The stories I heard of this place before I came. The festivals, raves, parties, drugs, beaches, philosophy and people were all images made in my head from stories of other people. I was excited to arrive in the hippy historical previous Portuguese colony. I headed to Vagator, the supposed party capital of Goa.
The streets were quiet, the restaurants were empty, and the people were anxious to get you in their hotels. It wasn't the Goa I had imagined. I soon learned the 5 biggest clubs had been shut because of fear of terrorism, all music had to be turned off by 10 o'clock, and there were to be no large social gatherings on the beaches.
1-0 terrorists
Because of the restrictions and the red alerts posted by certain governments Anjuna beach, the 2nd most popular hang out was dead. I walked past 50 empty restaurants, 20 shut bars, and an ugly mess of bamboo poles that used to be the biggest market in Goa.
2-0 terrorists
Frustrated and annoyed I moved to the far north, Arambal, for another attempt at finding the real Goa spirit. Arambols beach was ugly and the toxic black water that flowed into the sea from the village didn't help anything either. Although the vibe was a little better the only thing to do after 10 was watch a video, not what I came to Goa to do!
3-0 Terrorists
My last night I went back to my hotel bored, lonely, and ready to change my plans. That's when I met the Nepali guys.....
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Hampi
Hampi is like a scene out of a Mars movie. First of all they have these half-demolished, half-decaying, half standing up temples are sprinkled around the various hills. Next the hills are covered with these red rocks. It is like the Gods played marbles with these huge stones and forgot to clean up after. Some pile on top of each other to make these huge mountains, others sit alone in a rice field.
The village itself was small and when I arrived it was (unluckily) a festival. Hampis' reputation as a quiet place to relax was ruined. Thousands of people gathered at the temple to worship an elephant, the various cows that parade around like kings, and a picture on a wall that I'm never allowed in too see. The temple floor glistened with coconut oil and garbage piled high beside the garbage cans. In seems that there is a festival in India everyday. All are chaotic, loud, noisy, and somewhat annoying. One the other side you can see many interesting things like men sticking swords through their cheeks, men making cobras dance, men dressed like clowns begging for money, and a lot of old, wrinkled, karma beggars.
If you ever do get to Hampi, get across the river. There we stayed in a secluded hut in a distant rice field. All the huts surrounded a circular restaurant where everyone sat on the ground and talked. The palm trees whistled, the monkeys howled, and the people relaxed. Hampi is a place to be seen and done.
The village itself was small and when I arrived it was (unluckily) a festival. Hampis' reputation as a quiet place to relax was ruined. Thousands of people gathered at the temple to worship an elephant, the various cows that parade around like kings, and a picture on a wall that I'm never allowed in too see. The temple floor glistened with coconut oil and garbage piled high beside the garbage cans. In seems that there is a festival in India everyday. All are chaotic, loud, noisy, and somewhat annoying. One the other side you can see many interesting things like men sticking swords through their cheeks, men making cobras dance, men dressed like clowns begging for money, and a lot of old, wrinkled, karma beggars.
If you ever do get to Hampi, get across the river. There we stayed in a secluded hut in a distant rice field. All the huts surrounded a circular restaurant where everyone sat on the ground and talked. The palm trees whistled, the monkeys howled, and the people relaxed. Hampi is a place to be seen and done.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Afternoon Poo
I sat there admiring the sunset, it was beautiful. It was the first time in my life I was able to see the sunrise and sunset over the same sea. But that wasn't it, there was another first time to have.
Kanyakumari is a famous pilgrim site, like thousands of other cities in India. They wear black skirts and tribal necklaces, these heavy bearded men. Usually they act like the peasants of China and most of them can't speak English. They're nice guys though. They always smile, sometimes stare. They do more than pray piously, they poo almost as religiously as well.
The sky had just turned purple and I sat at the seashore watching the Arabian sea smash against the black rocks. It was peaceful.
About 15 of them started walking down the hill, all smiling secretly behind their bushy beards. They looked at me kind of awkwardly first; I wasn't sure what it meant. The resolved to continue their business- a little bit further down.
I got the point when I saw one man that was falling behind lift his robe - it was poop time.
Sure enough, at the same time, they all lifted their robes, almost in rows, squated down, and started to poo.
To this day I still don't know how they can time it so perfectly, but it was a sight to see, that afternoon poo.
Theres a first time for everything.
Kanyakumari is a famous pilgrim site, like thousands of other cities in India. They wear black skirts and tribal necklaces, these heavy bearded men. Usually they act like the peasants of China and most of them can't speak English. They're nice guys though. They always smile, sometimes stare. They do more than pray piously, they poo almost as religiously as well.
The sky had just turned purple and I sat at the seashore watching the Arabian sea smash against the black rocks. It was peaceful.
About 15 of them started walking down the hill, all smiling secretly behind their bushy beards. They looked at me kind of awkwardly first; I wasn't sure what it meant. The resolved to continue their business- a little bit further down.
I got the point when I saw one man that was falling behind lift his robe - it was poop time.
Sure enough, at the same time, they all lifted their robes, almost in rows, squated down, and started to poo.
To this day I still don't know how they can time it so perfectly, but it was a sight to see, that afternoon poo.
Theres a first time for everything.
Saturday Night
Its Saturday night. Im in Bangalore, one of India's biggest cities and the IT capital of the world.
You may ask, why are you in an internet cafe?
I have a lame answer: Im in India
I came here to party. The books said that the nightlife rocks. Well my book is old. And the nightlife sucks. Restrictions have banned all music after 11:30. Worse yet, you cant get into any clubs unless your accompanies by a female chaperon.
So here I am. In this very lively Internet cafe. High pitch screams of just hitting puberty boys erupt all around me. They speak in Inglish.
"Kick his ass!"
"I shot him down!"
They are all so excited.
Im here with my beer. Alone in the city. Im optomistic though-who knows whos going to sit down beside me.
hahaha! You should here these guys talk.
It could be worse I guess.
You may ask, why are you in an internet cafe?
I have a lame answer: Im in India
I came here to party. The books said that the nightlife rocks. Well my book is old. And the nightlife sucks. Restrictions have banned all music after 11:30. Worse yet, you cant get into any clubs unless your accompanies by a female chaperon.
So here I am. In this very lively Internet cafe. High pitch screams of just hitting puberty boys erupt all around me. They speak in Inglish.
"Kick his ass!"
"I shot him down!"
They are all so excited.
Im here with my beer. Alone in the city. Im optomistic though-who knows whos going to sit down beside me.
hahaha! You should here these guys talk.
It could be worse I guess.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
The Elephant and the Elderly
Pondicherry, India
A city that Lonely planet said was ' a delightful city with beautiful pockets of French architecture' turned out to be just another Indian city - except more expensive.
I arrived at 1:00am and was at the rickshaw drivers mercy. I bargained one down to a reasonable price. After we were zooming through the quiet streets I realized why his price was half that of others.
"So, Wherez you go!" He spat out.
"I told you, In, ter, na, tion, al, Guest House"
I could smell the booze not only on his breath but all over the rickshaw.
"No rooms!"
"Just take me there and I'll find out. " Another one of those damn drivers trying to steal my money!
We arrived at the International Guest House and sure enough, there were no rooms. I knocked on another 10 hotels closed doors before I gave up.
"You can sweep in my rickshaw.." He offered.
"Um," it was actually good idea and I probably would of if he wasn't drunk. "I'll pass tonight, thanks though."
So he drove off and I was left on my own to fend off the angry dogs that patrol every Indian street.
I walked and knocked and walked and knocked and after two hours finally managed to convince a guy to let me sleep on the hotel lobby floor for 1 USD.
The morning was better. I found myself a room, ate some breakfast, and rented a bike.
Pondicherry was not the 'Paris of the East' I expected. The city had loud, dirty, and stinky areas like most Indian cities; but other than a few retired, faded buildings, there wasn't much to see.
I headed for the temples since I noticed that the shrines are much different here in the South. They have these 'gopurams' at the entrance. They are tall, blue, pyramid like structures that are lined with animals, gods, and humans. They are so colorful and eye catching one has to stop and admire them.
While searching the streets I came across a big gathering of people. Naturally I walked towards the group to see what everyone was gawking at. I didn't need to walk long to see the gigantic elephant presiding at the front of the temple. The owner sat contently beside the elephant and occasionally yelled orders at him when he tried to steal someones sari with his long trunk. Pious pilgrims would do a small bow before the elephant, offer some food, and then wait. The elephant would accept the food, eat it, and then bless the pilgrim by tapping him or her on the head with his trunk.
I watched this procession take place for more than thirty minutes. The pilgrims offered oranges, bananas, coconut and bails of grass for the elephant, as well as a good 'prayer donation' to the master.
After watching for a while I continued past the elephant about 20 meters when I saw a pitiful row of bewildered, crazed, and bony senior citizens. They all looked to be homeless. They dressed in dirty rags and the hair they had left stuck in the air like they had just been hit by lighting. Their eyes were glossed a pearl grey and they looked lost in the world. They imitated the elephant - one hand out, open palm, hand to mouth, open mouth - while moaning something unrecognizable.
It made me shiver. I gave an orange to a lady. I reached in my bag and found a couple coins to give to a man. I looked back at the lady and the orange was gone and she was looking at me like she had never seen me before - one hand out, open palm, hand to mouth, open mouth.
I walked a bit past them a took a seat to observe.
It was disgusting actually. All of it.
A lot of people there preferred to give money or food to a captured elephant in return for a blessing than to the poor.
The people who did give to the elderly were given nothing in return, not even a thank you. The poor showed how unappreciative they were by not even acknowledging the person who gave.
One thing did come out on top. The Shrine.
All the pilgrims, the ones who gave to the elephant, and the ones who gave to the poor, all headed to the temple to give some more.
It made me think.
If Christians gave 10% of their wage to an orphanage instead of the Church would the world be a better place?
If the Hindus gave to their bills to an NGO instead of an elephant would the world be a better place?
If Buddhists threw their coins into a charity box instead of a statue would the world be a better place?
Its a fact that you need money to help the poor and make the world a better place.
Who ever said you needed money to pray to God to make the world a better place?
A city that Lonely planet said was ' a delightful city with beautiful pockets of French architecture' turned out to be just another Indian city - except more expensive.
I arrived at 1:00am and was at the rickshaw drivers mercy. I bargained one down to a reasonable price. After we were zooming through the quiet streets I realized why his price was half that of others.
"So, Wherez you go!" He spat out.
"I told you, In, ter, na, tion, al, Guest House"
I could smell the booze not only on his breath but all over the rickshaw.
"No rooms!"
"Just take me there and I'll find out. " Another one of those damn drivers trying to steal my money!
We arrived at the International Guest House and sure enough, there were no rooms. I knocked on another 10 hotels closed doors before I gave up.
"You can sweep in my rickshaw.." He offered.
"Um," it was actually good idea and I probably would of if he wasn't drunk. "I'll pass tonight, thanks though."
So he drove off and I was left on my own to fend off the angry dogs that patrol every Indian street.
I walked and knocked and walked and knocked and after two hours finally managed to convince a guy to let me sleep on the hotel lobby floor for 1 USD.
The morning was better. I found myself a room, ate some breakfast, and rented a bike.
Pondicherry was not the 'Paris of the East' I expected. The city had loud, dirty, and stinky areas like most Indian cities; but other than a few retired, faded buildings, there wasn't much to see.
I headed for the temples since I noticed that the shrines are much different here in the South. They have these 'gopurams' at the entrance. They are tall, blue, pyramid like structures that are lined with animals, gods, and humans. They are so colorful and eye catching one has to stop and admire them.
While searching the streets I came across a big gathering of people. Naturally I walked towards the group to see what everyone was gawking at. I didn't need to walk long to see the gigantic elephant presiding at the front of the temple. The owner sat contently beside the elephant and occasionally yelled orders at him when he tried to steal someones sari with his long trunk. Pious pilgrims would do a small bow before the elephant, offer some food, and then wait. The elephant would accept the food, eat it, and then bless the pilgrim by tapping him or her on the head with his trunk.
I watched this procession take place for more than thirty minutes. The pilgrims offered oranges, bananas, coconut and bails of grass for the elephant, as well as a good 'prayer donation' to the master.
After watching for a while I continued past the elephant about 20 meters when I saw a pitiful row of bewildered, crazed, and bony senior citizens. They all looked to be homeless. They dressed in dirty rags and the hair they had left stuck in the air like they had just been hit by lighting. Their eyes were glossed a pearl grey and they looked lost in the world. They imitated the elephant - one hand out, open palm, hand to mouth, open mouth - while moaning something unrecognizable.
It made me shiver. I gave an orange to a lady. I reached in my bag and found a couple coins to give to a man. I looked back at the lady and the orange was gone and she was looking at me like she had never seen me before - one hand out, open palm, hand to mouth, open mouth.
I walked a bit past them a took a seat to observe.
It was disgusting actually. All of it.
A lot of people there preferred to give money or food to a captured elephant in return for a blessing than to the poor.
The people who did give to the elderly were given nothing in return, not even a thank you. The poor showed how unappreciative they were by not even acknowledging the person who gave.
One thing did come out on top. The Shrine.
All the pilgrims, the ones who gave to the elephant, and the ones who gave to the poor, all headed to the temple to give some more.
It made me think.
If Christians gave 10% of their wage to an orphanage instead of the Church would the world be a better place?
If the Hindus gave to their bills to an NGO instead of an elephant would the world be a better place?
If Buddhists threw their coins into a charity box instead of a statue would the world be a better place?
Its a fact that you need money to help the poor and make the world a better place.
Who ever said you needed money to pray to God to make the world a better place?
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Watch where you sit!
Place: On the bus
Time: 7:45 PM
Who: Me and a large woman wearing a yellow sari
Why: I was on my way to the bus station
"27 B, 27 B, where is the damn 27 B!"
Every time a bus would stop a cloud of exhaust would fill the dark air. Bus after bus ploughed through the streets.
"Excuse me sir," I yelled while backpack bumping a man. "Do you know where bus 27 B is?"
He wobbled his head left to right three times.
"Yes?"
He wobbled again.
"No?"
One more wobble.
I imitated his wobble with arched eye-brows. He also arched his eye-brows and did a quick wobble.
"27B"
He wobbled again, but this time with emphasis towards the right.
I wobbled a thank you and started walking towards where he directed his wobble.
"Why don't they light these streets!" I said to myself after stepping in something squishy. Before I had time to investigate fully what I had just stepped in 27B pulled up beside me.
I jumped on, fell back, and jumped on again. I felt unbalanced with all the weight on me. I had a bulging blue backpack hanging off my back, a black smaller backpack strapped to my front, and a red bag with books in my right hand.
The bus was packed with people, but just my luck, a man jumped up just as I got on. I threw the heavy backpack of my back into the aisle and managed to squeeze in tightly beside a heavy woman with a yellow sari. The bus pulled off and we were on our way.
After getting my bag in place and taking off my other bags and arranging them properly I had time to see what was on my shoe.
"Ah F$^k, just as I expected, poo!"
I knew I said F$^k too loudly because the man in front of me looked back with a frown. I tried to scrape it off on the seat in front of me. It was minimal and mucky so I managed to get most of it off my smooth sandal in one swipe. Lucky enough it was also brownish black, the same color as the bus. Just then the chubby woman with the yellow sari beside me looked at me with a strange look. Its hard to describe. She sort of closed one eye slightly while making her lips paper thin. Then all at once she let her shoulders drop, let her mouth fall open, and did a face like she just ate something sour. I looked down at the poo.
"Sorry," I wobbled, " I just wanted to.."
Before I could finish my sentence she got up and rushed off the bus.
The bus was off again and since the poo had a slight stench to it I took the chance to sit in her chair.
The chairs in some Indian buses are real nice and comfortable. They are made from velvet and and have a nice cushion on the back and bottom.
I plumped down in her seat and took a breath. The bus was now on the main highway towards the bus station and the air was crisp and clean.
I sat daydreaming for a few minutes before I noticed anything.
Then hit me all at once.
"What is that?" I touched my bottom without looking.
"What the!"
I looked down and my ass was stained dark blue. My right leg had a wet stain that went all the way down to my knee. I instinctively smelled my hand.
"That is not..." I smelled it again. "It is!"
It was pee.
The seat was soaked and so were my pants.
The fat woman with the yellow sari had peed the seat - and I had sat in it in my only pair of jeans.
Time: 7:45 PM
Who: Me and a large woman wearing a yellow sari
Why: I was on my way to the bus station
"27 B, 27 B, where is the damn 27 B!"
Every time a bus would stop a cloud of exhaust would fill the dark air. Bus after bus ploughed through the streets.
"Excuse me sir," I yelled while backpack bumping a man. "Do you know where bus 27 B is?"
He wobbled his head left to right three times.
"Yes?"
He wobbled again.
"No?"
One more wobble.
I imitated his wobble with arched eye-brows. He also arched his eye-brows and did a quick wobble.
"27B"
He wobbled again, but this time with emphasis towards the right.
I wobbled a thank you and started walking towards where he directed his wobble.
"Why don't they light these streets!" I said to myself after stepping in something squishy. Before I had time to investigate fully what I had just stepped in 27B pulled up beside me.
I jumped on, fell back, and jumped on again. I felt unbalanced with all the weight on me. I had a bulging blue backpack hanging off my back, a black smaller backpack strapped to my front, and a red bag with books in my right hand.
The bus was packed with people, but just my luck, a man jumped up just as I got on. I threw the heavy backpack of my back into the aisle and managed to squeeze in tightly beside a heavy woman with a yellow sari. The bus pulled off and we were on our way.
After getting my bag in place and taking off my other bags and arranging them properly I had time to see what was on my shoe.
"Ah F$^k, just as I expected, poo!"
I knew I said F$^k too loudly because the man in front of me looked back with a frown. I tried to scrape it off on the seat in front of me. It was minimal and mucky so I managed to get most of it off my smooth sandal in one swipe. Lucky enough it was also brownish black, the same color as the bus. Just then the chubby woman with the yellow sari beside me looked at me with a strange look. Its hard to describe. She sort of closed one eye slightly while making her lips paper thin. Then all at once she let her shoulders drop, let her mouth fall open, and did a face like she just ate something sour. I looked down at the poo.
"Sorry," I wobbled, " I just wanted to.."
Before I could finish my sentence she got up and rushed off the bus.
The bus was off again and since the poo had a slight stench to it I took the chance to sit in her chair.
The chairs in some Indian buses are real nice and comfortable. They are made from velvet and and have a nice cushion on the back and bottom.
I plumped down in her seat and took a breath. The bus was now on the main highway towards the bus station and the air was crisp and clean.
I sat daydreaming for a few minutes before I noticed anything.
Then hit me all at once.
"What is that?" I touched my bottom without looking.
"What the!"
I looked down and my ass was stained dark blue. My right leg had a wet stain that went all the way down to my knee. I instinctively smelled my hand.
"That is not..." I smelled it again. "It is!"
It was pee.
The seat was soaked and so were my pants.
The fat woman with the yellow sari had peed the seat - and I had sat in it in my only pair of jeans.
Fast food in India
McDonald's, KFC, and Subway.
Of all the fast food chains in the world, these are most likely the ones you are going to find in Asia. In Canada I barley touch them - maybe a hang over breaky at MickkyDees or a quick sub before work - but most of the time I find fast food revolting.
Saying that, since I was a child I have been brain-washed by McDonald's advertising so much that when I see those golden arches I actually get a warm feeling in my heart. They knew what they were doing when they directly targeted children with good ole Ronald and the Happy Meal toy. Not only that but sometime I crave a little Westerness in my Indian world, so once in a while I indulge.
I will say this, India knows its fast food! I have visited them all and every experience was great!
McDonald's
Service with a smile is a slogan well known to the McDonald's staff, and soggy french fries is a complain they're quite used to too.
Not in Varanasi, India. Fresh, crisp, golden french fries, fried to perfection. And with an all Chicken or Veg menu you'll find a lot of healthily AND delicious choices.
KFC
I have never been more moved in KFC before. Not only was the chicken 'finger licking good' but the KFC in Kolkata was doing something special. All of the workers were mute. The used sign language to communicate with each other and you could see in their eyes the happiness.
Subway
No stinginess at the Subway in Madras. They loaded the vegetables on my 1.25USD sub of the day. And how could one not be happy with Bob Marley tunes while eating a sub.
I can't say that everyones experience will be as great as mine but if you're ever in India and crave a dose of home with a smile, hit up one of these chains.
Of all the fast food chains in the world, these are most likely the ones you are going to find in Asia. In Canada I barley touch them - maybe a hang over breaky at MickkyDees or a quick sub before work - but most of the time I find fast food revolting.
Saying that, since I was a child I have been brain-washed by McDonald's advertising so much that when I see those golden arches I actually get a warm feeling in my heart. They knew what they were doing when they directly targeted children with good ole Ronald and the Happy Meal toy. Not only that but sometime I crave a little Westerness in my Indian world, so once in a while I indulge.
I will say this, India knows its fast food! I have visited them all and every experience was great!
McDonald's
Service with a smile is a slogan well known to the McDonald's staff, and soggy french fries is a complain they're quite used to too.
Not in Varanasi, India. Fresh, crisp, golden french fries, fried to perfection. And with an all Chicken or Veg menu you'll find a lot of healthily AND delicious choices.
KFC
I have never been more moved in KFC before. Not only was the chicken 'finger licking good' but the KFC in Kolkata was doing something special. All of the workers were mute. The used sign language to communicate with each other and you could see in their eyes the happiness.
Subway
No stinginess at the Subway in Madras. They loaded the vegetables on my 1.25USD sub of the day. And how could one not be happy with Bob Marley tunes while eating a sub.
I can't say that everyones experience will be as great as mine but if you're ever in India and crave a dose of home with a smile, hit up one of these chains.
Kolkata
Oh there are horror stories about this city.
Oh the poverty!
Oh the beggars!
Oh the crime!
Oh the dirt,pollution, taxis!
Oh bugs, drugs, thugs!
Oh....a lot of people are either full of shit, inexperienced, or things have changed.
Kolkata is one of the most amazing cities I have visited in Asia.
The colonial architecture left by the British make for breath taking day trips in the city. People were obviously very fond of marble at the time and you'll find the sun radiating brilliantly off it in the morning, afternoon and at sunset.
The people, though as different as all the Indians in India, seem to have a special charm about them. Besides the three annoying taxi drivers you find waiting at the end of tourist road, the people were happy to guide me, feed me, clothe me and accommodate me - and they did it with a smile!
The sights are too numerous to mention and if you're really interested in going you'll get better information in a book. Not only that but words will not describe the beauty of the palaces and mansions, museums and temples, or cemetery's and back roads. 9/10 of the places wont let you take photos so you wont get a picture either.
And I'll finish this buy saying.....IT IS SO CHEAP!
I mean cheap. In USD, 1.50 for a dorm, .50 cents for an awesome meal, and with the cinema at 1.25 and window shopping and most sights free, you will not be spending much money.
So, next time someone complains about India, send them to me.
Oh the poverty!
Oh the beggars!
Oh the crime!
Oh the dirt,pollution, taxis!
Oh bugs, drugs, thugs!
Oh....a lot of people are either full of shit, inexperienced, or things have changed.
Kolkata is one of the most amazing cities I have visited in Asia.
The colonial architecture left by the British make for breath taking day trips in the city. People were obviously very fond of marble at the time and you'll find the sun radiating brilliantly off it in the morning, afternoon and at sunset.
The people, though as different as all the Indians in India, seem to have a special charm about them. Besides the three annoying taxi drivers you find waiting at the end of tourist road, the people were happy to guide me, feed me, clothe me and accommodate me - and they did it with a smile!
The sights are too numerous to mention and if you're really interested in going you'll get better information in a book. Not only that but words will not describe the beauty of the palaces and mansions, museums and temples, or cemetery's and back roads. 9/10 of the places wont let you take photos so you wont get a picture either.
And I'll finish this buy saying.....IT IS SO CHEAP!
I mean cheap. In USD, 1.50 for a dorm, .50 cents for an awesome meal, and with the cinema at 1.25 and window shopping and most sights free, you will not be spending much money.
So, next time someone complains about India, send them to me.
Friday, November 28, 2008
The time I almost died
Have you ever almost died before? I'm sure you've thought about it. What feelings goes through ones head? What would be your last wishes? Would you be happy?
In India I hear stories of people dying almost everyday. I don't mean about those innocent people getting shot up in the hotel - may the rest in peace - but travelers. People get sick here. Travellers diarrhea can turn into a nightmare, that small bite on your ankle can lead to one less foot, and that wave that looks really small from the shore could be the last one you ever see again.
I don't want to exaggerate, of the tens of thousands of tourist who come to India only a small number die.
But it happens.
Here's my story, one I fortunately live to tell.
It was just another typical day. I woke up to the birds chirping, the horns honking, and a nice breeze coming through my window. It was a day just like any other day.
I went to the beach, met a German couple, had a chat, and after the sun was getting a little to hot, decided to hit the water.
I noticed the waves were a little bigger than the day before but thought nothing of it. I jumped in the water and laughed out loud as the first wave smashed into me. I wanted more so I started swimming out to the waves a little further from shore. I was swimming for less than 2 minutes when I suddenly hit a sandbar. Of course I was surprised. I stood up and looked towards the shore, which wasn't more than 200 meters away. Before I had a chance to look back a wave smashed me from behind.
I was a little surprised at first but what made my heart drop was the way the water was man-handling me. I felt the strong current sucking me towards the ocean.
And what did I do, panicked of course.
Before I could catch my breath another wave smashed me and this time I sucked in a whole bunch of water in. Still the rip was pushing me further away from the shore.
BOOM
Another wave hit me and I sucked in another mouthful of water and that's when the thought hit me.
"Am I going to die?"
It was simple really. I remember saying it, but not having any time to really think about it. I think it would have happened so fast. One more wave would have hit me, I would have became to exhausted to swim, and I would have sucked in one last breath of water and then, silence.
My passport was in my bag. The German people would have notified the Embassy. They would have called my parents. My body would be sent back home. There would be a funeral.
But I would see none of this. My life would be over.
Dead.
I would have died. Just like before I ever lived, there would be nothing.
Blackness.
Like when you sleep without dreaming.
But I'm alive. I live another day. I'm grateful and very happy about that. But I will say this now, if I would have died, or whenever it does happen, I am happy with how I lived my life
No regrets.
You can put that on my tombstone
In India I hear stories of people dying almost everyday. I don't mean about those innocent people getting shot up in the hotel - may the rest in peace - but travelers. People get sick here. Travellers diarrhea can turn into a nightmare, that small bite on your ankle can lead to one less foot, and that wave that looks really small from the shore could be the last one you ever see again.
I don't want to exaggerate, of the tens of thousands of tourist who come to India only a small number die.
But it happens.
Here's my story, one I fortunately live to tell.
It was just another typical day. I woke up to the birds chirping, the horns honking, and a nice breeze coming through my window. It was a day just like any other day.
I went to the beach, met a German couple, had a chat, and after the sun was getting a little to hot, decided to hit the water.
I noticed the waves were a little bigger than the day before but thought nothing of it. I jumped in the water and laughed out loud as the first wave smashed into me. I wanted more so I started swimming out to the waves a little further from shore. I was swimming for less than 2 minutes when I suddenly hit a sandbar. Of course I was surprised. I stood up and looked towards the shore, which wasn't more than 200 meters away. Before I had a chance to look back a wave smashed me from behind.
I was a little surprised at first but what made my heart drop was the way the water was man-handling me. I felt the strong current sucking me towards the ocean.
And what did I do, panicked of course.
Before I could catch my breath another wave smashed me and this time I sucked in a whole bunch of water in. Still the rip was pushing me further away from the shore.
BOOM
Another wave hit me and I sucked in another mouthful of water and that's when the thought hit me.
"Am I going to die?"
It was simple really. I remember saying it, but not having any time to really think about it. I think it would have happened so fast. One more wave would have hit me, I would have became to exhausted to swim, and I would have sucked in one last breath of water and then, silence.
My passport was in my bag. The German people would have notified the Embassy. They would have called my parents. My body would be sent back home. There would be a funeral.
But I would see none of this. My life would be over.
Dead.
I would have died. Just like before I ever lived, there would be nothing.
Blackness.
Like when you sleep without dreaming.
But I'm alive. I live another day. I'm grateful and very happy about that. But I will say this now, if I would have died, or whenever it does happen, I am happy with how I lived my life
No regrets.
You can put that on my tombstone
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
The Jungle Safari-what started the whole trip?
It happened one cold day that resembled a nuclear winter in Shanghai. I was freezing and everything looked ugly and gray. I needed to get out of the harsh wind, if just for a few seconds. Ahead of me was a bookstore. Great.
I headed over to the English section and ahead of my was a pile of Lonely Planets. I picked up the nearest one which happened to be India. I started mindlessly flicking through the pages until I saw it. A beautiful rhino grazing in a warm, lush, jungle. It made me quiver and crave. I needed to go there. In a second a thousand thoughts went through my head. I grabbed a Nepal book, the India book, the Pakistan book, the Iran book, the Turkey book. It was possible. I could go to Europe overland. I looked back at the picture of the rhino. I needed to do this trip.
And here we are, one year later. I'm on a beach, I woke up to the waves gentling washing up on the shore. I am so comfortable and I owe it all the the rhino.
When I looked more into the trip I saw that it wasn't going to be as easy as it looked. I have learned from experience that what a map shows is not how the road goes. On the map it looked like a hop, skip, and a jump. In the book the trip would take more than 20 hours. After just coming down with a cold I needed to make a sacrifice so instead of trekking into the jungle in the far east of India I settled for a park just above Bangladesh.
The trip only took three hours from Sillinguri, the main northern city of West Bengal. I met a lot of interesting characters and finally I was dropped off at the park gates. I found a nice hotel, got some food, and arranged my trip.
The next day at 5:00 am a jeep picked me up and drove me the 15km into the jungle. From there came the big elephant. The seats on his back were really comfortable and within minutes we were gently tromping through the jungle. Within a half-hour our guides ears perked up. He saw something I couldn't see. I looked around frantically as I fumbled to open up my camera case. He whistled to the group behind us and we gently crept through field.
And there it was. A huge, beautiful, one-horned rhino. It stood munching some grass as two birds gently hopped on its back. The sun was just rising up behind it and the whole field was bathed in a gold light. A feeling of intense bliss came over me. This is what I came to see. I was speechless.
We didn't hang around to long and within another 15 minutes we had spotted another rhino. Then we saw a monkey, a flying peacock, and another rhino. The whole trip was over within an hour, a little fast I thought. But it was completely worth it.
So how much does a jungle safari cost.
Including all the transport, meals, accommodations, and the tour the trip cost 20USD. And if I had a couple friends it would have been even cheaper.
Its a trip you can't afford to pass up.
I headed over to the English section and ahead of my was a pile of Lonely Planets. I picked up the nearest one which happened to be India. I started mindlessly flicking through the pages until I saw it. A beautiful rhino grazing in a warm, lush, jungle. It made me quiver and crave. I needed to go there. In a second a thousand thoughts went through my head. I grabbed a Nepal book, the India book, the Pakistan book, the Iran book, the Turkey book. It was possible. I could go to Europe overland. I looked back at the picture of the rhino. I needed to do this trip.
And here we are, one year later. I'm on a beach, I woke up to the waves gentling washing up on the shore. I am so comfortable and I owe it all the the rhino.
When I looked more into the trip I saw that it wasn't going to be as easy as it looked. I have learned from experience that what a map shows is not how the road goes. On the map it looked like a hop, skip, and a jump. In the book the trip would take more than 20 hours. After just coming down with a cold I needed to make a sacrifice so instead of trekking into the jungle in the far east of India I settled for a park just above Bangladesh.
The trip only took three hours from Sillinguri, the main northern city of West Bengal. I met a lot of interesting characters and finally I was dropped off at the park gates. I found a nice hotel, got some food, and arranged my trip.
The next day at 5:00 am a jeep picked me up and drove me the 15km into the jungle. From there came the big elephant. The seats on his back were really comfortable and within minutes we were gently tromping through the jungle. Within a half-hour our guides ears perked up. He saw something I couldn't see. I looked around frantically as I fumbled to open up my camera case. He whistled to the group behind us and we gently crept through field.
And there it was. A huge, beautiful, one-horned rhino. It stood munching some grass as two birds gently hopped on its back. The sun was just rising up behind it and the whole field was bathed in a gold light. A feeling of intense bliss came over me. This is what I came to see. I was speechless.
We didn't hang around to long and within another 15 minutes we had spotted another rhino. Then we saw a monkey, a flying peacock, and another rhino. The whole trip was over within an hour, a little fast I thought. But it was completely worth it.
So how much does a jungle safari cost.
Including all the transport, meals, accommodations, and the tour the trip cost 20USD. And if I had a couple friends it would have been even cheaper.
Its a trip you can't afford to pass up.
Darjeeling - hell in heaven
A hill station in November - great Idea Kyle.
I thought I needed to get a glimpse of the mountains one more time before I jumped down to the hot sands of the south. So I headed for Darjeeling - a small town in the hills that is snugged between Nepal, Bhutan, and Bangladesh.
There was such an interesting mixture of people that the first day I was there I was just complete captivated by them. They woman would wear kimonos or saris or jean jackets and the men would wear the same interesting mixture. With Indians biggest mountain as a back drop one would think that one could spend many wonderful days wondering around.
One would be wrong.
Day 2
Disaster
The stomach problem started with the road side curry a week earlier and came back with explosion tendencies. I would be sent running for the toilet whenever I ventured out of my hotel.
So I decided to stay in my hotel.
Bad plan
I was lucky enough to be blessed with not only allergies, but deadly ashma the goes with it. The blankets in mountain hotels are never washed properly and after one night of sleeping in my room I was congested, wheezing, and felt a cold coming on. Unfortunately when allergies start to bug me it weakens my immune system and by the second night I had the flu and still terrible stomach problems.
I was alone. But I was optimistic. Everything would be better tomorrow.
On the third day an army truck ran over a child, may he rest in peace, which sent the village into hysterics. They rioted and closed every shop in the village. The forth day I spent wondering around a ghost town. On the fifth day things were back to normal but I wasn't. I needed to get out.
I thought I needed to get a glimpse of the mountains one more time before I jumped down to the hot sands of the south. So I headed for Darjeeling - a small town in the hills that is snugged between Nepal, Bhutan, and Bangladesh.
There was such an interesting mixture of people that the first day I was there I was just complete captivated by them. They woman would wear kimonos or saris or jean jackets and the men would wear the same interesting mixture. With Indians biggest mountain as a back drop one would think that one could spend many wonderful days wondering around.
One would be wrong.
Day 2
Disaster
The stomach problem started with the road side curry a week earlier and came back with explosion tendencies. I would be sent running for the toilet whenever I ventured out of my hotel.
So I decided to stay in my hotel.
Bad plan
I was lucky enough to be blessed with not only allergies, but deadly ashma the goes with it. The blankets in mountain hotels are never washed properly and after one night of sleeping in my room I was congested, wheezing, and felt a cold coming on. Unfortunately when allergies start to bug me it weakens my immune system and by the second night I had the flu and still terrible stomach problems.
I was alone. But I was optimistic. Everything would be better tomorrow.
On the third day an army truck ran over a child, may he rest in peace, which sent the village into hysterics. They rioted and closed every shop in the village. The forth day I spent wondering around a ghost town. On the fifth day things were back to normal but I wasn't. I needed to get out.
The Poor, the mutilated, and the old man.
Do you want to experience real India?
Those letters were printed in large bold writing across the top of a paper.
The paper offered an experienced to help the poorest people in the poorest state in India.
I didn't want to pass up the chance.
An hour after the ambulance was filled with supplies, the doctors and physiotherapist was on board, and we were off.
The trip into the 'country-side' took a lot longer that I expected. The condition of the roads were terrible and if we weren't dodging pot-holes we were dodging trucks, dogs, birds, or elephants.
After about 2 hours we pulled up to an abandoned building. It was actually a school by day, and as I was to learn, a hospital by afternoon.
After minutes of arriving there was already a large crowd of colorfully dressed woman and children crowded around the door. The doctors took their time dusting the place, arranging the desks and getting their supplies together. 10 minutes later the hospital was ready.
Apparently because of a lot of births happening in homes instead of the hospital a lot of children are affected with cerebral palsy About half the child patients we saw that day were there to get some sort of physiotherapy treatment. According the the doctors most of the patients were getting better. Other patients came in just to get medicine. There was hope in their eyes, and they seemed to be very grateful for the service. Of all the people nothing hit me harder than the old man.
He came into the room limping. His blog-shot eyes shone with friendliness. He sat down and waited patiently in line. When it came to him the doctor asked the normal questions. The man replied the normal answers. I'm sure it was the same every week. One side of his face was falling asleep, he had stomach problems and a hard time sleeping. The conversation at some time became tense. I'm not sure what happened but tears started to stream down the old mans weather burnt face. He took off his glasses and sniffled while he spoke. He had no wife, no friends, nobody to take care of him. He was having a hard time finding food to eat and then when he did find it he had a problem eating it. He looked over his shoulder to where I was staring at him and I had a chance to really look into his eyes.
I felt sadness, unfairness, pity, an aching deep inside me that lasted for a long time.
The only help I could offer on the whole trip was to put some sugar in some bottles. Like most short-term volunteer work its more for the volunteer than for the people. I could not make a difference that day, but the Roots Institute is. They are doing an amazing job and anyone interested in studying Buddhism, meditation, or donating some money should consider them.
Those letters were printed in large bold writing across the top of a paper.
The paper offered an experienced to help the poorest people in the poorest state in India.
I didn't want to pass up the chance.
An hour after the ambulance was filled with supplies, the doctors and physiotherapist was on board, and we were off.
The trip into the 'country-side' took a lot longer that I expected. The condition of the roads were terrible and if we weren't dodging pot-holes we were dodging trucks, dogs, birds, or elephants.
After about 2 hours we pulled up to an abandoned building. It was actually a school by day, and as I was to learn, a hospital by afternoon.
After minutes of arriving there was already a large crowd of colorfully dressed woman and children crowded around the door. The doctors took their time dusting the place, arranging the desks and getting their supplies together. 10 minutes later the hospital was ready.
Apparently because of a lot of births happening in homes instead of the hospital a lot of children are affected with cerebral palsy About half the child patients we saw that day were there to get some sort of physiotherapy treatment. According the the doctors most of the patients were getting better. Other patients came in just to get medicine. There was hope in their eyes, and they seemed to be very grateful for the service. Of all the people nothing hit me harder than the old man.
He came into the room limping. His blog-shot eyes shone with friendliness. He sat down and waited patiently in line. When it came to him the doctor asked the normal questions. The man replied the normal answers. I'm sure it was the same every week. One side of his face was falling asleep, he had stomach problems and a hard time sleeping. The conversation at some time became tense. I'm not sure what happened but tears started to stream down the old mans weather burnt face. He took off his glasses and sniffled while he spoke. He had no wife, no friends, nobody to take care of him. He was having a hard time finding food to eat and then when he did find it he had a problem eating it. He looked over his shoulder to where I was staring at him and I had a chance to really look into his eyes.
I felt sadness, unfairness, pity, an aching deep inside me that lasted for a long time.
The only help I could offer on the whole trip was to put some sugar in some bottles. Like most short-term volunteer work its more for the volunteer than for the people. I could not make a difference that day, but the Roots Institute is. They are doing an amazing job and anyone interested in studying Buddhism, meditation, or donating some money should consider them.
The Root Institue
We heard that they offered a free meditation class in the morning so we woke up at 5:30 and made the trek across town. At the time there were about 30 people doing a 10 day course. I'm not sure on all the details but I think its something similar to the Vipasanna course that I wrote about earlier. The only difference is that hear instead of giving a donation, you have a set payment, and this payment goes directly into the community.
http://www.rootinstitute.com/
I had a chance to experience this directly.
http://www.rootinstitute.com/
I had a chance to experience this directly.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Bountiful Budha
Bodhgaya
Well Ive become a somewhat Buddhist pilgrim. So far I've traveled to the Buddhas birthplace, enlightened place, and first teaching place.
Although all were nice I found that none had the same energy as Bodhgaya. Everyday there were hundreds of people dressed in various shades of red, white, orange or, jean. People were found scattered around the main temple chanting, prostrating, or praying. You could see various groups of Buddhists, Thai's, Bangledesh..ians?, Sri Lankains, Koreans, all praying in different sections in different ways.
The city was dotted with temples of every Buddhist country. The fat Buddha laughed merrily in the Chinese temple while the humble Japanese Buddha looked like he was anorexic. It was such an interesting mix of different ways of worshipping to same man.
The best thing was the amount of giving that was going on. Almost every temple had some sort of program that was dedicated to help the poor, unhealthy, or uneducated. The Japanese temple ran a school, the Tibetan temple had a hospital, but by far the best, was the Roots foundation.
Well Ive become a somewhat Buddhist pilgrim. So far I've traveled to the Buddhas birthplace, enlightened place, and first teaching place.
Although all were nice I found that none had the same energy as Bodhgaya. Everyday there were hundreds of people dressed in various shades of red, white, orange or, jean. People were found scattered around the main temple chanting, prostrating, or praying. You could see various groups of Buddhists, Thai's, Bangledesh..ians?, Sri Lankains, Koreans, all praying in different sections in different ways.
The city was dotted with temples of every Buddhist country. The fat Buddha laughed merrily in the Chinese temple while the humble Japanese Buddha looked like he was anorexic. It was such an interesting mix of different ways of worshipping to same man.
The best thing was the amount of giving that was going on. Almost every temple had some sort of program that was dedicated to help the poor, unhealthy, or uneducated. The Japanese temple ran a school, the Tibetan temple had a hospital, but by far the best, was the Roots foundation.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
India and the most holy city, Varanasi
Open your web browser, type in India-Varanasi-blog. You will find stories from thousands of people who have been here long before me and many of them are much better writers. Essentially there is absolutely nothing new about what I am doing on this blog. The only difference is that you know me and don't know them. So I'm going to tell you the story of a guy.
It was six in the morning when he excitingly jumped off of his wooden plank called a bed. Kyle had just spent 7 days in a small yet exquisitely beautiful garden in Lumbini; also known as the birthplace of the Buddha. After 7 days of controlling himself and being mindful of everything he did, he was ready to loose control and loose his mind. This morning was the last day, and his bags were already packed.
Travelling in Nepal is a backpackers dream. Things are cheap and exciting, just as Kyle liked them. He jumped on the top of jeep and held on to the railings for dear life as it sped through the traffic clogged, pot-holed street. This would be his last glance of Nepal. "I'll be back." He told himself confidently.
Ahead towered a huge sign.
WELCOME TO INDIA
Men brushed their teeth with sticks that had been picked from a special tree known for its teeth cleaning capabilities and women caped in colorful yet secretive saris walked the streets. The roads were filthy, there were piles of garbage burning on the corners.
He boarded the first bus he saw heading for his destination, Varanasi.
Throughout the whole bus journey various people took interest in the guy. They found his red stubby beard, bright blue eyes, and brilliant gold hair of much interest. Not only that, they were surprised to see how much skin he dared show with his sleeveless shirt and short shorts. And his skin, so white, like the curd they ate with their morning cup of chai. Men would sit beside Kyle and start conversations in broken English about his country and their country, about their government policies and that of the Bush administrations. Some would talk about how beautiful westerns were and when Kyle complimented the women in their country they would go into full explanations on how it is inappropriate in India to talk to a woman who is not his wife. They reported that sleeping with another woman while married, if proved, would lead to a jail sentence of 10 years. Some people of a lower income bracket would sit beside Kyle and offer him food, which he would happily munch on with them. Although they could not converse, their was a general feeling of kinship and kindness. Before Kyle even got off the bus at his destination he had already fallen in love with the country.
The bus ride was much longer than anyone expected. It took over 12 hours to cover the 200 KM between the boarder and the city Kyle choose to go to. His legs were aching and his bum was numb. When he limped off the bus he had expected to be attacked by a mob of touts and drivers and thieves as he had been in other countries. Instead the bus station was empty. At the end of the parking lot he found a driver who offered an honest price for the distance of 2km. Still very vigilant Kyle chose the cheaper option of a bicycle rickshaw. When he asked the old man how much he wanted for the trip to a hotel he chose the man yawned and gave a price, if exchanged into American dollars, equalled to less than 50 cents.
On the streets of India one is charged by the energy exists in such compact and snug communities. He saw scabbing houses piled on top of each other. He saw crowds of men with red headbands dancing in tight circles and groups of women zealously praying at a tiny corner temples. He saw endless piles of garbage. He saw what seemed to be the whole population of the world. He was dropped off in the heart of the action, just near the famous Ganges river. There he shared the 2 meter wide alleys with bulls and their feces, motorbikes and bicycles, police officers and automatic weapons, the crazy and the sane, the beautiful and the ugly. He saw dead bodies being carried through the streets as men happily shouted, "Ram Nam Satya Hey!". He watched as dentists pulled teeth. He saw a restaurant, beside a public urinal, beside a man showering, beside a burning fire of garbage, beside an insane man with no pants, beside a sane man with a collared shirt with a cell phone.
He saw all of this and he opened his mouth in disbelief.
He opened his mouth and he tasted the polluted air from the endless traffic jams, the spice of the curry being cured in a pot, he stench of stale piss.
He closed his mouth and he smelt the dead being cremated by the river, the fragrant Indian incents, and the nan bread being cooked on a hot plate.
He smelt this and he plugged his nose. Then he heard.
He heard the constant singing on mantras, the endless honking of horns, and the countless calls to him to buy hash, a post card, or a shirt.
He had a feeling, and as crazy as it might sound, it was genuine happiness.
It was six in the morning when he excitingly jumped off of his wooden plank called a bed. Kyle had just spent 7 days in a small yet exquisitely beautiful garden in Lumbini; also known as the birthplace of the Buddha. After 7 days of controlling himself and being mindful of everything he did, he was ready to loose control and loose his mind. This morning was the last day, and his bags were already packed.
Travelling in Nepal is a backpackers dream. Things are cheap and exciting, just as Kyle liked them. He jumped on the top of jeep and held on to the railings for dear life as it sped through the traffic clogged, pot-holed street. This would be his last glance of Nepal. "I'll be back." He told himself confidently.
Ahead towered a huge sign.
WELCOME TO INDIA
Men brushed their teeth with sticks that had been picked from a special tree known for its teeth cleaning capabilities and women caped in colorful yet secretive saris walked the streets. The roads were filthy, there were piles of garbage burning on the corners.
He boarded the first bus he saw heading for his destination, Varanasi.
Throughout the whole bus journey various people took interest in the guy. They found his red stubby beard, bright blue eyes, and brilliant gold hair of much interest. Not only that, they were surprised to see how much skin he dared show with his sleeveless shirt and short shorts. And his skin, so white, like the curd they ate with their morning cup of chai. Men would sit beside Kyle and start conversations in broken English about his country and their country, about their government policies and that of the Bush administrations. Some would talk about how beautiful westerns were and when Kyle complimented the women in their country they would go into full explanations on how it is inappropriate in India to talk to a woman who is not his wife. They reported that sleeping with another woman while married, if proved, would lead to a jail sentence of 10 years. Some people of a lower income bracket would sit beside Kyle and offer him food, which he would happily munch on with them. Although they could not converse, their was a general feeling of kinship and kindness. Before Kyle even got off the bus at his destination he had already fallen in love with the country.
The bus ride was much longer than anyone expected. It took over 12 hours to cover the 200 KM between the boarder and the city Kyle choose to go to. His legs were aching and his bum was numb. When he limped off the bus he had expected to be attacked by a mob of touts and drivers and thieves as he had been in other countries. Instead the bus station was empty. At the end of the parking lot he found a driver who offered an honest price for the distance of 2km. Still very vigilant Kyle chose the cheaper option of a bicycle rickshaw. When he asked the old man how much he wanted for the trip to a hotel he chose the man yawned and gave a price, if exchanged into American dollars, equalled to less than 50 cents.
On the streets of India one is charged by the energy exists in such compact and snug communities. He saw scabbing houses piled on top of each other. He saw crowds of men with red headbands dancing in tight circles and groups of women zealously praying at a tiny corner temples. He saw endless piles of garbage. He saw what seemed to be the whole population of the world. He was dropped off in the heart of the action, just near the famous Ganges river. There he shared the 2 meter wide alleys with bulls and their feces, motorbikes and bicycles, police officers and automatic weapons, the crazy and the sane, the beautiful and the ugly. He saw dead bodies being carried through the streets as men happily shouted, "Ram Nam Satya Hey!". He watched as dentists pulled teeth. He saw a restaurant, beside a public urinal, beside a man showering, beside a burning fire of garbage, beside an insane man with no pants, beside a sane man with a collared shirt with a cell phone.
He saw all of this and he opened his mouth in disbelief.
He opened his mouth and he tasted the polluted air from the endless traffic jams, the spice of the curry being cured in a pot, he stench of stale piss.
He closed his mouth and he smelt the dead being cremated by the river, the fragrant Indian incents, and the nan bread being cooked on a hot plate.
He smelt this and he plugged his nose. Then he heard.
He heard the constant singing on mantras, the endless honking of horns, and the countless calls to him to buy hash, a post card, or a shirt.
He had a feeling, and as crazy as it might sound, it was genuine happiness.
Oh no India or Ahhh India?
Ah people, You know, I heard so many stories and read so many articles about India that I anticipated hell when I crossed the boarder.
As usual, and I really should have learned by now, one mans experience will never be like another's.
I have been in India for 4 days and let me say, India is AMAZING! I love it.
Too many people told me terror stories, and maybe there is terror to come. I heard about so many people being robbed, and maybe there is robbery to come. I read extensively about how dirty and loud and strange India is, and.....well that is definitely true.
To me, India has been no worse than any other massively populated yet pitifully poor country. And when you think about it, when you hear about all those people who complain about being cheated by Indians, who's really in the wrong? The guy trying to make a living in a poor country, or the backpacker who comes looking for adventure and takes the first offer for something special from someone with a friendly smile?
So when people tell you about the terrible things that happen in India, take it from me, the guy whos been in India for 4 days, dont listen!
Indias great!
As usual, and I really should have learned by now, one mans experience will never be like another's.
I have been in India for 4 days and let me say, India is AMAZING! I love it.
Too many people told me terror stories, and maybe there is terror to come. I heard about so many people being robbed, and maybe there is robbery to come. I read extensively about how dirty and loud and strange India is, and.....well that is definitely true.
To me, India has been no worse than any other massively populated yet pitifully poor country. And when you think about it, when you hear about all those people who complain about being cheated by Indians, who's really in the wrong? The guy trying to make a living in a poor country, or the backpacker who comes looking for adventure and takes the first offer for something special from someone with a friendly smile?
So when people tell you about the terrible things that happen in India, take it from me, the guy whos been in India for 4 days, dont listen!
Indias great!
7 days of Meditating thoughts
"Meditation is the ending of thoughts. It is only then that there is a different dimension, which is beyond time."
The Rules from the retreat are on the previous post.
I committed to 7 days at the retreat. For the first 4 days I did not speak one word. In total I probably spoke less than 100 sentences. I ate two small meals a day. I was up by 4:00AM and in bed by 9:00 PM every night. I did sitting meditation anywhere from six to 10 hours a day. My shortest session (one session means staying concentrated and not moving) was less than 10 seconds, my longest was 1 hour and 25 minutes.
I'm not too sure if there are words to describe all the things that goes through ones head when one meditates. It was the first time I had ever tried meditating and I had nothing to compare it to. This will probably sound really weird but I will let you know some of the things that happened to me. Some times I did things wrong which lead to self-hypnosis, I think that helps explain a lot of my feelings. Others It was to hard to get concentration and I would give up. And sometimes, I think I did it right.
Anyways here is my experience, maybe you can try it for yourself.
The 2nd day I was trying to concentrate which can be really boring. I found myself nodding off or just unable to keep concentrating,which would then cause a lot of frustration.
By the 3rd day things memories that I hadn't thought of for years were starting to invade my thoughts and dreams. Memories of people and events of my past would burst through any wall of concentration I had developed. At night I would think of people who I hadn't seen for 15 years. Throughout the day I was consistently in different frames of minds. Sometimes it would change it just minutes. From extremely happy to peaceful to scared to sad to angry to frustrated and then back to happy. I never thought that I was going nuts but a lot of things just came from memories of the past.
On the 4th day I was starting to miss life. I missed smiles and laughter. The only person I had to joke with was myself, and I will say I did crack myself up quiet a few times. I missed socializing with people. I had slept in a bed next to another guy for 4 days and we hadn't said a word to each other. My meditation practice was deepening. I could spend a longer time in deep concentration and although my mind inside was opening up, my life outside felt like it was closing in around me. I started to notice all the nasty steel bars that were on the windows of every room I ate or slept or meditated in. I would look at the huge gate that guarded the compound in envy. I was starting to feel like I was in jail.
On the 5th day I had an amazing experience. A feeling that in my whole life has never occurred. I had been meditating for only 15 minutes when it hit me. To put it in words would be impossible but it was definitely out of body. Not like a meeting with the Divine but just like I was higher than Id ever been at one second, and tinier than Ive ever been at the next.
This inspired my practice and by the 6th day I was doing sitting that lasted longer than an hour.
By the 7th day the end was near and I could feel it. I lost most of my concentrating abilities and started contemplating where I would go next.
I am extremely happy that I did the retreat. I don't know if i would do it again, especially with a Burmese temple. I learned a lot about Buddhism. Most importantly that it is just as strict and restricted as other religions I've studied.
If anyone is interested in learning more please check this website
http://www.dharma.org/
Or if you have any questions feel free to ask.
"A mind that is aware, that observes what is in itself is self-understanding, self-knowing."
All of the quotes are by Jiddu Krishnamurti
The Rules from the retreat are on the previous post.
I committed to 7 days at the retreat. For the first 4 days I did not speak one word. In total I probably spoke less than 100 sentences. I ate two small meals a day. I was up by 4:00AM and in bed by 9:00 PM every night. I did sitting meditation anywhere from six to 10 hours a day. My shortest session (one session means staying concentrated and not moving) was less than 10 seconds, my longest was 1 hour and 25 minutes.
I'm not too sure if there are words to describe all the things that goes through ones head when one meditates. It was the first time I had ever tried meditating and I had nothing to compare it to. This will probably sound really weird but I will let you know some of the things that happened to me. Some times I did things wrong which lead to self-hypnosis, I think that helps explain a lot of my feelings. Others It was to hard to get concentration and I would give up. And sometimes, I think I did it right.
Anyways here is my experience, maybe you can try it for yourself.
"Meditation is the action of silence."
Its really unbelievable how strong ones mind is. Just try it and you will see. When you are wide awake, sit down, shut your eyes, and watch what happens. Our mind is like a television and sometimes one really has to wonder who is really controlling our thoughts.
"Meditation is freedom from thought".
When I first started I was letting my mind run and having some very interesting 'mind dreams'. I would go on adventures in my mind. I would see and listen to people that I have never in my real life seen or heard before. At this time my breathing was coming in tiny whiffs, I think I was cutting of blood circulation to my whole body which causes some strange things to happen. Sometime my body would begin to rock or tremble uncontrollably. Sometimes I would have huge bursts energy that would make my whole body quiver. Sometimes I would shiver with a cold feeling or would sweat with heat that seemed to overcome me. This was all in the first day.The 2nd day I was trying to concentrate which can be really boring. I found myself nodding off or just unable to keep concentrating,which would then cause a lot of frustration.
By the 3rd day things memories that I hadn't thought of for years were starting to invade my thoughts and dreams. Memories of people and events of my past would burst through any wall of concentration I had developed. At night I would think of people who I hadn't seen for 15 years. Throughout the day I was consistently in different frames of minds. Sometimes it would change it just minutes. From extremely happy to peaceful to scared to sad to angry to frustrated and then back to happy. I never thought that I was going nuts but a lot of things just came from memories of the past.
On the 4th day I was starting to miss life. I missed smiles and laughter. The only person I had to joke with was myself, and I will say I did crack myself up quiet a few times. I missed socializing with people. I had slept in a bed next to another guy for 4 days and we hadn't said a word to each other. My meditation practice was deepening. I could spend a longer time in deep concentration and although my mind inside was opening up, my life outside felt like it was closing in around me. I started to notice all the nasty steel bars that were on the windows of every room I ate or slept or meditated in. I would look at the huge gate that guarded the compound in envy. I was starting to feel like I was in jail.
On the 5th day I had an amazing experience. A feeling that in my whole life has never occurred. I had been meditating for only 15 minutes when it hit me. To put it in words would be impossible but it was definitely out of body. Not like a meeting with the Divine but just like I was higher than Id ever been at one second, and tinier than Ive ever been at the next.
This inspired my practice and by the 6th day I was doing sitting that lasted longer than an hour.
By the 7th day the end was near and I could feel it. I lost most of my concentrating abilities and started contemplating where I would go next.
"Meditation is really a penetration into the unknown and so the known, the memory, the experience, the knowledge which one has acquired during life must end. "
In the end I made a definite distinction between the self, the mind, and the body. When you spend so much time thinking about it you can really see that there is something else going on our mind, I have yet to conclude exactly what it is.
I am extremely happy that I did the retreat. I don't know if i would do it again, especially with a Burmese temple. I learned a lot about Buddhism. Most importantly that it is just as strict and restricted as other religions I've studied.
If anyone is interested in learning more please check this website
http://www.dharma.org/
Or if you have any questions feel free to ask.
"A mind that is aware, that observes what is in itself is self-understanding, self-knowing."
All of the quotes are by Jiddu Krishnamurti
Rules of the 7 Day Meditation retreat
I had heard a lot about meditation before, but as many of you, had no idea what it really meant. I had heard of these retreats called 'Vipassana retreats'. After a little more explination I decided that I'd try it.
So off I went to Lumbini, the birth place of the Buddha. After inquiring I had heard the best place to do it was at the Burmese Vipassana Retreat Center. I arrived in the morning and told the head monk, a German, that I wanted to learn to meditate.
The Rules
Here are the rules of the center
No tobacco, alcohol, or drugs
No lies
No killing of living things (all living things! Including mosquitoes)
No sex
No stealing
No high or luxurious seats or beds
No dancing, singing, listing to music, or wearing of jewelry/make-up
No talking (except to the monk or nun)
The difficult rules
Then came the more difficult ones and more directly related to Burmese Buddhism
No eating of food after 12:00 pm
This meant that we ate two meals a day. One at 6:00 am, and one at 11:00 am.
Be mindful at all times
This is a little more difficult to explain. Being mindful meant that you had to know, and state, what you were doing, at all times. Since life is fast that would be impossible but since life at the center is slow, it could be done. Everything was to be done in slow motion; walking, eating, brushing your teeth, making your bed etc.
And as I said everything was to be labeled.
Here would be a typical morning
(Everything here is said in your head)
You wake up
"Waking up, waking up"
You want to get up
"Getting up, getting up"
You walk to the bathroom
"Lifting, moving, pushing, (first step). Lifting, moving, pushing (step 2) and this continues with every step you take until you get to the bathroom. You can guess what happens there.
So just by acknowledging everything you do, you are forced to do everything slowly.
Next you were meant to always be concentrating and not give into any sensual pleasure. A sensual please can be anything from looking at the beautiful sky to smelling a fragrant flower to listening to a bird sing. If you did slip and looked at the flower you were to state it, "intention to look, looking, looking".
Sitting and Walking Meditation
Since sleep is not a necessity we were asked to sleep at most 6 hours. The day was to be spent meditating. Since one can not sit for so long it was broken into sitting meditation and walking meditation.
The sitting meditation was focused on watching your breathing "Rising, falling" and being aware of what is happening in your body and labeling it "Pricking pain, pricking pain" you were told to not think about the feeling, weather it was good or bad, but just label it and watch it.
Walking meditation was just focused on the sensations of the feet. As I mentioned before, (lifting, moving, pushing,) and only concentrating on this.
The Schedule
So you were supposed to be up 18 hours a day. The wake up' gong' was at 4:00 am. The first hour would be sitting and the next walking meditation until breakfast, then in continues like this until lunch. After lunch it continues until the Dharrma talk, which focuses on Burmese Buddhism. Then the schedule continues until 10:00pm. You are given a half hour break after lunch.
So off I went to Lumbini, the birth place of the Buddha. After inquiring I had heard the best place to do it was at the Burmese Vipassana Retreat Center. I arrived in the morning and told the head monk, a German, that I wanted to learn to meditate.
The Rules
Here are the rules of the center
No tobacco, alcohol, or drugs
No lies
No killing of living things (all living things! Including mosquitoes)
No sex
No stealing
No high or luxurious seats or beds
No dancing, singing, listing to music, or wearing of jewelry/make-up
No talking (except to the monk or nun)
The difficult rules
Then came the more difficult ones and more directly related to Burmese Buddhism
No eating of food after 12:00 pm
This meant that we ate two meals a day. One at 6:00 am, and one at 11:00 am.
Be mindful at all times
This is a little more difficult to explain. Being mindful meant that you had to know, and state, what you were doing, at all times. Since life is fast that would be impossible but since life at the center is slow, it could be done. Everything was to be done in slow motion; walking, eating, brushing your teeth, making your bed etc.
And as I said everything was to be labeled.
Here would be a typical morning
(Everything here is said in your head)
You wake up
"Waking up, waking up"
You want to get up
"Getting up, getting up"
You walk to the bathroom
"Lifting, moving, pushing, (first step). Lifting, moving, pushing (step 2) and this continues with every step you take until you get to the bathroom. You can guess what happens there.
So just by acknowledging everything you do, you are forced to do everything slowly.
Next you were meant to always be concentrating and not give into any sensual pleasure. A sensual please can be anything from looking at the beautiful sky to smelling a fragrant flower to listening to a bird sing. If you did slip and looked at the flower you were to state it, "intention to look, looking, looking".
Sitting and Walking Meditation
Since sleep is not a necessity we were asked to sleep at most 6 hours. The day was to be spent meditating. Since one can not sit for so long it was broken into sitting meditation and walking meditation.
The sitting meditation was focused on watching your breathing "Rising, falling" and being aware of what is happening in your body and labeling it "Pricking pain, pricking pain" you were told to not think about the feeling, weather it was good or bad, but just label it and watch it.
Walking meditation was just focused on the sensations of the feet. As I mentioned before, (lifting, moving, pushing,) and only concentrating on this.
The Schedule
So you were supposed to be up 18 hours a day. The wake up' gong' was at 4:00 am. The first hour would be sitting and the next walking meditation until breakfast, then in continues like this until lunch. After lunch it continues until the Dharrma talk, which focuses on Burmese Buddhism. Then the schedule continues until 10:00pm. You are given a half hour break after lunch.
And thats the course
The Murder of a Hitchhiker - A true story
After saying a hard goodbye to good ole' Ryan we went our separate ways. He off to Beijing, me off to Tansen, a village in the mountains.
I was excited to be back on the road. The comfortable bus promised an easy ride. The pure blue sky promised a beautiful day. The friendly man sitting beside me promised good company. Everything was supposed to go great, and everything was going great, until the bus driver told me to get off the bus.
Disaster struck
The driver of the bus explained that the place I wanted to go to was 'that way' and he was going 'this way'. He assured me that their would be another bus going 'that way' soon. Before he finished his next sentence a dump truck pulled up at the intersection. He talked to the driver and before I knew it my bag was being thrown in the back of the dump truck.
"He will take you." He said reassuringly.
I trusted the pleasant man and jumped in the back with 10 peasants. The ride started nice. The back of the truck was big and if you stood up you could see over the walls. With the breeze in my face and the lowering sun magnifying the beauty of the distant mountains I was in paradise. But what I didn't know was someone was watching me, very closely.
I took out my I-pod and put on some mellow music to enhance the ride. As the sun was setting it started to get chilly so I took out one of my sweatshirts to warm up. This is when things started to get ugly.
I noticed that the little mountain girl with the pink dress and brown skin was crying. I struggled to get to her with the truck blasting through the windy mountainous road. I knelled beside her, steadying myself, and offered her another jacket out of my bag, I thought she was cold. She wasn't. She pointed at what I perceived to be a pile of rags but turned out to be an old woman, her grandma. I took a closer look and saw puke everywhere around her. The little girl nudged the old woman but she didn't budge. Again she hit her and again she failed to move. Thinking the worst I went to see if she was still breathing. Just then she got up on one elbow and puked again. I saw the mucus hanging from her parched lips. I stumbled across the truck to get my bottle of water and came back to see her coughing up clumps of blood. No one else seemed to care. I again tried to comfort the girl with a sweat shirt but she wouldn't take it. There was nothing to do but wait.
Fortunately after about 20 minutes we stopped at a mud hut. I saw the the mark of a red cross and it seemed that the grandmother was being taken to the hospital. She got up and waddled off the bus along with all the other peasants except two, the two who had been observing me. They had watched everything I had done.
The driver seeing that everyone had got off the bus started up the truck and took off again. It was just me and two guys in the back of the truck. After some time one of the guys came up to me and asked for money. I saw him collect from the other passengers before and was accustomed to this. Unfortunately I didn't have time to ask for the price before I got on the truck .
"Mona", He stuck out his hand.
"Oh, right, how much?" I asked hoping he would say something reasonable.
"2000"
I broke into laughter. 2000 was a ridiculous amount, something like 30USD. This was just one of those funny Nepali jokes I thought. But when I kept on laughing and saw that he wasn't smiling, I knew that this knew it wasn't going to be a pretty scene. The sun was beginning to set and it would be dark soon. The truck was going at full speed and I hadn't seen any sign of civilisation for miles.
"I don't have 2000! I handed him 40 and turned my back. He muttered something which I couldn't understand and then let it be. 20 minutes later it was dark. I still hadn't seen any kind of lights and it was really starting to get cold. The two guys had been talking for sometime, probably planning my murder I thought.
The guy again crossed to the front of the truck where I was standing and said something. This time I had no clue what said. He then made the sign of music. He wanted to listen to my I-pod.
"No battery...battery no.....music no." I made some stupid gesture to indicate there would be no music.
The other guy came up beside him.
"Cold!" He hugged himself and shivered.
It was cold. What was I supposed to do. They knew I had sweaters, they had seen them. It would be just crude to say no. I gave them the sweaters. They then started pointing at my bag and asking other questions.
The made various gestures; Cell phone, music, money. I denied everything, but they knew.
My mind started racing. No one knew where I was. I didn't even know where I was. I needed to get out. But what was I going to do?
It was pitch dark and I hadn't seen any village for over an hour. I had everything on me. My passport, my money, my credit cards, basically my whole life.
I started going over situations in my mind. There were only two of them and if they did attack me I had attended two classes on kunfu that I could try. I could jump off the truck but we were still going extremely fast and I wasn't sure where I'd go. Its funny the things your mind says when your scared.
Finally all my worst fears came true at once. The truck stopped. All I could see was the black sky. All I could hear was crickets. All I could feel was my heart pounding in my chest.
"This is when it happens." I told myself.
The guy got off while the other standard on guard. After 5 minutes he came back.
" You, come!" He was leading me to my death.
I took my bag with me planning a quick escape if I had the chance. I got off the bus a noticed a small, dimly lit shack. He lead me into small thatched room. Four men sat in the darkness. I took my last breath.
"Be brave!" I told myself.
I walked in the room and one man asked me where I was from. A polite question, I thought, for a bunch of murderers.
"Canada." I replied gloomily.
"Ah, Canada." A different man replied. "Sit down, sit down."
"So where you going?" Asked yet another man.
My heart jumped.
"Tansen, you know Tansen, I want to go to Tansen." I said quickly.
"Of course I know, its my home town, and I will also go there."
"You are a passenger?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes"
"How much are you paying for this trip?
"30 Rupees my friend"
Now realising that the guys in the back were just little bastards I told on him what had happend.
"You know, this guy in the back, he asked me for 2000!"
"2000!" The man burst out laughing. "That's ridiculous!"
He translated to the driver of the truck who in turn called in the guy and asked him if this was true. The scene that followed took all my worries away. When the guy admitted it the driver, who I now took to be his uncle, screamed at him. I watched as the guy trembled and cowered beneath his uncle.
Within minutes we were back on the road. The boys had given me back my clothes. I sat down on the opposite end of the truck. The guys didn't say a word the rest of the ride.
And I live to tell another story.
I was excited to be back on the road. The comfortable bus promised an easy ride. The pure blue sky promised a beautiful day. The friendly man sitting beside me promised good company. Everything was supposed to go great, and everything was going great, until the bus driver told me to get off the bus.
Disaster struck
The driver of the bus explained that the place I wanted to go to was 'that way' and he was going 'this way'. He assured me that their would be another bus going 'that way' soon. Before he finished his next sentence a dump truck pulled up at the intersection. He talked to the driver and before I knew it my bag was being thrown in the back of the dump truck.
"He will take you." He said reassuringly.
I trusted the pleasant man and jumped in the back with 10 peasants. The ride started nice. The back of the truck was big and if you stood up you could see over the walls. With the breeze in my face and the lowering sun magnifying the beauty of the distant mountains I was in paradise. But what I didn't know was someone was watching me, very closely.
I took out my I-pod and put on some mellow music to enhance the ride. As the sun was setting it started to get chilly so I took out one of my sweatshirts to warm up. This is when things started to get ugly.
I noticed that the little mountain girl with the pink dress and brown skin was crying. I struggled to get to her with the truck blasting through the windy mountainous road. I knelled beside her, steadying myself, and offered her another jacket out of my bag, I thought she was cold. She wasn't. She pointed at what I perceived to be a pile of rags but turned out to be an old woman, her grandma. I took a closer look and saw puke everywhere around her. The little girl nudged the old woman but she didn't budge. Again she hit her and again she failed to move. Thinking the worst I went to see if she was still breathing. Just then she got up on one elbow and puked again. I saw the mucus hanging from her parched lips. I stumbled across the truck to get my bottle of water and came back to see her coughing up clumps of blood. No one else seemed to care. I again tried to comfort the girl with a sweat shirt but she wouldn't take it. There was nothing to do but wait.
Fortunately after about 20 minutes we stopped at a mud hut. I saw the the mark of a red cross and it seemed that the grandmother was being taken to the hospital. She got up and waddled off the bus along with all the other peasants except two, the two who had been observing me. They had watched everything I had done.
The driver seeing that everyone had got off the bus started up the truck and took off again. It was just me and two guys in the back of the truck. After some time one of the guys came up to me and asked for money. I saw him collect from the other passengers before and was accustomed to this. Unfortunately I didn't have time to ask for the price before I got on the truck .
"Mona", He stuck out his hand.
"Oh, right, how much?" I asked hoping he would say something reasonable.
"2000"
I broke into laughter. 2000 was a ridiculous amount, something like 30USD. This was just one of those funny Nepali jokes I thought. But when I kept on laughing and saw that he wasn't smiling, I knew that this knew it wasn't going to be a pretty scene. The sun was beginning to set and it would be dark soon. The truck was going at full speed and I hadn't seen any sign of civilisation for miles.
"I don't have 2000! I handed him 40 and turned my back. He muttered something which I couldn't understand and then let it be. 20 minutes later it was dark. I still hadn't seen any kind of lights and it was really starting to get cold. The two guys had been talking for sometime, probably planning my murder I thought.
The guy again crossed to the front of the truck where I was standing and said something. This time I had no clue what said. He then made the sign of music. He wanted to listen to my I-pod.
"No battery...battery no.....music no." I made some stupid gesture to indicate there would be no music.
The other guy came up beside him.
"Cold!" He hugged himself and shivered.
It was cold. What was I supposed to do. They knew I had sweaters, they had seen them. It would be just crude to say no. I gave them the sweaters. They then started pointing at my bag and asking other questions.
The made various gestures; Cell phone, music, money. I denied everything, but they knew.
My mind started racing. No one knew where I was. I didn't even know where I was. I needed to get out. But what was I going to do?
It was pitch dark and I hadn't seen any village for over an hour. I had everything on me. My passport, my money, my credit cards, basically my whole life.
I started going over situations in my mind. There were only two of them and if they did attack me I had attended two classes on kunfu that I could try. I could jump off the truck but we were still going extremely fast and I wasn't sure where I'd go. Its funny the things your mind says when your scared.
Finally all my worst fears came true at once. The truck stopped. All I could see was the black sky. All I could hear was crickets. All I could feel was my heart pounding in my chest.
"This is when it happens." I told myself.
The guy got off while the other standard on guard. After 5 minutes he came back.
" You, come!" He was leading me to my death.
I took my bag with me planning a quick escape if I had the chance. I got off the bus a noticed a small, dimly lit shack. He lead me into small thatched room. Four men sat in the darkness. I took my last breath.
"Be brave!" I told myself.
I walked in the room and one man asked me where I was from. A polite question, I thought, for a bunch of murderers.
"Canada." I replied gloomily.
"Ah, Canada." A different man replied. "Sit down, sit down."
"So where you going?" Asked yet another man.
My heart jumped.
"Tansen, you know Tansen, I want to go to Tansen." I said quickly.
"Of course I know, its my home town, and I will also go there."
"You are a passenger?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes"
"How much are you paying for this trip?
"30 Rupees my friend"
Now realising that the guys in the back were just little bastards I told on him what had happend.
"You know, this guy in the back, he asked me for 2000!"
"2000!" The man burst out laughing. "That's ridiculous!"
He translated to the driver of the truck who in turn called in the guy and asked him if this was true. The scene that followed took all my worries away. When the guy admitted it the driver, who I now took to be his uncle, screamed at him. I watched as the guy trembled and cowered beneath his uncle.
Within minutes we were back on the road. The boys had given me back my clothes. I sat down on the opposite end of the truck. The guys didn't say a word the rest of the ride.
And I live to tell another story.
Pokhara
I guess Pokara is the same as Kathmandu except is has a lake instead of tall buildings, not as many people trying to sell you drugs, north face gear, or silk.
We spent our days riding on motor cycles, walking up mountains, and drinking at Busy Bee.
Not much to report, all is well.
We spent our days riding on motor cycles, walking up mountains, and drinking at Busy Bee.
Not much to report, all is well.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Are yoU a HindU?
Animal sacrifice
I'm not sure what was so intriguing about it but Ryan and I were set to see it. We travelled 13 Km (The roads are so terrible here, it took more than an hour) to get to this temple where some animal sacrifices were to happen. As in any kind of situation I am curious and I want to get in there and really see whats going on. So I took of my shoes and walked through this water muck to go into the temple
"Are you Hindu?" A man turned to me and demanded.
"No.....are you?"
"Yes, you cannot be here." And he pointed to the entrance/exit.
I can say I felt humiliated. I can say I was angry. I can say that I wanted to see that guy come into a Christian church just so I could say "Go!" I can say those things but I won't. After talking to numerous people about this and learning more about the Hindu religion, I still think I am right. Although I agree its important to respect ones religion. For example when I went to the temple I was wearing long pants and I took off my shoes. But I think ones religion should also respect me. Am I so dirty, so impure, so unworthy of seeing what it is that you have? Am I a spy, a terrorist, or a crock?
No. I'm just a person who is interested in learning what happens in the Hindu temples. I have never been denied access to a church, temple, mosque or shrine before. No monk or priest has ever turned me away. How is one to seek faith if the people who have faith already don't have faith that I could have faith....? Anyways, as you can see I am still upset about the situation. I plan on learning more about the Hindu religion, if the let me into their temples or not!
I'm not sure what was so intriguing about it but Ryan and I were set to see it. We travelled 13 Km (The roads are so terrible here, it took more than an hour) to get to this temple where some animal sacrifices were to happen. As in any kind of situation I am curious and I want to get in there and really see whats going on. So I took of my shoes and walked through this water muck to go into the temple
"Are you Hindu?" A man turned to me and demanded.
"No.....are you?"
"Yes, you cannot be here." And he pointed to the entrance/exit.
I can say I felt humiliated. I can say I was angry. I can say that I wanted to see that guy come into a Christian church just so I could say "Go!" I can say those things but I won't. After talking to numerous people about this and learning more about the Hindu religion, I still think I am right. Although I agree its important to respect ones religion. For example when I went to the temple I was wearing long pants and I took off my shoes. But I think ones religion should also respect me. Am I so dirty, so impure, so unworthy of seeing what it is that you have? Am I a spy, a terrorist, or a crock?
No. I'm just a person who is interested in learning what happens in the Hindu temples. I have never been denied access to a church, temple, mosque or shrine before. No monk or priest has ever turned me away. How is one to seek faith if the people who have faith already don't have faith that I could have faith....? Anyways, as you can see I am still upset about the situation. I plan on learning more about the Hindu religion, if the let me into their temples or not!
Bundipur
These names will mean nothing to most of you. Maybe some of you have been to these places, hopefully there are some people reading this who plan to go. Anyways, I just want to give you a picture. Maybe inspire you to take a trip. I don't know how I have ever lived without coming to Nepal and I can't imagine living a life that didn't include it.
Bundipur is a small hill town built in the 17th century. I went there because it sounded quiet. The town consisted of one street. There were no tuk tuks, no touts, no tvs, no tacky advertisements, there weren't even many tourists.
Perfect.
My 'hotel' was someones home and I had the feeling I was staying in the guests bedroom. With the town being so small the only thing to do was to go to the hills. While walking I met many people. Most looked, some smiled, one even asked what Calvin meant on my shirt. The kids were amazing. None asked for money. A small boy named Dandskin gave me a tour of his Hindu temple (which he politely said I was no allowed to enter). His English was great and his dream was to be an actor. He showed me some red flowers that you can eat and reassured me that the red and green palm sized spiders that hung around the village weren't poisonous. A different little girl grabbed my hand and led me up a hill to see one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. Back in the village a 10 year old beat me at chess. The elders themselves were awesome. They asked questions out of interest. In too many of the tourist places someone will waste your time with asking you where your from and what your doing before they get to the real question, how can they get money out of you.
I spent the evenings with a brilliant German teacher who taught me a lot about absolutely everything. Any question I had about anything he seemed to have an answer. The days I spent climbing in the hills. Besides the spider webs in the face it proved to be a peaceful time.
One evening I sat admiring the clouds for sometime before I noticed that what I was looking at was the Himalayas. They seem to cover the whole horizon and are of such mass and beauty it is beyond words.
So if your looking for an excellent city that has nothing, Bundipur is your place.
Bundipur is a small hill town built in the 17th century. I went there because it sounded quiet. The town consisted of one street. There were no tuk tuks, no touts, no tvs, no tacky advertisements, there weren't even many tourists.
Perfect.
My 'hotel' was someones home and I had the feeling I was staying in the guests bedroom. With the town being so small the only thing to do was to go to the hills. While walking I met many people. Most looked, some smiled, one even asked what Calvin meant on my shirt. The kids were amazing. None asked for money. A small boy named Dandskin gave me a tour of his Hindu temple (which he politely said I was no allowed to enter). His English was great and his dream was to be an actor. He showed me some red flowers that you can eat and reassured me that the red and green palm sized spiders that hung around the village weren't poisonous. A different little girl grabbed my hand and led me up a hill to see one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. Back in the village a 10 year old beat me at chess. The elders themselves were awesome. They asked questions out of interest. In too many of the tourist places someone will waste your time with asking you where your from and what your doing before they get to the real question, how can they get money out of you.
I spent the evenings with a brilliant German teacher who taught me a lot about absolutely everything. Any question I had about anything he seemed to have an answer. The days I spent climbing in the hills. Besides the spider webs in the face it proved to be a peaceful time.
One evening I sat admiring the clouds for sometime before I noticed that what I was looking at was the Himalayas. They seem to cover the whole horizon and are of such mass and beauty it is beyond words.
So if your looking for an excellent city that has nothing, Bundipur is your place.
Fighting Fear
There was a time in my life when I was fearless. Then I almost died.
Climbing a mountain near Nelson I almost fell of a cliff and since then I've had a fear of heights. When I let Ryan know this, he laughed and told me in delight all his wonderful times bungee jumping. He assured me that if there was one in Nepal we were going to do it.
And whatdya know, there was a bungee jump in Nepal. One of the highest in the world.
So we went.
A bridge suspended 300 meters over a canyon was to be the spot for me to risk my life. I hate these bridges. The one with slates so you can see the roaring river hundreds of feet below. Every time someone stepped on the bridge it would shake and my heart would race.
We were weighed and separated into two groups. I watched as a 13 year-old girl threw herself with no fear off the bridge. After watching this over and over again, with no deaths, my confidence was up. We took a break and then the second group was to start. Me and 7 other guys who weighed over 70 kilos walked the plank.
I was the first to go.
They tied my feet and stuck a camera in my face and asked how I was doing.
I smiled, hiding my fear. The man winked at me giving me the sign that everything was ready. I stepped across the barrier, leaving nothing but a small slab of steel between me and the air. I looked down and saw the raging river.
"Don't do it." The man in my head was firm.
"Hands up." The man behind me ordered.
"3, 2" As he counted I said a last goodbye to the world. What if something happened? Something could happen. Anything could happen. Things happen all the time.
"1, Bungee!"
I jumped
It all went so quickly. I screamed as my body flew towards the ground. The river was coming fast, I was sure I would smash into the ground.
And whahahg, up I went again, and down, and then hung there. It was over. I had lived.
As the men brought me down I broke into laughter.
The first thing I thought was that was way to quick. The second thing was I have to go sky diving.
Climbing a mountain near Nelson I almost fell of a cliff and since then I've had a fear of heights. When I let Ryan know this, he laughed and told me in delight all his wonderful times bungee jumping. He assured me that if there was one in Nepal we were going to do it.
And whatdya know, there was a bungee jump in Nepal. One of the highest in the world.
So we went.
A bridge suspended 300 meters over a canyon was to be the spot for me to risk my life. I hate these bridges. The one with slates so you can see the roaring river hundreds of feet below. Every time someone stepped on the bridge it would shake and my heart would race.
We were weighed and separated into two groups. I watched as a 13 year-old girl threw herself with no fear off the bridge. After watching this over and over again, with no deaths, my confidence was up. We took a break and then the second group was to start. Me and 7 other guys who weighed over 70 kilos walked the plank.
I was the first to go.
They tied my feet and stuck a camera in my face and asked how I was doing.
I smiled, hiding my fear. The man winked at me giving me the sign that everything was ready. I stepped across the barrier, leaving nothing but a small slab of steel between me and the air. I looked down and saw the raging river.
"Don't do it." The man in my head was firm.
"Hands up." The man behind me ordered.
"3, 2" As he counted I said a last goodbye to the world. What if something happened? Something could happen. Anything could happen. Things happen all the time.
"1, Bungee!"
I jumped
It all went so quickly. I screamed as my body flew towards the ground. The river was coming fast, I was sure I would smash into the ground.
And whahahg, up I went again, and down, and then hung there. It was over. I had lived.
As the men brought me down I broke into laughter.
The first thing I thought was that was way to quick. The second thing was I have to go sky diving.
Nepali Innocence and the secret party
What is really going on in Nepal? I asked myself that daily while in Kathmandu. There are beautiful woman that roam the streets in the most dashing clothes and yet they don't dart an eye at the guys. There are guys with big muscles and leather jackets that walk the same streets holding hands. I went to a disco the other day that was packed with head banging local men. The next disco had a dance floor full of woman dancing with each other.
Why do they segragate themselves? Can the really feel no sexual desire? Do the guys not think the sari is sexy? Do the woman not think that fat, balding, Bollywood actor is intriguing?
Is the religion influence still that strong today?
You look at this scene, day in and day out, and think, thats just the way it is here.
And then! You see the other side! You scratch the surface.
Our neighbors in one hotel happened to be three young Nepali girls. I met them when they barged into my room, sat on my bed, and asked for a cigarette. They were masseuses. They worked downstairs. What exactly their work entailed I never found out. But I learned about them. They smoked pot every morning. The would walk around in their bra's. Boys would call on them and take them out to the disco. Yes, there are 'bad' Nepali girls.
Here's another example
As rules have it now, ALL bars close at 11. So for the average backpacker when the Thamel bars close they call it a night. But there are things happening that only rickshaw drivers know. We asked one to bring us to a party, and he did. We travelled down a dark road for miles. Finally the rickshaw pulled into a driveway.
"Party, party, dancing, drinking, there." He pointed down a long driveway. So we followed the drive way, then a small path, and arrived at this amazing house. More than 100 people were dancing in front of a huge screen. The Dj mixed above the crowd and the music was amazing. There were 40 year-old men with yellow tainted glasses dancing beside men with mohawks. Nepali girls in high heels lost themselves in the trance music. A man in a suit sat in the corner with two beautiful models, one on each arm.
We found a different Nepal.
The night ended when the police locked us in the compound. We were surrounded by armed guards and they demanded that the owner identify himself. After an hour they let us go. It just goes to show, nothing is ever as it seems.
Why do they segragate themselves? Can the really feel no sexual desire? Do the guys not think the sari is sexy? Do the woman not think that fat, balding, Bollywood actor is intriguing?
Is the religion influence still that strong today?
You look at this scene, day in and day out, and think, thats just the way it is here.
And then! You see the other side! You scratch the surface.
Our neighbors in one hotel happened to be three young Nepali girls. I met them when they barged into my room, sat on my bed, and asked for a cigarette. They were masseuses. They worked downstairs. What exactly their work entailed I never found out. But I learned about them. They smoked pot every morning. The would walk around in their bra's. Boys would call on them and take them out to the disco. Yes, there are 'bad' Nepali girls.
Here's another example
As rules have it now, ALL bars close at 11. So for the average backpacker when the Thamel bars close they call it a night. But there are things happening that only rickshaw drivers know. We asked one to bring us to a party, and he did. We travelled down a dark road for miles. Finally the rickshaw pulled into a driveway.
"Party, party, dancing, drinking, there." He pointed down a long driveway. So we followed the drive way, then a small path, and arrived at this amazing house. More than 100 people were dancing in front of a huge screen. The Dj mixed above the crowd and the music was amazing. There were 40 year-old men with yellow tainted glasses dancing beside men with mohawks. Nepali girls in high heels lost themselves in the trance music. A man in a suit sat in the corner with two beautiful models, one on each arm.
We found a different Nepal.
The night ended when the police locked us in the compound. We were surrounded by armed guards and they demanded that the owner identify himself. After an hour they let us go. It just goes to show, nothing is ever as it seems.
Religion in Nepal
I think if the whole world learned to live with different religions like Nepal did we would have a much more secure future.
Although most of the people are either Buddhists or Hindus you can also find Christians and Muslims. In a small mountain village I went to the other day they were all on one street.
A kid put it very simply the other day.
"So are you Buddhist or Hindu?" I asked.
"I'm Hindu" he replied shyly.
"Whats the difference?" I asked testing him.
"Nothing really, we worship Vishnu, they worship Buddha. Some people worship Jesus and other Muhammad." He said simply.
I thought about it after and I think he really has it clear in his head. He sees these people as profits that all give a different interpretation of the same thing, the Divine.
In Nepal the Hindus and Buddhists go to the same place to pray. There are no hard feelings between them, or so they claim. I just find it hard to believe. The other day in Kathmandu the Hindus sacrificed thousands of animals by cutting of their heads. They sprinkled the blood on their vehicles and doorsteps for good luck. The neighbor Buddhist watches this with tears in his eyes. They don't believe in the killing of animals and to them, this is a time for extra praying. When I asked them about this paradox they just shrug and say nothing.
Although most of the people are either Buddhists or Hindus you can also find Christians and Muslims. In a small mountain village I went to the other day they were all on one street.
A kid put it very simply the other day.
"So are you Buddhist or Hindu?" I asked.
"I'm Hindu" he replied shyly.
"Whats the difference?" I asked testing him.
"Nothing really, we worship Vishnu, they worship Buddha. Some people worship Jesus and other Muhammad." He said simply.
I thought about it after and I think he really has it clear in his head. He sees these people as profits that all give a different interpretation of the same thing, the Divine.
In Nepal the Hindus and Buddhists go to the same place to pray. There are no hard feelings between them, or so they claim. I just find it hard to believe. The other day in Kathmandu the Hindus sacrificed thousands of animals by cutting of their heads. They sprinkled the blood on their vehicles and doorsteps for good luck. The neighbor Buddhist watches this with tears in his eyes. They don't believe in the killing of animals and to them, this is a time for extra praying. When I asked them about this paradox they just shrug and say nothing.
Kathmandu - sensory overload
Coming from the quiet mountains and going into the heart of Kathmandu can be quite an experience. Although its not a hugely populated city its dense and polluted. While driving into the city we could smell the exhaust, hear the horns, feel the heat, and touch the traffic. We were happy to be in our Jeep.
Thamel is the tourist town and it is littered with touts selling everything a backpacker in Nepal could want.
Cheap knock off North Face - Check
Books, magazines, maps - Check
Scarves for the cold, Sandals for the hot, and umbrellas for the rain - Check
Drums, violins, guitars - Check
Silk, cashmere, polyester- Check
Ganja, dope, grass, hash, pollen, - no comment
Sandwiches, friend rice, roti, curry, pasta, steak, fruit shake, - Check
There are hundreds of things that are actually really cool but there's just no room to pack them.
The city is a maze of cluttered ancient alleys. Steep wooden houses lean over the beaten roads. Dogs, cows, rickshaws, motorbikes, taxis, and people assure that traffic crawls. The smells are pleasant and indescribable. There is no one skyscraper in the city. Street hawkers sell all sorts of greasy delicacy's on corners. Women was clothes in public open bath houses. Children fly kites and play on huge swings. Religion is a huge part of every ones life and you can see monuments sprinkled all over the city.
There's no rush in the city. One can go to the main square and sit and people watch for hours. There are huge temples with generations of history in the most bizarre places. There's a place called Freak Street where all the freaky hippies used to meet. We ran into one and I took his picture and he got angry. I won't write anymore for fear that he could be reading this now. Of all the capitals I've been to Kathmandu one of my favorites. And I didn't even see the half of it.
Thamel is the tourist town and it is littered with touts selling everything a backpacker in Nepal could want.
Cheap knock off North Face - Check
Books, magazines, maps - Check
Scarves for the cold, Sandals for the hot, and umbrellas for the rain - Check
Drums, violins, guitars - Check
Silk, cashmere, polyester- Check
Ganja, dope, grass, hash, pollen, - no comment
Sandwiches, friend rice, roti, curry, pasta, steak, fruit shake, - Check
There are hundreds of things that are actually really cool but there's just no room to pack them.
The city is a maze of cluttered ancient alleys. Steep wooden houses lean over the beaten roads. Dogs, cows, rickshaws, motorbikes, taxis, and people assure that traffic crawls. The smells are pleasant and indescribable. There is no one skyscraper in the city. Street hawkers sell all sorts of greasy delicacy's on corners. Women was clothes in public open bath houses. Children fly kites and play on huge swings. Religion is a huge part of every ones life and you can see monuments sprinkled all over the city.
There's no rush in the city. One can go to the main square and sit and people watch for hours. There are huge temples with generations of history in the most bizarre places. There's a place called Freak Street where all the freaky hippies used to meet. We ran into one and I took his picture and he got angry. I won't write anymore for fear that he could be reading this now. Of all the capitals I've been to Kathmandu one of my favorites. And I didn't even see the half of it.
Nepal
From arid mountain plains we descended into the muggy Nepal jungle. The canyon narrowed and white waterfalls splashed onto the road. Colorful buses with melodic horns tried to press its way towards the boarder. Dark people with baseball caps sold samosas on the street. AHHH,
Nepal
Its always great crossing boarders. You cross this imaginary line and everything changes. In China everyone obsess over cleanliness. In Nepal, old woman with alligator skin and nose rings sit on the roads while kids with no pants jump in the dirt. In China its rare to find people speaking English. In Nepal most people can speak a little English and they spoke with no sense of shyness. In China the kids would scream "Hello" and then run away giggling. In Nepal the kids would say hello and then proceed to start a conversation.
I knew from the second I was in the country that I would love it.
We still needed to get to Kathmandu. So we rented a jeep with some fellow tourists for 600 Rupees each. Just when I thought that I left China forever, I was reminded, China is everywhere, especially nowadays. Ryan and I shared the jeep with six Chinese people and I spoke about China with Chinese people for the next 4 hours.
Nepal
Its always great crossing boarders. You cross this imaginary line and everything changes. In China everyone obsess over cleanliness. In Nepal, old woman with alligator skin and nose rings sit on the roads while kids with no pants jump in the dirt. In China its rare to find people speaking English. In Nepal most people can speak a little English and they spoke with no sense of shyness. In China the kids would scream "Hello" and then run away giggling. In Nepal the kids would say hello and then proceed to start a conversation.
I knew from the second I was in the country that I would love it.
We still needed to get to Kathmandu. So we rented a jeep with some fellow tourists for 600 Rupees each. Just when I thought that I left China forever, I was reminded, China is everywhere, especially nowadays. Ryan and I shared the jeep with six Chinese people and I spoke about China with Chinese people for the next 4 hours.
Leaving China
That day at Everest will be ingrained in my head for my whole life. It also marked my last day in the country that I called home for 3 years. We drove for hours on terrible roads to get to the boarder town of Zhangmu. The city is built on a windy slanted road. At the bottom was the Nepal boarder.
A lot of things were going through my head when I was going through customs. 3 years earlier I was doing the same thing, except I was coming into China. I have to say I was equally moved by the custom people there, so polite and straight. Thousands of memories started flooding through my head. I've met so many amazing people, seen so many breath taking sights, and had such an amazing time in China. I realised that I was leaving all of that. Everything that I had made for myself I was leaving, again. The guards saluted me, just like they did three years ago, and a tear slid down my cheek, (I hid it from Ryan and the guards) just like it did three years ago.
China
That word has a million memories attached to it. And I will always bring them with me. People can knock the country as much as they want, and I will stick up for it. Because for as many bad things people can come up with, I can counter with all the random acts of philanthropy that I have seen.
I walked through, got in the bus, and said goodbye.
A lot of things were going through my head when I was going through customs. 3 years earlier I was doing the same thing, except I was coming into China. I have to say I was equally moved by the custom people there, so polite and straight. Thousands of memories started flooding through my head. I've met so many amazing people, seen so many breath taking sights, and had such an amazing time in China. I realised that I was leaving all of that. Everything that I had made for myself I was leaving, again. The guards saluted me, just like they did three years ago, and a tear slid down my cheek, (I hid it from Ryan and the guards) just like it did three years ago.
China
That word has a million memories attached to it. And I will always bring them with me. People can knock the country as much as they want, and I will stick up for it. Because for as many bad things people can come up with, I can counter with all the random acts of philanthropy that I have seen.
I walked through, got in the bus, and said goodbye.
Everest
We arrived mid-afternoon at base camp. The road was terrible and it took us hours to plow through the dusty, bumpy roads. We read the day earlier that it was going to be raining at Everest so when we arrived to a cloudy sky. we weren't surprised.
We still managed to hike up towards the mountain and watch the sunset. Just at that time the clouds cleared a little and a massive mountain came into view. We giddily grabbed the camera and started shooting what we thought to be the mountain. Still, we wanted more, so the next day, we woke up at 5:30 to get a better look.
5:30 AM
The stars seemed brighter than ever. At 5000 meters it felt like we could touch to black sky. We headed towards the mountain in the dark. There was an eerie feeling in the silent valley. As the sun slowly crept up the horizon we realised that the mountain we were staring at the day before was a dwarf. The real Everest towered above it.
It was beautiful. A crystal clear sky with Everest standing boldly in it. We ignored the sleeping guards and continued way past the 'tourist stop here line'. The closer we got the more intimidating the mountain became. Besides the rock statues there was no sign of humans. The clouds started to fall on us from the sky, adding more to the suspense of the craggy valley.
After walking for hours we realised that if we didn't find food soon we would soon begin to complain of being hungry. We had no clue how far we had gone or how much further we would have to go. The mountain grew taller and broader with every step we took. Hunger and cold soon took over. We turned back.
As soon as we got onto the plain we knew we were in trouble. A very angry Tibetan waved us down as soon as we got in the vicinity.
"Ohhhh, you made a mistake!" Said the angry Tibetan.
"What, what did we do?" Said Kyle and Ryan as innocently as possible.
"Ohhh, you know what you did, big mistake, come with me!"
So we were lead to the army camp. Fearing the worst Ryan and I prepared to use our kungfu skills to ditch the situation if it got serious. In the end they were spared. The Army guards where 20 year-olds from a province which I have been to many times. After sharing some of the facts I knew of the place, sharing a joke, and giving out some cigarettes, we were free to go. The Tibetan was still angry. I still don't know why.
We still managed to hike up towards the mountain and watch the sunset. Just at that time the clouds cleared a little and a massive mountain came into view. We giddily grabbed the camera and started shooting what we thought to be the mountain. Still, we wanted more, so the next day, we woke up at 5:30 to get a better look.
5:30 AM
The stars seemed brighter than ever. At 5000 meters it felt like we could touch to black sky. We headed towards the mountain in the dark. There was an eerie feeling in the silent valley. As the sun slowly crept up the horizon we realised that the mountain we were staring at the day before was a dwarf. The real Everest towered above it.
It was beautiful. A crystal clear sky with Everest standing boldly in it. We ignored the sleeping guards and continued way past the 'tourist stop here line'. The closer we got the more intimidating the mountain became. Besides the rock statues there was no sign of humans. The clouds started to fall on us from the sky, adding more to the suspense of the craggy valley.
After walking for hours we realised that if we didn't find food soon we would soon begin to complain of being hungry. We had no clue how far we had gone or how much further we would have to go. The mountain grew taller and broader with every step we took. Hunger and cold soon took over. We turned back.
As soon as we got onto the plain we knew we were in trouble. A very angry Tibetan waved us down as soon as we got in the vicinity.
"Ohhhh, you made a mistake!" Said the angry Tibetan.
"What, what did we do?" Said Kyle and Ryan as innocently as possible.
"Ohhh, you know what you did, big mistake, come with me!"
So we were lead to the army camp. Fearing the worst Ryan and I prepared to use our kungfu skills to ditch the situation if it got serious. In the end they were spared. The Army guards where 20 year-olds from a province which I have been to many times. After sharing some of the facts I knew of the place, sharing a joke, and giving out some cigarettes, we were free to go. The Tibetan was still angry. I still don't know why.
To the Himalayas and beyond
When our tour was coming to an end our tour guide asked us what time our plane was back to Shanghai. When we told him we weren't flying back, we were going off on to Nepal, he was aloof. Apparently the 'travel agency' needs to arrange not only your trip into Tibet, but out of Tibet; and everything in between. This meant that if we were to go anywhere, except the toilet, we needed a permit, a tour guide, and a vehicle, 'to protect us'. So we were forced to fork out another 5700 RMb (700USD) for the trip to Nepal. We had no choice. The next day our 5'2 woman protector came to pick us up.
We went through at least 10 check points before arriving at our destination, so yea, no getting away from the bureaucracy.
The trip was to take 3 days with a side trip to the tallest mountain in the world, Everest.
We went through at least 10 check points before arriving at our destination, so yea, no getting away from the bureaucracy.
The trip was to take 3 days with a side trip to the tallest mountain in the world, Everest.
The Potala Palace
There isn't much to write about except that its amazing. The monks in the palace were dressed in civilian clothes and looked quite sad. With the Dalai Lama gone I think the house seems quite and empty. The palace towers over the city and is an architectural wonder of the world. At night it glows with green neon light.
Just one of those things you have to go see yourself. And I recommend doing it while the pilgrims are still around.
Just one of those things you have to go see yourself. And I recommend doing it while the pilgrims are still around.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
With light comes fright
We woke up bright and early our first day in Lhasa. Ryan and I were both excited to see what the city had to offer. Ryan took a tour around the Dalai Lamas former summer residence while I walked the streets. I was curious to see how the people lived and what I could differentiate from the Tibetans and the Chinese.
First, there are a lot of Chinese in Lhasa. Most of the small streets I wandered were occupied by migrants or peasants, just live every other big Chinese city. The Tibetans are easy to pick out though, especially the pilgrims.
Since Lhasa is a sacred place, pilgrims come from hundreds of kilometers away to pay tribute to the city. Almost all of them had a prayer wheel, something that resembles a tin can on a stick, that they twirl in a clock-wise motion. They are dressed in country clothes and big hats and, the scary thing, is that they looked to be all over 60. Our tour guide guessed that in 20 years there would be no more pilgrims. They have hard, brown, beaten faces. They are much larger than the average Asian, but somehow they maintain a friendly glow. They follow certain routes around the city and I found myself following them to see what it was all about. They stopped at small temples that were packed with people being blessed by monks. Around another corner they rubbed their knee on a rock. The rock had been rubbed by so many knees that it was indented and shined a polished black. The route led to the old city, and that was where things got scary.
There are armed guards stationed on every street. By armed guards I mean 17 year-olds with rifles, pistols, bats, and shields. They marched the streets in lines of fives in order to 'keep the peace'. There were cameras watching from all the small alley intersections. On buildings men with sniper rifles would patiently score the scene. I have to say this took away the general "Tibetan feeling". The whole time we were there it felt like there was someone or something watching us. Saying that, the old city was, overrated. The streets are lined with merchants selling the exact same crap that is sold all over China. The buildings, all about four stories, were peeling and crumbling. Because of the riots in March tourism was down and this made the touts even more eager to sell their rocks, silk, and other tourist paraphernalia.
We were given a tour of the holiest temple in all of Tibet, which was again repetitive. The tombs however, were of great interest. Some of them were so huge and so valuable it was amazing to see how accessible they were. Although it would be a good heist, I think getting out of Lhasa with a 10 ton tomb would be difficult. I did learn about the different type of Buddhisms though. And I took a special interest in the Red Sect, where they use sex to get to higher levels of spirituality.
First, there are a lot of Chinese in Lhasa. Most of the small streets I wandered were occupied by migrants or peasants, just live every other big Chinese city. The Tibetans are easy to pick out though, especially the pilgrims.
Since Lhasa is a sacred place, pilgrims come from hundreds of kilometers away to pay tribute to the city. Almost all of them had a prayer wheel, something that resembles a tin can on a stick, that they twirl in a clock-wise motion. They are dressed in country clothes and big hats and, the scary thing, is that they looked to be all over 60. Our tour guide guessed that in 20 years there would be no more pilgrims. They have hard, brown, beaten faces. They are much larger than the average Asian, but somehow they maintain a friendly glow. They follow certain routes around the city and I found myself following them to see what it was all about. They stopped at small temples that were packed with people being blessed by monks. Around another corner they rubbed their knee on a rock. The rock had been rubbed by so many knees that it was indented and shined a polished black. The route led to the old city, and that was where things got scary.
There are armed guards stationed on every street. By armed guards I mean 17 year-olds with rifles, pistols, bats, and shields. They marched the streets in lines of fives in order to 'keep the peace'. There were cameras watching from all the small alley intersections. On buildings men with sniper rifles would patiently score the scene. I have to say this took away the general "Tibetan feeling". The whole time we were there it felt like there was someone or something watching us. Saying that, the old city was, overrated. The streets are lined with merchants selling the exact same crap that is sold all over China. The buildings, all about four stories, were peeling and crumbling. Because of the riots in March tourism was down and this made the touts even more eager to sell their rocks, silk, and other tourist paraphernalia.
We were given a tour of the holiest temple in all of Tibet, which was again repetitive. The tombs however, were of great interest. Some of them were so huge and so valuable it was amazing to see how accessible they were. Although it would be a good heist, I think getting out of Lhasa with a 10 ton tomb would be difficult. I did learn about the different type of Buddhisms though. And I took a special interest in the Red Sect, where they use sex to get to higher levels of spirituality.
Lhasa
Just from the amount of security on the train we imagined that Lhasa would be a prison. Sure enough, as soon as we got off the train, we saw the army of armed guards stationed outside the station. Our 'tour guide', who we were forced to pay for, picked us up at the airport and gave us a 'traditional' white scarf. He said that it was a cultural gift from Tibet to welcome people into their homes. We drove to the 2 star hotel that was included in our package (an outstanding 2500 RMB(350USD) for 3 days) and our guide warned us not to shower because of the altitude. I have to admit that the first days in Lhasa, even though we had been slowly acclimatising in Qinghai, were hard. It was like eating psilocybin. My head felt like it was slowly being crushed. My body was heavy but I still felt like I was flying. Any kind of strenuous effort would leave me breathless. However, we drank as much water as we could and went all the way up to 5300 meters without suffering too bad. That night we caught our first glimpse of the Potala Palace, the Dalai Lamas former residence. I need to add that to the list of jaw droppers.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Free Tibet
I read an article the other day about all the fanatic people who want to free Tibet and it really hit the spot. Once I find it I will link it here,
When the riot happened in March us foreigners living in China and those of us who like the Chinese were really stuck in the middle.
Let me start this controversial article by saying I went to Tibet.
Now a lot of people have a lot of different arguments and a lot of terrible things to say about the Chinese 'invasion'. I have heard stories of talking away their culture, their buidings, their way of life, and a lot of other terrible things. Lets not dwell too much on what happend in the 1950's. There were terrible things happening to a lot of people then.
Lets talk about now.
I saw a lot of temples, a lot of pilgrims, and a lot of people praying everywhere in Lhasa. The people seemed pretty free to pray. Incase anyone thinks that China's 'communist'* regime doesnt tolerate religion there are tens of thousands of temples and mosques and even churches all around China.
China is developing so a lot of things they are doing, including the destruction of buildings in Lhasa and other parts of the country, are under a lot of scrutiny. They are developing. It is a process. And as much as we love to see old, molding, “traditional” houses. A lot of people want a better life. And I know that old people who have had their houses past down to them generation after generation don’t want to leave. One thing I learned from my Japanese boss was " You cant make everyone happy".
The Tibetan people themselves are extremely spiritual (sometimes in very bizarre ways) and the countryside is poverty stricken. I have never been impressed with children beggars. I've seem them in almost every country I've been to. Usually their parents are two steps behind them, urging them on. Interesting enough I didn't see a lot in Laos or in Burma, unarguably the poorest countries in Asia. The kids in Tibet were pitifully. In every village I went to, no matter how small or secluded, they trotted towards us with big eyes, filthy faces, and open palms. This was obviously taught from their parents. And If I can blame them, I blame foreigners.
I've seen them about. They come in on the tour bus or in their aircon tainted glass vehicles. They stop at a village, hand out some candy or coins, get a cute picture and leave. In their hearts they feel like they've helped.
Well you haven't.
Stop
If you want to help, build a school.
*Anyone who knows what the defintion of communism is knows that China is not a communist country.
To add to that, no country that has ever claimed its government as communist has followed the rules of communism. Therefore, in all the history of time, we have never, ever, seen a communist government.
When the riot happened in March us foreigners living in China and those of us who like the Chinese were really stuck in the middle.
Let me start this controversial article by saying I went to Tibet.
Now a lot of people have a lot of different arguments and a lot of terrible things to say about the Chinese 'invasion'. I have heard stories of talking away their culture, their buidings, their way of life, and a lot of other terrible things. Lets not dwell too much on what happend in the 1950's. There were terrible things happening to a lot of people then.
Lets talk about now.
I saw a lot of temples, a lot of pilgrims, and a lot of people praying everywhere in Lhasa. The people seemed pretty free to pray. Incase anyone thinks that China's 'communist'* regime doesnt tolerate religion there are tens of thousands of temples and mosques and even churches all around China.
China is developing so a lot of things they are doing, including the destruction of buildings in Lhasa and other parts of the country, are under a lot of scrutiny. They are developing. It is a process. And as much as we love to see old, molding, “traditional” houses. A lot of people want a better life. And I know that old people who have had their houses past down to them generation after generation don’t want to leave. One thing I learned from my Japanese boss was " You cant make everyone happy".
The Tibetan people themselves are extremely spiritual (sometimes in very bizarre ways) and the countryside is poverty stricken. I have never been impressed with children beggars. I've seem them in almost every country I've been to. Usually their parents are two steps behind them, urging them on. Interesting enough I didn't see a lot in Laos or in Burma, unarguably the poorest countries in Asia. The kids in Tibet were pitifully. In every village I went to, no matter how small or secluded, they trotted towards us with big eyes, filthy faces, and open palms. This was obviously taught from their parents. And If I can blame them, I blame foreigners.
I've seen them about. They come in on the tour bus or in their aircon tainted glass vehicles. They stop at a village, hand out some candy or coins, get a cute picture and leave. In their hearts they feel like they've helped.
Well you haven't.
Stop
If you want to help, build a school.
*Anyone who knows what the defintion of communism is knows that China is not a communist country.
To add to that, no country that has ever claimed its government as communist has followed the rules of communism. Therefore, in all the history of time, we have never, ever, seen a communist government.
Sneak into Tibet
Now I know earlier I said that you can almost do anything in China, but getting into Tibet without an expensive permit is NOT one of them. Our ticket and permit was checked twice before we got on the train and three times once we got in. Then it was checked at every hotel we checked into, over 10 times while we were on the road, and finally, at immigration. So, unless you’re sneakier than Bond or have more connections than Trump I wouldn’t try it
Tibet Today
Things have changed a lot in Tibet.
A long time ago Tibet, and especially Lhasa, was known as the Forrbidden city. Many people trekked through the worldest highest mountains trying to get to there but died. Then came a time when people went to Tibet and came back raving about the awsome spiritualism, the hospital people, and the beauty of the land. Then, in the 1950s, the Chinese Liberation Army entered Tibet and anyone who has studied anything about Tibetan history will know what happened then. Then came a time when China closed its doors. The world was at war and nobody new what was happening. China opened its doors again people were back into Tibet but something had changed.
A long time ago Tibet, and especially Lhasa, was known as the Forrbidden city. Many people trekked through the worldest highest mountains trying to get to there but died. Then came a time when people went to Tibet and came back raving about the awsome spiritualism, the hospital people, and the beauty of the land. Then, in the 1950s, the Chinese Liberation Army entered Tibet and anyone who has studied anything about Tibetan history will know what happened then. Then came a time when China closed its doors. The world was at war and nobody new what was happening. China opened its doors again people were back into Tibet but something had changed.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Karakuri Lake
The lake
As soon as we got out of the car we were offered accommodation with the local Kyrkies that lived at the edge of the lake. Echo wanted to try her time as a cowgirl so we took a horse ride to the village to check out our new home. The village was extremely simple. I first thought that the feces that were spread out around the village were used for fertilizer. (You've seen what dog urine does to grass, can you imagine what camel pee does!?) but later learned they use it for fire. Grey stone fences surrounded mud made houses. The towns one and only uni bathroom was in the center of the city. It was repulsive The local school kids had tulip stem green eyes and marched around a dirty Chinese flag.
Although the city was interesting and could keep a farmer intrigued for hours Echo and I decided to do some hiking. The climb up was difficult. Together the hardest thing we had ever climbed was the stairs to my flat when the lift was out. But the difficulty of the trek made it so much more gratifying when we reached the top. The yellow valley was speckled with camels and yaks and the bright turquoise lake reflected the cloudless sky with perfection.
At home our family lit a poop fire and give us some sort of stew. They started the entertainment by standing up and pretending to dance but later I understood they just wanted to give their teenage son a chance to get boogie with it with my girlfriend.
Day 2
We reunited with the two women we came up with. They had spent the whole last day driving and were very eager to drive all the way back to the city. On the way we stopped by various mountains with very logical names like Red Mountain and White Mountain. We once stopped at another mountain. After taking pictures of it one of the women asked what it was called. When the driver said it didn’t have a name the women let out a puff of air while angrily asking why we had stopped deleted the picture of her camera.
As soon as we got out of the car we were offered accommodation with the local Kyrkies that lived at the edge of the lake. Echo wanted to try her time as a cowgirl so we took a horse ride to the village to check out our new home. The village was extremely simple. I first thought that the feces that were spread out around the village were used for fertilizer. (You've seen what dog urine does to grass, can you imagine what camel pee does!?) but later learned they use it for fire. Grey stone fences surrounded mud made houses. The towns one and only uni bathroom was in the center of the city. It was repulsive The local school kids had tulip stem green eyes and marched around a dirty Chinese flag.
Although the city was interesting and could keep a farmer intrigued for hours Echo and I decided to do some hiking. The climb up was difficult. Together the hardest thing we had ever climbed was the stairs to my flat when the lift was out. But the difficulty of the trek made it so much more gratifying when we reached the top. The yellow valley was speckled with camels and yaks and the bright turquoise lake reflected the cloudless sky with perfection.
At home our family lit a poop fire and give us some sort of stew. They started the entertainment by standing up and pretending to dance but later I understood they just wanted to give their teenage son a chance to get boogie with it with my girlfriend.
Day 2
We reunited with the two women we came up with. They had spent the whole last day driving and were very eager to drive all the way back to the city. On the way we stopped by various mountains with very logical names like Red Mountain and White Mountain. We once stopped at another mountain. After taking pictures of it one of the women asked what it was called. When the driver said it didn’t have a name the women let out a puff of air while angrily asking why we had stopped deleted the picture of her camera.
Bickering Tuesdays
This is a part of an on going column called Bickering Tuesdays. Since most times I bicker its on a Tuesdays and since a lot of these things happened on Tuesday and because, most convenient, today is a Tuesday.
You can’t!
You know one thing I really hate? When complete strangers tell me I can’t do something. I am so sick of people telling me what or where I could or could not do or go.
Story goes like this
"I’d like to use the Internet please." I said politely.
“You can’t.” Says a boy of 14 years old without looking up from his stupid computer game.
“ Why not?” I asked.
“Because you don’t have a passport.”
So I ride across town to pickup my passport.
“Here’s my passport.” I say forcefully.
“You can’t.” Says the geek again.
“What’d you mean I can’t, here’s my passport, I have my passport!”
“You need a Chinese passport”
At that moment I really wanted to take the nerds head and smash through the computer screen. But I've learned that smacking arrogant Chinese boys is no way to solve any problems. I learned the hard way. See the 899USD smack.
Instead I pulled the cord on his gay Warcraft game.
Take that!
Story 2
I want to go to Karakuri lake
“Foreigner, haha, you cant go! The fat Chinese man said as he rubbed his attended his geeky, cheap glasses.
"Yes I can, my friends just went there." I said matter of factly.
“Nope, you can’t. You have to get a permit from so and so who wont give it to you because you are a FOREIGNER!”
"Listen you little..." My face started to go red. Before I said another word my girlfriend grabbed my arm and gave me that, 'don't' look.
"My friend just went, I can go, and I'm going to go. With or without you." I said and left the room. Nothing bugs me more than knowitalls who don't know jack$&!#
Story 3
“You can’t stay at the lake with the local people, foreigners aren’t allowed” Says the peasant driver.
“Yes I can, I know a guy who just did it”
“Nope, I know you can’t.
I've learned that this area is full of knowitalls why just don't know. So I sit back, and patiently wait for the time I can make this idiot lose face in front of all the passengers.
Moral of the story
I'm not a bad person and I think I can talk with any reasonable person. What made me so angry in all of these situations was the manner of the people, and their tone of voice.
Not only did I get on the Internet just down the street from that shop, but I also got to the lake and stayed with the local people. There are so many people with their heads up there you know what or filled with so much high esteem that you need to really be firm.
Take it from me. Almost anything can be done in China. You just need to talk to the right person and stay away from the people who tell you you can’t.
You can’t!
You know one thing I really hate? When complete strangers tell me I can’t do something. I am so sick of people telling me what or where I could or could not do or go.
Story goes like this
"I’d like to use the Internet please." I said politely.
“You can’t.” Says a boy of 14 years old without looking up from his stupid computer game.
“ Why not?” I asked.
“Because you don’t have a passport.”
So I ride across town to pickup my passport.
“Here’s my passport.” I say forcefully.
“You can’t.” Says the geek again.
“What’d you mean I can’t, here’s my passport, I have my passport!”
“You need a Chinese passport”
At that moment I really wanted to take the nerds head and smash through the computer screen. But I've learned that smacking arrogant Chinese boys is no way to solve any problems. I learned the hard way. See the 899USD smack.
Instead I pulled the cord on his gay Warcraft game.
Take that!
Story 2
I want to go to Karakuri lake
“Foreigner, haha, you cant go! The fat Chinese man said as he rubbed his attended his geeky, cheap glasses.
"Yes I can, my friends just went there." I said matter of factly.
“Nope, you can’t. You have to get a permit from so and so who wont give it to you because you are a FOREIGNER!”
"Listen you little..." My face started to go red. Before I said another word my girlfriend grabbed my arm and gave me that, 'don't' look.
"My friend just went, I can go, and I'm going to go. With or without you." I said and left the room. Nothing bugs me more than knowitalls who don't know jack$&!#
Story 3
“You can’t stay at the lake with the local people, foreigners aren’t allowed” Says the peasant driver.
“Yes I can, I know a guy who just did it”
“Nope, I know you can’t.
I've learned that this area is full of knowitalls why just don't know. So I sit back, and patiently wait for the time I can make this idiot lose face in front of all the passengers.
Moral of the story
I'm not a bad person and I think I can talk with any reasonable person. What made me so angry in all of these situations was the manner of the people, and their tone of voice.
Not only did I get on the Internet just down the street from that shop, but I also got to the lake and stayed with the local people. There are so many people with their heads up there you know what or filled with so much high esteem that you need to really be firm.
Take it from me. Almost anything can be done in China. You just need to talk to the right person and stay away from the people who tell you you can’t.
Kurks in Kashgar (Kashi)
We went to Kashgar for the famous Sunday Market. Apparently this market is known all over Central Asia. It was definitely popular.
There were thousands of men selling camels in the North. Thousands of women were buying scarves in the South. Hundreds of kids were bartering for cassettes in the West. And, to tell you the truth, there wasn’t much going on in the East.
Animal Farm
The Animal market was full of drably dressed men with big white beards. They came to sell their goats, horses, cows, and camels. A camel goes for around 800USD while a cow can go for as little as 650USD. I couldn’t figure how much a goat cost but it seemed that there were a number of things that were important.
1) Weight
Bulky peasants with bulging muscles would bear-hug goats.
2) Bum
Smaller peasants with frail arms would smack the bum or poke the anus with a stick
3) Teeth
Strange peasants with some sort of teeth fetish would open mouths and examine gums.
I can’t say that I personally wasn’t perplexed a lot of the time I was at the animal market. No one could, or they could and they wouldn't, speak Chinese. This apparent part of China is about as far from the capital as you can get, and from the recent bombings and murders of Chinese police men, we can assume they prefer it this way.
Ladies Market
The scarves, pot, and hat market was a colorful sight. I have been very impressed with the beauty and style of the XinJiang women and the market felt like a big event. Women here dressed to the 10’s with glittery dresses, exquisite silk headscarves, and make-up which I have never seen before. The people here see the uni-brow and smile.
"Oh how beautiful your babies uni-brow is."
"Oh now, Zanzibar, I notice your babies uni-brow is getting thicker and thicker by the day." (I imagine) They say to each other
Almost all babies and a lot of women have a line drawn between their eyebrows to join them. I never understood why. It was really hard getting anything out of the people. But, I did manage to talk to one.
Super Muslim
Us in multi-cultural cities may have came across the odd woman with a headscarf. Those of us who have been to a Muslim country may have seen the women who cover their faces and you can only see their eyes. And I'm not sure how many people have seen these zealous women who cover their faces completely. When I asked a man about this he told me only the best and most faithful Muslim woman practice this custom. When I asked about his wife he said she also did this. When I asked what he thought about women who didn't do this, he responded with a pinkie finger.
The pinkie finger means bad...very bad.
Old goods are good goods.
Some must think that old cassettes, vehicles, and clothing styles just go to the trash. We’ll those people are wrong. Here all these are the in things! The ancient music would blast out of ancient radios while hip kids in ancient clothes sat on the curbs and ‘chilled’.
There were thousands of men selling camels in the North. Thousands of women were buying scarves in the South. Hundreds of kids were bartering for cassettes in the West. And, to tell you the truth, there wasn’t much going on in the East.
Animal Farm
The Animal market was full of drably dressed men with big white beards. They came to sell their goats, horses, cows, and camels. A camel goes for around 800USD while a cow can go for as little as 650USD. I couldn’t figure how much a goat cost but it seemed that there were a number of things that were important.
1) Weight
Bulky peasants with bulging muscles would bear-hug goats.
2) Bum
Smaller peasants with frail arms would smack the bum or poke the anus with a stick
3) Teeth
Strange peasants with some sort of teeth fetish would open mouths and examine gums.
I can’t say that I personally wasn’t perplexed a lot of the time I was at the animal market. No one could, or they could and they wouldn't, speak Chinese. This apparent part of China is about as far from the capital as you can get, and from the recent bombings and murders of Chinese police men, we can assume they prefer it this way.
Ladies Market
The scarves, pot, and hat market was a colorful sight. I have been very impressed with the beauty and style of the XinJiang women and the market felt like a big event. Women here dressed to the 10’s with glittery dresses, exquisite silk headscarves, and make-up which I have never seen before. The people here see the uni-brow and smile.
"Oh how beautiful your babies uni-brow is."
"Oh now, Zanzibar, I notice your babies uni-brow is getting thicker and thicker by the day." (I imagine) They say to each other
Almost all babies and a lot of women have a line drawn between their eyebrows to join them. I never understood why. It was really hard getting anything out of the people. But, I did manage to talk to one.
Super Muslim
Us in multi-cultural cities may have came across the odd woman with a headscarf. Those of us who have been to a Muslim country may have seen the women who cover their faces and you can only see their eyes. And I'm not sure how many people have seen these zealous women who cover their faces completely. When I asked a man about this he told me only the best and most faithful Muslim woman practice this custom. When I asked about his wife he said she also did this. When I asked what he thought about women who didn't do this, he responded with a pinkie finger.
The pinkie finger means bad...very bad.
Old goods are good goods.
Some must think that old cassettes, vehicles, and clothing styles just go to the trash. We’ll those people are wrong. Here all these are the in things! The ancient music would blast out of ancient radios while hip kids in ancient clothes sat on the curbs and ‘chilled’.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
A whole new world, don't you dare close your eyes!
I picked up Echo at the airport in Urumqi, the capital of Xinjiang, and headed to a city that is well known all over Central Asia.
I’ve heard a lot of different reports about the city.
“The pollution is bloody terrible!” Spat a spirtual Spanish woman.
“The traffic is insane man!” Stated a stoned Canadian.
“There are Prozies everywhere!" Said a Slovenian sex tourist.
To sum things up, this could be any city in China. I had found an awesome hostel called Maitown right in the center of town. Bringing the girlfriend met I had to bring things up a little bit. Although I found my 30 RMB dorm cosy and comfortable I decided to move us to a 170RMB single to add a little romance.
Urumqi is a city with a lot of flavor. The markets are intense and there is no shortage of goats, silk worms, or fish (Ironic since there is no city further away from the ocean.).
Besides eating, buying knock off North Face clothese (which is a total waste of time because its 10 times cheaper in Lhasa) and maybe climbing Red Mountain there isn’t much else to do.
So we left.
I’ve heard a lot of different reports about the city.
“The pollution is bloody terrible!” Spat a spirtual Spanish woman.
“The traffic is insane man!” Stated a stoned Canadian.
“There are Prozies everywhere!" Said a Slovenian sex tourist.
To sum things up, this could be any city in China. I had found an awesome hostel called Maitown right in the center of town. Bringing the girlfriend met I had to bring things up a little bit. Although I found my 30 RMB dorm cosy and comfortable I decided to move us to a 170RMB single to add a little romance.
Urumqi is a city with a lot of flavor. The markets are intense and there is no shortage of goats, silk worms, or fish (Ironic since there is no city further away from the ocean.).
Besides eating, buying knock off North Face clothese (which is a total waste of time because its 10 times cheaper in Lhasa) and maybe climbing Red Mountain there isn’t much else to do.
So we left.
Grape Country
Have you ever been to a vineyard?
Have you ever been to a Muslim City?
Have you ever been to a city that was ravened by Kabul Khan?
While if your interested in this kind of stuff head to Turpan, XinJiang.
After I got off the bus some friendly Muslims eating grapes directed me to my guesthouse. The road road I took was shaded with arches supporting thousands of grape vines. Above you could see bunches of Sprite green grapes hanging lazily from the branches. The people sat on benches eating grapes and chatting. Children rode by me on these new kind of skateboards throwing grapes at eachother. Men on bicycles road past selling, you guessed it, grapes.
I bought 1 kilo for 25 cents. And let me tell you, those grapes were the cheapest and most regular grapes I've ever had the chance to get my hands on.
Although I love grapes I super love bread. And in XinJiang there is bread on every corner. They make it in a little disc shape in small little round ovens. They are amazing when they are hot. Not only do they have bread but they have yellow carrots, white apples, and this yellow thing with purple veins on it that tastes like a mix of rhubarb and melon.
Have you ever been to a Muslim City?
Have you ever been to a city that was ravened by Kabul Khan?
While if your interested in this kind of stuff head to Turpan, XinJiang.
After I got off the bus some friendly Muslims eating grapes directed me to my guesthouse. The road road I took was shaded with arches supporting thousands of grape vines. Above you could see bunches of Sprite green grapes hanging lazily from the branches. The people sat on benches eating grapes and chatting. Children rode by me on these new kind of skateboards throwing grapes at eachother. Men on bicycles road past selling, you guessed it, grapes.
I bought 1 kilo for 25 cents. And let me tell you, those grapes were the cheapest and most regular grapes I've ever had the chance to get my hands on.
Although I love grapes I super love bread. And in XinJiang there is bread on every corner. They make it in a little disc shape in small little round ovens. They are amazing when they are hot. Not only do they have bread but they have yellow carrots, white apples, and this yellow thing with purple veins on it that tastes like a mix of rhubarb and melon.
The markets are the best. They are loaded with raisins, nuts, and sweets. The aroma of the spices leaves you crying or craving curry. But of everything, it was the people that kept me coming back. Every woman I saw was wearing something sparkly. Their dresses were of all colors of the rainbow and were always worn with style. They resembled something like gypsies from the medieval time. The men wore colorful skullcaps or diamond hats and had the most amazing white straight or black puffy beards. They had these turquoise green, auburn or chestnut brown, beautiful eyes. I would stare at them with admiration and wonder. And they would stare at me. I think its not every day they see a blond hair, blue eyed, orange bearded man. 
The sky was azure blue every morning. I would wake up and bike ride down to the river for a splash, then head to the orchards to get some grapes. The ancient villages had all been destroyed in the past and left it all to your imagination of what once was.
But once was is no more, and what is now will be no more tomorrow. So I will say, Turpan today is one of my favorite places in China.
The sky was azure blue every morning. I would wake up and bike ride down to the river for a splash, then head to the orchards to get some grapes. The ancient villages had all been destroyed in the past and left it all to your imagination of what once was.
But once was is no more, and what is now will be no more tomorrow. So I will say, Turpan today is one of my favorite places in China.
The New Frontier
XinJiang (Shinjang)
Xinjiang, in Kyle's English, means the New Frontier. There are no better words to describe this place. I knew of the people of Xinjiang from every city I've lived in China. They look like foreigners, they sell noodles or shishkabobs, and one time a group of three of them tried (unsuccsessfully) to steal from me. They have this sly look to them. The men almost all wear skullcaps and the women wear head scarves. They are Muslim.
This is what I knew, and this is what I saw.
I got off the train in the first city of interest in the far east of the province. I was mentally armed. I got off the train and stubbornly walked straight towards the bus station determined not to be ripped off by the sly men that live in this place.
"Turpan, Turpan, you go to Turpan?" A short man with a white skullcap shouted behind me.
I kept walking, ingnoring his calls and thinking, 'this guy isint going to get the best of me'.
"10 Yuan, 10 Yuan," He persisted.
'Not getting me' I thought.
15 minutes later I arrived at the bus station and the man toldmr I just missed the bus and would have to wait 40 minutes for the next one. I hauled my bags and lined up to buy a ticket.
"That'll be 8.7 RMB"
One strike for me.
Xinjiang, in Kyle's English, means the New Frontier. There are no better words to describe this place. I knew of the people of Xinjiang from every city I've lived in China. They look like foreigners, they sell noodles or shishkabobs, and one time a group of three of them tried (unsuccsessfully) to steal from me. They have this sly look to them. The men almost all wear skullcaps and the women wear head scarves. They are Muslim.
This is what I knew, and this is what I saw.
I got off the train in the first city of interest in the far east of the province. I was mentally armed. I got off the train and stubbornly walked straight towards the bus station determined not to be ripped off by the sly men that live in this place.
"Turpan, Turpan, you go to Turpan?" A short man with a white skullcap shouted behind me.
I kept walking, ingnoring his calls and thinking, 'this guy isint going to get the best of me'.
"10 Yuan, 10 Yuan," He persisted.
'Not getting me' I thought.
15 minutes later I arrived at the bus station and the man toldmr I just missed the bus and would have to wait 40 minutes for the next one. I hauled my bags and lined up to buy a ticket.
"That'll be 8.7 RMB"
One strike for me.
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