Leaving Nepal

In the cramped yellow lit bus the heat makes madness. The streets are dark. People shouting and strange noises. An unthinkable amount of time remains. Sleep is an impossibility with the seat ahead smashing my knees to pulp. Bugs flit around the bus lamps left on while someone searches for a headlamp only to come back to a dead battery. We wait wait wait in this eerie place broken seats tilted askew the bus now half empty and angrily silent. The lights of the passing cars struggle to cut through the murky air and light up the slow smoke of many cigarettes. As the bus starts a cluster of burning cigarettes form around the entrance as people crowd and I follow. Sitting down I argue incomprehensibly for space with the man in front of me. My shirt is no longer an article of clothing but an extension of my own body clinging desperately. The bus jolts forward finally. The only thing that keeps me sane is listening to the melodies of Morrison but this only helps for a while. I see a STD/ISD station and I have to restrain the urge to run off the bus and call everyone I know so that I can scream madness into their ears. The boy that sat next to me earlier telling me how he was a devout follower of both the first and second incarnation of the mysterious Sia Babba leans forward telling me quietly that we have just passed into India. Suddenly it makes sense. The bus driver speeds down narrow roads to avoid getting stuck, fishtailing from side to side tossing everyone about. The hard wooden back of the seat ahead slams into my knees with each bump. Outside of the bus small figures with dark faces and long shadows pass by. We stop again and a small carriage pulls up to the right. The donkey wears blinders and tilts its head down and to the left as it struggles through the mud, teeth bared, it is whipped forward. Statues decorated garishly with tinsel and lights live in many roadside shrines and get frequent worship. Small fires line the street in homage to many headed and armed gods.

We stop yet again this time for fuel. As the bus pulls out it moves about ten meters before it stalls and dies for good gurgling its last few sounds before remaining silent. Another long wait as they fiddle with the engine. Impossibly the pitted pitiful roads seem to get worse and we move at a snails pace moving up and down as much as forward. I doze for a bit only to come fully conscious when I realize we have stopped again. Outside I hear angry arguing voices and the bang of what sounds like an empty gas tank. I stumble outside to watch the spectacle from the cement median. We are indeed out of gas. It seems that either there was a leak or the station attendant cheated the bus driver. Resigned, I talk to the boy next to me and find out that he is studying business. After a few minutes of small talk he feels comfortable enough to ask me about my sex life because as he puts it, "I think that in America people are much more frank" when it comes to talking about sex. It was awkward. Eventually we are able to flag down another bus and siphon gas into a bucket to transfer to our own bus.

In the morning the sun rises big and heavy through the thick air. As I look out at the flooded plains, huts half submerged, i realize that we are in the state of Bihar which has had some very bad flooding in the past months. Millions displaced and thousands dead. This explains why the roads are in such bad condition. We make a tea and shower stop at a hand pump well. Too hot to close the windows during the night ride we have all been caked with a fine dust. I wash my face and hands the best I can while someone pumps water then take my turn at the handle. After we go for tea but I do not have any Indian money so someone that sits near me on the bus buys me a cup. Those of us in the back of the bus have developed a sort of relationship over the past twenty hours. I won't say we are all friends but more like a frustrated family on a long car trip, arguing, joking and sharing. Even the two silent brothers in front of me with mean eyes and wicked moustaches are part of it. As we continue on we pass yet another wrecked vehicle. This time it is a large truck. Its load has spilled frame twisted in extreme angles, the windows busted out and staring with jagged eyes seem to ask implicitly, "well how bout it?".

As we stop for lunch I begin to realize that there is no way that i will make it to Darjeeling that day. It is already late afternoon and we are no where near where we should be and the border at Karkarbhitta closes at seven. One by one my new family steps off the bus shaking hands and saying their goodbyes. Soon it is just me and the mean eyed brothers. Suddenly I have never felt more alone in my entire life. Mine is the last stop and as we move on the towns seem to get darker and smaller. I start to worry about finding a hotel in the dark. Then I start to worry that the brothers will knife me and steal my stuff when we get to the station. Revenge for arguing with them earlier. In fact I KNOW that they will do this. I will die a slow death from a knife to the stomach in a dirty bus station. This is my fate.

Of course this does not happen and when we get to Kakarbhitta the electricity has turned back on. The city is lit up and not so empty. When I get off the bus I am actually approached by several hotel owners wondering if I would like a room. I go to my room, for which i pay less than three dollars, and fall asleep for twelve hours.

Nepal

When I decide to travel to Nepal I had only a vague idea that there had been some recent political turmoil. A few days before heading out I decided to check to the State Dept website and found out that there is currently a "travel advisory" for Nepal. Last march the old king was overthrown and the Maoist party took power. There had been some fighting and bombings in different places. Since the Maoists have taken power though things have calmed down quite a bit and the US is in the process of revoking that travel advisory.

Aside from this initial worrisome picture Nepal has been my favorite place to travel so far. The weather here is amazing compared to India and the streets clean. We are staying in the Thamel region of Kathamndu which is very touristy but nice. Also, I must have a sign on my forehead that says, "I do drugs" because at least a dozen people will ask me if I want hashish or "magic mushrooms" on any given day. It is weird. Other than that Kathmandu is a very nice place. Since one of Nepals biggest industries is tourism there is lots to do here.


On the first day we were able to go white water rafting and it was amazing. It was one of the first times since leaving the states that it has felt like summer. The sun was shining we were floating down a cold mountain river. We stopped on a sandy beach for lunch and I was even able to swim in the river.The water was clean(no floating garbage) and cold. It was possibly the most refreshing experience of my life.

The next day we went to Nagarkot which is a small town in the hills at about 7,200 ft. When we got to the bus station the last bus was leaving and it was packed full with an additional thirty people sitting on top of the bus in the luggage cage. No room the bus so we climbed up top. After taking off I asked the guide if he had ever seen any one fall off. He said that he had only seen one person fall to thier death. Well. It was not too scary. The bus went pretty slow and as we climbed in elevation the the air got colder. The first pine trees that I have seen since leaving began to show up. It made me thing of the Northwest and also being in Alaska last summer. Sitting on the top of the bus I got my first view of the Himilayan mountain range and the sun began to set. Far below I could see the city sprawled out in the Kathmandu valley. By the time we reached Nagarkot the sun had set. Only a small hike to our hotel. And after dinner we went to sleep so we could wake up for the sunrise the following morning.

Nepal is a very beautiful country. I wish that I had more time to spend here but I will move on soon. We will go to the city of Pokara on Sunday and stay for a few days. After which I say goodbye to the last of my friends and head on alone to Darjeeling.

Six hours of sleep, five days, and four cities

It has been quite a trip lately. Seems like a month has passed since I left Pen and my internship but it has just barely been a week. On friday we left for Mumbai got there late. Aoi and I had to stay up even later figuring out our flight to Kathmandu. When all was said and done we got about two hours of sleep befor we had to go to the Mumbai airport for our flight to Delhi early Saturday morning. We headed straight for the bus station and then endured a five hour bus ride to Agra. Blistering hot. We checked into our hotel, called Shanti's Lodge which had a rooftop resturaunt with an amazing view of the Taj Mahal. Sitting on that rooftop was possibly the most sublime moment in India yet. After two days of travel and business it was the first time we had to relax. The sun was setting directly in front of me and the Taj was to the right. We sat and talked with the other travelers and listened to the evening prayer song drift up from the streets.

We went early the next morning to the Taj to aviod the rush and it was pretty epic watching the sun rise hit the palace. Later we spent the day relaxing, went to the movies and saw Rock On, a pretty decent Bollywood movie. Afterward we got word of the bombings that had happened in Delhi. Another traveler who had just come from there had been in the market place when it happened. Overall I think there were five different locations in the market place that were bombed and twenty people killed. Very scary because if our flight to Kathmandu had been as planned we would have spent that day in Delhi shopping. When I mention to Aoi that maybe it is a sign that we should not shop so much she says, "If I die, I die." which I take to mean, "I REALLY like shopping."

That same night we take an evening bus back to Delhi and go straight to the airport for our early flight to Kathmandu. All of this traveling, bus rides, plane rides and airports, takes place in a sleep deprived haze. I have not yet figured out the trick of falling asleep on suicidal bus rides and the airport is a most uncomfortable place so over this period of time the only real sleep that I get is at Shanti's lodge. We arrive in Kathmandu early in the morning and get pushed into a hotel by the tourist machine. After getting settled in the machine takes us to book tours for our stay here but on the way I run into two people that I went to college with which is the last straw for my sleep deprived mind. It was very strange and unexpected to see someone from home on the other side of the world. We talk for a bit and decide to meet up later. After the machine is done with us we are allowed to go to our rooms where I get to take a much needed nap.

After a while

I guess it is time to end my blog boycott and start writing again. I have three days left in Pen and then my program is over. I will slowly say goodbye to all of the friends that I have made here and then fly to Delhi on the 13th.

For the past nine or ten days the whole state of Maharastra has been having a celebration for Ganesh. The people here get a statue of Ganesh and put it in their home treating it as an honored guest, giving it the best food, inviting other guests over to see the statue etc. Yesterday the celebration culminated with a procession through the streets with Ganesh all decked out in flowers and sitting in a cart that is pushed along the street as people dance, light fireworks and pound on drums. We followed this procession through the winding streets of Pen for a good three hours dancing in the rain and waving flags.Periodically someone will shout out the phrase, "Ganpati bappa!!" and the rest of the crowd replies by shouting "Morya!" at the top of their lungs. A pretty exhausting, but very cool thing. The march ended at the lake which is at the center of town. The lake is surrounded by a walkway and there are steps going down into the water. Ganesh is floated out to the middle on an inner tube and then dumped into the water where he is left to dissolve. Next we all headed to the nearest temple and sat down to drink spicy tea.

Lately I have been feeling very at home in India, and a half months I finally feel that being here is comfortable and normal. Just in time to move on. I guess thats how it goes. I can already tell that I will miss India when I leave. There are so many parts of my experience here that are completely beyond description. Sometime I look back at past posts that I have done and they just do not come close to conveying what it is like to be here.

I am excited for the next leg of my trip. The idea of spending the next month traveling in Nepal and India is intimidating but after my time here I feel more confident that I can handle it. I am most excited to see the Himalayas. As long as I don't get laid out by the altitude sickness I am planning on a five day trek through the mountains near the Darjeeling. Three days to go.

Almost done

This may be a little premature but I am getting really antsy and thirteen days to go seems very much like I am almost finished with the program. I have not written for a while because I have started to have a great deal of resentment toward www.dano211.blogspot.com and the time that it takes to keep it updated. Not that I am especially busy these days just annoyed and ready to keep traveling. Also I was recently pretty sick. Thought I might have malaria but no such luck.

One interesting thing happend this last week though. There was a festival(when is there not?) celebrating Lord Krishna. Back in the day when he was a youngster he used to get into trouble by breaking the clay pots that people here use to make curds and then eat the innards. For this festival people get these clay pots and string them about fifteen feet in the air then make a human pyramid and the person on top of the pyramid smashes the pot showering himself and the crowd below with bright yellow smelly partially curdled milk. Sounds fun huh? Well this festival was going on last sunday during the hieght of me being sick. I had been laying around all day not daring to go out becuase I did not want to get sprayed with water from a hose, forced to dance, and then covered head to toe with red dust as the other interns had when they braved the streets earlier. It was about four in the afternoon when I finally got fed up with lying around feeling sick and decided to go out and use the internet and get some food. Things had slowed down a bit and the streets were fairly empty. In fact most of the shops where closed including the internet cafe so I started walking back home. I picked up a tasty samosa on my way back and was eating it and enjoying the empty streets when I turned the corner to my house to be confronted with a group of Indians dancing like mad in the middle of the street. Upon seeing me they immediatley and forcefully incorporated me into thier party. Soon I was drenched covered in red stuff and dancing in a crowded street. After a while I notice that they have strung a clay pot decorated with fruit and flowers above the street. A human pyramid is forming and there is motioning that I should be on the top and be the one to smash the pot.Maybe it was the dancing, or the delerium from the fever, or the cold water but I decide to do it. How hard could it be? As I climb onto the backs and shoulders of Indians who are half my size I realize the how precarious my situation on top is and also how drunk many of these festival goers are. Crouching low at the top of the pyramid in order to not fall off the clay pot is still a good five feet above me. I will have to stand up in order to smash it. I steady myself as much as possible then briefly let go of those supporting me to strech up and smash the pot getting instantly drenched with yellow curd. The crowd cheers, the pyramid crumbles and I barely make it to the ground in one piece. After this there is more dancing and then the party seems finished with me and I am allowed to return to my house and clean up.

A nice day for a motorcycle ride

We have received a brief respite from the monsoon only to pummeled by the brutal Indian sun. After a day spent riding to remote villages on the back of a motorcycle I now sport the most wicked of tan necks. We start of early in the morning around 11:00 am heading toward the market area so that we can fill the hog up in preparation for the days journey. Weaving through traffic I hug my knees in toward the bike as images of my knee catching on the bumper of an oncoming truck fill my head. After filling up we are soon out of the city and I spend the next fifteen kilometers winding up a surprisingly smooth road to the village of Jaituchiwadi. The social workers that I am with drop off some papers and we all sit down and visit for a while in the shade before taking off to the next village Ghote, which has a population of about three hundred and is fairly close to Jaituchiwadi. Upon getting arrival the social worker that has been driving me around shows me around the village, which is a tribal Thakur community, and then we go to the big house of the man in charge. He is described to me as the "lord" of the village. One of the strangest things I have noticed about these remote villages is that a surprising number of houses have satellite television usually attached to a thatched or tiled roof of some kind. This mans house is no exception and we hang out for a while watching tv and drinking tea. After a while we head back to the CFI offices for lunch. Overall a very productive afternoon.

I have moved on from Sadhana village and said goodbye to the many friends that I made there. I am now working for an organization called Children's Future India in a decent sized town called Pen. It has been really good to get to a new place and do something fresh. I tried to attach my final report on the SHG that we had been working with but can't seem to figure it out so if anyone is interested just let me know and I can email it to you. A warning though it is about fifteen pages single spaced but I think it presents a pretty good picture of the life that these women live and the challenges they face.

Going to Goa

So I stumble, bleary eyed, off the bus after only four hours of a fourteen hour ride. It is midnight and drizzling rain. I see a sign for the restroom and head that way only to be yelled at by some guy in a uniform. Aparrently that is not the way to go. So I head to the attached building which is some sort of resturaunt and wander around in a daze for a bit, semi oblivious to the attempts of a person behind the counter to sit me at a table. Finally I find the entrance to the restroom and do my business. Later I go outside and although I would love to eat at the resturaunt I do not know if we are stopping for long enough so instead i buy some snacks from a nearby stand an wait, with Dimitar and Aoi, to herded back onto the bus. We slowly realize that the purpose of the stop was to eat at the resturaunt but by that time it is too late we have to be content with our measley snacks. As I notice the stares of my fellow Indian travelers (something I have gotten used to) I am struck by how wierd they must think we are. Having almost no frame of reference for how I should act or behave in this totally foriegn culture I realize that I have gradually just given up trying to act in a culturally "normal" way. I suddenly have a possible picture of myself through thier eyes. I am wearing a dirty t shirt and shorts( most Indian men do not wear shorts), I am eating snacks when I should be eating a meal, and I have not shaven in a few days. I must look like this crazed dirty giant of a forienger to these small polite and clean middleclass Indians who are going to Goa for the Independence Day weekend.

This is only the beginning of the scariest and most painfull of busrides. I still have ten hours to go and they are mostly spent frantically gripping the armrest next to me so I don't go flying off of my seat. We booked the bus last minute so we sat in the back where we feel every bump. Like any bus there are two isles going down the right and left sides of the bus making rows of four seats. The back row is the exception as it has five seats with one directly in the middle of the bus. I foolishly choose this one so that I will have leg room. As a result every time the bus slams on the brakes, and this does happen quite often, I don't have a seat in front of me to brace agains so unless I am holding onto the armrest I will go flying into the aisle.

The roads in India are already narrow and treacherous but during the monsoon season they get worse. We go up and down what seems like an endless mountain pass filled with the most brutal switch backs which the driver takes at full speed causing the passengers to get thrown, first to the left, then to the right, every ten or fifteen seconds. Needless to say I get hardly any sleep and by the time we arrive in Margao I am a broken mess. Towards the end of the trip I seemed to have developed nausea and a fever so when I get off the bus all I want to do is find a place to lie down. But nobody has eaten, aside from snacks, since lunchtime the day before so we go get some food then find our way to the railway station so we can book our return ticket to Panvel and then travel to Vasco De Gama which is on the coast and where we will meet some friends. We find out that, in the words of the ticket agent, we have, "No chance" of booking a ticket and so have to again ride in a bus to get home. However we are able to book a ticket to Vasco and wait for about an hour for the train to come. We board our train and ride for another hour before getting to the coast and our final destination. Luckily the hotel we are staying at is only a few blocks from the railway station and it is sooo much luxury. I promptly lay down and pass out for a few hours.

The next day I am feeling much better and we are able to go a beach which is very nice even though it is cloudy. We get to swim in the ocean for a bit which is nice except for the few peices of floating garbage that we have to share it with. Aferward we go to a resturaunt with a view of the beach and just relax for a few hours before heading back to the hotel. I wish that we could spend more time in Goa, it is a very beatiful state with many old buildings left over from when it was a Portugese colony. Vasco is a very nice city as far as Indian cities go and we were pretty much the only foriegners around. Goa is a very small state but I think a person could spend months here just discovering different places.

Today is our last day here and we leave by bus at 5:00 pm hopefully reaching Panvel by 7:00 am and then taking the bus to Pen where we will start work at 10:00. This time at least we have a sleeper car and I am equipped with sleeping pills so hopefully the return journey will not be so bad.