India Has All My Money!

2010-11-01T14:19:00.001-07:00

http://www.lstl.4rdq.com

2010-08-28T19:11:00.001-07:00

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Rivers...Holier Than Holy

2006-05-02T16:11:00.000-07:00

Hello all. It's been a while since I've written anything, mainly because I returned from India four weeks ago. I'm not quite sure how long I will continue to write in this blog. Will I start a new one, or let them go altogether? Who knows. And most likely, most people who were reading this are no longer doing so. Still, let's just pretend I have at least one reader...

Hindus in India have a belief and subsequent ritual that confused me for a long time. As I'm sure you know, the Ganga/Ganges is considered the holiest river in India. Of course, don't forget about the Indus, the Krishna, the Yamuna, the Saraswati (which doesn't really exist anymore), the Godavari, the Brahmaputra, the Cauvery (or Kavery), etc., not to mention the three most important rivers in Gujarat: the Sabarmati, the Narmada, and the Tapti. All of these rivers, along with the hundreds more, are holy. So holy, in fact, that prayer is essential at each one. Mandapams, temples, and shrines line the shores of each one. Often, as people drive cars or ride trains over rivers, they touch their hands to their hearts in a sign of reverence. Many bless a paise or so before throwing it out the window into the water below. Signs of respect. So, the question is: Why?

I raised this question with a few folks, and the response was always religious: Because she is one of our goddesses...um...okay. Rivers are shes, that's normal. And sure they are goddesses. But is that why they are holy? Or have the rivers been manifested as goddesses because they are holy? The religious explanation explains the result, not the cause, of the holiness. Plus, why should anyone believe it? I may believe in the goddess Narmada Devi, but why should I believe in a Brahmaputra Devi, since I've never even seen the river?

Then, I heard the perfect explanation, one that wholly changed my view of rivers forever. Rivers are, in one word, life. As a student of anthropology and archaeology, I should have thought of this. Essentially, every civilization in the world came about due to a river. Rivers are the source of flowing, fresh water for trade, irrigation, waste disposal, drinking and cleaning, and bathing. Lakes are too stagnant to sustain any growing civilization. Seas and oceans are too salty. So, rivers it is. Without rivers, where would we be? Well, I certainly wouldn't be here, writing a blog that probably no one will read. No, there wouldn't be any civilization. There wouldn't have been tribes, which led to chieftains, which led to states. None of that would exist. Sure, perhaps we would have made it work. But not to the point of getting where we are today.

Rivers are holy because without them, we wouldn't exist. It's as simple as that. So, the next time you pass by a river, show it some reverence. Touch your right hand to your heart, even for a moment. (I wouldn't recommend throwing money out of a moving car...you'll probably hit someone or some vehicle with it.) Show respect. Be reverent. And thank every river you see for giving you everything you have.

Love Him or Hate, You Can't Not Talk About Him

2006-03-23T02:13:00.000-08:00

He is currently the most important person in Gujarat. And he's also one of the most controversial is Indian history. He has been blamed for one of the worst disasters in Gujarati history. He is praised for solely improving Gujarat as a whole. Most Gujaratis love him. Most non-Gujaratis would rather he was gone. So, who is he?

Chief Minister Narendra Modi.

Okay, let's start with the bad. If you don't like what I have to say, comment. But don't yell. I've already gotten enough of that...from relatives! Alright, Godhra. 2002. A fire aboard the Sabarmati Express, killing Hindus returning from the controversial site of Ayodhya 10 years after the violence there. Muslims were blamed for firebombing the train. Riots started throughout Gujarat, resulting in thousands dead, mostly Muslim. Hindus claim that they were reacting. But no one knows who actually started the fire, and all objective investigations have shown the fire to be of natural causes. Still, the reaction was fairly natural, though the real questions are why the violence went on for so long, and why the police actually joined the Hindus in killing Muslims. Narendra Modi has been blamed for all this. Most Guju Hindus will claim that he is falsely accused, and that the police were doing what was necessary to maintain the peace. Never mind that per Modi's personal command, the vast majority (I don't remember the actual number, but I knew it at one point) of Muslim policemen were placed into desk positions where they couldn't do anything. Nevermind that the state government had actually compiled lists of Muslim and Hindu businesses, which were then handed out to Hindu leaders. Muslim shops and homes were destroyed, while Hindu ones remained fairly intact. Narendra Modi, of the BJP Party, is claimed to have masterminded the whole thing as a sort of nationalist experiment. I don't know if I believe it. Still, there's a lot of evidence against him.

And yet, at an election that occurred after all the implications and violence, he won by a landslide and landmark 80 percent. Of course, I doubt that many Muslims voted for him. Now, four years after the violence, the state has never been more peaceful, and things are really on the up and up. Infrastructure here rocks. Even state highways and village roads are pretty good. He has required that all autorikshas in Ahmedabad, Surat, and Rajkot be converted to CNG (see previous post). All state buses also must switch over to CNG. He has improved schools, supported the local economy, and worked to preserve historical landmarks. He has shown that he cares for all religious groups, not just Hindus. And he has worked to bring IT to Gandhinagar, the capital. All in all, he has done amazing work in Gujarat, and most Gujus here love him.

Good or bad. We don't know. He made some mistakes, perhaps with the intention to cause Hindus to gain power. But now, no complaints. He is the ideal CM.

More Things India Has Done Right

2006-03-23T01:57:00.000-08:00

Here we go:

1. Chappal Toe Loops. Indians must constantly remove their shoes. Entering a temple or a house are good reasons. And on a good day, you're removing, putting on, removing, putting on, etc. So, if you have chappals (sandals, also called champals), it's important that you don't have a back to them, simply for ease. However, then this can cause problems with keeping the chappals on your feet. So, Indians were smart, and created a separation between the big toe and the rest. This either occurs through a separate look, or through a peg that sticks up. This separation helps the chappal stay on the foot.

2. Cloth Bags. Shopping bags in India tend to be cloth, and each household has a couple. This helps with the plastic consumption here. Of course, different fruits and veggies are wrapped in separate plastic bags. Still, the cloth bags are much appreciated.

3. CNG. Compressed Natural Gas is now becoming more common in autorikshas, and even in some buses. This has helped to lower air pollution in many larger cities, like Mumbai, Bangalore, Ahmedabad, and Surat. And these new systems aren't even a choice. They are required by corporation (city) or state laws. And of course many petroleum companies have jumped in to take advantage of this by starting CNG stations. Still, clean air is a plus. And I have already started to see a difference.

Is This the Same Religion?

2006-03-23T01:36:00.000-08:00

Okay, time for differences between the regions, dealing with Hinduism.

1. Havelis. Okay, generally speaking, a haveli is a type of house found in Gujarat and Rajasthan. However, here, havelis typically refer to a house of religion. BUT it's not a temple. Havelis do not have the typical shape and feel of a temple, and often times you don't even know that it is a temple unless someone takes you. Sometimes, only the next difference is the only sign of it's religiosity.

2. Flags. This is specific to Saurashtra, meaning that it isn't even found in Eastern Gujarat (Kuchch I don't know). All the houses of worship, at least the Hindu ones, have flags over them. So, mandirs (Hindu temples), derasars (Jain temples), akshardams (Swaminarayana temples), and havelis all have flags proudly flying overhead. I am so appreciative of this, because I often times would not be able to find a haveli without the flags.

3. Turtles. One of the very first things I did when I arrived to Gujarat was to go to a Shiva haveli for Shivratri. And the first thing I noticed as I approached the murti (statue) for darshan (viewing) was that, at the front feet of Nandi (the bull) was a flat-ish statue of a turtle, of course with a svastika (the original one, not the Nazi one) on it. People would touch it right after Nandi, thus showing it some reverance. Now, I know enough about Shiva to know that he is not associated with a turtle. So, what was up with this? My theory is that it has to do with the second avatar (incarnation) of lord Vishnu. He was a turtle, used as the base for a pole turned by gods and demons to churn up amrit (divine nectar) from the bottom of an ocean. I think this is the only turtle really mentioned in Hindu mythology. The funny thing is, I don't think most Gujarati Hindus know why the turtle is even there. So, if any of you readers know, please let me know.

4. Jalarama Bapa. Also found only in Saurashtra, not even in most of Kuchch (this I know). Jalarama Bapa is very much like a Guju and Saurashtran Jesus. He preached religion with a social purpose, performed miracles, and now has lots of people worshipping him. I don't think either historical figures ever wanted people to treat them as gods, and yet that's what has happened. Jalarama Bapa is EVERYWHERE in Saurashtra.

5. Krishna. No, Krishna is everywhere in India. But there is something here that I don't think any other religion has ever done. It's so weird to me, I just can't seem to understand it. Krishna is important...there's no doubt about that. His entire life (yes, even as a god, he had a lifespan) has been carefully documented, and at different points in his life, he did different things. Therefore, people don't simply worship Krishna here in Gujarat, but they worship a part of his life. Balakrishna (baby Krishna) is really popular, in which worshippers treat him like any baby, actually spending an entire day doing nothing but taking care of his murti. There are rituals for waking him up, giving him breakfast, putting him down for a nap, etc. I have never seen anything like it. Another very popular one is Srinathji, who is Krishna as a child. Worship of Srinathji is very popular in Southern Rajasthan and in Saurashtra, and has curiously skipped over Kuchch. There's even a worship for an adolescent Krishna, though I don't remember what he's called at this stage. Amazing. I really have never seen anything like this.

The Differences Never End!

2006-03-23T01:22:00.000-08:00

Time for more differences between Gujarat and the South...the Secular Edition.

1. Rice. Yes, one of the many foods I'm sick of by now. The reason? South Indians eat rice as a main part of their meal. It's the most important part of the thali or meal. Gujus are a bit different. We prefer to have only a little rice at the end of the meal, to help finish the remaining food. If I would have started in Gujarat, I would not have been so sick of rice...or I would have been sick of rice, and then have starved in the South. Who knows?

2. Tempos. Eh? A big ol' autoriksha that can fit a minimum of 6 people, though I've seen many many more piled in. Supposedly these exist in the South, but I never saw a single one in three months. The moment I arrived in Gujarat, I saw them everywhere, particularly in Surat and in Saurashtra. Tempos are bigger and much much noisier than the plain autos. Still, they can be useful with larger groups.

3. Jai. Who needs "Hello" and "Goodbye" when you have the word "Jai?" No, Gujus don't just use this word, but they always stick something on the end of it, adapting it to whomever the recipient of the greeting is. Once it's said, the recipient must then repeat it. For example, with Jains, you say "Jai Janendra." With anyone on my Mom's side of the family, we say "Jai Sheeyarama." With most other people, it's "Jai Sheekrishna." For Prayag Bhai, it's "Jai Gurudev." For Shanti Prasadji, it's "Jai Swaminarayana." You get the idea. We say this when we meet and when we part ways. And whoever starts first...that's the one used. For example, when Shanti Prasadji dropped me home from Latidhad, Dadaji was the first to speak. So, we all said "Jai Swaminarayana." If Shanti Prasadji had spoken first, then it would have been "Jai Janendra," simply because the recipient was Jain. This form of greeting does not exist in the South at all. I wonder if it exists anywhere else.

Whoops 2: Proofreading...Who Needs It?

2006-03-23T01:15:00.000-08:00

English is an important language in India...no doubt about that. One would imagine, then, that people in top positions in national and international companies would know enough written English to make sure even the smallest things like labels and signs have correctly written English. I have a simple example...the toilet in the upstairs room at my Grandfather's house. There are two labels on the top toilet seat indicating the manufacturer of the seat: Citizen. However, one of the labels says "Citizan." If this were the only label, I might think that this was the actual name, but of course, it's not. Below the correctly-written name is a warning label. The first word should be "Maintenance," but it's misspelled. "Maintenace." Was it really that difficult to check the spelling? Hell, the company even mispelled its own name! And this is just one of many examples.

Whoops 1: But Your Advertisement Said...

2006-03-23T00:59:00.000-08:00

In America, there are laws against false advertising. Not so in India. You can lie as much as you want, and very little can be done against you. Let me give you two examples.

The first is a two-wheeler made by Bajaj, a very large company in India. The advertisement is great. A cool man is standing there near his motorcycle, holding onto some sunglasses. A group of motorcyclists shoot by, and one man grabs the sunglasses out from our hero's hand. So, he gets on his Bajaj to chase them, but of course he takes a shortcut. He's shooting through the forest...no issues so far. Suddenly, you see him at a dam, going so fast that he's defying gravity. He's actually sideways, like if you move a cup of water so quickly that the centrifugal (or is that centripetal?) force is so great the the water doesn't fall out when the cup goes sideways. Bajaj's two-wheeler is so fast, it can become like a Graviton ride at a carnival. Of course, our fast hero beats the gang and coolly rescues his sunglasses, winning the attention of a female. Moral of the story: this motorcycle will help me win chicks (or birds, as they call them in India), an idea common in America, and it can defy gravity. Okay, I'm pretty sure that if I tried what he did in the advert, I would be in a cemetary by now. At least in American ads, they tell you that this is a professional driver on a specific course. Not here.

The second is in print media. Haresh Fua pointed it out for me. An advert for Fairness Cream that claimed that, in only four weeks (char atwaadiya), my skin will go from a darker color to a lighter one, as is indicated by a picture. Half the shown face is dark, the other half light. First of all, four weeks for such a change is most likely impossible and unsafe. Second, the picture itself is the greatest falsehood. If one looked at it for most the five seconds, it becomes obvious that the picture was changed in the computer, most likely to a random lighter shade. How can we tell? Whoever did the computer work neglected something obvious. The eye color. Unless the model was putting the cream on his eyes as well as on his skin, there's no way this is the same person. The hair didn't really change much, but the eyes...the difference is striking. Obvious lie!

These could never happen in the US nowadays. If adverts make great claims, they must indicate that this is a dramatization or that these results are not normal. Here in India...let's lie!

Feeling Hot? We've Got Clothes for That!

2006-03-23T00:39:00.000-08:00

Okay, I admit it...the heat is now definitely getting to me. The "Hot Season" started less than a week ago, and the temperature has been shooting up higher and higher each day. Before, I could handle it. Now, I just want the sun to disappear. Perhaps it's because I can see the end of my trip quickly approaching, and thus I can "feel" cooler weather and rain coming soon. Or maybe it's simply hot. In Bhavnagar, during the midday, it's around 38 degrees Celsius...or 100.4 degrees F. Yeah, and it's getting hotter. I'm so glad I'm leaving when I am.

What's fascinating to me is how the clothing, as it does everywhere, has adapted to deal with the heat. Let's start with the women. Saris, panjabis (salwaars), channiyachoris (langas)...remarkably breatheable, or so I hear. Also, with saris, women keep their bellies uncovered, thus letting in the air. And the blouses and tops for these are all with short sleeves. And what about the chunnis and paloos? They serve some great purposes in the heat. Okay, well, they suck when you wear them around your neck like a scarf, because they prevent your skin from breathing. However, draped over the head, they can keep off the sun. Wrapped around the face, they keep out the dust and dirt, made more prevalent by the heat. And wrapped around the body, they can keep away the mozzies (mosquitoes) that come out at night. In all, women's clothing is very good in the heat.

And for men? Of course, the traditional lungis and dhotis allow lots of air to get to the legs. Shorts are really uncommon here, but that doesn't seem to bother many men, because shirts have been adapted for cooling purposes. Shirts are made with very thin, and often sheer, materials. I have even seen many young men wearing mesh, with nothing underneath. Basically, skin is highly visible. Even one man had slashes going along his entire shirt, like it had been put through a paper shredder. As he rode by on his two-wheeler, it was obvious that air was blowing up against his skin. Finally, if you don't have a holey or a shredded shirt, you can always keep your shirt (which is different from a t-shirt, which doesn't have buttons) mostly open, so that only the bottom few buttons are being used, and so air really can get in. Oh, and very rarely do men go around shirtless...they have to be doing construction or something, and then it's still rare.

Of course, there are still some people I don't understand. Many men still wear full-sleeved and even sweater-like shirts. And some women bundle up quite a bit. But, for the most part, Indians are prepared to handle the heat, unlike me...

Observations 2: Introductions

2006-03-16T04:17:00.000-08:00

Indians, or maybe just Gujus, don't tend to say your name when introducing you to other people. I'm always Savaikaka's dikara's dikara, or Buluben's dikara, or something like that. The person nods knowingly, shakes my hand, and then later looks at me with some confusion. "What's your name?" "Sapan. And yours?" Yes, the introducer typically fails to mention that key thing. The only important information is how I am related or how I matter. Why are names so unimportant or forgettable during introductions?

Observation 1: Guju Toilets

2006-03-16T04:08:00.000-08:00

Newer toilets in Gujarat are different from those elsewhere I've visited. There are three unique features that help them stand out as truly special:

1. Wings. These "flaps" come off the side of the toilet seat. They have ridges, and remind me of the places to put your feet when using a squat toilet. Does anyone know why Western toilets might have these? Are we planning to stand on the toilet itself?

2. Flush. In the US, the flush handle is on the toilet itself. Many places in India have this as well. Not so in Gujarat. There is a knob or handle attached to the wall, and only connected to the toilet via some pipe system. You turn the knob to release water into the bowl. Unlike other toilets, this system doesn't automatically shut off, so you would need to close the knob.

3. Bidet. Guju toilets have a bidet set-up. Other places use a tap and a small bucket, or a spray gun, for cleaning oneself. Guju toilets tend to have a high-pressure water shooter built into the top of the toilet bowl that shoots straight across your bum. It's a little surprising the first few times of use, but it works well.

Philosophical Question 4: Educated Ignorance

2006-03-16T03:58:00.000-08:00

Ignorance is everywhere, particularly when it comes to hatred. I've found that Indians, even incredibly educated and loving ones, can feel immense negative feelings for specific groups (ie Muslims). I know that many Americans also don't like Muslims. Idahoans don't like Montanans. Seattlites don't like Tacomans. But none of this compares to the pure hatred in India. History classes and textbooks blame one group or another for certain actions like Ayodhya in 1992 and Godhra in 2001. People feel they know everything, the whole truth, because they are educated and open minded. And yet some people I respect have gone off on the Muslims. I'm not saying that they're opinions and their anger aren't valid. But when I try to present a new perspective, I'm accused of bringing in lies and of not knowing anything. When one of my Indian friends said flat out that he hates Muslims, I asked him why. He mentioned Kashmir and Ayodhya and terrorist acts...things that he hasn't seen or experienced. He's only heard things second or third-hand. I'm not saying that he shouldn't feel the way he does. But, he doesn't know any Muslims. He can't put a face to the religion. He only knows about what the media tells him. This is just like the view of Black people in the US. So many Indians have asked me about the "Negro Problem" in the US. They are always surprised to hear that the "Problem" is a result of history...a history promoted by white people (ie slavery). Black people are the way they are not because they are innately violent or murderous. Really??? But, that's not the case with Muslims. Right??

Basic Newtonian Law: Every action has a reaction. And vice versa. To understand the reaction, you must understand the action as well.

Education does not remove ignorance when the education itself is ignorant.

Philosophical Question 3: Elderly Dignity

2006-03-16T03:49:00.000-08:00

I have been around many elderly people since I've come to India, and mainly Gujarat. Many elderly people need help and assistance. For example, on the day I traveled to Bhavnagar from Ahmedabad with my grandparents and my Fai/Fua, we stopped for a rest along the way. I was told to help out my grandparents as they were getting out of the car. I went to do this, but they seemed to do fine. And at that point, I started wondering about the dignity of my grandparents. I know that they need assistance, but doesn't waiting on them hand and foot remove some of their pride? Doesn't this really make them feel old? Or should we not worry about this? I am of the opinion that we should stand there with them, but not do anything unless they ask or look like they need it. Let them climb their own stairs, eat their own food, and live their life until they really really can't. Don't jump in too soon, or dignity may be lost.

Philosophical Question 2: Weight

2006-03-16T03:42:00.000-08:00

When a person travels, he is likely to lose some weight. So, when I arrived in Bhavnagar, my family seemed shocked by the weight I had lost since I last saw them in Chennai. And this seemed like a bad thing. They immediately asked if I felt "weak." They thought that I must have fallen very sick during my trip. Let's put it this way, Indians associate fat with "sturdy," "healthy," and "hefty," while if you lose weight, you are "weak," "frail," and "sickly."

Why is this? Most people in this country are skinny. So, maybe there is a premium on having some extra cushioning?

Philosophical Question 1: Good Deeds

2006-03-16T03:27:00.000-08:00

I am all for doing good things and for helping people. I love the feeling I get whenever I volunteer. No doubt, helping the less fortunate is an amazing experience. But at what point do such actions stop being about doing good and start being about stroking the ego or easing a guilty conscience?

I know some people who weekly help people in need. I think their work is amazing. And yet they feel the need to tell EVERYONE about the organizations and the work they do. Sure, it's fine to sell the organization. But there's a point where it becomes like advertising the self. Overtalking about it...it's so great, the work is so amazing, oh yeah, and I work there so much, so perhaps I'm so great and amazing. Maybe I'm overthinking this, but I really feel like they are looking for a pat on the back and for some praise. Stroking the ego.

Do good. Don't exploit it.

Dhishoom

2006-03-16T03:22:00.000-08:00

A really easy question: What is up with the word "dhishoom?" Indians use this word to signify the sound of something hitting another thing. I've heard the sound of hitting...it doesn't sound like "dhishoom." Plus, this word is ridiculous anyway. Indians need a new word, and fast.

Surat: Doing Nothing But Salad

2006-03-16T03:09:00.000-08:00

Pardon the double use of pointless English sayings, but Surat was a "breath of fresh air" after the "whirlwind" of Ahmedabad. The only people for me to see there were Jyoti Masi and Girdhar Masa. Of course I stayed with them in their new apartment, which is really nice. The best part was the view. Overlooking a playground, I could watch people all day and evening. I saw some nice dramas unfold, all dealing with the sense of belonging. Since I love observing people, this setting was perfect.

Other than this, I didn't really do much. Browse the internet. Watch TV. Finish a newspaper crossword puzzle completely for the first time in my life (it took all day, and I was obsessed...though I still don't think that TEERESS is a real word...). Go for drives and walks through the city with Masi and Masa. And make salad, twice. The first time was a spinach salad, and I made the dressing (I took painstaking effort). The second day had a cabbage base. Other than this, nothing.

The weather was perfect. Cold and clouds and rain throughout all of Gujarat. It felt amazing. I loved it.

With no other direct family in Surat, my life was easy. I could have visited the families of two bhabhis, but why? I was enjoying my non-social life too much.

I had lots of fun and some great conversations with Masi and Masa, who, together, go by the name "Jyotirdhar." We enjoyed eating Mohanthar, which we renamed Girdhar-thar. And I came to realize that Jyoti Masi is a perfect synthesis and blend of mom and Didi Masi. She has mom's attitude and beliefs, and Masi's mannerisms and actions. I had lots of fun while doing nothing.

Bas.

More thoughts...continuing where I left off

2006-03-09T01:27:00.000-08:00

Okay, much to my annoyance, my first time at this went up in smoke when my IE crashed. Here we go again.

Differences between the South and Gujarat:
1. Lungis. This skirt-like sarong-like piece of cloth, constantly adjusted and played with and shortened and readjusted, worn by men in the South is virtually non-existent here. While I have yet to visit any villages, and while I haven't yet traveled to Saurastra and Kuchchh (which both tend to be more traditional), the pictures I have seen seem to indicate that lungis aren't in the wardrobe. Thankfully.

2. Affectionate Men. In the South, you see affection coming out the wazoo between men. Here, I've barely seen it. It just really isn't so common. Sure, some men drape their arms over their friends' shoulders, and very very occasionally you'll see some hand-holding. But it's really not as common and pervasive as it is in the South. Not that this is good or bad. But the difference is really noticeable for those people already not used to seeing open affection between men.

3. Kanku. In the South, and particularly in Tamil Nadu, nothing says "belongingness" more than wearing a loud and massive and sometimes disorderly kum kum smeared across your forehead all day. You can pick from red powder, yellow powder or paste, orange powder, or the ever classic ash. And in any one temple, you have so many locations where the kum kum can be found: Before entering the inner sanctum, after darshan, in cups around the inner temple, or even smeared on gods. Pushing and shoving and forcing general chaos seem imperative to get your daily dose of kum kum. Hell, you can even steal it from the gods, as many people do, by scraping old powder off the statues. Then, it's a badge of honor worn all day. Not so here. I only occasionally see kanku powder on someone's forehead. When I do, it's usually applied in a very small amount. Many temples don't even really offer kanku powder. People don't wear it as a badge of honor (except for women who place red powder in their hair part); perhaps spirituality is more important.

4. Rikshawala Shirts. In the South, riksha drivers are required to wear a uniform consisting of an ugly khaki tan shirt or t-shirt. Most drivers wear the shirt over something else, and actually remove it while on break. Here, I haven't seen these shirts. Rikshawalas can wear whatever they want. However, I haven't really looked hard at this issue while in Ahmedabad, so we'll have to see if this holds up.

5. Smoking. I've been in Gujarat for almost two weeks now, and I've seen maybe five people smoking. That's it. In the South, almost every man smokes a cigarette or a bidi. It's been suggested to me that Gujarati's most be more intellegent and educated. I doubt it. Malayalis (people from Kerala) are well educated, and they light up like no one else. So, what is it that's promoted this change? I think there's something in the Gujarati culture and norms that makes it more flexible to change, while different norms cement the South Indians in their traditional ways. But, of course, this is just a guess. Still, it's nice not to see and breath in the smoke...we get enough from the rikshas already.

Things Indians Did Right:
1. Water Pouches. These little pouches hold cold, filtered water. You can get about 300 ml of water, just enough to slake your thirst, with minimum effort and waste. Just bit off one corner of the pouch and pour into your mouth.

2. Distance Drinking. Indians rarely put their lips to a glass or bottle. They've learned to drink water from a distance, by actually pouring it into their mouths. They can drink while they pour (a skill that I have not yet mastered). Luckily, burping is culturally accepted, because this act caused the drinker to swallow lots of air. Still, by not putting lips on the containers, sharing is much more possible. In addition, once I finish my water, I can put my glass back without washing it. Less water and effort wasted.

3. Mobile Covers. India is dusty. Really really dusty. And mobile phones can get seriously messed up and damaged if the dust gets into them. So, most phones come with rubber covers that fit perfectly. And most people gladly use them. They may not look great, but they save your phone.

Ahmedabad: Observations and Revelations

2006-03-06T02:23:00.000-08:00

Finally arriving in Gujarat after so many years, I had the great opportunity to question the beliefs I had long held about where I come from. Of course, all these thoughs relate to Ahmedabad, the largest and most progressive of all the Gujarati cities. I have no idea what Surat and Bhavnagar, along with any other places I may chose to visit, will have in store, and how they will differ. Still...Here are some thoughts:

1. Dude, this place is amazing. Well, at least the "progress" is, if you call "progress" the massive spread of shopping complexes, fancy and hip restaurants, malls, clubs, etc. Of course, you still can't get alcohol here, but I don't think that his hindered the growth. Also, I'm impressed by how many women wear jeans instead of traditional clothes. Furthermore, I was happily surprised to see so many young men and women stick together in groups of close-knit friends. So many women drive two-wheelers, sometimes having men sit behind them. I still envisioned a super-traditional society...not so. And technology has pervaded everything...nothing is safe from this sort of progress. Internet cafes are everywhere, as are televisions, mobile phones, and computers that rival what you can find in America. Really, I'm impressed.

2. This place is cleaner. Less air pollution, though it's still fairly bad. Mysore is still the worst I've seen. Ahmedabad is really improving, partly because of the forced conversion of autorikshas to CNG systems, which are more environmental than normal petrol. Mumbai has also implemented this. Seeing new green and yellow rikshas brings a smile to my face. This of course leads to my conclusion, which I previously knew, that if you fix the rikshas, you'll abate the pollution.

3. I can eat spicier foods than anyone in my family thus far. It's simply the strangest thing. I always thought that I couldn't eat such food compared to Gujus, but not so. Most people give me their food because it's too tikka for them.

4. It's nice to be in a place where I can read a lot of the words. Not only is there the occasional Hindi, but I can read about 2/3 of Gujarati words now...that's really helpful.

5. Alright, I'm sure I have more to say, but I'm really tired of blogging. So, that's it. Tomorrow, I leave for Surat.

Bas.

Ahmedabad: Motiba, We Miss You

2006-03-05T23:48:00.000-08:00

The one person who obviously wasn't with us was my Motiba...my grandmother. The modest shrine to her is the center of most everything. But, it's still not her. Bhai, Masi, Masa, Aalap, and I went to Chandod, near the Sangam of the holy Narmada River, to immerse her aasti, or remains, into eternal peace. The occasion was solemn, and I had the great honor of being the one to remove the aasti from its burial place outside the house and then carry it to the car. I am very thankful for that opportunity. It may have simply been a mundane and perfunctory task, but it meant so much to me.

While I didn't understand the ceremony which occurred before the immersion, I still felt the emotional weight of it, as did we all. The immersion, though quick, seemed like the final punch of goodbye, calling up many emotions to the surface. And all I could think of was my mom. I missed her so much. So much.

This was the reason I came to Ahmedabad when I did. And I'm so glad I did.

Goodbye Motiba. We love you. We miss you. You'll always be with us.

Ahmedabad: It's All Relative 2 -- The Adults

2006-03-05T23:02:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately, I didn't have as much time with the adults as with the others, as can be seen from the poor pictures below, many taken from videos or cropped from other photos. Still, they are my relatives, somehow or another, and therefore deserve a mention.

Of course, the most important are Didi Masi and Kamlesh Masa, the parents of Hardik and Prayag Bhai. Didi Masi and Kamlesh Masa have been nothing but welcoming to me. I appreciate the fact that Didi Masi drinks more water than anyone I know, even my mom. Also, that Kamlesh Masa thanks the sun every morning through prayer. The food has been delicious, though I apologize to Kamlesh Masa for my tastes, which have prompted Didi Masi to make food too spicy for his stomach. Still, I see a lot of my mom in Didi Masi, and Kamlesh Masa is the perfect match.

Dhiren Bhai is technically my mom's cousin's son. I've known him and his wonderful wife, Kirti Bhabhi, for many years now. I remember poorly learning how to ride a two-wheeler from him, and competing with eating spicy tomato soup with him. And of course, I remember a baby Aalap and the time in Ramkrupa, with Sejal's three kids, fataafat, lagbag, and thhraas. I hope I'll get to see these two folks before I must leave.

Meena Ben, who is the sister to Chetan Bhai in Bangalore, lives in Jamnagar and was unhappy that my mom left her off the "list" of people for me to know. She is Maitri's mom. I really didn't have much chance to know her. All I know is that she is a teacher, like Meera Ben, whose husband is Bakul Bhai. Meera Ben teaches Montessori style in an amazing school known as Shreyas. I didn't get to know any of them well, but at least I now know that they're family.

Ah, Manju Masi. I saw her in Bangalore at Raju Bhai's place, but I never had a chance to chat with her. She's a super-cool lady. We have an inside joke about gaining weight due to food, and I scared her by eating a very hot pepper. Bhabhiba and Motamama, Dhiren Bhai and Meera Bhen's parents, thus the grandparents of Aalap, Vatsal, and Suhani (and her brother Sapan, yes Sapan), have been known to me for as long as I can remember. I love them immensely. Both are incredibly caring, and Bhabhiba is my Mom's second mother. Bhabhiba doesn't seem to age, but Motamama's condition worries me.

Uma Masi and Gyansham Masa, shown with Didi Masi and Kamlesh Masa, are also quite nice. Uma Masi is Ashok Mama's sister. They live across the street from Didi Masi. I really didn't get to know them so well, but it was nice to meet them.

Of course, with all these relatives, there are those who aren't really related, but who are still a part of the family. Kishore "Mama" is the brother of Natu Mama's best friend, Batuk "Mama." Kishore Mama's wife, Manda "Mami" is a great cook. His brother, Bahu "Mama" knows a lot, like an encyclopedia. His sister, Baby "Masi" is also very nice. In addition, I met Ami's family and had an amazing lunch with them. Usha Auntie and Narendra (?) Uncle are very nice. Reepal, Ami's sister, works in a bank and reminds me a little of her sister. Shial (?), their brother, is a cool kid who also has some of the rubber wristbands that are so popular.

So, these are the adults. Lots of them, all enriching my time in Ahmedabad. Thanks to them all, and particularly to Didi Masi and Kamlesh Masa.

Of course, one was missing...

Ahmedabad: It's All Relative 1--The Young'uns

2006-03-05T22:05:00.000-08:00

Something I've come to realize is that there were two reasons to be visit Ahmedabad. First, and most importantly, was to help give Motiba's remains (aasti) to the holy Narmada River. Second was to meet people. Some I met for the first time after seven years. Others I met for the first time period. Sadly to say, I didn't even know that lots of these people even existed. Not that it would have mattered, simply because the kids would have been too young seven years ago anyway. It's funny how when you're younger, age differences seem so large, but when you get older, the same difference means nothing.

I wanted to include all my relatives in this post, but Blogger wouldn't allow me to upload so many pictures. So, this particular post is focusing solely on the people I wouldn't consider "the adults." These people provided much needed excursions and showed me a good time in Ahmedabad. I could "let my hair down" with them, and I would definitely consider them all my friends. So, here they are...

Prayag Bhai...my actual first cousin. His mom, Kalindi Masi (better known as Didi Masi) is my mom's older sister. Kamlesh Masa is his dad. His brother, Hardik, lives in Bangalore with his wife, Ami. For the past seven or eight years, Prayag Bhai has worked with the Art of Living. He is quite spiritual, but with an extremely goofy side as well. Sometimes you never know which side will come out, though both are always welcome. Like everyone in my family, he is very loving but also very teasing with his parents. My kind of guy. He is also my only cousin with a moustache...that's gotta go!

Aalap and Vatsal are technically my...well...I don't really know. Dhiren Bhai, their father, is the son of my mom's cousin, Motamama. So, I suppose I'm their Uncle in some fashion. But they better not start calling me Sapan Kaka! The last time I saw Aalap, he was 11, which now makes him 18. Vatsal, now 12, never knew me. Of course, neither did Aalap really, though I remember him from when he was a baby. Both are very cool, and due to the trip to Chandod, I got to know Aalap better than mostly anyone. I still need to hear him play the violin. Also, Aalap is very good, natural even, at explaining physics concepts. Oh, and Vatsal looks very smart, perhaps even dapper, in his school uniform.

Ah, the women, neither of whom I knew existed before this trip. I unfortunately didn't get to know either so well on this trip. They all attend the same school, though they go to different campuses. Maitri, who is holding that pillow like she needs it to survive, is doing Commerce. She is exceptionally mature for her age, and has a softspoken coolness about her. Suhani, who looks a bit like an old-time movie actress while preparing to get on her two-wheeler, is focusing on biology-maths-chemistry, and is in her final year of university. She has a lively spunk that goes against the stereotypical image of the traditional woman. And while I am also their uncle, they better not dare to call me Sapan Mama!

These five really made my trip to Ahmedabad. The other places I will be visiting, Surat and Bhavnagar, will probably be fun, but not in the same way, for they do not have any youngsters for me to connect with. So, I thank Prayag Bhai (who really isn't a youngster), Aalap, Vatsal, Maitri, and Suhani for putting up with me and my annoying American habits and pronunciation, and I wish them the best in everything they do.

The Same Country?

2006-02-27T03:45:00.000-08:00

Even before I got off the train, I started noticing differences between South Indians (SIs) and Gujaratis. I'm sure the list will grow as I spend more time here, but here's a preliminary list:

1. Skin color. SIs are known for their darker skin for a reason. Because it is in fact darker!

2. Facial features. SIs have much harsher features, with thinner faces and highly pronounced cheekbones. Men also tend to wear the same, bushy moustache. Gujaratis have more rounded faces, and it isn't necessary to have the moustache (thankfully!).

3. Vada. Yes, vada, or vadai. In the South, they are big and look like donuts. In Hyderabad, people tried to sell these on the train. Once we entered Gujarat, the vada became small and round, like donut holes.

4. Language. Gujus don't really speak all that much English, and it's barely written anywhere. However, on the plus side, I can read about half of all Gujarati, and I can understand some.

5. Temple Priorities. I just happened to arrive into Gujarat on Shivratri, one of the holiest days for Shaivites. I noticed one key difference in priorities in both my temple experiences. In the South, it's ALL about getting a kum kum (or tikka), you know, the mark on your forehead. People rush all around for a chance at the red, yellow, or ash that soon marks their forehead, neck, and hair part. Here, it's all about the prasad, the food blessed by the god. In the South, you'd typically have to pay for the prasad; here, it's free. Neither of the temples I've visited have even had kanku or kum kum available. Amazing.

That's It...

2006-02-27T03:25:00.000-08:00

The moment I left Secunderabad for Ahmedabad, I said farewell to the South and thus to the traveling portion of this trip. This last leg is strictly for family and volunteering. When I return home (scheduled for the middle of April, for Beezer and P-Dawg's wedding), I'll put together a quick and easy photo tour of the South. For now, you'll just have to settle for a recap of my journey (which won't include Mumbai or Ahmedabad, since they aren't technically in the South):

Bijapur, Karnataka: Gol Gumbaz, Adil Shahi Sultanate
Badami, Karnataka: Forts and Cave Temples, Chalukya Empire
Pattada Kalla, Karnataka: Early experimentation in South Indian temple architecture, Chalukya
Hampi, Karnataka: Ruined capital and tourist hangout, Vijayanagar Empire
Bangalore, Karnataka: Family and a bit of IT
Mysore, Karnataka: Palace and market, Wadiyar (or Wodeyar) Kingdom
Somnathpur, Karnataka: Keshava Temple, Hoysala Empire
Chennai, Tamil Nadu: Vishal and Nisha's Wedding
Pondicherry, Tamil Nadu: Sri Aurobindo Ashram and Auroville
Mamallapuram, Tamil Nadu: Pallava Temples, Dance Festival, and New Year
Thiruvannamalai, Tamil Nadu: Arunachaleswara Temple, Sri Ramakrishna Maharishi Ashram
Thiruchchirappalli (Trichy), Tamil Nadu: Sri Ramanathaswamy Temple
Thanjavur, Tamil Nadu: Sri Brihadiswara Temple and Nayak Palace
Madurai, Tamil Nadu: Sri Meenakshi Temple
Kodaikanal, Tamil Nadu: Hill Station and Pongal Celebrations
Kanniyakumari, Tamil Nadu: Land's End and Swami Vivekananda Mandapam
Trivandrum, Kerala: Ummm...Strikes, Pointless Sights, and Parvathy...the Manipulator
Varkala, Kerala: Beach, tourist hangout, and Kathakali
The Backwaters (Alleppey), Kerala: Canoeing and Houseboating
Kochi (Fort Cochin), Kerala: Jew Town and Chinese Fishing Nets
Munnar, Kerala: Tea Plantation, Leonardo Dicaprio's Movie Set, and Eravikulam NP
The Wayanad (Kalpetta), Kerala: Pookote Lake and Edakkal Caves
Mysore, Karnataka: Chamundi Hill and St. Philomena's Cathedral
Brindavan, Karnataka: Krishnaraja Sagar and the Gardens
Shravanabelagola, Karnataka: Bahubali and Mahamastakabhisheka
Melkote, Karnataka: Hoysala Chaluvanarayana Temple and Yoganarasimha Temple
Srirangapatna, Karnataka: Dariya Daulat Bagh and Gumbaz, Tipu Sultan's Mysore Empire
Halebeedu, Karnataka: Hoysaleswara Temple, Hoysala Empire
Belur, Karnataka: Channakeshava Temple, Hoysala Empire
Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh: Charminar and Golkonda Fort, Qutb Shahi Sultanate

There you have it. I saw lots. And now it's time for a break...

Ifran: All Hormones, All The Time

2006-02-27T02:52:00.000-08:00

There are three Indian youths thus far I will always remember: 1) Karan, from Hampi, who saw through my I'm-Indian-but-I-don't-speak-Hindi ruse and tried to convince me to go with him to the movies; 2) Parvathy, from Trivandrum, who whined and pouted to manipulate me to do things and buy stuff for her; and 3) Ifran, from Hyderabad, for, well, being a kid only interested in sex.

I first met him at a magazine stand with my friend Frank. I didn't think much of him then, but when I passed by the stand the next day, I found out more than I wanted to know. He wanted to know where my friend was...Frank had left for Secunderabad and wasn't coming back. Okay, well, "then do you want a dirty magazine?" Of course, he wanted to sell me porn, which to him was similar to a Maxim or a Cosmo. When he realized that I was American, all on his mind was the women and the openness of sex. He was convinced that Americans were doing it anywhere, everywhere, and at any moment. He asked many truly invasive questions, and seemed fascinated (perhaps a little too fascinated...) at my answers. He even found the fact that men and women sleep in the same bed without being married to be something amazing. But, of course, that wasn't even the start of what he wanted to know. He asked about every dirty thing possible. Hell, if I could blush, I would have. Oh, and Ifran was a 17 year old Muslim boy. And sex was the only thing on his mind.

The next day, I ran into him again, and this time, he had a different goal. He didn't want to sell me porn. No, he actually wanted to experience it. He told me to wait for ten minutes, then we'd go trolling for a woman. This kid had so much confidence that we'd find a luscious woman to, get this, both "have." The kid went from porn-seller to pimp. I, of course, passed on his odd offer. And I still couldn't believe he was 17...and apparently a fairly devout Muslim (though not enough to dress like one...hence the picture above). Still, knowing him gave me a good deal of amusement.

Karan...leech. Parvathy...manipulator. Ifran...hormonal.

Hyderabad: Islam Islam Everywhere, Even In My...

2006-02-27T01:59:00.000-08:00

Hyderabad was a short (meaning long) train ride away from Bangalore, which was a short (meaning not too bad) ride from Hassan. As I was heading to Hyderabad the Sunday after the big (meaning 2.5 million attendees) Art of Living Celebration in Bangalore, those people stuck in my berth either attended the festival or wanted to know more about it. The conversation never changed...my music was the only escape from an Art of Living praise-a-thon that lasted about 20 hours. Sheesh. Still, as we approached Hyderabad and its sister-city, Secunderabad, something amazing caught my eyes that told me we weren't in the deep south anymore. All the railway station signs weren't only written in Telagu and English. They also had Hindi and...gasp...Urdu as well. Heading further north (ie the Hindi) and into Muslim territory (ie the Urdu). This brought a great smile to my face.

I liked my hotel. In the Abids area, and thus between the Charminar and the Birla Mandir, as well as near a mall, the hotel gave me a double room with a TV, Western toilet, and hot shower. And I didn't have to pay over my budget! It was really nice. As soon as I settled in, I was out the door and on my way to the Charminar, the key site in Hyderabad. As I was walking the 2 kilometers to get there in the blazing (meaning heatstroke-inducing) sun, a sudden realization came to me. Charminar...char minar...four towers...really? As I crossed the Musi river, which was more like a sludgy trickle than a river, I pondered my realization. There, on the bridge, I saw two of the most amazing buildings ever: the High Court and the Osmania General Hospital, both build in the Indo-Saracenic style also used for the Gaddige tombs in Madikeri. I was awestruck, not only by the architecture, but by the fact that I had literally walked into a Muslim-heavy area. Men were dressed in white kurtas with scullcaps, and women were wearing black burqahs (hijabs) that only revealed their eyes. I wondered how the women didn't die from getting so hot in that sun with the black all over them. This scene was in vast contrast to the Abids area, in which women tended to walk around in jeans and t-shirts. And men, no matter where they were, could easily wear brightly colored shirts. In fact, nothing was weirder than seeing a woman in full burqah walking next to a guy in a bright, sleaveless shirt with shorts. Such gender differences.

Anyway, the Charminar. Actually, first, I went to the Mecca Masjid, a huge mosque that could fit over 10,000 people. The style was quite nice, though a little boy, Salman, leeched onto me during my time there. After the Masjid, I lost Salman by going up the Charminar (which in fact does have four towers) and not paying for his entry. He almost gave me away about being a foreigner, but luckily I understood enough Hindi to get by. After taking in the fairly unimpressive Charminar, I ate a bit of biryani, which Hyderabad is famous for, and then walked to the Salar Jung Museum. The Museum had some interesting pieces, but after walking for so long and the getting little sleep the previous night, I was in no mood for museums. So, I half-assed it. I saw the exhibits without reading anything and without really looking too hard. After, I walked to the High Court and to the Osmania General Hospital (above) before walking back to the Abids area. I used the internet at Reliance WebWorld (in which Vikas was very helpful), grabbed an iced mocha at the attached Java Green, and then went back to my room for the night. I watched TV and ate leftover biryani. A nice end to a nice day.

The next day, I took it slowly. I really had no interest in seeing too much, particularly since I gained an extra day by deciding not to take a daytrip to Nagarjunakonda...a trip that would have required six hours of traveling in one day alone. So, by the middle part of the day, after having a spot of lunch, I headed out in the other direction. While the day before I walked south with the distant Charminar guiding me, this day I ambled north with the Birla Mandir as my landmark of note. Along the way, I passed by two other amazing Indo-Saracenic buildings, the AP (Andhra Pradesh, for you uninformed) State Museum and the Legislative Complex (which also had the biggest Gandhiji statue I've seen thus far). I saw the Birla Planetarium atop a nearby hill, but couldn't figure out how to get there. And I refused to use my Lonely Planet, simply because it is more fun to try and get it on my own. So, I walked a long way around, walked up a random street, and amazingly ended up at the Birla Mandir, which is on another hill. I deposited my camera beneath someone named Frank. Once I entered the Mandir, which is pan-Hindu though dedicated to Sri Venkateswara, I went straight to the altar dedicated to Sidhi Sai Baba (the original Sai Baba), and made a comment to a guy about it being a very hot day..."right Frank?" So, this threw him for a loop, and after I explained how I knew his name, we became fast friends...well, kinda. A Canadian from Gwelf (outside Toronto), he had been traveling for a while, and was a staunch vegetarian. Just as normal, he asked plenty of questions about the Hindu things we saw at that amazing temple. The Mandir had beautifully simple yet complex marble carvings of scenes from the Mahabharata, Ramayana, and Puranas, as well as tributes to all the major gods, Hindu saints, and even the Buddha, Sri Mahavira, and Guru Nanak. We spent lots of time at the relatively small temple. After leaving to try and find the quirky (supposedly) Health Museum, Frank made me try fresh sugar cane juice. While pure liquid glucose may sound good to some, it made my stomach a little uneasy. We then found our way to a now closed museum, and stayed in the nearby park for a couple of hours. I watched some Muslim men and boys play catch with a ball, a game that lasted for at least 1.5 hours. Frank then brought out his hackie sacks and started juggling (above) and doing a little hackie. As the sun started going down, he then turned to stretching and yoga, which garnered some attention. After the sun was gone, we walked back to the Abids and to my hotel, which he was amazingly staying at as well. We then did dinner and then wandered the Abids for a while. We stopped back to Java Green (he hadn't slept much the night before, as he was taking a night train from Hampi), where I once again met Vikas. He told me to come back the next day to burn a CD. After this, we explored the nooks and crannies of Abid Circle, and met a boy named Ifran, who I'll talk about in the next post. Let's just say that he'll be forever memorable. And that was it.

The next day I burned two CDs, a process that took way too long. Vikas did his best, but the power kept going out. I felt bad for Vikas, but he was very patient. By the time we finished, it was too late to do much of anything, so I just went back to my hotel, chatted with some guests for a while, and really did nothing for the rest of the day. Oh, of course, though, I chatted with my friend Ifran. On my last full day in Hyderabad, I went to the famous Golkonda Fort (above). In order to really understand everything, I hired a guide, who showed me a couple of cool things, like the spot where the 360 queens whipped servants who prayed in the queens' particular masjid, or the high court with acoustics so good that even the slightest sound echoed. I came across a group of guys...I saw them everywhere. Where I was, so were they. I took their picture a couple of times, too. Then, after leaving the Fort, I ate lunch at a small restaurant. While there, they showed up...much to all our amusement. I then walked the 1.5 kilometer stretch to the tombs of the Qutb Shahi sultans. The tombs were cool at first, but then got a bit monotonous after a while. I returned back to Abids, met Ifran, had dinner, and then called it a night. The next day, I checked out early, said farewell to Ifran, went to Secunderabad, and caught my long (meaning way too long) train to Ahmedabad.

More observations about India

2006-02-22T23:25:00.000-08:00

Here are some more thoughts I have about things I've seen:

1. India did another thing right. While typically you don't really need hot water in most of India, sometimes it just feels nice to have a hot shower. In America, we have water heaters, that keep water consistently hot and therefore waste losts of energy. In India, places with hot water showers use geysers (pronounced geezers), which you switch on when you want hot water. Once you wait for the water to heat up, then you use the water, you switch off the geyser. This saves lots of energy.

2. What the hell is up with the Sauna Belts? Every late-night or mid-day paid-advertising program is selling some type of Sauna Belt, which just melts away the fat by concentrating heat on your trouble areas. Are people really that lazy in India? And why, why, why the Sauna Belt? I've counted about six different varieties being sold. Luckily, there's also the "Ab King Pro," which requires a little exercise. But the Sauna Belt is really the king.

3. What's up with bookshops here? Typically, they mainly sell diaries and stationary. Sometimes, when they have English books, they are only about computers or engineering. Sheesh!

4. We have a day of celebration for MLK. Most cities have MLK streets. And yet nothing comes close to the power of Mahatma Gandhi here. While in America, most MLK streets are rundown and house the poorer populations, in India, MG Roads tend to be posher. Also, almost every city no matter how large, has a statue and a square or circle devoted to Gandhi. Nehru doesn't even come close. No one is as beloved anywhere as Gandhiji.

5. Something random...seeing two people do sign language is one of the most beautiful sights in the world. I saw two friends signing to each other yesterday in a Hyderabadi park; one was definitely deaf, the other wasn't...and it was beautiful.

Yet another picture site!

2006-02-21T03:35:00.000-08:00

So, the second Yahoo Groups site is full. To see pics of the amazing temples at Belur and Halebeedu, including all those after, please join the third site at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sapans_india_trip_3/. Thanks.

Halebeedu and Belur: The Allure of the Hoysalas

2006-02-21T02:50:00.000-08:00

After Madikeri, I based myself in Hassan in order to visit the towns of Halebeedu and Belur, which both have magnificent Hoysala Temples. These, coupled with the Keshava Temple in Somnathpur, define super-uber-anal-artistry in the South. Sure, other people went for big. These folks went for intricacy. I spent the morning in Halebeedu, and the afternoon in Belur. Halebeedu has the Hoysaleswara Temple, which is large, with two chambers dedicated to Shiva, and with two smaller mandapams each with a large Nandi. The sheer magnitude of the carvings on the outside astound, but you are quick to notice that the temple was never finished. Plans were made, but never carried through. I also visited two other compounds in Halebeedu: the Kedareswara Temple, smaller and with no one there but a sleeping dog; the Jain basadis, three separate temples dedicated to Parswanath, Adinath, and Shantinath. Belur was quite close, only a half-hour mini-bus ride away. The Channakeshava Temple seems typical, with a large gopuram greeting you, and with many smaller temples scattered here and there in the temple grounds. The main temple is the only of the three main Hoysala sites actually in use, but it's still not quite finished. While unimpressive nearer to its base, larger and more beautiful sculptures and lintels line the upper sections. It's also quite magnificent. There, I also met a British woman from Nottingham (of Robin Hood fame) who had been getting lots of attention, especially from nosy and inappropriate Indian men. I was near here when I stepped onto the burning hot black marble and yelped out. She recognized my lack of accent, and we hit it off. She had lots of questions about Jainism, and so I misled her the best I could. We had dinner together back in Hassan, and we went our separate ways the next day.

Belur...Halebeedu...Somnathpur. Site for the Channakeshava...Hoysaleswara...Keshava Temples. Together, they make up THE finest temple work I've seen in South India, and I've seen lots of temples. So, the million dollar, or das lakh, question is...which temple is superior? The first has size on its side, and the upper work stands out as far superior. The second one has just an amazing amount of work, and the setting is really quite nice. The third is the smallest and most difficult (ie. pain-in-the-ass-est) to get to, and it's the only one that charges money for entry...and it's the winner. The Keshava Temple in Somnathpur is one-of-a-kind for a few reasons. First, it's the only finished temple. Second, it doesn't have the bother of actually being a functioning temple. Third, the fact that you have to pay to enter means that it's impeccably maintained. Fourth, the carvings on it rival both the other two sites. Fifth, the lack of people means that the site is actually peaceful. Sure, the fact that it was the first site I visited means that it was a novelty with which I compared the other two...but despite the expense and difficulty of getting there, there's no denying Somnathpur's superiority.

Next: Hyderabad...technology meets burqahs meets Indo-Saracenic architecture meets a Buddha statue.

Madikeri: Visiting the Coorg Without Seeing It

2006-02-21T02:24:00.000-08:00

My time in Madikeri, a 3.5 hour ride from Mysore, was mostly a waste. I went a day late, mostly because I was sick and also wanted to hang with my friends in Mysore. Well, this helped to defeat me. A person goes to Madikeri to trek in the Coorg (or Kodagu) region of Karnataka. I wasn't there long enough to do that. I arrived in the evening and found a cheap hotel. The next day, I went wandering throughout the city like I normally do. I ended up at the Sri Omkareswara Temple, which amazingly blended Islamic and Hindu themes and architecture together. Something I loved was that Mosques and Temples were EVERYWHERE, though the population was predominantly Muslim. Then, after looking here and there, I once again wound up somewhere unexpected, the Madikeri (or Mercara) Fort. The ramparts had nice views of the city and the surrounds. In the distance, I spotted Gaddige, the Raja's Tombs, and started on a trek to find them. I ended up at a travel agency chatting with a local named Vinod for a couple of hours. Actually, he did all the talking. He expressed interest in starting an NGO dealing with HIV/AIDS, and whenever I tried to tell him that I knew someone I could connect him to, he never let me even start. Sheesh. Still, he was a very nice guy, kept calling me his new American friend, and bought me chai. Eventually, it was getting so late, I had to get going. I finally made it to Gaddige, and had a good time watching local boys hang out and play soccer. By this point, it was getting too late in the day to head over Raja's Seat, which was supposed to have amazing views of the Coorg valleys. Oh well. And the next day, I had to leave for Hassan, on a bus that supposedly left every half an hour and arrived after only three hours. I got to the bus stand by 1:30...no bus came until 5pm, and the trip took four hours. Damn...

So, most people go to Madikeri to visit places like Raja's Seat, trek over to Abbi Falls, and climb up Pushpagiri. Not me...

Mysore Revisited: More to See and Do

2006-02-13T04:01:00.000-08:00

You may remember that I was previously in Mysore, between my trips to Bangalore and Chennai. Last time, I spent three days here, and really didn't do much of anything. I saw the Mysore Palace, the Devaraja Market, and took an expensive daytrip to Somnathpur. I met my friends Ella, Nell, Sam, and Ayesha here as well. Mysore really is an amazing city, with stunning architecture everywhere you look, small alleyways dedicated to wheat or steel or sugarcane, the paradox of a modern world mixed with old ways, and the perfect location in Southern Karnataka. The only drawback is that the air quality is SO poor here, that even walking, I sometimes need to cover my nose and mouth with a handkerchief.

Since I had to pass through here from the Wayanad to Madikeri, I decided to make the most of it. Staying at the popular Parklane Restaurant (yes, in the restaurant) gave me the perfect location between both bus stands. I've been able to explore and really get a sense of Mysore. I could give you directions from anywhere to anywhere in the city.

What I'm going to do is quickly recap what I've done each day I've been here, since each day has brought on a wholly new experience.

Day One. Mysore Darshan. I really didn't see much the last time I was here, so I decided to take in a few of those places I should have visited: Jagan Mohan Palace, Chamundi Hill, and St. Philomena Cathedral (shown above). The Palace has an art gallery with a funky mix of random memorabilia from the Wadiyar empire (which ended in the mid-20th Century) and paintings from all sorts of Indian artists. I easily spent two hours perusing all the different pieces. Then I tromped over to the nearby City Bus Stand and caught the number 201 bus to Chamundi Hill. I arrived there right as the Chamundaswara Temple was just opening for the evening. The darshan line was quite long, so I paid a little something to get through it more quickly. After seeing the temple, my forehead was marked with the beginning of the rainbow, red on the bottom, orange in the middle, and yellow on the top. I descended the 1000-some steps and jumped on a riksha to go straight to the St. Philomena Cathedral in north Mysore (Chamundi Hill was about 2 kilometers south of the city). Of course, I felt very odd about going into such an amazing place with the Hindu markings on my forehead, so I found a place to wash it off. The Cathedral was truly beautiful. After, I walked back to my hotel, grabbed a quick dinner, and then walked here and there, seeing even more of the city's great architecture during the nighttime. The day was relaxing but still quite full.

Day Two. Brindavan Gardens. All my relatives said that I had to go here, so I decided to take their advice. Located on the edge of Krishnaraja Sagar, a dramatic lake formed by a dam, these gardens are the ultimate in floral and fountain landscaping. The flowers and bushes are nice, to be sure, but the fountains steal the show. Before I left on the 303 bus from the City Bus Stand, for which I had to wait more than an hour, I stocked up on picnic-type items. I wanted to enjoy a nice, quiet day at the Gardens. And this involved avoiding a restaurant for dinner. So, I arrived at the Gardens in the late afternoon, took in the scenery, then plopped down for my dinner. Most striking about the day was the sunset over K.R. Sagar. The day ended with the famous lighted fountain show, for which hundreds of Indians flocked to the Gardens. The show was cool at first, with lit fountains (shown above) in great patterns to Bollywood and Bhangra hits. After a while, once I had finished marveling at the sophistication of the fountain system, I got bored quickly. Thankfully, the show only lasted for about fifteen minutes. Then, I boarded one of the many buses back to Mysore. And that was it for that day.

Day Three. Mahamastakabhisheka at Sravanabelagola (try saying that three times fast!). With the town of Sravanabelagola only 2.5 hours away, and with the biggest festival in all of Jainism occurring there, I couldn't not go. So, I left in the late morning on a bus not to the town, but to a neighboring one, from which I caught one of many buses to Sravanabelagola. I was immediately struck by how many people were there, and not just Jains. Thousands of people were there, waiting for an opportunity to climb up Vindhyagiri Hill to see the 17.5 meter tall Sri Gomateswara (Bahubali) being annointed by ghee, milk, honey, and colored powder. I waited and waited under the absolutely brutal sun for the opportunity to walk up the hill at a painfully slow rate (due to all the people). Once I got to the top, after having pushed and shoved my way closer and closer to Bahubali, I barely got a glimpse before being swept away. No time for praying. In order to keep the crowd moving, I had maybe one minute to see Bahubali, in his red and yellow stained glory. Then, we all were shown the way off the side. Many pilgrims, including myself, went to the designated water fountains to wash off the yellow and red powder and dyes covering our faces (see the kids above). This particular path off the hill took us about a kilometer away from our shoes, so I had to walk on the hot cement until I could retrieve my chappals. By this point, the crowd and the sun had taken their toll on me. I jumped on a Mysore-bound bus and called it a day.

Day Four. Melkote. Smitten by the artistry of the Hoysala period that I saw during my trip to Somnathpur, I decided to head to the small village of Melkote. I worried that this place would be just as difficult, and therefore expensive, to get to as Somnathpur, but I didn't care. So, I jumped on a bus that was heading in the right direction, but let me off a little early. Luckily, I caught another bus that took me the rest of the way. Located in a valley in the middle of a desert plateau, Melkote is undoubtedly dramatic. Overlooking the village, which seemed to me to be a smaller version of Badami, was the mesa-top Yoganarasimha Temple. In the middle of the village was a gigantic tank surrounded by ruins of past excellence. Then, on the far end of the village is the Hoysala-built, but really not all the interesting, Chaluvanarayana Temple (it was nothing like the Keshava Temple in Somnathpur). Neither of the temples were all the fascinating, but the views from Yoganarasimha were stunning. The pic above shows Melkote from Vishnu's feet within Yoganarasimha. And I found a great rocky outcrop to sit and chill on for a good hour or so. I found a level of peace I hadn't had for quite some time, and that made the whole trip worth it. I really enjoyed hanging out at the Tank and seeing the families have fun there during their Sunday holiday. In the evening, I caught a bus back the same way, through the other same village. The buses were so crowded, I had to squeeze my way on and off each one. Situations like this reminded me how many people live in India. You'd never feel so claustrophobic in America. Still, the day was wonderful. I went to a place with absolutely no foreign visitors (I'm sure the villagers wouldn't even know how to really react), and found some needed peace. Oh, and saw some temples too.

Day Five. Mysore Darshan, Take Two. I needed to buy my train tickets from Bangalore to Hyderabad, and then from Hyderabad to Ahmedabad. So, I waited at the ticket reservation hour, in the exceptionally slow line, for over two hours. After I left, it was too late to head out to Srirangapatna, like I had planned. So, I decided to do that tomorrow. I decided to walk and take pictures of random buildings in Mysore. The above picture is of Mysore Palace from through its East Gate. Then, I remembered a set of ruined temples close to Chamundi Hill, so I tried to find my way there, but I never quite made it. By this point, the sun was burning and my breakfast of porridge was long gone. So, I decided to call it a day. Not much of a darshan, but still not so bad. Bought tickets. Got some good walking in. And finally a day of no traveling!

Day Six. Mysore Darshan, Take Three. I woke up today with a bit of a stomachache, sadly only one week after dealing with this in the Wayanad. So, I had to scrap my plans to see Srirangapatna today. Luckily, I didn't have to go far to get plain bread and lemon soda (the food of sick people everywhere!). I stepped out of my room and sat down at a table. Soon, to one side, sat Richard, a Welch nurse's assistant who specializes in Psychiatric problems. On the other side, two Britishers, Sophie, who deals with assessment for environmental consulting, and Jane, who recently got a Master's degree in a topic between Sociology and Geography. Joining them was Ben, a Canadian from Banff (who ended our friendship the moment I said that I preferred Jasper) who works as a bartender, a snowboard shop employee, and a realtor, and who's been traveling for 3.5 of the last 5 years, who bought a house worth half a million Canadian dollars, and who is the same age as I am. The five of us had a great time chatting it up. The latter three were also staying at the Parklane. Sophie and Jane had just arrived and wanted to see things. Ben was more inclined to take it easy. And Richard had been doing Yoga nonstop for the past week. He had to skip out on our daily activities, but I decided to tag along with the other three when they went off to the Palace. I acted as their guide (a bad one, of course), since I had been there before. I had a great time with them as we visited the Palace and forced Jane to ride a camel (which we all claimed looked a little like her), since she hadn't done this before. After, we went to the Devaraja Market, where we saw lots of tika powder (shown above), bought some flowers, tried a new vegetable, and lost Ben (who ended up learning how to sell flowers from the vendors) along the way. We then met Ben and Richard for dinner at the Parklane. I ate food and drank alcohol, though I really shouldn't have. Because it was Valentine's Day, I asked one of my waiter friends to secretly get me two roses, which I then presented to Jane and Sophie. We then had fun trying to find odd places to put the roses on our heads. Finally, all tuckered out, I turned in, sad that I didn't go to Srirangapatna, but excited to have met these great people.

Day Seven. Srirangapatna. Finally. I got up and still had issues. Nevertheless, I was determined to make it to the very last stop in Mysore. Jane and Sophie joined me for lunch, and decided to go to Chamundi Hill and the Zoo today (I passed by the zoo, but decided not to go in, because my experience in Indian zoos always leaves me feeling sorry for the animals). Jane and I both ordered corn flakes, which weren't corn flakes at all. I don't know what they were, but they were so hard I could feel my teeth chipping. I of course didn't finish this. After a final trip to the bathroom, I packed up and left for Srirangapatna, better known as S.R. Patna (or Patna, for short). I hopped off the bus at the first stop, which led me to the rarely used Mysore Gate. I marveled at the remnants of the fort, and how they have been incorporated into the current city. Just so you know, SR Patna was the capital of Tippu Sultan's empire, which controlled all of Mysore until the British defeated him in the Fourth Mysore War of 1799. Doing so gave the British the ability to finally expand into the South. Also, SR Patna is located on a large island in the middle of the Cauvery River. Anyway, I tromped along the streets, not really knowing where I was going, until I saw a flag post that offered a good view of the city. From there, I saw what I thought was the Gumbaz, the burial site for Tippu Sultan and his famous father, Hyder Ali. I also saw the Sri Ramanathaswami Temple, and really thought, 'Wow, everything is so close together!' The Gumbaz was actually the Jamia Masjid, which I went into and wondered at the intricacy. Also, the Masjid's outer wall belonged to a Hindu temple, the inner building was Muslim, and the building's base was blessed by Jains. A synthesis of three religions, such was the openness of Tippu Sultan, a Muslim. I then started to walk to the temple, but found out it was closed, and that the Dariya Daulat Bagh, Tippu's summer palace, would close soon and I would miss it. So, I hopped on a riksha which took me to the Bagh, which now houses a museum within the fantasticly ornately colored palace. After, the driver took me to the real Gumbaz, which had a cool onion-shaped top. Then to the Sangam, where the Cauvery meets two other waterways at the edge of the SR Patna island. Finally, I saw the ruins of Tippu's Lal Bagh, his daily palace; the place where the British found his body; the site in the fort's walls that the British entered through to defeat Tippu; the dungeon where Tippu kept all his prisoners (shown above); and the Sri Ramanathaswamy (Vishnu in a reclining or sleeping mode) Temple. It was a nice trip, though expensive due to the riksha ride. But I know I wouldn't have seen everything without it. Now I'm back in Mysore, and will have dinner with everyone soon. Most likely I'll leave tomorrow for Madikeri, where I'll spend only one day.

Mysore was amazing. I haven't stayed this long anywhere since Hampi, and I had new experiences every day. I appreciate my time here, and revel in the fact that I've done more here than pretty much anyone else would ever do.

Scared Puppies

2006-02-13T03:47:00.000-08:00

Yesterday isn't the first time I came across a dog that seemed terrified of humans. Many, and by this I mean about half, seem to have a mortal fear of humans. Yesterday, while in Melkote, I tried to befriend a puppy that was scrounging around for food. All the while, a little girl seemed intent on terrorizing this poor creature. She stomped near it, yelled, and really treated it like crap. So, when I tried to call it over or approach it, it stayed away warily. It didn't want anything to do with me.

Sometimes I can befriend a dog here or there. Usually, they only experience fear around other humans and I. For a society known for its kindness to animals, India hasn't shown it.

Please Comment!

2006-02-11T05:41:00.000-08:00

It takes little time, and I really want to know that someone is reading my blog. I know there's a lot to read, but still...I would really appreciate it if you commented every now and then. Thanks.

Learn Indian-English

2006-02-10T07:42:00.000-08:00

As I've been traveling, I've been writing down words and phrases that I can use later on in my novel, as well as for future reference, like a dictionary. Here's a snippet. After this, you'll be able to speak like an Indian...that is, if you can do a good accent:

Cum - Oh, gross...that's not what it means here! You see cum written everywhere, most often as exhibition-cum-sale. The word simply indicates a combination. It's an exhibition and a sale, not one or the other.

Finger Chips - You'll see this in every restaurant serving Continental (Western) food. These are french fries (or Freedom Fries, if you're George W. Bush).

Tension - This word is exceptionally popular, and it simply means stress.

P.J. - You're a great Mumbai-ite if you know this. It's not pajamas. Nope, it's a Poor Joke, as in one that's so stupid you moan after it ends (if you have an engineer in your family, you know exactly what I'm talking about).

Bisquits - In America, these tend to be like flaky bread rolls. In India, they have a dual meaning. They are snack items, and can be sweet or salty: Cookies and crackers are both called bisquits.

Bunk school - This simply means to skip school. So, then do students here have Senior Bunk Day?

Of course, there are many more words, but these are some of the most interesting. Now you can speak just like an Indian!

Pick Your Own Identity

2006-02-10T07:35:00.000-08:00

Before I open my mouth to any Indian stranger here, my mind becomes like a Choose Your Own Adventure book. I got to decide who I am before I say anything. Here are the decisions:

1. Am I Indian or American? If I'm Indian, I'm definitely Gujarati. If I choose this path, I must use an accent at all times.
2. If I'm Gujarati, what reason do I have for not being able to speak Hindi? This issue most likely will come up. Kids in particular can be very perceptive about this.
3. What's my job? Usually, I'm an English teacher. Hey, I was at one point in time! If I'm American, this isn't an issue. If I'm Indian, am I teacher in America or Gujarat?
4. Am I married? This one is easy. Hell no! Why not? Just because...
5. Usually by this point, the conversation fizzles. Hopefully I'm home free.

I typically choose the Indian path if I'm with kids or in a situation where I know that saying I'm American will draw far too much attention. Still, I hate this game...

If I Were An Average Indian...

2006-02-10T07:25:00.000-08:00

...And I were moving to America, I'd have some issues. I would spit randomly and frequently onto the street, and I would burp loudly after every meal. I would grab the hands of my male friends while walking, and really sit close to them at rest (yeah, watch out fellow 3-301ians!) I would run to jump on my bus while it was still moving (which I love doing, by the way, but I'm always afraid I'll lose a sandal in the process), only to smash into the closed door. I would then attempt to pay my fare based on distance traveled. I would be frustrated and irritated by the immensely idiotic English measurement system, wondering why the orderly and sensical metric and Celsius systems had no place in America. I would feel confounded by the necessity to use toilet paper, and I would have a hard time feeling clean after using the bathroom. And I would have problems using both hands to eat meals.

Sure, I'm generalizing and caricaturing Indians, grouping lots of practices into one person. Perhaps most Indians who move to America wouldn't have these issues. And yet, anyone who made the cultural transition with minimal problems...I salute you!

Some Things India Did Right

2006-02-09T04:37:00.000-08:00

I know that I normally rip on India, making it sound a bit odd or maybe somewhat depressing. But, here are some things that the country got really right:

1. Pay-to-use toilets. Sounds fancy. These public facilities are everywhere, sometimes even minutes from each other (like Starbucks). And they may be lacking in the cleanliness department, but asking each person to only pony up one or two rupees to use the bathroom is great. This means that the government can put more toilets around, because taxpayers aren't paying for them. And everyone needs to use the bathroom, so these puppies pay for themselves. Of course, this doesn't stop men from going Number 1 even just outside.

2. Protected monuments. India's got a very long and complex history, which left behind ruins and religious buildings galore. So, the government got wise and protected them. Plastics are not allowed in many places (though sometimes you see them here and there). Guards watch everyone like hawks. And fees keep visitors at bay. And the best part is that EVERYTHING seems to be protected. You can't go into a city without seeing at least one building with a sign outside saying that it's protected by the government. Of course, some of these buildings become homes for the homeless, but for the most part, they are left only for the cautious tourists.

3. The bus system. Okay, everyone raves about the train system. Sure, it goes to lots of places, but personally, I don't really like it. I've only ridden a train three times since arriving here. They are highly inconvenient. Usually you need to book days in advance, and then travel kilometers out of town just to get to the station. The bus system really is the unsung hero of the Indian transportation system. Each state owns and manages its buses through a corporation (eg. Kerala State Road Transportation Corporation, or KSRTC for short). Private buses are also allowed in the mix. These buses leave constantly. I rarely have to wait long to catch a bus to the location of my choice. They go to small villages, just in case I need to visit somewhere remote. And while they may be rusting tin buckets with drivers who have death wishes, you still get to your location at a timely fashion, and after paying much less than you would for a train.

Things I Don't Get

2006-02-09T04:28:00.000-08:00

Okay, there are many things about India that confuse me. I've already indicated a bunch over the past two months. Here are a few more:

1. In South India, when Hindu kids are blessed, they don't just get a kanku (or tika in Hindi, kum kum in the South) placed on their forehead. Nope, they get something special. A little black dot placed between the brows, and another one on their left cheek. I don't understand this, and the few people I've asked really didn't either. It's just something people do.

2. Pepsi in India (and maybe in the US too???) has now released a new flavor: Cafe Chino. Coffee-flavored cola. I tried it today. Ummm...recall this one quickly! Like you did with Crystal Pepsi!!!

3. In Tamil Nadu, there are scarecrow-type dummies everywhere rural. But these are a little frightening, and they aren't just in fields to scare away birds. These dummies are typically hanging with a noose tight around their necks. Sometimes, even blood is shown. I even saw one impaled, with a sharp stake going through it. And these can be found near houses, temples, or in fields. It's really quite disturbing.

Hotels and Hotels: The funny places I've stayed

2006-02-08T05:50:00.000-08:00

Munnar: My hotel was amazing, but my room didn't have an attached bathroom. My room opened up into the family's kitchen and dining area. This meant that I had to walk amongst the family owners in my PJs just to use the bathroom. Still, the hotel was up the Church hill quite a ways, and thus was really quiet and had some nice views of the city. Also, the garden was great, allowing for some nice relaxation. Most everyone else was paying at least 800 Rs to stay there. I paid almost a fourth of the price. And, I felt a little too close to the family that owned the place.

Ernakulam: Between Munnar and Kalpetta, I spent one night in Ernakulam (Cochin). I had high hopes for the place, thinking to get a place with a TV and ordering in pizza. No such luck. The supposed Domino's Pizza was in fact the now defunct Dominoz Pizza Corner. And my hotel? I went to about ten different places, and each was completely full. I didn't realize that there was a huge IT Conference going on there at the time. So, I went with the first place I found, which cost me a whopping 450 Rs for one night. Still, it had a TV. I bought some food and ate in my room. That night, things went a little crazy. I had gone out to buy some water, and when I returned, about 20 centimeter-long, green or black, flying bugs were flying around my room. Strangely enough, their wings would break off, and the critters would land anywhere and everywhere and just start walking. Wings littered everything. The bugs weren't particularly dangerous. Just annoying. So, I scooped them up and tossed them out. About an hour later, seemingly out of nowhere, about 40 of them appeared. They seemed to multiply randomly and there were more and more of them. But, I got rid of them. Then, at about 12:30am, I turned off my light and TV. I got into bed, and suddenly heard sounds of flying. I sat up, and something hit my face. Again and again. I switched on the light, and there were about 200 of these suckers. 200 and counting. Everywhere. Falling onto everything, including me. I fled my room, ran down to the reception area, woke up the guy, and demanded a room change. I quickly threw all my stuff into the next room, and slept the night with great worry. But, thankfully, these bugs never came into my new room. No, instead, I had a swarm of mosquitoes. It was at that point that I decided that I HAD to leave Ernakulam for good.

Kalpetta: Being sick isn't fun. Especially stomach sick. Having communal squat toilets all the way on the other side of the building doesn't make it easier. Neither does the immense noise from the nation highway right outside. Still, the 60 Rs. a night pricetag makes it much easier. I could stay there are recuperate wtihout paying too much. And the people were nice, though one of the owners was a bit nosy. He actually followed me into my room and started going through my stuff until I stopped him. Still, not a bad place to be.

Mysore: I just got here, but I already know that my hotel room, for 125 Rs. a night, is also interesting. It's located in a very popular restaurant. And when I say in, I mean in. The door into my room is actually next to a couple of the tables. Luckily, I can listen to live classical music play right outside my door. We'll see how this works out. The room is nice. The setting is odd... Okay, I like it. Sure, it's a little weird to walk into my room with all eyes wondering where I'm going. Still, now that I know the whole waitstaff, who is there from open to close, I'm having a great time. I can step outside of my room to have a beer and to write. Of course, I spend money at the restaurant (this is why the hotel can charge so little for the rooms). The only drawback is that the noise continues until about 1am, thus making it hard to fall asleep before this. This issue, coupled with the super comfy bed, makes it tough to wake up at a decent time. Still, I do really like this place.

Beware the 'Pink Tea'

2006-02-08T05:45:00.000-08:00

Many smaller, more local restaurants in Kerala don't serve water immediately. Instead, they serve a pink tea. I saw this first in Trivandrum, and refused to touch it, much to the confusion of Parvati and Srijit. I saw it many other times during my time in Kerala. Still, when I asked about it, no one could tell me anything about it, accept that it's ayurvedic. Most people, including tourists, had never even seen it. They all thought I was crazy.

Finally, in the Wayanad, I decided to try it. I would be leaving Kerala soon, and this seems to be common, at least to me. I asked it the tea was previously boiled, and the waiter assured me that the tea was safe. So, I had some for lunch and dinner on the same day. It basically tasted like hot water, and I blame the tea for my stomach sickness that followed. So, if you visit Kerala, avoid the pink tea!

The Wayanad: Unfortunate Events Amidst Noise and Nature

2006-02-08T05:23:00.000-08:00

Kalpetta, the headquarters for the Wayanad District, was my last stop in Kerala. After a grueling 9 hour bus ride from Ernakulam that dropped me off at 9:30pm, I had a hard time finding a hotel. Still, in the dark of night, I succeeded, only to find out the next morning that my grandmother had died, only about 2 weeks before I was planning to visit Gujarat. This, of course, spoiled my whole day, as I contemplated what the world had lost. That afternoon, I visited the government's tourism center (the DTPC) and arranged an uninspired jeep tour for the next day, leaving at 8am, taking me to Edakkal Cave and Muthanga Wildlife Reserve, and costing me a total of 1700 Rs. That night, I talked with Sejal, and mentioned how I was worried from drinking the "pink tea," but I felt alright (read the next post). The next morning, not wanting to pay 1700 Rs when probably a riksha could take me everywhere more cheaply, I told the driver that I was sick.

And then I was. I think it was the combination of the "pink tea" and my grandmother's death that caused my stomach to turn for the first time in over two months. Luckily, only diarrhea. Unluckily, I had to use a squat communal toilet. My Belgian friend Sam tried to encourage me, particularly to eat. That night, I had a third of a dosa, and then gave the rest to a homeless woman. Still, the worst was having to use the bathroom at night, which required me to walk outside in the cold (we were in the mountains), around the building, to a small, stinky room with no light. Yeah, it sucked.

The next day, I felt alright enough to eat a bite for lunch. Then Sam and I ventured down to Pookote Lake. He decided to take a nap, and told me to wake him within an hour. As I walked away, I noticed a dirt trail leading into the forest. Of course, I took it. I climbed through the dense forest to a ridge that overlooked the lake. A view, away from the crowds and paddleboats, is what I had really wanted. And I got it, and it's shown above. Eventually, before the hour finished, I went down to wake Sam. He had left. The park. I searched for him until 6:30pm, then finally left. Out Austrian friend Martin had told us to walk one kilometer down the road to the main road, then catch a bus back to Kalpetta. I think I went the wrong way. I walked at least 3 kilometers in the complete dark, with my stomach threatening to cause serious problems. Finally, in frustration, and a bit of worry, I caught a riksha back. It turns out that Sam thought that stomach had caused so many problems, that I had left early. So, he left. Whoops.

The next day, I visited the other main city, Sultanbathery (known locally as Bathery). I walked and searched and tromped around to find an old Jain Temple, which, for some reason, no one in Bathery knew about. After eating a little lunch, I resumed my search. After having walked at least 4 kilometers in the midday heat, I found a riksha driver to take me there. It wasn't worth it. The statue of Lord Mahavir didn't even exist anymore! My driver, a young, married guy who invited me to his house for dinner (I think...he didn't speak any English), then took me to Edakkal Caves. The 1.5 kilometer hike to the top was fun, though for some reason, my riksha driver accompanied me and complained the whole time that we should have taken one of the 3 Rs. jeeps. But walking is good exercise. Though, when you're trying to get over a stomach sickness, steep hiking in midday isn't the smartest move. Still, the caves were cool, with Stone Age carvings that confuse archaeologists to this day. After all the walking during the day, I was more than willing to head back to my place.

Wayanad presented me with some opportunities. I saw the Lake and the Cave. I never saw the waterfalls or the wildlife reserves. I got stomach sick for the first time, and lost my grandmother. Highs and lows. Oh, and my hotel was right next to a nation highway, and my room was INCREDIBLY loud, even in the middle of the night. Sigh...Still, Wayanad had some of the most beautiful scenery I had seen thus far on my trip. That is, when I got to enjoy it.

Munnar: Tea and Tahrs

2006-02-08T04:45:00.000-08:00

Munnar, a not that high up hill station in the Western Ghats, is where India gets most of its tea. That means that the surroundings are completely covered in plantations, all parceled out to Manupady or Tata or some other big company. The beautiful surroundings also means that there are touts galore to take you to X hotel or to offer you Y tour. And of course, my tout was Babu. He helped me find a great hotel for the cheapest price I could find, which also had a nice garden to sit and chill in. And then, he sold me on a tour. I bargained him down from 1000 Rs to 700. And funnily enough, he didn't take me. His cousin, Dinesh, did. We saw dams and lakes made by dams and an elephant working and a place called Top Station, which overlooks the Western Ghats in Tamil Nadu. I learned that Leonardo Dicaprio is shooting a film in Munnar, and I saw one of the sets being constructed. Of course, though Leo was also in Munnar, he was too good to stay at my hotel.

I also went to a place called Eravikulam National Park, which is home to the rare Nilgiri Tahr, tiny mountain goats that are so cute, you'd really just want to take one home with you in the luggage (though you probably wouldn't get past Customs). I convinced the ticket guy that I was Gujarati in order to pay the Indian price, and every time I came near a ranger, I had to bring up the accent. I hung out with an Italian couple, Simona and Alessandro, and we were lucky for each other. After hearing from people leaving the park that we wouldn't see anything, I spotted the first of the Tahr. Simona and I approached it slowly and cautiously, and literally got to within two meters of it before it decided to move. And it didn't bolt. It just got up and walked a couple of feet. Really, these creatures have nothing to fear, and therefore never seemed worried about us. On the way to the top, we came across a group of young men, all wearing blue beanies in the great heat, who wanted us in their picture. They showed us a temple, and really created enough noise and chaos to frighten away the fearless Tahrs. Simona spotted another Tahr once we left the crazy Blue-Hat men. We also came amazingly close to this one. My time in the park was short, but it was worth it. Tahrs and Blue Hats...a great combo.

Still, the best part about Munnar was the people I met. Okay, I didn't really spend more than an hour with Simona and Alessandro (though amazingly enough I just bumped into them at this particular internet cafe in Mysore one week after I last saw them!). However, there were a few other people I chilled with. Mark (number three), from Leeds in England, was staying at my hotel. I met him and we immediately got along. We dined together for most meals and basically had a good time. Nooria, a soft-spoken girl from Switzerland, was also cool. She laughed a lot, and particularly at my jokes. Too bad I never got to say good-bye, though I was able to convince her to stay an extra day. No, not even Nooria. The real kicker was the person who accompanied her to Munnar.

So, my first night there, I really didn't have much to do. I had just eaten dinner, and I decided to catch up on some journal writing. Luckily, my room was right next to the garden area, and I had decided to keep my window open. Even with my headphones on, I heard a few voices speaking in English. Always eager to meet other foreigners, I took off the headphones and listened more clearly. The male voice caught my attention immediately. I knew that voice! I jumped out of bed and walked outside. All I saw was Rajiv (the employee) and Nooria standing in a doorway. Rajiv was talking, and I didn't want to disturb him. So, I turned around and started to walk away, thinking that perhaps I had been mistaken. Rajiv then stops and asks if I needed anything. I said no, I'm alright. I turn back around and suddenly I hear someone yell out, "Sapan!!!!" I turn back to see the person I thought it was, Inaki (the crazy Basque from the Alleppey houseboat), run up to me and give me a big hug. It turns out that Nooria and Inaki met on the beach in Alleppey, and he had convinced her to come to Munnar instead of to Periyar. They were staying in a terrible room down in the city, and had randomly bumped into Rajiv. He offerred them some tea and invited them to see the hotel. So, they came. And at 9 o'clock that night, we found each other. We stayed chatting. I randomly saw them again at Top Station the next day. We dined and had fun. I got to know Inaki much better. And it made my time in Munnar much the better.

On my last day there, I decided to go on my own little trek down to Attukkad Waterfalls through some tea plantations. I followed the basic map, but then had to find my way. I climbed down and down through the plantations. Every time the path forked, I decided to go to the right, toward the direction of the river. After a while, after having descended maybe 500 meters, I finally heard water rushing. I went faster and faster, only to reach a dead end at a house. The water, though not the waterfall, was only about 10 meters below me. The only way to get there would have been by illegally passing through the bushes themselves, instead of walking on the designated paths like I had been doing. After coming all this way and descending about 800 meters, it seemed a shame to give up. But, my sense of law and ownership told me otherwise. Maybe I was just afraid of getting into trouble. So, I turned around and tromped back up through the midday heat. Some village kids caught up to me and offerred me two of the cutest kittens ever. I wanted them, but I couldn't take them. Hopefully they won't be neglected or turned into strays. The day was long, tiring, a little bit of a letdown, but still quite fulfilling.

Three friends, Nilgiri Tahr, and lots of tea. Munnar was definitely worth it.

Three Great Things About Kerala

2006-02-08T04:28:00.000-08:00

This state has more houses than I've seen anywhere in India, and it has some of the biggest. Even poorer people and village folk have seemingly nice homes. Of course, this shows that literacy and education can help, even when it comes to having good shelter.

There are almost no beggers in Kerala. Sure, there are homeless people, but they rarely ask for money. And there are simply fewer homeless people in Kerala than elsewhere.

Kerala has so many festivals and celebrations and protests that, no matter where you are or what day it is, you'll most likely come across something that captures your attention and brings traffic to a halt. On one day, I witnessed three of these! It's great!

You Know You've Left Kerala When...

2006-02-08T04:22:00.000-08:00

There are four definite signs that you have now left the state of Kerala, particularly by bus:

1. English isn't prominently written everywhere you look.
2. The frequent mosques and churches have been replaced by temples.
3. Bus conductors use whistles instead of bells to tell the driver when to start/stop.
4. Buses don't have women's reservation seats in the front.

A Moment of Silence

2006-02-04T01:43:00.000-08:00

To my wonderful Motiba...who passed away at 5:04am on Saturday, February 4, 2006. To Mangalaben Gandhi...a woman who dealt with all her personal tragedies with strength, dignity, and hope. After 90-some years of pain, through the loss of two of her children and her husband, and through the torture of prolonged bed-ridden incapacitation, she has finally attained great peace. The pain has ended, and though our lives now seem a bit darker, we know that she has moved beyond her past negative karma to a place of a great hope and happiness.

To hear her talk and laugh with such energy displayed to the world that she did not feel burdened by her handicaps, but instead lifted up by them. Though we had a language barrier between us, Gujarati seemed to come to me much more easily whenever I was with her. By setting a shining and almost inconceivably positive example, she brought out the best in everyone who knew her.

Though we will miss her, we are all happy to know that her days of suffering have finally ended. Our hearts seem a little less whole, but our spirits are lifted by ever having known her. Today is not a time to mourn or grieve, but it is a time to celebrate the woman, the mother, grandmother, the solid rock holding strong amongst a turbulent river.

Thank you, Motiba. We will all miss you dearly.

Traveling Alone Is Expensive!

2006-02-04T01:39:00.000-08:00

Man, this sucks. Just to get into a jeep to go to Wayanad Wildlife Sanctuary tomorrow (the only way to go), I have to pay 1450 Rs, plus an additional 250 to get into the park. 1700 Rs for just one day! 1000 Rs for a canoe trip. 700 Rs for a tea plantation tour. I almost paid 3500 Rs for a houseboat; 875 each when sharing with seven others is MUCH better. Plus every time I have to pay for a double room because there are no singles, and no, I can't pay only a single price, because I'm staying in a double...sigh. Traveling alone is great, but it sure is hard on the wallet.

Kerala and Religion

2006-02-04T01:22:00.000-08:00

Kerala is, in so many ways, a different India: Ninety-one percent of the population is literate, English is written and spoken almost everywhere, political protests and demonstrations occur in the streets almost daily, kathakali and theyyam performances take your breath away, seafood is readily available, NATURAL BEAUTY is everywhere, and most non-veg places serve beef (yes, beef!).

One of the most fascinating things about Kerala, though, is its take on religion. The state has a hearty mix of Hindus, Muslims, and Christians. It's also the only place with a Nestorian settlement and a Jewish community (in fact, the Sassoon family, of the Vidal Sassoon brand, were Jewish Indians from Cochin). Here, religion is not much of a problem. Remember Shahji, my tiny canoe-driver from Alleppey? He was devout Muslim, chatted about Hindu philosophy, and took me to visit a church and a temple. But no place is the religious equality more noticeable than Munnar. Munnar has three major hills upon and between which it was built. And on each hill, a prominent building for each of the three religions: a Muslim masjid, a Christian church, and a Hindu mandir. Throughout the day and night, we can hear Hindu chanting, the Muslim call to prayer (for namaz/salat), and church bells. It's an amazing mixture of religion.

However, as you go further north, things change. Islam becomes the most prominent of the religions, simply because northern Kerala had much trade with Arabia. There are a few things I've noticed about all this:

1. All the masjids (mosques) in Kerala are green. Some have some dark forest green, but most are a sickening pastel green. Why green? Because this is the major color of Islam? Then why pastel?

2. The further north you go, the fewer Hindu temples and Christian churches you'll see. In fact, on my way from Ernakulam (Cochin) to Kalpetta (through Calicut), I did not see a single temple. And in the whole city of Kalpetta, I have yet to find one.

3. So many skullcaps and burqahs/hijabs! Oh, and more people like Osama the more north you go in Kerala.

Moral Dilemmas

2006-02-02T04:05:00.000-08:00

Okay, I have two problems/issues to resolve.

1. At what point does taking pictures of locals and villagers doing their jobs become like taking pictures of animals in a zoo? I would be traveling on the backwaters or through the mountain villages, and tourists would be snapping away. I've tried not to do this (unless it's a big group, I have permission of the photographee, or I'm taking the picture for reasons other than novelty, like I just think it's a nice picture), but it's tough. At what point does that line exist where we start seeing people like animals?

2. As an environmentally-friendly person, I've tried not to follow the Indians' example of constantly littering on the ground. But I've hit a point of difficulty. What's the use of not littering when the cities don't even bother to sprinkle trashcans along the road? I'd walk around for hours with a piece of trash until I arrive back at my hotel. But sometimes that's not possible. So, before we change the mindsets of the people, we need to provide trashcans.

Two Quick Thoughts About Kerala

2006-01-29T07:27:00.000-08:00

1. It's nice to see that some Indians other than Gujaratis name their houses. Every house I've seen so far, big or small, has a name etched onto a plate in the front.

2. Cochin has more stray cats than dogs, which is something new for me.

The Backwaters, Part 3: The Houseboat

2006-01-29T06:55:00.000-08:00

Cochin didn't quite happen, much to my happy surprise. I packed up and checked out. As I was heading out the door, I saw Sara, from the night before, waiting with three other people. She said that Geoff and her were asked to join a houseboat group. This was something they had asked me about the night before. I was happy for them, of course, and I said farewell. Enjoy your time, but I need to go to Cochin. As I turned to walk away to the bus stand, Inaki (the "n" has a tilde, so making it "ny"), the other guy waiting there, asked if I wanted to join, saying that it would be cheaper for everyone. I said that I'd think about it, and sat down. I wasn't in a hurry, so I waited. And I decided to go for it. We got the boat for 7000 Rs., and it included two meals and a snack. Unfortuantely, because it was Republic Day, all the boats were taken, and we would have to wait until 2:30pm. Still, 20.5 hours sounded great. And the price was amazing. So, we waited and chatted.

Inaki was a loudmouthed, but very friendly, Basque who imitated the more annoying side of Indians well. Marjo was a French bartender living in Berlin, and she had a kick-ass tattoo on her back. Carole was a slightly more reserved French graduate of culture and communication, and she couldn't eat anything spicy. Claudia was a Swiss teacher on a round-the-world trip, and her job and apartment were waiting for her when she returned (much to all our jealousies). Harold was an Austrian who loved being behind a camera. Sara was the leading world expert in captive Army Ants, though she doesn't have an advanced degree. Geoff was a Ph.D. student in Sociology, studying identity formation in post-colonial states. And Sapan was...

Before heading out, we bought about 1000 Rs. worth of booze, though I only paid for about 100 of it. Kingfisher beers, all the way. The boat was simple but great. It only had six beds, in three rooms, but Inaki and I decided to sleep on spare mattresses out on the deck. Our snack was of fried bananas, chai, and pineapples. I had great conversations with mostly everyone but Harold, and I was starting to get a but frustrated with Sara's brusqueness. At one point, we stopped and a bunch of schoolkids mobbed around us. Claudia gave one of them a Swiss coin, though the rest of us told her not to. And of course, they wanted 'one pen.' Then, at 5:30, we stopped to watch the sun set and to get the spare mattresses. Marjo, Carole, and I went for a nice walk. Thankfully, I brought my flashlight, because it was wholly dark when we returned.

Dinner was amazing! Small filet of a fish cooked in spices. Rice with a hearty mung daal. Chappatis to go with the sabjis: A Keralan style okra, and one made of long green beans. Harold and I asked for raw peppers and onions. And the meal ended with freshly cut pineapple. The food was so tasty (Apu, the cook, did a great job!) that, while I'm often tired of Indian fare, I really needed to force myself to stop. We ended the night by playing two games of Werewold, which Claudia had brought. The game was very similar to Mafia. The first round, though I was a harmless villager, EVERYONE suspected me of being a werewolf. I was able to convince Inaki I wasn't, which, for some reason, saved me until the second round. I must just always look guilty. They blamed the odd smile on my face, which only appeared after everyone started looking at me funnily. Of course, the villagers knocked me out, which actually meant they defeated themselves. The second game, I actually was a werewolf. And yet, people didn't touch me, so Marjo and I easily won.

Carole, who had woken up early with Marjo and Inaki to watch the sun rise on a canoe, was half-asleep by this point. This fatigue spread until we all tucked in for the night. I slept on a single mattress under a mosquito net, while Inaki slept on a double (though he was much smaller than me). As the night progressed, I started getting really cold, and wished that I had a bedsheet or blanket. Then, I realized that I was lying on a bedsheet, which I had only hesistantly accepted in the first place. Thankfully I did. So, I took it off the mattress, covered myself with it, and quickly fell asleep. Sometimes, I awoke to the sound of Inaki slapping at something crazily. Unfortunately, his net had many holes, and he was really getting eaten alive. I really awoke at around 6:45am. Carole was the last to wake up. We all got ready and relaxed. Still, there was a palpable gloom settled over us all. The thought of leaving the boat in only a couple of hours really made us sad. We even considered getting another boat (this boat was already booked), but we all decided against it.

Breakfast was awesome. Veggie omlettes, silver-dollar pancake-sized dosas (Keralan style), thick potato sambar, and boiled bananas.

As we approached the Nehru Stadium, used for the Snake Boat races in August, we saw the end. We arranged the money for the trip and alcohol, exchanged info, and suddenly it was over.

It's hard to put into words how wonderful the trip was, even though it was only a few hours. By this point, I really needed to leave for Cochin. I was the only one of the eight who left town that day. My backwater experience -- the ferry, the canoe, the houseboat -- cost me way too much money (over 2000 Rs.), but it was totally worth it. If any of you come to India, you must visit Alleppey and at least partake in the many canals. You won't regret it.

The Backwaters, Part 2: The Canoe

2006-01-29T06:34:00.000-08:00

Having gotten little sleep the night before, I slept in a little late. I left the hotel at 10:30am, 1.5 hours before check-out and before the houseboats left. I really racked my brain. Part of my wanted to go on a lazy houseboat. But the other side of me didn't want to pay 3500 Rs. And I had wanted to go canoeing ever since I had learned about Alleppey. Well, the answer ran up to me, literally, in the form of a tiny man named Shahji. A canoe trip, where he would leisurely take me through the smaller channels and passages that bigger boats couldn't get through. Okay, I thought I'd at least see his boat. He took me on his bike, which was tiny. This was the first time I ever had to sit sideways, and I was terrified that I would fall off (not that it would really matter, unless a car was heading my way). His balance was amazing, but I couldn't help but be nervous. I saw the boat, and then he paid for me to have a traditional, veggie, Keralan meal. Then we left.

He placed a paddle by my side, "just in case." I grabbed it immediately and started helping him, though I really didn't need to. I canoed for 2 hours straight, causing many people on passing houseboats to take our picture, since they didn't know I was a tourist. Also, along the way, some of Shahji's villager friends poked fun at the fact that I was doing his job...he just shrugged and said that I had wanted to help out. The setting would have been peaceful if it weren't for all the houseboats with their motors that polluted both the air and the silence. When we finally got into the smaller channels, things improved, and I tended to relax more.

Halfway through the six-hour journey, we stopped to visit a church hidden away and founded by some really important Christian. Even further away was a temple that looked more like a Chinese/Japanese pagoda. Now, let me first say something about Keralans like Shahji. A devout Muslim who earlier had a conversation with me about Hinduism, taking the tourist to see a Church and a Temple...Keralans know about religious peace (it's political peace that sometimes eludes them). We walked to the temple, though Shahji complained that the walk was too far. I suppose 1 kilometer could be far with legs as short as his. The temple was closed, and Shahji spotted a shortcut: a very narrow pathway running along the edge of the very wet rice paddies. A wrong step in either direction, and in the drink we would go. Still, we decided to try it. We walked carefully, meeting two villagers along the way. We crossed over the water using a small trunk with no incident, but came to a dead end. We could see the path we needed to take, but to get here, we'd have to cross over a channel, shuffling over a moss-covered, completely submerged, extra-slippery log. We had to turn around, and we walked back to the villagers, a man and a woman. The woman said we could cut across to her place, but to do this, we'd need to cross over another small channel. She started to set a plank across, but it was very flimsy and slippery. She tested it with much skepticism regarding its stability. As we were standing, the ground underneath my right foot gave way and I crashed into the water. My leg sunk up to the knee. Shahji helped me out. Since my pants were already ruined, I decided to just ford the small bit of water without the plank. I jumped in and waded across, much the the utter shock of the other three. Shahji scurried across the plank, and the woman led the way to her place. She grabbed a pot of water to wash off my muddy pant legs, but Shahji led me to a channel and proceded to actually wash my pants while I was wearing them. I had the woman take our picture, because I was highly amused by this. This incident actually made the trip SO MUCH more fun. Before, it was okay. Now, it was great. Shahji and I had shared an adventure with a funny ending.

Once we got back on the canoe, the hot sun dried me off pretty quickly. After this, things returned to normal. We stopped for tea. Then, with an hour left, I picked up the paddle and joined in the rowing. It felt good to work out the upper body for three hours that day. We returned by 6:30pm, and I paid Shahji 1000 Rs. 150 per hour, plus an extra 100 as tip. Yes, it was a lot, but it was worth it. After dinner, I returned to my hotel, where I met Sara and Geoff. I'll talk about them soon. We had a good chat, and then I went to bed, knowing that I'd leave the next day. I was very happy with my backwater experience. And Cochin was calling.

The Backwaters, Part 1: The Ferry

2006-01-29T06:00:00.000-08:00

Alright, I know I've written so much in the last few days, but what else are you going to do in Cochin? Don't worry, I most likely won't write much for a while after this, because probably the internet connections will suck in the mountains, where I'll be for the next week or so. This gives you plenty of time to catch up on the blog and to see all the new pictures I've posted on the second Yahoo Groups site.

But now, it's time for my super-lengthy discussion of the Keralan backwaters -- the most amazing time (outside New Years) I've had in India. We'll start with my trip from Varkala to Alleppey. Don't worry, I'll skip over Kollam, because it's a city almost not worth mentioning. Let me just say that my friend Stefano and I took a short way-too-early train from Varkala to Kollam, and then hopped on the ferry boat heading down to Alleppey. The trip down would normally take just two hours by train. By boat, 9 hours. Train would cost maybe 40 Rs. Boat, 300. And it was WORTH IT! Now, let me first explain Stefano's plan: He was planning to head down to Alleppey by the boat, then hop on a bus and head back to Varkala. I didn't think this would really work, but he had thought it through, and he knew that it would. Anyway, Stefano and I arrived on time, which turned out to be too late to get good seats, so we were stuck in the glaring sun, which by 10 o'clock in the morning, can induce heat-stroke. On the way, we met a loudmouth, overly happy, Briton named Jane. We hit it off pretty quickly. In fact, she was the first Britisher I met who did not find Indians to be lacking manners, and in truth she said that they were some of the nicest people she had ever met. After a couple of hours, we stopped for lunch. Having read the Lonely Planet beforehand, I knew to be careful of the food. The lunch was going to cost 30 Rs. Anything else was added on heftily. So, only a water for me. Others wanted everything. Shrimp, definitely! Oh yeah, I need a chappati. Watermelon sounds delicious. I don't know what raitha is, but I'll try it. Yep, big bills at the end. Eyes sticking out and all that.

During lunch, we met a gruff Israeli named Lior, but I really didn't chat with him too much. As we floated along, though, seeing villagers and villages along the way, we came to the Amma Ashram, home of the "Hugging Mother," which in fact looked very much like a set of apartment complexes, not like a place for meditation. On board came a family from British Columbia, and I found out that the oldest daughter actually was living in Surat for a year on some sort of exchange. She was teaching ballet in a convent. Indian ballerinas??? So, by this point, I had Stefano, Jane, Lior, and the BC family to chat with. Plus, there was a group of Indians making quite a bit of racket on board. As we floated down the river, and as the sun sank lower toward the horizon, things settled. Especially after tea. We had quite a bit of relaxed enjoyment. Children constantly yelled at us and ran alongside the boat, all the while wanting "One pen." We saw women washing clothes, men bathing, and people simply chatting it up. Wonderful.

The sun went all the way down, and unfortunately we still hadn't reached Alleppey. We were late. We didn't arrive until around 7:30pm. I hate getting anywhere after the sun goes down. As we left the main canal and entered Alleppey's North Canal, we saw a party boat with festive lights and music and dancing. And alongside was a canoe filled with a samba-style drumming band and a man letting off great fireworks into the night sky. The whole thing looked fun. After we had landed at the jetty, Jane magically disappeared. I was disappointed, hoping to do something with her the next day. Stefano, unfortunately, had to wait until midnight to catch the 2.5 hour train back to Varkala. And I wandered until I found a hotel. Dinner. Sleep.

Varkala and Cochin: Where Tourists Do Nothing All Day, but the Seafood Is Fresh

2006-01-29T00:30:00.000-08:00

Alright, I'm breaking stride here, and am combining two places separated by about three days. The backwaters and Alleppey were far too amazing to consider here. Both Varkala and Cochin (where I currently am) are similar in that they are very touristy, full of fresh seafood, and really have nothing interesting to offer to keep busy. But I'll first start with Varkala.

This is a beach town just north of Trivandrum. Most Keralans prefer to go to Kovalam, but most tourists shun Kovalam because it's so commerialized. Well, unfortunately, Varkala is getting that way too. It's less touristy that Hampi, and much more than Mamallapuram. The beach isn't all that long, and consists of North and South Cliff. It takes me about ten minutes to walk the length of the whole beach! As I walked along the beach to find accomodations, I passed by so many shops and restaurants, all catering to the tourists. Almost not a single Indian (unless as a tourist or an owner) can be found at Varkala Beach. Varkala Town, on the other hand, which is found about four kilometers south of the beach, is highly conservative Muslim. Anyway, I found a place where I stayed in a hut, which was more like a concrete block with a thatched roof. Still, I paid a cheaper price than anyone else I met. Yes, 250 Rs. a night was cheap. Normal was about 400 Rs. There is only one thing to do in Varkala, and two ways of doing it: Doing nothing on the beach, or doing nothing in a restaurant. Or, of course, you can go window shopping. Through this activity, I actually met some Gujarati shopkeepers that, while trying to sell me stuff, also wanted to have a conversation with a fellow Guju. I was invited for Guju chai on numerous occasions.

The one great thing about both Varkala and Cochin is the seafood. At Varkala, we see fishermen out on boats all day. At night, each restaurant (which is really just a copy of the others) would display the seafood its particular fisherman caught that day. Yeah, that really wasn't for me. Many people loved the fact that you just pointed to the fish, then it arrived cooked minutes later. I couldn't really deal with that. Seeing it alive, then dead, just isn't something that I find appetizing. Here in Cochin, there's a whole fish market, where you point to a fish, then take it to a stall, which will fry the fish up for you. Once again, not my bag, baby.

In Varkala, I met an Italian named Stefano. We got along quite well, and were amused by the fact that we were opposites: he was a beach-person, I wasn't. He enjoyed lazing around, catching some sun. I was dark enough. I would rather wander, he would rather get a tan. Still, Stefano was a truly intriguing guy. He had been in computers for about ten years before he gave it all up to go to school to become a naturopathic healer. In fact, he received an Ayurvedic massage while in Varkala, and was truly interested in the medicinal properties of things like turmeric and neem.

We had one great goal while in Varkala: find a Kathakali performance (traditional Keralan form of drama). Signs pointed to a place called the Sunrise Restaurant, and on our first evening of searching, the restaurant owners told us to go to a place called Temple Junction. Apparently, the Temple has performances every night (which my Lonely Planet confirmed). So, we trekked about two kilometers to the Junction, just to find out that the Temple didn't actually have performances, but instead that we'd need to go to a place called Clafouti, near the Sunrise Restaurant. So, we trudged back, only to be too late. Thankfully, the next day, we made it on time. We saw the amazing process of putting on the makeup and the impressive costumes. This process itself would usually take 1.5 hours. Then, we saw some traditional drumming. A man then came to show us some basic Kathakali movements. Finally, we watched the drama of Bhima and Baka, from the Mahabharata. In the book, this story is probably only a couple of pages long. This thing lasted for far too long. It was really stretched out. And though I know that I should have actually liked Bhima, the hero, Baka, the demon, was far more interesting. He actually seemed a little fun.

Varkala was sometimes boring and sometimes interesting. Beaches just really aren't for me. Plus, the expensive hotel and food didn't help.

Cochin is the same way. Cochin (or Kochi, as it's now called) consists of Ernakulum, Fort Kochi, Mattancherry, and many islands. Ernakulum is the entrance point on the mainland, and it's like a small Bangalore. It's really really bustling, and the large stores, particularly selling jewelry, really caught my attention. Fort Kochi, which can be reached by ferry, is the small part at the tip of the Cochin peninsula. It's really commercialized and it wholly caters to its many tourists. There's also the oldest church in India, at which Vasco de Gama was buried. Mattancherry is just south of Fort Kochi, and has the famous Jew Town. The Sassoon family, of Vidal Sassoon fame, lived here. But really, the most interesting thing to see in Cochin are the fishermen. The giant Chinese cantilever nets require at least five men to operate. These are interesting to watch, at least for about ten minutes. Really, I think that there's nothing else to do here, but spend money, that is. It took me about 1.5 hours to find a place. The cheapest, 250 Rs. Typically, a person would spend at least 450 Rs a night. Meals are just as expensive. Often, one plate starts at at least 150 Rs. Then, you add on a drink, maybe a soup or salad, and perhaps even a dessert, and you're paying one night's accomodation for dinner. Hell, there's even a cake that goes for 90 Rs!!! And, as before with Varkala, all you can do is wander around the shops and try not to look too interested. Or, you do what I'm doing, and you spend all your time in one of the many internet cafes. I spent four hours yesterday. I'll probably spend about six today. And, of course, they aren't cheap. But, they're fast. And that's important. But it also shows that there really isn't much to do here. I really can't understand what some people do with their time when they spend one or two weeks here. But perhaps it's just me...

What Happened to the Erotica?

2006-01-28T00:44:00.000-08:00

As I've been traveling, I've noticed something that would have made me blush if my cheeks could turn red: lots of old-time erotica. Statues and murals and paintings and carvings of people having sex in incredibly revealing and lewd manners. Basically, super-visual representations of the Kama Sutra on temples, in antique shops, and in palaces. Even animals are shown going at it. And some of these depictions are only slightly more than a hundred years old. Which makes me question what's happened to Indian society. Has conservativeness simply become more common over the past couple of centuries, or has India always been conservative with a few power-holders going against the grain? Still, whenever I, and to a certain extent other foreigners, notice these highly explicit images, I can't help but chuckle. This definitely wasn't an India I now know, but it seemed like more fun.

What Do Indian Men Do All Day?

2006-01-28T00:14:00.000-08:00

Okay, here's a big question that's been on my mind since the start of my trip: What do Indian men do all day? Supposedly they go to work. Which is, of course, why I'm always seeing them relaxing and chatting and really doing much of nothing during the day. And this isn't even in the early afternoon, when many businesses close due to the heat. This is all day long. Women work their asses off. Men laugh and drink chai. And I'm not the only one to notice this. A few of my Western friends have asked me about this, thinking that, as someone with a connection to India, I may be able to shed light on this issue. Nope. I'm baffled.

Pics

2006-01-27T03:40:00.000-08:00

So, the first Yahoo Group is now completely full. It goes for the first 1.5 months of my trip, all the way up to half of my time in Kodaikanal. I am now finished uploading pics from Tamil Nadu. The rest of the Kodaikanal pics, and all the Kanniyakumari pics have been uploaded to the second group. From now on, if you want to see pics, go there instead of to the first group. Soon, I will put up the pics from Kerala thus far.

The Mystery of Mutton SOLVED!

2006-01-27T02:01:00.000-08:00

Okay, we know that mutton is sheep. And in fact, sheep are quite abundant throughout the North, according to my friends who have traveled there. Unfortunately, it's too hot in the South to raise sheep anyway (thick, wooly coats and all). But, that doesn't really matter, because, in India, mutton isn't sheep! No, my friends, it's goat, which I see far too often here. So, Indian mutton = goat. Mystery solved.

The Power of the Lonely Planet

2006-01-25T07:20:00.000-08:00

The Lonely Planet is the leading tour book for India. The others (Rough Guide, Footprint, and Let's Go!) don't come close. It's even earned the name "The Lonely Bible" ("The Bible" or "THE Book" for short). This book is so important that most people don't make a decision without consulting it. For me, I've learned that it's wrong about a third of the time. Places that may be highly worth visiting in the book (eg. Bijapur and Trichy) really are wastes of time. And I typically don't go to hotels or restaurants simply because they're recommended. But so many other people do.

Which makes me wonder which came first: The tourism or the Lonely Planet. See, I think it's the latter. I think when the first Lonely Planet came out, it said that certain places are great to go. Then, as the book became popular, so did these locations. Places in Hampi and Varkala (among others) wear their Lonely Planet mentions like badges of honor. I'm currently in Allepey, where the houseboat industry is the biggest tourist draw in Kerala. I bet the Lonely Planet had something to do with that. In fact, I talked with a tour agent today, and he said that, while most houseboats are with motors, punting boats (pushed by long poles) are becoming increasingly popular. He didn't know why. It seems random to him. Yeah, not so much. The Lonely Planet, in more recent years (I've seen an older one, so I know), has been saying that tourists shouldn't be taking motorized boats because of environmental issues. Punting boats are recommended.

The Lonely Planet has lifted up an entire industry, thus giving an instant edge to the only agency still stocking punting boats. They were previously useless relics. Now they're gold mines (they charge more due to less supply and greater demand...oh, and the monopoly). Thanks Lonely Planet!!!

Trivandrum 2: The MANIPULATOR

2006-01-25T06:33:00.000-08:00

Thus far, I've met two Indians who will forever leave an impression in my mind. One was Karan, the leech from Hampi. And the second was Parvathy, the manipulator from Trivandrum. So, I just arrived at the zoo, still trying to keep from puking up all my food (read Trivandrum 1). I'm looking at a vulture in a cage when a couple walks by me. The girl notices my camera, and tells me that I need to take a picture of the beautiful bird. She didn't suggest, she ordered. Later, they walk by me as I'm going to take a picture of a White-Bellied Kite, a bird I think of as beautiful. She believed differently, saying that it wasn't worth it for me to spend time on such an ugly bird. I immediately liked this girl, because I was pleasantly surprised at her tone with a complete stranger. So, later, when I came across the couple resting, I stopped to say hello. Her name was Parvathy, and she did almost all the talking. His name was Srijith, a genuinely nice guy who was basically a lapdog.

Let me tell you about these two before I continue. Both are 19 years old, and they've been lifelong friends, probably because Parvathy needs and Srijith gives. No, they aren't a couple. In fact, Parvathy married (a love marriage, supposedly) when she was 16, and had her daughter that same year. Her husband is currently in Singapore, and her daughter is at her parent's place (where she goes only once a week). Next year, both Srijith and Parvathy are getting stationed in Dubai for their work. And they maintain a far too close relationship that both agreed gets disapproving looks. But, Parvathy doesn't care, and Srijith does whatever she wants.

I hung out with them during the rest of our time at the zoo. It turns out that they were supposed to be working, but they skipped out for the day since their boss wasn't there. They worked at a branch of Capella, an advertising company that made tourism brochures for the government of Kerala. They were also both 19 years old, thus adding a level of immaturity to everything they did. Actually, Srijith was the mature one. The whole while, Parvathy (who goes by Nisha) kept telling me "Come come" when I'd slow down to see an animal more closely. As a tourist, apparently, if I didn't follow them, I'd get lost in the zoo. I was that clueless. During our time there, she had me repeat silly and apparently obscene things in Malayalam. Thankfully, Srijith would yell for me to stop before I really said anything bad. She also had me repeat the words of some songs she liked; I said firmly that I wouldn't sing. She was also receiving phone calls continuously. Sometimes, she handed the phone to me to talk with her friends and to tell them these same obscene things. Yes, this was an Indian girl! Crazy, right?

After the zoo, the true Parvathy came out. She desperately wanted a Pepsi, and she asked if I'd buy it. No, she didn't ask. She told. And I said fine. I needed a water anyway. What started as one Pepsi because a Pepsi, a water, and a bag of chips (54 rupees). Okay...

Parvathy really wanted me to see their office, so we trucked over there. We hopped on a bus, and I noticed that their office was only about two minutes away from my hotel. We stayed at the office for a bit...she showed me some brochures and such. She said that I NEEDED to come with her and Srijith to Kovalam the next day. This beach town wasn't on my list, because it was too commercialized, and I was actually leaving for Varkala the next day anyway. Plus, by this point, I was getting a little sick of Parvathy anyway. So, after much pushing, I convinced her that I couldn't go. By this point, she needed to get home, and Srijith typically dropped her off (poor fool...she could easily take care of herself), so Parvathy said that I should accompany them. But first, she hadn't eaten all day, and was very "Huuuuungry." And unfortunately, her wallet had been stolen from her purse earlier that day. She showed me the tear in her purse, which really could have happened at any point. This of course meant that she couldn't pay for anything. And of course her next payday was in a week. Obviously, I was suspicious, but perhaps India had made me too paranoid. She noticed my hesitancy, and said that I came back in a week, she treat me all day. Uh huh. So, of course I paid for coffee (12 Rs) for both her and Srijith (who gets paid by Parvathy, apparently). Then, the riksha (25 Rs) ride to her cousin's place, where she stays during the work week. At that point, I brought out my camera, which caused a riotous flurry of primping and dressing up that made them look exactly the same as before. This part was fun. Their immaturities definitely came out during this time, though. Then, Parvathy ruined it by insisting on having copies. She said that we should go to a photo place and print out some pictures, which would ONLY cost me about 200 Rs. I firmly said no, and I told her that I'd e-mail them to her. She didn't like this, but she really had no choice. Finally, Srijith and I left. Beforehand, though, he bought her some food, even though she was going to eat in an hour anyway. Yeah, he was whipped. And the riksha ride cost me another 25 Rs.

The next morning, at around 11am, I walked to their office. I braved this because I knew that they were leaving for Kovalam at noon, and that they were going to the Sri Padmanabaswamy Temple (where I was going to go that afternoon) in the evening. Srijith was at the office. Parvathy was an hour late. I met the other employees. When she arrived, it seemed like she had done nothing wrong by being late. She was that manipulating. Even more so, much to my chagrin, she convinced their boss to give them the afternoon off (they'd go to Kovalam in the evening) so they could hang out with me. Gawd! What had I done! The plan was to go to the bank (so I could get money for my travels), then to the Temple. Before going to the Temple, Parvathy would need to go home to put on a sari, and Srijith and I would need to rent dhotis. The Temple has a strict dress policy. The idea of spending another 50 Rupees and who knows how long on this trip to her place forced me to say no to the Temple. She really wanted to dress up. Too bad. However, along the way, we ended up at a restaurant. One vadai (for me, apparently) also meant two dahi vadai, one chai, and two coffees (35 Rs). After much discussion, she finally said fine...no Temple. At least not the inside. We would still go there, but just to see the outside. Fine. But no walking. Another riksha (15 Rs). The temple was okay...nothing special. Then, she wanted a gift to remember me by. A bawdy Krishna statue. We went to some shops, but I finally said no. The pictures would be the remembrance. I needed the money for my trip. "But they're ONLY 50 Rs!" No. Okay, she had to break down. But, she got me another way. She asked if I was thirst, and I said sure. So, I took a Pepsi. She had a Pista Milk. He had a Badam Milk. Fine. What I didn't see was that she had told Srijith to buy another Pepsi and a bunch of snacks for their trip to Kovalam. The bill for my Pepsi was 150 Rs!!! I could have said no, but lots of people were watching us, and this would have created an issue with the cashier. I paid, and then needed to end it.

Excuse: A checkout time coming soon (I lied; it wasn't for three more hours).

So, back at my hotel, I said goodbye to them and slowly choked on the 318 Rupees I had spent for them during the past two days. By this point, I wanted to get the hell out of Trivandrum and reach the beaches of Varkala. So, I checked out early, and got to the bus station. I left Trivandrum and didn't look back. Actually, I left Parvathy (who wants me to invite Srijith and her to my wedding) and didn't look back.

Trivandrum 1: Red Flags and Vomit-Inducing Naturopathy

2006-01-25T06:14:00.000-08:00

Trivandrum was my first spot in the great state of Kerala (the one state EVERYONE told me I had to visit, though they really could never pinpoint why). Trivandrum is the capital, and it's in the southern part of the state. As soon as I stepped into the city, I could see the differences between this state and the others. Kerala had the first ever democratically-elected Communist government (in 1967), and now it's the most developed and educated state in the country. It has a literacy rate of 91 percent, which is amazing. Most things in Trivandrum were written in both Malayalam and English. The city buses were by far the most posh I've seen. And everyone just looks educated, even in the more slummy parts of town. In fact, my first day in Trivandrum, I didn't see a single beggar. Not one! Amazing, yes?

Being a Communist state that prides its democratic process, Kerala sees a great amount of protests and strikes in its capital of Trivandrum. I witnessed one on my first full day there, while I was walking the 3 kilometers along MG (Mahatma Gandhi) Road. The road was choked with a thousand people chanting something for the AITC and waving large red flags. I asked someone, and he said that they were representing the Commerce Party, or something like that. Ah, if only I could understand Malayalam. Still, it was fascinating.

I ducked into a restaurant for lunch, and to avoid the protestors. This is where I came across one of the weirdest meals ever. It was completely naturopathic, and really represented more a philosophy than anything else. The meal started with five juices that I had to drink in a particular order. Some were good and sweet. Others were salty, warm, bitter, or just with a strange texture. After this, I was served small amounts of five different foods, which I had to eat in order. This was on the top of a banana leaf, and all the food was eaten with only the hand. Oh, and it was all vegetarian. Some of the foods were delicious. Others caused a little gag reflex. Yet, I had to eat it all before I could move on. And move on I did. He placed five on the bottom of the leaf. Then five on the top. Then three on the bottom. Three on the top. By this point, I was getting sick from all the food. SO MUCH. And of course he then put a giant pile of unprocessed rice on the bottom of the leaf. Gawd! I was force-feeding myself! Since I've arrived in India, my stomach has shrunk, meaning that I can't eat very much to begin with. Too bad. I had to finish. And once I did, all the while trying not to moan and collapse, he poured a dessert on the leaf. Being a liquid, eating with my fingers became a messy endeavor. Finally, when I slurped up the last bit of the tasty sweet, he poured honey on my hand to lick off. And that was it. I walked out of there near dead. And walk I did, another 1.5 kilometers. The whole while, I had to fight to keep in the food. Every now and then, I'd stop and will my stomach to hold it in. Luckily, I did, though I still felt sick for a while, even after I reached the zoo...where the Manipulator comes in. And man, was she a whirlwind!!!

Crazy thoughts and observations

2006-01-25T05:47:00.000-08:00

Alright, here are what've been on my mind for the past few weeks, as well as strange things I've noticed:

1. In restaurants, there are four staple ways of preparing meat items (chicken, fish, mutton): Fry, Chilly, Manchurian, and 65. You can pretty much guess as to the first two. The last two stump me. The Manchurian style isn't even really all that Chinese. And 65??? These are just boneless, spiced pieces. How did "they" get 65???

2. Speaking of meat, I have a question about mutton. Not mutton in general. As we know, mutton (something I don't eat) is a fancy way of saying sheep meat. You can get mutton at almost any non-veg restaurant throughout the South, and apparently, it's really popular. Well, I've traveled throughout the South, even to and through at least two hundred small villages and farming communities, and I have yet to see a single sheep. Which begs the question: Where is the mutton coming from, and is it really made out of sheep???

3. You know how, in the U.S., we often say that minorities look alike? You know, all Indians or East Asians look the same...well, I've begun to notice that here. I swear, most South Indian men follow a couple of forms, either super skinny, slim but pure muscle, or slightly stocky but not really fat. They all have the same bushy mustaches, and wear similar clothes. I keep thinking that I'm seeing the same people each day, and when someone does recognize me, I have a hard time placing him. With women, it's easy. Their outfits are so bright, you don't even notice whether they look the same or not.

4. Kids and pens. I've talked about this before, but it's worth another peek. No matter where you go in India, kids will ask one of three questions: "Pen?," "One pen?," "One schoolpen?." Why? Who told them to ask that? And why is this so universal? Is this a same request in other developing countries as well? Many of my fellow travelers and I have pondered over this issue, and so far, it confounds us.

5. As Cartman would say: "Damn Hippies." Yes, they are everywhere here in India. Coming for spiritual enlightenment, meditation at ashrams, instruction in yoga, and, of course, MARIJUANA (or weed, hashish, dope, the ganj, etc.)...not that there's anything wrong with that. Many of these hippies have left the real world, and have been traveling in India for years, lighting up along the way. They dress in "travelers" clothes, which really accentuate the fact that they don't belong to the real world. They learn, somewhere along the line, that Indians wear these...and of course you'll never see an Indian wearing them. They also have a know-it-all attitude that just kills me. Hell, I'm Indian, and I haven't even come close to knowing it all. In fact, I've become more cautious, saying to fellow travelers that: "In Saurastra Gujarat, we do this..." because who knows if they do the same things in the rest of Gujarat? But the hippies...they know...Damn hippies.

6. You know what warms the cockles of my heart? No, not when hippies are wrong, or when I can tell Indian men apart, or when I know that I don't need to even deal with mysterious mutton meat (MMM). Sure, they're great. But what's better? Kids in school uniforms. Not because they look cute or they match or they all ask for schoolpens at the same time. No, it's because they're getting an education. Especially seeing schoolgirls puts a great smile on my face. So sue me, education makes me happy. Hell, I was in school for 18.5 years, and the rest of the time, I was either in diapers or teaching. Education of kids in a developing country ROCKS!

7. I like the number "seven." That's all. I'm sure I'm forgetting something, and it'll be posted later.

KK #2: Kanniyakumari - Pilgrimage Site or a Day at the Beach?

2006-01-21T00:38:00.000-08:00

After Kodaikanal and my return to Madurai, I took a 7 hour bus trip down to Kanniyakumari, which is the southern-most point in all of India. The British called it Cape Comorin. Travelers call it the "Land's End." Whatever its name, this is the place where the Indian Ocean, the Arabian Sea, and the Bay of Bengal meet. You can see the sunrise and the sunset over water just by turning around (and waiting half a day). Kanniyakumari is also known for Swami Vivekananda, the great Hindu thinker who meditated on a rock here for three days (presumably) before coming to the realization that religion isn't just about spirituality, but it's also about social awareness. So, there are three, yes three, buildings/museums here devoted to the Swami. I visited two. One of them is actually on the rock, which is an island, on which he meditated. Next to it, on another rock, is the large statue devoted to famed Tamil poet Thiruvalluvar. This is supposedly the "Indian Statue of Liberty," simply because it's a big statue on an island. I visited both places with my friend Mark (not the same one as from Mamallapuram), who is from Vancouver. Previously, I also visited the Gandhi Memorial, which housed Gandhiji's ashes before they were immersed into the ocean. Other than seeing the sites, I spent the rest of the time (typically before I met Mark) sitting at the ghats and on the beach, trying to find peace amongst the carnivalesque chaos of the city.

Kanniyakumari is also a really important pilgrimage site (but which place in Tamil Nadu isn't???), and pilgrims come from all over the country (but mainly the South) to bathe in the salty water. So, they come in by the busloads, only staying a day, and frolicking in the water to wash away their impurities. But in truth, as I sat at the beach or the ghats, taking it all in, I began to wonder what was really happening. The pilgrimage thing seemed like an excuse to come down to the beach and play in the water. Because that's what I really saw. Only a few old men were being spiritual, and were really seeming austere. All the young men were simply splashing and taking pictures and trying to dunk each other and swimming and laughing and playing. Sure, some of them bathed, but it seemed to be for a more practical reason than for washing away sins (of course, how clean can you really get in salty water, anyway?). So, is Kanniyakumari a religious place? Sure, just count the hundred of pilgrims passing through there each day. Is it a spiritual place? Only if playing in the water with your closest friends counts as spiritual.

More pics

2006-01-19T06:12:00.000-08:00

So, my first Yahoo Groups site is pretty much filled to capacity with pictures, leading almost through my time in Kodaikanal. If you want to keep viewing my pics, please sign up for my second site, at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sapans_india_trip_2. Doing so takes about 30 seconds. Thanks.

KK #1: Kodaikanal and the Polka-Dotted Cows

2006-01-19T05:24:00.000-08:00

Every now and then, you need a break from India...from the heat, the dust, the rush, the honks, and the flatness. Every now and then, you need Kodaikanal. This hill station founded by the Americans was a breath of fresh air...literally. My asthma disappeared (but don't worry...it's back!) as the cool air took over. 65 degrees during the day. Freezing at night. My hotel had hot showers (supposedly...the geyser was turned on randomly), wool blankets (most hotels don't even provide bed sheets to use to cover yourself!), and satellite TV. The town also had about 5 massive power outages a day. But no worries...the place still rocked.

Unfortunately, my traveling buddy, Wolfgang, got quite sick as we got up there. He had aches and pains, a sore throat, and diarrhea. Thank god for the TVs. And for the separate rooms. Unfortunately still, being the off-season, the weather rarely cooperated. Heavy mist and downpours made trekking impossible. We wanted to go the 7km (one-way) to Pillar Rocks...definitely not possible if you can't see more than a few feet in front of you. Still, when the weather was decent, I went wandering. I explored all of Kodai, and then showed Wolfgang when he was feeling well. We walked around all 5 km of the lake. Hell, any walk was a trek. Even getting to the main road from our hotel required us to walk up about 100 meters of 50 degree incline. We were puffing by the time we reached the top.

Kodai had no shortage of tourists, even during the off-season. This also meant that there were plenty of great restaurants. I loved the Tibetan food (Kodai has a huge Tibetan population), and a new place, the Sip N Munch, became our favorite during our five-day stay. But most fascinating were all the places selling homemade chocolate. Nobody grew cocoa beans or processed the chocolate themselves. No, everything was made from powder. Still, supposedly tourists love chocolate. So, I counted at least 20 shops...and this isn't including those in the surrounding villages. Still, I enjoyed having freshly made dark chocolates on occasion, knowing that if I walked anywhere, I'd burn away that fat and calories.

Wolfgang and I decided to stay for Pongal, the largest celebration throughout Tamil Nadu. Pongal, which celebrates the harvest, consists of two days. People Pongal is strictly for families...no real parties then. Cow Pongal is public, and for the...cows. Hence, on cow pongal, we saw cows dotted with numerous different and vibrant colors. We also went wandering to the different celebrations. We saw a musical dance performance with an exceptionally annoying female singer (high pitched singing completely off-key). We saw older men do a choreographed dance that reminded me a slower, stationary garba. We then wandered to a village farther away to witness a game played among two teams of young men. We joined the large audience and quickly learned the game. The two teams have about eight members. The winner is the team with anyone remaining in the game. Team A would send a member over to Team B's side. Guy A's goal is to tag any member of Team B and then cross over to his side before getting stopped. Team B's goal is to grab or tackle Guy A, thus halting him. If Guy A succeeds, the person who is tagged must leave the game. If Guy A fails, then nothing happens. The game was pretty interesting, and the audience found Wolfgang, a tall German, even more interesting. Still, we had fun. And it was nice to see all the polka-dotted cows.

Eventually, we had to leave. This was after having met a Gujarati from London named Kalpesh. Still, he was leaving for Ooty, so he wouldn't have been any reason to stay. Wolfgang and I felt sad to leave Kodai, with it's beautiful scenery and perfect weather (and clean, asthma-free air), but we had no choice. Down to Madurai we went, where we then met our friend Marlous. Then, on to Trichy for Wolfgang, and down to Kanniyakumari (KK #2) for me. Kodai was wonderful, and I'd love to one day return during the high season, when I can actually do more trekking.

Madurai: The Final Temple Town

2006-01-19T04:55:00.000-08:00

I didn't spend too long in Madurai, which wasn't too far away from Trichy. Only two nights; a day and a half. There really isn't much to tell. Madurai was great for two reasons: 1) I loved the Sri Meenakshi Temple. Though much much smaller than all three previous temples (in Trichy, Thanjavur, and Tiruvannamalai), it had a great combination of crazy vitality and austere spirituality. From the beautiful gopurams to the meditation room to the Lotus Pool to the constant chanting of "Om Ishwara" to the large statue of Sri Vinayagar (Ganesha, the elephant-headed god) to the surging insanity of the Sri Meenakshi darshan to the many pilgrims, this temple had it all. After entering through the South gopuram (the largest and most intricately carved), I went straight to the Sri Meenakshi shrine for darshan. I was waiting in the surprisingly orderly line for 25 minutes when suddenly a bell started to ring. The young men behind me surged forward to catch a darshan reflected through a mirror located right above me. Chaos ensued as about 50 men rushed in front of me, pushing and shoving and nearly knocking me over (not that I had room to fall...I'd just crash into the people). Finally, things settled down a bit, after some yelling from the brahmins, and I got to do proper darshan. Overall, I spent about 2 hours in the temple. I would have been there longer, but they kicked everyone out for their mid-day break.

The night before, outside my room at the KT Lodge, I met a guy named Wolfgang as we both needed to do laundry. We had dined together at a rooftop restaurant with a nice night-time view of the Temple. The next day, after visiting the Temple, we met up for lunch and for a trip to the Gandhi Memorial Museum. Unless you want to read a history book about Gandhiji's life and about the Independence movement (starting with the Battle of Plassey in 1757), don't bother with this place. My head hurt so much from reading that I had to skim over much of it. We spent two hours at the Museum, which consisted of only a few small rooms. And Wolfgang, who is German, chose to read everything. With his basic English knowledge, doing this took him way too much time. The only thing worthwhile about the Museum were some of its artifacts, like some of Gandhiji's chappals. The best, and perhaps most tear-inducing, was the loincloth Gandhiji was wearing when he was shot...still with splatters of blood on it. Why would such an important piece of Indian history be in Madurai??? Because, this was the first place Gandhiji ever donned a loincloth.

Let me quickly talk about the KT Lodge. It was run by two crazy and all-together fun older men. They actually made a bet as to whether I was Indian or not. They stopped me one evening, after I had visited the Temple and thus had a kanku on my forehead, to say that I looked Indian. When I told them that I was in fact Gujarati, they started laughing hysterically, and one gave money to the other. Another great thing about the Lodge was how I was constantly getting the good rooms while Wolfgang got screwed. You see, we stayed at the Lodge on the way back from Kodaikanal as well, much to the surprise of the crazy men. And both times, Wolfgang and I paid the same amount, but for some reason, my room was always MUCH bigger than his, with a double bed, a working shower, and a Western toilet. He always got a closet. Finally, the KT Lodge was a great place to meet people. In fact, the particular intersection of two hallways, where our rooms seemed to always be, was the place. That's where I met Wolfgang. That's where we met Marlous, a Dutch woman who had just arrived from Munnar (a 9 hour bus ride!) the day we arrived back from Kodai. The three of us had a great time together that evening, and now I've gone on to recommend this Lodge to others traveling to Madurai.

Okay, not much to say turned into a lot to say. That's it for Madurai. Temple City. My last temple in Tamil Nadu...thank God, or Arunachaleswara, Brihadiswara, Ramanathaswamy, Vinayagar, and Meenakshi.

Big Fat Lies!!!

2006-01-19T04:45:00.000-08:00

Okay, I want to mention the two greatest lies (though they weren't meant to be that way) that I heard before coming to India:

1. "Don't worry about change or small bills; everyone uses bigger bills." Yeah, in which India? Small bills are highly coveted by all travelers here. Hell, I use 50 paise, 1, 2, and 5 rupee coins CONSTANTLY. In fact, when I don't have these coins, or a ten rupee bill, I'm lost. I can't pay for anything. 'Cause, nobody has change. I can't go to temples, which all ask for small donations. Basically, I'm stuck. Very few people can do a thing with 50 or 100 rupee bills, let alone 500 or 1000. Truthfully, this is a case where smaller is better.

2. "You won't have a language problem in the South; everyone speaks English." Okay, I heard this from so many people, and after about two months of traveling in the South, I still have yet to find any truth in this. Perhaps people are thinking about Kerala, which I just stepped into today. In Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, outside the bigger cities of Bangalore, Chennai, and perhaps Mysore, very few people actually speak English. Also, not very many places have English signs either, thus forcing me to blindly search for anything and everything. In Tiruvannamalai, perhaps only one store in about 100 had any English on the sign, and maybe had an employee who understood some of the language. Not surprisingly, only the really touristy spots of Mamallapuram and Kodaikanal had plenty of English. Truth be told, prepare yourself, no matter where in India you go, to be out of luck, language-wise.

Trichy and Thanjavur

2006-01-09T08:03:00.000-08:00

What can I say about these two places located in central Tamil Nadu? Perhaps slight disappointment might be the way to go. Unfortunately, the seemingly never-ending rain in Trichy made seeing the sights very difficult. I had originally planned to see the Rock Fort and the Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple in one day, and then take a trip to Thanjavur the next. Three nights total. Yeah right.

First of all, my hotel cost me the most money I've had to pay thus far...it was the cheapest I could find at 360 Rs a night (about $8). Luckily it had a television, because the persistant downpour outside made going outside difficult. In addition, the fact that the hotel had room service also proved a plus, particularly when I got sick. Yes, once more, a cold overtook me. I often partook of the restaurant's great bhel puri and phav bhaji while I attempted to feel better. This was after my trip to Thanjavur. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

The first day, I traveled to the Rock Fort. The rain wasn't so bad, but it made going to the Temple all the more difficult. The Rock Fort, which is found right in the center of the sprawling Trichy, was an easy climb to the top. The views would, of course, have been better if it hadn't been raining. I spent the rest of the day in an internet cafe out of the rain.

The next day, I decided to go to Thanjavur. Of course, leave it to me to spend the only nice day in Trichy in another city. The two hour ride to Thanjavur was uneventful. The Brihadishwara Temple, known locally as the "Big Temple" was a nice complex with mandapas and gopurams of styles completely different from elsewhere in South India. First of all, the towers and temples were all brown, instead of white or painted. And they were definitely old. The complex had a nice feeling of spirituality to it, which was ruined by loud speakers spouting out discussions and encouragement for the workers attempting to renovate the temple. I appreciated the purpose, but the constant loud talking really hurt the serene atmosphere. From there, I walked to the old Tanjore Palace Complex. Most of it unimpressed me. However, once I entered the ancient library's museum, everything seemed worth it. The museum had an amazing collection, including one of the world's smallest palm manuscripts, with the Ramayana written on it, a detailed depiction of Chinese torture techniques, and other fascinating things. And then, after this, I climbed up the precarious Bell Tower, which offered me a great view of the city and the Big Temple. In all, I spent 4 hours in Thanjavur, which equaled my traveling time. I think Thanjavur was worth it.

The next day, I fell sick. And the rain was coming down, though not too heavily. Still, while I could have gone to the Sri Ramanathaswamy Temple, I chose not to put my health to risk. So, the day was pretty boring...another 360 Rs down the drain. Now, I could have left Trichy without having seen the temple, but Lonely Planet described it as perhaps India's largest temple complex, at 60 hectares and with 7 concentric courtyards. So, I waited for the next morning. And when it came, the rain was downpouring like mad. I almost felt that all was lost. I had wanted to visit the temple in the morning, and then leave for Madurai in the afternoon. No such luck. The rain finally stopped, and I was feeling better, so I risked it. After the bus journey through Trichy, I approached the entrance. The gopuram was amazing. at about 65 meters high, it was by far one of the largest gopurams I had ever seen. Unfortunately, that feeling of awe simply couldn't last. As I walked under that entrance, I was taken aback by the fact that nothing had changed. There were still restaurants and regular shops, streets going off in all directions with people driving both four and two-wheelers on them. Sure, it was all enclosed, with gopurams supposedly at the ends of each street (I didn't walk to see), but nothing felt different. It was simply an enclosed town. Only when I got to the final entrance did the actual temples start. And I had to wander before I found something I felt comfortable going into. And it still wasn't all that comfortable. Darshans took about 45 minutes in the lines...I really didn't want to wait for that long to see a god or goddess I had not even ever heard of. Unfortunately, this feeling remained. The temple simply didn't seem spiritual or religious to me. I really had a hard time finding any sense of the holy in this whole mess.

The one redeeming factor was my great enemy: the rain. As I was getting ready to leave from this inner complex, I looked up to notice that the clouds signaled a great storm. I ran under a covered area, pulled out my windbreaker, and put it on. I knew what was coming. And the moment I even looked out from the covered area, I saw the rain come down with an amazing force. Dry ground became lakes in a matter of minutes. Stuffing my bag under the windbreaker, I ran out, barefoot, through the many small gopurams, which were now stuffed with people avoiding the rain. People thought I was crazy. I thought I was trying to get away before I would have to swim out. By the time I reached the final gopuram, the main entrance, the rain had passed. I walked barefoot through the ponds, and had a blast doing so. The rain saved my trip to the temple.

I didn't leave that day, because by the time I returned to the hotel, it was simply too late to head out to Madurai. So, I left today, and found my way to a hotel charging a lot less (but still a bit, I think). I met a guy, Wolfgang, from Germany. We'll probably go to the Temple and perhaps the museum tomorrow, and then I may join him for a couple of days in Kodai, before I head down to Kanniyakumari. Hopefully the Sri Meenakshi Temple won't disappoint!

Religion Pointers and Thoughts

2006-01-08T05:00:00.000-08:00

Here are some things to remember if you ever visit a temple while in India (keep in mind that, while the South may be different from the North, some things are constant):

When in doubt, remove your shoes. Even when I visit ruins of temples, I take them off. Just beware of monkeys taking them. Oh, and for the reason of constantly removing your shoes, it's best to buy sandals with no back straps.

If you're walking around the outside of a temple, go clockwise. Walk to the left of a temple, not the right.

Accept any tika powder or holy liquids with your right hand, not your left. Never your left!

You can apply tika powder to your forehead any way you'd like. I say that less is more. Just dab it at the spot right above the space between your eyebrows (unless you unfortunately have a unibrow!). Dispose of the rest of the powder. When you're visiting temples, you'll be getting LOTS of tika powder and ash. Eventually, you'll have a lot on your forehead anyway; why rush it with the first batch?

Avoid pointing the soles of your feet in the direction of any person or any statue. The only time this is really okay is when your prostrating yourself before a statue.

Darshan is the most important word you'll see and hear. Darshan is most simply a viewing of the god or goddess. For some reason, this is REALLY popular in the South. In Tirupati, for example, pilgrims wait in line for six or seven hours simply to have darshan, which may last for about 20 seconds. This need to see the god confounds me, though I find myself wanting it as well.

Okay, pointers are over. Here is a general amendment to my previous discussion of religion. I don't get it. Religion for me is just a way to find peace, and yet I have a hard time doing so in some of these temples. Take the temple I visited today, for example. I waited for three days in Tiruchchirappali (Trichy) for the pouring rain to abate so I could visit the Sri Ranganathaswami Temple. At 60 hectares (what's a hectare, anyway?), it's the largest temple complex in India. Coming from the absolutely amazing Arunachaleswara Temple complex (10 hectares) in Tiruvannamalai, I was expecting this to be something astoundingly spiritual. No, it was hectic, devoid of actual temples, and it seemingly lacking in anything peaceful. When I finally found a temple, I paid 5 Rs to have a "Special Darshan," which meant that i wouldn't have to wait in the general line for 1.5 hours. No, instead I waited for a half hour. Then, I never actually got to do darshan, because the crowd was so much, I couldn't even see the murti (statue). No peace to be had in all the chaos. I couldn't feel any god within those walls.

Perhaps I'm being too critical. Perhaps my definition of religion is too specific. And I'm sure that many thousands of people find peace within the walls of that temple complex. But not me. And that's really sad. We'll see what the famous Sri Meenakshi Temple holds for me.

The Best New Year Ever!!!

2006-01-08T03:32:00.000-08:00

Here is the story of my New Years Eve...it was a very long day, and a fairly eventful story, so just bear with me. This is taken almost directly from my journal, which I wrote the next day, when I wasn't in such an inebriated state:

Everything worked out the way they were meant to. Waking up at 10am (the first time getting up after 7am for the past two weeks!) meant that I would have to have a late brunch. Seeing the "Tapas" sign next to the "Siesta" restaurant meant that my interest would be sparked. Asking for sugar from the next table meant that my lack of an Indian accent signaled me as a foreigner. This allowed me to meet an Aussie named Mark, a fairly loud-mouthed, divorced, drug-using, chain smoking, older man who spoke his mind and who had already been traveling the world for two years. He hadn't even been in India for more than 12 hours when he met, which was also by luck, since the previous guest house had raised his tariff more than 200 Rs, thus forcing him to change to the Sri Murugan, which owned the "Siesta." We chatted for a bit, but then I had to leave. He needed to finish checking into his room. So, we parted ways.

On the way out, a Dutch girl named Sille, and her brother, Klaas, stopped me to ask about any parties happening that evening. I knew nothing, but chatted with them for a few minutes. As I said good bye, I bumped back into Mark. Since he was done checking in, we decided to go exploring together. We got a little lost in the back farms, got yelled at by a guy only speaking Tamil, and saw: two mandapas, the Lakshmi Temple, the Lighthouse, the Five Rathas, Arjuna's Penance, the Ganesha Ratha, Krishna's Butter Ball, Trimurti Cave, and the Shore Temple. By about four pm, we were exhausted, and stopped at a beach cafe for a beer and some pancakes (a really bad combination, by the way!). We stayed there for about 2 hours, talking about anything and everything. Mark was such a great character, that he was really easy to like. We got along very well. We eventually had to split, but he told me that he was meeting some people at Moonraker's Restaurant at 8pm, and perhaps he'd see me there.

At 7:30, I met up with Soeren, my Danish friend from the night before. I mentioned that we could meet Mark, and he thought that was fine. But first, we had to buy some questionable, but ultimately fine, vodka from one of the "wine shops," which had tons of vodka in stock. While the shop offered whiskey, brandy, gin, "Night N Day," wine, and other drinks, vodka was by far the most popular. At Moonrakers, we met Mark and his Dutch friend Cora. On the way to the roof, I bumped into my friends from the morning, Sille and Klaas, who were just finishing dinner. They said that after buying alcohol, they'd find us. So, soon enough, the six of us were having a great time. After dinner, we decided to wander down to the beach, and somehow we lost Cora along the way. I bumped into my French friends Natalie and Guillerme, who stayed in the same guest house as me in Hampi; they joined us for a bit before disappearing for dinner.

On the beach, we saw a bonfire, which lured us with its bright light. Many already drunk Indian male students loved having foreigners around, and consistently yelled out "Happy New Year" and "I Love You!" for no particular reason. They latched onto the men, but didn't really know how to act around Sille, a theme that would continue for the rest of the night. Klaas, who had only been in India a week, and for whom this was his first experience ever in a developing country, felt a little overwhelmed (another major theme). After a while of just standing there and talking with drunk Indians, we decided to check out a party happening at a resort further up the beach. It was all very posh. We climbed up a wall to get in, and just sat there, backs to the beach, watching as the people partied. We received many suspicious glances, but while we just sat there, we didn't pose a threat. So, of course this had to be ruined. Silla and Mark thought they could get into one of the dance areas, so the moment they both stood up and took one step in the wrong direction, waiters came over. We needed to pay 4500 Rs each in order to stay. Back to the beach we went.

Then, I remembered seeing a sign earlier for a party at Mamallapuram Stirling, another resort. So, that's where we went. All the while, I was drinking a liter mixture of Sprite and bad vodka. Soeren had vodka and a Fanta. Everyone else had beers that Mark convinced a beachside restaurant to simply give us. He is very charismatic, which is why he took over when the security guards at Sterling wanted us each to pay 700 Rs. Mark convinced them that we had friends inside who had our tickets, so the guards let us in for free. We sat down, drank, and listened to really lame live Tamil music. Still, as midnight approached, we all felt the need to get onto the stage. Once we counted down and the fireworks went off, chaos ensued. The music changed, and drunk Indian men rushed the stage. They grabbed Soeren and started jumping with him, punching him, and generally trying to show off their masculine stamina. Soeren, who turns 40 soon, told me proudly that he was able to keep up. Still, being the tallest and definitely most foreign of the guys, he made an easy target. Sille, the only girl on the stage, had guys staring at her confusedly. Their lower inhibitions made her very attractive to them, thus prompting me to dance with her often to "save her." Klaas was VERY lost. He had a hard time understanding the touching and grabbing and jumping and did I mention touching? Later he said that, as long as they didn't try to grab between his legs, he was fine. At least near the end of the night, after he had gotten somewhat used to it. And Mark, in a typical Mark fashion, was cool about eveything. Nothing phased him. And what of Sapan? Being an Indian, I blended in. But since I came with the foreigners, I was still a bit of an oddity. I participated in my share of the jumping and can-can dancing and touching and grabbing and such.

Never was the "men touching each other" issue so apparent as with a bunch of drunk Indian young men. In fact, many homosexual tendencies were openly displayed. Two men were grinding so closely they were actually rubbing their...ummm...together. We had no doubt as to their tendencies, though I'm sure they never would have revealed it sober. Still, I had never seen such openness in India. It shocked me. And yet it was also a little relieving, because it showed that India wasn't as prude as it seemed. Sure, it took lots of alcohol to reveal this side, but at least that side existed.

The crazy dancing continued until around 1:30. During that time, I had a somewhat scary moment. Because of the alcohol, I had to use the bathroom. On my way back to the dance floor, a guard stopped me. He asked me for my ticket...suddenly, I imagined that I would be the reason my friends and I would get kicked out of the party. I attemped to explain, in a semi-drunk stupor, that my "friends" staying at the hotel had the tickets. I just hoped that he didn't ask to meet these "friends." Thankfully, since he didn't speak much English, and since I knew no Tamil, this exercise was more than he could deal with. He thought I might be Tamil, thus making this easy. No such luck. Being New Years, he really didn't care enough. He let me go! Whew.

After we left at 1:30, we wandered back to Othavaadai Street, which was where all our hotels were. Silla had to use the bathroom, so I let her use the one at my guest house. Before I knew it, Mark and Klaas also were using the bathroom. And Soeren? Gone. I went looking for him, but I couldn't find him. I gave up the search, and we retired to Siesta, where the day had begun. We had more beer, but by this point, I was really tired. Sille asked us a few questions, such as new year resolution and latest loves. Finally, at around 2:30, I couldn't keep awake any more. So, I said farewell, and we all decided to meet the next day for a late lunch. As I was walking back to the Tina Blue View (my place), I found Soeren wandering down the now empty road. We chatted for a bit before walking back to our respective places. There was a crowd outside my place, as it seemed a drunken fight was brewing. I was too tired to see what would happen. Because it was so late, the gates into the guest house were locked, thus forcing me to climb over the fence. Oh well. Sleep came quickly and easily for me.

This was the best New Year celebration I had ever had. Perhaps my other ones had sucked, though the one in San Francisco with Sejal, Joe, and Jamie was a lot of fun. No, this was simply a wild, crazy, long-lasting night with some great personalities from all over the world, in a different country, experiencing something wholly new. It was a blast! Of course, there's really no way to fully express what had happened in words, as the whole night was a chaotic meshing of different sights, sounds, smells, and of course, touchings. You'll just have to take my word on it, that it was a great night. And if you still don't believe me, let me know. I'll send you the e-mails for Mark, Soeren, Sille, and Klaas. Ask them. I dare you! Okay, I'm off topic. That's all...

Pondicherry, Mamallapuram, and Tiruvannamalai

2006-01-05T03:35:00.000-08:00

Before I get into these three places, let me recap my trip so far, giving a quick rundown of all the places I've visited during the past month:

Mumbai - Family
Bijapur - Gol Gumbaz, Adil Shahi Empire
Badami - Cave temples, Chalukya Empire
Pattada Kalla - Many temples, Chalukya Empire
Hampi - Ruins and relaxation, Vijayanagar Empire
Bangalore - Family
Mysore - Palace and Incense, Wodeyar Empire
Somnathpur - Keshava Temple, Hoysala Empire
Chennai - Wedding
Pondicherry - Sri Aurobindo Ashram
Mamallapuram - Beach and Ruins, Pallava Empire
Tiruvannamalai - Aruchaleswara Temple
Tiruchchirappali - Rock Fort and Srirangam

Now, let me describe Pondicherry, Mamallapuram, and Tiruvannamalai in as simplistic terms as possible:

Pondy: Spirituality
Mamallapuram (also called Mahabalipuram outside Tamil Nadu): Friends
Tiruvannamalai (also called T.V. Malai): Contrasts

Pondy:
I stayed with my Uncle's brother, Madhu Bhai, in the famous Park Guest House. This place usually fills up months in advance, and it's prime location right on the Bay of Bengal makes it highly popular. Whenever I would tell someone that I was staying at the Park Guest House, I savored the look of jealousy that would suddenly come my way. And of course, Madhu Uncle paid for my stay, though I really wanted to contribute something. We spent our time at the Sri Aurobindo Ashram, at which he is a great devotee. I did my first ever meditation...man, is it hard! I would try to clear my thought, but my busy mind didn't allow it. Then, I'd focus on my breathing, but as a psychosomatic thing, my asthma would always kick in. So, I'd start to focus on how I can't cough...and before I know it, thoughts are shooting through my head like mad. Also, at the Samadhi (the shrine), the hundreds of agarbatis (incense sticks) really aggravated my coughing. So, my meditations never lasted for very long. Still, I discovered a great Ganpati temple, which I started visiting twice a day. I was also caught in my first Indian downpour. At first, the rain felt great...that was until it soaked all the way through me. I went on a few tours, one of which had the goal of selling me anything made by the Ashram. Still, Pondy was very nice. I had fun with Madhu Uncle, though sometimes the amount of spirituality overwhelmed me. Pondy was a good place...just perhaps not fully for me.

Mamallapuram:
I loved this place. It never once felt like I was in India. That's because this place was so laid back that I really could let go. Also, this place had an amazing combination of things, all of which I mentioned earlier: New Years, the beach, ancient ruins, many travellers, great seafood, the sound of expert sculptors, the South Indian Dance Festival. The ruins were great, but what was better was hanging out with my friend Mark as we went to see them. Eating was great, but what was better was sharing meals with my friends Soeren, Mark, Sarita, Cora, Sille, and Klaas. New Years was great, but what was better was dancing and drinking with Soeren, Mark, Sille, and Klaas. The Festival was great, but what was better was seeing the dances with Mark, Soeren, and Cora. Get the picture? However, one of my favorite things was to sit on the beach on Sunday and watch the interactions between the people there for holiday. And of course, there was the crazy night before. I will write later about my New Years, as it was by far the BEST NEW YEAR CELEBRATION I HAD EVER HAD!!! But, later...

Tiruvannamalai:
This was the first time I travelled with people I had previously met. I came with Soeren and Sarita, from Denmark and Italy, respectively. The two main sights here were the Arunachaleswara Temple, which celebrates Lord Shiva as an aspect of fire, and the Sri Ramana Maharishi Ashram, which provides quiet meditation for its devotees. We visited the Temple Complex twice. Each time was a tumultuous experience, with many sights and sounds wafting all around us: Pilgrims dressed solely in red and yellow swarming all around, a shackled elephant blessing anyone for one rupee, the constant tug of beggars asking for a little something, the blare of the puja songs coming over a loudspeaker, the loud colors covering all the smaller temples, the singularly painted peacock on a temple of all white, the overwhelming size of the four gopurams (the four outer temples), the massive crowd pushing and shoving just to glipmse Arunachaleswara during darshana, the many merchants peddling their wares inside the complex, etc. Every time we entered, we felt battered to the point of utter exhilaration. This contrasted entirely with the Ashram, which was a haven of peace. No talking. Only meditation. And climbing the mountain to the cave in which Sri Ramana Maharishi did sadhana (meditation) for 20 years. This climb came with an excellent view of the Arunachaleswara Complex, and it allowed me to work for my meditation. Our time in T.V. Malai was short, as we saw everything possible within a day. We never got to say farewell to Sarita, who had left for a day trip a little early. From Tiruvannamalai, I left on a 6.5 hour bus ride to Tiruchchirappali...better known as Trichy...where I currently am.

Some More Thoughts: Religion and Sapan

2006-01-05T03:21:00.000-08:00

So, being in the South has definitely had the effect of making me much more religious. As many of you know, Sri Ganpati (or Ganesha, the elephant-headed god) has always been important to me. Now, it seems that I can't go a day without seeking out a Ganpati temple and receiving my darshan (viewing of the god). I walk every day with a kanku (or Tika) on my forehead, a sure sign that I've received a blessing. On the above picture, I've received about four different blessings, thus placing both ash and red powder on my forehead, and covering my earlobes with ash. Often times, I go back to the temple, or any temple, again at night. I don't know why this is. But it feels like a habit now.

And the thing is...I don't know what to pray for. I mean, I visit so many different temples and thus constantly pray, that I very quickly run out of things to say. So, I typically clear my thoughts and just give myself and my blank mind to the god. Or I just go through the actions so I can receive my kanku...I swear, it's like a drug now! I feel a sense of pride when I walk around with the mark on my forehead. It also helps me blend in a bit.

But here's the main question: When people pray so much, what do they pray for? Or, put another way, how is each new darshan made unique?

Darshan and kanku...the new drug...who'd have thunk it?

Basic Thoughts on India: It's All About the Men's Fashion

2006-01-05T03:03:00.000-08:00

I don't get the clothes that guys wear here. Most wear traditional clothes, like dhotis, kurtas, and lungis (the Indian version of a kilt), or semi-Western clothes, like a collared shirt and trousers. But many of the younger guys have a style that is becoming ever more popular in India. And, as many of you know, I know zilch about fashion. Let's just say that color is definitely IN. Colorful shirts with vertical stripes, odd little flares, and very open collars (basically the shirt is only half-buttoned) seem very popular. This is coupled with jeans or slacks that are FAR TOO TIGHT! I mean, often times, you can see everything...even and especially if you don't want to. I don't understand how such pants can be comfortable. Look, I realize that many Indian men and boys are super skinny, but that doesn't mean that they need to wear pants that are too small. I mean, how do they sit in those? Another funny thing is the jean pants. I have yet to find a pair of "normal" pants, where nothing has been done to them. All popular jeans have been stone washed, acid washed, painted, striped, etc. They are super fancy. My jeans must feel like the Ugly Duckling.

As I said before, I know nothing about American fashion. Perhaps these clothes are popular in the States as well. But being a person who hate shopping and who nothing about fashion, I fine the taste to be quite remarkable. And of course, these clothes are only worn by younger men, and typically they are found on a small minority. But the fashion is still incredible.

Happy New Year!

2005-12-31T05:03:00.000-08:00

So, I'm currently in Mamallapuram (also known as Mahabalipuram), which is a nice beach village in Tamil Nadu (in the south). This place has a nice mixture of ruins from the Pallava period, sandy beaches, amazing sculptors (and sculptures...to some degree), a South Indian dance festival, and a laid-back crowd. And the question on everyone's lips is whether there's gonna be a New Years party tonight. The answer? Who knows...Still, whoever you are, I hope you have a great New Year. Be safe in all your activities. And hopefully you're year is what you hope it is. And if it isn't...at least it'll make your life more interesting.

See you in two double-zero six.

This is India?

2005-12-30T02:18:00.000-08:00

India has changed over the past seven years. Technology here is, in some ways, even better than in America. People SMS everything, perhaps even more than Americans text message over their cell phones. The mobile phones in India are even cooler than those in America, with greater features and much more colorful and flashy designs (though people here rarely buy flip phones due to the roughness of Indian daily life and the concern about dirt entering the hinge). Also, on TV, Indian satellite provides a huge variety of channels, and the commercials are REALLY good. I remember when we used to mock the ads, because they all seemed so amateur and pointless (like many local ads back in America). But now they're so good that I wonder why many of them aren't showing in the States.

Cars are different. Before, the most popular car was the Ambassador, a clunky looking car that was unspeakably British. It had the feel of a Royce. Now, cars are hipper and much more varied. And smaller. People here prefer small cars in the same way that Americans want bigger ones. The most popular car makes are: Hyundai (the Getz is big), Maruti Suzuki (it's all about the Santo...the most popular car of them all), Toyota, Honda City (for cars; for motorcycles, it's Hero Honda); and even Ford. Colors now range from black to white, grays, browns, and blues. Before, the choices were black, white, and tan. The streets are definitely much more interesting to look at!

The prudeness of India has decreased slightly. Of course, there's the news about kissing. Not only that, but take a movie like the recently released "Neal N Nikki," which takes place in Vancouver, BC. This movie (which I plan to see once I return home) shows lots of skin (though of course no nudity): women in bikinis getting out of pools provocatively, and such. Large billboards and ads show men in underwear--not just boxers, but tighty whities. I've seen many a woman gawking longingly at the giant mostly naked man looming above them. And then I passed by a shop that openly and publicly (outside) displayed bras and lingerie. In Bangalore and Mysore, more boys and girls openly hold hands, skirts are getting shorter, and jeans are more common than salwaars.

Things have definitely changed...and yet some things simply stay the same. Most of India hasn't changed AT ALL.

Basic thoughts on India

2005-12-30T02:06:00.000-08:00

People here rarely put their lips onto any glass, especially one that may be shared. So, I've had to practice pouring water into my mouth while holding the cup above my face. Aim is hard!

Almost every foreign tourist (particularly men) smokes. It's because most are European, and smoking in Europe isn't persecuted like it is in the States.

Women in the rural parts of developing countries must have very strong upper bodies due to the work they do. Their necks must not only support their heads and mops of hair, but they must also support large bundles of clothes, food, or water. Then, their required to wash the clothes. Each article must be put in the water, then pressed against a hard surface (often a boulder) many times, then slapped repeatedly against that hard surface with immense swinging and sweeping force, then dampened, then soaped, then repeat...These actions, which basically use the human body to do the work of a washing machine, strain the arms and back muscles. In all these tasks, women must be super strong!

Seven years ago, Indians referred to our country as "The States." Now, no one recognizes this term. It's America...

In America, we sell tanning lotion to make ourself darker, because there's nothing worse than light skin. In India, it's all about the "fairness creams," which lighten the skin over a period of weeks. Of course, I don't think this process is very healthy, but that's not the point. Apparently, it's in our nature to not be happy with how we are born.

Not only is Cricket much more popular around the world than baseball, it has one great advantage. You can place cricket anywhere. You don't need a field with bases, but instead just a small, narrow strip of land. I've seen kids play full games on the streets, in parks, on garbage heaps, and on beaches. Let's see baseball compete with that!

Journal Bits 3: Miscommunication in Communication

2005-12-30T01:55:00.000-08:00

Why was I always so confused when I tried to follow directions or understand answers to questions? Why did people always feel the need to laugh at my foolish actions (beyond the normal reasons, of course)? Why did I often feel lost when it came to communication? Suddenly, I knew the answer. It was an epiphany of sorts that harkened back to my education. According to the world of sociolinguistics, cultures and societies can use one of two types of communication: explicit and implicit. America is explicit. We're blunt. We say what we want to say. Sarcasm aside, Americans tend to verbalize every answer or thought clearly with minimal use of facial expressions or gesticulation. When someone says something, typically the message is pretty obvious. Indians, on the other hand, are HIGHLY implicit. About a third of their communication comes from facial expressions and gestures. Understanding depends on both context and cultural awareness. The short wave of a hand can mean either yes or no. The sweep of an arm can lead you in any direction...you just need to know where. And then there's the head wobble, which can mean: yes, no, maybe, perfect, fine, don't know, it's unknown, okay, excellent, hello, see you later, etc. It really is that confusing. I've pretty much got the wobble down...the hand gestures get me.

In America, it's really simple. In India, you REALLY have to read between the lines.

Journal Bits 2: Why I'm So Confused 1

2005-12-30T01:40:00.000-08:00

Traveling to India can be a confusing thing. Here are a few things to keep in mind in case any of you every decide to travel here. Keep in mind that my experience thus far only reflects Karnataka and parts of Tamil Nadu. These may not be true everywhere in the country:

The word "hotel" actually means "restaurant." For a real hotel, look for the words "boarding" or "lodging," or simply check into a "Guest House."

"STD" does not stand for a negative consequence for promiscuity. They are privately owned pay phones.

Whenever anyone uses the middle finger, it's not an insult. The middle finger is the longest, and therefore the most useful for pointing to things or for applying tikas.

Once again, men here are EXCEPTIONALLY affectionate toward each other. I've seen hand holding, ass grabbing, and upper thigh squeezing, just to name a few. Oh, and some men will just sit back and watch as their friends publicly bathe. And these men are JUST FRIENDS.

Don't be surprised if you are in a restaurant and some people come and sit at your table. Just ignore them and continue eating. They just wanted a place to sit, and apparently the restaurant was full. And when you have empty chairs at your table, they become fair game.

Next...gestures...the silent cause of confusion.

Journal Bits 1: Beware of Silence

2005-12-30T01:30:00.000-08:00

I don't think Indians know how to be silent. They are frightened by the emptiness within a moment of no talking. When a quiet moment begins, one of two things can occur. 1) Someone feels the need to start singing some random Hindi song. I've noted this in passing. Specifically, Noori (from Hampi) and Ami (my bhabhi) both come to mind. 2) If we're walking or driving, someone tends to read out loud the random billboards or signs that are passed by, like the other people simply cannot read. Once again, Ami did this, as did Pinku (my cousin). I have continuously seen these phenomena, and have even told my cousins, who agree that though they had never noticed them before, these seem to be true. So, why does silence scare Indians? I don't think it does. On some subconscious level, it simply feels awkward. So, Indians find a way around it that involve reading or Bollywood.

Hampi to Pondi...at least the places in between

2005-12-27T22:15:00.000-08:00

I refer to some pictures in this post, but there are no pics here. I will try to put them in later...I've already tried three times.

Since Hampi, my world has revolved around both sights and family. Take Bangalore, or Bengaluru, for example. I stayed with my cousin Hardik Bhai and his fun wife Ami during my time there. The first day of my arrival, we decided to go to a safari park. The trip to and from the park was fun itself. The terrible roads on the outskirts of town simply prompted more and more complaints from Bhai. He whined about the bad infrastructure...personally, I really liked the town. It was the most progressive I had seen. Shops displaying women's underwear, billboards of guys in briefs, men and women holding hands freely, more women in jeans than in salwaars...I liked it. Bhai apparently doesn't. He dislikes the Karnataka corruption, which in many ways reflects that which exists throughout India. Still, the complaints were amusing. And Ami was great. I know that she loves Lays chips, particularly the tangy tomato ones (I tried Pani Puri flavored Lays...it was a little weird). I know she has the ability to fall asleep anywhere and at any time. Plus, she has a great sense of humor...oh, and she's a great cook (despite what she may think). Staying with them was great. I was finally able to take a hot shower (yes, this was a first for me), using an actual shower head, not just a bucket. And after the communal and always worrisome squat toilets at Hampi, sitting to do number 2 never felt better! Plus, their warm house had a young and hip, while still totally spiritual feel to it. Oh, and this was the first time I had ridden in a car while on this trip. And each time I got into the back seat, I reached for a seat belt, and always felt a bit disappointed when my hand grabbed at empty space. Still, their Maruti Suzuki Santo Zip (a car which a third of car-owning Indians own, I think) was nice...definitely better than an auto(riksha) or a bus.

The next day, I visited with lots of distant family. I finally met the famous Chetan Bhai, along with Chaiyya Bhabhi, Kruti, Chirag, Ji Masi, and the fun-loving (and severely teething) Jackie. Above is a picture of Chirag and Jackie. This is one of my favorite pics! I had a great time with the family, and really wished I could have been there longer. After breakfast with them, we rushed over to Raju Bhai, Smita Bhabhi, and Manju Masi's place. Then, on our way to Sravanabelagola (which took me about a week to learn how to pronounce!). This place has the world's largest monolith, which happens to also be naked. If you don't want to see a very large naked man carved out of stone, don't look at the picture below. The story of Sri Gomateshwara, also known as Bahubali, is this. After Sri Adinath, the very first Jain tirthankar, attained moksha, his two sons fought to see who would carry on as leader of the Jainas. The second son, Gomateshwara, came to the realization that such squabbling and lust for power was contrary to the Jain philosophy. So, he renounced everything, meditated for a lifetime, and attained moksha. Hence, we like him. At Sravanabelagola (which felt like a poor man's Palitana), we climbed up a hill with about 700 steps to get to the temple at the top. And then, the large naked Bahubali. For some reason, I always imagined 17.5 meters to be taller than it really was. Still, the simplicity and the serenity of the statue were wonderful. And yes...he was naked, thus prompting questions from later friends as to the statue's "proportionality." Ahem...

I had to leave Bangalore too soon. The next day I headed out to Mysore on an excursion from Bangalore. And who should I meet but my buddies from the Hospet train station. The Welch dynamic duo, Sam(antha) and Ayesha. They had two new friends, Nell and Ella (who, I hate to say, was a spoiled brat but a damn good haggler). I met them in a market, which was a beautiful, bustling place. We spent the day, a lazy day, together. While in Mysore, I did not see the Brindavan Gardens or Chamundi Hill, as many people said I should have. If I hadn't come upon my friends, then perhaps I would have visited those places. Instead, I only saw the Mysore Palace, which is shown below. This place is truly multi-national, as its components come from about 30 different countries. Beyond the Palace and the Market, I also experienced the other great Mysori tradition...incense. This is one of the leading places in pure oils and incenses, and it's the only place in India where Sandlewood Oil is manufactured. So, I spent way too much money and bought natural sandlewood agarbatis (incense sticks), pure sandlewood oil (good for asthma), lotus oil (good for headaches), and water lily oil (good as a mosquito repellent). Let's just say I spent way too much...like a week's budget. Yikes!

The next day, I decided to head over to the Keshava Temple in the small small village of Somnathpur. The Keshava temple was the only finished piece in the Hoysala period. So, I decided to venture my way over. Of course, I took a local bus from Mysore. It dropped me off in the village of Bannur. I waited in their bus stand, which was simply a town square, or the dusty center of things, where people simply loitered around for no reason whatsoever. And, everything was written in Kannada, making it impossible for me to know which bus was appropriate without asking...which of course would draw to attention to myself. But what could I do? After an hour, the bus for Somnathpur finally came. It was already packed. People were jumping off and on even before the bus stopped. I suddenly felt transported back to the trains of Mumbai. Books and clothes were flying into the windows, hoping to save a seat. Boys and men climbed to the "upper class" seats on the roof. And what did I do? I didn't realize that this was the right bus until it was too late. It filled to beyond capacity within a minute. So, I settled for a riksha. I bargained him down from a 180 to a 130 to take me the 6 kms to Somnathpur, wait an hour, and then bring me back. I still overpaid. Lokas, the driver, was very friendly (probably because he had just made a bunch of money off of me), and showed me things along the way. This was a great way to see some villages up close. At Somnathpur, though, he caused a problem. He insisted on showing me the ticket counter. I tried to back off from him, but it was too late. The ticket man could tell I was a foreigner. He yelled at me for trying to pay the Indian price, and he called me illiterate. Lokas caused me to pay an extra 95 Rs, making my money a little too short. I would have to change a Traveler's Cheque upon returning to my hotel. Nevertheless, I entered into the temple complex. The carvings, shown below, were AMAZING! Every inch covered with something: Perhaps from the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, or the Kama Sutra. However, the temple was small. I was in and out in 20 minutes. 254 Rs. and most of the day, for 20 minutes. I still haven't decided whether going to Somnathpur was worth it. I think so.

Back to Bangalore. Where Hardik Bhai and Ami took me to a mall to see the Christmas decorations (they had read my mind!!!) and to eat at Pizza Hut. I had Tandoori pizza. With Indian masala and everything. Then, home, packing, sleeping, and leaving for the train station the next morning. I listened to Christmas music on the way to Chennai. Yeah, that was more boring than expected. I thought it would be nostalgic. Nope...just boring. And Chennai? Hectic. Crazy. Chaotic. You get the idea. It was wedding time! And I became immersed into the family on his father's side. Constant questions about why I don't speak Gujarati, about why I'm traveling, about why I'm not married, etc. And there were so many people! Bipin Fua has three brothers and four sisters, all married with kids. So, lots of people. And on my side of the family? Only the two sisters, their husbands, and one cousin: Amol...better known as Pinku (and his brother is known as Sweetu). Pinku was great. We had lots of fun. He's sarcastic, just like me. He shares my humor. And we just really got along well together. Without him, the trip would have been boring. At least we were bored together. What struck me as odd was the sheer number of rituals. Vishal and Nisha (commonly known as Nishal, like Bennifer, but less annoying) were constantly on their feet, fighting against sleep, and attempting to smile. Some of the rituals didn't even make sense to them. But, they did what they had to. Which sucked, because technically, they were already married. They had filled out the legal marriage certificate two days earlier.

One of my goals for this wedding was to fade into the background. Such wishful thinking was more than impossible. Since I was representing both of Vishal's mother's brothers, I became the center of a ritual in which I had to present monetary gifts to different people. I didn't know about my role until about 2 minutes before it started. Yeah, that sucked. Nothing too complicated, like hopping on one leg while reciting the Nokaar Mantra or anything. But, I still needed some assistance. As for the wedding itself, it was boring. The Sangeet from the night before was also boring. And the reception...boring. You see, it was all ritual, none of which involved the audience. In fact, you don't even need to pay attention during the wedding. You can talk all you want! And the reception? Nishal stood for 3 hours as people congratulated them. Uh huh...not what I would recommend for anyone's wedding. The only fun thing about the wedding was the procession leading up to it. Being on the groom's side is fun. Vishal sat in a horse carriage, and a band lead the way, playing bhangra for us all to dance to while walking. We took up the street, drawing lots of onlookers. This was the best part of the wedding, definitely.

Okay, now I'm sick of writing. I'll perhaps write more on the wedding later.

Pointless News from India

2005-12-22T00:39:00.000-08:00

Here are two little snippets I find to be interesting.

1. The city of Bangalore will no longer be called by that name. It is now "Bengaluru." Of course, most people unfamiliar with this change will probably think that this city is somewhere in Bengal, not in Karnataka. This change is part of an effort that's been sweeping throughout the South to Indianize the country's political geography.

2. The Indian government has now finally declared that kissing on the lips is, in fact, not obscene. Beforehand, it was a very naughty thing to do, particularly in public. This announcement is good news for Indian cinema, which now doesn't have to concoct creative ways to get around mouth-to-mouth action. It will still probably take some time before we see lots of big, juicy smooches on the big screen. But at least they won't be censored out...hopefully.

What Are Manners, Anyway?

2005-12-22T00:18:00.000-08:00

So, here's the common complaint, especially from my British friends: Indians have no manners. My Scottish friend Nadia, who is a quarter Indian, came here to search for her roots. She was seriously disappointed, and the lack of manners was a huge sticking point. The same bothered my English friend John, as well as the Welch dynamic duo, Samantha and Ayesha. So, what is this issue? Do Britons simply have impeccable manners? Are Indians really social clods?

I suppose the issue really involves what constitutes manners. The most common complaint is the lack of such words and phrases as: please, thank you, excuse me, sorry, you're welcome. All of these can be demonstrated through a smile, a slight nod, or the famous Indian head wobble. And yet sometimes these gestures aren't even present. So, then, according to British standards, Indians simply suck when it comes to being nice and using the universally accepted manners.

Yeah right. Imagine if all 1 billion Indians were always polite. Nothing would ever get done! Imagine every person apologizing for each person they bumped into on the streets. No one would get anywhere. It may not really be feasible for Indians to have good manners, at least in the British sense.

But we do have other good manners that are easily overlooked by the simple traveler. The biggest one is the respect we show toward elders. You always show them respect upon greeting and leaving them...and elders are simply anyone older or more distinguished than you. And the issue with the feet! Whenever you accidentally point the soles of your feet in someone's direction, or accidentally touch that person with your foot, apologies are almost always forthcoming. These are manners in their own way.

And of course, many Indians would see manners as unnecessary, particularly when it comes to work. You shouldn't have to be polite just to get something done. For example, my cousin recounted an anecdote from his residency in London. Wanting to get a bus ticket to, let's say Bristol, he told the ticket seller "One ticket to Bristol." Seems like the appropriate thing to say. But the man tsked him and said "You mean, one ticket to Bristol, please." He wasn't going to give the ticket until my cousin said please. Now, his job wasn't to be the maintainer of social grace, but to simply give the tickets. My cousin, already irked by this, later noticed that two Britons said exactly what he had said, and they were given tickets without a moment's thought. So, perhaps racism, or putting the foreigner in his place...who knows. Doesn't seem much like manners to me.

So, are Indians gauche and socially inept? Are Britons superior in this fashion? I say that the concept of "manners" is a subjective one, and that my British friends should stop complaining.

Pics

2005-12-19T03:23:00.000-08:00

So, over the last few days, I've blogged a lot. I'm going to take a slight break from it to give you all a chance to catch up on the immense amount of reading. I just want to let you all know that the Yahoo Groups account has a whole bunch of new pics on it. I've updated the Badami, the Hampi, and the Family folders. Badami is finally finished. Hampi should only take another day or so. Soon, I'll start putting up pics from Bangalore, Shravanabelagola, and Mysore (where I am right now). But, until then, enjoy the pics, and don't forget to e-mail me.

Hampi...Finally!

2005-12-16T12:43:00.000-08:00

Let me start this by saying that every time I come to India, I'm coming to Hampi. It's as simple as that. I originally planned to only be here for three days. That became seven. And this happens to about half the people who visit. It's that kind of place.

Hampi was the capital of the Vijayanagar Empire, one of the largest and most powerful Hindu empires in Indian history. It reached it's height by the 1500s, right before it was brought down by a coalition of Deccan kingdoms. Okay, no more history. The first thing you see when you arrive at the Hampi Bazaar is the amazingly imposing Virupaksha Temple. The details are amazing. It's beautiful because it wholly dominates the skyline. The picture above was taken from Hemakuta Hill, which is dotted with ruins and is a favorite for watching the sunset. Yes, sunset watching is the most important aspect of being in Hampi. You always try to find the best place to sit back and relax. Thrice I saw the sun go down from Hemakuta, once from on top of Matanga Hill, and once from a boulder in the middle of Tungabhadra River. Last night, I was chatting with a friend, so I didn't get to see the sun go down. Oh well.

Of course, Hampi is nothing without all it's ruins. But what are also great are the boulders. They are the biggest I had ever seen. This is a climber's paradise, and the boulders provide plenty of challenges. The boulders are so great, you often see people (including myself) just sitting and staring at them for quite some time.

Still, it's all about the ruins. There are three main areas here toexplore. The first is the Sacred Center, which includes Virupaksha, Hemakuta, Matanga, the monoliths, and all surrounding ruins. The above picture comes from the Krishna Temple in the Sacred Center. The second is the Royal Center, which includes the Noble Quarters, the Islamic Quarters, the Zanana Complex, and other areas. The picture below comes from there. The third generally encompasses the wide area covering the Vitthala Temple, the Achyutaraya Temple, the Hanuman Temple Hill, and Anegondi. The picture of the chariot down below is at the Vitthala Temple. Of course, these names probably mean nothing to you, but here, they are everything.

By the first two days, I was done with sightseeing. I had walked EVERYWHERE (except to the Hanuman Temple and Anegondi, which are both across the river), and I was exhausted. The first day, I walked probably around eight kilometers. The second day, probably around 12. But the walking was the best part. Many people rented bicycles and motorcycles. I chose to walk because it allowed me to go to places that others couldn't get to. And often times, I'd be walking in the desert or through a banana plantation, and I couldn't see another person around in any direction. These times were the best. After the sun would go down, I'd spend the evening looking at shops, talking with people, finding a nice place to eat, watching a movie at one of the restaurants, or going back to my guest house and playing backgammon with my neighbors, Jean-Baptiste and Melanie.

One day, I was planning to visit the Achyutaraya Temple, then walk down to the Royal Center. I ended up climbing the nearby Matanga Hill. And then I stayed up there for three hours, just chilling and chatting with my new friends Ana and Sergio, as well as the "banana cake boy" Noori. It was at that moment when I realized the truth about Hampi. Screw the sightseeing. Welcome the relaxing. So, every now and then, I'd go for a nice walk to see the sights, but I found much more pleasure in doing absolutely nothing. I found a favorite spot by the Ghats, where I could watch the women do laundry, the men fill water jugs, and the children go for a swim. I spent three entire afternoons there. And it was amazing. Other times, I'd go to a high place, like Matanga Hill (950 steps to get to the top), and marvel at the view of the desert, the boulders, and the banana plantations. The scenic contrasts in Hampi are astounding.

Beside the four Europeans (two from France, two from Spain) I mentioned earlier, I also met another couple, Angela from the UK and Josef from France, as well as Shay from Israel, and Nadia from Scotland. And these are only those people whose names I know. I also now know many of the shopkeepers, and am constantly greeted by first name as I walk down the street. It's a nice feeling. I've witnessed many wedding processions that fill the streets with the sounds of trumpets and drums. I think Sejal and Joe, Vijay and Crissy, and Bryce and Purvi should all have processions that take up entire streets with dancing and general merriment. I've seen an elephant lead a religious procession, a scruffy little puppy go up against a cow, two wild mongoose (or is that mongooses, or perhaps mongeese?), and the stars amidst numerous city blackouts. I had a guy try to sell me marijuana...because apparently I bought some from him the day before. I got lost in bramble and had to shimmy my way out, on my stomach, from underneath the thorns. I experienced the sickness and death of my guest house owner's father. I relearned how to play Backgammon, just to realize that I suck at it. I got hounded by a boy named Karan who is now calling me his "bhaiyya," which means "brother." I faced my fear of heights as I scaled some large boulders to get to the top of Matanga hill when I couldn't find the stairs. A rode on a motorcycle with a guy who had never driven a motorcycle before...thankfully we went slowly. I met a girl who is writing a book on how culture and religion affect a society's interation with the environment...I may contribute a bit to that work. I slipped and fell twice in one day, hurting my left arm something fierce. I learned that my chappals (sandals) suck on hills, so now I have Indian feet...I climb up and down things barefoot. I had a lesson in how to play the jhamba drum, which may be more my style than the tabla. I relaxed so much that I don't want to leave and hit the busy tumult of Bangalore and Chennai. Oh well, all good things must come to an end.

But that doesn't mean I'm staying away from Hampi forever. Next time I'm in India, even though this place is out of the way, I'm coming here for a few days. Hampi is just that kind of place.

Hampi Teaser 6: Kashmiri Row

2005-12-15T22:08:00.000-08:00

The row of shops running to the Ghat and to the river
is mainly run by Kashmiris. They head down south
while their homes in Ladakh or southern Jammu are
covered in snow. For some reason, they've all been
placed in the same area, thus prompting me to call it
Kashmiri Row. These guys are all really nice, though
obviously they are all trying to sell you something.
And I feel bad for them for two reasons. One, since
they're all stuck together, none of their products are
unique. You find the same Tibetan goods in each shop.
Two, they all have some serious issues finding
buyers, particularly after the sunset, when typically
business would be the best. This is because the boat
that crosses the Tungabhadra River to Virupapur Gaddi
no longer functions after 6pm. This is the first
season ever where the boats stopped right after the
sunset. This means that very few people have a reason
to walk down to the river at night. So, no one comes
near their shops. Hopefully next season they can fix
this. Until then, Kashmiri Row will have to deal with
fewer sales...that is, until they move on to their
next location.

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Hampi Teaser 5: Food and the Lonely Planet

2005-12-15T22:01:00.000-08:00

Food in Hampi is quite the mixture aiming to cater to
the international crowd. For breakfast, you can
anything from eggs to pancakes to Muessli. For lunch
and dinner, I've seen Chinese food, Israeli food,
Tibetan food, Italian food, American food, and of
course, Indian food. The funny thing about the
restaurants here is that they each spell everything
wrong. For example, I just saw the term "Spainish
omelette", thus prompting me to ask how it was
Spanish. Nope, "Spinach." I've seen the word
"lasagne" spelled with an "r" instead of an "l." Part
of the fun of eating out is deciphering the names of
the dishes. Many of my fellow tourists and I have
decided that all the restaurant owners should get
together and decide on uniform spellings for all the
dishes. Even better: have an native English speaker
with them. The other amusing thing about restaurants
here is that many of them proudly announce a
recommendation from the Lonely Planet. Of course,
what they don't tell you is that the recommendation
might have been from 1973. Still, they wear the
praise like a badge, thus causing me to snicker every
time I walk by a place touting the name Lonely Planet.

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Hampi Teaser 4: The Kids

2005-12-14T00:49:00.000-08:00

Okay, kids are cute. Unless they are trying to sell
you sell you sell you (no, this is not a typo)
something. And that they are in Hampi. In a place
that soley exists for the tourists, the kids are
either self-employed, working for their parents, or
are too young (like five years old) to bring in any
money.

Here, unless the kids are really good at picking up
languages, most of them only know a few words or
phrases, which they then use randomly. Here are some
of the most common:

Hello
Hi (if they're feeling cheeky)
One/Two Rupee/s
Name of product (eg. bananacake)
Price of product (eg. twenty rupees)
Schoolpen

The last one is my favorite. I question how many of
the kids who ask for one actually knows what a
"schoolpen" is. In fact, I finally broke down and
gave a lone kid (I'd never ever do this when the kid
is in a group!) a pen after he asked for a
"schoolpen." He took it with surprise, and stared at
it for a half minute with confusion. Who would have
thought that a "schoolpen" was a pen? Apparently, not
him.

When a kid asks for something, and you say no, then he
takes the words he knows and mixes them together into
an annoying, sometimes unintelligible mess. For
example: "Hellohellohellohello bananacake hellohello
twenty rupees hellohello twenty rupees
hellohellohellohello." Yes, they really like to say
"hello," a lot.

Sure, kids are cute. Kids in Hampi...worth walking
out of your way to avoid.

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Hampi Teaser 3: The Man Who Hates Indians

2005-12-13T22:22:00.000-08:00

I met a man today from England who has come to India
five times. He knows the Bharat Natyam dance, plays
traditional instruments, and apparently loves Indian
culture.

And yet he hates India and Indians. He's cussed at
them many times while I talked with him. He was
loudly complaining about how slow the internet is
(obviously...we're in a small town in India...they
aren't going to have Broadband!). All my interactions
with him have led me to believe that he doesn't just
hate India and its citizens, he loathes them. And yet
his interests show otherwise.

So, here's the ek crore question: Can a person love a
culture without even respecting the people and places
that inspired, promoted, and maintained that culture?

Apparently so.

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Hampi Teaser 2: The Guest House

2005-12-13T22:17:00.000-08:00

Hampi doesn't have hotels. It has guest houses, which
are family run. And they're everywhere. Mine is the
Deva Guest House. It's really simple, with only four
rooms, all leading to an outside patio. We all share
one bathroom, and one squat toilet. Lakshmi Ben cooks
food, but of course it's not free. Still, the fact
that I'm paying 70 Rs a night is very good, and the
food isn't bad either.

Some people wake up to the sound of birds chirping. I
wake up to the sound of monkeys running across the tin
roof and making a ruckus. We'd have to throw them
bananas just to keep them happy. But of course, by
giving them bananas, they just keep coming back. The
monkeys have a lot of power.

Yesterday and today were both somber days. The father
of Deva Bhai and Lakshmi Ben (the proprietors) passed
away yesterday. I paid my respects to him last night.
He seemed so much at peace. Previously, he had
always looked so frail. Still, the mood is quite
somber, though the drums and trumpeting during today's
annointing may indicate otherwise.

I only planned to stay in Hampi for three days. That
became six. The guest house, though simple, serves
its purpose well. And sometimes I feel like I'm part
of the family. But only sometimes...when they aren't trying to get money from me.

Hampi Teaser 1: A Boy Named Karan

2005-12-13T22:10:00.000-08:00

So, I met Karan the first day I arrived in Hampi. He
was the first to see through my "I'm Indian but can't
talk with you" ruse. When I said I was Gujarati, he
told me that I should be able to speak Hindi.
Therefore, I couldn't be born here. Karan's a smart,
14-year old. He's also a bit of a leech. His whole
goal, as is the case with everyone in Hampi, is to
make money off of people. We've become friends, or so
he says. We chat everyday, not because I want us to,
but because he's "working me." Two days ago, he
actually grabbed my hand while we were walking. I
wasn't shocked at the gesture. No, what surprised me
was his belief that I believed we were friends. Then,
yesterday, he asked me to go Hospet today to see an
American movie with him. Of course, I told him maybe
(I don't plan to go). Maybe you're thinking that he
really is my friend. Yeah right.

Let me tell you about Karan. The first day we
chatted, he told me that Israeli people only want to
f*** each other. He also didn't believe (perhaps
sincerely?) that America also had the sun, the moon,
and the stars. Additionally, he made light of the
fact that his father was a mean person, thus causing
him and his mom to flee Delhi. Yes, I know lots about
Karan. But I still don't trust him. He oozes
insincerity, claims to be your friend when all he
wants is something from you. No, I don't trust him.

The problem? He's VERY well connected in Hampi. And
now he knows where I live (he followed me back to the
guest house last night). I'm still not going with him
to the movies. And yet we'll still be "friends."

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Before Hampi

2005-12-12T20:15:00.000-08:00

Alright, I've now decided to start adding some details to my blog, since I've decided to stay in Hampi for a while. Unfortunately, the internet connections are very slow here, so I won't be able to post as many pics as I'd like. Still, something is better than nothing.

So, I started off in Mumbai, where it was great to see my relatives again. They were all so open and welcoming, and they helped me however they could. To see some pics of my relatives, go to my Yahoo Groups account. Param, my nephew, was really shy around me at first, but then he latched on and wouldn't let go. He was constantly seeking my attention...it was cute at first, but then I felt that I couldn't spend much time with my other relatives. Still, it was fun.

I took a sleeper class train to Bijapur. Sleeper class is 2nd class, where there's no A/C, where the passengers are more rural, and where you leave feeling dirtier than when you entered. It was great! Seriously. The countryside in the morning was beautiful. And the people were nice, even though we couldn't communicate. When I got to Bijapur, I decided, perhaps foolishly, to walk the 2 kilometers to my hotel. The streets were noisy and INCREDIBLY dusty. The air quality in Bijapur is actually worse than Mumbai! People in northern Karnataka tend to stare openly and without stopping. And stare they did. Once I got to my hotel, I put down my stuff, freshened up, and went exploring. I got lost and wound up in the slums. The only redeeming part of the day was the restaurant, which had an amazing thali and a hungry cow (see previous post). Thus far, I really wasn't impressed with Bijapur. There were no tourists, and even without any bags or cameras, people could still tell that I didn't belong. And they stared.
The next day, I decided to see at least one of the sites: The Gol-Gumbaz, a mausoleum from the Adil Shahi empire. This massive place has the second largest dome ever made, after the one atop St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican. At the top of the dome, on the inside, the acoustics are amazing. The Whispering Gallery abounds with whispers and claps and screams echoed throughout. You clap once, and it echoes ten more times. You whisper near the wall, and anyone standing around the wall elsewhere will here it with perfect clarity. Overall, the Gol-Gumbaz was pretty cool. It didn't quite redeem Bijapur, but it helped. Still, I was glad to finally leave!

I bused over to Bagalkot, then to Badami. I love the local buses, though my butt and my knees were in serious pain once I reached Badami. Still, I found my hotel, and pretty much relaxed for the rest of day. Even from a first glance, I knew that I would like Badami. It had the feel of a village, wasn't really as dusty as Bijapur, and just came across as being friendlier. Badami was the capital of the Chalukya empire (like Bijapur was for the Adil Shahi), one of the oldest empires in the South. The Chalukyans really experimented with architecture that would eventually spread throughout the South. Actually, as I explored Badami and Pattada Kalla, I really wished folks like Crissy and Eric were there, because I knew that they could appreciate the sights a lot more than I could. Oh well.

In Badami, I climbed up a canyon to the forts and temples that protected Badami. I also, saw the caves cut into the rocks. It's hard to express the beautiful views, the amazing sculptures, and the serene atmosphere of Badami's sights. Pictures are perhaps the best way to show what I saw. Of course, the rest will be (at some point) on the Yahoo site. The first morning in Badami, as I walked to the North Fort (through the canyon), I met a kid, Raju, who proceded to act as my guide, though of course he wanted something. He pushed me to employ his friend as an autoriksha driver on a trip to Pattada Kalla, Aiholi, and Mahakuta the next morning. Of course, the bus seemed much more preferable to me. Then, he wanted a "gift." Money to help pay for a new cricket ball. I gave him a little, but not too much. I felt bad, but I simply can't pay everyone who wants it.

The caves were nice. The monkeys were better.

Then I got sick. A cold. Thankfully that was all.

Luckily, I had chosen a room with a TV. I stayed in my room, more or less, from about 1:30pm that afternoon until I went to sleep. I really tried to rest up. This way, the next day, I felt up to traveling to Pattada Kalla. The bus ride was nothing fancy. At P.K., I explored the temples as I had been doing. I'm glad I had chosen not to go to Aiholi or Mahakuta, because it would have been overkill (Aiholi alone has over 200 temples!). Also, in P.K., I experienced my first school group mob. A large group of about forty kids saw that I had a camera, and they wanted me to take a picture. When I did, they mobbed around me to see how it looked on the LCD screen. They almost knocked the camera out of my hand! And I'm Indian...I blend in. I can't imagine how difficult it must be for everyone else!

I left P.K. through the most personal way possible: van. No buses were coming for a while, so a little boy led me to an already packed van heading back to Badami. And when I say packed, I mean people were standing inside because there wasn't room to sit. I was by far the largest person there, meaning that they had to really make room for me. A kid ended up sitting on my lap. And everyone knew each other, so of course they talked about the funny tourist in Malayalam. However, I became very friendly with the kids along the way. We had fun. Lots of fun. Though I was cramped the entire time, I was glad that I experienced the van.

And that was that. Mumbai, Bijapur, Badami, Pattada Kalla. Hampi comes next...but that's for another time. Some further thoughts and observations before I go:

1. Malayalam is a funny language. Hindi flows off the tongue. Malayalam trips. It's fascinating to listen to...just don't laugh.

2. For a while, I tried pretending to be South American to avoid the mobbing of kids. Throw a few Spanish words their way, and they get confused. But now I just ignore them. I hate to be rude, but it's necessary.

3. I felt weird walking through the village of Badami, because most of the time, I was wandering through narrow streets where people lived. It was like if someone were to walk through my neighborhood as a tourist. I know I'll get over this feeling of guilt, like I don't belong. But it'll take some time.

4. In Mumbai, I tried Paan for the first time. Paan is an after-dinner snack, like a mint. Except it's MUCH STRONGER. And it makes your mouth very red. I now know that paan is not for me. But at least I tried it, right?

Alright, more later.

Has It Only Been A Week?

2005-12-10T01:44:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I arrived in India only just more than a week
ago, and it feels like a lifetime. I've already
gotten a little homesick, a little sick sick (a
cold...not the Delhi Belly, yet), and a bit starving
for someone to natively speak English. Nevertheless,
things are going well. I'm not going to really write
much about the trip thus far, because I'm on dial-up
at an expensive place...pictures and more details will
come once I get to Bangalore in four days.

Still, here's the route thus far: Mumbai to Bijapur
to Badami (with a side trip to Pattada Kalla) to
Hampi. So far, I've barely come across other
tourists. But not anymore. Hampi is uber-touristy.
Still, the nice thing about not being with other
tourists, and about looking Indian, is that I can get
by with paying the Indian entry fees, not the
Foreigner fees. That saves me quite a lot of green
(or, actually, reds, blues, etc etc.).

I'm not going to go into too many details, but give
you a quick sketch of things I've observed in India
thus far:

1. Only here can a cow walk into a restaurant, just to
be given a bisquit.

2. A baby monkey snuck into my room and stole my
toothpaste one night.

3. I've got the gestures down cold! You will all me
so annoyed with my head bobbing once I get back to the
states. (fyi, head bobbing is similar to the Italian
word "prego." It can signify anything from maybe to
thank you to perfect to not sure to you're welcome to
okay to sounds like a plan...)

4. Men here often hold hands when they walk together.
It's a way of showing friendship...and nothing more
than that.

5. The buses are an excellent way to travel. They
take you to all the rural villages, allowing you to
really explore. However, you have to have a strong
stomach, a strong butt, strong knees (if you have long
legs), and a great life insurance policy.

6. Kids are soooo cute. Unless they mob you and
almost make you fall down. Still, they're cute while
doing this.

Alright, final thoughts before I leave to explore
Hampi. Mumbai is a zoo. Bijapur isn't worth
visiting. Badami rocks! And Hampi seems VERY
promising.

I'll try to blog again once I reach Bangalore in a few
days.

Not Even in India...and Already There Are Issues

2005-12-01T23:01:00.000-08:00

Alright, first of all, long flights suck. But what's
worse? Long layovers. So, I'm in Malaysia, and I've
already been traveling for about 22 hours. I still
have 3.5 more hours of layover before five hour
flight. Fun.

So, three things have happened to me thus far. First,
and I'm really unhappy about this, I ate pork
(willingly) for the first time in years. China Air
had two choices for dinner (at 3am), and they both had
pork. And being incredibly hungry at the time, I went
with the congee, because the pork was a little more
hidden in it.

Second, I lost my passport, kinda. In Taipei, I went
through security to transfer planes when a guy bumped
my bag. That made me bit paranoid, thus prompting me
to check my bag. I tore my bag apart and couldn't
find my passport. It had fallen out in the airplane
when I was pulling out my ticket. I made a mad dash
for the terminal. As soon as I got there, a man asked
me "Passport?" Strangely enough, they had found it,
but they hadn't found me in their system. It was like
I never flew with them. So, this whole thing taught
me to be much more careful with my things, and also to
be thankful for the little favors (like the guy
bumping me). I still can't believe I almost messed up
the trip even before it began!

Finally, I HATE SLOW INTERNET CONNECTIONS LIKE THIS
ONE!! Doesn't bode well for my blogging.

Alright, another few hours to kill. Then, off to bug
my relatives.

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Photo postings

2005-11-27T02:37:00.000-08:00

Hi folks,

In case you don't know...this is me (in a totally unexpected picture!). Anyway, a bit of news. I have now set up a site for pictures that won't be appearing on this blog. It's a Yahoo Group, set up expressly to post pics. Once I fill up that group with pics, I'll create another group, and so on. The site is:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sapans_india_trip/
I know I wrote previously that I would be using Ofoto, but the pics are too difficult to share using that site. So, this will have to do. In order to see the pics, you will, unfortunately, need to sign up for Yahoo Groups. This is a very painless process, and should overall take you very little time. Check back there for new pics. Current pics of family and friends in Seattle are already posted.

Oh, and the issue of leaving comments without registering should be fixed. Let me know if it's not, and if there's anything else I can fix before leaving on my trip.

Playing with my camera, number 2

2005-11-18T14:35:00.000-08:00

These two pics have nothing to do with India, but they show the nice abilities of my camera. Sorry...I haven't figured out yet how to turn pics to make them upright.

Playing with the camera

2005-11-18T14:24:00.000-08:00

Hi Folks,

So, I just got a digital camera, and I'm attempting to see how easy or difficult it'll be to post pics while I'm traveling. This pic, of Hanumanji, is just a taste of what I'll see while I'm on my way.

Ummm...Okay

2005-11-14T23:07:00.000-08:00

Alright, this is my first attempt at a blog. It's seems like the current fad, like faux-LiveStrong bracelets and saying "snap" when someone's being screwed over. However, I'm not just blogging for blogging sake. No, I'm traveling to the motherland (or is that fatherland? What's the difference? How 'bout parentsland?). This isn't just a "go-to-visit-the-family" trip. Hopefully it'll be something more. You know, traveling until I have no more money, and attempt to find volunteer and/or work opportunities along the way (while the former sounds good, the latter will help replenish my depleted coffers...so India won't have all my money!). I'll definitely be coming back in August for Sejal and Joe's wedding. Perhaps I'll be back earlier in the year, too. My goal with this trip is not only to travel, but also to get the experience needed to finally get work in my field. Oh, and to get a wicked tan, too!

During this trip, I will periodically post updates on this site. This way, if you want to check out what's going on with my trip, you can. No mass e-mails. Just you reading about my exploits (and hopefully getting really really jealous!) when you want to.

Also, I may post pics here, depending on how much room this site gives me. If I choose not to post them here, I'll indicate later where I do plan to post them. This way, if you weren't jealous before, you can get totally green-eyed when looking at my photos.

Alright, that's it for an intro. Check in later. Peace.