Five Star

My sister, Tuna Tuna Tuna has wondered where I had been, having not posted anything in a few days. I will tell you, gladly, for I have been re-energizing. A close friend of mine has been traveling India and South East Asia for the past little while. She was joined by yet another firend of her's who works for the Hyatt. For Christmas they invited me to stay with them at the Grand Hyatt Hotel in Mumbai. Rooms are regularly $550 US a night, I am used to paying $2.25 US per night. The stay here is free. The room is free the snack bar is free, the breakfast is free, the hot water works 24/7, the internet is free, the soap is free. I am not going to lie I have taken a few extra bars. It has been easy living for the past few days. I have never stayed in a hotle as nice as this one, not in Canada, not in the US and definitely not in India.

This post will be out of the ordinary, it will be for my personal memory when I print out the blog upon my return and turn into a book that I'll keep and cherish. I arrived on December 25th, I had been on a night train, sleeper class non-AC. This train was packed, there were people sleeping all over the floor. In the bunk beside mine, a family, an entire family lay on top of each other. The mother lay as I did, the father lay with his feet at her face, not beside each other but on top, her legs were open and his back between them, his legs came over her ribs and his feet acted as ear-muffs on either side of her head. One young boy lay beside them, how, I am not sure. And an even younger boy lay on his father chest. They slept soundly. I am not kidding, there were people all over the floor, I go up in the night to use the toilet, by that I mean the hole in the floor of the train. It is similar to any bathroom you'd find on a train or bus but much more simple. Moving on. I made my way off the train and to the hotel around 6 am. The rickshaw that drove me there was slightly out of place, most of the cars that came near were of high quaility. Neeless to say, the rickshaw was not allowed to pull into the driveway. The driveway has gates when you enter all cars are checked with those mirrors that allow you to see under them. The Hyatt in Mumbai has one of the best clubs in the entire city in the basement. I was told this by two younger India guys who are friends with a guy I know in Montreal but who grew up here. So, I arrive via rickshaw and am immediately smiling. A little luxury never hurt anyone. I felt as if i was boarding a plane in the US when entering the building, the security was quite thorough. I made it, I came upstairs to the room, turned on the shower, which was immediately hot, turned on the t.v. which was set top CNN and began to laugh hysterically as I washed my body. JOKES MAN, JOKES! I wait for the girls to arrive and when they do we are informed of a continental breakfast down in the special VIP lobby lounge. Now, we have all had contanental breakfast at the best western but not at the Hyatt. There is freshly squeezed orange, apple, pineapple and watermelon juice. There is the best smoked salmon I have ever eaten. There is croissants, both aux beurre and chocolate. There is cereal, all kinds. There is cappuccino's although I stick with my regular Masala chai. Unlimited fresh fruit, i could go on forever, I can eat as much as I want, go back as many times as I want until 11 am. The day goes on. We head into downtown Mumbai but want to take is easy so we make it back for the 6-8 snacks and drinks, also free. Imported champagne, good imported wine, beers, a nice gin and tonic made with bombay gin, FREE! Snacks like, seared anchovies with a fresh basil leaf served on rosemary cranberry cracker drizzled with white wine sauce. All as decadent as this, all free, a plate of prosciutto with cantaloupe, these plates are always full so are our glasses. These so calles 'snacks' have been our dinner for the past three nights. We tipped two of the waiters and told them that we never want our glasses of wine or our gin and tonics' to be empty. They are never empty, unitl 8 p.m. and everything shuts down. So that is that, I had a Merry Christmas. I hope you did also.
Mumbai is not a busy as everyone says, the local train was intence though. We were packed like rats into a car, i had to fight and push with all my might to get out. There re a hundred people in a space that is 5 feet by 5 feet. I cannot move. I will feel, in canada, on a packed bus that I have the space on a limo car. Well, I've got to go get one more swim in before we board a night bus to Ellora. The real world awaits. I could get used to this easy but it is not what I came here for. I could only afford about 5 nights and then the money which I plan on spending over the course of the next 4 months would be done. I will have to harden my skin again, and by morning, all will be right as rain again. I will be back in India, traveling.

Mongoose

M.C.M.F.
Merry Christmas, Mutha 'Uckas.
This post may be more informative rather than well written with hints of genius, as previous posts' have been. Much has occurred since I last feverishly typed my current events to you.

All the while I read like a fiend, night and day to improve my writing and my ability to move and awe people though a mastery of the English language. What is this blog about again? Oh yeah, Incredible India, not semi-mindless ramblings from a 25 year old cat with a philosophy B.A.

About 4 days ago, which seems like 4 weeks ago, Taylor and I were up at dawn, racing like mad fish addicts with scooters to the early morning fish market on the western tip of Diu Island. This fish market happens every morning from 6-9, before the sun can hit the pavement where it is and cause the thousands of fish to go bad. The stench of fish is very prominent especially for me at that hour. This is not your run-of-the-mill fish market. An area comparable to a medium sized parking lot filled with fish. Not on ice, not alive, not on carts, right there on the pavement, piled, semi-sorted. I saw a 6 foot shark with teeth sharper than razors, beat that Disney - Disney always has sharks with teeth as harp as razor blades.

The picture, below left, does not do justice to the real scene, there were thousands more fish and hundreds more people, but at least you've got an idea.

We had a plan to buy a fish, to bring it to the beach, to gut it, build a fire, and then cook and eat it. We picked up a nice big tuna and some fresh squid. We scooted to the beach. Taylor began gutting the fish while I got the fire started, then I cut up the 'soon to be calamari,' cleaning out their brains and ink pouches. We had one big knife and some silver paper, also known as aluminum foil. We bought a lime and two green onions in a sad but worthy attempt to spice them up. We roughed it as best we could. Plain and simple, fresh as it gets, delicious as it can come it was. That day was filled with booze, smokes, more fish and whatever else we could get our sandy hands on. Like I have said, Diu was amazing and I would visit it again in a heart beat but I just had to 'keep on keepin on like a bird that flew.' I guess it's the only thing I know how to do.

Two days ago I left Diu for Varaval. Varaval was more of a stop-over than a visit. I arrived via bus around 8 p.m. found a room and walked around waiting for my 10 a.m. train the next morning. The room cost me 90 Rs, was filthy but amazing. The people running the joint were great. I asked them in the morning about walking to the train station and they said "no no, ride brother," I assumed they meant a rickshaw and I would have to pay. "No pay, no pay, ride brother.' He walked me out of the hotel where his motor bike was. Sure, why not, although there was my 60 lbs bag, my guitar and a fresh bottle of water. "No problem brother." I've seen 4 Indians on these bike roaring through town, so I hopped on and away we went. We took the long way to the train station which in no way bothered me. Note here that the long way was not due to speed, he was goin' plenty fast. He wanted the big tall white foreign guy with the guitar to dig his bike. I dug it.

Let me take you back a second to the 3 hour state bus ride to Veraval from Diu. Diu is the only place you can drink alcohol in Gujarat. I've said this already. These five 24 year old kids from near Ahmadabad had come to celebrate a birthday and get hammered. They had to do it one last time before boarding the bus. Obviously I sit next to them, they love me. Three are passed out drunk, not well, and two sit talking to me the entire time. Teaching me the language, asking all sorts of questions and telling me all about their lives. I learned enough Gujrati to get respect when asking for rooms and prices the next few days thanks to these kids. I have their names and address, they tell me I can ring them whenever and they'll save my ass, not that it ever needs saving.
These days I feel as light as ever. I have to admit there was a moment when I boarded the bus knowing Taylor was staying behind that made me nervous. But now, only two days later. I'll never look back. It is all for the best, these adventures and times.

I got off the train in Ahmadabad and was immediately greeted by two Israeli girls who were looking for the booking office. I was headed there myself so I told them I would take them. I had been in Ahmadabad train station a week earlier, only briefly on my way to Diu but I knew where it was. We all booked tickets. They, boarding a train at 7 the next morning to Mumbia and me the night after that had nothing to. Why not find a room, some food and have a few drinks illegally. I knew of a hotel which turned out to be quite dirty, but I am getting used to it, I am beginning to enjoy it, really. We had been sweating like mongoose in the booking office and fighting with rickshaw drivers for a decent price to get us to the hotel.After a days work like that there ios nothing like a cold beer, but mine had been in my bad for two days and were pis warm, who cares, I sure didn't and neither did they. We got a room for three as this dodgy hotel, our room had two pretty lizard crawling around but they didn't want to bother us so we didn't bother them. We checked in and went to eat.
Israeli people are some of the best I've met. I have met about 10 of them and they are all happy as can be, out for kicks and drinks, smokes and tokes. We went back to the room where I had two more tall beers and a bottle of vodka hiding in my bad, it being illegal to drink in Gujarat we could not leave the room. It was cozy we all got pretty drunk played some yaniv (an Israeli card game) and feel asleep.
Today I visited Gandhi's ashram, Sabarmati ashram, which was more than peaceful. Gandhi had lived there for many years. Now, hunger is creeping up on me and the smell of spicy curry's is wafting through the room. For a dollar I can have an unlimited thali, which includes three veg dishes, rice, four chapati, a papad and a sweet, sweet!

Soon I will tell you about India as the ultimate community. They are all brothers and sisters, brought together through their religion and their sense of belonging. Their peaceful way of living and their warm kind souls. They all sit on trains and chat. I'd have no idea if the are friends, family or have never met. I've asked repeatedly on numerous accounts, they have never met but they seem like they've been friends for a lifetime. Playing with each others kids, laughing, sharing food. It is the most amazing thing I've ever witnessed. A perfect realization for Christmas time.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Blogging

Today I do not have much time to write. Much has happened and I promise to fill you in soon. Diu is beautiful and one of the best places I've been but I am leaving here today and I am in effect leaving Taylor here too. I do not have all the time in the world and I can only stay on the sandy beaches for so long before the wild city and the rest of my journey calls for me. The feet itch and the dusty road traveler in me has come to fruition. I must go. Keep checking I'll fill you in soon.

"I am thirsty,' I thought aloud. Taylor handed me the bottle of sprite based vodka drink that we had mixed up before boarding the train. I smiled gleefully.

We spent about 24 hours travelling from Udaipur to Diu, an ex-Portuguese island. Diu was a Portuguese island until India, the country that achieved Independence through non-violent revolution, bombed it. Well if their is one thing about India that i have learned and that has held true since I arrived; when you think you know something about the goings on of India, you don't. You can never predict, anticipate or guess what will happen next. India will shock you just as it did Diu.

It is beautiful here, palm trees, the works. I went swimming in the ocean today. What did you do? Not that I am guessing because it is freezing in Canada! I tell everyone I meet I am not spending another cold winter in Canada but that I am going to come to India every time I feel that cold autumn breeze on the back of my neck. Taylor says that I am a disgrace to Canadians because I don't LOVE the cold. Bollocks! It's fucking cold man, get your move on south. -10 is alright, -30 is suffering and we all know their is enough of that to go around without losing a nut to frostbite. Diu is sunny and hot, today I think it may have hit 30 degrees. We've rented scooters while we are here, it is amazing. We spent the day bombing around from beach to beach. The island itself is only about 3km by 11km. The north part is swampy but the south overlooks the deep blue ocean. If bodies of water were women I'd have many wives for I love them. There is nothing more humbling that the great ocean which could swallow you in seconds with its vastness.

We made it to the Eastern part of the island which is one of India's main fishing ports. These men are so intense. It is like going back in time. Their boats are all hand made, it takes 3 months. We saw them building three or four at a time. We got there in time to see some of the people's catch. They had everything from 4 foot long tuna to smaller fish which I do not know the names' of. The men told me in Hindi, and allowed photos, which are often prohibited in areas like that, but I do not remember.

I have not been eating any meat, although I got used to it being a poor student and spending my extra money on women and liquor, the latter being the only true part of that sentence (the part about liquor). The fish here though, has been amazing. We went to an all you can eat BBQ with shark, tuna, you name it, we ate it. Tonight we will feast again.

Diu is a huge drinking town. The state surrounding it is dry so everyone flocks here to wet their whistles'. Their are bars every second building. Speaking of which. "I am thirsty," I thought aloud and left the Internet cafe to go mix up a stiff Scotch and soda. "Hold the soda and heavy on the scotch," I was talking to myself, planning how I would order my first drink after a long day of scooting around a fabulous island.

A day in the Life

Yesterday was beyond annoying. Although IndiaRail is the number one employer, not in customer service but number of employees, in the world they are surely not the most efficient. Taylor and I have had to make certain arrangements in order to ensure seats on trains two week from now. Our haphazard way of train travel may be at the end of it rail, at least for the holiday season. Everyone wants to travel and in a country with over a billion people things can get kind of tight. So here is the plan for the next little while. On December 15 we take a 6 hour bus to Ahmedabad from Udiapur. I will let you in a few things about buses later but for now imagine bumpy roads, no bathrooms, and keep in mind what I wrote previously about traffic laws, or rather, guidelines. Moving on, later on the day of the 15th we take a night train to Diu which is an ex-Portuguese town on the coast. Our first taste of beaches. From there, on the 22nd we head back to Ahmedabad for two days before heading to Mumbai to meet up with friends, Sarah Williams and Kristina, for Christmas.
We have to do it this way because we cannot get from Diu to Mumbai. In the next 2 weeks we have more than 65 hours of travel time but it will all be worth it.

So yesterday was not super fun. Getting all this organized via Internet was a hassle. We have to find the trains, find availability and do 10 other things at the same time in order to book tickets. It all worked out. Last night in order to make up for the days' blandness I decided to drink 5 kingfisher. Delicious.
I have been doing yoga for the past two mornings'. Yoga always makes my life better, ever since I started doing it about 6 months ago. I plan on doing much more and taking it quite seriously but that is another post on another day. Yoga makes my life much better, You should try it. So, back to what I was saying. This morning I woke up at 8 a.m. to make it to a 60min yoga class that began at 8:30. I followed this with the usual street breakfast and Chai. The breakfast consists of a Samosa crushed up with a nice hot chili curry sauce poured on top, served in a leaf bowl. This, with Chai, costs a total of 10Rs, the equivalent of 25 cents. I came back to the hostel room to read a bit and figure out a game pan from the rest of the day. It was only 10 a.m. at this time. I read till about noon and then decided a nice massage, having never head one before in my life, would help me figure stuff out. So for 800Rs, about 15$ I got an hour massage. As relaxed as I was I did not feel the need to shave myself so I went to get a shave. I have not shaved myself since I arrived in india. A straight razor shave done street-side is 30Rs, another 30 cents. It is clean, cheap, smooth, and they massage your face and head to boot. It is incredible. Tonight, after writing you this blog post, while feeling extremely relaxed and refreshed, I plan on watch octopussy, the Bond film. Normally I would not be watching an american film in India but I am Udaipur now and part of the film was shot here. Feeling good!

Trekking

Many things to be said today, but once again no pictures. I am an avid believer in, 'a picture says a thousand words', especially when I, myself, are somewhat limited in time and linguistic poetic-ness. We are in Mt.Abu as I have stated in my previous post. Mt. Abu is the smallest place we have been so far, population 20 000. You may say that this is still a significant amount of people but it feels deserted. It is beautiful. The town is build around Nakki lake, which is said to have come into being by Krishna. Krishna is a reincarnation of Vishnu. Using his, Krishna's, nail he scratched the surface of the earth in order to produce this magnificent body of water. Surrounding the lake are mountains. A few days ago I was unsure whether to call them hills or mountains but after a day's trek into them I can say without doubt , they are mountains. We trekked to 1730m. Above the clouds we looked out on the flat desert land of Rajasthan. Our guide Charles, a native of Mt. Abu was hilarious as well as knowledgeable about the regions' flora and fauna. He did impressions of all the British, French and Korean tourists' he has taken on treks. He did it with impressive accuracy.

We began around 7 in the morning, a jeep took us to the edge of a national park but could not take us further for it is prohibited. We trekked for about 3 hours before stopping among the tribal community that lies in the hills. these old men would not stop smiling. they though our presence was stupendous. They were men of around 45 who looked 65 but were so happy with their lives. They lived in the hills by choice with their small stone hut and their cows who gave them milk. They said we were huge and laughed at the Indian cricket team, which they listen to through a broken down radio. They said our size and strength outdid the entire teams. They did not speak English but Charles translated. The laughed, we laughed although we did not understand until after the translation.

If I don't publish this now I'll never do it...Sorry folks! Tell more late..Look at photos, the old man from the mountains is there.

Hellllloooooooo. For all you sitcom loving folk that was a Seinfeld reference. Sitcoms are a long gone idea in my mind, unless that is if they are in Hindi and unbearable to watch, which is not necessarily due to the fact that I cannot understand the language.
If by some chance there is a t.v. in the room that I paid $2 cdn a night for, I am pleased, momentarily. I did not watch much t.v. at home so I have no idea why I would watch it here but sometimes it is a nice break no matter where you are. So, I turn it on, trying to relax for 5 minutes before my well deserved rest, to find random Bollywood dancing and singing, WTF! I mean really, it is nuts. The choreography is hilarious with massively over-exaggerated movements and ear-to-ear smiles. To be honest. it is growing on me, although I have no clue what they are saying.

They do not have pop or 'radio' music here. They have classic sitar, which is nice, or Bollywood movie tracks' turned mainstream. It is as if there are no bands other than the ones put together to make the movie soundtracks. Can you imagine if that was the case for North America? We would have all shot ourselves the year the Titanic came out, thanks Celine. Enough with that jazz, let's move on to another tune, but make sure we kick, jump, then turn to the camera and smile, then kick, then jump, and kick whilst turning to the camera and smiling, then slide, hop up, spin, kick-spin, dip, smile, throw in a flip, smile, kick, flip, jump, smile, flip, smile, jump, kick, smile, slide and finish with 7 smiles, 4 kicks, 2 flips and then BANG you are riding a camel while smiling, you flip of and......fade out.


I left Jodhpur yesterday day afternoon but not before drinking 3 bottles of cheap vodka with some Finnish girls to celebrate Finnish Independence. My gut is getting used to IMFL (Indian made foreign Liquor). We all took a great cooking class that lasted 5 hours. We learned how to make all types of dishes and then had a mad feast and filled our bellies. The lady giving us the lesson invited us for morning tea which was lovely, she was amazing. The name of her shop and her lesson was called, spice paradise. I thought it was catchy.


I am in Mt.Abu. It is the place where Indians vacation. It is a lovely town in the hills of Rajasthan. Tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. I am going on a 6 hour trek into the hills and forest. These mountains, depending on which area of the world you are from ,may be mountains or are just high rocky hills, are the homes, of bears, wild boars, monkeys, leopards as well as a handful of other animals. We begin by heading to a lake that is inhabited by 100's of crocodiles.

I am running short on time and this computer does not allow me to upload pictures, too bad. I'll make sure to upload a bunch soon, there are some good ones.

A window

I have chosen not to philosophize too much for you and I will continue on this path for the most part, but today, here is a little something. For the purpose of this example all windows' are see through. There exist a pane of glass. This pane of glass is the main part of the window. It is a curious thought this pane, this window. Windows are to see through just as much as they are to stop things from entering or passing through. Which or what is the essence of a window? It is to allow things like light and sight to pass through or is it to stop cool breezes and bugs from entering. Is it both? Of course it is both but where lies it true essence. Did the ideas coincide? Did someone simultaneously think that a window could let things in as well as keep them out? This blog is essentially a window. I allow what I choose to be seen and felt, and at the same time I choose what is not seen and felt. I am here feeling the air while you are seeing it through a window but not feeling it. Here are a few pictures and comments for the window.

For all the recyclers out there.
They do NOT recycle. They burn their garbage, plastic bottles, bags and all. Every morning or almost every morning people are out sweeping in from of their shops. They sweep the garbage into a pile. Their neighboring shop does the same. They sometime combine the piles and then, they burn them.
Below is a pile all ready to be burned.


The reason it smells like urine all over the streets is because the bathrooms are open urinals with open drainage systems. Half the time people don't even bother to use them, they simply find a corner and let 'er rip as we would on a drunken walk home. The difference is, they do it in broad daylight, on every street in every city, big or small. Here is a picture of a urinal.



Here is where I had breakfast this morning. He is knows as the Omelet-Man. There are motorbikes that whiz by left and right.





I have also added a video to facebook of a young boy playing music in the street. Check it out there.
All of this is in the making, and I am the maker.

A Brief Moment

Note: My last two posts were mediocre attempts to entertain you. I was not inspired, yet chose to post anyway. This, on my part, was a mistake and I am here to redeem myself and dazzle you with fresh ideas and experiences. Back to the basics, the tale of one man setting sail into a sea of millions.

I wish I had brought a tape recorder. I could express my thoughts and feelings to you as they come to me. In the places in which they came to me. It becomes difficult, skewed if you will, my sitting in front of a computer screen hours after the rush of thoughts. It does not allow for things to flow as they did sitting on the walls of an ancient fort, high above the city, overlooking the colourful carts filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, being pulled or pushed by men who live far beyond our definition of poverty. Gazing at the kids flying kites, the auto-rickshaw drivers reupholstering their seats, and the women doing laundry and leaving the beautiful array of coloured saris and cloths to dry on the roofs in the sun. The views are spectacular.

I am presently reading 'the white tiger', a book based in India. It has given me much insight into the lives of ordinary men. I use ordinary loosely here, there is nothing ordinary about India. It gives me insight and motive to ask more questions about the buildings and sewage plans that have not come to be but have been promised by the government. The havelis built by workers, regular men, from money meant for communities but instead kept by crooked politicians. The poor sit hungry and homeless just outside, having built these palaces with money meant for them.

Taylor and I walk through the narrow roads of Jaisalmer to find hundreds of shops filled with colourful bed covers, shawls, scarfs, trousers and shirts. Somehow within these narrow roads a few kids find places to play cricket, to practice their throws and swings. A cow or bull moo-ssies by, a motorbike whizzes through with unthinkable precision, still the kids play on. Taylor and I join in their game. It turns it to more or less a game of catch. For no less than 45 minutes we toss the ball, quickly, the kids pretending to throw the ball behind them in order to cause a wicket (an out in cricket). They are fast and eager. They enjoy our company, encouraging us to keep playing.

Only a foot away from me, as I toss the ball, a bull with horns a foot long stops mid-step. It lowers it's head and and begins to chew an empty silver chip bag -The streets are littered with garbage which the cows and bulls eat. Just then the bull begins to urinate. This bull seemed aged, maybe it's just malnourished but I think the sudden urination was as much of a surprise to him as it was to me.

Cows are owned collectively by neighbourhoods. They use and share milk. The excess is sold to neighbours who do not share the cow.

We went into a Jain temple. Jain is a division of Buddhism. As in temples of Hinduism we had to remove our shoes but there was more here. All leather had to be removed and menstruating women were forbidden to enter. How they can tell I am not sure, but the simple fact that women, during this time, are shunned, was a shock.

I'll change topics now and move to trains, but first, I must tell you that today while walking to the market in Jodhpur, where I am now, I saw, not for the first time, two young children around the age of 4 taking huge shits in the road. They squatted beside the cows chewing garbage, the auto-rickshaw drivers chewing pann, waiting to give rides and the many people walking by, to simply defecate. Bazaar? Not at all, really, it is perfectly normal here. Okay so, trains. The trains are sweaty and hot by day and freezing by night. They are from a fleet of trains made no later than 1960 and if you haven't put together the line of similarity that exists in this country, they are dirty. Everything is dirty. I ask people if they have a garbage, they respond with a yes and throw whatever it is I've handed to them into the street.

Back to the dirty yet fantastic trains. They clunk and bang day and night. In the day, sleeper class, the lowest way to travel while still having a seat, gives you a very minimal place to sit and absolutely no possibility of laying down. The bunks, on which I sleep on night trains, have 5-6 people squished together in the day. There is luggage packed all around us as well as people. The upper berths are piled and packed with people's belongings. There is NO personal space in this entire country. The people, though they may not know each other, cozy up and smile, babbling on to each other while laughing (sometimes at the tall white people's expense). Let's talk about this for a moment.

The people in India, as far as I can tell, are happy. What I mean by this is that people, smile frequently, they laugh constantly and seem quite content. I know that this, considering some peoples' living arrangements, seems hard to believe but it is true. They are peoples' of high spirit.

I am in Jodhpur now. I think this is the most beautiful place which I have been so far on this journey. I want to share with you a moment of peace which I was fortunate enough to have yesterday. I had climbed the rocky hill to the fort which has never been concurred due to it precarious position. I was looking out upon the city, upon the blue houses below. It was close to sunset and the call to prayer began to ring through the city. Upon the hill things seem to stop, all except for the sounds of this call. I cannot describe to you what is being said, I do not know. I do know that the birds, soaring high above the city, seemed to stop, the air became still but the song kept going. The call to prayer comes several time a day and booms through the city. I have heard it many times and have begun to enjoy it, it is soothing, but today it was even more so. It was prefect. There are few moments in my life where I have felt such perfection.

Okay, so here goes another attempt at blogging. I love the blog-O-sphere. I have located a half decent keyboard except that all the keys are in Hindi.

The textile industry is insane here. You are lured into so many shops if you happen to fall victim to the world renowned 'Indian hospitality'. I could tell you so many things on, 'how to tell if your wool is real,' if your silk is real and whether it is mixed with synthetic materials. In Canada it is simple, things are regulated. They have to print what the shirt, shawl, scarf, whatever it may be, is made up of. If they lie or cheat you can return it and take legal action. Here you can be clueless, have no idea what you are being sold, buy it, be cheated and there is nothing you can do about it. Where we are from people might over charge you, but at least you are getting what you paid for. I have heard so many tourists' horror stories about buying fake wool, fake silk, and they had no idea. Who would be the wiser? Unless you are in the business of buying these materials you would not think twice. Me, being a skeptic, not really wanting to buy things, and not knowing anything about the materials happened to be lucky and meet someone that wanted to show me how to tell these things apart. Silk and cotton are both made of protein, like our hair. If you burn hair it smells like hair, if you burn plastic, it.... you guessed it, smells like plastic. I will stop boring you with information that will be of no you use to you in the near or distant future. But, it was interesting to learn. The man, Barsa, explained to me all the different types and mixes of materials which vary greatly in price. What were his motives? His view was not like others, he did not wish to rip off tourist, his shop was in a less touristy place. No one led up to the shop or pressured us into buying. He did not care if tourists bought, he had regulars, Indian people who bought from him. We left his shop with nothing but much more informed that we have ever been about, patterns, natural colouring, materials and so on. Again, I say what I have said in past blog posts, there are good people all over the world.

Cows eat anything. They eat paper, they eat clothes left on the street, it is incredible. Here in a cow eating what may seem like green plant-life, but really, it is just a green shirt.

It is hot out today, almost too hot. The desert sun is beating down and a tall kingfisher is in order. I have to make it until 5 p.m. though.

The Jain temples here in Jaisalmer are more than beautiful. The street are lined with havelis, beautiful homes. All decorated in hand carved sandstone.

Here is a picture of the rat temple I went to just outside of Bikaner. As the title states, it is full of rats. When they run on your feet it is considered good luck. If you happen to see the white rat you should count your lucky stars, they are rare and very sacred. I was not lucky enough to see one but I was definitely surrounded with thousands of your typical grey rodents. Another short post. I will try to embark on many more adventures in order to entertain you.

No Hurry, No Worry, No Chicken Curry!

I am in Jaisalmer. It is beautiful. The town is smaller and they rely on the tourist dollar to keep them going. This makes the pressure to buy a little much at times, but when you have no money, as I do, it is easy. Everything in India is a lot cheaper than Canada, or any westernized country for that matter, but, and there is a but, they drive a hard fucking bargain. I would have rather withheld the curse word there, but fuck! They drill you with every sob story, they try to stick every compassionate bone in your body and if you wear them down, they still get you to buy at a tourist's price. By this I mean: There are three prices here; Indian prices, tourist prices, and stupid tourist prices. If I get an India to buy something for me, right away he will have the cheapest price that I could possibly pay. If I hassle and bargain for 20 mins, then walk away, only then will I have a semi decent offer. And even after that I will have to haggle down a few Rs (Rs stands for Rupees). I assumed you, who read this, know that by now but I wanted to clarify. Moving on.

Today I bargained, and got what I wanted for 150Rs, the equivalent of $3.25 Cdn. I got a camel leather belt, 10 post cards and 15 min of Internet. Originally I was asked for 300Rs for the belt, 50 Rs for an hour of Internet and 50 Rs for the postcards. See what I mean?

This keyboard is the pits, and the computers are prehistoric where I am right now so this post might be shorter, although I have a lot to say.

I am heading out on another night train in a few days, to Jodpur, the blue city. The last night train from Bikaner was better. I was prepared this time. I had two sweaters, a sheet to wrap myself in and a good thick book as a pillow. Paradise.

I have to ask. Who got the joke? Well, I am not sure if I can call it a joke, call it what you will. It was the lone picture of a camel toe. Stacey and Art, our humor is in aligned.

Seeing this keyboard is lacking the ability to function I am trying,instead, to offer a few good pictures. No, they are not of Camel toes as you've seen previously.

A quick note

I fell, sometimes, for all of you that know me, that's funny. Okay, seriously though, I feel sometimes that I would love to write individual blog posts. Each of them addressed to the people avidly reading about my adventures. You know who you are. I am out here doing what I choose, but individual moments bring specific individuals to mind. Each and every one of you incorporated into my personality and therefore into my experiences and thoughts. If, only for a second, you thinking that you are not one of those people, you are!

I feel a willingness to alter certain posts, to incorporate my world views and spread what I have seen in order to influence people and change what they think is reality. I will refrain from this as much as possible, but at times, it seems unavoidable.

I left Puskar three days ago. I needed to leave. Sitting on a roof top, in the sun, drinking Kingfisher, smoking India-Kings and knocking back bhang-lassies is fun and all, but really, it was time to move on. I took a night train to Bikaner. A small but very warming desert town. The train was freezing, the desert does not hold heat well and although it is a blistering 40 degrees in the day it is barely 10 by night. I drank two tall kingfisher as I boarded the train, it left on time which was surprising, and followed those with a half bottle of rum. I thought it would help me sleep. I found myself at 2 in the morning sitting by a open train door smoking more India-Kings. I had opened the door myself, it was shut due to the desert wind and frigid night air. It was surely something to be sitting on an old rickety train with one leg hanging out headed through the desert, a bit drunk, smoke in hand. To cut that episode short, I made it to Bikaner. At 4:45 in the morning, freezing, tired, and hungover by that point, I made it.

That was three days ago. Last night I slept in the desert. I was in a tent about, well, lets say 6 hours of camel speed, into the desert. The city lights were no longer existent. The city sounds were no longer existent. There are no words to describe the feeling that filled my body, and soul. The trip consisted of two musicians, three camels, lunch, an afternoon tea, dinner, a night under the stars, breakfast and the trip back. I plan on another trek via camel in Jaisalmer, the next town I plan to visit.

A few words about camels: They fart, loudly. The eat, shit, moan, and groan while they walk. I shit alongside them, in the desert and burn the TP. Too much information? Well, again, it is Bowman-in-Motion. They are three times the height of cows with the strength of elephants. The desert, consisting of nothing but some bushes and sand has been the least polluted place I have visited. Even at that, there are plastic bottles and trash piled in certain places.

I am back in Bikaner about to go to a temple filled with hundreds of sacred rats. A very holy place, we'll see what it's like. I am heading to Jaisalmer tomorrow night via night train. I will be more prepared, and I do not mean more rum to keep me warm but more blankets, for it is in the desert also, even more so than Bikaner. God speed friends.

I

I am in Puskar now. It is a hippie mecca. I am undecided on how I feel about it. I think that the stress of major cities is nice to be away from, but at the same time this town is very non-Indian in certain ways. I feel like listening to Bob Marley and eating western style pizza, even if it is served on nan bread is not a real taste of India.

I am in an Internet cafe that does not have any 'cafe', instead it has goats and cows right outside. I saw a dead camel today, it saddened me. I was happy just one week ago to have seen a live one, and now, so soon, so suddenly I saw a dead one, again, it saddened me.

I was in a heavily forested area two days ago. Now, in Puskar, I am in a valley, in desert like terrain. I hiked up two mountains in two days to reach temples which belonging to religions I do not believe in. Science.

I am heading to Bikaner to ride camels into the desert for two nights there. I am excited. I am hungry. I have had a few beer, Kingfisher, the only beer sold or rather drinkable in India from what I know. I have decided I kind of like smoking beatties. They are like mini cigars that don't smoke well so sometimes you have a drag and then throw them away. I smoke them cause 20 of them cost 10 cents. They still cause cancer. I am about to tell you where I have been so far. I started in Delhi, I went to Agra. I saw the TajMahal. I think it is beautiful. I think you should look at the pictures of my trip so far. I have posted a link at the top right hand of my blog. After Agra I went to Jaipur which was another big city, very beautiful. I fed monkeys. After that I went to Sawai Madophur where I went on a jungle-esk safari for 16$. I did not see tigers but I was near them. I could sense their presence. I lied about sensing their presence but I did not lie about being near them. I think there are about 35 in this national park. I saw many other animals. I am in Puskar now. I met two very nice Austrian girls who also had a mini guitar so we all sat on the roof had a beer and played music. Beer is illegal in the town of puskar, so are eggs and meat, but I made sure to stay at a place where we could get them. Bhang lassie, Marijuana yogurt shakes, are very common here. There are many 45 year old people here that never escaped the 60's. I think that is too bad. I have made a good friend from Switzerland. I am sitting with him at the Internet place. I am going to call them Internet places because Internet cafes do not describe properly where I am. My friends name is Damiano. He has been in three different cities with Taylor and I. I have been eating a bit of non-Indian food to give my gut a break. I love Indian food but it is a lot to handle for breakfast, lunch and supper. Desert is spelled with one 's' because you only want one of them whereas dessert is spelled with two because many people would like seconds.

I have a garden on the first rooftop of the hotel I am staying at now, the milkman guest house. The family that runs it lives in the lobby. I did yoga in the garden this morning. Yoga changes my life in a very positive manner, especially after walking for 5 hours a day. The second, higher rooftop, is filled with plants and lights and hammocks and couches and mattress to veg out on. This is the most peaceful place I have been to so far in India. I think we might extent our stay here a few extra days. Many people offer us hash on the street. Whether we accept of not is not for this blog.

I like travelling. I like people. I don't like people who harass you constantly and try to screw you out of your money. I find them often here but what the hell, i try to take it with a grain of salt. I am learning that patients IS a virtue.

I have almost stepped in shit several times while simply trying to avoid stepping in shit a first time. I think the last sentence is funny. I hope you do too. I am not yet missing the luxuries of Canada but I know I will eventually. I had hot water for the first time in 5 days this morning. I was laughing whist I washed. I thank you for reading.

Journal Nov. 14, 2009 - Jaipur

What a day it was. Not quite sure where to start. How about the morning? I have been awake reading and listening to my ipod for about half an hour now, it's 7:45. Neither what I am reading nor what I am listening to has any relevance to the story so I'll skip remarking on it. In most cases I must agree with you- that they do have some importance, sometimes a significant one but for my purpose here today it does not. Days feel like months. What is the next move? Sawai Madhopur is it, Ranthambhor national park, hopefully to see some tigers to be more precise. (This was the plan but today was the trip to the park and no tigers were spotted. Many other animals and copious amount of monkey were but no tigers.)

Off to the train station it is. I have had a few nuts so far today, some India trail mix if you will, Kuch Kuch. It's delicious. A bit of water and this amazing sugar filled mango drink called Slice. I am not sure but I think I am addicted - at 20 cents a bottle I have no reason not to be. Slice, mango gold. The train ticket like any tedious task become a full event in itself. We need three tickets; one to Sawai Madhopur, one back to Jaipur and one to Ajmer. The later two on the same day. Our route has been altered by this small trip to the park but I feel it will be worth it. (It proved to be, this place is beautiful and a nice break from the major city scene.)

"I guess my feet know where they want me to go." -James Taylor.

I feel a man should work for his breakfast, so other than the trail mix we had not eaten. We had to get it over with. The bureaucracy in India is unbelievable sometimes. We had heard it would be bad and test our patience. We heard there was no way to prepare for the shock of India and what we heard was spot on.

To go back to some of the observations I pointed out in my last post, here is one more: There are no lines in India, no queues. Imagine a man behind a glass window with a hole to pass him things (forms) and another hole to speak through. Now, if you think you are ready to speak to the man behind the glass, your ticket is ready to be purchased, you filled out your form with your name, address, berth choice and train number, then why would you wait in line? Just hand the man some money your form and that's it, right? Well, in India, everyone thinks they are ready. There are a million flailing hands, oh yeah and at 11:20 they get a 20 min tea break so today I witnessed this man, mid-transaction with this elder woman, stop listening to her put up his break sign and walk away. MID-TRANSACTION! It was funny, in a wtf kind of way, but laughing. It goes without saying that we worked for our breakfast, which was 2 crushed Samosas with curry sauce on the from a leaf bowl outside the station.


Back to the hotel to regroup.
We asked our hotel manager/owner, one of two brothers, to phone the two guys who picked us up at the train station to tour us around in their auto rickshaw; Bablu and Wasseem. Both are young men from Jaipur. Their rickshaw was named "naughty boy,' again wtf kind of humor. Being Muslim, they don't drink, they kept asking how to pick up women: I fail to see the naughty, but they were awesome guys. We paid them double what they asked cause it made no difference to us and all the difference to them. Wasseem wants to learn English like no one I've ever met, he listen to things like Akon and watched Titanic in order to improve. I may have made a few joke at his expense about him headed in the wrong direction but I don't think he got it. He love Leonardo DiCaprio so he made up for all else. Anyone passing through Jaipur in India should get them as their guide. Our first stop was 'Royal Gator', where all the royal family of Jaipur is buried and will be buried in the future. It was calm, the marble tombs were all hand crafted. It was gorgeous. We proceeded to Amber fort- again, lovely. It was a huge fort surrounded by walls, garden and monkeys. Really, what more could you ask for? We went to a Market or two to pick up some gifts. Everything is so damn cheap here, it's great. Then on to 'Bundar Mahal', Monkey temple. I fed some monkey peanuts and three little kids, friends of Bhablu and Wasseem led us to the top of a mountain where a Hindu temple was. We are blessed, red dot and all, fed some more monkeys, directly hand to hand and walked back down.

At the end of this unforgettable tour, we headed back to our hotel, Sunder Palace, but not before picking up one last little thing: a mini guitar.

My life is complete

Watching

To share a few observations I have made in the past 14 days while in India. I give you, 'Watching'.
First, crosswalks do NOT exist, I repeat, do NOT exist in India. Not from what I have seen at least. Traffic, I'll give you, moves slower than at home, although you are bound to find a few speed demons wherever you end up. They make crossing the road that much harder. Most of you, readers, know what it is like to cross Sherbrooke st. at Mcgill college during rush hour. It is easy; you have red lights, green lights, and crosswalks. Well, take away those three, as well as every other traffic rule you seen or heard of, add 43 motorcycles, a few rickshaws (Indian helicopters they call them), and then try to get across. Okay, so now that we've established that there are no cross walks we can move forward. There are no sidewalks either. Where sidewalks are supposed to be, are motorcycles, cows, hundreds of dogs, chickens, goats, your occasional donkey, kids, and all of the aboves' excrement. Smile. Are you smiling? I sure am. Everyday. Honestly, it's true and it's great.
I've covered most of the animals but now "let's get down to brass tax, how much for the monkey?" Okay, they are not for sale but they are everywhere. I've heard the term 'concrete jungle'. I never thought it meant this, oh wait, it doesn't! For real though, I see them doing their monkey business all over the place: Allies, roofs, you name it.

A more somber observation I need to reiterate: Poverty. When I decided I was coming to India I had a good idea of what I would be in for. I knew major parts of this great country would be a slap in the face, they were. Being poor and homeless in Canada seems, to me, like living in the Ritz compared to here. Poverty is never pretty, don't get me wrong, no matter where you are. I know, I know, I said this in my last post, people are poor here. It's hard to see, it's hard to see repeatedly, and that is why I will write it repeatedly. Although they do not have to weather the cold they have many other harsh factors to face with a much more limited amount of supplies to help, let alone the lack, or rather, non-existent social welfare system.
It is one thing to walk past a grown man who is homeless it is another to have a 7 year old girl with beautiful brown eyes tapping you on the arm asking for 5 Rs so she can eat, so she can survive one more day. You are forced to look the other way. I have much compassion and sympathy but if you give them a single thing you are mobbed by dozens more both young and old. You cannot walk, you cannot move, they will follow you home and be there in the morning.

A last observation for the day is that; there are kind people all over the world. Today I walked alone for a few hours, it was different then being with someone. I cannot fully explain it, I have not had the time to get my head around it but it was different. I met many more people, had tea with them. They were not out to sell me something, they were out to talk. They were curious why I was here. What I was doing here? One young guy drove past me saying hello in Spanish. I am not able to speak Spanish, I can say, 'I cannot speak Spanish,' in Spanish though which made him laugh. Lots of Spanish in that last sentence, 'Spanish, Spanish Spanish.' Moving on. We began to talk about where I was from. He ended up giving me a ride back to my hotel on his motorcycle. Traffic from a whole other perspective.

Yesterday, Taylor and I walked off the beaten path and found ourselves in the slums. We had a group of 40 kids following us, screaming in Hindi. They were shocked at our size, our pale skin and most of all our presence in this part of town. We were trying to make it to tiger fort, one that over-looks the city. We were trying to make our own path up the hill. After reaching a dead end with these kids beside and behind us we decided that we better have fun with them. A sand dune close by provided me with a great idea. I began to run, Taylor knew my plan, he followed close behind. The kids did as well. No words can describe it. just look.




I am in Jaipur now. I went to Agra, home of the TajMahal. It is by far the most beautiful building I have ever seen. A picture does not do justice, it is fantastic. I thought it was a bit curious that the most wonderful building in the world is a tomb, a tribute to a dead wife, curious. Just a side note: I stayed there a few days, and then took a 3 hours train which was 4 hours late to Jaipur, in the state of Rajasthan. It is a lovely city with a huge fort on a hill top behind it, overlooking it. Where I head next is still up in the air but will be decided within the next few hours. Flip a coin maybe, who knows....

DELHIcious

I am here, we are here, together, in Delhi. It is hot, crowded, and the distribution of wealth varies dramatically-more than I thought possible. It is beautiful and breathtaking, although the breathtaking aspect is a result of the overwhelming smog, car exhaust, and constant smell of urine. I love it. Let me paint you a picture.

Taylor and I arrived at 4:55 a.m. after two days of traveling. Instead of being ripped off by a taxi cab, which they make more than likely, we get a pre-paid, fixed destination cab. Seeing our cabbie is sly he says that we have no fixed address on our pre-paid slip and for an extra 50 Rs (Rupees), on top of our fixed rate, he would gladly take us to a more central part of Connaught place (our planned destination). He stops at a deserted part to encourage our donation of 50 Rs. We knew we wanted to be near Connaught place, the central nest of this hive, Delhi. We, being the eager walkers that we are, say it's fine and are let out of the cab on the outskirts of C.P. (Connaught place). Within seconds a type of poverty not visible or existent in Canada is very apparent. Although we had no hotel/hostel reservations we did have a destination in mind, the Gold Inn.

Meanwhile the sun is rising, the streets are still calm but becoming more active. The homeless are huddled in the street, groups of 10 or 20 , babies, elders and all else. Dogs lay spread, motionless like they are dead or dying next to the groups as we walk by. The morning heat is too much for them, for all. 40 minutes or so pass, we reach 'main bazaar' PaharGanj, Delhi: a full attack, a bombardment on the senses, even at 7 a.m.. I am making it grim, but really, it is great. I am glad you are here with me.

We are settled in, we have viewed a few hostels and the rooms available but with no commitment; we were guided to the hostel we sought, only by chance though. A young man is paid to seek out travellers and guide them to a hostel, he is then paid commission and the one who was lead pays a high price to compensate. We knew where we wanted to end up, he looses. We are asked to pay 700 Rs, the equivalent to 14 dollars CDN, but we talk him down to 225 Rs each; 450 for the night.

We cannot be victims of fatigue or jet lag, we need to stay up all day so we can sleep that night and adjusted by morning. A long shot but a goal none the less. We begin to wander, this time without our 70 Kg pack.

I get it, my first post was much more comedic, let's move on to the fun stuff.

Like everyone, hunger ensues. Eat or be eaten. I am not about to be eaten, although the amount of people, smog and the sheer shock of the culture differences are definitely willing to swallow you whole. So, I eat. I have never, before this moment, tasted curry. Let it be known that this journey is a result of many things, one of them being my love for Indian food. So, for 18 Rs (20 Cents), I find myself squatting next to a street vendor's 1920's cart with my Chapati, rice, Chana Masala, and another mystery curry dish, smiling like The Joker. To say the least it was DELHIcious. Yeah, I have been saving that one, no doubt. But seriously, best stuff money can buy...Okay, it only cost me 20 cents but it tasted priceless. I have eaten from many other street vendors since and I even have a street Chai guy for the early morning wake ups. It takes him 45 seconds to mix up the best cup of milk Chai imaginable, and for only 5 cents.

On the left ( A resting place in the middle of an intersection comparable to the middle of champlain bridge at rush hour maybe worse.) On the right (PaharGanj, where I am staying)

The touristy places: The Red Fort, Raj Ghat, Humayun's tomb, Gandi Smriti have been visited. They are beautiful and worth the visit. They have historical value, context and everything one wants from tourist hot spots. For me though, I feel like they, not necessarily could have been missed but rather they miss what Delhi is about right here and right now. Outside the walls of these places, literally right outside of these walls, people are starving, homeless and neglected. The main attractions may be the big old forts but the real tastes of this meal has to be the streets jam-packed with people, the road side meals and auto- rickshaw rides that would test the courage of, well, someone who has an excess courage. The last thing Delhi or India is, is unexciting. The best part for me is that my journey through here is just beginning.

To leave you today with something I jotted down yesterday, "Personally I do not think I am gifted enough, or rather, poetic enough to put what i see into words and do justice to what is happening all around this world." The best thing I can do is keep trying. Until next time...

A few deep breaths before the plunge

Here it goes, no turning back now.

Prepare yourselves to be informed, educated, and shocked at the amount of simple grammatical errors I will make whilst chronicling my journey in the east. I'll attempt to post photos of everything from shocking poverty, the people, religion, the palaces and the unique and awkward poses I astound the locals with. Ca va? You still there?
I will try to amaze you with my prose and lengthy insight into what I see, what I do, how I do it, where I do it and the resultant irregularity of my bowel movements. I didn't call this blog "bowman-in-motion" for nothing. Hope all you readers can consume, stomach, and digest that type of humour.

I am accompanied by my tall, lanky, lanky friend Taylor. If you thought I was tall and lanky, you were wrong folks! This guy takes the cake, and it doesn't go to his hips.

Throughout these months, I will attempt to keep my upbeat, cheery, sense of humour. Feel free to drop me a line to boost my spirits or keep me updated on your Occidental lives. Though internet access may be as rare as BigMacs (ohhh BigMacs), I'd appreciate to hear from you via Facebook, email, or comments on this blog.

As for the trip- back to purpose of this thing- on October 30th I fly out of JFK airport in New York. I'll try to write upon my arrival, but BOY, will my arms be tired! If all goes well I'll be in India on the morning of 'All Saints Day', Nov. 1st. I have a six month visa for India. From there, I'll make my way farther east to SE Asia. The duration of my escapades will vary depending on finances and averaged overall joy in regard to each region. A map of India will be found in a link on this blog. Maybe I'll even draw a line demarcating my route!

Lastly, for now at least, if you have been to the region(s), give me some of your insight, tips, do-and-don'ts, you know?
-B