Friday, February 1

Greetings from Sweltering India,
Presently escaping the noon-day sun in my spartan Rs 500 ($11) aircon single at the Hotel Park Avenue in Kochi (Hotel Lower East Side would be more apt a name...). It's hot! hot! hot! down here along the south-west coast. WHAT was I thinking???

Arrived in Calcutta mid January for the wedding of a friend of a friend (a good excuse to finally see some of this amazing country) then flew to Bombay for a few days before boarding a 27 hour sleeper train headed south along the coast. Spent the bulk of the journey perched in the open doorway of the carriage watching rural India speed by (well, INCH by is more accurate) because the window beside my seat was covered in a cobweb of shattered glass - so much for the view. Was in dire need of a local brew upon arrival but was told "Today dry day. Today day of Gandhi dying." (it was the anniversary of the death of gandhi...). Foiled again! No doubt i will return home a much more patient person.

Calcutta and Bombay were a complete assault on the senses! The pace is much more relaxed down here, although there's still a staggering array of buses, cycles, autorickshaws, bicycles, pedestrians, giggling gangs of school-kids, cows, goats, chickens and beggars to navigate around. Headed to Bangalore, Mysore and beyond... it's difficult to decide where to go next in such a large and varied country!

Sunday, February 3

6pm. Presently sweating away at a local "internet cafe" in Kochi - a small colonial town along the southwest coast. I was psyched to see that this establishment not only served "internet", but also "cafe" (many similar places haven't quite lived up to the "cafe" part of their names). I sat down and ordered a coffee with my yahoo, and was told "Sorry, no coffee maker", to which I replied "The coffee maker is broken???". "No, the coffee maker is not here yet." When the coffee finally arrived it was Nescafe! Gotta love this place - everybody has a job to do, however menial.

Have spent a few great days wandering around, taking in the sights, smells (of which there are PLENTY!) and sounds of relatively-rural India. This place is quite the little travelers' mecca - didn't take long to hear my first rendition of "Hotel California" blaring from a roof-top restaurant. And why do British girls feel as if it's their duty to God and Queen to wear as many bright colors at the same time as possible??? Is this a knee-jerk reaction to their otherwise grey lives? I swear. Major ethnic fabric clash - and don't get me started about all the western guys wandering about in skirts! (I'm not really this culturally insensitive but, honestly, they just look silly). ...and I'm wondering why nobody's talking to me!

Broke down and bought a plane ticket to Bangalore - still can't swallow 12 hours on a public bus, but will surely cross that bridge eventually. The sheer madness and lunacy called "driving" here must be seen to believed). I've booked a room at "The Airline Hotel". Hmmm. Then to mysore (I know, a most unfortunate name, but it's supposedly a great little town - hope to write a few postcards beginning with "Greetings from Mysore..." once I arrive).

For all of you who miss me dearly, I'm sorry to announce that I have extended my stay until march 6, which includes a few days in Bangkok en route home.

I'll be checking my email every few days (cheap and easy - Rs30/hour, or about 60 cents) so drop me a line when you can.

Still sane and healthy. Namaste! -t

friday, february 8

Hindilicious Greetings from India!
Mysore calling... 6:30pm Indian Standard Time (ie. could be now, could be later, could be never).

Arrived a few days ago by train from Bangalore - 2 hours, 6 screaming children and 1 spicy veg meal that made my nose run... picture-postcard views included (the countryside is very beautiful down here in the south).

Bangalore, the "Silicon Valley" of India, had all the trappings of yuppiedom: fancy restaurants, movenpick ice cream shops, cell phones a-ringing, shopping malls, trendy bars and coffee shops... finally! a decent vanilla latte! Although I found out the hard way that the coffee shops don't open until late morning, as I wandered about blurry-eyed in search of my morning fix of caffeine. And the Pizza Hut was a nice change from the Indian/Chinese food I've been eating (there's Indian, there's Chinese, then there's this odd mixture - imagine a sweet and sour vindaloo...), although now i'm really jonesing for a juicy steak... lots of cows, but no steak.

On the flip side, the traffic and the streets in Bangalore are sheer and utter madness - if the barrelling cars, buses, motorcycles and autorickshaws don't get you, the big gaping holes in the sidewalks will (that is, when you can find a sidewalk to walk on). Everything seems to be in a state of "almost-finished" or "almost-fallen-apart".

Spent two nights at The Airlines Hotel, pushing the boundaries of my minimum comfort and cleanliness requirements. The "deluxe" room (Rs550 - about $11) differed from the "standard" room in that it had a TV with 11 channels of Indian melodramas and musicals and one sports channel. An earth-moving ceiling fan, two rock-hard pillows and hot water between the hours of 7-10am rounded out the amenities.

Stopped to have a cigarette on the steps of the Bangalore train station prior to departure but was stopped and scolded by a two-tone-beige-uniformed man and told that I couldn't smoke there. As if this one tiny infraction was the final rip in the fabric of social cohesion. Why don't you go hassle that guy over there pissing on the wall beside the "no urinating" sign?

Hyper-active Mysore is quite the ADD-inducing town, with an amazing street-life and some of the best markets I've ever experienced. It's an important incense and sandalwood center, but that doesn't mean it smells any better. It's also the most touristy place I've yet visited in india, as evidenced by the annoying number of "Hello! Where you come from? Where you go? Come see my shop, lots of nice things! You want drum/flute/carved wooden box? Bracelets/incense/sari? Old coins/bananas/marijuana?" (pick one). I told one persistent tout today to "go away", thinking that since he didn't understand a very rudimentary "no", he didn't understand english. I was wrong, and I think I hurt his feelings. These folks most often seem to appear out-of-the-blue between my camera lens and the subject matter at which it's aimed... yes, you have my attention now.

There's a beautiful Maharaja palace here in Mysore - I slid along the cool marble and tile floors (had to check my shoes) for about two hours yesterday. It's quite the kaleidoscope of stained glass, mirrors, gilt and gaudy colors (loved it!) and was chock full of school-kids on field-trips.

I've had the good fortune of meeting the sister and brother-in-law of a girl I met at the wedding I attended in calcutta in January who live here in Mysore. Sunanda (the sister) teaches english at a medical transcription school so I joined her today for an hour to speak with her students. They are learning how to transcribe tapes from doctors in Chicago and need practice with American-accented english, as well as some pronunciation pointers. How do you explain to an eager group of students why there's a "kansas" in "Arkansas" but they're pronounced completely differently??? It was a hoot.

Checked into a "luxury" hotel here in Mysore (well, luxury by Indian standards). The ceiling fan turns itself off every half an hour, the toilet won't flush properly and the showerhead keeps falling off, but the service is amazing. All the desk staff hand me my key without asking my room number, and today Mr. Mustache at the travel desk discretely told me my fly was down while I was seated at his desk booking a train ticket. Um, thanks.

As expected, I'm taking lots of pictures. Photography is prohibited in all airports, train stations, museums and, as I found out the hard way, modern supermarkets on MG road in Bangalore. "Indian national secrets? Aisle four." As you can imagine, this is severely cramping my style, although I'm getting better at sneaking a few shots here and there. I've been entertaining the locals with my photographic antics - getting lots of confused looks and smiles of surprise as I point my camera at odd things (such as public urinals - you'll all just have to wait to see the pictures!).

Lots of beautifully naive hand-painted signage just about everywhere here in india - plastic patio chairs, floor fans, irons, toilets, girls in bras... Found a fully-stocked fridge painting on a wall in Kochi, and the sun-dappled 6 feet tall boys in briefs I stumbled upon this morning started my day off on the right foot.

There's plenty of comic relief to keep me smiling, as when a waiter "presents" a bottle of cheap Indian beer before opening it, as if it's some priceless vintage Chateau Neuf de Pape. Yes, that Kingfisher will do nicely, thanks.

Off to Chennai (Madras) on Monday, then most probably down the coast a bit to Pondicherry to check out the beach scene and (hopefully) find some semblence of r+r for a few days. But i'm not holding my breath (actually, i'm doing quite a lot of that...).

More later. -troy

Friday, February 15

Poojatastic Greetings from India!
Presently rejuvenating back in Bombay: washing what felt like all the dust of India from my clothes, lightening my backpack of an assortment of collected stuff (and the 30+ rolls of film i've shot in the last two weeks), hanging out with my friends here and grabbing some rupees-for-the-road from the Citibank ATM (no foreign-card ATMs in most of the south). Arrived from Chennai yesterday evening... holy change-of-travel-plans! Decided a few days back that I really wanted to see a bit of the north of India, so I'm flying to Jaipur (Rajasthan) this afternoon and will make my way from there to Jodhpur and Udaipur (unless plans change once again).

First, a few signs and such spotted along the way:

SITTING, GOSSIPING ON METRO STAIRCASE IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. Calcutta metro station - gossip elsewhere.

PLEASE DO NOT SOIL THE TOILET SEAT IN WESTERN STYLE LAVATORIES. Sign above train toilet (complete with footprints on the toilet seat). All the train carriages have both indian (ie. squat) and western toilets, conveniently signed on the doors.

PAINLESS ABORTION ONLY Rs90- BACK HOME IN TWO HOURS. Ad on a Bombay suburban train - that's an abortion for just under two bucks... whatta bargain!

BETTER LIVING BY PALM FIBRE. Shop sign in Kochi

HIDESIGN BOUTIQUE - REAL LEATHER CRAFTED THE FORGOTTEN WAY. Shop sign in Kochi - somebody must have remembered...

HAWAIIAN PIZZA: OUR TROPICAL CHEESY COMBINATION WITH LOTS OF PINEAPPLE AND SLICES OF CHICKEN LOAF. Pizza Corner Restaurant, Bangalore. Chicken loaf??? mmm.

BEWARE OF SUITCASE LIFTERS, CHAIN SNATCHING, PICK POCKETS, BOMBS. AVOID DRINKS/EATABLES FROM CO-PASSENGERS. Bangalore railway station sign.

SAFETY FIRST, SPEED NEXT. Road signage in Karnataka, obviously ignored...

THE DRINK AND DRUG EVIL IS WORSE THAN THE MALARIA AND THE LIKE, FOR WHILST THE LATTER ONLY INJURES, FORMER SAPS BOTH BODY AND SOUL. -MAHATHMA GANDHI. Wall painting in mysore railway station. Listen up, boys!

ALL PRICES ARE INCLUSIVE OF 20% SALES TAX, 10% SURCHARGE ON SALES TAX, 1% TURNOVER TAX AND 10% EXPENDITURE TAX. Oberoi Hotel menu in Bombay (finally, a burger... topped with a choice of either cheese or a fried egg).

Before leaving Mysore I decided to get outa town and see some sights so I booked a 12 hour bone-rattling minibus tour bound for three temples north of the city. The first stop was Sravanabelagola (meaning "monk of the white pond"), one of the oldest and most important Jain pilgrimage sites in India. It's the site of a 57 ft. naked statue of Gomateshvara, supposedly the world's tallest monolithic statue (yes, india also suffers from visions of grandeur - "the world's tallest...", "the world's biggest...", "the world's longest...", etc.), accessed via 500+ stone steps roughly carved into the rocky hillside and scaled barefoot... the things I do for a bit of culture! A massive line of schoolkids was snaking down the hill as i was treking up in the morning mist. Stunning.

Excerpt from a book I'm reading - INDIA A Million Mutinies Now, by V.S. Naipaul: "The ritual of taking off shoes - before entering a temple for instance - meant walking on filth, getting your clean feet dirty in the name of ritual cleanliness." Couldn't have said it better myself, but then that's why he's a Nobel Prize-winning author and I'm not.

Next were the Hoysala temples at Belur and Halebid - "...the cream of one of the most artistically exhuberant periods of Hindu cultural development" according to my guidebook. They were absolutely other-worldly with their monolithic structures and insanely ornate carvings. Thankfully the Swedish tour group tailing us brought me back down to earth every so often.

Back in Mysore (and after my internals organs had all found their previous post-bus-trip locations), I visited the Sri Chamundeswari Temple overlooking the city from atop Chamundi Hill with some new-found friends. This temple was built for the family deity of the Maharajas of Mysore. Pilgrims are supposed to climb the 1000+ steps to the top, but I opted to take a car up as I didn't feel my karma needed quite THAT much improving. A "car pooja" was being perfomed on a new red 4-door compact in front of the temple when I arrived... a pooja is a ritual blessing performed for major expenditures such as cars and houses to ensure a successful purchase, no doubt boosting the resale value, too. According to Rittu, my friend here in Bombay, you can also have your fiance pooja-ed at the temple prior to marriage. Just in case he/she is over your maximum mileage requirement???

Chennai was overwhelming in it's combination of affluence and poverty. In Calcutta and Bombay, the slums are mostly located in the suburbs and quite easy to avoid. But in Chennai they are scattered throughout the city - I walked past quite a few. They are quite an assault to western sensibilities, but a part of India that must be experienced. A man I chatted with on a train asked me what I thought of India before saying to me "India is a shit-hole". But for every one unpleasant incident, there are many, many amazing experiences...

After spotting numerous posters for the RAYMAN CIRCUS on the streets here in Chennai, I asked at the hotel lobby if the circus was still in town and lo and behold... yes! A Rs60 "RAYMAN CIRCLE" ticket bought me entrance to the steamy camouflage-fabric-clad big-top tent erected in a dusty lot between the tracks of the central railway station and the municipal stadium. I was the sole westerner in sight amongst the eager-kid-laden couples. We were all treated to a hilarious array of jugglers, grace-less sequined acrobats, trapeze artists, trampoline jumpers, dwarf clowns, a "spine-less" contortionist, trained dalmations walking on their hind legs on rolling inflated balls and (I kid you not) jumping through hoops of fire (s+j: get Wonka working on this!), big-thighed tight-rope walkers in pink shiny leotards, a girl riding around the ring on the trunk of an elephant, tigers, camels, horses, donkeys, sheep and stilt-walkers. The swarm of dive-bombing mosquitos unfortunately succeeded in driving me out of the tent mid-way through the show, but I scored some cool circus posters on the way out. In India, it's all about asking the right person the right question!

In all my travels, there's alway a song which seems to follow me around. Here in India it's "Careless Whisper". Could be worse, I suppose. And that infectious new Kylie tune: la la la, la la lala la (repeat ad nauseum).

It's a constant struggle to hang on to small change here - nobody seems to have any, especially the rickshaw and taxi drivers. Of course often it's just a scam to hang on to a few extra rupees. I've begun hoarding change myself. When in Rome...

Airport security in this country is absolutely unbelievable - and not at all a major delay, due no doubt to the fewer people in India who travel by air, and the very efficient system. Xray machines for both checked and carry-on baggage and at least two thorough hand-checks of carry-on baggage (and I mean every pocket of my backpack!). Batteries and lighters are not allowed on planes, along with the usual list, but can be "checked" at security and fetched upon arrival. I've been flying around India on Jet Airways, a very modern and comfortable carrier (no more Air India flights, please!!!). The flight attendants on Jet are oh so cute. Mushtaq - on my Calcutta-Bombay flight - deserves special mention...

Must get to the airport. Stay tuned! -troy

wednesday, february 27

Rajatronic Greetings from India! Holy cow! (literally) What a trip this has been...

Alas, I'm back in Bombay for my final full day in India - very sad to be leaving... trying to get packed up. Bought another bag today to carry all the stuff I've accumulated, true to form, but I don't think it's going to be big enough. I fear home will prove much too orderly and predictable after the insanity that is India.

Rajasthan was completely amazing - the turban-ed and turret-ed India of my imagination. The Rajput people are beautiful, especially the piercingly dark-eyed men with perfectly waxed mustaches, gold earrings, pearly white teeth, sporting huge turbans of crimson, pink, orange, yellow... a feast for the eyes. (I've never really enjoyed photographing people, but I've quickly given in to the urge to point my camera at animate objects - besides cows. These people are well aware of just how photogenic they are, and are usually willing to smile and strike a pose when kindly asked.)

And the women in their riot-of-color, yards-of-flowing-fabric saris and veils, gold jewellery adorning wrists, ankles, ears, neck and nose... two women thus attired, sitting on the steps against a vibrant blue Jodhpur wall stopped me in my tracks so I asked if I could take a picture. "10 rupees" was the response. Although I'm adamantly opposed to this type of monetary extortion, I reluctantly agreed, but only after talking her down to 5 rupees. Money-for-memories... hope the picture proves worth the 10 cent expenditure.

I really wish you all could see this with me. It's truly magical (well, those moments between dodging the massive piles of cow shit in the streets). Of course you'll all be forced to view my pictures once I'm back, but India is a "you gotta be here" sort of place I'm finding very difficult to adequately capture both with images and words - truly testing my powers of observation.

Started this final leg of my journey in Jaipur, the capital of the state of Rajasthan - popularly known as "the pink city" (actually more of a warm salmon color). In 1876, Maharaja Ram Singh had the entire old city painted pink, traditionally a color associated with hospitality, to welcome the Prince of Wales (later King Edward VII). I spent most of the daylight hours wandering about the streets and alleyways of the old city - samosas crackling in large vats of boiling oil, boys in dingy underwear bathing at public water troughs, camel and oxen carts lumbering down the streets, cows goats pigs dogs forraging in the ever-present piles of garbage, grubby little girls begging for rupees, women placidly stringing garlands of marigolds and roses, hell-bent buses and taxis and rickshaws, boys squeezing glasses of juice from long sticks of sugar cane with hand-cranked presses, stalls displaying pyramids of brown tea in metal bowls, piles of earth-colored silver-topped sweets in glass display cases, shoe-repair, vegetables, incense, multi-colored bracelets and bangles... my revelry being broken every block or so by the very insistent touts summoning me into the nearest shop. "Hello! You want fabric? Nice table cover, cushion cover, shawl..." Sorry, not my aesthetic, but thanks for asking.

Spent a morning traveling to Amber Fort with Akbar, my autorickshaw driver (an hour of which was spent in the burning sun watching Akbar attempt to fix his rick alongside the busy road). Amber is the ancient capital of the Jaipur state 11 km north of Jaipur and the site of "a superb example of Rajput architecture" (again, according to my trusty guidebook). Passed on the $8 elephant ride up the hill from the road below, althought many elephant-loads of overweight pasty-white Westerners seemed to be digging the experience.

Traveled by train second class to Jodhpur from Jaipur, sharing what little space i was allotted for my $2.50 ticket with a wonderful family enroute back home from a family wedding and a group of 12 korean tourists. Quite the culture-clash! Couldn't stop staring at the husband's gorgeous green eyes and beautiful smile... I asked to take a picture of him and he said "with my family?" Well, ok, if you insist. This swaggering policeman on the train (khaki brown uniform, black beret, pistol dangling from his belt) stopped where I was standing in the carriage, smiled, grabbed my chin beard and said "Very fine. Very beautiful". My sentiments exactly! As the slogan goes: "INDIAN RAILWAYS: Bringing People Together".

Most of the buildings within the old city walls of Jodhpur are painted blue, hence the knickname "the blue city". Actually, the city sports this intense palette of cyans/blues/violets which changes hue throughout the day as the sun moves across the sky.

From Jodhpur, I set off for Udaipur in a rented Ambassador car (the Ford of India, without the luxury) complete with a driver named Uttam who honked at everything that moved and some things that didn't (Uttam, dude, that was a pile of rocks in the road...).

The small towns and villages we sped through were a complete blur of color and commotion. We stopped at Ranakpur, a Jain temple in a remote valley, before spending the night at the Ghanarao Royal Castle. Seems every two-bit prince in Rajasthan is in the midst of converting their castle or palace into a hotel (with varying degrees of success) - I was one of three guests and had the run-of-the-castle virtually to myself. Ghanarao being a very small town, I was lulled to sleep in my "suite" (yours for the low, low price of $20/night) by the chirping of the birds and the buzzing of the insects - a very welcome relief from the incessant traffic noises of the cities. The old Prince, when I met him at breakfast, proved a bit disappointing in his less-than-regal pink polo shirt and faded blue jeans, but hey, it's not everyday I get to meet a Prince. Next time you're in Ghanarao, tell him I send my greetings.

The next day Uttam and I stopped at Kumbhalgarh, a secluded fort built by Maharaja Kumbha in the 15th century and, owing to the fort's inaccessibility atop the Aravalli Mountain range at 1100m, was taken only once in history. On my way down from the fort, Uttam passed me heading up - he'd neglected to tell me (in his broken english) that he'd never seen this place, so on his return to the car I bought him a congratulatory soda, reimbursed him for his 5 rupees entrance ticket (vs. my 100 rupees screw-the-foreigner ticket) and off we swerved and bounced to Udaipur, arriving as the sun was setting (its been one gloriously sunny day after another...).

Udaipur, although lacking a unique color, is nonetheless beautifully situated on the banks of Lake Pichola, views of which can be savored from a mind-boggling array of roof-top guest house restaurants (putting a few of their names together you get "The Lakeside Rainbow La-Vie-En-Rose Heavenly Joy Natural View Queen Sunset Garden Restaurant"). You call this french toast??? My stomach was not amused. Udaipur was obviously very popular with the Brits, and many a meal's tranquility was shattered by the drunken antics of these "humourous" folks at the next table...

Had the best time getting the worst haircut in Udaipur! Shree, at Rajkamal Hair Dressers, does a mean scissor-cut. Of course, as soon as I'd taken my seat in the chair, the small open-to-the-street shop filled with smiling, inquisitive men (get used to it - it's impossible to do anything in India without attracting an audience). Snapped some mid-haircut pictures into the mirror in front of me as Shree chopped away, making sure to catch the row of hilarious framed photos of His Highness Shree adorning the wall above - pensive Shree, distraught Shree, tranquil Shree, Shree as a Rajput prince, Shree-in-a-quiet-moment, Shree with circa 70s mutton-chop sideburns and big sunglasses, shirtless Shree... quite comforting to find that hairdressers the world over are all the same!

More about air travel: I neglected to mention in the last email that although security is mind-bogglingly tight, passengers are NOT ONCE asked to supply a positive ID, not even at check-in. Meanwhile you might as well tattoo your boarding pass to your forehead... 5 inter-India on-time departures/arrivals in a row. What service! Our crew on the Bombay-Jaipur flight was comprised of Manmeet (a very fitting name for a pretty girl), Lizanne, Santosh and Carmen (the "Senior Flight Coordinator" who welcomed us aboard and advised us of the rules and regulations, which included "All photography is strictly prohibited in Indian airports and over Indian territory". THAT was a first...). I was followed on board by an orange-robed, semi-naked, stick-weilding religious man with big white horizontal stripes of ash on his forhead (a Brahmin priest, I believe) who took a seat in business class. Guess denouncing worldy possessions AND flying coach is too much to ask of any man.

Bought a souvenier roll of "Feelings" toilet paper in Udaipur - pink script type on a Van Gogh-esqe landscape illustration. "Honey, did you remember to buy some toilet paper?" "Yes, dear, I have Feelings for you..." and just in case you've forgotten where you are when you're wiping your ass in the airport toilet, the toilet paper reads "AIR PORT" every other sheet. Swiped the entire roll!

Enough! Must get moving. Dinner plans... could continue this missive indefinitely. Off to Bangkok tomorrow evening for a few days, then home March 6th.

Later -troy