February 7, 2008
So now I am back in Delhi. I have a flight at 2:00 AM. I went by a shop I had been at last time – I had ordered a very simple dress made – so I picked that up. I think I am going to try and make my way to the national museum.
After laughing in the faces of two drivers who quoted me prices for the drive to the museum that were 6 and 3 times the actual price. I went to the pre-paid auto rickshaw booth. I finally made it down to the museum. Unfortunately, the one exhibit I would have liked to have seen most was closed – jewelry. Oh well – the rest of it was interesting. The extent to which this country is run down has no bounds. If someone would simply take a soapy towel to the base boards and corners, it would make a world of difference. With all the poverty and unemployment – how few rupees could you get away paying someone to clean – collect garbage in the streets. That is something that is so frustrating – how complacent residences are about throwing trash on the ground. The guy that the 1st German woman (Katerina) and I met laughed at us because we carried our trash around with us until we could find some kind of receptacle. I have had a few people say to me – “Oh just drop it – it is India “ yeah well that is the problem. They could probably develop a highly efficient collection system, but until the people changed it would not matter.
The museum was okay – a decent way to kill a few hours – but rather disappointing. For a place with such a long and involved history, the museum was rather dull. I found the same to be true of the armory exhibit at the City Palace in Jaipur. They had all this old stuff and so they threw it on the walls and in cases with little rhyme or reason.
Basically I have been puttsing round the old section of town killing time until I will meet my driver (Raj) from the last time. I am going to head out to the airport insanely early. Wow, it feels like forever (I guess it is better then the time passing too fast.) It also feels strange that when I say I am going home I am not talking about the U.S. What is also rather unnerving is that I am now in my sixth month of Korea. I am almost half way through my contract. This is where I feel time slipping through my fingers. When I get back I need to sit down and make a list of what I want to do. I will do that after I get all this onto the blog. I am sitting in that tiny café that Katerina, Haeng Min and I were in my last night in Delhi before Agra. I really like this place, it is so tiny and the service is slow even for India, but you never know who will sit down beside you. I just finished a great conversation with a couple from Turkey. I amt tired and have no more patience to haggle and argue with drivers and shop owners, but I am sad about going.
10:24 PM
Flying out of Delhi airport. They are very thorough. Forget not going to the gate if you do not have a ticket. You cannot enter the airport without having your passport and ticket (or e-ticket). Then you go through the first line of security. Anything you want with you in the cabin- you have to get out of your bag now. They x-ray your bag and then bind it with a thick plastic zip-tie sort of thing. At least you know no one else is getting into our bag. Then you check in with your airline and then immigration. Countries do not care when you leave their country so it went quickly. Now I am sitting in purgatory – I am here so early I cannot proceed through the next security check. I am in a minimal wasteland of duty free shops and a Subway.
My gate has been assigned. I am through the second wave of security. It is funny – there is a separate metal detector for women to walk through. Once you walk through it, you then go into a little cubicle where a female guard scans you with a hand metal detector. I know why it is there, but the private female search room amuses me. At this point I just want to go to sleep. I got up at 3:30 AM this morning to catch the 5 AM train to Delhi. I want to sleep and go home and play with my saris.
Alright so what are my over all impressions of India? Was it what I expected? Was I disappointed at all?
Well, first off, time is cruel. These beautiful palaces, tombs, and mosques are so impressive. You cannot help but be in awe of the people who built them, yet you walk outside their walls and you are faced with a place that is falling apart. The dirt, the trash, the scams, the poverty, the begging, the children begging, the adults who are standing there pushing the child to beg, the noise, the traffic you never could imagine, the livestock everywhere, the dead livestock in the open sewers with the man pissing into it. Yet there are the towers, the minarets, the gates, the forts, the amazingly colorful birds, the smell of incense and spices that makes you dizzy, makes you smile and then it is gone, the soft flow of brightly colored fabric of some of the most beautiful women you will ever see.
I am very glad I came, and I am already thinking about what I will do if I get to come back again. The part that did disappoint me was the people. Out of all the people I cam in contact with, I only felt I could trust six. Everyone else oozed with double talk and dishonesty. As much as I liked Jaipur – I was so happy to get out of there. I was becoming so annoyed with anyone who spoke to me. It was all so predictable.
1) What country are you from? (even if I answered I started lying. You could hear the $$ signs when I said U.S.)
2) What is your name? (make something up or deflect by asking them theirs and still not give them yours)
3) Your first time in India? (code for I want to see how green and gullible you are.)
4) How long have you been in India? (same as #3 – can be used in place of #3 or in conjunction with #3)
5) Are you married or single? (never say single even if you are)
6) Are you traveling alone? (never say you are – always be on you way to meet friends)
7) How long will you be in India? (between this question and #4 I want to figure out how much money you might have with you)
8) a) Oh come let me show you my shop/ cousin’s shop/ brother’s shop.
b) Oh where are you going – I can get you a rickshaw.
a/b1 ) oh not I can get you a good price.
9) (can come in at anytime – especially early on if you won’t talk to them)
Why? What you do not like Indian people? Why do Western people not like to talk to Indian people? You do not understand we are just wanting to know. Many Indian people do not have good education so they do not know about these places and they want to learn?
(Guilt Tactic)
[Younger siblings or cousins skip this part]
{Oh shut the fuck up you asshole. Yes you are right. I hate Indian people!!!!! I came to this country for my holiday because I hate Indian people.}
I understand that you are trying to make a living, but don’t follow me down the street, don’t harass me when I decline to answer a personal question, and I might be more open to looking in a shop if it was not a guarantee that you are going to jack the price up at least 4 – 6 times what you would charge to a local. And do not look so shocked when I call you on it.
And because of the society – it is of course always men. I only had one woman try and talk to me during this whole trip.
Now there is one pleasant little island in this lake of crap. Kids!!! I had a great time with the team of girl at the train station. I so loved hanging out with the girls at Ladli. And today a huge group of schoolgirls were at the museum. They would come up – standing straight and tall – and say hello. I would say hello back and shake their hands. Some of the later girls caught on and would come up with their hands extended. They would often ask the same questions mentioned earlier, yet it was never annoying. They were genuinely wanted to know. Pavja (the student captain of the team was so funny) she kept giving me cookies and chips. If I would try and decline, she would say something about not turning away her kindness. And as good manners go in the west, I would say thank you after accepting her offer. Finally she laughed and asked “Why do you say thank you – we are friends. You need no thank you for friends.” I wish I could have had more time with them. We were comparing music and movie tastes – and they had been listening to the western and Hindi music on my IPod when they had to go.
The girls at the museum today where making such a noise, and blocking the entrance ways that the guards had to come shoo them along a couple times. I am even on a few more rolls of film. I liked failing miserably at hula-hooping and dancing around with my little helper. Oh and you should have seen my crappy craftsmanship when the girls were teaching me how to make a necklace.
Yea – It was a good trip.
[Okay all that is the end of the India journal. I have been back in Seoul for two week and a half now. Seems like ages ago. I am rather annoyed because I could have stayed longer if it had not been for two days of work we had to come back for in which we did nothing. Sarah and I simply sat at each other’s desks and talked about vacation, a few ideas for the coming school year, and how stupid it was that we had to come back (she had been visiting her aunt in Singapore). This is the last week of February and my half way mark is upon me. I am not sure if I am ready for it. There are many people (ok Josh – the rest of you I am okay for a while just emailing you and talking to you on Skype) and things I miss at home, but I know that once I leave here I am really not going to get another chance like this to do some of these things. I want to get down to Australia to visit Caleb – I know how much it sucks to live somewhere and no one comes to see you, I want to go to the Philippines, I want to go to Vietnam, Russia and China I will do on my way home this year or next, but it would be nice to put if off a year and have Josh come with me. I would like to have more time with my co-workers and to see what else I could do with this position. But for now time is what it is. I will keep working at a job I really enjoy and take opportunities for new adventures as they come up. Oh I may be going back to North Korea in the spring. A town closer to Seoul is being opened up for visitors. This one sounds like it is a tour into an actual town. I will keep you updated.
Well my notes are finished and I am out of Earl Grey. If that is not a sign to stop, I am not sure what is.]
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Passage through India: Volume 3
I woke up late, slowly ate breakfast, and walked up to the station. All went well: Instead of going to the gardens, I found a decent driver who offered going to Ahbar’s Mausoleum and Itemad-ud-Daulah (Baby Taj) for a good price. Because of the time of day, there was a load of traffic between the two places. So besides the amusing people who would literally just stand beside the rickshaw and star at me – I got to have some very pleasant conversation. Hw was from Agra, but his wife was from outside Jaipur. He had three kids. The basics. Talked about the tourist season in Agra and the different people that come. It was also on this ride I saw my first elephant carrying wood down the road. While I was at Itemad-ud-Daulah (also called the Baby Taj because of the materials it is made out of, it shape but much smaller size) I was walking along the back wall that runs along the river. The river is very low at this time of the year, and people were drying straw out there. Cows were walking along. A few children were playing – one child in particular kept yelling hello and waving even after I waved back half a dozen times. I heard some pounding below me and saw some more people working on the wall. Now I had noticed before that it seems as if families are used to do much of the public works projects. You will often see an older gentleman and then a handful of guys going down in age – and a stray girl or two. Here I had what looked like a mother, father, and three small kids. The woman was standing looking away from me for a moment when the little girl out in the river yelled to me. At this the mother looked up and said hello and something else I did not understand. I said hello and she repeated the something else a few times, grabbed the hoe, and started mixing the red mortar. The whole time she kept repeating the word. I finally figured it out – Picture. She was telling me to take a picture. Let me give you a little background here. You realize quickly that you have to be very careful who you ask for something as simple as directions or where a bathroom is at. Many times you will ask such a question – the person will answer and then old out their hand for money. I know it is a poor country and my money goes very far here, but give me a break. The same goes for pictures. I have a picture of Katerina petting an ox at the Taj Mahal. The owner (I assume that is who it was) came up and had held his hand open. That is what this woman was doing. She was saying – hey look at me this makes a good tourist picture. And then you can give me money. A rather twisted form of prostitution. Needless to say I did not take the picture. I am amused though because I have had on multiple occasions – were people will as to have their pictures taken with me. One will ask and the next thing I know I am standing there with a line. I finally asked a young guy who asked to have his picture taken with me yesterday why. I mean come on – I have come here to India – you are Indian – shouldn’t it be me running around having my picture taken like I am standing with a costumed character at Disneyland? His only answer was ‘to remember’. Okay I guess you do not see that many white chicks.
Side note again – I am now sitting in a little street “restaurant” in Sawai Madhopur. After a fight with a driver over which hotel to choose. Actually I told him where to go and then he insisted on walking in with me. Sure sign he was going to try and get a commission out of this. I knew it for sure when the man quoted the room as 300 rupee. More than twice the amount listed in Lonely Planet. I walked out and the cab driver kept lowering the price and then telling the price at another hotel. It annoyed me so much that I just started walking down the street in the opposite direction than I wanted to go – just so he would not know where I was headed. Anyway I am in Sawai Madhopur and what is really cool is there are barely an tourists. I know there is a couple from the Czech Republic somewhere in town because we were on the train together, but I do not know where they are staying. And I saw an older couple waiting on the train platform as I was coming down. But no one else right now. (FYI- I realized that the train was not really going to come to a complete stop at the station – so I actually got to hop off a slow moving train – that was fun) The lone white girl stares are so funny. I really do not know what I would have to do at home to get the same. Perhaps get naked, paint myself purple, and walk down State Street. And I am still really not sure if anyone at home would notice that. So anyway there are these two young guys working at this place. And they are very amusing. In about three minute intervals, they will come over and stand about four feet from my shoulder and just watch me. They were asking what I was writing, said my handwriting was very nice – I laughed and explained that at home people think my handwriting is very bad and hard to read. I asked the one if he could write in cursive. He said yes and I told him his writing was probably much better than mine. So I handed him my book and pen. I showed him the teenage students’ writing and showed him again that these Indian students’ writing was much better than mine. It took the poor kid forever to figure out what to write.
My name is Vikas Sharma. I am reading in a MBA. I live in Sawai Madhopur. I want to see a U.S.A. My hobby is making a friend.
They came back again and asked what my job is. I asked then what they both did (both claim to be students). They asked me my hobbies – I asked them theirs. They asked me where I visited and such. They told me one of their friends was going to study business in Sydney. I told them my brother lived there. One of them just came back again to see if I needed anything again. I think this is the sixth time. So while walking back to my hotel that second day from Agra.
February 2, 2008
Sorry about that. It was starting to get dark so I wanted to walk over to the train station and be back at my place before it was too late.
8 hours later
And again. Well it is a good sign that I have not time or opportunity to finish any of this. I am sitting down at a restaurant in Sawai Madhopur ( a different one – let’s see how far I get) After sleeping for fourteen and a half hours, I headed out to the RTCD Tourist Complex to book myself a ticket on a tour of the Ranthembhore National Park. As I was walking u to the window, I saw the Czech couple I had met yesterday at the Agra train station. There is no sense of order here. If you think you will try and get something by standing in line – you are dead wrong. It is all about pushing from the side and talking louder and faster than the next guy.
February 3, 2008
Thank the Lord for Western toilets, showers, hot water, and Lysol. I arrived in Jaipur this afternoon to my first of two hotels I am staying t here. Now I like to consider myself somewhat earthy – not grunge or granola – but I can go a day without a shower and I have learned the fine fine-art of the squatter toilet. Yet one can only take a bath out of a bucket so many times. And oh little advice – toilet paper is not the norm here. What is - is a little faucet with a cup beside the squatter. And I balked at the Japanese bumwasher. But alas I am in a place with a Western toilet with paper, actually hot water, and a shower with enough pressure to wash my hair, and a floor I can walk barefoot on. So it being Sunday and many things (believe it or not) do choose to close here on Sunday or close early. I decided to use this time in my sunder Palace to relax and be a bum before heading out into yet another noisy, dirty Indian city. [I must also admit that I was not feeling real well that day too.]
So with the background entertainment of cable TV playing Indian music videos, I attempt to try and catch you up on my journey. So after the Baby Taj, I made my way back to an area called Taj Ganj. This is an area that was first developed by the workers of the Taj. It is now a narrow, congested maze of shops and residence. Where I was staying happened to be on the other side of this outside the East Gate. I have already walked through this area a number of times in the past couple days with very little hassle. My mission now was to find Chap Stick or some equivalent for my lips. As I am walking down the street, this guy leaning against a motorcycle yells out something about my earrings.
‘Where did you get your earrings?’
‘A store in the US.’
‘ How much did they cost?
‘Not much. They are not expensive – cheap nothings.’
‘Can I see them?’
‘Why?
‘I want to make a copy of them’
‘What?’
‘Come over here so I can copy them.’
‘Sorry. I need to go.’ (I did. I was still looking for my Chap Stick.)
So I think nothing of it. I found a small store with something for my lips. I turn around to go find food and there is the motorcycle guy. Oh please. So he explains how he makes jewelry and just wants to make a photocopy of them. I sigh. No please it will only take a minute – he swears he is not selling anything. Surprisingly enough he was telling the truth. He copied my earrings and did not try to sell me anything. So I get my earrings back and start down the street again. Not two minutes later another man stops me – commenting on my earrings and asking to copy them. I laughed. Okay fine here. While he is copying the earrings, I wander into his shop. Really nice shop – especially for here. And the stuff is really good too. When he comes back, I started asking him a few questions about the pieces. He makes everything himself – mostly silver but he does work with gold. Okay I am a sucker for an independent artist. I asked to look at some of his stuff. While I am doing so, a rather tall woman comes in. She seems to be rather familiar with the owner. She is also speaking English with a rather eastern European accent. Her name is Anna, and she is German but currently working out of Spain. She is in India to meet up with a horse trek she is helping to lead across Rajastan. She had been in the shop earlier that day or the day before. Lon story short the three of us had a grand time. I spent about four hours looking at different pieces of jewelry (Cat you would have been proud.) Anna decided to postpone her exit for a day so that she and I could go to Fathehpur Sikri. It is a fortified ghost city outside of Agra that had to be abandoned due to a water shortage in 1585. They have since fixed that problem. They have redone the gardens within the fort and the land around it is beautiful, rich green farmland. So Anna and I made plans for the next day, and I finished my purchases. Besides fulfilling a goal of visiting India, I also wanted to buy fabric and earrings while I was here. For handmade silver with real semi-precious stones, him price were rather good. I the end I bought 6 pairs of earrings, 2 bracelets, 1 ring, 2 small hoops for the piercing at the top of my ear (I had lost one some time back and could not find a decent replacement in Korea – so he made me 2), and a gift for Josh that he made in 24 hours. I think I made this guys week. So the next day Anna and I went to Fatehpur Sikri and he worked on my stuff. Now during this four hour, I had mentioned that I was getting married and wanted to buy a couple saris while in India to use for my wedding dress. I asked him what a good price was. Of course the prices he was giving me were what an Indian pays for them. There is no way a shop owner would offer me those prices. So he offered to go to a shop close by the next evening when I picked up my stuff. Everything he made was lovely! We then went over to look at saris (Anna went too to look for scarves). The owner of the sari shop was not pleased because he was not able to get away with jacking the price up. I got five saris for 1800 rupees – about $46 for all five. 1800 rupees was what a shop in Delhi tried to sell me a sari I hated for. So I now have the material for my wedding dress and then some. What ‘til you guys see it!
Fatehpur Sikri was good. It was nice to have someone to hang out with. The really fun part was riding the local bus to and from. The trip takes about an hour one way. And man they will cram whoever and whatever on that fit. There was no livestock on either trip, but I am sure if you were willing to pay for the ticket no one would stop you. I was slightly annoyed in the beginning. With as many people as the fit on there of course there are not enough seats. I got up twice to make sure that some local women who were just going to squat down for the trip got a seat. Not a single man was about to get up until they realized that I was going to stand for the trip. I know women are viewed differently, but how even more demeaning to not get up for your own countrywomen, but to have the same man get up for a foreign woman.
[Addition to my journal. On the way back to Agra there was this very fun little girl behind me. maybe about 7 years old. I would tap her hand real fast and then look away and then look at Anna and point as to say she did it. The girl would laugh, and when she thought I was not looking, she would squeeze her hand between the seats and poke me in the side. Then she would also point at Anna. But THE BEST part was when she gave me a carrot. She gave me a carrot and I must say best carrot ever. I returned the favor by giving her one of the oranges we had bought earlier. There was a gentleman sitting behind us that translated for her and the woman with her (I do not think it was he mother). She told him that she was so happy to get such a nice gift from me. AAAAWWWWWHHHHHH I told her that I was also happy to get such a nice gift from her.]
So I bid the jewelry man goodbye, and Anna and I parted ways. As mentioned before I was off to Sawai Madhopur to the next morning to the National Park. That was story about the group of school girls, the Czech couple, the guys at the restaurant, and no tigers.
Wow, I think I have caught you up with everything. It is now Monday, the 4th and I changed hotels. Nothing bad – it is just that neither hotel had openings for all they days I would be in Jaipur. I will be at the Hotel Pearl Palace for the rest of the time. This place is amazing. It is inexpensive, the interior design is fantastic, the staff is great, and the food is the best I have had so far. So far I like Jaipur way better then Delhi. It is a bit cleaner and the streets make more sense. This evening I went to Kerala Ayurveda Kendra for a massage. Ayurveda is a style of message and other therapies that uses a lot of heated oils. There is a therapy called sirodhara. They take about 2-4L of warm oils and slowly and steadily stream the oil over your forehead for about an hour. They say it reduces stress, tones the brain, and helps with sleep disorders. I did not feel like washing that much oil out of my hair so I went for the massage. From beginning to end it was great. First off the pick you up from your hotel and drop you off back at your hotel. You are led into a cozy warm room by a very short Indian lady. She (women for women and men for men) then instructs you to undress. The US and parts of Asia are the few places that use draping or clothes during massage. I knew this and was very glad that I have few nudity issues or touch issues. So you undress and the lady is in the room the whole time. She takes a long rectangle of gauze this ties at one end. She ties the strings around you and then pulls the gauze through your legs and tucks it in the back to form a bikini like bottom. You then climb up on this high table and lay down on your back first. She then proceeds to slather you in a thick layer of oil. So there you are naked and greased up. Now between the music, the smells, the oils and the person working for your relaxation, I started having images of Ester. This becomes even more prevalent when it comes to getting the oils off. First the lady takes a cool towel and wipes you down. Then she gets a very, very hot towel and lightly waves it against you to steam your pores. Then she takes a slightly hot towel and wipes you down. It is very funny to sit on the side of the table and then just stand in the middle of the room as someone essentially gives you a sponge bath. You are waiting for the ladies-in-waiting to come dress you and the jewels to be brought in on pillows.
Earlier today (4th) I walked over to the train station to get my ticket to Delhi on the 7th. While I was there I met yet another German woman. She has been living in Jaipur for two months doing an internship with AIDS patients. She is getting ready to go home next week and is going to do a little traveling. We got to talking – went to lunch. I have really good luck with these German chicks. No big story – we parted after lunch, but I think it is amusing that I have found a German chick to hang out with in three different cities.
So tomorrow I am off to Amber (pronounced Amer) Fort. It is just outside the city. Then after lunch I am going to a place called Ladli. It is a center for teenaged-orphaned girls – where they can get a basic education and learn a craft or jewelry trade – enough to make a living that could keep them off the street. The girls who have progressed enough can sell their work at the center and 100% of the money goes back to the girls and their care. And I being one who loves earrings and is in the market for a few more pairs would rather spend my money there then a vendor who will triple his prices because of what I look like. I will let you know how it goes.
February 2, 2008
Yesterday I went to Ladli. As I mentioned before it is an organization that provides street kids a basic education and teaches them a marketable skill such as jewelry making, embroidery, or sewing. It started out just assisting girls, but has also opened up for boys at another facility. The kids tend to be between 6 and 18, but they will not turn away a 3 year old who comes with a sister or brother. So they have ages 2 – 19 in the program. Ladli is a branch of an organization called I-India in the Jaipur area. They provide housing, clothes, food, an education to kids whose other choices would be theft, begging, or prostitution. Oh the other thing I likes about Ladli is that from the time the girls start the program, they assist them in opening a bank account where they can save money from their crafts to be used once they leave the program at 18 or 19.
I was there for about two hours. Most of the time I was sitting on the floor with them as they were working on their projects. There was about 40 or 50 of them working in the room at that time. They have teachers there to monitor their progress and quality. There was one girl (13 years old) who I kept calling ‘Boss Lady’ and she kept laughing. When I first saw her, she was logging in what each girl in her group had made. So I asked her if she was the boss. From then on I called her ‘Boss Lady’ – she did not seem to mind. I asked her to take me around the room and show me the pieces she had made. As we were walking around a few more girls came up to introduce themselves. There was one who became my helper. Her English was not very good but I did get out that she was 10 years old and does go to school in the morning. She had first come up to me when I was walking around with ‘Boss Lady’. She was the last of a group of girls who came up to ask my name and other question. I shook their hands – which they thought was funny – but the last girl, my helper, just did not let go. Okay – I can deal with that – so we walked around holding hands – swinging our arms – I spun her around a few times – she showed me the stuff she made. I now have a pair of earrings and a necklace she made. As well as a necklace by ‘Boss Lady’ and earrings by a couple of the other girls who were shadowing. So my helper bagged all my stuff up and we went outside to hula-hoop. They have a volunteer program there and they are open to anything teach English, music, dance, art, whatever – if I get to come back, I will definitely try and work out some time with them.
Side note again – I am now sitting in a little street “restaurant” in Sawai Madhopur. After a fight with a driver over which hotel to choose. Actually I told him where to go and then he insisted on walking in with me. Sure sign he was going to try and get a commission out of this. I knew it for sure when the man quoted the room as 300 rupee. More than twice the amount listed in Lonely Planet. I walked out and the cab driver kept lowering the price and then telling the price at another hotel. It annoyed me so much that I just started walking down the street in the opposite direction than I wanted to go – just so he would not know where I was headed. Anyway I am in Sawai Madhopur and what is really cool is there are barely an tourists. I know there is a couple from the Czech Republic somewhere in town because we were on the train together, but I do not know where they are staying. And I saw an older couple waiting on the train platform as I was coming down. But no one else right now. (FYI- I realized that the train was not really going to come to a complete stop at the station – so I actually got to hop off a slow moving train – that was fun) The lone white girl stares are so funny. I really do not know what I would have to do at home to get the same. Perhaps get naked, paint myself purple, and walk down State Street. And I am still really not sure if anyone at home would notice that. So anyway there are these two young guys working at this place. And they are very amusing. In about three minute intervals, they will come over and stand about four feet from my shoulder and just watch me. They were asking what I was writing, said my handwriting was very nice – I laughed and explained that at home people think my handwriting is very bad and hard to read. I asked the one if he could write in cursive. He said yes and I told him his writing was probably much better than mine. So I handed him my book and pen. I showed him the teenage students’ writing and showed him again that these Indian students’ writing was much better than mine. It took the poor kid forever to figure out what to write.
My name is Vikas Sharma. I am reading in a MBA. I live in Sawai Madhopur. I want to see a U.S.A. My hobby is making a friend.
They came back again and asked what my job is. I asked then what they both did (both claim to be students). They asked me my hobbies – I asked them theirs. They asked me where I visited and such. They told me one of their friends was going to study business in Sydney. I told them my brother lived there. One of them just came back again to see if I needed anything again. I think this is the sixth time. So while walking back to my hotel that second day from Agra.
February 2, 2008
Sorry about that. It was starting to get dark so I wanted to walk over to the train station and be back at my place before it was too late.
8 hours later
And again. Well it is a good sign that I have not time or opportunity to finish any of this. I am sitting down at a restaurant in Sawai Madhopur ( a different one – let’s see how far I get) After sleeping for fourteen and a half hours, I headed out to the RTCD Tourist Complex to book myself a ticket on a tour of the Ranthembhore National Park. As I was walking u to the window, I saw the Czech couple I had met yesterday at the Agra train station. There is no sense of order here. If you think you will try and get something by standing in line – you are dead wrong. It is all about pushing from the side and talking louder and faster than the next guy.
February 3, 2008
Thank the Lord for Western toilets, showers, hot water, and Lysol. I arrived in Jaipur this afternoon to my first of two hotels I am staying t here. Now I like to consider myself somewhat earthy – not grunge or granola – but I can go a day without a shower and I have learned the fine fine-art of the squatter toilet. Yet one can only take a bath out of a bucket so many times. And oh little advice – toilet paper is not the norm here. What is - is a little faucet with a cup beside the squatter. And I balked at the Japanese bumwasher. But alas I am in a place with a Western toilet with paper, actually hot water, and a shower with enough pressure to wash my hair, and a floor I can walk barefoot on. So it being Sunday and many things (believe it or not) do choose to close here on Sunday or close early. I decided to use this time in my sunder Palace to relax and be a bum before heading out into yet another noisy, dirty Indian city. [I must also admit that I was not feeling real well that day too.]
So with the background entertainment of cable TV playing Indian music videos, I attempt to try and catch you up on my journey. So after the Baby Taj, I made my way back to an area called Taj Ganj. This is an area that was first developed by the workers of the Taj. It is now a narrow, congested maze of shops and residence. Where I was staying happened to be on the other side of this outside the East Gate. I have already walked through this area a number of times in the past couple days with very little hassle. My mission now was to find Chap Stick or some equivalent for my lips. As I am walking down the street, this guy leaning against a motorcycle yells out something about my earrings.
‘Where did you get your earrings?’
‘A store in the US.’
‘ How much did they cost?
‘Not much. They are not expensive – cheap nothings.’
‘Can I see them?’
‘Why?
‘I want to make a copy of them’
‘What?’
‘Come over here so I can copy them.’
‘Sorry. I need to go.’ (I did. I was still looking for my Chap Stick.)
So I think nothing of it. I found a small store with something for my lips. I turn around to go find food and there is the motorcycle guy. Oh please. So he explains how he makes jewelry and just wants to make a photocopy of them. I sigh. No please it will only take a minute – he swears he is not selling anything. Surprisingly enough he was telling the truth. He copied my earrings and did not try to sell me anything. So I get my earrings back and start down the street again. Not two minutes later another man stops me – commenting on my earrings and asking to copy them. I laughed. Okay fine here. While he is copying the earrings, I wander into his shop. Really nice shop – especially for here. And the stuff is really good too. When he comes back, I started asking him a few questions about the pieces. He makes everything himself – mostly silver but he does work with gold. Okay I am a sucker for an independent artist. I asked to look at some of his stuff. While I am doing so, a rather tall woman comes in. She seems to be rather familiar with the owner. She is also speaking English with a rather eastern European accent. Her name is Anna, and she is German but currently working out of Spain. She is in India to meet up with a horse trek she is helping to lead across Rajastan. She had been in the shop earlier that day or the day before. Lon story short the three of us had a grand time. I spent about four hours looking at different pieces of jewelry (Cat you would have been proud.) Anna decided to postpone her exit for a day so that she and I could go to Fathehpur Sikri. It is a fortified ghost city outside of Agra that had to be abandoned due to a water shortage in 1585. They have since fixed that problem. They have redone the gardens within the fort and the land around it is beautiful, rich green farmland. So Anna and I made plans for the next day, and I finished my purchases. Besides fulfilling a goal of visiting India, I also wanted to buy fabric and earrings while I was here. For handmade silver with real semi-precious stones, him price were rather good. I the end I bought 6 pairs of earrings, 2 bracelets, 1 ring, 2 small hoops for the piercing at the top of my ear (I had lost one some time back and could not find a decent replacement in Korea – so he made me 2), and a gift for Josh that he made in 24 hours. I think I made this guys week. So the next day Anna and I went to Fatehpur Sikri and he worked on my stuff. Now during this four hour, I had mentioned that I was getting married and wanted to buy a couple saris while in India to use for my wedding dress. I asked him what a good price was. Of course the prices he was giving me were what an Indian pays for them. There is no way a shop owner would offer me those prices. So he offered to go to a shop close by the next evening when I picked up my stuff. Everything he made was lovely! We then went over to look at saris (Anna went too to look for scarves). The owner of the sari shop was not pleased because he was not able to get away with jacking the price up. I got five saris for 1800 rupees – about $46 for all five. 1800 rupees was what a shop in Delhi tried to sell me a sari I hated for. So I now have the material for my wedding dress and then some. What ‘til you guys see it!
Fatehpur Sikri was good. It was nice to have someone to hang out with. The really fun part was riding the local bus to and from. The trip takes about an hour one way. And man they will cram whoever and whatever on that fit. There was no livestock on either trip, but I am sure if you were willing to pay for the ticket no one would stop you. I was slightly annoyed in the beginning. With as many people as the fit on there of course there are not enough seats. I got up twice to make sure that some local women who were just going to squat down for the trip got a seat. Not a single man was about to get up until they realized that I was going to stand for the trip. I know women are viewed differently, but how even more demeaning to not get up for your own countrywomen, but to have the same man get up for a foreign woman.
[Addition to my journal. On the way back to Agra there was this very fun little girl behind me. maybe about 7 years old. I would tap her hand real fast and then look away and then look at Anna and point as to say she did it. The girl would laugh, and when she thought I was not looking, she would squeeze her hand between the seats and poke me in the side. Then she would also point at Anna. But THE BEST part was when she gave me a carrot. She gave me a carrot and I must say best carrot ever. I returned the favor by giving her one of the oranges we had bought earlier. There was a gentleman sitting behind us that translated for her and the woman with her (I do not think it was he mother). She told him that she was so happy to get such a nice gift from me. AAAAWWWWWHHHHHH I told her that I was also happy to get such a nice gift from her.]
So I bid the jewelry man goodbye, and Anna and I parted ways. As mentioned before I was off to Sawai Madhopur to the next morning to the National Park. That was story about the group of school girls, the Czech couple, the guys at the restaurant, and no tigers.
Wow, I think I have caught you up with everything. It is now Monday, the 4th and I changed hotels. Nothing bad – it is just that neither hotel had openings for all they days I would be in Jaipur. I will be at the Hotel Pearl Palace for the rest of the time. This place is amazing. It is inexpensive, the interior design is fantastic, the staff is great, and the food is the best I have had so far. So far I like Jaipur way better then Delhi. It is a bit cleaner and the streets make more sense. This evening I went to Kerala Ayurveda Kendra for a massage. Ayurveda is a style of message and other therapies that uses a lot of heated oils. There is a therapy called sirodhara. They take about 2-4L of warm oils and slowly and steadily stream the oil over your forehead for about an hour. They say it reduces stress, tones the brain, and helps with sleep disorders. I did not feel like washing that much oil out of my hair so I went for the massage. From beginning to end it was great. First off the pick you up from your hotel and drop you off back at your hotel. You are led into a cozy warm room by a very short Indian lady. She (women for women and men for men) then instructs you to undress. The US and parts of Asia are the few places that use draping or clothes during massage. I knew this and was very glad that I have few nudity issues or touch issues. So you undress and the lady is in the room the whole time. She takes a long rectangle of gauze this ties at one end. She ties the strings around you and then pulls the gauze through your legs and tucks it in the back to form a bikini like bottom. You then climb up on this high table and lay down on your back first. She then proceeds to slather you in a thick layer of oil. So there you are naked and greased up. Now between the music, the smells, the oils and the person working for your relaxation, I started having images of Ester. This becomes even more prevalent when it comes to getting the oils off. First the lady takes a cool towel and wipes you down. Then she gets a very, very hot towel and lightly waves it against you to steam your pores. Then she takes a slightly hot towel and wipes you down. It is very funny to sit on the side of the table and then just stand in the middle of the room as someone essentially gives you a sponge bath. You are waiting for the ladies-in-waiting to come dress you and the jewels to be brought in on pillows.
Earlier today (4th) I walked over to the train station to get my ticket to Delhi on the 7th. While I was there I met yet another German woman. She has been living in Jaipur for two months doing an internship with AIDS patients. She is getting ready to go home next week and is going to do a little traveling. We got to talking – went to lunch. I have really good luck with these German chicks. No big story – we parted after lunch, but I think it is amusing that I have found a German chick to hang out with in three different cities.
So tomorrow I am off to Amber (pronounced Amer) Fort. It is just outside the city. Then after lunch I am going to a place called Ladli. It is a center for teenaged-orphaned girls – where they can get a basic education and learn a craft or jewelry trade – enough to make a living that could keep them off the street. The girls who have progressed enough can sell their work at the center and 100% of the money goes back to the girls and their care. And I being one who loves earrings and is in the market for a few more pairs would rather spend my money there then a vendor who will triple his prices because of what I look like. I will let you know how it goes.
February 2, 2008
Yesterday I went to Ladli. As I mentioned before it is an organization that provides street kids a basic education and teaches them a marketable skill such as jewelry making, embroidery, or sewing. It started out just assisting girls, but has also opened up for boys at another facility. The kids tend to be between 6 and 18, but they will not turn away a 3 year old who comes with a sister or brother. So they have ages 2 – 19 in the program. Ladli is a branch of an organization called I-India in the Jaipur area. They provide housing, clothes, food, an education to kids whose other choices would be theft, begging, or prostitution. Oh the other thing I likes about Ladli is that from the time the girls start the program, they assist them in opening a bank account where they can save money from their crafts to be used once they leave the program at 18 or 19.
I was there for about two hours. Most of the time I was sitting on the floor with them as they were working on their projects. There was about 40 or 50 of them working in the room at that time. They have teachers there to monitor their progress and quality. There was one girl (13 years old) who I kept calling ‘Boss Lady’ and she kept laughing. When I first saw her, she was logging in what each girl in her group had made. So I asked her if she was the boss. From then on I called her ‘Boss Lady’ – she did not seem to mind. I asked her to take me around the room and show me the pieces she had made. As we were walking around a few more girls came up to introduce themselves. There was one who became my helper. Her English was not very good but I did get out that she was 10 years old and does go to school in the morning. She had first come up to me when I was walking around with ‘Boss Lady’. She was the last of a group of girls who came up to ask my name and other question. I shook their hands – which they thought was funny – but the last girl, my helper, just did not let go. Okay – I can deal with that – so we walked around holding hands – swinging our arms – I spun her around a few times – she showed me the stuff she made. I now have a pair of earrings and a necklace she made. As well as a necklace by ‘Boss Lady’ and earrings by a couple of the other girls who were shadowing. So my helper bagged all my stuff up and we went outside to hula-hoop. They have a volunteer program there and they are open to anything teach English, music, dance, art, whatever – if I get to come back, I will definitely try and work out some time with them.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
An Evening to Remember
So this past Thursday and Friday, Sarah (the other English teacher) and I agreed to go on an overnight trip to Andong. All last term we had to decline the invitations to go on these teacher trip because well usually I was teaching after school elementary classes at the time they were leaving, and Sarah did not want to be the only none Korean going. This might sound bad; however, after a couple hours of tedious broken English “conversation” your head aches and they run out of phrases. So you end up bored and alone, and they stare at you. But this time it worked out that we could both go, so we figured okay with should make them happy for a while. Now our understanding of this trip was a little different from what it ended up being. We thought it would be the Principle, the Vice Principle and ma couple other teachers going down for a more touristy, culture time. However, what we discovered the day before leaving was that there would be about 30 teachers and the trip was being described more as a workshop and opportunity to talk about the new school year.
Oh okay. We would go on a two-hour hike first, then to lunch, then to where we were staying for our first workshop, then dinner, then another workshop. That was to be day one. Okay. We left Seoul around 9:00 AM. At 10:30 the men (the group was half male, half female) started handing out beers and showing off they liquor they had purchased for they day. Oh you have to be kidding us. I had read about traditional after hours business practices. Mainly men, going out to noreebong (karaoke) and getting tanked and singing and dancing. Heavy social drinking is a large part of business deals and lateral success in the workplace. Sarah and I both declined the invitations to drink at 10:30 AM, but oh we had no idea what lay ahead. Well the hike was nice. It amusing that Sarah and I beat most of them up the main hill (Koreans are very serious about their hiking). Then came lunch and more drinking. First came the special rice wine. We declined. Then came the shots of soju (kind of like saki). We decided. We were seeing where this was going. Now the part that would eventually piss us off you not that they were drinking – it is their tradition (as they kept telling us over and over and over) - it was that they had a very hard time taking no for an answer. It was getting to point where I was getting really rude (however none of them know English enough to know that). For example: the Vice Principle (who know one likes) explains to use proud as can be - how in Korean tradition you eat, drink, and take out ideas. At this I add – and then you forget your ideas the next morning. Luckily they all laughed, but not for the same reason Sarah was laughing. (Man we had so many bonding moments) They started making an issue out of anything we chose not to eat. There is this lumpy rice drink that is often served after each meal. I hate lumps! I hate orange juice with pulp! I hate mashed potatoes with lumps! I do not like that kind of texture in my food. It is like eating bugs! I declined the offer to drink it. I was told it is non-alcoholic. I smile and say yes I know I do not like the taste. Then I am told it is very health. I repeat yes I know I have had it before and I do not like it. No thank you. Oh just try it. ARGARGARGARG!!!!!!!! With a frozen smile – I repeat I do not like it. I have tried it before and I do not like it.
We make it to the hotel and we have 15 minutes to put our stuff in our room and get down to first workshop. We are to room with one other Korean teacher. No problem she is a nice enough lady; however, she does not speak English and our Korean is just as rough. This cannot be pleasant for her. As we head down to the workshop, we start asking the only teacher there that is fluent in English. Her name is Min – both Sarah and I have her as a co-teacher last term so we know her and she knows us fairly well. We find out that the workshop after dinner is actually a social time of as it says on the schedule “singing and drinking” from 9-11 PM. WHAT!? Oh No. At this time we also find out that Min’s daughter is graduating from middle school the next day so she is leaving after dinner. Oh lovely our translator is gone. She did say that she had spoken with the VP and if we want to go back to the hotel after dinner, he said he would make sure we could get back. Okay we will see if that happens. The first workshop was basically every department head telling their pans for the new year (everything was in Korean). And none of it had anything to do with us – why are we here except for show.
Now we have ten minutes to get out to the bus to head for dinner. This is where the seams started to come apart. There were some women who were not drinking but they were at the other end of the room – as the others got more and more drink they became more annoying. You would watch the power play as they most annoying and bombastic of the men bullied the other men into drinking more and more. And these guys would not tell them no – because as we were told time after time it is Korean tradition. And over and over this particularly obnoxious teacher kept pushing for me and Sarah to drink and we kept saying no. Ah come on one shot – a little. NO! We were not about to give him and inch because we know that once we conceded once there would be no end to him.
Then it was off to sing. There was no way we were getting to go to the hotel. Where we were was rather far from the hotel and we were in a smaller city with little chance of a cab. But they promised oh one hour only one hour. Now Sarah warned them she does not sing – she hates to sing and will not do it. I had not problem with it so I said I would sing one (with the horrible selection that is found in noreebong establishments one was all that would be possible). I can say that this was the first night I truly experiences culture shock. First, we enter the room where we are to be and up all the wall of TVs for the words – a filler video is playing. It is bikini wearing plastic looking big, breasted white chicks dance around and oh my lord they just took their tops off. There are topless white chicks on the TVs. You hear me and Sarah with a unified WHAT! The VP as he walks in the room yells out for someone to change the channel. Two things struck me: 1) there are other woman in this group would you have changed it is the white girls were not here – would they have had to sit through the strip show 2) nice to know what the culture really thinks of western women. I know there is the same fascination with Asian women in the west. I hate that as well, especially when the young girl here mimic this tramp style that they see in the west. How do I get it across to them that the school girl look or little girl/doll look is not a fashion thing but rather they are looking at these Asian models as simple, obedient sex toys.
The channel is changed and the drinking continues and the horrible singing beings. Still they are offering drinks and we are saying no. After two minutes of people still pushing for Sarah to sing, I ended up snapping at the Vice Principle. Sarah did go up to dance, but I did not want to – twice someone actually took hold of my elbow to pull me up. And twice I pulled it back with a “I do not want to”.
Now please do not get the idea that everyone was being pushy. There were a couple of the male teachers who kept assuring us that “no problem”, but because of the social structure they could not tell the higher food chain pushy ones off – they would however run interference. One of the teacher thought he was going to be funny and emptied a bottle of water and replaced it with soju. He filled a shot glass and came over to Sarah pretending it was water, acting as if ‘hey let’s tell everyone else it is soju but it is really water’ – Sarah asked a few times is it really water and his answer always seemed shifty – so I stuck my finger in it and it was actually soju. Sarah was pissed! But that did not stop the guy from asking her to drink it. This is one on of the male teacher who had been running interference came up and said “I will drink it for you”. The interesting think about that was that the other guys all groaned with disappointment but there seem to be a social loop hole where that is acceptable and they could d nothing about it. We like this guy!! On they way back to the hotel (it is now going on midnight), they one really annoying guy comes back to us to say there is an important meeting with everyone in room 315. Planning and drinking we must come. I said no we go to sleep. He said no see you in 315. I said no we see you at breakfast. We went back and forth like this for a bit and he finally grew bored and sat down.
The next day was breakfast, museums, lunch, folk village, and back to Seoul. At breakfast the principle (through the vice because he himself cannot speak English) said he thinks some wrong things were done last night and does not want us to worry or be upset. Now the principle is a very nice man – and a man very much of his culture – we said we were not mad at him at all. In fact we did not care that they drank or that they did what is in their culture – we did not like that her had to put up with 14 hours of being pushed to do things we had already said no to. One of they younger male teachers asked me at lunch if we thought they were alcoholics – I said no I think you are Korean – I told him as well we do not think anything negative about him because he is simply doing what is traditional to him – that is fine.
Anyway Sarah and I have vowed never to go on another over night trip. We will do day trips and we will only go if the other is going, but never ever on another over night trip. From everything I have read, after the nights of drinking with co-workers and bosses, it is considered very bad form to talk about anything that happens at work (what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas kind of thing) so we are interested to see if any of these teachers speak to us once school is back in section.
Okay that is my culture hock story. I am going out to Incheon next week to learn Korean ceramics and play with a potters wheel. Sound like a fun and messy time.
Oh okay. We would go on a two-hour hike first, then to lunch, then to where we were staying for our first workshop, then dinner, then another workshop. That was to be day one. Okay. We left Seoul around 9:00 AM. At 10:30 the men (the group was half male, half female) started handing out beers and showing off they liquor they had purchased for they day. Oh you have to be kidding us. I had read about traditional after hours business practices. Mainly men, going out to noreebong (karaoke) and getting tanked and singing and dancing. Heavy social drinking is a large part of business deals and lateral success in the workplace. Sarah and I both declined the invitations to drink at 10:30 AM, but oh we had no idea what lay ahead. Well the hike was nice. It amusing that Sarah and I beat most of them up the main hill (Koreans are very serious about their hiking). Then came lunch and more drinking. First came the special rice wine. We declined. Then came the shots of soju (kind of like saki). We decided. We were seeing where this was going. Now the part that would eventually piss us off you not that they were drinking – it is their tradition (as they kept telling us over and over and over) - it was that they had a very hard time taking no for an answer. It was getting to point where I was getting really rude (however none of them know English enough to know that). For example: the Vice Principle (who know one likes) explains to use proud as can be - how in Korean tradition you eat, drink, and take out ideas. At this I add – and then you forget your ideas the next morning. Luckily they all laughed, but not for the same reason Sarah was laughing. (Man we had so many bonding moments) They started making an issue out of anything we chose not to eat. There is this lumpy rice drink that is often served after each meal. I hate lumps! I hate orange juice with pulp! I hate mashed potatoes with lumps! I do not like that kind of texture in my food. It is like eating bugs! I declined the offer to drink it. I was told it is non-alcoholic. I smile and say yes I know I do not like the taste. Then I am told it is very health. I repeat yes I know I have had it before and I do not like it. No thank you. Oh just try it. ARGARGARGARG!!!!!!!! With a frozen smile – I repeat I do not like it. I have tried it before and I do not like it.
We make it to the hotel and we have 15 minutes to put our stuff in our room and get down to first workshop. We are to room with one other Korean teacher. No problem she is a nice enough lady; however, she does not speak English and our Korean is just as rough. This cannot be pleasant for her. As we head down to the workshop, we start asking the only teacher there that is fluent in English. Her name is Min – both Sarah and I have her as a co-teacher last term so we know her and she knows us fairly well. We find out that the workshop after dinner is actually a social time of as it says on the schedule “singing and drinking” from 9-11 PM. WHAT!? Oh No. At this time we also find out that Min’s daughter is graduating from middle school the next day so she is leaving after dinner. Oh lovely our translator is gone. She did say that she had spoken with the VP and if we want to go back to the hotel after dinner, he said he would make sure we could get back. Okay we will see if that happens. The first workshop was basically every department head telling their pans for the new year (everything was in Korean). And none of it had anything to do with us – why are we here except for show.
Now we have ten minutes to get out to the bus to head for dinner. This is where the seams started to come apart. There were some women who were not drinking but they were at the other end of the room – as the others got more and more drink they became more annoying. You would watch the power play as they most annoying and bombastic of the men bullied the other men into drinking more and more. And these guys would not tell them no – because as we were told time after time it is Korean tradition. And over and over this particularly obnoxious teacher kept pushing for me and Sarah to drink and we kept saying no. Ah come on one shot – a little. NO! We were not about to give him and inch because we know that once we conceded once there would be no end to him.
Then it was off to sing. There was no way we were getting to go to the hotel. Where we were was rather far from the hotel and we were in a smaller city with little chance of a cab. But they promised oh one hour only one hour. Now Sarah warned them she does not sing – she hates to sing and will not do it. I had not problem with it so I said I would sing one (with the horrible selection that is found in noreebong establishments one was all that would be possible). I can say that this was the first night I truly experiences culture shock. First, we enter the room where we are to be and up all the wall of TVs for the words – a filler video is playing. It is bikini wearing plastic looking big, breasted white chicks dance around and oh my lord they just took their tops off. There are topless white chicks on the TVs. You hear me and Sarah with a unified WHAT! The VP as he walks in the room yells out for someone to change the channel. Two things struck me: 1) there are other woman in this group would you have changed it is the white girls were not here – would they have had to sit through the strip show 2) nice to know what the culture really thinks of western women. I know there is the same fascination with Asian women in the west. I hate that as well, especially when the young girl here mimic this tramp style that they see in the west. How do I get it across to them that the school girl look or little girl/doll look is not a fashion thing but rather they are looking at these Asian models as simple, obedient sex toys.
The channel is changed and the drinking continues and the horrible singing beings. Still they are offering drinks and we are saying no. After two minutes of people still pushing for Sarah to sing, I ended up snapping at the Vice Principle. Sarah did go up to dance, but I did not want to – twice someone actually took hold of my elbow to pull me up. And twice I pulled it back with a “I do not want to”.
Now please do not get the idea that everyone was being pushy. There were a couple of the male teachers who kept assuring us that “no problem”, but because of the social structure they could not tell the higher food chain pushy ones off – they would however run interference. One of the teacher thought he was going to be funny and emptied a bottle of water and replaced it with soju. He filled a shot glass and came over to Sarah pretending it was water, acting as if ‘hey let’s tell everyone else it is soju but it is really water’ – Sarah asked a few times is it really water and his answer always seemed shifty – so I stuck my finger in it and it was actually soju. Sarah was pissed! But that did not stop the guy from asking her to drink it. This is one on of the male teacher who had been running interference came up and said “I will drink it for you”. The interesting think about that was that the other guys all groaned with disappointment but there seem to be a social loop hole where that is acceptable and they could d nothing about it. We like this guy!! On they way back to the hotel (it is now going on midnight), they one really annoying guy comes back to us to say there is an important meeting with everyone in room 315. Planning and drinking we must come. I said no we go to sleep. He said no see you in 315. I said no we see you at breakfast. We went back and forth like this for a bit and he finally grew bored and sat down.
The next day was breakfast, museums, lunch, folk village, and back to Seoul. At breakfast the principle (through the vice because he himself cannot speak English) said he thinks some wrong things were done last night and does not want us to worry or be upset. Now the principle is a very nice man – and a man very much of his culture – we said we were not mad at him at all. In fact we did not care that they drank or that they did what is in their culture – we did not like that her had to put up with 14 hours of being pushed to do things we had already said no to. One of they younger male teachers asked me at lunch if we thought they were alcoholics – I said no I think you are Korean – I told him as well we do not think anything negative about him because he is simply doing what is traditional to him – that is fine.
Anyway Sarah and I have vowed never to go on another over night trip. We will do day trips and we will only go if the other is going, but never ever on another over night trip. From everything I have read, after the nights of drinking with co-workers and bosses, it is considered very bad form to talk about anything that happens at work (what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas kind of thing) so we are interested to see if any of these teachers speak to us once school is back in section.
Okay that is my culture hock story. I am going out to Incheon next week to learn Korean ceramics and play with a potters wheel. Sound like a fun and messy time.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Passage through India: Volume 2
On Monday my mission was to get my ticket for the train to Agra for the next day. (Mind you that I am writing this on Thursday. I have had little chance to put two sentences together.) So after a bit of distraction and a guy who was trying to stop me from going to the tourist office of the station by telling me that I could not enter the mainhall without a ticket (the stairs to the office are in the back corner of the entrance hall) and that I could not buy a ticket here in advance – I could only buy day of tickets and blah, blah, blah, but if I went to this agent they could help blah, blah, blah. He was annoying to get passed. Anyway I get up to the office, and I am trying to figure out how to fill out the form and read the schedule on the wall – when I see two women roughly my age doing the same. I glanced over to the one woman’s paper and see that she is headed for Agra Cantt (the same station as me) on the 29th (same day as me). So I make a comment that I am headed to Agra the next day as well and she says wonderful we should travel together (both of them were traveling alone too and had just met the day before on an airplane from southern India to Delhi). Katerina (the one headed to Agra) is German, but now lives in Vienna. She had been traveling through southern India for a couple months. The younger was HaengMin. Now this part is hysterical. HaengMin is from Seoul. We had one of those “Oh I live in Seoul – you live in Seoul” moments. Even better, she and I live not a ten minute walk away from each other. Needless to say we are meeting up for tea when I get back.
Katerina and I get our tickets, and the three of us go walking. Being that they both only had two more days in India, they were going about looking for last minute presents for friends. I was not looking to buy anything yet because I still had many days and did not want to carry it. But it did give me a good chance to figure out prices. So we walked, and walked, and walked. I did buy one thing. One shop had some nice simple dresses. I ordered one and will pick it up on my way back through Delhi. Nothing special just made to size for 200 rupees ($4.50). I can wear it with jeans. (FYI- I am wearing it now as I am typing this)
February 1, 2008
I am now sitting at the Agra Fort train station waiting to go to Sawai Madhopur. The train was supposed to have been here and left by 4:55 AM; however, it is 3 hours and 45 minutes late. Lovely! But this is not a problem. I have met a group of teenage girls who are traveling with their teacher. They are returning home after a match. Their train is also late. I am having great time talking with them and one of the members of the boys team. Actually they are reading this as I write it. Since I have been too tired at night or busy acquiring traveling partners. I will try and use this time to catch up.
Alright to finish up on Delhi. So I spent the remainder of the day and evening with Katerina and HaengMin. Finally we made our way to a little café near their hotel (Everest). Nice and warm – which is good because it has been …
I am a Student of 12th class. My name is Pivja Kanwan Inam and I played Ball-Badminton. I want to meet you very happy. (This is the captain of the female team. She wrote this in my notebook.)
So the boy who has been sitting and watching …
I am a Student of 9th class. My name is Rajat Mudgalham and I played Ball Badminton. I want to meet you very happy. (that was him)
I am a student of VIII class. My name is Akshita Dadheech. My hobbies are playing, dancing, reading comic etc. I want to watch Korea and meet you. You are very good friend. Thank you. (that was the youngest girl on the team and very talkative)
This is great they are passing around my book to write messages. As I was saying – the one boy who has been reading over my shoulder this whole time – is driving the girls crazy telling them that their writing is bad. He is very cute. Sad time their train is finally here and they are leaving. My train should hopefully be here within the hour.
Okay back to Delhi. It has been about 70 during the day and 50-55 at night. So in the early morning and evening I have been freezing my butt off. Most rooms are not heated and have marble floors – so it is like sleeping in a frig. Back to the Everest café. The place is only about 15 x 15 and will fit as many people as are willing to sit in there. A young man sat down next to Katerina and being that you are closer than shoulder to shoulder you say hi and chat. This guy turned out to be in the Indian Army on leave. His name is Manbreet. So the four of us chatted for a while. And as all conversations go eventually, you talk about where you are headed next. Katerina and I said we were headed to Agra, and Manbreet said he had never been there. Now think about this – your first response is – you live in India and you have never been to Agra to see the Taj Mahal? How many Americans have never been to New York City or Washington, DC? So Katerina and I told him that if he was not busy the next day, he should come with us.
Now tickets should usually be purchased early the day before if not earlier. The train we were taking to Agra was at 6:15 AM, and we parted company with Manbreet after 10PM. Katerina and I planned to meet at 6 AM in front of the station. I was a bit early – as I was walking through the lot I hear my name – it is name Manbreet. He had gotten up at 3:30 AM to buy a ticket and had been waiting to see on of us since 5:30. Well okay then. The train to Agra was uneventful. It takes about 2 hours on the express train. There was a Sikh gentleman who was walking around introducing himself. (Sikh are the guys you see wearing the turbans with western clothes.) He was probably late 30s-40s. He was born and raised in Scotland – so it was a hoot to this big Indian man with a turban and a thick Scottish accent. We finally arrived at Agra and made our way over to the Taj Mahal.
Now one thing about India is the cost of living for a foreigner is so cheap. In dollars (or won or euro) you are spending next to nothing, but they will try and gouge you whenever possible. For example: most monuments, palaces, and forts are free or maybe 50 rupees for citizens; however, it is 150 – 750 rupee for foreigners ( the Taj Mahal is 750 rupee – this is more then my pretty nice hotel room costs for one night.) Manbreet kept apologizing that there was such a difference. Now in reality it is no difference in price then going to the Met or any other large museum in America or Europe, but it is so very expensive for India.
So my train that was supposed to arrive at 4:55 has finally arrived at 10:00. I think I am sitting in the right place. This time I am in a kind of sleeper class. It is not as posh as the one I came down on but it is defiantly not 1st class - which basically works like a box car. Put in some wooden benches, add windows that open but are barred, and cram in as many people as humanly possible. It is funny to see those cars pull into the station – all the men hanging out of the doors.
Back to the Taj. The walk from the “plaza” to the ticket booth is a trip. You have to run a gauntlet of vegetable vendors, autorickshaws, horses and buggies, camels and buggies, bicycle rickshaws, jewelry vendors, little boys selling postcard books and snow globes with the Taj Mahal inside, guys selling necklaces and ankle bells, and guys asking you if you want a guide. This walk up is also in no way appealing. Very brown, dusty, and trashed filled. Now once you get your ticket, go through the very sad excuse for metal detectors, and are patted down, you are then in a different world. Oh side note – you are not allowed to take a guidebook or tourist book into the Taj. I have no idea why and no one seemed able to explain this, but Katerina had one with her and we had to leave it in the coat check. Once through the main entrance gate, there is a vast network of little waterways, green lawns, huge green trees, flowers, and the unimaginable brightness of the Taj Mahal across it all. It does not look real. It is so perfect it cannot be real. When we first entered it was rather hazy, so the view in a way looked like a watercolor. I was expecting someone to come walking by and take it away and right behind it would be a huge pile of trash and rubble complete with pigs and cows eating lunch. In many of the places you have to take off your shoes before entering – this is true for going up onto the base of the Taj. On either side is a red stoned mosque. This is where I first met the bees. In many of my pictures, you will see on the ceiling these beautiful designs with big, black blobs scattered around. These are actually massive beehives.
I cannot describe the painstaking detail in the Taj Mahal. Any pattern work you see is not painted. The pattern is cut into the marble and then precisely cut precious stones were fit into the marble to bring color to the pattern. Even now you can hardly see a seam between the marble and the colored stones. All done for the love of a woman.
After the Taj, we went to find my hotel so we could put our bags down and wash up. By the way – Hotel Sheela – lovely place - very peaceful – just wish it was not so damned cold at night right now. We then walked the 2 km to Agra Fort. It is amusing to hear the drivers tell you – “ah Madame 5 km to Agra Fort – 80 rupees 3 people” – Liars! So up to the fort we go – to pay another 250 rupees. Fine you make your money off of tourism I get it. What really struck me about all of these places is what you cannot hear from inside. It is so quiet. You will hear the occasional horn or train, but not the people shouting, engines, or animals. So from 100 years back you would have no clue of the outside world. Unfortunately, my battery in my camera died not long after we were in there. There are some great views of the Taj off in the distance. A glowing whiteness in this vast sea of brown yuck. We eventually made our way back down near where I was staying. We found a place to get some tea. We started by sitting at the rooftop “café”; however, believe it or not it actually started to drizzle. What the hell – I come to India and I need a sweater and it rains. Fine we move inside – we can still see the Taj from there. So it is me, Katerina, and Mabreet just chatting. There is a TV in the room and as time passes a few more men – mostly all related – gather to watch. This whole time my back it to the TV. I am talking with Katerina and the Taj is behind her. Then there is this loud collective groan. Similar to what you would hear when a player gets checked into the glass. I turn around to see that WWE (wrestling) is on. You have to been kidding me. I am sitting in a scruffy café in India with a view of the Taj Mahal and here is a bunch of men actually watching wrestling. Even Manbreet was glued to the television. He was honestly very disappointed to find out that it is all fake and that in the US most people view those who watch wrestling as low class and less intelligent. He was shocked!
So I bid Katerina and Manbreet goodbye. Both would be going back to Delhi. Katerina would be going back to Viena the next day, and Manbreet – I do not know – he was still on holiday until the 25th. I swore to myself that I would take it easy on Wednesday and that started as my plan. Tuesday night I decided to re-route my trip slightly. I would leave Agra two days early and head down to Sawai Madhupor. (I am currently on the train there now.) The plan for the rest of the day was: walk up to the main train station to exchange my ticket, take a walk through two of the gardens, and just relax. And I guess it was – it just did not turn out as I expected.
Katerina and I get our tickets, and the three of us go walking. Being that they both only had two more days in India, they were going about looking for last minute presents for friends. I was not looking to buy anything yet because I still had many days and did not want to carry it. But it did give me a good chance to figure out prices. So we walked, and walked, and walked. I did buy one thing. One shop had some nice simple dresses. I ordered one and will pick it up on my way back through Delhi. Nothing special just made to size for 200 rupees ($4.50). I can wear it with jeans. (FYI- I am wearing it now as I am typing this)
February 1, 2008
I am now sitting at the Agra Fort train station waiting to go to Sawai Madhopur. The train was supposed to have been here and left by 4:55 AM; however, it is 3 hours and 45 minutes late. Lovely! But this is not a problem. I have met a group of teenage girls who are traveling with their teacher. They are returning home after a match. Their train is also late. I am having great time talking with them and one of the members of the boys team. Actually they are reading this as I write it. Since I have been too tired at night or busy acquiring traveling partners. I will try and use this time to catch up.
Alright to finish up on Delhi. So I spent the remainder of the day and evening with Katerina and HaengMin. Finally we made our way to a little café near their hotel (Everest). Nice and warm – which is good because it has been …
I am a Student of 12th class. My name is Pivja Kanwan Inam and I played Ball-Badminton. I want to meet you very happy. (This is the captain of the female team. She wrote this in my notebook.)
So the boy who has been sitting and watching …
I am a Student of 9th class. My name is Rajat Mudgalham and I played Ball Badminton. I want to meet you very happy. (that was him)
I am a student of VIII class. My name is Akshita Dadheech. My hobbies are playing, dancing, reading comic etc. I want to watch Korea and meet you. You are very good friend. Thank you. (that was the youngest girl on the team and very talkative)
This is great they are passing around my book to write messages. As I was saying – the one boy who has been reading over my shoulder this whole time – is driving the girls crazy telling them that their writing is bad. He is very cute. Sad time their train is finally here and they are leaving. My train should hopefully be here within the hour.
Okay back to Delhi. It has been about 70 during the day and 50-55 at night. So in the early morning and evening I have been freezing my butt off. Most rooms are not heated and have marble floors – so it is like sleeping in a frig. Back to the Everest café. The place is only about 15 x 15 and will fit as many people as are willing to sit in there. A young man sat down next to Katerina and being that you are closer than shoulder to shoulder you say hi and chat. This guy turned out to be in the Indian Army on leave. His name is Manbreet. So the four of us chatted for a while. And as all conversations go eventually, you talk about where you are headed next. Katerina and I said we were headed to Agra, and Manbreet said he had never been there. Now think about this – your first response is – you live in India and you have never been to Agra to see the Taj Mahal? How many Americans have never been to New York City or Washington, DC? So Katerina and I told him that if he was not busy the next day, he should come with us.
Now tickets should usually be purchased early the day before if not earlier. The train we were taking to Agra was at 6:15 AM, and we parted company with Manbreet after 10PM. Katerina and I planned to meet at 6 AM in front of the station. I was a bit early – as I was walking through the lot I hear my name – it is name Manbreet. He had gotten up at 3:30 AM to buy a ticket and had been waiting to see on of us since 5:30. Well okay then. The train to Agra was uneventful. It takes about 2 hours on the express train. There was a Sikh gentleman who was walking around introducing himself. (Sikh are the guys you see wearing the turbans with western clothes.) He was probably late 30s-40s. He was born and raised in Scotland – so it was a hoot to this big Indian man with a turban and a thick Scottish accent. We finally arrived at Agra and made our way over to the Taj Mahal.
Now one thing about India is the cost of living for a foreigner is so cheap. In dollars (or won or euro) you are spending next to nothing, but they will try and gouge you whenever possible. For example: most monuments, palaces, and forts are free or maybe 50 rupees for citizens; however, it is 150 – 750 rupee for foreigners ( the Taj Mahal is 750 rupee – this is more then my pretty nice hotel room costs for one night.) Manbreet kept apologizing that there was such a difference. Now in reality it is no difference in price then going to the Met or any other large museum in America or Europe, but it is so very expensive for India.
So my train that was supposed to arrive at 4:55 has finally arrived at 10:00. I think I am sitting in the right place. This time I am in a kind of sleeper class. It is not as posh as the one I came down on but it is defiantly not 1st class - which basically works like a box car. Put in some wooden benches, add windows that open but are barred, and cram in as many people as humanly possible. It is funny to see those cars pull into the station – all the men hanging out of the doors.
Back to the Taj. The walk from the “plaza” to the ticket booth is a trip. You have to run a gauntlet of vegetable vendors, autorickshaws, horses and buggies, camels and buggies, bicycle rickshaws, jewelry vendors, little boys selling postcard books and snow globes with the Taj Mahal inside, guys selling necklaces and ankle bells, and guys asking you if you want a guide. This walk up is also in no way appealing. Very brown, dusty, and trashed filled. Now once you get your ticket, go through the very sad excuse for metal detectors, and are patted down, you are then in a different world. Oh side note – you are not allowed to take a guidebook or tourist book into the Taj. I have no idea why and no one seemed able to explain this, but Katerina had one with her and we had to leave it in the coat check. Once through the main entrance gate, there is a vast network of little waterways, green lawns, huge green trees, flowers, and the unimaginable brightness of the Taj Mahal across it all. It does not look real. It is so perfect it cannot be real. When we first entered it was rather hazy, so the view in a way looked like a watercolor. I was expecting someone to come walking by and take it away and right behind it would be a huge pile of trash and rubble complete with pigs and cows eating lunch. In many of the places you have to take off your shoes before entering – this is true for going up onto the base of the Taj. On either side is a red stoned mosque. This is where I first met the bees. In many of my pictures, you will see on the ceiling these beautiful designs with big, black blobs scattered around. These are actually massive beehives.
I cannot describe the painstaking detail in the Taj Mahal. Any pattern work you see is not painted. The pattern is cut into the marble and then precisely cut precious stones were fit into the marble to bring color to the pattern. Even now you can hardly see a seam between the marble and the colored stones. All done for the love of a woman.
After the Taj, we went to find my hotel so we could put our bags down and wash up. By the way – Hotel Sheela – lovely place - very peaceful – just wish it was not so damned cold at night right now. We then walked the 2 km to Agra Fort. It is amusing to hear the drivers tell you – “ah Madame 5 km to Agra Fort – 80 rupees 3 people” – Liars! So up to the fort we go – to pay another 250 rupees. Fine you make your money off of tourism I get it. What really struck me about all of these places is what you cannot hear from inside. It is so quiet. You will hear the occasional horn or train, but not the people shouting, engines, or animals. So from 100 years back you would have no clue of the outside world. Unfortunately, my battery in my camera died not long after we were in there. There are some great views of the Taj off in the distance. A glowing whiteness in this vast sea of brown yuck. We eventually made our way back down near where I was staying. We found a place to get some tea. We started by sitting at the rooftop “café”; however, believe it or not it actually started to drizzle. What the hell – I come to India and I need a sweater and it rains. Fine we move inside – we can still see the Taj from there. So it is me, Katerina, and Mabreet just chatting. There is a TV in the room and as time passes a few more men – mostly all related – gather to watch. This whole time my back it to the TV. I am talking with Katerina and the Taj is behind her. Then there is this loud collective groan. Similar to what you would hear when a player gets checked into the glass. I turn around to see that WWE (wrestling) is on. You have to been kidding me. I am sitting in a scruffy café in India with a view of the Taj Mahal and here is a bunch of men actually watching wrestling. Even Manbreet was glued to the television. He was honestly very disappointed to find out that it is all fake and that in the US most people view those who watch wrestling as low class and less intelligent. He was shocked!
So I bid Katerina and Manbreet goodbye. Both would be going back to Delhi. Katerina would be going back to Viena the next day, and Manbreet – I do not know – he was still on holiday until the 25th. I swore to myself that I would take it easy on Wednesday and that started as my plan. Tuesday night I decided to re-route my trip slightly. I would leave Agra two days early and head down to Sawai Madhupor. (I am currently on the train there now.) The plan for the rest of the day was: walk up to the main train station to exchange my ticket, take a walk through two of the gardens, and just relax. And I guess it was – it just did not turn out as I expected.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
India Photos
Okay my photos from my trip are up; however, I have not had a chance to label them yet. So view now or view later. As you wish. I tried to give you things as I saw them. It amazed me how the architecture really manipulates how you see things. Many times if you are standing in the middle of a room looking out the window - you cannot see the crowded, dirty city below. What you get is a beautiful field or hillside. And you cannot hear the rest of the world from in these places. You are in a well manufactures peacefulness.
Passage through India: Volume 1
The following is from the journal I kept during my trip.
January 26, 2008
Leave it to me – if there is a baby or small child, I will start a game with them. There is a little girl (baby) diagonally across from me on row up. Big dark eyes, dark hair, and a chubby face with a dimple on her chin. Cute – so cute. Her mom is holding heron her lap so that she is facing me. Oh what – it is bottle time. I have lost my playmate.
OOOOOOOO! They have ‘Project Runway’ on the TV! Between not having cable in Chicago and no TV in Seoul. I have not seen anything past the second season. Okay that is harsh – chilled red airplane wine. That is a headache waiting to happen.
January 27, 2008
1:30 AM
I am not up of my own choosing, but I will explain that in a moment. First, allow me to recount my introduction to India. While I was on the plane I was seated beside an amicable enough gentleman. A man of Indian decent perhaps in his 40s. He has been in the US for the past 40 years (in California) and ownes a gas station. He was coming back to visit family for three weeks. After about two hours of chit-chat, he informs me that if I would marry his 26 year old younger brother – he would give me $20,000.00. What?!? Oh yes it really happened. In fact, I so did not believe what I was hearing that I made him repeat it three times. And I still had seven hours to sit by this guy. I could not stop laughing. I mean come on someone just offered me money to marry their brother. Well, I politely reminded him that I was engaged, as I had mentioned earlier, and that the man I was promised to would not be very happy if I did this nor would my family. So as interesting as the idea may be, I would have to refuse. Someone just offered me money to marry his brother. But after I refused the man was fine. A few other moments of chit-chat and we went back to watching our respective TVs.
Second story occurs as I am going to my hotel. My hotel arranged for a driver to pick me up. The hotel I am staying at is run by a set of brothers. And the gentleman who picked me up was a younger cousin/brother (they say this went they mean male cousin) of these – Raj. He is a 23 year old university student – studying English. He has a four month break so he is driving his taxi and giving tours during his holiday. Funny guy – and not afraid to talk it up to drum up business. I may hire him for part of a day to drive me around. It can be done for really cheap. So anyway we are zipping along through the streets. By the way – they drive on the left here, the majority of cars here are very small and very old, they drive like maniacs, and the roads totally suck. Okay – zipping along and we finally turn down this side street to my hotel. We pull up in front of my hotel. I look up to get a quick glance of the area and as I look out over the hood of the car – what do I see? A Cow!! Oh lord!! There in front of the cab laying down between two parked cars is a cow. And he is looking rather annoyed that the headlights of this cab woke him up. And I am hoping I do not have to walk past him. Luckily no – the entrance is to my left and not straight ahead. I was spared my confrontation with a pissed Indian cow. So I check in, make phone calls, have some food at the café on the roof, use the internet and finally go to sleep. It was probably around 10:30 PM when I loose consciousness.
Then I awaken to the sound of explosions, drums, and trumpets. The curtains are drawn so I have not idea what time it is. For all I know it is morning, and I know I arrived on a holiday that involves parades – maybe this was one – maybe someone has a TV up too loud. I lay there for a minute and then finally turn on the light. It is 1:00 AM. I step out side my room to see what is going on. There is a gentleman doing the same as me. He starts heading for the patio on the roof. As he is doing this he informs me that yes it is a parade and tells me to come up. Once I get on the roof, I look down to the very narrow street to see people walking and dancing, someone on a horse, and people carrying what looks like electric chandeliers all lit up. The man tells me that it is a wedding celebration. This procession will wind itself all the way through the city. So he and I and other guests, head down for a closer look. I love it. It is 1 AM and people are dancing in the street. The man told me that this could go on ‘til 4 AM. I wonder if I could get away with this in Chicago. While I am down there, I met two women (I believe a mother and daughter) from Russia. We were chatting for a moment when some young men started talking to us. They were being very jubilant – shaking hands – giving us necklaces of marigolds – tried dancing with us. Actually one guy started dancing into the street with the younger of the Russian ladies. The older followed to bring her back. As she did this, one of the guys took my wrist to lead me into the center of the celebration. I am barely awake – it is 1AM – I have only been here a few hours – I tell him no. As I pull my wrist back, he pulls harder forward. At that point I planted my feet – twisted my wrist – and pulled it out of his hand with a NO.
Now the man I met in the hall, who had come out with me (happened to be an older Indian fellow), had been watching me this whole time. I knew this because I was keeping an eye on him. At my no, he came over and told the guys to go back to partying. We watched for a few more minutes and he walked back in with me. It was never scary – more like annoying. You actually think I am going to go with you? You actually think you can pull my arm, and I, who out weigh you by 50 pounds and have 4 inches on you, won’t try to pull away. Very different then Korea. People will stand four feet from you stare and talk about you plan as day – but they would never touch you. No way. And if someone did – every other Korean you know would apologize and be so embarrassed that another Korean would do such a thing.
I am now back in my room. Off to sleep again.
27th continued
What a day! I mean really what a day. So despite having trouble falling asleep and the being woken up by the wedding parade – I still wake up at 7:00. So I took forever getting dressed and went to the roof for a lazy breakfast. Sometime after 9, I went walking around where I am staying. The first thing I wanted to do was get a SIM card for my phone but the shop would not open until 10 – so I walked around. If you are in any way a person with the slightest weak stomach or squeamish about germ – you are so screwed here. Let me start on the leasts list:
There is trash everywhere. If not in the area of a walled off paid to get into monument, there is trash. And not a paper here – a cup there – It is in piles. Then is the debris. So much of the city looks as if a bomb hit it and no one has bothered moving a brick since. And within those buildings with no roof and crumbling walls – there are scores of people living. Children are playing, mothers are sitting in groups. And there is nothing you can do.
Now for the animals. This place is a living zoo. Within the walls of the shrines and tombs and temples, there are hundreds of these little chipmunks running around. And so many birds. My favorites are the bright green ones that make a crap load of noise. Then there are the streets. I have already mentioned the cows. I mean you are told that they are everywhere and they have complete freedom, but I am telling you people – you have no idea what that means. One of the first things I saw this morning was a small herd (it was about 8 so I am saying herd) of big bovine in the middle of this Y intersection chomping on straw and garbage. Oh my lord these things are huge! And I am telling you again, they are everywhere. They are holding up traffic on narrow side roads because they are walking slow as can be in front of a taxi. They are standing on the narrow medians that divide large high traffic roads. They are standing in the middle of intersections eating trash. May favorite was the one I came within four feet of running straight into as a rickshaw and couple I was walking close behind both veered off and before I knew it I was face to face with a big black cow. Oh I also like the guy who was milking one on the sidewalk. I have seen a couple of donkeys and one small horse.
But the other animal that is even more numerous then the cows are the dogs. Stand anywhere and without turning around you will count at least 6 or 8. Surprisingly they are really passive. You can walk right passed them and they will not move. Most likely because they do not have the energy. They are so sad looking – most of them though with a good bath, flea dip, and meals would be such beautiful dogs. Some you will see laying on those medians in the road with the cows. Looking half dead and then you pass by the one that really is. Beautiful black dog – big eyes open – no movement – no breathe – nothing.
Okay I need to stop here for a second and address the very cute and very persistent little cat that lives on the rooftop of the hotel. I am eating my dinner right now – actually I am finished eating so little Miss is circling, rubbing against my chair, sitting on the chair next to me – begging. She just now got ballsy and jumped up on the table. Oh she is damned adorable but annoying.
So coming back to hygiene. With all these free roaming animals comes the most obvious and disturbing circumstance – shit. I guess is could be a lot worse, but well it is there – just walk around it.
Now to get around town you can walk (hahahaha have fun), there are buses (but I am telling you, I am sure that if you ride one a chicken or goat will end up in your lap) they look a bit rough even for my standards, guide books say there is a metro system (well the first leg of one) but I cannot find it, or you can grab a bicycle-rickshaw or auto-rickshaw. These both are rather cheap. In fact you can hire an auto-rickshaw for the whole day for between 500-600 rupees – this is about equal to $12 or $15. The driver takes you wherever you want and just waits for you to come back and then takes you to the next place. At first felt really bad. The notion of paying someone so very little in my eyes to just wait on me and shuttle me around was – I kind of felt like a jerk. So the person I hired was the young man who the hotel hired to pick me up from the airport. I mentioned before his name is Raj. He even has a big cursive ‘R’ on his windshield so you know which vehicle is his. So at 10:00 he was waiting outside for me ready to go. Pretty cool kids. Of course, you are on your guard watching for any of the scams you read about, but this guy was proving rather honest. He took me to get a SIM card (bonus without me saying he suggested the same place as the hotel), he even figured out how to unlock my cell phone from Cingular after three other places said they would charge me 450+ rupees (should have been 50-100 rupees). I went to the India Gate, Qutb Minar Complex (Qutb Minar [tower], Quwwat-al-Islam Masjid [first mosque built in India around 1193], Iron Pillars, Alai Minar [unfinished tower has become a wildlife haven]), Humayun’s Tomb, and Bahai temple. It was a long and wonderful crash course in Delhi.
At one point I asked Raj how much the average Indian makes. He said he really could not speak about others, but he makes about 4,000 rupees a month (that is about $100). What I was paying for three nights at a hotel – this kids makes in a month. This really rattled me for the rest of the day. Even if he wanted to try and go anywhere else – he could not afford it.
January 26, 2008
Leave it to me – if there is a baby or small child, I will start a game with them. There is a little girl (baby) diagonally across from me on row up. Big dark eyes, dark hair, and a chubby face with a dimple on her chin. Cute – so cute. Her mom is holding heron her lap so that she is facing me. Oh what – it is bottle time. I have lost my playmate.
OOOOOOOO! They have ‘Project Runway’ on the TV! Between not having cable in Chicago and no TV in Seoul. I have not seen anything past the second season. Okay that is harsh – chilled red airplane wine. That is a headache waiting to happen.
January 27, 2008
1:30 AM
I am not up of my own choosing, but I will explain that in a moment. First, allow me to recount my introduction to India. While I was on the plane I was seated beside an amicable enough gentleman. A man of Indian decent perhaps in his 40s. He has been in the US for the past 40 years (in California) and ownes a gas station. He was coming back to visit family for three weeks. After about two hours of chit-chat, he informs me that if I would marry his 26 year old younger brother – he would give me $20,000.00. What?!? Oh yes it really happened. In fact, I so did not believe what I was hearing that I made him repeat it three times. And I still had seven hours to sit by this guy. I could not stop laughing. I mean come on someone just offered me money to marry their brother. Well, I politely reminded him that I was engaged, as I had mentioned earlier, and that the man I was promised to would not be very happy if I did this nor would my family. So as interesting as the idea may be, I would have to refuse. Someone just offered me money to marry his brother. But after I refused the man was fine. A few other moments of chit-chat and we went back to watching our respective TVs.
Second story occurs as I am going to my hotel. My hotel arranged for a driver to pick me up. The hotel I am staying at is run by a set of brothers. And the gentleman who picked me up was a younger cousin/brother (they say this went they mean male cousin) of these – Raj. He is a 23 year old university student – studying English. He has a four month break so he is driving his taxi and giving tours during his holiday. Funny guy – and not afraid to talk it up to drum up business. I may hire him for part of a day to drive me around. It can be done for really cheap. So anyway we are zipping along through the streets. By the way – they drive on the left here, the majority of cars here are very small and very old, they drive like maniacs, and the roads totally suck. Okay – zipping along and we finally turn down this side street to my hotel. We pull up in front of my hotel. I look up to get a quick glance of the area and as I look out over the hood of the car – what do I see? A Cow!! Oh lord!! There in front of the cab laying down between two parked cars is a cow. And he is looking rather annoyed that the headlights of this cab woke him up. And I am hoping I do not have to walk past him. Luckily no – the entrance is to my left and not straight ahead. I was spared my confrontation with a pissed Indian cow. So I check in, make phone calls, have some food at the café on the roof, use the internet and finally go to sleep. It was probably around 10:30 PM when I loose consciousness.
Then I awaken to the sound of explosions, drums, and trumpets. The curtains are drawn so I have not idea what time it is. For all I know it is morning, and I know I arrived on a holiday that involves parades – maybe this was one – maybe someone has a TV up too loud. I lay there for a minute and then finally turn on the light. It is 1:00 AM. I step out side my room to see what is going on. There is a gentleman doing the same as me. He starts heading for the patio on the roof. As he is doing this he informs me that yes it is a parade and tells me to come up. Once I get on the roof, I look down to the very narrow street to see people walking and dancing, someone on a horse, and people carrying what looks like electric chandeliers all lit up. The man tells me that it is a wedding celebration. This procession will wind itself all the way through the city. So he and I and other guests, head down for a closer look. I love it. It is 1 AM and people are dancing in the street. The man told me that this could go on ‘til 4 AM. I wonder if I could get away with this in Chicago. While I am down there, I met two women (I believe a mother and daughter) from Russia. We were chatting for a moment when some young men started talking to us. They were being very jubilant – shaking hands – giving us necklaces of marigolds – tried dancing with us. Actually one guy started dancing into the street with the younger of the Russian ladies. The older followed to bring her back. As she did this, one of the guys took my wrist to lead me into the center of the celebration. I am barely awake – it is 1AM – I have only been here a few hours – I tell him no. As I pull my wrist back, he pulls harder forward. At that point I planted my feet – twisted my wrist – and pulled it out of his hand with a NO.
Now the man I met in the hall, who had come out with me (happened to be an older Indian fellow), had been watching me this whole time. I knew this because I was keeping an eye on him. At my no, he came over and told the guys to go back to partying. We watched for a few more minutes and he walked back in with me. It was never scary – more like annoying. You actually think I am going to go with you? You actually think you can pull my arm, and I, who out weigh you by 50 pounds and have 4 inches on you, won’t try to pull away. Very different then Korea. People will stand four feet from you stare and talk about you plan as day – but they would never touch you. No way. And if someone did – every other Korean you know would apologize and be so embarrassed that another Korean would do such a thing.
I am now back in my room. Off to sleep again.
27th continued
What a day! I mean really what a day. So despite having trouble falling asleep and the being woken up by the wedding parade – I still wake up at 7:00. So I took forever getting dressed and went to the roof for a lazy breakfast. Sometime after 9, I went walking around where I am staying. The first thing I wanted to do was get a SIM card for my phone but the shop would not open until 10 – so I walked around. If you are in any way a person with the slightest weak stomach or squeamish about germ – you are so screwed here. Let me start on the leasts list:
There is trash everywhere. If not in the area of a walled off paid to get into monument, there is trash. And not a paper here – a cup there – It is in piles. Then is the debris. So much of the city looks as if a bomb hit it and no one has bothered moving a brick since. And within those buildings with no roof and crumbling walls – there are scores of people living. Children are playing, mothers are sitting in groups. And there is nothing you can do.
Now for the animals. This place is a living zoo. Within the walls of the shrines and tombs and temples, there are hundreds of these little chipmunks running around. And so many birds. My favorites are the bright green ones that make a crap load of noise. Then there are the streets. I have already mentioned the cows. I mean you are told that they are everywhere and they have complete freedom, but I am telling you people – you have no idea what that means. One of the first things I saw this morning was a small herd (it was about 8 so I am saying herd) of big bovine in the middle of this Y intersection chomping on straw and garbage. Oh my lord these things are huge! And I am telling you again, they are everywhere. They are holding up traffic on narrow side roads because they are walking slow as can be in front of a taxi. They are standing on the narrow medians that divide large high traffic roads. They are standing in the middle of intersections eating trash. May favorite was the one I came within four feet of running straight into as a rickshaw and couple I was walking close behind both veered off and before I knew it I was face to face with a big black cow. Oh I also like the guy who was milking one on the sidewalk. I have seen a couple of donkeys and one small horse.
But the other animal that is even more numerous then the cows are the dogs. Stand anywhere and without turning around you will count at least 6 or 8. Surprisingly they are really passive. You can walk right passed them and they will not move. Most likely because they do not have the energy. They are so sad looking – most of them though with a good bath, flea dip, and meals would be such beautiful dogs. Some you will see laying on those medians in the road with the cows. Looking half dead and then you pass by the one that really is. Beautiful black dog – big eyes open – no movement – no breathe – nothing.
Okay I need to stop here for a second and address the very cute and very persistent little cat that lives on the rooftop of the hotel. I am eating my dinner right now – actually I am finished eating so little Miss is circling, rubbing against my chair, sitting on the chair next to me – begging. She just now got ballsy and jumped up on the table. Oh she is damned adorable but annoying.
So coming back to hygiene. With all these free roaming animals comes the most obvious and disturbing circumstance – shit. I guess is could be a lot worse, but well it is there – just walk around it.
Now to get around town you can walk (hahahaha have fun), there are buses (but I am telling you, I am sure that if you ride one a chicken or goat will end up in your lap) they look a bit rough even for my standards, guide books say there is a metro system (well the first leg of one) but I cannot find it, or you can grab a bicycle-rickshaw or auto-rickshaw. These both are rather cheap. In fact you can hire an auto-rickshaw for the whole day for between 500-600 rupees – this is about equal to $12 or $15. The driver takes you wherever you want and just waits for you to come back and then takes you to the next place. At first felt really bad. The notion of paying someone so very little in my eyes to just wait on me and shuttle me around was – I kind of felt like a jerk. So the person I hired was the young man who the hotel hired to pick me up from the airport. I mentioned before his name is Raj. He even has a big cursive ‘R’ on his windshield so you know which vehicle is his. So at 10:00 he was waiting outside for me ready to go. Pretty cool kids. Of course, you are on your guard watching for any of the scams you read about, but this guy was proving rather honest. He took me to get a SIM card (bonus without me saying he suggested the same place as the hotel), he even figured out how to unlock my cell phone from Cingular after three other places said they would charge me 450+ rupees (should have been 50-100 rupees). I went to the India Gate, Qutb Minar Complex (Qutb Minar [tower], Quwwat-al-Islam Masjid [first mosque built in India around 1193], Iron Pillars, Alai Minar [unfinished tower has become a wildlife haven]), Humayun’s Tomb, and Bahai temple. It was a long and wonderful crash course in Delhi.
At one point I asked Raj how much the average Indian makes. He said he really could not speak about others, but he makes about 4,000 rupees a month (that is about $100). What I was paying for three nights at a hotel – this kids makes in a month. This really rattled me for the rest of the day. Even if he wanted to try and go anywhere else – he could not afford it.
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