5/11/12 Eff You, May 11th.

5/11/12

Eff you, May 11th.  Seriously.  I left Jaiselmer on 5/10 at 5:30pm.  I arrived in Jaipur this morning at 5am.  I missed my stop (there is no warning/call/anything) but got off at the next station also in Jaipur.  I was bombarded.  No, I don't want to haggle at 5 in the morning.  No, I don't want all of the men in this boys' club called India to stare at me as I haul my big ass bag, back pain and all, through the crowd of eager, pushy tuc-tuc drivers. 

I got in a tuc-tuc, went to a coffee shop.  It was closed.  I had breakfast at a hotel instead.  Then back to the main station to drop off my bag in the "Cloak Room" (Lady in White, anyone?), got in the line of foreigners to buy a ticket from Agera to Varanasi.  Long wait, lots of people cutting in line every second.  I've slept on trains the past two nights.  Eff you all.

I took a load off in the visitor section of the train station, charged my phone, escaped the throngs of people.  I told the guy there I'm just killing time until I go get a bus to Agra in a couple of hours.  Suddenly, a cop showed up, saying a train is leaving for Agra in 30 minutes.  I'd be there by 3pm.  Awesome.  He dragged me to the front of a line, where I bought a general, no AC ticket, and sweated it out for four hours, only to realize literally after all that time that the train has gone to Delhi--not Agra.  Seriously?  Fast forward to a HUGE EFFING HASSLE at the train station where no one spoke any English.  I bribed some dude really way too much to get me a ticket to Agra on another train from another station--this alone was a 2 hour process. 

So, yay.  I'm on a train to Agra, finally.  Four hours.  OK, not bad.  Expensive bribe, but I get to see the Taj Mahal at sunrise and get to sleep an entire night! in an actual bed.  (Another night train tomorrow.)  Oh, but what's that?  We're experiencing technical difficulties?  We're running 2 hours behind?  Ten loud old men wanted to just hang out in my little cabin?  There's a mouse scurrying about maybe finding its way into my backpack?  People are loudly snoring all around me? 

So just eff this day.  It has been an enormous waste of my time, energy, money, and sanity.  And I haven't eaten since breakfast and ran out of water.  UGH.

5/10/12 Homework & Strange Strangers

5/10/12
I should have done my homework.  I should have, but I didn't.  I stayed in Pushkar an extra day because the bus connecting to the train to Jaiselmer left in the middle of the afternoon and I thought (correctly) that Pushkar deserved an extra day of my life.  So this meant arriving in Jaiselmer a day later than expected, though I already had a train ticket to Jaipur from there--a 12 hour ride.  I arrived in Jaiselmer in the morning, at around 5am.  I was picked up by my hotel by a Tuc-Tuc driver with a sign with my name on it (oh, thank you again, India!), and was brought to the hotel.  After sleeping for a few hours in a real bed, I went to formally check in.  The hotel owner then told me there was no next day train back to Jaipur (and so on to Agra).  He said I could either stay another four days or leave that evening as scheduled.  I didn't have another four days.  One I could do if I squeezed out another stop.  We agreed finally that though it would make for an absurdly short stay in Jaiselmer, my best option was to leave on the 5pm train.  It turns out 12 hours somewhere, particularly if a four hour nap has already been had does not give much time to do very much.  Who knew?

So I set out for the fort, admitting to myself that a camel trek was our of the question.  I had lunch at a disappointing little place run by a woman who kept yelling at her sad-eyed son but putting on a big smile for me.  I went by the beautiful Jain temples, which were closed, but admired the amazing detail and intricate design from the outside.  A man at a nearby shop stopped to explain more about the temples, how they came to be in the fort, and about the Jain tradition of massage.  Basically, I got a free massage out of the deal, but then stopped the man when he asked me if he could massage my front and legs.  Ummm, no.  I promptly left to continue my walk, then stopped for a cold soda.  TRhe waiter proceeded to tell me that he is Muslim and has his first wife through an arranged marriage already.  He is open to another wife, but only if it is through a love marriage, he told me, giving me a smile.  Umm, check please.  I paid, and left, wishing him the best of luck with his love marriage.  An older gentleman invited me in for chai in his friend's shop--a barbershop, I soon found out.  The tea was hot, but refreshing in the air conditioned barbershop.  The old man followed me out when I left after the tea and some polite conversation.  "You play now, but one day come back for Om (his friend barber).  He is what you need.  I know it."  I smiled, shook his hand again and left, heading back to my hotel to shower before my second night train in a row. 

What a weird, short trip to the desert.  I bent down to pick something up in my room and my back spasmed.  That god damned massage killed me--how terribly ironic.  I went down to the main office slowly, stiffly.  I told the owner what had happened to my back.  He gave me some sort of cream, then asked if I wanted his help to apply it.  I agreed--this guy had been completely nice and non-creepy this entire time.  I popped some ibuprofen after my short massage, then got on the night train, to sleep another night on the hard berth. 

The family in my compartment consisted of a 6 year old girl, a 9 year old boy, and two parents in their early 30s.  Each time I climbed down from my upper bunk the girl touched my head, smiling.  The parents and girl took turns giving the boy math problems in English.  177 plus 94?  The family was very sweet and when I got off at a stop to buy water and cookies (a wholesome dinner), I shared my cookies with the kids.  I was deep into a This American Life podcast an hour later when I felt a tug at my sleeve.  "Would you like some curry?" the boy asked, grinning.  It was delicious.

5/9/12 The Kindness of Strangers

I moved from that closed restaurant to an open one for a late lunch.  I had delicious vegetarian curry and a mango lassi for lunch.  I sat reading "A Fine Balance"--a fantastic novel I actually read in Peace Corps but decided to re-read in India, as it is based here in the 1970s.  It tells the story of intersecting lives, and sucked me in completely--even the second time.  The waiter told me the restaurant was closing until dinner but invited me to a beautiful courtyard/garden area in the back where I sat and read until the rain started.  I moved into a small covered room with a tin roof under a tree with four peacocks perched loudly.  There I read as the thunderstorm rolled in, and while the storm raged around me.  It let up briefly and I thought the storm would clearn.  No such luck--another surge whipped leaves and branches into my little haven.  Finally I went through the courtyard and back into the restaurant, which had lost electricity thanks to the storm.  It was getting dark and I was eager to cross town for my hotel.  I was 20 Rupees short for my bill at the restaurant and offered to go to the ATM and come back.  They insisted tomorrow would be fine.  I walked through town, the bottom of my long white skirt in hand.  A man with a motorcycle offered to give me a ride.  I told him I had no money, but he just smiled, and said, "No money, madam."  I got on side-saddle, gripping his waist.  We only made it a few blocks before he told me the water was too deep to continue on the motorcycle.  I thanked him and dismounted, determined to walk through the water that was already halfway to my knee. 

I didn't make it far.  The street was disgusting, with the trash and animal feces floating to the top of the flooded street.  As I trudged through, all I could think of was another time I felt determined to cross (what I imagined to be) difficult terrain.  When I was about 10 years old, our horse cut his face all along his snout (?).  I was sent to my great aunt's house for help, as there was no electricity.  I trudged through what I'm sure looking back was just a few inches of snow with a flashlight, feeling that I must get to my aunt's house for help. 

In this present day scenario, however, I ended up sitting with two young men in the doorway of a music shop until the one said he had to close.  The other offered me a ride on his motorcycle, insisting I wait on the small ledge for him to come around.  He roared through the water and into the elevated unflooded street.  I had given up side saddle, and just tucked  skirt as well as I could between us.  He took me all the way to the door of my hotel and I shook his hand, thanking him repeatedly for his kindness.  He just smiled.  The hotel was dark when I returned and I finished my book by candlelight in my room, tears streaming down my face from thinking of the tragedy that met the book's characters.  The electricity came back on, and I switched on the TV, deciding to watch Con-Air until I fell asleep.

5/8/12 Pushkar

5/8/12

Today I'm in Pushkar for the day.  I arrived yesterday evening, got off of the bus, and wandered through town with my large backpack in tow, asking "Sun-N-Moon?" about every two blocks to find my hotel.  The hotel is beautiful and quiet with the ten or so rooms opening out onto a courtyard.  The electricity went out just after I arrived, and I chatted with the Indian family who runs the hotel and some British kids on their gap year before calling it an early night. 

Today I went to inquire about a train ticket to Jaiselmer, but was told I could not go until tomorrow, which is fine.  Pushkar is so much calmer than Jaipur or super ridiculously busy Delhi, and a welcome break.  Right now I'm sitting on the other side of town from my hotel, listening to the noises that float in with the cool breeze from the other side of the holy lake, which was said to have been created when Brahma dropped a lotus flower.  The lake is surrounded by cement steps that feed into it or the bathing ghats where pilgrims bathe.  There are hundreds of temples in Pushkar, as it is a major Hindu pilgrimage town, though many are quite new.  The only other person in this abandoned restaurant is a man snoring lightly during his nap.  I'm debating where to have lunch, but regardless of where I go, it will be vegetarian and contain no eggs, as is the rule in Pushkar.  I was told yesterday that if I want a beer, I must tell the woman who runs the hotel in the morning, and can get it in the evening for double the price of the same Indian beer in other towns.  So thank you, Pushkar, for continuing my unintentional cleanse...

Slight Showers and Being a Tourist 5/7/12

I've just boarded a bus to Pushkar and the rain has begun.  I missed it by two minutes, though the clouds have hung low since yesterday evening.  The parched land I saw yesterday surrounding Jaipur desperately needs it.  I took a Tuc-Tuc (motorcycle rickshaw) all over Jaipur yesterday, took a bunch of photos (don't worry, Dad), and some video  I began at the City Palace--a huge complex of buildings and gardens in Old City (or Pink City, as all the building were once painted pink to welcome Prince Albert).  The architecture is a mix of Mughal and Rajasthani, built up over the centuries.  Inside I took an audio tour, wandering through the intricate buildings to see old wedding gowns, polo outfits, and a wide array of weaponry.  Strangely ,the weapons impressed me the most.  Daggers, swords, armor, shields, and guns were displayed with an absurd amount of ivory, gold and jeweled handles within what was previously an old ladies' dance hall.  In contrast with the violence of the weapons, the ceilings were intricately painted with gold details supporting large chandeliers.  Jantar Mantar was just across the street, and consisted of a large courtyard filled with large sculptures used to measure the time within two seconds, and the positions of the stars.  It felt like a huge adult playground, though the guards and chains preventing climbing and exploring foiled my playtime plan...

Later, leaving the city, Waseem (my Tuc-Tuc driver) took me to the Amber Fort, which was where Jaipur was located until the city's population outgrew its water source.  Amber Fort was built in the late 1500s, and was a maze of passageways and halls, each unlabeled.  As I didn't take an audio tour nor accepted a guide--as I kind of prefer to wander blindly--I know relatively little about Amber Fort.  I basically got lost a bunch there, taking photos.  As I wandered through the labyrinth, I saw only four other foreigners.  One was a German who was absolutely Tomas Conkwright's doppelganger.  As we chatted, a family approached to ask if we would tak ea photo with their children.  We obliged.  Tomas 2 said to me, "People don't realize that Amber Fort isn't the real attraction--we are."  I feel this way at nearly every place I go.  Look!!  A tall white girl!  In the wild!

Moving along, I walked back down to meet Waseem, who was kind, comfortable, and just chatty enough.  We saw some elephants with their faces and trunks painted.  The elephant master (trainer?) grabbged my arm to pull me around to his side for a photo op (so don't worry--there's plenty of photo documentation...).  We moved along past the water palace, now closed, and on towards the monkey temple.  My 16-year-old guide (Ram) seemed more concerned with my single, childlless status than anyone else to date, which is saying a lot.  I bought peanuts for the monkeys and gave them and my camera to Ram..."For protection," he said.  "I will protect you from the monkeys," he assured me.  As we raced up the hill, past a slew of untimid monkeys, Ram and I chatted .  Ram handed me a few peanuts out at a time to be sure I wouldn't be swarmed.  I found the temple itself not very exciting, though it offered a beautiful view of Jaipur and the dark clouds rolling in.  On the race back down the rocky path, I fed more monkeys as Ram acted as photographer.  I was made so much more uncomfortable by the little monkeys than I had expected.  Their little hands seemed creepy and I found myself flinching at the thought of monkey teeth sinking into flesh.  I cannot stop thinking about that monkey that was treated as though it was part of the family (given booze and antidepressants like a good American) until the day it just snapped and ripped off the human mother's face.  I'm happy to say I came out unscathed--face and all! 

On a train 5/5/12

I'm on a train.  Have I mentioend how much I adore trains?  They're basically magical machines that give you a quick glimpse at the world as you go fliying past.  And as if just being on any ol' train isn't enough, I'm on one in India, in an airconditioned car nowehre near as chuci as the one in Darjeeling Limited, but with four Indian men and one woman who don't seem to speak much English.  One of the men is actually about 22 years old and his ring tones are absurd ballads from the US.  I have cracked up each time his phone has rung.  The lack of English is totally fine--I'll happily take a break from people asking me my name, age, sibling count, and if its ok to take my photo. 

I got to the station early on what may have been the bumpiest ride of my life in the back of a motorcycle rickshaw (aka Tuc-tuc).  As I sat in the shade at the station with my huge travel backpack behind me, my feet draped over (and through the strap of) a smaller pack, I read, trying to ignore the masses of people staring at me as I did so.  I was doing a pretty good job ignoring them until one kid who was maybe about 20 years old or so approached me, stapled pack of papers in hand.  Yes, I said, that is an English test.  Yes, he smiled, shoving the papers on top of my book.  The joys of no one understanding what I'm saying means I can say whatever I want.  I gave him a lecture about how he won't learn it if I do it and handed the stack of papers back to him.  We went back and forth like this until I as able to convey to him that if he filled out the test, I'd check it for him.  OK, OK, he smiled.  My reading went on basically uninterrupted for another 15 minutes.  The kid came back, beaming, and gave me the stack again.  I began looking it over, reading the questions out loud as I went.  Thirty seconds passed. I looked up, literally 15 teenage boy/young men surrounded me, with one girl at my side.  A few minutes later, the group had grown to 25.  All I could think was, I wish my English classes in Paraguay had been met with this kind of enthusiasm...

Shopping Hell

So, I've written parts of a number of blogs, so I'll just include bits of them here. 

5/4/12
I just went to my idea of shopping Hell.  But it was kind of pleasant...and superbly stressful.  I am on this tour because why the hell not?  The Couchsurfer I'm staying with recommended I use this tour guide (Mehar) who is super pleasant, sweet and great.  He actually picked me up from the airport with a sign with my name on it, though he and his 15 year old sister were super late doing so.  Then, since his sister is straight from the countryside, she was quite confused by moving sidewalks, and I had to hold her hand as we walked onto of off of them.  I've gotten to know Mehar's brother and sister over the past few days--and am in fact shiring a sleeping mat with his sister who almost took one of my malaria pills this morning.  (The sleeping mat is basically a thin futon cushion.)  Anyway, Mehar set up an all day tour for me for $20 to explore all over Delhi.  The problem is my driver speaks very little English--as does his budddy who is accompanying us and basically just smiling at me since he seems to know zero English.  So we went to several places--great places really--the Lotus Temple that looks like Sydney's Opera House, Hucumayta's Tomb, India Gate (where a man followed me around the ENTIRE time asking to pay him to take my photo), and now I'm at this super touristy restaurant I was basically forced into where three other tables are full.  Yes, I'm alone.  The other tables consist of two Japanese teenagers, a German couple with a guide, and an Indian family.  I'm curious as to why Coca-Cola makes a cola that tastes like it is basically Shasta cola but is named Thums Up (yes, thumbs without a "b").  Coca-Cola, are you aware of this?  I've seen you elsewhere in Delhi, but you insist on also selling this other gross version.  What's up with that?  Who put some Cola in a bottle with a crappy logo and couldn't spell "thumb"?  I'm confused. 

So I didn't finish that blog, but other higlights of that day/days before:
* A 12 year old girl was so sweetly excited to speak to me in English at Lotus Temple.  She followed me around and absolutely asked me every question she could think of.  I found it so endearing. 
* I have watched my host uncle play the Tumbas (like bongo drums) and his friend play this accordion (a little piano with an accordian-type back) just for me, which has been awkward but pleasant. 
* I keep wanting to photo bomb other peoples' photos (which just means making silly faces in the background of strangers' photos), since A) I'm by myself, and B) people keep taking my photo anyway.
* The first American I met was this kid who was maybe 20 and told me he had spent the past 5 weeks in an Ashram.  All I could think of was how he was the last person to ever become Enlightened.