Organized Chaos

Dolphin Watching et al.

2010-02-11T14:46:00.006-05:00

One bright sunny morning, I took a dolphin watching tour. It was more expensive than what the Lonely Planet had indicated, but I suppose that was to be expected. It was supposed to be 200 rupees for a group of 4 or more, but since I went alone, it cost me 400 rupees.

We did see dolphins; there might have been one pod or four, I'm not sure. The first pod was a much lighter gray than the others, which were almost black. I got the distinct impression that we were annoying them. They would surface a couple of times and then proceed to dive down for a while, as though hiding. I imagine they must hate the idea that they are being observed and that we were disturbing their quietude; the noise coming from the many motors on the water could have been pleasant. I managed to get a few shots in, but they pale in comparison to the shots I took in New Zealand.
I promise! This is a dolphin!

The captain, Ambrose, was really friendly. He thought I came from Israel, especially because of my curly hair. I had asked a local woman the previous day who she considered were among the most difficult tourists. Her answer was immediate: Israelis. I find it an interesting to find out how locals feel about travelers. I remember asking the same question in Thailand. Their answers were the Germans. In both cases, their answers were based upon how they were treated by these tourists. The most common complaint revolved around rudeness and arrogance and the fact that they tipped badly.

My guide, Ambrose

To return to the topic at hand...after exhausting our efforts in getting close to the dolphins, we puttered around Butterfly Beach, called that because it's sandwiched between two mountains that can be perceived as the wings of a butterfly. I was told that there were monkeys on Monkey Island (one of the "wings"), but we were not to be lucky enough that day to see them (a few days later, I saw them chilling in the trees as I sunbathed).

View of Palolem from the sea

The rest of the day was relaxing and warm, the water cool. I lounged around and eventually went to bed only to be woken up in the dead of night by a parliamentary meeting held by a pack of dogs. Or I guess it could very conceivably have been a night at the stock exchange. The barks, yips, howls and growls kept me from falling asleep until 5:00a.m. But if it isn't a meeting amongst the canines, it's the cawing of crows having their own congregation in the trees around the beach huts. Oh, the joys of nature!

The next day was to be another adventure in and of itself. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was fleeced! And how! I was minding my own business having breakfast at one of the many restaurants on the beach when a man approached me and offered to sell me a newspaper. I was told it cost 30 rupees. I gave him 50, since I didn't have anything smaller. He handed me 10 rupees and he said that he didn't have any more change. I told him I would wait as he went to get it. I was told it would take 10 minutes. Being the stubborn person that I am. I waited. And I waited. And I waited. One and a half hours later he returned, not to see me, but to continue up and down the beach selling his wares. I'm sure that he had figured I would no longer be there, but I was! I called him over and asked for my change. I was very angry. He asked as much and I answered in the affirmative. He apologized with a little smile and left. Indians are very charming, even when they are in the wrong!

It was only a few hours later, when I went to have a drink somewhere and was talking to the owner of one of the beach huts that I found out I had been fleeced. 30 rupees! He laughed. He told me newspapers cost 3 rupees. He showed me where the price was indicated on the front page of the newspaper. The man had scratched off the price. I hadn't even noticed. How embarrassing! Oh well, I suppose that it was part of the tourist experience. Now that I had had that experience, I was hoping that I would be that much wiser for future encounters.

At the end of the day, it's not as though 30 rupees is all that much. I was not against paying that price. My issue was being taken advantage of. Never a pleasant feeling, but I was able to laugh about it....eventually!

On that same day I met some tourists who were raving about an Ayurvedic massage they had had. I decided to try it out. I love massages. And I love trying massages from all different parts of the world. The Swedish...which is so relaxing you can fall asleep. The Thai...which twists you in a whole bunch of awkward and painful positions so that you wonder when it will end. But afterwards you feel light and relaxed. The Korean...which utilizes some aspects of the Swedish and Thai and adds the bu huang towards the end (see my bu huang experience on the Korean Times blog). A painful ending to an otherwise pretty good massage.

So now the famous Ayurvedic massage. A traditional form of massage, they use essential oils and elements of yoga and meditation to help relax the body as well as eliminate toxins. It was a wonderful experience. The young woman worked through some tough spots on my body and the smell of the heated oils relaxed and rejuvenated me. She finished the massage with a head and scalp massage, thoroughly infusing my hair with the oil.

Over the next month I was to have two more of these massages, but they were not as good. Generally, you are completely naked in a type of plastic basin-like table. There are no towels used. So with the oil all over your body, you end up sliding all around the table, only managing to stay on because the edges of the table rise up a couple inches on each side. My first massage was on a regular table with towels, so I wasn't as uncomfortable, but I suspect that it was a modern version of this form of massage. You know... adapt to the foreign "palate" type of thing.

Well, that's all for today. A series of disjointed tales, but hopefully you found something of interest within!
One of the many ( non doctored) gorgeous Goan sunsets.

Palolem, Day 1

2010-02-02T16:45:00.001-05:00

Fishing boat on Palolem

On my first full day in Palolem, I stepped out of the bungalow and onto the beach. When I saw Palolem in the daylight, it took my breath away. It was more beautiful than I had expected! It reminded me of Thailand in many ways. The beach is surrounded by green hills and in the corners of the cove are boulders rising out of the water.

These bungalows are considerably more upscale than where I stayed, and are more private. To get to them you have to wade through the low tide. In high tide, people staying there take a boat over to the main Palolem beach.

This is the beach where the first 5 minutes of The Bourne Supremacy was filmed.

People here approach you with everything they can, trying to sell you things you don't really need. They are very persuasive. I've already bought more than I anticipated so I have to be very careful! They sell things ranging from cds to books, jewelry, batiks, drums, postcards, peanuts, fruit...the works. I bought this skirt too!

And it is always done with a smile. Indians are beautiful people and the women in their saris and salwar kameez are exquisite. Indians and foreigners alike claim Palolem is the best beach in India and Lonely Planet seems to think so too. During off season, you can expect to pay about 400rupees per night for a bungalow, which is about 8.50US dollars a night (prices in December 2007), but the price will rise to about 1,000 by the time Christmas arrives and for a good month afterwards.

There are an equal number of dogs and cows lounging on the beach as if they own the place and they are all really friendly. The dogs like to hang around you when you eat, hoping for scraps, but they are well-mannered enough not to try to steal. They just wait patiently. These dogs absolutely love the beach. I saw some running into the waves this afternoon. They were having so much fun! It was great to see. But be careful at night. They curl up in the sand, asleep, so you have to make sure not to step on them.
Cows chilling and a dog to the right, that gray log-looking thing over there!

p.s. I saw the sunset for the first time since arriving in India. We are on the west coast. It was gorgeous.

Traveling through Goa

2010-01-21T13:47:00.000-05:00

(There are few pictures in this entry. Keep in mind that I spent the day in the bus and I've learned that trying to take pictures from a bus is a wasted effort. And since I had a film camera at the time, I decided not to waste film on blurred images.)

I'm sitting in a bus in the town of Vasco de Gama. I arrived in Goa about an hour ago and immediately went to the tourist office for information. One guy told me to take a taxi for the price of 1,200rupees. A woman suggested I take the bus because it would cost less. I opted for the bus because I'm in India and I don't really want to travel like a bourgeois. This, I feel, is more authentic. So, here I am. I have no idea when the bus will leave, though an old man (there are two old men and one old woman in the bus with me) told me this bus would go to Chaudi, which is fairly close to where I want to go: Palolem.

The inside of the bus is painted in crazy aquamarine and there are painted signs for "senior citizens" and "ladies only". The conductor is sitting in the cabin, which is caged off, but he has hung two old water bottles from the ceiling and has plants growing out of them. Their leaves have been wound throughout the rest of the bus. It adds atmosphere...

The bus is moving now. It sounds like it's 50 years old and just wants to die. More people have got on now. The buildings outside are old and the paint's chipping off, but it's very green here and there are coconut trees everywhere. It's over 30 degrees Celsius and I'm in heaven!

I think I could walk faster than this bus! :)

On the bus, there are signs asking people not to eat Paan.

Paan salesman (picture taken in Kerala): paan is made with a betel leaf, in the upper left of the picture. The way they make it in Bangladesh is with a crushed palm nut that is placed inside the betel leaf along with a kind of white paste made with crushed shells. Feel free to correct me if my memory is wrong. In India, though, there seems to be a slightly different way of making it, though I don't have the know-how to explain it. It is also very possible that different states in the country have their own twist on it.

(check out the recipe for paan on www.Food-India.com. While reading the recipe, I realized that there is no indication of crushed shells in it, but I'm leaving my explanation up here because that was the explanation I remember receiving at the time; the mind is tricky though, so if you do want to try this for yourself, definitely trust the website!)

Betel leaves (taken at a Myanmar market in 2002)

Palm nuts: (taken at a Myanmar market in 2002)

People eat paan on the buses anyway and there are dark stains on the floor of the bus. Most times, though, they spit out the window, which one could interpret as very considerate. Except that someone spit out the window that day and with my unflappable luck, the spit returned inside the bus and splattered all over my face and neck! The red juices of the paan mixed with the man's very healthy dose of saliva not only showered me, but also stained my t-shirt. It was pretty disgusting, but I wiped it off and smiled. This is adventure!

Some observations while riding on the bus:

-There are lots of bougainvillea here and everyone plays cricket; I saw cricket fields from the plane. Wouldn't it be nice to watch part of a game and have the rules explained to me...

- Driving by a bunch of beautiful old colonial houses set back off this country road; surrounded by trees, they are amazing

- Saw a funeral procession; everyone was wearing blue

- There are so many shades of Indians; from the very light-skinned to the dark cocoa that is so rich and beautiful

- The women are brightly colored peacocks and the men drab, in comparison.

- I have only seen one man wearing a lungi. I was told that wearing a lungi was considered old-fashioned and that no one in the north wear them anymore (unless they are in the comfort of their homes), but that I might find some wearing them in the south. And I did! It brings back fond memories of Bangladesh...

I have arrived after almost 12 hours of traveling! Big difference from the 3 hour cab ride I could have taken! But it was worth it.

When I got off the bus, night had already fallen hours earlier and I was immediately accosted by loads of young men paid to bring you to their beach hotel/motels. I tried to find the place that I had wanted to stay at, (recommended in Lonely Planet), but couldn't figure out North from South (rare for me, I'm pretty good at getting my bearings.) And with my heavy backpack and the fact that I walking in sinking sand in the dark, I soon gave up and decided to check out a place one of the many young men had to offer. I finally found one that wasn't really that great, but it was clean enough and I had my own bungalow steps away from the ocean. The people there were really nice, though, and very helpful; and best of all, it was cheap (the equivalent of $10US per night)!

After settling in, I was ready to eat; one of my favorite pastimes. I was initially going to find another place to eat at, but the managers and guys working there convinced me to stay. I was led to a table in the sand, facing the water, a candle lit and waiting for me. It was wonderful.

Fish, freshly caught that day, were laying on a bed of ice in a glass case, waiting for patrons to take their pick. I let myself go and asked for the young man's opinion. He suggested the red snapper. I've since learned that snapper come in all shapes and sizes depending on the country you're in. This one was pretty big, but I was up for the challenge. The snapper in New Zealand were smaller, but perhaps it's because I fished off the coast and they were therefore smaller. And how would I like it cooked? He suggested tandoori.

That meal will remain one of the best meals of my entire life. I will never forget it.

Tandoori Red Snapper

What a great start to my Indian adventure!

Arrivals and First Impressions

2010-01-21T12:53:00.000-05:00

I arrived in Delhi one cool December evening and was picked up by the company that would, two weeks later, be taking my family on a customized tour of "Northern" India.

But first things first, I was off on a two-week adventure to the South!

At first, India reminded me a lot of Bangladesh; with regards to traffic and the insanity of their driving techniques. After having spent a year in South Korea, however, it was a welcome breath of fresh air to hear people say "excuse me" or "sorry" when I was bumped along the crowded airport. But unlike Korea, the men stared. A LOT. I guess it comes with this part of the territory.

At the guesthouse where I was to stay the night before going to Goa, I met a Brahmin Hindu and we talked of religion. Perhaps not the most PC start to my trip in India, but I'm not the average traveler either. He was quite interesting. We spoke of honesty and who, among the Indians, were the most honest.

The following are his impressions, not mine:

Muslims are 10% honest

Hindus are 30% honest

Sikhs are 99% honest

Interesting...it would be nice to hear what others think about this breakdown.

Apparently Sikhs are the most honest because of the way they follow their religion. They are great people of honor who donate regularly to charities and other such organizations as part of their role as humans here on earth. So when doing business, they uphold that sense of honor, hence their trustworthiness.

I once worked for a Sikh family in Montreal. They owned a textile company and made beautiful things. They came from the North-west part of India, the Punjab region. A very nice family, though I couldn't say whether they were more honest than other Indians I met while in India.

Day 1 over, I was ready to rest and get ready for my adventure to the south the next day!

Contradictions with Salience

2009-06-18T03:03:00.000-04:00

A hanging bat under a breezy midday sun
Blinded by the god of pharaoh
20 paces to the beach
Sand scorches the feet
Urine soaks the air and plunges lungs into the depths of water’s history
Purple flowers line the railroad tracks
4 feet wing spans on a bat?
It’s nice to see bouganvilliers again
A camel on the right, a horse on the left and emaciated cows everywhere
Carts so overloaded they can’t possibly be pulled by a man
The sea is cold when the wind picks up
Sometimes I can cry
Any time of the day I can step outside into the warm tropics
Large Chinese fishing nets are fading into the past
How does a man fall asleep standing?
Roaches come out of the crevices of the trains at every station
How many contradictions can one pile on top of another?
Mountains soaked in white and a lake made invisible by hanging water
I have to work
Can one drown by breathing in the pungent odor of urine?
Can feces be the national bird of a country?
The train doors are open and my legs are hanging in the wind
It’s so gray here. Gray and brown
So many people, so little contact
Why is this man waking me up?
I have to leave, I’ve used up too much electricity
You can add a foreigner to the list of the homeless tonight
I don’t think I can go another 2 months
I’m so bored, I’m so exhilarated
New years eve with strangers in a strange land
The red of pan
The colors of the desert, yellow is just the base on which the rainbow is built
The weed here is mild but I’m crazy stoned
When do I get out of this place?
I’m tired and I need a shower
The water here is cold and I can see my own breath
A faron and some kawava and I’m ready for the day
I can’t believe someone thought they should add salt to tea
Another chai stop
The dogs are thin but the beach life seems to suit them
I’m home and so far away
How many fish can still be left in the seas?
No, I won’t pay more than 500 rupees my friend, thank you
12 dollars
I’m broke but I’m just a walking wallet
And no, I have no chapatti
Chicken on a bed of rice sounds wonderful
salam alykum in this part
The charas is so chanti
Indian sweets suck
800 miles to go
There’s no more time left
How much longer can this cliff be a home to this town?
It’s incredible how much green there is here, how much water
Pigeons fly in circles at the will of a man
How does one win at this?
Yes, I often eat leftovers from a previous day, we don’t always cook every day
I’d like to buy a place here one day
I could never live here
I’m rich again
There is no way we’re going to get to see a tiger people
It’s so nice to see everyone again
I wish I could smoke openly, but it’s too weird
I’m so free here, in many ways so much more me
It’s almost time to go but I just got here
I wish I could hang glide
10 o’clock and the music stops, in the land of goa psy
I should have gone to see the banyan tree
There’s just not enough time
I have to work again
I’m only getting 20kb/s, I’m going to be here all day
I feel like watching tv
Monkeys on the terrace and an elephant just last night
Bureaucracy is superficial and loopholes are law
Time is up, 36 hours of transportation, a moustache I can taste, brown on my face and body, dirt is a state of mind, and I miss it already.
How do you define salience?

Colors of time

2009-06-18T01:45:00.000-04:00

The air was thick with what was once a living tree. In fact, dozens of long dead trees were ablaze and there was nothing out of the ordinary here. This was a city where the norms were redefined by a set of alternative realities and uncommon needs. Flung into an entirely new universe, I could think of nothing but to supplement the smoke-filled inhalations with a more familiar form. I still had my pack from home. From here on in, I would be living an adventure. I would be free of the constraints I had allowed myself to be a victim of. Libertad.

It is incredible how intoxicating the smell of urine can be. Molecules of water once pure adopt a curious personality as they travel through a living body so that by the time they achieve freedom, they have been soured by the weaknesses of the soul. And once airborne, they can suffocate even the strongest lungs. Yet, just as impressive is one’s ability to adapt to the pungent lethality of it and carry on forward with no ill-effect, even given some time, without the recoil previously associated with it. Undoubtedly, one can never be so acclimated that it goes unnoticed, but time does come when the hairs of the nostrils don’t even curl up any more. This is when you’ve gone from tourist to traveler.

Amongst the depravity, the rawness, the purity of the environment, there is a remarkable acknowledgement of the beauty of the human condition. While feces line the railroad tracks, colors grace the eyes in a chaotic unpatterned kaleidoscope. While rats cross your path, the smell of fried foods tickle the pit of your stomach. It is within the constant and permanent extremes that wonder finds a home, calling your name with a seduction that you can’t imagine finding anywhere else.

Rajas and the untouchable pass each other on the streets without a thought while you question the sanity of such a culture, all the while admiring its ability to work with such longevity within so much undeniable contradiction. The awe is palpable to the viewer, the foreigner, the outsider. Such things are commonplace here, they are overlooked and invisible, but shock makes for a keener eye. Perhaps my eyes weren’t as keen as they could have been, for I found less shock in this magnificent story than I did pure amazement. But it did not escape my attention that shadows were dotting the landscape, desperate, broken, unsupported shadows in the brilliant sun. All around, shadows drove touk-touks, pulled inhuman loads, poured stench onto the streets, rested their haunches on their heels, found dark corners in which to rest overworked bodies and minds. Invisible shadows in an eclipse during the height of the day. These are the truths that attack one’s sense of normalcy.

Where there would be hot dogs, there are biryanis. In place of pizza are samosas. At every pause from here to there via rail, fried products from every corner of the country soar through the cars, infusing the air with grease and temptation. It does not take long for the body to cringe at the idea of another fried food. Kormas, pakoras, chapattis, dahls all race by at lightning speed, stopping in an instant and for an instant in response to a raised hand or a raised voice, then onward to the closest door just in time for the screech of the wheels to signal the continuation of the journey. Cramped, hot, patient brown bodies sway in unison in every direction but all on a common path to areas unknown. Hundreds of standing and sitting waterproof bags of water and blood, each in constant contact with 5 others at any given time manage means of sleep unimaginable to any creature. Feet millimeters from another’s face is no justification for consciousness as 2 or 3 share a space designed for one. Verticality is no excuse for not resting the mind and body, despite the demands it makes on that same body. The sheer fascination these views provide forces the mind open and begs a thousand questions, many of them to do with the very nature of humanity, the very nature of nature itself. That any creature would voluntarily subject itself to these circumstances boggles the mind. That any being can adapt so fundamentally to such an environment, such a society, such aberrance within nature is both absurd and beautiful. For those moments in each individual’s life, they have broken the rules nature wrote up. Never had nature intended that creatures be in such close proximity for such extended periods of time throughout their lives. Nowhere in the natural world does one see a congregation within a species of so many individuals in such close physical contact with one other, even as a means to an end. When rats are forced into confined spaces in large numbers aggression ensues, insanity begins to propagate, and a myriad of aberrant behaviors are all not far behind. Yet, here, it is the accepted collective consciousness. In these moments, understanding trumps nature, individual needs in common override the biological need for the security of personal space.

At times, you can sense that even the roaches have gained a deep respect for human adaptability. While they have found their own means of navigating an artificial landscape, they seem to do so in a more logical manner, exposing a certain ironic truth; that they are the more civilized entity. Hidden from sight while the train displaces masses of air, they reliably and eventually predictably begin their expeditions into the visible human world once the view from the windows becomes static. Scurrying about in search of what tiny scraps were deemed too small to retrieve by a population on the verge of starvation, they scour the floors, walls, and ceilings, even venturing into the frightening depths of the defecation centers. Tiny as they are - and understandably so if they are to fit in the crevices available to them, if they are to escape detection - they prove themselves to be fearless, either out of ignorance or insight.

Incredible sights. Incredible infirmities. Poverty beyond the most terrifying dreams, hopelessness, injustice, all line the streets of every city, while faith, acceptance and survival add a hint of rose to the picture, making it just palpable enough to endure. And in time, enduring turns to resignation, to understanding, to appreciation, and eventually, without realizing it, to sheer enthrallment. Rabid, emaciated dogs still invoke pity and sorrow. Cows dining on plastic bags, cardboard boxes and occasional organic detritus still create emotional reactions of disgust and anger. Scores of homeless and impoverished shadows still tug at the pits of your stomach, but in the constant emotional bath that is this place, confusion and fatigue turn into love. Stockholm syndrome focused on an entire nation, an entire people. Beyond the absolutes a new moderation takes hold, a new sense develops that begins to discover the subtleties, the nuances that both polarize and soften the extremes. Spiritual wealth and corruption stroll hand in hand down every street, excess and destitution stroke each other a hundred times over in every shop, success and failure create an impregnable bond so tight even light cannot shine through it. This is nature in its purest form, where the strong enjoy the delicacies once reserved for gods and the weak become the playthings of demons.

In the face of it all, whether as a product of the Hindu belief in reincarnation and karma, or whether generations of exposure to contradiction and confusion have colored the minds of all, brown skinned men and woman manage to carry the seeds of genuine gentleness and tolerance. If the meek will inherit the earth, this sub-continent will make up a substantial majority of earth borne survivors. The ability to find not only the desire to endure but to pursue life amid this insanity is inspiring and humbling. One has to wonder whether they themselves are inspired and humbled by this very observation.

1.1 billion incarnations of Shiva and Vishnu. 1.1 billion children of Ganesh and Hanuman, of Guru Nanak, of Mohamed, of Siddhartha, exchanging glances, rupees, cell phone calls, seats and meals. 1.1 billion in a land designed to house no more than half that. Incredulity has a home in this place, alongside ignorance and tolerance. Each of these three little pigs is threatened by the presence of the other, anticipating the emergence of its neighbor, yet coexisting peacefully in the interim. A precarious and longstanding, unwritten, unspoken truce covers the realm, invisible to most, but there for the curious and skeptical to see. Non-violence may have been perfected here, but on occasion its counterpart bares its teeth and tears flesh from bone with a cold ruthlessness that seems sprung from the mind of a psychopath. Yet in those moments, the world appears finally to make sense. For that stretch of localized history psychosis is the only state of being that fits. It is in fact the consistent lack of psychosis within this cauldron of contradiction that is the most shocking revelation this loose assembly of states presents.

Here communism and democracy are not opposing forces. Capitalism and religion don’t engage in battle. Spirituality and enslavement aren’t foes. Coexistence is the norm. Muslim and Hindu, Buddhist and Sikh, Christianity and Zoroastrianism all find a place, even if they are never sure how they will pay the next month’s rent. Inclusion on a national scale is tempered with exclusion on a social one. Federal goals are thwarted by regional philosophies. Power shifts hands from the government core to the financial center, from bread basket to organized uprising upon news of the latest tragedy, the latest assault, the latest success. In the constant displacement of power, balance is found as no one entity can calm the frenzy of momentum that has become the nature of this particular strain of endowment. Miraculous.

At the whim of a breeze the mind is snapped back from lavish thoughts of philosophy and politics into the world of the physical senses. A brightly colored sari wrenches ideals from you and replaces them with the calming attraction to the superficial. Bright orange embroidery on purple and yellow worn by an attractive young rajasthani woman with hazel eyes reminds you that there are many levels of glory here. A graceful man with a Raja moustache and a bright green desert turban lazily meanders in the opposite direction, bringing color to the otherwise dirty yellow background of a territory rarely acquainted with the exquisite violence and tranquility of water. From the grays and browns of the Muslim north I have been carried on wheels of steel to the warm days and cold nights of a multicolored conspiracy of sand dunes and barren rock mountains. As though to compensate for nature’s lack of hued expressions, the human inhabitants have signed an unconscious pact to infuse vivid color into every article they wear, produce, eat, sell, and share. Reds interact with aquas, yellows brighter than the sun mingle with lime greens, oranges do battle with violets, and the cacophony of visual stimulants injects warmth into the air and its people. Here, the lack of resources is bearable. Life without, still appears to hold meaning and purpose. The warmth of a million noons has left beautifully patterned scars on the hearts of this wasteland. Solar energy has been cultivated via photosynthesis by humans and cows, dogs and birds so that each has the surplus energy to find pleasure in the slightest breeze and the shyest smile. Pockets of water demand the immediate outcropping of habitations. The presence of trees begs for the cultivation of the surrounding acres. Temples shine brighter, side strewn garbage lining the highways glows innocuously. Stern faces of the north are replaced by toothless smiles etching the face with awkward and pleasant lines. The power of the sun on the human condition is more obvious in this part of the world than anywhere else.

A few hundred kilometers closer to the summer home of Helios reveals this truth in additional detail. Yellow is replaced by greens even the gods did not foresee. Fields of ripening rice aside stretches of predominantly unblemished forest make for consecrated land. Streams flow into rivers and rivers into the sea. Sunsets wage war on the night with a brilliance of color never intended for any eye. Mango trees are separated by brush and violet flowers thick enough to hide the infinite armies of plastic liquid and solid receptacles. So alive is this place that even the presence of the high-pitched flying sound machines is almost welcomed for a short time. All is as it should be. Life has taken a different path in this land of water and flora. Churches begin to replace hindu temples and the mind desperately attempts to reconcile these new forms of architecture and symbolism. Indian huts turn into European homes, the streets seem wider and less congested, the air is cleaner, the land is fresher, and that smile that was at home in the desert has begun to creep onto my face.

The nights are tolerable here. Save for the mosquitoes, this seems to be the place my body can call home. Poverty has lost all its immediacy. Filth has acquired charm, infirmity has hired capacity, dogs have subjugated rabies and cows have managed to entice layers of fat to make a home under their hides. Salt travels freely in the air, ice cream finds its way into a million mouths, and meals are not ashamed of their meat content.

Here you are either immobilized by the comfort of the warmth of the sun’s rays combined with its niece the breeze or you are seduced to put one foot in front of the other in a repetitive manner with no destination in mind. Waves crash upon the shore while skin makes its first appearance in 2 months in strange new shades of white and tan and other tints not seen since the summers of the west. Scantily clad men and women frolic in the ocean, walk in embraces across scalding sand, lie for extended periods in the glow of the day next to local fishing boats mysteriously beached on the shores. Bamboo huts and thatch roofs line the coast, serving foods from around the globe, alcohol flows with fervor, lassis call upon the aid of mind altering substances to entice the weary and adventurous. If not for the elevated monetary consequences of the acquisition of this bounty and the absurdity of the restrictions on where and when vibrations of melody and thumps can grace your ears, this place would have no other name but paradise. But this island of tranquility and comfort, like the entire nation, is not sustainable. Time is closing upon this journey as it does with all journeys, as it has with all forms of matter, and shortly this will become a series of fragmented visuals and smells, thoughts and sounds, ideas and reactions. Elephants and camels walking beside one another, each dawning a look of superiority over the other, pigeons and eagles sharing the same sky, dogs and goats ignoring the other, cows and horses envying the other for their freedom or their security, monkeys and men fighting over bowls of sugar, neither confident enough to strike at their former or future selves; these are some of the random occurrences that come from this bastion of purity, innocence, cruelty and depravity. From a night shared sleeping with all the homeless in the world to the excesses of a week’s rent spent on one preparation of ingestibles, and a thousand salient and forgettable moments in between, this place has written an unintelligible and irretrievable story in Sanskrit across my many chakras and I still cannot put to words or symbols what it has chosen to share with me. Enchanted, disgusted, inspired, depressed, excited, peaceful, chaotic and wonderful as it was, I still can’t help feeling as though the bulk of its teachings was lost on me. Cherished as an experience can be, I was and will always be incapable of grasping the unfiltered wisdom that was offered so generously and genuinely to me by the people, the life and the land I called home for such a fleeting spec of time.

My India Journal Entries

2009-06-04T01:54:00.000-04:00

From here on in, unless otherwise stated, are my journal entries written during my stay in India, with no retrospection and little if any editing. These are just the random experiences and descriptions of my days in India. Unfortunately, most are quite boring, as I do lack imagination, but it is what it is. Hopefully, there will still be the occasional moment of appreciation.

Day 0 - the process of getting there

2009-06-03T01:57:00.000-04:00

It’s all been quite surreal. I sorta expected that I wouldn’t really feel anything till I was on the plane, and well that’s certainly been the case, but I’m on the plane this very moment and I still don’t feel it. It’s as though my mind has managed to compartmentalize this entire experience and stow it away with the dormant adventurer in me who somehow I just can’t get in touch with and therefore I simply can’t process this at this moment. But from the moment I stepped out of the apartment, got into Diane’s car, dropped off the computer at Jad’s, it’s all felt so normal, and then only occasionally, did it have that tint of surrealness. Strange. This should feel so much more significant and yet, I’m on the plane writing about how it somehow feels mundane. But, there’s still something there, underneath the surface, something surreal that is trying to be heard, to be recognized as a reality I simply can’t grasp yet. It’s in the details. It’s in the little moments I’ve had that I either haven’t had in a really long time, or haven’t had at all. In the security measures at the airport, in not being able to step out for a smoke, in getting onto my first 777, my first 747, in flying over Paris. This dichotomy of banality and underlying excitement is strange and I can’t really describe it, but I think the best analogy, the best example of how I can describe this, the normal and unique living together in these many moments, is to say that just outside my window, travelling at 500mph, at 40,000ft is a tiny ass dust-bunny flapping in the wind within a crevice of the wing. Now if that’s not surreal, I have completely misunderstand the meaning of the word.

I came looking for something new, something different. I suspect by the time I leave it will feel that way, for now, it just seems like a touch of home, transplanted onto the bald head of another land. It’s all so familiar, the traffic, the smells, the shops. It’s only been a few days. I’ve walked around Connaught place, worked from my hotel room, met a couple fellow travelers, nothing too out of the ordinary. It took only one night to get accustomed to the shabby accommodations and I feel as though I’m in some unusually real dream. I think it hasn’t hit me yet.

Days 1 and 2

2009-06-02T01:58:00.000-04:00

Day 1:

over 12 hours of flying and airports, the doors on the plane open and I step out to the smell of burning wood. So it begins. Walk through the airport, it seems pretty new, though still unfinished and not very efficient, but I never expected differently. Time for immigration. Hell, this is taking forever, so disorganized. In fact I’d say it’s worst than Haiti. Finally, I’m out, I grab my backpack from the carrousel, grab a bottle of rum from the duty free and I step out into the unknown, into the real india. I’m hoping to see a sign that has my inordinately long name written on it, indicating the pickup from the airport I was supposed to get. Not to be. I should have known, in fact part of me kind of expected it. So I try to call the “hotel” and can’t get through, meanwhile some cab middle man had followed from the minute I stepped out of the airport soliciting a cab ride and making small talk. I stand outside the airport taking it in, witnessing the mess and loving it, smoking a cigarette, then finally giving up and taking that ride from this middle man. He passes me on to a cab driver, then I’m off. So that’s how it works here. Everyone has deals with people. It’s a country of middle men, all collecting tiny commissions which somehow add up to a living at the end of the day. Rife with graft and cons and trickery you have to watch your back the whole time. I made my first couple mistakes that first night, but luckily I didn’t pay much for them and India still treated to me to the sight of a couple elephants hauling goods on Delhi’s main highwayat 2 in the morning. I finally get to the hotel after a whole ordeal of not finding the place and I get settled in.

It hasn’t hit me yet. I’m still in some real dream that I can’t wake up from. Maybe tomoro. I have a rum and coke and I crash.

Day 2

I sleep in a bit, till bout 10:30 or so, send some txts stay around the hotel, walk onto the terrace and look around. Monkeys have ventured onto the rooftop and are chilling. The sun is blotted out by the smog, a thick light gray haze that covers everything you can see. Across the street is a market and cars, cars, cars, all kinds, auto-rickshaws, motorcycles, it’s crazy and the deafening sound of the horns leaves no doubt that I’m not in Kansas anymore. Time for a short walk, get some grit on me, feel things out a bit. People hardly give me a second look. Other than my shaved head, earrings and backpack I think they see me as possibly an upper class Indian. It’s a cool little walk, I have no idea where I’m going but end up following the train tracks, human feces on the dirt path lining the tracks, still not a second look from anyone. I feel like I’m home. It’s port-au-prince just bigger and slightly busier. And it’s crazy. Indians have a great sense of spatial awareness honking their way through town inches away from everything but able to weave through without a hitch. It’s beautiful to watch.

It’s easy to get lost round here but somehow, like being home I just sensed where I was in relation to where I started from. Enough of a walk for today. I grab some food from off a small street stand, my first meal and I head back to the hotel to chill on the roof. Check my emails, let clients know I’ve arrived, do some work. I meet a couple travelers, chill with them, go for dinner with them, get hassled a bit, all part of the game.

It hasn’t hit me yet. The dream won’t end, I’m still home and I’m not lost here though I have no idea where I’m going or when.

My last days of 2007 - First days of 2008

2009-05-30T03:20:00.000-04:00

Day 3

Friday in Delhi. Time to get some train tickets to varanassi. During my walk I had come across the train station so I knew where I’d find it. No problem. I get there, to the tourist office and I see the first real concentration of travelers. No success with the ticket tho. Everything in india requires a passport, from reserving a train ticket to getting a SIM card. It’s ridiculous. On the one hand you can get any kind of service you can think of quickly and easily, but on the other, everything legit requires paperwork. The paper. Wow. I can’t imagine where it all goes. Paper for everything.

The train station brings me to my first real traveler experience. Meet a couple and a solo traveler, then we head off to another rooftop terrace for some food and tea. Really cool. Flocks of pigeons guided by the shouts of men competing from roof to roof in a game I still don’t understand. Hawks in the hundreds in the dusty sky. Even up here you get whiffs of urine, here above the grand bizarre in Delhi. To get here we had to walk through crowded streets packed with shops on either side filled with incense, thousands of people, lots of tourists and colors; blinding beautiful colors. Behind the colors are electrical wires connecting building after building in triplicates, balls of wires, all over the place. How can this place stay functional? It boggles the mind. My body knows I’m here but my mind still can’t fathom I’m in India, despite the smells, the sights, the sounds. I walk through the streets practically drinking urine with every breath and I still don’t feel any different. How can this be? What was I expecting? Why is this all so familiar?

Time to head back and do some work, get my SIM card, try again to get train tickets from an unofficial "tourist" office. No luck again. Leita’s gonna be disappointed. I’ll have to deal with that tomorrow. Today, I’m just happy I got to do the things I did. It’s been a good day.

NY’s 2008

Hung out and slept in on the 31st. All the running around with the family before they left and all I could think of was taking it easy and doing nothing but lying in bed. I hardly left the room and did so only to check email. The 2 singapore women I had met came by to see if I wanted to join them in trying to find something to do that night to celebrate NYs. I was a bit reluctant, but in the end I decided I had nothing to lose so I went. We walked around for what seemed like forever. Everything closes so early here, even on the 31st. Plenty of places were offering open bar packages, 2000 here, 5000, 7000, all were too much as far as I was concerned, and they all closed around 12, 1, maybe 2. Ridiculous. Eventually, Julio, a fellow traveler the girls had met who had joined us asked these 2 other couples for directions and next thing you know they were joining us in our pointless search for a non-existent party. In the end it was lucky for us as they brought us to a liquor store where I managed to get another bottle of rum for $4. There are some beautiful things about being in India; the cost of living is one of them. So, from there we headed away from Connaught place and back to our headquarters in Pahar Ganj. More walking, more indecision, more complications and compromises seeing as we were a pretty big group by now, 2 russians (couple), 1 spanish and Czech couple, the 2 singapore girls and Julio the Spanish guy. Eventually we settled on a tiny coffee shop that seemed to have the coolest owners or managers. Either way, the vibe was good, we were able to open our bottles of rum and pour our own drinks, the workers and friends of workers, many of them Nepalese, were drunk and dancing. All in all it was a good sight, even if a little boring at times (cause of the seating arrangements I simply couldn’t have any decent conversations and didn’t feel like dancing). So it was, a couple hours later I was ready to head back. Got home to my little Anoop, got online, went into my room ordered some food, watched some tv and ended my year with the closing of my tired eyes.

Jan 1, 2008
Still kinda tired or I should say bored, and not really feeling like doing much. Finalized my plans for the next little while, will buy my ticket tomorrow, might meet up with the Singapore girls again to swap music, and then I’ll call it a night and get up tomorrow to go to the train station and see about getting tickets to Jammu. This is how my year began.

Jan 4
I've gone to the net cafe 3 times today. I had no idea I'd be using the net as often as I am. I had no idea I'd be spending so much on it either, but it's a cost I feel I have to pay not just because it's my main connection to the real world but because it relieves some of my apprehension towards work.

It's 9:31 PM here. I'm gonna have to crash early tonight since i'm being picked up at 6 in the morning tomorrow by jeep to go to Srinigar, assuming of course that they didn't just outright steal my money. It was stupid of me. I can't believe I did that. I know better. I just slowly began accepting him because I figured "he's with the government, it's ok". And the Lonely Planet said that that place was ok. But now, I wonder, even if the jeep comes by, what house boat I'll be thrown into. Will it really have heating or will i freeze out there on the lake? I think in the end, he may have worked in the government offices, but made a personal deal. I doubt they'll screw me on the jeep. That would be a little much, but the houseboat, that could be a nightmare and there are apparently tons of stories of people who get screwed reserving a houseboat ahead of time before seeing them, some people even being held hostage to pay up or god knows what else. We're not talking kidnapping hostage, just having life made really difficult. But hey, I came to India for a challenge and for experience and for growth and came to Srinigar during off season for more of that, as I felt in Delhi I wasn't getting enough of it, and even though this isn't the kind of challenge I had in mind, you can never really choose that can you? A real test comes when you haven't been studying and aren't prepared. So wish me luck.

The people here are generally fairer skinned. In fact. they often speak to me in whatever language, Kasmiri I guess, until I look back at them with questions in my eyes and they realize they got me wrong. I don't think any think I live here, but maybe an ex-pat come back to his country after a few years, cause my clothes certainly make me an outsider. It's not that they're all that different, but these jeans are baggier, i have a small packpack on, my hair is short, i have the 2 earrings, but still sometimes they can't believe i'm not kashmiri. Kinda cool to blend in that way, without really blending in of course. If I had a scarf, one of the typical ones from around here and changed my pants, they'd have no clue and I could walk around as a full on kashmiri, except of course for my packback which holds my laptop. But hey, i can't part from it, so what to do?

God, I'm so glad I brought my sleeping bag and a sheet. So far the most valuable things I've brought have been, and in order 1. laptop for some sort of connection and simply cause without it, i simply will have no way to stay or no business to go back to, 2. my sleeping bag, for those extra cold nights and train rides when i'm in the sleeper class, 3. my sheet to give me some separation between my body, even though I sleep clothed, and the usually nasty sheets that so many of the hotels have had, whether clean or not, they just never look it, 4. phone for its camera and music and lastly for its sms and providing a feeling of being accessible in emergencies, 5. compass, for just helping me confirm my bearings from time to time, it just puts me at ease and allows me to be more efficient and less dependent on people 6. clothes

Ugh. It's hard to find a comfy position to type from with a laptop. My hand always ends up hurting. And lately, i've been doing a lot of typing.

Got a bit of new music from those Singapore girls. They came by and hung out and we swapped music on their last night in Delhi. I think it was my last night too. Ya. It was. I got a singapore electro band called, wait for it, Electrico, hehe, and another band called KT Tunstall, and Nouvelle Vague, and Rachael Yamagata. Anyway, haven't really listened to em yet, maybe i'll do that tonight or throw them onto my phone for the ride tomoro. And they took a bunch from me, Gotan, Shpongle, Thievery, and a few others. Was one of the few moments of hanging out with anyone for more than an hour. Took a couple pics of them and got their emails. Young girls, a little conservative, surprisingly not aware of a lot of pretty basic scientific theories out there. Sorry, but i just assumed asians had a pretty good grasp on science, but that was probably a generalization, maybe it's just math. HAHA.

Jan 4

2009-05-29T03:29:00.000-04:00

Jan 4th.

I've made it to kashmir and am safely on a houseboat in the famous city of srinigar. I was looking for something different and I found it in Kashmir. THis place, is so different from the rest of india. in fact I understand why they call themselves kasmiri and not indian or pakistani. The people are different, the land is different, the entire vibe of this place is different. I was beginning to get bored of the tourist India I'd seen up to now, thinking I had had enough of forts and temples and I hesitated about coming here for fear it would be too cold and not knowing what it would be like with no other tourists around since it's dead season here. But it was worth it. Yes, I got overcharged, and I will try to remedy that tomorrow by calling up the agent who booked this place and getting a better rate for tomorrow, and if not I'll find another hotel in town, in essence, one night on a houseboat is enough, though I wouldn't mind a second or maybe even third.

The ride here was long, really long. Woke up at 5:29, one minute before my alarm because of a dream I can't remember. Was eerie to wake up and find I had beat my alarm to it. Got ready and waited to be picked up. That in and of itself was an experience. When they came to pick me up in the middle of the main street they didn't say a word, so I wasn't even sure it was the right people or just someone who figured i was going that way and wanted to play himself off as my ride. Even after showing the card and asking if it was truly my ride I didn't feel confident, but my agent showed up and by 7 or so, we were off. The road starts off completely uphill, then down into a valley, then the mountains begin to show up in the distance and next thing you know, assuming you're awake enough to notice it, your winding your way around the edge of the great himalayas. It's no Tibet but it's grandiose nonetheless. I was getting excited. Only one thing could ruin my kashmiri experience now and that would be the house boat. 8 hours later, I arrived and saw my boat, a decripit little structure among many other decripit little structures, but it was on the water's edge, and I had payed for it, and really, on a second look, it wasn't all that bad. THey said I'd have power, they'd arrange for hot water, my meals were included, fuck it, it's already payed. I put my bags down and went to join the agent's family in their home which is just a few feet away.

It's fucking cold and I was worried about that and how I'd manage if the boat were indeed a rip off. But, for the most part, I was awestruck by the differences, the changes in temperature, in environment, the snow capped himalayas, the change in architecture, the meandering river now pretty much dried up in the name of progress and hydroelectric power. It just all seemed like a real adventure, a road less travelled at a time when no one was even considering it and that made it all the more special. Everyone speaks to me in kashmiri first, thinking i'm one of them and that too has it's charm, tho not all look amused when I say I don't understand in english that probably sounds way to american to them to be anything but. But given some time, as in the shared jeep I took to get here, they warm up. I was in the jeep with 6 other people to begin with and the number fluctuated constantly, dropping one off, picking one up, etc. But the permanent travellers, most either from Kashmir or Jammu seemed cool enough, even offering me some barfi which is an indian sweet which surprisingly was quite good. So, all of this, being amongst real kashmiris for 8 hours, being surrounded by the music blaring occassionally on the jeep radio, the conversations between a bunch of strangers which I could not understand a word of, the strangely efficient maniacal driving along 2lane roads that rarely had barriers to keep us from falling a thousand feet down, made it an enjoyable ride.

Seeing the houseboat wasn't all that comforting, but it's what came next that made me feel like I really had made the right decision, even if it cost me a pretty penny in indian terms. My "guide", in fact the man who works for the agent's family, seemed like a nice guy, and his english was good enough that i felt I could ask some questions and I did. He brought me into the home of the family that owned the boat (agent's family). I couldn't quite figure out his relationship to them but when I got there, there was only a young kid, 12 or 13, he wasn't sure of his age, and an older women, I would say late 30s maybe, tho age is hard to figure out around here. I never quite got her name, and I can't remember his, but the kid's name is bilal, which means blue eyes. THey sat me down, gave me a Kavawa tea, the typical kashmiri tea which is quite good, sweet and hot, and they put a faron on me, a typical kashmiri top, which everyone wears here, women as much as men. It's an oversized shirt, too wide, too long, all around too big. Didn't quite get why everyone i had seen up to then was wearing one. I chalked it up to ridiculous tradition, though I could tell that very often, people had their arms not in the sleeves but inside the shirt, to keep them warm. Well, he began to explain it for me. It's oversized so people can easily slip it on or off, can quickly pull their arms in and out of the sleeve when needed, and when sitting so it can be pulled to cover the entire lower body. Cool huh? But wait, there's more. It's made of wool, pretty thick and well, the one i had on was kinda scratchy but I assume the better quality ones aren't. To add to the warmth factor and all around efficiency and flexibility of it, they place what's called a winter wife, which is essentially a clay pot in a pot holder made of twine with a sturdy handle on the top which allows you to carry it easily from one place to another and apparently they carry them everywhere. But, inside the clay pot, is lit charcoal. The clay keeps it from getting too hot and the twine pot holder makes it portable. The idea is, you sit place it on your lap or by your feet and then cover it and your body with the now necessary oversized faron. Such little genuis can be found all over the world, but I had never seen or heard of this. It was a great treat. This is how they keep warm in their homes, in their shakkaras, even just sitting by the road or the lake. I was in my own way, enthralled. There's no heating here, and it can get down to -10 on a cold night, but between this and their sleeping tactics, they deal with it quite well.

To sleep, and there's no furniture in their homes to sit on, just a few cushions they lay against the wall, and wall to wall, uh, rugging, as it's not really a carpet either but a collection of rugs. Well, first off, I know why Kashmiri rugs are famous, it's because they have to be good and they are needed to shield the feet and body from the otherwise cold floors. People sleep on the floor and in the winter that must be a rough thing but with numerous blankets and hot water bottles and even occasional winter wives, they apparently are quite warm. I have to admit it works. I'm currently typing this from my deathly cold room. In fact, as I type I can see my breath in here, but I'm warm. I have 2 hot water bottles under me, my sleeping bag, my blanket and 2 or 3 of their blankets on top of me. Well, I'm also wearing my warm flanel pj pants and about three layers on top and 2 pair of socks just in case, cause for sure the water bottles won't last all night. Anyway, let's move away from the clever heating solutions.

So, shortly after i was seated and given tea and appropriate clothing, a couple walks in. Well I thought they were a couple but it was the cousin or brother of the agent and the daughter of the woman who lives in this home. They were both quite nice, though the young woman didn't really say hi, but did smile. She too thought I was kashmiri. She was cute, in fact, I have to say of all the women I've seen in India, not on tv, she's the most attractive one I've seen. Young, I later found out around 15 or 16, as she doesn't know her age either. The visiting brother sat for a while, had some tea, we talked, his english was pretty good too, and then left. Then, another woman stepped in, the mother of bilal and the young woman I just spoke of, who's name escapes me now but will come back to me. Nice woman, doesn't speak a word of english though her 2 children managed a few here and there. We all talked, it was nice. A little while later a third child, daughter, name of Lilu, but nicknkamed Adi, walked in and said hi, thinking i was also a kashmiri and not recognizing me as being a new guest of the family's. She was also very attractive. In fact, all three kids were really attractive. It was a bit shocking as I didn't really think I've ever really meet any locals who were attractive, not that it matters, but give me a break, you know what I mean. It's just strange to be in a country and see so few attractive people. Haha. Alright, so, we're all sitting there, talking about a whole bunch of things and the three of us, particularly the 2 girls and I, were having a good time, asking each other questions, me trying to understand the culture and language, them asking about my background, country of origin, work or school sits, typical but genuine and nice and they smiled which was a nice change. Then, they left and just the guide and I had dinner together on the floor, eating with our hands. It was really cool. I found out how to shovel food in my mouth; you use your thumb to slide it in. Ha. THe little things. It was a shanti, peaceful and entertaining experience, real, local, completely outside of the tourist experiences I had had up to now.

Anyway, it's late now (10:45, it's dead quiet out there, dead cold in here, and for the first time since being in India, completely peaceful. Maybe I'll write more. I'm not sure whether I'm tired or not, though i got only 4 hours last night, but I'm gonna throw on a movie and have a couple drinks and a smoke and hopefully fall asleep before the water bottles lose their niceness.

Jan. 5-6

2009-05-28T18:17:00.000-04:00

Jan 5

Wow. Woke up this morning, it was freezing. I managed to sleep relatively well despite it, thanks to a millions layers of protection but it was damn cold. I think this is the coldest weather I’ve ever slept in, colder even than Nature, but I was more fortified so I felt it less. Unfortunately, I think my computer was affected by it. I even thought about keeping her warm and put the covers over her, but covers only work to keep in warmth that's being generated from within, it doesn’t really do anything if there’s no warmth to begin with. So, I tried using the rjs on the computer today and it wouldn’t register. I hope it’s not permanent or I’m going to have serious problems getting work in and out. At the same time, my cell phone’s memory chip has been acting up, causing me to lose a lot of pics, and my usb flash memory won’t format so I can’t even use that. Basically, it’s not as bad as a total system failure, but it’s seriously hindering my abilities to get work off and onto my computer, getting pics and a slew of other things that are necessary to my functioning properly here.

These hot water bottles do wonders. They keep their heat for a few hours only, unfortunately, but they are very effective while they’re hot. I think though, that I’ve had enough of battling with the cold. If I wanted to be cold I’d have stayed in Montreal. And at this price, it makes no sense to stay here. So, tomorrow, I’ll wake up early, and leave for Jammu, then onward to Amritsar. I’m a little sorry to leave the family behind, but I feel too confined here, confined to the island, confined by the cold, just plain old confined.

Got quite a bit of sleep last night so I wonder if I’ll manage to get to sleep soon but I hope so. The sooner I sleep the earlier I can get up and the less time I’ll spend sleeping without the comfort of the water bottles. I think I’ll bring the laptop closer today to my body and hope that it’ll not get as cold as yesterday. I would feel terrible if things got worse or even if the network port were dead permanently. I always thought it would work better in the cold but I guess not. I can’t see what else would be at the root of the problem, but right now, it’s weighing pretty heavily on me.

I’m gonna miss this family though. It was so refreshing spending time with them. Cindit, Bilal, and Lilu are awesome, a lot of fun and the old man, he’s a good man, but you can see that life has not been to good to him. I realized that I simply don’t understand the family structure. It got confusing, partly I think because they were playing with me, partly because they call the other brother or sister often and that was throwing me off.

I can’t say I’ve seen much of srinigar, it’s been cloud covered and foggy the whole time I’ve been here but what I have seen has been really nice and a taste is all I wanted and I’m satisfied to leave it at that. Maybe I’ll come back in a few years and see the family again, that would be nice, in summer of course. Meantime, unless they make me an offer I can’t refuse, I’m going to be heading back into the black sun, polluted skies, noisy calm of the rest of india, but also back to the colors which lack here, the warmth and the new adventures that await me.

That’s all I have for now. Signing off.

Jan 6

I’m stuck in srinigar, just my luck , I get here and the next day it snows. But as if that weren’t bad enough, the next day it snows even harder. Now the pass through the Himalayas is closed and there is no way to get through just yet. Maybe another day and the roads will be cleared. In the meantime I must make do with what I have at my disposal, but, do not mistake my comments for chagrin, they are far from that. Though I am stuck here and being stuck is never consoling, if there is any place that I’d be happy to be stuck in it is this place. I’ll explain why.

First of all I renegotiated the price and managed to bring it down to 300Rs. That’s a great thing considering I was paying 500 just a day ago and that the average price is considerably higher, and that the average price of a budget hotel room, single room is 300. Meanwhile, I have a whole houseboat to myself. So, that’s a wonderful and unique thing, I believe. Secondly, my laptop is fine. My network port works fine, it was either the internet shop I went to or a temporary cold driven glitch. So I feel relieved in a way I cannot explain. So, even if I ‘m locked away here for a few days, I can work. Thirdly, in addition to this wonderful family that has taken me in in ways I could only have dreamed of, I’ve made another friend here at a neighboring hotel who has been very welcoming and warm. Son of a rich agriculturalist and carpet manufacturer, he sat with me, offered me some tea and biscuits and we talked for about an hour and a half, but I’ll get to that in a minute. So, yes I am stuck here but I am stuck under the most magnificent circumstances and in a fantastic place.

Before I continue, let me say a little something about my day. I woke up late, my alarm didn’t’ go off because I set it for the wrong day. Mistake number one but in the end a blessing. I got up around 10 or so. I had planned on getting up around 7:30 to catch the bus or jeep to jammu and continue on my journey. It was not to be. I awoke to a snow filled landscape and another day of fog covered horizons, but I wasn’t cold, surprisingly. I didn’t even put on the faron I was given and I walked over to the family’s home to bring back the water bottles and inform them that if possible I’d be leaving. They sat me down for some tea before I had the chance to say anything. Eventually I got the words out but it didn’t matter, by then it was too late to leave anyway, the buses and jeep only leave before 11, and usually more like 8, since the ride is long and driving at night is highly discouraged, for security and safety reasons. So, I sat with them, they offered me winter wives which I generally refused, they gave me tea and cornflakes in hot milk and we talked and hung out. It was nice. They were all in a great mood for reasons I didn’t know but didn’t care too much about. Eventually, I decided, for lack of cigarettes and a feeling that I shouldn’t hang out there too long, that I should move and walk around, maybe get online if there was anywhere else available other than the place that charged me 80Rs an hour. So, I got up and wished everyone a good day. In the meantime, I paid Ghulam, father and patriarch of the family the 500 I owed him for the night and explained I would be sleeping elsewhere as I got a cheaper price. Upon hearing this, he offered to match the price and so I decided at 300 that it was worth staying on the boat and being close to the family for one more night.

As I left, a man from the house boat Owners’ travel Association who had paid them a visit was also leaving. I left, walked to the end of the peer and stood there admiring my surroundings, waiting for a small and cheaper shikara to show up, allowing me to cross for 1Rs. It didn’t show by the time Feroz, the man from the HBOTA showed up next to me. He asked if I was crossing and suspecting he didn’t have the best of intentions, said yes but I was in no hurry and was waiting for a small shikara. He stood next to me and waited with me, asking me random questions in his poor English. He wanted to get across too. After a couple minutes he had had enough waiting and said he could get us a large shikara for 10Rs. Well, I was a little curious as to how he’d play this out, so I said I’d go with him. He called one, it came we got on and in the end he didn’t offer to pay his half. I suspected as much. He then asked where I was going, I told him I was walking and that I needed to get smokes first. He walked the 20 feet with me to the store offered to arrange for the sale, I agreed then, he asked me if I would get him a pack, I laughed in an obvious facetious manner and agreed, but clearly not appreciating the request. It didn’t bother him and I got 3 packs, one for me, one for Ghulam and one for him. Then, without saying thank you he wished me a good day and walked away. Typical. Anyway, I decided I’d walk in the direction of the hotel I had falsely told Ghulam that I had made a deal with curious to see it. I walked to it, then passed it, then, curious about it, walked back to it and knocked on the door. I was greeted by a Nepalese worker who understood no English and who had me come in while he got the manager/owner. This was the start of a new mini-friendship. The owner, Rouf, was a young man, very open, very welcoming, who spoke quite good English. A Kashmiri who had obviously had an impressive education. He even knew where Haiti was. He offered to show me the rooms, which I agreed to, and showed me a couple rooms, all with brightly and newly painted walls, clean floors, good bathrooms, in fact, by Indian standards, immaculate. I was very impressed, but more than that I was impressed with his candor and openness. We walked back to the reception and he had tea brought in and biscuits and we talked. All in all for over an hour and a half, about a range of topics. He was a good man, and unlike most of the men I’ve known, he asked nothing of me and in the end offered his internet connection and a free ride around town the next day if I happened to still be in town, at no charge. I ended up telling him that I didn’t work for the lonely Planet but was authorized to post comments, and that I would gladly recommend his hotel, all of which is true and I plan on it, because his warmth and accommodation was purely from a level of enjoyment and without gain. He never even tried to sell me a room. I was so impressed.

After being recharged by the experience I decided to see if that alternate internet shop was open and see if I could find an ATM, as I’d need it the next day for the jeep or bus and to pay for the room for an extra day. The shop was closed but the ATM was close by and I used it and the security guard who came in there with me, making me a little nervous did something strange. Not only did he stand next to me the whole time I was withdrawing my money, but when it came out of the machine, he reached in and grabbed the money. It occurred to me that I might have to end up fighting for it, but he handed the money directly to me. Strange but interesting. With the confidence of having money, I chose to get some food from the nearby Dhaba, ate a veg meal and went on my way back to the family home as a few hours had passed.
I got there, was ushered in, offered tea and a winter wife, asked how my day was, and made comfortable. I hung around talked to the children mostly and as usual they ended up asking about my cell, or laptop or this or that. Sameer, asked me to teach him how to download files from the cell onto the laptop. I opened up the laptop and showed him. That opened up a whole series of computer lessons, which I was more than happy to provide. In the meantime the girls wanted to see my girlfriend. I didn’t go into the details, didn’t tell them we weren’t actually together and why, I saw no reason to and was all too happy to show them the 2 pictures Erin had sent me of us together with friends. In the end, hours were spent showing them things, teaching them things, taking pictures of them, taking down their email addresses. It was all soooo shanty. The family really seemed comfortable with me by then, even laughing at my poor attempts at Kashmiri and letting me know that they would miss me. It was so nice. I told them I would too. Long story made short, in the end I let them be around 10:30 and came to the boat. Ghulam wasn’t ready for sleep just yet and I offered him some rum as a substitute for the charas he usually smokes and he joined me in the houseboat for a couple drinks and we talked. It was nice. I think he finally actually let me in, after a night of seeing me patiently and openly let the kids have at it on my laptop and providing them with lessons, he saw me not as a tourist to be taken advantage of but as a person with a heart that he could appreciate, who wanted good things for him and his family. He left after a few drinks and many smiles, feeling good and knowing I was grateful for his hospitality. I will write him a good but honest review on LP. In the end, the day was even better than the previous. I felt more like a family member and less like a tourist than ever and the family accepted me more than they had before and we shared laughs, all of us on multiple occasions, genuine, heartfelt moments that I hope to remember forever. It was, in fact, my most genuine Indian day, though really it was not an Indian day but a kashmiri one. From eating with my hands at a Dhaba to hanging with 2 different sets of good people, I enjoyed this experience more than any other on this trip, save the moments that I really enjoyed with my own family. Things are looking up, and it is because of this that I don’t mind, am not stressed and don’t’ fear being stuck here a few more days. I only hope my budget will allow for it and that I can leave a parting gift to the family as well.

So, that being said and me not finding any more words to say, I leave the 6th behind and look forward to the 6th, when Hakim will show me around town, as he offered, if that’s still on the table. It should be interesting. Then, if all goes well, the roads will be clear and I can leave the following day and make my way to Amritsar, recharged by these moments and for the first time, truly excited about continuing this journey into the heart of India.

Time for another drink, another smoke and a movie.

Jan 7

2009-05-27T00:23:00.000-04:00

So, yep, I am stuck in srinigar. Roads were closed today due to that snowfall 2 days ago, and yet another night will need to be spent here on this houseboat that has quickly begun to feel like home. No TV, no running water, no heating, no hot water. I haven’t showered since I left Delhi about 5 days ago, but I couldn’t care less. I get up in the morning take a piss, brush my teeth, wash my hands and face with freezing water, put on my faron and go have tea with the family. Despite minus temperatures I’m usually not that cold in the morning.

Today, was just like the others, though I was supposed to go on that drive around town, I honestly didn’t really feel like it and hoped it would be cancelled. Just my luck it was. I never really expected it and was thinking I’d be gone from here by then anyway, but in the end it all worked out. Woke up round 12, hung out with Ghulam, then took off in search of something, partly smokes, partly just some sort of experience. I got my smokes and headed to the Swiss hotel, hoping maybe to share some more moments with Rouf and see if maybe I could use his internet. Wasn’t to be, got there and he wasn’t there but his younger brother greeted me, offered me some tea, then left me alone in the lobby. I finished my tea and started walking. Got to an internet café, logged on, sent out a bunch of emails that had been waiting in my outbox for a connection, chatted with Erin for a while then payed my 20rs and left. And I walked, and I walked and I walked, just taking it in, not knowing where I was going, not interested, feeling pretty confident that I knew where I was and could get back on my own even without the rickshaw. There seem to be a lot more women walking around Srinigar than the rest of India. It’s strange. I would have expected the opposite considering this was a muslim area, but it was nice to see. They’re so light skinned, it such an oddity, but this is mountain land, cold for a large part of the year, it makes sense they’d have lost their melanin. I walked for 2 hours. I got pretty far then slowly made my way back. On the way I stopped at a restaurant that had whole grilled chickens in the window and asked how much they were, and eventually settled on a whole tandoori chicken and a mutton kebab. I wanted to surprise the family. They don’t eat meat often as it’s too expensive so I thought this would be a nice treat. It was the least I could do, though in truth I’d been giving them lots of treats and the total cost of my expenditures far outweighed what I would have spent in a hotel, but it felt right and I had no regrets. I continued my walk back, grabbed a coke and a mango juice for the remainder of my rum for tonight and headed back to the family with my small present. They were all there, happy to see me. Was like coming home. I gave them the bags and told them it was a surprise for dinner. Then sat down and we all started talking, they watched tv, did what they usually do, which, if I’m not mistaken is generally nothing. It’s strange, but all they do is watch tv. Indians and indeed kashmiris love their tv. Every home has a tv, and a few cells. They love computers and cell phones. Can’t get enough of it. A few minutes after I arrived Ruby asked to have the laptop so she could play around. I brought it out and she dove straight into Paint. The other girls just sat around watching tv, engaging in conversation with me. It was all pretty chilled out. Round 7 I found out the roads were open, so I informed them I’d be leaving the next day. Then, Ayesha (Cindit) asked me to teach her some English and that started about an hour of English lessons. Both Ayesha and Adi were taking down notes, asking questions. I realized teaching English without a curriculum is not easy but I did my best. Adi, on her piece of paper, let me know she had a crush on me. It was surprising seeing as she knew I had a girlfriend, but maybe having a girlfriend in the muslim world doesn’t mean much, especially when a man can have 4 wives. She asked if I liked her too. Ha. I wrote down that I thought she was beautiful and an amazing person and that I would have considered myself honored to be with a woman like her. All of it true, but at the same time, avoiding leading her on. I had images of the father pulling out a shotgun or something and chasing me into Dal Lake. Ha. I think Ayesha has a crush on me too. They’re so cute these girls. They really make me smile. They have good hearts. Truth be told though, if I were a kashmiri man, living here and not already given to someone I would definitely be after them. Ayesha wrote a short note in my diary, Adi and I played a game on paper, adding a letter to another letter in order to create words, however long the word created was equaled the number of points. It was very cute. Ayesha and I play fought. Ha. I was beginning to worry though that the affections being displayed would begin to worry the parents, even though it seemed very much like family fun. In the end, the mother was beginning to get tired, I gave sameer a hug as I knew I wouldn’t see him the next day, said good night to the others who would be around when I wake up, and came to the boat to look at the pics Erin had sent me earlier, read the emails I had gotten today finally after days of nothing and began typing. It was another good day. I’ll be sad to leave here, and not looking forward to the next 24 hours, but it has to be done. I feel too disconnected here, physically and mentally to work and to the rest of my trip and it’s damn cold ALL the time. I’ve spent more hours sitting on my ass on the hard floor than ever before. I’ve eaten more meals with my hands than I ever thought I would, had dinner in the tiny kitchen of the family, walked through the streets of srinigar feeling safe and open. I am so happy I made the decision to come up here. It has really given my trip a new light and given me a reason to move on. Yes, I have moments of feeling like I’m ready to go home, a hot shower, drinks with friends, the security of full internet access, heating at home, Duncan, Jad, Tito and all the other beautiful people, but I feel a certain peace here as well, shattered only when I think of work.

I feel like I’ll be genuinely missed here, like the family will bring me up in their conversations at times, maybe when they watch the video that I sing along to, Gomei Abbas, Taran taran. Haha. They always laugh at me when I try to sing it, or when I try to say anything in Kashmiri and manage to make it work. They think I’m cute and the mother calls me her son with a great big smile on a hardened face. It's a great site to behold.

Gotta wake up at 8 or so tomorrow, head out to see if I can catch a jeep to Jammu and hopefully I can grab a train there tomorrow rather than having to stay a night in Jammu. Didn’t really like Jammu much. Nothing much to see, nothing stands out about it. Anyway, we’ll see where I end up.

Appendix :
Wow, that was a weird experience. 2 in the morning, I hear my name outside the window and like a scene from a movie, it’s the local girl come to have a last moment with the roaming traveler brought into the home by the father. Man, it was sweet and daring on her part, knowing the consequences that could arise, but I have to admit, I got scared. For a few reasons, I know that she would get in serious trouble, I know I could get in serious trouble, and it’s not like I could quickly run away even if I wanted to. I’m surrounded by near freezing water in a foreign land, and word would travel quick if I was wanted for any reason. I’m still paranoid. Luckily she didn’t stay long but that doesn’t really mean anything. Fact is, all it would take was one shitty second and I would be seen as a defiler, regardless of whether something were to happen or not. Anyway, she came in, sat down, and said she wanted to see me once more before I left because she wouldn’t see me the next day. So, I said, well I have to give you your hug now then. Hoping to terminate this rather awkward moment I extended my hand to get her to stand up, gave her a hug, she pulled me in, gave me a kiss on the cheek and tried moving in a bit closer. Ha. Unreal. Never in my wildest dreams did I think this would end my kashmiri experience. I pulled away politely and slowly and with a smile reminded her that I had a girlfriend, to which she responded that she had a boyfriend too. I laughed. She laughed, but she understood. I told her I was happy she stopped by and that I would have been disappointed to not see her before I left. She stood there, hoping time would change my mind, but in truth, despite the fact that she’s a beautiful girl, and even aside from the fact that I see myself with Erin, though we have both agreed that we’re free to follow whatever paths we choose, this just felt wrong. I just felt a little trapped. In the end, she took my hand, gave it a squeeze and walked out. I followed her to the door, wished her good night, and she walked away. But wait, then when she gets close to her house, her neighbors dog starts barking. Man, my heart was racing, then, for whatever reasons, I couldn’t see cause of the darkness she hit something that rattled. OH MY GOD. As if that wasn’t enough, I wasn’t sure whether the 2 noises had woken anyone up, but I looked across the water to the neighboring houseboat and I saw a shadow, a man, just standing there. Dude, I thought I would die the next day in Kashmir. I walked back to my room, shut off the light so I could peer behind the curtain without being seen and it was still there. I walked over to the living room and looked again but now it seemed more like a simple trick of the eye played by light than a person. Phew. I can’t say I’m 100% sure, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a person. Sides I hadn’t seen anyone there since I’ve been here, it was really late, very cold and the person wasn’t smoking a cigarette so the chances of it being a person are pretty slim. Hopefully, I won’t die tomorrow for suspicion of lascivious acts. But also, i would never want the family to think of me that way, to have all the moments wiped away by the idea of me taking advantage of their innocent girl. Ugh.

All of this right as I was about to call it a night. I think I’m ready now tho for sure. Enough for one day. I'm not gonna sleep well tonight. I keep hearing noises, thinking someone's coming after me. A muslim girl sneeking out of the house for any reason sounds like a crime punishable by death to me right, for her and for whoever she snuck out to see. I'm so on edge right now. Every noise and my breathing stops so i can better hear. This is one of the few times I've felt in danger since I've been here.

Jan 8

2009-05-27T00:15:00.000-04:00

IN india, everything's a story. That's what makes travelers seem so interesting. They're not really that interesting, it's just impossible to have regular every day Canadian type experiences in India. Here's my little story, not so interesting but whatever.

So, ya, hadn't showered in 5 or more days. Lost count, in fact I haven't showered since I was with my parents, but I've done the bucket type thing or more accurately kneeling down and using the lower faucets to clean myself a few times, but since delhi I hadn't touched water. The jammu bathroom on the way to srinigar was not inspiring and there was no hot water, and no way i was gonna bathe in srinigar cause it was freezing, the tub was nasty, fuck that. But it didn't bother me all that much, but back in Jammu now, I wanted a shower. I asked the guy if I'd get one for the 300rs and he said yes. So, i finally make my way to a long awaited hot shower in a nasty lil bathroom. I'll just close my eyes and think of england i was thinking. I get undressed step into the bathroom, as the whole bathroom is a shower, it's not like there's a designated shower area, it's just a showerhead sticking out of the wall right. I hate that. The whole bathroom is wet for days, in the case of being up in the north where it's cold. Anyway, fuck it. FUCK IT. I go to turn on the hot water and boom. There's no fucking knob. It must have brokn off. Ugh.I try some Macgyver-esque attempts but nothing, it's too slippery and too tight. So I have to get dressed, I'm pissed by now, and get someone to give me some fucking pliers so I can turn this fucking thing. Anyway, they had no idea what I was talking about, so i asked one of em to come up, they did, he understood, came back a few minutes with pliers, problem solved. Nice. Ok, so time for my shower, I open the hot water full. The old ass rusted fucking showerhead pushes out 5 needle sized lines, I won't even say sprays of water. Lines of water. No real strength to them but it's hot. Fine, wutever. So I take my shower. And you know what, I actually begin to enjoy it. But the whole time I'm thinking of home and how lucky we are for all these little things. A simple thing like a shower. I can't imagine what the kashmiri family would do for one week living in my place. They would never leave. They would stay in, watch tv, be amazed by the fridge, frolic in the tub, spend hours under the shower, cook crazy meals and then of course eat with their hands, but hey, you can't expect that to change, nor should it. Actually eating with hands is kinda cool. Today was my 5th day of doing that, or maybe 4th. Did it in a restaurant today for the second time. People couldn't quite figure me out i think. They see me walk in, i look like a kashmiri but backpack and clothes say otherwise. I sit and order and now they can tell i'm not kashmiri, but when the food arrives, i eat with my hands. Ha. I could see them watching me and asking each other questions, or making comments, definitely making fun of me too. Hehe. I'm not used to having eyes on me all the time, but it happens often in this place. Anyway, I'm clean. I'm clean and I'm warm and in clean clothes and it's beautiful. I've already gotten used to my soiled surroundings and imagine a good sleep. I've set up my sleeping arrangement and am lying in bed finishing off my little journal for the day. Hmm. See, that wasn't really a story at all was it. Anti-cimactic in fact. But that's cause I truly suck at telling stories. IN the hands of the right person, and a small twist at the end, and this would have been a fun story for a traveler to tell a newbie, no? I'll have to add my travel back to Jammu from Srinigar tomorrow. I can't do it now.

Appendix:

So, my day yesterday. Woke up early, after not really sleeping much, got dressed, blah blah, said bye to the family, all of them except for Bilal, who wasn't around, and went on my way. Take a rickshaw to the Somu. I get there, was quoted 450, brought them down to 400, and then realized everyone was paying 3. Fucking hell. Again. I gotta find a way to change this getting jacked thing. I should just take my time fuck. I’m trying. Anyway, it wasn’t nearly as cold this time, but I was stuck in the back, wedged in with 3 other guys. I had no real view and no real way to take pics, not that it mattered since it was rainy and foggy the whole time. Anyway, we seemed to make good time, but towards the end it just dragged on and we found out the road got closed only a couple hours after we had gotten on it, but it was ok as it was closed behind us and not in front. Thank god. As much as I hated leaving, I just felt like I couldn’t stay there anymore. I needed out.

The view was no where as striking as it had been on the way there, the time when I lost all the images. Fuck. But it was ok, I had gotten what I needed and I left satisfied but drained and still lonely. It would get worse as it seems a little while later, but not having seen or talked to another foreigner, was definitely something that colored my experience, both good and bad. Jammu, got in, went straight to the hotel, dropped my bag, went to the net café, sent out some work, lost a client, didn’t care too much, spoke to jad, got some worrying news bout finances, then went to the hotel to end the long day, stopping off for food at a kashmiri meat shop. Ate with my hands, got strange looks, carried on. Got to my room, showered for the first time in ages, and crashed a couple hours later.

Jan 9

2009-05-26T00:14:00.000-04:00

Jan 10

2009-05-24T00:16:00.000-04:00

My first day of singledom. It had it’s ups and downs as would be expected. Some moments I found myself relieved and looking forward to the freedom that I’ve always enjoyed, the lack of responsibility, the flights of fancy; other moments, I was filled with anger and resentment, questions, and a little bit of worry. I suspect many more days will pass with this particular cocktail of emotions running through me. But, all in all it wasn’t so bad. Did very little today. I’m calling these days, work days, where I wake up, get online, take a break, get online again. That’s pretty much all I did except for walking around in search of a means of getting an airtel sim card, which failed after numerous run-ins with the brick wall of Indian bureaucracy, but in the end, Indian flexibility won and I found someone able to cut thru the tape and get me what I needed. It wasn’t cheap though, but in the long run it’ll save me quite a bit. So, other than the sights seen during my walk, the time spent at the net café with a cool young sikh who’ll share his life story with anyone, I can’t really say all that much. Maybe something will come to me a bit later. For now, I’m gonna try and get some new music on my phone, take a much needed crap, maybe a shower, and see whether I can get to sleep early tonight. I doubt it, but weirder things have happened. Would be nice maybe to chill with some peeps, but more and more I’m realizing that I probably won’t really have any significant contact with anyone till I hit the south, and most probably only in Goa, where people tend to stay longer. I'll find out soon enough.

Might take off with a guy I met here from France who seems pretty interesting, photographers working on a project about Sikhs. Seems to know quite a bit about it and has some interesting things to say. He’s headed off to some small town not too far from the Pakistani border. I don’t know if work will permit and quite honestly, I’m just tired of all the moving, constantly constantly moving. It’s hard. But I might take him up on the offer. He seems to be someone who goes off the beaten paths in search of the shots and info he needs, and might be an interesting companion for a couple days.

I’ve been talking mainly bout my daily routine, not much about the people and places I’ve seen. I guess it’s easier to just spit out fact rather than formulate opinions and make coherent and personally accurate observations. But maybe I should try that a bit here.

I had said kashmiris were a little intimidating, but seemed to be a little warmer strangely than the Indians I had met up to then, and of course these are generalizations, but that doesn’t mean Kashmiris were at all warm, just less cold. Yes, they had the whole hospitality aspect of their culture, come in, have a tea, and that’s great, but without smiles, without interest, it lacks impact. And to be honest, for the most part there was very little of the come in and have some tea there anyway. Things have been hard for them, and its infiltrated their mentalities I think but it hasn’t overshadowed them. They seem like proud people, strong people, but also serious people. Sure they laugh, but there a more serious undertone to their interactions. That seriousness also plays into the drabness of their clothing, the lack of color that seems to be representative of their farons. Only ladies, like anti-peacocks break that pattern and even then, not very often. Even their Kasmiri Chai, is salty where Indian Chai is sweet. Perhaps more pragmatic out of need, they simply feel different, with different architecture to line their streets, a different language to express their thoughts, and a different outlook to make them Kashmiri and nothing else.

In contrast, the warrior culture of Punjabi Sikhs, seems so much more docile, so much warmer, colorful, jovial, fun, charismatic. It’s strange that they used to be warriors. They seem so peaceful, so welcoming. Where is the warrior in them? What I expected from Sikhs in their home territory, is quite different from what I see around me. Even their Gurdwaras seem to exemplify openness, giving, generosity, pride. Of all the people I’ve yet met, these are by far the most approachable. I’ve asked more people here for directions than anywhere else. I’ve been touted far less than anywhere less, maybe all but Kashmir, but it’s hard to tell as it was dead season. But here, the food can be free, lodging can be free, outside the gurdwara, a man sat me down out of nowhere, said hi, told me to sit, then made tea for me and a bunch of Sikhs who had exited the temple at 11 at night. Sat us down, they got really close to me, made fun of me in Punjabi, relentlessly while I understood nothing, then upon finishing their tea, got up and left. All free. It was the first time I had seen that. Inside I would have understood, but outside seemed strange. Sure the day before I had free food in the temple, and that in and of itself is cool, thousands of people every day are offered free food. How can that be? They have gurdwaras all over the place, all free to pilgrims, of any faith open enough to be a part of it and respect the customs. It’s a beautiful thing. I can’t tell you how they can afford it, but it seems to work. They’re always laughing, telling jokes, poking fun. They seem so much more lighthearted and yet, upon first glance, the apparent stoic traditionalism represented by the turban, make them seem like serious people, after all anyone so devout as to wear something so overt has to be a serious person, no? Well, the answer should be clear to you by now.

Amritsar’s the cleanest city I’ve seen yet. There seems to be a different kind of dynamic here. Maybe the plenitude of temples means people have to respect the sanctity of the area around it, or maybe more people are hired to clean up here than elsewhere, but even the more hidden parts of the city seem much cleaner. It still has all the color of the rest of india, but it’s not drenched with urine, or covered in heaps of garbage. The streets, though just as loud seem a bit more organized, more thought out, more space, less vehicular traffic, more pedestrian priority. The turbans add a constant streak of color to the streets and the women tend to reflect that with their attire as well, something between a salwar camis and a more modern version of haute couture. Sikhs are also by far the most stylish Indians I’ve encountered. In essence, they seem to have an air of pride to them that has so far been unmatched in any other Indian cultures I’ve come across. And that pride gives them the ability to be warmer, cleaner, more generous, and more distinguished. I can’t speak for the rest of Punjab, and hopefully the smaller town of Mukstar will give me a wider perspective, but it seems to be a "better" version of India.

I have to go back and spend some time in the presence of the temple itself tomorrow. I hope it’s not so cold, and I hope my cold is better cause it’s a pain in the ass to have to chase the liquids running from my nose all day long. I have no idea where the liquids are coming from cause I’ve been drinking so little lately. My kidneys can’t be very happy with me.

Jan 11

2009-05-23T00:18:00.000-04:00

Day 3 in Amrtisar. I’ve seen very little of the city. I’ve even seen very little of the temple itself. I’m not particularly interested, to be honest, but I will try to spend some time tomorrow there in silent contemplation and meditation. I’m looking forward to it. In the meantime, I’ve pretty much spent my time here at the net café, catching up on work, dealing or trying to deal with the Erin issue, and taking occasional walks around the area, even got lost for about 10 minutes today, which was a first for me. It was interesting, but at no point even nearly threatening. Not being able to smoke in the vicinity of the temple has meant that I’ve had to walk around to find a spot far enough where I wouldn’t be sneered at or felt to be disrespectful. My net café buddy’s girlfriend came in today. A small Japanese woman who hardly speaks any English. How they hooked up I can’t quite tell, but he has good energy and probably talks enough for both of them, and she’s cute so they may seem an odd couple but they make me smile. He’s traveled around a lot and plans on taking her to a few places while she’s here, possibly even Shimla.

I’m back at the dorms, got a bottle of water, first in the past few days. My body I’m sure is grateful, though I feel no different. It seems I’m somehow capable of going very long periods without water. I can’t explain it. Bathroom moments are few and far between as well. Maybe 2 pisses per day, 1 shit every 3 or so days. Sometimes, 5 days go by before I need to crap. One meal a day on average since I left the family. I feel no different.

While typing this I was interrupted, or I should say I attracted one of the sikh guards who, like all Indians being interested in technology, felt compelled to take a look, ask all the same questions, how much in rupees? So I took it upon myself to find out a bit about him, while he asked a bit about me. Forgot his name tho, maybe kulmar jeet. Not sure. Anyway, he’s 32 but looks like he’s 45. Married, as they all are and it’s always the second question after “what country?” 2 kids, 5 and 3. 1 brother, 2 sisters, all of whom are married. He works here 30 days at a time, then 30 days off, which he uses to return home and do some farming. I guess he farms wheat since he said he makes chapatti. His English was poor of course, and he didn’t seem to be the brightest man, pretty trepidacious(wrong word but you know what I mean), but that may have just been due to the English factor. Seems like a nice guy. Saw Kate here again tonight. I think it’s her 4th night. I asked for permission from Kulmar to stay one more night and it was granted. You're only supposed to stay a max of 3 days according to the rules of the gurwara. Makes sense, it's not social housing just a place to accommodate pilgrims and travelers for a short while. Kate I met the day I got here. After disembarking from the train and being rushed onto the free bus to the temple, she came on a few minutes later as it waited in the station before taking off. The guys, seeing that we were both foreigners, pretty much forced us to speak to each other. It was pretty funny;, those guys were pretty funny. So, she’s Aussy, been in Nepal for 2 months, and has come straight from there to Amritsar. Seems like an interesting person who’s absorbed quite a bit in terms of information while she’s been here, quite in contrast with me. I find most people are managing to absorb more. Maybe it’s cause they’ve been here longer, maybe they just have different priorities and more authentic experiences, I don’t know. I mostly don’t care, but I do find myself a bit envious. I don’t know how they do it. I can’t remember any names, any words. Maybe it’s cause since being here I’ve been exposed to 3 different languages, not to mention dialects, which I couldn’t tell anyway, but between Kashmiri, Punjabi, and Hindi, I’m completely lost. I’m not sure I’m really trying either. I started writing some words down, but I don’t know which are which anymore. I’ve since given up. Hell, let that be their experience, mine is different. I’m not touring the ruins or the temples, or the forts, I’m just floating on the breeze that is India, and wherever I’m lead I will take in with as much pleasure as I’m capable of. This is my reality and I am getting what I expected, even if I’m not making all the regular tourist stops, but really, I’m not too far from that either. But I expect more from the south and even from Rajasthan. It does suck that I have to work.

Jan 12

2009-05-22T00:19:00.000-04:00

Last day in Amritsar. I decided against staying in Punjab and travelling with Merin, the French dude, and will instead travel with this Aussy chick and another UK bloque. We’ll go by bus, which will be my first, to Bikaner. I have no idea what I’ll be doing there, or how long I’ll stay, but it’s further south which will hopefully mean warmer and I’ll actually have a couple travel companions which should be interesting. I’ll figure out where I want to go from there. So, I only have a few more hours of fluorescent turbans and unequalled Indian warmth and hospitality. Even the people who want to sell you something here do so with a smile and never aggressively, it’s such a welcomed change. Part of me would like to stay, but I am a little bored, there’s really nowhere to just sit and chill and watch the world go by, I’ve already had my meditation at the golden temple and I feel, it’s best for me to find somewhere else to park my ass for a few days, or just one. Hopefully moving will get my mind off Erin too and see what the deal is within me with that. So, another 12 hour journey ahead. It seems since 08 that I’ve done nothing but spend time in random conveyances, but it’s the only way to do it and I have to see as much as I can and keep heading south. Had short conversations with a lot of foreigners here, this hostel seems to accommodate 1000s of foreign tourists every year, all for free. Hundreds of thousands more sleep in the Indian quarters and just about anywhere that can accommodate a person lying down covered in all kinds of warm hues, blankets of them like waves on the ocean cover the floors at night, housing countless Sikhs. I still don’t understand how it all works, but it’s a nice thing to see. I know that at least they encourage all travelers who stay or visit to make a donation. And they even have a recommended minimum amount, but they don't enforce it.

Jan 13

This is what India is all about! Wow, what a change in vibe and overall appreciation of things in the past few days. I have to admit, I was a little worried, things were great from an adventure perspective, but things felt a little empty, devoid of real contact, the ability to share with anyone some of the thoughts and experiences absent from the stage, now, it feels like things are completely different. This, I love, and today, I feel like I could do this for many more months. India feels wide open, as I was hoping it would and I feel like I just don’t have enough time for the first time since I’ve been here. What a great feeling, and to know that I already have these experiences, physically cold as they may have been, under my belt as I march on, is a comforting feeling. But, as I look ahead, I see a new India opening up before me and it’s spectacular.

So what’s the difference? Well, it started in Amritsar, which though I did little else but work and chat, connect with the world I left back home and not much of it in a positive context, I managed to walk around a bit and get a feel for things, a feel very much different from what I had seen and experienced anywhere else before. The people were warmer, they smiled, they said hello, they exuded a warmth I hadn’t seen prior and it felt so much better. I meditated in the golden temple, I ate free dal and rice, I stayed for free in a comfortable hostel and there I met a bunch of people, albeit sharing very little with them of substance, but it was contact nonetheless and exposure to others doing something relatively similar. That was such a welcomed and needed thing, but I had no idea it was just the beginning, I didn’t know what was possible. Today, I got a glimpse. Kate has been a great travel companion. Open, talkative without being overbearing, similar in curiosities, similar in budget, experienced, albeit in a different region, namely Nepal, and easy going. It’s a good combination and though I don’t think we’ll be traveling anywhere else together, this short stint has given me hope that there could be more like her. So, we traveled by bus from Amritsar to here, me Kate and David. Kate and I sat next to each other, David had his sleeper bunk and we hardly saw him again. Kate and I talked, then she fell asleep, then I tried and failed, blah blah, I finally managed to get close enough to be refreshed enough not to be tired all day. It worked. We got to Bikaner after enjoying a sunrise from the bus, seeing the desert edge spread out before us, and exchanging more words and excitement. It was cool. We were both planning on staying at the same place, so we decided to come together and found a hut available and chose to share it to save money and for the hell of it. Then we hung out in the courtyard of this great little place, talked, absorbed the rising sun that managed to fill me up with its warmth and bring sweat to my brow. It was glorious as she put it in her Aussy accent. We had a little something to eat, made arrangements to be picked up by touktouk and took off for the camel Research Center, where we hoped to find a cavalcade as the LP put it, of camels coming in from pasture. It was a joke, and pretty much a waste of time, though I met a large group of older Canadian jewish ladies who seemed to have no business in India, but we talked a few minutes and it was also nice contact. I had 2 camel saffron ice creams (ya, camel milk ice cream made with saffron, yellow in color and it was awesome) kate had one and remainder of the milk one of the ladies was about to throw out after tasting, and we took off for the old city. That was great. We got a free guide, walked through the beautiful markets, the old narrow corridors, the spacious alleys and roads of the old city where the havellis (old raja mansions of sorts) are and even got a tour of a heritage hotel, converted from a havelli and it was absolutely glorious. Something to be experienced in my opinion if one has the money. Our guide was pretty cool, we got to see a Jain temple, walked some more, got to walk through the spice market. All was great. Came back to the hut, found Sylvain one of the French dudes who was part of the group of 4 frenchies staying here and we got to talking in French, all 3 of us, me Kate and Sylvain, and then the other 3 showed up and we had a good old time exchanging stories as the night got colder. Had my first charas (indian pott) experience, which was soo mild but nice and smooth and soon after, it was over and we all called it a night, running from the cold desert night air. Now, recharged by all this and by the unexpected warmth of the people in the city, all saying hello, all smiling, all acknowledging your presence in a positive way, I feel like I can relax and enjoy what’s to come, knowing there will be rough days, but that there can be some great ones too and I’m more ready than ever. Rajasthan is great so far and from what I hear is like this all throughout. Kate’s been fun, the new group of frenchies rock, (Linadine reminds me of lulu so much, it makes me smile) and I feel awesome. This is gonna be all that I wanted from India and more and I can’t wait. Tomorrow, grab some more heat, walk around and video the old city and markets, which are different and cleaner and more open and organized than any other I’ve seen so far, and see where the day takes me, or us.

For now, I’m left with a feeling of satisfaction, hope, and excitement. I’ll fill you in on the details of the city tomorrow I hope.

Jan 14

2009-05-21T00:35:00.008-04:00

Woke up after a nice sleep. Got up around 12 or so. I was warm, sleeping bag, my kamul, and a nice thick comforter. It was great. Sun was shining, so I went out and joined the French group and Kate outside for a smoke and some chai. Sat there in my hospital pants and my t-shirt. Ah. What a day. There was no electricity so I couldn’t take my shower but I didn’t care. I’d wait for the power to come back. Meanwhile, I was just lapping up the heat. Yes, I could do this.
Eventually the power came back on, I bathed, using the little hot water I was provided and went back outside. Eventually I went out looking to get my phone time recharged and didn’t have much luck but was told where to go. Ugh. So, I went, after returning here to make sure Kate wasn’t locked out. I left my keys and therefore compass here. That was a mistake I would later pay for, in time and money. But I took off by foot, and after making a 20 minute circle, took a rickshaw. Got to the Airtel office and after an hour it became obvious they couldn’t fix a couple issues associated with my account. Fucking hell. Not only did I pay 200 rs for only 100rs of talk time, which is bullshit, but I still have to pay roaming and on top of that, I’m being charged for a service I never signed up for. So, in the end, I have 75 Rs for the 200 I paid. This is unacceptable and I have to go back to have it taken care of tomorrow. This is the bullshit of india, bullshit policies, hidden bullshit, and of course, the communication issue that I have to deal with when trying to have a problem resolved. I was not happy, but hopefully tomorrow will be better. I took off from there and headed in the right direction but it didn’t take long before I got lost. Stopped a couple touktouks but they had no idea what I was saying. A third took me half a click and stopped to let the train pass and I got out, and headed in the same direction, but it was wrong. By the time I got the third I had no idea where I was anymore and he brought me to the Laxminath Hotel not temple. Ugh. Anyway, long story short, I made it, but it cost me 45Rs. I’m in bed, Erin has just called me, it cost me 50Rs for 30 minutes due to roaming, so after spending 200Rs today to recharge the phone, I’m now left with 20. This is such fucking bullshit. I’m pissed.

The conversation with Erin didn’t flow too well. I kinda feel like I’m back where I was many months ago, if not over a year ago, with just nothing to say, no connection to feed on. I’m sure she’s feeling it too and though she made no mention of it, it’s only going to be a matter of time before she makes an issue out of it, but she doesn’t even realize that she’s made absolutely no effort to try to reconnect. Sure she calls, preferring to spend money as a show of effort than take the time to write me or do anything that requires thought and creativity. I’m starting to lose hope. It feels like all she wanted was to regain my favor, feel the relief of not being hated by me, feel like I was going to forgive her, and since then, she’s begun to relax and has done nothing to change anything. It’s frustrating. It’s as though she’s waiting on me to make the first move, to show her that I’m opening up again, completely oblivious to the fact that I’m just incapable of doing that from where I am in my mind and heart right now without some gesture. She did what she did and now, it’s as though she’s forgotten its effect on me and will shortly begin to feel like I owe her a show of affection. Unbelievable. Not one effort. A short email with a link today, as though to say, see I’m thinking of you, I’m fighting for you. Fucking hell. Just days ago, she said she’d do anything and since then I’ve not received one email of substance. I don’t know if we’ll ever manage to be together again. This has shown me something significant about her that I think is fundamentally incompatible. When you say something do it, don’t just talk it. When my weakness and mistake was made visible and came out to haunt me and kill us, I rushed in, tourniquet in hand, syringe by my side, all the dressings and meds needed to fix up a dying body and I did everything in my power to keep it alive. She’s done nothing but make some phone calls, plead a bit, insist that it wasn’t as big a deal as I was making it out to be, and request that I let it go and that I had to forgive her. Sounds so simple to her. I’m getting tired of this shit, and every day that passes I drift further away, as she stands idly by on an island in the middle of the atlantic. I’m scared for us, but I just don’t know how much I care anymore and the longer I feel this way, the more I’ll look out at the world and begin to see potential in me and in others. But this is life, beauty is not constant, it comes into your life, and flows out, it gets tarnished or taken, it fades away or is destroyed, and every once in a very long while, you find one that changes while it’s in your presence, never loses its beauty but changes into different forms of beauty, always radiant, but always radiating something new. That’s what I want. That’s what I’m gonna find for myself, because despite my weaknesses and mistakes, failures and inadequacies, I can have it and I can appreciate it, and I believe someone out there will appreciate me and be willing to make the efforts necessary, the efforts I’d be willing to make to see my changes as beauty and nothing else.

I’m tired. Time for a movie. I’ll see you tomorrow and try to go over the uniqueness of Bikaner and its people.

Jan 16

2009-05-20T00:42:00.013-04:00

Didn’t have the opportunity to write yesterday. An uneventful day in any event, shortly after getting up and like a reptile warming up in the sun to gain the energy needed I went out to get this phone issue resolved. I did so, finally, though I’m not sure it’s all taken care of just yet, which reminds me that I need to take care of that. In the end, I did manage to get equivalent talk time to the money I paid, which was quite a triumph, but it required considerable time. The other 2 issues I’m still waiting on. Anyway, after that I decided I could find my way back and walk and I did, stopping to use an internet café for a couple hours, doing some work. It all worked out well. Got back home and did some more work and got online, did some photoshop work for the son of the woman we’re staying with and that was pretty much my day. During the night Kate, who’s decided she’ll tag along for my pushkar and Udaipur portions of the trip got sick and had to run to the bathroom for a puke session. Other than that, nothing of interest happened yesterday, but I managed to get a few things done and do some relaxing in the sun. I can’t complain. Bikaner has been treating me well.

So, why is Bikaner so different. Well for one, it’s small by Indian standards. 500,000 or so people. The old city is dotted and peppered with Havellis, old merchant homes, richly ornate, large, multi-roomed, and quite beautiful. Today they stand vacated, with only a couple people living there to keep watch for the families that own the homes but have since moved on to other cities. So, much of the old city is deserted which is an interesting thing to behold in India, empty streets, little noise, no touktouks. So, that in addition to some great markets, brilliant in color as Rajasthan is, despite the desert-like scenery, are really clean by Indian standards, really well organized, the merchandise presented in a way that really brings out the products. The vegetables here look like candy they are laid out so well. And the market, unlike many other towns, are divided into sections, spice section, vegetable section, it’s all quite beautiful. I am hoping to have a chance to get a few photos or video of it as I didn’t manage the last time I was there.

Then of course was the Laxminath Jain Temple, richly painted, full of color and designed in typical Jain fashion with a holy man keeping watch. It was the end of our journey with our voluntary guide but nonetheless it was interesting to see. That was our first day here. Since, we’ve done little but bask in the sun, eat, talk, walk around, each person doing his/her own thing, the French crew often going out for a couple hours at a time, sometimes all together, sometimes in groups of 2, sometime all but one leaving. They seem to have a good perspective on traveling, taking their time in the places they visit to get to know the town well and enjoy the little things, the finer things, each other. It was a nice change from the in and out mentality of many travelers, or the opposite, staying in one place for 7 months for a thesis or personal project. They’ll be here another 2 or 3 months if they can afford it. They’ve been a fun group to meet and hang with, providing me with my first charas opportunity, which was so chill and smooth and nice I almost couldn’t tell I was stoned and didn’t really care, but I was happy.

This has been Bikaner. Tomorrow Kate and I leave for Pushkar by way of Ajmer. Hopefully we’ll have the chance to see the Rat temple before we leave, and hopefully I’ll have my phone issue taken care of by then too. But, my memories of Bikaner, its wide streets, sparse population, warm people all saying Hellooo and asking nothing of you, has continued to feed this feeling of hope that the rest of my trip will be full of wonder and pleasure, even if occasionally frustrating.

Appendix:

Still the 16th. In the courtyard in pitch black. The French crew has left, Kate is asleep and there’s no one left in the huts to keep me entertained, so I turn to you my lone friend to give me an objective in the hopes something of substance will come of my solitary moment. Music ringing in my head from the laptop running on its small but still reliable battery. It’s not so cold tonight. Near clear skies, moon is shining through the thin layer of weak clouds. It’s a nice night. Even the dogs seem to be enjoying it as their barks are few and far between. It’s as quiet as an Indian city can get. Ah, and there’s the barking to prove that I’ve spoken too soon. Music is bringing me so much peace and energy at the same time. Fire 1, fire 1, fire 2. It may be time for a cigarette. A drink would be great right now too. Soon, I’ll be in an area that has more to offer in terms of intoxication, but I can’t complain in the presence of all of this. I don’t think I’ll stay long, but a little note to say this is a great moment should suffice. I’ll let the music and a smoke do the rest. So, until tomorrow, rest well.

Jan 17

It was time to leave Bikaner. Woke up at 8:30 to be sure we were checked out by the required 9am. Sat around the courtyard for hours, got online, paid the bill, decided to leave for 3. It was a lazy day, but it was warm and other than an hour or so of work, it was pleasant. But 2:30, it was time to leave and we made our way by touk-touk to the government bus stand, where we had to get a ticket for 4 to Pushkar. It would be a 7 hour ride and we’d get there round 11. Kate and I strapped the backpacks onto the roof of the bus, got in, and made our way out of Bikaner. Time would pass quickly, one conversation after another about geology, physics, even a little biology, it all flowed pretty well and I enjoyed the talks, especially with someone who had studied some if not all of these subjects in university. So, 7 hours came and went and we arrived in Pushkar late at night, not a touktouk in site, but it didn’t matter, this little town of 17,000 was small enough to walk from one end to the other in minutes, even with our 60+ pounds of gear. Walking through the half asleep town, it became quickly apparent, that for every Indian we saw awake, there were 3 foreigners. I had never seen so many foreigners per capita. It was strange and a little exciting. A group sat outside a restaurant playing chess and rolling something up, hippy looking, with one of the men sporting a long grey beard, but as if that weren’t enough, I heard for the first time a restaurant playing something other than Indian music, and the sound was very familiar, very familiar, yes, yes, it was shpongle. I was in love. This town had something special. We continued on to our hotel after some basic directions from the restaurant owner and got to a closed hotel. But have no fear, though we could see someone sleeping on a cot just on the other side of the metal gate, we couldn’t wake him, his Indian sleeping abilities being too much for our measly gate banging skills. We eventually pried the doors open and after another attempt at waking him, we wandered in to find someone who could check us in. We got to the restaurant area, put our bags down and went to find someone. 2 foreigners were sitting at one of the tables in the open courtyard that is the restaurant. Ludivine had told me about this place but I had no idea what to expect and so far, it had a great vibe, people were in their rooms but still up as I could hear music coming from different apartments. We asked the 2 at the table if they knew who we could ask to get checked in, they pointed us in the right direction and long story, well, not so long story short, we got a room. Put our stuff in, Kate took a shower, I decided to make new friends and went downstairs to the restaurant again and asked if I could join them. It was 12 by then. We chatted a while, they’re not traveling together but have met up many times, she from Israel, he from Italy, Jerusalem and Milano. Seemed pretty cool. But that done, it was time to get cleaned. I went back up and took the best shower I had had up to then in 2008. It was warm, then eventually hot and the pressure was great, the bathroom felt clean enough that I didn’t have the feeling of being disgusted while I was showering. What a wonderful place this Pushkar is. All this within an hour of getting here, shpongle to greet me, lots of foreigners lounging about, a couple new ones to talk to, a clean room, a great shower, and power. Well, as if it weren’t enough, I for the first time was in my t-shirt at night. 1 month in India and this was my first 1 layer night. Wow! I’m in heaven.

This is a tiny little town, colorful at night, and though all the shops are closed, it seems like it has a life ready to start anew in the morning, colors to dazzle. All the streets are lined with hotels, a little dusty town with a couple temples that’s somehow become a little haven for tourists, attracting them from all corners of India and the world. I don’t yet know why, but so far I can’t see why not. There are rumours of annoyances concerning being hassled, little tricks the locals have developed to take advantage of our poor souls, but that’s yet to be seen. Up to now, it’s been 2 little roads that seem to go nowhere until the end where they take a sharp 90 degree turn in just one direction, maybe splits every once in a while. But that was it. There’s a Vishnu temple here with a bunch of Indians sleeping outside it, there are ghats which I haven’t yet seen, who knows what else awaits my open eyes. So far, all I can say is, it just keeps getting better and better. Amritsar was the beginning of a completely different Indian experience for me. Sure my travels started with Srinigar and Jammu, and as cherished as Srinigar was for me, as unique as it may have been, I wasn’t left with the feeling of hope that I began to feel in Amritsar and that really blossomed in Bikaner. But now, I feel like, having the uniqueness and authenticity of Srinigar under my belt and the warmth of Punjab and Rajasthan to warm the soul that I’m ready for endless travels throughout this land. I’m open to all the colors, the hardships, the pains, the problems, the wonderful gifts, the loneliness, the encounters, the conversations, the hellos, the touts, the food, the lack of meat, the heat, even the cold.

A week ago I had no real plan, and today still I have none save for the leaning towards making Udaipur my next stop, but I had no idea I would have gone to Bikaner, which I hadn’t even heard of, and then I met Kate. Once in Bikaner, I had no idea I’d come to Pushkar though I had certainly considered it and circled it on the map as a potential destination, and then I met the French group and Ludivine who loved it and here I am. Sure I may end up in Udaipur next, or Bundi, or somewhere completely different, and I don’t care anymore. I’m warm right now, I’m clean, I’m comfortable and I’m energized, and I realize more than ever that everywhere is a surprise waiting to be unwrapped. There’s still so much to see, so much to do. Work still plagues my mind but all in all, this is what I’ve been wanting and it feels good to do a mixture of discovering and relaxing, soaking in the warmth of the sun as well as the sights of these locations and its people. So, with that I’ll leave this little journal till tomorrow and let you know how Pushkar looks in the day time and what little adventures I’ve been thrust into.