pyramids, but there is still trash, pools of dirty water, and broken benches all around the property.
Outside of the Taj, you are truly back into the third world. It really stinks, there is garabage everywhere, and touts try desperatly to extort any money they can. We saw monkeys chasing each other over rooftops fighting for a scrap of food, cows wallowing in their own filth, and dogs that... well, let's just say that I don't think those dogs will be around when anyone who reads this blog makes it here.
Off to the train station now. My last experience on a train was buying what I errantly thought was a second class ticket, only to get on my car and find that it was no class of any identifiable kind. Picture the hottest place you have ever been (including saunas) then imagine it full, then multiply the size by ten, and the people by thirty, and you have an idea of the worst car on a Indian train. Pushing is the only rule, and no, it does not exclude small old ladies who look as though pushing might put them in the grave. We upgraded.
First Impressions
My ride into Mumbai on the very first night in India was the most sensory stimulation I have ever received on first landing in a city. The smells were incredible (and mostly good). We passed a massive construction project on the highway, where workers were using a hot tar cauldron burning actual wood. These workers didn't have safety shoes on. As a matter of fact, they didn't have ANY shoes on. That was pretty wild. It was a long day of travelling, and we all felt like we could use a cold beer. The place to go for beer late at night in Mumbai would be lucky to qualify as a garbage dump, maybe if they cleaned it up a little bit. Some guy sold them from his "house."
Mumbai is pretty dirty, and very expensive, so we decided not to stay long. We saw a Ghandi museum, housed in a former residence of him. The highlight was a letter he had written to Adolf Hitler, it was quite powerful (though obviously failed to do the trick). We also some some other cool things, including hanging gardens, and an enormous laundry complex, where workers "clean" clothes by swinging them over their heads and smashing them against rocks. I would keel over from heat stroke in my first 15 minutes on that job.
The ride from Mumbai to Goa was 14 hours by bus, we figured we would kill two birds with one stone by sleeping on the bus. There were "sleeper" tickets, which we naively assumed meant we would get a sleepable chair that reclined. Instead, we got a shelf that fit two people on it. The top of my head and soles of my feet could simultaneously touch the boundaries of my coffin. I was fortunate enough to sleep 9 miserable hours, the other 5 were terrible. Especially when the trip was unnecessarily prolonged so that the bus driver could take a massive detour down roads that wouldn't accomodate a bus all to drop off some friend of his. Of course there was no apology. We were pretty miserable when we got off that bus, but within an hour we had booked into a beautiful breezy room with an ocean view. Things picked up from there.
The animals I have seen in Goa are numerous, the ones I can name are elephants, wild pigs, dogs, cats, rats, mongooses (mongeese?) and innumerable types of lizards. Others, I can't name but they include several types of cool bugs. We rented scooters on the first day here. Fortunately, we had met a cool Aussie named Nick in Mumbai who gave us a quick tutorial on crooked cops. He told us that they often try to stop anyone white just to get a bribe. He said he just didn't stop ever, and they usually figured he was not worth chasing/new what was going on. We managed to put Nick's theory into practice three times here. Police really aren't interested in chasing someone who hasn't broken the law, and since there are no road laws that I can perceive here, that works just fine for me. We spent several days in Goa seeing beautiful sights and getting into all sorts of back trails on our bikes.
A final, yet gruesome sight, was somewhat hard to take, weak stomachs, especially those who love dogs proceed with caution. We were playing poker in our hotel room and all of a sudden I heard an ungodly dog noise, beyond a howl, more like a scream. It took a moment to locate the noise, but several other dogs ran to the source, which helped me see it. Now my dog, Toby, is a vicious little guy, but I have never seen anything like this. Some dog had pissed of a pack of street dogs, and I truly think they were trying to kill him. The biggest dog from the pack had his mouth on the victim's throat while others tore at his legs and belly. In the end he pulled a physically amazing maneuver to get away from them, but I think he might have died anyway from wounds. It was a sad sight to say the least.
Stay tuned for more, but don't expect any more tales from overnight buses.
Mumbai is pretty dirty, and very expensive, so we decided not to stay long. We saw a Ghandi museum, housed in a former residence of him. The highlight was a letter he had written to Adolf Hitler, it was quite powerful (though obviously failed to do the trick). We also some some other cool things, including hanging gardens, and an enormous laundry complex, where workers "clean" clothes by swinging them over their heads and smashing them against rocks. I would keel over from heat stroke in my first 15 minutes on that job.
The ride from Mumbai to Goa was 14 hours by bus, we figured we would kill two birds with one stone by sleeping on the bus. There were "sleeper" tickets, which we naively assumed meant we would get a sleepable chair that reclined. Instead, we got a shelf that fit two people on it. The top of my head and soles of my feet could simultaneously touch the boundaries of my coffin. I was fortunate enough to sleep 9 miserable hours, the other 5 were terrible. Especially when the trip was unnecessarily prolonged so that the bus driver could take a massive detour down roads that wouldn't accomodate a bus all to drop off some friend of his. Of course there was no apology. We were pretty miserable when we got off that bus, but within an hour we had booked into a beautiful breezy room with an ocean view. Things picked up from there.
The animals I have seen in Goa are numerous, the ones I can name are elephants, wild pigs, dogs, cats, rats, mongooses (mongeese?) and innumerable types of lizards. Others, I can't name but they include several types of cool bugs. We rented scooters on the first day here. Fortunately, we had met a cool Aussie named Nick in Mumbai who gave us a quick tutorial on crooked cops. He told us that they often try to stop anyone white just to get a bribe. He said he just didn't stop ever, and they usually figured he was not worth chasing/new what was going on. We managed to put Nick's theory into practice three times here. Police really aren't interested in chasing someone who hasn't broken the law, and since there are no road laws that I can perceive here, that works just fine for me. We spent several days in Goa seeing beautiful sights and getting into all sorts of back trails on our bikes.
A final, yet gruesome sight, was somewhat hard to take, weak stomachs, especially those who love dogs proceed with caution. We were playing poker in our hotel room and all of a sudden I heard an ungodly dog noise, beyond a howl, more like a scream. It took a moment to locate the noise, but several other dogs ran to the source, which helped me see it. Now my dog, Toby, is a vicious little guy, but I have never seen anything like this. Some dog had pissed of a pack of street dogs, and I truly think they were trying to kill him. The biggest dog from the pack had his mouth on the victim's throat while others tore at his legs and belly. In the end he pulled a physically amazing maneuver to get away from them, but I think he might have died anyway from wounds. It was a sad sight to say the least.
Stay tuned for more, but don't expect any more tales from overnight buses.
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