After a 22 hour train ride (the longest single mode of transport journey of our travels), we arrived at 10pm in Bombay [the official name of Mumbai was designated by the extreme right wing Hindu Shiv Sena party, so many people not in agreement with their ideas continue to call the city Bombay].
We took an auto rickshaw to Lucia's, the 91-year-old mother of Alfin, Rachel's parents' next door neighbor. She lives in Santa Cruz, a northern suburb. Lucia woke up to greet us when we arrived after 11pm--although she has a little trouble hearing, she's otherwise in terrific health, and was a wonderful host to us. It felt great to end our time in India staying with her, and we enjoyed hearing her life stories. Her servants Sunita and Laksmi were also really friendly, and Sunita had an adorable baby.
The next day, we took the train into what the British dubbed the "first city in India." Bombay commuter trains are often horribly overcrowded, but since we took them on a weekend and at off times, they were ok. A couple English women we met in Dharamsala said that Bombay felt like London to them, and while that may be an exaggeration, it certainly felt very, very different from any other place we'd been in India. These differences are more than superficial: Bombay produces a whopping 60% of India's GDP, and 40% of its manufacturing.
Our train arrived at the Victoria Terminal, a really crazy looking Gothic and Baroque building which looked like some buildings we'd seen in Australia. We walked around downtown, which felt much cleaner, more attractive, and calmer to walk than anywhere else in India. After a good afternoon at the Prince of Wales art museum, we sampled some of Bombay's street food: sugar cane juice, a grilled vegetable sandwich, mango juice, and pani puri (little shells of dough filled with a sweet or salty soup). Also better food here than elsewhere in India! Despite being more humid and still pretty hot, the temperatures were also considerable lower than other places we'd been, which was nice.
The next day we visited the house where Gandhi stayed in Bombay, and where he launched his nonviolent movement. We also walked along Chowpatty beach, which was mostly empty. We ate bhel puri (almost tasted a little Mexican, a mix of starches with cilantro and onions) and falooda, a delicious drink with pieces of kulfi ice cream. That evening we ate dinner with Lucia's extended family, all of whom are very well educated, successful and friendly.
Our last day in Bombay was relaxed- Rachel did some shopping with one of Lucia's relatives, and we went to a Bollywood movie called Bheja Fry (unfortunately not very good). Leaving that night for the airport, we were grateful to have been able to stay with Lucia. I read an anecdote somewhere about Gandhi's slogan to the British "Quit India," and how a British soldier had added under one of the posters "I wish I could." Despite feeling that way sometimes ourselves in India, we had some great experiences there, and enjoyed our time in Bombay.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Thursday, May 17, 2007
City of Light, Jungle of Tigers
The week after leaving Agra was dominated by train rides-- about 40 hours of them-- along with another 10 or so hours sitting in hot, filthy, crowded stations. In between these long rides and waits, though, were some iconic Indian experiences. From Agra, we headed east to Varanasi, a city on the Ganges that is one of the holiest places in Hinduism. This is not the right time of year to go there (or anywhere in India, really), as the temperatures the week we arrived had been daily hitting 115 degrees F; the blast of heat as we stepped out of the train was frightening. Although the heat was no better 10 kilometers away in Sarnath, where we had a SERVAS host, the noise and crowding were less. Our host was Christine, a German Buddhist married to an Indian man named Nehru. Christine runs a small eco-guest house that is also their home; they use solar power, build with natural local materials, and cook simple vegetarian food. There is no running water, but a pump in the yard provides plenty. Unfortunately Christine fell ill soon after we arrived, so we didn't get to spend much time with her or Nehru, who was either working in his saree shop or caring for Christine. There were some other travelers at the house, though, who were good to talk to.
Our first morning in Sarnath, the sun did not, as it usually does, burn through the clouds and start scorching the ground by 7. Taking this as a sign of a cooler than usual day, we headed into downtown Varanasi with another guest, a friendly, starry-eyed guy named Tom. He had already spent three months in Varanasi just hanging around, so he made an excellent guide for us in our one day there. We had to fight to get out of Sarnath though-- the auto-rickshaw drivers demanded exorbitant prices, and the public buses one after another refused to stop for us. Finally we all piled onto the narrow bench of a bicycle rickshaw-- incredibly hard work for the driver, with only one gear, but he was very happy to have such a large fare. It took an hour to cover the 10k into Varanasi, giving us a chance to look around calmly at the street scene. (From an auto rickshaw, all you can see is what's at eye level, which tends to be the underbellies of trucks and the front wheels of other ricks, all of which seem to be coming straight toward you at terrible speeds.) Once downtown, we headed toward the ghats. Ghats are, architecturally speaking, just wide steps leading up from the river; spiritually, though, each ghat has a different name and significance, and pilgrims make a certain circuit of the ghats, dipping in the holy water of the river at each of several different places. Many of them have shrines or temples on them or behind them, while others are backed by hulking castle-like buildings. The light, reminiscent of Nice, had a weightless, shimmering quality that covered everything with a sprinkling of fairy dust. We spent much of the day on the ghats, mostly walking, but also taking a rowboat ride on the river to see them from another view. They were endlessly engaging to look at because of the swirl of activities that centered on them. Huliking water buffaloes were scrubbed and polished in the water by their keepers; old goats napped in the shade while young ones chased each other; boys played small-scale games of cricket, oblivious to the pedestrians in their midst; tea-sellers sat and chatted with the regulars; unoccupied boatmen played cards. Meanwhile, groups of male prilgrims stripped to their underwear and jumped into th water, while the women mostly sat in groups on the steps. Tow of the ghats have a singular purpose, as cremation sites. Hindus believe that to die in Varanasi guarantees instant transport to heaven, and even for those who don't die here it is an honor to be cremated here. From the boat, we watched a group of men carrying a corpse, covered with a sheet, on a bamboo stretcher, then taking wood from the huge stockpile and lighting it, and the body, on fire. At any one time there are several cremations happening, at various stages; the male family and friends stay and watch the fire until it burns down, and then one person (generally the oldest son, I think) pours a bucket of Ganges water over the ashes. It was a powerful ceremony to observe. Sarnath is also a holy city in its own right, and we spent the following day exploring it a bit. There is an archeological site that is said to be where the Buddha preached his first sermon, making it a pilgrimage place for Buddhists from all over the world. That day the heat was relentless, though, and as we'd been having trouble sleeping (the solar powered fan only lasted a couple hours in the night), we spent much of the afternoon in the relative cool of the internet cafe.
The next day was the least complex of the marathon travel days: just one long train ride from Varanasi to the town of Satna, where we arrived at 9 p.m. and found a place to sleep and, as ever, a thali to eat. (A thali is a metal tray of rice, bread, one or two "vegetables"--almost invariably meaning potatoes--and lentils. It's good, once or twice. But in northern India it is both ubiquitous and exclusive-- most restaurants, except in very fancy or touristy places, serve nothing else. If I never eat thali again, I think I'd be okay with that.) The next morning we got on a train at 6:30, then another, then a bus-- and that was an experience. It started out great; we had a seat at the front, and it seemed to be leaving, unthinkably, ahead of schedule. But then it stopped a few minutes away, and proceeded to sit, in full sun, for an hour. During that time more and more people piled into the bus, to the point that people were squatting on seatbacks and there was no room to so much as shrug one's shoulders. Then, when the bus finally pulled away, another 20 or so people pushed and scratched to get on! There were people riding on the roof and a dozen hanging out the door. A 10 year old child had been put into my lap; soon after the bus pulled away, he started vomiting-- mosty out the window, but some on me. Then the old women who was sitting on Erik started hacking in a very ominous way; luckily we found a plastic bag in our backpack, and she managed to spit mostly into that and not on Erik. There were at least 85 people crammed into a bus that was half the size of a school bus or city bus at home. Suffice it to say that the hourlong ride dragged.
The goal of all this travel had been to reach Bhavangarh National Park, which according to our guidebook had one of the highest concentrations of tigers of any park in India. By the time we finally arrived, we were already questioning the wisdome of this quest; when we learned that prices had more than doubled since our book was published, it really started to feel like a mistake. But, having gotten there, we figured we should do the safaris we had planned on doing. Being the hottest time of year, the tourist presence was minimal and hotel rates were reduced, so we were able to stay in a much nicer room than we normally would have-- a shower with good water pressure instead of a bucket, and a powerful fan. Our evening "safari" (ride around the park in a jeep) did not yield any tiger sightings, but being in an open, clean, beautiful natural environment had a calming and rejuvenating effect on us. The next morning, we were back in the park at 5:45 (the park closes from 9:30 to
3:30, when both animals and peoples need to just be immobile and attempt to keep their blood from boiling). We saw herds of deer grazing in the meadows, a stork, sleeping owls, showoffy peacocks, lots and lots of monkeys, and a tree full of vultures. And then, at last, we saw a tiger. She was a 22 month old cub, not fully grown but spending the morning out on her own (her mother and 3 siblings are all around, we were told). She was up on a rock ledge, about 50 feet away and 30 feet above us. We never got a full view of her; mostly she was just lying around, gracing us with the sight of her head. We wished, temporarily, that we had an 18 inch camera lens like the other several tourists all did; our photos, I'm afraid, aren't too impressive. But she was truly gorgeous, and we were glad we got to see her. We spent a few hours after the safari luxuriating in our room, trying to prepare ourselves for the travel to come. Then we went back to the train station-- by taxi this time-- and retraced our commuter-line steps back to the hub, where we waited, and waited, and waited. Finally the train came, and we got on for our 20 hour ride to Mumbai.
Our first morning in Sarnath, the sun did not, as it usually does, burn through the clouds and start scorching the ground by 7. Taking this as a sign of a cooler than usual day, we headed into downtown Varanasi with another guest, a friendly, starry-eyed guy named Tom. He had already spent three months in Varanasi just hanging around, so he made an excellent guide for us in our one day there. We had to fight to get out of Sarnath though-- the auto-rickshaw drivers demanded exorbitant prices, and the public buses one after another refused to stop for us. Finally we all piled onto the narrow bench of a bicycle rickshaw-- incredibly hard work for the driver, with only one gear, but he was very happy to have such a large fare. It took an hour to cover the 10k into Varanasi, giving us a chance to look around calmly at the street scene. (From an auto rickshaw, all you can see is what's at eye level, which tends to be the underbellies of trucks and the front wheels of other ricks, all of which seem to be coming straight toward you at terrible speeds.) Once downtown, we headed toward the ghats. Ghats are, architecturally speaking, just wide steps leading up from the river; spiritually, though, each ghat has a different name and significance, and pilgrims make a certain circuit of the ghats, dipping in the holy water of the river at each of several different places. Many of them have shrines or temples on them or behind them, while others are backed by hulking castle-like buildings. The light, reminiscent of Nice, had a weightless, shimmering quality that covered everything with a sprinkling of fairy dust. We spent much of the day on the ghats, mostly walking, but also taking a rowboat ride on the river to see them from another view. They were endlessly engaging to look at because of the swirl of activities that centered on them. Huliking water buffaloes were scrubbed and polished in the water by their keepers; old goats napped in the shade while young ones chased each other; boys played small-scale games of cricket, oblivious to the pedestrians in their midst; tea-sellers sat and chatted with the regulars; unoccupied boatmen played cards. Meanwhile, groups of male prilgrims stripped to their underwear and jumped into th water, while the women mostly sat in groups on the steps. Tow of the ghats have a singular purpose, as cremation sites. Hindus believe that to die in Varanasi guarantees instant transport to heaven, and even for those who don't die here it is an honor to be cremated here. From the boat, we watched a group of men carrying a corpse, covered with a sheet, on a bamboo stretcher, then taking wood from the huge stockpile and lighting it, and the body, on fire. At any one time there are several cremations happening, at various stages; the male family and friends stay and watch the fire until it burns down, and then one person (generally the oldest son, I think) pours a bucket of Ganges water over the ashes. It was a powerful ceremony to observe. Sarnath is also a holy city in its own right, and we spent the following day exploring it a bit. There is an archeological site that is said to be where the Buddha preached his first sermon, making it a pilgrimage place for Buddhists from all over the world. That day the heat was relentless, though, and as we'd been having trouble sleeping (the solar powered fan only lasted a couple hours in the night), we spent much of the afternoon in the relative cool of the internet cafe.
The next day was the least complex of the marathon travel days: just one long train ride from Varanasi to the town of Satna, where we arrived at 9 p.m. and found a place to sleep and, as ever, a thali to eat. (A thali is a metal tray of rice, bread, one or two "vegetables"--almost invariably meaning potatoes--and lentils. It's good, once or twice. But in northern India it is both ubiquitous and exclusive-- most restaurants, except in very fancy or touristy places, serve nothing else. If I never eat thali again, I think I'd be okay with that.) The next morning we got on a train at 6:30, then another, then a bus-- and that was an experience. It started out great; we had a seat at the front, and it seemed to be leaving, unthinkably, ahead of schedule. But then it stopped a few minutes away, and proceeded to sit, in full sun, for an hour. During that time more and more people piled into the bus, to the point that people were squatting on seatbacks and there was no room to so much as shrug one's shoulders. Then, when the bus finally pulled away, another 20 or so people pushed and scratched to get on! There were people riding on the roof and a dozen hanging out the door. A 10 year old child had been put into my lap; soon after the bus pulled away, he started vomiting-- mosty out the window, but some on me. Then the old women who was sitting on Erik started hacking in a very ominous way; luckily we found a plastic bag in our backpack, and she managed to spit mostly into that and not on Erik. There were at least 85 people crammed into a bus that was half the size of a school bus or city bus at home. Suffice it to say that the hourlong ride dragged.
The goal of all this travel had been to reach Bhavangarh National Park, which according to our guidebook had one of the highest concentrations of tigers of any park in India. By the time we finally arrived, we were already questioning the wisdome of this quest; when we learned that prices had more than doubled since our book was published, it really started to feel like a mistake. But, having gotten there, we figured we should do the safaris we had planned on doing. Being the hottest time of year, the tourist presence was minimal and hotel rates were reduced, so we were able to stay in a much nicer room than we normally would have-- a shower with good water pressure instead of a bucket, and a powerful fan. Our evening "safari" (ride around the park in a jeep) did not yield any tiger sightings, but being in an open, clean, beautiful natural environment had a calming and rejuvenating effect on us. The next morning, we were back in the park at 5:45 (the park closes from 9:30 to
3:30, when both animals and peoples need to just be immobile and attempt to keep their blood from boiling). We saw herds of deer grazing in the meadows, a stork, sleeping owls, showoffy peacocks, lots and lots of monkeys, and a tree full of vultures. And then, at last, we saw a tiger. She was a 22 month old cub, not fully grown but spending the morning out on her own (her mother and 3 siblings are all around, we were told). She was up on a rock ledge, about 50 feet away and 30 feet above us. We never got a full view of her; mostly she was just lying around, gracing us with the sight of her head. We wished, temporarily, that we had an 18 inch camera lens like the other several tourists all did; our photos, I'm afraid, aren't too impressive. But she was truly gorgeous, and we were glad we got to see her. We spent a few hours after the safari luxuriating in our room, trying to prepare ourselves for the travel to come. Then we went back to the train station-- by taxi this time-- and retraced our commuter-line steps back to the hub, where we waited, and waited, and waited. Finally the train came, and we got on for our 20 hour ride to Mumbai.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Ambiguities in Agra
In Agra, we were looking forward to staying with our first Servas hosts since Australia. However, it turned out to be our strangest (and least pleasant) Servas experience, although also very interesting.
Leaving Mcleod/Dharamsala, we caught the overnight bus to Delhi, which provided some beautiful views of sunset (after a downpour of rain that afternoon) with the mountains and town in the background. Back in Delhi, we caught the train to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. The ride wasn't very scenic, with lots of flat, dusty land cultivated into small fields.
After giving up on making train reservations at the crowded station, we were happy to get to Krishna, a former member of parliament, and his wife Saroj's house, where they live with their son Vikram, his wife Varsha, and their two children Baras and Nina. While it was cooler that day because of clouds and even a little rain, after lunch we were still glad to retire to our room for a siesta during the afternoon heat. After that, Saroj, a social worker who is involved in many community functions, invited us to accompany her to the innaugeration of an area summer school. The school itself was a good example of our surprise at the state of infrastructure in India- given how it's portrayed in the media (IT jobs, such a fast growing economy, etc.), we expected to see at least a moderate level of infrastructure, but in terms of things like roads, schools, and sanitation India is more like the least-developed places we've visited, about on par with Ghana.
At the school, we sat around for awhile with the group of other dignitaries/speakers, and then the ceremony began, with some students and the local tv station cameras in the audience. In a lineup that also featured school girls chanting, people giving speeches and enthusiastically reciting poems, and a dance routine by 3 boys straight out of Bollywood, we were also asked to speak. It was nice to be part of the ceremony, although still a little weird to be viewed as so important just because of our foreign status. Just like our appearance in a local newspaper back at the start of our trip in Turkey (at the eco-village Pastoral Vadi), we made the news, apparently both in tv news and the newspaper (unfortunately we never saw any of this).
The next day we rose early (but not early enough for sunrise) and went to the Taj Mahal, where we stayed for several hours. It was very impressive, and we could notice changes in the color of the marble with the changing light (the main reason to stay while there); but of course it was very hot and some hassles. Returning to the house, we left again shortly to buy groceries (to cook for the family tonight) at a store they said "had everything." When we arrived, not only did we discover that they certainly didn't have everything, but also what they did have was of pretty poor quality. We bought ingredients for pasta, and back at the house vegetables from a cart the the vendor pulled through the neighborhood.
That afternoon, Saroj brought us to a Hindu ceremony where a young "guru" was presiding. The ceremony was in a covered courtyard space in the middle of the old city, where the street life looks like it was lifted directly out of the Middle Ages--people, animals, goods, garbage, everything all jammed together in such tight spaces. Like at the summer school innaugeration, again we were guests of honor, going up to the front to have an orange saffron and sandalwood paste dot put on Rachel's forehead, and stripes on mine. The ceremony consisted of dancing, singing, and the guru speaking; Rachel was recruited several times to dance in front with the main women. At the end, we were given "holy food" (sliced cucumbers and a bag of potato chips), and touched with holy water. At one point, we were again pulled aside to talk to the tv cameras. The ceremony was really interesting to see, and one of those things that we definitely couldn't have done on our own. We cooked the pasta that night, but it seemed strange that only Vikram ate with us- Varsha watching the kids, Krishna in the other room drinking whiskey with some political friends, and Saroj not joining us because, as Vikram told us, it's not respectful for a son to drink in front of his mother.
It was interesting to talk with Vikram and his wife (separately) about their marriage, which was arranged. In India there's an entire section of the newspaper called "Matrimonials," with ads seeking both brides and grooms. The ads include caste, profession- strange to us, but maybe not that different from the personal ads at home. Varsha asked to see the perfumes we had with us, she said she collects them so Rachel gave her some of hers.
The following day Vikram gave us a tour of his marble workshop. He said that he is the 11th generation marble worker in his family, which did the marble work on the Taj Mahal. Vikram's workshop is currently responsible for the maintenance of the marble in the Taj, still using the same methods as his ancestors. The marble inlay work is so detailed and beautiful, and it was really interesting to see the process. He said the workshop is closed except to friends and dignitaries--one of the recent famous Americans who visited was Bill Clinton! That afternoon Saroj took us to a fabric store and tailor to get some clothes made- we thought for another ceremony we were attending that evening, but that turned out to not be the case.
Our final interaction was what made us look at everything a little differently: we were taken "to a friend's to have a drink," which turned out to be a jewelry store, where we did have a drink, but then were given the tour and expected to buy something, which we didn't. After this, it wasn't ambiguous to us whether or not we were being manipulated to buy things, but rather whether this was the only motivation, or it was mixed with some genuine hospitality. We think the latter was true, but still it was a sour note to end the time in Agra as we boarded an overnight train to Varanasi.
Leaving Mcleod/Dharamsala, we caught the overnight bus to Delhi, which provided some beautiful views of sunset (after a downpour of rain that afternoon) with the mountains and town in the background. Back in Delhi, we caught the train to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. The ride wasn't very scenic, with lots of flat, dusty land cultivated into small fields.
After giving up on making train reservations at the crowded station, we were happy to get to Krishna, a former member of parliament, and his wife Saroj's house, where they live with their son Vikram, his wife Varsha, and their two children Baras and Nina. While it was cooler that day because of clouds and even a little rain, after lunch we were still glad to retire to our room for a siesta during the afternoon heat. After that, Saroj, a social worker who is involved in many community functions, invited us to accompany her to the innaugeration of an area summer school. The school itself was a good example of our surprise at the state of infrastructure in India- given how it's portrayed in the media (IT jobs, such a fast growing economy, etc.), we expected to see at least a moderate level of infrastructure, but in terms of things like roads, schools, and sanitation India is more like the least-developed places we've visited, about on par with Ghana.
At the school, we sat around for awhile with the group of other dignitaries/speakers, and then the ceremony began, with some students and the local tv station cameras in the audience. In a lineup that also featured school girls chanting, people giving speeches and enthusiastically reciting poems, and a dance routine by 3 boys straight out of Bollywood, we were also asked to speak. It was nice to be part of the ceremony, although still a little weird to be viewed as so important just because of our foreign status. Just like our appearance in a local newspaper back at the start of our trip in Turkey (at the eco-village Pastoral Vadi), we made the news, apparently both in tv news and the newspaper (unfortunately we never saw any of this).
The next day we rose early (but not early enough for sunrise) and went to the Taj Mahal, where we stayed for several hours. It was very impressive, and we could notice changes in the color of the marble with the changing light (the main reason to stay while there); but of course it was very hot and some hassles. Returning to the house, we left again shortly to buy groceries (to cook for the family tonight) at a store they said "had everything." When we arrived, not only did we discover that they certainly didn't have everything, but also what they did have was of pretty poor quality. We bought ingredients for pasta, and back at the house vegetables from a cart the the vendor pulled through the neighborhood.
That afternoon, Saroj brought us to a Hindu ceremony where a young "guru" was presiding. The ceremony was in a covered courtyard space in the middle of the old city, where the street life looks like it was lifted directly out of the Middle Ages--people, animals, goods, garbage, everything all jammed together in such tight spaces. Like at the summer school innaugeration, again we were guests of honor, going up to the front to have an orange saffron and sandalwood paste dot put on Rachel's forehead, and stripes on mine. The ceremony consisted of dancing, singing, and the guru speaking; Rachel was recruited several times to dance in front with the main women. At the end, we were given "holy food" (sliced cucumbers and a bag of potato chips), and touched with holy water. At one point, we were again pulled aside to talk to the tv cameras. The ceremony was really interesting to see, and one of those things that we definitely couldn't have done on our own. We cooked the pasta that night, but it seemed strange that only Vikram ate with us- Varsha watching the kids, Krishna in the other room drinking whiskey with some political friends, and Saroj not joining us because, as Vikram told us, it's not respectful for a son to drink in front of his mother.
It was interesting to talk with Vikram and his wife (separately) about their marriage, which was arranged. In India there's an entire section of the newspaper called "Matrimonials," with ads seeking both brides and grooms. The ads include caste, profession- strange to us, but maybe not that different from the personal ads at home. Varsha asked to see the perfumes we had with us, she said she collects them so Rachel gave her some of hers.
The following day Vikram gave us a tour of his marble workshop. He said that he is the 11th generation marble worker in his family, which did the marble work on the Taj Mahal. Vikram's workshop is currently responsible for the maintenance of the marble in the Taj, still using the same methods as his ancestors. The marble inlay work is so detailed and beautiful, and it was really interesting to see the process. He said the workshop is closed except to friends and dignitaries--one of the recent famous Americans who visited was Bill Clinton! That afternoon Saroj took us to a fabric store and tailor to get some clothes made- we thought for another ceremony we were attending that evening, but that turned out to not be the case.
Our final interaction was what made us look at everything a little differently: we were taken "to a friend's to have a drink," which turned out to be a jewelry store, where we did have a drink, but then were given the tour and expected to buy something, which we didn't. After this, it wasn't ambiguous to us whether or not we were being manipulated to buy things, but rather whether this was the only motivation, or it was mixed with some genuine hospitality. We think the latter was true, but still it was a sour note to end the time in Agra as we boarded an overnight train to Varanasi.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Himalayan Respite
After a comfortable, air-conditioned train ride that included two servings of tea and a meal of naan and dhal, we arrived in Amritsar, in the northwestern state of Punjab. The population of Punjab is majority Sikh, a religion developed in the 1400s largely in opposition to the caste structure of Hinduism, with instead a core belief in the equality of all people. Amritsar is a pilgrimage destination for Sikhs because their most important shrine, the Golden Temple, is there. After a couple hours in our room to let the scorching heat of the sun dissipate a bit, we followed the pilgrims. Like them, before going to the temple we walked around a memorial on the site of the Amritsar massacre, a 1919 atrocity in which British soldiers opened fire into an enclosed crowd of unarmed protesters, killing a disputed but unquestionably grotesque number. (The British say 379; the Indians say almost 2000). We were there on a Sunday, two days after the anniversary of the event, and it was crowded with Sikh families making the circuit around different parts of the memorial. Leaving there, we bobbed along in the slowly moving crowd to the temple complex itself. Taking off our shoes (unlike in Delhi, we put them into our bag with no problem), we walked through the foot-washing area (much more symbolic than actual, given the number of dirty feet the water had seen!) and down the stairs. In front of us opened up a massive courtyard of white marble, surrounded by imposing white temple-related buildings. The courtyard formed a square border (albeit with 20 foot wide and 50 yard long sides) around a dark blue pool of sacred water. In the middle of the water, connected to one side by another marble walkway, stood the Golden Temple, shimmering wildly. For Sikhs, there are several sacred places in the complex in addition to the temple itself, and as we shuffled slowly through the crowd on the walkway we saw people praying at a holy tree and swimming in certain places in the water. The line to get into the temple was quite claustrophobic, and we didn't stay long inside the temple, but once outside again we could sit quietly and watch the setting sun soften the glare of the gold, creating a gentle reflection in the water. For Sikhs the last part of visiting the temple is partaking in a free meal in the open canteen-- people eating together as a symbol of equality-- and although we did not do that, we did sit in an area full of pilgrims and accept a drink of tea, following the invitation of a venerable Sikh elder to "feed our hearts".
The next day we left the agricultural plains of Punjab for the Himalayan foothills of Himachal Pradesh. The bus ride up to Dharamsala was, honestly, terrifying-- the bus seemed to lilt wildly with each turn, and the driver seemed scarily infected with road rage. We were happy to put the ride safely behind us, and to get settled into a room 15 minutes up the road, in the town of Mcleod Ganj. Mcleod is a very strange place, and one which even after two weeks here I haven't really figured out; nor am I exactly sure how I feel about it. In some ways it is wonderful: there are cafes everywhere, with atmospheres highly conducive to just hanging out; on a clear day, snow-covered mountains loom in the not-so-far distance; there are lots of activities to take part in, ranging from bootlegged movie showings to women-only dances to Buddhist debates to classes in any number of Eastern philosophies or practices (various forms of yoga, reiki, belly-dancing, meditation, Tibetan cooking, etc.). One of the unique things about it is that there are also a range of opportunities for both short and long-term volunteering, so even in a week or two it's possible to makes some connections with people and learn something about the community here. That community is mainly Tibetan: Mcleod is the home of tens of thousands of Tibetan refugees, and as the seat of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan Government-in-Exile is really the capital city for Tibetans throughout the world. Between what we've learned from the Tibetan museum and what we've learned talking to people, we've gained some understanding of what Tibetans have been through since China occupied their country in 1959, much of it horrific. The Chinese goal was both to exploit the rich land of Tibet and to force the people to assimilate; to do this, they focused on oppressing the Tibetan language, culture, and-- crucially-- religion. This was to be accomplished both through measures like tightly controlling the education of Tibetan children, and through the systematic use of violence and torture, much of it directed against monks. The Dalai Lama, who is both the spiritual leader and the head of government, escaped by walking through the Himalayas in 1960, and 120,000 of the 6 million total Tibetan population have made similar escapes-- we've met several people who walked around 26 days to reach India or Nepal.
We've been very impressed by the organization and spirit of the Tibetan community in Mcleod. The language and culture are taught to the children and are celebrated in daily life, as evidenced in part by the beautiful traditional woven dresses and aprons many of the women wear, the ubiquity of "momos" (dumplings) and other traditional foods, and the prayer flags that hang in the air all over town. There are a great number crimson-robed monks, male and female, many of whom are involved in politics and the study and teaching of philosophy. There are also many community organizations run by Tibetans and geared toward easing and improving the lives of fellow refugees, such as an unemployment cooperative that provides short-term jobs for those who need them, or an environmental group focused on recycling and trash reduction. I've been spending my mornings happily surrounded by laughing, crying, runny-nosed babies and toddlers in a free day-care for Tibetan single or both-working parents; there is a permanent staff of 6, supplemented by volunteers who sign up for two weeks or more. Erik has written an article and done some editing for a community newsletter, and participated in English conversation classes for Tibetans trying to learn the language. (The four photos of the man in a room are of one of his students, who asked us to send them to his brother in New York.) Even the for-profit enterprises-- shops, restaurants, etc.-- tend to have a community-empowerment slant.
All of this has been inspiring to see and cool to be part of in our small way. At the same time, there are other sides of Mcleod that have troubled us. The most significant of those is the disparity between the Tibetan and Indian populations here. Sometimes it feels like the only Indians we see here are beggars-- and there are many of them, a large percentage tiny, filthy, malnourished children. Of course that feeling is not actually accurate, but it does seem that, with the exception of a significant group of Indian teachers (mainly of yoga), the other Indians in Mcleod are either construction or restaurant workers, Kashmiri store owners, or tourists. There is an Indo-Tibetan Friendship Society that works to establish rapport between the groups, but there has been tension in varying degrees in the past, in part because Western tourists tend to be engaged with Tibetan people and issues here and not Indian ones. I think the infrastructure is a part of that-- the Tibetan community is really well set up to engage tourists-- but I can see why there would be some resentment. We've also been rather disturbed by the amount of development in the area. As it is now, cars careen noisily down the pedestrian-clogged single lane streets, and looking out over the valley brings a view of densely clustered cement buildings, with many more under construction. They have done a good job reducing the use of plastic water bottles, at least; there are several stores where we can cheaply fill our bottles with filtered water. One final, less significant gripe: some of the tourists here are a bit too kooky, even for us. Like in Thailand, there are a lot of people who come here every year for months at a time, which sometimes strikes us as frustratingly escapist. Then there's the countless hordes walking around with their wool hats and seven scarves and big cotton pants and bare feet, looking so constantly soulful that it just feels a little ridiculous. It's funny to be in a place where we feel, like, "establishment"!
To be fair, though, we've met some really great people here as well, and we were singing as loud as anyone when "Blowin' in the Wind" was sung at an open mic night. This is the longest we've stayed in one place all year, with the exception of our dear Henrik's apartment in Cairo, and it has felt really good-- and really needed. Erik's done some meditation; I've taken a great, challenging classical yoga class; we've both done a lot of reading and writing. Yesterday we took a beautiful hike up to an alpine meadow at 9325 feet: after 9 kilometers of walking up, we rounded a final bend onto an incredible panorama of looming, snow-covered mountains. We had tried the hike a week earlier and turned around halfway because the sky was black with rain clouds; getting up there on a clear day was wonderful. We've been eating at the same restaurant almost every night: it's such a pleasure at this point not to have to study a menu every time we want to eat, and besides, they have great brownies and lemon cheese cake. Thus fortified, we're ready (we think) to head back into hot, dusty, crazy India tomorrow, and to enjoy our last two weeks as fully as we can.
The next day we left the agricultural plains of Punjab for the Himalayan foothills of Himachal Pradesh. The bus ride up to Dharamsala was, honestly, terrifying-- the bus seemed to lilt wildly with each turn, and the driver seemed scarily infected with road rage. We were happy to put the ride safely behind us, and to get settled into a room 15 minutes up the road, in the town of Mcleod Ganj. Mcleod is a very strange place, and one which even after two weeks here I haven't really figured out; nor am I exactly sure how I feel about it. In some ways it is wonderful: there are cafes everywhere, with atmospheres highly conducive to just hanging out; on a clear day, snow-covered mountains loom in the not-so-far distance; there are lots of activities to take part in, ranging from bootlegged movie showings to women-only dances to Buddhist debates to classes in any number of Eastern philosophies or practices (various forms of yoga, reiki, belly-dancing, meditation, Tibetan cooking, etc.). One of the unique things about it is that there are also a range of opportunities for both short and long-term volunteering, so even in a week or two it's possible to makes some connections with people and learn something about the community here. That community is mainly Tibetan: Mcleod is the home of tens of thousands of Tibetan refugees, and as the seat of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan Government-in-Exile is really the capital city for Tibetans throughout the world. Between what we've learned from the Tibetan museum and what we've learned talking to people, we've gained some understanding of what Tibetans have been through since China occupied their country in 1959, much of it horrific. The Chinese goal was both to exploit the rich land of Tibet and to force the people to assimilate; to do this, they focused on oppressing the Tibetan language, culture, and-- crucially-- religion. This was to be accomplished both through measures like tightly controlling the education of Tibetan children, and through the systematic use of violence and torture, much of it directed against monks. The Dalai Lama, who is both the spiritual leader and the head of government, escaped by walking through the Himalayas in 1960, and 120,000 of the 6 million total Tibetan population have made similar escapes-- we've met several people who walked around 26 days to reach India or Nepal.
We've been very impressed by the organization and spirit of the Tibetan community in Mcleod. The language and culture are taught to the children and are celebrated in daily life, as evidenced in part by the beautiful traditional woven dresses and aprons many of the women wear, the ubiquity of "momos" (dumplings) and other traditional foods, and the prayer flags that hang in the air all over town. There are a great number crimson-robed monks, male and female, many of whom are involved in politics and the study and teaching of philosophy. There are also many community organizations run by Tibetans and geared toward easing and improving the lives of fellow refugees, such as an unemployment cooperative that provides short-term jobs for those who need them, or an environmental group focused on recycling and trash reduction. I've been spending my mornings happily surrounded by laughing, crying, runny-nosed babies and toddlers in a free day-care for Tibetan single or both-working parents; there is a permanent staff of 6, supplemented by volunteers who sign up for two weeks or more. Erik has written an article and done some editing for a community newsletter, and participated in English conversation classes for Tibetans trying to learn the language. (The four photos of the man in a room are of one of his students, who asked us to send them to his brother in New York.) Even the for-profit enterprises-- shops, restaurants, etc.-- tend to have a community-empowerment slant.
All of this has been inspiring to see and cool to be part of in our small way. At the same time, there are other sides of Mcleod that have troubled us. The most significant of those is the disparity between the Tibetan and Indian populations here. Sometimes it feels like the only Indians we see here are beggars-- and there are many of them, a large percentage tiny, filthy, malnourished children. Of course that feeling is not actually accurate, but it does seem that, with the exception of a significant group of Indian teachers (mainly of yoga), the other Indians in Mcleod are either construction or restaurant workers, Kashmiri store owners, or tourists. There is an Indo-Tibetan Friendship Society that works to establish rapport between the groups, but there has been tension in varying degrees in the past, in part because Western tourists tend to be engaged with Tibetan people and issues here and not Indian ones. I think the infrastructure is a part of that-- the Tibetan community is really well set up to engage tourists-- but I can see why there would be some resentment. We've also been rather disturbed by the amount of development in the area. As it is now, cars careen noisily down the pedestrian-clogged single lane streets, and looking out over the valley brings a view of densely clustered cement buildings, with many more under construction. They have done a good job reducing the use of plastic water bottles, at least; there are several stores where we can cheaply fill our bottles with filtered water. One final, less significant gripe: some of the tourists here are a bit too kooky, even for us. Like in Thailand, there are a lot of people who come here every year for months at a time, which sometimes strikes us as frustratingly escapist. Then there's the countless hordes walking around with their wool hats and seven scarves and big cotton pants and bare feet, looking so constantly soulful that it just feels a little ridiculous. It's funny to be in a place where we feel, like, "establishment"!
To be fair, though, we've met some really great people here as well, and we were singing as loud as anyone when "Blowin' in the Wind" was sung at an open mic night. This is the longest we've stayed in one place all year, with the exception of our dear Henrik's apartment in Cairo, and it has felt really good-- and really needed. Erik's done some meditation; I've taken a great, challenging classical yoga class; we've both done a lot of reading and writing. Yesterday we took a beautiful hike up to an alpine meadow at 9325 feet: after 9 kilometers of walking up, we rounded a final bend onto an incredible panorama of looming, snow-covered mountains. We had tried the hike a week earlier and turned around halfway because the sky was black with rain clouds; getting up there on a clear day was wonderful. We've been eating at the same restaurant almost every night: it's such a pleasure at this point not to have to study a menu every time we want to eat, and besides, they have great brownies and lemon cheese cake. Thus fortified, we're ready (we think) to head back into hot, dusty, crazy India tomorrow, and to enjoy our last two weeks as fully as we can.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Darwinian Delhi
India-whew! In many ways it's appropriate that this is our last new country of the trip, as it seems like we'll have to marshal everything that we've learned about traveling in order to get by here.
Delhi was our first stop in India- admittedly not one its easier cities, with lots of people, traffic, dirt, heat, and general chaos and hassle. Rachel said that India so far feels positively Darwinian, with so many people just struggling to survive.
Any guesses as to which country we've visited most resembles India? Yup, it's Egypt (probably didn't take most of you long). The similarities are multiple: very hot (it's over 100 here) and dry, ridiculous traffic, and almost every interaction being difficult in some way (haggling over the price of transport, trying to stay away from people out to scam tourists, having to have the exact small change for a transaction...). I can see why India has such great spiritual traditions- you need something to take you away from the chaos (and less humorlessly, the poverty) of everyday life here.
On our ride from the airport in an ancient taxi (may have even predated the Cairo dinosaur models), we passed a few cows along the urban roadside on our way to the Gandhi Peace Foundation, where a Servas host Babulal arranged for us to stay. We ate dinner in the "canteen" for about 75 cents each-- here it's common to eat everything (rice, beans, etc.) with your (right) hand, so I gave that a try. We then retired to our room--simple, as fits the Gandhian tradition, but already here I think our standards for what's acceptable have changed. In a place where there are so many people living on the street and in shacks, it's nice to have some privacy, a room and bathroom. From our balcolny we could see (and hear) commuter trains going by, often stuffed with people.
On our first full day in Delhi we visited the National Museum, a mix of some very interesting collections alongside some rooms that looked like they've barely been dusted, much less revised, during the past 50 years. While we were there, the lights would keep going out for periods of a few minutes. We saw the Harappan (Indus Valley) civilization artifacts, contemporary with Ancient Egypt, Mesopotamia and China; Buddhist and Hindu sculpures that had Barbie beat by thousands of years (most of the women have huge breasts and tiny waists), and finally the miniature paintings of the Mughal era and after. Like the erotic depictions in sculpture, many of the miniatures featured royalty or gods and the trinity of wine, women, and song. The miniatures were painted in exquisite detail- Rachel may have stayed looking at them all day, but we finally tired and left to a downtown commercial center called Connaught Place to check email. Connaught Place is the commercial center of Delhi, and while there are a few new looking boutique and brand stores (Adidas, etc.), many other basic amenities seemed very difficult to locate: we found only one internet cafe in this area, only one pharmacy, no convenience/corner stores, and very few restaurants or even street food vendors. Strange. Other than at a few of the more prominent sights, we also encountered almost no other tourists in Delhi.
Indian food in Delhi has been good but not exceptional, and a little repetitive. Meat is as rare here as anywhere we've been: no beef (Hinduism's sacred cows) or pork (taboo for Muslims), but unlike Indian restaurants at home, no lamb. We also haven't seen any fish so far. Tried some good mughal and tandoori chicken dishes, but the only other meat option seems to be "mutton," which our guidebook says actually means goat and not sheep. Local food in Delhi is very starch-heavy (rice, lentils, breads--many of which are fried, potatoes), with not many vegetables or fruits. While there are lots of interesting spices, the food hasn't been as spicy hot as what we've been used to eating in S.E. Asia. We went to a couple of Southern Indian restaurants in Delhi, which seem to feature different kinds of bread pizzas/tortillas and were mediocre.
Also unlike Indian restaurants at home, finding a beer can be difficult--I believe some entire states in India are dry. Most restaurants in Delhi don't serve beer, and places that do have a sign posted that the drinking age is 25, as well as security/police at the door. To have a beer one night we ended up at a place called Rodeo, where we sat on saddle seats at the bar and were served by waiters in cowboy costume.
On our second day we visited Old Delhi (Delhi/New Delhi aren't really different cities or names for the same city, instead the city of Delhi is composed of (7?) different areas from different time periods). We saw the massive Red Fort, built by Shahjahan in the 16th century, and the Jami Mosque, the largest in India. We were at the mosque in the middle afternoon, and the heat was so intense that after removing our sandals, we literally burned our feet walking on the stones. We climbed up one of the minaret towers for a view of the city. On the way up the tower, we were bullied by people shouting at us to pay to watch our shoes (or, like with "parking attendants" and cars in South Africa, basically paying people not to steal them), which seemed silly. As Rachel pointed out, it's even sillier that people have to sit on the hot roof all day and do this in order to make a living here. Looking out from the tower, there was hardly a tall building in sight. Apparently the areas of Delhi that are seeing a lot of development are further out--two advertised in a newspaper include Nodia and Gurgaon, which seem like enormous planned communities similar to the ones being built in Dubai. India is really trying to sell "medical tourism," or people coming here to have operations done more cheaply than their home countries; and one of these developments includes an entire "MediCity" to cater to these tourists' needs.
Our third day was spent going to the National Gallery of Modern Art, and the impressive Humayun's (one of the Mughal rulers) Tomb. That evening we met up with Jonathan (a friend of my friend Dan Vazquez), a very friendly and interesting guy who has spent 5 years in India. Part of his work here has been with sexual minorities. He told us that the categories of sexual identity are very different here; for example 99% of men who have sex with men are also married to women. Hearing about differences like this often make us think of how little we are scratching the surface of other cultures, based solely on what we're able to perceive as we move around as tourists.
Our last day in Delhi, we splurged for the luxury of hiring a car to drive us to some of the more distant sites. We first visited the Nehru museum and memorial, and next the Indira Gandhi (Nehru's daughter) museum. Visiting a Sufi tomb was difficult--the area was like the worst parts of Egypt and Cairo, so dirty but with so many more people just lying on the ground in awful conditions. After lunch in an ok but pricey Italian restaurant (it's been almost always true on our trip that "foreign" restaurants aren't so much good as just a change of pace) we visited a crafts bazaar, and finally an older suburb with the ruins of an aqueduct in the center.
Despite India being in many ways a socially conservative place, many Indian men seem to have no qualms about harassing women. Many men stare, not just from a distance but crowding around or following us. Rachel has already been grabbed once by one of our rickshaw drivers. Hopefully the stares are all the she has to put up with for the rest of our time here.
India is famous for its bureaucracy, and some of the strangest examples that we've experienced seem to be anti-terrorism measures. For example, you need a copy of your passport, visa, and a passport photo in order to purchase a cell phone simcard (we gave up for now); and to use the internet at a cafe you need a passport/I.D. that the business records, and has to hand over your internet records if requested by the government. Not clear to me how effective these measures are, but they certainly are a hassle.
Leaving Delhi, we caught an early morning train to Amritsar, a gruellingly difficult experience in just getting to the train station and finding our seats. As the train pulled away, we were glad we'd seen what we did of Delhi, but also glad to be leaving the city.
Delhi was our first stop in India- admittedly not one its easier cities, with lots of people, traffic, dirt, heat, and general chaos and hassle. Rachel said that India so far feels positively Darwinian, with so many people just struggling to survive.
Any guesses as to which country we've visited most resembles India? Yup, it's Egypt (probably didn't take most of you long). The similarities are multiple: very hot (it's over 100 here) and dry, ridiculous traffic, and almost every interaction being difficult in some way (haggling over the price of transport, trying to stay away from people out to scam tourists, having to have the exact small change for a transaction...). I can see why India has such great spiritual traditions- you need something to take you away from the chaos (and less humorlessly, the poverty) of everyday life here.
On our ride from the airport in an ancient taxi (may have even predated the Cairo dinosaur models), we passed a few cows along the urban roadside on our way to the Gandhi Peace Foundation, where a Servas host Babulal arranged for us to stay. We ate dinner in the "canteen" for about 75 cents each-- here it's common to eat everything (rice, beans, etc.) with your (right) hand, so I gave that a try. We then retired to our room--simple, as fits the Gandhian tradition, but already here I think our standards for what's acceptable have changed. In a place where there are so many people living on the street and in shacks, it's nice to have some privacy, a room and bathroom. From our balcolny we could see (and hear) commuter trains going by, often stuffed with people.
On our first full day in Delhi we visited the National Museum, a mix of some very interesting collections alongside some rooms that looked like they've barely been dusted, much less revised, during the past 50 years. While we were there, the lights would keep going out for periods of a few minutes. We saw the Harappan (Indus Valley) civilization artifacts, contemporary with Ancient Egypt, Mesopotamia and China; Buddhist and Hindu sculpures that had Barbie beat by thousands of years (most of the women have huge breasts and tiny waists), and finally the miniature paintings of the Mughal era and after. Like the erotic depictions in sculpture, many of the miniatures featured royalty or gods and the trinity of wine, women, and song. The miniatures were painted in exquisite detail- Rachel may have stayed looking at them all day, but we finally tired and left to a downtown commercial center called Connaught Place to check email. Connaught Place is the commercial center of Delhi, and while there are a few new looking boutique and brand stores (Adidas, etc.), many other basic amenities seemed very difficult to locate: we found only one internet cafe in this area, only one pharmacy, no convenience/corner stores, and very few restaurants or even street food vendors. Strange. Other than at a few of the more prominent sights, we also encountered almost no other tourists in Delhi.
Indian food in Delhi has been good but not exceptional, and a little repetitive. Meat is as rare here as anywhere we've been: no beef (Hinduism's sacred cows) or pork (taboo for Muslims), but unlike Indian restaurants at home, no lamb. We also haven't seen any fish so far. Tried some good mughal and tandoori chicken dishes, but the only other meat option seems to be "mutton," which our guidebook says actually means goat and not sheep. Local food in Delhi is very starch-heavy (rice, lentils, breads--many of which are fried, potatoes), with not many vegetables or fruits. While there are lots of interesting spices, the food hasn't been as spicy hot as what we've been used to eating in S.E. Asia. We went to a couple of Southern Indian restaurants in Delhi, which seem to feature different kinds of bread pizzas/tortillas and were mediocre.
Also unlike Indian restaurants at home, finding a beer can be difficult--I believe some entire states in India are dry. Most restaurants in Delhi don't serve beer, and places that do have a sign posted that the drinking age is 25, as well as security/police at the door. To have a beer one night we ended up at a place called Rodeo, where we sat on saddle seats at the bar and were served by waiters in cowboy costume.
On our second day we visited Old Delhi (Delhi/New Delhi aren't really different cities or names for the same city, instead the city of Delhi is composed of (7?) different areas from different time periods). We saw the massive Red Fort, built by Shahjahan in the 16th century, and the Jami Mosque, the largest in India. We were at the mosque in the middle afternoon, and the heat was so intense that after removing our sandals, we literally burned our feet walking on the stones. We climbed up one of the minaret towers for a view of the city. On the way up the tower, we were bullied by people shouting at us to pay to watch our shoes (or, like with "parking attendants" and cars in South Africa, basically paying people not to steal them), which seemed silly. As Rachel pointed out, it's even sillier that people have to sit on the hot roof all day and do this in order to make a living here. Looking out from the tower, there was hardly a tall building in sight. Apparently the areas of Delhi that are seeing a lot of development are further out--two advertised in a newspaper include Nodia and Gurgaon, which seem like enormous planned communities similar to the ones being built in Dubai. India is really trying to sell "medical tourism," or people coming here to have operations done more cheaply than their home countries; and one of these developments includes an entire "MediCity" to cater to these tourists' needs.
Our third day was spent going to the National Gallery of Modern Art, and the impressive Humayun's (one of the Mughal rulers) Tomb. That evening we met up with Jonathan (a friend of my friend Dan Vazquez), a very friendly and interesting guy who has spent 5 years in India. Part of his work here has been with sexual minorities. He told us that the categories of sexual identity are very different here; for example 99% of men who have sex with men are also married to women. Hearing about differences like this often make us think of how little we are scratching the surface of other cultures, based solely on what we're able to perceive as we move around as tourists.
Our last day in Delhi, we splurged for the luxury of hiring a car to drive us to some of the more distant sites. We first visited the Nehru museum and memorial, and next the Indira Gandhi (Nehru's daughter) museum. Visiting a Sufi tomb was difficult--the area was like the worst parts of Egypt and Cairo, so dirty but with so many more people just lying on the ground in awful conditions. After lunch in an ok but pricey Italian restaurant (it's been almost always true on our trip that "foreign" restaurants aren't so much good as just a change of pace) we visited a crafts bazaar, and finally an older suburb with the ruins of an aqueduct in the center.
Despite India being in many ways a socially conservative place, many Indian men seem to have no qualms about harassing women. Many men stare, not just from a distance but crowding around or following us. Rachel has already been grabbed once by one of our rickshaw drivers. Hopefully the stares are all the she has to put up with for the rest of our time here.
India is famous for its bureaucracy, and some of the strangest examples that we've experienced seem to be anti-terrorism measures. For example, you need a copy of your passport, visa, and a passport photo in order to purchase a cell phone simcard (we gave up for now); and to use the internet at a cafe you need a passport/I.D. that the business records, and has to hand over your internet records if requested by the government. Not clear to me how effective these measures are, but they certainly are a hassle.
Leaving Delhi, we caught an early morning train to Amritsar, a gruellingly difficult experience in just getting to the train station and finding our seats. As the train pulled away, we were glad we'd seen what we did of Delhi, but also glad to be leaving the city.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Finding Family in Malaysia
When Erik lived in the co-op his senior year of college, one of his neighbors and friends was Nat, a friendly, quirky, motivated, very smart student from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Since we were in the neighborhood, relatively speaking, we were thrilled to make a trip from Bangkok to Kuala Lumpur to spend a few days with him. We stayed with Nat and his family in their luxe but very homey house, which in itself felt great-- having a place to actually be able to unpack for a few days, and take a bath, and sit around chilling out without having to pay for the privilege is rare for us, and something we've come to value highly. On top of that, his parents, Bob and Sulumari, and sister, Cheryl, were warm and welcoming hosts, and we had a lot of fun spending time with them. We also got to hang out with his girlfriend, Lisin, a journalist. Eating was a central activity for all of us together (which we, obviously, love to do), and they introduced us to the full gamut of Malaysian food: Malay (similar to Indonesian, with lots of rice with different vegetables and sauces), Chinese, and southern Indian. Eating can take up a good percentage of the day in Malaysia, with long lunches, snacky afternoon teas, and late night dinners that can stretch on for hours of chatting (if you can stay awake!). We felt thoroughly spoiled, especially when Sulumari (an expert baker) made us brownies because we said we missed them from home. She put bananas in them, and rich rich chocolate-- delicious. They also had an amazing refrigerator drawer full of fabulous chocolates, which they got out one afternoon to eat as we watched one of my all-time favorite movies, "Fiddler on the Roof". It was one of the nicest days of bumming around we've had all year.
We were lucky to learn a lot about Malaysia in the short time we were there-- exponentially more than we would have learned had we not been staying with Nat and his family. The racial composition of Malaysia is a defining aspect of the country, not least of all because many politicians have, since independence in 1947, manipulated race (and racism) to control the government. The population is approximately 50-60% Malay (almost all of whom are Muslim), 20-30% Chinese (mainly Christian and Buddhist), and 10-20% Indian (mainly Hindu, Muslim, and Christian). Many, if not most, people are mixed, especially if their families have been in the country for more than a couple generations, but the identity cards that all Malaysians have to carry state only a single race (passed on patrilineally) and a single religion. The ruling government, unfortunately, has consistently racialized politics to try to garner favor with the Malay population; a couple of the opposition political parties are similarly race-based. Nat works for a different opposition party, one which stands firmly on a multi-racial platform and which is headed by Anwar Ibrahim, the former deputy Prime Minister who is only recently out of jail after spending six years there on spurious charges. (The original charge was sodomy, which is indeed illegal in Malaysia; once that was shown to be too far-fetched for even the biased judges, he was jailed on another charge instead.) This gives a pretty good indication of the condition of opposition parties in Malaysia, which is basically just desperately trying to gain ground in an exceedingly oppressive political environment. The newspapers and other media are connected to the ruling party, which controls 92% of parliament seats as well as the ministries. There is an active community of bloggers, including Nat and Lisin, and apparently they are making the government a bit nervous, as one minister proposed making bloggers register. (The same minister also claimed that 80% of the 10,000 bloggers are "unemployed women" who are bored and trying to stir up trouble.) One night we got to attend a big fundraiser for Nat's party (for which he wrote the opening speech), an event that is much less frequent in Malaysia than in the U.S. Although the speeches were mostly in Malay, with some sprinklings of English (and Chinese), we were still impressed by the strength and charisma of both Nat's boss Tien and Anwar Ibrahim as speakers, and, from what we could understand, by the topics. (It didn't hurt that there was a never-ending supply of yummy Chinese food being served while they talked.) Hanging out with Nat's group of fellow activists and friends at a "mama" (a cheap, indoor-outdoor cafe where people can sit for hours) after the event, we felt similar energy as in our own group of activist-friends in Hartford; if these people have the chance to do their work, it seems like a lot of positive change could come to Malaysia.
On the more touristy side of things, we spent a couple days wandering around downtown Kuala Lumpur, a city fully surrounded by highways going every-which-direction (often without many signs), but with a pleasant and walkable downtown area. The mix of old and new buildings was striking, with mosques, temples, grand colonial buildings, and unusually attractive skyscrapers layered against each other. We were too late to get a ticket up the Petronas towers (the tallest buildings in the world up until a couple years ago), but we did walk around the fancy mall at their base, including a photojournalism exhibit tracing Malaysia's history since independence, and an aquarium with a cool tunnel to walk through with fish and sharks over and around you. We also took a day trip to Melaka, a city 2 hours south of KL, on the famous Strait of Melaka, that has an important history as a port from the days when globalization happened through ships. We went through the state house, which had fun exhibits of pottery and wedding costumes and the like, and through the history museum, which went painstakingly through the Melakan, Portuguese, Dutch, English, and Japanese periods of rule of the city. (The Portuguese-Dutch-English sequence felt very familiar from Ghana, South Africa, Mauritius, and Indonesia!) We met one of Nat's uncles for lunch, the Melaka specialty of chicken-rice balls (as they sound like, they are balls of ground rice flavored and held together with chicken broth-- very tasty). We also toured through the Baba-Nonya house (the male and female names for people of Chinese-Malay heritage), which was filled with outstanding works of embroidery and mother-of-pearl inlaid furniture. Then we headed back to KL, for one last evening with Nat and his family before flying back to Bangkok and on to our last 'new' country of the trip (France doesn't count, since we've been there several times), India.
We were lucky to learn a lot about Malaysia in the short time we were there-- exponentially more than we would have learned had we not been staying with Nat and his family. The racial composition of Malaysia is a defining aspect of the country, not least of all because many politicians have, since independence in 1947, manipulated race (and racism) to control the government. The population is approximately 50-60% Malay (almost all of whom are Muslim), 20-30% Chinese (mainly Christian and Buddhist), and 10-20% Indian (mainly Hindu, Muslim, and Christian). Many, if not most, people are mixed, especially if their families have been in the country for more than a couple generations, but the identity cards that all Malaysians have to carry state only a single race (passed on patrilineally) and a single religion. The ruling government, unfortunately, has consistently racialized politics to try to garner favor with the Malay population; a couple of the opposition political parties are similarly race-based. Nat works for a different opposition party, one which stands firmly on a multi-racial platform and which is headed by Anwar Ibrahim, the former deputy Prime Minister who is only recently out of jail after spending six years there on spurious charges. (The original charge was sodomy, which is indeed illegal in Malaysia; once that was shown to be too far-fetched for even the biased judges, he was jailed on another charge instead.) This gives a pretty good indication of the condition of opposition parties in Malaysia, which is basically just desperately trying to gain ground in an exceedingly oppressive political environment. The newspapers and other media are connected to the ruling party, which controls 92% of parliament seats as well as the ministries. There is an active community of bloggers, including Nat and Lisin, and apparently they are making the government a bit nervous, as one minister proposed making bloggers register. (The same minister also claimed that 80% of the 10,000 bloggers are "unemployed women" who are bored and trying to stir up trouble.) One night we got to attend a big fundraiser for Nat's party (for which he wrote the opening speech), an event that is much less frequent in Malaysia than in the U.S. Although the speeches were mostly in Malay, with some sprinklings of English (and Chinese), we were still impressed by the strength and charisma of both Nat's boss Tien and Anwar Ibrahim as speakers, and, from what we could understand, by the topics. (It didn't hurt that there was a never-ending supply of yummy Chinese food being served while they talked.) Hanging out with Nat's group of fellow activists and friends at a "mama" (a cheap, indoor-outdoor cafe where people can sit for hours) after the event, we felt similar energy as in our own group of activist-friends in Hartford; if these people have the chance to do their work, it seems like a lot of positive change could come to Malaysia.
On the more touristy side of things, we spent a couple days wandering around downtown Kuala Lumpur, a city fully surrounded by highways going every-which-direction (often without many signs), but with a pleasant and walkable downtown area. The mix of old and new buildings was striking, with mosques, temples, grand colonial buildings, and unusually attractive skyscrapers layered against each other. We were too late to get a ticket up the Petronas towers (the tallest buildings in the world up until a couple years ago), but we did walk around the fancy mall at their base, including a photojournalism exhibit tracing Malaysia's history since independence, and an aquarium with a cool tunnel to walk through with fish and sharks over and around you. We also took a day trip to Melaka, a city 2 hours south of KL, on the famous Strait of Melaka, that has an important history as a port from the days when globalization happened through ships. We went through the state house, which had fun exhibits of pottery and wedding costumes and the like, and through the history museum, which went painstakingly through the Melakan, Portuguese, Dutch, English, and Japanese periods of rule of the city. (The Portuguese-Dutch-English sequence felt very familiar from Ghana, South Africa, Mauritius, and Indonesia!) We met one of Nat's uncles for lunch, the Melaka specialty of chicken-rice balls (as they sound like, they are balls of ground rice flavored and held together with chicken broth-- very tasty). We also toured through the Baba-Nonya house (the male and female names for people of Chinese-Malay heritage), which was filled with outstanding works of embroidery and mother-of-pearl inlaid furniture. Then we headed back to KL, for one last evening with Nat and his family before flying back to Bangkok and on to our last 'new' country of the trip (France doesn't count, since we've been there several times), India.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
King Power: Bangkok and the beach
One omission from the previous Thailand entry is Thailand's obsession with its king and queen, which makes even the British respect for royalty look small. We previously posted the picture of a store full of yellow shirts that read "We Love the King" on the back. Monday, the day the king was born, is the day to wear your yellow shirt, and many, many Thais do so(Friday is the day for a blue shirt in honor of the Queen). Thai Airline's elite membership status is called "King Power", and the king's picture is everywhere: restaurants, public spaces, you name it.
One of the longest-ruling world leaders (I think for over 60 years), the king is a cross-eyed, slight bespectacled man who appears to split his time between living in extreme opulence and going out in his jeep to get in touch with the "rural people" (although that may have been more in the past, as most of the photos and footage of him doing this look at least 20 years old). We went to 2 movies in Bangkok, and before the movie you have to stand to "honor our king" while some sort of anthem and photo montage of happy Thais and the king plays (unclear if this tune doubles as Thailand's national anthem). I guess you could also say it's a little weird to play the U.S. national anthem before a sporting event, but this seems weirder.
Making fun of the royalty is strictly prohibited: Thailand recently shut down the video website Youtube because of a post that "defamed the king." While the royal infatuation strikes us as plain silly, aside from wearing yellow shirts most Thai people seem, like people in most places we've been, pretty much ignore politics completely. The governing politicians aren't much better than the royalty: last fall's military coup has left the billionaire and corrupt former Prime Minister Thaksin as the only opposition (his TV station, the only non-state media channel, has been banned).
So, back to our journeys. After the overnight train from Chiang Mai, we arrived in Bangkok, and proceeded to spend what felt like at least 45 minutes on a city bus through snarling city traffic. Someone told us that 10 years ago Bangkok was like Ho Chi Minh City, with scooters dwarfing the number of cars, but that as the number of cars increased the traffic has gotten much worse. We finally boarded the bus and after a 3 hour ride, a ferry to the island Ko Samet, and a "saganaw" (public transport pick-up truck with seats in the back) ride we arrived at a beach bungalow on a quiet stretch of sand. The island of Ko Samet is a national park, a designation we couldn't quite figure out other than maybe making the beach access public and not allowing big resorts to build there. We spent 3 full days on the beach, and developed a daily routine of walking into town for a "cheap" lunch (usually noodle soup and coconut ice cream) instead of the "expensive" but good restaurant at our bungalow, where main dishes cost about $2. At our bungalow we ate spicy glass noodle salad, green curry, eggplant with soy sauce, shrimp with ginger, and warm coconut milk with bananas for dessert.
Getting back to Bangkok from the beach also involved a lot of sitting in traffic. From the bus stop we took the new skytrain, an elevated train that seems to help some in alleviating traffic, as well as facilitates funneling people into the numerous shopping malls--with their elevated walkways you can go from mall to mall and avoid the street entirely for stretches. After a hot walk, we found a decent place to stay, although with a tiny room. That night we went to a mall food court very different from those in American malls: here the food is fantastic. We had Tom Yum Kung (spicy shrimp and lemongrass soup) and a vegetarian sampler, then mango sticky rice and a sort of sno-cone consisting of sugared fruits topped with shaved ice and condensed milk. We then went to an even fancier mall (Paragon) with an extremely fancy movie theater and watched "The Good Shepherd."
The next day we ventured out into the intense heat and sun to see the sights: the temple Wat Po with a huge reclining Buddha, and the King's palace (which had a bit of a Disneyland feel) including the Emerald Buddha (although I failed to notice it while we were there). From our hotel we took the skytrain and then a public transport boat along the river, both nicer options than being stuck in traffic. Bangkok is a huge city so it takes awhile to get around. It has a very developed, western look to it with lots of gleaming white skyscrapers. Culturally, the mainstream population seems very image-oriented, with enough electronics and lights in the area around the malls that made us think maybe Bangkok is a little like Tokyo. That evening, after getting a skewer of chicken hearts and livers from a street grill, we tried to go to a Muay Thai (kickboxing) fight, but finding the tickets having doubled in price from our guidebook's listing instead took a walk through nearby Limphini Park. Lots of people were exercising (one of the only times of day the hot weather permits this). We also walked through a night market, which had a stage of incredibly bad singers performing.
The next day we went to still more royal sights, this time the Vinamek teak mansion. We expected a dress code (long pants and covered shoulders) for the palace, but were surprised to find the same requirements here as well (they let you borrow the necessary garments). We also walked through Kho San road, the legendary heart of backpacker culture in Bangkok. It probably has an edgier feel at night, but at the time we weren't too impressed. For our last night in Bangkok it was back to the food court and the movie theater, and the next morning we flew to Malaysia (bypassing the long but also troubled overland route, where violence between the Thai government and Muslim separatists has occurred near the Malaysian border).
One of the longest-ruling world leaders (I think for over 60 years), the king is a cross-eyed, slight bespectacled man who appears to split his time between living in extreme opulence and going out in his jeep to get in touch with the "rural people" (although that may have been more in the past, as most of the photos and footage of him doing this look at least 20 years old). We went to 2 movies in Bangkok, and before the movie you have to stand to "honor our king" while some sort of anthem and photo montage of happy Thais and the king plays (unclear if this tune doubles as Thailand's national anthem). I guess you could also say it's a little weird to play the U.S. national anthem before a sporting event, but this seems weirder.
Making fun of the royalty is strictly prohibited: Thailand recently shut down the video website Youtube because of a post that "defamed the king." While the royal infatuation strikes us as plain silly, aside from wearing yellow shirts most Thai people seem, like people in most places we've been, pretty much ignore politics completely. The governing politicians aren't much better than the royalty: last fall's military coup has left the billionaire and corrupt former Prime Minister Thaksin as the only opposition (his TV station, the only non-state media channel, has been banned).
So, back to our journeys. After the overnight train from Chiang Mai, we arrived in Bangkok, and proceeded to spend what felt like at least 45 minutes on a city bus through snarling city traffic. Someone told us that 10 years ago Bangkok was like Ho Chi Minh City, with scooters dwarfing the number of cars, but that as the number of cars increased the traffic has gotten much worse. We finally boarded the bus and after a 3 hour ride, a ferry to the island Ko Samet, and a "saganaw" (public transport pick-up truck with seats in the back) ride we arrived at a beach bungalow on a quiet stretch of sand. The island of Ko Samet is a national park, a designation we couldn't quite figure out other than maybe making the beach access public and not allowing big resorts to build there. We spent 3 full days on the beach, and developed a daily routine of walking into town for a "cheap" lunch (usually noodle soup and coconut ice cream) instead of the "expensive" but good restaurant at our bungalow, where main dishes cost about $2. At our bungalow we ate spicy glass noodle salad, green curry, eggplant with soy sauce, shrimp with ginger, and warm coconut milk with bananas for dessert.
Getting back to Bangkok from the beach also involved a lot of sitting in traffic. From the bus stop we took the new skytrain, an elevated train that seems to help some in alleviating traffic, as well as facilitates funneling people into the numerous shopping malls--with their elevated walkways you can go from mall to mall and avoid the street entirely for stretches. After a hot walk, we found a decent place to stay, although with a tiny room. That night we went to a mall food court very different from those in American malls: here the food is fantastic. We had Tom Yum Kung (spicy shrimp and lemongrass soup) and a vegetarian sampler, then mango sticky rice and a sort of sno-cone consisting of sugared fruits topped with shaved ice and condensed milk. We then went to an even fancier mall (Paragon) with an extremely fancy movie theater and watched "The Good Shepherd."
The next day we ventured out into the intense heat and sun to see the sights: the temple Wat Po with a huge reclining Buddha, and the King's palace (which had a bit of a Disneyland feel) including the Emerald Buddha (although I failed to notice it while we were there). From our hotel we took the skytrain and then a public transport boat along the river, both nicer options than being stuck in traffic. Bangkok is a huge city so it takes awhile to get around. It has a very developed, western look to it with lots of gleaming white skyscrapers. Culturally, the mainstream population seems very image-oriented, with enough electronics and lights in the area around the malls that made us think maybe Bangkok is a little like Tokyo. That evening, after getting a skewer of chicken hearts and livers from a street grill, we tried to go to a Muay Thai (kickboxing) fight, but finding the tickets having doubled in price from our guidebook's listing instead took a walk through nearby Limphini Park. Lots of people were exercising (one of the only times of day the hot weather permits this). We also walked through a night market, which had a stage of incredibly bad singers performing.
The next day we went to still more royal sights, this time the Vinamek teak mansion. We expected a dress code (long pants and covered shoulders) for the palace, but were surprised to find the same requirements here as well (they let you borrow the necessary garments). We also walked through Kho San road, the legendary heart of backpacker culture in Bangkok. It probably has an edgier feel at night, but at the time we weren't too impressed. For our last night in Bangkok it was back to the food court and the movie theater, and the next morning we flew to Malaysia (bypassing the long but also troubled overland route, where violence between the Thai government and Muslim separatists has occurred near the Malaysian border).
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