Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Going Home
So we've been tying up loose ends in Israel, but we haven't forgotten our promise to get more stories and more photos and more video posted here - in due time. I just zipped my suitcase for the last time as I begin to accept the reality of my return home starting at 530am tomorrow. I haven't seen the states since May 2008 and I haven't seen my family home in Pittsburgh since November 2007. It's an odd feeling returning home after so long, when you've changed so much and you understand that home isn't a stagnant pool either. Misha and I will say our goodbyes as she leaves in a week. Change is all around. We'll keep you posted.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
We're Still Here, for now
Been on the run after some last minute ails in Rishikesh, hitting public bus after public bus, 7hrs after 7hrs after 15hrs and sadly going nowhere far - no one promised smooth running asphalt veins in India. Ddin't expect them either. Briefly, I'll say, to whet your appetites, that we shocked our droopy postures and kicked the ground for some last minute adventures. I'm talking braving the tumultuous glacier fed waters of the younger side of the Ganges River in a white water raft then scouting the terrain by jeep and elephant back for tigers and like wild beasts in the wilds of the Corbett Tiger Reserve. Adventurous? Yes. Currently we've settled into luxury, shopping the final days in Delhi.
We'll write you soon. Upon return we'll throw up some slide-shows of the best pics and videos.
We'll write you soon. Upon return we'll throw up some slide-shows of the best pics and videos.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Don't Disappoint Me Now
Days fade quietly to night as thoughts only now begin to fall on what it is we've experienced. We wake with morning lacking ambitions, no longer craving to wear shoes thin, but simply to revel in a dreamer's life that has become our own. Four feet drag along taking in the sunny hills of Rishikesh, but hearts and minds rest elsewhere and a complete experience here is not to be. With all but one slice of the pizza gone, who can stuff it down? It's how you feel at the end of things; a calming acceptance of the inevitable and oh, what a fight it was! Not of fear, not of failure, nor of success - but questions to be understood when bags unpack and clothes lay folded. An adventure stands to be ended and what was once life, passion, awe, morning, night - slowly ages, becoming sepia projections of fireside tales. I've got some slides of my India trip from 20 years ago, have a beer and I'll fill you in. Facts, thrilling and mundane, slide haphazardly into the pit of memory to be jumbled and forgotten, remembered and created, told straight then fictionalized. "My fish was 13 inches no 2 feet no a whopper that pulled down the ship on that stormy sea, lucky I made it." Impossible stories for the habitually dormant. Still at the end, knowing what is to become of your reality, even seeing ghosts of it emerge as you frolick in graves, you find yourself not regretting times passing but admiring how it did.
----------------------------------------------------------------
The Taj Mahal.
It's funny how certain images defy ignorance and permeate the collective subconscious. Though you've most likely never seen the pyramids or studied Egyptology, you know they stand, where they stand, who built them, etc. They're a memory you have without ever experiencing them. They're built for the stuff of legends and like all legends uncovered they may just disappoint (they don't, but they could).
I've known of the Taj Mahal as far as I can remember. I don't know why. My father wasn't telling me stories of fanciful India, he was busy trying to remember the story he began to tell me, that he's already told me 20 times, that if I hadn't the patience I'd sit him on my lap and tell him the story of his youth. No, I knew of the Taj Mahal before I knew there actually was an India. Why? I don't know, I just did. And, having known about it for so long, knowing vaguely of "love's greatest triumph", I reluctantly train'd to Agra from Varanasi expecting the nastiness of disappointment.
It was dawn and I hadn't slept. The sky was clear as the sun rose promising 3 hours of perfect photos. If I was to be shattered than through my camera I'd make it seem that legends live.
When I stood before it, after paying that outrageous foreigner entrance fee, I found myself not as a hero maintaining a child's belief in Santa Clause but irrelevant and unable to capture the reality of the Taj Mahal. The Taj Mahal isn't just seen, it is felt. I was awestruck, like some teeny bopper tongue tied and tearing when Johnny Cool Guitar gives her a kiss. Nothing I can do here, no photo, no anecdote, will ever have you understand the presence of the Taj Mahal. The only advice I give you is to go. Sorry, but there's no other way to understand.
-sam
----------------------------------------------------------------
The Taj Mahal.
It's funny how certain images defy ignorance and permeate the collective subconscious. Though you've most likely never seen the pyramids or studied Egyptology, you know they stand, where they stand, who built them, etc. They're a memory you have without ever experiencing them. They're built for the stuff of legends and like all legends uncovered they may just disappoint (they don't, but they could).
I've known of the Taj Mahal as far as I can remember. I don't know why. My father wasn't telling me stories of fanciful India, he was busy trying to remember the story he began to tell me, that he's already told me 20 times, that if I hadn't the patience I'd sit him on my lap and tell him the story of his youth. No, I knew of the Taj Mahal before I knew there actually was an India. Why? I don't know, I just did. And, having known about it for so long, knowing vaguely of "love's greatest triumph", I reluctantly train'd to Agra from Varanasi expecting the nastiness of disappointment.
It was dawn and I hadn't slept. The sky was clear as the sun rose promising 3 hours of perfect photos. If I was to be shattered than through my camera I'd make it seem that legends live.
When I stood before it, after paying that outrageous foreigner entrance fee, I found myself not as a hero maintaining a child's belief in Santa Clause but irrelevant and unable to capture the reality of the Taj Mahal. The Taj Mahal isn't just seen, it is felt. I was awestruck, like some teeny bopper tongue tied and tearing when Johnny Cool Guitar gives her a kiss. Nothing I can do here, no photo, no anecdote, will ever have you understand the presence of the Taj Mahal. The only advice I give you is to go. Sorry, but there's no other way to understand.
-sam
Friday, April 10, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Darjeeling Death Drive
There is always a price to pay!
India has taught us that lesson well, and we have learnt that the nicest things come at the highest price.
Darjeeling has been our favorite part of India by far, and with good reason, the Darjeeling district in the Shiwalik Hills at an average elevation of 6,982 ft offers the best views, smells, air, & teas. It's height truly separates it from the rest of India, making it feel like a country of its own, but the downfall is that getting there is always tricky!
We had to ride the narrow, rocky, unmaintained, steep mountain roads to Darjeeling three times, in a jeep FULL of people. Every single time I almost pooped my pants, literally these were the most terrifying road experiences I have ever had.
Trip 1:
Our 1st jeep experience was on the way from New Jalpaiguri Train station to Darjeeling. Practically everyone that visits Darjeeling come via this train station and takes some form of vehicle (jeep, car, bus) up the hilly mountain roads. The 1st trip actually wasn't that bad in comparison to the other trips to come, but at the time I didn't know that and I grabbed the seat in front of me the entire 3 hour ride up. Now it should be noted that it is only 80 km/ 50 miles from the train station, but it is important to drive very slowly when you are driving on the edge of the scariest cliff, on a road that looks like it was constructed in 1918, with a jeep carrying 12 people. So I held my breath the entire way, didn't look out the window, and tried to forget I read in the lonely planet that 100, 000 people died in car accidents in India last year.
Trip 2: Here is where things get crazy!
The last day of our trek put us in Rimbick, which is where all people end their trek. After that you all jeep back to Darjeeling together, I just had no idea we were all going in one car. We rode a jeep the size of your average mini van with 16 on the inside, and 8 on the outside. By the outside, I mean exactly that - well mostly they stayed on the roof, but there were a few just kinda dangling off the side. In total we had one jeep carrying 24 people, plus all our bags, on the skinniest road (clearly designed for one way, but people drive whatever way they want) on the edge of a mountain cliff. I kid you not there were some corners where we came way too close to tipping right over. The engine sounded like it was having a heart attack, and these Sherpas on the roof are just dancing around up there, or just climbing around the outside of the car while it was moving. One guy almost stepped on Sam's hand because it was resting on the window ledge and he decided to take a walk around the car, using the widow as one of his steps. At one point we were driving through one of the many villages and one of the roof Sherpas kicked some guy on the side of the road in the face, I am not sure if it was an accident? Anyways the guy who got kicked decided to grab the Sherpa by the leg, and try to pull him down... Not really a good thing to do on a moving vehicle...???
This all sounds crazy, but don't worry we at least figured out this kind of nonsense car loading is illegal, when the police showed up the Sherpas just took off and hide in the trees and the driver stopped at this random spot down the road to pick them up, they all hopped back onto the roof and away we went.
Trip 3: Was from Darjeeling back to New Jalpaiguri and would have been fine cause I was getting quite used to feeling my heart in my throat, but they go ahead and put a frigging teenager in the driving seat! A teenage BOY I should add, he couldn't have been more than 18 - MAX! And he drove like a teenager too, way too fast, and way to close to hitting all the other cars. I wasn't even scared for myself this time, but could not get over the fact that the front seat passenger was a husband and wife holding there 1year old daughter in their arms. I mean it's bad enough that none of us have seat belts, but at least give the child a car seat for the love of cheese!
Very lucky for us! We made through all of this alive, and I hope hope hope it is a long long tie before I go ahead an tempt fate that much again.
More stories to come, don't do what we would do...
M.
India has taught us that lesson well, and we have learnt that the nicest things come at the highest price.
Darjeeling has been our favorite part of India by far, and with good reason, the Darjeeling district in the Shiwalik Hills at an average elevation of 6,982 ft offers the best views, smells, air, & teas. It's height truly separates it from the rest of India, making it feel like a country of its own, but the downfall is that getting there is always tricky!
We had to ride the narrow, rocky, unmaintained, steep mountain roads to Darjeeling three times, in a jeep FULL of people. Every single time I almost pooped my pants, literally these were the most terrifying road experiences I have ever had.
Trip 1:
Our 1st jeep experience was on the way from New Jalpaiguri Train station to Darjeeling. Practically everyone that visits Darjeeling come via this train station and takes some form of vehicle (jeep, car, bus) up the hilly mountain roads. The 1st trip actually wasn't that bad in comparison to the other trips to come, but at the time I didn't know that and I grabbed the seat in front of me the entire 3 hour ride up. Now it should be noted that it is only 80 km/ 50 miles from the train station, but it is important to drive very slowly when you are driving on the edge of the scariest cliff, on a road that looks like it was constructed in 1918, with a jeep carrying 12 people. So I held my breath the entire way, didn't look out the window, and tried to forget I read in the lonely planet that 100, 000 people died in car accidents in India last year.
Trip 2: Here is where things get crazy!
The last day of our trek put us in Rimbick, which is where all people end their trek. After that you all jeep back to Darjeeling together, I just had no idea we were all going in one car. We rode a jeep the size of your average mini van with 16 on the inside, and 8 on the outside. By the outside, I mean exactly that - well mostly they stayed on the roof, but there were a few just kinda dangling off the side. In total we had one jeep carrying 24 people, plus all our bags, on the skinniest road (clearly designed for one way, but people drive whatever way they want) on the edge of a mountain cliff. I kid you not there were some corners where we came way too close to tipping right over. The engine sounded like it was having a heart attack, and these Sherpas on the roof are just dancing around up there, or just climbing around the outside of the car while it was moving. One guy almost stepped on Sam's hand because it was resting on the window ledge and he decided to take a walk around the car, using the widow as one of his steps. At one point we were driving through one of the many villages and one of the roof Sherpas kicked some guy on the side of the road in the face, I am not sure if it was an accident? Anyways the guy who got kicked decided to grab the Sherpa by the leg, and try to pull him down... Not really a good thing to do on a moving vehicle...???
This all sounds crazy, but don't worry we at least figured out this kind of nonsense car loading is illegal, when the police showed up the Sherpas just took off and hide in the trees and the driver stopped at this random spot down the road to pick them up, they all hopped back onto the roof and away we went.
Trip 3: Was from Darjeeling back to New Jalpaiguri and would have been fine cause I was getting quite used to feeling my heart in my throat, but they go ahead and put a frigging teenager in the driving seat! A teenage BOY I should add, he couldn't have been more than 18 - MAX! And he drove like a teenager too, way too fast, and way to close to hitting all the other cars. I wasn't even scared for myself this time, but could not get over the fact that the front seat passenger was a husband and wife holding there 1year old daughter in their arms. I mean it's bad enough that none of us have seat belts, but at least give the child a car seat for the love of cheese!
Very lucky for us! We made through all of this alive, and I hope hope hope it is a long long tie before I go ahead an tempt fate that much again.
More stories to come, don't do what we would do...
M.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Dry but use the Imagination
Trekking is the name of the game when it comes to backpackers making their way to Darjeeling, 2100m (meters) up there.
The former northeastern hill station of the British empire, recognized early on as the perfect place for a sanatorium, hosts the highest altitude tea plantations in the world and breathtaking views of the Himalayas - if you're granted clear skies. Oddly distinct from its fellow West Bengal city, Kolkata, there's little left to wonder why the majority population in the hills seek separate statehood. Sharing little in common, if anything at all, with the Bengali majority of West Bengal, the Nepalese centered culture of the Hills has sought political identity through the Ghorkaland movement leading to civil unrest that sadly lead to violence on more than one occasion. Fueled by Nepali immigrants via the Indo-Nepali Treaty of 1950, the distrust of their Bengali statesmen in Kolkata, and the flexible histories of the Hills, Darjeeling, along with surrounding areas, have become a hot bed of political unrest that perennially try the Democratic ideal of Self Determination. Despite the controversies, Darjeeling remains a vacationing spot for the socially elite as well as a convenient starting point for adventurers seeking the awe-inspiring Himalayas. Enough of the pamphlet talk...
The Singalila Ridge Trek has become a favorite for those willing to try the elements for 5 days. After getting the run around by every travel agency in Darjeeling, Misha and I opted to skip the "organized" trek for the seemingly more adventurous mode of the "unorganized" trek...cheaper too. We're not so naive to believe we could handle a 5 day trek on the Nepali border, averaging 3000m plus, without a guide, but the porter/cook didn't seem necessary.
After a 6am wake-up we hopped some local shared taxis and rode them through the fog and rain and ominous heights leading to Manay Bhanjang, Singalila's starting point. There we logged our passports with the Indian Army, a task frequently required throughout the hike, and hired a Sherpa through the Singalila Park.
I'm not going to give a play-by-play of the rest, but the first 7km were straight up and both Misha and I were having second thoughts. From there on we got the pace of the trek. We walk, mostly climb, for 4 hours, then stop in a small village for tea/lunch, then continue on for the 2-3 hours, until dinner. The trek is set so every 7km-15km there is a small town, either to eat or sleep in. Our days went as followed:
Day 1: Jeep from Darjeeling (2100m) to Manay Bhanjang (2134m), hike to Tumling/Tonglu (3070m)
Distance Covered by foot: 17km (all climbing)
Surprise of the day: We were well aware that the trek follows the Nepali border. We were not aware that we would be crossing into Nepal on more than one occasion. We spent our first night of the trek in Nepal. No, we didn't need visas. Yes, it's legal.
Day 2: Tumling to Sandakphu (3636m)
Distance Covered: 24km (some flat, lotta climbing)
Sandakphu is the highest point of the climb and offers amazing views of the Himalayas, alas the fog/clouds didn't clear.
Day 3: Sandakphu to Molley (3250m)
Distance Covered: 15km (short day)
In the morning I was lucky enough to glimpse Kangchenjunga and Everest, but minutes later the clouds rolled back in.
Imagine yourself 3000m up, thin air, and for 3 days straight skim milk fog fading to 2% at the worst with a constant stream of cold mountain rain and cold mountain air and only occasional fires to get you through the night. It's not a pretty picture and seeing as Day 4 was the last chance to get some views, we were increasingly nervous to be in the precarious position of hiking the Himalayas without ever seeing them.
Day 4: Molley to Sabargram (3536m) to Molley to Sri Khola (2450m)
Distance Covered: 20km (down baby)
Surprise of the Day: After spending the night without ever seeing a fire and constantly waking with pain because wood is hard and some creature out the window wouldn't leave us alone, Tserdin (our Sherpa) woke us at 430am with the news of clear skies. We dressed and backtracked and feasted our eyes on 4 of the 5 tallest mountains in the world, Lhotse (8516m), Kangchenjunga (8586m), K2 (8611m), and Everest (8850m). It was a sight no picture could describe.
Day 5: Sri Khola to Rimbick (2286m) to Darjeeling
Distance Covered by foot: 8km
Surprise of the Day: An 80km jeep ride to Darjeeling, that took 5hrs, and held 25 people...with only 16 inside. More on that later.
On the trail we were surrounded by yaks...not much to say about it, except I couldn't stop taking their photos. Yaks, cool.
Some would complain about the bad weather, but waking up for sunrise after 3 days of seeing only footsteps in the mud then finally viewing all that was always before us was a gift worth waiting for.
Sorry for mostly business but it seemed the best way of tackling our favorite 5 days of the trip. I'll put as many photos as a can throughout the next couple of days and when I develop the 35mm film I'll get it on here too.
-sam
The former northeastern hill station of the British empire, recognized early on as the perfect place for a sanatorium, hosts the highest altitude tea plantations in the world and breathtaking views of the Himalayas - if you're granted clear skies. Oddly distinct from its fellow West Bengal city, Kolkata, there's little left to wonder why the majority population in the hills seek separate statehood. Sharing little in common, if anything at all, with the Bengali majority of West Bengal, the Nepalese centered culture of the Hills has sought political identity through the Ghorkaland movement leading to civil unrest that sadly lead to violence on more than one occasion. Fueled by Nepali immigrants via the Indo-Nepali Treaty of 1950, the distrust of their Bengali statesmen in Kolkata, and the flexible histories of the Hills, Darjeeling, along with surrounding areas, have become a hot bed of political unrest that perennially try the Democratic ideal of Self Determination. Despite the controversies, Darjeeling remains a vacationing spot for the socially elite as well as a convenient starting point for adventurers seeking the awe-inspiring Himalayas. Enough of the pamphlet talk...
The Singalila Ridge Trek has become a favorite for those willing to try the elements for 5 days. After getting the run around by every travel agency in Darjeeling, Misha and I opted to skip the "organized" trek for the seemingly more adventurous mode of the "unorganized" trek...cheaper too. We're not so naive to believe we could handle a 5 day trek on the Nepali border, averaging 3000m plus, without a guide, but the porter/cook didn't seem necessary.
After a 6am wake-up we hopped some local shared taxis and rode them through the fog and rain and ominous heights leading to Manay Bhanjang, Singalila's starting point. There we logged our passports with the Indian Army, a task frequently required throughout the hike, and hired a Sherpa through the Singalila Park.
I'm not going to give a play-by-play of the rest, but the first 7km were straight up and both Misha and I were having second thoughts. From there on we got the pace of the trek. We walk, mostly climb, for 4 hours, then stop in a small village for tea/lunch, then continue on for the 2-3 hours, until dinner. The trek is set so every 7km-15km there is a small town, either to eat or sleep in. Our days went as followed:
Day 1: Jeep from Darjeeling (2100m) to Manay Bhanjang (2134m), hike to Tumling/Tonglu (3070m)
Distance Covered by foot: 17km (all climbing)
Surprise of the day: We were well aware that the trek follows the Nepali border. We were not aware that we would be crossing into Nepal on more than one occasion. We spent our first night of the trek in Nepal. No, we didn't need visas. Yes, it's legal.
Day 2: Tumling to Sandakphu (3636m)
Distance Covered: 24km (some flat, lotta climbing)
Sandakphu is the highest point of the climb and offers amazing views of the Himalayas, alas the fog/clouds didn't clear.
Day 3: Sandakphu to Molley (3250m)
Distance Covered: 15km (short day)
In the morning I was lucky enough to glimpse Kangchenjunga and Everest, but minutes later the clouds rolled back in.
Imagine yourself 3000m up, thin air, and for 3 days straight skim milk fog fading to 2% at the worst with a constant stream of cold mountain rain and cold mountain air and only occasional fires to get you through the night. It's not a pretty picture and seeing as Day 4 was the last chance to get some views, we were increasingly nervous to be in the precarious position of hiking the Himalayas without ever seeing them.
Day 4: Molley to Sabargram (3536m) to Molley to Sri Khola (2450m)
Distance Covered: 20km (down baby)
Surprise of the Day: After spending the night without ever seeing a fire and constantly waking with pain because wood is hard and some creature out the window wouldn't leave us alone, Tserdin (our Sherpa) woke us at 430am with the news of clear skies. We dressed and backtracked and feasted our eyes on 4 of the 5 tallest mountains in the world, Lhotse (8516m), Kangchenjunga (8586m), K2 (8611m), and Everest (8850m). It was a sight no picture could describe.
Day 5: Sri Khola to Rimbick (2286m) to Darjeeling
Distance Covered by foot: 8km
Surprise of the Day: An 80km jeep ride to Darjeeling, that took 5hrs, and held 25 people...with only 16 inside. More on that later.
On the trail we were surrounded by yaks...not much to say about it, except I couldn't stop taking their photos. Yaks, cool.
Some would complain about the bad weather, but waking up for sunrise after 3 days of seeing only footsteps in the mud then finally viewing all that was always before us was a gift worth waiting for.
Sorry for mostly business but it seemed the best way of tackling our favorite 5 days of the trip. I'll put as many photos as a can throughout the next couple of days and when I develop the 35mm film I'll get it on here too.
-sam
The Hampi Disaster
Hampi was my worst nightmare. I guess all trips have to one bad point and I definitely found mine! The first day was actually fairly nice, we rented bikes and went around to all sorts of different temples with palm trees, huge rocky boulders, and endless rice fields as our backdrop. The view reminded us of the set of Jurassic Park, and the entire day we were humming the theme song tune as we peddled. The day was long and sunny, and we stupidly brought only 1 litre of water between the two of us, so the nice day ended with an exhausted, sun stoked Misha. But we made it back alright and we ended our evening with a nice mango lassi and a game of shebesh, at one of the local Israeli hangouts called "Shesbesh".
Day two was the beginning of the end...
I woke up still feeling naseous from the day before and had some breakfast at the restaurant in our guest house. I had no desire to eat, but forced myself to get it down... and that was the last meal I was to have for a week. by 12:00 I was unable to move from the bed, and by 2:00 p.m. the vommiting started. I threw up consistantly every 20 minutes from then onwards, and by 8:00 p.m. I reached a point where I was throwing up consistently for 20 minutes straight with no break... this is when we called the doctor. He came, gave me a shot, and gave me some pills and powders to take in an hour or so and took off. The shot made me fell better for probably half an hour, and then I was back to feeling the worst nasea of my life. I had to play the don't move or I will throw up game, so I laid still until 10:00 so I could take the pill the doctor left for me... I tried with everything I had to keep the pill down, but it was up 15 minutes. I eventually fell asleep and only woke up 3-4 times to throw up in the night.
Day Three...
I woke up hoping I was better???
I sat up slowly, and..... VOMIT.
I knew it was time to go to the hospital. The Killer Indian Sun makes dehydration very dangerous threat, especially for a whitey like me:) it took all my courage to stand up, and I had to walk 1 km in the heat to the boat to cross the river. Then I had to wait for the boat to have enough people to go... it is a very small motor boat ... so it barely took anytime but still I was kinda in a hurry:) Then I had to get in this rocky boat, with a plastic bag around my mouth and the worst nausea in the world. Once we crossed the river I had to walk up this huge ancient flight of stairs carved into the rock to reach my rigsaw. We had to drive 10km to reach the hospital but it took us 30 minutes because rigshaw's don't go fast! The entire time I have a vomit bag around my mouth, and I was "using" it.... the hospital was in Hospet and this city honestly had some of the nastiest smells I have come across in India.
When we reached the hospital the doctor just kept saying "She is in very bad condition, she is in very bad condition."
But I was hooked up to an IV and given lots of anti nausea medication and eventually I was able to drink some water and keep it down. I was in the hospital 1night 2days, and was very weak when I left. The doctor way over charged me for my medical care, and the entire thing cost mee like 300$... which is nothing at home, but very expensive for India. I am defiently a "Budget" traveller, so the issue of paying the doctor became a huge nightmare, we couldnt get money out... and we couldnt go to a bank because it was a holiday... which they neglected to tell us the day before when we arrived at the hospital...actually at first we thought we could pay with credit card because that is what sammy was told. SO I had to leave my passport in some sketchy desk door until the next day when we could produce the cash. I had to call my mommy like a baby and ask her to send me some money, and I cried on the phone like a 2 year old. :(
When I was discharged we had to faces the harshness of India once more, the sun, the constant hounding for money ( either in the form of a tip, charity, or just being grossly overcharged) ... we missed our train so we had to spend a minimum of 2 night/ 3 days in hospet, and this place was butt fuck nowhere India. The only way to leave when we wanted was by plane, but considering how shakey my tummy still was, it was much better than the 30 hour train ride we were trying to take.
I was so miserable and home sick and I can't explain it. Even though I was no longer loosing fluids I was barely able to drink anything, and defiently was not able to eat. The many smells of hospet were like an attack on my stomach, and I couldn't even be near food with out that vomit feeling coming back. Sam and I almost killed each other as we were trapped in the awful place, with nothing to do and a very grumpy, exhausted, crying misha. I was so desperate to go home, because the thought of having india food again made me just want to die... but luckily I was just too far away, and it would have been next to impossible for me to get to Canada. So I had no choice but to wait it out... and so glad that I did!
We ended up spending a lot more money than we intended on that week, in hopes to make me slightly more comfortable, and it was well worth it. Once we reached Beautiful Darjeeling I was a new person... and we rested here for 2 days, until beginning the greatest adventure of my life - Our Trek on the Himalayan Mountains! It was even sweeter because we both felt like we earned it! Sammy did a very good job of taking care of me the entire time! And he called my mom lots of times to make sure she wasn't too worried about me. THOUGH - I really think I owe my recovery to ENSURE though, it was a miracle when we found that beautiful tin of vanilla meal replacement powder, and it was truly my saving grace!
More craziness to come...
M.
Day two was the beginning of the end...
I woke up still feeling naseous from the day before and had some breakfast at the restaurant in our guest house. I had no desire to eat, but forced myself to get it down... and that was the last meal I was to have for a week. by 12:00 I was unable to move from the bed, and by 2:00 p.m. the vommiting started. I threw up consistantly every 20 minutes from then onwards, and by 8:00 p.m. I reached a point where I was throwing up consistently for 20 minutes straight with no break... this is when we called the doctor. He came, gave me a shot, and gave me some pills and powders to take in an hour or so and took off. The shot made me fell better for probably half an hour, and then I was back to feeling the worst nasea of my life. I had to play the don't move or I will throw up game, so I laid still until 10:00 so I could take the pill the doctor left for me... I tried with everything I had to keep the pill down, but it was up 15 minutes. I eventually fell asleep and only woke up 3-4 times to throw up in the night.
Day Three...
I woke up hoping I was better???
I sat up slowly, and..... VOMIT.
I knew it was time to go to the hospital. The Killer Indian Sun makes dehydration very dangerous threat, especially for a whitey like me:) it took all my courage to stand up, and I had to walk 1 km in the heat to the boat to cross the river. Then I had to wait for the boat to have enough people to go... it is a very small motor boat ... so it barely took anytime but still I was kinda in a hurry:) Then I had to get in this rocky boat, with a plastic bag around my mouth and the worst nausea in the world. Once we crossed the river I had to walk up this huge ancient flight of stairs carved into the rock to reach my rigsaw. We had to drive 10km to reach the hospital but it took us 30 minutes because rigshaw's don't go fast! The entire time I have a vomit bag around my mouth, and I was "using" it.... the hospital was in Hospet and this city honestly had some of the nastiest smells I have come across in India.
When we reached the hospital the doctor just kept saying "She is in very bad condition, she is in very bad condition."
But I was hooked up to an IV and given lots of anti nausea medication and eventually I was able to drink some water and keep it down. I was in the hospital 1night 2days, and was very weak when I left. The doctor way over charged me for my medical care, and the entire thing cost mee like 300$... which is nothing at home, but very expensive for India. I am defiently a "Budget" traveller, so the issue of paying the doctor became a huge nightmare, we couldnt get money out... and we couldnt go to a bank because it was a holiday... which they neglected to tell us the day before when we arrived at the hospital...actually at first we thought we could pay with credit card because that is what sammy was told. SO I had to leave my passport in some sketchy desk door until the next day when we could produce the cash. I had to call my mommy like a baby and ask her to send me some money, and I cried on the phone like a 2 year old. :(
When I was discharged we had to faces the harshness of India once more, the sun, the constant hounding for money ( either in the form of a tip, charity, or just being grossly overcharged) ... we missed our train so we had to spend a minimum of 2 night/ 3 days in hospet, and this place was butt fuck nowhere India. The only way to leave when we wanted was by plane, but considering how shakey my tummy still was, it was much better than the 30 hour train ride we were trying to take.
I was so miserable and home sick and I can't explain it. Even though I was no longer loosing fluids I was barely able to drink anything, and defiently was not able to eat. The many smells of hospet were like an attack on my stomach, and I couldn't even be near food with out that vomit feeling coming back. Sam and I almost killed each other as we were trapped in the awful place, with nothing to do and a very grumpy, exhausted, crying misha. I was so desperate to go home, because the thought of having india food again made me just want to die... but luckily I was just too far away, and it would have been next to impossible for me to get to Canada. So I had no choice but to wait it out... and so glad that I did!
We ended up spending a lot more money than we intended on that week, in hopes to make me slightly more comfortable, and it was well worth it. Once we reached Beautiful Darjeeling I was a new person... and we rested here for 2 days, until beginning the greatest adventure of my life - Our Trek on the Himalayan Mountains! It was even sweeter because we both felt like we earned it! Sammy did a very good job of taking care of me the entire time! And he called my mom lots of times to make sure she wasn't too worried about me. THOUGH - I really think I owe my recovery to ENSURE though, it was a miracle when we found that beautiful tin of vanilla meal replacement powder, and it was truly my saving grace!
More craziness to come...
M.
5 Days and 4 Nights: Himalayas
Trekking
"Welcome to Nepal" - really?
Chicken Fat
Mornin' Yak
Kangchenjunga PanoramaThursday, April 2, 2009
Just for Now
Very little time to fill the avid readers in on the happenings over here, so this will have to suffice until a more extensive update is posted in the coming week. I also promise an uplifting tale written by Misha in the next week or so. Please allow us this absence for now.
For fear of stepping on Misha's toes I'm not going to touch on our trying experiences in Hampi and Hospet. Instead I'll write quickly about how we got where we are and offer an explanation for the prolonged absences.
We left Hospet (the transportation hub for Hampi on the 30 of March). After a purposeful miss of the 38 hour train ride booked to Kolkata (formerly known as Calcutta) we allowed ourselves to experience the multitudes of transport modes India has to offer. First came the 12 hour night bus from Hospet to Hyderabad - a no thrills ride with AC and pushback seats only *sigh for the forgotten comforts of our favorite sleeper buses. Dropped off at the crack of dawn on the highway nearing Hyderabad, a auto-rickshaw or tuk-tuk swung by and took us to the new airport. Yes, we bit the bullet and flew. Indigo airlines, oddly similar to Jet Blue, landed us safely in Kolkata after a pleasant 2 hour flight. Having 7 hours to kill in Kolkata we opted on not whittling away the time in the overly crowded and quite unpleasant scene of Sealiad (wrong spelling but no time) train station. So we took a taxi, a car from the 50's to the nearest...Pizza Hut. Yes, I was guilty of the following phrase while looking for the Hut with a cabby that didn't know the way and tried to convince us that the previously agreed upon fare was not fair...hmmm...the phrase "There's a KFC and a Domino's...that's a good sign!" Ouch. (in the context of digesting fish filet sandwiches from McDonald's in the Hyderabad airport...ouch). I promise an explanation of our odd diet later though I'm sure some picture must be coming clear. From the wonderland of Pizza Hut we rickshaw'd back to the train station, human walking powered rickshaw. Sweat it. Took the train to New Jalpaiguri. Halted there the next morning then jeep'd it up the bumpy and cliff-hanging insanity two lane road to Darjeeling. Tea anyone? I'll write about it as time comes my way, but none for now.
What's up with the disappearance? Well tomorrow morning we're embarking on a 5-6 day trek along the Nepali border. The Singila Trail promises views of 4 of the 5 tallest mountians in the world including Everest! We're packing light and pumped to go. Got to run but I promise pictures and stories to have the envy of you.
-sam
For fear of stepping on Misha's toes I'm not going to touch on our trying experiences in Hampi and Hospet. Instead I'll write quickly about how we got where we are and offer an explanation for the prolonged absences.
We left Hospet (the transportation hub for Hampi on the 30 of March). After a purposeful miss of the 38 hour train ride booked to Kolkata (formerly known as Calcutta) we allowed ourselves to experience the multitudes of transport modes India has to offer. First came the 12 hour night bus from Hospet to Hyderabad - a no thrills ride with AC and pushback seats only *sigh for the forgotten comforts of our favorite sleeper buses. Dropped off at the crack of dawn on the highway nearing Hyderabad, a auto-rickshaw or tuk-tuk swung by and took us to the new airport. Yes, we bit the bullet and flew. Indigo airlines, oddly similar to Jet Blue, landed us safely in Kolkata after a pleasant 2 hour flight. Having 7 hours to kill in Kolkata we opted on not whittling away the time in the overly crowded and quite unpleasant scene of Sealiad (wrong spelling but no time) train station. So we took a taxi, a car from the 50's to the nearest...Pizza Hut. Yes, I was guilty of the following phrase while looking for the Hut with a cabby that didn't know the way and tried to convince us that the previously agreed upon fare was not fair...hmmm...the phrase "There's a KFC and a Domino's...that's a good sign!" Ouch. (in the context of digesting fish filet sandwiches from McDonald's in the Hyderabad airport...ouch). I promise an explanation of our odd diet later though I'm sure some picture must be coming clear. From the wonderland of Pizza Hut we rickshaw'd back to the train station, human walking powered rickshaw. Sweat it. Took the train to New Jalpaiguri. Halted there the next morning then jeep'd it up the bumpy and cliff-hanging insanity two lane road to Darjeeling. Tea anyone? I'll write about it as time comes my way, but none for now.
What's up with the disappearance? Well tomorrow morning we're embarking on a 5-6 day trek along the Nepali border. The Singila Trail promises views of 4 of the 5 tallest mountians in the world including Everest! We're packing light and pumped to go. Got to run but I promise pictures and stories to have the envy of you.
-sam
Friday, March 27, 2009
Fancy w/Tea (not to be fancy)
Tea (meant to be placed on left for cool effect)
Tea 2
Rain Chai
(on right for failed cool effect lost on top photo)
samisha
Bolsheviks Strike Back!!!
Don't live off of a guide. Now I've heard it, and I'm sorry to say I'm guilty of saying it, but travelers are religious people that believe whole-heartedly in the Bible. Not The Bible, but something just as thick, usually...Lonely Planet. I'm speechless now, fingers trembling, half-expecting doomsday in denying Lonely Planet the status of king of kings - but, hush now, Lonely Planet doesn't get it right half the time. Yikes. Ignore its generosity in deflating lackluster guesthouses' high-season (let alone low season) room prices for the economy admittedly changes. Ignore its inability to program distances within the correct area-code after all the Earth moves. Ignore its peculiar lust for detestable food for tongues vary person to person. Even ignore the "stamp" those damn recommendations do to humble minded business men (let's call it the 20% price hike) because every man needs to eat his bread...but come on Keralan backwater houseboat tour a thing to do before I die?!?!?! "Worth every darn rupee"?!?!?! Lonely Planet humble yourself.
It's hard to throw your back to a top 20 activity in the world's most honored travel guide, but it's harder to stomach throwing money into the stagnant waste of Keralan backwater. I'm being dramatic. On a tight budget, when you spend big you expect big. The Keralan backwater tour took place upon one of the many rice barges converted into beautifully furnished houseboats. We took the chance on a 24hr tour expecting a tour rivalling Marlow's slip into the insanity of Africa. Well maybe no diamond scout to rescue, but wilds, jungle's wilds. Instead of little Mowgli's running to shore eyeing the oddity of a couple of albino's we got a rather open crowd of homosexual Indian ravers. Instead of uncharted waterways of a unique adventure we were passed by day tour trips in a motorboat and I heard more traffic on the backwater than in Delhi. We even spotted men constructing another houseboat for like suckers. I wanted tigers jumping from the bush, not flamers dropping their pants. Oh, did I mention we traveled 3km in 24 hours?
Complaining aside, the experience was pleasant enough, quaint, not adventuresome and yes my ego is aching. The rooms on board were nicer than any guesthouse we've stayed at. The food was tasty and fresh. I understand that no motor on the boat limits distance, but the two men (bow and aft) with 30ft bamboo poles, known as punters, looked healthy enough to distance us the promised 15km. The aforementioned, punters, were our main outlet of entertainment. They gracefully wave those poles left to right, gently shoving them to the bottom of the river, there-by being our source of...momentum, if that's what 3km in 24hrs can be described as. All above aside and the sweltering jungle heat/humidity forgotten, I spotted some nice water fowl and even braved a top floor jump into the "water". I'm alive. It didn't help that the two people we paired with were spouting their complaints for tea conversations. We always drank tea. We always entertained negativity. Houseboating the backwaters of Kerala is pleasant enough business I suppose, but I recommend the writers of Lonely Planet to find some life and not worry about changing their Depends.
7 hour public bus from the mosquito sanctuary known as Fort Cochin (they did have an area of town called Jew Town and, yes, Jew Street ran down the middle of it. No I'm not kidding and yes it happened to be the only place we went to where budget travel wasn't possible and the bloodsucking mosquitoes clouded our vision. Gentilian conspiracy? joking!)
Now after that bus ride we found ourselves in the southern mountains in tea town, Munnar. More my style. I never knew what tea fields looked like, but imagine rolling mountains covered in 3ft high bushes. Sounds pretty lame. I assure it's not. Rather amazing, actually. Misha and I were with our happy friends for this part too, but here we found more pleasantries, though notably less tea drunken...hmmm, funny, right? Every day at around 3pm Munnar welcomes in monsoon like rain for nearly an hour and the display is breathtaking. We first found shelter in a travel agency. There a man with the bright idea of selling chai by motorbike arrived with poncho and we drank tea. Very nice. The full day there we decided on ignoring the rickshaw/tuk-tuk drivers guaranteeing us the best sights to see for a cheap price for our own hiking tour. We made way to the aptly named view point, View Point, and some hidden waterfalls. Nice hike, we even roughed it, by semi-illegally tramping the paths between those precious tea plants on some rich guy's plantation. Sticking it to the man is what I do. Sure the angry farmer had a word for us when we escaped the mazes after 5 hrs, but it was some dialect in Hindu and we were too tired and and ignorant to care. We didn't kill any plants but I did have half a mind to get a fire going and brew some fresh tea...no kettle, dammit.
Anyway, Munnar was great for further whetting my appetite for Darjeeling - bigger, taller, more tea. We ended up there because the animal reserve we planned to go to was closed due to some "fire" but it was a great detour and a happy end to a rather unpleasing Keralan experience.
One interesting bit of info, Kerala is the only place in the world where socialism is practiced successfully. Yes, the Democratic country of India hosts the happily Socialist state of Kerala, a Socialist government elected Democratically of course...I don't know how it works.
After 24hrs of public buses we ended up in Hampi and I'll write about the samisha downfalls of that, shortly...
It's hard to throw your back to a top 20 activity in the world's most honored travel guide, but it's harder to stomach throwing money into the stagnant waste of Keralan backwater. I'm being dramatic. On a tight budget, when you spend big you expect big. The Keralan backwater tour took place upon one of the many rice barges converted into beautifully furnished houseboats. We took the chance on a 24hr tour expecting a tour rivalling Marlow's slip into the insanity of Africa. Well maybe no diamond scout to rescue, but wilds, jungle's wilds. Instead of little Mowgli's running to shore eyeing the oddity of a couple of albino's we got a rather open crowd of homosexual Indian ravers. Instead of uncharted waterways of a unique adventure we were passed by day tour trips in a motorboat and I heard more traffic on the backwater than in Delhi. We even spotted men constructing another houseboat for like suckers. I wanted tigers jumping from the bush, not flamers dropping their pants. Oh, did I mention we traveled 3km in 24 hours?
Complaining aside, the experience was pleasant enough, quaint, not adventuresome and yes my ego is aching. The rooms on board were nicer than any guesthouse we've stayed at. The food was tasty and fresh. I understand that no motor on the boat limits distance, but the two men (bow and aft) with 30ft bamboo poles, known as punters, looked healthy enough to distance us the promised 15km. The aforementioned, punters, were our main outlet of entertainment. They gracefully wave those poles left to right, gently shoving them to the bottom of the river, there-by being our source of...momentum, if that's what 3km in 24hrs can be described as. All above aside and the sweltering jungle heat/humidity forgotten, I spotted some nice water fowl and even braved a top floor jump into the "water". I'm alive. It didn't help that the two people we paired with were spouting their complaints for tea conversations. We always drank tea. We always entertained negativity. Houseboating the backwaters of Kerala is pleasant enough business I suppose, but I recommend the writers of Lonely Planet to find some life and not worry about changing their Depends.
7 hour public bus from the mosquito sanctuary known as Fort Cochin (they did have an area of town called Jew Town and, yes, Jew Street ran down the middle of it. No I'm not kidding and yes it happened to be the only place we went to where budget travel wasn't possible and the bloodsucking mosquitoes clouded our vision. Gentilian conspiracy? joking!)
Now after that bus ride we found ourselves in the southern mountains in tea town, Munnar. More my style. I never knew what tea fields looked like, but imagine rolling mountains covered in 3ft high bushes. Sounds pretty lame. I assure it's not. Rather amazing, actually. Misha and I were with our happy friends for this part too, but here we found more pleasantries, though notably less tea drunken...hmmm, funny, right? Every day at around 3pm Munnar welcomes in monsoon like rain for nearly an hour and the display is breathtaking. We first found shelter in a travel agency. There a man with the bright idea of selling chai by motorbike arrived with poncho and we drank tea. Very nice. The full day there we decided on ignoring the rickshaw/tuk-tuk drivers guaranteeing us the best sights to see for a cheap price for our own hiking tour. We made way to the aptly named view point, View Point, and some hidden waterfalls. Nice hike, we even roughed it, by semi-illegally tramping the paths between those precious tea plants on some rich guy's plantation. Sticking it to the man is what I do. Sure the angry farmer had a word for us when we escaped the mazes after 5 hrs, but it was some dialect in Hindu and we were too tired and and ignorant to care. We didn't kill any plants but I did have half a mind to get a fire going and brew some fresh tea...no kettle, dammit.
Anyway, Munnar was great for further whetting my appetite for Darjeeling - bigger, taller, more tea. We ended up there because the animal reserve we planned to go to was closed due to some "fire" but it was a great detour and a happy end to a rather unpleasing Keralan experience.
One interesting bit of info, Kerala is the only place in the world where socialism is practiced successfully. Yes, the Democratic country of India hosts the happily Socialist state of Kerala, a Socialist government elected Democratically of course...I don't know how it works.
After 24hrs of public buses we ended up in Hampi and I'll write about the samisha downfalls of that, shortly...
Saturday, March 21, 2009
I need a starbucks!
India is incredible! India is Fascinating! India is adventure! Jealous??? .... Don't be :)
India is of course all of these things, and being here feels like one of the greatest times of my life, but like all great things in life there is a price. And it seems only fair and funny to bring all of our family and friends on the inside loop of what that price entails.
So for all you blog fans siting at home wishing you were here with me on this dream vacation in paradise... please read and laugh about the following tortures I have suffered through in order to continue my journey!
The Train:
The 15 hour train ride from Goa to kerala was the inspiration for this blog subject. Sam and I choose to take the 2ND class sleeper train with no A/C. We didn't go for the more expensive a/c version because it was a night train and with the breeze it would probably be too cold. So our seats were not the best but also far from the cheapest version, so I expected something something half decent. Now many of you know, and many of you will learn that I don't do well in confined spaces... anxiety attack here I come! Keep this in mind!!
So first we waited for the train which was late by an hour and some, and then had to run with our huge backpacks and purses/etc over this crazy bridge because the train decided to come into a different track then we were told, DUH - why didn't I just run across all the train tracks instead like all the locals, then I wouldn't miss the train...
Anyways.. after all that I was ready to put down my stuff and relax. Sadly it was not to be because literally the train that we walked into looked like cell block number 5. This is when my Jewish princessness kicked in and literally the sight of this smelly, HOT, small, weird cubicle with half bed half seat devices with one small window and one small fan from 1968 almost brought me to tears. This was to be my home/ trap for the next 15 hours??? And at this moment I thought "I need a f'in STARBUCKS' - Ha! THen I looked over at Sammy and he is smiling away as usual, "Yeah Mish we got the top bunks!" He says with a grin. GREAT! It is true they are considered the best seats because the bunks are actually stacked three on top of each other and the lower ones resemble when the Japanese tourists slept in the armoire in that Seinfeld episode. But still these upper bunks are FAR far far from luxury. HE ;)
I guess they wouldn't be that bad actually if we had a separate place to put our luggage. BUT the sections are SMALL, and worstly the theft on these trains is HIGH. So your bag actually ends up taking up most of your seat while you try to sleep in a ball in the corner holding our valuables in between your thighs to protect them.
Sammy actually constructed this insane bag/chain/ lock/ device that made our bags fairly difficult to get to, but we had heard so many horror stories about tourists loosing their things I could think of nothing else. So I spent the entire night holding my purse with my teeth trying to sleep... I did manage to fall asleep a bit every now and again, but kept being woken up by vivid nightmares or shivers.
We take this malaria medication that has a reputation for messing with your mind and it gives you crazy dreams that feel so real, I basically dreamt the same thing on repeat all night...
"The train is stopped and somehow SaM got himself locked in this weird wooden cage, so I had to drag him around in a cage searching for our stolen passports and bags in a pile of huge piles of garbage."
The shivering came from open door right beside my "bed", Ya they just have wide open doors on the Indian rail way.... ummm Kinda windy??? hehem - dangerous too I guess ;). I shouldn't complain I had a towel for a blanket ;)
Besides that everything was ok I guess... I mean the washroom smelt like death vomit and we were right beside it the whole time, but no biggie ;) I avoided the latrine for as long as I possibly could, but it was at a time of the month where the washroom was not optional... if You know what I mean - it was GROSS :( he!
I guess It sounds like I had a fairly miserable time... but strangely I didn't. Situation like this are fairly normal in this crazy place, and Sammy did buy me a surprise toblerone for breakfast! YEAH - I am so easily amused!
BUt it has to be said it one of many experiences so far that have left we craving a hot shower, the movie channel, and a starbucks!
So next time you are wishing you were here with me, ask yourself this... Could you handle it???
Think mosquito bites galore.... poop pretty much Everywhere, like in every single place, various illnesses... along with just some general craziness that is too special to explain.
BUt you should also remember, this blog is all in good fun, and truly I am having a great time, which of course I was reminded of on our glorious train experience when I met a man from Spain that actually got Malaria here! OUCH.
Well Friends enough fun for now... please stay tuned for more of my complaints and amusements, and I hope you are laughing with me.
M.
India is of course all of these things, and being here feels like one of the greatest times of my life, but like all great things in life there is a price. And it seems only fair and funny to bring all of our family and friends on the inside loop of what that price entails.
So for all you blog fans siting at home wishing you were here with me on this dream vacation in paradise... please read and laugh about the following tortures I have suffered through in order to continue my journey!
The Train:
The 15 hour train ride from Goa to kerala was the inspiration for this blog subject. Sam and I choose to take the 2ND class sleeper train with no A/C. We didn't go for the more expensive a/c version because it was a night train and with the breeze it would probably be too cold. So our seats were not the best but also far from the cheapest version, so I expected something something half decent. Now many of you know, and many of you will learn that I don't do well in confined spaces... anxiety attack here I come! Keep this in mind!!
So first we waited for the train which was late by an hour and some, and then had to run with our huge backpacks and purses/etc over this crazy bridge because the train decided to come into a different track then we were told, DUH - why didn't I just run across all the train tracks instead like all the locals, then I wouldn't miss the train...
Anyways.. after all that I was ready to put down my stuff and relax. Sadly it was not to be because literally the train that we walked into looked like cell block number 5. This is when my Jewish princessness kicked in and literally the sight of this smelly, HOT, small, weird cubicle with half bed half seat devices with one small window and one small fan from 1968 almost brought me to tears. This was to be my home/ trap for the next 15 hours??? And at this moment I thought "I need a f'in STARBUCKS' - Ha! THen I looked over at Sammy and he is smiling away as usual, "Yeah Mish we got the top bunks!" He says with a grin. GREAT! It is true they are considered the best seats because the bunks are actually stacked three on top of each other and the lower ones resemble when the Japanese tourists slept in the armoire in that Seinfeld episode. But still these upper bunks are FAR far far from luxury. HE ;)
I guess they wouldn't be that bad actually if we had a separate place to put our luggage. BUT the sections are SMALL, and worstly the theft on these trains is HIGH. So your bag actually ends up taking up most of your seat while you try to sleep in a ball in the corner holding our valuables in between your thighs to protect them.
Sammy actually constructed this insane bag/chain/ lock/ device that made our bags fairly difficult to get to, but we had heard so many horror stories about tourists loosing their things I could think of nothing else. So I spent the entire night holding my purse with my teeth trying to sleep... I did manage to fall asleep a bit every now and again, but kept being woken up by vivid nightmares or shivers.
We take this malaria medication that has a reputation for messing with your mind and it gives you crazy dreams that feel so real, I basically dreamt the same thing on repeat all night...
"The train is stopped and somehow SaM got himself locked in this weird wooden cage, so I had to drag him around in a cage searching for our stolen passports and bags in a pile of huge piles of garbage."
The shivering came from open door right beside my "bed", Ya they just have wide open doors on the Indian rail way.... ummm Kinda windy??? hehem - dangerous too I guess ;). I shouldn't complain I had a towel for a blanket ;)
Besides that everything was ok I guess... I mean the washroom smelt like death vomit and we were right beside it the whole time, but no biggie ;) I avoided the latrine for as long as I possibly could, but it was at a time of the month where the washroom was not optional... if You know what I mean - it was GROSS :( he!
I guess It sounds like I had a fairly miserable time... but strangely I didn't. Situation like this are fairly normal in this crazy place, and Sammy did buy me a surprise toblerone for breakfast! YEAH - I am so easily amused!
BUt it has to be said it one of many experiences so far that have left we craving a hot shower, the movie channel, and a starbucks!
So next time you are wishing you were here with me, ask yourself this... Could you handle it???
Think mosquito bites galore.... poop pretty much Everywhere, like in every single place, various illnesses... along with just some general craziness that is too special to explain.
BUt you should also remember, this blog is all in good fun, and truly I am having a great time, which of course I was reminded of on our glorious train experience when I met a man from Spain that actually got Malaria here! OUCH.
Well Friends enough fun for now... please stay tuned for more of my complaints and amusements, and I hope you are laughing with me.
M.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Goa Blvd's Expectations
Left Udaipur with all the hopes of a stranded desert rat looking for green and found it in Goa, lots of it, and I'm not planning on seeing another desert anytime soon. Don't get me wrong, there's times when I'm something of a desert homeboy but nowadays I want jungles or mountains - after-all they're the flavor of the month.
During a brief stop-over in Bombay (that's right I'm bringing it back, because in the end Bombay sounds better than Mumbai), a city that wins my merits for being the smoggiest city that I can jive in, we ferried to and through the 3rd century Hindu caves of Elephanta Island, marched around the Gateway to India, marveled and solemnly approached the Taj Mahal Palace, huffed the smog of Chowpatti Beach (you can swim there, if you don't mind the 3 eyed fish), kicked it in Fort area and Colaba, observed the wooden wall shanty of the shittiest place I've ever had to sleep in, got lost with the 2 million people that use Victorian Terminus or VT or CST or Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (all the same place with varying degrees of difficulty in pronunciation), breathed the smog as giddy children threw dye on us for Holi, caught a Bollywood spectacle, wined and dined at India's best seafood restaurant - Trishna, gasped the smog while watching some impromptu cricket on the lawn before the near Gothic structures of the Bombay High Court and Rajabai Clock Tower, oh, and washed myself in the dirt that was the air I breathed in for a hot-humid - but wonderfully metropolitan experience. Bombay = best smoggiest city!
Believe it or not, with the price so high and the air so not clean, Misha and I hopped the bus and rode down to Goa. For those with not the opportunity to know this place, it's paradise. Close your eyes...but keep reading?...whisk yourself away in a dream fantasy with beautiful people or long haired ageing hippies, palm fringed beaches, white sand with lapping sea water from the mighty Arabian Sea, 80's in March, bills no more than 15 dollars a day - including food, housing, motorbike rental, drinks, etc., lush hillsides with friendly no hassle people - now open your eyes and know that most likely you have 1 more month of snow and no sign of a vacation. Sorry, needed to do that.
Goa, more specifically, Arambol Beach, is the first place in India that has me thinking about coming back. I'm not going to bore you with the beach bumming days filled with other things that would make you jealous, but I'll quickly elaborate on a few of the outings.
We took a motorcycle out for the 5 or so days we're here and have taken full advantage of it. One day we rode a little north of Arambol and ferried with the bike across to an even more quiet place where we parked at a beach, well known as Paradise Beach, oddly enough. There we cracked jokes with the local coconut cracker and let him crack a coconut for us, then dipped the straw in and drank coconut milk as we walked the idyllic beaches of...Paradise Beach...hmmmm, delicious. Even here I had the opportunity to be a hero. While sipping c-milk from our coconut I noticed a lone Goan riding his motorbike on the beach, something I thought unnecessarily disturbing to my Paradise experience, of course I found it a tad amusing when he stalled his bike and the tide came in. I watched for a minute as he helplessly dug his bike deeper into the sand, almost to make it out, then get smacked by the latest round of waves. I don't know what adrenaline came to me, perhaps the raw power of coconut milk, but I became inspired to help the man. I ran through the waves, to the poor Goan holding dearly to his bike, then lifted as he rev'd, lifted more as he rev'd, felt the wet sand smacking me in the legs as the rear wheel turned, then he was free - pretty much like saving a beached whale and it felt damn good to once again be known throughout this world as a hero. Misha thought so and that smiling biking Goan thought so too...coconut.
Went on a road trip to a small town named Chandor. It took 3 hours and I got a ticket for not wearing a helmet. I guess India does have laws. In my defense, one must wear a helmet only on highways in Goa it seems, and I don't have a helmet. Of course the officer started mentioning something of some other charge for not having an "international license"...hmmm what's that sir?...you say Rs 100 for not wearing the helmet and how much?...seriously why are you mumbling?... how many rupees?... Rs 2000!?!?!?....what sir?... me give you Rs 500 and you'll let it slide...oh so very kind. India doesn't require an "international license". That cop got a blackmailed pay raise. But, I breath better knowing that India in the end really doesn't seem to have any laws (joking, I don't want to curse myself). Moving passed this unfortunate case of power abuse, Chandor was hot-humid but crazily awesome. Misha picked this place because there are two ageing mansions that the owners love to give tours of. These once proud homes were owned by the wealthy Braganza and Fernandes families (very Indian sounding, give me a second), but now stand as a shells to a once rich past (pictures later). Lengthy descriptions aside, Misha and I thought that thinking of Dicken's, Great Expectations, or Billy Wilder's, Sunset Blvd, should put you so near what needs to be seen.
Quickly why the names above. Goa was and still holds a great deal of Portuguese influences, namely the architecture is something like Spanish Villa's with neon-pastel paint schemes with those red tile roofs, oh, and crosses...crosses everywhere. Goa is distinctly Christian, cows on the menu. Read about it if you want more.
So life is great. We've booked tickets to Kerala (farther south) in two days time and look forward to seeing it all, or seeing some of it. There's more to tell of Goa, and don't worry you'll hear it, but it's 9 pm and dinner is calling then the party, because it's a paradise out there and who doesn't want to party the night away on a beach with moon's shadowed palms.
-sam
During a brief stop-over in Bombay (that's right I'm bringing it back, because in the end Bombay sounds better than Mumbai), a city that wins my merits for being the smoggiest city that I can jive in, we ferried to and through the 3rd century Hindu caves of Elephanta Island, marched around the Gateway to India, marveled and solemnly approached the Taj Mahal Palace, huffed the smog of Chowpatti Beach (you can swim there, if you don't mind the 3 eyed fish), kicked it in Fort area and Colaba, observed the wooden wall shanty of the shittiest place I've ever had to sleep in, got lost with the 2 million people that use Victorian Terminus or VT or CST or Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (all the same place with varying degrees of difficulty in pronunciation), breathed the smog as giddy children threw dye on us for Holi, caught a Bollywood spectacle, wined and dined at India's best seafood restaurant - Trishna, gasped the smog while watching some impromptu cricket on the lawn before the near Gothic structures of the Bombay High Court and Rajabai Clock Tower, oh, and washed myself in the dirt that was the air I breathed in for a hot-humid - but wonderfully metropolitan experience. Bombay = best smoggiest city!
Believe it or not, with the price so high and the air so not clean, Misha and I hopped the bus and rode down to Goa. For those with not the opportunity to know this place, it's paradise. Close your eyes...but keep reading?...whisk yourself away in a dream fantasy with beautiful people or long haired ageing hippies, palm fringed beaches, white sand with lapping sea water from the mighty Arabian Sea, 80's in March, bills no more than 15 dollars a day - including food, housing, motorbike rental, drinks, etc., lush hillsides with friendly no hassle people - now open your eyes and know that most likely you have 1 more month of snow and no sign of a vacation. Sorry, needed to do that.
Goa, more specifically, Arambol Beach, is the first place in India that has me thinking about coming back. I'm not going to bore you with the beach bumming days filled with other things that would make you jealous, but I'll quickly elaborate on a few of the outings.
We took a motorcycle out for the 5 or so days we're here and have taken full advantage of it. One day we rode a little north of Arambol and ferried with the bike across to an even more quiet place where we parked at a beach, well known as Paradise Beach, oddly enough. There we cracked jokes with the local coconut cracker and let him crack a coconut for us, then dipped the straw in and drank coconut milk as we walked the idyllic beaches of...Paradise Beach...hmmmm, delicious. Even here I had the opportunity to be a hero. While sipping c-milk from our coconut I noticed a lone Goan riding his motorbike on the beach, something I thought unnecessarily disturbing to my Paradise experience, of course I found it a tad amusing when he stalled his bike and the tide came in. I watched for a minute as he helplessly dug his bike deeper into the sand, almost to make it out, then get smacked by the latest round of waves. I don't know what adrenaline came to me, perhaps the raw power of coconut milk, but I became inspired to help the man. I ran through the waves, to the poor Goan holding dearly to his bike, then lifted as he rev'd, lifted more as he rev'd, felt the wet sand smacking me in the legs as the rear wheel turned, then he was free - pretty much like saving a beached whale and it felt damn good to once again be known throughout this world as a hero. Misha thought so and that smiling biking Goan thought so too...coconut.
Went on a road trip to a small town named Chandor. It took 3 hours and I got a ticket for not wearing a helmet. I guess India does have laws. In my defense, one must wear a helmet only on highways in Goa it seems, and I don't have a helmet. Of course the officer started mentioning something of some other charge for not having an "international license"...hmmm what's that sir?...you say Rs 100 for not wearing the helmet and how much?...seriously why are you mumbling?... how many rupees?... Rs 2000!?!?!?....what sir?... me give you Rs 500 and you'll let it slide...oh so very kind. India doesn't require an "international license". That cop got a blackmailed pay raise. But, I breath better knowing that India in the end really doesn't seem to have any laws (joking, I don't want to curse myself). Moving passed this unfortunate case of power abuse, Chandor was hot-humid but crazily awesome. Misha picked this place because there are two ageing mansions that the owners love to give tours of. These once proud homes were owned by the wealthy Braganza and Fernandes families (very Indian sounding, give me a second), but now stand as a shells to a once rich past (pictures later). Lengthy descriptions aside, Misha and I thought that thinking of Dicken's, Great Expectations, or Billy Wilder's, Sunset Blvd, should put you so near what needs to be seen.
Quickly why the names above. Goa was and still holds a great deal of Portuguese influences, namely the architecture is something like Spanish Villa's with neon-pastel paint schemes with those red tile roofs, oh, and crosses...crosses everywhere. Goa is distinctly Christian, cows on the menu. Read about it if you want more.
So life is great. We've booked tickets to Kerala (farther south) in two days time and look forward to seeing it all, or seeing some of it. There's more to tell of Goa, and don't worry you'll hear it, but it's 9 pm and dinner is calling then the party, because it's a paradise out there and who doesn't want to party the night away on a beach with moon's shadowed palms.
-sam
Sunday, March 8, 2009
End Our Desert Days
After 3 days and 2 nights in the depths of the rough and tumble world of the Thar Desert, we thought a shower and some nice food would do the trick to reassimilate to the metropolitan culture of Jaisalmer. I may be the first to refer to the place as metropolitan but it's got a huge fort and plenty of places to relax in and well anything is metropolitan to the desert.
The camel safari was nice, 'cept for the lower body pain endured. We rode through small villages within 30km of Jaisalmer and out to some nice sand dunes near enough to the Pakistani border to see it. The wildlife was scarce but the stock animals were not; that is plenty of cows, goats, sheep, and camels. While running the camels in the early morning of the 3rd day, we spotted some gazelle running anf jumping. Sadly, no tigers, though most tiger preservation NGO's admit that there quite possibly aren't tigers in Rajasthan anymore so we weren't expecting any miracles.
At 3pm of March 7th we caught the night bus to Udaipur. Due to last minute planning we hadn't the option to get a sleeper, so we were stuck sitting upright on the bumpy road to Udaipur from Jaisalmer for 14 hrs. It wasn't the worst experience of our lives and we managed to get some sleep amid the always chaotic bus aisles of India.
Udaipur, the City of the Lakes, is pure beauty. Nestled within the rising southern desert hills of Rajasthan, it's lakes relfect the regality of an empire lost centuries ago. Palaces, built by eager Maharajas rich from trade, line the lapping but often stagnant water collected from the monsoon season. The City Palace, still the residence of the current Maharaja, is the largest in Rajasthan - it's walls reaching 244 m. Inside is a museum dedicated to the plentiful tigers and leopards hunted, wars won, and mighty Maharajas of the south that bravely stemmed Mughal control. The city is brimming with charm and perfect for sunset.
Sitting atop a nearby peak is the Monsoon Palace. The palace was built as a retreat during the highwaters of the monsoon season and often used by Maharajas to relax in and hunt big cats along the countryside. Today it is widely used by tourists and locals alike to soak up a sunset that rivals any other.
Because time is short and there are places we desire to see more of, today, we take our leave of Udaipur. Yes, a short 1.5 days, but it is required. Making our decision even harder is, Holi, the Hindu holiday that has paint and dye thrown on everything and everyone. Udaipur promises to be a perfect place for the celebration, alas it is not to be. It should be mentioned that children in Jaisalmer jumper the gun a couple of days and squirted dye on us before we left for Udaipur so we can say we did participate a bit.
At 3pm we catch the bus to Mumbai, where we'll hit up Bollywood and skip town as soon as possible to find those beaches in magical Goa...
-sam
The camel safari was nice, 'cept for the lower body pain endured. We rode through small villages within 30km of Jaisalmer and out to some nice sand dunes near enough to the Pakistani border to see it. The wildlife was scarce but the stock animals were not; that is plenty of cows, goats, sheep, and camels. While running the camels in the early morning of the 3rd day, we spotted some gazelle running anf jumping. Sadly, no tigers, though most tiger preservation NGO's admit that there quite possibly aren't tigers in Rajasthan anymore so we weren't expecting any miracles.
At 3pm of March 7th we caught the night bus to Udaipur. Due to last minute planning we hadn't the option to get a sleeper, so we were stuck sitting upright on the bumpy road to Udaipur from Jaisalmer for 14 hrs. It wasn't the worst experience of our lives and we managed to get some sleep amid the always chaotic bus aisles of India.
Udaipur, the City of the Lakes, is pure beauty. Nestled within the rising southern desert hills of Rajasthan, it's lakes relfect the regality of an empire lost centuries ago. Palaces, built by eager Maharajas rich from trade, line the lapping but often stagnant water collected from the monsoon season. The City Palace, still the residence of the current Maharaja, is the largest in Rajasthan - it's walls reaching 244 m. Inside is a museum dedicated to the plentiful tigers and leopards hunted, wars won, and mighty Maharajas of the south that bravely stemmed Mughal control. The city is brimming with charm and perfect for sunset.
Sitting atop a nearby peak is the Monsoon Palace. The palace was built as a retreat during the highwaters of the monsoon season and often used by Maharajas to relax in and hunt big cats along the countryside. Today it is widely used by tourists and locals alike to soak up a sunset that rivals any other.
Because time is short and there are places we desire to see more of, today, we take our leave of Udaipur. Yes, a short 1.5 days, but it is required. Making our decision even harder is, Holi, the Hindu holiday that has paint and dye thrown on everything and everyone. Udaipur promises to be a perfect place for the celebration, alas it is not to be. It should be mentioned that children in Jaisalmer jumper the gun a couple of days and squirted dye on us before we left for Udaipur so we can say we did participate a bit.
At 3pm we catch the bus to Mumbai, where we'll hit up Bollywood and skip town as soon as possible to find those beaches in magical Goa...
-sam
Friday, March 6, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Lengthy Delays in Pushkar
When you're on the road fellow travelers that have gone the circuit or just know a little bit more than you promise you that you will find a place that will capture your heart and mind. Pushkar didn't make the initial cut for us in the planning stages of the trip, but enough people were puzzled by our inherent lack of interest in it that we agreed upon a short two day detour. Of course that was six days ago and only today have we booked the sleeper bus to Jaiselmar (leaving at 10pm, 11hr trip). Mind you this quiet holy place busy with temples, cows, and a lake that Lonely Planet says "is magnetic" though the pond is lackluster for being the holder of Ghandi's ashes...holy none-the-less...I suppose, doesn't offer much beyond rest and a surprisingly low amount of hassle. Yes, in a country of 1.3 billion people, Pushkar sets itself aside as an oasis of relative quiet. That doesn't stop the impromptu all night prayer sessions or brilliant displays of wedding processions or dogs that cannot stop fighting or coughers that can't stop coughing, but hey it's an oasis of calm. To be honest Misha and I didn't stay here 6 days because we loved it, though we certainly enjoyed Pushkar. We stayed the fifth day to let Misha's plague die down then we stayed the sixth day to let me enjoy my first bout of food poisoning! That's right I'm now official. I can't tell you what did it for sure but I'd venture to say the kidney beans in that Dal I had the other night did the trick, seeing as they kept visiting me yesterday. TIP: It is recommended to eat at smaller guest houses, because it is common for larger establishments to pre-cook their food in anticipation of larger audiences. Lesson learned? We'll see. Seriously puking is all part of the adventure.
When we first arrived in Pushkar we stayed at the Seventh Sea. It's a little off the main bazaar and nothing special. It was nice but after two days we decided to cut our budget of Rs 150 to Rs 100 a night. The place we ended up was fantastic and by far the greatest guest house I have ever stayed at. The Milk Man.
The story goes that the father of this family run guest house, started off as Pushkar's hardworking milk man. Due to some illness the doctor told him he should no longer put in the time as a milk man. So he opened a guest house with a name not too familiar to the guest house scene but one quite familiar to him.
The place is filled to the brim with colorful walls, lush plant life, and brilliant Pushkarian paintings. The rooftop is grass with hammocks swinging from rafters and beds lying in umbrella'd shadow. Paradise. The restaurant was great. Try the Paneer Pasanda!
Misha told you of the motorcycling.
Illnesses aside, the lengthened stay in Pushkar was nothing regrettable. We are looking forward to greater adventures and are that much more prepared after lengthy rests all around. I bought a custom wool pullover in anticipation for a 3-4 day camel safari out of Jaiselmar where the desert nights guarantee (yes, once again I needed to spell check guarantee) chills. It was 8 dollars...
It's easiest to conclude with sunset.
-sam
ps. everyone gets delayed in Pushkar
Saturday, February 28, 2009
I knew he was good for something
Pushkar, Pushkar, and more Pushkar. The place we never intended to visit became the place we are apparently never to leave. After exhausting ourselves in the bustling Jaipur we came here on whim of curiosity hoping to find a slower pace, a few less people, and some cheap sleep & fun. Sam had many opportunities to flex his bartering muscles on our travels through the desert with the many money hungry rigsaw drivers, and after a few hours of braving some cramped local buses and much staggering confusion we arrived at the Pushkar bus station. We were very tired, but still energized by your new sense of accomplishment after making it so far for such a small amount of cash, and set off to find a cheap clean place to rest our bags and our heads. We had no plan really, so the plan was to wander around pushkar until we thought of one.... BUT although I was feeling adventurous in spirit, my body was not willing to play along. A few staggering steps around town with my big back left me gasping for breath like a pathetic ten year old suffering from an asthma attack after too much tag and birthday cake. It was at this point that I realized that perhaps my 'cold' that I acquired in Delhi was no cold at all, but the dreaded yet popular respiratory infection that I my lonely planet warned me about. Soooooo Long story short my first Pushkar tourist attraction was the hospital, and my second and last was my Hostel bed. Sounds scary right??? .... Well it's not, my symptoms were mild, my medications strong, and the only pain I felt was from my boredom. Sam diligently sat by my side for the first two days, chivalrously enduring my boredom with me until he could take it no longer. We left me on the third early in the morning insisting that I rest, and against my protests convinced me that he would return shortly. I fall into a pleasant sleep and dreamt about my Sammy riding up to my window on a motorcycle, all sexy with the wind in his hair.
"Vrroooommmm Vrrooommmm" I hear.
I stick my head out my window and I realize I am in no dream. There he is in his movie star sunglasses on a shiny blue bike, wanting to ride me off into the sunset. After A few minutes of dressing and washing I am straddling the back of the bike, desperate to be saved from the body- mold I created on our mattress.
The start was..... shaky???
"Sam....have you ever done this before?"
"Well, I did ride a scooter in Lao, this is kinda the same."
GREAT! He :)
But luckily he's a fast learner and we were off in no time. We hit the open road, ditched Pushkar, and decided to find some adventure in some uncharted territory. Our first encounter was of the nastiest kind. Dead cow on the side of the road, it's head was fully smashed in with nothing but decay and maggots in its place. The rank of the smell was indescribable, and the cute pup that decided to feast on this rotting beast had me gagging for at least 15 km. Our second encounter was with some local truck drivers who decided to play around with us a little on the road, putting Sammy's driving abilities to the test. We first attempted to politely ignore their horn honking and invitations to pull over, but after being pursued for some distance we realized we weren't getting away without at least saying hello.
Now mostly for my parents sake I will include this all sounds a lot more dangerous than it is. If someone were following me like this is Canada I would probably call the cops, or hide in a gas station, but things are a little different over here. Sam and I really can't go anywhere without people flocking to us. The mix of our white skin, expensive sunglasses, adorable smiles ;) makes us pretty much irresistible to the locals.
So we pulled over for a cig break with the strange men. Their theeth were rotting to black, and they kept trying to force us to have a drink of their "mysterious" water bottle. They spoke NO english, and although one of the men was holding my hand a little to tightly for a little too long, it was a pleasant road side break.
Our third encounter was in some strange small town, clearly not accustom to tourists. Although Sammy biking skills were improving throughout the day, he still hadn't had much practice navigating through busy Indian streets, full of the usual; children, cows, bikes, goats, trucks, carts, camels... and etc etc. To protect our lives and the lives of all the things running around around us, Sam went slow and careful, making it hard to drive without stalling out since he still wasn't use to the clutch and switching gears. We staled a few times, but the most precious was when it happened, right in this town square. We were only stopped for maybe 2 minutes max, but it felt like an eternity as at least 200 people crowded around us laughing all trying to yell instructions in Hindi. Sam figured it all out of course, rev'd the engine, and we hit the road again.
The rest of the day was fairly normal. Just the usual navigating through the goat herds, eating some strange sweet yellow things from the man in the desert, and getting flocked my half naked kids all wanting to rub Sam's golden locks. Sammy drove use safely back dropped us off at the Pushkar Chabad, and after a long crazy day of wild free spirited fun, we brought ourselves back down to earth with a nice Shabbat service and the biggest Shabbat party I have ever seen. Who knew there were so many jews in India??????
SAM IS THE BEST> the end
m.
"Vrroooommmm Vrrooommmm" I hear.
I stick my head out my window and I realize I am in no dream. There he is in his movie star sunglasses on a shiny blue bike, wanting to ride me off into the sunset. After A few minutes of dressing and washing I am straddling the back of the bike, desperate to be saved from the body- mold I created on our mattress.
The start was..... shaky???
"Sam....have you ever done this before?"
"Well, I did ride a scooter in Lao, this is kinda the same."
GREAT! He :)
But luckily he's a fast learner and we were off in no time. We hit the open road, ditched Pushkar, and decided to find some adventure in some uncharted territory. Our first encounter was of the nastiest kind. Dead cow on the side of the road, it's head was fully smashed in with nothing but decay and maggots in its place. The rank of the smell was indescribable, and the cute pup that decided to feast on this rotting beast had me gagging for at least 15 km. Our second encounter was with some local truck drivers who decided to play around with us a little on the road, putting Sammy's driving abilities to the test. We first attempted to politely ignore their horn honking and invitations to pull over, but after being pursued for some distance we realized we weren't getting away without at least saying hello.
Now mostly for my parents sake I will include this all sounds a lot more dangerous than it is. If someone were following me like this is Canada I would probably call the cops, or hide in a gas station, but things are a little different over here. Sam and I really can't go anywhere without people flocking to us. The mix of our white skin, expensive sunglasses, adorable smiles ;) makes us pretty much irresistible to the locals.
So we pulled over for a cig break with the strange men. Their theeth were rotting to black, and they kept trying to force us to have a drink of their "mysterious" water bottle. They spoke NO english, and although one of the men was holding my hand a little to tightly for a little too long, it was a pleasant road side break.
Our third encounter was in some strange small town, clearly not accustom to tourists. Although Sammy biking skills were improving throughout the day, he still hadn't had much practice navigating through busy Indian streets, full of the usual; children, cows, bikes, goats, trucks, carts, camels... and etc etc. To protect our lives and the lives of all the things running around around us, Sam went slow and careful, making it hard to drive without stalling out since he still wasn't use to the clutch and switching gears. We staled a few times, but the most precious was when it happened, right in this town square. We were only stopped for maybe 2 minutes max, but it felt like an eternity as at least 200 people crowded around us laughing all trying to yell instructions in Hindi. Sam figured it all out of course, rev'd the engine, and we hit the road again.
The rest of the day was fairly normal. Just the usual navigating through the goat herds, eating some strange sweet yellow things from the man in the desert, and getting flocked my half naked kids all wanting to rub Sam's golden locks. Sammy drove use safely back dropped us off at the Pushkar Chabad, and after a long crazy day of wild free spirited fun, we brought ourselves back down to earth with a nice Shabbat service and the biggest Shabbat party I have ever seen. Who knew there were so many jews in India??????
SAM IS THE BEST> the end
m.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Night Bus Thievery ;)
Was it yesterday that we took a sleeper bus from New Delhi to Jaipur? A sleeper bus...how do I explain this? Instead of luggage compartments they have apartments...wait.
Got a nice pad to it, but the traffic outside and the bumps on the road won't give you a moments rest. When you don't sleep at night the days seem to blend into themselves like a fine silk-cotton blend of a Rajasthani Sari - with all the print and color they're famous for.
Misha and I spent the first day defeating the grogginess by sleeping off half of it in what turned out to be one of the best beds that came our way since before Israel. Thank you Chit Chat Guesthouse. The other half was surpisingly productive with an auto-rickshaw taking us outside of Jaipur proper to Amber Fort (pictured below). This turned out to be our favorite destination so far. After mazing our way through the labyrinthine innards of the 16th century palace of the Kachwahas (fine I had to look that up), we rickshaw'd down the mountainside to the Water Palace, took a photo, obliged the driver to a courtesy stop in a textile factory to which he should receive commission if were to buy anything (we didn't), then finished up the day with a sunset view from Monkey Temple above Jaipur.
...Monkey Temple...it's the place where you go to get good views and feed monkeys with a Rs10 bag of peanuts for a chance to snap a couple good photos. What the hell? Of course I reminded Misha that these are the famed thieving monkeys that you hear about on Animal Planet. Watch your shiny things Misha. These are monekeys and they're smart. Well, I held off feeding the ones at the bottom of the hill because I wanted good views from above with the monkeys. That didn't fly with those crafty bastards. Midway up, touting the bagged peanuts in hand, something grabbed at my swinging right hand. From behind! Took that bag right from me, Misha and I giving a mild shriek at the sheer surpise and craftiness of that SOB. I had to watch from a distance that fool monkey open the bag of peanuts and eat them, Misha laughing at me, totally disgraced, absent of peanuts.
So Jaipur, the Pink City, isn't anything to rave about but it's all an adventure and we're pulling the early bus to Pushkar.
Got a nice pad to it, but the traffic outside and the bumps on the road won't give you a moments rest. When you don't sleep at night the days seem to blend into themselves like a fine silk-cotton blend of a Rajasthani Sari - with all the print and color they're famous for.Misha and I spent the first day defeating the grogginess by sleeping off half of it in what turned out to be one of the best beds that came our way since before Israel. Thank you Chit Chat Guesthouse. The other half was surpisingly productive with an auto-rickshaw taking us outside of Jaipur proper to Amber Fort (pictured below). This turned out to be our favorite destination so far. After mazing our way through the labyrinthine innards of the 16th century palace of the Kachwahas (fine I had to look that up), we rickshaw'd down the mountainside to the Water Palace, took a photo, obliged the driver to a courtesy stop in a textile factory to which he should receive commission if were to buy anything (we didn't), then finished up the day with a sunset view from Monkey Temple above Jaipur.
...Monkey Temple...it's the place where you go to get good views and feed monkeys with a Rs10 bag of peanuts for a chance to snap a couple good photos. What the hell? Of course I reminded Misha that these are the famed thieving monkeys that you hear about on Animal Planet. Watch your shiny things Misha. These are monekeys and they're smart. Well, I held off feeding the ones at the bottom of the hill because I wanted good views from above with the monkeys. That didn't fly with those crafty bastards. Midway up, touting the bagged peanuts in hand, something grabbed at my swinging right hand. From behind! Took that bag right from me, Misha and I giving a mild shriek at the sheer surpise and craftiness of that SOB. I had to watch from a distance that fool monkey open the bag of peanuts and eat them, Misha laughing at me, totally disgraced, absent of peanuts.
So Jaipur, the Pink City, isn't anything to rave about but it's all an adventure and we're pulling the early bus to Pushkar.
Above: Amber Fort, Jaipur, Rajasthan
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)