India

Hiking the Himalayas

2008-01-04T11:07:00.000-08:00

I just finished hiking everything that you see behind me. A very barren place - often compared to a moonscape. I could have screamed at the top of my lungs and noone would have heard me. At first an unsettling feeling - now something I crave.

Ladakh, India (near the Pakistani Border)

2007-12-16T18:24:00.001-08:00

So Long India

2007-12-16T11:44:00.001-08:00

Well, I left India yesterday morning at 2:35 am. Leaving was bittersweet. I was happy to leave the chaos and see my family in Italy (I'm now in Florence and will be travelling Italy for a few weeks). That said, arriving back to the West was a bit of culture shock. India is a difficult place to live but once you get in the swing of things - its an even more difficult place to leave. Life is very different in India and I have certainly adopted many of the cultural quirks and idiosyncracies. I almost began to eat my pasta by hand yesterday forgetting that its normal to use a fork and knife. Anyway, its a nice day here and I don't plan to spend too much time inside on the computer.Ciao! Buona Giornata.

Thanks to India and everyone I met there. It is a place full of warmth, love and mystery. I can't wait to return!

My Favorite Ladakhi Dish

2007-12-16T11:41:00.000-08:00

Skuu or Skyu (shown here) - pronounced like "Skew" - is a common pasta dish in the Ladakhi villages. I had the opportunity to eat it several times and then during my homestay requested to learn the recipe. Rigsen, a 22-year old male from Rumbak, lived in the house next door (a picture of his kitchen is below - all Ladakhi village kitchens are very similar). He spoke some English and we became friends during my stay. He was my Skyu instructor.Recipe:Mix water and pure wheat flour together to make a very hearty, thick dough in a large bowl. Roll the dough into long thin tubes (about 3/4 inch diameter). Pinch off small pieces of the tubes (about every 1/2 inch) and then press with thumb to form what resembles a gnochi with a thumb print in it. Make as much or little as you like. They typically end up with 200 or so little Skyu pieces.In the mean time, fry onions, tomatoes and a few leafy green or root vegatables such as spinach, lettuce, peas, etc. in a large sauce pan. Sometimes potatoes, carrots and even mutton is added as well. Add salt, chili powder, garam masala and tumeric to the veggies. After the vegetables are thoroughly fried, add water and boil. After boiling for a few minutes, place the Skyu pasta into the water and continue to boil. Skyu should be very tough and chewy. The pasta should not be cooked all the way through - very much "Al Dente." After boiling for 10 minutes or so add about a cup or so of whole milk or cream. We used milk from the goat outside (it was freshly milked that morning and certainly not pasteurized). Boil milk (if you happen to use fresh cow or goat milk, boiling with kill all bacteria) with everything else for a few more minutes. Now you have Skyu... The creamy sauce should be yellow and not too thick. Mmmmm.... delicious. That said, what makes Skyu so great in Ladakh is that all the ingredient come fresh from right outside. The dish is very hearty, healthy and simple. Try to obtain all organic, natural ingredients.
I plan to make some when I get home- anyone who reads this is welcome to come by for a taste.

Himalayan Homestay in Ladakh

2007-12-16T11:38:00.000-08:00

I've spent the last three days and two nights: eating, drinking, working, sleeping, and even defecating as a Ladakhi villager would. Three days ago, at 7 am, I drove from Leh to Zingchan - as far as one can get by motorable road into the Markha Valley. En route, my jeep driver barely averted disaster as we slammed into the mountainside wall to avoid a jeep coming around a single lane blind curve. Better hit the wall then drive off the otherside and plummet several hundred feet down a cliff to our death. In the end, the incident only served to waken my nerves in preparation for a long day. After being dropped off, wished good luck, and told I'd be picked up in the same spot in three days, I began a several hour uphill trek along a small river toward the village of Rumbak. The hike itself follows a small glacier stream and runs through a deep gorge - absolutely beautiful. I didn't encounter another person the entire time I was walking - unsettling at first, trekking alone becomes a very peaceful experience. I was forced to cross the river several times - often finding myself jumping from rock to rock and at one point falling into the freezing water - thank god it was a hot, sunny day and I dried off quickly.

I arrived to the Rumbak / Urutse Junction several hours later. After determining I needed to head left, 30 more minutes of uphill walk led me to Rumbak - where I would be living the next two nights. Rumbak is a small fertile, self-sustaining village of nine houses. All of the homes have several large plots of land where they grow barley, peas, vegatables, and wheat. Each house also keeps anwhere from 100 - 200 goats, sheep and lambs as well as a handful of cows, horses and donkeys. There is no plumbing in Rumbak (using a dry Ladakhi compost toilet is an experience in itself) and only in the last five years has electricity been introduced by way of solar power.
I was greeted by my Ama (Mother) when I arrived. She doesn't speak any English but the power of a smile and hand signals can go along way. As expected, I was immediately invited into the kitchen to sit down for tea and lunch. Lunch was a loaf of freshly baked bread with honey. Just to note, I haven't eaten meat in days or anything that wasn't freshly grown, harvested and cooked on location. I haven't felt so healthy in days - especially my digestive system. All Ladakhi village kitchens are very similar and are known for their simple cooking, copper pots, and Chotske tables (a low table that enables one to sit on the floor and eat). The daughter arrived from the field a few minutes later, she spoke a little bit of English, but communication was still difficult. After lunch, I was shown my room - a small, modest space with floor mats, lots of windows and a few ladakhi tables. As I said, there is no plumbing or real electricity in the house. I didn't bathe but was able to wash my hands and face once a day using water boiled over an open fire in the kitchen. After settling in, I returned downstairs to find the house empty. The mother and daughter were out in the fields and father was off in the mountains. Rumbak becomes a ghost town between 9 am and 5:30 pm - everyone is out working. I spent the day exploring the small village and surrounding area - mostly enjoying the peace and quiet to read, relax and take in the beautiful view. I returned to my room a few hours later to find an old man sitting on the roof outside my room. The second floor has a flat roof / balcony that is shared by several rooms. The old man, while combing through the fur of an animal pelt to eventually produce clothing, looked at me a bit surpised and muttered a few words in Ladakhi. Not sure what he said, I simply smiled and said, "Jullay!" Jullay is a general greeting which means hello, goodbye, thanks, you're welcome and is very useful. He motioned me to follow him and he led me to his bedroom (barely 10 ft x 10 ft) where he had his own kitchen. He motioned for me to sit on his bed and then he began to prepare tea. We sat in silence, sipping tea and smiling for about 30 minutes. I later learned this was Aba Meme (Grandfather). He no longer works and now spends his days meditating, spinning his prayer wheel and enjoying the company of others who aren't our working for the day.

Other thoughts....
The irrigation system employed by the village is unbelievable. They direct a small stream of glacier water for several miles by means of what resembles a small aqueduct. Once it reachces the village, the woman of the families work in the fields to redirect it every which way and ensure adequate irrigation to their plants. Every day, the head male of each family, typically the father who is referred to as Aba, takes the 150 of so animals to graze high into the mountains. I had the opportunity to assist my Aba in this duty on my second day in Rumbak. We set out around 7:30 am - the two of us and all of their animals. After observing Aba, I imitated his system of whistles, chirps, yells and rock throwing to help direct the herd into the hills. The walk itself is steep and takes about three hours. Once we reached our final destination, I turned around to head back to the village to spend the afternoon relaxing. All of the men return much later around 5:30 pm when the entire village comes out to greet them and help sort through the animals and return them to the proper pens. Each animal's forehead is painted a certain color to signify which family it belongs.

I did so much more and honestly the homestay was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Completely out of my element in every sense, I was forced to sit back, relax and accept life as it was. I haven't been so relaxed and satisfied in a long time... I'll share more later.

Slideshow from Ladakh:

Trek Ladakh

2007-12-16T08:00:00.001-08:00

I had to force myself to concentrate on the path straight ahead, too scared to look to my left where one false step on the slippery one-foot wide path could send you into a unwanted death slide. Suneel and I moved slowly, careful to test the grip of every step we as we zig-zagged across this steep ridge leading to the Maptek-Lago Pass (elevation: 12,300 ft). Coming to a fork in the path, we looked at eachother, unsure of which to take and not wanting to go th wrong way in such isolated and barren terrain. Luckily, we look behind to to see a small village woman with a makeshift wooden backpack trudging along at fast pace, completely ignoring the steep drop to her left (and most likely amused at our clear unease and confusion). Although she speaks no English and I certainly don't speak Ladakhi, she understands that we need to get to Ang and signals for us to follow. The trek that we did connects five or six very small, isolated and self-sustaining villages. Many of the villagers, like this woman, trek daily for hours between villages and know the ins, outs and subtle intricacies of each path better than most of us know our own cities. Even more remarkable is that all village children (being compulsory to attend school - education is highly valued in Ladakh) beginning at the age of five will trek to and from school every day (two hours each way). In two of the villages we visited, we had the opportunity to visit the local school some of which only have five students but nonetheless remain open and the teachers are enthusiastic, talented, and well-revered. More about the Ladakhi culture in a later blog.Overall, out trek lasted two days and we covered a significant amount of ground. Leaving early in the morning on Friday, we trekked all morning and saw absolutely no one. There is a real sense of isolation and awe from being in such a grand place that you just don't get when hiking through a national park in say Colorado. Here, the trails are not marked. Guidebooks are sparse and there is noone to rescue you if things go awry. Nonetheless, Suneel and I were up for the challenge and reached a small village known as YangTang around 2 pm. Hungry, we knocked on the door of one of the six or seven homes and signaled that we were hungry. Being such gracious people, after removing our shoes, we were ushered into the kitchen where we sat on the floor, with the grandfather of the family and another member of the family man who were also awaiting lunch. The son, who had answered the door spoke decent English having attended College in Chennai and coming home to be a local mathematics teacher in Ladakh. The grandfather, who eyes were glazed over from old age and face was criss-crossed with deep lines resulting from years of trekking, agriculture and daily life sat opposite of us smiling, wearing a typical Ladakhi wool robe and and continuously spun his small prayer wheel. The other man was helping to prepare lunch, making what resembled large gnocchi balls with thumb prints from wheat flour and barley. All the food was pure Ladakhi and the meal was known as Skuu. Its a very simple dish - only vegetables (Ladakhi Buddhist natives are mostly vegetarian) and only vegetables and different breads, grain and pastas can be found in the villages. The best part is all the ingredients are grown by each family in their personal gardens / farms. Each village and each family is completely self-sustainable growing wheat, barley, spices, and vegetables. Water comes fresh and pure from the glaciers. Although the locals don't eat meat, they herd Yak, cows, goats and sheeps in the mountains and bring them down periodically to use their manure for fertilizer and their fur for clothing.After a very memorable lunch, we headed out again from YangTang en route to Hemis, the small village where we planned to spend the night. Several hours, steep passes, and beautiful views later, we reached hemis. Hemis is one of the medium-sized villages. There is a monastery in the town and several homes, all of which have specific names. We stayed at Toro Pa which means waterfall in Ladakhi.I woke up around 6 am and sat on the roof of Toro Pa watching the sunrise. The views are breathtaking. Directly in front of me is a lush green valley dotted with small homes, creeks, a few trees and more than a few Buddhist stupas and prayer flags with snowcapped mountains and red rock and stone hills as a backdrop. We had a traditional breakfast - cooked fresh - we watched the cook make the dough, roll it out and prepare the rotis (plain wheat bread) over an open fire. Tea is a must with every Indian meal as well - and is even more emphasized in Ladakh where they have their own special teas.We departed Toro Pa around 8 am heading fo Temisgam (we pass through Ang on th way) - the final village on our trek. The last stretch is the most physically and mentally challenging. This is where we encountered the death-defying ridge path and ascended several steep passes over 12,000 feet (photos to come). We reached Ang and then Temisgam many hours later - tired, sore, dusty and hungry. From Temisgam, we made our way to Nurla - a small village on main Leh-Srinagar highway where we jumped onto a random worker bus for a four hour journey back to Leh. The bus was old, dusty and completely packed. Regardless, they accepted us on board - I was offered a small space on the floor between four sets of smelly feet, next to some trash. I was able to nestle myself in for the ride. Four hours later, we reached Leh. I blew my nose to reveal (sorry for the details) snot brown and black from all the dust. It wasn't a pleasant trip but a great ending to a very satisfying and exciting journey.Tomorrow morning (Sunday) I depart solo to Rumbak - a small village in the Hemis High Altitude mountains. Here, I am doing a Ladakhi homestay in a small village for two nights and then hiking back out to Leh. Another adventure awaits, another story. I'll be without electricity for a few days hence no computers - more to come soon.

Thursday, June 7, 2007: Suneel, Leh, Monasteries

2007-12-16T07:59:00.001-08:00

I arrived in Leh at 7:00 am on Wednesday, June 6. The flights leave early for visibility reasons. Although I travelled to Leh alone, I have managed to meet another lone traveller, Suneel, getting off the plane in Leh. We have become travel companions, sharing our adventure, and becoming fast friends along the way. He is Indian-American and I refer to him as Doctor because he just finished his medical degree and is now a registered MD (specialization in the Emergency Room). I have heard some great stories and its comforting to have a doctor around - although the medical jargon can get a bit confusing. We spent the first day acclimatizing - I slept all morning. Leh sits at 3505 m (roughly 11,000 feet) so there is a serious risk of developing Acute Mountain Sickness if you don't rest for at least 24 hours. The culture and people of Ladakh are completely different. There is a large Tibetan and Buddhist presence which permeates the food, festivities, and atmosphere. The city is peaceful and I find myself so relaxed that I have trouble keeping track of time and often find myself asking what day it is. Leh itself is the largest city in Ladakh and serves as a sort of basecamp for exploring the surrounding Himalayas whether through cross-country treks, visits to monasteries, or exploration of small Ladakhi villages. The valleys and mountain ranges of Ladakh are dotted with Gompas (Buddhist Monasteries) which we spent a day visiting (Thursday, June 7). The Monasteries are very colorful, peaceful and the resident monks warm and inviting. All throughout Ladakh, and specifically within the monasteries, there are Buddhist Prayer Wheels (see photo). Imagine a large decorative cylinder that sits on an axis which allows it to spin. Some are simple and look almost like a soup can while others are colored covered in bells and are encased inside decorative pagodas. They range in size from large structures which are immobile and require a bit of force to turn to smaller ones that are mobile and able to be carried around. Spinning the prayer wheel clockwise symbolizes saying a Buddhist prayer. Its not uncommon to see elderly Ladakhis and Tibetan Buddhist peacefully sitting slowly spinning a handheld prayer wheel over and over again. After touring the monasteries, we returned to Leh and spent the afternoon touring the city. Yesterday (Friday, June 8), the adventure truly began as Suneel and I set out early in the morning on a two day trek through the Himalayas. More to come...

Tuesday, June 5, 2007: High Altitude Himalayas

2007-12-16T07:58:00.003-08:00

I leave for Ladakh (Little Tibet) and the Himalayas in about an hour and a half by plane. Its 3:30 am right now in Delhi. Plane takes off at 5 am. Not sure why they felt the need to schedule it so goddamn early. Well, one thing is for sure, when I get there I'll not only be suffering from Acute Mountain Sickness from the sudden 12,000 foot increase in altitude (decrease in oxygen levels) but i'll be tired as well. Can't wait! Anything is better than Delhi Belly though. I'll be resting for the first 24 hours in Ladakh while I acclimitatize then spend day 2 walking around a bit. We'll see. Gotta run though.

On My Way to Leh

2007-12-16T07:58:00.001-08:00

Not letting an upset stomach get in the way, my trip is back on course. I'm headed to Leh on Wednesday morning. I am flying and will therefore be arriving there a few days earlier than planned. I will need about 48 hours to acclimatize to the change in Altitude (3500 meters / 11,000 feet). Should be exciting.

Sunday, June 3, 2007: Delhi Belly

2007-12-16T07:57:00.001-08:00

It was bound to get me sooner or later, and it got me good: Indian Upset Stomach aka severe Diarrhea. I've been bed and toilet ridden for the past 36 hours, unable to function due to a pounding headache from dehydration, and unable to leave my room because of an equally pounding need to use the restroom. But that hasn't held me back from enjoying a warm bowl of Mutton Murgh, a side of Biryani, and a few pieces of Buttered Naan. However, I'm keeping my fingers crossed as I feel pretty good this morning. Due to my illness, I was unable to make it to Chandigarh - I'm still in Delhi. I am not sure what the plan will be from here - most likely head to Manali to relax in cooler weather for a few days and eventually work my way up to Leh. I need to get out of Delhi; it is just way too hot - between 105 - 115 degrees. I'm here in India until June 14 so I need to figure something out.Any suggestions?

Friday, June 1, 2007: Final Day in Delhi

2007-12-16T07:56:00.002-08:00

Its my final day (Saturday, June 2) in Dehli. Tomorrow, I depart at 7:40 am tomorrow morning by train for Chandigarh as part of the final leg of my trip which heads North into the Himalayas. Apparently, Chandigarh is the only planned and developed city in all of India. North of Delhi in the Punjab region, Its known for its high standard of living and was designed by the French architect, le Corbusier in the 1950s. I am visiting another friend there. I am excited about the train ride. I have been told the Indian rail system is an experience in itself. After spending the day in Chandigarh, I'm then boarding a bus for Manali where I am staying with the same friend's grandmother. I'll spend a day or two in Manali and then finally make my way to Leh in the far north Himalayas (this is what I am really excited for!).We spent the day on Friday touring around Delhi but never getting out of the car. It was just too hot. Even with A/C on full blast, I sweat right through my shirt. Delhi is an impressive place especially the area of town which houses all the government administration for the Capitol. We had a south Indian lunch at a trendy hotel restaurant in town. The place was packed and the kitchen was churning out dosas, idly, and a variety of other quick snacks by the dozen.Last night, Sanam had a few friends over and we had a bar setup for us at her house. I met the chef and got a tour of the kitchen. They have a tandoor oven and everything - the chef really appreciate my sincere interest and gratitude for his work. The food here has been amazing. We also ate a nice dinner then went out on the town. Delhi nightlife is sophisticated, trendy and expensive. It reminded me of being out in NYC. Drinks cost $12. Everyone gives everyone else a look over. The Bollywood star who decided to make an appearance at the restaurant / lounge we went to known as Tabula Rasa was the talk of the night.Today, the plan is to visit a few more places in town. Eat sushi for the first time in weeks (haven't had non-Indian food in a while)! Then go see a recently released Bollywood film with English subtitles. Tonight there is a pool party at someone's house.

Thursday, May 31, 2007: Arrival in Delhi

2007-12-16T07:56:00.001-08:00

We arrived to Delhi yesterday (Thursday) around 4 pm. Our train from Jaipur to Delhi was cancelled so we flew Jet Airways, another extremely impressive Indian airline. After collecting our baggage and piling into the cab, we directed our driver to 9 Green Ave (the home of my good friend from Penn, Sanam). We pulled up to a large estate - shielded from our view by a massive gate, guard house, and fence. After being escorted inside, we were asked to drop our bags at the front (they would be brought to us shortly) and were led down a 1/2 mile drive winding through beautifully manicured gardens, past a large pool, a prayer room, small gym and several other structures. Finally, we were shown our guest room - awaiting us was a large basket of fruit. Our bags, as well as coffee, tea, biscuits, and snacks were brought shortly thereafter.We spent the afternoon taking a tour of the grounds and visiting with her parents. They are constructing a new house on the estate - here in India - her home is referred to as a Farm House due to its vast amount of land and multiple structures. Her home is amazing - the artwork, architecture, landscaping is outstanding. Not to mention, the amount of hired labor is overwhelming.That evening, Sanam had arranged an incredible traditional Indian dinner for us of Butter Chicken, Palak Paneer, Dal and a variety of other Indian dishes. We dined like kings: there were more servers than diners. Everything was presented on silver platters, wine was served, and the food was unreal. We finished it off with a variety of Indian treats. That night, Sanam and I met some of her friends at a trendy lounge out in the city. Being here just less than 24 hours, I can already see how much more liberal and progressive the culture is here in Delhi. The nightclub felt like back home. There were plenty of white foreigners - people dressed like they would in LA, Dallas, or NYC. However, India is still India. The other end of the wealth spectrum still exists. Driving from Sanam's home to the club, at every stoplight several malnourished children come to the windows begging for money. Despite pockets of extreme afluence, the roads are still lined with poverty - shanties, street vendors, cows, and rubble.This morning (Friday) we are scheduled to attend a private Yoga session with a local Yogi Master here in Delhi. Afterwards, we are taking a tour of Delhi - visiting one of Sanam's father's real estate projects as well as a newly built Hindu temple here in the city. Tonight, the chef is cooking Tandoor chicken and has agreed to give me a cooking lesson.The day sounds fun. More to come.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007: Travel Update

2007-12-16T07:55:00.002-08:00

All trains and buses to Delhi are cancelled for 24 hours due to riots and fighting. Instead, I am traveling by plane through Bombay (which is completely out of the way) and connecting on to Delhi. All direct flights have been sold out. Travel here is already chaotic and adding mass cancellations disrupts the already inefficient and overutilized system even more (calling it a system is a stretch). People have no respect for proper lines - cutting everyone and doing anything and everything to get to the front. Its a nightmare. My fingers are crossed that we make it to Delhi.

Sensual India

2007-12-16T07:55:00.001-08:00

After being motioned to disrobe, I stood butt-naked in a dimly lit room facing a small Indian man who insisted upon personally tying a loin cloth around my waist to cover my private parts. The thin paper-weight cloth barely concealed my frontside and wrapped through and rode up my backside like a Chippendale's G-string. After being snugly fit into my man thong, I was asked to recline on a small bed while another Indian man gently lathered my bare chest and stomach with hot oil, which smelled like the peanut sauce used to make Pad Thai, all the while tranquil Indian music played in the background. After a thorough oiling on my frontside, I was rotated and then oiled some more. I felt like a piece of bacon. And over the course of the hour, the paper cloth soaked through and fell apart. My Indian friend didn't seem to mind. No, this wasn't an act of homosexuality. It was a form of Aruyvedic treatment, a traditional Indian massage therapy, in which a variety of warm oils, scents, and spices are used in conjuction with various massage techniques to sooth and invigorate a tired and aching body. All over India, they sing of the wonders of Aruyvedic treatment. And after a long day in the sweat city of Jaipur, I was eager to treat myself. When I initially signed up, I had very different expectations: picturing a beautiful Indian woman in a flowing saree using her lotion softened hands to apply a gentle force to alleviate my sore back and shoulders. My expectations were clearly a bit off. Looking back, while I was uncomfortable at first and holding in laughter throughout, it was an interesting experience and one that I'll certainly never forget.

My Thoughts on Jaipur

2007-12-16T07:54:00.002-08:00

Jaipur is the most juxtaposed place that I have ever seen. Its both beautiful and disgusting, clean and filthy. There are modern malls next to traditional shrines. The vast differences throughout the city are striking. I've encountered everything from a man pissing at me on the street, a woman charming a large Cobra snake out of a basket to a monkey inhabited desert fort from the 17th century protruding from the cliffs.

At any given moment, all five of my senese were fully engaged and overwhelmed...

Unlike Hyderabad, Jaipur feels much less modern. English is much less prevalent - all of the signage is in Hindi. The dress is more tradition. The oldest part of the city, which lies within the original walls, is painted pink and the architecture and buildings are antiquated. Some of the buildings date as far back as 1727 AD when Jaipur was established by the Rajputs, a warrior class in India. The old city is really just one enormous, filthy market that overwhelms the senses. Cows, goats, pigs, and sheep run amok. The roads are jam-packed with traffic. Once you step off the main street, in only a few minutes, an unfamiliar traveller can find himself lost in a labrynth of tiny pathways that are lined with craftsmen, artisans, and metalworkers. We encountered one interesting scene in which a young man was casting gold jewelry. His workspace was about 9 square feet, basically a little nook carved into the wall. He used old-fashioned tools, a small coal burning fire, sand, and a few utensils to create basic gold jewelry. His output was then sold to local vendors who walked nearby to purchase a gem or stone to complete the product.This typical street scene is not uncommon in everyday life in Jaipur - a city known for its bustling markets, colorful sarees, and desert style architecture. Religion permeates the city. Hindu shrines and symbols are everywhere and the traditional rules are often strictly enforced. Upon entering homes and holy places, shoes must always be removed. Most of the restaurants and residents in the city are "Pure Veg" - meaning they don't eat meat, eggs, or even drink alcohol.Tonight, we have been invited for dinner at a local's home. She will be preparing a Pure-Veg meal in classic Rajasthani style. I can't wait. Eating at someone's home while sharing stories and asking questions is always the best conditions for learning about a foreign culture.Tomorrow (Thursday), we have booked a 5 am train to Delhi. There we are staying with a female friend of mine from Penn. A weekend in Delhi is a guaranteed goodtime.

May 29, 2007: Arrived in Jaipur

2007-12-16T07:54:00.001-08:00

I arrived to Jaipur yesterday evening. We flew KingFisher air - "Flying the Fun Times!" The motto isn't a lie - the entire KingFisher experience was a treat. American Airlines could learna thing or two from them.We arrived in Jaipur around 7:15 pm. After getting our bags, we found a cab driver who spoke enough English to make sense of my instructions to Nikhil's house. Nikhil is my friend from Wharton. He is Indian American, who was born and raised in New York but has family in Jaipur. When I told him I would be travelling to India, he insisted I stay at his home there. I'm very glad I accepted the offer. After finding his neighborhood, we spent a good 15 minutes driving up the street searching for house number, B-8. I had no clue what to expect. Looking out the window, I spotted a small palace with beautiful pink stone, a large gate and an elaborate front door. I glance at the sign out front - "B-8, Nikhil and Neeha (his sister) Surana. As we pulled up to the home, we were greeted by his two servants, neither of which speak English, and his very old and very, very small grandmother, who we call grandmami. She doesn't speak any English either. Once we got our bags inside the foyer, the five of us, unable to verbally communicate stood in a circle smiling and saying hi over and over again. David and I gave a big American thumbs up and they responded with the standard Indian head bob. After a good ten minutes of this slightly amusing situation, we were shown our rooms. We settled in and then Grandmami, gesturing by putting her hand to her mouth, insisted upon feeding us dinner. Tummies rumbling, we gladly accepted the offer, not knowing what was in store for us. The family is pure-veg - no meat, no fish and no eggs. which made dinner strange but surprisingly good. For dinner, we had potato parantha (picture a thick potato and flour tortilla) with a side bowl of yogurt that was mixed with pepper and salt to be used as a spread. We also had a pickled pea / spice topping and then a side of ketchup to add even more flavor. I don't know if I mentioned it, but Indians have a real obsession for ketchup. I've pretty much seen them eat it with everything. There is even a type of Lays potato chips that is ketchup flavored. Anyway, back to my story, we were seated in kitchen and presented with a modestly sized dinner - or so it seemed. Watching my every move, after every bite I took, Grandmami leaned in closely to see my reaction. Not wanting to disappoint her, I gave her a big smile in approval. She returned an even larger grin and look of genuine happiness. Every couple of minutes, she would look at me very closely then look at my plate, say a few words in Hindi, nod her head and then mak sure my plate was full. Seeing how much satisfaction Grandmami derived from feeding me, I couldn't help but keep eating (not wanting to be rude). She was the Indian epitome of a cute and caring grandmother - never wanting her children to go unfed. So I ate and I ate and I ate, and immediately upon scooping a bite of yogurt into my mouth, Grandmami scooped another serving onto my plate. It felt like the meal that never ends. Completely stuffed, I polished off the final potata parantha, figuring, well it must end here since there is nothing left to scoop the yogurt with. But oh no, I look to my left and Grandmami had already put Sohan (one of the servants) to work rolling out dough to make more bread. Finally, after eating about two or three more pieces of bread, several more servings of yogurt mixed with ketchup, I had to call it quits. Grandmami was happy as I pointed to my stomach and puffed up my cheeks signaling that I was full rather that I was stuffed! After smiling and bowing in thanks, I retired to my quarters for a good night's sleep. As I have come to expect, everywhere I go in India, I have been treated like a king. Everyone has been absolutely amazing, hospitable, gracious and kind. Grandmami couldn't be sweeter. Can't wait to tell you all about my adventures in the Pink City tomorrow.

Photos: Goa

2007-12-16T07:50:00.000-08:00

Road Rules: Hyderabad, India

2007-12-16T07:48:00.000-08:00

While in Hyderabad, I determined a number of unwritten rules of the road. If you plan to drive, walk or travel by road in India. Its important to keep the following in mind:

Rule 1: Driving within the designated lanes is strictly forbidden. Creating your own lanes is expected.

Rule 2: Cows should always be given right of way. Humans, especially children, should not.

Rule 3: Red lights means go. Green light means go.

Rule 4: Disregard all traffic signs. They have no meaning.

Rule 5: Disregard all traffic cops. They have no power.

Rule 6: Driving on the wrong side of the road as well as the curb especially when there is oncoming traffic or pedestrians is okay.

Rule 7: Whenever possible, merge your vehicle into the space of the vehicle next to you. Honk to let them know you are coming and then hope for the best.

Rule 8: Take more risks when you are driving a smaller, less-protected vehicle. Turning in front of oncoming dump trucks is generally acceptable.

Rule 9: Do whatever it takes to get around the vehicle in front of you. The more dangerous the maneuver, the better.

Rule 10: Roads are to be shared equally between humans, rickshaws, animals, bicycles, tractors, trucks, cars, two-wheelers, push-carts, and vendors alike.

Rule 11: Equally as important, the road is intended for multiple purpose including but not limited to driving, parking, retailing, disposing of garbage, animal herding, and defecation.Just like the 22 officials languages of India, the rules of the road differ from region to region. But no matter where you are or in what type of vehicle you are driving, there is one method that never seems to fail: simply close your eyes, honk in excess and floor it.

Sunday, May 27, 2007: Arrival to Goa

2007-12-16T07:46:00.000-08:00

I landed in Goa yesterday afternoon (Saturday) around 4 pm. David, my friend from home, landed shortly after me. We will be traveling together for the next few days. Sameer and his driver picked us up. Immediately, I realized how different Goa is than Hyderabad. The weather is distinctly more humid. The people are more laid back and less traditional. The combination of the tropical climate, beaches and Portuguese influence remind me very much of rural Costa Rica. Sameer's family home (or should I say compound) here is exceedingly beautiful. He lives on a large piece of land with beautiful vegetation and landscaping. On his grounds, they grow mangos, a variety of spices, herbs, an assortment of flowers. The interior of his home is decorated with an eclectic collection of art, furniture and sculpture from all over the world - particularly Africa and Asia. We hung around his home for a few minutes and then headed north to Calangute where Sameer's family has just finished a new residential condo development. We stayed in one of the empty apartments. Calangute is a more lively area crawling with international travellers and no shortage of bars, restaurants, clubs, good music and beautiful sandy beaches. We went for a great dinner on the beach. The seafood here is unbelievable. The tiger prawns we ate were the size of my hand.In general, Goa feels 100% different than Hyderabad. Goa itself is a state. The main city in Northern Goa is Panaji with most tourists staying in Calangute. North of that is a bit less travelled by the average tourist. It is known for drugs, raves and the infamous psychedelic Goa party scene, where the pot-smoking hippies go. The main city in central Goa is Vasco de Gama (named after the Portuguese explorer who discovered this beautiful place). this is where the airport is. Sameer's family lives right outside Vasco. As far as size and density, Goa is relatively small and much less populous. By car, Goa can be covered in a matter of hours.Today, we woke up and drove around for a bit exploring Panaji (another major northern city) as well as Old Goa. Interestingly, Goa is covered with Catholic churches; a reminder of the Portuguese occupation and Spanish inquisition. The churches are all fairly simple yet striking. Typically, they are a basic white or creme color with a primary color accent and Spanish styling - lots of porticoes, arches and Mediterranean tiled roofs. To this day, many of the locals (Goans) who have extended roots here are Christian rather than Hindu. That said, its not uncommon to see a cross next to a Hindu Shrine. Old Goa is known for having two of the largest and most beautiful churches in the area, which we visited. Being a Sunday they were swarmed with visitors but definitely a great site to see. The grounds surrounding the church were absolutely beautiful - covered with flowers, trees, and well-manicured parks. Pictures coming soon. The highlights of the day began at lunch. We had a traditional Goan feast with Sameer's family at their home in Central Goa. They have a large staff, as expected in India; at least twice as many servants as family. They cooked up an incredible meal and everything was homemade, fresh and lots of the food was grown at their home or at the farm they own nearby. Coconut is a major ingredient in curries, yogurts, and desserts. It may have been the best meal yet. We finished with Alfonso Mangos for desert that were grown at their home - best of my life.After lunch, we drove South to Sameer's farm. Its known as the Mangal farm and it was incredible. There they grow a variety of plants, flowers and spices which are exported to Bombay and Delhi. They also have 1.5 lakhs (150,000) cashew trees from which they harvest cashews but more interestingly produce two Goan alcohols - one known as Feni - made by fermenting the chestnuts. Sameer and his family have set up an Artist's residency and camp on the farm. Local artists from Goa as well as artists from Bombay and Delhi have traveled to his farm to live, eat, sleep but most importantly relax in beautiful seclusion and gain inspiration while they create masterful paintings. Sameer's family has also opened a Gallery in which all the paintings are displayed and sold. We met with some of the artists. The program is only a few weeks old but it is very impressive.I have plently more to write about but not enough time. More to come tomorrow morning. As one would expect of me, I have lost my wallet and credit cards so I have to figure all of this out now.Hope you enjoyed this quick summary.

Partying? I think not. Disorderly Drinking, Dancing and Debauchery

2007-12-16T07:45:00.002-08:00

Last Thursday night was easily one of the best nights I've had in a while. Indians know how to party- although a bit bizarre and puzzling at times, it was an experience I'll never forget. I really don't think my writing can do justice to the entire experience but I'll try my best.At 11 pm, Nate, Amit (A student at ISB from Delhi) and I met up with about 15 other ISB students at a pub called Ten Downing Street, which just happens to be the address of Tony Blair in England. The bar was trying pretty hard - waiters wore red and green plaid outfits with funny hats, the bar itself resembled a pub (an assortment of Indian beer on Tap) and the interior was a dark mahogany. Truthfully, it really missed the mark. The crowd at the bar was about 75 percent men (women don't tend to go out as much here although that is beginning to change). Since Thursday is karaoke night, the bar was extra crowded. Karaoke is a big attraction and they take it very seriously. Don't ask me why. But honestly, even the ISB guys were itching to sing. After every song, clusters of grown men in their 20s, 30s and even 40s rushed the DJ booth for the chance to sing the next awful American love song from the 80s or early 90s. I could hardly even recognize most of them.Imagine: A group of four of five Indian men, one wearing a Turban with a large beard, another a Kurta, all surrounding the same mic, swaying side to side, holding hands and embracing shoulders, beads of sweat on their brow with eyes closed and heads lifted bellowing, "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith with enough conviction to make you believe the world really was coming to an end. As you can imagine, its a funny sight. And not to sound ignorant, but if this was the States, I would have thought I was in a gay bar. After a couple of drinks, even I joined in on the fun - taking the microphone with Sachin, Abishek, Amit to give our rendition of "Eternal Flame" by the Bangles. Despite my initial unease - I even found myself giving it my all.Midnight came. Bars are to close down at midnight in Hyderabad (the city is very traditional - official drinking age: 25). But, the night had only begun. ISB students don't let the govermnent regulation stop them. The party first moved to the parking lot right outside the pub where our friends and some random people gathered and started shouting, singing and dancing for about 15 to 20 minutes. It was completely out of the blue but yet felt so instinctive. No one cared we were in a dingy parking lot and didn't know each other - they just wanted to have fun. The security guards for the lot even came over, linked arms with us and started dancing. After that died down, we all piled into a few cars for a wild ride through the city to Liquid - a more upscale lounge like you might expect to find in NYC - even drinks were expensive. Here, they were playing all the main stream lounge and club music - the crowd's absolute favorite being Akon and Snoop Dogg, "I wanna f*** you." Rap has become very popular over the past three or four years in India and everyone goes crazy for it. At Liquid, our group swelled to about 40 total ISB students (this time there was a considerable number of females). Several of the students knew the club owner and convinced him to stay open until 1 am. I don't think he knew what he bargained for. At Liquid, everyone was really going wild. Rather than partner up or dance in small groups, everyone gathered in a sort of large circle, floating along, linking eyes with one and other for a few seconds to do a quick Punjabi step or two then continue on to the next person. There is a very communal and organic feel to it all. And more often than not, its mostly men dancing closely together staring into each other eyes, very close and often holding hands. So after an hour or so of drinks, dancing and debauchery - the lights came on and the music shut off. Then, Anmul, the party animal of the group erupted into his own rendition of Akon. "I see you looking at me and you already know... I wanna.." The group went wild, joined in and carried on dancing as if the music never stopped. Next, they sung Hotel California, several other mainstream songs and even the Indian National Anthem completely disregarding the owners attempt to usher them out the door. The club owners, not sure exactly how to react, dimmed the lights and resumed the music. This process repeated itself at least three more times until about 2:30 am - music off, lights on, singing begins, dancing never stops... repeat. In general, and even more so when their drunk, Indians are such agreeable people that the club owner just did not want to make us leave. Finally, about 2:45, it was time to go. We very, very slowly made our way to the parking lot where it took us close to half an hour to organize into several cars and head back to campus. Peer pressure is a common tactic that leads to complete inefficiency and lack of urgency. Going along with the theme of agreeability, you commonly here one friend say to another as he tries to leave, "You're my brother, my best friend and you're going to leave the bar now. And leave me here? You aren't having fun with me? You don't want to be friends anymore? What's wrong?" The result, everyone dramatically coerces everyone else into standing around just a bit longer. The inefficiency lasts until the point of complete consensus that it is time to go home and that can take a while. If I wasn't in India, it would have been frustrated. What an experience! Even partying in India is really something else.

Friday, May 25, 2007: Starbucks India

2007-12-16T07:45:00.001-08:00

If you thought Starbucks' employees were abundant, hyperactive and unnaturally friendly just wait until you visit a Coffee Day in India. They just opened up a satellite store here at ISB. Its a pretty small place - half the size of Starbucks, an eighth the cost of Starbucks but packs four times the amount of service, four times as many "servers" but ironically somehow order coffee still takes about ten minutes. Behind the counter, there is only one espresso / coffee machine and only one cash register that is operated by eight Indians. I guess when labor is so cheap, why not? Coffee day has discovered a way to turn a one or two person job into a dysfunctional assembly line that results in the least efficient process of delivering coffee to their customers. In India, that is called: Success! You begin by giving your order to the first guy behind the cash register. He asked me to take a seat. I said I wanted it to go. He responded with the Indian Head Bob, "Please take a seat." I sat. Then realized why. He whispers the order to the waiter next to him who turns immediately to his left and tells the next guy who then grabs the proper cup for that specific order and gives it to the "Barista." The Barista is flanked by two or three "assistants" whose job it is to stand there, watch, and get in the way. Ocassionally the barista may choose to delegate out different responsibilities such as adding milk or sugar to the drink. Once the coffee is made, it is carried by one of the assistants back to the cash register where it is placed in another cup (there is a mug to mug transfer - not sure why?). Then, it is placed on a saucer - changing hands several times until ultimately you have a mug of coffee on a saucer with a napkin, straw, assortment of sugar and a lemon slice. This is then passed to the another server who brings it out to you along with a check. However, to pay the check I had to get back up and go to the register. In the end, the coffee was pretty good so I didn't complain.

Friday, May 25, 2007: Indian Blood Donations

2007-12-16T07:44:00.002-08:00

I walked into the Campus Rec Center about two hours ago to shoot hoops with some ISB students. When I entered the main hall, I was surprised to see several rows of students lying in hospital style beds while their blood was being drawn by very unofficial looking "nurses"... then I remembered that a student group was sponsoring a blood drive on campus today. But this wasn't any ordinary blood drive, it was an Indian blood drive. Seeing me enter the door, several students who I know pretty well accosted me, "Hey Mick! Whats up? You want to give some blood?" "Give blood! its for a good cause." Looking around, I think to myself, "This is India. Are you out of your mind? Definitely not a good idea to give blood!" Not wanting to offend anyway, I fumble through several excuses, "I don't want to be tired later," "I'm scared of needles..." etc. Then one guy looks at me, "Don't lie. You don't think its safe." He was right. I replied, "Not that it isn't safe, I just don't really feel comfortable." I was a bit skeptical of how sanitary it was, especially for an American whose body isn't primed for Indian bacteria. Ultimately, I didn't give blood (Don't worry, Mom). I didn't even consider it. After my workout, about an hour or so later, I came back out into the main hall. The crowd had dispersed, the beds and equipment were gone, and the nurses had "cleaned up" and went home. But as one would expect in India - there were drops of blood all over the floor, bloody napkins still in the trash can and I realized - even at ISB, India is still India. Good idea not to give blood.

Travel Update

2007-12-16T07:44:00.001-08:00

First, I would encourage people to leave comments at the end of postings if you feel inclined. I would appreciate feedback and questions if anyone wants to hear something particular about India, share their own personal insight or ask me to take a particular photo.I leave ISB and Hyderabad tomorrow around noon. The rest of the Wharton students leave today at 8 pm. Therefore, I have nowhere to formally stay tonight. That said, the great part is I have been invited by several of my new Indian friends to crash at their apartments here on Campus. I doubt we'll be sleeping much. There is a big party on campus tonight like last weekend so it should be a great night.I'm sad to leave all the friends I have made. ISB has been an eye-opening. Not to be corny and sentimental but the people has made this experience truly gratifying. I've really made some great connections. And the best part is, my friendships are really genuine. I feel like I have a made a solid set of Indian friends who I am excited to see everyday and feel similarly towards me. I eat breakfast and lunch with them regularly, enjoy coffee or tea, go to the gym or out for meals and drinks, and its really a natural and unforced relationship. Hopefully, I'll be back here or we will somehow cross paths again.Tomorrow, I depart for GOA around 2 pm to visit my friend Sameer and stay with him for two nights. It should be a wild time. GOA is apparently the Ibiza of India, which can only mean chaos.By the way, I had someone describe the traffic in Hyderabad as following Chaos theory - there is a method to the madness. Its just very hard to understand. I'd say thats a fitting description to India as a whole. Its a totally different and unique animal.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007: Pochampally Village

2007-12-16T07:35:00.000-08:00

I took the best set of photos yet two days ago in a small village outside of Hyderabad. It was incredible. You can see the condensed album in slideshow form at the bottom of the page. The full album (300+ photos that are very interesting along with several other albums from my trip) are also available at: www.http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/mwashmore.

The village we visited was called Pochampally. It has been around for hundreds of years. The village is known for producing the finest silk sarees and fabrics in Southern India. Each family in the village produces its own Sarees in their respective homes. The entire process from dying to production is done in house. They do it all by hand relying on using a very complex hand loom. Its an extremely tedious process- as you can see in the photo above. Each individual strand is done weaved separately. Apparently it takes over 5 days to make a single saree which each family only sells for $1.50 to the retailers. The entire family takes part in the process from dusk until dawn. After watching a Saree get made, I decided to wander around the village itself. There is one main street of commerce surrounded by all of the homes producing the sarees. The people on the street were very intrigued by me since I was white.

Slideshow Below (Click to Enlarge)

The camera only made them more curious. While a few were a bit camera shy at first, they generally enjoyed and asked to have their picture taken (the best part was letting them see it on my screen afterwards). There is a 21 photo sequence a few girls and a boy standing outside a blue door. When they saw me outside at first, they would run to the door and then run away as I waved or said hello. Then they would creep back to take another peek. This went on for a few minutes until they all slowly made their way outside to have their pictures taken. They loved it. It was a pretty fun interaction. While walking through the village, a small collection of young boys (8 - 10 years old) followed me around for the entire time I was there, leading me by my hand, jumping on my shoulders and pointing to everything and saying "Photo, photo!" then "Supe" which means show me (they wanted to see it on the screen). They guided me all around through the homes and weaving through the backroads of the village. We had a ball. Its amazing how much fun you can have and emotional communication can occur despite a complete language and cultural barrier (not to mention age as well). One of the boys was a real character too. He kept jumping into photos that I was taking to pose and make faces. This was definitely the most enjoyable part of my adventurethus far. At the very end of the day, I bought them all treats at the bakery. More to come... I can't wait to tell you about my night clubbing in Hyderabad with the MBAs! I definitely have a hangover.

Tuesday, May 21, 2007: Misc Musings...

2007-12-16T07:34:00.003-08:00

There is an excellent dry cleaning service here at ISB so I decided to give it a try. I sent off three pairs of pants, four or five dress shirts, several t-shirts and a few other little things. All of it came back either laundered or dry cleaned, pressed, and then folded over cardboard inserts perfectly. Everything felt brand new. Total cost = 16 rupees (exchange rate is 40 rupees : $1 USD)My haircut, which took 1.5 hours, was quite an experience. Not only did I have a stylist cutting my hair but he had an assistant who was brining him different types of scissors, changing the music, etc. I was given my own private room with my choice of music and beverage. The stylist was so meticulous and delicate that I felt like he was performing open heart surgery. Honest to god, he cut almost every single strand separately. After ultimately settling on giving me a "spikey" cut, he spent about 15 minutes just assessing where to start - combing my hair this way and that. When I asked him to trim my beard, he opted to forego the clippers and rather do it by hand with a pair of scissors and a comb. That took about 30 minutes. It was a great hair cut and it only cost $7 (including the shampoo and beard trim). Regardless, it was fun.Went out for a great dinner last night with Kanika, a female student here at ISB. It was a great time. We went to the ITC Grand Hotel here in Hyderabad (actually a Sheraton on steroids). It was the nicest place I've been here yet and the restaurant was unbelievable. We ate a late dinner around 10:30 pm. The restaurant itself had an exposed kitchen so you could see everything going on. Apparently, its one of the best hotel restaurant chains in India. Kanika took care of all the ordering. Even on a date, we ate mostly with our hands. The Tandoor lamb was the best it could be.Gotta run to breakfast. Curry. Can't wait.Mickey