Kerala is in the far south-west of India. Resource-rich and more socially-minded, it is a more wealthy place - and tourist-friendly, mainly because it has better roads - by Indian standards. One of the highlights of Kerala are the backwaters, quiet canals that serpentine from the ocean inland. After a quiet night in Alleppy, we hopped aboard a house boat on Christmas Eve day to explore the backwaters in style. We spent the day and night lounging, reading, chatting, and eating, served by our staff of 3 including a wonderful and very sweet cook who made enough food for 10. Since Kerala has a good-sized Christian population, there was music all night, and Sarah and I slept under the stars. In the morning, we were graced by a lovely sunrise.
Men wear dhotis here, which are pretty much a bedsheet wrapped around the waist. It appears to be appropriate attire for just about anybody - laborer, businessman, hotel manager, though I have yet to see anybody riding a motorcycle in one. They are ankle-length, but are often folded up to the knees, and so look quite like wrap-around skirts. I have yet to be able to take anybody in one very seriously. Which seems ok around here because people are pretty happy and friendly, laughing and smiling a lot.
We are now in the mountains in eastern Kerala, where the vast majority of the country's spices are grown. The whole town smells like a mixture of cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger. The mountains are small but beautiful - they're all pressed together with deep folds in between, and mist gathers in the valleys. We're hoping to explore some if we can figure out how.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Sunday, December 24, 2006
In a whirl
Early this week, my frenetic days in Delhi gave way to more time to see the country. I flew to Pune and met back up with Sarah, who had gone ahead to greet her brother and his fiance at the airport - they're here for two weeks and are now traveling with us.
In a whirlwind day-and-a-half, we bussed out to central Maharashtra to Ajanta and Ellora, two sites where Hindu, Jain and Buddhist monks carved temples and monasteries out of mountains. They are truly stunning, beautiful, stark and eerie places - it is easy to imagine being there 1000 years ago. They were built between 200 BC and 800 AD, with chisels and hammers.
We are now in Kerala, in the south of India, where there are Christmas lights and palm trees and good roads. Our flights here were delayed by 4 or 5 hours yesterday in true Indian fashion - thick morning fog in Delhi tied up flights all over the country. I've decided that it's my new favorite excuse to use when anything goes wrong: just exclaim, 'well, there's fog in Delhi!' It's sure to work. Also in true Indian fashion, I received phone calls notifying me of the delays all throughout the day - which was great in the early morning, but was of very limited use once I arrived at the airport.
In a whirlwind day-and-a-half, we bussed out to central Maharashtra to Ajanta and Ellora, two sites where Hindu, Jain and Buddhist monks carved temples and monasteries out of mountains. They are truly stunning, beautiful, stark and eerie places - it is easy to imagine being there 1000 years ago. They were built between 200 BC and 800 AD, with chisels and hammers.
We are now in Kerala, in the south of India, where there are Christmas lights and palm trees and good roads. Our flights here were delayed by 4 or 5 hours yesterday in true Indian fashion - thick morning fog in Delhi tied up flights all over the country. I've decided that it's my new favorite excuse to use when anything goes wrong: just exclaim, 'well, there's fog in Delhi!' It's sure to work. Also in true Indian fashion, I received phone calls notifying me of the delays all throughout the day - which was great in the early morning, but was of very limited use once I arrived at the airport.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
a few photos
The Internet gods only want me to upload these two photos for the moment, though I have hundreds more I'd love to put up. The first is the Taj Mahal at sunrise, the second is the western temple complex at Khajuraho at sunset. Lovely.
Friday, December 15, 2006
power of people and place
Five days in Dharamsala was a bit like stepping into a parallel universe. Like India, but not, in so many ways. And I felt the difference palpably. It was cold, which made me breathe more deeply. It was mountainous, which made me stretch my legs further. And its spirit made me open my heart.
Tibetan refugees arrive here by bus, after harrowing, often violent, always terrifying journeys over the mountains from their homeland. They must take high passes to avoid Chinese forces, who shoot freely at Tibetans trying to escape (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nangpa_La_killings for a recent example). The community takes them in - feeds, houses, nurses their frostbite, and tries to help them settle in. Each refugee, when ready, receives a personal audience with the His Holiness the Dalai Lama. The government and the community have tried to create a home here, and a center for the preservation of the traditional culture - the arts: music, painting, sculpture, metalwork, dance; the language; the religion.
Dharamsala is thus a place of sadness, and of hope. It is like a history lesson walking down the main roads or strolling through paths between temples. Wise eyes on wrinkled, shining faces turn prayer wheels for good blessings and sell hand-knit socks and scarves. I wonder at their stories - what they have seen with those eyes.
Now and again, especially when traveling, I meet someone who really challenges me to think and feel, who encourages me to follow my dreams without fear. In Dharamsala, I met three. On our second night, Sarah and I went to a cafe to drink tea and watch an open mike night, but found that just a few musicians had shown up, and we were the only customers. One of them invited a small gang of us to his apartment to have tea and play music there, and so we went - it was bliss to sit with warm tea, listen to guitars, and sing badly without remorse - so there were the first two people. A day or so later we wanted to hike up from town into the mountains and after a few false starts, we all ventured out for what ended up being a very fun, very special hike to the middle of nowhere. The trail was recommended to us by the third wonderful person, who has been living in Dharamsala and studying Tibetan history for over 20 years - he has been to Tibet countless times, cataloging ancient sites and studying ancient writings. He says that you cannot describe the landscape of Tibet without being a poet, the light is so brilliant and the place so starkly tactile. The sun was setting as we reached the main road from our hike, and as it cast continually changing light on the snow fields above town, I think I caught a glimpse of what he meant.
Tibetan refugees arrive here by bus, after harrowing, often violent, always terrifying journeys over the mountains from their homeland. They must take high passes to avoid Chinese forces, who shoot freely at Tibetans trying to escape (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nangpa_La_killings for a recent example). The community takes them in - feeds, houses, nurses their frostbite, and tries to help them settle in. Each refugee, when ready, receives a personal audience with the His Holiness the Dalai Lama. The government and the community have tried to create a home here, and a center for the preservation of the traditional culture - the arts: music, painting, sculpture, metalwork, dance; the language; the religion.
Dharamsala is thus a place of sadness, and of hope. It is like a history lesson walking down the main roads or strolling through paths between temples. Wise eyes on wrinkled, shining faces turn prayer wheels for good blessings and sell hand-knit socks and scarves. I wonder at their stories - what they have seen with those eyes.
Now and again, especially when traveling, I meet someone who really challenges me to think and feel, who encourages me to follow my dreams without fear. In Dharamsala, I met three. On our second night, Sarah and I went to a cafe to drink tea and watch an open mike night, but found that just a few musicians had shown up, and we were the only customers. One of them invited a small gang of us to his apartment to have tea and play music there, and so we went - it was bliss to sit with warm tea, listen to guitars, and sing badly without remorse - so there were the first two people. A day or so later we wanted to hike up from town into the mountains and after a few false starts, we all ventured out for what ended up being a very fun, very special hike to the middle of nowhere. The trail was recommended to us by the third wonderful person, who has been living in Dharamsala and studying Tibetan history for over 20 years - he has been to Tibet countless times, cataloging ancient sites and studying ancient writings. He says that you cannot describe the landscape of Tibet without being a poet, the light is so brilliant and the place so starkly tactile. The sun was setting as we reached the main road from our hike, and as it cast continually changing light on the snow fields above town, I think I caught a glimpse of what he meant.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
something in the air
Though it looks like a remote mountain village on the map, Dharamsala and its surrounding communities are teeming with life. The population is predominantly Tibetan, though there are a number of Indians living here, many from Kashmir. It's a place that's good for the soul, I've decided. From almost anywhere in town, you can glimpse high peaks, and gaze down into the valley. Mist comes and goes, and the views change with the light of day. In the afternoons, the weather has turned stormy, bringing downpours, wind, fog, those snappy mountain thunderstorms, and hail. We were sitting in a cafe having lunch yesterday when the power went out, the wind picked up, and the hail began. It didn't actually look that bad - really small hail and it wasn't too cold - so we decided to venture out and run a few errands before going back to the hotel. Outside, we heard some excited yelling and looked up to see a man up a telephone pole monkeying around with the cables. Three men on the ground were trying to unroll a giant spool of electrical wiring to get the power back on, dragging it across other lines in the process. They had a small audience, everybody laughing and shouting suggestions and warnings to the men.
The people here are wonderful. We noticed it the first day, and it hasn't changed or dampened. This morning, I simply ordered tea and cereal for breakfast, and when the food came, the waiter served it with such joy - there is a real sense of true joy, and honest giving to those around you. It's a part of Tibetan culture that I had known about but never experienced, and something I hope to carry into my own life.
I have also learned some about Tibetan Buddhism, as some young men befriended us yesterday and took us through the main temple here. There were several parts to the temple, dedicated to different gods, and as we went through they explained the gods - it's a much more colorful religion than the Buddhist philosophy I've studied at home. We're learning how to make Tibetan bread later today, and possibly taking a yoga class. Tomorrow we'll try to pack a lunch and head for a hike - there are some amazing places to walk to around here. The air has been cold, and clean, and good for my lungs - though hiking these steep streets certainly reminds me that we're at 6- or 7000 feet.
The people here are wonderful. We noticed it the first day, and it hasn't changed or dampened. This morning, I simply ordered tea and cereal for breakfast, and when the food came, the waiter served it with such joy - there is a real sense of true joy, and honest giving to those around you. It's a part of Tibetan culture that I had known about but never experienced, and something I hope to carry into my own life.
I have also learned some about Tibetan Buddhism, as some young men befriended us yesterday and took us through the main temple here. There were several parts to the temple, dedicated to different gods, and as we went through they explained the gods - it's a much more colorful religion than the Buddhist philosophy I've studied at home. We're learning how to make Tibetan bread later today, and possibly taking a yoga class. Tomorrow we'll try to pack a lunch and head for a hike - there are some amazing places to walk to around here. The air has been cold, and clean, and good for my lungs - though hiking these steep streets certainly reminds me that we're at 6- or 7000 feet.
Monday, December 11, 2006
mountain country
Continuing our mostly unintentional tour of religions in India, we made a brief stop in Amritsar, home of the Sikh Golden Temple. It is said to hold 750kg of gold, and is built in the middle of a large pool, accessible by a narrow causeway. We went at dawn, which was an interesting time to be there - beautiful light and a lot of people doing their morning prayers.
We also made a trip to the border between India and Pakistan, which is about an hour by car from Amritsar. At sunset, there is a big flag ceremony that draws spectators on both sides and involves a lot of patriotic chants, songs, and guards marching around high-stepping and saluting, each side trying to outdo the other. It was actually quite disturbing to see, especially when it was all over and a bus traveling from Delhi to Lahore passed through the crowd, reminding me that these people all used to live in the same country - not without conflict, but still the same country.
After a six- turned seven hour bus ride into the mountains, we are now happily in Dharamsala, home of the Tibetan govt in exile, stunning mountains and cleaner air. It rained and thundered yesterday and spit a bit of snow last night, but today we have deep blue skies and lots of things to explore. It's cold here - people don't really heat things - so even though it's in the 30s outside, everybody just layers up. Sarah and I have been wearing roughly the same max-layered look for awhile now.
We also made a trip to the border between India and Pakistan, which is about an hour by car from Amritsar. At sunset, there is a big flag ceremony that draws spectators on both sides and involves a lot of patriotic chants, songs, and guards marching around high-stepping and saluting, each side trying to outdo the other. It was actually quite disturbing to see, especially when it was all over and a bus traveling from Delhi to Lahore passed through the crowd, reminding me that these people all used to live in the same country - not without conflict, but still the same country.
After a six- turned seven hour bus ride into the mountains, we are now happily in Dharamsala, home of the Tibetan govt in exile, stunning mountains and cleaner air. It rained and thundered yesterday and spit a bit of snow last night, but today we have deep blue skies and lots of things to explore. It's cold here - people don't really heat things - so even though it's in the 30s outside, everybody just layers up. Sarah and I have been wearing roughly the same max-layered look for awhile now.
Thursday, December 7, 2006
reflections
A few things I've been thinking about but haven't yet written:
India is a place to see with a companion. Traveling alone was fun, and it certainly gave me a sense of agency - that I can do it, and can get around just fine - but there is so much about this country that is absolutely exhausting if you don't have someone to laugh about it with.
The food isn't as scary as it seems. Sure, I'm being extremely careful, but there are far more safe things than unsafe things. Most things are very fresh - the yogurt (dahi), bread (chapati or nan), fruit (safe if peeled).
Other foreign tourists are almost as fun to watch as Indians. Everybody 'goes native' a different way, and you see a lot of really crunchy tourists with the lonely planet and funny Indian clothes, often worn the wrong way, or by the wrong sex. But they're so comfortable most people don't care. I've taken to wearing whatever is clean, without regard for things like matching outfits - nobody seems to notice, and since the style appears to be full acid-washed denim, no matter what I wear I'm toned down from the native population.
Most tourist and transportation hot spots are full of people who think you wear a dollar-sign on your forehead. It's funny to turn down 10 rickshaw-wallahs and still get asked, 'want a rickshaw?' by the 11th, as if he were THE ONE, preferable to all the others. Some of them really get in your face and are exasperating, asking lots of probing questions, like 'where are you going,' 'where are you staying,' 'where are you from,' 'are you married.' Sarah and I decided we're from Estonia, which seems to help end conversations quicker. It's funny - it doesn't feel as threatening as it could, I've decided there's only so much that your average 90lb Indian man can do to me.
Most shopkeepers are not honest, even when you want to think so. Though they're all very friendly. We had a hilarious experience today trying to buy yak cheese at Varanasai's only western bakery, where they first gave us a block of 140 grams of cheese and then tried to prove that it was actually 200 grams. They brought out an old-school scale, with the two sides: one for the food, the other for metal hexagons of a marked weight. He proceeded to place 200 g on the weight side, then chuck the cheese into the food side, making the scale temporarily sink in its direction, before settling back on the weight side. We then realized it was not the inexpensive cheese we requested but a rare one, and we had do go through a whole negotiation to get what we'd originally asked for. By the end Sarah and I were just laughing, and so was the guy. It was all just quite ridiculous, and quite funy.
There are some sayings that we've taken to using: here, many workers learn english from listening to their customers, so if a rickshaw-wallah is going to wait for you somewhere and then take you somewhere else, they might say 'you wait for me here.' hmm. Everything is 'no problems! you will be happy.' I love that they plan to ensure my happiness at all times. The word 'wallah' refers to someone who does something, and is usually used in reference to the rickshaw driver. We've taken to using it everywhere, as in the fruit-wallah, the internet-wallah, the bead-wallah, etc.
I'm now in Delhi, awaiting a train to Amritsar, which is 2 hours late. This morning we took a boat ride down the Ganges in Varanasai, which was a magical way to see the life of the city. The city flooded in 1978 and from the river you can see the high-water mark, about 3 stories up on buildings that are already set above the river about 30 feet. It's pretty unreal. I also found a fantastic tailor who made some Varanasai silk into a pair of pants and a skirt for me overnight. And mom, I got some great scraps.
We will be in Amritsar just long enough to take in the famous Sikh Golden Temple and go to the border with Pakistan, where they do a nightly border 'parade' - a lot of marching and grunting on each side, which is quite a spectacle. I'm excited to peek into Pakistan - not something I ever thought I'd do. But it's not a dangerous thing to do. Then it's on to Dharamsala for a bit of Tibetan goodness and mountains.
India is a place to see with a companion. Traveling alone was fun, and it certainly gave me a sense of agency - that I can do it, and can get around just fine - but there is so much about this country that is absolutely exhausting if you don't have someone to laugh about it with.
The food isn't as scary as it seems. Sure, I'm being extremely careful, but there are far more safe things than unsafe things. Most things are very fresh - the yogurt (dahi), bread (chapati or nan), fruit (safe if peeled).
Other foreign tourists are almost as fun to watch as Indians. Everybody 'goes native' a different way, and you see a lot of really crunchy tourists with the lonely planet and funny Indian clothes, often worn the wrong way, or by the wrong sex. But they're so comfortable most people don't care. I've taken to wearing whatever is clean, without regard for things like matching outfits - nobody seems to notice, and since the style appears to be full acid-washed denim, no matter what I wear I'm toned down from the native population.
Most tourist and transportation hot spots are full of people who think you wear a dollar-sign on your forehead. It's funny to turn down 10 rickshaw-wallahs and still get asked, 'want a rickshaw?' by the 11th, as if he were THE ONE, preferable to all the others. Some of them really get in your face and are exasperating, asking lots of probing questions, like 'where are you going,' 'where are you staying,' 'where are you from,' 'are you married.' Sarah and I decided we're from Estonia, which seems to help end conversations quicker. It's funny - it doesn't feel as threatening as it could, I've decided there's only so much that your average 90lb Indian man can do to me.
Most shopkeepers are not honest, even when you want to think so. Though they're all very friendly. We had a hilarious experience today trying to buy yak cheese at Varanasai's only western bakery, where they first gave us a block of 140 grams of cheese and then tried to prove that it was actually 200 grams. They brought out an old-school scale, with the two sides: one for the food, the other for metal hexagons of a marked weight. He proceeded to place 200 g on the weight side, then chuck the cheese into the food side, making the scale temporarily sink in its direction, before settling back on the weight side. We then realized it was not the inexpensive cheese we requested but a rare one, and we had do go through a whole negotiation to get what we'd originally asked for. By the end Sarah and I were just laughing, and so was the guy. It was all just quite ridiculous, and quite funy.
There are some sayings that we've taken to using: here, many workers learn english from listening to their customers, so if a rickshaw-wallah is going to wait for you somewhere and then take you somewhere else, they might say 'you wait for me here.' hmm. Everything is 'no problems! you will be happy.' I love that they plan to ensure my happiness at all times. The word 'wallah' refers to someone who does something, and is usually used in reference to the rickshaw driver. We've taken to using it everywhere, as in the fruit-wallah, the internet-wallah, the bead-wallah, etc.
I'm now in Delhi, awaiting a train to Amritsar, which is 2 hours late. This morning we took a boat ride down the Ganges in Varanasai, which was a magical way to see the life of the city. The city flooded in 1978 and from the river you can see the high-water mark, about 3 stories up on buildings that are already set above the river about 30 feet. It's pretty unreal. I also found a fantastic tailor who made some Varanasai silk into a pair of pants and a skirt for me overnight. And mom, I got some great scraps.
We will be in Amritsar just long enough to take in the famous Sikh Golden Temple and go to the border with Pakistan, where they do a nightly border 'parade' - a lot of marching and grunting on each side, which is quite a spectacle. I'm excited to peek into Pakistan - not something I ever thought I'd do. But it's not a dangerous thing to do. Then it's on to Dharamsala for a bit of Tibetan goodness and mountains.
Wednesday, December 6, 2006
holy cow
Varanasai is indescribable. I'll do my best--
Mourning families bring their dead here to cremate on the banks of the Ganges River, which is, we gather, something like a highway to heaven. It's the holiest place for Hindus, and pilgrims flock in greater droves than foreign tourists. It is also one of the oldest-continuously inhabited cities, and looks as much. You can't drive anywhere near our hotel, which is down on the banks of the river. Instead, from the airport our cab left us on a bustling, carnival-like street, choked with shoppers, shopkeepers, smoke, and animals. We were given directions to 'go up there to that church and take a left,' which led us into a maze of alleyways, all chock full of shops selling saris, sweets, bangles, music, beads, and pan (which everybody chews incessantly - it's like tobacco on steroids). The buildings rise up three or four stories each - sometimes coming so close that the alleys have room for only two people to pass shoulder-to-shoulder. At every corner, we ask for directions, and finally find our way to the hotel.
I should say something about the animals. They're everywhere - the cows climb steps as well as humans and they bellow from great heights, much to our surprise. Monkeys climb on everything and we learned the first day (not without amusement) that it's mating season. Goats forage in the gullies where everybody throws their garbage, and dogs beg at many shops. It's also, apparently, puppy season. The city is horribly dirty, and the cows wander aimlessly, eating also from the garbage, which doesn't seem to do them much justice, as there is more nasty cow crap here than I've ever seen.
It's been wonderful to have two fantastic traveling companions, Sarah and Colin (Sarah's friend, who conveniently speaks Hindi). Yesterday we took a short trip to Sarnath, the place where Buddha gave his first sermon after receiving enlightenment. It's a neat place because there are a lot of monastery ruins, and a number of active monasteries. Many buddhists have built temples in the style of their home country here - so we went to a Chinese temple and a Japanese temple, at which we roped ourselves into an hour-long ceremony that involved a lot of drumming (us included). This seems to be a theme - we found ourselves in the middle of another religious event today at the Golden Temple, or Kashi Vishwanath temple, built to honor the god Shiva. It's heavily guarded - we had to leave most of our things at a police checkpoint before we were even allowed near. Hindus fear a Muslim attack because of attacks on both sides - Hindus razed a mosque that they believe was built on a holy site by the Mughal invaders, and there is a sort of detente between both sides now. Hundreds, maybe thousands of police maintain a presence in the city to encourage peace. Anyway, once inside security, we were informed that we were not allowed inside as it was 'not a tourist site, only for worshippers,' by some of the guards. After sitting with the police/guards for a few minutes, Colin convinced them that we simply wanted to do a puja (like a blessing), and since Hindus believe that their god is everyone's god, and our god is their god, we were allowed in, with the typical, 'ok, you go, and when you come back, you sit with us (the six guards) and have chai.' A man who said he was the head priest ushered us through four or five places at which we were to kneel, repeat after the priest, touch something (a horn, a Shiva lingam (look it up), the base of an altar). At each point we were instructed by our 'guide' to pay some large sum of rupees, and then he took us to the next. The temple was crowded - people praying everywhere, lots of things happening at many locations, and there was a total swirl of action happening around us. By the end, he had fleeced us out of maybe 1500 Rs - a huge sum of money for them, but maybe $35.
On our way out, someone asked us what we thought. Colin replied that it was wonderful, but very expensive, at which point the man got very angry, and said something in Hindi to the police who had agreed to let us in. Sarah and I sat to the side while Colin negotiated for our money back. Police officers/guards descended, and the police chief got very angry at the guide/priest who had taken us through. One by one, the people to whom we had given money came out and talked to the police chief, and it slowly came out that the guide was the culprit. He went back in and came out with pretty much all of our money, to all of our amazement. When foreigners are treated unfairly and a good cop finds out, real action can happen, we have learned. But really only for foreigners, unfortunately.
It was unbelievable to see the whole thing unfold. So much of what happens around me goes over my head, either because I only understand a small part of the culture, or because I don't understand what is being said. Tomorrow we are to meet the police chief, who will take us to his wife's school, and then he and Colin will have lunch - Sarah and I have to catch a plane, he was sorry to hear. There are so many layers of interaction, of belief in fairness, of ethos for treating a guest, of really every part of life that are new, and I feel as though I am scratching the surface.
Mourning families bring their dead here to cremate on the banks of the Ganges River, which is, we gather, something like a highway to heaven. It's the holiest place for Hindus, and pilgrims flock in greater droves than foreign tourists. It is also one of the oldest-continuously inhabited cities, and looks as much. You can't drive anywhere near our hotel, which is down on the banks of the river. Instead, from the airport our cab left us on a bustling, carnival-like street, choked with shoppers, shopkeepers, smoke, and animals. We were given directions to 'go up there to that church and take a left,' which led us into a maze of alleyways, all chock full of shops selling saris, sweets, bangles, music, beads, and pan (which everybody chews incessantly - it's like tobacco on steroids). The buildings rise up three or four stories each - sometimes coming so close that the alleys have room for only two people to pass shoulder-to-shoulder. At every corner, we ask for directions, and finally find our way to the hotel.
I should say something about the animals. They're everywhere - the cows climb steps as well as humans and they bellow from great heights, much to our surprise. Monkeys climb on everything and we learned the first day (not without amusement) that it's mating season. Goats forage in the gullies where everybody throws their garbage, and dogs beg at many shops. It's also, apparently, puppy season. The city is horribly dirty, and the cows wander aimlessly, eating also from the garbage, which doesn't seem to do them much justice, as there is more nasty cow crap here than I've ever seen.
It's been wonderful to have two fantastic traveling companions, Sarah and Colin (Sarah's friend, who conveniently speaks Hindi). Yesterday we took a short trip to Sarnath, the place where Buddha gave his first sermon after receiving enlightenment. It's a neat place because there are a lot of monastery ruins, and a number of active monasteries. Many buddhists have built temples in the style of their home country here - so we went to a Chinese temple and a Japanese temple, at which we roped ourselves into an hour-long ceremony that involved a lot of drumming (us included). This seems to be a theme - we found ourselves in the middle of another religious event today at the Golden Temple, or Kashi Vishwanath temple, built to honor the god Shiva. It's heavily guarded - we had to leave most of our things at a police checkpoint before we were even allowed near. Hindus fear a Muslim attack because of attacks on both sides - Hindus razed a mosque that they believe was built on a holy site by the Mughal invaders, and there is a sort of detente between both sides now. Hundreds, maybe thousands of police maintain a presence in the city to encourage peace. Anyway, once inside security, we were informed that we were not allowed inside as it was 'not a tourist site, only for worshippers,' by some of the guards. After sitting with the police/guards for a few minutes, Colin convinced them that we simply wanted to do a puja (like a blessing), and since Hindus believe that their god is everyone's god, and our god is their god, we were allowed in, with the typical, 'ok, you go, and when you come back, you sit with us (the six guards) and have chai.' A man who said he was the head priest ushered us through four or five places at which we were to kneel, repeat after the priest, touch something (a horn, a Shiva lingam (look it up), the base of an altar). At each point we were instructed by our 'guide' to pay some large sum of rupees, and then he took us to the next. The temple was crowded - people praying everywhere, lots of things happening at many locations, and there was a total swirl of action happening around us. By the end, he had fleeced us out of maybe 1500 Rs - a huge sum of money for them, but maybe $35.
On our way out, someone asked us what we thought. Colin replied that it was wonderful, but very expensive, at which point the man got very angry, and said something in Hindi to the police who had agreed to let us in. Sarah and I sat to the side while Colin negotiated for our money back. Police officers/guards descended, and the police chief got very angry at the guide/priest who had taken us through. One by one, the people to whom we had given money came out and talked to the police chief, and it slowly came out that the guide was the culprit. He went back in and came out with pretty much all of our money, to all of our amazement. When foreigners are treated unfairly and a good cop finds out, real action can happen, we have learned. But really only for foreigners, unfortunately.
It was unbelievable to see the whole thing unfold. So much of what happens around me goes over my head, either because I only understand a small part of the culture, or because I don't understand what is being said. Tomorrow we are to meet the police chief, who will take us to his wife's school, and then he and Colin will have lunch - Sarah and I have to catch a plane, he was sorry to hear. There are so many layers of interaction, of belief in fairness, of ethos for treating a guest, of really every part of life that are new, and I feel as though I am scratching the surface.
Sunday, December 3, 2006
friends, temples and tigers
We had a wonderful few days in Delhi, getting to know the city, working a bit, and connecting with a classmate from Brown. Highlights include seeing Bill Clinton and Sonia Gandhi speak at the launch of a new pediatric AIDS treatment initiative, wandering the markets in the old city (especially the large machinery one and the food market, where the air itself burns your throat with spices), and escaping somewhat from 'real India.' We ate Thai food, saw the new Bond movie, and relaxed.
Khajuraho has been fun and funny - it's draw is a set of ancient (1000 years old) temples, intricately carved with deities, including some erotic carvings - think kama sutra drawings in 3D. The city depends on tourism, and thus is rife with touts - we've been offered everything from tissues and keychains to helicopter rides. Culturally, it feels like a huge invasion of privacy to have ten people following you, talking, yelling, sometimes laughing at you - but to them, it's not really seen that way. So it's been a challenge to balance keeping our sanity while feeling free enough to talk to the people we want to talk to. Our second day was a bit better, either because people knew we were bad consumers or because it was a Sunday and there appeared to be fewer people around.
There is a huge sense of service providers wanting to get your business no matter what, which means they'll offer a taxi ride even when they need fuel on the way, which is a minor burp compared to some of the things we've seen. I've had a cycle-rickshaw driver offer to take me 10 km up and over a mountain to see a fort, and this morning, we took a tour to (hopefully) see tigers, but no cooperation from them. We drove around the bush for a few hours, stopping often, but no avail.
On to Varanasai tomorrow!
Khajuraho has been fun and funny - it's draw is a set of ancient (1000 years old) temples, intricately carved with deities, including some erotic carvings - think kama sutra drawings in 3D. The city depends on tourism, and thus is rife with touts - we've been offered everything from tissues and keychains to helicopter rides. Culturally, it feels like a huge invasion of privacy to have ten people following you, talking, yelling, sometimes laughing at you - but to them, it's not really seen that way. So it's been a challenge to balance keeping our sanity while feeling free enough to talk to the people we want to talk to. Our second day was a bit better, either because people knew we were bad consumers or because it was a Sunday and there appeared to be fewer people around.
There is a huge sense of service providers wanting to get your business no matter what, which means they'll offer a taxi ride even when they need fuel on the way, which is a minor burp compared to some of the things we've seen. I've had a cycle-rickshaw driver offer to take me 10 km up and over a mountain to see a fort, and this morning, we took a tour to (hopefully) see tigers, but no cooperation from them. We drove around the bush for a few hours, stopping often, but no avail.
On to Varanasai tomorrow!
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