Tuesday, September 25, 2007 − Visa to India

The Visa for India has turned out to be the most troublesome by far. I was told very sternly that I should've gotten the 6 month tourist visa in my home country. I explained that I haven't been there for a year. They wanted a copy of my plane ticket, which I can not get until Bangkok because no travel agency in Hanoi can issue one but they accepted the copy of my reservation. I was suppose to get a fax sent from the Kashi, the residency program in India, but they never received it and would not accept a copy of the letter they mailed me. So, it seemed like they were going to accept my application and then they wanted $75 in US currency only. Yeah, like I even have that after a year traveling much less carrying around. Well, okay, I did have it but I wasn't carrying it so the Xe Om, motorcycle taxi, took me back so I could pick it up and go back. Oh, did I mention this was all done in the pouring raining? I ended up feeling like they just wanted to make me jump through a few hoops before issuing a visa, and it didn't matter which hoops.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007 − I Hate Air India

If I think that a visa for India was problematic, then I had not yet tried to get a plane ticket. After much research, I had decided that my best trip would be from Bangkok followed by an AirIndia flight to Mumbai via Dehli, and a connecting Indian Air (the same company as of a few months ago) to Cochin. The flight would depart Bangkok at 2:20 am, arrive about 8 am in Mumbai and then an 11am flight to Cochin getting me in at about 1pm. First of all, I could not purchase this ticket online because the second leg of the trip did not have an e-ticket. No travel agency in Hanoi could issue one. I had an agent at Air France willing to do it but then her supervisor said no. And a Vietnam Airlines agent put the tickets on hold but were then cancelled a few days later because they did not want to hold them that long. After trying a half a dozen travel agents, I gave up and decided to wait until I got to Bangkok. After checking into my hotel near Kao San Rd., I went to Air India. They told me they could not issue the ticket for Indian Air. And that I had to purchase the tickets separately. She called Indian Air and they said they would issue me both tickets. So, I went there and it was looking pretty bleak for a half an hour or so. It looked like I was going to have to do just that and go back to Air India after all. But then a nice young woman had pity on me and got me the ticket. The ticket however had a yellow sticky on it with one of the flights written in. I think what she did was to double book the flight to Cochin.

At 9pm, on September 30th, I went to the Bangkok airport. After waiting about half an hour for check-in to open, I was told that the flight was delayed 8 hours! But they put us up in the Novetel Hotel. It was very nice. So, I was tickled. Had Buffet dinner and breakfast the next day. At the airport, the agents tried to get me a new connecting flight and put me on a 1am flight to Cochin, arriving at 3am. I told them I couldn't arrive at 3 am. What was I going to do? They agreed and said that they would get me a hotel in Mumbai, but I would have to change my ticket there because they didn't have access to the flights. So, off I went to Mumbai. The plane was the extremely dirty. The toilets smelled so bad that I had to change seats and I was 6 rows away. Awful and that was AFTER they were cleaned. I arrived in Mumbai at around 6pm. Then I shuttled back and forth trying to locate someone who could help me but Air India kept sending me to Indian Air and vice versa. I kept trying to explain to them that I missed my flight because of them and I was told in Bangkok they would put me up in a hotel. They kept making me go find another person until finally one guy said he would help me but first I needed to get Indian Air to give me a different flight. So, I did. Easy. So I went all the way back to that guy and now all of a sudden he coldly says he can't do anything. So, I started to ask him what I was suppose to do until the 11am flight or conversely if I took their 1am flight, what would I do in Cochin until 3 am. He kept repeating he couldn't help me. So, I start yell. What am I suppose to do? This is how you treat your customers. I have no idea what that asshole told me to go and get a new ticket to begin with. I think he thought they wouldn't do it. So, I walked away, having no idea what I was going to do. I had 2 tickets, one that left at 1 am and arrived in cochin at 3am, and one that didn't depart until 11am the next day. As I reached the door, I heard someone calling me back. I went and this manager guy said he would try to help me. So, he talked to someone, and then a woman came out and then she said she tried to help me. But no one would help me. So, she finally said what was I going to do. And I said I would wait get a hotel and leave in the morning. I asked if she could help me get a room. She said she would and then she came back and said they were booked. Maybe there was a bunch of delayed flights? So, I let her convince me to take the 1am flight, and she would give me a voucher for food. So, I checked my luggage, and we traipsed through this grubby crappy airport again. She handed me a handwritten note saying "one free meal". And I was to find a place called celebrations, meanwhile we passed the admirals club, or whatever it was called, but that was not the pass they gave me. She left me to find celebrations on my own. I did find it quickly. It was a counter with tea and crappy sandwiches. I couldn't believe I had been so gullible. And now my luggage was checked, and I had no option but to stick to the course. So, at 1:30am I boarded the plane to Cochin. At 3 am, I arrived. I was in no hurry because where was I to go at that hour. So, I got my stuff, and went and sat, and sat, and froze because the aircon was very cold. I waited until 7am, and then took a taxi into town. That totally sucked and I will never take Air India again.

Sunday, October 14, 2007 − India Tidbits

Is it possible that I have already been here for two weeks? Apparently. I wanted to write about some interesting tidbits before I forgot or before they no longer where interesting. The men here wear long skirts. I have no idea what they are called. Before I came here, I thought men in skirts were very sexy, but now that I am here, I have changed my mind. The men who are wearing them are gross. And often the skirts are dirty, nasty looking, well the men too. Too bad. A fantasy shot to hell. The young men wear tight pants, tight like a eastern-block bloke. The other night I saw a guy wearing very tight fitted black pin striped pants. Where am I?

Ice cream is everywhere. I can get scopes at darkly lit "ice cream parlors". I can get ice cream bars on the street corners, although it has taken me almost 2 weeks to figure this out. Oh, and cheap! A scoop is 15rupees, about 50cents, an ice cream bar is 25cents. That is the thing about these foreign countries, particularly India, the stores are not that easily identifiable. I was thinking of doing an installation. One half of the gallery would be neatly stacked piles of items that one might purchase, on the other half the same stuff, but a wider variety, thrown in a heap, covered in dust. The first one would represent stores in the West, the second in developing countries. Now it is that extreme but for me it feels like it. The other day I went to buy something to put rocks and bricks on so I could try to grow moss (oh nevermind). And I picked out this dusty old plastic tray for 55rupees, about $1.25. As I am paying for it, the young woman decides to clean it off. Why then? I've already decided to buy it. Maybe you should've cleaned it before I bought it, so I could see how nice it was.

There are goats everywhere, but there is no goat milk. I think there is goat meat but I haven't been able to identify one hanging slab of meat from another. The goats are the scavengers. Eating what ever trash people have conveniently thrown on the street (that is way they do it - sarcasm). They also seem to like to eat posters from off the walls.

There are many signs here, in English, that say stick no bills. I guess they have had problems in the past with tourists sticking up signs willy nilly. I just bought a tshirt in Vietnam that says "Post No Bills" on the front like you might see in my beloved NYC. It is almost apropos here.

There are a bazillion mosquitoes here. I have been carrying around deet for a year, this is the only place I have really found a continuous need. I even sleep under an orange mosquito net. I sprayed it with one of those long lasting toxic repellents. But still they seem to like it. I worked for about a day.

You can get milk, butter, and yogurt, called curd, everywhere, although no cheese. You can get wonder-style bread easily.

Their waste water runs in open canals throughout the city. All ending up in one huge one that empties into the sea. Apparently two of Canada's largest western cities also do the same but probably their system is underground and out of sight out of mind.

Oh, another interesting tidbit. No toilet paper. It's not just that they don't provide it, they don't use it. They literally use their hands, like a joke from childhood. I do hope they wash their hands, with soap, but the evidence for that is not strong. Siji, the young artist here, doesn't seem to. You can buy it here, but it is a dollar a roll. Good lord. So, sometimes, to fit in, I try to drip dry. No amount of shaking will make me dry. I don't know how they can stand it. It drives me nuts.

Monday, October 15, 2007 − No Plastic Bags

Fairly recently India outlawed plastic bags out of concern for their environment. So, you must bring your own bags to the store. The eggs here are "packaged" in paper bags made out of newspaper. I like it.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007 − Car

This is a taxi in Fort Cochin, India. I think this model is most used as only taxis, but I don't really know. I have been asking people how old these cars are and so far I have only found out that they are "old". I love them. I want one.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007 − Clothes Iron

Can you guess what this is? It's a clothes iron, of course. Inside are burning embers of coconut shell. Very environmentally friendly but I suspect a bit hard to control the temperature.

Thursday, October 18, 2007 − Autorickshaw

Fort Cochin has moved away from the old manual labor rickshaws to this new autorickshaw. Apparently there is no school bus system so they like to cram 15 little kids into one for a ride home. Reminds me of a clown car. I often find myself on the streets at the end of the school day, so I get to see this spectacle frequently. Also, it makes me feel like I am famous when hordes of children say hello to me.

Saturday, October 20, 2007 − Eating with My Hands

When I first arrived in India, I actually missed chopsticks and wished I had thought to bring a pair with me. However, I am happy to report that I am adjusting to eating with my hands nicely. Some people eat with a spoon but by and large, they eat with their hands. It is a bit fun although it makes me nervous that I am unwittingly doing some incorrectly. It is surprising but you can indeed eat incorrectly with your hands. The only "law" I know is not to use your left hand since this is the had they are using to wipe their butts. Oh, yes, did I forget to mention there is no toilet paper here? Not a leaf, nor a page from a catalog. In tourist areas, you can buy it at a whopping $1 per roll. Where am I?

Monday, October 22, 2007 − Mad TV Skit

Sometimes life is so bizarre that you wonder have to look around and wonder if you have fallen into a Television series. Let me relate real situations here in India.

First scenario: I was delighted to find ice cream shops here in Fort Cochin. I walk in and ask what flavors they have since there is no glass case for pointing nor list displayed. The clerk who is probably the owner asks what flavor I want so I tell him mint chocolate chip suspecting that I myself am on crack for even uttering this exotic flavor in this exotic land. He says they don't have it and tells me the flavors. I try something with cashews in it. A few days later I walk into the same shop with the same man and I ask what flavors he has. Again he asks what I want and again I ask for mint. This time however without hesitation he launches into the list and I pick a strange but fruity sounding ice cream that tastes a bit like black cherry.

Second scenario: I go into a restaurant which I was in the day before. Ask to see the menu. I ask if they have everything and he tells me to ask him and he will tell me if it is available. So I ask for peas marsala which I think I see someone eating. The guy says peas marsala or vegetable korma. I say whatever since I think this is his way of saying no peas marsala. Then I think I am suppose to order some type of naan like thing to go with it, so I ask which they have and again he says ask me and I will tell you if it is available. So I point at one on the menu. I am told they don't have it. So I ask what I should get to go with it. And he says ask and he will tell me if they have it. By this point I am about to choke the fat whisky smelling flirting old guy. "Well, what should I get," I snarl. And he spews this list of which I only recognize two items one of which is exactly like flour tortillas so I get the other one. He is really interested in my order and wants to rehash the whole thing but I shooed him away with that's fine just bring me anything.

I thought the first one was some strange anomaly with the ice cream shop but I have come to believe it is some weird India thing because I have had other similar experiences. I am sure for the locals they know exactly what they will be serving at what time of the day but for me it is all a mystery, one which will remain so.

Off topic but a funny little moment… the fat stinky old waiter is telling me my bill is 38rupees (about $1) while moving his eyes and eyebrows in this presumably sexy manner. I look him dead in the eye unsmiling. We are the same height. I hand him the money looking away. He gets flustered and isn't sure if he should hand me the change which he wants to do so he can possibly touch me or if he should put it in the ticket tray. He opts for the ticket tray. A wise choice since I was going to make him put on the counter so I could pick it up.

Saturday, October 27, 2007 − Hindi Vocabulary

So, again I find myself hanging out with the 20 somethings. At least these folks are artists so there are more open minded than some. Basically Fort Cochin is dry. You can get alcohol to drink but it isn't easy and there is certainly no woman friendly bar here. In spite of this fact, these words were taught after perhaps one too many nights of drinking.
Chakna − Handsome man
Chakni − Beautiful woman
Bebwara − Drunk man
Bebwari − Drunk woman (pretty close to being an oxymoron here in India. Probably it really means drunk western woman.)

Sunday, October 28, 2007 − Phaphada

This slang word needs its own entry. Phaphada. They coined this word to mean "someone else's beautiful wife". That is a direct quote. Tell me, doesn't that just speak volumes about the culture of India. The fact that she is married puts her in a separate group from just the other good looking woman.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007 − Kathakali

Kerala is famous for a very unusual form of theater. The stories are all traditional Hindu. The makes up is very strong. There is no sound but instead they use a sort of sign language with drumming. Also, all the actors are male. I have to say I understood very little and have to say it is one of the strangest art forms I have ever seen.

Monday, November 5, 2007 − No McGever, a humbling experience

One evening, as usual, I was out at the retreat on the island. Kashi has 2 locations: one in town and one on an island in the backwaters. The rum-swilling guys I thought would be back later, probably around 9pm but given the communication situation here i.e. people barely speak English I couldn't be certain. The naughty boys from next door had stolen my clay which I had been soaking for days to get the right consistency for a project. I was pissed and slammed my room door. A bit later I tried to go in but the door wouldn't budge. Oh, shit. I was locked out and what if the boys didn't come back at all or worse, what if I had to tell them I was locked out and they would have to "save" me or they didn't return and I would have to call the less than nurturing Dorrie and Anupe at 10pm for help. Eek. It had two "locks": a sliding piece of wood and a piece of wood that flipped over into catches. I could tell by pushing on it that it was the latch on top but I couldn't remember which type of latch it was. I thought it was the one that flipped over. I knew what I needed was a metal spatula type thing that my momma had when I was growing up. I could slip in between the two halves of the door and just run it up and the latch would be knocked open but of course this was India where the morning milk was delivered in a rum bottle. So, I thought "hey I can do this. I am smart. I am creative" but really it was the terror of telling these guys what had happened that motivated me to ingenuity. First I got a knife but realized that the two halves of the door didn't connect in a straight line but more like an S joint. So, I cut up a plastic water bottle and ran it up the crack. It wasn't moving and it slipped between the door and latch. That wasn't going to work. Onto plan B. I went around to the back window, with my keychain flashlight which I just happened to have on me. I couldn't really see that much but I thought I could get a long pole and nudge it up using a bit of leverage from the sill. I found a long piece of wood. After trying to maneuver it beyond the mosquito net, I realized it was too short. So I went in search of another. I found one but this one crack off. I got still one more, this really wasn't the US the land of plenty but not plenty of 10ft poles. I tried and tried to move the latch up. Eventually I decided that the latch was really the sliding type. So I figured I would just have to whack the one end a good one and it would free itself. So I'd hit it and then go around and check the door. Nothing. Over and over I tried. I had thought I was so clever with my mini flashlight and long rod. I was going to beat this damn lock situation, or be humiliated yet again for being some dumb girl. I got a chair for a better angle. I got a candle so I could see better. Still nothing. Then one of the guys showed up. Thankfully he was one of the ones who speaks essentially no English so he couldn't ask questions but he was one of the too friendly guys, if you know what I mean. I showed him the door and he jiggled it roughly and wala, it opened. Ugh, that is all it took was a bit of "man handling" which added insult to injury. I felt truly humbled, and humiliated. It certainly could've been worse. He could've read my mind and known that I was freaking out, or been able to say to me in words and not just in eye rolls and smirks "you poor helpless foreign woman."

Wednesday, November 7, 2007 − Contradiction in Indian Society

Now I know I am not the only person to visit India and be confronted and astounded with the contradictions within the society. I, as a woman, can not walk around with bare shoulders or arms, nor show my legs. I don't and still the staring is unrelenting and sometimes they get bold and touch my arm or hand. As of yet, no one has grab my ass but I am still in calm, quiet and conservative Kerala. In any other part of the world, I have a very sure fire solution to the staring. I look back. Check them out head to toe, don't smile and look away. It works very well EXCEPT when it is the whole entire back of a bus. So, let's just say it works with individuals. Try it for yourself.

Back to my point. In this society, I must be very conservatively dressed. I do naturally but this place even makes me think twice about the modesty of my attire. Someone was recently telling me that there were villages in this area that up until 20 years ago the women were walking around bare-chested. Now, that is my kind of town. I was totally pissed off to hear such a thing. Why must I be so overly concerned about my dress when fairly recently woman could walk around topless? What on earth is that about? They blamed the British. Refreshing that it isn't the Americans. Needless to say, these people are not talking about sex but then low and behold in their major nation magazine where ads for condoms. I don't know about you but this ad makes me want to use a condom.

On a related note, there was public service announcement on the radio about Aids and safe sex. Turns out my little 20 something cronies here have never seen one much less know how to put one on. Well, by gum, (is that even the correct spelling for that?) I have found my mission. I will go buy some condoms, and bananas or some male volunteers, and us girls are going to get a little education.

Friday, November 9, 2007 − On the Island

Kashi has two sights: one in town and one out on an island in the backwaters about an hour outside of town. I have been going back and forth. The island is a bit remote and difficult for me. No easy access to food or anything else for that matter but I really like it. I hang out with some male artists and drink rum and smoke beedies with them. When in Rome. Here are pictures. Sometimes I have to think "where am I"?

Monday, November 12, 2007 − Toddy

I know that looks like a gas can but it isn't. You are looking at Toddy. A local alcoholic beverage made from fermented coconut. Actually, it is quite delicious. Only men drink it. Well, actually women don't drink or smoke here at all. Hey, it's India.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007 − Island Wedding

One night the guys and I went over to dinner for a wedding that was to happen the next day. Sound like fun. When we arrived, all the men were staring from their corner, as I had expected but then all the women and children crowded around me. And stared. They don't speak English except the kids say hello and asked me my name a million times. At one point I had them chanting my name "Ka-Thy Ka-Thy Ka-Thy". That was fun but talk about intimidating. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I couldn't speak to them. They just stood around me staring. So, I just smiled. And said how beautiful the bride was. She is the young women in the foreground.

Sunday, November 18, 2007 − Bengalore

A couple of days in Bengalore: first a mini tech conference and then some sightseeing. The tech conference was interesting. Not the tech but the people. It was refreshing to see a different class of Indian. These were neat, clean, well dressed and well mannered, and fluent English speakers and let me add that these geeks were not nearly at the level of geekiness that one would encounter in the States. I am not even sure they Indian since they didn't stare endlessly.

Sightseeing took place on a Sunday so the public buildings were closed but they were still interesting and we also went and saw a palace which I think was suppose to be a replica of Windsor Castle. It was cool but desperately in need of some TLC. I realize that this picture is a bit strange but they were emphatic that we not take pictures so we had to sort of snap and run.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007 − Auroville − Commune

Auroville, a hippie village. I believe it started in the 60s as a commune but now it is an intentional community with some big ball meditation center at its center which still isn't complete. The hall is to have a giant crystal ball for people to mediate on. It made me sneer with cynicism and then giggle at my own cynicism. They have an interesting history in that they took a large plot of land that had been stripped of all vegetation and lay waste and transformed it back into a plush jungle and farming area. Really amazing. It was started by some French woman called "Mother" who was somehow affiliated with a guru in Pondicherry. They are both dead now. Now the deal is that people are buying houses and either working with the village or having outside incomes from which they make supporting donations. They had created dams for irrigation, organic farms and cottage industries. They use some solar power and have harnessed biogas. It's interesting but let me be really clear. It rained the whole time I was in Auroville so I didn't really get to see much.

Friday, November 23, 2007 − Mamallapuram AKA Mahabalipuram − Armpit

What an armpit. Mamallapuram is known for it's stone carving both at the consumer level and historically. There are a number of sights made of stone carvings including temples carved out of hillsides. I saw all those things, and visited a few stone carvers but for me the lasting impression is the poverty there, and the grudge factor. The village is teaming with overpriced tourist hotels. $25 for a dump. I ended up at a hotel for $10 a night which later I realized if I wanted ventilation at night I would have to leave the terrace door open. They were plenty willing to let me switch rooms if I wanted to pay $25 per night. Finally I ended up in a room that instead of overlooking the courtyard, overlooked the street and this is where I saw the underbelly more clearly. It was the India that feedthestarvingchristianchildreninindia had planted in my American brain. There was group of young men, women and children living on the street, selling bead necklaces. They were filthy and the children were all but naked. Now, there was a whole ocean a block away so there was no reason for filthy. As I was leaving, I inquired about these people and was told they were gypsies and that the man was always drunk. I have no idea what gypsy means in India. Homeless? I had a suspicion that there was more than mere poverty going on with these people. I am coming to the realization that poverty everywhere, the 3rd world and the 1st world, is not a simple as having no job or money. It is a complex problem of addictions, lack of opportunity, hopelessness, and values that don't support mainstream jobs. There is no simple solutions, anywhere. I have been in India for about a month and half, living with artists in Kerala but Mamallapuram was culture shock for me. I had been living a gentle friendly existence and now was confronted by the relentless pursuit of poverty. Thankfully, I had been traveling with Rakesh, a friend from grad school, who taught me about upscale travel which I fully embraced although it may mean I go home early.

Saturday, November 24, 2007 − Mamallapuram − Stone Carvings

Although I didn't care for the town itself, the carvings of Mamallapuram were outstanding. There has been and still exists a long tradition of stone carving. The streets are lined with stone carving shops. Some of the work is being done by power tools but the majority of it seems to be done by hand tools. In a distant past, they actually carved temples from solid stone hills and outcroppings. Very impressive.

Sunday, November 25, 2007 − Dakshinachitra

In the name of upscale travel, I hired a car and driver to take me from Mamallapuram to Tiger Cave, Dakshiachtra, Cholamandai Artist Village, and finally to the airport in Chennai. I paid $25 which was probably $5 too high. I liked my driver so much I even tipped him a couple of bucks even though the trip had taken a lot less time than anticipated. The reason I like him so much was because he didn't hassle me i.e. he didn't ogle me. He didn't even speak to me. It was refreshing.

Tiger Cave was another temple carved out of rock. It was nice but certainly not worth a special trip.

Cholamandia Artist Village is supposed to be an intentional artist community. I saw no evidence of community, or really of any artists at all. They had one tiny dark, sad gallery with mediocre art in it but they were building a huge multistory arts complex that was due to be finished in January or February. I can not recommend a visit.

Dashinachitra was outstanding. It seemed a tad bit mismanaged but by and large it was interesting. I went on a Friday and it was not crowded at all but also there were very few demos happening. They have examples of southern architecture. All of them seemed to me to be upscale except one little hut pushed off to one side with a local women who were yelling at people, I think to come in but in an angry tone probably because no one was interested in the hut. No on but me.

Monday, November 26, 2007 − Mehndi

I like to pretend I am not a tourist so I have been to know to scoff at westerns with mehndi. At the above mentioned tourist site, Dashinachitra, they were doing mehndi for a little bit of nothing which of course I snubbed my nose at but then I remembered I was an artist and that this might be an interesting addition to my repertoire. I had it done purely for research purposes of course. The deal is that they put this stuff on using something that looks a bit like a tube of cake frosting. You let it dry then wash it off. It leaves a pleasing reddish brown color. I bought a couple of tubes at the grocery store and me and the young female artists at Kashi put it on me in non traditional places: arms and legs. It was fun but the stuff on my thighs took forever to wear off and I still have some on my toe nails.

Thursday, December 6, 2007 − N95

After my cellphone "went missing" in Vietnam, I bought a new one in Thailand. I own no house, nor a car but now I have this really top notch cellphone. It is super cool. Internet. Camera, 2 actually, one for photos one for video phone calls − any one else out there have such capabilities? Email me. I want to try this out. Perhaps I have to get some upscale friends. Plays music of course, and can download podcasts. Has a voice recorder. GPS! Surf the internet. What can't this phone do? It's amazing. What isn't so amazing is the computer software that comes with it. The Music Manager on the PC totally sucks. Crashes and has completely limited functionality and a terrible user interface. The image downloading tool is very primitive and there is no way to easily delete images. Deleting one image or all images is easy but deleting a few images is tedious at best. Also, it downloads all the images even if they had been downloaded 5 times prior. The phone is not supported by Windows Media Player so using that is not an option. The software on the phone is fine but the tools on my laptop are awful. If makes me wonder what Nokia was thinking. Computer software equals bastard stepchild they think. Cheap bastards I think.

Saturday, December 8, 2007 − Art Scene India

Apparently the art market in India is off the charts. People are snatching up art work by emerging artists for top dollar, even by western standards. They are speculating and buying it with the anticipation that it will going up in value without any interest or knowledge of art. From my self−funded artist perspective this sounds grand but after talking to people in the community here it has left a bad taste for many. Some artists get swept up in the business and end up feeling bitterness about the lack of appreciation for the art itself.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007 − My Big Trek

I went out to Kumily with has a Periyar Wild Life park. There are many treks available from a couple of hours to days. On the bus there, I met a nice young British guy. We got a room together and then he "convinced" me to go on a day trek with him. It really turned out to me more of an American style hike with a well worn path although I did end up with a leech in between my little toes. We did see elephants and deer from a great distance away.

Friday, January 4, 2008 − Sivananda

Over the holidays of Christmas and New Years, I went to Sivananda Yoga retreat. It was great. It's near Trivandrum at the far south end of India. At first I felt it was a bit too religious and in the end I felt it wasn't enough. Most of the people there were westerners, by and large Germans. The few Americans weren't a great pick thus I avoided them. We were up at something like 5 am doing meditation and chanting. I never thought I would enjoy chanting. I generally think it is stupid, particularly when one is chanting in ancient language. I have always felt this way until in my meditation group in New York City, we chanted in English and it was the most horrible thing I had ever heard. So, then I was at least not apposed to chanting in an ancient language but still I did not like to do it. I am not a singer. But at Sivananda I got to know the "tunes" and became quite fond of some them. Don't tell anyone but I had been known to pick up a tambourine and jingle along. Fun until they bust out the harmonium which will drag any chant to a dirge. Not fun. We did yoga twice a day. Good vegetarian food. It was great. I ended up with a cadre of women to hang out with. Men, if you are looking to meet some good looking 40 year old women, Sivananda is the place. The women are awesome and the men are few and far between i.e. no competition. The holidays are a fun time to be there since many are using it as a vacation getaway. This has a drawback which is that it has yoga as exercise feel. During this time of the year they have performers and lecturers come in as well as a couple of day trips which adds to the festive feel.

Here is the link to the website but the real place looks nothing like the picture. They are no longer right on the water but across the road. http://www.sivananda.org/neyyardam/

Sunday, January 6, 2008 − Flirtatious Indian Men

I am actually being kind by calling them flirtatious. Really I would say slutty. They are constantly "on the make" as my dear old mamma would say. It's a bit freaky. Everyone of them over 26 is married with children, and they don't care if you know it. It disgusts me and they do that really aggressive staring thing. Since most of them can't speak English, it does me no good to say anything. One night when I was staying with the rum drinking artists on the island, one of them was sitting outside my door speaking really loudly on his cellphone. I tried to tell him nicely that I was trying to sleep. He doesn't understand English so I then tried to mime it which led to big smiles on his part as if I was inviting him to sleep with me. I ended up shooing him away like a cat. I have however finally been able to discern 4 groups of men. The first are genuinely nice guys, not flirty. The second group of guys are shop keepers and such that flirt but very innocuously, like an American might do. Smile, talk, tease. They want nothing beyond that. The second group are men who are sincere. They are not just out for sex but really want some sort of relationship. This group is quite small, maybe one or 2. Does that still count as a group? The last group is this super aggressive stupid men who will stare and stare and pursue as if one day you will wake up and realize that you have nothing better to do than to have sex with this married man with children who is a husband of your friend, or a neighbor.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008 − Varkala

After Sivananda, a whole bunch of us went to Varkala which is a tourist beach town. It was so nice for me. Actually both Sivananda and the beach town were very nice for me for the same reason: English speaking companions. I hadn't realized how deficient my life was until I had this wonderful group of women to hang out with. I had a lot of fun talking about so many things and people my age to just hang out with. It was soooo nice. The beach front was ok. More touristy than Indian. I could've stayed there forever. I think for many foreigners this was their whole experience of India: staying on the beach, only occasionally eating Indian food, hanging out with other travelers and flirting with the locals. I obviously enjoyed it but I felt like it was in no way India.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008 − Tomato Soup India Style

Headed to Bombay from Pune today. On the train I had the tomato soup which in my delusional head I expected to be canned soup like Campbells. I dont like canned soup all that much but the vendor finally said something I understood. It turned out to be a little spicy soup with a lot of beet juice in it, I think. It even had croutans. It was suprisingly delicious. I highly recommend it.

Thursday, January 17, 2008 − Pollution

I know you look at this picture and think its of open water but you are wrong. What the camera didnt pick up is the hi-rises in the distance which are hidden behind a haze of pollution.

Thursday, January 17, 2008 − Uttappum

Uttappum. Dinner du jour. It was like a savory pancake with cheese, butter, tomato and onion. Not bad.

Friday, January 18, 2008 − Vibrators in Bombay

As I may have mentioned before, India is a bit conservative. So you can imagine my suprise to find vibrators sold on the sidewalk in Mumbai along with other electronic devices.

Saturday, January 19, 2008 − Bombay Art Opening

While I was in Cochin, I met Rajan. He is a good artist and terrific person plus he spoke good english. For a few days, I helped him make primitive clay objects for this show. The opening was January 19 at Bodhi Gallery in Bombay. It was a nice event. The gallery was located in an industrial area which was a little frightening but cool.

Sunday, January 20, 2008 − India Travel

Let's face it I am far too neurotic to travel around India. So I bought a private bus ticket at Magnum travel agency to Aurangabad where the Elora and Ajanta caves are located. The bus was to pick up at some random corner in Colaba at 8pm. At 8pm, nothing. So I call but of course it takes me 15 tries to figure out how to do that. Finally I get someone who tells me its late. It will be there at 830. Oh, and earlier a worker at the corner store aka bus stop asks me if he can help me. I ask about bus and he had no knowledge of a bus. This didn't at all bolster my confidence. So 830 comes and goes and so I call again. Thank God for my cellphone and a dispatcher who is fluent. He tells me 5 more minutes. Suprisingly in a few minutes although I doubt 10, a bus arrives. I get on but so far I seem to be the only passenger on this 16 hour bus trip. Creepy. So if I dont post tomorrow, send out the cavelry. Bus company is Royal Cars 2283 2928.

Monday, January 21, 2008 − Safe and Sound in Aurangabad

As it turns out, an hour or so later, the entire bus was filled. Welcome to India. So I was awaken on the bus to the demand by the bus conductor to get off. It was my stop. So completely disoriented I shoved my stuff in my bag and stumbled off. It was before 7AM. I thought I was to arrive at noon. So then of course I was hounded by taxis whom I promptly yelled at told them to leave me alone. I did agree to let one drive me. You know the racket. Your hotel is full, let me take you to another. I agreed. I was to stay at the youth hostel which looked a little frightening. So he took me to a few others. I ended up with one for R250, about $6.50. I immediately went to sleep when I awoke I realized under the bed cover there was no sheets and the sink and toilet were filthy. I will get them to rectify this. I could go for a better hotel but it would cost me $20 and the only difference is that it would be cleaner.

Aurangabad is a hell hole. I wonder if this is typical India. To me the whole place smells like a bathroom that has never been cleaned. Are there any towns here with charm?

Tuesday, January 22, 2008 − Ajanta Caves

Ajanta Caves are one set of famous caves in the state of Maharashtra India which is near Aurangabad. I took the state tour bus which was a ix of Indians and westerners but mostly Indians. The Indians are big time tourists. The caves are temples, Buddhist, carved out of the cliff sides. They were carved top down beginning around the first century.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008 − Daulatabad Fort

Daulatabad Fort also near Aurangabad was extremely interesting. It has multiple layers of protection and entrance into the actual fort area is wide enough for two people only. it's hard to discribe in words. I guess I will just have to post a few pictures which do not do it justice.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008 − Ellora Caves

Similar to the Ajanta Caves, the 34 Ellora Caves are not just Buddhist but Jain and Hindu also. They were built between the 5th and 10th centuries. The guide told us that along the cliffs in that area there were many of these cave temples, not just these famous ones. Hard to imagine. Sounds like a great place to spend sometime hiking around.

Thursday, January 24, 2008 − Bus to Lonar

Having a few days to kill before going to Igatpuri, I decided to go to Lonar Crater. This was a very intersting ride. Me and a hundred Indians on a rickety bus along a bumpy dusty road. It was very crowded (note reference to 100 other people). Half way there I learned my seat partner spoke English. Thankfully because as it turned out, I was NOT on the direct bus to Lonar. So I had to change i some one oxen cart town, where of course only a bit of English was spoken, mostly by naughty teenage boys. One of whom told me to take a bus in the wrong direction which he informed me only came every two hours. Thankfully he was wrong and experience told me to get a second opinion. The Indians are helpful and easily understand my single badly pronounced words accompanied with pointing.

Friday, January 25, 2008 − Lonar Crater

Lonar Crater is a crater made from a meteor hitting the earth a long time ago. Maharashtra is in the dry season so it looks like the southwest in the US. Dry dusty and brown with only scrub vegetation. The crater was sorrounded by lush green. I was told it wasn't touristy by my bus seat partner and he wasn't wrong. it's teh off seaon so I was possibly the oly resident at teh state run hotel and certainly the only non-Indian for many miles. A little frightened but probabl the best indian experience ever. I would walk around and all the children would stop to "talk". "What's your name?" "How are you?" "Where are you from?"

At dusk the whole town seemed to move past my hotel: cow herders, goat herders, women, children, bikes, oxen carts, tractors, even monkeys. Well, they weren't moving down the road, just basking in the evening sun and watching the traffic go by. Totally excellent. I tried to be as entertaining for them as they were for me.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008 − Nasik

I had a few days to kill before heading off to a 10 day meditation retreat. At this time of year, this part of India is chilly and there is no heat. Oh, and they also have some very nice venting to let the heat escape. So, let's just say it was frigid. Nasik has this really great old part of town filled with twisty streets with crazy shaped buildings. I think the only time I was really a bit scared was here in Nasik while being mobbed by a rowdy group of school kids. They were just naughty children. They were grabbing at me and pushing each other. It was getting pretty crazy so I walked away. I met a group of young men who often behave as the school kids but this time they were great. They wanted me to take their picture. So I told them I would but they had to keep the rowdies away. They did by yelling and shoving them. Not in a crazy hostile way but in a rough familial way. As an American, I am more than a bit hesitant to rough up someone else's kid. But this is Asia; the rules are not the same. And even after a good shove followed by falling, these kids would get up and just do it all again. No anger, no indignation, no crying, nothing. After this mini photo shoot, the young men advised me to not continue on that road, since the neighborhood got bad. I can't even imagine what that would've been like. If these kids behaved this way, what did the kids in the "bad neighborhood" behave like?

Nasik was cool because I didn't feel like I was in a tourist town. I felt like I was in an ordinary city, albeit Indian with a few million people. That's thing about India. Either a place is a small town or it is a city with millions. But the cities with millions do not feel all that big.

Friday, February 1, 2008 − Dhamma Giri

I attended a ten day meditation retreat by teacher S.N. Goenka. http://www.vri.dhamma.org It was good but they were very rule oriented. Actually, they drove me nuts. I would be off in my little head and someone would come and tap me, scaring the hell out of me, and tell me to remove my glasses. Or you would be sitting and waiting for lunch, and they would tell you with hand gestures that you had to move. Why? Who knows. We were supposed to be silent. The food was good. My little private room was Spartan but great. We even had hot water in the morning. It was cold, because of the nice ventilation.

I didn't really care for the meditation method taught. One problem is that I didn't know where we were going with it so I was forced to just do as they told me. Not easy for me. I had learned the hard way to follow along. In Thailand, I did not and ended up feeling continually in a quandary about what method should I be using. At Dhamma Giri, I also felt like the leaders had no experience with any other methods and therefore were unable to guide us accordingly. I felt like they could only repeat the answers from an FAQ list. Beyond that they couldn't or wouldn't say. However, overall, I would recommend it, especially since the price was right - free.

I did have a very humbling experience there. The day we checked in was a bit annoying. We had to fill out this form and that form. Wait in this line and that line. People were even butting in line at this holy place. It was an authentic Indian experience. While I was waiting in line to check in my valuables, practically everything I owned, these Indian women of course felt the need to butt in front of me. I decided to just let it go, let them go. I was starting a spiritual retreat after all but I was still annoyed in an eye rolling kind of a way. The woman directly in front of me turned in her valuables which looked like at most 600 rupees, about $15. She had it folded in quarters and handed it over like it really was her life savings, very carefully and with a bit of a glance over her shoulder. They put it in a paper bag which she had to sign. It broke my heart. Here I was not even checking in all my money because I what's 500 rupees here or there. It didn't mean anything to me. I did check in some of my money, hundreds dollars, credit cards, passports, a really expensive cellphone, and a camera. And I would've been upset if I lost them but not devastated. And the money, I really wasn't that concerned about especially the few thousand rupees that I had tucked away here in there in my bags and clothes. And here was a woman, maybe 10 years older than myself, relinquishing 500 rupees like it was the most money she had seen in a very long time. It was precious. I was ashamed.

Friday, February 8, 2008 − Pune

Pune. I know a lot of people go to Pune because of yoga, and alternative medicine things, and Osho. But not me, I would've never have gone, except my old friend from graduate school was there. Let me just be straight. Pune is not high on my list of places to live. And for me, I think it's because it's too modern, dare I say too Western? Leave it to Rakesh to show me a part of India I would never have seen on my own. We went to upscale restaurants. We saw a bunch of films at an international film festival. I stayed at his "middle class" house with servants, cooks, cleaners, drivers. I don't know what all. The city itself seems to be very spread out and not much in the way of public transportation, and certainly no subway system like Delhi.

Saturday, February 9, 2008 − Osho

Since I was already in Pune, I thought I would hang out at Osho World. http://www.osho.com Osho was this guru that was quite popular in the West in the 70s I think. He was dogged by scandal in the later years around huge sums of money, sex and drugs.

What a trip. It felt like an episode from the original Star Trek. Captain Kirk beams down to planet with a utopian society where everyone is wearing matching dresses, women and men. There are thousands of people in the compound and no one is particularly nice. In that way it misses the mark of being like Star Trek. On Star Trek, everyone would be smiling and happy all the time. Instead it is more like New York City, people snarl at you when you do something wrong, which is like all the time since there are many rules. Did I mention that everyone needs to pay $25 to get a blood test and membership card? Blood test you ask, what for? For HIV/Aids. I believe that is how Osho died. It seems counter intuitive to have a guru who is a slut and dies of a sexually transmitted disease. What I want to know is where are the people having sex.

So, I spent one day participating in this interesting environment. Many of Osho's meditation are movement based: dancing, moving arms in a circle, whirling. They are pretty upfront about the fact that the movement is to wear you out. In one of the other meditations you do breathing exercises that they freely admit that if done right the carbon dioxide accumulates in your blood stream and will make you feel high.

I wish I had spent more time there. It seemed like an interesting environment.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008 − Delhi

In some ways Delhi is great. Super efficient super clean mass transit train. Easy to use, cheap. Great. When in Delhi I stayed at a hotel in Karol Bagh, the locals shopping district. It was nice not high-end but very middle class. Not too many western tourists. It was a great place to stay and do my shopping. The downside of this area is that they 50% of the population is hawkers, maybe more. Take you to a hotel, take you to a store, buy this, buy that plus a plethora of homeless women and children begging for money, who by the way will show no gratitude and ask you for more. The sites are interesting enough. The old part of town is really interesting to just wander around. But Delhi feels like it has a seamy underside, a dangerous, stay-a-bit-on-your-guard underside. Although I had no real problems there, the hawkers were relentless. No means nothing to these people, and ignoring is pointless. Look them straight in the eye and say to them like you would say to a child "I told you no, Thank you." Be prepared, you may have to brush off beggars, or push through a pack of them. No need to stay calm. I honestly think anything you do will not faze anyone in the streets of Delhi. You may even amuse the locals.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008 − Delhi Subway

I loved this mass transit system so much it needs its own entry. On my first full day in Delhi, I hit the streets of Karol Bagh to find the Red Fort. I was looking for an auto rickshaw. This one day, I couldn't find one. I ran into an Indian man who was offering me his services - take me here take me there stop at a million stores. No thanks. But this man turned out to be from Queens, New York City. He was my homeboy, of sorts. Close enough. So, I gave him way more time than I normally would. And in the process of giving me his sales pitch he told me there was a subway down the road. Awesome, who knew? Apparently, I had given up on actually reading the guidebook at that point. So, off I went. The employees of this mass transit system were helpful, not New Yorkers. The other passengers, also helpful, possibly New Yorkers. And even the security was nice as they frisked you and glanced in your bags. It was all new. The platforms were modern and clean. Not heaped with sleeping people, and piles of bundles. They had signs up announcing the arrival time of the next train. The trains themselves where also new, also clean, also super efficient. Wonderful. If you go to Delhi, do not miss using the mass transit system.

Thursday, February 14, 2008 − Agra

I did occasionally pick up my guidebook on the many long lonely nights. This one said that Agra wasn't safe. That there were so many scam artists. So, I took opted to take a day trip from Delhi. A tour organized by my hotel. The price was right. It was convenient. It was my hotel. They all knew me. So, off I went at 5 or 6 am. Stumbled on the bus. The first one on. It's India, so shortly thereafter it was mostly full. I slept off and on. Everyone else on the bus was Indian. I was the only westerner. Of course no one talked to me, no one smiled except one woman across the aisle from me who at the rest stop put her arm around me and teased me for being alone. Hours later we arrived in Agra. An employee, or so I thought, came up to me on the bus and told me that because I was the only English speaker, they arranged a special tour for me. We went around and around, I looked around helplessly for some assistance from my fellow passengers who were staring and watching but when I looked to them for help, they all looked away. So, I got off the bus with this guy, and immediately my alarms went off. I was in this run down part of town, the auto rickshaw driver who would be taking me around, looked homeless and spoke no English. The bus took off and I knew it wasn't right. So, I argued with him some more then I called the hotel on the cellphone. Thank god for cellphones. I would never travel without now. I talked to the owner; I put him on the phone with this guy. He walked around to the other side of the auto rickshaw, so I couldn't hear. Hear what? Hindi? Yeah, I speak Hindi. He hands the phone back to me and says. Ok, get in. I instead put my ear to the phone and speak to the owner, and he tells me it's a scam. So, I walk away. He says I should catch up with the bus. Where? I don't even really know what the bus looked like. So, I catch an auto rickshaw and tell them to take me to the Taj Mahal where the buses are. They take me to the entrance, no buses. I explain my situation further. By the way, they spoke very little English, and if you didn't catch the sarcasm earlier, I don't speak Hindi. They take me to the bus parking lot. We pull in and there are many buses. They some how know very quickly that my bus isn't there but will return in a moment. I am highly suspicious but sure enough in comes a bus. They tell me that is my bus. I talk to the bus driver whom I had never seen because he was upfront of the bus in an enclosure. I don't know this is my bus or driver. No one really speaks English and I am pissed so probably no one wanted to talk to me anyhow. I call the hotel again. They confirm that it is my bus and driver. I yelled at the huge bus driver who dismissed me. Then, as if I had never left that previous scenario, they send me off alone with a guide. It turned out fine but I didn't enjoy that trip that day at all. I was always on my guard and extremely suspicious of everyone and everything. Still no one talked to me and this point I didn't want to talk to them either. I had already learned they wouldn't help out. So, I had a long miserable, trip. Later at the hotel, I complained to the owner, who is actually a nice enough man. I felt like it was his fault, his bus, his employees, his responsibility. They refunded my money but that didn't change the bitterness I feel about Agra, Taj Mahal, Delhi, and India. That whole situation unnerved me in a way that I will never recover from. I realized how vulnerable I was, and that I always need to be on my guard, but that I already knew. What I didn't know or think, was that no one will aid you when you need help. They will all turn and look the other way. That really freaked me out. Is this how Indians are? That when your neighbor is being harmed, they look away, they don't get involved? Seems like the ground work for another holocaust.

Friday, February 15, 2008 − Disposable Clay Cup

This is a disposable cup Indian style. It is so totally awesome drinking a hot Indian beverage, chai or milk, out of one of these cups. Delicious. And when you are finished recycle it by casting into a heap anywhere.

Saturday, February 16, 2008 − Indian Charlatans

In that same trip to Agra, we stopped at some town that is supposed to have thousands of temples. Beyond the first stop, there was no English speaking going on so I was left to figure it out on my own. So, where we were, I have no idea. We arrived really late in the evening and so the town was basically closed except for one temple. The guide seemed to be well acquainted with this little one and was going on and on about some tree, and whatever. We then went into the temple were there were 2 priests sitting, very fat, very well fed. They then talked on and on and passed around something that looked like a receipt book, and everyone put their information in it except for one man. The guide tried to insist but he refused by hanging his head and shaking it no. The only group of people, an Indian family from Nepal, told me the deal was that you paid a few hundred rupees (maybe $10, which to them must feel like $50) they engrave a stone tablet with your family's names on it and they pray for you. It seemed highly suspicious to me and I was happy they totally ignored me. The thing that amazed me was how eagerly the Indians all laid out their cash to these corpulent priests for something they would never see, the tablet; something they could never verify, the prayers. It to me is smacked of scam but the Indians seemed excited and gullible. It was certainly an eye opener for me.

Friday, February 22, 2008 − Guru Maa

I had about 5 days to kill until Rakesh's wedding in Delhi. What was I to do? Traveling, the actual act of moving from place to place, takes a long time, particularly in India. After the Agra incidence, I was freaked out and didn't want to go to Jaipur, one of my few options, because I heard it was also bad for scams. I just couldn't take it any more. So, I did a little research and ended up at an ashram outside of Delhi. They call her Gurumaa, Anandmurti. http://www.gurumaa.com/ She is 41. Rumor has it that she started out at 18 giving teachings in Rajasthan, and got more and more famous. She is rich at this point with a huge ashram in the middle of farmland. It is beautiful and wonderful. I really enjoyed it BUT I think that she has lost her way a bit. To me she seemed to not be a saint but a person trying to be a saint. For some reason, I was given a private audience with her. We were just chatting about a trip she recently took to Florida. I tried to talk to her a bit, and her answers seemed canned like she wasn't just talking but was trying to give me some enlightened answer. It was a little off putting. She was raised a Sikh, but pulls from many different traditions. I would have to define here as New Age in a very western way although her follows are primarily Indians. The daily schedule of the ashram had multiple meditation sessions most of which had a tape of her talking through the entirety as a guided meditation. I hated it because I found it distracting; luckily, it was most often in Hindi. I did end up buying a couple of her CDs which I am loving. Definitely not music I would've listened to 18 months ago.

Sunday, February 24, 2008 − Indian Wedding

My old friend Rakesh, from graduate school, lived in the US for 15 years. The last 10, we had very little contact. We met up again when I got to India and by coincidence he got married while I was there. Apparently, an Indian wedding is a multiple day event, and it seems they all start at 10pm and run until 3 am. Not at all my schedule. Staying in crappy hotels, one needs to be up and out early and asleep early, so as to not realize you are staying in a crappy hotel. I went to two events. The night before which was Mehendi, which we traditionally were not suppose to go to because this is a bride's family event. My stuff was at a friend's, and so I didn't have anything to wear. I called Rakesh to find out the when's and where's. I asked if I could wear jeans, and he said sure. It was an event in someone's front yard. Just on a lark, I bought a cheap Indian outfit off the street and wore that. It was a good thing I did because by front yard, they meant a complete tent complete with carpet, and tables with white tablecloths. It was a very formal event. I did get mehendi done. It was ok. Not as good as the one I got done for $1 at a museum. I sat and talked with the older daughter's husband's uncle and family. Now in the States, you know these people wouldn't have even been invited. It was nice to talk to some real middle class Indians. I am sure they found me a little offensive. The next night we had specific orders to be there by 6 pm. So we got ready and the car came, we were running a little late. The driver decided he needed to stop and get gas. We were running late. Then he was asking us where to go. We didn't know so I called Rakesh to give him directions. He told Rakesh he knew. Rakesh then acted like I was nuts. Then we got lost a few times, and asked directions a few times too. Aside, this has happened to me a number of times in taxis, I do not know how to get to my destination. I make it clear. I am with a local Hindi speaking person who could tell them where to go. They say they know. Then later they ask me. I don't speak Hindi and they apparently do not speak English. Maddening. So, we arrive at the wedding, told we should be a couple of kilometers down the road to be with the groom's party. So, we go down to the other hotel, and sit around with the groom's family. A few rituals, and photographs, an hour or so later we head out for the procession. Rakesh rides a white horse while we all "dance", and our path is lit by some homeless looking guys carrying full-sized living room lamps powered by a guy pushing a generator in a grocery cart. These are the things about India that I find so mind boggling. So, the wedding continues with a bunch of rituals taking place in different areas. Followed by food, and music. I totally missed the rituals. They were in Hindi, and people were just sort of grouped around watching. I have no idea what was going on. It didn't help that it was really cold; I forgot my shawl at the hotel. And after the ashram, I was used to be up at 5 am and in bed by 9. So, I was feeling like I had jetlag. Totally out of it. Plus, I saw literally dozens of wedding ceremonies in Thailand so I was totally weddinged out. I am just not a wedding person.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008 − Bodhgeya

I had a couple more weeks before I went home. What was it I really wanted to do before I left? I decided I wanted to meditate. Having no other force pulling me, I headed to Bodgeya to the place of Buddha's enlightenment. It was a small nutty tourist town. The kids had learned to speak excellent English upon which to solicit money. The Mahabodhi Temple is worth seeing for sure as well as the many temples of the different types in the surrounding area.

One day I visited one of these temples and a tourist had left behind a half eaten apple. Some Indian kids came by and I noticed one of the girls eying it but saw me looking and she walked away. Later that apple was gone. That is the stuff that makes you realize what hunger and poverty really is. You can not see someone's empty stomach. I can recognize the tattered clothing and unwashed hair but if kid looks clean then I have no way of identifying need. I know in the US we are wealthy because whole pieces of fruit will lie on the sidewalk and no one will pick it up. I think no one but the street people are that desperate. Also, here food is a small percentage of our expenses unlike in other countries.

Occasionally they distribute food at the Mahabodhi Temple. It was the most confusing situation I have ever seen. There where many monks praying that day. A few hours before dusk, they started to distribute food which I image where donations. A huge table filled with juice boxes, fruit, bread. They bagged it up and first the monks of their sect got food. Then other monks. Then practicioners. Then westerners. Then some of the begging locals. But not all. And certainly not the children whom were very friendly and fun. We bonded on our polished toenails. But they were totally unruly. At certain points the monks would chase them sort of playfully with sticks. One foreign woman, as we all did, felt sorry for these poor urchins and gave them some candy. She was totally mobbed and a fight broke out including a guard with a billy club. A bit later a monk, a very big husky monk, went to give these kids some bread, many loaves. And he too was mobbed and they almost knocked him down. Some of the bread lay shredded all over the dirt. Such a difficult situation. There was no right and easy solution much like all the problems of the world. Sitting in my home in the West it is easy to think, we just need to give them food, or jobs, or education but the problem is not that simple. And these things are not necessarily solutions unto themselves. The poverty situation is surprisingly similar everywhere around the world. Years ago, I taught "youth at risk" for a program in upstate New York. The program was very well rounded: GED class, paid internships, computer class, life skills class, even one on one counseling. Even with all of that, most kids did not succeed. Mostly they just had to show up and do the bare minimum but that was too much. At the age of 16, their values were set. And there was just no solution. Ingrained patterns are not just for the West, they are also in East. The patterns may be different, I don't know, but the outcome is the same such that the solution is not as simply as giving people jobs, or money, or food, or education.

Saturday, March 1, 2008 − Off to Kathmandu Nepal

I think there were places to meditate in Bodhgeya there but after a day or two, I still hadn't hooked into it. A met a couple of young-ish American women who invited me to Nepal. I thought sure why not. I wasn't loving Bodgeya. Was this fate knocking at my door? It took us days to travel to Kathmandu. Not an easy trip. We took many trains, buses, and taxis. But once there I really enjoyed it. At first it was blissful. I ate western foods. Had a cheap hotel. Mighty nice but then for some reason the hawkers came out and they were tough. It was there that I was introduced to glue sniffing street kids. They are frightening crazy animal like bunch. One night I was walking down the street in a funk, eating a bit of bakery and a street boy lunged at it. I pushed him. I pushed him. I was mortified at my own behavior. What was I turning into? But then a couple of blocks later I realized that shove did not even faze that kid and I did no harm. Just for the record, he didn't fall.