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 | Главная » 2010 » Сентябрь » 28 » These days in December. Two years ago.
19:52 These days in December. Two years ago. |
In every town in Asia with a sizable Israeli traveling population - none of which is in any way religious at home - somebody would find a nice restaurant and organize a weekly Shabbat dinner, this time complete with some likeness of Chala, grapefruit juice (brought in response to the requested grape juice - alcohol is prohibited in holy Rishikesh), and about thirty people at the
Rishikesh... the place where I finally slowed down and achieved some inner calmness...
Those days I was apparently feeling particularly verbose.
Gosh... this really was two years ago.... what have I done?!
Shabbat Shalommm...Omm, Shanti, Shaantee...
Run after a girl - lose a chance to have an adventure.
Not get a girl after all - regret not running after an adventure.
The world would be ideal if you could run after adventure and find a girl, but if that weren't happening so rarely, it would cease being an ideal...
Warning: inexcusable stereotyping and generalizing follows.
As huge groups of those "bad" Israelis headed out of here south toward Goa, those staying or arriving now are the sweetest, friendliest, most open Israelis I've met. On Friday night, I've been to my first Shabbat dinner in, oh...five, six years?
In every town in Asia with a sizable Israeli traveling population - none of which is in any way religious at home - somebody would find a nice restaurant and organize a weekly Shabbat dinner, this time complete with some likeness of Chala, grapefruit juice (brought in response to the requested grape juice - alcohol is prohibited in holy Rishikesh), and about thirty people at the table, not all of them even Hebrew speaking or Jewish!
It was fun, it brought new connections in search of that "best" Yoga teacher or program (the reason everyone is here in this town), new company...
..but everything good must come to an end. Just when am I going to learn this wonderful Buddhist idea of no attachment?!
I arrived here seeking solitude and seclusion to give myself yet another "test". Instead, I found the opposite - a group as great as it was bound to be fleeting, as all such groups are, formed by the virtue of arriving to the same place at the same time and walking into each other's guest house rooms to say hi, or hooking up with someone new at a restaurant.
Now everyone I got to know is suddenly gone, having decided on the whim to search for adventure while I stayed for...many reasons, I thought - and the guest house is dead and unhappy for me once again.
The sweet and honest (which doesn't happen so often) Indian Yoga teacher I took several lessons with ran a class on the sandy beach in the forest on the shore of Ganges, followed by a short hike to a beautiful waterfall... but as far as Yoga goes, I feel I'm "done" with this guy. I would benefit more from a continuous course than drop-in lessons, but most of those have just ended.
The Ashram programs I was most likely looking for all ended in November; the one I found here seems to provide me with nothing I was seeking, as meditation sessions there are guide-less one-hours of silence, and yoga is no better than anywhere else...if not worse; my introduction to it - while watching quietly with the permission of the manager to see its level - consisted of a Western participant, one of ~35 in the gym, getting up to leave while saying, "I can not continue like this, there is a difference between practicing and watching, I can not be practicing while someone is watching - this is not yoga cinema."
I guess I want someone to teach me, quickly, how to "discover myself" - how preposterous.
At least this place with its cool dark nights reminds me of Nepal, in the most tingly bitter-sweet way.
YoGoa
Simple facts.
I went north to try out solitude, seclusion, and force myself into something new by doing some inclusive yoga and meditation program. I found yoga lessons but no meditation; I met people I see most of the time when not writing this crap - instead of seclusion; I felt instantly upset when some of them moved on to Goa and called on me to go with them.
Should I just give up? Accept the fact that I feel much better in a social scene than "seeking myself on my own", and just follow those ephemeral connections and pleasures?.. "Irrrresponsible" is the word that repeats like the knock of the train wheels in the back of my head.
And now a word for the animals
I feel I should write a little something for the furry - or fur-losing - Indian friends. After all, where else would you be run over by an elephant on one street (ok, I wouldn't be writing this then - only hit by its wagging tail), and stand within reaching distance of a monkey on another? OK, in Thailand. But there are no humped cows there.
cows
Cows are those ugly, languid, horned, road-blocking, almost always pregnant, impossibly-ridiculous-loo>king huge round contraptions consisting of barrels of ribs and fur somehow held up by four disproportionately skinny legs. Their behinds are often covered with dried-up shit, and most have a huge hairy hump on top of their neck, and a swaying fold of skin on its bottom. There is one thing cute about them - the way they lick each other's foreheads, or scratch them at parked cars' tires. They are India's only recycling and garbage collection stations, and the only thing they do not eat is plastic, which is why it's lying everywhere. They consume just about everything else, thereby providing a very useful service - but I'm sorry, cows just aren't supposed to have a hump!
pigs
I read somewhere that pigs are the cleanest animals. Maybe the author only interviewed "Happy California pigs" - but he definitely has not witnessed sewage and cow dung eating pigs in this country. The ultimate lowest link on the Indian recycling industry chain, pigs can sometimes be found next to cows as if waiting for a fresh pie to drop on the ground, to start munching on it while it's still warm, moist, and...tasty?
dogs
The saddest dogs I've ever seen live on the streets of India. There's almost something human expressed in their sad eyes. Perhaps it's because they are forced to be vegetarian and consume banana peels and green-leafed vegetables and everything else any self-respecting fat American dog wouldn't even come close to. In Varanasi, the city that keeps solidifying its place in my memory as India's biggest culture-shock capital, I witnessed a dog so incredibly sick trotting down a crowded street, with cataract eyes and infected skin, at one point it howled with pain, only to be kicked harshly by a kid and keep on running down the cruel street.
Of course, there are healthy dogs and incredibly cute puppies that haven't yet discovered life's cruelty, and my own little discovery - that puppies are as cute and playful as kittens - solidified my decision to get a dog - one day.
monkeys
Endless source of amusement and pictures, they're also the source of scariest traveler's bite stories (unlike dogs.) When feeling threatened, they make a very human-like grimaced face, jump on their hands, and produce scary "shhh" noise - great for pictures - but they lose interest in you immediately, and turn back to their regularly scheduled activities. Which in one case included a male jumping on top of a female and making humping moves for just two seconds while grimacing and shh-ing, just to show another male nearby who's got the bigger dick - very human-like, again...
India: random observations and practicalities
My smiling white face is now stored in more family photo albums of Indians I have never met before and will never see again, who know nothing about me other than "whichcountry?" I come from, than in my own pictures. In every place of significance - such as Taj Mahal - that's teeming with tourists both domestic and international, Indian families ask foreigners to pose with them for a picture on their little Vivitar soap dishes, and once I was even begged to hold their child in my arms.
If you plan to buy those pretty bedspreads/covers ($2-3; $20-30 on Haight St.) - tie-dye or block print - then don't bring your own heavy bed sheet, duh! (same "duh" applies to leaving your pocket knife in your pocket before the flight from Bangkok to Kathmandu...damn.) Just buy two (bed and top cover) at any store the first day and bring home at the end. Clean sheets were always provided in Nepal, apart from the trek where sleeping bag was necessary, so this applies to India only.
Don't take T-shirts. Buy "native" cotton shirts at $2 a piece, they are much lighter and dry fast. The fastest garment to dry, and thus the easiest to launder by yourself, is Thai silk underwear - an excellent choice.
The expensive PacSafe net for the backpack is very useful on Indian overnight trains and luggage rooms; I'll be renting mine out after I return at $15/trip for anyone interested :)) Its padlock is useful for hotel rooms everywhere (it's the same Chinese-made - considered quality here! - lock sold here for ~$2. The whole net costs $60 in the US. The rest of the world doesn't understand how we can live with prices like that.) An alternative is to string a bike chain through sawed-on hoops of your backpack, if there are enough of them.
Water in many Indian homes and guest houses in smaller towns is provided by a pipe going straight underground from the home's courtyard, with an electric pump filling up a big tank on the rooftop, manually turned on when water runs out. I did not know it's so easy to get water from anywhere under our feet!
America. The United States of.
The animosity toward the great country of ours all around the world - BOTH among the people of these countries AND travelers from everywhere else - is nothing short of astounding. Of course, it is largely based on lack of knowledge, on stereotypes only slightly less narrow than those Americans who've never traveled abroad hold about other cultures, but the mindset is very firmly set. The question "whichcountry?" - the first and sometimes only question asked absolutely everywhere you show your face in India - is met with "oh, good country, good country" if the answer is "Russia", and "oh, ameericaa..." otherwise.
In Nepal - recipient of huge American foreign aid - a teen asked me, "America - was good, but now what happen? Iraq, Bush, what wrong with America?"
A Frenchman motorcycling around the world - from Russia through all former Soviet Central Asian republics into Iran, Pakistan, then India - told me the majority (yes, with all the implications about majorities) of populations in those countries were posing questions of the sort, "WHY is this happening? We don't understand, why do they come and bomb us, what did we do?"
All over the world, Europe included, majorities think Americans live up to the stereotype of being fat, rich, and unconcerned with anything but money, while Bush is simply a madman who wants to be the king of the world. Considering the same majorities dream about going to America to work and get rich quick, it's a strange, stupid brew.
Educated, professional Indians I spoke with all share the same concerns the rest of the "free world" does - Pakistan and Islamist fundamentalism are their number one enemies and sources of many security problems; arms race takes up considerable economic resources, etc. However, they are all bitter America supports Pakistan (my argument, "but if they don't, that country would only turn worse" was met by, "it's already as bad as it can get, and they support it!"), and none of them support the war in Iraq! "That war was not justified, you can't just go and bomb a country", they say - though I'm sure doing so to Pakistan would be more than welcome by Delhi.
Americans are practically absent from the South Asian countries. Every guest house log book lists countries of origin, and I had to go many pages before finding an American entry. In over a month in India, apart from some staying long-term studying yoga in Ashrams in Rishikesh, I've met fewer traveling Americans than people from almost every former communist Eastern European country, just to put things in perspective. "Americans are chicken shit", told me one of 2 pairs of American girls I met this entire time.
Or maybe they are just working, pushing the world's progress...
Palmistry
I had my palm read today [incidentally, a day before my birthday]. Not by one of local palmists for 50 cents, but for free by an Italian guy (with a degree in philosophy from Bologna University) I just met at a yoga class. What can I say, I'm a believer now. :)
Just look at the facts.
I'll have a long life. About a year or two ago, my life line has been majorly interrupted but continued on. The line of my head is incredibly clear, straight and deep - my convictions are pretty strong. My love line is similarly singular - I've had a lot of potential loves early on, feeding the main line, but from some point and on until the end the line is very pronounced and doesn't split, doesn't have parallel lines running alongside, etc - just one pronounced line. I will have two children (at least; that's the number of lines currently - things constantly change.) My sensuality area is not too soft but softer than others'. The intelligence area is pronounced, but in logic and creativity areas, I have potentials (lines on the left hand), that are completely unrealized (none on the right)... Same goes for happiness - "X" marks it in potential, but none formed in reality - yet...
Last night, in a candle-lit silence, many long-time (half a year? more?) stayers at Bombay Guest House were in the room playing chess, reading books, strumming guitar, or just sitting motionlessly. Tonight, I hope to hear this Italian guy play jazz on his guitar in his room... A recurring thought gnawing me on and off for years is just how, how with all the deep, orgasmic passion and understanding (digging) and love I get from improvisational music - which really isn't something everyone can be lucky enough to boast - could I deny myself such lifelong joy. I can blame some circumstances for precipitating the collapse - that love and understanding came only after I already got tired and overdosed of formerly parentally-induced formal music education - but ultimately, I just did not realize, back when I still could play well, that I'd be sitting 12-15 years later wishing so much that I could just jam away... Even after I did, where was the determination - to develop that "X" on the right hand?
Lines constantly change though...
People Factor
No doubt, of any facets of this trip - the most "daring" adventure I've attempted to do alone(*) since going to MIT 9 years ago - I have placed the greatest expectations on meeting people. I can now say that my naive dreams of making new good maybe life-long like-minded friends, finding contacts all over the world, and satisfying the urge of expanding "my circle" were just that - naive dreams, but I at least I can't complain about not meeting enough colorful characters I'd never meet sitting at home (too bad that provides little more than stories to tell, and lack of stories to tell has never been my biggest problem or concern...)
OK, enough bitching, let's get to the colours.
On a plush Shatabdi Express from Delhi to Agra, I sat next to an outwardly unattractive middle-aged guy listening to his walkman. "Oh, look at my luck - instead of a cool backpacker chick, I get a tourist like this next to me" - I almost said to Marvel, a few seats away, in Russian. But I thought better of it, and kept my mouth shut.
This man turned out to be one of the most interesting conversationalists I've had the entire trip - not to mention in perfect Russian. An American from Wash. DC, he's been working for decades for the State Department. He is high enough in there now to call Collin Powell his boss, and his title is "Ambassador - Special Negotiator". He received PhD in Soviet-related fields in the 70s, and got a job for the state department in Moscow after teaching at a University for a while. He lived there through the cold war, negotiated disarmament, visited Chernovtsy among other places - and was now on an assignment in Bangladesh, Nepal, and Shri Lanka, taking a short vacation to see Taj Mahal before flying back to Kathmandu.
When I mentioned Indian men staring at the foreigners, he told me about Bangladeshi beach - supposedly the longest continuous beach in the world, pristine and empty, with not a single person in sight. This extremely poor country is trying to promote it to tourists, but he doesn't give it much chance, here's why: He laid there, alone, to get some sun and read a book, and within half an hour he was surrounded by a tight circle of dozens of local men, standing silent and motionless and staring down at him. FOR HOURS. He got up to get away - they opened the circle for him to go through, then followed him at some distance, staring...
By the way, he predicts the fighting in Nepal will only intensify in the near future, although he does think peace will come at some point soon.
More people later - they are kicking me out of this place. Good for me.
India: Random food for thought - cheap!
I have redefined the concept of "being late" by...not being late at the same time. In the process, I learned that jumping into moving trains is much harder than it looks in the movies, and probably dangerous, too. The weight of the backpack exacerbates inertia pulling you off the door handles of the moving carriage. My gratitude goes to the guy standing in the door who pulled me - and another person who managed to jump in after me - into the one-before-last door of the last car. I'll blame it partly (the train would've still been moving slower had this not taken an extra 10 seconds of my time :)) on the cycle rickshaw driver and his buddies I had to run away from, after an altercation resulted in us throwing 10 rupees note at each other's faces while the liar kept screaming "No, 20!"
Ah, what long-time travel does to you: $1=45 rupees.
For the price of one night stay in one of the cheapest hotels in Venice ($45), you can stay in similar comfort for one month just about anywhere in India.
By the time I was leaving Udaipur, little shops and shop owners all around tourist areas advertised Christmas cards for sale. A shop owner was going through considerable trouble summing up my bill, while I was already holding correct change in hand. "You don't believe me", I asked him, irritated. "Money makes enemy, never trust money", he replied.
Indians believe they are very clean people. Taking off shoes before entering stores, homes, and temples is a norm; they drink without touching containers with their lips, i.e. by pouring into their mouth. They eat with their hands, of course.
A small percentage of this gigantic population - the percentage that takes the most expensive, reserved train classes - is a world apart from the majority. They speak perfect English, and often speak English among themselves. They carry intelligent conversations on foreign politics, business practices, etc, without any ulterior motives (i.e. to sell me their guest house when I get off the train.)
The rest of the people can get excited seeing a $5 1980's-type Casio electronic watch I bought at a market here.
Hindi-language Bollywood movies include random English phrases - "sure, all right", "shut up", etc. etc. - throughout. It sounds ridiculous and funny - and probably not very different from conversations among Russian Americans when heard by a speaker of only one of two languages. Many English words entered India's many languages as is, however - "train", "ticket", "railway", "battery", etc. "Cheeeeps", cries out the vendor with a tray of Lay's in the isle of Express trains.
Indians are very proud of belonging to one of the oldest continuous civilizations on earth; of having one of the oldest recorded religions; of being the biggest country where almost everyone speaks English (you wouldn't find huge illiteracy rate mentioned in the same sentence); of having the brightest and most talented minds of any other peoples on Earth ("Indians are moving America now", I heard several times); and the government projects India to be a world superpower by the year 2030 or 2050 (depending on which magazine article I read on any given day.)
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