The good, the bad, and the ugly: India

Since beginning this voyage I have done some weird/cool/amazing things… here are a few.

- I have been in a car, moped, and rickshaw accident (all on the same day)

- I had my first big mac ( Chicken Majarha Mac (India))

- Had the national beer of 6 different countries

- Swam in 2 oceans (Indian, pacific)

- Worn a seat belt 0 times

- Been to 5 cities with more than 10 million people (8 cities with 7 million or more)

- Been bitten by a cobra…and a deer

- Rock climbed on one of the “new wonders of the world” (Angkor Wat)

- Seen the sun rise and set at a another wonder of the world (Taj Mahal)

- Flown 8 times

- Paid less then 50 cents for a meal 5 times

- Seen monkeys in 4 countries

- Read 5 books

- Climbed a mountain… and the great wall

- Rode on a sleeper train, a second class train, a bullet train, and several subways

- Visited mosques, temples (Hindu and Buddhist), shrines, and churches

- Had a drink on top of the tallest building in Japan

- Had diarrhea once, and constipation… once

- Been offered a prostitute 3 times

- Played Frisbee once

- Slept in hostels, hotels, bungalows, and hammocks

India was India… I say this because this is the first country that has been pretty close to my expectation. It was a full assault on all of my senses. At times, I would be coughing, while seeing blurs (both due to the insane amount of air pollution), smelling sewage and piss, and hearing nothing but a constant barrage of honks (The use of the car horn in south east asia is interesting. See, in the US we use it as a reactionary tool, and here they use it proactively to warn, communicate, or simply out of habit for no good reason at all. They refrain from honking when someone cuts another person off, because it is hard to hear cuss words and yelling when your horn is going off…). Anyway, India possessed the dirtiest of the dirties, the prettiest of the pretties, the most real and most money hungry people … My India:

Day one:

I got off the ship around noonish. The port where we berthed was characteristic of the country for sure. You get off the ship, and there are tons of stray dogs, heavy machinery (in use), and a half mile walk to the exit of the port. Today I went with a small group from the ship to the YMCA of Chennai. In India (and most of the world), the YMCA is an organization that serves as an orphanage for mostly able bodied and minded kids. The kids live there, take classes there, are job trained there, and leave when they have been through the program. We visited a campus that had about 420 kids (all boys) that lived in communal houses (their only possessions were their beds), that was located in the middle of a wasteland. Their grounds had a huge pack of stray animals, a swamp with rotting trash in the middle, a playing field with broken glass, and had no clean water source. Every day they had to go out and buy water, and then put it in a huge tub for all of the kids to use the same cup to drink. This is where the “Hundred Dollar Solution” comes in. Rotary International teamed up with a professor (Strendecky) to initiate this action plan that solves big problems using little amounts of money. So we went to this place with 100 dollars and asked “What is one thing that would make the lives of the children here better?” and the answer we got was “A water purifier would be nice”… so for 150 dollars, the kids now have a permanent and reliable water source. More than 400 of them! That’s pocket change you know. It’s insane that the UN and USAID and other groups use millions, and even billions to solve “large problems” and some of them can be solved with pocket change. So, I played thumb war, slaps, tag, and Frisbee with some kids for a couple hours (there were two interesting things… one, they wanted serious matches… like “USA vs. India for pride” and two, they were obsessed with my camera, one kid took my camera, took like 100 pictures and then pimped it out to his friends). Anyway, after tea at the YWCA working women’s home, we went to Marina Beach, which is the second largest beach in the world. Picture this: there are thousands of people on this beach, whole families, teens, young kids… and not one is in the water… not one is showing any skin at all. I brought my Frisbee and I was waved down by this older guy around 50 or so (his name is Boscar)… so I threw it to him. He dives, rolls, gets up and throws a really nice throw back. I was amazed. I threw with this guy, and his 2 kids, and his neighbors 3 kids for about an hour. Turns out, this guy has been to the beach every day for the past 11 years with his family, teaching them aerobics, gymnastics, karate, cricket and Frisbee. They were really nice and reflective of the general population of India (they would applaud when I jumped, or made a nice throw)… it was a nice first taste. Most people are really nice, the ones that are not so nice though are the people who are interested in your money. This population is a little more than half of the population. People will try to charge you for directions (that you don’t ask for), watching them doing handstands, taking pictures of the street they are on… everything. Anyway, Boscar now has a Frisbee from the Texas Ultimate, and I bolted that joint, had dinner, and headed back to the ship early.

Day 2:

I got about an hour of sleep (I had 13 hours the 4 nights I was in India) and woke up at 3 to catch a early flight in the morning. There are a few things in India that you cannot go more than 100 yards or so without seeing.

1. A guy peeing
2. a cow eating trash
3. a dog sleeping
4. an std (international phone)
5. Someone sleeping on the street (this was more like every 20 yards, and in hotspots every yard… tons of people just lay down without a blanket on the bare street and pass out for the night)

The people I saw sleeping on the way to the airport was no doubt in the thoudands. Anyway, we got our flight to Delhi, and went to a park in Old Delhi. This place was cool, but nothing worth talking about (it did have a 3 thousand year old steel pillar that was pretty sweet (I ditched the park for a while to go over to this abandoned field where some kids were playing cricket and played with them for a while, I hit their ball into the woods and felt bad, but one of the kids was a stinking monkey and retrieved it)). After being hustled by some rug shop and watching about a dozen of my friends buy thousand dollar oriental rugs (they said it was a good gift for their families, I however am not a fool), we went to the Train station to catch a train to Agra. The train station was a madhouse. There was an infestation of rats that led to suggest that they were in running the station. The trains were wicked. They had bars instead of windows, people slept and lived in the spaces between the 2 cars, and they were ridiculously unreliable. Our 4 hour train ride took about 7 and a half, and we got into Agra late. Today was spent mostly traveling so I don’t have much feedback.

Day 3:

I woke up at 5 to see the sunrise at the Taj Mahal. The place in the morning is not very touristy and my experience was pretty good. The place actually lives up to the talk. Its splendor is amazing, and even from up close it looks like a mirage. Its right on this river that is infested with trash and the old remains of people (at least it looked an awful lot like it). I had no idea that it was a Muslim building, or for that matter, that most of the cool buildings and historical sights in Northern India were of Islamic background. I think India, and I don’t think Islam… anyway. I went into the inner sanctum, and for my time in there I was alone. The place had an eerie light that put weird shapes on the walls, and birds were flying around, and there was a constant moaning sound. The Taj effectively freaked me out. Anyway, we went back to our hotel. And I left the group for the rest of my time in India. I headed out alone for mid day in Agra. I hopped in a Tuc Tuc and asked the guy to take me to the interesting part of the city. He took me to a local slum which I thought was pretty cool and then things went awry. You see, these guys get money when they take their passengers to textile and handicraft stores. So the next hour was this guy taking me to all of his friend’s stores. One store had about 10,000 square feet and about 30 employees and had one customer… me (from the looks of it, I was the only customer they have had for weeks). I got harassed, and hustled… but didn’t spend a penny (and got the hell out of there). He took me past monkey street (with massive amounts of baboons playing in the actual road), and back to this spot that had a snake charmer. I played a flute for the snake, and hung out with this charmer for a few minutes… and I noticed that this thing kept trying to strike his hand. So I got down with him and asked him this question “KILL?” and he said “NO KILL” so I began the process of trying to get this snake to bite me. I had to punch, poke, grope and irritate a KING COBRA for about 30 seconds to get him pissed off… and then he struck me on the hand. It was awesome, and I got away with paying the guy like 50 cents for it… the most entertaining 50 cents of my life. I went out to lunch with my friend Sebastian (where I had this dish that had huge chunks of cottage cheese in gravy… freaking money, it has been my favorite dish of the entire voyage, actually Indian food has been my favorite because of this flat bread called Parantha that is stuffed with vegetables and cheese). I went to Agra Fort (where I was a stinking celebrity, about 30 people approached me for pictures, they love the girls though… sometimes they run ahead and stand near them while their friends get the shot, other times they grope and fondle while their buddies commemorate the memory) which was kind of cool. I was outside of it where I was approached by this woman holding a baby, and begging for food. This is the point where I gave serious thought into what sort of action I should or even could take. For instance, I could give this woman money right… but where would it go. I could give her nothing, but I can afford it… The “what would Jesus do” guide to life says nothing about circumstances like this. Do the helpless deserve help from us… or is it even helpful. This was a struggle I had throughout India, because I could never decipher my own feelings. I bought her some bread and gave it to her… it seemed like the best solution. In India I was particularly proud of semester at sea for doing stuff in the community. Every person I know went to an orphanage, and did service, and had hands on experience with making somebody’s life better. This ship board community is going to take home an attitude reflecting the ideology that even a little bit of help can do a lot of good. Anyway, I went back to the Taj to see sunset. Spent about an hour reading Acts in the one nook of the place without tourists (the passage about Phillip and the Ethiopian Eunuch and Paul’s story), and met up with a few friends to take a van back to Delhi. I had my first big Mac on the road (it was chicken and the sauce had curry in it), sat in traffic for about 2 hours (some points we parked and our driver left for 10-15 minutes at a time)… saw a bus push a car out of its way ( seconds after we hit the very same car), and arrived in New Delhi around 2 AM.

Day 4:

This was the most exhaustive, effective and fun day I have ever had traveling. My objective of the day was to be a citizen and not a tourist. Here’s the story.

I woke up at seven, hopped in a Tuc Tuc and arranged to have the guy for the whole day (for 20 bucks). I went to eat at this food cart that was packed full of people. For a mere 50 cents I had flat bread, Chai, and red bean casserole for breakfast alongside the working class of Old Delhi. I went out to a mosque in the morning to spend some time sitting and observing. The mosque had a beautiful courtyard that was elevated and overlooked the whole city. It was in a food market that had whole goats heads and about 500 lime sellers. I met a women named Fiona there, and had to be her temporary husband while she was being harassed by some locals. I hopped in the Auto and went to another mosque that had a large pool that was believed to have healing powers. The place had a welcome sign that said “ spend some time absorbing the teaching of the guru, cover your head, and do not talk about any other subject” that was kind of cool. I washed my head in the pool, sat in the inner sanctum for about half an hour, and hit the joint. This is the point where my driver started being a dick. He took me to a gas station and demanded that I pay him all 20 bucks, and tried to take me to a place an hour away from the city for double the pay, and to some of his friends shops and blah blah blah. So I left him a fair amount and ran. That has been my problem solving solution for south east asia thus far… and I have to say it works pretty well. I wound up in this market called Chandi Chok, which is like the locals place to go. Its in the middle of a housing district that is very slummy and shady. Most of the alleys were dead ends so one second I was near a shop, and the next in somebody’s living room. The streets were dark, dirty, and full of “interesting people”. The spice market street was aromatic, but laced with dog shit… so… yeah. I ate lunch at a street vendor (parantha and dipping sauces (50 cents)), and talked to its owner for a while. I mentioned to him that I was interested in going to GB road ( the sex road in town) to do some observations for my studies. Even though he understood I was a student and did not want to purchase a hooker, his cordial tone shifted from being welcoming to “get the hell out of my shack right now”, he verbally (with force) made me leave. The shift in his attitude was really interesting because I think it encompasses the shame that the country has for the stigma it caries. I mean, the largest democracy in the world… with some of the most religious people in the world… it makes a lot of sense that he would be pissed about a foreigner bringing up the fact that there is a really bad sex slave problem down the street. Anyway. (I just shook my head from shoulder to shoulder… it’s the Indian way of saying yes, maybe, no, I don’t understand and everything in between… I have grown to habitualize this) I went to the cinema after lunch and saw Bhool Bhoolyion, a scary movie (except for one character that got laughs every time he entered the frame ( I think he was the Will Ferrel of India)) that was made a whole lot scarier because I had no idea what was going on at any time. Anyway, I left at intermission… and found a hostel to stay in for the night (YWCA international guest house… which was shady beyond belief)… and headed to the India Gate park. The India gate is a large Arch De Triumph looking monument that overlooks the parliament houses and the “white house of India”. I spent a couple hours at the park watching and talking to some teenagers from Punjabi. One of them bought me tea, which was pretty cool. I then headed out to GB street. GB street is the busiest market I have ever been to. On one side is a rail road, and the other is a 3 story constant row of buildings that intermittently has staircases that lead to the upstairs. The back alleys of the market were busy, and dirty. The senses overload scenario from earlier happened here. I blew out snot that had black speckles in it… and wiped the brown/black gook from my eyes by the minute. At one point, a guy came up to me and offered my some young beauty queens. I did not say anything to him… so he ran me through my choices. For one, I could choose the age (from 14-21), and the number of girls (1-as many as I would like), and his price never exceeded about 10 bucks. Ten freaking bucks. I could feel my heart breaking. This market place, amidst the filth had plenty of religious buildings and temples… we are in the middle of a festival where women come out and do rituals at night, so less than a block away from my pimp friend were dozens of women praying. As it got dark there were a few trends I noticed. For one, there were obvious areas and spots where the foot traffic lacked women (decent looking men for that matter). Most places had no lights on… some did (these were the “open for business” places). As I walked across the tracks and to the other side I notices a ton of hotels with strange names… with way to many male employees working the front. (I had dinner, and talked to a guy named Feruk for about 15 minutes about God, Love, and parental obligation). I took an Auto back across the bridge (the guy asked where, I told him GB, and he couldn’t stop saying the F word for the next 3 minutes and making his hands into the shape of a vagina) to check out the scene. I walked down the streets and peeked up the aforementioned staircases and saw young girls lining the halls. Tons of them, waiting for a job. It was terrible. (I really wish I could understand the culture around the trade… I mean, why do these girls do this… do they have a choice, is there any other way… do they get any of the money… who owns them… why is this sort of thing allowed to happen, even regulated by the government) I couldn’t handle it so I went to a carnival nearby. They wouldn’t let me in with my camera, so I walked away feeling dejected… and this cop waves me down. This guy doesn’t speak a word of English so through a series of grunts and hand gestures he figures out that I want to go to the carnival. So he grabs me by the hand (with fingers interlocked (men are really big on public affection, in fact this guy was really feely with me all night) leads me through security (he was the head constable), past the ticket booth… and up the back stairs of an attraction that had a super long line. It was one of those shows where cars and motorcycles drive up on the side of a round wall. These guys were flying, and standing on the roofs of their cars… it was nuts. At one point, the cop asks me if I smoke… I told him no… and he says “you smoke” and watched me smoke his cigarette. I could tell that he wanted to see me cough, I guess we all are entertained in some way. Any who… We spent the next hour or so together… me and him (his son joined us for a while, and he kept kicking his son out of the car so he could sit with me). We didn’t wait in line (by the way, this was the most irresponsible carnival ever… for one, the rides were operated b hand breaks, two, people were dangling off of the sides of the Ferris wheel, and there wasn’t a seat belt in the house), and had a great time. At one point he pulls out his gun and somehow tells me that it is made in America. He hands it to me… I hold it… and he doesn’t think twice of it. At the end of the evening, through his son… his blood, he tells me that I am no longer his friend… but his new son. It was an unthinkable end to a good day. (I spent less than 2 dollars on food and beverage for the day)

Day 5:

After getting to the airport, realizing I don’t have a flight…. Buying a ticket, and catching a plane… I wound up back in Chennai. I got back to the ship, dropped off my bags and went out. I went to a temple market called mylapore and hung out there for a few hours (the temple had a huge lake surrounded by steps). I tried to find an orphanage… I had the name of it, and some descriptions like… mother Theresa (she founded it), kids (well…) and so forth… and not a single person had any idea where it was. So I made due. I went to a hospital. Had a twelve cent meal (2 samosas, a cookie, and a bag of water). And went to a local park. I spent about 3 hours at this park hanging with kids. Hundreds of them. They were playing cricket, and making fun of each other, and singing… and being kids. They were all real poor and kept asking me how much everything I had on was. I joined a Guile team (primitive form of cricket) and met a computer science student who actually speaks decent English. I scored some points for my team, caught an out… and had a lot of fun. The English speaker told me that kids asked how much my sandals were because they “hate people that spend money on sandals”. I could tell this. For instance, one kid asked me how much and I told him 1000 rupees (about 25 bucks (they really cost about 90))… he looked at me with disgust, told me that his cost 40 rupees and got very upset at me. He ignored me, yelled at me when I made an error, and generally shifted from nice to mean… because I waste money. That was India for me; A realization that our daily lives are complex, and abundant, and extravagant… and unfulfilling. These kids study all day, and for a few hours play cricket. They spent a dollar, or maybe 2 per day. They wear outfits that cost 2 dollars… but still enjoy their lives richly. These kids didn’t have anything other than each other, and hope. The student said that he will get his degree in 4 years and move to another country where he will make more money. He might end up in the US where his world view will inevitably shift. Mine sure did… and I was there for 5 days. I went to a shopping bazaar, talked on the phone for a little while… and got back to the ship.

Day one in India I thought that this would be the only time I ever wanted to come to India. I don’t know if I want to come back to be honest. I loved the downtime, and the kids, and the food… but felt awkward all of the time. I felt like my intentions were wrong, and that my values and materialism are unwelcome. India was a learning experience, one that I will never forget. I felt like I did India right. I would love to come back and see Varanasi, and perhaps the mountains in the north. But every big city looks the same, and all of them combat the same problems. I don’t want to come back to India, or Bangkok, or Ho Chi Minh, or Madras… until I can do something… i felt like I did something in interacting and playing with kids. I got a lot out of it… and I hope they did too (I got asked about 20 times if my eyes were real, that was funny).

Today I slept in, played quake, had 3 solid meals, went to the schphitzer (steam room), attended a lecture (that turned into a verbal argument between me and a professor) on religion, had a supplemental snack time… and was comfortable all day. Its going to take a while to process the uncomfortable nature of India. I hope that day comes while I have a chance to do that something… aka… now.

I know you don’t read this to hear my ramblings. But I hope that it is clear that I am changing. With every country and story I am molding into a new man. There is a solid group of men on this ship that have blessed me with great discussion and prayer… this has had a lot to do with my change.

Today for me… not for yall… is the day that signifies the two and half year mark in my relationship with Dava. I love her greatly. I just wanted to share that.

That’s all I got… subscribe soon for another installment.

Tal