stephyfish's Xanga

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Tue, 26 Aug 2008 12:25:09 GMT

In the end, I paddled us through the lagoon because Julian turned out to be better at steering. When I first looked at the schedule and realized that we'd been allotted a day to do nothing but relax by a lake, I wasn't thrilled. It came at the perfect time, though. Julian and I had so much fun just reading on the cement porch, swimming and periodically gorging ourselves on the excellent South Indian buffet. We also took tea by the lake and watched woven houseboats sail by.

The next day, we left Kumarakom for Alleppey to take a short boat cruise of our own. We had originally wanted to cruise with our own houseboat (and captain and chef) for a few days, but it was simply too expensive. So we settled for a 2-hour tour of the backwaters. It was so peaceful, gliding through the waters and seeing rows of houseboats lined up by the shore waiting for tourist season to begin again. About an hour into our tour, the boat headed for what appeared to be someone's house. There was a sign - "Tender Coconuts" - and a hawk perched on the sign's edge. Before the woman left to chop open our coconuts, she coaxed the hawk onto her hand and perched him on Julian's hand. After a few minutes, she led him onto my hand, and he (or she?) turned and looked at me. I was nervous - no part of the bird's deadly defenses had been neutralized, and in addition to the talons grippiing my skin, it had a hooked beak ending in a needle point. It blinked its yellow eyes and turned back around.

Our coconuts were finally ready and I was disappointed to see that the husks had already turned brown... but then I took a sip. My coconut was brimming with water, just barely sweet. We sipped greedily and the coconuts were empty in only a few minutes. The woman took mine back from me and chopped the top off, then made a little paddle spoon by slicing off part of the side. She loosened all of the flesh before handing it to me, then went to work on Julian's coconut. The translucent gelatin flesh of that coconut was so perfect - I added it to my catalogue of tastes and textures that I may never be lucky enough to experience again.

Although I threatened to stay on the boat forever, I followed Julian off at the dock and we went to Cochin and were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves in an even nicer hotel than the one we left. The next day we went sightseeing - I thought that the shoe-shedding was over, but the Jewish synagogue made us leave our sandals at the door. Of the religious places we have visited, though, I must say that the synagogue was the cleanest. We also saw Chinese fishing net contraptions, the Dutch Palace and a few places from afar - sightseeing got old a few weeks ago, and we were just glad that we didn't need to pay any tips.

On the topic of tips, Julian and I were discussing what to pay our excellent driver, and we came to very different conclusions. For some reason, he hasn't captured our heart like our first driver, whose entire body expressed anguish at all times, never knew where we were going, took us to bad restaurants that awarded finders' fees to drivers and allocated his money poorly and had to ask us for a few advances on his tips. He also lost us at the Taj Mahal. We did appreciate how excited he would get when he entered the sights with us; he was especially excited when the guide would explain things to him in Hindi and would sometimes ask for his picture to be taken. Despite all this, we gave him a huge and probably undeserved tip because we knew that it would make such a big difference to his life and that of his family. The last driver was always on time, always knew where we are going and somehow predicted things that we wanted to see but didn't think of. He always looked clean, spoke fluent English and respected all of our wishes, but dropped in morose statements about his current situation when asked (Having realized too late that "How did you sleep" comes with an answer like "Not good" or "In my car", I finally ceased to ask). For some reason, his competence makes me want to give him less, because I feel that he doesn't need the money as badly; however, it makes Julian want to give him a lot more because he feels that the sum suggested by the travel agent is too paltry to make any difference in his life. We agreed on a compromise, but I couldn't figure out how we had come to such different conclusions.

As I was still wondering, we arrived in Delhi to find that our first driver would be taking us around for the next 3 days. At first I was happy, but after a car accident (I had mild whiplash for about 10 minutes, but we were otherwise fine) and a muttered request for 500 rupees up front, I miss our competent driver, even though he tried to make us feel guilty. As it turns out, pity is the stronger force - we agreed to give our first and final driver a tip at least 3 times what he deserves so that his car accident won't bankrupt him. I can't wait to get back to the States.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Sat, 23 Aug 2008 03:13:52 GMT

It has been 2 days of gorgeous driving. This morning we left Periyar, home to a tiger sanctuary (built, oddly enough, around an aritifical lake), after going on a morning animal-spotting cruise. We didn't see any tigers, but we did see 5 elephants, a medium-sized turtle cruising through the waters, several deer, some pig-like animals and many birds. The elephants looked comically large on the mountani side; at first I thought that they must be boulders, but then one flapped its ears. Periyar is also known for its spices, and at least 3/4 of the shops in town are spice shops. We toured an organic spice and ayurvedic herb garden last night and chewed cardamom pods, peppermint leaves, lemongrass and allspice. Afterwards we loaded on up the freshest, most beautiful spices I've ever found. We were a little rushed because we had made appointments for full-body ayurvedic massages and steambaths, which I found very relaxing. Julian got the same treatment that I did, but he found it very boring and, at times, disturbing. When we walked home after the massages, hundreds or thousands of bats flew across the darkening sky.

On our way out of Periyar, we passed through hillsides covered in tea bushes, then at the driver's suggestion, stopped and toured the Connemara tea factory. Julian was in heaven; the second we stepped out of the car, everything smelled like fresh-cut greenery mixed with tea. We watched how they clean, dry, process and sort the tea then picked up an 1/2 kilo bag for $1.25 on our way out. As we continued on the road, we passed through a number of rubber plantations, plastic bags tied onto the trees to collect the sap that would be boiled into rubber, and a few pineapple plantations. The plants are comical, with huge bush and giant stalk waving a single pineapple at its top. Once again, I wonder why, given the space and scarcity of fruit produced by each plant, pineapples are not more expensive.

Now we find ourselves at a lake resort in Kumarakom. The entry in the Lonely Planet was about 2 paragraphs long, but I feel that people are missing out by not spending a day here. There's nothing much; it's just a lovely, peaceful place with great food and a small infinity pool by the lake. They keep a small flock of snowy geese and a guinea hen, maybe to amuse the guests? Today should be a day of utter relaxation unless I can convince Julian to paddle me around the resort lagoon in their paddleboat. I, for one, am glad not to be going to another Hindu temple that smells like feet and costs a lot of money. Kerala seems to be very heavily Christian, and as far as I know, you are allowed to enter churches with your shoes on.

Sacrilege

Wed, 20 Aug 2008 12:39:02 GMT

Yesterday was a day trip to Kanchipuram to see a Hindu temple that celebrates the marriage of 2 deities under a mango tree - a guide forced himself on us at the gate and tried to make us pay obeisance to his deities - most of which costs money. Sometimes we were able to wiggle our way out, but at one point, a holy man came towards me, arm outstretched and finger ready with red paste. I was like a deer caught in headlights - I froze while he made his prayer to Shiva and had Julian throw some small bills on his plate so that I could run away. I walked out of the temple complex grumpy and frowning at all of the ways that the holy men had managed to suck money out of us (and the ways in which they tried but did not succeed). As we walked back to the car, Julian asked me what was wrong, and I responded, "I did not want to be blessed." Then, "I'm keeping this mark on my forehead all day so no one tries to bless me again." Still later, "I just started my period and it is unpleasant."

"So you're sad because you defiled the temple?"

My mouth went into a round O as I remembered that women were not allowed in temples during their menses, and we both started to laugh. Julian said, "Well, I think that you and Shiva are about even now."

We visited a number of other ancient sites, including an improbably balanced rock nicknamed "Krishna's Butter Ball," but with Julian teasing me about sacrilege every time reached a sight, I did not actually enter another temple building.

Today was 9 hours on an Indian train, which Julian was very excited about until he climbed on and realized that these were not plush 19th century trains with dining cars. I hope never to take a train again.

Scarier than a roller coaster

Wed, 20 Aug 2008 12:35:27 GMT

We begin our journey through South India in Chennai, where the agency has booked us a room far nicer than our level of cleanliness deserves. The food in the restaurant is cheap and good. I am happy.

The tour agency sent us a driver, who greeted us and started driving to an undisclosed location. We found ourselves at the City Museum, which has a number of ancient artifacts that would probably have been interesting if they were accompanied by more detailed descriptions. From there, we went to a cathedral and visited the tomb of Jesus' apostle Doubting Thomas, and then the driver had no more to show us. Instead of going back to our hotel, we asked him to leave us at a mall that I had seen on the way so that we could eat at a reasonably priced restaurant and Julian could buy even more books.

The mall was a good decision. I had the best tandoori chicken of my life, and my bookworm came away with 4 more books. He was pretty excited about taking an autorickshaw (known in other parts of the world as a tuk-tuk) back to our hotel. We walked to the stand and negotiated what I thought was a pretty bad price, but I was desperate to get home. The driver tried a few times to convince us to go to a shopping complex and we refused, but then he said, "You go, free T-shirt." He pointed to himself and nodded happily. It seemed like a nice thing to do, so we agreed to take a look around but not buy anything.

In an Indian city, depending on where you stand and which way the wind is blowing, any number of smells come drifting toward you - rosewater, urine, hot oil, feces (human and animal), bubbling curry, sour fish. When we left the shopping complex and our driver came tripping into our autorickshaw, all of these smells were overpowered by heady perfume of marijuana. The driver started to leave, then stopped and parked in the middle of the exit to the parking lot. Hopping out, he poked his head in to look at us with a many-toothed grin - "I forgot t-shirt!" - then ran back into the store. When he came back a minute later, we began our harrowing odyssey home by narrowly missing a schoolboy crossing the street, then coming within an inch of crashing into the back of a truck. Every honk behind us seemed to sound impending death. We stopped at 2 gas stations along the way without getting any gas and were jerked once by a speed bump, but we reached our hotel without incident. I later wondered how, in a vehicle built like a golf cart and in a city as pungent as Chennai, the smell of weed stayed with us so long; Julian told me that the driver had been finished off his joint during the first few minutes of our ride. In hindsight, I wonder if what I perceived as dangerous ganja-slowed-reflex driving was simply the way the road looks from a little 3-wheeled autorickshaw in a city where lane lines, direction of traffic and traffic lights are merely advisory.

When the drive was over, we gave the driver 500 rupees, expecting 100 rupees change. He gave us 70 rupees, with a sly smile, and when we last saw him, he'd left his autorickshaw parked in the middle of a lane and was hobbling away with the money in his hand, presumably to find a joint to replace the one that he'd been forced to finish off so quickly in order to get us home.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Sat, 16 Aug 2008 11:28:19 GMT

We said goodbye this morning to our tragic chauffeur and headed out to cosmopolitan Bombay for a half-day of seeing city sights from the comfort of our air-conditioned car. The first delight of the city - no cows! These are the cleanest streets I've seen in India. Julian and I ate yummy South Indian food and walked over to get saffron-pistachio gelato afterwards.

Heading tomorrow to Chennai with heavy bags. We did way too much shopping in Udaipur... the only consolation is that everything we got was 1/3 to 1/10 of the price that it would have been in the States. But do I really need 5 more pairs of shoes?

Many days of driving

Thu, 14 Aug 2008 13:20:59 GMT

We are at the mercy of everyone around us. The driver doesn't understand English, so we eat when and where he tells us to eat, stop when he tells us to stop and piss where he tells us to piss. Meanwhile, he embroils himself in angry exchanges with toll collectors who won't accept the 10 rupee note that he's cobbled together out of decaying bill fragments and scotch tape.

One day spent in Bikaner, and I can say nothing notable about the city except that it is incredibly hot. We were supposed to go sightseeing in the afternoon, but our driver either misunderstood or disobeyed our directions and didn't arrive at the agreed time. When he finally did come for us, it started raining and he disappeared for the rest of the evening. It's just as well - the only things to see were cenotaphs and a single fort that had never been taken for longer than 24 hours. Julian is convinced that it is because no one wanted it.

Jaisalmer, the Golden City is so named because all of the walls are made of the yellow-hued sandstone that is found all around. The main attraction of the city, the Jaisalmer Fort looks like a sandcastle hollowed out from a dune made by a precocious child. When we climbed the fort, we could see nothing surrounding the city but sand and wind farms with little harvest. Still, I like this city more than most we've seen so far. The sellers are not aggressive and the narrow, crowded streets are exactly what I imagined for a desert bazaar. Also, I love the art here. The sandstone havelis are carved so delicately that they look like giant honeycombs. The women wear bright, gaudy clothing that complements the huge mirrored quilts, pieced together to look like a Klimt robe, that they are most famous for.

After lunch, there was a brief spatter of rain that cooled the desert to a bearable temperature. It was the perfect weather for our evening camel ride to the sand dunes. We smeared sunscreen on our faces and headed out to meet our guide and driver, only to find that ouur driver felt sick and would not be able to take us. Julian called the travel agency and got them to send out another driver within the hour, and soon we'd reached the sand dunes and met Michael Jackson, our camel. I thought that the name was pretty great until the French tourist in front of us yelled to his group, "Savez mon chameau comment il s'appelle? Michael Jackson. Yaaa!" Were all of the camels named Michael Jackson? It seemed that it was just our two, but the man leading our camel decided that we shouldn't be next to each other, so he led our camel into a fast trot until we were the first in the caravan.

There was nothing particularly exciting about our camel trip, just peaceful riding in the desert. We watched beetles roll small balls of camel dung and occasionally fight over a ball (I can't imagine why; there seemed to be enough camel feces to go around). Finally we were at the sand dunes. Our camel leader took turns taking us for gallops on the camel and let us walk around the dunes for a bit. When the news came that there would be no sunset tonight, we climbed back onto Michael Jackson and he took us to our car.

Jodphur: Known as the Blue City, but I have no idea why. We were delayed because there had been some kind of attack in Kashmir, so the Hindus closed the roads until 11 am. I'm not sure what that accomplished. While we were waiting, we read a warning published in the newspaper that intelligence uncovered a terrorist action planned in Delhi sometime after Aug. 6. As cool as it sounds to celebrate Independence Day in Delhi, I'm glad that we are in Udaipur on Aug. 15. When we finally started moving again, everyone walking past us was waving multi-colored flags. We got to the city more or less on schedule, but were not able to sightsee due to the monsoon rains.

And then 6 more hours of driving; I am amazed that in 2 days we went from a landscape of barren desert to vivid and endless green. More tomorrow...

Saturday, August 09, 2008

Sat, 09 Aug 2008 09:41:10 GMT

Julian and I agreed that we didn't really need guides anywhere. We had never had them before, weren't really impressed with our first one, didn't want to pay the money, etc. However, when our driver showed up today, a stranger introduced himself as our guide and climbed into the car. Julian asked where he had come from - our driver had taken it upon himself to hire the man. He hadn't explained that he had already paid the guide, so we ended up overpaying him as well. Even before that, he seemed to have done very well for himself... as we went through our day, we was becoming so giddy that he actually started singing.

Like all of the other tourists, Julian and I rode an elephant up the long incline to the Amber Fort. Our elephant turned out to be slow, though - the driver tried to give it a positive spin by saying, "I give you 20 minute ride, no extra charge!" Meanwhile, three elephants trotted past us. The driver was good amusement; he turned around and took pictures of us, pointed out the maharani's gardens - at this point he asked Julian whether I was his friend or wife. Having no way to explain the word fiance, Julian said wife, and the driver responded with "Good, good! Number one joy!" Damn right I am. As the driver was explaining that elephants are good luck, ours raised his trunk and showered us with spittle. Fortunately, Julian was closer to the front, so he took most of the blow.

The maharajahs of Jaipur lived with astonishing extravagance. The palaces we saw were lined with jewels and concave mirrors, and one with a mini-palace for each of 12 maharanis. In the Amber Palace, a system was set up so that only the eunuchs and maharajah could enter the different palaces, and entry was by secret passageway so that the wives could not start jealous infighting. The building, erected in the 16th century, had an air-conditioning system and working fountains long before there was electricity or running water. We later visited the City Palace, where the current maharajah still resides with his family, and we saw the clothes of a former maharajah that weighs about 550 pounds and was 4 feet across. We didn't choose to pay the extra 2500 rupees ($51.50) to take the tour of the current maharajah's quarters, but from the pictures, every room was gilded in 24kt gold and lined with precious stones.

We made the mistake of buying a souvenir early on; our guide insisted on taking us to more and more tourist stalls until I feigned tiredness. I had almost pretended to fall into a coma by the time he took us back to our hotel.

We saw a a small lake palace in Jaipur, but we will be visiting a larger one in a few days in Udaipur. Also in the next few days, I will get the opportunity to go on what is described as a "camel joy ride." We see camels pulling carts all the time, but I hope that the "joy ride" part means that we will be perched on a hump.

There is no such thing as a perfectly planned trip

Fri, 08 Aug 2008 13:10:20 GMT

Our road trip begins with a drive from Delhi to Agra, home of the early Mughal emperors and the Taj Mahal. We had to stop on the way to pay a car tax, so the driver parked and left the car. The hawkers descended on us immediately. On Julian's side, old men with yellowed eyes tried to sell him cheap jewelry while little boys held peacock fans up to the window. I was beseiged with a crowd of men with monkeys on leashes. One man made his monkey leap onto the car door and lick the window near my head. The second time it happened, I pointed at its rotten lower teeth, and the monkey suddenly took its own arm in its mouth and wrestled with it, then spit it out for the other arm. We decided to give the monkey man 100 rupees so that he would go away. Instead, he blocked our door and told me to get out and take a picture with the monkey. Fine... I got out. He propped his stick down on the ground and the monkey scampered on top and posed. Suddenly, another man propped his stick down on the other side of me, and they tried to make me pet their monkeys.

"No."

"It will not bite."

"No. I don't want to touch the monkey."

"Please. You may touch the monkey."

"I really do not want to touch it. It is fine."

The man tried again to make me pet the creatures, but then the horrible little thing on my right let out a wheezing, hacking cough. I backed away.

Julian snapped a couple of photos, and when I turned to go back into the car, the owner stopped me and said, "500 rupees." He said that it was because of the other monkey. We argued with him for a while, and he blocked our door until we gave him another 100 rupees. The other monkey jumped into our car, but his owner dragged him back, and as soon as our door was free, we closed it. Despite the rain, I could see the monkey spittle on the window for the rest of our drive.

It was a long, boring, scary drive as we inched our way between petrol trucks and huge passenger buses. Throughout the drive, I felt that I was learning to interpret our driver through a combination of gestures and single words. We finally reached Agra and went to the Red Fort, which housed the early Mughal rulers, each of whom added buiildings in a different style. The intricacy of the carvings and inset stone were astonishing.

From there we went to the Taj Mahal. To my chagrin, I realized that my mental image of the Taj Mahal was actually the palace from Disney's Aladdin, but the real thing was dazzling. Even on this overcast day, the building was blindingly bright, with creamy marble minarets reaching to the sky. Basking in the beauty of the building, Julian and I returned to the spot where we had understood the driver had gestured that he would wait for us, and we couldn't find him. We waited and took turns walking around, but with the thousands of people swirling about, we had no hope of finding him. After 20 minutes, we gave up and went outside, hoping that he'd wait for us there. Again, no luck. So we asked one of the hawkers where to find a telephone, and we ended up in a shop where the owner "kindly" let us use his cellular to call our travel agent.

There was no question about it - we had to buy something from the shop owner. And it was going to be expensive. He charged us 2000 ($50!) for a soapstone candle holder and carved elephant... when I turned the candle holder over, there was a pencil marking of 650 rupees on it; we had been charged 1500. And why didn't we argue? In Julian's case, it was that he didn't know that we were being ripped off. As for me, I think it was an overdeveloped sense of decency - without the use of his phone, we wouldn't have been able to get a hold of our travel agent and may never have seen our bags or driver again, and I felt that I would have seemed ungrateful if I'd bargained down the price to its true value (which I estimate was 200 rupees at the most). At the same time, I cannot imagine anyone in the States giving us a 300% markup for having asked for help. One of those reasons that, no matter how much I travel, I don't think that I will ever make my home outside the States. That, and everywhere else I go, I will always be the "chinoise" who happens to speak exceptionally good English.

Anyway, our driver came back hours later, all smiles, and we reached our hotel safely to find that it had excellent food and a hot shower.

This morning we drove to Jaipur, the Pink City. Our official sightseeing starts tomorrow, so we spent today at the bazaar, buying little things, like the comfortable, lovely embroidered camel skin slippers. We also got a bag of tiny Indian plums, a few pomegranates, and a small cylindrical pineapple. I don't know when we will have time to eat all of it. Julian saved me from being killed when I stepped out to cross the street and a motorcycle sped around a curve and against the traffic light, heedless of any smaller thing that might have been in the way. I hate crossing the streets here; the lights only seem to restrain cars and the motorcycles unlucky enough to have been stopped in the center of the road.

You may have noticed that it has been several days, and I have not mentioned food yet. With few exceptions, everything that I have eaten has been excellent. However, I generally have no idea what it is. I can recognize a coriander seed here, the hint of cinnamon and cloves there, and of course solid things like chickpeas, paneer, etc... but the flavors are so complex and foreign I cannot even begin to analyze them. All I know is that my tongue is happy and my tummy has been surprisingly docile, which is all I could ever ask.

Safe!

Wed, 06 Aug 2008 12:48:56 GMT

After a 2-hour delay on the runway and a surprisingly quick 15-hour flight, we have spent our first day in Delhi. The vehicular chaos has produced some of the best drivers I have seen in my life - able to pass another car within a hair's breadth and swerve around a snow-white bull on the highway in the next instant. We have seen temples, mosques, snake charmers, graves, vendors of all types. An aggressive rug vendor, hoping to make a sale, taught us how rugs are made and how to judge their quality, but became hostile when we told him that we needed to think before we bought an $800 rug. Julian commissioned about $1000 of bespoke shoes and suits that would cost 3 times that in the States.

I am hot, overwhelmed and jet-lagged. We leave Delhi tomorrow morning for Agra and the Taj Mahal, and from there we continue on a 10-day journey through the Golden Triangle region. So far we have determined that our driver knows the English words "eight" and "traffic jam," but we don't even seem to share enough gestures in common to be able to play charades, so this should be an interesting (and wonderfully air-conditioned) ride. We will not be getting a sim card here because there is so much red-tape involved that our guide deemed it not worthwhile. But I will try to get to internet at least 2-3 times per week... Julian and I thought that we were done with dangerous places after our Suriname/Guyana trip, but just last week there was a report in the New York Times about India being destabilized with regular, random terrorist attacks all over the country, and we accidentally planned our visit during India's independence day. But no one wants to symbolically kill a South Korean, so let's hope that will protect us both!

Friday, August 01, 2008

Fri, 01 Aug 2008 02:27:52 GMT

Before today, things were going beautifully. The bar exam was, dare I say, disappointingly easy? The Peninsula had a large bath with a television that I enjoyed more than I care to admit. We've been eating great food, enjoying thin-skinned fruits and vegetables again, touring the gigantic new apartment. And then trouble hit.

At approximately 6 p.m., Julian and I stumbled down Halsted Ave., one of the busiest streets in Chicago's Lincoln Park neighborhood, carrying a queen-size mattress between them. Upon arriving in the apartment, we set the mattress down on the intended bed and discovered that, contrary to information we had been given by the landlord, the free bed that had been left by the previous residents was, in fact, a full-size bed. It was the end of a long day on which everything went wrong.

Earlier in the day, I was driving a Zipcar pickup truck down Wells St., trying to navigate around one of several cargo trucks that was blocking an entire lane of a two-lane, two-way street. We were already running late because we'd tried to return our BarBri books in the morning and no one showed up to the office (so our $750 refund checks with have to wait). The cars in the other direction wouldn't stop and the car ahead of me had made it through okay, so I tried my luck... and I had none. I scraped the lugnuts of the giant truck, and we all had to hop out and fill out accident reports and wait for the police. Really, we could not have asked to have hit a nicer person. He gave us cold bottled waters from his refrigerated compartment and said that he should thank us because we had actually earned him a lot of money because he was at the end of his route and would be receiving overtime pay. It turned out that earlier this month a window-washer and his pail had fallen on top of him and a speeding car got so close to him that it caught his shirt-tail and threw it open, so this was the most benign accident he'd had so far.