For those of you who are about to leave for India, I thought i’d give some advice on what to bring, what not to bring, things you can and cant find in India, and general tips for walking around India.
Toiletries
You can get just about anything in India, so if you’re thinking you need to bring a 6 month supply of shampoo, soap, toothpaste, or other things of that nature, you’re wrong. All of those things are available easily. EXCEPT FOR BAR-DEODERANT - they only have the spray. Also leaving these things out of your bag will significantly reduce it’s weight.
Medicine
Most medicines are easily (and cheaply) available all over india, so I would wait on getting the ciproflexin (a miracle pill that helps with diarrhea, and gets you off the toilet quicker than normal), and other drugs. Pepto-bismol is optional - i never used it, but I have friends that did. When in trouble i just took ciproflexin, but be careful taking it with your malaria medication (I had doxycycline) - I made the mistake of taking both of the pills in the same day, and ended up very unhappy.
However - i know people who don’t trust the indian brand medicines, so use your judgement about what brand-medicines from the states you want with you.
-Bandaids: I would bring a lot of these - the indian equivalent is really hard to remove once applied , and stains your skin yellow.
Things i would recommend bringing to India (Bolded items are very important)
-Camera (preferably durable - be careful in the deserts of rajasthan - my camera got fucked up twice because of sand)
-A good Backpack. Most of my friends had nice backpacking backpacks from Osprey or REI, and were very happy with them - you want something thats about 60 liters. If you don’t wanna invest in one of those, a normal backpack will do, but you want something that is very durable and has lost of pockets. Any backpack you buy in India will be shitty quality, so be careful. IF you do decide to buy a backpack in India, look carefully at the stitching all over (especially on the straps), open all the pockets to make sure the zippers work, and there aren’t holes. In short - be very meticulous.
-A Lonely Planet guide to India. I recommend Lonely Planet more than any other guidebook. It’s awesome.
-A rainjacket OR a good umbrella. I prefer an compact umbrella.
-Good sandals. This was very important to me personally - everyone on my trip kept buying sandals on the street, loving them, and then having them fall apart in a week or less. I bought some Keen river shoes in the states, and wore them every day of that 6 months - they were incredible. I even went on a 4 day backpacking trek in the Himalayas in them. I would recommend something with more support than rainbows - a heel strap is very helpful. Closed-toed shoes will a) get very wet very quickly b) will take forever to dry out c) will mold.
-A sleep sack. You can get these at any outdoor store - its like a sleeping bag but just made of two sheets sewn together. This is helpful on trains if it gets cold, and sleeping anywhere that looks questionable. My roommate and I slept in our sleep sacks just bout every night in our apartment in Delhi because it was so hot, just to have a barrier between us and the mosquitoes.
-A microfiber towel. You can get this at most outdoor stores also - microfiber is better than normal cloth because it’s really compact, soaks up a lot, and dries quickly.
-Mosquito Repellant. Our year we had a big problem with mosquitoes and Dengue fever, so I’d recommend buying some good spray on repellant.
-Mosquito net - my roommate had one of these, never used it, and regretted it. When mosquitoes are buzzing in your ear
-A multi-tool
-a long length of string - its always good to have string around, I mostly used it as a clothesline
-Shitty clothes - any clothes that you care about will be destroyed by the end - if you do things like i did, doing your laundry by hand does not get stains out very well, and clothes (especially if you bought them in India) bleed a lot, staining the entire load (all my white shirts now have a green tint).
-Condoms - if they’re from the states you can be pretty sure that they’re good quality - i wouldn’t take any chances with the Indian brands. Plus the indian brands all have severely conspicuous porn on them - a fact that you could either love or hate.
-iPod (optional - I ended up losing mine and had to make due with the original 2 gigabyte iPod shuffle, which worked out great)
-Movies are optional - i wouldn’t bring the actual DVD’s, if you can burn them onto an external hard drive that’d be the best
-Laptop (useful if you are keeping a blog, uploading pictures, or want to stay in contact with people from the states, however i know a few people who didn’t bring one and were very happy to ‘unplug’)
Things I wouldn’t recommend bringing
-your phone - you can get a cheap cell phone in Delhi pretty easily
-Shampoo and other toiletries (see above)
-Outlet adapters - they’re everywhere, and you can get them for cheap (I hear Palika Bazaar in Connought place sells them for about rs. 20 - give them that price and walk away if they try to rip you off)
-power converter
Alternative list for the minimalist
-I had a friend who wanted to immerse himself in Indian culture, and brought only 1 backpacking backpack with him. He had 2 pairs of pants, a few shirts, a few other clothes, his computer, and some electronics. Once in India he went shopping a bunch and got a full indian wardrobe. I really respected this style of traveling, and made me kind of regret that i brought a whole suitcase full of stuff i didn’t really need.
Things I always carried on me
Because i tried to travel often, I quickly developed a list of things that I always carried in my backpack that were of infinite utility.
-A few small plastic bags - these are helpful mostly for putting electronics in, or wet clothes, or for basic waterproofing
-A length of string
“” of duct tape or clear tape (usually both)
A Carabiner (usually an s clip)
A lighter
A knife
Bandaids
A small multi-tool
Backpack cover (this is highly recommended)
An umbrella
A headlamp/flashlight
Pen & paper
Toilet Paper - there is almost never toilet paper on public transport (buses/trains), nor is there ever any toilet paper in any sort of public restroom (unless you’re in a swanky club or area). So if you want to experience the real india and wipe with your left hand, then go for it! If you aren’t exactly comfortable with that, bring some tp.
General Tips
-Get a citibank card. They have a bunch of branches in India, and have deals with other Indian banks to lower the cost of withdrawing money. The extra costs of withdrawing money overseas will add up very quickly - citibank is the best way to avoid those charges.
-Don’t overpack - as i’ve said before, you can get most things you need in India
-Haggle. This is a skill you must learn - everywhere you go, people will try to rip you off. Here’s some tips on haggling: Don’t seem to interested - If you REALLY want something and show it, then they will jack up the price and refuse to lower it because they know how much you want it. It’s best to come off as only slightly interested, so you have room to haggle. Another way to show that you’re not too interested is with body language - it really helps if you seem like you might walk away at any time - they want to make the sale, and will lower the price to keep you there. The biggest haggling tip i can give is called the ‘walk away’. You walk over to the clothes-wallah, express interest in a cool kurta, and ask how much. He gives you a ridiculous price (3,000 rs), and you say, “Bahoot zyada heh!” (thats too much!). Then you walk away. Soon he come running after you and lower the price somewhat. don’t stop walking. Slow your pace, maybe listen to his new offer, but don’t engage fully. This is where you have the upper hand. Haggle at will.
When haggling, i find that its important to have a sense of humor. However, i found that haggling was a mixed bag for me - it’s important to have the ability to know how much things cost, and be able to get a fair price, but always have some perspective in the matter - what does 200 rs really mean to you, as opposed to what it would mean to the person trying to tell you something. Sometimes i let myself be ripped off because it seemed like they needed that money way more than i did.
-Carry small change. It’s always a bitch to only have a 500 rs bill, and take a 20 rs. rickshaw and make the rickshaw wallah pretend to not have change, persuade him to give you the change, or if he doesn’t have the change, make him run around to all his other rickshaw friends and make change for you. This has happened to me hundreds of times. This situation has happened to me in various forms hundreds of times, and can be completely avoided with a few small bills.
-NEVER accept bills that are ripped because nobody will accept them from you. It’s kinda like a constant money game that you’re playing - people giving you change for any reason will always try to slip in that pesky ripped bill that they got tricked into taking. Be on the lookout. It’s also a pretty cool moment when a rickshaw wallah hands you a ripped bill, you hold it up as if to say, “c’mon, im not that dumb”, and you feel like you’re actually beginning to understand india instead of constantly being that bumbling white tourist.
-Directions are ridiculous. Always ask multiple people for directions and follow the answers that most people have in common. Maybe it’s your accent, or you’re saying the place wrong, or they just don’t care, but you will almost never get reliable directions from anyone in india. Don’t get me wrong, people will be helpful and happy to try to direct you - you’ll have no shortage of friendly people trying to help, but just because they’re nice doesn’t mean they have any idea where they’re going.
-Learn to distinguish between head bobbles. The classic ‘Indian head bobble’ can mean either yes, no, maybe, i don’t know, or go away im done with you.
Agree on prices beforehand. Always. Unless you get really familiar with a place and know how much a rickshaw will cost (in which place get in the rickshaw, tell them where you want to go, and pay them the appropriate amount afterwards), it is always best to avoid the situation of you thinking you owe way less than how much you are thought to owe.
Get comfortable with people staring at you always. Usually people will do this with a completely blank face, and its easy to get frustrated and upset by the constant staring. I responded one of two ways. 1. just smile - they’ll usually smile too and it will change your whole perspective - they’re not being rude, they’re just interested. 2. Stare them down until they look away. I only used this when the girls i was with were getting stared at in a creepy way by hella dudes. For girls, this whole ‘staring back’ thing doesn’t work so well, seeing as making eye contact is sometimes considered as consent. Feel it out.
Trust Viji - he always has your best interest in mind.
Monkeys - Never make eye contact or show your teeth. They don’t like that. This will mostly be a problem in mussoorie - if you just avert your eyes and walk on by, you’ll be fine. Even if there’s a group of 20 potentially rabie-ridden monkeys directly in your path, if you follow those rules, you’ll be okay. I carried around a cane just in case and it was super comforting to have when the monkeys seem angry and you’re alone.
Don’t be afraid to be persistent and assertive. It took a month and a half to get internet in our apartment in delhi, and we had to get angry and authoritative to get it that quick. They’ll tell you someone will come by in 2 days, and have them arrive 2 weeks later. You really have to work hard to get anything.
Gather take out menu’s from places near your apt. Giani’s is a pretty good ice cream place. Every restaurant delivers, which is pretty cool.
-Bribes. Shit man, it’s india - everything goes. You might have to bribe someone to get what you want. It might work, it might not. Just know the option is there.
Places to know about in Delhi
-Jama Masjid. This is the muslim quarter of Delhi and is a street food goldmine. check out Kareems for incredible kebabs and meat dishes. Check out the place directly across from Kareems called “roasted chicken with butter”. It’s bomb. It’s also one of the only places in delhi that you can get beef. Get off the metro at either Chandni Chowk or Chowri Bazaar. it’s walkable, but you can also take a rickshaw (go for the bike rikshaws)
-Majnu-Katillah - its delhi’s local tibetan refugee area. A cool spot to get coffee, study, or get tibetan food. Get off the metro at vidhan sabha and take an auto rickshaw.
Pahar Ganj Main Bazaar - this is one of the most touristy areas in Delhi. You will inevitably find yourself here buying something. Kind of a useful place because there are plenty resources there. Transfer to the blue line and get of at R.K. Ashram Margh
South Delhi - where all the swanky clubs and malls are. If you’re hankerin for a taste of the first world, go here. Many of the clubs have ‘ladies night’ often, where ladies get to drink for free!
If I think of anything else, ill post it. otherwise, if you have any questions, email me at benizimmerman@gmail.com
Also, here’s another advice blog that i found helpful: http://roxyandjordanstravelblog.blogspot.com/
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Thursday, July 15, 2010
New Things
As with most things in life, practice makes perfect, and as a result i'm slowly perfecting my blogging situation so that its easiest for me, and as accessible to you as possible. So I have a new website through mobileme. Hopefully this will work best. So from now on, check that website instead of this one.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Belly Man
This weekend was my trip to Haridwar/Rishikesh. While we were still in Delhi a few weeks ago, i browsed my lonely planet to find out cool trips that i could go on while i was in Mussoorie. Rajaji National Park (A tiger and elephant preserve), and Rishikesh became my primary travel objectives. Because we were in Yamunotri last weekend, this weekend was when the objective would be executed. Unfortunately, Rajaji is mostly closed at this time of year, so our plans changed to leaving Mussoorie friday afternoon, spending that night and half of saturday in Haridwar (another holy city like Rishikesh), and then the rest of our weekend in Rishikesh. After doing my research (talking to my hindi teachers), i found out that the best way to travel around was by bus, because it costs about 30 rupees (20 cents) per bus ride. Other groups ended up taking taxis that cost 3,000 rupees (about 60 bucks) round trip! So after school, Camden and i told our travel group (Rachel, Katie, Becca, and Emilie) that we'd meet them at the bus stop downtown. We were in the mood for a very rare delicacy in India, the infamous Burger. The closest thing we found to a real burger was at a fast-food chain called Nirulas, where i got a chicken burger, and then an incredible hot fudge sundae.
The buses we ride are thin aluminum shells with 40 or so seats in them, and bars lining the roof above the asile, for people to hold on to. Luckily our bus wasn't too crowded, and i got a window seat, where i quickly developed the bad habit of sticking my head out of the bus, seeing as i was above all of the traffic, and could easily duck my head back in if needed. Like every way in and out of mussoorie, the drive was fast, windy, ridiculous. I've already tried to convey how crazy the driving is in India, but there really are no words to describe it (hopefully i'll get my videos up soon). A few people got sick because of how fast the driver would go around the switchbacks. An hour and a half of that, and we ended up in Dehrdun, the city at the base of the mountains. We got dropped off at the railway station, and had to get to the bus station. How should we travel the 7 kilometers quickly? Auto rickshaw of course. Ridiculous, ridiculous auto rickshaw. The two rickshaws that we needed to take decided it would be a good idea to race each other in the dense traffic of Dehradun. Except for a couple of near-death experiences, we got to the bus station safely, plus our rickshaw won!
The next bus to Haridwar was pretty uneventful, except for a few awkwardly phrased signs. Instead of taking the rickshaws pressed upon us by the copious amounts of drivers, we decided to walk the 2 km into town. It's amazing how you can get around in a foreign city, in India just by pointing and saying "hotel?". We also had the added point of interest of the Ganges, so "Ganga" was introduced into our barbarian-like communications. Finally after our over-heated wanderings we find Hotel Swagat Palace, a hotel recommended by Lonely Planet. The guy originally wanted 1 room, 3 beds and air conditioning for 900, but after a bit of haggling, we ended up paying 700 for the 6 of us.
At the prompting of the stomach rumbles of hungry travelers, we went searching for a restaurant that wouldn't necessitate mass amounts of immodium afterwards. Choti Vala was recommended by two of my hindi teachers, so after a quick walk alongside both auto and bike rickshaws, and hordes of shopkeepers yelling "hello serh" as if it was the most compelling thing in the world, we sat down and ate some food - I had the best garlic naan of my life. On the walk back we, like large mosquitoes, saw a bunch of bright lights and were drawn to them. Turns out that it was some sort of holiday in the local ashram (hindu temple), and because white people are never ignored in India, we were sucked into the rituals of the place. These included paying our respects to the heroes Rama and Sita, accepting gifts of sugar (kind of like rock candy) and mangoes, and then being sat down in the large hall amongst 100's of other people who were eating a meal being served by people walking around with buckets of food. The words "no", or "I just ate dinner" meant absolutely nothing to these people, who made it clear that it was holy to eat the questionable food being served to us, and we had to. All of this interaction was amidst the loud hum of music and many people's voices, along with the hordes (and i do not use this term lightly) of people coming up to us asking, "where from?", shaking our hands, taking our pictures, and just smiling dumbly at us.
I've begun to take pictures of everybody taking pictures of us, and for this weekend, i'm up to 9, and thats just the ones that i was able to get my camera out for. What is so interesting about is i don't know, nor can i fathom what will be done with a picture of me making a ridiculuous face. Will they show it to their friends? Will they publish it on the website Lookatthatwhiteperson.com which i secretly suspect exists for all of India? I don't know. Anyways, the next day we got up at 730 to go to the ganges and preform Puja. Puja is an indian custom, where you worship a god, and then get that red dot on your forehead. It's especially cool to do on the Ganges, where you buy bowls of flowers and send them down the river. Camden and I bought some flower bowls and had a guy help us do puja, where we splashed ourselves with the water, put flowers in our hand, put water on the flowers, and then throw them down the river. Repeat. The only thing i didn't do was drink the water, which was a dark brown color - much like hot chocolate. After making a generous donation to the man, he put a bindi (red dot) on my forehead. Then he got really excited and put another one above the current one, a dot on each of my ear lobes, and line across my throat. Camden got the same treatment. Later we realized just how much the bindi stains, because my throat bindi is still there, 2 days and multiple washings afterwards.
After puja, we began to draw a crowd of indian people who had also just done the same thing. They LOVED Emilie, and tried taking many picitures with her. Being the nice girl that she is, Emilie didn't resist too much, and submitted to being pushed, pulled, and crowded around. Eventually we all were requested to be photographed, and the mayhem began. There was this one man, whom we refer to as "the belly man", who never really smiled, had a near-bald head, and was wearing only his boxers. We call him the belly guy because he had a perfectly round belly. He made an effort to be in the middle of every photo, and in every single one, he's exactly the same: standing awkwardly in his boxers, with both his belly and his eyes staring directly into the camera. I've uploaded a picture of him for your viewing pleasure.
Too much to write so I'll leave you with that beautiful image - more soon.
The buses we ride are thin aluminum shells with 40 or so seats in them, and bars lining the roof above the asile, for people to hold on to. Luckily our bus wasn't too crowded, and i got a window seat, where i quickly developed the bad habit of sticking my head out of the bus, seeing as i was above all of the traffic, and could easily duck my head back in if needed. Like every way in and out of mussoorie, the drive was fast, windy, ridiculous. I've already tried to convey how crazy the driving is in India, but there really are no words to describe it (hopefully i'll get my videos up soon). A few people got sick because of how fast the driver would go around the switchbacks. An hour and a half of that, and we ended up in Dehrdun, the city at the base of the mountains. We got dropped off at the railway station, and had to get to the bus station. How should we travel the 7 kilometers quickly? Auto rickshaw of course. Ridiculous, ridiculous auto rickshaw. The two rickshaws that we needed to take decided it would be a good idea to race each other in the dense traffic of Dehradun. Except for a couple of near-death experiences, we got to the bus station safely, plus our rickshaw won!
The next bus to Haridwar was pretty uneventful, except for a few awkwardly phrased signs. Instead of taking the rickshaws pressed upon us by the copious amounts of drivers, we decided to walk the 2 km into town. It's amazing how you can get around in a foreign city, in India just by pointing and saying "hotel?". We also had the added point of interest of the Ganges, so "Ganga" was introduced into our barbarian-like communications. Finally after our over-heated wanderings we find Hotel Swagat Palace, a hotel recommended by Lonely Planet. The guy originally wanted 1 room, 3 beds and air conditioning for 900, but after a bit of haggling, we ended up paying 700 for the 6 of us.
At the prompting of the stomach rumbles of hungry travelers, we went searching for a restaurant that wouldn't necessitate mass amounts of immodium afterwards. Choti Vala was recommended by two of my hindi teachers, so after a quick walk alongside both auto and bike rickshaws, and hordes of shopkeepers yelling "hello serh" as if it was the most compelling thing in the world, we sat down and ate some food - I had the best garlic naan of my life. On the walk back we, like large mosquitoes, saw a bunch of bright lights and were drawn to them. Turns out that it was some sort of holiday in the local ashram (hindu temple), and because white people are never ignored in India, we were sucked into the rituals of the place. These included paying our respects to the heroes Rama and Sita, accepting gifts of sugar (kind of like rock candy) and mangoes, and then being sat down in the large hall amongst 100's of other people who were eating a meal being served by people walking around with buckets of food. The words "no", or "I just ate dinner" meant absolutely nothing to these people, who made it clear that it was holy to eat the questionable food being served to us, and we had to. All of this interaction was amidst the loud hum of music and many people's voices, along with the hordes (and i do not use this term lightly) of people coming up to us asking, "where from?", shaking our hands, taking our pictures, and just smiling dumbly at us.
I've begun to take pictures of everybody taking pictures of us, and for this weekend, i'm up to 9, and thats just the ones that i was able to get my camera out for. What is so interesting about is i don't know, nor can i fathom what will be done with a picture of me making a ridiculuous face. Will they show it to their friends? Will they publish it on the website Lookatthatwhiteperson.com which i secretly suspect exists for all of India? I don't know. Anyways, the next day we got up at 730 to go to the ganges and preform Puja. Puja is an indian custom, where you worship a god, and then get that red dot on your forehead. It's especially cool to do on the Ganges, where you buy bowls of flowers and send them down the river. Camden and I bought some flower bowls and had a guy help us do puja, where we splashed ourselves with the water, put flowers in our hand, put water on the flowers, and then throw them down the river. Repeat. The only thing i didn't do was drink the water, which was a dark brown color - much like hot chocolate. After making a generous donation to the man, he put a bindi (red dot) on my forehead. Then he got really excited and put another one above the current one, a dot on each of my ear lobes, and line across my throat. Camden got the same treatment. Later we realized just how much the bindi stains, because my throat bindi is still there, 2 days and multiple washings afterwards.
After puja, we began to draw a crowd of indian people who had also just done the same thing. They LOVED Emilie, and tried taking many picitures with her. Being the nice girl that she is, Emilie didn't resist too much, and submitted to being pushed, pulled, and crowded around. Eventually we all were requested to be photographed, and the mayhem began. There was this one man, whom we refer to as "the belly man", who never really smiled, had a near-bald head, and was wearing only his boxers. We call him the belly guy because he had a perfectly round belly. He made an effort to be in the middle of every photo, and in every single one, he's exactly the same: standing awkwardly in his boxers, with both his belly and his eyes staring directly into the camera. I've uploaded a picture of him for your viewing pleasure.
Too much to write so I'll leave you with that beautiful image - more soon.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Hangin around
For many years the EAP group from california has come to Mussoorie for a month to intensively study Hindi at the Landour language school. As a result, the locals of Mussoorie have gotten to know when its that time of year again, and a few of them have gotten to know past students. This is our relationship with Bir. Bir is a 23 year old Sikh who helps run his family internet cafe in downtown Mussoorie. Bir's a homie.
He has a huge house with a ping pong table right next to where we are staying, and is happy to show us around Mussoorie and help us out in any way. It was Bir who introduced me to that beautiful food called momos, and it was he who i dub an american hero, considering how he got us fireworks (and 35% off) for that most patriotic of american holidays. Seeing as I've been an active member of the Jewish summer camp community for the past 10 years of my life, I haven't gotten to celebrate the 4th of July in a long time. Thanks to Bir, we got a bunch of fireworks for 2000 rs, which is about 40 bucks.
This weekend we're planning a trip to Rajaji National Park, as well as Rishikesh. Rajaji is a tiger reserve, as well as having many herds of elephants, so it's a pretty cool place. However, we need to book a jeep safari, otherwise we won't get far in the time that we have. The problem is that when i called to get a reservation, the man that i talked to spoke no english other than 'november 13th". Not quite sure what's significant about that date, but we're going to try to get Bir to talk to the guy and book a safari. That's the plan for this saturday, on Sunday we're going up to Rishikesh - the Yoga capitol of India. It's at the beginning of the Ganges river, giving it a reputation for being a holy city. Hopefully this plan will work out and there will be some very good stories and pictures to match them next week.
On a totally unrelated note, I had my first close-up interaction with a monkey today. They're notorious for being simultaneously dangerously curious and territorial, so the trick is to not challenge them by looking them in the eye, leaving your apartment door open, or having any goodies out in the open. The other day one of them stole a piece of cheesy toast from the picnic table outside while everybody was eating. They're furry devil ninjas. Anyway, I was hanging out in my cottage with a few friends, and the door open. Out of the corner of my eye I see a little face creep through the door. Soon I realize that it's a monkey and eloquently yell, "monkey!". After a good hollering at, the monkey quickly retreated out the door, but not before shooting me a look that said, "you've won this time, humans".
I also have a new website for my photos - flikr won't let me put a bunch of photos up. So check this one from now on - i'm working on getting some videos up also.
He has a huge house with a ping pong table right next to where we are staying, and is happy to show us around Mussoorie and help us out in any way. It was Bir who introduced me to that beautiful food called momos, and it was he who i dub an american hero, considering how he got us fireworks (and 35% off) for that most patriotic of american holidays. Seeing as I've been an active member of the Jewish summer camp community for the past 10 years of my life, I haven't gotten to celebrate the 4th of July in a long time. Thanks to Bir, we got a bunch of fireworks for 2000 rs, which is about 40 bucks.
This weekend we're planning a trip to Rajaji National Park, as well as Rishikesh. Rajaji is a tiger reserve, as well as having many herds of elephants, so it's a pretty cool place. However, we need to book a jeep safari, otherwise we won't get far in the time that we have. The problem is that when i called to get a reservation, the man that i talked to spoke no english other than 'november 13th". Not quite sure what's significant about that date, but we're going to try to get Bir to talk to the guy and book a safari. That's the plan for this saturday, on Sunday we're going up to Rishikesh - the Yoga capitol of India. It's at the beginning of the Ganges river, giving it a reputation for being a holy city. Hopefully this plan will work out and there will be some very good stories and pictures to match them next week.
On a totally unrelated note, I had my first close-up interaction with a monkey today. They're notorious for being simultaneously dangerously curious and territorial, so the trick is to not challenge them by looking them in the eye, leaving your apartment door open, or having any goodies out in the open. The other day one of them stole a piece of cheesy toast from the picnic table outside while everybody was eating. They're furry devil ninjas. Anyway, I was hanging out in my cottage with a few friends, and the door open. Out of the corner of my eye I see a little face creep through the door. Soon I realize that it's a monkey and eloquently yell, "monkey!". After a good hollering at, the monkey quickly retreated out the door, but not before shooting me a look that said, "you've won this time, humans".
I also have a new website for my photos - flikr won't let me put a bunch of photos up. So check this one from now on - i'm working on getting some videos up also.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Yamaunotri
The tin shell of a car bounces, jumps, and shudders over the unpaved rocky road, kicking up dust to be inhaled by the passengers of the vehicle behind us. Our teeth feel rough to the tongue because of the particulate they've caught after 45 minutes of what feels like the Indiana Jones ride at disneyland. We reach paved road again, which means that the driver can go faster - careening around the switchbacked roads, but it's ok, because he usually honks before going around a blind corner to warn oncoming traffic. When there is a car coming the opposite way, he drives to the edge of the road (cliff) to allow a few inches to squeeze by. The mountains surrounding are a vibrant lush-green, and are rigidly terraced due tot he abundance of past and present rice-patties. A river runs at the crux of these high ridges, turning an increasingly ice-blue color as we go further down the road towards our destination, Yamunotri.
We are 43 in all, with 4 to a cab. 11 cabs thick, the estimate 4 hour trip turns into a 9 hour drive with the help of 2 flat tires, people getting car sick, unpaved roads, and the occasional donkey or cow in the way. This weekend trip is led by one of our Hindi teachers, a man named Dinkar. His leadership style can best be described as minimalist, considering his absence throughout the entire ride - which simultaneously creates confusion about where, what, when and why we are, and a sense of independence. At one of our stops (which we thought was lunch), we were very close to a large stream where, due to the heat, my friend noah, in true santa cruz style, stripped down and waded in. A few of us followed suit, to the apparent delight of the crowd of indian men gathering at the top of the ridge. Soon we discovered that our stop was meant to be brief, and we made haste back to the cab. 2 kilometers later we stopped for lunch near the main river, where we feasted on PB&J's, bananas, naan, and potato curry.
There, at the bottom of the so-called "foothills of the himalayas" (I don't care what they call them, those things are mountains), i was overcome by a sudden case of serenity, which continues to stay with me. A few hours later. we pull into a motel parking lot, which, because of the absence of our leader, many people mistake for our destination. A few minutes later the confusion is cleared up, and we are told that our hotel is a 10 minute walk of the town's only road. By this time, a light rtain has come, a foreshadowing of the monsoon to come. The town is made up of small shacks that line the 6-foot wide path-road, leading steadily up.
People walk by leading donkeys, the main form of transportation up here. However, there are more stylish ways to get around. For a few more rupees, you can sit in a canoe-like frame, and be carried around by 4 people. But if you really want to get around with fliar, you can sit in a small basket, and be carried the 6 km up the mountain on somebodies back! It's like a piggy-back ride business. Our hotel is nothing special, and after getting our rooms, I venture out in the rain to explore. I don't get far, because a shop/tent attracts my attention with the delicious smell of Momos. For those of you who haven't been blessed by eating momos, they are tibetan potstickers, and the they are crazy about them in India. I am not ashamed to say that i, too, have the Momo fever. For about 10 rupees (about 20 cents), i get 5 momos, plus a cup of chai for 6 rupees, and a bowl of maggie (Indian ramen) for another 10 rs. Total, for about 50 cents, i get a delicious snack, shelter from the rain, a few Indian friends, and the time to think and write.
We are 43 in all, with 4 to a cab. 11 cabs thick, the estimate 4 hour trip turns into a 9 hour drive with the help of 2 flat tires, people getting car sick, unpaved roads, and the occasional donkey or cow in the way. This weekend trip is led by one of our Hindi teachers, a man named Dinkar. His leadership style can best be described as minimalist, considering his absence throughout the entire ride - which simultaneously creates confusion about where, what, when and why we are, and a sense of independence. At one of our stops (which we thought was lunch), we were very close to a large stream where, due to the heat, my friend noah, in true santa cruz style, stripped down and waded in. A few of us followed suit, to the apparent delight of the crowd of indian men gathering at the top of the ridge. Soon we discovered that our stop was meant to be brief, and we made haste back to the cab. 2 kilometers later we stopped for lunch near the main river, where we feasted on PB&J's, bananas, naan, and potato curry.
There, at the bottom of the so-called "foothills of the himalayas" (I don't care what they call them, those things are mountains), i was overcome by a sudden case of serenity, which continues to stay with me. A few hours later. we pull into a motel parking lot, which, because of the absence of our leader, many people mistake for our destination. A few minutes later the confusion is cleared up, and we are told that our hotel is a 10 minute walk of the town's only road. By this time, a light rtain has come, a foreshadowing of the monsoon to come. The town is made up of small shacks that line the 6-foot wide path-road, leading steadily up.
People walk by leading donkeys, the main form of transportation up here. However, there are more stylish ways to get around. For a few more rupees, you can sit in a canoe-like frame, and be carried around by 4 people. But if you really want to get around with fliar, you can sit in a small basket, and be carried the 6 km up the mountain on somebodies back! It's like a piggy-back ride business. Our hotel is nothing special, and after getting our rooms, I venture out in the rain to explore. I don't get far, because a shop/tent attracts my attention with the delicious smell of Momos. For those of you who haven't been blessed by eating momos, they are tibetan potstickers, and the they are crazy about them in India. I am not ashamed to say that i, too, have the Momo fever. For about 10 rupees (about 20 cents), i get 5 momos, plus a cup of chai for 6 rupees, and a bowl of maggie (Indian ramen) for another 10 rs. Total, for about 50 cents, i get a delicious snack, shelter from the rain, a few Indian friends, and the time to think and write.
Monday, June 28, 2010
On the edge
I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Mussoorie right now, owned by a sikh guy who sounds almost american, and who has taken it upon himself to educate us in hindi hip-hop. It's not bad. The street outside is probably 10 feel wide, and has deep horizontal grooves in it for traction purposes. Oh, did i mention that we're on the top of a mountain? Across the street is a man in plaid pants, lifting a burlap sack seemingly 80 or 90 pounds on his back, and putting the strap over his forehead to keep the bag on, and keeping his hands free. I guess school just got out because there's tons of 'mountain children' as Rae says walking up the hill back to their homes. Horns of motorcycles, motor-scooters, trucks and cars are constantly blaring to notify each other of their presence as they go around the tight and treacherous switchbacks up the mountain. The roads here are sort of similar to those in Yosemite, except that cars go into the other lane frequently to pass each other. Driving here is SO dangerous, and it looks like there should be constant accidents, but there aren't. On roads as narrow as 7 feet, two cars going opposite directions will get within a centimeter of each other, while being on a 60% grade. Also, they're all stick shifts, and the cars never roll back - i don't understand how they do it. Indians are the the best drivers on the planet.
Anyway, I'm in this internet cafe as part an excursion downtown to get a few things. Downtown is about a 20 minute walk from where we're staying, which is at the top of the mountain. We're literally living on the edge - the clouds aren't anything distant anymore, we're stuck in them, which means the the view isn't as impressive as it could potentially be. However the view is absolutely incredible. We see all of mussoorie on a relatively clear night, wrapped around the roads that wind their way up to us. It's so nice to get out of the city - Mussoorie is super lush and green - i've never seen so many bugs in my life, we're getting used to it. There's also the monkeys, which are very territorial and are known to get very close and screech at you, sometimes even attack if they feel threatened. the trick is not to look them in the eye, show your teeth, or challenge them, and you'll be alright. Just in case, Camden and I went into town yesterday to get canes to double as weapons in the event of a monkey attack. They're also pretty stylish.
Aight i gotta go, but hopefully we'll get internet at the place we're staying today and i'll be able to tell more.
Namaste
Anyway, I'm in this internet cafe as part an excursion downtown to get a few things. Downtown is about a 20 minute walk from where we're staying, which is at the top of the mountain. We're literally living on the edge - the clouds aren't anything distant anymore, we're stuck in them, which means the the view isn't as impressive as it could potentially be. However the view is absolutely incredible. We see all of mussoorie on a relatively clear night, wrapped around the roads that wind their way up to us. It's so nice to get out of the city - Mussoorie is super lush and green - i've never seen so many bugs in my life, we're getting used to it. There's also the monkeys, which are very territorial and are known to get very close and screech at you, sometimes even attack if they feel threatened. the trick is not to look them in the eye, show your teeth, or challenge them, and you'll be alright. Just in case, Camden and I went into town yesterday to get canes to double as weapons in the event of a monkey attack. They're also pretty stylish.
Aight i gotta go, but hopefully we'll get internet at the place we're staying today and i'll be able to tell more.
Namaste
Thursday, June 24, 2010
In Da Club
Yesterday was a long day. As usual we got up at 730 to eat breakfast. After that, Viji took the remaining group to the foreign registrars office. You would think that for a city as big as Delhi there would be a huge building dedicated to registering foreigners but once again India has subverted our expectations. People were crammed into all the chairs available, and for about 20 minutes we had to stand in a line and wait for them to check us in. After that, we had to go outside and wait, which, considering the 110 degree weather, wasn't very comfortable. The place were sitting was a kind of courtyard, covered by a huge green tarp, which in-effect made us colorblind. Somebody brought cards (considering the last group had to wait for 5 hours), so we were pretty well entertained. I taught the group my new favorite card game, called Gumpsh, where you have a partner and you have to come up with a secret code to tell your partner what cards you have and how many of them. People's codes are pretty funny; when we played tonight Rae and I didn't even need to make up a code, we just spoke in Hebrew. Anyway, we ended up only being at the office for 2 hours total, so it really wasn't bad.
Lunch at the YWCA, and then Kat, Rae and I went on a few errands. Kat and I had gotten cell phones 2 days earlier, been told they would work within 90 minutes and they still didn't work so we went to go fix them while Rae needed to buy a phone. It was my first time taking an auto-rickshaw, also known as a tuk-tuk. The place we needed to go was about 10 minutes away which should cost about 30 rupees, about 75 cents, but the drivers would try to charge us 200 rupees. The problem was that none of us had small change, only 500 rupee notes. All we had collectively in small change was 20 rupees, so i flagged down about 8 or 9 rickshaws, trying to haggle them down to 20 rupees. All of them reacted in the same way by just driving off. it was about that time that Rae discovered that she had 10 more rupees, so we snagged the next rickshaw we saw and found our way to the phone store. As we get into the rickshaw, i get a text message on my phone, telling me it's been activated. This is a perfect example of Indian standard time: It's even worse than jewish standard Time. Jews are usually about 30 minutes late, whereas Indian standard time can range from 30 minutes to 2 days late.
When we got to the phone place, and Kat's phone was working within 2 minutes. While the girls were doing this, i found a store that sold indian sweets. They had gulab-jamin, which is my favorite indian dessert, so i ate a few of those. Rae didn't want to get her phone at the place we got ours because it took so long for our phones to work. Luckily, in our subsequent wanderings, we found a cell phone store that was actually cheaper than our cell phones, so Rae got her phone there. In order to get a cell phone in India, one needs to bring a passport, and passport pictures. So Rae gave her passport to one indian guy at the store, and he begins to walk out of the store. This freaked us all out, because that was Rachel's passport walking out the door to an unknown area, with an unknown man. So i walked out with him, and followed him just to make sure. He led me down a few alleys to a crowded hole-in-the-wall copying place, made a copy of the passport, and then walked back to the store. The area with the copy place was this really cool market, with really tiny shops crowded next to each other, each selling something unique. So after Rae got her phone, we went there and browsed the shops - I bought a few mangos.
Later that night we heard about this club called Urban Pind, where it was ladies night. Ladies night means that women drink for free, so 3 of the guys and 9 of the girls took a bunch of rickshaws to the club to check it out. Too bad the club was in an obscure part of Delhi, because our rickshaw driver stopped at least 7 times to ask directions from the locals. Our driver was so fun: honked his horn when there was absolutely nothing to honk at, sang songs loudly to himself, and took turns at a speed thought to turn the rickshaw over. The rickshaws here are so cool - tiny green 3-wheeled vehicles with the driver in front and a seat for 3 in the back. The streets in Delhi are ridiculous - first of all traffic goes the wrong way, and second of all, everyone drives as if they're playing bumper cars. The lane markings on the streets are a mere suggestion so motorcycles, auto-rickshaws, and scooters weave haphazardly through traffic. The cars get within inches of each other, and honking your horn, contrary to its use in america to express anger and annoyance just means hello here, and is in abundance. On the whole, driving in Delhi can only be described as organized chaos - it's much like a flock of birds being instantaneously synchronized in their flight pattern, but never bumping into one another.
Anyway, we got to the club which was really fun - 3 levels of partying going on, good music, and lots of interesting people. I met some french people who were visiting their friend in Delhi, and talked to them for a while. The heat of Delhi, even at night, plus the club-dancing atmosphere made sure that all of us were drenched in sweat after about 5 minutes, a feeling we've become used to. It's always a good idea to bring a handkerchief around to wipe off the shvitz. We stayed at the club for a long time, and then slowly left in our groups of four - one guy to each 3 girls. Our rickshaw on the way back, though more expensive than the previous one, didn't get lost many times, and returned us safely to the YWCA. Another successful day in Delhi.
Lunch at the YWCA, and then Kat, Rae and I went on a few errands. Kat and I had gotten cell phones 2 days earlier, been told they would work within 90 minutes and they still didn't work so we went to go fix them while Rae needed to buy a phone. It was my first time taking an auto-rickshaw, also known as a tuk-tuk. The place we needed to go was about 10 minutes away which should cost about 30 rupees, about 75 cents, but the drivers would try to charge us 200 rupees. The problem was that none of us had small change, only 500 rupee notes. All we had collectively in small change was 20 rupees, so i flagged down about 8 or 9 rickshaws, trying to haggle them down to 20 rupees. All of them reacted in the same way by just driving off. it was about that time that Rae discovered that she had 10 more rupees, so we snagged the next rickshaw we saw and found our way to the phone store. As we get into the rickshaw, i get a text message on my phone, telling me it's been activated. This is a perfect example of Indian standard time: It's even worse than jewish standard Time. Jews are usually about 30 minutes late, whereas Indian standard time can range from 30 minutes to 2 days late.
When we got to the phone place, and Kat's phone was working within 2 minutes. While the girls were doing this, i found a store that sold indian sweets. They had gulab-jamin, which is my favorite indian dessert, so i ate a few of those. Rae didn't want to get her phone at the place we got ours because it took so long for our phones to work. Luckily, in our subsequent wanderings, we found a cell phone store that was actually cheaper than our cell phones, so Rae got her phone there. In order to get a cell phone in India, one needs to bring a passport, and passport pictures. So Rae gave her passport to one indian guy at the store, and he begins to walk out of the store. This freaked us all out, because that was Rachel's passport walking out the door to an unknown area, with an unknown man. So i walked out with him, and followed him just to make sure. He led me down a few alleys to a crowded hole-in-the-wall copying place, made a copy of the passport, and then walked back to the store. The area with the copy place was this really cool market, with really tiny shops crowded next to each other, each selling something unique. So after Rae got her phone, we went there and browsed the shops - I bought a few mangos.
Later that night we heard about this club called Urban Pind, where it was ladies night. Ladies night means that women drink for free, so 3 of the guys and 9 of the girls took a bunch of rickshaws to the club to check it out. Too bad the club was in an obscure part of Delhi, because our rickshaw driver stopped at least 7 times to ask directions from the locals. Our driver was so fun: honked his horn when there was absolutely nothing to honk at, sang songs loudly to himself, and took turns at a speed thought to turn the rickshaw over. The rickshaws here are so cool - tiny green 3-wheeled vehicles with the driver in front and a seat for 3 in the back. The streets in Delhi are ridiculous - first of all traffic goes the wrong way, and second of all, everyone drives as if they're playing bumper cars. The lane markings on the streets are a mere suggestion so motorcycles, auto-rickshaws, and scooters weave haphazardly through traffic. The cars get within inches of each other, and honking your horn, contrary to its use in america to express anger and annoyance just means hello here, and is in abundance. On the whole, driving in Delhi can only be described as organized chaos - it's much like a flock of birds being instantaneously synchronized in their flight pattern, but never bumping into one another.
Anyway, we got to the club which was really fun - 3 levels of partying going on, good music, and lots of interesting people. I met some french people who were visiting their friend in Delhi, and talked to them for a while. The heat of Delhi, even at night, plus the club-dancing atmosphere made sure that all of us were drenched in sweat after about 5 minutes, a feeling we've become used to. It's always a good idea to bring a handkerchief around to wipe off the shvitz. We stayed at the club for a long time, and then slowly left in our groups of four - one guy to each 3 girls. Our rickshaw on the way back, though more expensive than the previous one, didn't get lost many times, and returned us safely to the YWCA. Another successful day in Delhi.
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