I'm not going to narrate the 1983 James Bond movie with Roger Moore as the super 007 agent. But this movie is one of Udaipur's icons, as it was mostly filmed in this city.
But Udaipur is much more that the scenery of an old movie. A city with tons of romantic scenes, full with palaces, now big luxury hotels, gives the city an important presence in Rajasthan. It surrounds a lake, where women, and in less measure, men, go there to wash themselves as well as their clothes.
Artists try to get you in their shops to get you to buy their art. Mewar art is one of Udaipur's pride and I must say it's really amazing. In general, Rajasthani art is one of the most delicate and patient I have ever seen. Not only in paintings, but in carpets, textiles and marble.
Whereas artists in Europe tend to aisle themselves into a bohemian lifestyle, artists in Udaipur dress and act as wealthy westerners. Or at least they try to. By no means their intentions provides the city of glamour, but locals are really proud of it. On the contrary, the city is dedicated fully for tourists, with guests houses and hotels, restaurants and coffee shops at every corner.
The beauty hidden in Udaipurs big palaces and shops makes it an expensive city where you get constantly harassed by shopkeepers, rickshaw drivers and travel agencies. And so, it's one of the most annoying cities I've been to. This, however, must not back away the readers, as the city is really enchanting, has wonderful things to do, and is really beautiful at night.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
And alone again
The end of the camel safari meant separation from Dan and Charlotte. Sad in a way, but relieved in another. I was up for exploring for myself. I felt confident, though cautious, strong though wary. And after a last day in Bikaner had a warmth goodbye at the bus stand.
A freezing bus ride that would take me to Udaipur to new adventures, new experiences, new people and again to bargain for myself. Dan was so helpful on that matter. I'll miss them, but I reckon we'll meet again.
A freezing bus ride that would take me to Udaipur to new adventures, new experiences, new people and again to bargain for myself. Dan was so helpful on that matter. I'll miss them, but I reckon we'll meet again.
Camel safari
Riding a camel is no easy thing. Specially riding a horny one. It wasn't my case, but Dan had a good deal of it. He insisted on riding the camel besides the advisement of the owner that the animal could jump or bite without previous announcement. At all, did the camel follow his instructions and when another horny camel passed by, Dan's started to jump, as if trying to get rid of him, and then, trotted towards the other camel.
Before anything worse happened, the camel owner got to ease it with shouts of some kind. Watching everything from the cart was really entertaining. A variation from the monotonous landscape. Dan wasn't as pleased though.
When the jumps started he had both his hands occupied on his Ipod and could only hold with his legs, causing a scratch in his inner thigh. Just when he was thinking on throwing himself to the ground so not to fall under the camel and get smashed, it started to trot and he could regain his balance and hold on to the reins.
Back in the cart, the camel owners and me included were laughing from the situation and Dan's face. Scary but comical at the same time, and fortunately nothing really bad happened.
Besides that little accident, the camels went peacefully behind the carts hold by a rope. So there was no chance for jumping or going whatever way they wanted.
Though we were supposed to be in the desert, it didn't really fell like it and the landscape wasn't that appealing. The only dunes we got to see where at our campsite. There, the guide, a bit drunk by then, and the camel owners, amused us with a song about wood, lakadi in Hindi.
We had our choice on how to sleep. That is, either in a tent or outside. Dan and Charlotte decide to sleep outside and me and the English couple going with us on the safari chose the tent. The couple had their own tent, and I had one for myself. Though sleeping outside with a starred vault as a ceiling seemed amusing, wind and cold made me think otherwise. Might as well be getting old...
At the end, the experience was nice and new. Saw some antelopes and had some laughs. And ended totally knackered from the camel riding. One day was enough for me.
Before anything worse happened, the camel owner got to ease it with shouts of some kind. Watching everything from the cart was really entertaining. A variation from the monotonous landscape. Dan wasn't as pleased though.
When the jumps started he had both his hands occupied on his Ipod and could only hold with his legs, causing a scratch in his inner thigh. Just when he was thinking on throwing himself to the ground so not to fall under the camel and get smashed, it started to trot and he could regain his balance and hold on to the reins.
Back in the cart, the camel owners and me included were laughing from the situation and Dan's face. Scary but comical at the same time, and fortunately nothing really bad happened.
Besides that little accident, the camels went peacefully behind the carts hold by a rope. So there was no chance for jumping or going whatever way they wanted.
Though we were supposed to be in the desert, it didn't really fell like it and the landscape wasn't that appealing. The only dunes we got to see where at our campsite. There, the guide, a bit drunk by then, and the camel owners, amused us with a song about wood, lakadi in Hindi.
We had our choice on how to sleep. That is, either in a tent or outside. Dan and Charlotte decide to sleep outside and me and the English couple going with us on the safari chose the tent. The couple had their own tent, and I had one for myself. Though sleeping outside with a starred vault as a ceiling seemed amusing, wind and cold made me think otherwise. Might as well be getting old...
At the end, the experience was nice and new. Saw some antelopes and had some laughs. And ended totally knackered from the camel riding. One day was enough for me.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Weddings II
On our next wedding, this time in Bikaner, the situation we bumped into was a bit more aggressive. In this case, while coming back from the bar, our auto rickshaw driver drove us on a wrong direction that took us straight to a wedding.
The party was still, men were dancing, the groom was on a fully decorated horse, a cart with big speakers ready to shout out music, a band constantly playing and a rickshaw giving energy to big kitsch lamps carried by children. The last being the oddest.
As it couldn't be in any other way, Dan jumped out of the rickshaw to make some pictures, and a minute later we were all being dragged into the dancing circle. Charlotte, who this time was with us, wasn't sure about dancing with so many men surrounding her, and thus one of the women around kindly danced with here. Soon others joined.
But the men were getting very excited, not only from the occasion, the music, the people, and the alcohol, Charlotte was the main motive. The aggressiveness of the men made the women leave the music circle and Charlotte was left alone to the only help of Dan and me.
An old man with a kind face who continuously thanked us, we don't know why, also helped Charlotte against the drunk village people who insisted in dancing with her. And as their excitement grew and grew, the tension among the guests also increased, ones trying to dance with Charlotte whilst others pushing them away.
And I would say, that at the precise moment, as if predicting a catastrophe, we were literally dragged out of the dancing circle and forced our way to a rickshaw that should get us back on the right path to our hostel.
Fun, but I just hope to get a bit sooner the next time.
The party was still, men were dancing, the groom was on a fully decorated horse, a cart with big speakers ready to shout out music, a band constantly playing and a rickshaw giving energy to big kitsch lamps carried by children. The last being the oddest.
As it couldn't be in any other way, Dan jumped out of the rickshaw to make some pictures, and a minute later we were all being dragged into the dancing circle. Charlotte, who this time was with us, wasn't sure about dancing with so many men surrounding her, and thus one of the women around kindly danced with here. Soon others joined.
But the men were getting very excited, not only from the occasion, the music, the people, and the alcohol, Charlotte was the main motive. The aggressiveness of the men made the women leave the music circle and Charlotte was left alone to the only help of Dan and me.
An old man with a kind face who continuously thanked us, we don't know why, also helped Charlotte against the drunk village people who insisted in dancing with her. And as their excitement grew and grew, the tension among the guests also increased, ones trying to dance with Charlotte whilst others pushing them away.
And I would say, that at the precise moment, as if predicting a catastrophe, we were literally dragged out of the dancing circle and forced our way to a rickshaw that should get us back on the right path to our hostel.
Fun, but I just hope to get a bit sooner the next time.
Weddings I
Fireworks in the night, with no festival in the way, means there's a wedding going on. First notice of weddings was at Jaipur, where a few were going on at our arrival. And precisely there, we had our first wedding experience, being the other one in Bikaner. Can't tell which one ended up in the most weirdest situation. But I would stick to the first one.
We arrived very late and finding a place to stay was very hard. We had two conditions, it had to be cheap, and not sharing a double room between the three of us. So once we got a very strange place with the strangest of manager, Dan, as always, was starving. So he and I went on the search for food. On our quest, we stumbled into a finished wedding where people were still eating and hanging around. The big stuff had obviously finished and chance of seeing the married couples wasn't available. However, the main point was getting food, and that seemed like a good place to ask. And Dan was the first to do so.
Very kindly they filled us up with everything they had, curry, roti, chilly, sweets, and I can't recall what else. The attention was incredible and communication was very difficult. Family members were always chasing guests away from us when we hardly could eat of so much effort trying to communicate and answering to their questions, but they had trouble as well trying to answer ours, with not much interest anyway. We were another amenity of the night and they weren't in a serious mood.
We could not fulfill ourselves with any more spicy, damn it was spicy, food, and so it was our turn to take them as the amenity of the night. Dan asked for taking pictures, and all of a sudden we were dragged to an alley were they insistently asked for pictures and pictures.
And then, things started to get strange. We didn't want to be rude, and though our intention was to get back to the wedding to say thanks and head to the hotel, three of the youngsters did not let us go so easily. They insisted on having a smoke, to which we didn't know if they were talking about drugs or just a cigarette. I offered my rollings, but they wanted Indian cigarettes. After our refusal of going away to buy them, we were asked to seat with them for while. I decided to stay up, and Dan sat down. One the Indians sat right next to him and immediately put his arm around his leg, while touching his inner thigh. Rubbing it I'd say. Dan was uncomfortable, but didn't want to offend the guy, as Indians are very touchable within themselves, holding hands, playing with their fingers and hugging, and other stuff, to a point you never know what is culture and what is homosexuality.
With no previous advertisement, the guy lent to Dan like if trying to kiss him, but Dan was swift enough to miss the shot. And then the guy just directly asked him for a kiss. Dan's No was enough, and they asked me to seat down next to the guy, to what I kindly refused. Dan had had enough of the touching and his eyes were looking straight to mines telling me with no words necessary we should get the hell out of there, and quickly.
Once outside, I could not help but properly burst in laughs, though Dan didn't think the situation was that funny.
We arrived very late and finding a place to stay was very hard. We had two conditions, it had to be cheap, and not sharing a double room between the three of us. So once we got a very strange place with the strangest of manager, Dan, as always, was starving. So he and I went on the search for food. On our quest, we stumbled into a finished wedding where people were still eating and hanging around. The big stuff had obviously finished and chance of seeing the married couples wasn't available. However, the main point was getting food, and that seemed like a good place to ask. And Dan was the first to do so.
Very kindly they filled us up with everything they had, curry, roti, chilly, sweets, and I can't recall what else. The attention was incredible and communication was very difficult. Family members were always chasing guests away from us when we hardly could eat of so much effort trying to communicate and answering to their questions, but they had trouble as well trying to answer ours, with not much interest anyway. We were another amenity of the night and they weren't in a serious mood.
We could not fulfill ourselves with any more spicy, damn it was spicy, food, and so it was our turn to take them as the amenity of the night. Dan asked for taking pictures, and all of a sudden we were dragged to an alley were they insistently asked for pictures and pictures.
And then, things started to get strange. We didn't want to be rude, and though our intention was to get back to the wedding to say thanks and head to the hotel, three of the youngsters did not let us go so easily. They insisted on having a smoke, to which we didn't know if they were talking about drugs or just a cigarette. I offered my rollings, but they wanted Indian cigarettes. After our refusal of going away to buy them, we were asked to seat with them for while. I decided to stay up, and Dan sat down. One the Indians sat right next to him and immediately put his arm around his leg, while touching his inner thigh. Rubbing it I'd say. Dan was uncomfortable, but didn't want to offend the guy, as Indians are very touchable within themselves, holding hands, playing with their fingers and hugging, and other stuff, to a point you never know what is culture and what is homosexuality.
With no previous advertisement, the guy lent to Dan like if trying to kiss him, but Dan was swift enough to miss the shot. And then the guy just directly asked him for a kiss. Dan's No was enough, and they asked me to seat down next to the guy, to what I kindly refused. Dan had had enough of the touching and his eyes were looking straight to mines telling me with no words necessary we should get the hell out of there, and quickly.
Once outside, I could not help but properly burst in laughs, though Dan didn't think the situation was that funny.
Bars
Not all bars are the same. That happens in India or in Europe. But here, differences are astonishing. Either you get bars totally dedicated to tourists or you get bars totally dedicated for Indians. And the difference is well noticeable.
In an untouristic town as Bikaner, only an Indian bar was available. Women were allowed, but we could not see a single feminine spirit around. A dodgy place, with a security guard that looked more as a police officer, dim lights and full of locals drinking eating, drinking and smoking.
I've already talked about other bars, as the one in Rishikesh, or Carpe Diem at Mc Leod. This one, however, had nothing to do with them. While fun was almost assured in the other two, on this one no entertainment was available. Cheaper, and boring, thus more quieter. Everything seemed under control. So controlled that it closed at half past nine.
Definitely, not my choice of a bar.
In an untouristic town as Bikaner, only an Indian bar was available. Women were allowed, but we could not see a single feminine spirit around. A dodgy place, with a security guard that looked more as a police officer, dim lights and full of locals drinking eating, drinking and smoking.
I've already talked about other bars, as the one in Rishikesh, or Carpe Diem at Mc Leod. This one, however, had nothing to do with them. While fun was almost assured in the other two, on this one no entertainment was available. Cheaper, and boring, thus more quieter. Everything seemed under control. So controlled that it closed at half past nine.
Definitely, not my choice of a bar.
Bikaner
Got to Bikaner after a deceiving stop at a wildlife sanctuary. Nine square kilometers of a few small antelopes and empty terrain. As we still had the car, we decided to go to Kolayat, not without arguing with the owner of the car about the price again.
Another bad decision. Another empty space, a ghost town that surrounded a lake, full of temples and ghats, and babas that enhanced the ghostly sensation.
Back to Bikaner, we went to see the fort. Beautiful, but just another fort. And so, we prepared ourselves for a camel safari we had booked.
Another bad decision. Another empty space, a ghost town that surrounded a lake, full of temples and ghats, and babas that enhanced the ghostly sensation.
Back to Bikaner, we went to see the fort. Beautiful, but just another fort. And so, we prepared ourselves for a camel safari we had booked.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
The Shekhawati Region
Our romantic idea of searching undiscovered and untouristic places took us to the Shekhawati Region. We got immersed into a region full of havelis, beautiful buildings, lovely decorated with detailed miniature paintings of their time.
Our first stop took us to Nawalgar, where most of the buildings were in ruins, and the paintings could hardly be seen on some occasions. Only a couple of tourists we got to see, and this weren't our age, but older. Surprisingly though, the city, though untouristy, it was more expensive than we thought it would be. This shocked us, and it definitely ruined any conceived idea of the money I was to waste in this experience.
On that first night, we met with a 14 year old kid who asked for nothing and helped us much. He was a smart kid, knew what he wanted, and so went for it with determination. His idea was to be a guide, and so he helped uninterestedly to tourists, getting them to his home and showing them the best and cheapest of the area.
I said before that most of the Havelis were in ruins. However, a couple were being restored into hotels. Luxury hotels they seemed to me. This would for sure make the area even more expensive. The kid took us to one of this Havelis and we got good detail of what was going on.
The following day the kid directed us to Parsurampura to show us the place, and got us in the middle of a camel safari, were they offered us food for a 100 Rs. each. The food wasn't ours, and Dan and Charlotte didn't find it appropriate to eat there even though paying. So we said our goodbyes to the tourist of the camel safari and our new little friend.
The following destination turned out to be, without a doubt the most expensive town I have encountered so far in India. Mandawa is a town full of Havelis, some of them already restored into fancy and expensive hotels. Beautiful without a doubt, they were huge havelis, and the little ones seemed to be forgotten.
Having two days of Havelis and this town, made a decisive effect in our relationships, were Charlotte wasn't in a very good mood with Dan, and getting accommodation was starting to make me uncomfortable. Prices were totally out of place in Mandawaand the feeling of being out of the tourist path had vanished. All together kicked us out of the Shekhawati Region into Bikaner one day in advance.
Our first stop took us to Nawalgar, where most of the buildings were in ruins, and the paintings could hardly be seen on some occasions. Only a couple of tourists we got to see, and this weren't our age, but older. Surprisingly though, the city, though untouristy, it was more expensive than we thought it would be. This shocked us, and it definitely ruined any conceived idea of the money I was to waste in this experience.
On that first night, we met with a 14 year old kid who asked for nothing and helped us much. He was a smart kid, knew what he wanted, and so went for it with determination. His idea was to be a guide, and so he helped uninterestedly to tourists, getting them to his home and showing them the best and cheapest of the area.
I said before that most of the Havelis were in ruins. However, a couple were being restored into hotels. Luxury hotels they seemed to me. This would for sure make the area even more expensive. The kid took us to one of this Havelis and we got good detail of what was going on.
The following day the kid directed us to Parsurampura to show us the place, and got us in the middle of a camel safari, were they offered us food for a 100 Rs. each. The food wasn't ours, and Dan and Charlotte didn't find it appropriate to eat there even though paying. So we said our goodbyes to the tourist of the camel safari and our new little friend.
The following destination turned out to be, without a doubt the most expensive town I have encountered so far in India. Mandawa is a town full of Havelis, some of them already restored into fancy and expensive hotels. Beautiful without a doubt, they were huge havelis, and the little ones seemed to be forgotten.
Having two days of Havelis and this town, made a decisive effect in our relationships, were Charlotte wasn't in a very good mood with Dan, and getting accommodation was starting to make me uncomfortable. Prices were totally out of place in Mandawaand the feeling of being out of the tourist path had vanished. All together kicked us out of the Shekhawati Region into Bikaner one day in advance.
Hiring a jeep
One of the reasons to travel with Dan and Charlotte, as I stated before, was to hire a jeep and explore Rajasthan in a less touristic way. The jeep not only would all9ow us to stop at little towns, but also risk ourselves into places the Lonely Planet did not talk about.
However, ours, was just a romantic idea. Hiring a jeep would never allow you to do that, as it involves, in a cheap manner, at least 5 people. These would be uncomfortable in the jeep, and my experience tells me, there would be a lot of tension in time of decisions.
At the moment being, I think that the best way to travel India is by motorbike, which I hope to be able to do some day.
So we headed for a cheaper option which discarded totally the jeep, and took into consideration a car. Getting a car was also the consequence of not being able to get more people to participate in the experience.
After not little bargaining on Dan's behalf, we got a very good price for a car, but at that moment, Charlotte wasn't involved and knew nothing about the change of plans. Once we had consulted her about the situation, we had to bargain again the price in a vain try to cheap up the jeep, but with no luck.
Charlotte was fond on going on an opened jeep, which Dan and I had already discarded because of the obvious discomforts, and even thought Charlotte wouldn't approve such a jeep. But apparently, her romantic idea did involve an open jeep, and we had to regain our charge and go for it.
As I said, we had no luck with the jeep, but there was still a little detail Charlotte had minded us of, and was that it made no sense to end up the trip at Jaipur, and we should end the trip in Bikaner. This was no easy bargain as our previous deal consisted on stopping the adventure at Jaipur. This was an obvious distress for the owners as going from Jaipur to Pushkar was only a 3 hour trip, while from Bikaner it took 6. However, we managed to get the same deal, and depart the following day at 10:30 am.
However, ours, was just a romantic idea. Hiring a jeep would never allow you to do that, as it involves, in a cheap manner, at least 5 people. These would be uncomfortable in the jeep, and my experience tells me, there would be a lot of tension in time of decisions.
At the moment being, I think that the best way to travel India is by motorbike, which I hope to be able to do some day.
So we headed for a cheaper option which discarded totally the jeep, and took into consideration a car. Getting a car was also the consequence of not being able to get more people to participate in the experience.
After not little bargaining on Dan's behalf, we got a very good price for a car, but at that moment, Charlotte wasn't involved and knew nothing about the change of plans. Once we had consulted her about the situation, we had to bargain again the price in a vain try to cheap up the jeep, but with no luck.
Charlotte was fond on going on an opened jeep, which Dan and I had already discarded because of the obvious discomforts, and even thought Charlotte wouldn't approve such a jeep. But apparently, her romantic idea did involve an open jeep, and we had to regain our charge and go for it.
As I said, we had no luck with the jeep, but there was still a little detail Charlotte had minded us of, and was that it made no sense to end up the trip at Jaipur, and we should end the trip in Bikaner. This was no easy bargain as our previous deal consisted on stopping the adventure at Jaipur. This was an obvious distress for the owners as going from Jaipur to Pushkar was only a 3 hour trip, while from Bikaner it took 6. However, we managed to get the same deal, and depart the following day at 10:30 am.
The Nab
Before we get out of Pushkar, I find necessary to narrate the story of the nab and the opium priest.
Apparently, the nab is a ball we all have in the stomachs at the point of the belly bottom. I don't recall if I've said it before or not, but my stomach wasn't feeling so good, and neither was Charlotte's.
Dan had met this priest, or so he claimed to be, when doing the Punja, and he was convinced that our problem didn't come from food poisoning but from displacement of the nab, and that no western medicine would avail us.
On meeting with the priest, he insisted on taking Charlotte to a woman that would definitely realign her nab and so she would be in perfect condition straight away. She wasn't sure of it, but Dan's pressure on the subject and the priests itself made her accept the offer, not with little apprehension.
Finally, we both tried, as I was curious to experiment the massage the woman had done to Charlotte. While her nab was misaligned about 3 cm, mine was not even 2, and so the woman took more time on her than me. The priest was very concerned on Charlotte's misalignment as her problems had started a week before, and so he insisted she should go back again on the next morning, as she wasn't still 100% cured.
What really happened though, was that the woman massaged our stomachs and, consequently, produced the need of farting and burping. Well, Charlotte is more refined than me, so she only burped, and very silently. I, though, tried my best in spite of being in India and burping being so common everywhere. We both actually did feel better after the massage, but the whole story to it is absolute bullocks!
Apparently, the nab is a ball we all have in the stomachs at the point of the belly bottom. I don't recall if I've said it before or not, but my stomach wasn't feeling so good, and neither was Charlotte's.
Dan had met this priest, or so he claimed to be, when doing the Punja, and he was convinced that our problem didn't come from food poisoning but from displacement of the nab, and that no western medicine would avail us.
On meeting with the priest, he insisted on taking Charlotte to a woman that would definitely realign her nab and so she would be in perfect condition straight away. She wasn't sure of it, but Dan's pressure on the subject and the priests itself made her accept the offer, not with little apprehension.
Finally, we both tried, as I was curious to experiment the massage the woman had done to Charlotte. While her nab was misaligned about 3 cm, mine was not even 2, and so the woman took more time on her than me. The priest was very concerned on Charlotte's misalignment as her problems had started a week before, and so he insisted she should go back again on the next morning, as she wasn't still 100% cured.
What really happened though, was that the woman massaged our stomachs and, consequently, produced the need of farting and burping. Well, Charlotte is more refined than me, so she only burped, and very silently. I, though, tried my best in spite of being in India and burping being so common everywhere. We both actually did feel better after the massage, but the whole story to it is absolute bullocks!
30
The day after having the Bang Lassi I woke up officially being 30. Had it not been for my friends back in Spain, giving me that age for the past two years, this day would have been hard.
However, before I keep up with the story of this day, I must thank Dan and Charlotte for a great day.
So I woke up to meet Jeff (whom will talk about later on) and Dan greeting me such a day with an effusive hug. I wasn't expecting really nothing, and was thinking on my head whether I had finally brought some candles with me or not, and where would I get a little cake for the matter of blowing them out. Nothing of this really mattered after a while, Dan, more excited than me, brought a card and a gift, which I couldn't open until Charlotte came back from her wanderings through town.
Once we were all together, I was gladly delighted with a beautiful card decorated by a green leaf with two elephants on a black background. The gift was a black and blue patchwork cushion cover which amazingly, fits my style very much.
But the day couldn't end up there, and Dan and Charlotte insisted on doing what I pleased. So we wen on the search of a Baba, but more on Baba's on a next post. The interesting adventure turned out to be a walk around the hills that surround Pushkar, with no luck on finding our Baba. So we had to go back to the hotel, where I was decided to get a shower and refresh myself from the hot sun.
Dan had already told me there were more surprises coming, as I said he was more excited than me on celebrating my birthday, and so I assumed they might surprise me with a birthday cake, and so I got that idea out of my mind. But before any of that could happen, I was delighted with a cold, blond beer.
I already stated that Pushkar is a holy town, and so for that fact, no drugs, alcohol or meat are allowed. Finding meat is totally impossible, drugs are very easy, and alcohol requires a medium effort and a special occasion. We can't forget how, according to locals, parties are organized on the dessert for the joy of tourists and with no intervention of the government police forces.
With the beer and the idea of getting something to eat I regained the concept of the candles and a cake, but Dan came again to my rescue, and as he was more excited than me about my birthday, he told me more surprises were to come. So I forgot again about the matter hoping to get a cake from them. Somehow.
And effectively, there was a cake. A beautifully decorated cake by the daughters of the owner of the hotel we where staying at. It said: "Happy Birthday" "Erik" "30". Apparently, later I knew that they had to keep on asking how to write my name. I must add as well, that the taste of the cake was really good, which surprised us all. And after the cake, more beer!!!
I already thanked Dan and Charlotte, who made a great effort on comforting me on such a day and making it really nice. But I also feel the need to thank in this post the 17 birthday emails I received on that day, and the delayed ones as well. And sorry for the short replies.
Thank you all.
However, before I keep up with the story of this day, I must thank Dan and Charlotte for a great day.
So I woke up to meet Jeff (whom will talk about later on) and Dan greeting me such a day with an effusive hug. I wasn't expecting really nothing, and was thinking on my head whether I had finally brought some candles with me or not, and where would I get a little cake for the matter of blowing them out. Nothing of this really mattered after a while, Dan, more excited than me, brought a card and a gift, which I couldn't open until Charlotte came back from her wanderings through town.
Once we were all together, I was gladly delighted with a beautiful card decorated by a green leaf with two elephants on a black background. The gift was a black and blue patchwork cushion cover which amazingly, fits my style very much.
But the day couldn't end up there, and Dan and Charlotte insisted on doing what I pleased. So we wen on the search of a Baba, but more on Baba's on a next post. The interesting adventure turned out to be a walk around the hills that surround Pushkar, with no luck on finding our Baba. So we had to go back to the hotel, where I was decided to get a shower and refresh myself from the hot sun.
Dan had already told me there were more surprises coming, as I said he was more excited than me on celebrating my birthday, and so I assumed they might surprise me with a birthday cake, and so I got that idea out of my mind. But before any of that could happen, I was delighted with a cold, blond beer.
I already stated that Pushkar is a holy town, and so for that fact, no drugs, alcohol or meat are allowed. Finding meat is totally impossible, drugs are very easy, and alcohol requires a medium effort and a special occasion. We can't forget how, according to locals, parties are organized on the dessert for the joy of tourists and with no intervention of the government police forces.
With the beer and the idea of getting something to eat I regained the concept of the candles and a cake, but Dan came again to my rescue, and as he was more excited than me about my birthday, he told me more surprises were to come. So I forgot again about the matter hoping to get a cake from them. Somehow.
And effectively, there was a cake. A beautifully decorated cake by the daughters of the owner of the hotel we where staying at. It said: "Happy Birthday" "Erik" "30". Apparently, later I knew that they had to keep on asking how to write my name. I must add as well, that the taste of the cake was really good, which surprised us all. And after the cake, more beer!!!
I already thanked Dan and Charlotte, who made a great effort on comforting me on such a day and making it really nice. But I also feel the need to thank in this post the 17 birthday emails I received on that day, and the delayed ones as well. And sorry for the short replies.
Thank you all.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Bhang lassi
Dan got one when we got to the hotel at Pushkar and he did not say a reasonable word for a bout four hours. To put you in situation, a Bhang Lassi is made of the little leaves of a marijuana plant. Leaves are smashed together and made into a soft brown mass. This, is then mixed with curd (kind of yogurt) like in a shake. The taste is really bad, and you can get it soft, medium or strong. So basically, taking into consideration that what you eat has about 10 times the effect that what you would smoke, it just gets you very stoned.
I decided to get one as well, planning not to do anything afterwards as I saw what a strong lassi had done to Dan. But I went for a soft one, or at least that's what I asked for, thinking it would just get me stoned for a good while and then I would be OK. I also hoped that eating right afterwards taking the lassi would minimize the effects.
Dan and Charlotte had disappeared and I was getting bored waiting for them at the hotel, so I left with a Bhang Lassi in me still not noticing the effects. Got to a restaurant to eat and waited for them to come. As I was seated there, the lassi started making its effects and I was feeling more and more stoned as minutes passed. Food arrived and I wished eating would help me out on this one. By the time Dan and Charlotte arrived, I was very stoned and hadn't achieved the maximum point yet. Dan had had a strong one just before coming to meet with me and we were both laughing stupidly at everything.
The time at the restaurant was being never ending, and the effects on me weren't being too good anymore, and to make it longer, Dan decided to have a "Hello to the Queen" dessert (Chocolate, ice-cream and don't know what else).
Once finished, we finally headed towards the hotel. A trip that would turn out an odyssey for me. The worst part was going down the four storey of the restaurant. My legs were shaking at every step and I had to look for something to hold on to, but I could only lean on the walls. Walking made a good effect, but keeping up with Dan and Charlotte's pace was very hard at that point. And besides, I wasn't feeling stoned anymore, I was feeling more sick than anything else. A sickness that accompanied me for the rest of the night.
The last crazy story of the 20's.
I decided to get one as well, planning not to do anything afterwards as I saw what a strong lassi had done to Dan. But I went for a soft one, or at least that's what I asked for, thinking it would just get me stoned for a good while and then I would be OK. I also hoped that eating right afterwards taking the lassi would minimize the effects.
Dan and Charlotte had disappeared and I was getting bored waiting for them at the hotel, so I left with a Bhang Lassi in me still not noticing the effects. Got to a restaurant to eat and waited for them to come. As I was seated there, the lassi started making its effects and I was feeling more and more stoned as minutes passed. Food arrived and I wished eating would help me out on this one. By the time Dan and Charlotte arrived, I was very stoned and hadn't achieved the maximum point yet. Dan had had a strong one just before coming to meet with me and we were both laughing stupidly at everything.
The time at the restaurant was being never ending, and the effects on me weren't being too good anymore, and to make it longer, Dan decided to have a "Hello to the Queen" dessert (Chocolate, ice-cream and don't know what else).
Once finished, we finally headed towards the hotel. A trip that would turn out an odyssey for me. The worst part was going down the four storey of the restaurant. My legs were shaking at every step and I had to look for something to hold on to, but I could only lean on the walls. Walking made a good effect, but keeping up with Dan and Charlotte's pace was very hard at that point. And besides, I wasn't feeling stoned anymore, I was feeling more sick than anything else. A sickness that accompanied me for the rest of the night.
The last crazy story of the 20's.
A camel fair?
We got to Pushkar with one day left to see the camel fair. The guy from the hotel was supposed to pick us up at the us station, and so he did, in a motorbike. As four people can't go in one, apparently in India three may, I had to walk for a while in a very dusty road till he came back for me.
We had booked a tent at the rooftop where the three of us would sleep at least for two nights. It wasn't the most comfortable accommodation I've had so far, as the tent was kind of little for the three of us, and Dan and Charlotte managed to get most of the space. A couple of accident occurred, like me hitting Charlotte's nose with my elbow and Dan knocking his head to my face.
Apparently, besides the camel fair, a great pilgrimage was going on. People were coming from all parts of India to bath at Pushkar's lake. A holy lake that, according to the legend, was created after Brahma, the Lord of creation, left a lotus leaf there. Tons of Ghats and temples surround the lake in order for pilgrims bath at its waters and pray for their families, what's called Punja.
Priests try to get you into that, by giving you a flower which you have to deposit in the lake and then, follow his chantings and prayers for each member of your family, and for which he will want to charge you about 100 Rs. for each one of them. Obviously all religions are the same...
So between the camel fair and the pilgrimage, the place was really full. At points, you had to push your way through the streets without consideration whatsoever, as they didn't have it with you at all. The attitude of the priests harassing you all the time when going through the ghats and the attitude of village men when looking to girls and trying to touch them wasn't very pleasant. So this and the fact that my stomach wasn't in a very good shape caused me to miss the fair and the ceremonies going on at the ghats. Not that it bothered me too much I must say.
However, after everything had passed, the little city became very peaceful, though still too touristic, full of hotels and restaurants with western food, specially Israeli.
At the end, my impression of Pushkar wasn't too good and I was still looking forward to shill out at one place for a few days and sort things out for Christmas and New Years Eve at Goa. Something that will end up being a total adventure.
We had booked a tent at the rooftop where the three of us would sleep at least for two nights. It wasn't the most comfortable accommodation I've had so far, as the tent was kind of little for the three of us, and Dan and Charlotte managed to get most of the space. A couple of accident occurred, like me hitting Charlotte's nose with my elbow and Dan knocking his head to my face.
Apparently, besides the camel fair, a great pilgrimage was going on. People were coming from all parts of India to bath at Pushkar's lake. A holy lake that, according to the legend, was created after Brahma, the Lord of creation, left a lotus leaf there. Tons of Ghats and temples surround the lake in order for pilgrims bath at its waters and pray for their families, what's called Punja.
Priests try to get you into that, by giving you a flower which you have to deposit in the lake and then, follow his chantings and prayers for each member of your family, and for which he will want to charge you about 100 Rs. for each one of them. Obviously all religions are the same...
So between the camel fair and the pilgrimage, the place was really full. At points, you had to push your way through the streets without consideration whatsoever, as they didn't have it with you at all. The attitude of the priests harassing you all the time when going through the ghats and the attitude of village men when looking to girls and trying to touch them wasn't very pleasant. So this and the fact that my stomach wasn't in a very good shape caused me to miss the fair and the ceremonies going on at the ghats. Not that it bothered me too much I must say.
However, after everything had passed, the little city became very peaceful, though still too touristic, full of hotels and restaurants with western food, specially Israeli.
At the end, my impression of Pushkar wasn't too good and I was still looking forward to shill out at one place for a few days and sort things out for Christmas and New Years Eve at Goa. Something that will end up being a total adventure.
The Pink City
Very much like Delhi, Jaipur is a very busy city with people all the time trying to sell you something or get you scammed. As in Agra, rickshaws try to sell you day trips offering themselves as guides. While in Delhi everyone is trying to get you to Kashmir, in Jaipur they try to scam you with gems and jewellery. And jewellery in Jaipur is very nice, though you have to watch out with prices.
Here I got my so desired snake bracelet and a couple of rings. The guy I bought it to had been to Spain, or so he claimed, and kept on saying bullshit in Spanish as we looked over bracelets, earrings, rings, and others. However, I got a better discount than the Brits just for being Spanish. For once, useful!
As the pink city, Jaipur is not that pink. The only traces of such a color are at the old city's outer walls. Surrounded by a big pinkish fort, once inside, it just looks old, like most India. And as like everywhere in India, what you get to see inside are bazaars and temples mainly.
I don't know during the day, which I've heard if very busy and annoying, but at evening it's quite interesting to visit. Dim lights, a lot of people and a big variety of goods gives the bazaars a very errant and enchanting atmosphere.
Here I got my so desired snake bracelet and a couple of rings. The guy I bought it to had been to Spain, or so he claimed, and kept on saying bullshit in Spanish as we looked over bracelets, earrings, rings, and others. However, I got a better discount than the Brits just for being Spanish. For once, useful!
As the pink city, Jaipur is not that pink. The only traces of such a color are at the old city's outer walls. Surrounded by a big pinkish fort, once inside, it just looks old, like most India. And as like everywhere in India, what you get to see inside are bazaars and temples mainly.
I don't know during the day, which I've heard if very busy and annoying, but at evening it's quite interesting to visit. Dim lights, a lot of people and a big variety of goods gives the bazaars a very errant and enchanting atmosphere.
Catching trains
This is a subject I'll probably have to talk about later on as there are probably tons of trains to catch. But for the moment...
So far, I haven't really had that much experiences with trains. Got a sleeper train to Ramnagar and the trains to Delhi and Agra. But it's very interesting how the atmosphere of the wagons change according to classes. Haven't been on a third class yet, and don't know if I'll get to that point, but you never know.
The train to Jaipur became a very interesting trip. It turned out that our seats weren't together. So I had to seat behind Dan and Charlotte, our backs facing each other. That didn't troubled me at all, but my seat was already occupied by a kid of a couple from Bangladesh. They kindly asked me if I could occupy the kids seats instead, which didn't bother me at all. So I ended up even farther away from my travelling companions and next to the parents of the kid.
While Dan and Charlotte had talks with a family sitting in front of them and an astrologer, I talked openly with the Bangladesh couple Roby and Muna. Their clothes and English distinguished them from the rest of the people surrounding us. They had been travelling around the world, where obviously she did most of the talking. Her English was far much better than his. They claimed to be in the show business and to have contacts in Bollywood. They even said to have as a guest at their place some famous Indian actor. At the end, we ended up exchanging cigarettes and peanuts, and they gave me their telephone number and home address if by chance I ended up in Bangladesh after India. And I must say that seemed like a very appealing offer. So you never know...
The thing is, that the ability to interact with people in India depends on your ability to be understood and their willingness to talk to you. One of the locals sitting in front of us was curious about me, but did not there to ask me questions. Instead he asked Roby. So language turns a barrier they don't dare surpass, staring at you all the time without saying a word. But between them, they talk freely in opened and friendly conversations. While in Europe interacting with other passengers might seem strange, and often misunderstood, in India is very common to see them interacting with each other, and if they can, with tourists.
As a first experience in train interacting, I think of it as very amusing and probably useful. What's for sure, is that it has to be repeated as Indians are generally very friendly and helpful, always ready to tell you which is your station, one of the main problems in getting public transport around here.
So far, I haven't really had that much experiences with trains. Got a sleeper train to Ramnagar and the trains to Delhi and Agra. But it's very interesting how the atmosphere of the wagons change according to classes. Haven't been on a third class yet, and don't know if I'll get to that point, but you never know.
The train to Jaipur became a very interesting trip. It turned out that our seats weren't together. So I had to seat behind Dan and Charlotte, our backs facing each other. That didn't troubled me at all, but my seat was already occupied by a kid of a couple from Bangladesh. They kindly asked me if I could occupy the kids seats instead, which didn't bother me at all. So I ended up even farther away from my travelling companions and next to the parents of the kid.
While Dan and Charlotte had talks with a family sitting in front of them and an astrologer, I talked openly with the Bangladesh couple Roby and Muna. Their clothes and English distinguished them from the rest of the people surrounding us. They had been travelling around the world, where obviously she did most of the talking. Her English was far much better than his. They claimed to be in the show business and to have contacts in Bollywood. They even said to have as a guest at their place some famous Indian actor. At the end, we ended up exchanging cigarettes and peanuts, and they gave me their telephone number and home address if by chance I ended up in Bangladesh after India. And I must say that seemed like a very appealing offer. So you never know...
The thing is, that the ability to interact with people in India depends on your ability to be understood and their willingness to talk to you. One of the locals sitting in front of us was curious about me, but did not there to ask me questions. Instead he asked Roby. So language turns a barrier they don't dare surpass, staring at you all the time without saying a word. But between them, they talk freely in opened and friendly conversations. While in Europe interacting with other passengers might seem strange, and often misunderstood, in India is very common to see them interacting with each other, and if they can, with tourists.
As a first experience in train interacting, I think of it as very amusing and probably useful. What's for sure, is that it has to be repeated as Indians are generally very friendly and helpful, always ready to tell you which is your station, one of the main problems in getting public transport around here.
The Taj Mahal
At about eleven we stumbled into this hotel near the Taj were we got a double bedroom for the three of us. With the thoughts to get up again at about half past 5 for sunrise at the monument, we got there at about eleven a.m.
The first impression from the outer complex is good, but I guess that having seen so many pics of the place and it being such a famous building, you expect more. And with this, I'm not saying it's a shitty thing, by no means, it's incredible.
It's white marble shinning under the midday sun is an impressive view from the distance as it is on a closer look. Its walls are all decorated with flowers and random intentioned lines and figures. A river runs at the back side providing an interesting view, and it is said to be very nice to see the Taj at the other riverbank.
Once inside though, it doesn't seem that big, but mainly because what's opened to the public is a very little space. Nevertheless, the beauty of its inner walls are comparable to the ones outside. Being such a touristic destination, you can find Indians as foreigners. The saris of Indian women make a perfect complement to the white structure.
However, so much tourism can be annoying for foreigners who constantly have to deal with locals wanting to be photographed with them. I said Dan would be useful, and as he drew all the attention, I did not have to be a tourist attraction. It feels strange to be a tourist attraction within one. We should get paid to get inside, instead of having to pay the huge amount of taxes. Getting into the Taj costs 750 Rs. Within this amount, 500 are taxes.
After tons of pictures of the Taj in all possible angles, we decided to head to Agra's Red Fort, which is supposed to be much nicer than the one in Delhi. And I have no idea if it is or not, as we had payed 750 for the Taj, we weren't happy to pay 300 more for the fort. So we headed back to the busy streets near the Taj letting time consume for catching the train to Jaipur, the Pink City.
The first impression from the outer complex is good, but I guess that having seen so many pics of the place and it being such a famous building, you expect more. And with this, I'm not saying it's a shitty thing, by no means, it's incredible.
It's white marble shinning under the midday sun is an impressive view from the distance as it is on a closer look. Its walls are all decorated with flowers and random intentioned lines and figures. A river runs at the back side providing an interesting view, and it is said to be very nice to see the Taj at the other riverbank.
Once inside though, it doesn't seem that big, but mainly because what's opened to the public is a very little space. Nevertheless, the beauty of its inner walls are comparable to the ones outside. Being such a touristic destination, you can find Indians as foreigners. The saris of Indian women make a perfect complement to the white structure.
However, so much tourism can be annoying for foreigners who constantly have to deal with locals wanting to be photographed with them. I said Dan would be useful, and as he drew all the attention, I did not have to be a tourist attraction. It feels strange to be a tourist attraction within one. We should get paid to get inside, instead of having to pay the huge amount of taxes. Getting into the Taj costs 750 Rs. Within this amount, 500 are taxes.
After tons of pictures of the Taj in all possible angles, we decided to head to Agra's Red Fort, which is supposed to be much nicer than the one in Delhi. And I have no idea if it is or not, as we had payed 750 for the Taj, we weren't happy to pay 300 more for the fort. So we headed back to the busy streets near the Taj letting time consume for catching the train to Jaipur, the Pink City.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
The appropriate route
As I wasn't going to Calcutta anymore, the most adequate route to follow down to Goa was heading to Agra first and then break through Rajasthan. While Charlotte as heading back to Mc Leod for her classes, Dan and Charlotte were planning to go to Rajasthan first. So on that basis we headed to the train station in order to book our tickets.
I was decided to go to Agra, and so my plan was to get a night train on that direction. Getting a night train would let me time to seek a cheap place to stay, see the city, and watch the sunset at the Taj Mahal. Dan and Charlotte reasoned on their own on where would their next stop be, getting to the conclusion that it seemed more practical to go to Agra first and then Rajasthan, and so, accompany me there.
To our surprise, there was no direct train to Agra until a couple of days, and the only possibility was to get to Delhi and try luck there. The available train to Delhi was early in the morning, which meant second day of waking up when the sun hadn't raised yet.
Once in Delhi, after a very uncomfortable and boring ride, we went straight to book the train to our desired destination. When doing so, Dan and Charlotte where decided to book a train to Jaipur for the next day from Agra, and asked me if I wanted to join them. They were planning to hire a jeep to travel around Rajasthan, and having me around would make it cheaper, and they would only have to look for one or two more people to go with us. I agreed, and that is really how our travels together started.
I was decided to go to Agra, and so my plan was to get a night train on that direction. Getting a night train would let me time to seek a cheap place to stay, see the city, and watch the sunset at the Taj Mahal. Dan and Charlotte reasoned on their own on where would their next stop be, getting to the conclusion that it seemed more practical to go to Agra first and then Rajasthan, and so, accompany me there.
To our surprise, there was no direct train to Agra until a couple of days, and the only possibility was to get to Delhi and try luck there. The available train to Delhi was early in the morning, which meant second day of waking up when the sun hadn't raised yet.
Once in Delhi, after a very uncomfortable and boring ride, we went straight to book the train to our desired destination. When doing so, Dan and Charlotte where decided to book a train to Jaipur for the next day from Agra, and asked me if I wanted to join them. They were planning to hire a jeep to travel around Rajasthan, and having me around would make it cheaper, and they would only have to look for one or two more people to go with us. I agreed, and that is really how our travels together started.
The closing border
My days of relax had definitely, momentarily finished, as in on day we left Mc Leod, got to Amritsar, saw the Golden Temple, Jallianwala Bagh (a small park where, in the nineteen hundreds, about 2000 Indians were killed and wounded while peacefully demonstrating against a law that allowed the British to imprison, without previous trials, Indians suspected of sedition), the closing border at Atari (Indian-Pakistan border), booked a train for the next day to Delhi, and saw the Golden Temple at night. But everything was worth it.
As I said, we had a rickshaw that would take us the 30km that separated Amritsar from the border to see the flamboyant spectacle of its closing ceremony. Fancy military suits on both sides, though I would stick to the Pakistani uniform, march from one side to another in strong gestures and a sense of pride.
But the show itself starts way far from the border, where buses, cars, taxis and rickshaws arrive letting a flow of Indians and foreign tourists. At both sides of the road you can get popcorn, peanuts and other snacks, drinks, etc. You get harassed by tons of kids trying to sell you postcards, DVD's and Indian flags. And once you're finally there, you actually feel like in a stadium, being seated in stands. The party has already began outside, but in there, Indians dance energetically to their rhythms while kids run up and down waving the national flag and the guards do warming up exercises. Everyone claps, sings and cheers to Hindustan, while foreigners watch stunned at the show.
A look at the other side of the border shows you the same kind of picture. And suddenly, everything starts.
Soldiers march toward the gates. Open them. Afterwards, officials meet and, energetically, shake hands, not knowing if it's just acting or if there is really a strong animosity between them. Soldiers keep on marching back and forth while trumpets sound from time to time. And finally, they lower their flags, slowly, slowly, so that neither flag is higher than the other, and so, ending the show.
But it will be back the next day.
As I said, we had a rickshaw that would take us the 30km that separated Amritsar from the border to see the flamboyant spectacle of its closing ceremony. Fancy military suits on both sides, though I would stick to the Pakistani uniform, march from one side to another in strong gestures and a sense of pride.
But the show itself starts way far from the border, where buses, cars, taxis and rickshaws arrive letting a flow of Indians and foreign tourists. At both sides of the road you can get popcorn, peanuts and other snacks, drinks, etc. You get harassed by tons of kids trying to sell you postcards, DVD's and Indian flags. And once you're finally there, you actually feel like in a stadium, being seated in stands. The party has already began outside, but in there, Indians dance energetically to their rhythms while kids run up and down waving the national flag and the guards do warming up exercises. Everyone claps, sings and cheers to Hindustan, while foreigners watch stunned at the show.
A look at the other side of the border shows you the same kind of picture. And suddenly, everything starts.
Soldiers march toward the gates. Open them. Afterwards, officials meet and, energetically, shake hands, not knowing if it's just acting or if there is really a strong animosity between them. Soldiers keep on marching back and forth while trumpets sound from time to time. And finally, they lower their flags, slowly, slowly, so that neither flag is higher than the other, and so, ending the show.
But it will be back the next day.
The Golden Temple
Got to Amritsar after a 6 hour bus ride from Lower Dharamsala. We had just stepped out of the bus when we were surrounded by by at least 8 Indians trying to get us by taxi to all the touristic places to visit. Dan, a tall thin, but well built, English fellow with blond dreads and hippy colorful clothes draw all the attention. This would turn out to be very good on the future.
He, actually, got us a pretty good deal on a taxi, though we refused the hotel they were going to get us in. However, the taxi turned out to a rickshaw. A big one, but still a rickshaw. One that would take ages to get to Atari and that would let us, so kindly, breath the fantastic air of a very polluted Amritsar. Not to say, freeze on the way back from Atari after seeing the closing border show at the border with Pakistan.
So we went to the Golden Temple of the Sikhs as our first stop to get a room and leave our bags, as you can stay in there for free. Sikhs are well known for helping the poor and anyone who needs it, so for that reason everything is free, though a donation is expected. On that basis, we got our dinner for free as well. Just some rice and dal, which was very good to consider that hundreds of people eat there everyday. After eating though, you may help on cleaning some dishes, which is actually very interesting and fun, interacting with the locals that are next to you.
The Golden Temple does receives its name with correctness. Totally yellow and shinny, it brights everything up with every ray of sun. It cries your attention far away from the main entrance dazzling in the middle of a holy artificial pond. A couple of stairs separates you from that holy experience which exclusive for Sikhs and tourists can't approach it. Carps , holy carps I reckon, swim peacefully in its waters while Sikhs take their holy baths as if washing out their sins.
When seen at a distance, your eyes marble at such construction, when you take a closer look, the details in its walls are even better. Details is what Indian architecture is all about. At night, the white marbles of the exterior complex turn to green, blue and pink, ad the Golden Temple acquires even more magnificence, shinning as much in the air as in the water that bath it.
And though all together is extremely beautiful, the amount of energy needed to maintain such beauty at night could probably feed hundreds of people. Four big lights focus the big temple at its four sides, making it shine more spectacularly than during the day. And on this reasoning, I don't even think about all the other lights that color up the rest of the complex, or the speakers that go on none rest all day with prayers and prayers. I guess then, that such magnificence must be over any other essential human need, not only for its beauty but for its religious connotations. After all, all religions are the same.
However, I would not like to be too harsh on the Sikh community, as they really do give shelter and food to many people, even to foreigners like me unable to understand their religious praxis. After all, the same comparison can be made with Times Square or Piccadilly Circus, and nothing is given in exchange to all the homeless that are seen more as a problem than as a way to help.
And so, to their honorable cause, for a free stay and a free meal, I donated 100 Rs, which is not much, but it might help to keep that Golden hope of food and warmth.
He, actually, got us a pretty good deal on a taxi, though we refused the hotel they were going to get us in. However, the taxi turned out to a rickshaw. A big one, but still a rickshaw. One that would take ages to get to Atari and that would let us, so kindly, breath the fantastic air of a very polluted Amritsar. Not to say, freeze on the way back from Atari after seeing the closing border show at the border with Pakistan.
So we went to the Golden Temple of the Sikhs as our first stop to get a room and leave our bags, as you can stay in there for free. Sikhs are well known for helping the poor and anyone who needs it, so for that reason everything is free, though a donation is expected. On that basis, we got our dinner for free as well. Just some rice and dal, which was very good to consider that hundreds of people eat there everyday. After eating though, you may help on cleaning some dishes, which is actually very interesting and fun, interacting with the locals that are next to you.
The Golden Temple does receives its name with correctness. Totally yellow and shinny, it brights everything up with every ray of sun. It cries your attention far away from the main entrance dazzling in the middle of a holy artificial pond. A couple of stairs separates you from that holy experience which exclusive for Sikhs and tourists can't approach it. Carps , holy carps I reckon, swim peacefully in its waters while Sikhs take their holy baths as if washing out their sins.
When seen at a distance, your eyes marble at such construction, when you take a closer look, the details in its walls are even better. Details is what Indian architecture is all about. At night, the white marbles of the exterior complex turn to green, blue and pink, ad the Golden Temple acquires even more magnificence, shinning as much in the air as in the water that bath it.
And though all together is extremely beautiful, the amount of energy needed to maintain such beauty at night could probably feed hundreds of people. Four big lights focus the big temple at its four sides, making it shine more spectacularly than during the day. And on this reasoning, I don't even think about all the other lights that color up the rest of the complex, or the speakers that go on none rest all day with prayers and prayers. I guess then, that such magnificence must be over any other essential human need, not only for its beauty but for its religious connotations. After all, all religions are the same.
However, I would not like to be too harsh on the Sikh community, as they really do give shelter and food to many people, even to foreigners like me unable to understand their religious praxis. After all, the same comparison can be made with Times Square or Piccadilly Circus, and nothing is given in exchange to all the homeless that are seen more as a problem than as a way to help.
And so, to their honorable cause, for a free stay and a free meal, I donated 100 Rs, which is not much, but it might help to keep that Golden hope of food and warmth.
Leaving Mc Leod
I was totally decided to leave Mc Leod on a Monday towards Amritsar, but fortune seemed to want to twist things up a bit. So while drinking a beer at Carpe Diem on Friday, I learned that Charlotte and Dan were also heading there, but on Sunday. Deciding whether to go with them or not seemed alike a lot of pressure after such a relaxed time, and I was waiting to know if I could meet with the people of Ecotibet or not during the weekend. And for that I needed to find Eleanor. And so happened that same evening I met with her and managed to sort things out. Ecotibet did not opened on weekends. So an unexpected goodbye party with Clare, Matt, Frank and Charlotte (the other one) was about to go on at the pool place, when it turned out that Charlotte and Dan weren't leaving on Sunday anymore, but on Monday.
I must say that this caused an intense shock on the other Charlotte and me. On her, because I had convinced her to come with us while listening to a band at Jimmy's Italian Restaurant. It wasn't really hard as she was planning to go there anyway on a day and a half trip, going back to Mc Leod to keep on with her English classes with Tibetans. So leaving on Sunday was good for her as she could be back on Monday, and so keep on with the classes.
It shocked me, as I had my mind already focused on leaving that day, and didn't really know how to spend that last Sunday, which I spent hanging around with Clare, Matt and Charlotte, and even went to see a movie.
I've got to realize that making decisions on where to go next and when, while travelling on a long term plan, can get very hard, not necessarily depending on if the previous place is really nice or not, it's just that there are so many things to see, you ain't going to get the chance to see everything. So you want to have a good time, see as much and the best. The amount of pressure this is turns unbearable when things go wrong, and people get on very bad moods. This happens because people focus only on the bad things that surround them, not being able to look at the little good experiences, and how a wrong twist of events can let you learn more than if everything went right. I think it's unbearable in an exciting way, cause it's much more interesting to let go and not commit to anything, specially in a place like India.
So as I saw it, I had more time to spend with the new friends and had a very good Sunday. And finally left as planned on the first place.
I must say that this caused an intense shock on the other Charlotte and me. On her, because I had convinced her to come with us while listening to a band at Jimmy's Italian Restaurant. It wasn't really hard as she was planning to go there anyway on a day and a half trip, going back to Mc Leod to keep on with her English classes with Tibetans. So leaving on Sunday was good for her as she could be back on Monday, and so keep on with the classes.
It shocked me, as I had my mind already focused on leaving that day, and didn't really know how to spend that last Sunday, which I spent hanging around with Clare, Matt and Charlotte, and even went to see a movie.
I've got to realize that making decisions on where to go next and when, while travelling on a long term plan, can get very hard, not necessarily depending on if the previous place is really nice or not, it's just that there are so many things to see, you ain't going to get the chance to see everything. So you want to have a good time, see as much and the best. The amount of pressure this is turns unbearable when things go wrong, and people get on very bad moods. This happens because people focus only on the bad things that surround them, not being able to look at the little good experiences, and how a wrong twist of events can let you learn more than if everything went right. I think it's unbearable in an exciting way, cause it's much more interesting to let go and not commit to anything, specially in a place like India.
So as I saw it, I had more time to spend with the new friends and had a very good Sunday. And finally left as planned on the first place.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)