Current Sounds: Dave Matthews - Christmas Song
So yeah, as the title reads, I set off on a second trip although thıs one a fair bit and a framed itinerary. I did however leave with a different frame of mind then last time. This time I am much more aware of the fact that I am traveling alone.
I am pretty stoked though. Istanbul is quite the city sporting an exquisıte blend of antquity and modernity. And yes, the doner kebabs are delicous. Soon I will write a bigger update although that might have to wait `tıl I make it to Iran.
Keep owning.
Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts
29 December, 2008
29 July, 2008
04 June, 2008
On Coming Home ...
Soundtrack: Slow Runner - I'm gonna hate you when you go
I don't really know what to say except that I am coming 'home' tomorrow and quite frankly it's freaking me out. This trip or 'my journey' as I affectionately call it has been so many things to me at once. To start, it has acted as a security blanket shielding me from everything that has gone on stateside. When you're at home, the problems of loved ones affect you for two reasons with the first being that you love them and the latter being proximity. Some of those I love are going through hard times and now when I re-enter the western world, their problems will slowly become mine. I know it sounds wrong and completely selfish to say, but it's true. I have been lucky in that for the past 8 months the only person I really had to worry about was myself. Some things have made it over the oceans, rivers and mountain tops between us, but for the most part, I've been left unscathed by the noble burden of helping others through hard times. I hope that I can relearn how to be as strong for others as I am for myself for that is the true test of moral strength and courage.
The second reason I'm freaked out is that I feel that I have changed more than I could have imagined. The core things are the same in that I still look at the world with the wide wondrous eyes of a 5 year-old but other things have changed. What exactly? I'm not really sure as I'm certain they were gradual but I just feel it and I don't know if it's for the better. 'Home' is the truth teller of what I've become. Whether or not I have 'grown' or simply 'changed' will soon be revealed.
It's funny that my first taste of home was four months ago ... this girl I met in Bali (my romance from the "Baliriffic" post) was wrapping up her 3 month journey abroad and heading home. We exchanged emails when she left and she told me how scared and excited she was about the up and coming adventure. We talked about how home has simply been where we laid our backpacks to rest and how the very essence of familiarity is frightening. Most importantly we talked about how the scariest thing about coming home is the question of whether or not we readjust too much to the civilized word and lose some of the lessons that we've learned about others and more importantly, ourselves. Luckily, I recently talked with her and she informed me that she not only conquered but owned the challenges that one faces when 'coming home'. There's hope for me yet.
To summarize what this trip has been for me I will say this, that it has been one of excess in all regards and more than anything I could have imagined it could be. I want to thank all of you who were a part of it.
To my fellow travelers: You rock ... whether it be riding dirty and living on the cheap or tubing down the chocolate river, you all taught me a little something more about stepping up and owning life. The experiences I have shared with you are simply priceless.
To my friends at home: Thank you for you helping build me into a man who would follow his dream. I've been a prick, continually forget to buy presents, yell and argue with all of you and yet, you hold on strong. I have even tried to systematically ruin some of our friendships and still, you held. Much love.
To my family: I love you and if you could see the water in my eyes you would understand everything else I would love to say because sadly I know not the words to accurately convey the affection I have for you. Your support through all of this is one of the reasons I'll be coming home smiling wide. I am proud to be your son, your brother and your friend. Gorbanat Beram.
So this is it ... this chapter is over. All that's left is to flip the page and see how the rest of 'my story' unfolds.
I don't really know what to say except that I am coming 'home' tomorrow and quite frankly it's freaking me out. This trip or 'my journey' as I affectionately call it has been so many things to me at once. To start, it has acted as a security blanket shielding me from everything that has gone on stateside. When you're at home, the problems of loved ones affect you for two reasons with the first being that you love them and the latter being proximity. Some of those I love are going through hard times and now when I re-enter the western world, their problems will slowly become mine. I know it sounds wrong and completely selfish to say, but it's true. I have been lucky in that for the past 8 months the only person I really had to worry about was myself. Some things have made it over the oceans, rivers and mountain tops between us, but for the most part, I've been left unscathed by the noble burden of helping others through hard times. I hope that I can relearn how to be as strong for others as I am for myself for that is the true test of moral strength and courage.
The second reason I'm freaked out is that I feel that I have changed more than I could have imagined. The core things are the same in that I still look at the world with the wide wondrous eyes of a 5 year-old but other things have changed. What exactly? I'm not really sure as I'm certain they were gradual but I just feel it and I don't know if it's for the better. 'Home' is the truth teller of what I've become. Whether or not I have 'grown' or simply 'changed' will soon be revealed.
It's funny that my first taste of home was four months ago ... this girl I met in Bali (my romance from the "Baliriffic" post) was wrapping up her 3 month journey abroad and heading home. We exchanged emails when she left and she told me how scared and excited she was about the up and coming adventure. We talked about how home has simply been where we laid our backpacks to rest and how the very essence of familiarity is frightening. Most importantly we talked about how the scariest thing about coming home is the question of whether or not we readjust too much to the civilized word and lose some of the lessons that we've learned about others and more importantly, ourselves. Luckily, I recently talked with her and she informed me that she not only conquered but owned the challenges that one faces when 'coming home'. There's hope for me yet.
To summarize what this trip has been for me I will say this, that it has been one of excess in all regards and more than anything I could have imagined it could be. I want to thank all of you who were a part of it.
To my fellow travelers: You rock ... whether it be riding dirty and living on the cheap or tubing down the chocolate river, you all taught me a little something more about stepping up and owning life. The experiences I have shared with you are simply priceless.
To my friends at home: Thank you for you helping build me into a man who would follow his dream. I've been a prick, continually forget to buy presents, yell and argue with all of you and yet, you hold on strong. I have even tried to systematically ruin some of our friendships and still, you held. Much love.
To my family: I love you and if you could see the water in my eyes you would understand everything else I would love to say because sadly I know not the words to accurately convey the affection I have for you. Your support through all of this is one of the reasons I'll be coming home smiling wide. I am proud to be your son, your brother and your friend. Gorbanat Beram.
So this is it ... this chapter is over. All that's left is to flip the page and see how the rest of 'my story' unfolds.
19 May, 2008
Hi
I arrived in Hue yesterday afternoon after four insane nights in Hoi An that I dare not recount on the web. The only thing that I can say to best describe the events, sights and sounds is 'insanity'.
At current I do not feel like telling a story or describing the places where I've been recently. This is merely to serve as an update and the longer I spend in front of the computer, the more I prolong my inevitable lounging at the Bia 33 stands where to my benefit, no 'whitey' goes.
Update: I have 11 days left before my flight to San Francisco where quite a trial awaits me ... readjusting to a life that I once found familiar. Believe me, I am looking forward to more consitency in my life outside of bus rides and alcohol consumption, but as soon as I step on that plane, this chapter of my life is over. Bittersweet.
As for now though, I have one more night in Hue and tomorrow I catch a nightbus to Nim Binh(sp?), a place that has been described to me as Halong Bay with rice paddies. After motorbiking there for the day I'll catch the last local bus to Hanoi and start figuring out my schedule for my last few days in Vietnam before I head back to the BKK on the 3rd for a bit of shopping and luckily, a reunion with the one, the only, Hawaiin Ryan. Lastly, at 1:30 PM (local time) on the 5th I will be leaving on a jet plane to my favorite city by the bay where, as I said earlier, another journey awaits me.
At current I do not feel like telling a story or describing the places where I've been recently. This is merely to serve as an update and the longer I spend in front of the computer, the more I prolong my inevitable lounging at the Bia 33 stands where to my benefit, no 'whitey' goes.
Update: I have 11 days left before my flight to San Francisco where quite a trial awaits me ... readjusting to a life that I once found familiar. Believe me, I am looking forward to more consitency in my life outside of bus rides and alcohol consumption, but as soon as I step on that plane, this chapter of my life is over. Bittersweet.
As for now though, I have one more night in Hue and tomorrow I catch a nightbus to Nim Binh(sp?), a place that has been described to me as Halong Bay with rice paddies. After motorbiking there for the day I'll catch the last local bus to Hanoi and start figuring out my schedule for my last few days in Vietnam before I head back to the BKK on the 3rd for a bit of shopping and luckily, a reunion with the one, the only, Hawaiin Ryan. Lastly, at 1:30 PM (local time) on the 5th I will be leaving on a jet plane to my favorite city by the bay where, as I said earlier, another journey awaits me.
04 May, 2008
The Vang
Vang Vieng can best be described in one word: unreal. It is, to the best of my knowledge, the town of all towns in Lao (intentionally no 's') in that it is the biggest and has the most tourism. Located right along the Nam Song river lined with those limestone cliffs that I remember seeing on the discovery channel, the main activity is tubing down the chocolate river. Sure it sounds nice and relaxing and I guess it would be should I not have decided to stop off at the numerous bars along the way where buckets and beerlao never stop flowing and makeshift rope swings allow drunken farang to fly ... although despite my flapping while mid-air I still plummeted down into the river below.
Needless to say, insanity ensued 6 nights in a row. Four solid days of tubing shenanigans, motorbiking, a few sleepless nights and kayaking down to Vientiane has left my body bruised and broken and my mind struggling to retain the surreal imagery.
A shoutout to the crew:
I've said it before but I'll say it again, you guys are amazing. Jon, brother, sad to have you gone but we'll be enjoying carne asada in no time back in the states (rosco's even???)
Amy, Emma and mama Tina, good looking out and thanks for the well needed mojo boost ... stoked to be traveling with you guys. 'Shooter' and Lisa, I'm glad I rolled up on my sweet ride in Luang Prabang and that we were able to share the craziness of Vang Vieng together. And lastly, my Swedes, well ... you already know.
Much love to you all, much love.
Needless to say, insanity ensued 6 nights in a row. Four solid days of tubing shenanigans, motorbiking, a few sleepless nights and kayaking down to Vientiane has left my body bruised and broken and my mind struggling to retain the surreal imagery.
A shoutout to the crew:
I've said it before but I'll say it again, you guys are amazing. Jon, brother, sad to have you gone but we'll be enjoying carne asada in no time back in the states (rosco's even???)
Amy, Emma and mama Tina, good looking out and thanks for the well needed mojo boost ... stoked to be traveling with you guys. 'Shooter' and Lisa, I'm glad I rolled up on my sweet ride in Luang Prabang and that we were able to share the craziness of Vang Vieng together. And lastly, my Swedes, well ... you already know.
Much love to you all, much love.
04 April, 2008
Back in Asia
I know not where to begin as this past month has been a complete blur. To start I my crew and I had a series of unfortunate events ranging from theft, being punched in the face, being run over by a motorbike going at least 40km/h as well as enjoying the greatness of stand-by flights. We did however get to pet tigers in Kanchanburi.
Since then I've been to three places: Sangklhaburi, Chiang Mai and Pai. Sangklhaburi was great in that I sobered up, finished reading The God Delusion (Dawkins) and Naked (Sedaris) and got to a bit of volunteering. By volunteering I simply mean that I was invited to be a part of taking the local Burmese children to go swim. Although no substitute for the Bal Ashram boys, these kids were equally cute with smiles big enough to match my own.
Chiang Mai was simply ridiculous. It was Songkran, their new year, which they celebrate by having an all out water war on the streets. Although I don't know what the top 5 experiences of my life will be, I can say with certainty that this will be a contender. My voice was strained, my liver was dying, had bags under my eyes and often not the slightest bit of me was dry ... jeez it was amazing.
Pai was great too. I wound up paying 50 baht (less than two dollars) for a bungalow on the river and even got to play two open mics to which I had quite the crowd. Well to say I had a crowd is misleading ... I happened to be playing while there were people present is more accurate. Whether or not they listened or just applauded because they should is another story.
Now I'm preparing for the next part of my journey: ziplining through the Bokeo reserve and then making my way through Laos. All the best.
Since then I've been to three places: Sangklhaburi, Chiang Mai and Pai. Sangklhaburi was great in that I sobered up, finished reading The God Delusion (Dawkins) and Naked (Sedaris) and got to a bit of volunteering. By volunteering I simply mean that I was invited to be a part of taking the local Burmese children to go swim. Although no substitute for the Bal Ashram boys, these kids were equally cute with smiles big enough to match my own.
Chiang Mai was simply ridiculous. It was Songkran, their new year, which they celebrate by having an all out water war on the streets. Although I don't know what the top 5 experiences of my life will be, I can say with certainty that this will be a contender. My voice was strained, my liver was dying, had bags under my eyes and often not the slightest bit of me was dry ... jeez it was amazing.
Pai was great too. I wound up paying 50 baht (less than two dollars) for a bungalow on the river and even got to play two open mics to which I had quite the crowd. Well to say I had a crowd is misleading ... I happened to be playing while there were people present is more accurate. Whether or not they listened or just applauded because they should is another story.
Now I'm preparing for the next part of my journey: ziplining through the Bokeo reserve and then making my way through Laos. All the best.
12 March, 2008
I Think I Might Be Crazy ...
I am willing to bet a fair amount of cash that anyone who has been 'down under' has loved it and might - out of need - partake in some scandalous activities in order to return. The beaches in Queensland are comparable with those exotic postcard images of the beaches in Thailand and the rest of South East Asia, the iconic Sydney Opera House is even more intriguing in person, Melbourne - the home of the Australian Open - is the 'sister' city of San Francisco, and well, Kangaroos, outdoor activities, women and surfing galore. Despite all this, I'm leaving ...
I had what I dubbed a 'Western Freak Out' two days ago. Something just hit me and I knew I had to get out of here. I felt trapped; imprisoned. I had been struggling to cope with the changes of lifestyle and culture that come with being back in the west since I arrived. Hannes - a cool cat from my second time around in Kuala Lumpur - had told me that I would and that it truly takes a strong conscious effort to knock yourself out of it. That thought was reiterated by a girl I met upon arrival at my favorite German's place in Sydney.
I wish that I could accurately articulate the thoughts that have/are running through my head in an effort to sort them out and reassure myself that I am doing the right thing (noting of course that there are no guarantees in life and the effects of any one decision have the potential to ripple out through the tide of time).
Financially speaking, I am an idiot as going through this ordeal entails forfeiting a ridiculously cheap flight back into Asia at a later date, buying a new ticket last minute, missing the flight due to extremely incompetent service people (jetstar is a waste of life) resulting in a rescheduling fee and lastly a pre-arranged ticket out of KL. Mentally speaking, I think I am doing the right thing. I realized that 1)at this point in my life, the 'real world' isn't so real, 2)that this trip is finite and regardless of the risk I need to follow my heart wherever it leads me and 3)when traveling (for me at least) the 'first' and 'third' world should not be mixed and match. The amount of time it takes to readjust your mind and wallet accordingly is better spent zip lining through a jungle, hitch hiking through Indonesia, chasing after a girl and well, owning life.
It's funny ... I've been in Australia for 3 weeks and all I have seen is Sydney. I have had some good times and met great a few great people who have helped me get through this surprisingly difficult time (God I must sound like a whiny brat).
To my gracious host, I am forever in your debt. I am lucky to be a benefactor of your generosity, friendship and more importantly, your love. As much as it pains me to leave you, our paths will soon cross and should they not, believe me when I tell you that I carry a piece of you with me wherever I go.
I had what I dubbed a 'Western Freak Out' two days ago. Something just hit me and I knew I had to get out of here. I felt trapped; imprisoned. I had been struggling to cope with the changes of lifestyle and culture that come with being back in the west since I arrived. Hannes - a cool cat from my second time around in Kuala Lumpur - had told me that I would and that it truly takes a strong conscious effort to knock yourself out of it. That thought was reiterated by a girl I met upon arrival at my favorite German's place in Sydney.
I wish that I could accurately articulate the thoughts that have/are running through my head in an effort to sort them out and reassure myself that I am doing the right thing (noting of course that there are no guarantees in life and the effects of any one decision have the potential to ripple out through the tide of time).
Financially speaking, I am an idiot as going through this ordeal entails forfeiting a ridiculously cheap flight back into Asia at a later date, buying a new ticket last minute, missing the flight due to extremely incompetent service people (jetstar is a waste of life) resulting in a rescheduling fee and lastly a pre-arranged ticket out of KL. Mentally speaking, I think I am doing the right thing. I realized that 1)at this point in my life, the 'real world' isn't so real, 2)that this trip is finite and regardless of the risk I need to follow my heart wherever it leads me and 3)when traveling (for me at least) the 'first' and 'third' world should not be mixed and match. The amount of time it takes to readjust your mind and wallet accordingly is better spent zip lining through a jungle, hitch hiking through Indonesia, chasing after a girl and well, owning life.
It's funny ... I've been in Australia for 3 weeks and all I have seen is Sydney. I have had some good times and met great a few great people who have helped me get through this surprisingly difficult time (God I must sound like a whiny brat).
To my gracious host, I am forever in your debt. I am lucky to be a benefactor of your generosity, friendship and more importantly, your love. As much as it pains me to leave you, our paths will soon cross and should they not, believe me when I tell you that I carry a piece of you with me wherever I go.
22 February, 2008
Baliriffic ...
Bali: 12 - 18 February
It took a bit of convincing, and I do mean a 'bit' (as in little), to convince Ryan to drop his plans of going to Malacca and to roll out with me to Bali to meet up with Dwight and Jarno (the Hawaiin, guy from the Pacific Northwest and the Finnish jigalow respectively). After nearly missing our flight out of KL and then waiting 7 long hours in Jakarta for the second leg of the trip, we made it to Bali.
After finding a place, Ryan and I set out on a two part mission: procure a chilled beverage and find Dwight and Jarno. Both proved quite easy. There are Circle K's, Mini Marts and the like lining the streets of Kuta Beach and therefore my throat was never dry. After walking around a bit with no luck of finding the others, I spotted Jarno's mane blowing in the wind ... needless to say, another insane night ensued.
Outside of the party scene, oh and there was a party scene, Bali was amazing. We motorbiked around the island for 3 days, Ryan and I made a trip to Ubud to see the monkey forest (no, I did not get bit this time) and I solidified 4 good facebook friends (I'm kidding, they are in fact real friends). I even had a romance that I cannot shake and nor do I want to. It's amazing that despite people's different histories, social norms and respective realities that two strangers can come together and just 'click' ... and that's what happened.
As I sit here in Singapore, I cannot help but smile. This is my life and well, to use my own words, I'm owning it. Although I say this is my life, make no mistake about it, you have all contributed greatly and I am but the product of all the goodwill, hope and support that you have bestowed upon me. Without you, all of you, this experience - this life, this story, this journey - would not be possible. My heart is with you all.
Much love,
- Ardeshir
It took a bit of convincing, and I do mean a 'bit' (as in little), to convince Ryan to drop his plans of going to Malacca and to roll out with me to Bali to meet up with Dwight and Jarno (the Hawaiin, guy from the Pacific Northwest and the Finnish jigalow respectively). After nearly missing our flight out of KL and then waiting 7 long hours in Jakarta for the second leg of the trip, we made it to Bali. After finding a place, Ryan and I set out on a two part mission: procure a chilled beverage and find Dwight and Jarno. Both proved quite easy. There are Circle K's, Mini Marts and the like lining the streets of Kuta Beach and therefore my throat was never dry. After walking around a bit with no luck of finding the others, I spotted Jarno's mane blowing in the wind ... needless to say, another insane night ensued.
Outside of the party scene, oh and there was a party scene, Bali was amazing. We motorbiked around the island for 3 days, Ryan and I made a trip to Ubud to see the monkey forest (no, I did not get bit this time) and I solidified 4 good facebook friends (I'm kidding, they are in fact real friends). I even had a romance that I cannot shake and nor do I want to. It's amazing that despite people's different histories, social norms and respective realities that two strangers can come together and just 'click' ... and that's what happened.
As I sit here in Singapore, I cannot help but smile. This is my life and well, to use my own words, I'm owning it. Although I say this is my life, make no mistake about it, you have all contributed greatly and I am but the product of all the goodwill, hope and support that you have bestowed upon me. Without you, all of you, this experience - this life, this story, this journey - would not be possible. My heart is with you all. Much love,
- Ardeshir
19 February, 2008
Rockin' KL ...
7 - 12 February:
I had no idea my time in Kuala Lumpur would turn out the way it did. I had originally assumed that it would be a time for detox and reflection; quite the contrary. KL turned out to be almost as action packed as Thailand. How can one actually be entertained for 6 days in a city like Kuala Lumpur? Answer: Join an ensemble of people comprised of a crazy Englishman from Leeds, a gung ho Hawaiin, a Finnish jigalow and an outgoing fisherman from the Pacific Northwest.
In order to paint a picture of the kinds of shenanigans that we might have found ourselves in, I will share with you a story of class, wit and charm (class might be debatable). The Englishman, Hawaiin and myself, after a fun hour of bowling without socks, set out for the Petronas Towers. They tower over the city as if it were its guardian, its protector and one would have to be truly numb to not be taken back by this architectural feat. After photos were taken, we set out for the Mandarin Oriental to do what anyone else would do: crash the pool.
For those of you who don't know what the Mandarin Oriental is, think of it as like a Ritz Carlton except in terms of its numbers. I believe there are less than 10 in the world and according to the Hawaiin who formerly worked at one in Oahu, anyone who "has money" knows about the hotel and the quality of service they provide to their paying guests. We walk in what can be described as rags at best and walked with our heads held high, barely acknowledging the workers we passed on our way to the elevator. Floor 3. We made it. We enter to the right, and there it is ... an infinity pool with the KL Tower dominating the skyline as the back drop. The Hawaiin didn't hesitate. He took off his shirt and just walked right into the water. The Englishman and myself on the other hand, did hesitate. For one, we were a little scared and two, we didn't have swim trunks, only our underwear. The pool man (I know the term is 'pool boy', but he really was more of a man) came by and asked if we wanted a towel to which we obliged. He then, slyly, followed up with a "And what room are you in?". Without so much as a flinch I responded "214" with a straight face in hopes that he would buy it. He did. As the pool man turned away to retrieve our respective towels, the Englishman suggests that we just go in our underwear. I thought he was kidding, but then out of stupidity and pride (I didn't want to be the last one in if he was serious) I stripped and walked in leaving him baffled because he in fact was kidding.
The water felt great as it moved around my skin, swallowing a little more of me with each step. The only way I could describe the feeling I was experiencing at that moment is with the saying "money won is better than money earned". There is a certain thrill in "cheating" or finding out that you paid a lower price than your friend. We all want the best deal in town and in KL, a 5 star pool for free is indeed the best deal in town. At some point, the pool man returned and began to ask the Hawaiin what room he was in. Luckily I had informed him of the number and we were all in accordance. "214", "214", "214". The pool man finally beckons him to come over. He knew I was full of it. The restaurant and a few retail shops are on the second floor while rooms don't start until the 4th. We had been caught wet handed.
After a few jokes and a few apologies, the pool man lets us stay for free and gave us one tip of advice: scout the hotel and give a real room number next time.
KL ... you were cooler than I thought.
I had no idea my time in Kuala Lumpur would turn out the way it did. I had originally assumed that it would be a time for detox and reflection; quite the contrary. KL turned out to be almost as action packed as Thailand. How can one actually be entertained for 6 days in a city like Kuala Lumpur? Answer: Join an ensemble of people comprised of a crazy Englishman from Leeds, a gung ho Hawaiin, a Finnish jigalow and an outgoing fisherman from the Pacific Northwest.
In order to paint a picture of the kinds of shenanigans that we might have found ourselves in, I will share with you a story of class, wit and charm (class might be debatable). The Englishman, Hawaiin and myself, after a fun hour of bowling without socks, set out for the Petronas Towers. They tower over the city as if it were its guardian, its protector and one would have to be truly numb to not be taken back by this architectural feat. After photos were taken, we set out for the Mandarin Oriental to do what anyone else would do: crash the pool.
For those of you who don't know what the Mandarin Oriental is, think of it as like a Ritz Carlton except in terms of its numbers. I believe there are less than 10 in the world and according to the Hawaiin who formerly worked at one in Oahu, anyone who "has money" knows about the hotel and the quality of service they provide to their paying guests. We walk in what can be described as rags at best and walked with our heads held high, barely acknowledging the workers we passed on our way to the elevator. Floor 3. We made it. We enter to the right, and there it is ... an infinity pool with the KL Tower dominating the skyline as the back drop. The Hawaiin didn't hesitate. He took off his shirt and just walked right into the water. The Englishman and myself on the other hand, did hesitate. For one, we were a little scared and two, we didn't have swim trunks, only our underwear. The pool man (I know the term is 'pool boy', but he really was more of a man) came by and asked if we wanted a towel to which we obliged. He then, slyly, followed up with a "And what room are you in?". Without so much as a flinch I responded "214" with a straight face in hopes that he would buy it. He did. As the pool man turned away to retrieve our respective towels, the Englishman suggests that we just go in our underwear. I thought he was kidding, but then out of stupidity and pride (I didn't want to be the last one in if he was serious) I stripped and walked in leaving him baffled because he in fact was kidding.
The water felt great as it moved around my skin, swallowing a little more of me with each step. The only way I could describe the feeling I was experiencing at that moment is with the saying "money won is better than money earned". There is a certain thrill in "cheating" or finding out that you paid a lower price than your friend. We all want the best deal in town and in KL, a 5 star pool for free is indeed the best deal in town. At some point, the pool man returned and began to ask the Hawaiin what room he was in. Luckily I had informed him of the number and we were all in accordance. "214", "214", "214". The pool man finally beckons him to come over. He knew I was full of it. The restaurant and a few retail shops are on the second floor while rooms don't start until the 4th. We had been caught wet handed.
After a few jokes and a few apologies, the pool man lets us stay for free and gave us one tip of advice: scout the hotel and give a real room number next time.
KL ... you were cooler than I thought.
18 February, 2008
Thailand ...
29th January - 7th February
My stories from Thailand are those that I dare not post on the web ... suffice to say, I had an amazing time. Bangkok was, well, Bangkok. It's funny despite all the talk of how crazy that place is, it's really not. Maybe it is just the case that, in a sense, I've been numbed to chaos as a result of my experiences in India. To me, Bangkok is first world. I mean, their roads have lanes and sometimes they even use them.
I had been longing for an overdue trip to the beach and Koh Samui was where the long standing memories of salt on my lips returned to me. My experience there was no match for Koh Phan-gnan though. The home of the legendary Full Moon Party and my time there can best be described as a blur. Chill people + chill beaches + increasingly large amounts of chang = an experience that I will never forget. A warm thank you to all of you who added to that chapter of my life.
Darjeeling ...
The jeep kept shaking its frame back and forth like a leaf dancing on the wind as we hit the ever more inclining switch-backs. Lush green trees lined the road and blanketed the accompanying mountain as the driver continuously avoided death at every turn. The road, now level, continued to wind slowly as snow-capped Himalaya came into view.
Buildings gracing the slope of the mountains in the foreground grew in size and detail with each passing minute. We have arrived ... welcome to Darjeeling.
Buildings gracing the slope of the mountains in the foreground grew in size and detail with each passing minute. We have arrived ... welcome to Darjeeling.
06 February, 2008
Inspired
I had just finished "Blink" by Malcolm Gladwell earlier in the day and with Darjeeling and the Himalaya as a backdrop, I was inspired to write. I can't really say what I was going for, but this is what came out.
Soundtrack while writing: Fionn Reagan - Bunkers or Basements
wake, rise
blink and begin to realize
that time, yeah it flies
like a hawk in the sky
recedes and proceeds
at once or at ease
in control of its flight
and i'm hoping i might
stop, think
forget about last week
when you told me no
it'd be better if i'd go
take this ticket
and see the world on my own
the poverty and pain
the way they dance when it rains
the rich man denying the beggar
pretending he's got no change
and i know some might say
the world stays the same
but their heads are hung low
it's beacuse they're ashamed
their eyes haven't seen
the inner-city kid on the street
pick a text-book retreat
instead of a night with those creeps
or the immigrant and his son
ask about the battles he's won
or the boy at the ashram
the horrors he's seen
bonded in a factory
and sold by his family
for pennies on the dime
hoping that in good time
he would soon come home
and take his place at the throne
but now he's ridden with scars
never an option to change his stars
but he goes on living and breathing
contributing to this little known feeling
that man and woman alike
can choose to put up a fight
and be a catalyst for change
so rape and murder no longer remain
the world will never ever be the same
if we all contribute in small, minute ways
we can put change in a can
or lend out your hand
and recognize that that person
is not a mere man
but he's you and he's me
and everything in between
so let us all fight
for our natural rights
to live and to be
in all actuality free
no longer shackled and chained
to a past that has changed
Soundtrack while writing: Fionn Reagan - Bunkers or Basements
wake, rise
blink and begin to realize
that time, yeah it flies
like a hawk in the sky
recedes and proceeds
at once or at ease
in control of its flight
and i'm hoping i might
stop, think
forget about last week
when you told me no
it'd be better if i'd go
take this ticket
and see the world on my own
the poverty and pain
the way they dance when it rains
the rich man denying the beggar
pretending he's got no change
and i know some might say
the world stays the same
but their heads are hung low
it's beacuse they're ashamed
their eyes haven't seen
the inner-city kid on the street
pick a text-book retreat
instead of a night with those creeps
or the immigrant and his son
ask about the battles he's won
or the boy at the ashram
the horrors he's seen
bonded in a factory
and sold by his family
for pennies on the dime
hoping that in good time
he would soon come home
and take his place at the throne
but now he's ridden with scars
never an option to change his stars
but he goes on living and breathing
contributing to this little known feeling
that man and woman alike
can choose to put up a fight
and be a catalyst for change
so rape and murder no longer remain
the world will never ever be the same
if we all contribute in small, minute ways
we can put change in a can
or lend out your hand
and recognize that that person
is not a mere man
but he's you and he's me
and everything in between
so let us all fight
for our natural rights
to live and to be
in all actuality free
no longer shackled and chained
to a past that has changed
19 January, 2008
Rabies
Varanassi
The breeze was light and the warmth of the sun continued to pour over my skin as I sat at my usual table, at the roof's edge with my back to the railing and my eyes fixated on the winding Gunga (Ganges) below, at the hostel's rooftop restaurant. As conversation on some topic began to dwindle, Ren - sitting to my left - began rummaging through his LP in search of places to stay in Kolkatta, Boudie - facing me, his back to the Gunga - lit up a cigarette and I got up to play a round of pool while red-faced monkey's and their babies kept up their daily routine of scaling up toward the canopy above us.
The table's green felt was smooth and the balls glided over it nicely like a puck on ice. As I was setting up a cross-side shot on the 7 I heard a commotion. I looked up to find everyone in the restaurant backing toward the pool table as if they were being cornered by some type of beast ... they were. A large male Langur had climbed the building and set up camp at the table that Ren, Boudie and myself had been sitting at. He looked across the table and then scanned his audience, sensing the blend between curiosity and fear that was brewing in all of us. He wanted a fight, singling people out with his wild eyes while continuously flaring his lips letting the his sharp fangs shine. He was taunting us ... begging for the right chance to attack.
He went from table to table, knocking over plates and glasses that were in his path. He stepped closer, we stepped back. After what seemed like a few mintues at the time but in actuality only one or two, the staff came out with a pot of boiling water which the Langur recognized immediately ... he had done this before and knew exactly what the contents of that pot contained; scalding pain. As the staff came running, he vanished out of sight only to reappear on top of a building 30 meters away. (See video to get the jist of what a Langur is and note, the one I'm describing, yeah... not playful at all.)
After the tables were cleaned everyone settled back into their respective seats, including myself, to talk about the event that had just ensued. After we had finished recanting the details, Ren, referring to our table because the Langur had come up on the corner right by his seat, posed the question "What if we had just stayed right here? Do you think he would have done anything?"
"Why would you take the chance?" I said. "All they have to do is get one bite and well, you lose."
Boudie agreed. "Yeah, he wouldn't just bite". And then morphing his hand into something like a claw and then moving it toward his newly exposed neck he said, "He would bite and rip the flesh from your neck".
"It would really suck to get bit by a monkey" I said.
One minute later, it happened. I felt a quick sharp pain run through my neck and I knew I had been bit. I jumped out of my seat and turned around to find an adolescent hastily climbing up toward the canopy.
"Dammit."
Ren replied half-smiling "Dude, are you alright? You just got bit by a monkey."
The rest of the people at the restaurant began looking around, talking amongst themselves trying to figure out what was going. Then the staff came over to find out what had happened. After I explained and they saw the small wound (it wasn't painful except for the initial sting and there was little bleeding) they concluded that I had only been scratched by the monkey.
"No man, he got bit by a monkey. I was sitting there, right there" pointing, "and I saw him get bit by a fucking monkey" Ren replied, still half-smiling.
Finally they conceded that I had in fact been bit by a monkey as they applied some disinfectant to the wound. I told them in a calm manner that I would like someone to take me to the hospital to get treated for rabies. First I was told that it was nothing to worry about and that everything would be fine. Still calm, I explained that the reason for me going to the hospital was not because of pain or loss of blood, but rather the possibility of disease. I figured I must have bad luck because so far I had been the only person to ever be bit by a monkey and because of said bad luck, I might be unlucky enough to get bit by the one that had rabies. The staff then conceded and arranged for someone to take me to the hospital.
The story goes on with one thing after another. First the the man assigned to take me to the hospital was trying to make a commission by trying to take me to a private clinic which more likely than not his friend worked at. Then we made it to the hospital but only the emergency room was open. Apparently rabies is not an emergency because they didn't have the vaccine. They were able to give me an extra tetanus shot - I had to go across the street to buy the syringe and vile - that I did not need and advised me to come tomorrow when the general hospital was 'open' at 8 AM to get the rabies shot. The hospital opened at 8 but doctors were said not to arrive until 10, maybe 11 in the morning. After being disgusted by a pool of blood in a corner, smeared blood on the now off-white tiles and the used syringes on the ground, I then decided to leave and buy the rabies vaccine and syringe and just do it myself.
First of all, what do I know about injecting anything into me? I have had plenty of shots in my lifetime but never did I think to ask a doctor how to do it or to say "Hey let me try just in case I get bit by a monkey in India and have to inject myself with a rabies vaccine because the government hospital's there are unsanitary". I also thought I could just ask someone who had diabetes to help me out but was I seriously about to walk up to random people, fellow tourists or locals, and ask them if they had diabetes and if so, would they give me a quick jab. Hell, they could think I'm a junkie.
Thankfully, I decided against that ridiculous idea and had a rickshaw driver take me to the university hospital. I would have done this in the first place, but I figured a private clinic would have comparable rates to those in the states, and if you look up how much a rabies vaccine costs in the states, you would know that it is a ridiculous amount. This experience was amazing though. No forms or hour long waits. I simply told the receptionist I had been bit by a monkey and she immediately took me to a doctor, who took care of me in an incredibly timely matter. The visit to the private hospital came out to a grand total of about $10 (5 shots will be needed in total). In a travel clinic in the states, I would 1) have to fill out numerous forms, 2) wait hours on end and 3) paid the large sum of $180/shot. Ridiculous, no?
Rickshaw to university hospital: $1
Rabies vaccine: $10
Getting bit by a monkey, seeing blood smeared tiles, entertaining the idea of vaccinating oneself and finally finding a bit of sanity in such a crazy, overwhelming place: Priceless.
The breeze was light and the warmth of the sun continued to pour over my skin as I sat at my usual table, at the roof's edge with my back to the railing and my eyes fixated on the winding Gunga (Ganges) below, at the hostel's rooftop restaurant. As conversation on some topic began to dwindle, Ren - sitting to my left - began rummaging through his LP in search of places to stay in Kolkatta, Boudie - facing me, his back to the Gunga - lit up a cigarette and I got up to play a round of pool while red-faced monkey's and their babies kept up their daily routine of scaling up toward the canopy above us.
The table's green felt was smooth and the balls glided over it nicely like a puck on ice. As I was setting up a cross-side shot on the 7 I heard a commotion. I looked up to find everyone in the restaurant backing toward the pool table as if they were being cornered by some type of beast ... they were. A large male Langur had climbed the building and set up camp at the table that Ren, Boudie and myself had been sitting at. He looked across the table and then scanned his audience, sensing the blend between curiosity and fear that was brewing in all of us. He wanted a fight, singling people out with his wild eyes while continuously flaring his lips letting the his sharp fangs shine. He was taunting us ... begging for the right chance to attack.
He went from table to table, knocking over plates and glasses that were in his path. He stepped closer, we stepped back. After what seemed like a few mintues at the time but in actuality only one or two, the staff came out with a pot of boiling water which the Langur recognized immediately ... he had done this before and knew exactly what the contents of that pot contained; scalding pain. As the staff came running, he vanished out of sight only to reappear on top of a building 30 meters away. (See video to get the jist of what a Langur is and note, the one I'm describing, yeah... not playful at all.)
After the tables were cleaned everyone settled back into their respective seats, including myself, to talk about the event that had just ensued. After we had finished recanting the details, Ren, referring to our table because the Langur had come up on the corner right by his seat, posed the question "What if we had just stayed right here? Do you think he would have done anything?"
"Why would you take the chance?" I said. "All they have to do is get one bite and well, you lose."
Boudie agreed. "Yeah, he wouldn't just bite". And then morphing his hand into something like a claw and then moving it toward his newly exposed neck he said, "He would bite and rip the flesh from your neck".
"It would really suck to get bit by a monkey" I said.
One minute later, it happened. I felt a quick sharp pain run through my neck and I knew I had been bit. I jumped out of my seat and turned around to find an adolescent hastily climbing up toward the canopy.
"Dammit."
Ren replied half-smiling "Dude, are you alright? You just got bit by a monkey."
The rest of the people at the restaurant began looking around, talking amongst themselves trying to figure out what was going. Then the staff came over to find out what had happened. After I explained and they saw the small wound (it wasn't painful except for the initial sting and there was little bleeding) they concluded that I had only been scratched by the monkey.
"No man, he got bit by a monkey. I was sitting there, right there" pointing, "and I saw him get bit by a fucking monkey" Ren replied, still half-smiling.
Finally they conceded that I had in fact been bit by a monkey as they applied some disinfectant to the wound. I told them in a calm manner that I would like someone to take me to the hospital to get treated for rabies. First I was told that it was nothing to worry about and that everything would be fine. Still calm, I explained that the reason for me going to the hospital was not because of pain or loss of blood, but rather the possibility of disease. I figured I must have bad luck because so far I had been the only person to ever be bit by a monkey and because of said bad luck, I might be unlucky enough to get bit by the one that had rabies. The staff then conceded and arranged for someone to take me to the hospital.
The story goes on with one thing after another. First the the man assigned to take me to the hospital was trying to make a commission by trying to take me to a private clinic which more likely than not his friend worked at. Then we made it to the hospital but only the emergency room was open. Apparently rabies is not an emergency because they didn't have the vaccine. They were able to give me an extra tetanus shot - I had to go across the street to buy the syringe and vile - that I did not need and advised me to come tomorrow when the general hospital was 'open' at 8 AM to get the rabies shot. The hospital opened at 8 but doctors were said not to arrive until 10, maybe 11 in the morning. After being disgusted by a pool of blood in a corner, smeared blood on the now off-white tiles and the used syringes on the ground, I then decided to leave and buy the rabies vaccine and syringe and just do it myself.
First of all, what do I know about injecting anything into me? I have had plenty of shots in my lifetime but never did I think to ask a doctor how to do it or to say "Hey let me try just in case I get bit by a monkey in India and have to inject myself with a rabies vaccine because the government hospital's there are unsanitary". I also thought I could just ask someone who had diabetes to help me out but was I seriously about to walk up to random people, fellow tourists or locals, and ask them if they had diabetes and if so, would they give me a quick jab. Hell, they could think I'm a junkie.
Thankfully, I decided against that ridiculous idea and had a rickshaw driver take me to the university hospital. I would have done this in the first place, but I figured a private clinic would have comparable rates to those in the states, and if you look up how much a rabies vaccine costs in the states, you would know that it is a ridiculous amount. This experience was amazing though. No forms or hour long waits. I simply told the receptionist I had been bit by a monkey and she immediately took me to a doctor, who took care of me in an incredibly timely matter. The visit to the private hospital came out to a grand total of about $10 (5 shots will be needed in total). In a travel clinic in the states, I would 1) have to fill out numerous forms, 2) wait hours on end and 3) paid the large sum of $180/shot. Ridiculous, no?
Rickshaw to university hospital: $1
Rabies vaccine: $10
Getting bit by a monkey, seeing blood smeared tiles, entertaining the idea of vaccinating oneself and finally finding a bit of sanity in such a crazy, overwhelming place: Priceless.
28 December, 2007
I Forgot I lived In A Real World
Yesterday I looked beyond the crescent and star imposed on green and white and peered out into the open plains of western Pakistan. At the moment I was enjoying quite an enthusiastic performance, the border closing ceremony at Attari and Wagah, of the 'decorated' soldiers (decorated as in fashionable) of Pakistan and India trying to out scowl and out high-kick one another. Quite a sight indeed.
An hour or so later though, Benzanir Bhutto was attacked and killed by a shot to the head which was then followed up by an explosion that killed at least 20 others. As much as I have tried to keep up with the goings of the world while traveling, it has been difficult and it is not that I received this news dumbfounded wondering how this could have happened, but I did not expect this. This whole thing of news coming unexpectedly shouldn't be acceptable to one who aims to be a political scientist. Of course there is no formula to decipher how a series of events will play out, but a political scientist should be able to come up with likely scenarios and the preceding series of events should be able to be matched up accordingly.
So what does her death mean? Bhutto was (no longer is except in memory) the leader of Pakistan's biggest political party, Pakistan People's Party, and also a twice elected Prime Minister. She had been on 'self-imposed' (debated) for 8 years and her returning to Pakistan to take part in the political process was encouraged by countries in the West as it was thought to ease the instability in Pakistan and increase Pakistan, and more importantly for the US, Musharraf's democratic credentials. Although she was marred by corruption charges during both of her terms, she was welcomed back by thousands of supporters as well as suicide bombers who left close to 140 dead and hundreds more injured. Her party was expected to win the election, albeit not a majority, and she would most likely be the leader of the coalition government and serve as Prime Minister from an unprecedented third term. PPP (Pakistan People's Party) is Pakistan's most secular of political parties, so to those of us who had hoped this election outcome would be a set back for the extremists in the country, her death comes as unwanted news.
So once again, what does her death mean? Another question we must discuss before discussing that answer is who was responsible? From my point of view, two parties are responsible; Mr. Musharraf as well as the extremists who planned and carried out the attack.
Let us start with Musharraf. He was responsible for providing security for Mrs. Bhutto during the campaign rally and the bomber/gunman was able to get within 20 feet (maybe 20 yards, but still quite close) to Mrs. Bhutto and from that distance he carried out the attacks. For a 'former' general who consistently makes claims that he keeps Pakistan stable and secure, the fact that a terrorist (or whatever you label you wish to use) was able to get so close in proximity to Mrs. Bhutto raises eyebrows.
Now for extremists. Logically I place responsibility for her death because well, they, I believe, carried out the attack (I have not yet discussed who gave the order). Given their agenda, it is logical that they would not want an influential secular party in control of parliament. Whether it be for PPP's championing for modest women's rights or the possibility of taking a greater stand against extremists in the country (note: PPP could be far better but in Pakistan, well, probably as good as you're going to get for the moment).
So who gave the order? Did Musharraf not only provide the opportunity via poor security or did he and his minions (they truly are minions) plan the whole thing in a further attempt to thwart democracy and further strengthen his hold on the country? To start, I am quite certain that Bhutto's death wasn't that saddening of an event for Mr. Musharraf, but nor do I think he celebrated it. I say this because I believe a man who is power hungry doesn't like to share power or have other competitors. Surely with Mrs. Bhutto being out of the picture the likelihood of PPP recovering completely by election time is poor at best. Although people tend to rally behind new leaders in the face of tragedy, people also identify more with the figurehead than the party itself. Although Musharraf technically has one less competitor, who really won? The extremists.
Clearly in the past there has been back-agreements between them and Musharraf that would allow both of them to maintain a specific sphere of influence without the other meddling in their respective affairs. By taking out the possibility of an increasingly liberal and secular Pakistan, the extremists have begun paving the road to further instability thereby strengthening their hold in their respective spheres as well as branching out into new ones. So although it may make sense to some that Musharraf's is the real one behind this event, they should remember that to Musharraf, power is like a new toy to a 5 year-old ... good luck getting him to share it.
Whether I am right, ball-parked it or completely off remains to be seen. All I know is that this event has reminded me that the world is always turning and that in order to be truly informed about the present, one needs to be aware of events/persons/places and their respective pasts.
An hour or so later though, Benzanir Bhutto was attacked and killed by a shot to the head which was then followed up by an explosion that killed at least 20 others. As much as I have tried to keep up with the goings of the world while traveling, it has been difficult and it is not that I received this news dumbfounded wondering how this could have happened, but I did not expect this. This whole thing of news coming unexpectedly shouldn't be acceptable to one who aims to be a political scientist. Of course there is no formula to decipher how a series of events will play out, but a political scientist should be able to come up with likely scenarios and the preceding series of events should be able to be matched up accordingly.
So what does her death mean? Bhutto was (no longer is except in memory) the leader of Pakistan's biggest political party, Pakistan People's Party, and also a twice elected Prime Minister. She had been on 'self-imposed' (debated) for 8 years and her returning to Pakistan to take part in the political process was encouraged by countries in the West as it was thought to ease the instability in Pakistan and increase Pakistan, and more importantly for the US, Musharraf's democratic credentials. Although she was marred by corruption charges during both of her terms, she was welcomed back by thousands of supporters as well as suicide bombers who left close to 140 dead and hundreds more injured. Her party was expected to win the election, albeit not a majority, and she would most likely be the leader of the coalition government and serve as Prime Minister from an unprecedented third term. PPP (Pakistan People's Party) is Pakistan's most secular of political parties, so to those of us who had hoped this election outcome would be a set back for the extremists in the country, her death comes as unwanted news.
So once again, what does her death mean? Another question we must discuss before discussing that answer is who was responsible? From my point of view, two parties are responsible; Mr. Musharraf as well as the extremists who planned and carried out the attack.
Let us start with Musharraf. He was responsible for providing security for Mrs. Bhutto during the campaign rally and the bomber/gunman was able to get within 20 feet (maybe 20 yards, but still quite close) to Mrs. Bhutto and from that distance he carried out the attacks. For a 'former' general who consistently makes claims that he keeps Pakistan stable and secure, the fact that a terrorist (or whatever you label you wish to use) was able to get so close in proximity to Mrs. Bhutto raises eyebrows.
Now for extremists. Logically I place responsibility for her death because well, they, I believe, carried out the attack (I have not yet discussed who gave the order). Given their agenda, it is logical that they would not want an influential secular party in control of parliament. Whether it be for PPP's championing for modest women's rights or the possibility of taking a greater stand against extremists in the country (note: PPP could be far better but in Pakistan, well, probably as good as you're going to get for the moment).
So who gave the order? Did Musharraf not only provide the opportunity via poor security or did he and his minions (they truly are minions) plan the whole thing in a further attempt to thwart democracy and further strengthen his hold on the country? To start, I am quite certain that Bhutto's death wasn't that saddening of an event for Mr. Musharraf, but nor do I think he celebrated it. I say this because I believe a man who is power hungry doesn't like to share power or have other competitors. Surely with Mrs. Bhutto being out of the picture the likelihood of PPP recovering completely by election time is poor at best. Although people tend to rally behind new leaders in the face of tragedy, people also identify more with the figurehead than the party itself. Although Musharraf technically has one less competitor, who really won? The extremists.
Clearly in the past there has been back-agreements between them and Musharraf that would allow both of them to maintain a specific sphere of influence without the other meddling in their respective affairs. By taking out the possibility of an increasingly liberal and secular Pakistan, the extremists have begun paving the road to further instability thereby strengthening their hold in their respective spheres as well as branching out into new ones. So although it may make sense to some that Musharraf's is the real one behind this event, they should remember that to Musharraf, power is like a new toy to a 5 year-old ... good luck getting him to share it.
Whether I am right, ball-parked it or completely off remains to be seen. All I know is that this event has reminded me that the world is always turning and that in order to be truly informed about the present, one needs to be aware of events/persons/places and their respective pasts.
16 December, 2007
Goodbye Ashram ...
Day of departure: December 13The library was as loud as ever during game time as children and volunteers alike were playing games and putting together puzzles. After giving my best to the cooks, the only ones left to say goodbye to were the kids ... my boys. In the days leading up to my departure, I knew that I would miss them and that it would be hard to say goodbye but when it came down to it, it was harder than I had expected. When someone says they are going to leave the effect tends to be minute because things could always come up. One could stay a day, a week or month longer than had expected and because of that, why fret? The real goodbye makes it official and all the comfort that you had just the day before vanishes leaving you feeling alone and cold.
I first said goodbye to Manoj. Rambunctious, smart and often a punk (reminds me of myself), out of my students he was the one I would miss most. He wrapped his little arms around me and his head pressed into my stomach as I told him I would miss him dearly and that everything would be okay. My mind kept telling me that everything would be okay. I felt him start to cry and as I held him my eyes began to water as well. It might sound harsh, but I told him, as well as myself, that men don't cry, that we have to remain strong during the hardest moments of our lives. He then let go and turned away so I couldn't see him cry. I watched him calm himself and heard him say under his breath that "men don't cry ... men don't cry". He then looked up at me still with watery eyes and smiled. He smiled.I then said my goodbyes to my other two boys, Vijay and Gulshan. Vijay, who is quite the artist (he loves to draw parrots) and cricket player (a true baller), and Gulshan, the most playful and seemingly innocent out of the bunch, just looked at me like their best friend was going away. They called me 'biyah' (buy-yuh), their older brother, and told me just the day before that I was a good teacher, their favorite teacher with favorite being one of the words I taught them. Although not as visibly emotional as my goodbye with Manoj, I felt that I would be missed and surely they felt they would forever be remembered as two of the three boys who could always make me smile.
Teaching them was one of the greatest gifts that have ever been bestowed upon me. The children had such a desire to learn and often the speed at which they would pick up a new concept amazed me given their minute base in English. I wish I could show you the pictures that are forever locked away in my mind. The pictures of these boy's faces when a new concept 'just clicked' in their heads is priceless. One day I taught my boys the difference between 'this' and 'that' and when and how to use them appropriately. The next day when they came into class, without me saying anything, one took the book out of my hand and said "this is a book" while another pointed to the ceiling fan and said "that is a fan". From there they pointed to many other objects around the room using 'this' and 'that' accordingly. I cannot express the level of satisfaction and happiness that came over me. I mean they listened, they tried and they succeeded. In the few moments like those I caught a glimpse of what it might be like to be a parent and see your child succeed at something new. It is truly an unforgettable feeling.
Whatever I taught these children is merely a fraction of what they taught me. They gave me a lesson in resilience. They taught me when adversity laughs in your face the only thing to do is laugh back at it.
They reminded me that hope and love are the most powerful forces in this world. The two work together, lifting each other up when the other falls. Without them, we are simply the walking dead. They also taught me that every chore and every task can become a game. And most importantly, although it may have been just for a moment, they taught me how to look at the world like a kid again ... equally intrigued by the mundane and complex alike. Oh yeah, they also taught me to dance (see video, you'll enjoy it).So Goodbye Ashram. My time there will be remembered fondly and hopefully, I will be able to return one day.
Jaul melangeh ...
24 November, 2007
Bal Ashram ... so far
November 4th - November 11th:
As we passed through Virat Nagar, a village about 2 kilometers from Bal Ashram, I began to see the poverty and low standard of living (monetary term) that I had read about in some of my classes while attending university ... children bathing in the muddy water running along side of the road 10 feet down from the 40 year old man pissing in that same water. As a result, my mind started to race wondering about my time at Bal Ashram and what it would prove to be like.
A few minutes later we pulled up to the compound; the ground dirt and gravel with rock/flower/small tree lined walkways leading from building to building with shrub decorated hills in the background.
After greeting the manager and a few other staff members I made my way to my dormitory where Indian Wasps were flying all around in what I can describe best as orderly chaos. They were surrounding the door to my room, the entrance to the restroom ... everywhere. After watching 3 boys just walk right into my room, I stepped up to the challenge and just walked through while Dane Cook's joke about bee's played in my head.
At first I was a bit uncomfortable being dirty, having wasps fly continuously around me (at least while going to my dormitory and the restroom) and being unable to shake the feeling that mosquito's were swarming around me like I and the other kids on my block would swarm around the Ice Cream Man as his jingle jangle played around our street. Little did I know that these daily obstacles (the mosquito thing I have yet to shake due to the random bites that keep popping up) would add to the flavor and my overall happiness with being here. This place has become my sanctuary ... my haven in India.
I cannot begin to describe the pleasure that I have taken from being here in just this short amount of time. These kids are amazing. They have such an appreciation for life and one could not guess, nor would one want to, that these children were beaten, starved and forced to work for minimal or no pay ... many of them simply sold to employers by con artists who convince their parents to give them up or sometimes by even their own family members.
As I said in an earlier blog, these kids have hearts of gold and smiles to go along with it. They are very smart and one of the older ones, someone I now call a friend and mean it, even won the 2006 International Children's Peace Prize (Nobel Peace Prize for kids). He, as the others, will go on to do great things in life at the rate he is going.
They all study hard and play even harder. It amazes me how people can be so resilient. Their warmth and desire to better themselves as well as those around them is something that I admire.
I am happy here. Truly happy. I cannot recall a time when I have consistently laughed as much as I have here. Everything these kids do, they do with a smile. The most mundane tasks all of a sudden become a new game or a dramatic battle between competing factions and then ending in hysterical laughter.
This is home.
As we passed through Virat Nagar, a village about 2 kilometers from Bal Ashram, I began to see the poverty and low standard of living (monetary term) that I had read about in some of my classes while attending university ... children bathing in the muddy water running along side of the road 10 feet down from the 40 year old man pissing in that same water. As a result, my mind started to race wondering about my time at Bal Ashram and what it would prove to be like.
A few minutes later we pulled up to the compound; the ground dirt and gravel with rock/flower/small tree lined walkways leading from building to building with shrub decorated hills in the background.
After greeting the manager and a few other staff members I made my way to my dormitory where Indian Wasps were flying all around in what I can describe best as orderly chaos. They were surrounding the door to my room, the entrance to the restroom ... everywhere. After watching 3 boys just walk right into my room, I stepped up to the challenge and just walked through while Dane Cook's joke about bee's played in my head.
At first I was a bit uncomfortable being dirty, having wasps fly continuously around me (at least while going to my dormitory and the restroom) and being unable to shake the feeling that mosquito's were swarming around me like I and the other kids on my block would swarm around the Ice Cream Man as his jingle jangle played around our street. Little did I know that these daily obstacles (the mosquito thing I have yet to shake due to the random bites that keep popping up) would add to the flavor and my overall happiness with being here. This place has become my sanctuary ... my haven in India.
I cannot begin to describe the pleasure that I have taken from being here in just this short amount of time. These kids are amazing. They have such an appreciation for life and one could not guess, nor would one want to, that these children were beaten, starved and forced to work for minimal or no pay ... many of them simply sold to employers by con artists who convince their parents to give them up or sometimes by even their own family members.
As I said in an earlier blog, these kids have hearts of gold and smiles to go along with it. They are very smart and one of the older ones, someone I now call a friend and mean it, even won the 2006 International Children's Peace Prize (Nobel Peace Prize for kids). He, as the others, will go on to do great things in life at the rate he is going.
They all study hard and play even harder. It amazes me how people can be so resilient. Their warmth and desire to better themselves as well as those around them is something that I admire.
I am happy here. Truly happy. I cannot recall a time when I have consistently laughed as much as I have here. Everything these kids do, they do with a smile. The most mundane tasks all of a sudden become a new game or a dramatic battle between competing factions and then ending in hysterical laughter.
This is home.
The Pink City
Jaipur
October 30th - 10:30AM November 4th:
After my 18 hour "SuperFast Express" train ride, the last thing I wanted to do was deal with any hassle. My not being willing to barter or even acknowledge an offer by a rickshaw or autorickshaw led to my walking, unknowingly, 2 kilometers in the heat to my place of stay.
Note to self: when looking at maps, pay attention to the distance scale as 1 inch can mean 100 meters or, in my case, 1 kilometer.
The first two days I did absolutely nothing except dine at the rooftop restaurant, play guitar and obsess over whether or not the program that I had signed up for was actually legitimate. After being accepted, I was basically told to just show up ... If this had been in the states, it would be the exact same thing except that, well, I would be in the states. But I wasn't told to just show up in the states, I was told to just show up ... in India.
I finally put all my worries to rest once I met the organizer of the volunteer program I signed up for; a kind, soft-spoken man with a slight limp in his early 40's. After he had helped me with my bags and drove me to my new residence for the rest of my duration in Jaipur and explained a bit more about the program, I set out into the Pink City (Old City) and witnessed the real chaos that is urban India.
Later that day I met my future partner in crime, my fellow volunteer from Norway, and over the next few days we took on the sights of Jaipur starting with Galta (Monkey Temple ... you feed them right from your hand) and ending with the fabulous Amer Fort and Jal Mahal (Water Palace) ... all three are worth seeing.
After our last day of sightseeing, we met with another volunteer (a Canadian ... who would have thought?) who would be joining us in the upcoming days due to her arriving from South Korea, where she was teaching english, just the day before. The next morning, the Norwegian and I left for Bal Ashram, the rehabilitation center for rescued child laborers (who also may be orphans) not knowing what to expect, whom we might encounter and what our living situation would be like.
October 30th - 10:30AM November 4th:
After my 18 hour "SuperFast Express" train ride, the last thing I wanted to do was deal with any hassle. My not being willing to barter or even acknowledge an offer by a rickshaw or autorickshaw led to my walking, unknowingly, 2 kilometers in the heat to my place of stay.
Note to self: when looking at maps, pay attention to the distance scale as 1 inch can mean 100 meters or, in my case, 1 kilometer.
The first two days I did absolutely nothing except dine at the rooftop restaurant, play guitar and obsess over whether or not the program that I had signed up for was actually legitimate. After being accepted, I was basically told to just show up ... If this had been in the states, it would be the exact same thing except that, well, I would be in the states. But I wasn't told to just show up in the states, I was told to just show up ... in India.
I finally put all my worries to rest once I met the organizer of the volunteer program I signed up for; a kind, soft-spoken man with a slight limp in his early 40's. After he had helped me with my bags and drove me to my new residence for the rest of my duration in Jaipur and explained a bit more about the program, I set out into the Pink City (Old City) and witnessed the real chaos that is urban India.
Later that day I met my future partner in crime, my fellow volunteer from Norway, and over the next few days we took on the sights of Jaipur starting with Galta (Monkey Temple ... you feed them right from your hand) and ending with the fabulous Amer Fort and Jal Mahal (Water Palace) ... all three are worth seeing.
After our last day of sightseeing, we met with another volunteer (a Canadian ... who would have thought?) who would be joining us in the upcoming days due to her arriving from South Korea, where she was teaching english, just the day before. The next morning, the Norwegian and I left for Bal Ashram, the rehabilitation center for rescued child laborers (who also may be orphans) not knowing what to expect, whom we might encounter and what our living situation would be like.
Welcome to Bollywood
Mumbai
October 26th - 1PM October 30th:
My time in Mumbai can best be described as a blur. I arrived after being in transit for close to 30 hours; a 10hr train ride from Luxor to Cairo, 2.75 hrs from train station to the Airport, 3hr flight to Kuwait, 7 hr layover and lastly a 4.5 hour flight into Mumbai. Upon arrival at 5:10 AM I had to climb over 4 luggage carts to grab my bags and then negotiated a cab ride to my Bollywood safe-house. I then slept and awoke hours later in search of sustenance. The 'blur' began later that night at a local watering hole (cafe/bar) ...
Cafe Mondegar was packed and the only reason I went in is because I saw a big sign for Kingfisher (the local brew) and was craving a drink. I was awarded the last table in the house. While thoroughly enjoying my first drink, I was approached by the waiter who asked if another gentleman could join me. I conceded. The man who joined me turned out to be the finest host one could ask for; having is private driver give me rides home late in the evening, covering meals and drinks, and more importantly, showing myself (and two girls I met) the chaos that is Mumbai's nightlife.
My nights included chill pubs, crazy dance clubs, late (and I mean LATE) meals, waking my hosts surprised coworkers at 2 AM to use the restroom and catching some live Indian musical entertainment.
To my ever so gracious host: I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generosity, sincerity and your uplifting thoughts on life and one might live it. Also, you would love the kids here ... hearts of gold and smiles to go along with it.
October 26th - 1PM October 30th:
My time in Mumbai can best be described as a blur. I arrived after being in transit for close to 30 hours; a 10hr train ride from Luxor to Cairo, 2.75 hrs from train station to the Airport, 3hr flight to Kuwait, 7 hr layover and lastly a 4.5 hour flight into Mumbai. Upon arrival at 5:10 AM I had to climb over 4 luggage carts to grab my bags and then negotiated a cab ride to my Bollywood safe-house. I then slept and awoke hours later in search of sustenance. The 'blur' began later that night at a local watering hole (cafe/bar) ...
Cafe Mondegar was packed and the only reason I went in is because I saw a big sign for Kingfisher (the local brew) and was craving a drink. I was awarded the last table in the house. While thoroughly enjoying my first drink, I was approached by the waiter who asked if another gentleman could join me. I conceded. The man who joined me turned out to be the finest host one could ask for; having is private driver give me rides home late in the evening, covering meals and drinks, and more importantly, showing myself (and two girls I met) the chaos that is Mumbai's nightlife.
My nights included chill pubs, crazy dance clubs, late (and I mean LATE) meals, waking my hosts surprised coworkers at 2 AM to use the restroom and catching some live Indian musical entertainment.
To my ever so gracious host: I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generosity, sincerity and your uplifting thoughts on life and one might live it. Also, you would love the kids here ... hearts of gold and smiles to go along with it.
28 October, 2007
Luxor ...
Monday, October 22nd - Wednesday, October 24th
Despite the ever so aggressive taxi or carriage drivers and the private ferry boat hassles, Luxor is amazing.
The Hostel:
I have never seen so many pictures and posters of Bob Marley in my life. Every spec of every wall was like a shrine dedicated to the man. The funny thing is, during my stay I did not hear one Bob Marley song on their stereo ... it was usually just the Gypsy Kings which brought back fond childhood memories of early saturday mornings in the Pezeshk house.Upon my arrival I wound up meeting an English girl who was on holiday before finishing her last year of medical school; she became my partner in crime for the rest of my stay in Luxor.
The Sights:
The Luxor Temple, located right along the nile, is beautiful and well preserved. While walking through the ruins all I could do was imagine what the temple looked like in its original setting with the Avenue of Sphinxes leading right to the massive entrance. It must have been quite a sight to both the local and the passerby. The tombs in the Valley of the Queens was also quite impressive.
My favorite place however was the Temple o f Karnak. First of all, it's huge and with every turn there is something new and amazing to gawk at. I arrived just before sunset and had the pleasure of seeing the light of the red sun pass through the grand Hypostyle hall hitting the curves of the stone in all the right places. Although there was a sea of Eastern European tourists with many of the women in some quite scandalous outfits, my eyes were fixated on the intricate carvings of towering walls and columns ... well, at least most of the time. I'll tell you one thing though, to look up and always see an obelisk in the ancient skyline is quite a cool experience.
Overall: Luxor is much more laid back than Cairo but with just as much charm. I was able to relax and also see many things. Should I ever make it back to Egypt, I might just be obliged to make another stop here.
Despite the ever so aggressive taxi or carriage drivers and the private ferry boat hassles, Luxor is amazing.
The Hostel:
I have never seen so many pictures and posters of Bob Marley in my life. Every spec of every wall was like a shrine dedicated to the man. The funny thing is, during my stay I did not hear one Bob Marley song on their stereo ... it was usually just the Gypsy Kings which brought back fond childhood memories of early saturday mornings in the Pezeshk house.Upon my arrival I wound up meeting an English girl who was on holiday before finishing her last year of medical school; she became my partner in crime for the rest of my stay in Luxor.
The Sights:
The Luxor Temple, located right along the nile, is beautiful and well preserved. While walking through the ruins all I could do was imagine what the temple looked like in its original setting with the Avenue of Sphinxes leading right to the massive entrance. It must have been quite a sight to both the local and the passerby. The tombs in the Valley of the Queens was also quite impressive.
My favorite place however was the Temple o f Karnak. First of all, it's huge and with every turn there is something new and amazing to gawk at. I arrived just before sunset and had the pleasure of seeing the light of the red sun pass through the grand Hypostyle hall hitting the curves of the stone in all the right places. Although there was a sea of Eastern European tourists with many of the women in some quite scandalous outfits, my eyes were fixated on the intricate carvings of towering walls and columns ... well, at least most of the time. I'll tell you one thing though, to look up and always see an obelisk in the ancient skyline is quite a cool experience.
Overall: Luxor is much more laid back than Cairo but with just as much charm. I was able to relax and also see many things. Should I ever make it back to Egypt, I might just be obliged to make another stop here.
27 October, 2007
Desert Camping
Saturday, October 20th - Sunday, October 21st
I had overheard Amir, the manager of the hostel, talking to a Canadian couple about this trip to an oasis that involved camping in the White Desert. A bit intrigued, I inquired about the trip a little bit more and within a few minutes I was sold.
It is amazing how one's plans can change so quickly. No more than 5 minutes before I had never thought about camping in the desert and was more occupied with figuring out how to get to the train station to buy a ticket to Luxor leaving Friday night. The only word or phrase I can use to describe what I am enjoying is 'ultimate freedom'. But I digress ... back to the story shall we?
After a tiring day exploring the pyramids under the Arabian sun, the last thing I wanted to do was wake up at 6 to take a 5 hour bus ride to Bahariya (oasis), but I mustered the strength to roll out of my bed and get ready. I met the Canadian couple in the lobby area of the hostel for tea and bread and then our driver came to take us to the bus station.
Apparently we were running quite late because our driver was driving mad and decided to drive only down one-way streets ... in the wrong direction. He kept saying to me "If they ask why I drive like this I say I don't know, ya know?" and also "We're not driving the wrong way right?" to which I replied I don't know. We went back and forth like that for 3 minutes but it wasn't an argument, it was more playful because he was laughing while I held onto the shiesse handle and mustered a few "ha ha"s.
The bus ride wasn't bad actually. It was a decent bus and despite getting stuck next to someone suffering from a severe case of halitosis, I enjoyed the ride. Upon arrival at Bahariya, we were greeted by a small man who told us he was our driver into the desert and from there we (the Canadian couple and myself) hopped into his Toyota Land Cruiser and took off. Before we left the town however, we stopped for lunch and picked up another Canadian (they are everywhere I tell you).
The road was well paved and we were the only car on it as far as I could tell. After about an hour driving through the black desert, we pulled up to Black Mountain which I scaled. The view from the top is amazing (see video).
We pulled into the White Desert just before sunset. This former sea bottom left behind thousands upon thousands of white rock formations that look and feel just like chalk. As of yet, this is the most beautiful thing I've seen. The red sun setting in the distance and the last rays of light hitting the rocks in such a way that makes your heart stop. We all gathered on one mound and stayed silent for a few minutes just taking it all in (see video).
That night we camped under the stars in complete silence. No cars, no horns, no people, no pollution ... just beauty. Pure beauty.
We rose early the following morning and due to our needing to get to our respective places of departure that evening, we left just after breakfast leaving the peace and calm of the white desert behind.
Much love,
Ardeshir
I had overheard Amir, the manager of the hostel, talking to a Canadian couple about this trip to an oasis that involved camping in the White Desert. A bit intrigued, I inquired about the trip a little bit more and within a few minutes I was sold.
It is amazing how one's plans can change so quickly. No more than 5 minutes before I had never thought about camping in the desert and was more occupied with figuring out how to get to the train station to buy a ticket to Luxor leaving Friday night. The only word or phrase I can use to describe what I am enjoying is 'ultimate freedom'. But I digress ... back to the story shall we?
After a tiring day exploring the pyramids under the Arabian sun, the last thing I wanted to do was wake up at 6 to take a 5 hour bus ride to Bahariya (oasis), but I mustered the strength to roll out of my bed and get ready. I met the Canadian couple in the lobby area of the hostel for tea and bread and then our driver came to take us to the bus station.
Apparently we were running quite late because our driver was driving mad and decided to drive only down one-way streets ... in the wrong direction. He kept saying to me "If they ask why I drive like this I say I don't know, ya know?" and also "We're not driving the wrong way right?" to which I replied I don't know. We went back and forth like that for 3 minutes but it wasn't an argument, it was more playful because he was laughing while I held onto the shiesse handle and mustered a few "ha ha"s.
The bus ride wasn't bad actually. It was a decent bus and despite getting stuck next to someone suffering from a severe case of halitosis, I enjoyed the ride. Upon arrival at Bahariya, we were greeted by a small man who told us he was our driver into the desert and from there we (the Canadian couple and myself) hopped into his Toyota Land Cruiser and took off. Before we left the town however, we stopped for lunch and picked up another Canadian (they are everywhere I tell you).
The road was well paved and we were the only car on it as far as I could tell. After about an hour driving through the black desert, we pulled up to Black Mountain which I scaled. The view from the top is amazing (see video).
We pulled into the White Desert just before sunset. This former sea bottom left behind thousands upon thousands of white rock formations that look and feel just like chalk. As of yet, this is the most beautiful thing I've seen. The red sun setting in the distance and the last rays of light hitting the rocks in such a way that makes your heart stop. We all gathered on one mound and stayed silent for a few minutes just taking it all in (see video).
That night we camped under the stars in complete silence. No cars, no horns, no people, no pollution ... just beauty. Pure beauty.
We rose early the following morning and due to our needing to get to our respective places of departure that evening, we left just after breakfast leaving the peace and calm of the white desert behind.
Much love,
Ardeshir
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