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...