12.31.2006

12.31 reflexology

so the vision therapy is going well and today after my yoga class, i decided to book myself in for a reflexology treatment at the ayurvedic centre. they have an ear treatment that they will perform after to help me get well and hopefully unplug my poor little ears.

reflexology is the art of using the pressure points on the bottom of your feet to identify parts of the body that are out of balance and need healing. i've surprisingly never had this done before, so i am excited to see what i will find out.

i get interviewed by the doctor and then he and shreeja start the treatment. lying on the table, i am supposed to tell shreeja when i feel any pain as she proceeds to skewer spots along the bottoms of my feet with her fingertips.

i occasionally yelp and each time it's documented in a little notebook. the painful spots are really painful! at the end of the session, i get the results: right foot: top of the head, sinuses, eye, ear, stomach and solar plexus. left foot: top of the head, eyes, ear, stomach. solar plexus?! on google i learn the solar plexus, or 3rd chakra is linked to the abdomen, diaphragm and stomach.

i leave the presribing to the doctor, who brings shreeja and another therapist to work on my ears and throat.

ear procedure...
i am lying back on the table, for another hot oily massage, this time restricted to my face, ears, and throat area. as shreeja works on me, the other therapist is heating something on a fire at the other end of the room. out comes a long wooden tube resembling a wooden flute. my head is turned so that i am looking to the side and one end of the tube goes in my ear, extending straight up to the ceiling. the thing that was being heated is a special oil. a mound of tight cotton is dipped in this oil, and the dipped end is set on fire. the fire goes out, leaving the end smoking.

two drops of heated oil are put into my ear, and then the smoke is then applied or blown into the end of the stick and forced down into my ear. shreeja begins massaging my ear and surrounding area rigourously. more smoke, more massage. the same thing happens on the other side. i wonder if this can possilbly make me deaf. then they lift my head and put a couple of drops of this oil into each nostril, and massage my nose and throat before making me inhale the thick grey smoke curling out of the cotton. i almost choke, it's too much. before i know it, it's all over.

the doctor walks over and asks me how i feel. trying to be polite, i say, i'm okay, but that my throat is burning from the smoke. the three of them smile and shreeja takes me into the ensuite bathroom, hands me a bunch of tissue and tells me to blow my nose and cough up the smoke. i expunge all that i can from all orfices, eyes tearing and throat like sandpaper.

i head back to the guest house and take a nap before dinner and heading to the beach... surprisingly, after just an hour of sleep, my ears feel so much better!

12.30.2006

12.30 oil me up - but hold your fire

still feeling crappy (my ears are blocked since yesterday morning's flight so i worry), i book myself in for yoga and a massage tonight at the ayurvedic centre in the french quarter.

after yoga, i meet a young venezuelan woman who has just gotten a massage - very good, she says, i am in for a treat.

shreeja is my massage therapist, and takes me into the massage room where i am asked to undress. off go the clothes, i go on the table.

shreeja begins by pouring what feels like a barrel of heated oil on me and rubbing me all over. the ayurvedic massage boosts the body's natural healing systems (rather than working the knots out of tired and stressed out muscles). it's all about circulation, working along the body's long meridians and boosting the immune system. let's just say that shreeja is very thorough - i didn't know that certain areas of the body had anything to do with healing! she is under the impression that i am 24 years old - a compliment coming from someone who is presiding over your naked 32 year old ass!

after about an hour i am a hot shining mound of brown clay. i ask shreeja to take a photo of me (fully intending to have her shoot me shoulders up). i am amused. she looks simply horrified! i need the doctor's permission for her to take my picture! i would have done it myself if it was easy enough to do. but feeling the urgent need to de-slick myself, i showered with three rounds of soap (the shampoo never did cut the grease on my head) and called it a night. looking back i could have snapped a shot before showering, but i was afraid of the camera getting yucky or slipping from my hands.

so did it work? well i don't exactly feel better yet. i'm considering coming back tomorrow if the ears don't unplug themselves.

12.30 la vie en pondi

pondicherry is charming.

the city has been growing steadily for 10 years. i am staying in the french quarter. this neighbourhood is marked by clean buildings and wide streets, and stretches about 15 blocks north up the coast of pondicherry, bordered by the canal to the west, and the beach to the east. driving in yesterday, i saw puducherry (the indian name reclamation process is well underway!), which i intend to visit soon.

today the vice president of india is paying a visit pondicherry. i take some time after my morning eye session to explore the city, the best way i know how - on foot. i walked for more than 5 hours.


the whitewashed walls of the buildings reflect the colonial french enclave's history; some being restored, with the blaze of bougainvillas climbing over walls. i am reminded of the decadent french quarter in new orleans (all my memories being pre-katrina). known as "ville blanche", the french quarter has many boutiques, french hotels and guest houses and even some french restaurants. much of this part of town is operated by french expats and affiliated with the city's most popular attraction: the sri aurobindo ashram, which i decide to visit today.

i may as well have gone to the moon.

after removing my shoes, switching off my cell phone and camouflaging my camera, i enter the main building where throngs of people shuffle in silent mobs toward the samadhi. the samadhi lies in a greenhouse-like courtyard within the ashram walls, the centerpiece of which are the marble tombs of sri aurobindo and his right-hand, french expat mirra alfasa (known to all as "the mother"). a large sign warns visitors: "please refrain from bringing flowers for the samadhi".

the place is full. does jim morrison's tomb at pere lachaise cemetary get this many visitors? i get caught up in the mass that is moving feverishly toward the tombs. radiating in every direction, followers from all corners of the world have scored prized seating on the courtyard floor to meditate facing the tombs. approaching the samadhi, teary-eyed visitors are lowering to their knees, kissing the marbled tops of the tombs, whispering prayers, eager to spend as much time as possible with the departed despots before being urged to move on or are forcibly wrenched free. i feel like an alien, a stranger to the mass outpouring of love and devotion to two mere humans who i know nothing about. my time has come. i walk past the tombs, more interested in people-watching than paying my respects. without muttering even a single anything, and careful not to touch the tombs or trip over barnacles latched on for dear life, i continue past, wondering what else there is to see here.

my answer came quickly: not much. i walk through the congested bookstore, photo shop (where you can buy limitless posed shots of aurobindo and the mother as personal souvenirs), and the preserved living room of the two, before collecting my shoes and emerging into the relative normalcy of the street.

i feel as though i just crashed a funeral. eager to shake off the weird feeling i have, i take in a visit to the pondicherry museum. it contained a mishmash of artifacts from excavations at the nearby ancient indo-roman port village of arikamedu, an extensive collection of french colonial furnishings from the time of general dupleix, and statues of mythic vedic gods and saints from hindu mythology.

in the midday heat, i return to the guest house, shower, change and have lunch. i inquire about organizing a car or rickshaw to show me around the larger city, perhaps go to arikamedu and auroville, the much-famed town built by the mother (this is also where the nice beach is - my real reason for going). apparently it's dangerous for a single female tourist (sft), to trust any old driver to take me outside this part of town. the young man at the ashram says he can arrange something for me but not today.

thankful for sound advice, i spend the afternoon checking out more of the city. i begin to wonder as i encounter several shops, the revenues of which support the ashram. part of the mother's vision as she took over control of the ashram and related departments when aurobindo went into seclusion before his death, was the creation of income-generating departments to support the ashram. but visiting expensive ashram shops like "aurofurn" designer furniture (very sleek and stylish stuff i got to admit!), "auroshoes" (leather shoes), "aurobati" (designer candles and incense), "aurotextiles" (designer clothes, handbags) and so on, i begin to think that the place is making a mockery of sri aurobindo's name... auro-this and auro-that.... would he be turning in his grave? or perhaps not, i wonder? we will never know. several locals tell me about the ashram, how they dislike the french, indulge me in the politics and corruption of the ashram itself, tell me of colony of locals and expats who have surrendered their lives (livelihoods) to live and devote their service to the ashram in the styled village of auroville 12 kms north. i conclude the ashram is a business after all, and has systems that make it function. in any case, i decide not to delve too deep into anything "auro", to maintain my own sensibilities.

tomorrow, however, i am going to auroville to check out the beach!

12.30 oh! da toilette!

it's been a coupla weeks and i've not mentioned anything about the toilets... yes toilets are different all over the world and india is no exception!

although i'm no stranger to the squat, i am highly adverse to the wash n go. india's toilets always have two things: a hole in the ground and a faucet. and if you are in a hotel (hoteliers notice how long tourists spend in the john), no matter what type of hotel - from a cabin to a 5-star, you will always find a phone on the wall behind the toilet bowl!

to tp or not to tp....

when arriving at the ashram guest house i was given a choice of whether or not i wanted a western toilet, so i opted for the western style. why not? everyone likes to feel at home on the john and i'm no exception. i happily marched up to my new home to be greeted by the word FRANKNESS on my door. sandwiched between ELEGANCE and INTENSITY on the other, for a second i thought to switch to the indian toilet room. my better judgement prevailed and i stuck with the frank room. i was greeted by another sign on my bathroom door, PLEASE DO NOT THROW PAPER IN THE TOILET THE LINE WILL JAM. like it or not i was gonna have to wash n go. i decided to go with the flow. did i mention i hate the drip dry??




every time i entered the bathroom, i couldn't leave before taking a shower. i eventually got used to the cold water (refreshing in the middle of the day), fetching hot water in a bucket when i felt like indulging. no matter what, you learn to adapt to your environment, which i did. i even started to like my little space of FRANKNESS where i woke up each morning...

i do marvel at how women use these squat water toilets, managing handbags and children while keeping their silk sarees and salwar khameez dry... layers of slippery fine fabric falling prey to a fountain of manual flushing...

[update: i did luckily come across an article called "how to use a squat toilet", which would have come in handy when i was performing my one-woman squatting act... for anyone needing some coaching, an excellent read! be fearless and just do it!!]

12.29.2006

12.29 pondi for perfect eyesight

Disclaimer. It's been several years since I've written this post so please refrain from asking me about directions, how to contact them or what your experience will be like. And if you want to know if my vision improved, yes it did. Read below all the answers are there. I got into pondicherry midday yesterday and was on death's door. with two sleepless nights under my belt and a heavy cold, i flew at dawn, almost bursting my eardrums on the flight. after a 4 hour drive from chennai, with a stop in mahabalipurnam to boot, i finally made it to the sri aurobindo ashram's new guest house in pondi. at check-in i was in a state of hot, sweaty, runny nose, burning eyes, incredible ear pain, deeply blocked ears, headache, and exhaustion. utterly pitiful. i got my keys and then the guy at the check in told me that it was a 3km walk to the bazaar where i could buy a towel (the guest house has none)!

after studying the city map for a half hour and a change of clothes, i took off walking to explore pondi. not only did i find myself at the school for perfect eyesight, i checked in and did my introductory eye exam and first round of exercises. my body was in autopilot...

at the school for perfect eyesight...

located in a very nondescript building, the only way i recognized it was when i looked up to see people on the balconies with their eyes shut swinging from side to side. i checked in and proceeded to get my eyes examined.

the exam was different than the regular eye doc's. i was asked to look at some regular eye charts, then red, green and yellow lights, and backwards numbers in mirrors across the room. the place is totally outfitted for this - they must see hundreds of people each year.

the mind, the body, the heart... and vision
in my state, i knew i would do miserably - and i did. i had to explain how run-down i was feeling. what most people don't realise is that eyesight is a reflection of the entire physical and emotional health. your vision happens mostly in the brain, not the eyes. when the body's run down, eyesight will suffer slightly. when the body is in a good physical state, the mind is clear, and the heart is happy, vision is optimized. in my state, i was doing even worse than my whopping -6.50 and -5.75 prescription would have indicated. i was given a little yellow card indicating all sorts of activities and sent upstairs to begin my exercise regimen.

this may become a long post but as soon as i tell anyone what i'm doing with my eyes i get the inevitable question "what exercises do you do?". if you are one of these lovely people, and have not yet read the book i have told you to read, then continue on. this will de-mystify everything!

sunning (2m): while i usually got saline drops, the first day they started with a drop of honey in each eye. don't try this at home! it hurts like a bastard. then, i proceeded to the balcony, closed my eyes, feet hip-width apart, facing the sun and swung side to side for all below to see. and ridicule! this lasted to the count of 20.
this exercise is a good "yogic" warm up, using the warming and healing properties of the sun.

eye wash (2m): after the sunning, i took a small eye wash cup and wash out each eye. as much as i was looking forward to washing out the honey, my eyes just stung more with the introduction of the water! even with the saline, i never got used to it.
the exercise washes out foreign objects or impurities that may be lodged beneath the eyelids.

palming (10m): this is the most important exercise of all. sitting tall at the huge circular pillow-top table overlooking the sea, i rubbed my palms together to release the magical healing properties locked inside. i crossed one set of fingers in front of the other, and covered my eyes with my palms, elbows resting on the pillows in front of me and feet flat on the floor. i began deep breathing. this i did for 10 minutes.
this exercise relaxes your eye muscles, which are constantly being used and strained.


reading fine print (10m): following this, i went into a dark room where i lit a candle and read "diamond type print", which is very small. i read with both eyes, covered the right side after i read a third of the way through, and then switched and covered the left side for the last part. the content is always the same: a collection of quotes from sri aurobindo (founder of the ashram) himself. i made myself blink after each 3-5th word.

i emerged from the dark room to read the same fine print, in the same order with both eyes, then left and then right. only this time i read it in daylight.
this exercise keeps eyes in constant motion, improves memory, and encourages blinking

tennis ball (5m): this is a fun exercise where i bounce a tennis ball, making a V shape, from one hand to the other, following the ball with my eyes, and remembering to blink each time i catch the ball. then i had to do the opposite, throwing the ball from one hand to the other, so that it would cross me eye level as it went. i did each of these 40 times.
this exercise keeps the eyes in constant motion, while working on hand-eye coordination

bar swing (2m): i go back outside to the balcony where there are iron bars on one side, fairly close together. with feet shoulder-width apart, i sway from one side to the other, eyes moving across the bars in front of me.
this exercise improves the eye's natural saccatic movements

visualizations (5m): in the palming room, i go back and pick up a card with the OM mantra symbol and trace the lines as if i have a paintbrush on the end of my nose. i do this with my eyes shut, moving my head in the largest motions possible, i visualize the figure in bright red, then bright green, then bright yellow and finally bright blue.
this exercise improves the mind-eye coordination and improves the mind's ability to visualize

eye cooridination (2m): i hold a pen tip up to the end of my nose, and with both eyes on the tip, move the pen in one hand as far as my arm extends up and to the right, i blink and breathe, and slowly move the pen past my nose, switch hands and extend the pen tip as far down on my left side, still blinking breathing and with both eyes on the tip of the pen. i repeat the same in the opposite so that i am making a giant X shape. repeat three times.
this exercise coordinates both eyes - especially when one is stronger or dominates the other

eye chart (10m): i go downstairs and sit in front of an eye chart on the wall. i have a matching eye chart card in my lap. before starting, i close my eyes and think about things that make me happy. this releases anxiety that could arise from seeing eye charts (the feeling of going into an exam). when i start, i look at the largest letter on the card in my lap, blink three times, and find the same letter on the wall chart, blinking three times. this i continue with each letter in diminishing size on the card on my lap.
this exercise improves the eyes seeing power, memory, and recollection

vapour and cold pack (10m):i go back to the main floor, where there is a vaporizer emitting an earthy steam of vaporub and eucalyptus oil. i sit down at the vaporizer, head covered, and breathe deeply for 30 seconds. then go sit in a chair and someone puts wet gauze s over my closed eyelids. i sit, relax and breathe for a while.
this exercise relaxes your eyes after the regimen, much like "savasana" or "corpse pose" in yoga. helps to loosen tension in your eyes and body
so that's it! the entire regimen takes one hour and should be performed twice a day, in the same sequence.

at about 5pm i was done and free to go, my train wreck of a body somehow walked through pondicherry up to the market on nehru street: a hurlyburly pedestrian death-trap. i asked at three places before i found towels for sale. while normally i would be picky about this sort of thing (absorbency, colour, size, etc) i simply purchase a powder blue towel and walk back to the ashram guest house. it was about 7pm now so after a scrumptious dinner, i fetched some hot water in a bucket to shower with and jumped into bed!

on my first night in pondi, i slept like a sunken ship.

12.29 planes trains and automobiles


transportation in india is a bitch. i think it will be an indian who will make teleportation a reality.

so far i have been driven around spoiled silly with a personal driver. i've taken two overnight trains, neither of which even had first class seating. and i've flown indian airlines. with a cold.

the "rail ghadi", (rail car in english), is an adventure. book early. for overnight trips "1A" is your best option. "1" being the class, and "A" being short for A/C. in my case we booked 1A but when the train appeared, there was only 2A. you have to go right up to the cars and look for your name on pieces of paper taped to the train outside! it's the most disorganized system ever! we found our names on the 2A list. 2A has two bunks, one on top of the other, pretty crammed, but i also saw a 3A car. the word sardines comes to mind. 'A' cars are not only air conditioned but safer i've heard than non-A. i found there were bunches of indian business travellers in the A cars, all of them who i spoke to were very cool and were very helpful. they really understand the NRI (non-resident indian), and give you the kind of good advice that only someone who cares about their country's economy will.

the ride is surprisingly smooth, but noisy. there is no closed 'compartment', only curtains separating you from strangers walking by. there are 'western' (seats) and 'indian' (hole in the ground) toilets for each car. one sink, outside the toilets. bring sanitizer! forget fresh air. the rail cars look almost greenish on the insides, and on a couple of occasions i almost pulled aside all the curtains in our car to find the elusive 2am chain smoker.

i went against the rules and between cars, i opened the door so i could catch some railside action. as the sun came up, i saw the most amazing things. train tracks and train stations are almost always in the seediest areas of towns. no exception here. many 'homeless' people make their beds by the tracks, some in tents, some in open air. i even saw a real bed out in the grass under a bypass bridge! like so many other speeding by moments i didnt' have my camera ready to capture it! in the morning, these people are all doing their matinal abolutions (ie blowing their noses without paper, horking and spitting, urinating or taking a dump) in plain view of locomotive passgeners.

the coolest part is that you are never thirsty. there are a multitude of 'chai-boys' pedaling hot tea. they climb on at one stop and walk up and down selling their stuff. and the chai is soooo good. even gets your mind off the stopper-poopers outside for a few minutes...

as for planes, i took a horrific air india flight from cochin to chennai. the flight itself was fine (they still hand out candies before the take off; even BA has stopped doing that!), but after two sleepness nights and a head cold to boot, i underwent the most acute ear pain since i was 12 (that was the last time i flew with a cold). apart from the massive power out at the airport, and heavy security checks (in a curtained room a guard smears the metal detector ALL over you), the trip was fine. i was even distracted from my ear pain by a croissant puppet thanks to my charming travel companion who i met prior to the flight.

i must mention that the east coast road trip from chennai to pondicherry is the most beautiful route i've taken in a long time. during the 3 hours, my driver stopped so i could visit the ruins in mahabalipuram. these are a series of ancient rock carved structures that were built by the pallava dynasty in the 7th century. like the taj mahal and lal q'ilah, the red fort in dehli, there is a stretch of tourist shops lining the entrance to the monuments. i spend 20 minutes visiting the structures, 10 minutes chiling at the beach. by the time we reach pondi, i am so tired and hot that i am nodding off. i wrestle myself awake, taking everything in as we enter the french enclave where i am to spend a week improving my vision... and very glad to not be in transit mode for a full 8 days!

12.27.2006

12.27 deep dark secret!

so we're on the houseboat for 24 hours.

what began as delight has now become doldrum. kerala is lovely but there are only so many rice fields to look at, only so many backwaters churches and ashrams to take in, only so many times to guest-drive the boat. let's face it. skipper and gilligan had it right - all you need is a three-hour tour. ok, and a professor.

as night falls, i start to hate houseboats. boat crews work most of the year away from their families. for a half-decent living they toil away in the burning sun, cooking, cleaning and lugging our crap around, so we can lounge out on a boat? if i had to repeat this, i'd choose a zippy motorboat, thank you very much.

sun descends and the crew brings us the most scrumptious dinner crowned with kerala fish. we ask them to join us but they decide to eat in the kitchen. for 15 minutes, the captain joins us for chai, telling us about his wife and teenage kids at home. i admit, you can't get this on a motorboat.

afterwards, as we dock the boat for the night, my father says: do you know your great-grandfather was murdered?

jackpot!

suddenly i'm grateful for being shipwrecked with my parents! i guess it took being stuck with him for a couple of weeks for my father to finally talk about his family. tonight i get to hear some deep dark secrets! it's no wonder he's been hush. my grandfather would never tell him who poisoned my great-grandfather... or why. back then it was usually one of two things: greed or revenge. a good story, in any case!

my great-grandfather was from gujarat. a general in the british army, he left his family in india and served in africa for 10 years. 10 years is a long time. it was only natural that my grandfather (an only child) suspected he had some half-siblings in africa. after her husband's death (murder), my great-grandmother left her home and farm, took whatever she had and traveled to africa with her son, who in turn spent his life building businesses, gambling like a fiend, marrying and divorcing, and... scouring the continent for his siblings.

he lived an amzaing life. in africa, he was a risk-taker. he bid on a road-building contract, which he won with no experience and not enough capital to start. he was a networker, though. he somehow found a fleet of trucks, supplies and staff within five days and started building his first business. after the road-building, he kept his fleet of trucks and had a transportation company. he opened up stores in east african cities, giving them over to locals with the understanding he'd need to collect some profits and use their guest homes every once in a while. he was also a religious man. he never missed going to the mosque in the evenings. despite that, he loved gambling and took his driver around with him everywhere, including clubs with member only access. he'd get away with anything. people knew him as "chacha panda", which means "uncle panda" [panda is a city in east africa...]. my grandmother left him and their three sons, when my father was only two years old. my great-grandmother - the sailor - ended up raising the boys. eventually they each went to boarding schools, colleges and even joined the army themselves. by the time my father got married and moved to toronto, my grandfather was loan-sharking. he kept my father updated on his banking accounts and businesses in case anything happened to him. but my father began to fear he'd get murdered too, and he and his brothers convinced him and his wife to move to toronto. my grandfather lived a more sedate life in canada, but a good life...

at 68, my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer and given 6 months to live. he bought himself and his wife a world ticket and took off. while out gambling one night in london, he met a top oncologist from mumbai. on hearing that my grandfather had cancer with only a few months to live, the oncologist invited him to visit. so my grandfather went to mumbai. he was treated by the oncologist and lived for another 8 years. he got a flat in a complex inside hassanabad, where his friends lived in mumbai, where he stayed with his wife and enjoyed his time there thoroughly. after he died, he gave his wife a truckload of cash and built her a very nice house his old gujarati village. her brother, a very nasty, evil, crooked, and notorious man, began stealing and controlling her money and moved his family into her village and into her house. eventually she died and her brother took over her wealth and property.

a couple of years ago, my uncle went to india to meet the family. he was confronted with hostility - the man-in-the-house thought my uncle had come to claim the property. see, the deed was in my grandfather's name, so the property could very realistically be claimed by his son now that his wife had passed away. the man-in-the-house did everything to hide the fact that he stole the house from my grandfather's wife. he had a fake deed issued and caused a scene outside the house, trying to chase my uncle away with it. in fact, he reported my uncle to the local police and tried to get him arrested on false charges of abuse. luckily, he is notorious in the village and so my uncle was tipped off by a sympathetic cop. my uncle fled before being arrested. [this is why my father used a fake name when we went there...]

but there's more. what nobody knew was that before he died, my grandfather planned on adopting the man in the house's son to provide his wife with a 'family' after he was gone. my grandfather didn't like the idea of her brother raising the boy. the boy would be safer and raised properly with her. the-man-in-the-house found out about the process and decided it was a good idea: his natural son would then inherit my grandfather's property, making it accessible to him. the adoption process stalled and papers are now missing. the man-in-the-house is looking for them, so he can get them "notorized" and find my dad or his brothers to demand financial support for his son, their "adopted brother"! i don't know if any of this is actually possible but it's what my dad is telling me. i wonder: if he got a fake deed, why couldn't he get fake adoption papers?

the story goes on... in the distance, i hear fireoworks popping. it's well after christmas and not yet new years, but indians are obsessed with fireworks. i decide to go lie down. i feel as though i've just watched an old movie. i'm happy that my father has decided to tell me some of his deep dark secrets.

i remember the last time i saw my grandfather. he was so thin and sick and i hugged him so hard. i suddenly miss him very much... i'd like to visit his grave in bombay before we fly home.

12.27 on the water

today we hit the water... to explore the backwaters of kerala on a houseboat!

our captain meets us on the dock in alleppy. he's an older man in a blue luungi and looks like he's spent his entire life toiling in the sun. he smiles with his eyes. crewmembers take our bags and escort us to the boat. we board via a wobbly plank that is wide as my foot.

i've never seen a houseboat before. a giant gujarati shipwrecking town supplies hardware for keralan houseboats. the bodies i hear are made without nails or screws. ours has light hardwood floors, a lounge and dining table right out front. a framed jesus follows me with his eyes: "i am holy. i love you... but i am watching you!"

i ignore him and explore...



open air windows surround the boat and a hallway leads to bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen and crew's quarters. stairs lead up from the dining room through the ceiling. like a kid i scurry up, and find an elevated lounge, with an open-air sunbathing perch up top of that, looking out onto the waters ahead. this is my spot!!

and ahoy. we are afloat.

`
the backwaters are a little dark. there are numerous other boats out on the water and tourists size up each's watercraft: size, design, upkeep, speed, driver, crew and so on. it's a bit annoying. locals keep little boats instead of cars to scoot around in.

we cruise along a stretch of the 200km waterway and india is happening by the shore. people make their homes along the backwaters. a concrete built up "sidewalk" lines the water, houses behind it, farmlands and sunken lime-green rice fields extending into the distance.

the water sees all: bathing, dishwashing, clothes washing, teeth brushing, and who knows what else. it's kind of refreshing in a weird way. i feel like a voyeur watching everyone knee-deep performing their daily water-chores.

one degree of climate change
every once in a while we see bunches of greenery with purply flowers shooting up from underwater. this infestation of growth is new: the direct result of climate change. it's less than one degree of global warming, but the ecology of the backwaters is changing rapidly. i wonder if backwater lifeforms are coping, adapting, to this infestation and who knows what other changes. do people here care enough to do something about it?



my answer comes quick; a canoe floats by, full of recycling!

the crew are working really hard and bring us all sorts of food to eat. it's divine. i gobble it up and return upstairs to my sun spot. a little after lunch nap never hurt anyone!!

12.26.2006

12.26 god's own country

what strikes me about alleppy (or now, allapuhza) in opposition to other parts of india i've seen - is the most apparent absence of hunger in the streets.

nowhere do i see anyone asking for money. not in the markets, on sidewalks, in night spaces, outside temples (a most popular spot as visitors usually give generously to the poor outside places of worship = perhaps to be seen in a brighter light by a higher power....). it was really a contrast compared to the north... i'm curious to see whether this is the same in the keralan capital, cochin, or other parts of kerala, or other parts of the south, ie. pondicherry in tamil nadu, where i go next.

in any case, i do know this: the economy of kerala is the best in the country and the literacy rate in kerala is 100%. kerala operated as a socialist state, which would explain how the standard of living seems strikingly balanced. there are rich land-owners here but there are no signs of ultra-poor. conversely, i've also heard that the suicide rate in kerala is the highest in india. i wonder if this has anything to do with the lack of ultra-poor? this leaves me questioning what standards of living are based on... a healthy economy and high literacy rate, or the number of suicides. of course, there is a lot of controversy over kerala, with many people who believe it's only a matter of time before kerala's statistics align more closely with the rest of the country...

i do know this: kerala is called "god's own country", which most people believe is because of the lush jungles, tropical climate and lovely beaches. the origins of the title, "god's own country" is probably urban mythology... the warrior god vishnu went on a killing spree, exterminating warrior kings to take over their land. confronted by his conscience, he prayed a top a mountain. a sea god appeared, forgave him, and offered him land equal to the distance he could throw his spear, which was from the mountaintop down to the southern tip of india. land suddenly rose up from the sea, now known as kerala or, "god's own country".

lucky me, i get to see more of this 'country' tomorrow on a houseboat... i've been wanting to get on the water for a while and this will be a great way to see the natural beauty of kerala... through its backwaters.

12.25.2006

12.25 coconuts

the coconut is no mere fruit. it's food, medicine, shelter, clothing and music all in one.

no part of the coconut plant will go to waste. in fact, you are said to be blessed if you have coconut trees growing on your property. the coconut tree lasts for 10 years or more, and will produce 10 or more coconuts each season.

i'm amazed at what you can make with coconuts!! the coconut water is probably the most pure source of water you can find. aside from eating and drinking it up, you can use the liquid for intravenous fluid... the leaves for shelter, baskets, clothing, storage... the outside shell to make shirt buttons, musical instruments, floor buffers, canoes, women's bikinis... the husk for string, rope, fuel... not to mention the tree itself as source of wood or a kid's playground!

here's the wiki article on coconuts. i'm not lying, you can see for yourself!

today i'll get a coconut massage. can't wait!

12.24.2006

12.24 kerala and kritters

kerala is a paradise.

everything is green and lush. and alive.

seriously. turtles appear by your feet. geckos play tag on walls and ceilings. birds swoop into the open-air bathroom to peck in grasses and stones surrounding the shower. sometimes, bugs crawl into your ears and lay eggs in your sinuses and cheekbones...

by day, alleppy - this sleepy little town - is quaint and peaceful. our cottage is in a secluded area, where the beach meets the backwaters about 50 feet from the shore. salt water and fresh water separated by a thin stretch of sand...


as night falls, the town seethes. it's christmas season and that means the streets are packed. music pours out of giant speakers in the streets. roads are closed off to motorists and thousands of people are smushed up against each another, shuffling along the two main drags. it's hard to breathe. at times, the crowd gridlocks. there are NO other tourists in sight... this is a keralan party all the way! families and packs of young men (no packs of young women out at night) visit temples, watch the elephant make its rounds, make offerings to the lingum and yoni statues (representing shiva and skakti, man and woman respectively), take in the devotional singing, eat at roadside stands, partake in candle-lighting ceremonies, watch booming fireworks (indians have a firework addiction), people-watch and visit shops lining the streets.

a bumpy ride back through thickets (we have to 4X4 through forest) and i finally get back to the cottage. i am hot and sweaty and happy. i clean up and want to pass out. on my bed, a giant frog pops into the air and scares my face off. with jangled nerves, i call front desk and perma-smirk guy comes to remove it for me... how embarrasing.

i lay down for a few minutes, the bed claiming my body like a big bear hug. i suddenly hear my mom's urgent voice from the doorway suggesting i sit up fast. on my headboard a bright green gecko peers down at my face.

which means another restless night for me! many people come to kerala to unwind and relax, but not me. i love that this place is so fresh, so green, so alive. i just wish it wasn't so alive so close up in my face...

12.22.2006

12.21 licence to drive

streets in india are a mess: cars, trucks, motorcycles, autorickshaws, people, cows, goats, dogs, bicycles, and the excrement of all the above. there are lane dividers, but i am the only one who notices. i think the brits painted them when they were here! apart from the directional segregation, there appears to be zero organization to traffic.

sanjeev, our tour operator for the north, said this on our first day in the car. "there are three things you need on the road in india: 1- a good driver, 2- a good set of brakes, and 3- good luck".

nowhere was this more evident than on the night drive back to gandhidham from malia. our daredevil driver, ganga-rama, almost gave me a coronary. and i wasn't even in the front seat with him!

after a long visit with family, we piled into the car and ganga-rama set off for the 2 hour drive back to our hotel. full from a scrumptous dinner, i was nodding off in the back seat.

bad mistake!

i was woke up screaming a handful of times (i'm sure this is bad for my vision improvement, of which relaxation is a key requirement), mainly as ganga-rama swirved violently back into his directional lane - usually averting a head-on collision by an inch or two. the headlights and blaring horns of a couple of massive "tata" trucks barrelling past made my life flash before my eyes. i was grateful to be alive. it was during this drive that i wrote a text message to my sister, digitally declaring my last will and testament, of which she would be the sole beneficiary. i'm sure a text message will is not binding but hey, that's all i had!

12.21.2006

12.21 pass the salt


today we visited my mom's family in malia (pronounced 'maariya'), gujarat.

the road here from gandhidham where we are staying is nothing like the road we took yesterday. it's very developed and industrialized, with a multitude of trucks carrying goods across the province.

i ask the driver to stop and back up the car for a photo. when i get out of the car, i am in front of a mountain of white powder (funny enough, there is a sign out front that says: "gujarat coke ltd". no, it's not cocaine. it looks like snow but it's not snow either. it's salt. mounds of refined salt that comes from the salt flats we pass a few kms ahead. this area is a shallow tide region. when the shallow tide comes in, miles and miles of salt water are trapped by manufactured square plots. over a few days, the salt dries in the sun and is scraped away to be refined, finally ending up on the tables people across the southern part of the province.

out from nowhere, we see a tribe of indian bedouins leading their brightly dressed and laden camels down the roadside. they actually construct entire beds on top of the camels, capable of carrying up to six people on a journey! unike other folks who don't like to have their picture shot, they smiled as i insisted we stop to take pictures.

the family visit was pretty cool. i got to meet my mom's cousin, akbar (better known as 'biku'), his sons and their families. the littlest one was his granddaughter, unika (pronounced 'ooneeka'), who i got to spend the day playing with before sitting down to a traditional dinner. funny, there was no salt shaker at the dinner table.

12.21 thaali with truckers


if you've ever shared a meal with me at some point, you know very well that i love love love food. this is one meal i gotta tell you about!

while we were out for our full day of driving and visiting small villages in my ancestral stomping gounds, we naturally worked up an appetite. there was no where in sight to eat except this one remote truck stop our driver recommended we stop at.

in north america, i grew up traveling on interstate or national highways (the time before roadside MAC and Wendy's), so i'm no stranger to the truck-stop. i was a bit curious, wondering what type of food they would be serving up.

the food was the most amazing i've had yet. for about 50 cents we had traditional thaali for lunch. the thaali is a north indian concept of eating, mostly vegetarian, where your food is served in a large metallic platter. inside the platter, individual dishes are served in small matching metallic cups. along with papadam and chapattis (an indian flatbread), i had curried okra and curried mixed veggies, daal, the most increidble curried spinach, rice, mango puree (to die for), all served with a small shot of chai.

the waiters loved us, and kept coming back with their hanging tins filled with yummy food to refill. i think i had about 6 chapatis in total. they came around with ladoos - the type of indian after dinner sweet thing that you get at very traditional weddings.

mmmm. pure heaven.

12.20 who's your daddy?

for the first time in india, i am sweaty.

we're driving through the countryside in my grandparents' home land of gujarat. it's a mix of semi-arid, semi-desert, semi-farmland. amid rocks and rolling hillsides of cacti, you suddenly find a tropical 'oasis' of date palms and small village enclaves.

in a moving car, you can always catch glimpses of women in beautiful traditional gujarati saris, carrying large pots of water on their heads . the local dresses are adorned in mirrors and bandhani patterns in the brightest of colours. the women inspired me: i had a couple of bandhani outfits made for myself!



we visited anjar, bhuj, nangalpur, sinongra and mandvi, the places where my dad's family are from. many of the buildings are new, having been rebuilt after the killer earthquake of 2001, in which a million buildings collapsed. about 20,000 people in the region died.

my great-grandmother grew up on a farm in nangalpur, before heading to anjar and catching a train to the sea-side for a boat that would transport her to a new life in africa. today, that farm is a jungle, sold to family friends long ago. in nangalpur, we visited a pristine kindergarten school across the street from the house my father's father built for his wife when they returned to india before he died. painted on the wall of a classrooms: "live as if you will die tomorrow, learn as if you will live forever".


while visiting with leaders of the mosque in nangalpur, my father was very careful not to divulge his identity. they were naturally curious why we would travel from canada to visit this 'remote' village with only 250 people in the community. my dad told them he was orphaned and grew up in a boarding school, not knowing his family. when asked, he said his name was abdul raheman kanji (instantly dubbing me salima abdul kanji!!!). though desperate to correct him and even more desperate to see the house next to the mosque, which i knew belonged to my grandfather, i knew my dad has important reasons for keeping us hush hush. i kept quiet. even though salima abdul kanji has a most terrible ring to it.


the day was topped off with a visit to the sea-side beach town of mandvi. it was here that i woke up a sleeping camel, snapped some shots of kids on the beach and bid the sun good night over it's watery bed. all in all, a good day - can't describe how it feels to know one's homeland. a good feeling, but no words can capture it.

12.17.2006

12.17 pure jaipur

ah jaipur!

we are staying at a boutique hotel called the shahpura house, a converted residence of an old royal family. the cool thing about the place is that every night, on the rooftop patio restaurant, there is live folk music and dance performances in old rajasthani style. men sit on the floor playing dholkas and women wearing heavy embroidered dresses dance up a storm, people clap in time with the music. it's a bit fun.

despite being crook capital of india, we have been dying to go shopping so this was where we did it. the place is a buzz. you cannot go down the street without someone yelling "madam, madam!!" and trying to get you to part with money. whether it's the calls from the shop keepers, the jingling 'jhumkhas' of women's anklets, horns of speeding drivers, there's never a quiet moment in this city. all set against the backdrop of indian music. i've already recorded some fantastic stuff including two young kids playing flute and drum at a re-created rajasthani village fair called chowki dhani.

one pretty cool palace we visited was hawa mahal, the palace of winds. the tiny windows in the front are made so that the courtly women could look out onto the city without themselves being seen. the rock used for the construction is part of a larger palace complex that was all done in pink, making jaipur the 'pink city'.


other monuments we saw included the amber fort, a beautiful mix of mughal and rajput architecture and is part of a larger complex of buildings. at the top of the main building was another queen's window, where a gorgeously carved window screen would ensure her privacy as she looked out over the square.

12.16.2006

12.16 naughty


so here we were touring up in rajasthan and my mom thought it would be cool to go on an elephant ride. part of me feels sorry for these animals, the other part of me is more like "when in rome..." except we are far, far, far from rome.

our driver stopped an elephanteer on the road and haggled with him so we could get atop the beast and be carried around like royals for a few minutes.

lucky us, we met up with bubloo - the naughty baby elephant!

only 10 years old, the wicked bubloo decides to knock my dad off a stone wall (he had to grasp the harness for his life while his feet left dangling over the edge of the wall!). always wise, dad decided not to do the elephant thing after all. i climbed up and off we went, me and my mom.

the most boring mode of transportation i've encountered yet. and slow!! so that was the much-hyped moment in the sun. although it felt like forever.

12.15 victory city, pink city


on our way to jaipur, the pink city, we stopped at another important historical site, known as fathepur sikri.

fathepur means 'victory city'. this was the new capital that the moghul akbar built at the old city, sikri. this was perhaps my favuorite history lesson, probably because rather than a fortress, fathepur sikri was the residence of akbar and his wives, and contained residences, halls, stables, masjids and other interesting buildings, all laid out in a whimsical pattern rather than symmetrically.


the other important thing i learned in this history lesson was that akbar was not narrow-minded. only one of his wives was muslim from turkey. the other was a hindu from rajasthan, and the last was a christian from goa! the architecture of each of their separate 'havelis' or houses, reflected in thier design their own religious background. for example, the christian wife's haveli had crosses in the carved stone. the hindu wife had flowers and flames, while the muslim wife had q'uranic ayats. they each had their own kitchens, so their meals could be prepared according to religion and taste. there was an entire hide-and-seek building in which women would be blindfolded and try to find one another. the courtyard was floored with beautifully carved squares, in the centre was a square bench on which akbar and his wife or wives would sit. the women of the harem (in addition to his wives, he had 300 girlfriends, talk about a player!) would dress in one of two colours and stand on the squares in a game of medeival chess!

despite being scammed by a guide who had approached us on site (never pick up a guide on site in india, it's best to pre-book one yourself!) it was a magical visit. i could imagine the sound of music coming from the various buildings, girls running around playing and beautiful fabrics covering each archway of each of the buildings, behind which, who knows what would be happening!

i'm amazed at the genius of architecture of this place, and the other monuments we have visited. what a shame that after such extravagance, such incredible workmanship and such immense expense that that the main family line has died out; their homes are now deserted. well, except for the millions of annual tourist visits, of course...

the day was topped off with our arrival in jaipur... as we arrive in the dark, i can make out a very unique architecture and cannot wait for sunrise to go explore the pink city!

12.15 spec-less india

i've been trying to go without my glasses to prepare myself for the school for perfect eyesight in pondicherry but it's been extremely hard. i want to take in everything i can and with a prescription of -6.25, you need to wear your glasses.

i've been here just over a week and am quickly realising that it's not just my western dress that sets me apart from my fellow indian. it's the spectacles.

so i stand out like a sore thumb... unlike north america, india doesn't need glasses. there are very few people that i come into contact with who wear them, perhaps giving weight to a study i read about involving different cultures and their comparative loss of vision.

the theory is that cultures where children and adults spend a large amount of time outdoors and maintaing a very physical lifestyle have good eyes. cultures where kids and adults are chained to desks either in front of textbooks or computers, begin to rely heavily on corrective eyewear.

it's a shame that india and many other countries are trying so hard to become westernized. there is a lot to learn from traditional cultures, and i feel that they are slowly being lost in favour of the north american model of life...

12.14.2006

12.14 trip to the taj


we see two monuments in Agra today - the first one is lovely but i cannot remember what it is... i hate to admit it but it has been outshadowed by hours spent at the taj mahal.

we meet our guide in the afternoon after lunch and are on our way. the road leading in is smaller than i imagined. per usual at most monuments, the street leading to the entrance to the taj is a bazaar where shopkeepers send their hawks to prey on tourists, unrelenting in their quest to get us to visit their shops. i am triumphant as we manage to get through without stopping even once. i am with my mom, i may remind you!!

our guide is great. he goes to purchase the ticket and shoves my mom and me almost in front of the security check line, cutting in front of 100 people. gotta love india! inside, we find my dad and our guide, who warns us to ignore the "photographers" who will stop us inside the taj complex. our guide is our photographer too!

inside the gates we walk to a central square, flanked by giant arch walls to the north, south, east and west. we are told that shah jahan, mughal emperor who had the taj built to house the tomb of his favorite wife, mumtaz, had built two other tombs in this complex for his former two wives. how sweet.

we walk towards one of the giant archways and once inside, where we have to surrender our video cam, we see the great white taj. it looks like all the pictures i've seen. we pose for some shots and walk towards the building as the tour guide retells the story he must have told a thousand times.

the taj was built entirely of white marble, brought in ships from italy. it is a giant architectural masterpiece, a very photogenic building. we get more snaps in front of the fountains. i have a really bad cold and at this point i want to run inside and lie down on the tombs. but i continue.

from the arch entrance to the taj is 500 feet or more lined by immaculate gardens, pools and fountains. the four pillars of the taj are leaning a few degrees outward from the central building, in the case of an earthquake. if the pillars fell, they would fall outward and not touch the building that houses the tomb. pretty smart. as we get up close, the two pillars at the back of the building disappear, and only the two in the front are still visible. a bit of an optical illusion. the giant dome in the centre is topped by a controversial pinnacle about 35feet tall, with "allah" carved in arabic. the controversy comes from some reserach i did over whether shah jahan had the taj complex built or whether it was a hindu temple complex that had been purchased and refurbished. either way, it's still genius and (i say unfortunately because of how i feel about monuments being places of death versus being places of life) it's now a tomb.

the guide then gives us little sockettes to put on our feet over our shoes. although we look like we are going into surgery, it's better than leaving your shoes outside to be stolen.

as we climb the giant stairs to the building i emerge to see a thin strip of metal running the height of the building. you can't see this thing from a distance. thinking it must be to hang lights at night to light up the building, i ask our guide. wrong! the metal strip has been there for ages, a ground in case lightning strikes the place. not bad, i say.

inside, it's a quick trip. keeping our belongings close to outwit pickpockets we take a walk clockwise around the intricately carved fence protecting mumtaz's and shah jahan's white marble tombs in the centre of the building. these are just replicas. the real tombs are actually under our feet, in the basement of the building. the remaining light of the day coming in through the immense vault of this room is stunning, as are the red and green inlaid stone patterns on the walls. and out we go.

outside, we take a clockwise walk around the building itself, where we get a closer look at the white marble pillars, the immaculate redstone buildings to the left and right of the taj, and the yamuna river, almost completely dry now. the sun is setting and the place is magical.

our guide stops us as we are directly behind the taj. there, across the yamuna river, the guide points to a garden and concrete platforms. this is where shah jahan had intended to build a black stone replica of the taj for his own tomb, to overlook his wife's tomb across the yamuna river. oh what poetry! unfortunately, the family would not commission this building to be completed and so shah jahan was buried next to his wife in the basement of the taj itself.

back at the giant arch we stop to look at the taj in twilight. this is supposed to be the taj at its most magical. unlike what i thought, there are no lights on the building, no fireworks and music and people selling peanuts and coca cola by the gardens. just a hauntingly peaceful monument ensconced in the dusk. i remember thinking i'd forego the trip to the taj but i'm glad i came. i take one last snap before calling it a day.

12.13 wedding anyone?


walking down the street tonight and we get caught up in a procession of loud music, drums, fire, lights and someone being carried around in a carriage atop horses. we are in the middle of a wedding procession.

it's december 13th and apparently its a very lucky day in dehli. there are 36,000 weddings in the city today. indians take astrology very seriously. when a young couple wants to get married, they are sent to the family astrologer, who will choose their wedding day for them. the astrologer will look into the stars of the bride and groom to be and choose a suitable day that is aligned and is especially lucky for a happy and prosperous destiny.

sounds romantic, but could you imagine trying to find a caterer for your wedding day, knowing there are 35,999 other weddings on the same day??

the procession itself was pretty cool. the poor groom though. everyone gets to sing and dance in the streets, and he is stuck up there on the back of a stinky animal in a ridiculous getup!


Share on Facebook

12.13.2006

12.12 from temple to temple

ahhh i've been a slacker. so i'm transposing what i've written (most of it by moonlight as that was the only time i had to myself) so a lot of it is useless rubbish and i'm going on memory!!

one thing that sets india apart from the rest of the world as i see it is the proliferation of devotion to god or the gods. so many religions and so many followers. down any street in any town, large or small, you will see several temples, churches, a mosque or two and even little roadside altars, complete with lights and insense burning offerings to a higher being.

our first full day in dehli we paid a visit to the akshardham temple complex. a replica of a temple built on the ganges river, this temple is a massive complex, complete with indoor shows of the srinayaran's life and a boat ride along its waterways. its so new that all the romance is overshadowed by an eerie feeling i'm in a religious version of canada's wonderland, with it's ticket booth outside, metallic wait-line railings to heard its thousands of daily visitors through, and even the look of the buildings themselves. it took us a few hours because after eagerly checking your shoes before visiting the main building, they make you walk all the way around so you encircle the temple before coming back down the steps, pick up your shoes from the "shoe-check", then walk around the long way to the exit, past the amphitheatre, library, research centre, gardens, at which time you are so thirsty you could drink spit, so you gotta stop in the cafeteria and have something to drink and eat, then finally see yourself out. kharak was waiting at the ambassador with a knowing smile.



our next visit was my introduction to the mughal empire. kharak gets us onto two bicycle rickshaws (a carrier that is driven by a cyclist in the front) we hit jama-masjid. now in a state of utter downtrod, akber (grandson of babur if i got this correctly), built this mosque several hundred meters from the red fort (where the family had taken up residence after leaving fathepur sikri because the land was drying up), had built this mosque where the family would come for daily prayers each day on horseback, to be carried by servants up and down the dizzying stairway ascent. as we approach the mosque, the stench of urine permeates the place and my throat stings. all form of decay is on display out front leading to the main building. local beggars are asking for food or money. merchants are yelling out their wares in the labyrinth of stalls that surround the place, all the way to the infamous chandi chowk lane. to rabid dogs are trying hard to breathe and not get hit by motorcycles that beep and zig zag through the crowds. hippie tourists and us are the ones climbing up the stairs to once again take off our shoes and go inside the vererable mosque. once through the massive archway, it is true to me that this is india's largest mosque. there is a huge massive square, with buildings on either side, and in front the main prayer space. i pay my respects and sneak photos from the camera phone. no cameras are allowed inside. this layout, with its huge archways, tall and steep steps, quadrangle symmetry and the tallest of stone archways inlaid with quranic ayats, i am to learn, is the foundation of mughal architecture...

back outside, we are cycled 'across the street' to lal q'ilah, the red fort of dehli. this place is huge; a complex of several buildings, this was the mughals' residence housing at least three generations. going from buildng to building, it was amazing to imagine the place in its heyday. there must have been hundreds of servants for a handful of family members and nobility. along with the residences themselves, there was Khaubat Khana (the drum house - that would have been where I'd hung out), Diwan-I-Am (a congress), library, Rang-Mahal (residences of the wives), Mumtaz Mahal, Tosh Khana (the robe room), Diwan-I-Khas (another congress), to the Hammams and the Moti Masjid (Akbar's private prayer hall). akber built it, along with other major mughal architectural masterpieces like the tomb of his father, humayun, and the capital city of fathepur sikri, another mughal residence.



our last pilgrimmage of the day was the tomb of humayun. he was babur's son, the second in the line of great mughals. upon entering the place there are two buildings, one down a long lane directly in front, another behind a half-demolished and ancient wall. this place was built as a tomb for humayun, although i believe his actual grave is in what used to be persia. i'm happy to see that the premises are under restoration by the aga khan development network. for example, a main facet of mughal architecture is an advanced system of water irrigation. so far, all the places we've visited have had no water in what would be beautiful waterway channels. there is so much of intersest in the mughal family that i cannot explain it all here, but check the wiki entry if you are interested. a really fascinating family story.

somehow in the tomb of humayun, i felt the most peaceful i have since we arrived. i felt as though we were not even in a bustling city, but had escaped to a farway place and back in time.

all in all, a good day. it took a handful of temples, but i am finally feeling at peace.


Share on Facebook

12.12.2006

12.12 take a spit

people in india love to spit. it's like a national passtime. when you've got nuthin to do, just spit.

the popularity of this activity is evident by the dripmarks i notice down the side of a city bus in dehli. then i notice more of these, and come to the realisation that it's not a morning coffee poured out the window, it's dried spit.

everyone does it. it's the crazy amount of smog and pollution that's built up in the streets. no matter how classy someone looks, walk alongside them for a while and eventually you'll either hear a warning hork, or it will just happen. i think some folks just hold it in as long as they can until they can't handle it anymore. you see a long squirt of liquid torpedo from someone's face. a big spit.



Share on Facebook

12.11 what's the dehli?

i've arrived!! safe but with a cold, we were welcomed by the bright face of sanjeev, the owner of nexus tours and travel, with whom my father has arranged the first several days of our trip. i'm instantly thrilled to see the gleaming white ambassador - not a man, but the penultimate tourist vehicle of india! this thing looks like a true vintage, a lada or trabant - always in white for the tourists!

our driver is kharak bhadur. he sounds exactly like my uncle. you listen to him and you want to go smoke a cigarette and play some pool with the man. i was thrilled. sanjeev piled in the car with us and we drove off, i have been equally interested the whole time in listening to him tell us everything the first time traveller to india would like to know, plus taking in the sights: the abundance of everything on the road, from cars to beggars, the roads with their roundabouts, the temples, and mostly the people. everyone is brown! i'm finally in india!!

the one cultural thing i notice right away - dehli-ites don't say "dehli" the way we westerners do. to be a true delhi-ite, you gotta say "dilli", as in "yo, what's the dilli!". that's right. say it now. out loud a few times. yeah. you'll get it... you'll get the dilli.

after we got ourselves settled and warmed. dehli is cold at night this time of year. i didn't realise how far north we actually are. evening time, it was off to dinner, but not before a night time visit to the beautiful and lit-up laxmi's temple (a must for the first time visitor, laxmi is the goddess of wealth and prosperity, and good luck as i believe). bring it on i say!


Share on Facebook

12.08.2006

12.08 prepping for india

for anyone who hasn't heard me raving about my trip, here's some background. i'm a regular canadian girl who always wanted to go to india. in my head i dreamed i'd go to india with my husband, perhaps for a honeymoon, to start married life with a bit of adventure and exploration. reality check! i'm 32, nowhere near married and certainly not waiting for a husband to take me to india!

my first reason for going is more than just for travel. unlike max, the kid in one of my fave books, where the wild things are, i travel towards, not to 'escape from it all'. on this trip, i want to see the places my grandparents lived, and left, to relocate to africa. i was born and raised in toronto and have traveled around north, central and south america, europe and east africa, but never been east of that. i'm also very intrigued about how culture evolves, which has historically been by conquest or through survival instinct. listening to swahili on my first adult trip to east africa in 2004, for example, i was stunned to hear the portuguese influences and equally stunned to hear words my parents use when speaking kachhi or gujarati, languages of their indian anscestors. words like "haya" or "kaabisah". words i never knew they stole from swahili... not to mention the foods! 'vitumbua' is way african!! additionally, i have always wondered about my own family history. in school we were taught about the champlains, the windsors, the washingtons and the kennedys. never the singhs, the patels or the piranis to say the least. and my parents never told us much so... i'm off to see what i can see for myself.

the second reason for going to india is to see, literally. to improve my eyesight naturally. two years ago i gave up the idea of laser eye surgery and decided to naturally improve my vision. i vaguely recalled reading about it in a sociology class during my undergrad (mostly laughing about it with my classmate kiran). i raided the library. Take Off Your Glasses and See by Jacob Liberman was like an arrow to the heart. i started seeing Elizabeth Abraham, a vision educator in Toronto and had remarkable improvement in my vision in only a few weeks of exercising and relaxation with the Bates Method. after a couple of years, though, my improvement has slowed. this is where india came in. at the sri aurobindo ashram in pondicherry there there is a place called the school for perfect eyesight and i'm hoping that spending a week or so there will help me get my vision improvement back on track.

so those are my two big reasons for heading to india. my parents have now decided to come with me, and they are the close-knit types. so the third thing i will be doing is a crash course: learning how to get along with them, 24-7 style.

without valium.

wish me luck...


Share on Facebook