Muslims
Most of the world is Sunni, but in Iran and some places in Pakistan you can find the Shi'ites.
I found them in a small village 35KM outside of Lahore.
A brown man with a black beard dressed in a black robe preached Islam to a crowd of followers. They sat on a carpet and everyone was surrounded by a technicolored tent.
I arrived early and was given some tea in a small room while waiting. There a man showed me scars on his back from the last festival. Today they would be using their hands to beat themselves, six months ago they used knives.
Just before the sun began to set the procession began. Young men about twenty years old began removing their shirts. Most of them had deep pink scars etched across their backs. The lined up side by side in lines. As they stood facing each other a group of men started singing. Behind them the Shi'ite Flag was raised by two men. To the side, where I stood, was a shrine carried by four men. Inside was a babies shirt that was splattered with blood. This festival, and the pain they were about to suffer, was to commemorate their forefathers who suffered from horrible acts of martyrdom.
The singing continued and the men prepared. The beating started slow at first. They raised their hands and brought them down softly upon their chests. The singers raised their voices and the men raised their hands. The singing quickened and the thumps got louder. They beat themselves with no flinches, shouts, or cries of pain. I watched as blood began to mix with sweat and slide down their chests. Their shouts were suttle, meaningful, and deep. Some of them moved into a trance.
Over and over their bloody palms would raise up into the air and come crashing down against their chest while they chanted Islamic verses. The village was quiet. Nobody smiled. None of the children played. Everyone watched and most people silently said the words being sung.
It was a moving, disturbing, and yet somehow beautiful experience.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
The Regale Internet Inn with Malik
Everyone who I talked to raved about the Regale. Malik the owner was said to be full of information, planned amazing trips, and supplied the cheapest rooms in town.
Everything everyone said was true.
I heard about trip to see a Shi'ite Muslim festival where they beat themselves with their hands so I got checked in, checked myself out, and then jumped on a motorbike to see the festival.
Everything everyone said was true.
I heard about trip to see a Shi'ite Muslim festival where they beat themselves with their hands so I got checked in, checked myself out, and then jumped on a motorbike to see the festival.
Lahore and the craziness of couch surfing begins!
Well my first few days in Pakistan were nothing like I imagined they'd be. I found a website called Couch Surfing and it gives you a great chance to see the different types of lives in other countries. The basics is that you are able to stay on someones couch for free. It Europe it might be a backpackers dirt flat, in Asia its generally better off people.
I pulled up to their mansion at about 4:00 pm. All the houses were large, gated, and sculpted. They had lawns and sidewalks and street lights. There were proper intersections and roundabouts decorated with fountains and waterfalls. I hadn't seen anything so first world since Singapore.
The servants greeted me at the gate, took my bag, and I was shown to the living room. There the kids introduced themselves to me. Their English was excellent and they were brilliant for their age. I was introduced to the wife and the grandmother and was told that father, the man I met on the website, wouldn't be home for a couple hours. They offered me some food and I was sat at a huge table you see in castles. They brought out 3 huge plates of chicken, mutton, and vegetables. I was really surprised when the continued with bread, rice, salad, and three drink choices. Their hospitality was amazing.
That night the man came home. We met, had a chat and exchanged some tales and then sat out in is 2009 Honda. We drove to his friends house where we were greeted with a bottle of vodka.
The night was an interesting mix of Pepsi, poker, and pizza.
All in Pakistan.
I pulled up to their mansion at about 4:00 pm. All the houses were large, gated, and sculpted. They had lawns and sidewalks and street lights. There were proper intersections and roundabouts decorated with fountains and waterfalls. I hadn't seen anything so first world since Singapore.
The servants greeted me at the gate, took my bag, and I was shown to the living room. There the kids introduced themselves to me. Their English was excellent and they were brilliant for their age. I was introduced to the wife and the grandmother and was told that father, the man I met on the website, wouldn't be home for a couple hours. They offered me some food and I was sat at a huge table you see in castles. They brought out 3 huge plates of chicken, mutton, and vegetables. I was really surprised when the continued with bread, rice, salad, and three drink choices. Their hospitality was amazing.
That night the man came home. We met, had a chat and exchanged some tales and then sat out in is 2009 Honda. We drove to his friends house where we were greeted with a bottle of vodka.
The night was an interesting mix of Pepsi, poker, and pizza.
All in Pakistan.
Paksitan
As I walked the lonely no mans strip of land between the borders flashes of friends, family, and the media began to make my heart thump. In the distance I could see the Pakistan flag taunting me.
"PAKISTAN!"I imagined a man in a 1950's communist propaganda film singing.
In the news Pakistan was reported as one of the most dangerous places in the world. An American was just kidnapped, the extremists threatened to behead a man from Poland, and a Chinese engineer was still missing. Images of screaming women who lost their children, angry brothers burning American flags, and pale white hands covered with dirty blood crying for help from rubble troubled my mind.
As the gate came closer the flag became bigger and the situation became much more real.
"I am going into Pakistan." I told myself out loud.
" There is no way back." I said with a little tension in my voice.
" I have to do this."
At the actual gate Indian and Pakistan soldiers - men who yesterday stared with screams of hate at each other- shared a cigarette.
I handed my passport to the Indian soldier, he looked at it, gave it back. Then I handed it to the Pakistani soldier, he looked at it and handed it back.
I took a breath, and entered the country.
The first police officer I met had beautiful green hazel eyes.
"Why are you coming to Pakistan?" He asked quizzically.
"Well," I had rehearsed this but now so much shit was going through my mind I couldn't think. "Well I am interested in seeing the culture..." I stuttered.
"Are you Muslim?"
I've always disliked questions about religion because they just don't get it over here. If your not a Christian you must be a Muslim, a Hindu or a Buddhist. When you try to explain you don't have a religion they get this kind of confused, astonished, frown on their face.
"I'm a teacher"
It seemed to do and I was sent to customs.
It was a clean building, almost like an airport. Not what I suspected of Pakistan.
"Hellllllo!" A man with a teddy bear face and big great beard called from a desk on the other side of the building.
"How are you today?"
"I'm fine sir."
"Is everything ok with you?"
"Um, yep, Im fine."
"Great, In which country you come from sir?" He asked with a friendly smile.
"Canada"
"Ah, Toronto, Montreal, or Vancouver?"
"Vancouver."
"Ohhh, is this your first time to Pakistan?"
"Yes it is sir."
"Well Welcome, I hope you enjoy my country"
And I was stamped in.
It was hard to not have a genuinely good feeling after meeting a man like that and I walked into Pakistan feeling great.
Five men approached me after I actually entered the country. They were rickshaw drivers. Their English accent was very different than that of Indians. As we negotiated a price more and more men began to crowd around us. Some of them had brown hair, white faces, and blue eyes- descendants of Alexanders armies. Within seconds there was a group of 20 men around me. The situation was uncomfortable.
I was kinda of caught up in it all - The tangerine sun setting in the dusty rice fields, the evening prayer echoing from the white mosque, the curious men with their serious but not dangerous faces. I started at them staring at me. Pakistan was going to be interesting.
That first meeting has sort of summed up my whole trip.
A lot of unnecessary nervousness, a lot of nice surprises, a lot of unbelievable friendliness and hospitality from complete strangers, and a lot of staring.
"PAKISTAN!"I imagined a man in a 1950's communist propaganda film singing.
In the news Pakistan was reported as one of the most dangerous places in the world. An American was just kidnapped, the extremists threatened to behead a man from Poland, and a Chinese engineer was still missing. Images of screaming women who lost their children, angry brothers burning American flags, and pale white hands covered with dirty blood crying for help from rubble troubled my mind.
As the gate came closer the flag became bigger and the situation became much more real.
"I am going into Pakistan." I told myself out loud.
" There is no way back." I said with a little tension in my voice.
" I have to do this."
At the actual gate Indian and Pakistan soldiers - men who yesterday stared with screams of hate at each other- shared a cigarette.
I handed my passport to the Indian soldier, he looked at it, gave it back. Then I handed it to the Pakistani soldier, he looked at it and handed it back.
I took a breath, and entered the country.
The first police officer I met had beautiful green hazel eyes.
"Why are you coming to Pakistan?" He asked quizzically.
"Well," I had rehearsed this but now so much shit was going through my mind I couldn't think. "Well I am interested in seeing the culture..." I stuttered.
"Are you Muslim?"
I've always disliked questions about religion because they just don't get it over here. If your not a Christian you must be a Muslim, a Hindu or a Buddhist. When you try to explain you don't have a religion they get this kind of confused, astonished, frown on their face.
"I'm a teacher"
It seemed to do and I was sent to customs.
It was a clean building, almost like an airport. Not what I suspected of Pakistan.
"Hellllllo!" A man with a teddy bear face and big great beard called from a desk on the other side of the building.
"How are you today?"
"I'm fine sir."
"Is everything ok with you?"
"Um, yep, Im fine."
"Great, In which country you come from sir?" He asked with a friendly smile.
"Canada"
"Ah, Toronto, Montreal, or Vancouver?"
"Vancouver."
"Ohhh, is this your first time to Pakistan?"
"Yes it is sir."
"Well Welcome, I hope you enjoy my country"
And I was stamped in.
It was hard to not have a genuinely good feeling after meeting a man like that and I walked into Pakistan feeling great.
Five men approached me after I actually entered the country. They were rickshaw drivers. Their English accent was very different than that of Indians. As we negotiated a price more and more men began to crowd around us. Some of them had brown hair, white faces, and blue eyes- descendants of Alexanders armies. Within seconds there was a group of 20 men around me. The situation was uncomfortable.
I was kinda of caught up in it all - The tangerine sun setting in the dusty rice fields, the evening prayer echoing from the white mosque, the curious men with their serious but not dangerous faces. I started at them staring at me. Pakistan was going to be interesting.
That first meeting has sort of summed up my whole trip.
A lot of unnecessary nervousness, a lot of nice surprises, a lot of unbelievable friendliness and hospitality from complete strangers, and a lot of staring.
Pakistan - Indian Border Ceremony
We arrived early to get good seats but it turned out to be unnecessary. Foreigners were supplied with VIP seats closer to the action. We watched as excited nationalistic men ran with 6 inch long grins up and down the road with Indian flags. Like most places the men and women were segregated. So as the men and ran and screamed in their sections some of the younger women shined thier patriotic colors by dancing giddily in circles.
At once the officers began blowing their whistles and everyone was sat down.
Less than 20 metes away was Pakistan. The large white and green flag with the Muslim moon waved gloomily in the grey sky.
Only two large gates separated the two countries that are practically at war. Their soldiers were simultaneous with their actions, although the Pakistan side was much quieter.
India started about 1 second before Pakistan.
"Hindustan!" The crowed echoed the commentators shouts with equal excitement.
"Pakistan!" The boarder did not stop sound and the echos from Pakistan's commentator was loud and clear.
This seemingly pointless shouting continued until the commentators burst out into an all out scream. The point, I guess, was to see who could yell longer.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" It continued, with out exaggeration, for more than a minute.
At this time 6 men with red feathers on their heads stomped out of a room. They had Ronald McDonald black boots on that seemed to be much to large for their feet. Their stomps shook the ground and sent vibrations in the stands. The Indians in the crowd were on their feet with uncontrollable delight.
Each soldier took its turn half marching, half running, half stomping towards the Pakistan gate. I suppose on the other side soldiers were doing the same thing.
Once the soldiers were assembled near the gates they flew open and a new staring war started. Ropes were produced and the soldiers, in probably a formal fashion but from what I could see hissyfit fashion, began throwing ropes at each other. Their flags were raised, the ropes were thrown at each other again. The flags were lowered. The soldiers stomped back. Their kicks were straight as arrows and some were less than centimeters from their faces.
The commentators started their screaming again.
And the show was over.
Oh the world today.
At once the officers began blowing their whistles and everyone was sat down.
Less than 20 metes away was Pakistan. The large white and green flag with the Muslim moon waved gloomily in the grey sky.
Only two large gates separated the two countries that are practically at war. Their soldiers were simultaneous with their actions, although the Pakistan side was much quieter.
India started about 1 second before Pakistan.
"Hindustan!" The crowed echoed the commentators shouts with equal excitement.
"Pakistan!" The boarder did not stop sound and the echos from Pakistan's commentator was loud and clear.
This seemingly pointless shouting continued until the commentators burst out into an all out scream. The point, I guess, was to see who could yell longer.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" It continued, with out exaggeration, for more than a minute.
At this time 6 men with red feathers on their heads stomped out of a room. They had Ronald McDonald black boots on that seemed to be much to large for their feet. Their stomps shook the ground and sent vibrations in the stands. The Indians in the crowd were on their feet with uncontrollable delight.
Each soldier took its turn half marching, half running, half stomping towards the Pakistan gate. I suppose on the other side soldiers were doing the same thing.
Once the soldiers were assembled near the gates they flew open and a new staring war started. Ropes were produced and the soldiers, in probably a formal fashion but from what I could see hissyfit fashion, began throwing ropes at each other. Their flags were raised, the ropes were thrown at each other again. The flags were lowered. The soldiers stomped back. Their kicks were straight as arrows and some were less than centimeters from their faces.
The commentators started their screaming again.
And the show was over.
Oh the world today.
Turbans turning the table
Amristar - Golden Temple.
Most people, including myself until this trip, saw Indians as one. They are brown, some wear turbans. Turban sounds like Taliban and the Taliban is represented by Osama and Osama attacked America so maybe these men with turbans could attack me? I suppose I would never know if I wasn't drawn to Amristar with promise of a Golden temple.
On the train to the city I began reading about where I was going and what I was getting myself into. Supposedly there was a free bus that brought you to a free dormitory where you could eat free food and read free books at a free temple.
Ya right.
When I arrived at 5:00 in the morning I was ushered in a somewhat chaotic fashion outside the train station. In the parking lot stood a mini school bus painted bright gold. It looked something like Mrs. Frizzles magic school bus. I got in, sat down, and the bus was off.
The sun was a dark burning orange color as it slowly began to rise over the black clouds. It seemed it might be a nice day.
The bus stopped at the temple, some people began getting on the bus before people began getting off, a little bit of chaos persisted until I was pushed off.
The bus was free.
At the temple I really started to feel I was in a new world. Most men had bushy black beards that tickled to look at. All men had turbans, some were bright orange, others blue. When I asked one men about this he replied. "The turban doesn't represent anything except complete commitment. When you choose to stand out by tying your turban, you stand fearlessly as one single person standing out from six billion people. It is a most outstanding act."
Some men also had speaks, daggers, swords. All are traditional garments worn by most male Sikhs in the past, but there the past is still present.
The dormitory was easy to find. People went out of their way to show me where it was. The foreigners area consisted of 7 rooms and a large dormitory. There was a new Sony washing machine, a hot shower, and a water machine, things unheard of in a normal Indian backpackers hotel.
Everything was there for us, for free.
After freshening up I went for my first look at the mess hall. I was hungry. Inside was a canteen that served up to 30,000 people per day. The steps were simple.
1) Cover your head
2) Grab a plate
3) Go upstairs and sit down on the carpet
4) Put your plate out when you want more, take your plate in when your finished.
Men with big buckets ran down the lines of people sitting on the ground dishing out different types of food. At each meal there were usually three different types of food not including nan bread and some sweet desert. It was some of the most delicious vegetarian food I had in all of Indian.
And yes, all day, everyday, for everybody and anybody, its absolutely free!
After eating I finally had a chance to get a look at the Golden temple. It sat in the middle of a turquoise green pool where radioactively large gold fish swam. The small marble walkway, carpeted and decorated with gold bars, resembled an isle leading to a priceless treasure. And at the alter stood the Golden temple. It shined viciously in the afternoon sun and glowed softly at sunset. It was surrounded by white towers with areas to pray to the 9 different 'gurus' or teachers of their young religion. All in all it represented one of the most beautiful and atmospheric places I have ever been.
I spent a few days learning about the Sikh religion.
Its one of the worlds youngest religions starting in the 1500's
The founder Guru Nanak Dev was way ahead of his time. He preached about equality between the sexes, elimination of caste system, and the union of all people.
The more I learned about Sikhism and spent time with the extraordinarily generous people the more I frowned upon myself for being so ignorant, judgemental and racist. The Sikhs turned out out be some of the friendliest Ive met in the whole world. Everything they had they offered for free, to everyone regardless of their race, gender, or tax bracket. And where does all this money come from? From the people. They give for the benefit of the less fortunate. They have set up numerous programs for orphans, hospitals for sick, and refugees for the homeless.
"The body is the field of karma in this age; whatever you plant, you shall harvest."
Guru Granth, The 5th Guru
Most people, including myself until this trip, saw Indians as one. They are brown, some wear turbans. Turban sounds like Taliban and the Taliban is represented by Osama and Osama attacked America so maybe these men with turbans could attack me? I suppose I would never know if I wasn't drawn to Amristar with promise of a Golden temple.
On the train to the city I began reading about where I was going and what I was getting myself into. Supposedly there was a free bus that brought you to a free dormitory where you could eat free food and read free books at a free temple.
Ya right.
When I arrived at 5:00 in the morning I was ushered in a somewhat chaotic fashion outside the train station. In the parking lot stood a mini school bus painted bright gold. It looked something like Mrs. Frizzles magic school bus. I got in, sat down, and the bus was off.
The sun was a dark burning orange color as it slowly began to rise over the black clouds. It seemed it might be a nice day.
The bus stopped at the temple, some people began getting on the bus before people began getting off, a little bit of chaos persisted until I was pushed off.
The bus was free.
At the temple I really started to feel I was in a new world. Most men had bushy black beards that tickled to look at. All men had turbans, some were bright orange, others blue. When I asked one men about this he replied. "The turban doesn't represent anything except complete commitment. When you choose to stand out by tying your turban, you stand fearlessly as one single person standing out from six billion people. It is a most outstanding act."
Some men also had speaks, daggers, swords. All are traditional garments worn by most male Sikhs in the past, but there the past is still present.
The dormitory was easy to find. People went out of their way to show me where it was. The foreigners area consisted of 7 rooms and a large dormitory. There was a new Sony washing machine, a hot shower, and a water machine, things unheard of in a normal Indian backpackers hotel.
Everything was there for us, for free.
After freshening up I went for my first look at the mess hall. I was hungry. Inside was a canteen that served up to 30,000 people per day. The steps were simple.
1) Cover your head
2) Grab a plate
3) Go upstairs and sit down on the carpet
4) Put your plate out when you want more, take your plate in when your finished.
Men with big buckets ran down the lines of people sitting on the ground dishing out different types of food. At each meal there were usually three different types of food not including nan bread and some sweet desert. It was some of the most delicious vegetarian food I had in all of Indian.
And yes, all day, everyday, for everybody and anybody, its absolutely free!
After eating I finally had a chance to get a look at the Golden temple. It sat in the middle of a turquoise green pool where radioactively large gold fish swam. The small marble walkway, carpeted and decorated with gold bars, resembled an isle leading to a priceless treasure. And at the alter stood the Golden temple. It shined viciously in the afternoon sun and glowed softly at sunset. It was surrounded by white towers with areas to pray to the 9 different 'gurus' or teachers of their young religion. All in all it represented one of the most beautiful and atmospheric places I have ever been.
I spent a few days learning about the Sikh religion.
Its one of the worlds youngest religions starting in the 1500's
The founder Guru Nanak Dev was way ahead of his time. He preached about equality between the sexes, elimination of caste system, and the union of all people.
The more I learned about Sikhism and spent time with the extraordinarily generous people the more I frowned upon myself for being so ignorant, judgemental and racist. The Sikhs turned out out be some of the friendliest Ive met in the whole world. Everything they had they offered for free, to everyone regardless of their race, gender, or tax bracket. And where does all this money come from? From the people. They give for the benefit of the less fortunate. They have set up numerous programs for orphans, hospitals for sick, and refugees for the homeless.
"The body is the field of karma in this age; whatever you plant, you shall harvest."
Guru Granth, The 5th Guru
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Falling in Love with Taj Mahal
I'm not one to jump the gun, but I have self-diagnosed myself with the mental illness called objectphila. Me, and apparently a women from Scotland who is married to the Berlin Wall, have suffered the same fate. We have fell in love with an object.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Object_sexuality
When I first saw her my jaw dropped. I felt like a man must feel when he first sets his eyes on his bride.
She stood at the end of the lane, dressed in pearl white. Her soft curves and gentle corners stood out boldly against the bright azure sky. The closer I went the more hypnotized I became. The smooth marble exterior was freckled with the most beautiful and intricate designs. Jade green, ruby red, sapphire blue, and tantalizing mixtures of other precious elements infused to make splendid, eye-teasing patterns. Never before had I seen the sun reflect so softly off of a solid surface. I circled the geometrical symmetric building in awe. It seemed to draw life out of everything around it. As the sun began to set shimmers of golden rays reflected of the building. She looked like an angel descending from heaven. As time slowly clicked away she said her goodbyes and blushed a pleasant red. Finally she was drowned in a soft blue light.
It was hard for me to pull away. I must have turned back 5 times.
The Taj Mahal is no doubt the most beautiful building I have every seen in my whole life.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Object_sexuality
When I first saw her my jaw dropped. I felt like a man must feel when he first sets his eyes on his bride.
She stood at the end of the lane, dressed in pearl white. Her soft curves and gentle corners stood out boldly against the bright azure sky. The closer I went the more hypnotized I became. The smooth marble exterior was freckled with the most beautiful and intricate designs. Jade green, ruby red, sapphire blue, and tantalizing mixtures of other precious elements infused to make splendid, eye-teasing patterns. Never before had I seen the sun reflect so softly off of a solid surface. I circled the geometrical symmetric building in awe. It seemed to draw life out of everything around it. As the sun began to set shimmers of golden rays reflected of the building. She looked like an angel descending from heaven. As time slowly clicked away she said her goodbyes and blushed a pleasant red. Finally she was drowned in a soft blue light.
It was hard for me to pull away. I must have turned back 5 times.
The Taj Mahal is no doubt the most beautiful building I have every seen in my whole life.
Back to India
I said another sad goodbye and thought the same thoughts and I thought the last time I left. Now I kind of realise though that Shanghai, or China in the least, will always be a part of me.
I arrived in India at 3:00 AM
As soon as I stepped off the bus I was scammed.
As soon as I bought a new sleeping bag it broke.
As soon as I digested a curry I got dia..cough, couch...rreha
It was great to be back!
I'm serious.
This Indian guy once described the same thing to me. About even though India stinks and is dirty and loud and polluted and..so on; there's still something very special about it.
The heavy food, cool clothes, and somewhat destructive lifestyle of Shanghai didn't do for me anymore.
It took me about a week to get used to the constant callings of touts or taxis, the never ending noise of the nasty nutters, and the dirtiness of about almost everything, but after that everything was back to normal.
I arrived in India at 3:00 AM
As soon as I stepped off the bus I was scammed.
As soon as I bought a new sleeping bag it broke.
As soon as I digested a curry I got dia..cough, couch...rreha
It was great to be back!
I'm serious.
This Indian guy once described the same thing to me. About even though India stinks and is dirty and loud and polluted and..so on; there's still something very special about it.
The heavy food, cool clothes, and somewhat destructive lifestyle of Shanghai didn't do for me anymore.
It took me about a week to get used to the constant callings of touts or taxis, the never ending noise of the nasty nutters, and the dirtiness of about almost everything, but after that everything was back to normal.
Happy Niu Year
Niu means Ox and this year, 2008, is the year of the ox. Not only that but its also my year. The ox is said to be strong, loyal, handsome and trustworthy, all attributes I humbling acknowledge possessing.
This year was the 4th Chinese New year I've celebrated. From Singapore to Kunming, Beijing to Shanghai, every Chinese New year is full of fun. This year, although a little lonely, was also a little exciting. We managed to motivate a mob of men to manhandle the male police as we made a magnificent flying mickymoogin.
A mickymoogin is a a word I just made up to describe a flying prayer. They are like a bag but made of very thin paper. At the bottom a very thin wire is attached where a candle is put. Once you light the candle the bag is filled with hot air and the prayer is sent into the sky.
This year was the 4th Chinese New year I've celebrated. From Singapore to Kunming, Beijing to Shanghai, every Chinese New year is full of fun. This year, although a little lonely, was also a little exciting. We managed to motivate a mob of men to manhandle the male police as we made a magnificent flying mickymoogin.
A mickymoogin is a a word I just made up to describe a flying prayer. They are like a bag but made of very thin paper. At the bottom a very thin wire is attached where a candle is put. Once you light the candle the bag is filled with hot air and the prayer is sent into the sky.
Shanghai Days
Shanghai days were busy at first.
Echo and I took a very romantic vacation to Hangzhou. Marco Polo once said that it was the most beautiful city on earth. The fully intact old town brought us right back to the early years of Chinese civilization. We toured a pharmacy that had been open for hundreds of years. Inside fumes of ancient herbs mixed with old lady to create a somewhat perplexing odour. In the back we found a doctor with hair white as snow, smoking away and writing prescriptions - just like the good ole days!
We went for a romantic boat ride to an island with another lake inside. From there we could glimpse three pavilions that were put in the lake over 1000 years ago. It is said, with a somewhat strangely romantic tone, that the old emperors used to come here with their second nipples (mistresses) and get them pregnant.
How romantic
As Echo had to work I spent the rest of my days walking around Shanghai. The economic crisis seems not to have hit China. Its full on materialistic all the way. The expensive shops were bustling, the food courts were packed, and the streets were lined with red cows.
The cows in China are nothing like the ones in India; they dont move, they're red, and they're not permanent.
On January 25th they celebrate the New Year. This year, my year, is the year of the Ox.
Echo and I took a very romantic vacation to Hangzhou. Marco Polo once said that it was the most beautiful city on earth. The fully intact old town brought us right back to the early years of Chinese civilization. We toured a pharmacy that had been open for hundreds of years. Inside fumes of ancient herbs mixed with old lady to create a somewhat perplexing odour. In the back we found a doctor with hair white as snow, smoking away and writing prescriptions - just like the good ole days!
We went for a romantic boat ride to an island with another lake inside. From there we could glimpse three pavilions that were put in the lake over 1000 years ago. It is said, with a somewhat strangely romantic tone, that the old emperors used to come here with their second nipples (mistresses) and get them pregnant.
How romantic
As Echo had to work I spent the rest of my days walking around Shanghai. The economic crisis seems not to have hit China. Its full on materialistic all the way. The expensive shops were bustling, the food courts were packed, and the streets were lined with red cows.
The cows in China are nothing like the ones in India; they dont move, they're red, and they're not permanent.
On January 25th they celebrate the New Year. This year, my year, is the year of the Ox.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Chinese New Year in Shanghai
I left Shanghai 5 months ago thinking that it would be a very long time before I ever saw it again. It was an emotional day when I left. I shed some tears. I remember gazing out at the city as the train left Shanghai thinking, "I wonder how much this place will change?"
Well cities change, people change, plans change. And in my situation everything seemed to happen very very fast
Echo and I decided to meet for the Chinese New year in Shanghai at 2:00 Pm
At 4:00PM I had bought tickets.
At 6:00 PM I was on the 'Super Fast' train bound for Delhi.
It took the 'Super Fast' train 6 hours to go 300 Km. I arrived at the Delhi International airport at 1:00 am.
12 hours later I was in Shanghai
Echo, my friends and amazing Chinese food were all things that never left my thoughts. But other things, simple things, I just seemed to take for granted before.
"Wow, its clean and cold!" I remarked when on the bus.
"Wow, the buildings really look like something out of a sci-fi movie!" I also remarked on the bus.
"Wow, that's expensive!" I couldn't help but saying when the bus fair cost as much as one day of drinking, eating, and sleeping in India did.
It seemed that India had somewhat distorted my understanding of money and urban planning, shrank my stomach and increased my sensitvity to the cold, and later I was to learn, opened my mind.
Echo and I had dinner at a revolving restaurant that night. As Shanghai span around me the shock of jumping from one culture to a completely new one finally began to settle in.
I was so happy to be with Echo, it was amazing seeing my friends, but there something about Shanghai that didn't feel right.
Well cities change, people change, plans change. And in my situation everything seemed to happen very very fast
Echo and I decided to meet for the Chinese New year in Shanghai at 2:00 Pm
At 4:00PM I had bought tickets.
At 6:00 PM I was on the 'Super Fast' train bound for Delhi.
It took the 'Super Fast' train 6 hours to go 300 Km. I arrived at the Delhi International airport at 1:00 am.
12 hours later I was in Shanghai
Echo, my friends and amazing Chinese food were all things that never left my thoughts. But other things, simple things, I just seemed to take for granted before.
"Wow, its clean and cold!" I remarked when on the bus.
"Wow, the buildings really look like something out of a sci-fi movie!" I also remarked on the bus.
"Wow, that's expensive!" I couldn't help but saying when the bus fair cost as much as one day of drinking, eating, and sleeping in India did.
It seemed that India had somewhat distorted my understanding of money and urban planning, shrank my stomach and increased my sensitvity to the cold, and later I was to learn, opened my mind.
Echo and I had dinner at a revolving restaurant that night. As Shanghai span around me the shock of jumping from one culture to a completely new one finally began to settle in.
I was so happy to be with Echo, it was amazing seeing my friends, but there something about Shanghai that didn't feel right.
Delhi do's and donts
Delhi 3:00 AM
I limped out of the Delhi station with a toe poking our of my news shoes. The peasant man who stole my was polite enough to leave me with his, as ugly, torn, and smelly as they were.
I walked into the cold night. The ground was mucky as the road, conveniently just outside the Delhi station, was being redone. Ahead of me three lines of gauntly lit lights drooped on dirt awnings. A cow stood in the middle of the road looking at me blindly. Beside him two men sat on their heels crouched over a burning piece of plastic.
Ahhh Delhi.
My hotel was easy to find and within minutes I was checked in and in bed sleeping. I had things to do in Delhi and I needed to be up early to do them.
I limped out of the Delhi station with a toe poking our of my news shoes. The peasant man who stole my was polite enough to leave me with his, as ugly, torn, and smelly as they were.
I walked into the cold night. The ground was mucky as the road, conveniently just outside the Delhi station, was being redone. Ahead of me three lines of gauntly lit lights drooped on dirt awnings. A cow stood in the middle of the road looking at me blindly. Beside him two men sat on their heels crouched over a burning piece of plastic.
Ahhh Delhi.
My hotel was easy to find and within minutes I was checked in and in bed sleeping. I had things to do in Delhi and I needed to be up early to do them.
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