"All I know is this: I hate misquitos."
Quote of the day from TG
Quote of the day from TG
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Scooter it!
Scooter! Scooter is the way to see rural India! TG and I rent one, and tear around the coast and countryside of this beautiful southern state. As we tutt along, down the dirt roads, and around the honking local traffic, we feel for a moment liberated. He is not worried about trying to save the world, and I am not concerned with money and time. We scoot by farms of rice and vegetables we do not know the names of, The streams are filled with water buffalo and above are ideal blue skies. The children and adults stare at us in wonder, and wave and smile hello.
We have been experiencing this rare phenomenon. The locals always want to take our picture! The children break out into large wide grins when they see TG and his long limbs trouncing down the street. The young men pose with us, while their friends take pictures with their Iphones. Everyone waves and smiles, and asks where we are from. It is a far cry from our experience in Delhi; different worlds altogether. I don't know if they think TG is some American baseball player or movie star, or if they find us particularly strange looking, or perhaps locals always take pictures with tourists, but we find it curious. We laugh, and always say yes. We are mostly glad that people seem happy to see us, instead of the angry stares that was so often our interaction with locals in Delhi.
People still want to sell us the moon, but there are fewer people here, so we are not hounded. Temples and ruins sit in surprising pockets, and remind us that there is more history here then we might ever understand. I long to know the stories, before the tourists, before the iphones, but they are as difficult to find as the small roads that lead to these intricate places of worship.
The wind rips through our hair, and the vibration of the street and small rickety vehicle hums though our bodies. Palm thatched roofs, barefoot children, tractors, and so many strange happy wayward cows (I now harbor a strange love for these large simple animals), brainwash us into thinking that maybe we haven't made a mistake after all. There is something here, waiting for us in the sometimes harsh simplicity. When I figure out what that is, exactly, I will let you know. Until then, we clumsily stumble in and out of the hard beauty of India. My advice: rent a scooter! The view is better.
We have been experiencing this rare phenomenon. The locals always want to take our picture! The children break out into large wide grins when they see TG and his long limbs trouncing down the street. The young men pose with us, while their friends take pictures with their Iphones. Everyone waves and smiles, and asks where we are from. It is a far cry from our experience in Delhi; different worlds altogether. I don't know if they think TG is some American baseball player or movie star, or if they find us particularly strange looking, or perhaps locals always take pictures with tourists, but we find it curious. We laugh, and always say yes. We are mostly glad that people seem happy to see us, instead of the angry stares that was so often our interaction with locals in Delhi.
People still want to sell us the moon, but there are fewer people here, so we are not hounded. Temples and ruins sit in surprising pockets, and remind us that there is more history here then we might ever understand. I long to know the stories, before the tourists, before the iphones, but they are as difficult to find as the small roads that lead to these intricate places of worship.
The wind rips through our hair, and the vibration of the street and small rickety vehicle hums though our bodies. Palm thatched roofs, barefoot children, tractors, and so many strange happy wayward cows (I now harbor a strange love for these large simple animals), brainwash us into thinking that maybe we haven't made a mistake after all. There is something here, waiting for us in the sometimes harsh simplicity. When I figure out what that is, exactly, I will let you know. Until then, we clumsily stumble in and out of the hard beauty of India. My advice: rent a scooter! The view is better.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Green Acres
We stand atop the rock reliefs of ancient times, and survey the gleaming backwaters, the blank reaching coast, and the bright painted fishing boats, that make up this small coastal town. The people here have prospered off of these simple riches. As the monkeys beckon us to stay, TG and I look to each other and agree; this is paradise.
This is the sleepy beauty of Mamallapuram, and both of us are terribly infatuated. We long to make this affair last, so we rent the unused second floor of a home from a local family. We have a sunny roof, a bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom, living space, furniture, a washing machine, and all utilities for $200 month. The only thing we don't have is a fridge, so we market daily, and cook anything perishable the same day.
The electricity in the entire town goes out exactly from noon to two every day, during which few restaurants serve food, and we are forced to unplug from our computers. The businesses rarely have what they advertise. We are learning to manage our expectations. The local men stare a little too long when I wear my two-piece bathing suit to the beach. The only people who know how to swim are the fishermen. The rest of the locals just wade, and I have yet to see a single Mamallapuram woman with more than her feet in the water. All the prices are inflated, due to us being foreigners, but these small inconveniences are completely worth the quiet beach, and the dusty charms of this little Indian town.
The woman all wear saris here, and the men wear Lungis, a piece of cloth wrapped around the waist. It falls at the ankle or at the knee, depending on one's taste and the heat of the day. Most live off the yearly supply of tourists and the bountiful sea. The fishing boats go out everyday, and return in the afternoon. The older generation speaks predominantly Tamil, one of the main dialects of the state. The younger generation seem to have some knowledge of English, and can usually speak some Hindi. Everything is closed by 11pm, and the town falls silent. It is a welcome silence, filled only with the constant whispering of the beach.
TG spends his day researching, tracking down leads, and saving goats. I spend my days writing, swimming, and learning to cook the local dishes. Life is simple here. It will be hard to leave it behind, but in the mean time, we can sit back, and enjoy the little things. I had forgotten what simple was like.
TG saving a goat!
This is the sleepy beauty of Mamallapuram, and both of us are terribly infatuated. We long to make this affair last, so we rent the unused second floor of a home from a local family. We have a sunny roof, a bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom, living space, furniture, a washing machine, and all utilities for $200 month. The only thing we don't have is a fridge, so we market daily, and cook anything perishable the same day.
The electricity in the entire town goes out exactly from noon to two every day, during which few restaurants serve food, and we are forced to unplug from our computers. The businesses rarely have what they advertise. We are learning to manage our expectations. The local men stare a little too long when I wear my two-piece bathing suit to the beach. The only people who know how to swim are the fishermen. The rest of the locals just wade, and I have yet to see a single Mamallapuram woman with more than her feet in the water. All the prices are inflated, due to us being foreigners, but these small inconveniences are completely worth the quiet beach, and the dusty charms of this little Indian town.
The woman all wear saris here, and the men wear Lungis, a piece of cloth wrapped around the waist. It falls at the ankle or at the knee, depending on one's taste and the heat of the day. Most live off the yearly supply of tourists and the bountiful sea. The fishing boats go out everyday, and return in the afternoon. The older generation speaks predominantly Tamil, one of the main dialects of the state. The younger generation seem to have some knowledge of English, and can usually speak some Hindi. Everything is closed by 11pm, and the town falls silent. It is a welcome silence, filled only with the constant whispering of the beach.
TG spends his day researching, tracking down leads, and saving goats. I spend my days writing, swimming, and learning to cook the local dishes. Life is simple here. It will be hard to leave it behind, but in the mean time, we can sit back, and enjoy the little things. I had forgotten what simple was like.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Where in the World...?
Where the hell are we? Good Question. If you have been following, we were scheduled to depart for Alleppey, the Venice of the East, but as all things in real time, everything changed. We were there, waiting happily, chatting about our escape from the crowds of Delhi to a warmer place and a more relaxed state of being. We sat, and sat, and still our train did not come. Platform 3, Platform 3, that is where everyone had told us to wait for the train to Kerala, but it never came, or it came and went. Either way, we were not on it. We would not be going to Alleppey, not that day anyway. We spent the night in a rundown hostel, after purchasing new train tickets. Chennai would be our new starting destination. No more trains to Alleppey that week, we had missed the last one. Anywhere that wasn't Delhi would do. The next night, determined not to be foiled again, we boarded the correct train. Hurray! We are not complete idiots!
We sped through the country side, the change in environment and temperature nearly instant. If I could give one piece of advice about Indian train travel, it would be to pack toilet paper. Our train compartment was full of friendly, middle class Indians, this particular group returning home to Chennai after the international auto show in Delhi.
Chennai was warm, and relaxed, everyone wearing their best for Pongal. Pongal is a Hindu harvest festival predominately celebrated in the state of Tamil Nadu. It goes on for three days. It is similar to thanksgiving, but longer, and the food is better. In actuality, Pongal kicks Thanksgiving's ass. The pastel street chalk art, the balloons, the ladies and children dressed in their best and brightest, the cups of raw sugar cane juice, the incessant smiling and family activity, Pongal is a holiday I can definitely get behind.
We stayed just a night in Chennai, not wishing to be stuck in another city if we didn't need to be, but already things were a great deal better than our previous adversary, "Winter in New Delhi". We had met a nice fellow on the train, just out of college who directed us to another town, Mamallapuram*. We had planned on hopping the bus down the coast, towards Pondicherry, a well known coastal village, near the green future friendly European planned city of Auroville, but we had not heard of Mamallapuram. We decided we would put ourselves in fate's hands. Mamallapuram, here we come, and then we went.
* If you follow this link, I have to note that I personally disagree with how Wikitravel has painted Mamallapuram. I found it a million times less touristy than half of the other places I have visited in India so far, but the Wikilink is otherwise informative.
Note from GRACE: I am currently working from internet cafes where there is no wireless, so I apologize for possible format issues, and the absence of visuals. Once we have the problem solved, I will be updating entries with more pictures and video. Thanks for understanding the ways of the road!
We sped through the country side, the change in environment and temperature nearly instant. If I could give one piece of advice about Indian train travel, it would be to pack toilet paper. Our train compartment was full of friendly, middle class Indians, this particular group returning home to Chennai after the international auto show in Delhi.
Chennai was warm, and relaxed, everyone wearing their best for Pongal. Pongal is a Hindu harvest festival predominately celebrated in the state of Tamil Nadu. It goes on for three days. It is similar to thanksgiving, but longer, and the food is better. In actuality, Pongal kicks Thanksgiving's ass. The pastel street chalk art, the balloons, the ladies and children dressed in their best and brightest, the cups of raw sugar cane juice, the incessant smiling and family activity, Pongal is a holiday I can definitely get behind.
We stayed just a night in Chennai, not wishing to be stuck in another city if we didn't need to be, but already things were a great deal better than our previous adversary, "Winter in New Delhi". We had met a nice fellow on the train, just out of college who directed us to another town, Mamallapuram*. We had planned on hopping the bus down the coast, towards Pondicherry, a well known coastal village, near the green future friendly European planned city of Auroville, but we had not heard of Mamallapuram. We decided we would put ourselves in fate's hands. Mamallapuram, here we come, and then we went.
* If you follow this link, I have to note that I personally disagree with how Wikitravel has painted Mamallapuram. I found it a million times less touristy than half of the other places I have visited in India so far, but the Wikilink is otherwise informative.
Note from GRACE: I am currently working from internet cafes where there is no wireless, so I apologize for possible format issues, and the absence of visuals. Once we have the problem solved, I will be updating entries with more pictures and video. Thanks for understanding the ways of the road!
Saturday, January 7, 2012
All or Nothing
So in the last few days, we have been getting our tourist freak on. TG and I have visited...
Today I vomited, and slept. Maybe too much too soon, but all of the places were worth visiting. I have seen more foreigners these last few days than I would care to admit. These destinations are popular with tourists, and also the ex-pats and the privileged locals. The chaos of Delhi drives people to these spots, which are more expensive and westernized, but the search for quiet is a commodity that seemingly only money can buy here.
We are planning on going South this next week. "Got a ticket to ride". The railway is to be our way of going, and how I love traveling by train! Our destination is Alleppey, the "Venice of the East", for hopefully some quiet, warmth, and water relaxing time. TG's presentation has been put off again, oh India time, so we are packing our bags and getting out of Delhi while we can. Not a second too soon. There is plenty of India still to see, and I intend on experiencing more of it before I give up on this place all together.
- Red Fort, an amazing sprawling example of Mughal prowess taken over by the British during their rule here, is now preserved as a cultural monument and serves as house for several museums.
- India Habitat Centre, a contemporary coming together of Indian art, history, music, and environmental studies. We took a moment and listened to some accomplished classical Indian musicians that were playing in the theatre that day. Also within the centre is the hilariously accurate 'All American Diner' , where one can have milkshakes and listen to American 50's tunes.
- Spice Market, found in Old Delhi, its open aired stalls are overflowing with barrels of turmeric, pepper, rice, dried fruits, and pickles, etc.
- Dilli Haat, a formal craft market that sells food and wares from rural areas all over the country.
- the Imperial, considered one of Asia's finest luxury hotels where the reign of the British in India is celebrated in the art deco design, and the many paintings of English royals and military that hang on the ornate walls. It is the only place to have a real martini that I've found, as long as you don't mind spending 800 rupees per cocktail.
- Lodhi Gardens, a 90 acre green enclave of trees, ancient mosques, and kingly tombs.
Today I vomited, and slept. Maybe too much too soon, but all of the places were worth visiting. I have seen more foreigners these last few days than I would care to admit. These destinations are popular with tourists, and also the ex-pats and the privileged locals. The chaos of Delhi drives people to these spots, which are more expensive and westernized, but the search for quiet is a commodity that seemingly only money can buy here.
We are planning on going South this next week. "Got a ticket to ride". The railway is to be our way of going, and how I love traveling by train! Our destination is Alleppey, the "Venice of the East", for hopefully some quiet, warmth, and water relaxing time. TG's presentation has been put off again, oh India time, so we are packing our bags and getting out of Delhi while we can. Not a second too soon. There is plenty of India still to see, and I intend on experiencing more of it before I give up on this place all together.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Godless New Delhi
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| http://www.toonpool.com/cartoons/Servitude_4379 |
Khan Market, a common and popular destination for wealthy locals and tourists, is "more expensive than Luxumbourg, Oslo, Stockholm, Dubai, Manila, and Mexico City,"* according to the Times of India. It is a small circular bit of pavement where one can purchase princess anne roses, french pastries, buy a book in English, and designer sunglasses. One might imagine that the constant visual of poverty would cause those in a better position to become more compassionate to those without, but that is not the case. The majority of people here have become blind to the constant cry rising from the streets and the slums, the survival instinct taking on a cruel and unusual sort of deafness.
I watch from the ground of Lajpat Nagar, from the pavement of Lodhi Road, from the fortified walls of the British High Council, and from the rocking outlook of the rickshaw, and the people I see, the children, the elders, the women, and the teens, are all grimaces. The lines working into their faces, in both the poor and the privileged.
There is a long line, everyone barefoot baring flowers to pay their respects to the deities. They will stand for hours waiting. In the mean time, they stare callously without smiles or laughs. It is proper if you are muslim to pray five times everyday, but despite all the praying, I do not see miracles. My normally magical, rather Pollyanna-like way of looking at the world, changes here. If anyone ever said that Delhi invoked in them a spiritual experience, they must have lied or had spent all their time in an ashram or $200 night hotel, away from the piss and crippled of the rest of the city.
The western world is dealing with their low numbers, their flailing business plans, their national bankruptcies, and a scarce job market, but many of them don't know the true concept of struggle. Their babies are not shitting themselves to death due to poor sanitation. Sorry U.S.A. and Europe, but your cries of suffering go unheard here. Delhi is not the past, it is the future, with its rolling slums, high population, and limited resources. It is a future, where no matter the religion or God, we all suffer.
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| http://www.polyp.org.uk/wealth-poverty_cartoons/cartoons_about_wealth_and_poverty2.html |
* http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2010-09-24/delhi/28243111_1_hong-kong-s-causeway-global-markets-delhi-s-khan-market
Monday, January 2, 2012
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