Cherrapunjee Feb 23 - Feb 27

Feb 22 - Calcutta to Shillong

- Up at 6AM. Cab to airport shudders when it gets anything above 35 mph. Official looking guy comes up to me while I am in line waiting to have my bag X-Rayed. I realize only too late that he is a porter and I will now have to pay him. I gave him 20 rupees and could see that he was not happy but come on….

- On the way to the airport, kept thinking of things which I keep forgetting to document. By midnight, the streets were typically covered in trash. On the occasions when I was up at 7AM, the streets, sidewalks, etc were usually quite clean. Somehow, they collect the vast amounts of trash every day and then deal with it quite efficiently. In Calcutta, I passed a station where garbage was segregated into different types, ashes were in one pile, vegetable matter in a second and rubbish in another. Women sort through the different piles, looking for items that still have value. There is a social pecking order about who can sort through which piles, the top of the pecking order get the choicest selection of garbage to sort through.

- Another minor point was the use of thin clay cups for holding chai. They were quite sanitary and very disposable, crush them and they just turn back to dirt. The other common chai cup was a very flimsy plastic cup. You have to be careful with these as they can collapse in your hand if you are not careful.

- Another observation was how prevalent neighborhood pumps are. Many blocks had a hand pump somewhere in their sidewalk. There was usually a line to use it, for bathing, washing clothes, dishes, cooking, etc. Sometimes there was just a pipe that came out of the ground with water gushing out. These seemed to be quite wasteful, as water would invariably run down the street.

- No porters approached me in Guwahati. I checked with a taxi service how much it would cost to take me straight to Cherrapunjee. 8000Rs! ($200) I took a taxi into Guwahati for 450Rs (seemed high but it did turn out to be quite a long way). Then I picked up a sumo to Shillong (3 hours away) for 110Rs. It boggles the mind how inexpensive some things are here in India.

- In addition to the driver, the sumo had 2 in the front seat, a family of 3 in the middle seat and 4 of us in the back seat. A lady in back was very kind and gave me her cell phone number in Shillong in case I had any difficulty arranging anything. The drive reminded me a lot of driving in Costa Rica, with steep hills and lush jungle. There was much habitation here, however, and all the flat areas were cultivated with rice or vegetables of some sort.

- Hired a taxi driver to take me to the Hotel Boulevard but he tried at least 10 times to dissuade me from staying at this hotel (too expensive, he said) and instead to stay at one that he knew. In the end I went with the guide book recommendation, however, I may regret this as they seem to be dropping heavy steel balls on the floor above my bed. I definitely splurged, at 830Rs. I have a TV, private bath, king size bed and heater in my room. I arranged to meet my taxi driver tomorrow morning and for 1500Rs he will drive me to Cherrapunjee and act as guide along the way.

- Tried an ATM but it did not accept my card so I settled for a deep fried chili pepper instead. Tasty. Ate at the “Fast Food Inn”, next to my hotel. It is small hole in the wall place but the food was good. Mutton cakes, Pokhala (cabbage in batter and deep fried) and something resembling our onion rings, and chai - all for 37Rs (slightly less than a dollar).

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Feb 23 - Shillong to Cherrapunjee

- Up 6AM, packed, got some street food before meeting driver and his friend. They took me to Cherrapunjee Holiday Resort. We stopped numerous times along the way for pictures. They showed me how to chew betal nut, but I think I still have it wrong. You are supposed to feel hot inside after chewing and I have not yet felt that. When you start chewing it, your mouth gets full of saliva and you are supposed to spit out the saliva. I’ve been spitting out lots of the nut as well, and think that is the problem. If I figure it out, I will launch an advanced betal nut chewing class.

- Saw some small scale coal mining where locals have cut into coal seams by the side of the road and are mining in a very rudimentary fashion. Also saw much bigger operation where limestone is mined, then cooked over large fires for 3 days to prepare for making of cement.

- Looked at Nohkalikai waterfalls and Mawsmai Cave. The cave was pretty Mickey Mouse as far as caves go, but I talked to the owner and got the name of the key caving guy in this area which would be great for organizing any trips to this area in the future.

Cherrapunjee

- Checked in to the Cherrapunjee Holiday Resort (you can find on Google). Very friendly owners, Dennis and Carmella. It is located at 4200 feet on a ridge overlooking Bangladesh on the east and a steep river canyon on the west. The area is incredibly lush and receives the highest rainfall of any place on the planet, an average of about 40 feet of rain per year! Two years ago, they had 5 feet of rain in one 24 hour period! I’ve been here about 6 hours, and it has not rained yet. Most of the rain comes during the monsoon, from April to July.

- I learned that a large Indian caving conference took place yesterday in Shillong, the city where I spent the night yesterday. Wish I had known in advance!

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Feb 24 - Living Root Bridges

- Hiked to Bangladesh overlook but too hazy to see much. Continued to the root bridges, getting redirection from locals along the way. Lots of jungle bird sounds as I walked. As I approached villages, I would hear people activities, chickens, roosters, occasionally pigs, and because it was Sunday, I could hear singing from the churches (and even people‘s houses).

- At Nongriat Village, saw the famous double decker root bridge. The locals put some of the roots of a rubber tree into long bamboo tubes and are able thus to train them to grow across small rivers. As the roots take root on the opposite side of the river and grow in diameter, they become very strong and form the structural basis for bridges across the rivers. The wider rivers have been spanned by steel cable bridges, which consist of 6 parallel steel cables forming the walkway and a couple more providing a handrails about four feet above the walkway. The handrails are connected to the walkway with a loose arrangement of wires which are close enough together to prevent an adult from falling off the bridge, however a small child would like fall through the holes. The main steel bridge into Nongriat has a small waterfall underneath it, very noticeable both as you look down through the open sides of the wire bridge and can hear the sound of water. The steel bridge bounces as you walk on it, and is not as stable as root bridge. The steel bridge would also wobble from side to side, made me hold the side rails as went across. At other side, I was disgusted at how filthy my hands had become from the rusty cables.

- On way back, I stopped at the Nongriat school to take a couple pictures of the class rooms, The man living next door came over and invited me for tea. It turned out he was one of two school teachers for the village, teaching English, math and social studies. His English was definitely better than anyone else in the village, but most Americans would not think of Andreas as being an English teacher. However, we chatted for about 1.5 hours. Others from the village wandered by and said hello. I took his address and will send him a few pictures of his village. He gave me tea, some pre-packaged toast and made me feel very welcome. Almost all the men smoke cigarettes called bieri, which have no filter and are much cheaper than American style cigarettes. Andreas offered one to me and it felt like the right thing to do on the spur of the moment. I got quite a buzz from it.

- On the way back to the lodge, I stopped to take pictures of a rudimentary soap box racer that one of the boys was racing down a hill. It was constructed out of 3 roller bearings and a few sticks. Every village I have been through has at least one of these. Another child was dragging around a block of wood that had tin nailed to the sides to approximate a truck. It seems that the kids find ways to entertain themselves without having to resort to video games and other “unnatural” ways. Most of the children I have seen seem to be happy. Perhaps something to be learned here???

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Feb 25 - Camp Day

- Just relaxed and read my book.

- Comments on an interesting dynamic. This lodge is fully booked at the moment, in fact Lawrence is camping because the rooms are all full. Three of the six rooms are occupied by foreigners and three of the rooms are occupied by Indians, like Santanu. I did not realize that there were any Indians staying in the lodge, they ate later than us western folks and did not come out to the small fire which Dennis made every night. I thought they were hired help at first and it only gradually dawned on me that they were also tourists. We (white westerners) get so used to our privileged status as foreigners, that it is very easy to fall prey to the stereotype images of ourselves and others.

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Feb 26 - Drive from Hell

- Leave shortly after 7AM. Driver is sullen. Fan belt breaks. Driver and Dennis try to fix, I start to help after 15 minutes. Driver is useless at fixing this and Dennis quickly elbows him aside. I eventually find the secret to fitting the fan belt, a protrusion on the alternator bracket is preventing the alternator from moving sufficiently to put belt back on. By totally loosening one of the bolts, we are able to get round this. Total time to fix is about an hour and a half.

- After fixing, driver informs Dennis that he is quitting and wants to be paid on the spot. Dennis gives him 100Rs and tells him he needs to go back to the hotel to get the rest. In the big scheme of things, this works out well. Dennis drives, I ride shotgun and we have a great chat along the way.

- Stop at several places on way to Shillong, a blacksmith hut, the tire repair place to pick up the retread spare Dennis had previously ordered. Go to car repair place and have the accelerator cable replaced. It is 1PM by the time we clear Shillong.

- Get stuck behind HUGE line of vehicles, mostly trucks. Learn that increase in traffic is due to band (Hindi word for strike), everyone trying to move goods today. The government weigh scale also way backed up and we hear some of the truck drivers grumbling about corruption (officials overcharging for the loads they were carrying). Whenever traffic stops in India, the vehicles from behind start crowding forward, moving into the shoulder, the oncoming traffic lane, anywhere that moves closer to where the blockage is. This creates massive problems for traffic trying to move in the opposite direction, and ultimately results in longer delays but most Indian drivers do not comprehend this. It’s just something to get used to when traveling here.

- Chat quite a lot with Dennis on the drive over (we have, after all, about 12 hours in the car together!) One of the more interesting things he reveals is that when he was working in a bank, he found that he could not rise above a certain level in the bank without giving and accepting bribes. Since Dennis refused to play this game, he limited his Indian banking career. That was his impetus to transition from banking to the hotel business.

- A unique aspect of the Cherrapunjee Holiday Resort is that it is on tribal lands. Tribal land must stay owned by tribe members. This law was established to prevent the tribes from squandering their land. If Dennis were not married to a local woman, he would not have been able to establish his resort in its current location. The hotels in Shillong are very nasty in their treatment of the resort, they bash it and try to keep their customers within Shillong rather than try to promote another draw for the area. In one instance, a Shillong hotel learned that some Japanese dignitaries were staying at the Holiday Resort, and they sent up some rabble rousers at midnight, to try to intimidate the Japanese into moving to back into town. Dennis says this is common. Dennis has built a strong relationship with the local village and in this instance, was able to get a group of local men as backup to turn away the rabble rousers if necessary. As it turned out, the threat of this was sufficient to send them on their way.

- We finally find the cavers at 8PM. They have the most incredible camp set up, with dorms (raised bamboo sleeping platforms inside weatherproof shelters), latrines, shower stalls, mess tent. There are 38 cavers that form the main part of the expedition along with 12 local staff who cook, set up the camp and provide logistics. The cavers are predominantly British but also have representation from Belgium, Austria, Canada and Denmark. They had been exploring caves in Meghalaya for the past 4 weeks and had discovered, surveyed and mapped about 15km of new cave passage. In the last 17 years the same core group have discovered over 1100 caves within a 20 square kilometer area. They have quite an operation, I am most impressed and am interested to go on one of their expeditions in the future and now know the key contacts to make this happen.

- As it was the last night in the area for them, they had a feast and a big party afterward. Dennis and I enjoyed being able to participate in lot of lively discussion and a fair bit of alcohol was consumed.

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Feb 27 - Caving Camp to Shillong

- Left camp at 11AM and spent much of our time following incredibly dirty coal trucks, blowing huge clouds of sooty, stinky, diesel exhaust. We found ourselves several times a day removing filthy, black, hard crusty boogers. The locals breath this all the time and I can‘t imagine it is good for them. Coal trucks literally slow to a crawl (2mph) as they climb hills. It is therefore essential to pass them. Passing on blind curves is the norm and fortunately, because speeds are quite slow, vehicles are able to get out of the way if necessary.

- The towns in the caving area, near Lydrymbai, are modern wild west towns. They have dusty, dirt streets with ramshackle wooden storefronts which are lined by the toughest bunch of characters I have seen in a long time. I would not want to walk the streets at night.

- Asked if there were speed limits, Dennis laughs and says that roads limit the speed, no need for limits.

- During the drive, we see an overturned tank truck carrying diesel fuel. Imagine my surprise when I see 20 people clustered around the tanker with buckets collecting the leaking fuel. We see another would-be scavenger hurrying toward the tanker with an empty five gallon pail and cigarette dangling from his mouth!

- We went to Nartiang Monolith Park which had literally hundreds of “monoliths“ scattered over several acres. Monoliths range from 1500 to 500 years old. Flat ones mark female graves while males are marked by, what else, large phallic stones.

- I spend the night in Shillong at a budget hotel providing a basic room with bathroom. One aspect of budget hotels which most westerners would find disconcerting is that they have rolling shutter doors that provide access to the hotel. After about 10PM, these are shut and if you are outside, you are screwed. I came back at 10:30PM after meeting with some of the cavers to find a one foot space open at the bottom of the shutter. I was able to wriggle under and pull my bag through and the next morning I had to wake up a caretaker to unlock the rolling shutter to let me out to catch my ride to the next town. One wonders what happens if there is a fire?
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Calcutta Feb 17 - Feb 22

Feb 17

Arrived Calcutta about 7AM, only an hour late. Kennedy says that this train is frequently 5 or 6 hours late. He is traveling down to Madras later in the day, a 30 hour journey.
There are fewer porters hassling me even though the station is huge. Made my way to the street and tried to hire pedal rickshaw but when I explained where I was going, the taxi drivers told me that it was not allowed for pedal rickshaws to take anyone over the Howrah bridge.

Calcutta

Left my bag at Paragon Hotel, one recommended in Lonely Planet as being cheap accommodation and having the best cross section of other travelers. Let me describe my 240Rs ($6) room. I opted for luxury of a double room, having 2 beds. It also contains a small table in one corner. I share bathrooms and showers with a number of others. Room dimensions are ten feet wide, twelve feet deep and twelve foot high ceiling, walls are green, ceiling is a nasty beige, the fan, well the fan is kinda brown with the goo that collects on fans over the years. The light does not work. The fan does not work. After all, this is India.

Went “walk-about”. Had poor sense of geography. Wandered roughly south west and found, “The Maiden”, a large green area which is the Central Park of Calcutta. It contained many athletic clubs, press clubs and athletic fields. I stayed to watch cricket for some time, there were about 10 games proceeding in parallel on a space large enough for one and a half cricket matches. The wickets were offset by perhaps 25 feet and all the players were interdigitated. Somehow they were able to keep track of each game without interfering with each other’s games.

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Feb 18

Breakfast at street vendor on right (2nd time there). 4 puris and some yellow vegetable curry, couple of sweet enchilada things. As usual, it tastes great, is incredibly cheap and is very fast. Only downside is that a lot of the street vendor stuff is deep fried. This would not be a problem if I was getting lots of exercise, but as yet, I’ve not gotten much since leaving Hyderabad.
Asked at Paragon Hotel if they knew a good travel agent. One of the people behind the desk escorted me to his friends’ travel agent. They were absolutely clueless about Tawang. They had never heard of it and did not know how to get there, what permits were required, etc. I need to contact a couple of the local travel agents listed that specialize in Arunachal Pradesh travel. Then perhaps go back to his friend to book the “easy” travel.

Until a few minutes ago, my room did not contain an electrical outlet and I had to charge my electric stuff downstairs in the office. As of 5 minutes ago, my room now contains a plug. I also discovered that the light does work after all, as does the ceiling fan. Such an improvement over yesterday!

Went for dinner from 7:10 to 8PM. Went to restaurant on corner (name is “Super Fried Chicken”) and had chicken kebab, realized after ordered a banana lassie that they had KingFisher, so ordered one of those as well. Total meal 170RS + 10 tip (80 of this was the beer). Walked around block and got egg chicken roll (Kathi Kebab), where they take a chipati, heat it in a wok, throw an egg on it and then add some chicken and veggies and roll it up into a tube. Absolutely delicious! Thus far, I am a big fan of the street vendor food.

No pictures today! Am I slowing down? Sick?

Today’s biggest accomplishment is making contact with Mr. Wange, who might be able to get me into Arunchanal Pradesh and also finishing the Indian section of Liz Gilbert’s book, Eat, Pray, Love. This third of the book dealt with Gilbert’s search for happiness and her discovery that for her, happiness lies deep within her and is released when she communes with God through meditation. Definitely some good food for thought for me.

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Feb 19

- Walked east to Maiden, the large park in the middle of Kolkata. There are many colonial era buildings east and north of Maiden, and they are all in a sorry state of disrepair. I heard that rents have been held to ridiculously low rates so that land lords cannot afford to put money into the buildings for upkeep. Made my way to Howrah bridge and the famous flower market. It is indeed very large.

Someone pointed out to me as I walked that my shirt was ripped at the shoulder. I found a small sewing shop whose proprietor fixed my shirt while I waited. A small crowd gathered to both watch the shirt repair, but more importantly, see a white guy stand around with no shirt. I took some pictures of the repair in progress and true to form, the audience clucked and hooted when I showed them the pictures. Unlike the ripoff guy in Varanasi who charged me 50Rs, this kind man charged me 5Rs, a much more reasonable amount. I get a kick out of interactions like this, where this tailor and his son will likely remember this event for a good long while. It cost me nothing and provided some good entertainment for a group of locals.
Taxis are the norm in this city, unlike Hyderabad where three-wheeled autos are the norm and Varanasi where pedal rickshaws are the norm. Not sure why autos are not more prevalent, might actually be for reasons of pollution, since the 4 stroke engines of the taxis would be far less polluting than the two-stroke auto engines. A 15 minute taxi ride from Chinatown back to Sudder Street cost me 50Rs.

My taxi went past the “Great Eastern Hotel”, which looks like it has been neglected since Indian independence. I think it would pay someone to purchase many of the “old” buildings having classic architecture styles and restore them. Another prime one was the old cannery, which is built near the eastern end of the Howrah bridge. One day, it will be like the other restored canneries in Monterey, London, Halifax, Boston and other cities which have revitalized their water fronts.
I met a Korean woman in the hotel who tells me that I must see the Indian movie: Tare Zameen Par. She likes to sit in the theatres and watch Indian movies. I need to do this at least once for the experience!

Went out about 3PM, found a stand selling egg/chicken rolls and ate one. I love them! (Navneet tells they are called Kathi Kebabs.)

Ended up at Indian Museum at 3:45. Closes at 4:30PM. Had time to quickly peruse most of the exhibits. As mentioned in the Lonely Planet guide book, one of the biggest reasons to visit this museum is for the ambiance. The rooms are grand, with 35 to 40 foot ceilings. They had rooms full of minerals, fossils and different stuffed animals. The different specimens were housed in 12 foot high wooden cabinets with glass doors. One of the first things to greet you upon entering is an ancestral elephant with twelve foot long tusks. Absolutely immense.

Many French are staying at my hotel (Paragon Hotel). I hear it spoken constantly, one of the guys staying next door likes to sing, so I hear lots of French songs.

After the museum, wandered a bit, found a couple camera shops, one was quite good and asked about Nikon scratch guard. He knew what I was asking for and directed me to another district where it sounded like many camera shops could be found. It is soooo hard to find street names in this city, I looked for the other shops and asked around but was not able to find anything.
Made my way back to hotel area and went to a bar close by. Asked for a gin and tonic and was told there is no tonic. Was told the same thing by a bar in Hyderabad. I wonder if this some cruel joke on the English, to boycott tonic water? Seems odd one of the places where it was most needed would not have tonic water. Ended up having a “Thunderbolt”, strong beer. I looked at the label trying to determine what constituted a strong beer, but never did figure it out. It was definitely more malty than other beers I have had, perhaps that is what is meant by strong?

Was sociable this evening, sitting in the courtyard around 7PM. Met Matthew, a young Frenchman taking a year off before starting to practice law. We started talking about blog sites and when he learned how illiterate I was, he took me across the street to the internet café and showed me how to import pictures. Soon I will have my site running.

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Feb 20
- It rained like crazy in the waning hours of the night. I remember wondering whether the monsoon had started 4 months early.

- Talked to Mr. Wange, he found a way for me to visit Arunachal Pradesh on Feb 27. It involves saying that I am with a group but then the other members of the group do not turn up. There will be a fee paid to the government of 8000Rs but this is a one time fee so this is OK with me.

- Went looking for a place to fax a couple pages from my passport. I was re-directed several times to different shops, as the signs claiming fax capability do not really mean that a working fax is inside. I eventually ended up in a tiny shop, Lindsay Business Centre, having a desk, three phone booths (one occupied by a computer) and various phone related equipment. The chubby proprietor, Mr. S. K. Samad was friendly, helpful and competent. He had a beautiful assistant helping him with most of the clerical work. She sat in a corner and had a folding ladder over her head which provided access to a small loft area. She would ascend the ladder whenever copies or laminations were required. I was amazed by the amount of business this tiny operation generated. I spent an hour in his shop and over that time they serviced about 30 transactions.

- When I realized that Samad’s shop was also a travel agent, I asked about getting to Cherrapunjee. I ended up booking a flight to Guwahati this Friday. I will need to find my own way from Guwahati to Cherrapunjee.

- After sending the fax and booking travel, the next priority on my list is getting a Sikkim permit. Went back to the Foreigner Registration place and they said I could not book my Sikkim permit more than two weeks in advance. He said I would have no trouble getting a permit from Guwuhati, Silguri or other places in the north. One less headache for me to worry about. During much of the morning I kept asking for an internet café that had wireless access, since my laptop does not have an Ethernet connector. It was fruitless. If you travel to the third world and must connect your laptop to the network, make sure you have a computer that has an Ethernet port. I ended up going to a Reliance Computer Café and was able to use some of the minutes I paid for in Hyderabad. I borrowed a USB stick and transferred some photos onto the picasa website and then into my blog. I have not tried doing anything with the text but will work on that transfer today, along with posting all of my good pics.

- The best snack food I have found is something called Mad Angles, Chilli Dhamaka. They are a bit like potato chips by thicker and lighter. They have a chili flavor that is very tasty.

- I was having a hard time finding my way back to Sudder Street. I knew I was close, but found myself in a Muslim neighborhood. I was taking pictures of the street vendors when a barbershop caught my eye. I got my first 20Rs shave. The whole process took at least 30 minutes and proceeded in three phases. The first phase was removal of my beard, which had grown to almost ½” since my last shave in Hyderabad. The barber used a straight razor with replaceable blade. Then he re-lathered my face and did a close shave with his normal blade and he finished up by daubing five or six different lotions onto my face. The first seemed to be some sort of astringent, as I felt my face stinging in quite a few locations, and I assume this first layer is to seal up my face to prevent any bleeding from small nicks. Then he applied various lotions. I felt that he was using every aftershave in his shop in order to impress me. The whole time, a small group was gathered on the edge of his shop, watching this foreigner get shaved.

- Got back to the hotel, rested for a bit, and was heading out to get some food and met the two Danesh women, Peeya and Mette, and we decided to go eat together. I mentioned to them that I had just seen the French Canadian return to his room and for the first time in three days, he was not singing. I commented that he must be unhappy (my actual thoughts were that he sings to impress women and he likely struck out with his romantic attempts and was feeling down). The women laughed and relayed how they spent the whole afternoon with him and perhaps that’s why he was unhappy.

- We went to a vegetarian restaurant just off Park Street, recommended by their guidebook. Peeya, the dominant one, commented on how much the restaurant reminded her of Rajasthan, with colorful painting on the walls and the ornate, velvety dress of the waiters. We ordered a variety of dishes and also after much deliberation, ordered a bottle of wine. The wine, at 900Rs, cost as much as the rest of the meal. It was a white which was just tolerable. The Indian wine industry has some way to go before becoming a world power.

- After eating our fill, Mette and Peeya remarked that they would prefer not to return immediately to the hotel, as it is not the most pleasant place to hang out. They had been to a club which had live music, so we sauntered over to the club just as the band was setting up. I was shocked to see margaritas on the drink list and immediately ordered one as did Peeya. It was very good and I ended up having three before the night was out.

- Our arrival before the band started was fortunate as we scored some seats and a table. The place really packed up once the music cranked up, with about 120 men and perhaps 10 women, including the two Danesh blonds. Peeya knew all the music, Beattles, Dire Straits, Eric Clapton and others. It was all from the 60’s and 70’s and very danceable. For the longest time, no-one was dancing, but eventually a few of the guys started dancing together. Peeya, Mette and I were the only mixed dancers on the floor.

- Back at hotel around 12:30. English poet and a couple other brits sitting at table, while guy with guitar playing and singing softly. Joined them briefly till a Chinese woman came out, clearly angry, and asked that we please be quiet. I headed off to bed at that point. I hate the spins.

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Feb 21

- Awake at 7AM, feeling quite fuzzy headed this morning. It is most noticeable when lock my door when going to the bathroom. Turning the key in the padlock while holding the padlock in place on the door seems to be a big challenge for me. I guess the margies and wine last night were stronger than I realized.

- Spent all day working on pictures and text for blog site. This takes a lot longer than I expected. In the evening, I’m ready to upload my work but all the cyber cafes close to Paragon and they are all full. Eventually found one on Park Ave. Uploading is painfully slow but I did make significant progress.

- Tried to hire a rickshaw on my way home since I was quite tired by 11PM (I closed down the internet shop.) I thought I heard the driver say 20 rupees and when I said this, he started jabbering Hindi to me, I kept repeating 20 rupees, several other drivers came by and all their body language said no, it was more. I got PISSED and walked off. Then they all started jabbering furiously and saying, “Hello, Mr, 20 rupees OK.” One of them in particular was chasing me and I made it clear that they had tried my patience and I was going to hoof it home. It was all of 7 minutes back to the hotel, so it would have been an easy 20 rupees for the driver. I’m curious whether he just did not know what I was saying or if he was playing for more money. In any case, I missed out on my chance for a rickshaw ride in Calcutta.

Varanasi Feb 13 - Feb 16

Feb 14
I’m on the train from Hyderabad to Varanasi. Crappy sleep, but did get some until 4AM, when the conductor’s overhead light comes on and he spends the next 2 hours yakking to someone. Oh, and the chai/coffee vendors start hawking their wares at 5AM, hard to sleep through that too. I periodically check to make sure my bag stays under the bottom bunk.

After hours sitting, and increasing my confidence that my compartment mates would keep a watchful eye on my belongings, I take a stroll through the train. Most of the cars have open windows, unlike the windows in the AC (air conditioned) cars which cannot be opened. In order to keep people from exiting and entering the non-AC cars, there are bars over the windows. The temperature is pleasant during the time of my travel, but I can imagine that it would be very very hot in the summer.

Varanasi

On my walk, I pass through the pantry car. It is blisteringly hot, with burners heating cauldrons of soup, rice, and oil for deep-frying. In the summer, they must issue asbestos suits to pass through this car. As to the cooks, I can only guess that fresh cooks are rotated in frequently. Perhaps the new cooks sprinkle sugar onto the old ones, who’ve melted by now, and that’s how they make cookies.

Very nice folks in my compartment. I am having great difficulty getting a room in Varanasi and they are strategizing amongst themselves about how to accommodate me in their block of rooms. There are eleven in their party, including a wonderful older couple who are devoted to each other. They live for six months of each year in New Jersey, near two of their children. The man reminds me of Xilinx’s old CFO, Kris Chelham, in looks, speech and facial characteristics. Maybe this is Kris’ Dad?

I manage to book a room in Varanasi using my cell phone, very handy!

One hears so much about luggage theft on Indian trains, and there are placards on the train telling passengers to chain their luggage to special rings under the seats. However, after I know the passengers in my compartment, I feel very comfortable leaving my seat, knowing they will look after my belongings.

On one of my sorties, I find a couple of people in the space between cars, with the door to the outside open, viewing the world go by. I find it exhilarating to brace myself in the door opening and feel the rush of air over my face. After discovering this, I frequently wander and open the exterior doors. Around 4PM, I take my camera to the door and spend over an hour taking shots.

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Feb 15 - Varanasi

Arvind meets me at the station and escorts me back to the hotel in a pedal rickshaw. After showering, I walk down to the river to see the famous Ghats.

As I feel my way toward the river, a clean cut Indian boy about 17 years old approaches. He assures me that he is not trying to hustle me, merely wants to practice his English, (good for me, good for you, he says). He seems like a nice lad and is providing useful info. However, it becomes clear that his apparent friendship is more about making money and hustling, than it is about learning English. This feeling of “Having someone take advantage of me”, re-appears throughout the day. I leave him behind as I make my way up to the Dolphin restaurant, clearly outside his comfort zone (it has a rooftop view of the Ghats and is expensive compared to what the locals would pay).

I continue wandering after lunch and eventually find a post office. I don’t know if Dickens ever described a post office in his writing, but the one at the waterfront in Varanasi would be a perfect template for him. Desks covered with dusty ledgers dating to the ‘60s, old fans that look they were made in the ‘50s, dark, dingy and musty, it’s fun!

On average, I find the people of Varanasi to be less cooperative in having their pictures taken than people in Hyderabad. This is likely a result of the tourist nature of this destination and the fact that locals must feel a bit like they’re on exhibition at a zoo.

Somewhere in this timeframe, a little urchin attaches himself to my side. Same as the first one, “no worry mister, not trying to take your money”. He learns as much about me as he can. Eventually, Urchin and his buddy get me to go with them to their silk factory. I take a few photos, then they introduce me to the boss. I tell him that I’m not interested in buying anything. I’m single, no-one to give to…. He lets me drive the conversation and I ask him about his business, what competitive advantages he has over his competition. This seems a difficult concept for him to grasp and eventually he admits that things come down to relationships. Some customers have been coming back to him for 20 years.

Then he starts to work on me, what colors do I like, surely there is somewhere in your house that you can use one of these bargains. In the end, I spend 1700Rs and buy something. Not even sure what it’s called, although it purports to be hand woven silk. He also pre-sells the idea that he only makes 25% margin at his prices so I don’t press him for discounts. What’s the saying, “A sucker born every second”.

Urchin then asks where I’m headed and when I tell him that I need an internet connection, he books a pedal rickshaw and we head off toward downtown again. I forget who paid the rickshaw but I think it’s me. I’m able to log in, check email and print out some information. For the print, scan and login time, it cost me 90Rs. I know this is high but figure, what the heck, getting some things in order is worth a couple bucks, and if I pay a few cents too much, so what.

My next port of call is the adjacent shop, where I hear a sewing machine. I want to get my brown shirt patched, it sprang a couple holes. I manage to communicate my intention to a worker who drops what he’s doing and starts work on my small project. Before he’s half done, his supervisor (perhaps shop owner) comes by, asks what’s going on, and then proceeds to kick the worker off the machine. The owner works the treadle at high speed and the sewing machine really sings (must be a Singer). He finishes in no time, charging me 50Rs for the repair. I know it’s only worth 10 or 15, but again figure, what the heck.

It’s around this time that Urchin shows up again. He still sees me as a walking pot of gold, and wants to milk me as long as possible. His cohort asks me what the internet guy charged me so that he can go claim his commission for bringing me here.

I’m getting pissed at this kid trying to extract every cent he can and I make it clear to Urchin that there’s no more money for them on this tree.

I’m surprised at how few pilgrims take part in the various ceremonies. In the evening at the main Ghat, there are six stations, each about ten feet up from the water, and each having some ceremonial foods, spices and potions set up in a predetermined arrangement. Between three and ten pilgrims gather at each station and eventually they make their way to the water’s edge and perform a ceremony which involves pouring Ganges water on themselves. (I hope they soon take a shower and use a good disinfectant.)

When I finally give up trying to find my way home, I engage a pedal rickshaw. I also determine NOT to take the one with the loudest and most aggressive owner. Perhaps as a result, the person I select does not speak any English, and in addition, he does not recognize the location of my hotel. He asks around and we set off. I’m glad that the last thing Arvind did as he saw me off in the morning was to thrust one of his cards into my hand. I give this to the driver several times on our way back to the hotel. The ride back is punctuated at one point with an unscheduled stop. The driver pulls over to the side of the road, gets off, making some sort of apologetic exit, walks to the other side of the ride, drops trow and proceeds to empty his bladder. He then saunters over to a roadside shop to buy a cigarette and chat up the shop owner to get closer to our final destination.

After getting back, I ask if the hotel’s restaurant has beer. Arvind is around and in his cheerful way, “You want beer?” He goes out and buys a couple of KingFisher beers for me. I’m drinking one when a parade happens by, with terrific booms and lots of drums and horns. It turns out it’s a northern Indian Hindu wedding. Raj and Melissa had the southern version. The northern version has the groom riding around on a horse. A loud band is marching and stops every 10 feet or so, when a firework of some sort is placed on the ground and ignited. They vary from simple M80 firecrackers, to roman candles to large industrial size fireworks like the ones used for Memorial Day in the US. So the parade lurches forward, only to stop a few feet further on, whence the main body of the parade, composed of people configured as light posts (look at the picture, too hard to describe) start prancing around. It’s loud and fun (although I’m really tired and go to bed).

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Feb 16

I hear the “old lady tour” at 5AM making quite a racket. My alarm wakes me at 5:30AM, I’m at the front desk by 6AM but all is quiet and I’m worried that I missed my tour. I try to explain to the desk hand but he does not understand me and calls Arvind, who assures me that no problem, “he help me”. He gets a pedal rickshaw driver (I‘ll call him Ricky, someone that Arvind deals with). Ricky takes me to the river and finds a boat.

I find pilgrim viewing at the Ghats to be more circus than serious religious event. For example, there are far more “observers” than participants. The pilgrims I do see are women clad in saris bathing on the Ghats, and men washing themselves in the river, pouring water on their heads from a small pot. I also see men washing clothes, first lathering up the item to be washed, then repeatedly whirling it over their heads and bringing it crashing down onto a flat rock. At some point they start rinsing and move on to the next item. Bed sheets are spread out along a sloped section of the shore and are left to dry next to patties of drying cow dung. The juxtaposition of pristine white sheets next to drying shit is like so many other stark contrasts here in India.

Protecting your home from monkeys is a big deal in this area. I can see troops of them scaling the buildings along the shore. Occasionally a guard beats a stick on the side of his building to scare the monkeys away. This works for about ten seconds, after which it looks to me like the monkeys are baiting the watchmen.

I tip the boatman, 10Rs, I’m sure he’s not happy but it’s all I have easily accessible and it’s probably generous by local standards (although in truth, I can’t imagine a local taking a boat tour like this!)
Ricky meets me when I return from the water and takes me to a temple in the south of the city. Six months ago, there was a bomb attack so today they don’t let you take anything into the temples, no cameras, cell phones, bags. It must all be placed in lockers outside the temple before entering. I try to put my stuff in a locker but the tripod won’t fit. I choose not to fight the system and instead wander down the street. Realizing how hungry I am, (no breakfast before the early boat tour), I look for the ubiquitous food vendors on the street. They tend to cluster around tourist attractions, where they know there will be lots of traffic. I select one out of five vendor stalls and place my order and then realize that Ricky is already eating at this particular stand. It must be good! It is!

Next comes another temple. This one does not have lockers, only a table with someone to guard your belongings, most commonly shoes (can’t wear them in Muslim or Hindu temples). I find it incredibly ironic that I pay this person five rupees (twelve US cents), to guard my bag containing thousands of dollars worth of camera and computer gear.

This Hindu temple has Sanskrit writings around the inside of the building, telling some of the tales about Shiva and the other deities. The chandeliers are swaddled in wrap. Perhaps this is like the chandeliers in Mecca Majlis (the main mosque in Hyderabad), which are wrapped in bags to preserve them. They unwrap them for one day each year during Ramadan.

The thing that holds most interest for me is a life sized figure of a religious man reading from some religious text. It is automated using mechanical technology and the figure turns it’s head as its hand moves to turn the page. The hand touches the pages and pushes them up slightly but does not actually turn them. You could see that the pages are frayed where the hand touches them. The whole thing creaks, is covered with cobwebs and generally looks like it’s on its last legs. It belongs in a museum for pre-video entertainment.

Then off to the silk merchants. Ricky takes me to one in particular (I’ll call him Silky), and he shows me the looms they use (I’m already familiar from my silk tour yesterday), he also shows me the grotty room in which silk is dyed. Finally he takes me (as I know he must), to his chamber with all the silk saris, scarves, bed covers and wall hangings. I make it clear that I do not want to purchase anything (no different than yesterday!) but he insists that I take off my pack, sit down and he proceeds to unfold numerous silk articles, starting from the most expensive. I’m sure I was ripped off yesterday, all the more reason not to buy anything else here. Silky is trying all the standard tricks, trying to get me to set aside articles in which I have some interest, working the girlfriend, child, gift angle, finally moving to the inexpensive pieces for 250 Rs and when all else fails, appealing to the fact that 250Rs is nothing for me and it is good luck for him on his first sale of the day. I’ve heard all of these reasons before in India, Morocco, Nepal, Niger and any country in which crafts are sold by the locals. They are expert sales people and it is only by being really determined at the outset that I WILL NOT buy anything that I have been able to resist their sales techniques.

After thirty minutes, Silky finally realizes that I’m not going to purchase anything, he frowns, says we are done, and stalks out of the room in a huff.

I must check out of the hotel by noon, but they let me stay in their small restaurant (chairs for about 20 people) and I have vegetable chow mien (spicy and tasty). Some of the “old lady group” are present. The one who asked me last night to email pics to her came by to chat. She explains that a famous Japanese guru died in the last few days and a group of ladies from around the world have gathered to pay their last respects to him. This group had never met before in the flesh and they are having a ball sharing their common interests with each other.

Upon arrival at the train station, I am, of course, immediately accosted by several porters asking to carry my bags. I hate porters. I’m not sure why but it is deeply ingrained. Perhaps it’s because I’m not really sure how much to pay them. Perhaps its because I don’t trust having my bags with all my expensive gear out of my sight. The bottom line is that I have not let porters carry my bags while I’ve been in India.

I find a corner of the station containing a tourist booth and this proves to be a demilitarized zone, within which non-tourists are shooed away. Beggars come close, like mosquitoes, then the tourist police show their presence and the beggars high tail it away. I look for info on my train, but the ticker sign which should contain train info is broken. Instead, everyone is listening to a pair of blown speakers blare all the train info, first in unintelligible Hindi, then in unintelligible English. It is possible if you listen very carefully to pull out the important info from the booming echoes around the hall. Fortunately, our tourist policeman checks with all of us (about twenty while I’m here, the rest of the waiting room contains about 300 locals) to find out which trains we are waiting for and then makes sure we catch them.

My train (#3010) is an hour late. I learn later from Kennedy, that this particular train is frequently 4 to 6 hours late.

I find my seat, which is one of the singles on the side of the train opposite the compartments. Two seats fold together to create a berth. It’s more private than I had on the Hyderabad-Varanasi leg, where I shared the compartment with 5 others. Four of the compartments across from me are occupied by a group of Chinese tourists from Fulan University in Shanghai. They are extremely noisy, but friendly and interested to practice their English with me. I speak to them for a while but eventually tire of it and pull out my ipod.

I watch out the window for a couple hours, until the light fades entirely. It takes us about 30 minutes to leave the urban area around Varanasi, after which it is rural until one hour outside Calcutta, when the rail lines start multiplying and suddenly the landscape becomes a concrete jungle.

The Chinese group leaves at Gaya and Kennedy comes on the train. He was born in 1965, just after JFK was shot. He tells me there are thousands of people his age with the name Kennedy, since JFK was so popular in India.

He is the PR manager for a South Indian religious NGO that does work in India and Afghanistan. We had a far ranging discussion about religion (he is disappointed when I tell him my only religion is nature, especially the mountains - he responds by saying he will pray for me and that many religions have their origins in mountains and that I might find mine there), politics (he describes how Raj Gandhi ushered in the modern era in India by removing many of the Indian obstacles to doing business. Kennedy lamented Raj’s assassination as he felt the reforms slowed after his death); and general living conditions.

Raj & Melissa Marriage Feb 8 - 10

Raj & Melissa Marriage

Hyderabad Feb 3 - Feb 13

Back in October 2007, when I started telling people about my upcoming time off, Raj Seelam came up to me and said, "David, you need to come to my wedding, Feb 10, in Hyderabad." I did not have firm plans for my travels at that point, other than attending Oren's wedding in Tel Aviv on May 25. My thoughts on the spot were, yes, I could do that..... why not?

From those early beginnings trip plans evolved, using the two weddings as anchor points for my travels. I would start in Hyderabad, India and finish in Tel Aviv at the end of May. I initially had grand plans of doing a tour along the old silk road, passing from India to Pakistan, Iran, Turkey, Syria to Israel. However, the visa situation is challenging and could not be worked so in truth, I still did not have definite plans when I arrived in India. What I did have, was a nudge from Raj toward NE India. He planted a few seeds saying that Arunachal Pradesh had always been on his radar, the area was remote, hardly anyone visited it, and it was the most extreme north eastern portion of India. You can read the blog to find out the path I ended up taking.

What a great way to start one's travels in India! Met by friends at the airport (Raj), whisked back to a secure house without the hassles of porters, taxis, finding a place to stay, etc, etc. Gradually introduced to Indian food, eating with your right hand, driving on the left, public transit, the crush of people, and the feel of India. Raj and his parents, Mr. and Mrs Reddy, were able to provide this soft introduction to India, preparing me for venturing out on my own. And to be able to participate and contribute to my first Hindu wedding, that was extremely satisfying. Great people, great food, great experiences, it was an extremely positive experience.

Raj's parents found an unoccupied house near theirs in the Dandemunde Elnclave and arranged with the owners for this to be a guest house for those of us arriving from far away. We used this house as a home base, eating breakfast with the Reddy's and then exploring during the day, returning for dinner and then retiring in our guest house. During the days prior to the wedding, we explored Hyderabad, Goldkanda Fort, a local school, markets, went to a fair, interspersed with relaxation and visiting at the Reddy residence. The attached photos should give a good idea of how our time was spent.

The wedding took place on Feb 8, 9, 10. It was pretty fluid. Raj shared with me that many of the ceremonies were not fully specified until minutes before they happened. It was fun to see all the customs and rituals which were not familiar to me. Exchanging gifts, mostly clothes, sprinkling rice around and on various people, strange musical instruments, more rice, red dots, henna hands and feet, exotic dress, more rice, washing feet, more rice, food, more food and still more food (and rice). It was a fabulous experience for me and I thank Raj, Melissa and their parents for letting me share in this magic experience.

Dandamudi Enclave

Hyderabad People

Hyderabad

Hyderabad Schools

Hyderabad Exhibition

Hyderabad Construction