In Search of Orang Utan

Old Friends

2011-05-16T15:53:00.007+05:30

I played with the kid all morning and then when I was finally ready to go at 10:30 I woke my host up and said goodbye as he laid in bed. After 10 hours on a series of buses, smartly not taking unsolicited but well meaning bad advice and, as usual, a tire fix, I arrived in Manali. From there I got a rickshaw to take me to Vashisht which is just up the hill and away from the grossness of main street. I was met by Sarah of my McLo Gang who had already booked a hotel room for me. Nick and Vanessa from the Ganj were there too, this time much healthier. It was nice to be back amongst my old traveling pack.

Total Waste of My Time

2011-05-15T15:29:00.000+05:30

We didn't do shit today and it sucked. I was originally planning on leaving first thing in the morning because I thought we were spending the previous evening out in the fields with the nanny's father's flock of sheep. But then it turns out it was supposed to be tonight so I stayed one extra day.

My host is at a particular point in his life where he just wants to take it easy. I'm a super type A vacationer. I feel like I need to accomplish something each day, rest is for when you get back to work. I would go off on walks in the mornings, but there's only so much of a small village mountain street you can see. I had told myself that this will be a lesson in patience and relaxation for me. I don't have to occupy every second of every day checking things off lists and photographing ever flower I see.

I think I was doing pretty OK with that until I was told that the shepherd wasn't moving the sheep tonight either, that it was actually the next night. I said it was fine but I could feel myself getting very hot. Unfortunately, this was already at night and too late to hop on a bus to Manali.

I had heard that the Manali-Leh highway had opened early this year. That drive is often described as the most beautiful stretch of road in the world. It's 2 days across high mountains. It includes the highest motor-able roadway in the world. I had not intended to go to Manali because I had heard that it was just a bunch of tourists smoking charas and getting drunk, nothing of any cultural value. My friend my McLo, Sarah was headed to Manali today so I planned on meeting up with her tomorrow.

Traveling alone in India is difficult and amazing. I don't regret for a second coming and being a part of this experience but I'm not doing this again. For those reasons I'm going to extend my trip by a month and a half. At the rate I'm going, and even if I pick up the pace, I will have only covered the North by the time of my flight on June 28th. If I tack on an extra month and a half I can breeze through the South of India and Sri Lanka and still be back in time for a week in New York and right off to Burning Man.

I have had so many inconveniences and annoyances along the way that I don't expect to have the will to start up another India exploration again. Next time I come to India I just want to visit family, not be a dollar sign to the annoying tourist trade.

Rickshaw drivers are amongst the worst people on Earth. I want to punch every shopkeeper that yells at you from across the street to come take a look at the same shit that can be found at the next twelve shops in a row. I am sick of people pretending to want to get to know you then telling you to come visit their shop or their uncle's guesthouse. I never again want to here that looking is for free. I am completely frustrated with selfish drivers that wedge themselves into oncoming traffic so that everyone on the road has to stop and then inch past. If they just pulled over or stayed in their lane, traffic could have kept going. My eardrums are battered from the constant honks of cars that warn you of their approach even after you've made eye contact with them from across the road. I dread never knowing what my next bowel movement will look like. I am over crowded, dusty modes of transportation. I hate taking hours to travel a couple dozen miles. I hate the total disregard for the value of my time, sorry to everyone back home that I've made wait for me. I hate being lied to directly to my face. I can't stand people refusing to admit that they don't know something. I am sick of everyone wanting to offer advice, wether they know what they are talking about or not

They say that travel broadens your horizons and makes you more flexible and easy going. I find that the more I travel the more I confirm my core values and expectations.

Won't You Have a Bir With Me

2011-05-14T13:52:00.001+05:30

When Frank got up at 1PM we had lunch and walked down the hill to the Tibetan colony to pick up supplies and inquire about paragliding. Unfortunately there's a ban on gliding for the week because of the cricket match in Dharamsala and they are worried that someone could sail in and drop a bomb on it from the air. I was told that people were going up after 5PM when the police quit guarding the road for the day but we didn't think of making tentative arrangements for that evening.

I spent most of the day playing around on my computer, organizing photos and making magic sand for Aloke. When we got out for a walk at 6:30 I saw paragliders in the air. We called up our contact who raced over with his gear and we rushed up the mountain. This was probably the riskiest and most exhilarating part of the experience. We zipped up one the narrow one lane mountain switchbacks honking the whole way to warn people coming the other way. We were rushing to catch the last few minutes of daylight. It took half an hour to get up the hill.

Strapped in, we ran over the edge of the cliff just in time for the parachute to open. Paragliding is amazing. I found parachuting a bit boring but this was just so much fun. You are low enough that you see everything below you and he did some stunts that would make the craziest roller coaster look tame. At one point I think we were almost upside down. It was ridiculously expensive for just 10 minutes in the air. I paid the full price which usually lasts 50 minutes. I found out similar flights in Manali go for 1/4 the price. I really need to remember that every transactions needs to be negotiated.

When we landed I sat with the guys and had some tea as they smoked a joint. The stuff grows wild everywhere here in Himachel Pradesh. It's actually why a lot of tourists end up staying so long (i.e. Israeli)

That night Frank got on a tirade about following the tourist path and how little you see of real India when you go by the book. I do agree in a lot of ways that the Indians you meet on the tourist track are a very different breed than regular folk. It attracts a particularly skeezy person to try to make a career out of fleecing and misguiding tourist.

I did find his disdain for the Western tourists misplaced. I have been meeting great people along the way. I don't know if it's because many of the people I've been meeting are more open to experiencing new things without hangups, or if they share the same issues of having to make their way in a foreign land. Don't get me wrong, just coming to India doesn't make you cool. There are a lot of loud obnoxious tools along the way who come to get drunk, high and laid who will never meet anyone more interesting than their bartender. So far I've only found one American that I wanted to hang out with. I appreciate the people that I've got to spend time with through the last month.

Wrapped up McLeod Ganj

2011-05-13T13:40:00.017+05:30

I had my final yoga class and was briefly tempted to eschew the rest of my trip and take a month to do the course. Not because I would have any intention of teaching but I would love to learn at this guys feet. No, I said I was leaving today and I will. Oh, but just one more day couldn't hurt.

I picked up my paintings and had my final, so I thought, breakfast with Sarah. She walked me to the taxis in Rishikesh and walked me to the post office this morning. As sure as I was that this would be our last day together she had a feeling we would see each other again. She's smarter than me.

It took me 7 hours to travel the 70 kilometers to the small village of Bir, which you will not find on Google maps. It's home to a Tibetan colony and near Billing, also not on the map, but where the paragliding records are set because of its intense thermals off the steep mountains and the idillic setting sure doesn't hurt. The bus ride was hot and crowded as they always are on local routes and the bus broke down as seems to be my custom. When I finally arrived, at the wrong spot, looking for a cab, I was thinking to myself this was a huge mistake until I noticed the tea plantations and realized that a bit of clean air and quiet will do me some good.

I was meeting Frank who I had met on a bus break down between Siem Reap and Phnom Penh three years earlier. He was traveling with this new wife and new son, two months old at the time. After years of no contact he had noticed that my gchat status said Himachel Pradesh and reached out to me. Great, I'm coming over. Litterally my chance to hit a spot off the maps.

Little Aloke was awesome, we hit it off right away. Frank had said that he's never seen him take to anyone so fast. My trick was to ask him to help me carry my bag, which of course he couldn't do but he held it as I carried it in. Aloke really likes to help. In fact his favorite thing to do is light cigarettes for people. I was chain smoking because he kept asking me to have another one. How do you refuse a three year old that encourages vice?

Hotel California

2011-05-12T13:29:00.000+05:30

You can check out but you can never leave. That's the general sentiment in this town. I got wrapped up in the comfort and familiarity of hanging out with the friends I made here and the pleasantness of the Tibetan community. I planned on leaving this morning for Bir but then decided to extend just one more day.

I went back to the first thanka shop first thing in the morning. I loved talking to this woman, she smiles and truly loves each one of the pieces in her collection. What an expert practioner of non-attachment to not want to horde them all. She's a student and practitioner of Tantric Buddhism and taught me a lot about the various deities and themes in the pieces she showed me.

Marleen brought out her treasure trove of the better paintings which she keeps hidden away so that casual visitors don't touch them and they are protected from negative energies. I wish she didn't. I found a couple smaller thangkas that were outrageously priced but when I saw them they each respectively called out Suzanne/ Chris and Alberto/ Stuart. The one that screamed Arthur will wait in case I find one in even more perfect in Ladakh or Khatmandu. Anyway, his piece is how I see the man so it's not necessarily anything he needs to possess to remind himself to be. I chose brocades for my two pieces and they should be housed by the next morning.

I met up with the crew, sadly minus Stephan, but happily now with Vanessa for dinner at the Korean restaurant. Vanessa is traveling with the mysterious Nick who's feet I saw poking up, covered with a sheet, from his bed when I knocked on their door. I had met them very briefly a couple of days earlier when I suggested my hotel to them. Nick immediately came down with a miserable amoebic infection which had him incapacitated for days.

Vanessa and Nick had been teaching in Korea for the last few years so we had her choose the dishes for us. She wrote the order in Korean and the waiter explained to us that the chef doesn't wasn't actually Korean. Not a good sign, but the food turned out to be amazing. I said my goodbyes after dinner but no one believed I was actually going anywhere so we said our see-you-laters.

Thankas for the Memories

2011-05-11T13:03:00.000+05:30

We all met up in the morning to hike up to Baghsu to check out the village and waterfall. I had been hearing from many people that Bagsu was the place to stay. It supposedly has all the Tibetan vibe of McLeod without the loud bars and shops. I found it to be less interesting with more modern shops and roadside stall with crappy merchandise. Maybe there's a chiller side of town but it wasn't apparent over the gaggles of Gujrati tourists.

The waterfall was refreshing after a long hike in the sun. But suddenly it was overrun with more Gujratis. I seems I can't get away from us. To escape the new crowd we tracked the stream further up the mountain. Along the way we stumbled on the inaccessible Shiva Cafe which we figured could only possibly stay in business is by supplying Israelis with drugs.

We climbed up just a bit farther and stopped on some boulders to enjoy a bit of nature and grafiti. The whole way up my stomach was gurgling and I knew it was only a matter of time. India has taught me to always keep a roll of toilet paper in my bag. When the grumbling became unbearable I squirted at the cafe, said my goodbyes and sauntered back down towards town with my sphincter held tight.

I was feeling better in the afternoon and took the break from yucky belly to scope out a thanka. I wanted to get a wheel of life for myself. Unfortunately the first shop I went to had the best ones in town and was, of course, the most expensive. I have no poker face whatsoever so it was obvious I was going to buy something there eventually so there was no break in the price for me. So I took note of which pieces I liked and checked out the other shops.

I picked out a Wheel of Life thanka from a Kashmeri who was very much the Kashmiri salesman. I'll tell you more about them in a later post. He was a nice guy but didn't really know all that much about the pieces other than what comes printed on a small, and not fully accurate, blurb handed out to customers. When I asked who painted it he said a Tibetan. Marlene would tell me details about the particular monk who painted each piece. I decided to sleep on it and make my decisions in the morning.

Roof Top Hop

2011-05-10T16:53:00.013+05:30

We didn't do a damn thing all day and it was great. The day started off early, I had been wanting a particular tattoo of a Tibetan deity since I was 18 and figured since I was here I should see how possible it might be to get it done by an actual Tibetan who would have a real knowledge of the ratios and symbolism involved. I mentioned it to the yogis over dinner the night before and they said they knew someone who was really good. He was actually a tanka painter who also did tattoos. They showed me a picture of him tattooing their friend so I could see his work and recognize him.

I had a map to his house and a phone number but I couldn't get a hold of him that morning. It was 9AM and just about nothing and no one is available before 10. I passed him on the street and recognized him from the photo but didn't stalk him in case he was the wrong guy. While I waited for him to return my call, I decided to check out a tattoo artist that had flyers and signs all over town. Getting to his place was a labyrinth of steps and hills and cows but I eventually got there. I saw some pieces he had done in his books and was not impressed so decided to take a pass.

By the time I got back to the street the original tattoo guy had called and we met up. I went back to his place to talk more about what he would do. Since he does his manually, no machine, I figured I would get something smaller and simpler, maybe a mandala.

I asked to see some of the work that he had done in the past. He didn't actually have any. At this point I was pretty sure I wasn't getting anything done. If it's taken me 18 years of carrying around the first idea of the tattoo without actually executing, I figured I'm not rushing into something else in one day. I would really have to research and get a mandala that means something, otherwise I might as well get a dolphin with a rainbow coming out of his blowhole tattooed on my ass. It was strange that he didn't have any photos of work he'd done so the guy that came with me asked how many tattoos he had done so far. The answer was three. Fast forward a few days, I see him all over town and he eventually shows me the sketches he made for my mandala and they are actually really good. I asked him if he could do it with lines that fine and he said, "maybe, I can try with you."

The rest of the day was just hanging out with quadrumpherate our. We kept moving from rooftop restaurant to rooftop restaurant looking for the perfect place that was outdoors with enough shade, clean enough to eat at and served beer. By the time we had lunch at 4 we were so wiped we all decided to take naps and meet up for dinner. I slept through dinner but found 'em for drinks at the end of the night. We sat at the "highest table in McLeod Ganj." A few beers and many stories were shared before they closed at 1AM, as did everything in town. I thought we were on the other street because nothing looked familiar until we were right up on my hotel. We all parted ways and I was ready for a good shower and to be close to my toilet because the grumbling was not pleasant. Well, my gates were locked and after 15 minutes of trying to get someone from inside to hear me I had to call up one of the crew and crash with them for the night.

Borrowing a Cup of Sugar from the DL

2011-05-09T16:35:00.000+05:30

Morning started with a great class with the Stepford Yogis. The teacher is brilliant, mentally and physically. He really does glow. He's very laid back and has a much more patient approach to yoga than in the West. His thing is that you don't need to push anything, you slowly loosen and release over time. If your muscles are trembling in an awkward pose you just end up tightening.

I got to hear some of the lecture from the morning session before class. His school doesn't just teach yoga and teaching techniques but uses a holistic approach. It encompasses pranayama, anatomy, psychology, philosophy, ayurveda. The class sounds amazing but also very rigorous.

The Dalai Lama's residence, Tibetan government in exile headquarters and main temple and are all together on one hill on Temple Road. The Tibetan museum was closed because it was Monday so I went ahead to the Temple where I watched the monks making a sand mandala in the temple and on the grounds. In the garden I watched as they had their morning philosophical debates. They have a very animated style of communicating. They step back and forth and clap their hands together in a swiping motion after their point is made. I met a couple Lebanese guys who asked what the clapping meant so we asked someone and it is sort of a talking stick. When they are done talking they clap their hands and throw the conversation back to the other guy.

We decided to go explore the area together and find the Dalai Lama's residence. We figured it might be on the other side of the hill so we took the circular road and found prayer wheels and stupas and prayer flags and carved slate steles left by worshipers. We ended up back where we started and asked for directions and realized that we planned on finding the residence in the courtyard literally right in front of the wall to his house.

After some snacks we hit the market. They were taking a bus at 7 and making their way back to Beirut so wanted to get some last minute gifts on the way. Amazing bargainers. Told me about their lower cost accommodations. Was almost as good as mine but down crazy uneven steps 1/4 KM right next to my hotel, so not worth the risk of breaking my neck coming home late at night down the precarious steps.

As I was walking to meet the yogis at the town's only Japanese restaurant I saw the instructor on the way. He was going to the only Korean restaurant but decided to come have dinner with us instead. Through dinner yogi and I talked about biking through India. At he end of dinner everyone was planning to go to the Heart Rock Cafe and the instructor said that he would not go that he was a solitary person and even coming to dinner was a stretch for him. I loved the frankness.

I got a text message from Sarah who I met in Rishikesh so I beelined over to meet up with her for a drink. She was with Emma who I met in Amritsar and Stephan who I met in Jodhpur. For such a big country this is a small place. Unfortunately though I also often meet people right at the end of their journey so it's great when you find a repeat.

Improvising

2011-05-08T16:24:00.000+05:30

At breakfast I met two yoga teaching students who voraciously completed more food than I thought they could possibly manage. They told me about their yoga school and I decided to drop in on a class at 4PM. In the mean time I used the day to map out the city, OK, it's a small map. There are two streets, one shop width apart and a couple of connecting alleys. Both street are jam packed with Tibetan arts and crafts for the tourist trade.

I have to admit that this town which has resonated most with me, so far in India, is the one with the minority Indian population. Tibetans are a good looking, good natured, crowd. The children, adults and elderly seem to be smiling and relaxed all the time and certainly look healthier than their Indian counterparts.

The 4'oclock yoga class was filled with clean, young and impossibly good looking students all dressed in white. There was to be no yoga that day, they were going to watch a movie instead. I sat down to watch Siddharta with them when someone mentioned Tibetan massage. So I took a rain check on communing with the Stepford Yogis and went in search of a masseuse. I had a few misses but finally found one, directly below my hotel in the back side. The masseuse was taught the massage techniques by her grandparents. It wasn't all that different from a regular relaxation massage until she got to the face and really worked the individual muscles, including around the eyes.

I had a recommendation for Khanna Nirvana (Nirvana of Eating) The restaurant was empty except for one other table so after ordering I invited myself to join them. They were having an improv group which I joined in on. I got so caught up in it, I forgot to photograph it, gotta remember to better document my days.

I have yet to come across anyone in this entire town who has anything but amazingly bright energy and positivity. I walk around smiling all the time.

Temporal and Spiritual Achievement

2011-05-07T08:17:00.020+05:30

The Hari Mandir Shahib (Golden Temple) is a true showcase of Sikh magnificence and generosity. I went in expecting to see a temple capped in gold but found that this place is so much more than that. It is a truly pure place.

The temple itself is majestic. It is situated in the contemplative Amrit Sarovar (Pool of Nectar.) The surrounding structures of the entire complex are all beautiful. Glorious live music is performed over the loudspeakers from within the temple all day and night. But what makes this place truly special is Sewa. The notion that service to mankind is service to God is embodied beautifully here. The whole place is maintained by volunteers and it is an honor to be allowed to serve in any way. People blissfully mop floors and I was allowed to participate by washing dishes.

The Israeli couple woke me up at 3:30AM to meet a Punjabi teenager who came to show us the ceremony in which they bring the original copy of their holy book, the Guru Granth Sahib, into the temple. I was incredibly lucky to have my accommodations in the dorm. That morning as I walked out of the guarded dorm I saw hundreds of families sprawled out in neat rows in the courtyard.

I got a lot of writing done on the local bus trying to Dharamsala. Apparently the only direct bus leaves at 12 and I got to the station just after it left. The best I can do is go to Gugal, take a bus to Dharamsala and a taxi the rest of the way to McLeod Gang, which is Upper Dharamsala. The broiling bus broke down a couple of hours out and after half an hour of hammering something under the bus we hit the road again only to break down for over two hours because of a diesel leak. I skipped the final bus and split a cab with an unmarried Indian couple out on a date directly to McLeod Ganj.

Crossing into Himachal Pradesh was like a big sigh. It was suddenly forested and hilly and the air was fresh and cool. My first impression of McLeod Ganj was that it's exactly what I'm not looking for. It was full of loud western music and loud westerners and Indians gone wild. I found out later there was a rock concert at the square. I checked into a hotel and stepped outside and heard a woman with a kick ass voice singing Hotel California from the restaurant next door so I went up for a quick dinner. The music was great and then I picked myself up and horned my way onto a table of Tibetans and had an amazing time. I already have a gig volunteering to teach a seminar on networking. I felt a lot better about my miserable ride into town when putting it into perspective of being raised in an orphanage or walking for two weeks as a child in the snow to escape an occupying force. I think I'm staying for a week.

Much ado about Nothing

2011-05-06T07:52:00.002+05:30

I arrived early in the morning at Amritsar on a sleeper train and headed directly to the Golden Temple which provides accommodations to travelers for free. I was led to the foreigner's dorm which was just outside one of the gates to the Golden Temple. The accommodations first seemed rough and tumble. It's one large room with ten beds lined up adjacent to each other, three smaller rooms with four beds each and one shared bathroom with a faucet, bucket and sink which drains to the floor by your feet. But after a shower I realized it was efficient, clean and perfect. The dorm is mixed and if there is availability, you take a bed and put your stuff on it to claim it. I had breakfast with a stunning Israeli couple who were bunking next to me. I then headed off to meet up with the person who I shared my train compartment with the night before to see some of the minor sites.

We saw the most ridiculous pompous creations you could imagine. These sites had one thing in common. They all took massive amounts of time, effort and material to produce something so very gauche.

The first was the Mata temple made with glass mosaic and crudely drawn and painted murals. You enter through and a small anus tunnel and are finally passed out through the mouth after wading through ankle deep water.

The second site was the Maharaja Ranjit Singh Panorama which was a memorial built to the last Punjabi King. You start with paintings in massive gilt frames depicting the glorious achievements of the king with stories extoling his many virtues. The next room is a series of vignettes bringing the rajas great deeds into vivid 3 dimensional view. It all culminates in the top floor which has a grandiose semicircular battle scene with lifesize fiberglass figures. The room is filled with a recording of the sounds of battle. On the open end of the semicircle is a lifesize fiberglass recreation of a Hungarian painting comissioned by the raja of a scene in the bazar with his court in attendance. They threw in a slain bengal to fix what the original artist somehow omitted.

The final stop in our absurdity tour was the India-Pakistan border. They put on a pageant on both sides of the border with high stepping and peacock posturing as they open the gates, lower flags then close them again. People in the hundreds turned out for this daily event, even on a weekday. By the time we got there the good seats were all taken but then I noticed that all the white people were off in one section up front. They allow foreigners a part of the VIP section so I got a great view. Gotta love that, I get Indian prices to the monuments and foreign seating and accomodations. Best of both worlds. The event felt more like a soccer match than a changing of the guards. People were hooting and hollering, there was music from Hindi movies blaring over the speakers and the MC was cheerleading.

To counterpoint the extravaganzas I witnessed, the Golden Temple is sublime and completely genuine. More on that tomorrow.

With a Little Help from My Friends

2011-05-05T08:42:00.002+05:30

Took an amazing Iyengar yoga class in the morning. There were only three other people in it so we all got lots of attention. I've never taken Iyengar before but really liked it. It was all about getting the exact alignment down and using tools to get you into the right position if you would not normally be able to get there. I think it would be the perfect introduction to yoga. I was really tempted to stay an extra day just so I could take a couple more of his classes and maybe do some white water rafting on the Ganges the next morning.

Rishikesh is nice but it just doesn't resonate all that much with me. I think it's because it's such a serious place. It feels like everyone is so involved with coming to worship the river that they don't get to really just sit and appreciate it. The swarms of flies and cow diarrhea are also a real turn off.

I'm staying in Swagashram, across the river from the main town and much quieter and mellow. I ventured into the main town to get a yoga bag so I don't fumble with it under my arm while riding my bike back home. I am so glad I was in peaceful Ashram territory not crazy the crazy tourist hell that is the Laxman Jula side or main Rishikesh across the river. I also rediscovered my knack for bad shopping. I bought an over the shoulder bag for Rs.150, then the next one for Rs. 100, then one for Rs.50 and finally saw the perfect one for Rs.40 but by then had more bags than shoulders so passed. Shopkeepers know immediately what you will be willing to pay for something.

The Beetles came to Rishikesh to stay with the Maharishi at his ashram which is now abandoned but you can slip the guard Rs50 per person to let you in to roam about. I didn't want to encourage the guard's corruption, but the girl I was visiting with wasn't allowed in by herself in case she got mugged and organ harvested so she paid for both of us.

When it comes to making a buck of tourists, India's got it down pat. I went in to a travel guy to book my train ticket which costs Rs.570, which I saw as he was booking it. He asked for Rs.900 to book it. Now I don't mind paying 50 for his trouble but this was ridiculous so I walked out and went to an internet cafe to book it myself.

The guy at the internet shop asks me where I'm going and when, then rushes to his own computer to book the ticket. I kept explaining to him that I am booking it myself and don't need to buy a ticket through him. He pretends no to understand me which is hilarious because we spoke to each other in English and Gujrati just last night so I know he's getting what I'm saying in both languages. When I go to book mine I'm waitlisted because he's got the last one on his screen, so I ask him to clear out of his and he's still trying to sell me a ticket. I get up, press cancel on his computer and book the damn thing myself.

Last week someone told me a story about when India had a closed economy. You would buy a sack of sugar and the bottom fifth would be filled flour. When you bought a sack of flour when you got to the bottom fifth you would find sugar.

No Room at the Inn

2011-05-04T08:21:00.011+05:30

Most of the reputable ashrams have websites but when I checked last week I couldn't make heads nor tails of them. So I show up in Rishikesh and spend the whole morning walking from ashram to ashram to see if any would accomodate me. Unfortunately many won't let in singles because they have too many suicides but they were all full anyway because this is the start of the Indian tourist season when the kids are on their summer break. I started with the well established ashrams then went to the ones that cater to foreigners, mostly Japanese and white. They had availability but were revoltingly filthy.

I spoke to three westerners, each from different countries over dinner. They were here on a yoga course and each of them had been sick for a month with white eggs in their stool. The doctors they saw couldn't determine the cause and and tried a few treatments but they were still suffering. I suggested they immediately get their asses to Delhi or Mumbai and get their shit looked at but they are sticking out the next couple of weeks before they fly home. Oh well, good luck to them.

Oh well, Rishikesh is pretty cool. There are monks everywhere. It's right where the Himilayas start poking up, rather abruptly. The mountains are green and wooded which is a welcome site coming from barren Rajasthan. The Ganges is clean and fresh here, a bit narrower than I expected but very fast moving.

To get ot Swagashram, the part of town where I am staying, you have to cross the Ramjula, a long pedestrian suspension bridge to get to this side of the Ganges. There are no automobiles in this part of town so I was kinda embarrassed last night breaking the silence with my big loud rolley bag.

In the evening I took a decent yoga class, nothing to write home about. Throughout it I was distracted because I was thinking about how I'm missing the sunset. I've grown an affinity for sunrises and sets and wonder why it's so rare that I ever catch them at home.

In Line at the Delhi

2011-05-03T12:34:00.000+05:30

Discovered the Tourist quota for tickets. The International Tourist Bureau, located at train stations in major cities, reserves seats for foreign tourists and Indians who have been out of the country for more than 6 months. I got to the train station at 6, the office opened at 8, so a little waiting but I kept myself occupied with catching up the the blog.

There was a mad rush to get through the doors when they opened. I was luckily pushed in the right direction and got my seat in the correct line so I got my ticket relatively quickly. My train was at 3:45 so I checked my bag in the cloak room, which involved over an hour and half wait in line. Once unencumbered I headed back into town to hit the National Museum.

Delhi redeemed itself with the National Museum. It's certainly not world class but it showcases India's magnicicent art history divided into various periods. I saved over 500 rupees by asking for my museum and camera use tickets in Hindi! Coming back to the train station on a 10 rupee airconditioned bus was a nice change from the 100 rupee auto ride in hot mid-day Delhi. I spent the rest of my day in the nice clean air conditioned tourist office, so unlike any other part of Indian train stations.

The train from Delhi was unique in that I was in the 1st class section coming from a big city, so no one stared at me. I'm also getting darker so as long as I keep my mouth shut I'm totally in. I'm no longer exotic. It's frustrating that stations are not announced, you have to peer out the window and hope you catch a sign with the station name. It would have been a lot more convenient if I had a timepiece so I can guess at the station by the scheduled arrival time.

I will NOT be Staying Here Long

2011-05-02T12:31:00.003+05:30

From bus station I was hit with ever scam in the book. I was told that the hotel I wanted to go to was closed. I was told that they will use the meter, which are all fixed and was estimated at triple the rate and they wanted to charge a premium for traffic. Luckily I believed none of it and negotiated a decent price to the area I wanted to go to. It was close, no traffic and they put me in an unmetered auto to save the fixed meter for another unsuspecting rube.

Eww, my second crappy hotel. This one really sucks. I used my guide book and chose this place because it was in the nice part of town, Connaught Place. The only places on the street that had available rooms were gross. Oh well, It's just a night.

I ordered a paneer tikka sandwich from KFC as Usher played in the background, prepared on the non-veg counter with my permission. My cousin Pooja recommended I give it a try. If anyone else in the world had suggested that I eat at an American chain in India they would have incurred my disdain and scorn for the atrocity, but Pooja commands enough of my respect that I'll suspend my indignation. It was good but my breakfast cost almost as much as my hotel room.

I was going to make the best of what seems to be a charmless city. I wanted to hit the museums and enjoy some culture and air-conditioning. But as I found out when I got to the National Museum is that all the museums are closed on Mondays. On my way back I asked some teenagers what museums they liked but none of them had ever been to any. Expecting they were new immigrants I was saddened to learn they had lived in Delhi their whole lives. Their answer was that locals don't go to the museums they go shopping. Sums up Delhi pretty well I think.

I got seriously lost right around the corner from where I needed to be because Connaught Place is a large ring and all the buildings look identical. And this is the most unhelpful town ever. I asked people the direction of some of the landmarks I noted and most would just gesture in a general direction if they troubled themselves to acknowledge me at all. After a couple of hours of this in the baking sun, an auto driver offered to take me for 50 rupees and when I said I want to walk said it was too far. I was literally around the corner from where I needed to go.

The highlight of the day was getting freed from the elevator that broke down between floors. I had looked everywhere for a cafe that also provided internet but it turns out none do in a security effort to combat terrorism.

I did manage to buy my camera from the Cannon showroom at a ridiculously inflated price because of the high import duties. I would have left that same night if the bus wasn't sold out.

Escaping the Siren's Song

2011-05-01T19:12:00.002+05:30

This was the perfect amount of time in Pushkar. I just spent the day enjoying the peacefulness of the town. I practiced my shopping skills because there was really nothing left to do as we waited for the evening to catch our buses out of town. This was the perfect amount of time in Pushkar. I talked to some foreigners who came for a few days and ended up staying for months. It was a very peaceful place and I can see getting captivated by the ambiance but what could they possibly do with their days for all those months? I am leaving this siren song before it ensnared me as well.

Going Dutch

2011-04-30T18:46:00.001+05:30

I met a Dutch traveler over breakfast and we decided to head over to Ajmer together. That was certainly an experience. From the bus to Ajmer we walked forever trying to find The mausoleum of India's most significant Sufi sage, half a kilometer can sometimes mean four. I found it sad that we had to be warned numerous times to watch our belongings inside a mosque. We crammed into the inner sanctum around the tomb where I shared stories of the perennial stampedes that plague India. For some reason this, and the shoving and full on body contact made Nikki leave through a side exit. I got right up to the front and was next to touch the tomb but couldn't see what the observers were exactly doing so stepped back for fear of being found out as a non-believer.

Nikki had never had goat before so for the first time since leaving Mumbai I had meat. The restaurant was a bit confusing because I asked for goat in Hindi but the menu said mutton. Since my Hindi is still very weak and they didn't know English, it was a huge confusion with the whole restaurant in stitches as I tried to explain what I wanted using animal impressions. Turns out everyone in the restaurant was from Ahmedabad and spoke Gujrati, which finally made things much easier. By mutton, they actually mean goat. As we were eating they sat down next to Nikki one by one to take a photgraph with her. She was the only white person we saw in town but the superstar attention made me feel a little left out and I wanted to have someone take a picture with me. Nikki called the little girl back and as soon as I sat down next to her she cried. Just as we left I saw the butcher with the carcass of a freshly killed goat on the sidewalk and swarming with flys.

We then found our way to a Mosque that was built built by Aurangzeb, mostly with parts from plundered Jain and Hindu parts. The pillars still have the original figures on them, only roughly scratched off. On the way back I was swarmed with kids and commented that I was the movie star now but they left very quickly. We commented on how not persistent they were, usually the beggars stay with you for a lot longer before they realize they are wasting their time. They weren't wasting their time, I was a cell phone and camera lighter. That's why there are no pictures of Jaipur. And all my pictures from Pushkar are borrowed. I'll have to go to Delhi to buy a replacement, no camera shops in this small town.

Pink City

2011-04-29T18:40:00.002+05:30

I polished off my sightseeing this morning. I hired a rickshaw driver for the day to take me to the center of Pink City where I could check out the City Palace which is cool but not super impressive after seeing so many other Rajasthani palaces. What was impressive was the Jantar Mantar. Maharaja Jai Singh was really into astronomy and astrology so he built parks full of astronomical observation devices throughout his empire. This was the most complete and well preserved of these. Skip the audio tour, it was so bad I gave it back after about 10 minutes and sprung for a private guide instead. You really do need a guide to decipher these arcane structures and it was money well spent. These are a series of very large and very accurate measuring devices. One of them is the largest sundial ever built. The reason it's so big is that it's shadow can show the time to an accuracy of two seconds. You can see the shadow moving as you stand there.

The Rishaw guy then took me to his favorite spot in Jaipur, the royal mausoleums. It was as stunning as you would expect and also nice and quiet because it's a bit out of town. There were some serious steps, about a foot hight each, leading up to a ridge and then a further ramp with sweeping views of the city which is an interesting mix of domes flat roofs and cell towers.

We rushed back to the post office so I could mail back the extra shit I've been carrying around. I packed way too heavy and shipped more than half my stuff back to my aunt's house in Mumbai. I realized that I just completed the major stuff-buying state in India and barely bought anything, just a couple of set of clothes and a duvet cover which I probably won't use. I guess I'm over my knick knack shopping phase. I was around a lot of markets but never was inspired to really get into them.

Wow Pushkar is awesome. As soon as I arrived it felt immediately calmer and more pleasant than big city Jaipur. A tiny town with over 500 temples surrounding a small lake, it's the only place in India where Brahma, creator of the universe, may be worshiped. It's a major pilgrimage site among Gujratis. Meat, alcohol and drugs are strictly forbidden but hashish and bhang are acceptable. But late at night, walking down the street I was offered a full menu of drugs by a very friendly group of young people.

There is also a noticeable white tourist population and a LOT of shops catering to their buying needs. By noticeable I mean maybe a couple dozen but it's a small town. The white folk here are different than the other quick stop town all over India. They look like burners, certainly influenced by the sadus. Women dressed in flowing scarves and bells and long dread locks. These are the Indianest white people I've ever seen. And they speak fluent Hindi.

An Early Mid-Trip Crisis

2011-04-28T18:39:00.001+05:30

The Jaipur Intercity train had frequent stops at the towns and villages along the way. I slept for about an hour until a pack of loud Marwardi grandmothers boarded and of course sat on my bench. And they really got up close and personal Practically sitting on my lap. Luckily very few people on this train spoke English, but It did mean that I was stared at by just about everyone for the entire 10 hour ride. When I got to Jaipur I got a bad feeling for the place, it was crowded and had little discernible charm. I figured I will move on the next day.

I'm coming up on the 1/3rd point on my trip and coming to realize that it's completely impossible to see and do all that I would like in just 3 months. I've kept up a frenetic pace so far, with just one or two nights in each city, sightseeing all day and covering impossible miles on foot and local busses. I try to do most of my travel at night so I can use my time as effectively as possible. Everywhere I go I hear about another place I would love to add to the itinerary. I wonder if I tack on another month will I be able to check out more of the country, or would I use that time to fully experience the pace of life in a particular local.

India is unfathomably large and varied, there's no way to see any representative cross section of the lands, cultures and communities no matter how long you devote to exploring it. As fascinating as it all is, life on the road is hard. I wake up in a new city which I then have to navigate. I make and have to say goodbye to a new friend in each town. The inconveniences of having to negotiate every interaction, deciding who you can trust and who is wasting your time and the constant fear of dehydration make the simplicities of home life seem so gratifying, like being able to trust your food, smooth roads and open spaces.

I'm going to try to find a spot I like and spend a week there to decompress. Right now I'm thinking possibly a yoga Ashram in the Himalayas.

No Photos - Camera Lost!

Oh Rats

2011-04-27T08:18:00.001+05:30

Bikaner has yet another fort. It's incredible that so many waves of Afghan and Persian invaders fought over these barren lands for millennia. They guard valuable trade routes and these cities in Rajasthan have grown fabulously wealthy by controlling them. Their entire history is centered around the magnificent forts and the art that flourished within the stone walls. They also developed a very bizarre sense of honor that hid their women away and allowed sati. I just wonder how they managed to squeeze enough food out of these deserts.

The reason I came to Bikenar was because it is close to the village of Deshnok, the home of Deshnok Devi Mandir, the Rat Temple. The temple is devoted to Karni Mata, a 14th century priestess who could reportedly bring the dead back to life. She was asked o resurrect a child of the musician caste and unsuccessfully interceded on the family's behalf with the God of Death. Knowing that only rats are outside the dominion of Yama she proclaimed that all people of that caste would be reborn as rats.

The temple is a sanctuary for rats. They run fat and free all over the ground in swarms. People feed the rats sweets and milk and obtain their blessing by eating the offering that the rats nibbled on.

It was just about one of the most revolting sites I've ever seen. I went with the expectation of being creeped out and actually expected even more rat. I imagined a sea of rats that scamper all over your feet but you can step around them. But they are still rats and they are filth and their corpses are everywhere.

Inside the Fort

2011-04-26T08:04:00.000+05:30

I met up with the guy and gals from the night before over breakfast. We had planned on exploring the town and do a bit of shopping. The girls were bargaining rock stars, I was very impressed. The Jain temples were spectacular, as the usually are. There are supposed to be seven of the, but because they were all interconnected it looked like only 3. When I went to buy my admission ticket the ticket seller said, no, no Indians are free. Most of the sites have resident and non-resident admission tickets. I've usually been getting resident rates.

A significant theme of my experience so far in India has been about figuring out my level of Indians. A lot of my identity growing up had been that of an Indian. I may not have been particularly involved with the Indian community, outside of family, but to westerners I was exotic and I went with it. In India I identify much more with the tourists. We can relate to the experience of navigating India as an outsider. It really is very different than any other place, more unique than any place I have ever been to.

When asked where I'm from, if I answer Gujrat I feel a bit of a fraud but if I say USA they say "You look Indian, but not Indian." I'm obviously a Non-Resident Indian, but people still wonder. I get stared at constantly. It's not a bad-intentioned stare, just curiosity. But it is a little awkward when everyone in a train is looking at you for hours and they don't look away or smile when you meet their eyes. If they speak English they want to practice and that's really uncomfortable. You don't want to be rude but if you're doing something you really don't want to make small talk through a barrage of inane questions.

I'm also starting to figure out who is starting a conversation because they are genuinely interested in getting to know you or if they are trying to be your friend so you go to their guest house or their uncle's shop. The problem is that many folks are genuinely helpful and curious so sometimes you miss out on a real interaction because you don't realize until the end that they don't have anything to sell you.

I dress a little differently than the locals, but not like a tourist either. Indian clothing is quite flamboyant. The men wear bright flashy shirts and skin tight pants that flare a little at the bottom or jeans with wild embroidery. I don't wear shorts but I do carry a backpack. I usually wear solid colors, long loose pants and a long sleeve cotton pull over shirt.

Another Indian fashion phenomenon is the notorious mustaches, especially in Rajasthan. I had the barber give me a "Manoj", that's a goatee but with the link between mustache and chin hair shaved, which would be the "French Cut". It's not quite as traditional as a handlebar mustache. I think it well embodies my insider/ outsider status.

I may be more passable if my Hindi improves. Sab Kuch Milega.

Things are Looking Up

2011-04-25T11:07:00.000+05:30

I think the crapiness that was going on was all centered in Jodhpur, I just needed to get out of that vortex. From the time I entered Jaisalmer Fort everything has been way better. Jaisalmer is different from other cities in Rajastan in that private homes existed within the fort and most of these are now hotels but about 5,000 families still live in the fort as well, most of whom are occupied in the tourist trade.

I went to a guest house that a bunch of people had recommended, including my guide book but they didn't have any available rooms. I absolutley needed WiFi that evening so had to pick a place that could provide it to me. We tried their sister property next door which was pretty shabby and luckily the signal didn't reach. He walked me over to the hotel bordering his other side and from one of the rooms I could get full signal. Unfortunately that room was a beautiful two bedroom, one sitting room, two bathroom suite. That's a bit out of my price range. He called the owner, pleaded my case, and got it for me for less than $15 for the night on the promise that I don't turn on the AC. I wholehearted recommend the Surja and Rangmandir Hotels.

I took a much needed shower and washed all my clothes (with great guilt.) All the guide books, as well as the Indian government recommend travelers don't stay at guest houses within the fort because the drainage systems can't handle the water from all the tourists and it's destroying the foundations of the fort. But it's very cool being in the fort and the people here are actually really great.

I took my laptop back next door to the rooftop restaurant and surfed the net and drank beer with some cool tourists as the sun set. I slept very contentedly that night. A bit of kindness and pleasant surroundings really help put things back in place.

In a Jodhpuri Hole

2011-04-24T08:02:00.001+05:30

After visiting yet another thousand year old temple in Osian (interior glammed up in typical Marwardi style) I took a bus back to Jodhpur to take the overnight bus to Jaisalmer. I seem to have gotten stuck in a Jodhpuri hole. I have spent an inordinately long time here considering all of it's charms can be enjoyed in a single afternoon.

Jodhpur is known for their textiles so I figured I would do a bit of shopping. My cousin Anand gave me a recommendation for a shop. On telling the hotel owner, he insisted that I could get the same stuff for less elsewhere and he would take me around, of course that tacked a taxi fee onto my hotel bill.

The first stop was the shop Anand had suggested and he was right, the quality was unmistakably good. The salesman was a charectar. He had his whole spiel well rehersed including dramatic gestures and stories of royalty and movie stars. I had to bite the sides of my mouth to stop the laugh of mockery from erupting from my face. He also claimed that these were the same items produced for designer labels, I've heard that line in just about every market. If designers found their products being sold off label I think they would probably want to switch suppliers.

We still checked out a few other places and it all paled after seeing the first. We spent way too long with the other places because we had to sit and make pleasaentries with them, next time I'm not sticking around if there is no business to be made. As seems to always be the case here, offers of help always end up costing you more time and money than if you just did it yourself in the first place. I ended up going back to the original place to buy up my stuff ten minutes before they closed. I now have a blanket made from the testicle hairs of a mythical Tibetan goat.

After dinner I was thought I was still early for my train and just as I'm settling up my tab I realized that my piece of crap phone decided to switch back an hour from the actual time. My bus, the last one for the night, was gone. Fuck, another night in this rat hole hostel. I was lucky enough to capture the bottom floor room which was much cooler than the top floor closet but the down side was that the bathroom was absolutely revolting so I continued to go up the four flights for my ablutionary needs.

I will need to burn some sage or sacrifice a bull to Kali. Something, anything to break me from my curse.

Why must I make everything harder than it needs to be. I'm over this low budget bullshit. Why am I pretending to be a poor student. I don't need to stay in the airconditioned tent on safari, but I can at least spring for hot water showers at my hotels.

An Osian Away

2011-04-23T19:40:00.000+05:30

The highlight of most people's trip to Jaiselmer is a camel trek out to the desert. To avoid the tourist crowds and get a homestay all to myself I booked one from my Jodhpur hotel in the nearby town of Osian. I knew the guy was ripping me off but his wife and son are super sweet and I was feeling sorry for him and his pathetic guest house. But I would not recommend taking the camel trek from Jodhpur. You need to get to the bus station, ride a public bus for an hour and a half to Osian, then a camel along the asphalt for an hour then a half across the sand just to get to the camp.

Riding a camel is fun and the scenery is cool, well hot but cool. Unfortunately my tour guide was a 16 year old kid with just enough English to want to practice... all the time. The kid was driving me nuts. Turns out my tolerance limit for the young is nil from 6 to 26.

I told the kid about a dozen times to stop talking to me but he kept on yapping and yapping I wanted to push him off the camel and ride back to Jodhpur. His family was very nice and welcoming. To get away from the constant attention of the kid I sat around the house and helped the Grandmother clean vegetables on the cow dung floor and smoked tobacco out of a chillum with the uncle. I was about to go out for my nighttime ride but the kid started up again, so I delayed it for an hour so I only have to do sunset with him.

The highlight is seeing the stars at night while sleeping out in the sand. Unfortunately the house I was staying at got electricity a couple of months ago and had their property lit up so not so many stars, oh well, I was exhausted and slept well. I woke up to the sound of wild peacocks scuttling past me, that's a unique way to start your morning.

Through White Eyes/ The Castle

2011-04-22T18:50:00.000+05:30

I'd always heard that Indians hassle the hell out of white girls but I found it hard to believe. My experience has been that this is a very safe place and had an excessive protection of women. There were two tourists from Germany staying at my guest house and the three of us set off in the morning to go explore the city. They had mentioned that they were constantly hounded by kids and peddlers and skebe men. I assumed that it was just the big cities that they were in so far, Delhi being notorious. Turns out it's because they were good looking white girls. As soon as we rounded the corner from the hotel there was a flock of kids around them asking for "school pen", "10 rupees", and "one photo."

The previous day I tried to get to the fort, which is easily visible from every part of the city. I kept getting closer but hit one dead end after another. I climbed up over the wall and was again blocked. The closer I got the further away I realized it was.

This time I let my Germans lead and together we found an entrance right away. We took in the complex keeping an eye out for the ticketing booth but did notice that the few tourists out so early had audio tour headphones on. We were eventually asked to show our tickets which we had to go back down the ramps to find. Turns out we came in through a different entrance than most. Eventually we were in. I commented that it felt like I was stuck in Kafka's Castle, always getting closer but never actually getting inside, but my story had a more satisfying ending.

The fort is magnificent, it's a stunning structure and the collection through the museum, coupled with the audio tour really show you what life was like for 15th century Rajputs. Generally, it was about war, honor, indulgence and purdah. There is a plaque on the walls where you can see the tiny handprints of the wives of one of the rajas on their way to sati.

It was very interesting watching the difference between how I was approached and how the women were talked to in the tourist market under the clock tower. They were told they were beautiful, but somehow not at all in a flattering way, and I was informed about their friends in America, then directed to their uncle's shop. None of it was appealing to any of us, so I picked up a massive watermelon for us to gorge on and lugged it back to the hotel.

I decided to book a camel safari for the next day, and I needed money to pay up front for it. We set out to the ATM which according to everyone on the path was always 1/2 kilometer straight ahead, after a couple kilometers we found it. My card didn't work so I needed to call customer service. I hate lazy ass Indian call centers with a passion. You all know what the first answer is, try again in 5 minutes meaning you'll get someone else and it will be their problem then. The next response is that something is wrong with the machine despite the fact that both the ones I tried were working for everyone else. Finally it was determined that my account was still not activated. That being the first thing that I told them was probably the issue.

Being visibly distraught the girls bought me a coconut to soothe my ruffled feathers and we set of to more serene pastures at Umaid Garden. I noticed at this point that special "Indian" price for NRIs is about 25% more than the price they give tall German girls with a nice smile. The garden was pitiful. Most public parks seem to be a place for the homeless to nap and take drugs while secret couples cavort. At the market, at the park and just walking around town, these women attracted attention from men and boys like they were visiting royalty who were likely to pass out gold coins. Some of it was begging, some horny and some just genuine curiosity

Near the garden was a bank and I had US dollars on me so great maybe I can change money there. The NRI office was very friendly when they informed me , at 4:04PM, that they stop changing money at 4PM. But they did point me to another bank just 1/2 a kilometer down the road, yeah right. I went to collect my entourage but they were roped into being the official photographers of a birthday party at the bank. Of course the bank I went to was closed, looks like I'm living The Castle again.

Back at the hotel the owner was kind enough to change money for me, at a special Indian rate. Still better than the bank gave me. The bank was 42, this guy was 42.6 and a store gave me 45.

Color and Caste still hold importance to some segments, usually poorer, less sophisticated segments of society. Sunil, made it very clear on a number of occasions that he was Brahmin and mentioned that all white people look better than Indians. He also liked to remind us that he was a Bollywood star in his youth. Small impotent men make me indignant.

I do have to agree that we Indians do have a short shelf life in the motherland. We can be a stunningly good looking people until about 25 and then the toll of direct sunlight, poor dental hygene and oily foods rear their fat ugly leathery heads. I just want to tell the whole country, "Do a sit-up people!"

Please Kill Me

2011-04-21T07:51:00.004+05:30

I took a sleeper bus to Jodhpur which was very different from the sleeper cars you get on the train. The train cars have airconditioning (a bit too cold actually) a pillow, sheets and a blanket. The sleeper bus is a dusty pod with sliding windows. It felt just like Burning Man. You are breathing in very dry dusty air, on dusty bedding. Your earplugs barely muffle the sounds of very loud repetitive music (coming from the driver's cab.) And people coming and going in outrageous outfits. Add a terribly bumpy road, frequent stops, shouting farmers loading the bus and ferocious mosquitoes.

I got to town in a pretty miserable state. Somehow I must have fallen asleep because I woke up to a guy shoving me yelling at me to get off now. I made my way to a guest house that someone had recommended, I think my idea of roughing it is a bit different than his. The room was way up at the top, so broiling hot. It was exactly the size of the bed, plus a nook in the corner which housed a pile of old dusty furniture and a walkway on one side. Real sleep was only only a fantasy, especially with the mosquitoes that didn't respect the windows, maybe if there was glass or a screen on them, or some sort of shutter it would made it clearer to them that they were not welcome.

I was proud of myself for drinking so much water. By noon I had almost finished a liter. And then I had one more gulp, and realized why I was so thirsty. The water wasn't going anywhere, it had just been piling up in my stomach until that last gulp filled it to the brim and it had to come flowing back up like a gusher. At the bottom of the clean pure water that had taken 6 hours to consume was a nice little pool of blood. I have food poisoning, A.K.A Delhi Belly.

I tried to make my way up the the fort but the midday sun, hills and water sloshing around in my belly, not going anywhere proved more determining than my resolve for sightseeing efficiency. I'm writing today off.

In the evening I went for a walk through town, going downhill and trying to keep to only right turns but because of the winding roads there was no way I would find my way back. I finally saw enough and waited at an intersection looking for a rickshaw and sat down with some guys who were playing carrom. They taught me the game and kept an eye out for a taxi but none were coming so one of them just gave me a ride back home. That was a very hospitable gesture since I was about 15 minutes away and petrol costs twice as much here as back home.

The White City

2011-04-20T23:14:00.008+05:30

I had a long day to kill before my night bus to Jodhpur that evening. I let myself get lost through town again, looking for the post office. It is a bit of a haul away in a nondiscript building whith a small counter in the front that you can easily walk past, twice. I took a rickshaw to The Queen's Garden which had some fountains and a lawn to relax on a bit. On returning to town I realized I had enough siteseeing for a while, ugh what will Jodhpur feel like?

Udaipur is known as the white city because most of the buildings are whitewashed to reflect the heat. When I arrived at the station yesterday, I was the only visible foreigner on the train. I was not prepared to see tourists everywhere when I got to town. I was a bit aprehensive because tourist cities usually have very aggressive shopkeepers and there's always a hussle. This place was a pleasant surprise. It's a pretty low pressure place and the prices are great right off the bat, so I didn't bargain for much, which probably led me to overpay. The thing I did bargain for was my hotel, got a great deal on a great room and no William Shatner.

There are three palaces in Udaipur, one for the summer, one for the winter and one for monsoon season. I visited the winter palace yesterday, the summer palace is a hotel and tonight I had planned on visiting to the monsoon palace, on a hill overlooking the rest of the city, to watch the sunset.

To spend some time until then, I decided to do some shopping and had a few things made, a pair of loose pants, a couple thin pullover shirts and a cover for my notebook. While I waited for them to be built I relaxed over a great ayurvedic massage. I recommend skipping the head massage if you can't shower afterward since they pour oil onto your scalp. Unfortunately, the guys making my notebook cover decided not to start on it until I showed up, well at least I got to watch the process from start to finish. I even took over for a while when they were getting too distracted and slow doing the stitching. By the time they were done it was too late for the Monsoon palace, which is fine because I have seen enough palaces for now.

I sat down across from a couple of tourists at the bus stand and when I chimed in on my theory of malaria and why I'm not taking pills one of them did a cartoon double take. I'm totally passing for local now. Anyway, he's getting around with a small over the shoulder backpack, traveling for the next few months until he "runs out of money." He has just a few changes of clothes and mails his souveniers home as he picks them up. I love the idea in theory but my toiletries alone would fill a backpack. Yes, I had to take the electric toothbrush. A gentleman should not have to move his own bristles. Also, a hard shelled rolley is so much easier to drag than any backpack is to carry and it doubles as an impromptu seat on a crowded platform.

Lake City

2011-04-19T17:30:00.004+05:30

Udaipur is oppulent. It fulfills every oriental fantasy of supple dancing women in ankle bracelets and artisans sitting on cushions under pillars and musicians in courtyards. Just about every house here looks like it was once a palace. Carved wooden doorways flanked by detailed frescos lead to multistoried centuries old havelis. There are countless art shops for the tourist trade selling miniature paintings, leather goods, antiques and tailors. I took in a few of the city's sites including City Place and Jagdish Mandir. But mostly I spent the day wandering the narrow hilly streets taking in the feel of the place, and of course, getting lost frequently.

Tonight I was sitting at a rooftop restaurant in a cool breeze watching a red floating candle rising up to the full moon over the brightly lit havelis reflected in the soft ripples of Lake Pichola. It was a quintessentially Indian moment, listening to the sounds of devotional music from the temples around us punctuated with the honking of horns after downing a bhang lassi.

Night Train to Rajastan

2011-04-18T19:04:00.020+05:30

I don't really go too into much detail about the people I have been spending time with these past couple of weeks but that's been the most significant part of my journey so far. The people I have been spending time with have been the real experience so far. I will see a lot of amazing monuments but the memories that will leave indemnible marks on me are the people I have met along the way that have made such a difference at the start of my trek. I tried to thank them for their hospitality as I said goodbye to each of the people I've had the pleasure of spending time with so far, and hopefully they get some sense of the gratitude I feel. It's great being a guest, now the bar is set pretty high for me to aspire to.

I took the sleeper train to Udaipur in Rajastan. It was a peaceful night with families sprawled out in the station having picnics and naps. The stench of raw sewage at the platforms is rough though. I am riding an AC sleeper car through the night. There were two types of air conditioned tickets available, one was standby for the sleeper and the other was a reserved on cancellation, which gives you a seat on the AC chair and an automatic upgrade to sleeper if one is available. There's actually a thrid option which I chose. Trains reserve a certain number of seats in each class for emergencies use. They are only sold 2 days prior to departure and go quickly. I booked mine Saturday morning, for only 200 rupees more I was guarenteed a bunck on the sleeper train. See you in the morning.

No Taste for Aswad

2011-04-17T18:51:00.011+05:30

My Ahmedabadi family took me to Adalaj Vav and Gandhi's Sabarmati Ashram. The Ashram and attached museum describe life in the Ashram and chronicl the events of his life. In Ganhi's "experiments with truth" be set increasingly demanding personal expectations for himself and his followers. In the rules he set forth for the members of the ashram he forbade sexual contact, the consumption in meat or liquor, and aswad, the control of the pallate, using food only as medicine and not indulging in spices and flavoring.

The most exciting and always satisfying part of Indian culture that I've been reveling in is the food. To deny yourself the culinary masterpieces that are India's cultural heritage is missing the greatest part of the Indian experience. Each region has it's one cuisine and each town is famous for some specific food. That being said, I am dying for some crispy vegetables. Just about everything is cooked until soft and tender, which is necessary to get the spices and flavors to meld, but I miss the individual taste and bite of vegetables.

Ancestral Lands

2011-04-16T20:08:00.027+05:30

My family is originally from the village of Kambath, also known as Cambay, at the head of the Bay of Kambath. Neither of my parents actually ever lived there but Indians usually maintain a connectionto their town of origin, often marrying into other families with origins in the same village.

On the way down to Kambath I stopped off at Lothal, a Harrappan settlement from 2,500BC. Here you will find the remains of the first known dock in history and the excavated traces of the settlement. An interesting feature of Harrapan cities is their sewage drainage systems, the first to have such. It's actually a very small site, mostly missed by domestic and foreign tourists, way out in the middle of nowhere but because it was on the way I had the opportunity to visit it.

Kambath is a sleepy little town of 80,000 with few cars on the road, certainly more cows than cars. After meeting with some relatives my uncle Hemunt picked me up on a motorcycle and we rode around town to get a feel for the place. Kambath is actually an ancient place, reached by Alexander the Great when he poked into India. The mosque pictures was built in 1313.

We tracked down Ghodypore, Ghody Street, where curious locals who were wondering why I was taking pictures of the street showed me to where my grandfather lived. The place was boarded up and the street too narrow to capture the whole thing, so you'll see just the doors in the picture below.

We then rode past my maternal grandfather's house, so obviously built in the 60's. One of the neighbors who saw me taking photos insisted I knock on the door and meet the people staying there to take a look around inside. Some distant relations were occupying the house while their own place was being renovated. After the obligatory pleasantries I skipped the tour because my uncle had a couple places he wanted to show me at sunset.

Surya and Pani

2011-04-15T18:44:00.002+05:30

My uncle's driver, Ishmail, accompanied me to a couple of places in Northern Gujrat. The toll road is surprisingly smooth and like a real highway, except that people and livestock walk on it and across it.

Modhera is the site of an impressive 11th century sun temple. The temple is mostly intact despite being looted of it's gold idol of the Sun God Surya by invading Persians soon after it's construction. The temple has three main structures, a shrine room, a hall and a well, each one directly behind the other. As you walk up to the temple the first feature you see is a massive pit, which is actually an inverted stepped pyramid leading to a well at the bottom. These stepped wells, known as vavs, are particular to Gujrat. The structures are surprisingly pristine considering they were abandoned 1,000 years ago. I found my fisrt example of Hindu erotic temple art. Many more such scenes to come.

From there we drove off to Patana which boasts the grandest of all the vavs, Rani ki Vav, The Queen's Well. This massive structure has some of the most graceful friezes I have ever seen. Unfortunately, I left my camera in the car and took my photos on my cell phone, which do no justice to the scale or awesomeness of this monument. It's out of the way and takes a day to get to there but absolutely worth the time.

I had wanted to also visit one other step well closer to Ahmedabad and the Ashram that Ghandi lived in but, being close to 6, we ran out of time, those'll have to wait until Sunday. We put a lot of miles, kilometers, on the car today.

The temperature has been 42 degrees these last couple of days and I knew that it was hot but was a bit surprised when I got back to the internet to convert it, 107.6F. Being so close to the bay of Kambath and the Arabian Sea it's a humid intense heat.

Maxed out on Masjids

2011-04-14T00:27:00.018+05:30

Driving back into Surat to catch the train to Ahmedabad was kinda gross. Just outside of town are all the textile and pharmacuetical factories discharging black smoke into the thick grey air. This was in jarring contrast to the clean but dusty air I was enjoying in Bardoli and surrounding villages.

Bardoli was exactly what I needed before venturing out into the rest of India. The family I stayed with was totally laid back and I spent a lot of time relaxing and catching up on writing for this blog. The train ride was rather pleasant. I was in a "new" express train with airconditioning. They served refreshments and lunch over the 4.5 hour ride through the verdant Gujrati countryside.

Lopamasi and Hemuntmasa found me at the station in Ahmedabad, the largest city in the state of Gujrat. After lunch at their place I ventured back into the old part of town to explore. I checked out just about every site listed in my guide book. These were mostly mosques and tombs.

What's remarkable about this place is how its people live amongst these ancient monuments. Roads still pass under the original gates of the walled city, merchants occupy centuries old forts and people hang their clothes and play cricket on the mausoleum of the city's founder.

I was constantly asking for help to navigate the labrynthzl streets and everyone was super helpful. I think it would be impossible for someone to get along over here if they spoke only English. I didn't try but I figured that would be the case since many of the shop keepers in this part of town couldn't even read Gujrati. What was funny was when people figured my Gujrati was too broken to understand they assumed I must be a Hindi speaker. On my way back, my rickshaw driver asked me what language they spoke in California.

A Close Shave

2011-04-13T10:48:00.003+05:30

I started the day off with learning how to play badminton at the town's local sports club. Then I was on my own to explore town again. I found the most primitive shave stand on the street, which was really just a plywood stall with a chair all open to the street. The shave itself was pretty luxurious. He rubbed my beard with all sorts of oils and actually shaved me twice, using new blades each time, of course. The whole thing was less than 50 cents. I gave him a 50% tip so by the time I walked past again the whole barbershop crowd gave me waves and smiles. Yeah, I'm a baller (said with irony.)

My dad's friend took me to a couple of the local temples. The first contained a thousand year old worn down Shiva Lingum. They then surrounded it with Disney style fiberglass glam. The second was the Swaminarayan temple, a large international organization. This was surprising well made considering its young age and the modern Indian penchant for glitz.

A half naked man in a loincloth called me over as I was walking towards the bathroom, luckily Hindu priests aren't known for being molesters. But he did try to convince me to visit their center in San Jose and wanted to give me some phone numbers of people who I should talk to in the States to get more information. I could have pretended not to understand and he may have let me go, but I was curious. I find it funny that he thought I would be enticed into meeting their saints in the US by telling me that the men never touch money and the women can't even speak to men.

Back in the real world, Bimal, Rahul and I ate fried fish for dinner. I was worried at first, but my reckless persuit of pleasures convinced me that just one could do me no harm. Ingesting anything that comes out of polluted Indian rivers is a scary proposition. It was actually very good and tasted super fresh, seasoned, I'm sure, with mercury and arsenic.

The Hot Gujrati Sun

2011-04-12T20:41:00.000+05:30

I am now in Gujrat, the Westernmost state in India, just North of Maharashtra. I came to my father's childhood friend's place in Bardoli. It's a small town near the city of Surat. Surat is know for diamond cutting and polishing and textile manufacturing. It's a very industrial town with polluted air. Bardoli, by contrast is pretty rural, it has just one big industry and that is the co-op sugar factory, the largest in Asia.

My father's friend runs a hospital with his wife, two sons and their wives. They also run a 35 acre farm, in the neighboring village, Utara, named after Shivagi's stopping off during a campain. The farm was originally intended to supply the farm but now also produces enough to turn a profit. We hit the farm early in the morning, but not early enough to spot local peacocks. We took the kids and harvested some fruit until the sun got too intense. They grow mangoes, sugar cane, custard apple, and an assortment of vegetables.

I explored the town on my own and found it refreshing to be in a small slow paced town. People are much friendlier, relaxed and curious than in big Asian cities that are used to tourists and scrounging for tourist dollars. It's also really cool to be in a place that I know the local language, as broken as my Gujrati is, I can still just get by.

Byzantine Bureaucracy

2011-04-11T20:19:00.004+05:30

Things can be needlessly complicated here. Getting anything done takes much more time than it should. There's a reason why American companies calculate each Indian outsourced worker's productivity to be equivalent to 1/3 to 1/5 that of an American's. Getting a straight answer, confirmation or follow through is rare. It can be a bit frustrating but I'm sure I'll get used to it.

My first hassle of the day was the bank. It was my second visit to try and open an account so I can carry an ATM card with me rather than a stack of cash. You have to provide a photo for their files, a letter stating why you want to open an account, proof of residency in the US, photocopies of my passport and visa, a list of each bill you are depositing including serial number, and a change of signature form because some of the couple of dozen places I had to sign I used a slightly messy scrawl and both versions had to be on file. Now strangely enough the red tape is really just a formality. I signed form after form, but they were all blank to be filled in by the banker later. Oh, by the way, interest on a checking account is over 10%. The exchange rate was terrible though, I found out later. It's all about as effective as the toy rifles they carry with the champagne cork in the barrel.

Train bureaucracy makes bank bureaucracy look simple. There's a dizzying array of seat types. When you get to the station figuring out the process of claiming your ticket is a bit of a labrynth. There's a window for seeing if you made the list, one for reserved tickers, another for claiming your confirmed ticket from the waitlist, and a dozen others that I'm not sure what they do. In another building is the information desk and in another section of that building a place to buy unreserved tickets. I unfortunately discovered the function of those windows in the reverse order. So by the time I got to the right window my ticket was canceled.

I ended up going to one of the non-AC assigned seats because the train started moving before I could make it to the end of the platform for un-reserved. I sat until the first stop then had to stand for the rest as all the seats were taken. Others in the train also didn't have assigned seats, or probably tickets, so they stood in the aisles. The best seat seamed to be in the open doorway. When the kids sitting there finally moved I swooped in and perched. It looks a lot safer when someone else is doing up but was scary as hell when you are precariously balanced on the floor of a wobbling train with nothing between you and the tracks below but your own confidence. But the breeze was cool and well worth the stomach butterflies. The train ride itself was very interesting. There is a constant flow of vendors offering tea, coffee, snacks, the occasional urchins that jump on and off (they aren't as pushy as other Asian or SF beggars) The scenery is pretty cool too. The train went up the West coast. Along the way it's small villages, farms, rivers and a LOT of mosques and temples.

Theatre Nap

2011-04-10T08:17:00.007+05:30

I figured I should see at least one Bollywood movie while in Mumbai. Unfortunately it's the wrong season for movies. It seems it's the wrong season for everything. Everyone's glued to cricket right now so this is when the release the really bad movies. I fell asleep five minutes in and woke up when the lights came on for intermission. Apparently it was really bad and everyone was eager to leave without seeing the second half.

Now on to actual sighseeing. Cousin Mita and her husband, Ketan, drove me all over Mumbai showing me the different neighborhoods and pointing out the various points of interest, mostly grand old buildings from the time to the British Raj. Just about everything has been renamed after Chhatrapati Shivaji. He was a famous Marathi leader who grew the Marati empire to capture 1/3 of India from the Mughuls back in the 17th century. Towards the end of the afternoon we headed down to Hanging Gardens, in Valkeshwar neighborhood, for a stroll. Ketan and I went off on an exploration of Haji Ali's tomb which is a mausoleum on a small man-made island in a bay with a very crowded walkway packed with vendors and pilgrims. We balanced it all out with a trip to the Hindu Mahalaxmi Temple next door.

The Terror Tour

2011-04-09T19:31:00.002+05:30

The last time I was in India was to see my cousin Mamta marry Satyan. They spent the evening with me today, taking me on a tour of the city by night. Except for the Gandhi museum near their house, just about all of the spots we saw were targeted by the terrorists in 2008. We visited the Gateway of India, Taj, Oberoi, Leopold Cafe and CS Terminus. Later that night they took me to Bademya, an extemely popular grilling stall that fills the street with patrons through the night, mostly eating on their car hoods and trunks. It was a nice relaxed night of just being out and chatting.

Eventually I was dropped off at the Wilmington club again to share in my cousin-in-law's wife, Aanika's, birthday celebration. That was a fun, chill group of people. I just wish the music was a bit softer so I could talk to them more, my usual complaint just about every time I go out. Unfortunately the bars in Mumbai close at 1:30 which makes it hard to go out since dinner is usually around 10PM. After a pit stop to another street grill we took the revelry back to the apartment for a final nightcap.

Juhu and Bandra

2011-04-08T19:28:00.003+05:30

My cousins Gaurang and Ashwini took me on a tour of Parle (pronounced Parla when by itself and Villay Parlay when said in tis entirety) and some of the surrunding suburbs. The areas north of South Bombay aren't really suburbs, they are technically part of the city, part of the newer sprawl.

One of these areas is Juhu Beach. That's where many of the Hindi movie stars, like Amita Buchan, live. His house was obviously grand but dwarfed by some of the industrialist's mansions in South Bombay. We stopped by the Iskon headquarters and main temple, these are the Hare Krishna people. I thought that this was actually an American thing but thurns out they have their roots in India. The beach itself was pretty nice. We walked along it for a while sipping cocnut until it was time for lunch.

Bandra is just on the other side of the bridge from Mumbai and is known having a lot of really good restaurants. The place we went to was one of the better Indian Chinese restaurants but I don't think I'm a huge fan of the genre. By the way, anything Asian is considered Chinese, so we started with a Tom Yum and progressed to Dim Sum, which is their term for dumplings and finally pomfrete which is a delicious local fish.

Later that afternoon I headed back to Mumbai from Vile Parle via autorikshaw, these are all compressed gas, back to Bandra where I took a regular cab the rest of the way. Only full size cabs are allowed in Mumbai. My cousin, Mumta, the two cousins she grew up with Anant and Tulsi, and all their spouses took me to the Willmington Club for a pre-dinner drink or five. In Bombay, they measure each drink as a shot, larges are doubles. I think singles are triples in SF. Dinner was back in Bandra at 11, my third time in the area that day.

There are a surprising number of meat eaters in my generation. A few are closet meat eaters and the others only have it outside the home. They don't allow their children to partake and as far as they know their parents don't. I wonder if meat is naturally enticing and we genetically gravitate to it because our bodies crave it or if it has a taboo appeal. I think because I have the option of having it whenever I want that to me food is just food. I wonder what it would be like if I didn't have it for a while, not that I would try that out any time soon. I want to know what it's like to have not had it, then try eating flesh for the first time and if you then crave it from then on.

Extreme Hospitality

2011-04-07T19:27:00.000+05:30

Keep in mind that this post was written a week after the posting date and everything I talk about has remained true.

Hospitality is an important part of Indian culture. Guests are treated with heartfelt and attention and devotion. Everyone wants to do whatever they can to make you as comfortable as possible and will go well out of their way to make it happen. It's a bit hard getting used to coming from a self-reliant, private and independent place (I know how shocking it must be for some of you to read me call myself independent or private.)

You are asked incessantly if you have any needs, put in the center of conversation and served first at meals. I haven't been able to crack open my wallet since arriving except for slipping out to indulge my daily coconut habit. I'm still trying to figure out if it's my duty to accept all the hospitality, or if there is a way to politely say, "stop worrying about me, I'll help myself."

Don't get me wrong it feels really nice and sincere. I will have plenty of time on the tourist track where I will be crying out for the familial love I've been wading through this first couple of weeks.

You have to eat slowly and evenly across your meal. As soon as the level of any one thing on your plate drops, someone will ask you if you want more. Now, I figured this out, but I have yet to test it because the food is always so good I end up scarfing it all down. From looking at photos I can tell that I've already gained quite a bit of weight, all around the belly. All this kindness is going to lead to a coronary.

The Big City

2011-04-06T21:29:00.003+05:30

I took a taxi into Mumbai to spend the afternoon with my mother's side of the family. The first 13 kilometers takes about 15 minutes, the last few over an hour. There is an easier way.

In town, my cousins took me out to lunch at delicious Copper Chimney. The restaurant was located in a high end, rose water scented, mall. I now have a tour book, Lonely Planet. I found a great pair of shoes that I was tempted to buy until I realized that I misplaced the decimal point in my conversion. At $750 for a pair of kicks I realized I was in the wrong shopping center, time for me to go back to the cousins.

I met Anant across the street, which was a harrowing frogger game across a busy highway, only to realize that there was barbed wire in the shrubs in the divider. We went to the grey market electronics mall where you can get electronics smuggled in to avoid duty. I could have made a small fortune with an iPad2. My cousin Mamta patiently helped me choose fabric and styles for the linen shirts and pants I'm having made. I prefer to look like a colonialist in linen than a tourist in shorts.

I took the commuter train home at rush hour which was just like you see in the movies, you jump on and off while the train is still moving. The ride was shorter, more interesting and costs 7 rupees as opposed to the 400 I spent on my morning taxi. I also got a blessing from a eunuch for 2 rupees, now that's a bargain.

It's cute how concerned everyone is that the soft American will have so much difficulty getting around in big bad India. What I think they may fail to understand is that India has so much more infrastructure and is actually considerably wealthier than some of the places I've recently traveled. But it all comes from a genuinely good place so I'll take all their advice and reassure everyone that I will only drink bottled water.

When I got home the level of danger here was put nicely in perspective. The guy who is renting Arthur's place in the 'Loin saw a man pull out a gun on the street and shoot someone in the chest 4 times, his car was broken into the next day. I think I'll reserve my fear for that f-ed up emo kid in the small town US mall with easy access to his parents' guns.

Morning in Mubai

2011-04-05T13:00:00.006+05:30

Arun Uncle and Smita Aunty came to the airport to collect me and take me back to my father's family home of Shanti Niwas (Eternal Peace) in the suburb of Vile Parle (East), about 15 kilometers North (1 hour by car) of Mumbai central. The last time I was here was 17 years ago when it was still called Bombay.

They say that scent makes for the strongest associations of all the senses and I have to agree. As soon as I stepped out of the airplane I felt a wave of familiarity with the smell of Asia and particularly India. The whole way home I felt like a dog with his head out the window taking in all the aromas of this new place. It is this fascinating mixture of incense, flowers and dust. Kinesthetically it's temples and honking horns.

I strolled around the neighborhood for about an hour and a half collecting fruit, samosas, coconuts and flower garlands before realizing that I've gone pretty far and that road sign are sporadic and streets too curvy for my meager sense of direction.

I want to describe what I've seen but there was so much and at the same time so little going on you have to just take it all in as a whole. There was huge variety in every aspect of it and there's still an overall cohesive Indianess of it all. The spectrum of life here is so diverse and vibrant. The roads are shared by pedestrians, bicyclist, motorcycles, auto-rickshaws, taxis, small cars, luxury SUVs, mobile water tanks, fruit stands, vendors and feral cats and dogs and somehow they all make it around each other. Nothing seems typical but it all fits together.

Chasing the Sun

2011-04-04T15:27:00.005+05:30

I spent 22 hours traveling East at a rate of 1 time zone every 2 hours to arrive 12 1/2 hours in the future. San Francisco International Airport (SFO) to Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport (BOM) via a 2 hour layover in Flughafen Frankfurt am Main (FRA). Yesterday I was skiing in the California mountains, today I'm flying over the North Sea and tomorrow will be below the Tropic of Cancer.

I have absolutely nothing planned so far. Anyone who has traveled with me in the past knows how out of character that is. I'm trying something new since I have the luxury of time to do it without the pressure of a schedule. All I know is that I will start in Mumbai and experience my way through this country.

Don't give up yet

2009-09-03T07:15:00.000+05:30

Sorry I have been negligent is keeping up with the blog. We have been so busy every day that I just couldn't find the time. I have put up some rough drafts for now so I can start fresh from today on. Pictures coming soon. Stayed tuned.

Shanghi-ed in Saigon

2009-08-27T19:45:00.001+05:30

While checking out this morning I discovered that my tour guide from yesterday Shanghi-ed me from another company. He had charged my hotel for the tour even though I paid for a tour elsewhere. When I showed him my receipt for the tour he took and kept it, knowing that I was not supposed to be in his tour group. My instincts told me this guy was shay and to double check with my travel agent but he insisted I didn't have to pay him anything so I let it go. Anyway, after I explained the situation to my hotel, they took it off the bill.

I spent the rest of the day visiting the remaining sites and eating along the way. My caloric intake fluctuates wildly from day to day. Some days I'm too busy to eat much at all but most days I eat constantly picking something up from various street vendors.

I swung by the art museum which is in a great French colonial building. Outside, but still on the grounds, are commercial art galleries. One that was particularly interesting was called Shades of Grey by a friendly visiting Japanese artist. He had collected tree leaves and painted over them in a solid color. There's something I always enjoy about taking an object and laying a flat coat of paint over it so you can still make out the original, but only after looking closely.

The museum itself had a great collection. It was by far my favorite place to visit in Saigon. The bottom floor was all contemporary art, and all very interesting and creative. The second floor was modern, mostly from revolutionary times and propagandist. The top floor was historical art and pretty limited. It was on that floor that I met Stephanie.

We walked together to the Presidential Palace, through the market and stopping for a delicious fruit smoothie along the way. The Palace is now known as the Reunification Palace. It is a large concrete open style architecture building typically 1960s. After snapping a couple of pictures went to a restaurant Hung had recommended which I now recommend to you as well, Quan An Ngon. It is a restaurant of street vendor food brought indoors. They have little stalls all around the perimeter of the restaurant so you can sit in comfort and watch the different foods being made in a clean environment and all combined into one convenient menu. I would have loved to keep a menu as a dictionary of Vietnamese street food. We strolled back to the post office and Cathedral where I split off to go visit Puoc Hai, the Jade Emperor Pagoda which has no jade and isn't a pagoda.

In a Cu Chi Tunnel

2009-08-26T20:14:00.000+05:30

There were 9 of us on a big AC bus to the Cu Chi tunnels, about 30 miles North of the city on the banks of the Saigon River. They are a massive series of tunnels used by guerrilla fighters of the Viet Cong in their resistance to the Americans and the Southern Vietnamese government. If you can find your own ride there, I would recommend going yourself instead of on a tour. Motorbike rental is probably the best way to tour. It is an interesting site but you can see the whole thing yourself in 1/2 hour. The guided tour takes 5 hours and takes you through more souvenir shops than exhibits.

Our tour guide was trying his hardest to sound like a cool slang talking American but he ended up coming off as a total ass. Even after asking him to move onto the next topic and explaining that he was rude and offensive he continued on his homophobic comedy routine. He eventually started in on how much he appreciated President Clinton for lifting the economic embargo on Vietnam in 1995 and that Obama is good too, for a "Chocolate Baby." I had to inform him that President Obama was not, in fact, made of chocolate and was actually a full grown man. Our tour guide at the tunnels was talking about one of the workers there and how much sex she will provide the men on the tour and for what price. Luckily for her she didn't understand what he was saying. They were obviously trying to be personable and casual but I was completely embarrassed that people like them think this is the kind of humor that typical rough and tumble Americans enjoy.

A must see is the War Remnants Museum. It shows in graphic detail the atrocities of the American war and its aftermath. 3 million Vietnamese were killed in the war, 2 million of which were civilians. A lot of the museum is dedicated to showing the horrific birth defects caused by Agent Orange.

What I find very interesting is that the Vietnamese and Cambodians really like Americans despite our very recent past. It seems they are very focused on the present and enjoy our entertainment culture. Hollywood is the best ambassador we ever had.

I met three girls on the bus who were in the middle of vacations ranging from 6 months to a year. I love how Europeans travel. No, actually I love that Europeans travel, how they travel is another story. I can't do the whole dirty backpacker heavy drinking from one cheap tourist bar to the next. We and a couple other guys who were staying at their hotel all went out to dinner and for a couple drinks on a 7th floor rooftop bar. Vietnamese building are tall and thin. They have almost no footprint and are crammed in next to each other so there are no windows except in the front.

Rain Follows Me

2009-08-25T09:57:00.000+05:30

The rain was coming down hard as I rushed through flooded streets to catch the first bus of the morning out of town. Just as I sat down in my seat it occurred to me that I saw none of the sites of Phnom Penh, didn't buy any knick-knacks at the market and most importantly, never tried fried tarantula. I had been so busy working that I never got a chance to be a tourist. I should have gotten off the bus and spent the afternoon visiting the city as a vacationer but thought better of it for the rain. It would have been pretty uncomfortable trying to get around in the downpour. Of course, as soon as we started rolling, the sun shined through.

It was a pleasant ride through the country on the way to Ho Chi Minh City. The entire trip takes about 6 hours including a relatively smooth border crossing. The first thing I noticed when we got to HCMC is the traffic. The streets are wide like a modern planned city and are insanely congested with motorbikes. The bus takes you to the touristy Pham Ngu Lao neighborhood of District 1. I found a nice hotel about a block away called the Viet Nghi Hotel on Bui Vien Street, which is the main backpacker drag. It cost a couple bucks more than the others I saw but it is worth it for the cleanliness and comfort.

Zing from the project is accompanying me this afternoon until she has to fly to Hanoi. When we got out onto the street the rain started pouring down. As you know from yesterday's blog, I love rain walks so we made our way to the moneychanger that at 18,000 Vietnamese Dong to the dollar made me an instant multi-millionaire. We looked like two wet cats. Monsoon rains are quite different than what we have back home in the US. The raindrops seem huge and there are a lot more of them falling at once in each square foot. Every time the rain seemed to be coming down at maximum possible volume, it would come down even heavier.

I took it easy tonight. I picked up some Banh Mi, Vietnamese sandwich, and some beef and rice from a cart to take back to my hotel where I caught up on some blogging and watched Monsters Inc on the Disney Channel. I stepped out for a midnight stroll before calling it a night. The sex trade is booming over here. I kept getting propositioned by prostitutes and pimps all along my route. As soon as I got back into my room, the guy at the front desk rang me up and asked if I wanted a girlfriend for the night. I thanked him and declined but I should have explained I still wasn't interested but wanted to know how much.

Shuffle Along

2009-08-24T15:21:00.000+05:30

We did our last workshop in the morning. We had another great audience but we planned a little more this time and the result was a somewhat staler presentation. After the workshop we moved to the school to spend the last day we all had together. Back at the apartment we hung out. Anwar discovered that the building had a rooftop that gave us a great view of the surrounding area. We didn’t know how close we were to the river and how many pagodas surrounded us. We stayed up there until the sun set. Just as night fell, the rain started up. I love going out in tropical storms. It’s a rare treat to be out in the rain and still be warm. It’s like a big outdoor shower. I offered the opportunity to go out on a rain walk to the group but Cristal was the only one to take me up on it. We ha a nice walk and conversation down to the river.
We had our final farewell party at the Scandinavia lounge. It’s usually closed on Mondays but the owner, Eric, opened the space up for us. Eric had disovered table shuffleboard at Dave and Busters and seen it in Europe and was hooked. He spent the last 8 months building the lounge. Because wood warps so easily he made his out of long solid polished granite slabs on sturdy wood tables he built himself. The metal pucks ride on silicon beads making it the smoothest game I ever plaed. It’s a lot of fun and the only place to play table shuffleboard in all of Southeast Asia.

After dinner, we meandered back upstairs. I took a few people into the library to show them his amazing temple painting from the ‘60s. We sat and talked about polotics and religon and mythology for a while. It was really great to get an honest perspective from young Cambodians on the Khmer Rouge and hear it’s history.

We played the game, ate dinner over there and did a round of saying what we were grateful for. The most common one was gratitude for having the chance to work with people who were so passionate and caring. Eric observed the round and commented that it felt like a cult. In just 2 weeks we had formed a freakishly strong bond and a deep belief in the goals of SEALNet.

We promised to stay in touch which never really happens, but it might this time. Over the past two weeks we really managed to form a group that genuinely cares for each other

First Seminar, Last Performance

2009-08-23T15:22:00.000+05:30

We had over a hundred paying attendees at our seminar. After a quick poll we realized that most of them were small business owners and the rest were either in middle management or planning on starting a new business in the next few months. Even though the audience was English proficient professionals we still had a translator which is good because I have been accused in the past of talking too fast. Our translator was really impressive. He spoke perfect English and was able to translate on the fly and even change some of our answers to be more relevant to the culture.

Arthur had put a lot of work into creating a really good presentation. He did a lot of research and came up with a very cohesive interesting program. We gone over how we would tag team the delivery so one person would talk about a particular point while the other supported. We had a series of cues to communicate non-verbally to et the other know when we wanted to speak, or hurry up or clarify. Since I wasn’t all that involved with creating the material and I didn’t have a huge amount of time preparing I had to improvise a lot. Luckily I am really good at winging it. It couldn’t have gone any better.

Everyone was paying attention and the energy of the room was excellent. It was a much more interactive session than I thought we could have. People were participating, volunteering answers and asking questions. It must have been relevant to what they wanted to hear about because very single person came back after the lunch break. We added a half hour question and answer period when our original three hours were up. A bunch stayed after to talk to us and even take pictures with us.

Cambodia Television Network came in right after we finished our workshop to set up to film the dress rehearsal and stayed to film the live performance as well to be broadcast later. That night was our final Panchapor performance and it was very well attended. We had invited all of our sponsors to the first show so tonight’s show was mostly people who heard about it from word of mouth or the newspapers. What was really great to see was that such a large proportion of the audience as made up of young people, precisely who we are trying to reach. We had quickly filled up all of the seats and any available sanding room. We had to turn away people who showed up late because there just wasn’t any space. I as well as most of the project team and many of the mentees volunteered o stay outside to make space for the guests.

Trent came to dinner with us and on the way home he sang us two hauntingly beautiful Khmer chants. The first one was about offering flowers and the second was of the last words of Buddha. Back at the apartment he translated the Khmer writing on my temple paintings.

Full House and Dengue

2009-08-22T15:23:00.000+05:30

We had our first performance. People were nervous but prepared. Before the performance there was a reception where our guests mill about in the courtyard an hear from the students about the different organizations taking part in the performance. The students were also responsible for selling t-shirts, collecting donations, and ushering people to their seats. Luckily that was all these eager students needed to feel a part of the performance but it is a serious concern of Arthur and myself that despite the excellent lessons they learned on leadership from the core tem, this is the extent of the leadership experience we can provide them. Now that doesn’t mean that they didn’t grow from the experience, even the shyest and most nervous students ended up being surprisingly confident when speaking in front of groups of strangers.

I think everyone was pleasantly surprised with how well it all went. We heard the same thing from just about everyone we had talked to that they never saw anything like it. Tickets to the performance were given out free and donations were accepted. We had filled all 400 seats and had many standing in the back. We didn’t expect to collect much money since there isn’t a strong culture of donation but we actually managed to collect about $800.

I was glad to see Trent show up tonight. He is a long time SEALNet-er with a long involvement in Cambodia. He had first come to the region right after high school to study music with his jazz group. He ended up staying for a full year as a Buddhist monk. Kind of a surprising life choice for a white kid from California of atheist parents. He and his mom came to dinner with us that night. They both just arrived from Bangkok where Trent spent the last two weeks in hospital with Dengue fever caught near Angkor Wat. The symptoms of Dengue are high fever, extreme dysentery, a rash all over your body, bone break pain and when you start bleeding from all your orifices they airlift you to Thailand. Considering the ordeal he looked very healthy an in good spirit.

The Storm

2009-08-21T15:24:00.000+05:30

A series of events that have been building since the beginning of this project finally came to a head today. Being the day before our performance, tensions were at an all time high, all around. Appaarently there is a typical flow to group dynamics and one phase of that is storming that is when tensions flare up and the team either falls apart or reforms.

I witnessed rushed tones and curt behavior, which I am used to in the (un) professional workplace but seemed so very out of character in this group. I wasn’t there at lunch but I heard the addressed it with each other and it great to hear how everyone in the group is so impressively open to feedback and willing to address their own behavior. Incredible self-awareness.

Arthur and I also had numerous concerns that we brought up repeatedly, from long before we came to Cambodia, with the way the project was being run. It is our responsibility to be advocates for SEALNet when we think that things are going off course. I had resigned myself to let it play out because I thought it was too late to change things, and give up in the face of resistance. Arthur convinced me not to give up just yet.

That night our debrief lasted for three hours and we all laid out our concerns. Confrontation is difficult for me but becaue it came from a place of genuine caring and conern to improve the situation and our relationships it was actually very comfortable and productive. It was a real growth experience for me and I learnt a lot about trust and the importance of building a relationship before diving into things and talking things out in a reasonable constructive way before they turn into major issues.

People are Perfect, Judgement is Flawed

2009-08-20T15:24:00.000+05:30

We met with Digital Divide Data, a social entrepreneurship in Cambodia. They were very generous with their time to meet with us for a good long time, tell us all about themselves and hear what we are all about, then they showed us their operations. They recruit the top high school students from rural areas who already have English competency and as well as economic need, teaching them IT skills through a four-year program. The students are put to work while with DDD doing data entry and document discovery. They earn a good salary and the organization uses its profits to build and recruit. They find it difficult to find funding because they are so similar in their financial functioning to a traditional business.

DDD was founded by a guy visiting Cambodia as a tourist who fell in love with the country. He somehow managed to get a meeting with the King and told him that he wanted to do something but wasn’t sure what yet. The king replied that he should come back in one year and he will support him in whatever he chooses to do. That was five years ago. To me this is the typical Cambodian story. You come for a visit, get caught in its magic and want to stay, not to fix it but to help in some way. It’s the only place that I have ever seen that you can make things truly happen in just a few years. I look forward to meeting the founder back in California to hear his story first hand.

There is a lot of potential for future partnerships between DDD and SEALNet. They expressed interest in having their students get training from us and maybe have their managers go through our leadership training. They would also be an ideal partner for our future mentees to work with as the service portion of our program. They could learn a lot about how a successful social enterprise functions and be an inspiration of how quickly things can be moved. There are a lot of possibilities there and I look forward to seeing where it leads. For me this would be great practice in the softer skills of business relationship building.

I have to work on letting people be who they are. Arthur sometimes takes the blame for things that are not his fault. I then get frustrated and try to jump in. I recognize that the taking the blame thing is something I’ve inherited from my parents and I’m worried that if I see it around me I will do it myself. I’ve also inherited the arrogance that I can fix people. What I need to work on is accepting people do things differently than I would and that doesn’t mean they aren’t doing them correctly it’s the way they do things. It will be hard for me, but essential, to learn to stop seeing things in terms of flaws and correctness and accept people as inherently perfect.

Expats and Do-Gooders

2009-08-18T09:51:00.003+05:30

One of our goals as project mentors is to be evangelists for SEALNet and use our time here to build relationships with people in the community. While the project leaders focus on their particular mission we have taken it on ourselves to try to talk about the broader goals of the SEALNet organization. We are looking for sponsors or people who may be able to assist in the future. We also want to see who is doing what here as possible partners for future projects. It's a lot of fun, we just get introduced to the most interesting people in town and talk to them about what SEALNet does, what our project is doing and hear about their organization and what it's like to work in the region.

There’s probably no more than two degrees of separation between any two foreign residents of Cambodia. As we met one person, they would offer to introduce us to someone else. Even if those two people only met one it would be enough to arrange a meeting.

Christy works for the social entrepreneur group Hagar. Their office is located in the Swiss consulate because the founder is also the Swiss Consular to Cambodia. Christy, an American, met him while working for the UN in Switzerland and she has been with the group for two months now. They take sex workers and abused women and give them employable skills. First they train them in how to be an employee with things like the importance of being on time and showing up to work regularly. They also have a number of enterprises they can work for to earn a livable wage. Their flagship program is a catering business that serves five star hotels. Their profits are funneled back into the training programs, shelters and medical care. After five years of operation they are already planning on expanding to Thailand, Afghanistan and Laos. We had a great conversation about social entrepreneurship, the different models of it out there and the difficulties in implementing an experimental model.

Directly from Hagar we went over to the Scan Hotel, which is where I had stayed last year. On that previous visit I had briefly met with the owner Eric, who seems to know a lot of the interesting people of Phnom Penh. He’s also the one who introduced me to temple painting. His hotel is really cool with art all over the place and cool professional clientele. He seemed genuinely interested in what we are trying to accomplish and eager to help however he can. He will try to get us meetings with potential resources, I am hoping he will hook us up with a killer deal on next ear’s project.

What Wat is Which

2009-08-17T15:27:00.000+05:30

I visited quite a few wats around Phnom Penh. They generally have a similar layout. Most have been built since the end of Khmer Rouge and they are in a constant state of expansion. On the grounds is one central hall, which is raised and higher than the rest of the structures. This hall is where the monks have their morning prayers and is open to the public for special functions such as holidays and weddings. This building usually has guardian Garudas on the roof. There is a slightly less ornate building that is ground level where the monks take their meals and the lay people can pray. Both of these buildings will contain statues of the Buddha. Cambodian temples have scenes from the Buddha’s life on the walls and often ceilings. On the grounds are numerous stupas of various sizes, which house the ashes of deceased patrons, like Christian crypts. Temple grounds can have a variety of auxiliary buildings as well. There can be administrative offices, workshops for construction, kitchens, even lay houses and businesses that ret out space.

As the founding legend of Phnom Penh goes, in the 14the C, Lady Penh fished a log out of a lake and in that log were three Buddha statues. She had a hill built over the site, phnom is Khmer for hill, and a temple, wat, built on the top. The town eventually grew up around the temple. The actual temple on the site was rebuilt in the beginning of the 20h V. It’s just one of the many temple all over the city. 95% of the population is Buddhist and you will see monks in saffron robes, and matching orange umbrellas, all over the city, especially in the mornings as they go on their alms collection rounds. This wooden temple is quite active but y no means the most ornate in the city. There is an elephant at the base that tourists can ride on a quick round of the hill, it looks pretty lame. Also at the base is a very odd huge ground clock with a sweeping second hand. It’s very Disney, especially at night when it glows with neon.
There’s a troop of obese monkeys that hang out around Wat Phnom that live off all the tourist scraps. But the most interesting wildlife are the huge bats that hang off the trees. They must have a three-foot wingspan.

The Beach

2009-08-15T09:22:00.001+05:30

Sihanoukville is Cambodia's seaside resort town, about 4 hours south of Phnom Penh. The road to it was in excellent shape, 1 lane in each direction but even and new. Apparently, it was a much more dangerous road just a year ago, with huge craters, no barriers on steep drop-offs and bandits. Now the biggest danger is the drivers. Lanes mean nothing here and the only rule is that smaller vehicles must make way for larger, even if they are coming at you on the wrong side of the road because they are passing someone else. After a courtesy honk from the person wanting to pass, you are expected to pull off the road into the dirt shoulder as the passing vehicle skims by, even if you are on a motor bike with your wife, mother in-law and chickens precarious balanced on the back.

The beach is a popular destination for middle class families, according to the students. But even though it was a Saturday, it was very unpopulated. It is the main sea town with Kampot a new up and comer. Almost all of the tourists were white. The water here is crystal clear and perfectly warm. I would have loved to get a snorkel and goggles so if any of you are planning on opening a business in Cambodia, a sea sport rental or dive shop could do great here, if tourism takes off.

On the beach Arthur had rented a catamaran and taught a few of us how to sail. We sailed off to a nearby island with a small hut on it and one person. None of us could imagine what that person was doing there all alone. We ran the boat up onto the beach and took a nice swim. We had to head back fast because a lighting storm was rolling in and it probably wouldn't be such a good idea to be out in the flat ocean with a big metal mast jutting up above us.

That afternoon a red soupy mix, about a foot wide down the length of the shore, rolled in. It looked like seaweed or plankton but when you scoop some up you see it's actually masses of tiny clear shrimp twitching and jumping, the red coming from the color of their eyes. I don't know if it was because of the storm or if it just happens every afternoon. If you stand amongst them you feel their tiny hard bodies bumping up against your feet and ankles like little tapioca balls. People were scooping them up in buckets and collecting them in scarves. On the way back to town we saw them being crushed in huge vats with wooden mallets. I think they were making the fermented shrimp sauce I so enjoyed last year.

When Giants Fight

2009-08-14T08:05:00.003+05:30

We visited Toul Sleng, the most notorious detention Center of the Pol Pot regime. I had been there last year but familiarity does not reduce the impact this place has. The ghosts of the suffering that took place here are palpable. There's a chilling matter of factness to the place. Here are the quarters, the instruments of torture, and photos of the faces of the prisoners. It's left to you to imagine what it would be like for those in it, and what it would be like if your were there. It's solemnity makes it hard to talk or interact with people. I saw members of my team overcome and had every urge to go over to them to comfort them but the intensity of what you see all around you makes you want to retract into your shell and close everything off.

It is amazing how the ramifications of the stronger nations' foreign policies, past or present, in this region have made a huge impact. I'll post a quick synopsis. We fought a war in Vietnam against socialists sponsored by Russia. The king was neutral so the Americans sponsored a coup. The corrupt new leaders raped and terrorized, as they allowed the Americans to bomb the countryside. That led people to join the communist Khmer Rouge which eventually drove out the American backed government and decimated the country in five years. The Vietnamese came in and ousted the Khmer Rouge and fought against them for the next ten years. During that time, China and America refused to recognize the Vietnamese backed government and instead forced the UN to only acknowledge the Pol Pot regime as the rightful rulers of Cambodia.

American actions create ripples that continue for years. With such great power and reach should come great responsibility and awareness. We are all too comfortable to remain ignorant of the effect of our choices. Just because we have not personally chosen them does not absolve us from the guilt of actions taken in our name. It is our responsibility to educate ourselves on our history and our current policies. We must keep our government accountable to our human ideals.

Business

2009-08-12T07:22:00.003+05:30

Today was the day of the first workshops between the mentors and mentees. Arthur and I were unable to watch the workshops as we had other SEALNet business to attend to but it apparently went very well.

The Cambodia Japan Cultural Center is giving us our performance space for 2 nights for the performance and 3 days for rehearsals which usually costs $500/ day at a greatly reduced cost, $300 total in exchange for 2 seminars presented by Arthur and myself. Arthur and I will discuss Marketing for the Small and Medium Enterprise, something we know little about yet, but will pull on whatever resources we can to get enough material to make a kick ass presentation. They expect anywhere from 100-400 people per seminar with advertisements in the local English language newspapers. The CJCC is a governmental organization affiliated with the Royal University of Phnom Penh and funded by an NGO based out of Japan, JICA, that has development programs throughout the developing world.

While I met with CJCC, Arthur went out and got a cell phone for $18, it comes in very handy to have a Khmer speaker talk to your driver to explain and address. There's a strange business model here. Every shop on a block will sell the same thing. There must have been 20 shops in a row selling cell phones, after 20 shops selling flowers, across the street from 20 shops selling stuffed animals near 20 pharmacies. I just don't get how you can make money selling the exact same thing as your neighbor.
That night was our first debrief of the events of the day. We discussed pluses, the things that went well, and deltas, things that we can improve the next time. There was some obvious tension in the group. It was a rough start as very capable people have very strong opinions. We had a second debrief after dinner in which the leaders laid out safe space ground rules. The second discussion was much more productive.

Enter the Show

2009-08-11T17:42:00.001+05:30

This is the morning we meet the high school students. We have selected students from the top two high schools in the city who are fluent in English and have an interest in learning about the arts. Over 50% of the population of Cambodia is under 21. Most don't have access to arts. I had asked a group of students what Khmer arts they have been exposed to and one said her mother took her to some shows and another had gone to museums but the rest had cited television as their only access.

The central event of our project is two performances of Khmer arts. The performance will tell a story in various disciplines all woven together to fully use the breadth of Cambodian artists. It will include traditional Khmer, fusion, modern and hip-hop dance with master musical accompaniment.

This will be arts performed by Cambodians for Cambodians from various backgrounds. The arrangements for the show have been worked on since 2007 by Zoe and Hok. The students will attend workshops to explore leadership skills and participate in the promotion of the show.

It has been a struggle for the project leaders to find ways to include the team and students in a meaningful way that allows them to feel real ownership in the program. A huge amount of work and thought has gone into the preparations which leaves little room for people joining for just two weeks. It will be a challenge for the project leaders to open it up and make space for others. I have a lot of confidence in the team already to come up with creative ways to leave their mark.

What a Difference a Year Makes

2009-08-10T16:57:00.002+05:30

We arrived in Phnom Penh in the late afternoon. We were picked up by Annemieke, Zoe, Jean-Louise, Ilana and Sammy. We took tuk-tuks back to the apartments we are renting for the trip, near Wat Phenom. It is amazing how much things change here every year. The change from when I was here just 1 year ago is drastic. The roads are cleaner and smoother. There are many more traffic lights and there are now even a few pedestrian crossings. The last time I was here, I only saw one gas station, petrol was bought by the liter in soda bottles, this time I found a few new gas stations complete with mini-marts. The biggest surprise was that all of a sudden people are wearing helmets.

We arrived at the apartment, which is beautiful. The guard rolled back the gate and we walked into a gorgeous courtyard with tall new buildings. We walked past the gym, sauna and pool to get to our two floor apartment. It is serviced which means it is cleaned every other day and comes fully furnished. This is a huge change from last year's accommodations. We have two 3-bedroom apartments with large kitchen, dining room, living room and two bathrooms. What is really great about this place is that it they managed to get it for $9 per night.

I met the rest of the team today. This year we have a much smaller group than usual. The people in this group are amazing. They are already very accomplished and well traveled. They will be an interesting group to work with.

Eating My Way Through

2009-08-09T16:53:00.002+05:30

I wanted to eat 12 times today, I only managed 9.

Dosa, tea and fruit smoothies at my aunt's place.
Carrot/ guava juice on the sky-train.
Orange juice on the way to the river boat.
Meat on a stick strolling through the fish market.
Coconut at Wat Pho which houses a huge reclining Buddha on splendid grounds. We wanted to get massages at their famous massage school but didn't have the time.
Stewed pork and rice and mango and sticky rice at the 5 floor mall.
Thai iced tea at the weekend market where I bought dishes.
A Thai feast with the family at a restaurant with a bottle of Ridge brought from Cali.

Touristing Like a Local

2009-08-08T16:50:00.001+05:30

After planning out our day we headed into the city to meet with my uncle's tailor. My family lives in Banga, the first suburb east of Bangkok. Luckily we are here on the weekend and traffic to and from the city is light. As we zipped down the road you see concrete everywhere. The main highway, Sukhimvit, runs all the way through the city and people refer to their location by the exit number. Ribbons of raised roads supported by concrete pillars cross and follow the highway. The building are also all concrete which is an unfortunate choice for a humid town with so much air pollution because everything is quickly covered in soot.

I want to have a bunch of linen clothes made to wear on my trip so I don't have to wear short pants and jeans would be unbearably hot. For those of you who have ever tried to shop with me you know that I hate choice and give up very easily. It was near impossible for me to look at rolls of fabric and try to decide what I want made and how it should look but we'll see.

My uncle stayed behind to catch up with some office work and Arthur split off to do the temple and palace circuit. While I love tourisiting as much as anyone, there are just so manny buddhas and pointy gold roofs I can see and I saw more than enough last time I was here.

I walked to the nearest sky-train station which wasn't actually ver near but I was able to partake in delicous Thai street food and drink along the way. I was headed to meet up with Pooja who took me to a discussion on the 21st anniversary of the 8/8/88 uprising and subsequent massacre in Burma. Oh, swine flu fear is rampant here so many people are wearing paper masks. One of the fundraising items being sold outside the event were "Free Burma" face masks.

Enough of political discourse we net went to Khao San Road where all the backpackers stay. I felt at least a decade older, six inches shorter, a few shades darker and a whole lot cleaner than everyone there. The point of the visit was to see tourists as a tourist attraction.

I was really looking forward to going out that night with Pooja and her friends. She is super cool and political as I imagine her very international friends are as well. But after a delicious Gujrati dinner that my aunt made for me, I went upstairs to change and somehow fell asleep. I was too tired to make it out when they came for me. The same thing happened the first night I was going to go out last year, and just about any time I plan to go out at home.

Flying in

2009-08-07T15:49:00.001+05:30

Wow, that was a whole lot of traveling. I let my house at 11AM Thursday morning and after 18 hours of flying, 2 hours layover in Tokyo, 2 hours on each end getting to and from airports, and a 14 hour time difference I finally arrived at my destination at 12:15 AM on Saturday.

Being the kind of guy that likes to wait until the day he's traveling to start packing, it'll be fun to see what I've left behind. One thing I know I forgot was my electric toothbrush charger. Now I'll have to move my own damn hand up and down like a shmo.

Since my flight was pretty uneventful, I'll just share with you my brilliant jet lag avoidance technique. Through the miracles of modern pharmacology I have adjusted myself to destination time from before even getting on the plane. Alternating sleeping and stay awake pills had me living on SE Asia time right away.

I made my way by taxi to Happyland Villa where I will be staying for the next few days at my Aunt and Uncle's place. It's a beautiful house in a suburb between Bangkok and the airport. My uncle Jayesh is an instructor at a the Asia Gemology Institute. My Aunt Deepa works with developmentally delayed kids at a local school. My cousin Pooja works for an NGO that promotes awareness of indigenous people's and human rights. My other cousin Dev just recently graduated high school and is shipping off to the University of British Columbia. Also at the house are Dadi, the grandmother, and a woman who looks after the house who has been with the family for 27 years.

I'm so excited about being here. I fell in love with the warm humid night that greeted me. I can't wait until I can start exploring in the morning.

Welcome to SEALNet

2009-08-06T00:28:00.001+05:30

Here are some questions I've asked myself about the organization I am working with.
What is SEALNet?
SEALNet's mission is to bring service to Southeast Asia and to promote the spirit of service leadership in the region. We strive to accomplish this by building and nurturing a community of service leaders who are passionate about social development in Southeast Asia.

Where can I learn more about the Cambodia Arts project?
http://cambodia09arts.ning.com/
Read this, there is a lot of great information about what we intend to do in Cambodia and why we are doing it. You can also participate with us virtually by reading our blog.

How does SEALNet work?
http://www.sealnetonline.org/about_us/sealnet_model

Where can I find out more about the organization and the other projects?
http://www.sealnetonline.org/

What will Ninad do there?
Arthur and I are the co-mentors for Project Cambodia Arts ’09. We have been acting as mentors to the two project leaders in the previous months as they plan for the project. On the ground we will be responsible for helping them to observe their own leadership choices and options. Another goal of ours is to identify candidates from the core team that may be interested in being project leaders for their own project. The Cambodia-Japan Cooperation Center has generously offered up their facilities as a venue for our two final performances this year in return for two 2-hour business seminars which Arthur and I will prepare and present.

How is SEALNet structured?
Board of Directors – sets the direction of the organization and chooses co-presidents
Co-Presidents – Chosen from the pool of the last year’s PLs to organize and facilitate all of the administrative functions of the current year’s projects
Project Leaders – Propose a project, then organize the logistics of bringing in a team to implement it
Project Mentor – Guide the project leaders and help them grow through their successes and failures
Partner Organization – Each project engages a local non-profit service organization to assist them while on the ground
Core Team – A group of about 20-25 college students from leading universities around the world that create and deliver curriculum and exercises that promote leadership and service dedication.
Local Students – High school students that are open to developing their skills and have an interest in volunteerism
Sponsors – These projects would not be possible without the generous support of individuals and organizations that provide money, time and skills

Where does the money go?
SEALNet is run on a shoestring budget. There are no paid staff, there is no headquarters rent, we don’t throw lavish fundraising parties. All participants pay for their own airfare. Each project usualy costs between $10-20k. Which covers the lodging, matierials and venues for the project. Administrative cost, promotional material, and shortfall funding for projects that did not manage to raise enough to meet their budget are all supported by the SEALNet general fund.

When do I see the results?
SEALNet doesn't go somewhere to dig wells. They don't go there to even teach people how to build wells. They go to a place and teach the next group or leaders how to organize their community to build wells.

Why am I doing it?

The Journey Home

2008-06-20T03:13:00.004+05:30

We are so lucky to have the ability and the means to see all that the world has to offer. Malaysia was beautiful and inviting, vibrant and a feast for all your senses. Cambodia was magical, disturbing and comforting, often all at the same time. I met some very kind, hospitable and interesting people in this last month. I can’t believe it has only been 1 month. These experiences have left a lasting impact on me. I hope to come back again soon.

I am ready to go home. I had a great time traveling but I need me some San Francisco. It will be nice to know how to get around, to not have to haggle for every single purchase, to be able to cook my own food, to be able to brush my teeth with water from the tap, to see my friends, to work again. I am jonesing for a good old fashioned American burrito.

Khmer Culture

2008-06-18T22:12:00.002+05:30

I visited the royal palace in the afternoon and as I guessed I would be, was thoroughly bored. It was expensive, $6, by Cambodian standards. I saw quite a few people storm out of line when they found out the price. The structures and grounds were impressive but a lot of it was closed to the public. The King of Cambodia had left in 1970 and remained in North Korea while the republicans, communists and Vietnamese were in power until he was repatriated in 1993. I don’t know the full story about how a King ends up in North Korea to escape communists, but I intend to find out. I bet it’s an interesting one. I haven’t seen them, but I hear his body guards are large, intimidating North Koreans. It makes sense because Cambodian guards and police are not exactly awe inspiring, they look more like chihuahuas than domermans.

After making my way through the gauntlet of gift shop I finally snaked my way out of the theme park, I mean palace, and was the National Museum. I had gone the day before but didn’t have time to complete it. The museum has a beautiful collection, from pre-Khmer to recent history. The only issue I had with the museum is that there isn’t enough to explain what the pieces were. There was so much you want to know about the people who created it, but not much guidance.

On the bus to Phnom Penh, I had met a half German, half Indian man named Frank, his Cambodian wife and their new 8 week old son. Frank is a historian and filmmaker and offered to give us a guided tour through the National Museum. The scale and quality of the pieces was astonishing. This was such a spectacular culture. You can be forgiven to feel sorry for their current state. You have to keep in mind that even though they may be able to trace their history back thousands of years, they are a very new country. Their entire cultural base was nearly annihilated. They are pretty much starting from scratch and have a long way to go.

Later that night I saw an Arak concert at the French Cultural Center. Luckily I had read about it in one of the local dailies at the hotel because the introduction was completely in French. Arak is a pre-Khmer style of music that is older than Christianity or Buddhism. The trance like music evokes spirits from nature to come to the aid of the requestor by inhabiting a medium. The Khmer Rouge aggressively tried to eliminate it, along with all other arts and religion. There are currently only 7 Arak groups left in Cambodia and this was the first time the music was to be heard in Phnom Penh in 14 years. After hearing the conert, I decided right there that I would be working on SealNet’s Cambodia project the next year. Project Cambodia records and raises awareness of traditional Cambodian song and dance. PC’09 here I come.

Potential

2008-06-17T22:12:00.003+05:30

The first tourist site I visited was the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. Teol Sulk was originally built as a high school and was later, under the Khmer Rouge, turned into an infamous detention center. This was a place of horrific tortures and indignities against anyone who fell on the wrong side of the cruel regimes whims, including children. Lashes were given with electric wire, bodies hung upside down until passed out, then revived in bucket of excrement. One of the sleeping quarters consisted of a small room with a bar against one wall with steel shackles where dozens of men women and children would sleep on top of each other and women were raped while everyone else in the room had to remain silent.

You can hear and understand the statistics of the million people killed and another million starved in the few short years when Pol Pot was in power but it’s a very different thing to see pictures of the individual faces and to imagine the stories of their too brief and painful lives. Accounts from survivors who had lost their loved ones are posted in one section of the museum. This is a very chilling experience. The philosophy of the Cambodian people is that you cannot punish all those involved, because it was necessarily almost everyone, no one ha a choice. The primary goal is to document exactly what happened, to uncover the worst of it so that it can’t happen again.

My next stop was down some very dusty road on the back of a motorbike, while the sun fried my skin my mouth filled with grit. I was headed to the Killing Fields. This site was one of 129 identified mass graves throughout Cambodia. There’s a solemn pagoda in the center built to commemorate the dead found at the site, as well as hundreds of their skulls. During the Democratic Republic of Kampuchea, anyone with an education as purged, most city dwellers were killed and the few remaining professionals were killed. The country came out of it when the Vietnamese invaded and occupied the country, even thought the UN continued to recognize the Pol Pot regime as the legitimate power for years to come. After loosing their entire educated base, literacy rate of 0, the country was starting from scratch, and all this happened within my lifetime.

I’m running out of money and in a brilliant scheme to save money I did as any good American would o, I found a hotel that takes American Express so I have more cash to spend on nic-nacs. The place I checked into was sweet. There was a nice pool, great rooms and bathrooms, a cool patio bar, and fast internet. The hotel owner is also an art collector so the place was filled with modern and classical Cambodian art. The bar was just outside my room which I thought would be a problem but the people who go there were really cool. So I spent a LOT of time just hanging out at the bar, even though I didn’t order a single beer the whole time. The people who frequent the bar were young expats from all over the place, now living in Phnom Penh. They were fascinating and creative people doing very interesting things.

Phnom Penh is a lot like the American Wild West. It takes a certain type of character to pick up and move there and to survive. The rules are very different here. Many say there are much greater freedoms in that you can do whatever you want as long as you aren’t stupid about it and know the right palms to grease. Some say the rules are actually the same but on a smaller, less sophisticated scale, extortion being a form of permit system. The people who come here are doing things that they wouldn’t be able to do back home, the opportunities are infinite if you play the game right. I’ve met businessmen, editors, teachers, NGO people, it’s up to your ambition and creativity.

I had also been told on a few occasions that Cambodia offers greater freedom than more developed countries. What they mean is that you could decide to start up a business today an immediately begin selling things from your shop. Eventually someone may come by and ask for his piece and maybe not but it’s up to you to decide if you want to continue your business. I don’t agree, options such as education, dissent and resource availability make this an oppressive society that only those with means can truly exploit.

At the hotel, I had mentioned that I was collecting experiences to write about and meeting people to tell bar stories on. I was invited along on an errand because there was someone interesting I should meet. We went to a bar in the Lakeside area. Lakeside is a bohemian neighborhood where hip locals and foreigners live side by side. It’s where the less upscale ex-pat restaurants and bars are located. The bar we went to had a sign out front advertising itself but it looked closed. The windows were blacked out and the door was locked. My new Swedish friend with ripped jeans, neck tattoos, and shaved head under a garish hat knocked on the door until a Cambodian man answered and allowed us in.

There was, of course, no bar to be seen, it was actually a loft apartment. We were greeted by a Danish girl who offered us a drink. We decided on beer, which she went out to get because there was none there. But first she brought us upstairs to introduce us to a Nigerian and a Thai on the couch and then to the loft bedroom where a Lankan in a loin cloth was waiting for us. He spoke a ridiculous number of languages. Like most people in an illicit trade he was genial and polite, speaking in careful paranoid nuance. And like most successful professionals was eager to tell us his story without sounding like he was bragging. I was asking so many questions that he had hoped I was actually a journalist. Apparently he IS the central drugs dealer in the city, anyone with any quality goods gets their stuff through him. I had asked what the situation is like with the police. Lifting a big bag of opium said I could write his name and the name of his bar on it and hand it to any cop in town and it wouldn’t be any trouble for him, only trouble for me. He explained he sometimes has the police sitting on his couch downstairs while making deals upstairs.

I had to leave as I was late for dinner with someone else involved in international commerce. I had dinner with a Cambodian artist who exhibits his work all over the world. I was told the next day by the hotel owner that he was Cambodia’s most successful modern artist. His enthusiasm and unpretentious love of art were refreshing. We ate at what everyone in Phnom Penh raves about as being an awesome Mexican restaurant. Being from California, I just could not make peace with this place. I suddenly really missed the food back home. The rest of the night was spent back at the hotel bar shooting the shit with more people. The night manager and barkeep was this really cool guy named Rock. He obviously spent a lot of time in the US because he sounded like he was born and raised in Oakland, except smart. I’m already starting to forget names, but if I come back I’ll figure out a way to reach out.

The Road to the Capital

2008-06-16T22:11:00.001+05:30

I had until 12:30 until my bus to Phnom Penh so I went back to the tourist market and saw more crap I couldn’t afford. On the way back I stopped by my friendly sugar cane vendor. So far, I’ve gotten sugar cane juice from him ever day for 3 days in a row. There’s always a flock of what I thought were bees that always hover around him. He picked one up to show me there’s no stinger, so I’m not sure what it is. What I do know is that all the insects here are slow and easy o grab.

This must have been the first time I got juice during the day because as he was feeding the pulp into the machine a slow moving fly got caught up in. Then another on the next feed. Oh well, I’ll call it a bug juice protein boost. Sugar cane juice is too delicious to even consider throwing away. Since I was eating bugs anyway I might as well go all out and eat some fried crickets. There are three different types, I tried them all. To my surprise, it was delicious.

I got on the back of a moto with all my luggage and down a treacherous road. Pot holes imply holes the size of pots, so let’s call these truck holes, filled with muddy water.

So far I’ve been recognized every day from by bus adventure. At the bus station, which was more of a dirt parking lot, I ws asked, “how was Cambodian prison?” The bus from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh is a very different experience. First of all it’s airconditioned. The distance is the same but it’s only $10. They start off by passing out moist towelets then a croissant and savory pastry and a bottle of water. It’s cool seeing the countryside this way. You seethe thatched roofed houses and people working in the fields. The alternative was by boat, which takes less time but all you see is water the whole way down, everyone suggested against it.

Even though we broke down on the side of the road for a couple hours while the bus went back to get the wheel fixed the whole thing was quite pleasant. I met a lot of people on he bus.

Sitting in the Library

2008-06-15T22:11:00.000+05:30

I decided to take it easy on my last day in Siem Reap. The original plan was to visit some of the further out temple ruins today, as most people who stay for a third day do. Instead I decided to go back to Angkor Wat with my guide book and really explore the site. I do wish I had also gone to Bantay Srei as I heard later it is the oldest and most beautifully carved.

I rode out a monsoon storm in one of the libraries. It was blazing hot all day and I was pouring sweat but the thunderstorm felt great. You can see the wet stain from m sweaty shirt on the pillar I was sitting against.

Somehow I got to talking to a guy who was plugging in flood lights against one of the friezes. I could hardly understand him but he was interesting and worth the couple extra excuse me’s. Apparently he was born in Siem Reap and had just come out of the monastery a couple of years earlier. He told me he

A cop offered me his cap with his badge for $10. I told him I wasn’t interested and he asked me to make him an offer.

My driver for the day told me he wanted me to see the real side of Cambodian living and he was going to take me to a floating village. This is where people the very poor live. Their homes are

Grand Tour

2008-06-14T22:10:00.000+05:30

I switched hotels this morning. My friend Stuart had recommended a place and I figured it was worth a shot. Where the bus, which took me to Siem Reap, had taken us was a new part of the town, just down this one road that had nothing going on but hotels, totally isolated from everything else. While driving down to the new hotel, I saw a city. From my tuk-tuk I saw bars and restaurants and shops, there were monuments and stores and a river. The hotel I was now staying at was right by the old market, just down a dirt road but still only a few blocks from the center of town.

Today I visited the sequence of sites known as the Grand Tour. This includes the further and less well preserved sites. Some of these were temples created by the same king that created Angkor Thom. To see the temples still broken was very cool. I got some great shots of the jungle creeping back in. There were also much fewer people at these sites because they are more spread out and not as frequently visited as those I saw yesterday. These sites had a very discovering ruins kinda feel. They were not nearly as thoroughly restored and a couple were left exactly as they were when the French first saw them 150 years ago.

Police in Cambodia only make $30 per month so they all have second “jobs.” I started talking to one who was on duty at the temples and offered me a guided tour. I gave him more than I should have but he seemed to know what he was talking about, was interesting, and his English was impeccable. He had grown up in the area and really loved the sites. He was a good story teller and it was pretty cool until he got too into his religious philosophies and the coincidence of numbers, comparing the numbers of fingers to celestial and religious symbols, even if he had to add a couple to make things work. His stories took a decided turn for the interesting when he told me he had joined the Khmer Rouge at the age of 14. He then switched sides under the new government and eventually became a policeman.

The Khmer Rouge had done a number on the sites. They destroyed any Buddhist symbols they found. The heads of stone statues were smashed, metal figures were buried in the fields and bullet holes pepper the wall. To this day, people still go out in the fields with metal detectors looking for artifacts to sell to the international market. I knew a Cambodian years ago who had bought a Buddha statue from a monk which was supposedly dug up. I’ve heard of pieces offered to tourists by police guarding the site. My guide’s current job was to now patrol the area and chase off looters.

My guide eventually explained that he believed Pol Pot was not completely responsible for everything that went on under Democratic Kampuchea and most of the problems Cambodia faced were because of the king that supported him and the Vietnamese that occupied the country after the Khmer Rouge. Probably to be polite, he didn’t mention the US bombings and US backed government of Lon Nol, both of which certainly helped Khmer Rouge recruitment in response.

He showed me a couple of his bullet wounds. I would be surprised if he hadn’t killed in his past. I couldn’t press too many more questions as Cambodian’s don’t feel comfortable talking about that time. There is still debate whether that period of their recent history should be discussed in the schools. Because of the number of people involved and the number lost, the only way for them to move forward is to not hold blame.

Angkor's Wat and Thom

2008-06-14T09:23:00.000+05:30

At the pinnacle of their civilization, 8th to 13th centuries, the Kmers built magnificent walled cities for their capitals around Siem Reap. These cities were typically square with entrances in the four cardinal directions, surrounded my a large moat an have a grand temple in the center representing Mount Meru, home of the gods in Hindu mythology. Angkor Wat is the most extensively restored of these. All that remains of Angkor Wat is the temple at the center and, of course, the moat. The temple itself covers 9 hectares, 10% of the total area of the enclosed city. The outer edges of the temple are galleries with intricately detailed, carved in stone, stories of Hindu mythology and Khmer military victory, 600meters in total length, by 2 meters in height. The temple complex is unbelievably big. I have never seen anything on such a large and minute scale. No square inch is left unadorned.

It really makes you wonder how a civilization that was so great and powerful that they could make buildings that will be evidenced forever could just fade away. Some could argue that my own is fast headed for the same obscurity.

On arriving, hordes of children with the same high pitched nasal plaintive voice, in surprisingly good English, flock to you trying to sell you guide books, water and postcards, yes I bought them all. After spending hours soaking in the majesty of this place, and trying to get photos without tourists in my way, I had my driver take me to Angkor Thom, which means great city. This is an aptly named, massive city, covering 9 square kilometers. Of course, these are the modern names of these sites, their original names usually referenced the founder.

As you enter from the south gate you are greeted by a long causeway flanked on one side by a row of gods and on the other side a row of demons. Both are holding a seven headed snake called a naga. The story this is alluding to is when the gods and demons teamed up together to churn the sea by wrapping a naga around a mountain supported by Vishnu in a thousand year tug of war to create the elixir of immortality. Bayon, the central temple of Angkor Thom, being a representation of that mountain. At the end of the causeway is the gate with the image of the king facing all directions. This stone image of the king is particular to the Bayon style.

Interestingly enough, Angkor Thom was originally built by the first Buddhist Khmer king, who’s decedents immediately converted back to Hinduism on his death. The central temple was rededicated to Vishnu and future constructions, like the causeway had Hindu themes. There were originally images of the seated Buddha everywhere which were then shaved down to lingas, which represent Shiva, and eventually when the country became Buddhist, those were carved out to allow place for Buddha statues to rest. Another interesting difference between Bayon and the other Khmer temple is that the stone friezes here depict ordinary life. The are people playing chess and cooking and generally living. Another clear bayon style is the image of the founding king’s face found everywhere. He considered himself the bodhisattva of compassion but his image was later used to represent Shiva.

After a full day of sightseeing I went back to the hotel to take off my soggy shirt and have a shower. Internet is hard to come by in this neck of the woods, so I lugged my laptop to the nearest i-net cafe, about 2 miles down the road, near the only traffic light in town. This town is super shady, there's nothing here but hotels and people harass the fuck out of you asking if you need a ride. I was pretty worried walking down this way with my laptop. Oh, and the street are unlit and there's no side walk. I stopped by the local casino on the road and won $20. I figured it's not a good idea to win or lose big in a third world casino. The internet cafe was closing own by the time I got to it, but the opened back up for me. They occupied themselves catching crickets in bottle to eat later. I was only there for 20 minutes so my bill came out to 12 cents. The smallest I had was a dollar so I now owe him and will have to make the trek again tomorrow night to pay him back.

Border Crossing

2008-06-13T21:07:00.007+05:30

The mini-bus to Siem Reap, Cambodia picked me up at the hotel at 7:15AM. After a quick tour around Bangkok we picked up the other 8 passengers on their way to the Cambodian border. Two were Cambodians going home. One guy was from Portland and had been working in Thailand for the last year and now has to cross the border every month to get re-visa-ed. There was a writer for a travel guide called Let's Go, whose assignment is to travel around and discover ATM availability. His destination is the border town, Aranyaprathet. The remaining four of us were tourists on our way to Angkor Wat. 1 English, 1 Italian, 1 Irish and myself.

The ride was very comfortable, and air-conditioned, the train would not have been. I do regret that I was missing out on seeing the countryside as I would have by train, but this really started as a pleasant, easy experience and after all the Bangkok hustle. We stopped once for a snack, then again for gas and finally at a roadside cafe where we met up with 4 other busses and a small man who offered to take us through the visa process for 1000 bhat which is about $33US. The legitimate price is $20US at the border and the five of us crossing agreed to hold firm and demand to pay the correct price and not give in to the corrupt border guards. The whole layover killed over an hour. The Thai border was only a few kilometers away.

At the Thai side of the border the guy coming just for the re-entry visa to Thailand went off to change his currency. We were hoping to catch up with him on the other side since he had experience with the process. The rest of us waited while the people who did pay the bribe had their passports processed. They all got yellow stickers to identify themselves so they wouldn’t get hassled. We killed another hour in the hot sun before we moved on to get Thai exit stamps.

On the Cambodian side, a supposed agent of the bus company directed us to a visa office where they demanded 1300 bhat. The little guy who had offered to take us earlier sat down and was talking with the borer guards; they all are in the network. Thinking we had no other options, as you wouldn’t expect multiple visa offices at the same crossing, we gave in and considered it a valiant but failed effort. Just after we paid the Thai re-entry guy shows up and tells us he paid only $20 and 200 bhat next door. On leaving, the bus agent asked me how much I paid and he said that was a good price. I told him that it was not a good price and our friend paid only 20 and 200 and that he knows that it wasn’t a good price because he’s the one who took us to these people. He, of course, claimed he didn’t know anyone and has only been working for the company for 2 days.

We all climbed into a second bus, which was supposed to take us to where the final coach was waiting. As we drove he told everyone how Cambodia’s economy was doing much better and where it used to be 4000 riel to the dollar, it was now only 3200. He also told us how the total remaining distance is 175 km and will take 6 hours because the roads are so bad, but a car could make it in fewer than 3.

Our first stop was at a moneychanger. I tried to warn people not to use it as the same guy who brought us is the guy who took us to the rip-off visa crooks. Interestingly, the exchange rate just happened to be 3200. The Cambodian riel is pretty much pegged to the US dollar at 4000 to 1. The bus station/ taxi office was right next door. We were told that the next bus wouldn’t be there for another hour. At this point I can’t be sure a bus is coming at all. It was in fact 2 hours before the bus showed. I tried to arrange 2 cars to take 8 of us with a price limit of $40 per car but I wasn't interested in getting one from these people.

I went down the road to see if I could find someone willing to drive us. Walking around the town was trip. The absolute poverty of the area was amazing. I have never seen anything like it. Muddy dirt roads, naked children in the street, shacks. This is much more intense poverty than any third world slum. There was an open-air clinic with nurses administering IVs, open right to the street. We had no luck finding English speakers, neither at the clinic or a guesthouse. Finally a Chinese girl at a restaurant explained that there were no other places to find a cab, where we were was the only one. Chinese people everywhere, they have businesses in places where you would think there couldn't possibly be any money to be made. How is it possible that there are any Chinese left in China?

When I got back I saw someone from one of the other busses had negotiated $52 for a car, close enough. I went inside to speak at the window and they said $80. I insisted that the other guy paid only 52 but couldn’t get anywhere so I walked away to try my luck outside again. As soon as I got out there one of the guys I’m traveling with said the bookers agreed to my price but only 1 car. We were ready to do it, and while getting our bags the bus pulled in. I asked the agent guy if that was our bus and he said it wasn’t, it was a transfer bus like the one that brought us from the border to the bus station. Everyone was lining up for it, so it was clearly the right bus. He insisted we take the taxi, bigger cut for him. With a taxi, I’m not sure they wouldn’t try to get more money out of us or threaten to leave us somewhere half way on the side of the road. I figured if I went to the back of the line, they would not let us on, so I went right to the front to get on, ahead of the line so there’s no issue of him trying to get me in the cab.

This is where my smart mouthing came back to make life difficult for me. The agent told the bus driver I didn’t pay. The guy directing the passengers said I could not get on and asked me to step aside so others could get on. I would not, I know I’m right and I’m not giving these guys another cent. They kept trying to get me to move on. I figured with all these tourists standing behind me, they aren’t about to do anything. I met a lot of them while waiting so they knew I was on the same trip as them. With righteous indignation, my balls were about the size of grapefruits. I refused to go. I kept repeating that I paid, and I’m getting on the bus. A Thai woman with the bus company insisted I was not on the list and everyone else was. I knew this was bullshit because they never checked anyone. They said everyone was waiting and that if I went inside they will take care of everything. They said I didn’t pay and only people with yellow stickers paid. They then said that the bus will just leave and no one could go. I apologized to the folks in line but said I wasn’t budging because this was the right thing to do. A lot of them agreed and voiced their support because we were all scammed at some point by now. A bunch of them were also telling the bus people that I was with them all along and to let me on.

This all went on for the better part of an hour in the sun when the police decided to intervene. 3 Cambodian cops had been sitting inside the ticket office, just hanging out, they must all be friends. One put his arm out to keep me away from the bus and started to pull me away. I knew they wouldn’t do anything with all those people around. Probably not the wisest logic. I wasn’t fighting the cops, I’m not a total idiot, but I wasn’t moving either. While 2 of the police held me back the bus driver backed the bus into the street. To my surprise people started climbing on board, a few of them stopped and asked the cops why they are holding me but eventually they had to continue on their journey. I yelled out to the people boarding, “enjoy your vacation and remember what you are leaving behind. Ask yourself if you chose to stand up for what is right today.” In retrospect it was a corny grandiose statement to make considering it was only a bus ride. But at the time, It felt so badass.

The 4 guys I was traveling with stayed back. I told them to get on the bus, that they might as well go on, there’s nothing they can do, I’ll get on the next bus or I’ll go back to Thailand. But by then the bus had already filled up. The woman checked with her head office for another half hour and finally agreed I did pay. Turns out I was on the list she kept waving around all that time. No apology from her, she just said, “Yes, OK” and laughed a nervous Asian girl laugh. Luckily the next bus came under an hour of the last one leaving.

The bus was old with no AC but it did have windows that allowed a refreshing hot dusty breeze in. The road is only paved (barely) in sections and most is very bumpy dirt road. Apparently it's a whole lot better than it used to be. They say the road will be complete by 2009, but that seems extremely unlikely considering how far they have to go. An interesting site along the way are the rows of floresent lights with nets under them strung in front of the rice paddies. I found out later that these were for catching crickets, a local favorite. It’s a long way and these long segments have given me time to write entries.

My bus met up with the other bus at a restaurant around sunset. The food was pretty bad, and overpriced, but I’m sure that the bus driver gets a nice cut. While at the restaurant a guy who called himself our tour guide went around telling people about this great hotel in town and how he knows we all got scammed repeatedly on the way in but he’s got nothing to do with that. This place is a good place in a good location for a good price. The bus continued on. When we got to town, he sold the shit out of that place which made me even more suspicious. I already wasn’t going to take the advice from anyone affiliated with this bus service but when he talked the place up so much before arriving, I was certainly not. The bus, of course, pulls directly into the hotel as the final destination. I don’t know what the scam was but I think I would have woken up with one or two less organs. The 3 other guys were ready to stay so I said my goodbyes and was about to leave after my cigarette. Yes, I started smoking again. They came back because there was only a fan room, no AC. No problem, there are way more rooms in Siem Reap then there are visitors. The Irish guy and I were going to follow the English and Italian guys, until the tour guy hops on board with them and they drive off. If they are going to be stupid enough to take him with them, they are on their own. Irish and I walk down the road and book stay in a nice little hotel with courteous staff.

The whole ordeal took 14 hours to travel 200 miles

Staying in Hostels Sucks

2008-06-12T21:06:00.003+05:30

I’m sharing a tiny room bunk beds and just enough room to open the door. And you have to go through my room to get to the similar layout room next door. When I tried to get to sleep the people next door were talking about their burning diarrheic anuses. Finally they passed out and shortly later my down-bunk mate comes in. Then at 4AM 2 drunken Czechs roll in and wake up the guy sleeping below me, calling him “fucking England” and they get into an inane, and very slurred, conversation about how everyone’s the same and we should all get along despite our cultural differences. Then the English guy explains how some people accuse him of being a Paki terrorist but that he’s not interested in killing when there are so many pretty birds to fuck. I asked them to continue their riveting conversation outside. Being that it was 4 o’clock in the funkin morning. Surprisingly enough, the paper-thin doors of my $12 a night hostel did not provide the sound insulation I had hoped for.

I started out my one day in Thailand following the directions posted on the message board by the illiterate Australian hostel owner. Bangkok has a fast clean and efficient light rail system, which was three and a half block away. Rather than take that, he recommends a water route. So I made my way to the dirty canal and jumped onto the boat which drops you off near the river. I was the only foreigner on the boat, that was cool. That’s where the fun ended. The next leg of the trip was supposed to continue on from the river, but unfortunately, you have to walk to the river to catch the river taxi but the only person there who spoke English told me that today was a special day and that the King implemented a plan to promote tourism. The government was allegedly subsidizing all tuk-tuks (the little scooter-like taxis) and they will take you to any sites you want for the whole day for only 70 cents. He’ll wait for you and take you on to the next place, all day.

I know that if a deal sounds too good to be true, then it probably is, but I am also extremely curious how this will play out. So after confirming the price, I climb on board his friend’s tuk-tuk. As we’re driving down the road to who knows where, because the street signs are mostly in Thai, and when he wasn’t looking I stashed my money in my bag and started imagining being taken to an alley where his friends are waiting for me to harvest my kidneys.

We arrive at the first temple, the standing Buddha, which is 45meters high. Suddenly it occurs to me that this is exactly the Bangkok I remembered, temples and shopping. Oh well, I planned a day of taking pictures of Buddhas so I might as well finish that up. I figured I would head back to the hotel around noon and come up with the roadmap for the rest of my stay. The next stop is the black Buddha. Here I meet a man who tells me he’s from SF and owns Phuket restaurant on Haight Street. He also tells me that he had bought a massive amount of jewelry from the government export shop the day before which he plans to sell to Tiffany’s for a huge profit, as he does every year. The story goes that this was the last day of a one-week a year period when the government suspends export duties on jewelry in this one outlet only. The regular export duty is regularly 198%. I explained I was broke and not here to conduct business. He suggested I should max out my credit cards and pull out all the money I can so I could buy as much as I can and sell it for double.

Coincidentally, that very same export shop was our next stop. I took an obligatory walk inside and chatted with a sales person about how bad traffic is getting in Bangkok. When I left my tuk-tuk driver asked if I had bought anything and I said no, and that I had already explained to him I am not interested in buying jewelry. He then took me to the next temple. Then to a tailor shop. I told him I’m not interested and he explained the scam to me. He gets a 5-liter gasoline card for every shop he takes me to and even more if I buy something. OK, I get it now, no problem I’ll help him get another 5 and maybe buy some trinket to help him out. He takes me to a tailor and a souvenir shop. Everything’s expensive so I walk back out, empty-handed. Now this is getting a little annoying, and embarrassing at the stores. It is also eating away at my day. He tells me, just one more stop, a government factory, very cheap things there. I ended up buying the cheapest thing I could find, a silver ring for about $14. I thought he’d be thrilled but he was totally ungrateful. He then took me to the Marble Temple and told me the other temples were near by and took off. This was fine, the other temples were right there, so I could make a day of it, no problem. At the Marble Temple I met an ethnic Chinese couple from KL. They were snapping hundred of pictures of each other there and asked me to take some of them. A bit later they asked me if I would come with them and see some more temples. I thought, great, we’re going to the same places I could use the company. When we get outside their tuk-tuk driver was waiting for them with the same tourist hassle. We went to the Chinese factory before making it back to a place I could have walked to in a few minutes from where we left. The Reclining Buddha was big. Then we went to a jewelry factory, and then back to pretty much where we started to go to the temple I really wanted to see. Wat Po was beautiful. At first all I did was take an insane number of pictures for this couple. I got bored and snuck away to take pictures on my own. By now I was exhausted and couldn’t bare to see another temple or the palace, so I asked around where the Metro was. I had given my map to the Malaysian couple. I knew the Metro was close but didn’t know how to get to it. No one understood me, except one of the guys who scams you into the tuk-tuks. I explained I had been there and just not interested. He convinced me that one stop for 10 minutes and the driver will take me the rest of the way. Fine, I just want to get home. When I get out of the store the driver offers to take me back for $3, which is actually a lot compared to the fair price. So I get out of his vehicle and do something to him I’m not terrible proud of and he drives away. Right now I’m feeling scammed by everyone. I hate Bangkok. The hawkers, the drivers, the Malaysian tourists, they all wasted my time and made this experience miserable. I find my way to the Metro and to the hostel. I have decided to cut my time in Bangkok short and leave the next day. I booked a bus ride to Siem Reap through my hostel. I was originally planning on taking a $2 train to the border then crossing over and arranging transport the rest of the way. That is certainly possible, but difficult and I don’t want anymore hassle, so I’ll pay for convenience and reliability. I then call my aunt who arranges for me to meet the family over dinner. Everything turned around after that call. I got an awesome Thai massage, a legit one, for only $7. I met for dinner and had a great time. The food was excellent and the conversation was amazing. The topic of conversation very quickly turned to politics as Pooja arrived. She works for an NGO and I would like to explain it here but it’s complicated. They talked about the possibility of demonstrations and how the army is mobilizing again that day in anticipation and that there may be another coup in the next week. Then we started talking about American politics. This family, with the youngest being 17, were better informed about US politics that just about any American I know. It makes sense, because we are pretty much shielded from the effects of our bad policies around the world. We may be struggling economically now but when the economy goes sour in the US, it turns rancid in the rest of the world.

After dinner Pooja took me back to the night market because there were some things I wanted to buy but was scared of the hawkers. It’s amazing how different Thailand is when you are with a Thai speaker. The get quoted the Thai price right off the bat, which is less than half the tourist price. Then they bargain down a little and the transaction is much more pleasant. Meters automatically go one when we sat down, even from the night market. Talking to my cousin was fascinating. She’s so smart, I could have chatted all night but it was getting late and she had to work and I had to get up early the next day. I wish I had called my family before I got here, I could have stayed in a nice house near the airport and had the local view, they could have told me the right places to go and the right way to get there. They are so cool, I hope it's not another decade before I see them again. I finally felt good about Bangkok.

Land of Smiles

2008-06-11T21:04:00.002+05:30

I woke up feeling 100% better. Yeah for Cipro. My stomach way feeling fine, I ate a big bowl of cereal and a banana for breakfast. My cough is easing up. I stopped smoking for the last week because of the cold and it was pretty easy, but all of a sudden I am craving cigarettes, I guess because they won’t make me miserable. I took the series of busses back to the airport and it was very easy.

I haven’t been in Bangkok for 17 years. I remember being kinda bored as all it offered a kid my age was temples and shopping. But I do remember it having my favorite street food ever, huge barbequed squid. Flying over Malaysia you see endless palm oil plantations in every direction. Flying over Thailand it’s rice paddies as far as you can see. From the airport and around town it is shocking to see how many western tourists there are here. This is definitely not off the beaten path. I got to my hotel after a long bus ride, in which I was able to write more blog. The hostel is unimpressive, but I want the adventure of traveling on the cheap. Actually, it’s sort of a requirement at this time as my money is fast running out.

I got in late enough that the only thing I would have time to do is the night market. The night market is a massive tourist trap, literally hundreds of stalls packed into a massive space. If you see something you like and walk away, you’ll never find that stall again. They all pretty much sell the same crap. I don’t get those t-shirts with obnoxious writing on them like, “fuck off I have enough friends.” Who wears these? The hawkers here are worse than the mosquitoes in Borneo. If you make eye contact with someone’s merchandise, they swoop in and hassle you to buy something. Everything is really cheap, price reflecting quality, but you still feel ripped off after every exchange, because you never know how much it would have cost someone who knew how to bargain. I walked past a scarf seller and she invited me to look at her wares. So, to be polite I touched a scarf and she instantly stood up from her chair and told me how good it is, and that she’ll give me a special price. So I said I’m not interested, I’m just looking around. Se quoted a price and I said no thank you. She then invited me to quote what I thought it was worth, and I did. She looked horrified and lowered her offer. I insisted I was not interested, this went on for a few rounds until she offered it to me for what I said I thought it was worth, but I really didn’t want it so I started walking away. She called me a bad person. Why do that?

I found the squid I liked :-)

Getting home cost a lot more than getting to the market. When I got I got in the cab on the way to the market, the guy put on the meter. On the way back everyone refused and I went through the bargaining process hoping to get a ride for about 3 times what I paid, but no luck. I tried a dozen cars and nothing. Finally I got on the back of a motorcycle for only double what I paid a metered car.