We got to Sadhana Forest about a week ago - after a tiring mini-tourof South India. Fortunately for us, we missed the attacks in Mumbai bya week. We stayed far away from the now famed Taj Hotel in a smallguesthouse called Hotel New Bengal. Apparently it is a popular spotfor Bengali businessmen, who spoke very loudly and watched a lot oftelevision, which we could here through the thin walls. It's a shame Mumbai is bedeviled by this whole tragedy now. It's a hectic city, buta nice one. The bazaars are especially interesting. Both in Mumbai andBangalore, we made a point of staying close to them. In Bangalore, wewere in the hardware district. In Mumbai, the fabric and clotheshangers district. In India, the best food is in these pockets of the cities, but they are generally avoided by Westerners, which makes thesight of us all the more a spectacle. However, we did get two free cucumbers and a lot of assistance at the wash basins in the cafeterias.
It's true that trains are the best way to get around India. We had an interesting train ride from Mumbai to Goa. We sat in a compartmentwith a very quiet old British couple who were extremely reserved except when talking about Las Vegas, which seems to have excited them greatly. Goa itself was awash with tourists, which is to be expected for a state that is known especially for its party scene - a leftover from the hippy days. Apparently, there are still a lot of aging hippies there, but we didn't see any - not that we were especially looking for them, but we did meet a rather sketchy Scottish guy and anative Goan who sat next to me one day at an outdoor table and started talking to us. He was a little man who seemed very sedated, but he was a talkative little guy, primarily interested in the American tax system and our flight routes. The conversation ended with him asking if we had any stamps. Since we didn't, he gave me his address so that we can send him some American stamps in 6 months when we return. If any of you want to take the initiative, I can send you the address.
As I said, we are at Sadhana Forest now. Before we got here we spent a couple of days in Pondicherry, a town a few km's down the road. Interestingly enough, we arrived there a day after the attacks in Mumbai, but were completely unaware that it even happened until we got the concerned e-mails. At the time, we were much more concerned by the raging cyclone that was hovering over us. I don't think I've ever been more nervous than when we were walking towards the beach when we first got into Pondicherry, looking for a cheap guesthouse by the water. When we got to the beach though, we saw a crowd of people staring atthe sea and a police official authoritatively ushering them away. When we asked what was going on, all the man said was "Tsunami". We immediately got in an auto-rickshaw, drove west, and went to the highest room of a cheap hostel. Then we found out about the war in Mumbai, and everything settled into perspective.
For the past week we've been living in a completely different world. Sadhana Forest is like nothing I've ever experienced. It's part commune, part non-profit. We plant trees in the morning and do work around the compound in the afternoon. My afternoon work today was compost, which involved the toilets and their contents. Generally this isn't such a bad task, but the cyclone damaged the tank, so the water made this a messy experience. Aside from that, I'm loving it here. The work cuts off at 11:30 so we have ample free time to relax. A lot of time is spent in the community hut either reading or chatting with people. At any one time there are about 40 people here, from many different places. Right now there are a lot of Israelis though and they play a lot of music and sing Hebrew songs. It's awesome. Everyone is really interesting and has fascinating stories. It's amazing how quickly a community can be created when space and responsibilites are shared as closely as they are here. So far, this has been an amazing journey and living"sustainably" is enriching as it is challenging.
(If there's anything you should know about India, it's that everyonebobbles their head. This is a very vague gesture - incredibly hard toread, but we've adopted it to our benefit. If a price is too high, webobble our head. If we don't understand, we bobble our head. Accordingto the Babu, the guy living next to me in my hut, the bobble is avague gesture for Indians too.)
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
full moon tripping
for july's full moon we decided to take a trip over to tiruvanamalai, where they have a massive pilgrimage walk around a holy mountain. the town has a temple complex that cuts across the town and is punctuated by huuuuge pyramidy things.
it was drizzling at night and the round moon collaborated with the rushing clouds to make an eerie light/dark sky above. flickering flames for the gods projected dancing statue shadows on the walls and our ash-smeared faces.
the walk was nice, but we kept thinking we heard rattlesnakes very close by. maybe they were just some rattling bug that evolved to sound scary. also came across a praying mantis, i think, and it was sooooo far-out-looking that it made me think of how inexplicable, varied and strange this thing called "life" is... Ean: "and that shit reproduces!"
it was drizzling at night and the round moon collaborated with the rushing clouds to make an eerie light/dark sky above. flickering flames for the gods projected dancing statue shadows on the walls and our ash-smeared faces.
the walk was nice, but we kept thinking we heard rattlesnakes very close by. maybe they were just some rattling bug that evolved to sound scary. also came across a praying mantis, i think, and it was sooooo far-out-looking that it made me think of how inexplicable, varied and strange this thing called "life" is... Ean: "and that shit reproduces!"
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Oh yeah wow sun!
the train from Delhi down to Chennai was, of course, beautiful. the green just kept getting lusher and the broad banana leaves more plentiful as we hurtled down closer to the equator than i'd yet been. asap we got from chennai to pondicherry to auroville.
auroville is a trip.
after the extremely muggy air in rishikesh where nothing ever dries it was totally blissful, man, to spend 4 sunny days and 5 starry nights in a bamboo shack right on la playa. the place is called repos and is presided over by bhaga, a french ex-pat who works as a cafe manager, guest house operator, house putter-upper, and international spiritual researcher and lecturer.
seems like everyone in auroville gets to be a bricoleur of their choosing. marx said that 'after the revolution,' people'd be free to fish in the morning, write in the afternoon, and go bowling at night, or something like that. well they didn't wailt 'til 'after' here. auroville definitely has a utopian vibe to it and bhaga says its an experiment based on furthering the positive evolution of the human species. founded in '68 (it would...) auroville started when people from every state in india and over 100 other nations brought a handful of earth from their neck of the woods and mixed it all together in that urn-type-thing on the little peak in the right of the pic. below, 1/2 down.
(i stole this pic)
and that big gold golf ball... you meditate in it. there's a round chamber that's lit when a mirror reflects a shaft of light straight down to this big crystal ball which then radiates all over the room. its covered in a mosaic of 2 million pieces of gold pressed between glass. and those 2 million tiles, said the tour guide, were "made in that building over there with the blue door," which was TINY. took 5 years. yikes stripes.
'course to some degree the group of people who get to work the job of their choice and all that, the 'aurovelians,' is an elite group that excludes the surrounding fishing villages which have big problems with water shortages, etc. we did hear of a school for people with and without disabilities that aurovelians were working to set up that sounded pretty phenomenal.
besides the scrumptious breakfasts (idly, coconut chutney, sambar, amaaaaaazign croissants, muffins, dark dark dark coffee, musli and curd, bananas, hibiscus flower jam (!), pineapple juice, etc.) and dinners at the community kitchen and the lunches i'll never forget at the cafe (salads! ahhhh i missed salads soooo much. they had fresshhh locally grown tomatoes, avocados, cucumbers, greens, cheeeeese, nuts, dried berries, etc.), and swimming in the ocean, the best part of auroville was renting mopeds and getting lost all over the town, which has the shape of a spiral galaxy.
auroville is a trip.
after the extremely muggy air in rishikesh where nothing ever dries it was totally blissful, man, to spend 4 sunny days and 5 starry nights in a bamboo shack right on la playa. the place is called repos and is presided over by bhaga, a french ex-pat who works as a cafe manager, guest house operator, house putter-upper, and international spiritual researcher and lecturer.
seems like everyone in auroville gets to be a bricoleur of their choosing. marx said that 'after the revolution,' people'd be free to fish in the morning, write in the afternoon, and go bowling at night, or something like that. well they didn't wailt 'til 'after' here. auroville definitely has a utopian vibe to it and bhaga says its an experiment based on furthering the positive evolution of the human species. founded in '68 (it would...) auroville started when people from every state in india and over 100 other nations brought a handful of earth from their neck of the woods and mixed it all together in that urn-type-thing on the little peak in the right of the pic. below, 1/2 down.
(i stole this pic)and that big gold golf ball... you meditate in it. there's a round chamber that's lit when a mirror reflects a shaft of light straight down to this big crystal ball which then radiates all over the room. its covered in a mosaic of 2 million pieces of gold pressed between glass. and those 2 million tiles, said the tour guide, were "made in that building over there with the blue door," which was TINY. took 5 years. yikes stripes.
'course to some degree the group of people who get to work the job of their choice and all that, the 'aurovelians,' is an elite group that excludes the surrounding fishing villages which have big problems with water shortages, etc. we did hear of a school for people with and without disabilities that aurovelians were working to set up that sounded pretty phenomenal.
besides the scrumptious breakfasts (idly, coconut chutney, sambar, amaaaaaazign croissants, muffins, dark dark dark coffee, musli and curd, bananas, hibiscus flower jam (!), pineapple juice, etc.) and dinners at the community kitchen and the lunches i'll never forget at the cafe (salads! ahhhh i missed salads soooo much. they had fresshhh locally grown tomatoes, avocados, cucumbers, greens, cheeeeese, nuts, dried berries, etc.), and swimming in the ocean, the best part of auroville was renting mopeds and getting lost all over the town, which has the shape of a spiral galaxy.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
photo drop
courtesy of E's camera
shore temple in mamallapurim, state of tamil nadu
whole lotta mangoes in delhi
big guy outside a temple in pondicherry
chess class in pipariya, state of madhya pradesh
shore temple in mamallapurim, state of tamil nadu
whole lotta mangoes in delhi
big guy outside a temple in pondicherry
chess class in pipariya, state of madhya pradesh
Monday, July 28, 2008
ga-ga for ganga
so trains are totally the way to do it. the 37 hour jeep-then-bus-ride from leh down to delhi was, hopefully, the last time we use tyres to cover lots of KMs. on the train up to rishikesh the ride was smooth, food decent, sleep excellent, breeze marvelous, view fantastic.
Rishikesh: we stayed a little under a week at a SUPER colorful ashram perched right on the edge of the ganges/ganga - a maaaaaassive river with whatsgottabe zillions of gallons flowing at like 100 KM/hr, or something. seriously though, just sitting listening to/staring at the ganga was quite a sublime experience.
and ashram living was, of course, quite peaceful. 2 yoga and 2 meditation classes daily in the orange/blue/purple hall in the middle of the courtyard. learned lots of mantra/songs that would turn out to be amazingly and unexpectedly catchy. but the facedown yoga positions were kind of annoying with a beard...
... so on the 2nd day i decided to get a shave at the barber shop a couple blocks from the ashram. this was NOT peaceful. it got off to a deceptively smooth start. the barber lathered in tons of cream and taking off the 2 month old beard with a straight razor was like rolling off a carpet. no problem. then he asked if i wanted a face massage. i'd seen jake get this done in kashmir and it looked like no worries. but my barber, a springy wiry white haired man, basically started beating the living shit out of me. Had me in all kinds of wrestling moves (full nelson, etc.), slapped me around like he was trying to knock the hair off my head, stuck hands down shirt, pinched hard, twisted arms way beyond even my new-found yoga-trained flexibility, cracked fingers and neck, stuck fingers up nose... not even exaggerating, i swear.
another tidbit of note was the walk through the mountains to neelkanth, which was made rather tough by the oppressive humidity and attempted mango burglaries by monkey-land-pirates, but well worth it 'cause at the zenith temple we got this sweet red and yellow holy string wrapped artfully around our wrists.
sorry for the delay before this , by the way, but the downside of trains is that booking on the whack website eats up 99% of my patience for staring at computer screens.
next up: from the mountains to the beaches: the SOUTH!! yessssssss! and new snaps.
p.s. for your spiritual benefit, here's a mantra that i like called mahaamrityunjaya. it's for healing yourself or others, even at a distance.
om trayambakam yajaamahe
sugandhim pushti vardhanam
urvaarukam iva bandhanaan
mrityor mukshiva maamritaat
Rishikesh: we stayed a little under a week at a SUPER colorful ashram perched right on the edge of the ganges/ganga - a maaaaaassive river with whatsgottabe zillions of gallons flowing at like 100 KM/hr, or something. seriously though, just sitting listening to/staring at the ganga was quite a sublime experience.
and ashram living was, of course, quite peaceful. 2 yoga and 2 meditation classes daily in the orange/blue/purple hall in the middle of the courtyard. learned lots of mantra/songs that would turn out to be amazingly and unexpectedly catchy. but the facedown yoga positions were kind of annoying with a beard...
... so on the 2nd day i decided to get a shave at the barber shop a couple blocks from the ashram. this was NOT peaceful. it got off to a deceptively smooth start. the barber lathered in tons of cream and taking off the 2 month old beard with a straight razor was like rolling off a carpet. no problem. then he asked if i wanted a face massage. i'd seen jake get this done in kashmir and it looked like no worries. but my barber, a springy wiry white haired man, basically started beating the living shit out of me. Had me in all kinds of wrestling moves (full nelson, etc.), slapped me around like he was trying to knock the hair off my head, stuck hands down shirt, pinched hard, twisted arms way beyond even my new-found yoga-trained flexibility, cracked fingers and neck, stuck fingers up nose... not even exaggerating, i swear.
another tidbit of note was the walk through the mountains to neelkanth, which was made rather tough by the oppressive humidity and attempted mango burglaries by monkey-land-pirates, but well worth it 'cause at the zenith temple we got this sweet red and yellow holy string wrapped artfully around our wrists.
sorry for the delay before this , by the way, but the downside of trains is that booking on the whack website eats up 99% of my patience for staring at computer screens.
next up: from the mountains to the beaches: the SOUTH!! yessssssss! and new snaps.
p.s. for your spiritual benefit, here's a mantra that i like called mahaamrityunjaya. it's for healing yourself or others, even at a distance.
om trayambakam yajaamahe
sugandhim pushti vardhanam
urvaarukam iva bandhanaan
mrityor mukshiva maamritaat
Monday, July 7, 2008
leh --> manali --> delhi. + ean
even after the mind-expanding rides from jammu to srinigar to leh, the leh-manali highway was stunning. the last couple hours we kept snaking up and up and up and up and up and up and up until we were way way way way above the clouds and the snow/ice chunks got huge, like winter whales strewn about. i'm not sure why these chunks were so randomly scattered, but the melting process carved them in beautiful ways. after cresting the top and beginning the long descent down into manali, we looked far below to small villages which were at an altitude quite a bit higher than most of the clouds liked to float.
manali itself was rather carnivalesque.. wide streets packed tight with people, mostly dressed to the nines. we heard raucus music and went to investigate and it seemed to be a coin-operated mess of machinery that made lots of crashing smashing sounds. it was night, and the whole scene reminded me a lot of the part in the old pinnochio cartoon where our hero ends up banished to the carnival and i think maybe he starts to turn into a donkey (knaamsayin?).
we were way lucky and got the last 2 tickets for the bus to delhi. well, the last 2 seats anyway. the room in the aisle was not wasted. some people sat on the floor and others stood for big chunks of the 16 hour ride.
we stayed in the tibetan section of delhi and when we arrived ean was already there. the hotel was a little remote so the three of us relocated to Camran Lodge, a hotel in pahar ganj (the neighborhood that 99% of us backpackers stay in) which was also (or was formerly) a mosque. the rooftop was amaaaaaaazing.
while in delhi we checked out jama masjid, the biggest mosque in india. we also chilled out in lodhi gardens (which has a sweet bonsai park and provided a needed oasis from the hustle 'n bustle), met some fun parisians and some wild scandinavians driving a technicolor hippybus across this earth (oncearoundtheworld.com) at GEM bar, ate some way fancy thali in connaught place, and saw a somewhat lackluster bollywood film, "thoda pyar, thoda magic."
next up: 1st train trip & ashraming in rishikesh
manali itself was rather carnivalesque.. wide streets packed tight with people, mostly dressed to the nines. we heard raucus music and went to investigate and it seemed to be a coin-operated mess of machinery that made lots of crashing smashing sounds. it was night, and the whole scene reminded me a lot of the part in the old pinnochio cartoon where our hero ends up banished to the carnival and i think maybe he starts to turn into a donkey (knaamsayin?).
we were way lucky and got the last 2 tickets for the bus to delhi. well, the last 2 seats anyway. the room in the aisle was not wasted. some people sat on the floor and others stood for big chunks of the 16 hour ride.
we stayed in the tibetan section of delhi and when we arrived ean was already there. the hotel was a little remote so the three of us relocated to Camran Lodge, a hotel in pahar ganj (the neighborhood that 99% of us backpackers stay in) which was also (or was formerly) a mosque. the rooftop was amaaaaaaazing.
while in delhi we checked out jama masjid, the biggest mosque in india. we also chilled out in lodhi gardens (which has a sweet bonsai park and provided a needed oasis from the hustle 'n bustle), met some fun parisians and some wild scandinavians driving a technicolor hippybus across this earth (oncearoundtheworld.com) at GEM bar, ate some way fancy thali in connaught place, and saw a somewhat lackluster bollywood film, "thoda pyar, thoda magic."
next up: 1st train trip & ashraming in rishikesh
Sunday, June 29, 2008
lehd back in ladakh
woof woof.
woof woof woof.
woof woo-*THUNK*-yelp!
WOOOOF!!!!GROWWWL!!!WOOF!!WOOF!!
aaand i thought we were done for.
ladakh, and leh in particular, is known for its surreal lunar landscape (i thought more martian), its buddhist art and gompas ("more tibetan than tibet," they say), and the dazzlingly beautiful night sky. but when that stray got hit and the hundreds of strays leh exploded in a gnashing chorus of baritone growls and woofs, my mind was rather empty of anything but raw adrenaline and fear. getting torn asunder by a wild pack of non-family dogs is one thing, but i really didn't want that endless series of rabies shots.
luckily we were fairly close to our taxi when the unlucky stray was hit and the already dog-dominated night reached its grand finale. plus we had "dealt" with the dogs a week earlier when we 1st arrived.. by running back to our taxi and begging to be let inside for the night. this time we were armed with sticks and stones but chose flight over fight.
leh was beeeeeeeeautiful.. we saw half a dozen gompas around town and chilled out up at the shanti stupa which had a gorgeous view of the city and reminded me much of the peace pagoda back home. up around 11,500 feet, it definitely took a few days to adjust to the thin, thin air. a buddhist monk led a meditation class and told me to focus exquisitely on each natural breath, but i was practically panting.
we also went rafting on the indus until it met the zanskar, coming in from china and continued on to alchi, where we checked out a series of temples from the 11th century. the paintings inside were dark and ancient. the gold light beaming in from the occasional small rectangular holes lit up the dust and seemed to turn liquid/solid. in the temples there were small rooms barely large enough to hold the 25 foot richly colored statues of forms of the buddha.
other than that we drank lots of fresh apricot and sea buckthorn juice and ate a whole lot of tibetan food. the best meal, at Tibetan Kitchen, we went way overboard: chicken/corn soup, avocado mint tomato salad, veg. thukpa, boiled chicken momo, fried veg. momo, yamein garlic noodles, banana chocolate dessert and a big godfather beer from jammu.
our last night we had ladakhi tea at our guesthouse owner's home and met his mother and beautiful wife. yummy, buttery, salty tea in a room edged by many large, shiny, intricately made pitchers and serving bowls.
the 1 disappointment was that when we woke up at 4:30 a.m. and went to start the borrowed motorbike so we could ride to the tikse gompa for the morning prayer and music, it kept stalling. all day a buddhist monk smilingly kept trying to start it and had the same problem. turned out i got a fairly bad 24 bug and spent the day in bed getting over that anyway. lucky stars. room with a view.
woof woof woof.
woof woo-*THUNK*-yelp!
WOOOOF!!!!GROWWWL!!!WOOF!!WOOF!!
aaand i thought we were done for.
ladakh, and leh in particular, is known for its surreal lunar landscape (i thought more martian), its buddhist art and gompas ("more tibetan than tibet," they say), and the dazzlingly beautiful night sky. but when that stray got hit and the hundreds of strays leh exploded in a gnashing chorus of baritone growls and woofs, my mind was rather empty of anything but raw adrenaline and fear. getting torn asunder by a wild pack of non-family dogs is one thing, but i really didn't want that endless series of rabies shots.
luckily we were fairly close to our taxi when the unlucky stray was hit and the already dog-dominated night reached its grand finale. plus we had "dealt" with the dogs a week earlier when we 1st arrived.. by running back to our taxi and begging to be let inside for the night. this time we were armed with sticks and stones but chose flight over fight.
leh was beeeeeeeeautiful.. we saw half a dozen gompas around town and chilled out up at the shanti stupa which had a gorgeous view of the city and reminded me much of the peace pagoda back home. up around 11,500 feet, it definitely took a few days to adjust to the thin, thin air. a buddhist monk led a meditation class and told me to focus exquisitely on each natural breath, but i was practically panting.
we also went rafting on the indus until it met the zanskar, coming in from china and continued on to alchi, where we checked out a series of temples from the 11th century. the paintings inside were dark and ancient. the gold light beaming in from the occasional small rectangular holes lit up the dust and seemed to turn liquid/solid. in the temples there were small rooms barely large enough to hold the 25 foot richly colored statues of forms of the buddha.
other than that we drank lots of fresh apricot and sea buckthorn juice and ate a whole lot of tibetan food. the best meal, at Tibetan Kitchen, we went way overboard: chicken/corn soup, avocado mint tomato salad, veg. thukpa, boiled chicken momo, fried veg. momo, yamein garlic noodles, banana chocolate dessert and a big godfather beer from jammu.
our last night we had ladakhi tea at our guesthouse owner's home and met his mother and beautiful wife. yummy, buttery, salty tea in a room edged by many large, shiny, intricately made pitchers and serving bowls.
the 1 disappointment was that when we woke up at 4:30 a.m. and went to start the borrowed motorbike so we could ride to the tikse gompa for the morning prayer and music, it kept stalling. all day a buddhist monk smilingly kept trying to start it and had the same problem. turned out i got a fairly bad 24 bug and spent the day in bed getting over that anyway. lucky stars. room with a view.
Monday, June 23, 2008
ends & beginnings
hi, i'm brandon. with jake and sara leaving india, my friend gerrit and i decided to take up the torch.
we arrived about 10 days ago and spent one fabulous and aromatic day walking around delhi. we ate uttapam (YUM), soaked up the intensity of the spice markets, watched baby monkeys get shuttled by their mamas across the electric lines, gulped down some deeeeelicious fresh squeezed pommegranate and pineapple juice, and then had to say a too-quick goodbye to the colorful, beautiful, shiny one that is s. weston. lucky u.s. gets her back for a little while.
geeze, jake and i then hopped on a sleeper bus up to the state of jammu and kashmir. a shared jeep took us the rest of the way through achingly beautiful mountains to srinigar and we arrived, quite late, for a wedding. jake had to leave the next day, but we got in a way-good meal and an afternoon chilling around dal lake.
for the next week, gerrit and i were the exceptionally well-treated guests in a home that housed about 30 people for the wedding festivities. every day jake's friend shabir sent us on a new adventure with guides from his family. we never knew what was in store until someone would appear and say "come, come now, please." we saw the gorgeous moghal gardens, rode a gondola up to the snow-capped peaks of gulmarg for a picnic, rode around on a technicolor-bright boat on dal lake, took in a mosque surrounded by fat, short, funky trees, relaxed in an almond garden. even with all these eye-opening trips, the best part of our week in srinigar, by far, was getting to know the family during morning tea and cake, burst-at-the-seams lunches, afternoon salty chai with dipping gulcha, etc. biiiiig shout out to the baker's dozen children of the family and their wild and crazy ways.
too much already for 1 post but just want to say that, so far, india gets a big YES. top-drawer, 5 stars, fireworks... throw it a parade.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
last.day
I got my appetite back a couple of days ago, so I've crammed about 12 days of near fasting into a two day 'leaving India' feast. What do you do on your last day in a country that has been your home, for better or worse, for the past 7 months? It has been a pretty basic day- didn't want to do anything too special because I know that I'll be returning to India soon- at least within 2-3 years if not sooner. This is the first place since New York, and special parts in California, that just pulls me. I feel a great connection to this country, so much so, that I don't really mind leaving because I know it's not the end. So tomorrow early morning, I'll hop on a plane, see my friend Lambert in Thessaloniki, then see my family in Santorini, and be stateside by June 29th... I will eat nothing but Boboli pizza and fake cheese, air-popped popcorn with butter and salt galore, and Whole Foods salads. I can't wait.
These 7 months have been something.. For the past few days, tons of people have asked me 'well, what was your favorite part of India'? I've answered this question so many times now that I think I can safely put together a little list. Here it is (in no order because that would be too hard)
1) Delhi Delhi Delhi- particularly the day I roamed around old Delhi, went to the Jama Masjid (biggest mosque in India) and Akshardam (biggest temple in the world), and bollywood danced till the late hours at a farmhouse outside the city
2) Day spent at the Golden Temple and Pakistani/Indian border at Amritsar
3) Birthday spent in Kanyakumari, the very tip of India- watching the sunrise, fullmoon lunar eclipse set, walking around all day just talking and meeting people.
4) Dancing in the Maharajah's Palace in Mysore
5) The Ellora Caves (jake did headstands and we got in trouble for climbing on top of the caves)
6) Walking past thousands of prayer flags strung across the mountains, on the way back from the Dalai Lama's temple in McLeod Ganj, realizing that a little bit of god is in everything and everyone, and sitting on the ground with a sarangeet musician as he played happy happy songs.
7) The little family life we had in Goa with our friends Santosh, Akhilesh, and Liz
There are tons more, but when people ask me, I usually say a combination of these things. So today I ate some delicious thali, wandered around connaught place, old delhi, new delhi, and saw some friends. Will leave at 4am for my flight. Then that's that. So I suppose this is also the end of this dancing fool's blog, since I'll be heading back west for now (well, I'll be east coast, but who really wants to read about adventures in Jersey and Poughkeepsie?). So perhaps one other dancing fool will continue to write (ah hem, Jake) as he heads on to China-- because god knows we miss those haikus!!!
Anyways, thanks for reading friends- can't wait to see most of you live and in person really soon! PeaceLoveLight&Life...
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
things that should have happened in month one
I leave India in 5 days... It's crazy to think about coming home, though for these past couple of weeks, I've been having intense deja vu, thinking of trips to the salad bar at whole foods, or taking a drive through town, or even catching the 6 train at rush hour from Astor Place, and it feels like these past 7 months have been entirely compressed to just a few sparkling moments.
That said, this past week has been a bit hectic, a bit relaxed, and in a way I think I'm doing everything I was supposed to do in the first few weeks in India- namely, get really sick and get really worked over by a street guy. After a few months of travel, I thought I was immune to these things, but I guess it's impossible to completely avoid these common travelers' woes..
I had some trouble eating when I first arrived in Bhagsu, and a few days later a doctor told me that I had an amoebic parasite in the right side of my intestine. He gave me some herbs to clear the amoeba (and the inevitable eggs it was laying) out my system... Agh, the thought of some wormy multi-legged, egg-laying thing squirming around in my body did nothing to help my appetite. Over the days I kept getting worse, despite the herbs, until finally I had a wretched fever, and my dear friends came running with another doctor from down the road (at this point I had decided to move from my mountain isolation into town because god knows a 20 minute hike to get to bed is not the best thing for getting better), who informed me that no, there's no parasite, just an intestinal infection, and he gave me some more medicine and a strict diet (which I could start when I felt like I could eat something). Well this doctor sure was something because within a few hours my fever broke, and I've been feeling better and better each day, despite the fact that I still have virtually no appetite. Call it a 'leaving India' fast, I guess- though I am sad that I probably won't be able to enjoy all the spicy greasy delicious goodness and indian thali before I leave.. We'll see- I've still got time- I've got to have at least one mutter paneer before departing..
So now I'm feeling a bit better, pretty weak, but able to get around-- now for the getting worked over by a street guy. My friend Santosh introduced me to a friend of a friend of a friend (etc. etc.) who said he would introduce me to some painters. I really wanted to have a painting of a map of India to bring home with me... And being that I'm in thangka world (buddhist style painting, beautiful, colorful, and detailed), I figured I could comission a painter to do it for me. The man who said he would connect me to a painter promised to have it 4 days hence, on the 11th, which was yesterday. I gave him some advance (and therein lay my error), and he gave me a receipt in the form of a business card with his number. Well the 11th was a beautiful and sunny day (for once amid all the rain), so I set into town (McLeod Ganj town, which is about 15 minutes by walking) to pick up my painting. Went to the bookstore where I met this man, and was told he was out for a few hours. No problem- I ran a few errands, and returned back. Still no sign- I left my number, and wandered around a little more. Returned back, and found that I had JUST missed him, and no one knew where he is. Hmm- I tried calling, but no answer.. Was getting a little suspicious, especially when his friend, with a pained look on his face, told me that the painting had not been finished- in fact, as of yesterday, the painting had not been started, as the man 'with all the connections to many many painters' had not found someone to do it. Moreover, the friend, with an even more pained expression, told me that this man had thrown a grand party yesterday- and when asked where the money came from, he simply said 'he came into some business'. Well this business wasn't just any business, it was MY business, and MY money that I had foolishly given this man. When I heard this I wasn't surprised, wasn't irritated, I was angry. I told this friend that I wouldn't leave his side until we found this man, and if we didn't then the police would be notified. Any mention of the police, and folks who deal with tourists just about freak out, so he asked me to calm down, and we began to search. Place to place, checking restaurants, shops, asking any and all acquaintances, no one knew where this man was. To be honest, I was getting a little excited at the thought of bringing the police in- the amount of touts and scam artists we've dealt with in these 7 months, and this would be like one big payback... But just as my patience was about to completely wear out, the friend got word that the man was in the bookshop. Over we went, and as soon as I saw him I started yelling. I wanted a scene, I didn't care- I wanted to embarass him. I don't know what came over me- I wasn't hysterical, I was hmm, how should I put it- I was a girl from New f*ckin Jersey (forget New York, you dont want to get on the wrong side of a Jersey girl...) who was PISSED OFF and didn't feel like being told 'yes darling yes darling'. The man, Manu is his name, just looked sad. His shoulders hunched. He didn't say anything when I told him why I was angry. He didn't protest when I told him he had spent my money on booze for his friends. He didn't say anything when I called him a liar and a con artist. He just looked at me sadly and kept asking if we could speak privately. Well, I may have been foolish once, but to go down an allyway with this dishonest man would have just been beyond silly. I laughed at this request, so in public view we stayed. He said there was a painting, but it wasn't ready. I demanded to see it, so off we went to Nick's Italian restaurant. There, on the middle table, was a half completed painting. It was the map of India, very colorful- all that was missing was the route I had taken that I wanted painted in. That was the main part of the painting- to have this piece of art that detailed my hectic crazy journey throughout this hectic crazy country. 35 places in 7 months. That was missing, and Manu promised me it would be done soon. Seeing the painting quieted me a little- it was by no means in thangka style, and by no means worth the money I had paid him, but still, it was there, and it would be finished "soon", he promised. I demanded that it be done by noon the next day, and he obliged. I asked who the painter was, and he said it wasn't possible to meet the painter, though the man is a 'very good friend of his'. He tried to tell me he didn't like seeing me like this, his darling friend, and I could only respond and say that 'I'm not your friend- we made a business transaction- a bad one on my part'. With that I turned and left and couldn't look back.
This situation left me feeling pretty bad- it's complicated... Because I know that Manu has pocketed a great deal of my money and has most likely spent it partying with his friends. Still, there will be a painting- a day late, but there will be a painting- I don't feel bad that I yelled at Manu because he's a slippery guy who needed to be put straight. Still, it leaves me feeling bad because this painting, this simple painting, which was to be my big souvenir from the trip is filled with bad energy. Well, maybe, to put a silver lining on it, the souvenir symbolizes just one big lesson-- if you want something, in India especially, you've got to play the game, and if you play it wrong, you get worked over. I'll never forget that lesson whenever I look at this painting. Seven months, and you can still be as new as day one. Travelers' arrogance can hit even the ones who least expect it, and perhaps I did get a little arrogant towards the end of this trip. Getting sick and getting worked over have brought me down a little, but sometimes the most basic lessons need to be learned over and over from the beginning to the end and beyond.
That said, this past week has been a bit hectic, a bit relaxed, and in a way I think I'm doing everything I was supposed to do in the first few weeks in India- namely, get really sick and get really worked over by a street guy. After a few months of travel, I thought I was immune to these things, but I guess it's impossible to completely avoid these common travelers' woes..
I had some trouble eating when I first arrived in Bhagsu, and a few days later a doctor told me that I had an amoebic parasite in the right side of my intestine. He gave me some herbs to clear the amoeba (and the inevitable eggs it was laying) out my system... Agh, the thought of some wormy multi-legged, egg-laying thing squirming around in my body did nothing to help my appetite. Over the days I kept getting worse, despite the herbs, until finally I had a wretched fever, and my dear friends came running with another doctor from down the road (at this point I had decided to move from my mountain isolation into town because god knows a 20 minute hike to get to bed is not the best thing for getting better), who informed me that no, there's no parasite, just an intestinal infection, and he gave me some more medicine and a strict diet (which I could start when I felt like I could eat something). Well this doctor sure was something because within a few hours my fever broke, and I've been feeling better and better each day, despite the fact that I still have virtually no appetite. Call it a 'leaving India' fast, I guess- though I am sad that I probably won't be able to enjoy all the spicy greasy delicious goodness and indian thali before I leave.. We'll see- I've still got time- I've got to have at least one mutter paneer before departing..
So now I'm feeling a bit better, pretty weak, but able to get around-- now for the getting worked over by a street guy. My friend Santosh introduced me to a friend of a friend of a friend (etc. etc.) who said he would introduce me to some painters. I really wanted to have a painting of a map of India to bring home with me... And being that I'm in thangka world (buddhist style painting, beautiful, colorful, and detailed), I figured I could comission a painter to do it for me. The man who said he would connect me to a painter promised to have it 4 days hence, on the 11th, which was yesterday. I gave him some advance (and therein lay my error), and he gave me a receipt in the form of a business card with his number. Well the 11th was a beautiful and sunny day (for once amid all the rain), so I set into town (McLeod Ganj town, which is about 15 minutes by walking) to pick up my painting. Went to the bookstore where I met this man, and was told he was out for a few hours. No problem- I ran a few errands, and returned back. Still no sign- I left my number, and wandered around a little more. Returned back, and found that I had JUST missed him, and no one knew where he is. Hmm- I tried calling, but no answer.. Was getting a little suspicious, especially when his friend, with a pained look on his face, told me that the painting had not been finished- in fact, as of yesterday, the painting had not been started, as the man 'with all the connections to many many painters' had not found someone to do it. Moreover, the friend, with an even more pained expression, told me that this man had thrown a grand party yesterday- and when asked where the money came from, he simply said 'he came into some business'. Well this business wasn't just any business, it was MY business, and MY money that I had foolishly given this man. When I heard this I wasn't surprised, wasn't irritated, I was angry. I told this friend that I wouldn't leave his side until we found this man, and if we didn't then the police would be notified. Any mention of the police, and folks who deal with tourists just about freak out, so he asked me to calm down, and we began to search. Place to place, checking restaurants, shops, asking any and all acquaintances, no one knew where this man was. To be honest, I was getting a little excited at the thought of bringing the police in- the amount of touts and scam artists we've dealt with in these 7 months, and this would be like one big payback... But just as my patience was about to completely wear out, the friend got word that the man was in the bookshop. Over we went, and as soon as I saw him I started yelling. I wanted a scene, I didn't care- I wanted to embarass him. I don't know what came over me- I wasn't hysterical, I was hmm, how should I put it- I was a girl from New f*ckin Jersey (forget New York, you dont want to get on the wrong side of a Jersey girl...) who was PISSED OFF and didn't feel like being told 'yes darling yes darling'. The man, Manu is his name, just looked sad. His shoulders hunched. He didn't say anything when I told him why I was angry. He didn't protest when I told him he had spent my money on booze for his friends. He didn't say anything when I called him a liar and a con artist. He just looked at me sadly and kept asking if we could speak privately. Well, I may have been foolish once, but to go down an allyway with this dishonest man would have just been beyond silly. I laughed at this request, so in public view we stayed. He said there was a painting, but it wasn't ready. I demanded to see it, so off we went to Nick's Italian restaurant. There, on the middle table, was a half completed painting. It was the map of India, very colorful- all that was missing was the route I had taken that I wanted painted in. That was the main part of the painting- to have this piece of art that detailed my hectic crazy journey throughout this hectic crazy country. 35 places in 7 months. That was missing, and Manu promised me it would be done soon. Seeing the painting quieted me a little- it was by no means in thangka style, and by no means worth the money I had paid him, but still, it was there, and it would be finished "soon", he promised. I demanded that it be done by noon the next day, and he obliged. I asked who the painter was, and he said it wasn't possible to meet the painter, though the man is a 'very good friend of his'. He tried to tell me he didn't like seeing me like this, his darling friend, and I could only respond and say that 'I'm not your friend- we made a business transaction- a bad one on my part'. With that I turned and left and couldn't look back.
This situation left me feeling pretty bad- it's complicated... Because I know that Manu has pocketed a great deal of my money and has most likely spent it partying with his friends. Still, there will be a painting- a day late, but there will be a painting- I don't feel bad that I yelled at Manu because he's a slippery guy who needed to be put straight. Still, it leaves me feeling bad because this painting, this simple painting, which was to be my big souvenir from the trip is filled with bad energy. Well, maybe, to put a silver lining on it, the souvenir symbolizes just one big lesson-- if you want something, in India especially, you've got to play the game, and if you play it wrong, you get worked over. I'll never forget that lesson whenever I look at this painting. Seven months, and you can still be as new as day one. Travelers' arrogance can hit even the ones who least expect it, and perhaps I did get a little arrogant towards the end of this trip. Getting sick and getting worked over have brought me down a little, but sometimes the most basic lessons need to be learned over and over from the beginning to the end and beyond.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
one dancing fool dances to... Pakistan?
You remember that show "The Wonder Years"? My family used to watch it every week while I was growing up, and it is still a favorite for me and my brother. One of the things I really loved about that show was that Kevin Arnold, the main character, this little arrogrant self-involved adolescent to teenage boy, could really only understand the monumental national and world events of the time (sixties and seventies) through his little suburban, middle school lens. Neil Armstrong landing on the moon was cool, but landing a date to the dance with the hot new girl was the center story.. Sure, it was fluff, and nostalgic cheesiness, but it really drove home this point-- that, for the most part, we can really only relate to larger world issues and events through our own personal experiences and connections. This point is obvious, but when you're floating around the world, in the midst of chaos and war and terror and food crises, it's those personal connections with these larger things that opens up that miniscule moment of clarity.
On my way out of Delhi, I stopped in Amritsar, a Sikh pilgrimage site, known for the beautiful Golden Temple (and boy is it beautiful). I decided to spend the night in the golden temple itself, which offers free dorm-style accomodation for visitors and pilgrims (hey, I was getting too soft in Delhi I think). It took a while to find the actual place where I would stay, as Amritsar is quite possibly one of the most bustling places I've seen in India. The temple complex is open 24/7, and it is filled to the brim with people around the clock. Walking through the old city (autos aren't allowed past a certain point), was absolute madness, but finally I entered into the complex, and eventually found my way to the dorm for foreigners, where I was greeted by an incredibly friendly American guy, and an Italian guy fixing his motorbike. I dropped my stuff off, and headed straight for the temple itself, to take it all in and stroll around. In Sikh tradition, everyone must have their head covered within temple grounds at all times, and of course no shoes allowed-- the whole temple is surrounded by water, which is considered to be holy water, so families, men, women,and children were all bathing themselves. I got my feet a little wet, but maintained a bit of a distance.. Linked up with some older women after giving them the Sikh greeting (thank you to my friends Dr. Harpal and Indu in Delhi who showed me this right before I left!), and just enjoyed taking photos with people and playing with some of the kids. It was just really beautiful to walk around under the beating hot sun, watching the rays reflect off the water and the (literally) golden centerpiece in the middle.
After my walk, I ran into the friendly American, named Mike, who took me to get a meal in the pilgrim eating hall. In Sikh tradition, everyone from all faiths and backgrounds are invited to share a meal together. The meal is free, and the dining hall serves up to 40,000 people A DAY. It was a mad rush to get plates and bowls, and an even madder rush to find a place on the floor. Everyone sits in rows facing each other, and the food servers come around serving up delicious rice, dahl, chapati, halwa, and sweet yogurt. We had to eat fast, as the next group was getting ready to come in-- amazingly, I was the last one to finish, and they literally had to shoo us out! We walked our plates to the dish washing section, handed them off, and just took in the scene. Hundreds of people cutting onions, vegetables, making chapati, cleaning dishes, serving food, all volunteer. The sound of clanging steel dishes were the bells of this temple- it rang all day and all night and was surprisingly soothing.
After the meal, Mike and I took an accidental barefoot walk to get some juice (the temple complex is so big that we didn't realize we were far into the old city until some street boys made fun of us for being barefoot.. Probably not the best idea, but what can you do..), and then we decided to go to the border ceremony to be held later that afternoon. About an hour away from Amritsar, is the village of Attari, which leads to the Indian customs area right before the Pakistani border. Each day at sundown, there is an amazingly theatrical exchange between military officers on both sides. I wasn't planning on going near Pakistan, but after being assured it was safe, we set out. The village is set up like any other small town or city with a primary tourist attraction as its main revenue. There were tons of food and cold drink stands, boys running around selling DVDs and photographs, and anything you can imagine. Mike is the kind of guy who would say "yeah, of course!" when I jokingly suggested we should get some popcorn for the Pakistan/Indian border show, so with a bag of popcorn, we headed towards the Indian side of the area. The whole place is set up like a stadium, with huge stands all around, and a gate dividing the two countries. The Indian and Pakistani flags are up in the center, and banners are hung on either far side. When we got there, our pale disheveled selves were put right in the VIP section (all foreigners are put there), which was pretty amazing to us. We were the first ones there, so for awhile we sat by ourselves in the gated off VIP section, while thousands of Indians crammed into the 4 other stands. It seemed strange, and really wrong, until eventually the whole VIP section filled up (the majority were Indians.. Only about 10-15 foreigners were there), the rest of the bleachers filled up, and still thousands more trying to get in. The Pakistani side, on the other hand, was a bit slower to fill, but eventually about 1/3 of their side filled up (India has advantage in numbers obviously).
It was completely open-air, and the sun was at its peak... We waited for about an hour, and people started getting restless. Babies were crying, people were sweating up a storm, but all we could do was wait. Finally, both sides started playing music from their respective countries, and the mood lifted a little. India was playing patriotic dance tunes, and I could barely hear what was going on over in Pakistan. A few songs in, a small groups of kids in the front of the stands got up and started dancing on the center floor- the song was the title tune from "rang de basanti", my favorite bollywood movie, and it made me so happy to see those kids. A moment later, Mike looked at me and said "we should go dance". "What? Oh no, we can't! We're all the way up here, and there's just a few kids down there..." But the next thing I know, Mike is bounding down the stairs in long strides, and I just had to go with him. He ran into the center to join the kids, and a roar ripped through the crowd. I let out a yell, and I ran in as well to the sound of cheering thousands. More kids ran up to dance, and all of a sudden I was posing with mothers and babies, and all kinds of people, but all I really wanted to do was dance.. For the next short while, I shook my hips and flicked my wrists with the girls, and couldn't stop laughing. At the end of the song, we decided we should go back up, and we were met with more cheers.. And that's how I came to dance on the Indian/Pakistani border. Thanks to this crazy, yogi american californian whom I ran into by chance at the golden temple. Thank goodness for him!
Finally, over an hour later, when everyone seemed at their wits end, the ceremony began. There were lots of theatrics, high kicks, and macho marching. The Indian army men marched on to the Pakistani side and there was a great fake fight play, and then they marched back. The whole thing took about 20 minutes, but it was definitely worth it to watch the gates open. For me, the most incredible part was to watch the two flags come down by crossing over each other in the center. Afterwards, people rushed to the now-closed gate, to snap pictures and wave to each other. And that was my Kevin Arnold Wonder Years moment... I've heard and read so much about the the tension between India and Pakistan, and the west's fears of Pakistan... Yet for me, all I can think of is watching those flags cross each other, people waving from the Pakistani side, and dancing. The border that has so much controversy, so much (recent) history, and so much blood, seemed almost irrelevant. Geopolitical, geographical, spiritual borders, all come down to a few inches of land? It just doesn't make sense. I know it's not the larger, but to have that brief moment when the border melted away and it just didn't matter, was truly amazing. One of the highlights of the trip, for sure.
So now I am finishing up my Indian journey, and I can't imagine being in a more perfect place. My dear friend and teacher Santosh, knows me all too well, and has found a place for me to stay for the next 8 days in upper Bhagsu, which is outside Bhagsu, an "up and coming" backpacker town, which is outside McLeod Ganj, home to the Dalai Lama and crazy touristy backpacker town, which is outside Dharamsala, home to the Tibetan government in exile, and very famous tourist spot. I am literally a 20 minute hike away from anything, staying in a tiny room with just a bed, and the mountains and sunrise as my backyard. I am the only guest in a small guest house, run by the nicest family in the world. They cook all their meals on a wood burning stove, and today I had fresh aloo paratha, fresh chai, and freshly picked mint tea. The only sounds I can hear are birds and baby goats, and I can't imagine a more perfect place to take in this whole trip. Probably won't have too much to report from up here, but perhaps that's a good thing...
Sunday, June 1, 2008
oh kolkata.. (plus a little something for the mom's...)
JAKE FOUND PBR in NEPAL!
I took a last minute trip to Kolkata this past week-- boy oh boy what a place... From our train being delayed due to a cow getting sucked into the engine (to which the woman next to us said 'oh this shouldn't be too bad. last time this happened it only took a few hours'. oh okay, what!?), to running around for half a day between 3 different places trying to change train tickets, to getting pelted with water packets and bottles at a soccer game, to walking through the second largest banyon cano
py in the world (in the most horrifying humidity I must add), it was most definitely a crazy few days. My friend Lambert invited me to come along to the Bayern Munich vs. Kolkata soccer match, in which crazy goalie Oliver Kahn was playing his last game. I love soccer, and I had really wanted to see Kolkata, so why not. We couchsurfed with a fantastic guy name Biplob, who has a beautiful home (even though I must say that the power cuts made staying in one place almost unbearable). The game was tame- 
Germany won easily, but the place was PACKED (largest stadium in Asia), and eventually the small group of German fans we were sitting with started getting heckled by Indian fans-- it was funny until the police showed up with their lathis to break everything up... Being that I'm half german, it was kind of hard for me to convince anyone I was rooting for the Indian side.. Eventually everything calmed down as the game ended, with a lovely fireworks show..
I took a last minute trip to Kolkata this past week-- boy oh boy what a place... From our train being delayed due to a cow getting sucked into the engine (to which the woman next to us said 'oh this shouldn't be too bad. last time this happened it only took a few hours'. oh okay, what!?), to running around for half a day between 3 different places trying to change train tickets, to getting pelted with water packets and bottles at a soccer game, to walking through the second largest banyon cano
py in the world (in the most horrifying humidity I must add), it was most definitely a crazy few days. My friend Lambert invited me to come along to the Bayern Munich vs. Kolkata soccer match, in which crazy goalie Oliver Kahn was playing his last game. I love soccer, and I had really wanted to see Kolkata, so why not. We couchsurfed with a fantastic guy name Biplob, who has a beautiful home (even though I must say that the power cuts made staying in one place almost unbearable). The game was tame- 
Germany won easily, but the place was PACKED (largest stadium in Asia), and eventually the small group of German fans we were sitting with started getting heckled by Indian fans-- it was funny until the police showed up with their lathis to break everything up... Being that I'm half german, it was kind of hard for me to convince anyone I was rooting for the Indian side.. Eventually everything calmed down as the game ended, with a lovely fireworks show..The next couple days we saw the Victoria Memorial, and went to the Botanical Gardens to see 
the 2nd largest banyon canopy in the world. We also ate some of the best street food I've ever had (kebabs from a dhaba at midnight, after going to a rock n' roll bar.. nothing ever tasted to good!). Kolkata was steamy, crazy, and chaotic.. I think the vision that a foreigner has of the 'exotic' indian city would be Kolkata. More street vendors, and smells, and people sleeping on the street than I've seen in all my travels. There's a metro, but it's not like the swanky Delhi one, and Kolkata is the only place that still has human pulled rickshaws. It's an insane mix, more so than Delhi, and amid humidity that soaks through your clothes the second you step outside, it's a lot to take in. I loved those three days though-- felt like I was as wide-eyed as ever...
Jake is here now, and Scott Leeder came through and 'couchsurfed' with us last night... We all had a blast, and
took Scott out (or I guess the moms took us out) for a birthday/leaving India dinner at Punjabi by Nature. We ordered so much food that I'm pretty sure I'm just getting out of the food coma just now... Anyways, it's always really great to see familiar faces in crazy foreign lands, so I'm glad that we all got to go out.. Now I can't believe it, but I'm getting ready to leave Delhi! Tomorrow I head up to Amritsar to see the Golden Temple, then over to McLeod Ganj for 2 weeks, then it's back to Delhi for one day, and then over to Greece! Trip is winding down very quickly- lots to process still, but that will come at a later time.. For now, it's still lovin the whirlwind!!
Thursday, May 22, 2008
plus/minus to being a gori (foreigner)
It's been a little over six months since Jake and I started this trip (apparently reaching the 6 month mark means that we're world citizens, but I'd say that's debatable), and some days I feel like an Indian traveling wizard, and other days I feel like I'm back in the Bombay on day 1, feeling overwhelmed and terrified as we ran from ear cleaners and fake holy men. I still wear the (now dusty pink and gray) string around my right wrist, that was tied on by an old man in bright orange with wild gray hair on our very first day in India. We were driven to the Colaba district straight to the Gateway of India, in the city of Bombay, where we were bombarded with Indian tourists wanting to take our photo, loads of white people, lots of stares, an ambush ear cleaning (aww Jake..) and this 'holy man'. He tied the string around our wrists, put a bright red tikka powder dot on our foreheads and demanded 200 rupees. We scoffed, we laughed, gave him 10 rupees, and continued on our way. I still wear that string as a reminder of that incredibly overwhelming and exciting first day, as worn out and unraveled as it may be. I was so uncertain in everything I did-- was I paying too much, were people staring because of what I was wearing, was I going the right way-- Now six months later, there are things that I know and can navigate confidently, but there are still things that I'm still just as unsure about, if not more...
If I'm not in a hurry, I can talk to the begger kids a little bit and buy them some ice cream, or I can give some fruit to the begging women. Other times, it's 'vas vas, nahin nahin' (enough enough, no no) and I'm on my way. Still there's a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach sometimes, and I just freeze, unsure of what to do when I see their faces and hands outstretched. Paying for an auto is another thing-- initially I would accept overpaying, yell in English, or try to be nice in English, but still entirely unsure of the rules. I knew I was overpaying, but part of me figured that I needed to learn some of the game in order to play it right. Now I can hold my own in Hindi pretty well, give directions, and have a general sense of the city of Delhi, and I still find that I'm overpaying and having to fight with a lot of the drivers. Same thing with buying fruits, vegetables, dry goods, handicrafts, anything and everything-- no matter how much Hindi I speak, I still have to haggle and fight and eventually overpay.
About a month ago, I vented about how irritating it was to be constantly reminded of my outsider status.. However, the more I look around, and watch my Indian friends and Indian strangers navigate this place, I realize that it's not just a gori thing. If you're a life-long Delhi-ite, speaking perfect Hindi, and obviously very Indian, you're still going to have to fight and argue with the vendors and the auto drivers. You still get that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you see beggers. Recently I've been reading a lot of travel forums, reading what future travelers to India have to ask-- most of them have this idea that India is out to rip them off-- and in a way, it's true- foreigners are much much more likely to overpay, get cheated, and get scammed- but at the same time, I watch Indians around me calmly tell these foreigners (and I include my '6 month ago self' in this group) that all people, foreign or not, have to haggle, struggle, fight, and try not to get scammed. It's a matter of learning the rules, playing it right, and keeping patience. Still, it's something that is difficult to hear- I think it can really only be learned through experience again and again..
While many foreigners are subjected to the 'white tax' (I, for example, overheard an auto driver bluntly tell my Indian friend that we needed to pay more because I'm white), foreigners also get a substantial amount of 'white privilege'. Little things from getting into a club that only allows smart pants when you're wearing shorts (ah hem, jake in pune), to getting into a soldout Indian classical music concert for free, to getting put in the front row of theater performances, to ex-pat night at clubs in Delhi, to being invited to people's homes for the most personal of rituals. Today, my landlord told me to come down to her flat at 11am. I obliged and found myself seated in the inner circle of a puja and aarti ceremony for the anniversary of her husband's death. There were friends and family seated all around the flat, but I was sitting with the immediate family in the center, performing the rituals with them, singing when I could, and trying to keep in rhythm with them. It's amazing how much people are willing to open up their homes and their lives to you, when they know you've come from far away...
So I guess what I've come to understand over these past 6 months, is that it's all bittersweet. Being a gori can be good, bad, and just about everything in between. Learning Hindi and learning local customs helps, but it's certainly no golden ticket. Being a foreigner can help get in to many places, from 5 star hotels to concerts, but actually one place my foreign-ness has barred me from is the prison. I've been writing this report and researching Tihar prison for the past month now, and today I've found that there has been recent legislation passed that requires all foreigners who want to visit the prison to register with the police, the courts, and the Ministry of Home Security. In other words, it would take a very long time to get done, if ever... Of course there are more illicit ways I could get myself a visit to the prison, but that would be more like a one-way ticket kind of thing. So sadly I will not be visiting the prison like I had originally thought.. However, this month has given me a great base to start from- kind of like a springboard to potential future research (because god knows I already need to get back to Delhi before I've even left...). It's one more bittersweet thing about being here, but I'm okay with it...
If I'm not in a hurry, I can talk to the begger kids a little bit and buy them some ice cream, or I can give some fruit to the begging women. Other times, it's 'vas vas, nahin nahin' (enough enough, no no) and I'm on my way. Still there's a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach sometimes, and I just freeze, unsure of what to do when I see their faces and hands outstretched. Paying for an auto is another thing-- initially I would accept overpaying, yell in English, or try to be nice in English, but still entirely unsure of the rules. I knew I was overpaying, but part of me figured that I needed to learn some of the game in order to play it right. Now I can hold my own in Hindi pretty well, give directions, and have a general sense of the city of Delhi, and I still find that I'm overpaying and having to fight with a lot of the drivers. Same thing with buying fruits, vegetables, dry goods, handicrafts, anything and everything-- no matter how much Hindi I speak, I still have to haggle and fight and eventually overpay.
About a month ago, I vented about how irritating it was to be constantly reminded of my outsider status.. However, the more I look around, and watch my Indian friends and Indian strangers navigate this place, I realize that it's not just a gori thing. If you're a life-long Delhi-ite, speaking perfect Hindi, and obviously very Indian, you're still going to have to fight and argue with the vendors and the auto drivers. You still get that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you see beggers. Recently I've been reading a lot of travel forums, reading what future travelers to India have to ask-- most of them have this idea that India is out to rip them off-- and in a way, it's true- foreigners are much much more likely to overpay, get cheated, and get scammed- but at the same time, I watch Indians around me calmly tell these foreigners (and I include my '6 month ago self' in this group) that all people, foreign or not, have to haggle, struggle, fight, and try not to get scammed. It's a matter of learning the rules, playing it right, and keeping patience. Still, it's something that is difficult to hear- I think it can really only be learned through experience again and again..
While many foreigners are subjected to the 'white tax' (I, for example, overheard an auto driver bluntly tell my Indian friend that we needed to pay more because I'm white), foreigners also get a substantial amount of 'white privilege'. Little things from getting into a club that only allows smart pants when you're wearing shorts (ah hem, jake in pune), to getting into a soldout Indian classical music concert for free, to getting put in the front row of theater performances, to ex-pat night at clubs in Delhi, to being invited to people's homes for the most personal of rituals. Today, my landlord told me to come down to her flat at 11am. I obliged and found myself seated in the inner circle of a puja and aarti ceremony for the anniversary of her husband's death. There were friends and family seated all around the flat, but I was sitting with the immediate family in the center, performing the rituals with them, singing when I could, and trying to keep in rhythm with them. It's amazing how much people are willing to open up their homes and their lives to you, when they know you've come from far away...
So I guess what I've come to understand over these past 6 months, is that it's all bittersweet. Being a gori can be good, bad, and just about everything in between. Learning Hindi and learning local customs helps, but it's certainly no golden ticket. Being a foreigner can help get in to many places, from 5 star hotels to concerts, but actually one place my foreign-ness has barred me from is the prison. I've been writing this report and researching Tihar prison for the past month now, and today I've found that there has been recent legislation passed that requires all foreigners who want to visit the prison to register with the police, the courts, and the Ministry of Home Security. In other words, it would take a very long time to get done, if ever... Of course there are more illicit ways I could get myself a visit to the prison, but that would be more like a one-way ticket kind of thing. So sadly I will not be visiting the prison like I had originally thought.. However, this month has given me a great base to start from- kind of like a springboard to potential future research (because god knows I already need to get back to Delhi before I've even left...). It's one more bittersweet thing about being here, but I'm okay with it...
Saturday, May 17, 2008
all kinds of tourist
In the past few days I've been checking out some of the Mughal and Muslim areas of Delhi, which is something I've been wanting to do since my arrival. A couple of days back, my friend Lambert and his friend took me to the Red Fort in Delhi (built by Shah Jehan who built the Taj Mahal) where we explored for a bit in the evening, and then we went to check out the largest spice market in the world (the smell of spices is incredibly overwhelming; I couldn't stop coughing, the air was just choked with chillis), ate some delicious parathas, and just checked out north delhi from the back of a cycle rickshaw. North and South Delhi are
like two different cities. In a way, the south is the suburbs, more posh, more malls, highways, and primarily residential. The north has tiny winding alleys that cycle rickshaws can't even enter, tons of tiny little shops, little food stands, and masses and masses of people. What's amazing about Old delhi is that the gorgeous air-conditioned and efficient Metro runs all over the north part of the city, while it won't be completed in the south until 2010 (we can only hope). The shock of stepping up into Chandni Chowk (where the fort and spice market are) from this new, fancy metro is pretty spectacular. Apparently the metro has eased up a ton of traffic in the north areas- I bet folks can't wait for it to come to the south, where traffic is pretty awful around rush hours.
After the spice market, we went back to the fort for the sound and light show. I didn't know what to expect from this show, other than the fact that it would explain some of the Mughal history of
Delhi. And that is exactly what it was. For one hour we listened to an oral history of the ruling empires in India up to independence, with sound effects, music, and fantastic dialogue, while different structures around the fort were lit up with colored lights. If you can imagine small town American tourist kitsch, try placing it in the context of forts and tombs built in the 1500s. The only thing it was missing was some animatronic soldiers fighting in the distance... We enjoyed it thoroughly, despite the masses of mosquitoes that made dinner out of us (there were only 4 other people there, so I guess they had few options).
Today I checked out Humayun's Tomb, where the headless body of Shah Jehan's favorite son, Dara, was brought after his brother Aurangzeb, the last major Mughal ruler (and a horrible jealous person, put very simply), had him killed. Humayun's tomb is very impressive, though the best part about being a tourist in the summer is that there are so few people there. I managed to dance with the dead in various chambers, climb to the terrace of the mosque, and just take in the sites (and the heat) on my own.
Beyond the typical tourism stuff, I'm learning more and more about the ins and outs of the Delhi legal system. Still haven't made it to the prison yet, but today I was shown around one of the lower courts, and on Monday I'll be meeting with a professor at Delhi University who specializes in women and prison. The more I learn about the Indian criminal justice system, the more that I realize how pervasive it is. I'm learning that I can't just study the prison, but I have to learn about the courts, and the police, and the services that exist (or fail to exist) for individuals upon release from prison. The legal system in the US is pretty tangled up, but it is absolutely nothing compared to what I've seen in India so far. More than that, in order to get anything (and really, anything) done, money needs to be paid. From 5 dollars to clerks for getting forms in on time, to 5000 dollars to judges for dismissing cases that need to be held, or creating false cases to implicate innocent people. It's strange to see all of the lawyers walking around in black jackets and white collars (even the few women lawyers wear black jackets over their sarees or salwaar kameez suits), looking like they've come straight from colonial British times. The court system has not been adjusted since the British. Neither has the jail manual. In fact, in 2007, the ministry of Jails convened a panal to start thinking about changing the jail manual which hasn't been updated since 1894. It's amazing to see a country that is changing at warped speed in some sectors, moving at an absolute snail pace in others. I suppose progress is determined by who can benefit from what. I know that the US legal system is nowhere near perfect-- just learned that the US has put to death 10 of the 19 juveniles who have received the death sentence worldwide since the 1970s-- but still... Delhi courts hold special court on Thursdays for 'old cases' that haven't been completed yet. The 'old cases' start from 1986! Perhaps this backlog explains how 90% of inmates in Tihar Prison are undertrials who have not been convicted yet? There's nearly 11,000 people in the prison that has the capacity for about 6,000. They are currently building two new facilities, and for the most part I am completely against the construction of new prisons, but there's such a backlog of cases, and the living conditions are so cramped, that it unfortunately makes sense to build these new facilities, as it doesn't look like the courts are going to speed up any time soon. I'm trying to be cautious about making too many judgments, as it's only been a few weeks, and I've only read a few books, but there are some things that are just plain clear. And sadly, those things are not really on many people's priority list issues to change..
Still, there is definitely a positive side to the Delhi criminal justice system... For all the government infrastructure it lacks, when Dr. Kiran Bedi served her 2 year tenure as Director General of Delhi prisons (1993-1995), she invited the community in. Though there were once 200 NGOs working in Tihar, and now only 54, that is still a substantial amount of community involvement. The NGO I work for, Family Vision, does some pretty great work in counseling, education, and work with children and crime-affected foster kids. More on the positive side of things later- because of course there's always a silver lining...!
like two different cities. In a way, the south is the suburbs, more posh, more malls, highways, and primarily residential. The north has tiny winding alleys that cycle rickshaws can't even enter, tons of tiny little shops, little food stands, and masses and masses of people. What's amazing about Old delhi is that the gorgeous air-conditioned and efficient Metro runs all over the north part of the city, while it won't be completed in the south until 2010 (we can only hope). The shock of stepping up into Chandni Chowk (where the fort and spice market are) from this new, fancy metro is pretty spectacular. Apparently the metro has eased up a ton of traffic in the north areas- I bet folks can't wait for it to come to the south, where traffic is pretty awful around rush hours.After the spice market, we went back to the fort for the sound and light show. I didn't know what to expect from this show, other than the fact that it would explain some of the Mughal history of
Delhi. And that is exactly what it was. For one hour we listened to an oral history of the ruling empires in India up to independence, with sound effects, music, and fantastic dialogue, while different structures around the fort were lit up with colored lights. If you can imagine small town American tourist kitsch, try placing it in the context of forts and tombs built in the 1500s. The only thing it was missing was some animatronic soldiers fighting in the distance... We enjoyed it thoroughly, despite the masses of mosquitoes that made dinner out of us (there were only 4 other people there, so I guess they had few options).Today I checked out Humayun's Tomb, where the headless body of Shah Jehan's favorite son, Dara, was brought after his brother Aurangzeb, the last major Mughal ruler (and a horrible jealous person, put very simply), had him killed. Humayun's tomb is very impressive, though the best part about being a tourist in the summer is that there are so few people there. I managed to dance with the dead in various chambers, climb to the terrace of the mosque, and just take in the sites (and the heat) on my own.Beyond the typical tourism stuff, I'm learning more and more about the ins and outs of the Delhi legal system. Still haven't made it to the prison yet, but today I was shown around one of the lower courts, and on Monday I'll be meeting with a professor at Delhi University who specializes in women and prison. The more I learn about the Indian criminal justice system, the more that I realize how pervasive it is. I'm learning that I can't just study the prison, but I have to learn about the courts, and the police, and the services that exist (or fail to exist) for individuals upon release from prison. The legal system in the US is pretty tangled up, but it is absolutely nothing compared to what I've seen in India so far. More than that, in order to get anything (and really, anything) done, money needs to be paid. From 5 dollars to clerks for getting forms in on time, to 5000 dollars to judges for dismissing cases that need to be held, or creating false cases to implicate innocent people. It's strange to see all of the lawyers walking around in black jackets and white collars (even the few women lawyers wear black jackets over their sarees or salwaar kameez suits), looking like they've come straight from colonial British times. The court system has not been adjusted since the British. Neither has the jail manual. In fact, in 2007, the ministry of Jails convened a panal to start thinking about changing the jail manual which hasn't been updated since 1894. It's amazing to see a country that is changing at warped speed in some sectors, moving at an absolute snail pace in others. I suppose progress is determined by who can benefit from what. I know that the US legal system is nowhere near perfect-- just learned that the US has put to death 10 of the 19 juveniles who have received the death sentence worldwide since the 1970s-- but still... Delhi courts hold special court on Thursdays for 'old cases' that haven't been completed yet. The 'old cases' start from 1986! Perhaps this backlog explains how 90% of inmates in Tihar Prison are undertrials who have not been convicted yet? There's nearly 11,000 people in the prison that has the capacity for about 6,000. They are currently building two new facilities, and for the most part I am completely against the construction of new prisons, but there's such a backlog of cases, and the living conditions are so cramped, that it unfortunately makes sense to build these new facilities, as it doesn't look like the courts are going to speed up any time soon. I'm trying to be cautious about making too many judgments, as it's only been a few weeks, and I've only read a few books, but there are some things that are just plain clear. And sadly, those things are not really on many people's priority list issues to change..
Still, there is definitely a positive side to the Delhi criminal justice system... For all the government infrastructure it lacks, when Dr. Kiran Bedi served her 2 year tenure as Director General of Delhi prisons (1993-1995), she invited the community in. Though there were once 200 NGOs working in Tihar, and now only 54, that is still a substantial amount of community involvement. The NGO I work for, Family Vision, does some pretty great work in counseling, education, and work with children and crime-affected foster kids. More on the positive side of things later- because of course there's always a silver lining...!
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Traffic
I sat in traffic for one hour today, traveling a distance that should have only taken 20 minutes.. It's not the worst bout of traffic I've been in, but it made me miss my yoga class, so I thought I'd pay attention to the crazy world around me that was at an irritating standstill. Traffic in India is ordered
chaos, to say the very least. In the big cities like Bombay and Delhi, you can sit for hours (on day 2 of our trip, Jake and I sat in traffic for FOUR hours to go about 5 km. Luckily it was day 2, so there was still a lot to see and take in, but much of the novelty of the streets are no longer as exciting). Usually seated in a tiny yellow and green auto rickshaw, I'm amazed at how many things occupy the road. There are cars, with the windows tight shut, A/C blasting, both small and increasingly large (the amount of SUVs I've seen in Delhi is disturbing.. If you think it's ridiculous to have an SUV in suburban America, try justifying it in Delhi where traffic rarely exceeds 40 mph) ; buses that zoom down the side lanes, with people dangling in the doorways, packed in like sardines; autos blasting Bollywood, squeezing their way through the mess, the drivers completely at ease; motoscooters, sometimes packed with a family of 4 on board, zig zagging and zooming around the larger vehicles; cycle rickshaws teetering along, driver and passenger usually looking miserable in the hot summer sun; bullock carts piled with masses of produce; solo bicyclists cycling along on decrepid looking things, completely in tune with 
the rushing traffic around them; jaywalking businessmen, jaywalking housewives, jaywalking yogis stopping all traffic with just one palm held up; dogs that act like squirrels, running across the roads and freezing in the middle like they've never seen a car before; children, who sell everything from magazines to jasmine strands, that dart in and out of the lanes and approach momentarily stopped vehicles with their rehearsed salesman script; begger children, and women holding babies who painfully look you in the eye, and simply hold out their hand, point to their mouth, and point to their baby until the traffic starts moving again. And then of course, there are the cows who show up periodically. It's madness, it's mayhem, it's absolutely terrifying, but pretty beautifully coordinated at the same time. I've seen a couple of minor skirmishes, and I know there are pretty big accidents, but considering that traffic lines on the road serve an aesthetic purpose and little more, Indian traffic is pretty impressive.
chaos, to say the very least. In the big cities like Bombay and Delhi, you can sit for hours (on day 2 of our trip, Jake and I sat in traffic for FOUR hours to go about 5 km. Luckily it was day 2, so there was still a lot to see and take in, but much of the novelty of the streets are no longer as exciting). Usually seated in a tiny yellow and green auto rickshaw, I'm amazed at how many things occupy the road. There are cars, with the windows tight shut, A/C blasting, both small and increasingly large (the amount of SUVs I've seen in Delhi is disturbing.. If you think it's ridiculous to have an SUV in suburban America, try justifying it in Delhi where traffic rarely exceeds 40 mph) ; buses that zoom down the side lanes, with people dangling in the doorways, packed in like sardines; autos blasting Bollywood, squeezing their way through the mess, the drivers completely at ease; motoscooters, sometimes packed with a family of 4 on board, zig zagging and zooming around the larger vehicles; cycle rickshaws teetering along, driver and passenger usually looking miserable in the hot summer sun; bullock carts piled with masses of produce; solo bicyclists cycling along on decrepid looking things, completely in tune with the rushing traffic around them; jaywalking businessmen, jaywalking housewives, jaywalking yogis stopping all traffic with just one palm held up; dogs that act like squirrels, running across the roads and freezing in the middle like they've never seen a car before; children, who sell everything from magazines to jasmine strands, that dart in and out of the lanes and approach momentarily stopped vehicles with their rehearsed salesman script; begger children, and women holding babies who painfully look you in the eye, and simply hold out their hand, point to their mouth, and point to their baby until the traffic starts moving again. And then of course, there are the cows who show up periodically. It's madness, it's mayhem, it's absolutely terrifying, but pretty beautifully coordinated at the same time. I've seen a couple of minor skirmishes, and I know there are pretty big accidents, but considering that traffic lines on the road serve an aesthetic purpose and little more, Indian traffic is pretty impressive.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Jaipur blasts...
I don't know how much coverage this will get in the Western media, especially considering the cyclone disaster in Myanmar and the earthquake in China (we can only handle so many disaster headlines!) but yesterday evening there were multiple bombings in the city of Jaipur, killing around 80 people, and leaving 150 people wounded. http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/80_killed_150_wounded_in_Jaipur_blasts/articleshow/3037229.
Just want everyone to know that I've spoken to a few of my friends in Jaipur, and so far everyone I know there is safe and okay. Everything's closed and everyone's a little rattled, but doing fine.
Just want everyone to know that I've spoken to a few of my friends in Jaipur, and so far everyone I know there is safe and okay. Everything's closed and everyone's a little rattled, but doing fine.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Return and Exit
Oh hey there, nice to see you again.
I'm back. Well, I never actually left. I just can't keep up with Sara. A lot has happened, such as.... I'm not in India anymore. I'm in Nepal. Just like the talking heads say; "how did I get here?" well, here's a brief timeline of the events of recent past (chronologically of course!)
Met Sara in Delhi for posh party times (see previous post)
Left for Varanasi by train (12 hours)
In Varanasi the law of balances (not karma because good didn't always lead to better events)seemed to be in full effect. For every single negative action (which there were a bunch of) a positive one occured.
Witnessed the burning ghats from the top of a building
Chased by a really annoying man asking for two rupees, or a snack, or tea. So I sat down - he ordered tea for himself and told me I would pay for it. While he was still talking I got up and walked away...he couldnt follow because he hadn't paid for the tea yet.
Wandered into a homeless shelter that also harbored 350 year old trees - a little girl wanted a photo, I had no camera, told her I am an artist, she went and got a sketchbook and basically challenged me to draw her portrait. I agreed. You can't turn down a little girl with that much determination - and it reminded me to always put my drawing hand where my mouth is.
Ate a papaya (obviously)
Met a yogi for Jesus. By yogi I mean white Australian who has had many spiritual experiences and claims that Jesus is the most powerful path. That actually sounds a lot more cynical than it actually was. His younger friend and I had a discussion about believing in a higher power, Jesus, the old testament, etc. And then this guy, Michael, paid for dinner. Awesome.
Hopped a bus to Sonauli (Nepal Border, 15 hours)
I had some deep thoughts about the way mudpies (cow pies used for fuel burning, yay renewable sources!) are stacked differently between two towns that were very close to each other. One rolled them into cylinders and stacked them into a pyramid. The other did a log style that towered into a jenga formation. Why so different even though their proximity is so close?
Many of the farms have recently harvested their wheat. And the monsoons come soon. In order to maximize nutrient potential, they set fire to their fields at night so that nitrogen will return to the soil. Driving by this at night, and not quite putting it altogether, I almost had the urge to run to the front of the bus and yell that the fields are burning, we must help!! But alas, the inquisitive mind made me sit and think about it before rushing to the conductor, who sat in front of me.
The next morning went through customs and took a bus to Pokhara (told it would be 7 hours, took 10)
Took a hostel in Japan town and proceeded to sleep for the next 30 some hours. In 72 hours I spent 37 of those on public transport, and I know it's just sitting and doing nothing - but by george it gets tiring.
last night I met some Japanese dudes and one of them spoke Chinese, so we had dinner and talked in Chinese, I actually could hold down my end of the conversation and understand him fairly well.
met another japanese guy on my rooftop today. it was amazing, he had a set of speakers, cd player, two mixers, and a huge number of cables and was mixing his own beats. Times like this I love technology. To be surrounded by snowpeaked mountains and blue sky and towering clouds (which are now pouring buckets and mangy dogs) and listening to homeade beats (or his favorite, Aretha Frankin, not joking) is amazing. And it turned out we have the same birthday
met an old woman growing pot on her front lawn today. she was very happy.
So thats life in a nutshell recently. I'm drawing a lot. This place is very inspiring. And tomorrow I will try to begin trekking for the next 4-5 days.
PS. Scroll down for a post that I forgot to put up earlier titled "Dance Dance Dance"
I'm back. Well, I never actually left. I just can't keep up with Sara. A lot has happened, such as.... I'm not in India anymore. I'm in Nepal. Just like the talking heads say; "how did I get here?" well, here's a brief timeline of the events of recent past (chronologically of course!)
Met Sara in Delhi for posh party times (see previous post)
Left for Varanasi by train (12 hours)
In Varanasi the law of balances (not karma because good didn't always lead to better events)seemed to be in full effect. For every single negative action (which there were a bunch of) a positive one occured.
Witnessed the burning ghats from the top of a building
Chased by a really annoying man asking for two rupees, or a snack, or tea. So I sat down - he ordered tea for himself and told me I would pay for it. While he was still talking I got up and walked away...he couldnt follow because he hadn't paid for the tea yet.
Wandered into a homeless shelter that also harbored 350 year old trees - a little girl wanted a photo, I had no camera, told her I am an artist, she went and got a sketchbook and basically challenged me to draw her portrait. I agreed. You can't turn down a little girl with that much determination - and it reminded me to always put my drawing hand where my mouth is.
Ate a papaya (obviously)
Met a yogi for Jesus. By yogi I mean white Australian who has had many spiritual experiences and claims that Jesus is the most powerful path. That actually sounds a lot more cynical than it actually was. His younger friend and I had a discussion about believing in a higher power, Jesus, the old testament, etc. And then this guy, Michael, paid for dinner. Awesome.
Hopped a bus to Sonauli (Nepal Border, 15 hours)
I had some deep thoughts about the way mudpies (cow pies used for fuel burning, yay renewable sources!) are stacked differently between two towns that were very close to each other. One rolled them into cylinders and stacked them into a pyramid. The other did a log style that towered into a jenga formation. Why so different even though their proximity is so close?
Many of the farms have recently harvested their wheat. And the monsoons come soon. In order to maximize nutrient potential, they set fire to their fields at night so that nitrogen will return to the soil. Driving by this at night, and not quite putting it altogether, I almost had the urge to run to the front of the bus and yell that the fields are burning, we must help!! But alas, the inquisitive mind made me sit and think about it before rushing to the conductor, who sat in front of me.
The next morning went through customs and took a bus to Pokhara (told it would be 7 hours, took 10)
Took a hostel in Japan town and proceeded to sleep for the next 30 some hours. In 72 hours I spent 37 of those on public transport, and I know it's just sitting and doing nothing - but by george it gets tiring.
last night I met some Japanese dudes and one of them spoke Chinese, so we had dinner and talked in Chinese, I actually could hold down my end of the conversation and understand him fairly well.
met another japanese guy on my rooftop today. it was amazing, he had a set of speakers, cd player, two mixers, and a huge number of cables and was mixing his own beats. Times like this I love technology. To be surrounded by snowpeaked mountains and blue sky and towering clouds (which are now pouring buckets and mangy dogs) and listening to homeade beats (or his favorite, Aretha Frankin, not joking) is amazing. And it turned out we have the same birthday
met an old woman growing pot on her front lawn today. she was very happy.
So thats life in a nutshell recently. I'm drawing a lot. This place is very inspiring. And tomorrow I will try to begin trekking for the next 4-5 days.
PS. Scroll down for a post that I forgot to put up earlier titled "Dance Dance Dance"
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
the dancing fools go posh...
(the first photo is the living room of my flat! Been meaning to put that up for awhile...) So I know we're a bunch of dirty hippie backpackers, one with a mountain man of a beard(contrary to popular belief, that's not me...), but we dancing fools can clean up pretty nicely if I do say so for myself! Jake just took off on a train to Varanasi, after we spent the past week running errands, starting wo
rk (in my case at least), going to crazy posh night clubs, and completely indulging in a 2 day long addiction to the show Heroes, in which we watched one whole season straight (hey, you don't get too many chances to veg out when you travel, so we took the vegging to the extreme). We also found ourselves at a fancy club in South Delhi on ex-pat ladies night (basically foreign women get in for free and drink good drinks for free all night. I love it for it's utter ridiculousness. Of course it's not too bad having free drinks either!). Last night we went to an amazing salsa club where we danced our little hearts out (quite possibly knocking over a few bystanders in the process, but hey, it's okay). We also found some fun tricks we can play with our american accents (my attempt to ask some folks standing near by if
we could have 'some hookah' turned into free shots of sambuca!!), and we ended up hitching a ride with one of the owners of F-Bar, or Fashion-Bar, the fanciest club in Delhi (it costs 75 US Dollars to just get into the place). He asked if we wanted to see it, and of course we did, so we skipped around the fancy nightclub, and danced on the amazing empty dance floor for awhile. All in all, it's been incredible to meet so many new people, indian and traveller alike, and to have a place to settle if just for a little bit, to get to know people a little better..
rk (in my case at least), going to crazy posh night clubs, and completely indulging in a 2 day long addiction to the show Heroes, in which we watched one whole season straight (hey, you don't get too many chances to veg out when you travel, so we took the vegging to the extreme). We also found ourselves at a fancy club in South Delhi on ex-pat ladies night (basically foreign women get in for free and drink good drinks for free all night. I love it for it's utter ridiculousness. Of course it's not too bad having free drinks either!). Last night we went to an amazing salsa club where we danced our little hearts out (quite possibly knocking over a few bystanders in the process, but hey, it's okay). We also found some fun tricks we can play with our american accents (my attempt to ask some folks standing near by if
we could have 'some hookah' turned into free shots of sambuca!!), and we ended up hitching a ride with one of the owners of F-Bar, or Fashion-Bar, the fanciest club in Delhi (it costs 75 US Dollars to just get into the place). He asked if we wanted to see it, and of course we did, so we skipped around the fancy nightclub, and danced on the amazing empty dance floor for awhile. All in all, it's been incredible to meet so many new people, indian and traveller alike, and to have a place to settle if just for a little bit, to get to know people a little better..Now the nightlife is great and fine, but what I'm really excited about is the work that I'm doing here. I officially started work with Family Vision on monday. My first day, my boss Rohit sat me down and told me all about the work the Family has done in Tihar prison since 1993. What I'm going to do is write up a report detailing this work for them. I'll probably do the same thing with their Tsnuami effort, and I'll also be organzing a craft fair for crime-affected foster kids, and finally I'll 
go to the prison and visit with the women and children a few times. Learning about Tihar Prison makes me really appreciate and really despise different aspects of our criminal justice system back home. It's so different over here, both good and bad... I think when I learn a bit more, I'll write more on this topic, but it's just drawing me in- there's a possibility I may even want to apply to law school in the future.. what!? We'll see... But anways, the work is incredibly fulfilling, and I know that I'm helping out this organization a lot, which is great.
go to the prison and visit with the women and children a few times. Learning about Tihar Prison makes me really appreciate and really despise different aspects of our criminal justice system back home. It's so different over here, both good and bad... I think when I learn a bit more, I'll write more on this topic, but it's just drawing me in- there's a possibility I may even want to apply to law school in the future.. what!? We'll see... But anways, the work is incredibly fulfilling, and I know that I'm helping out this organization a lot, which is great. Okay, off to work-- peace!!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
bits and pieces
Important lesson learned... The difference between the number twenty five and the number fifty in Hindi is a tiny shift in sound from short I to short A.. That said, the very long and angry argument I had with the rickshaw driver who claimed I owed him fifty rupees when I claimed we had agreed on twenty five rupees, ended in utter embarrassment and apology (and overpaying) on my part. It's probably not the best thing that I've learned how to say "You're crazy!" (Aap pagal hai!) and "I may be foreign, but I live in Delhii!" (Mein gora hai, mein Dilli mei rethi hoon!) I was quite embarrassed when 3 young Delhi-ites pointed out that I had in fact offered to pay fifty (which is PachAs as opposed to PachIs which is twenty five). Just when you think you're getting a handle on the language...
So I'm still settling into the grooves of the city, and I'm really liking it. The heat is pretty terrible and getting worse, but I'm figuring out some tricks to stay cool. From going to the cinema to see Akshay Kumar (my new muscled Bollywood love) fight gangsters to the backdrop of delicious bubblegum pop music, to strutting around the Oberoi Hotel like I own the place, but actually only sitting in the air-conditioned lobby on the comfy couches with a magazine. I'm also sightseeing quite a bit! I don't start work for a few more days, so I'm taking in the sights while I can. So far I've seen the Qutb Minar with my roomate Peter, Lodi Gardens with my Hindi teacher, Bharat (we choose a different site for each visit, which is great!), and today I went to the Sulabh International Museum of Toilets. Yes, yes, that's right... It's the quirky listing in the guidebook that everyone laughs at, but very few people go to. But it's absolutely fascinating! Did any of you know that India was the first place in history to have toilets in each household? That's right, during the times of the Indus Valley Civilization, every household had it's own toilet! Who knew? And in the Netherlands they now have toilets that sit below the ground during the day, but come up at night to be used by late-night partyers! And in Victorian England, they used to disguise toilets as chairs, or flowery sculptures, or tables, because they wanted them to blend in with the room... I got a little lost on the technology part of the tour, but I'm pretty sure I walked on grass that was grown with manure from human waste, and I watched the process of converting urine into (non-drinkable, but usable) water. Awesome.
Oh and here is a fantastic link that Shruti found and it just embodies everything that is amazing and ironic about India. http://www.hipsterhunter.com/HH_INDIA.html
Are these photos of pretty flowers? Check again! They're actually urinals that were created by a Japanese artist! Japan also boasts electric toilets all over the country (in 90% of households and every public restroom), which has buttons for different water sprays, a dryer, and even a massage button for your backside! Apparently all the buttons are in japanese, so tourists sometimes run into some chaos when they hit the wrong button.
That's me hard at work studying Hindi in Lodi gardens. There are these amazingly beautiful tombs (mugdaras) all over the gardens, and you can smell the flowers from way outside.
That's my roomate Peter! He's extremely tall, but the Qutb Minar is even taller. In fact, it's the largest stone structure in India! Unfortunately all of my photos of it were taken vertically, and I still don't know how to put vertical photos up here, so you'll just get a photo of Peter looking at the Qutb Minar. It was built by various generations of Muslim rulers, the first one starting it in the 1200s after defeating the Hindu empire that was in power. There's a lot on the site besides the Qutb Minar itself, including a (now destroyed) mosque that was built with the remnants of a Hindu temple that was destroyed! You can apparently see carvings of Hindu gods in the remaining columns of the mosque, but we couldn't find any.
A lot of the strutures on site are still in tact, but here is a photo of some of the ruins. There's also an iron pole on site that has been around for centuries and STILL hasn't rusted! People think it's magical.
And that's me with my boyfriends Akshay Kumar and Saif Ali Khan! I've changed my look a bit in these past 5 1/2 months. Just kidding, that's Akshay Kumar, Kareena Kapoor, and Saif Ali Khan in a shot from their movie "Tashan" which might be the most beautiful, insane, and violent film I've ever seen. Kudos Bollywood, way to go.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Dance Dance Dance...
...except this time - it's a little more Bollywood and a little less Steve Miller.
NOTE: This post is from when I was in Udaipur in April. It's late, but better than forgotten on the internet wasteland! :END NOTE
My life recently has been filled with dancetacular times. Last weekend I attended my first Indian Wedding (the next one is in two days but it's a Muslim wedding) with my friend Gabe from couchsurfing. The bride is the friend of my teacher's sons here, so I got the invite to go. To make a long story shorter (refer to Sara's earlier post on weddings because it was fairly similar) the family had set up a lighted dance floor that had a rhythm of its own. My friends here already knew I liked to dance, which was either a mistake to tell them that or a blessing - I'm still not so sure. So after eating dinner, which I should have waited to eat until after dancing, I was pulled (some might say dragged) onto the stage and started to boogie down to the most recent bollywood hits. Everyone else who was on the dance platform at that point exited, save one other guy who was labled as my "dance partner". A whole crowd of people formed around. When I say crowd, I mean like 300 people. There were over 1500 people in attendance at this wedding. I did a little breakdance and tried to leave the stage and was pulled back on for one more song. It was strange to have all these people watching - but no reaction. Usually people will clap but rather this was all stares (It's India, I've gotten used to the staring so it's only in retrospect I find it strange, or just different than back home). When I stopped grooving and told them I was too tired to go on (10 minutes of hippie dancing can make you exhausted) I walked through the crowd to get some water. Numerous times people stopped me to congratulate me on my dancing; "You've got some Bollywood moves" and "Your hair flows like a Bollywood star (one point hippie hair)". One guy even filmed three minutes of the dancing on his cell phone and showed me the part where I did a headstand and wangled my legs in the air... and in return gave me an approving head waggle. Score one for hippie dancing!!
And last night I threw a party with my friends here in celebration for a number of things. First off, Sara informed me that yesterday (Saturday the 27th) was World Dance Day. How could I miss an opportunity like this!! Secondly this week I found out that I got the Fulbright Grant for next year - so I'll be headed home in June and then I take of again in August for China to study painting. I cooked up a storm for tweleve people - spinach tomato subjee and of course...mashed potatoes and we rented a sound system to blast the tunes. The only trouble is that the Indian palate for food is quite different that the American one. This is the second time I've cooked for a group of Indians and received not the greatest of faces during the tastings. I know my cooking isn't terrible and I thought it was quite tasty (Ok it lacked some salt - but its better to undersalt than oversalt!!). So we ate and danced from 9-1am last night. At one point I put on Fatboy Slim's "Praise You" and two others danced and everyone liked the groove. But then I put on James Brown "Get on the Good Foot" and by gosh can Indian males hippie dance. Well, I'm not sure if my friend Dharmendra was mocking me by flailing his hands in the air and shaking his hips - but everyone was smiling and jumping around. And that's what counts.
NOTE: This post is from when I was in Udaipur in April. It's late, but better than forgotten on the internet wasteland! :END NOTE
My life recently has been filled with dancetacular times. Last weekend I attended my first Indian Wedding (the next one is in two days but it's a Muslim wedding) with my friend Gabe from couchsurfing. The bride is the friend of my teacher's sons here, so I got the invite to go. To make a long story shorter (refer to Sara's earlier post on weddings because it was fairly similar) the family had set up a lighted dance floor that had a rhythm of its own. My friends here already knew I liked to dance, which was either a mistake to tell them that or a blessing - I'm still not so sure. So after eating dinner, which I should have waited to eat until after dancing, I was pulled (some might say dragged) onto the stage and started to boogie down to the most recent bollywood hits. Everyone else who was on the dance platform at that point exited, save one other guy who was labled as my "dance partner". A whole crowd of people formed around. When I say crowd, I mean like 300 people. There were over 1500 people in attendance at this wedding. I did a little breakdance and tried to leave the stage and was pulled back on for one more song. It was strange to have all these people watching - but no reaction. Usually people will clap but rather this was all stares (It's India, I've gotten used to the staring so it's only in retrospect I find it strange, or just different than back home). When I stopped grooving and told them I was too tired to go on (10 minutes of hippie dancing can make you exhausted) I walked through the crowd to get some water. Numerous times people stopped me to congratulate me on my dancing; "You've got some Bollywood moves" and "Your hair flows like a Bollywood star (one point hippie hair)". One guy even filmed three minutes of the dancing on his cell phone and showed me the part where I did a headstand and wangled my legs in the air... and in return gave me an approving head waggle. Score one for hippie dancing!!
And last night I threw a party with my friends here in celebration for a number of things. First off, Sara informed me that yesterday (Saturday the 27th) was World Dance Day. How could I miss an opportunity like this!! Secondly this week I found out that I got the Fulbright Grant for next year - so I'll be headed home in June and then I take of again in August for China to study painting. I cooked up a storm for tweleve people - spinach tomato subjee and of course...mashed potatoes and we rented a sound system to blast the tunes. The only trouble is that the Indian palate for food is quite different that the American one. This is the second time I've cooked for a group of Indians and received not the greatest of faces during the tastings. I know my cooking isn't terrible and I thought it was quite tasty (Ok it lacked some salt - but its better to undersalt than oversalt!!). So we ate and danced from 9-1am last night. At one point I put on Fatboy Slim's "Praise You" and two others danced and everyone liked the groove. But then I put on James Brown "Get on the Good Foot" and by gosh can Indian males hippie dance. Well, I'm not sure if my friend Dharmendra was mocking me by flailing his hands in the air and shaking his hips - but everyone was smiling and jumping around. And that's what counts.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Dilli bahut garam hai
That's Hindi, for 'Delhi is very hot'. Yep, it's true, it's easily 110 degrees during the peak afternoon hours here, and living in an un-airconditioned flat that's prone to power cuts 3-4 times a day may make this an interesting month. I've lived in very hot weather without a/c before, but there's nothing like trying to sleep next to the loud whir of your water cooler fan, and watching the fan stop turning while the power is cut for the next few hours. I've been learning to master the art of cooling pranayam, which are breathing techniques from yoga- they actually work pretty well, last night I managed to give myself the chills and cool my body down considerably. (The two techniques are sucking in air between closed teeth and making your tongue into a tube and breathing in)
Aside from the heat (which I think will only prove to be character building), Delhi is fantastic. I live in Uday Park, which is a residential community in the south part of the city. In front of the neighborhood, there's a major road and a major mall called Ansal Plaza. Behind the neighborhood, there's tiny alleyways, empty ancient monuments, and little juice stands and vegetable carts. That said, if I am craving some swanky Pizza Hut or a trip to the Body Shop, I head over to Ansal Plaza, and if I'm craving fresh-squeezed pineapple juice, a thali, or lots of 'what's this white girl doing here?' stares, I head out the back side. I'm thinking it's going to be a great balance, something which is very difficult to come by around here!
My roomates are pretty great, though one of them is traveling for the next few weeks. I live with Noah and Peter- Noah is an American, former venture capitalist, who hated his job, recently quit, and is now traveling with his brother while he looks for another job in Delhi. Peter is German, and will be here for the next 3 months working with the company that builds the Delhi Metro. Both guys are really laid-back, and are making great attempts to hijack some air-conditioning, so we don't have to pay hundreds of dollars to have it turned on. Overall, I think the living situation will be great for the next 5 weeks.
I'll be starting my job with the prison-based NGO on Monday, and I started my hindi lessons last night. I'll also be doing some english language editing for this intercultural exchange organization's website. Should keeep me plenty busy, and be a nice balance of computer work and 'out there' work. I'm sure I'll have lots of stories from this city- I'm looking forward to exploring the older parts of town, starting up yoga classes at Aurobindo Ashram, and seeing lots of dance and concerts. There's a Time Out Delhi publication, which is pretty amazing, though nothing like good old Time Out New York. Okay, more later!
Aside from the heat (which I think will only prove to be character building), Delhi is fantastic. I live in Uday Park, which is a residential community in the south part of the city. In front of the neighborhood, there's a major road and a major mall called Ansal Plaza. Behind the neighborhood, there's tiny alleyways, empty ancient monuments, and little juice stands and vegetable carts. That said, if I am craving some swanky Pizza Hut or a trip to the Body Shop, I head over to Ansal Plaza, and if I'm craving fresh-squeezed pineapple juice, a thali, or lots of 'what's this white girl doing here?' stares, I head out the back side. I'm thinking it's going to be a great balance, something which is very difficult to come by around here!
My roomates are pretty great, though one of them is traveling for the next few weeks. I live with Noah and Peter- Noah is an American, former venture capitalist, who hated his job, recently quit, and is now traveling with his brother while he looks for another job in Delhi. Peter is German, and will be here for the next 3 months working with the company that builds the Delhi Metro. Both guys are really laid-back, and are making great attempts to hijack some air-conditioning, so we don't have to pay hundreds of dollars to have it turned on. Overall, I think the living situation will be great for the next 5 weeks.
I'll be starting my job with the prison-based NGO on Monday, and I started my hindi lessons last night. I'll also be doing some english language editing for this intercultural exchange organization's website. Should keeep me plenty busy, and be a nice balance of computer work and 'out there' work. I'm sure I'll have lots of stories from this city- I'm looking forward to exploring the older parts of town, starting up yoga classes at Aurobindo Ashram, and seeing lots of dance and concerts. There's a Time Out Delhi publication, which is pretty amazing, though nothing like good old Time Out New York. Okay, more later!
Saturday, April 19, 2008
being american ain't as sexy as it used to be...
I've been writing a lot recently, I know. It's stems largely from the fact that I'm spending this time in Singapore relaxing, sleeping, and... applying for jobs back home. The plan is to leave India on 20th June and return Stateside on 28th June, so time (and looming unemployment) are catching up with me... I've also had the chance to think- too much- which is one of the things I do best. After my last two blog entries I got an e-mail from my mother filled with love and comfort, telling me to do what felt right for me, and not to worry so much. I guess my writing may be giving off hints of melancholy, but please don't be worried. I may be spending these past few weeks and next couple of months in a constant (and possibly irritating) state of reflection and self/social analysis, but I'm certainly happy. And I'm perfectly content taking breaks from over-thought every so often to read the latest issue of People magazine while sipping a peach iced tea from Starbucks. (Oh THANK YOU globalization and Singapore! People Magazine, and your high fructose corn oil glossy covers, I missed you so).
Recently, I've been made uncomfortably aware of America's slipping power in multiple arenas. From the obvious economic downfall to the war in Iraq to money to prestige, saying you're American doesn't get the same 'wow' factor anymore. Maybe I was spoiled in India, where my white skin was poked and prodded and loved and hated with great intensity. However, my experiences in the cities were quite different than the villages and towns (as Jake and I have both mentioned throughout this blog). In the cities especially, India's got this crazy strange mix of the poshest of the posh with the poorer of the poor. The jetsetting, educated, speaks 5 languages, works hard, parties hard, beautiful people crowd in the cities (particularly Delhi and Mumbai), are unlike any group of people I've ever met. They're more elegant than the upper east side, hipper than williamsburg, and faster than chelsea. While Americans are disdained for being imperialist consumptive masters in the villages, Americans are simply behind the times, old-money hicks, in the fancy enclaves of the city. I simplify, generalize, and exaggerate, of course, but it's a trend that I think will only continue to rise. Asia, particularly India and China are on the covers of all our news weeklies, and they know that. America is not looking so good on the hard power front, as our economy is taking hits, our military is failing, and our own domestic inadequacies are shining through. Still, I've never known America to be anything but a superpower. I was born in the 1980s, and America has been number one in all regards my whole life. It still is, in many respects, but it's at times very unnerving, and a bit surreal to be abroad and watching the headlines read 'the downfall of America'. It's particularly strange to be in the part of the world that is considered the next frontier.
At the same time... Our soft power still rules, but not in the same way as before. Yesterday I saw Singaporean highschoolers breakdancing and streetdancing to funk and hip hop in the underpasses of malls and MRT stations. I watched young and old teenagers sing acoustic songs (some mangled, some gorgeous) by the Cranberries and REM at the Singapore Art Cafe. I went to Jazz @ Southbridge and drank chardonnay and listened to jazz and blues standards performed by an all Singaporean band. American brands and labels are all over the place here, from Starbucks to DKNY. In India, it's a bit of a stranger mix, but Simon and Garfunkel are played in the malls, American hip hop and R&B blast from cyber cafes, and I-pods are all the rage in the cities. When I ask folks in the cities about music and movies and what they like to do, so much of it is from America. Of course India has a rising export culture, from bangles to Bollywood, but for the most "modern" folks in the cities, the intermix of Indian and American is where it's hippest (I even see new mobile phones that advertise "Hinglish predictive text" for SMSing). In Singapore it feels the same way. In many ways, American culture dominates, but with an Asian flair. That said, simply being American doesn't quite cut it around here. In a jazz club where signs for Broadway are scattered on the walls next to photos of yellow taxi cabs, and the singer evokes Ella Fitzgerald, being from New York gets a shrugged response of "oh" (and don't laugh Jake, and say it's because I'm actually from New Jersey...) Perhaps in this increasingly interconnected global community (I'm speaking in upper-class terms only, right now), nationalism is not as relevant. Or perhaps I'm just not used to watching my country and my culture take to the sidelines. Over here, partnerships are being developed that are consciously excluding America, from political to economic to arts. I can't help but feel like these are new trends, and it's crazy strange to be in the midst of it.
In the end, it's probably a good thing. But maybe this is why so many Americans continue not to travel. It's not easy finding out you're not at the center of the universe (figuratively speaking). In this increasingly competitive and interconnected world, a name (whether it's a surname or a country name) can get you pretty far, but the American pedestal is definitely falling faster than we'd probably like. It's very easy to be self-deprecating toward your own country, and to criticize America. I do it all the time, and there are some things America has done (many things actually) that I'm outright ashamed of. But buried under that criticism is a deep love and affection. Hearing other people knock your culture, applaud it's downfall, or even worse, simply stop caring, is not as easy. Don't get me wrong, I recognize the power that comes with being from America, particularly where I came from in America. But I'm starting to recognize the vulnerabilities of that power first-hand. It's unsettling, but it makes for some good stories, that's for sure.
Recently, I've been made uncomfortably aware of America's slipping power in multiple arenas. From the obvious economic downfall to the war in Iraq to money to prestige, saying you're American doesn't get the same 'wow' factor anymore. Maybe I was spoiled in India, where my white skin was poked and prodded and loved and hated with great intensity. However, my experiences in the cities were quite different than the villages and towns (as Jake and I have both mentioned throughout this blog). In the cities especially, India's got this crazy strange mix of the poshest of the posh with the poorer of the poor. The jetsetting, educated, speaks 5 languages, works hard, parties hard, beautiful people crowd in the cities (particularly Delhi and Mumbai), are unlike any group of people I've ever met. They're more elegant than the upper east side, hipper than williamsburg, and faster than chelsea. While Americans are disdained for being imperialist consumptive masters in the villages, Americans are simply behind the times, old-money hicks, in the fancy enclaves of the city. I simplify, generalize, and exaggerate, of course, but it's a trend that I think will only continue to rise. Asia, particularly India and China are on the covers of all our news weeklies, and they know that. America is not looking so good on the hard power front, as our economy is taking hits, our military is failing, and our own domestic inadequacies are shining through. Still, I've never known America to be anything but a superpower. I was born in the 1980s, and America has been number one in all regards my whole life. It still is, in many respects, but it's at times very unnerving, and a bit surreal to be abroad and watching the headlines read 'the downfall of America'. It's particularly strange to be in the part of the world that is considered the next frontier.
At the same time... Our soft power still rules, but not in the same way as before. Yesterday I saw Singaporean highschoolers breakdancing and streetdancing to funk and hip hop in the underpasses of malls and MRT stations. I watched young and old teenagers sing acoustic songs (some mangled, some gorgeous) by the Cranberries and REM at the Singapore Art Cafe. I went to Jazz @ Southbridge and drank chardonnay and listened to jazz and blues standards performed by an all Singaporean band. American brands and labels are all over the place here, from Starbucks to DKNY. In India, it's a bit of a stranger mix, but Simon and Garfunkel are played in the malls, American hip hop and R&B blast from cyber cafes, and I-pods are all the rage in the cities. When I ask folks in the cities about music and movies and what they like to do, so much of it is from America. Of course India has a rising export culture, from bangles to Bollywood, but for the most "modern" folks in the cities, the intermix of Indian and American is where it's hippest (I even see new mobile phones that advertise "Hinglish predictive text" for SMSing). In Singapore it feels the same way. In many ways, American culture dominates, but with an Asian flair. That said, simply being American doesn't quite cut it around here. In a jazz club where signs for Broadway are scattered on the walls next to photos of yellow taxi cabs, and the singer evokes Ella Fitzgerald, being from New York gets a shrugged response of "oh" (and don't laugh Jake, and say it's because I'm actually from New Jersey...) Perhaps in this increasingly interconnected global community (I'm speaking in upper-class terms only, right now), nationalism is not as relevant. Or perhaps I'm just not used to watching my country and my culture take to the sidelines. Over here, partnerships are being developed that are consciously excluding America, from political to economic to arts. I can't help but feel like these are new trends, and it's crazy strange to be in the midst of it.
In the end, it's probably a good thing. But maybe this is why so many Americans continue not to travel. It's not easy finding out you're not at the center of the universe (figuratively speaking). In this increasingly competitive and interconnected world, a name (whether it's a surname or a country name) can get you pretty far, but the American pedestal is definitely falling faster than we'd probably like. It's very easy to be self-deprecating toward your own country, and to criticize America. I do it all the time, and there are some things America has done (many things actually) that I'm outright ashamed of. But buried under that criticism is a deep love and affection. Hearing other people knock your culture, applaud it's downfall, or even worse, simply stop caring, is not as easy. Don't get me wrong, I recognize the power that comes with being from America, particularly where I came from in America. But I'm starting to recognize the vulnerabilities of that power first-hand. It's unsettling, but it makes for some good stories, that's for sure.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)