The Monkey Business Crew

Got an email from from Dad: “You actually had a previous run-in with monkeys when you were about 3 in Beppu, in northern Kyushu. While we were wandering about a hilly temple a monkey tried to grab Mom's purse. It actually was tugging on the purse when you ran up and gave it a swift kick. After the monkey turned and snarled at you, and backed off, it hung out on the hillside and hurled angry-sounding monkey epithets.”

Terrorist Attacks in Delhi

Just letting everyone know that I’m okay. One of the bombings was at Sarojini Nagar Market, which I’ve gone to a few times, and makes it a little scary. I was on the other side of the city at the time of the attacks, however, so all is fine with me and everyone I know.

Tensions are high here in Delhi. The closest analogy I can think of is imagine if three shopping malls in the Washington DC area were bombed two days before Christmas.
There is an increased police presence on the street, although don’t be fooled by those BBC news reports bemoaning the fact that the police are now carrying automatic weapons; they were carrying those before.

Still, the attacks have killed 55 people since I last checked, and injured many more. My thoughts go out to the families of the injured and deceased.

Back to Delhi on a delux bus

Rode back to Delhi today on a deluxe bus. Oh my goodness the difference! The seats are padded. You have arm rests, so your space is clearly defined. The chair reclines! The bus has a suspension which works, as opposed to sending every jolt in the road up your spine. There is AC! The windows are closed, which means you don’t get exhaust fumes or hear every blaring horn on the road!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I took the ordinary bus, and I think it is an experience most people should have at least once. The people you meet and sit alarmingly close to on the ordinary bus are fascinating and friendly. But the extra $1.50 for the delux bus is some of the best money I have ever spent…

Temple of Justice

It’s not the lair of a superhero, but is instead the Supreme Courthouse for the Punjab province, of which Chandrigarh is the capital. The guide book claims that the courthouse is famous for its architecture; you look at the picture and decide for yourself.

The funny story about the courthouse is that I went there after I was at the rock garden. Looking at the map, I saw that the courthouse was only about a quarter kilometer away, easily walkable. It was part of a larger architectural complex which included the Punjab statehouse and a monument to Chandigarh. Looking at the map, I thought “I’ll just walk through the courthouse to see these other sites.”
Sadly, this was much easier said than done. I approached the courthouse from behind. Trying to walk around, I encountered fences on both sides which stretched for much longer than I was willing to walk around. Approaching the security guard I asked if it was possible to walk through. He said yes, but I would need permission in order to take pictures.
“I don’t want to take pictures, I just want to walk through,” I said. “But if you have a camera you might take pictures and we can’t allow that,” he replied. “From whom do I get permission?” I asked. “From the office of visitor affairs, on the fourth floor, but you’ll have to leave your camera here.” “I just want to walk through, I don’t want to take pictures.” “But you’ll need to get permission, and the only way I can guarantee you’ll come back here with permission is if you leave your camera.” “But what if I didn’t have a camera?” “Then you couldn’t go through.”
So, leaving my camera with him, I trudged upstairs to the office of visitor affairs, which had a surprising number of people considering how few visitors the supreme court seemed to have. Upon arriving I announced that I was seeking permission. To which a clerk asked “do you have a request letter.” I said “no, I didn’t realize you needed one.”
At this the clerk sighed, and proceeded to forge me a request letter from the Chandrigarh Tourism Office.
He had me sign the letter, then sent it with my passport off to his supervisor, who looked at it and me suspiciously for a few minutes before grunting and signing it. The signed permission letter was transcribed and photocopied, my passport was returned to me along with a receipt asserting I had obtained permission to take pictures from balconies and stairwells.
So, I returned with my permission receipt to the security guard, who cheerfully returned my camera to me. I then walked through the supreme court building, where upon I discovered that the fence which had foiled me on either side extended in front of the building, with a gate going through.
As I approached this gate I was confronted by a security guard who insisted that this gate was for VIPs only, and that I could not pass through. I offered him my permission slip, which he rejected as not being appropriate. I observed that as a westerner in many situations I was considered a VIP. I promised if I passed through the gate that I would come back to it. I offered to leave my bag with him to just quickly go take a few photos. I asked him if he would take the camera and take a few photos for me. But sadly this was all to no avail. He was adamant that I would not pass, so I didn’t.

Dejectedly, turned back along the route I came, surrendering my hour long dream of taking pictures of the state legislature building. Out of spite I wandered gratuitously around the courthouse building, because, dammit, I had gotten permission to do so. While there I saw a sign saying: “This is a temple of Justice. Keep it clean,” which in my state of mind at the time i found incredibly funny.

Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween everyone!

Rock garden worker

Work is ongoing at the garden, and new areas are being built and expanded to all the time. This is one of the workers expanding a wall around the swing set you see. You can see the shards of found pottery and other materials he’s working with.

Rock Garden of Chandrigarh

The rock garden of Chandrigarh is cool enough to justify its own post. So far on the trip it has hands-down been the best “tourist spot” I’ve seen, which was a total surprise for me at the time because I went there expecting very little. It was started by a municipal road worker who covertly collected broken pottery and found objects, turning them at night into little himanoid figurines and other prices of art. He’d been doing this for a decade or so when his secret collection was discovered in the late 70’s and people were so impressed by it that they decided to pay him to continue, building up a rock garden around his work.
The garden, which is mainly a series of artificial canyons and trails through which you wend your way is an excellent exercise in controlling perspective. Basically, you begin to see parts of a scene as you round a corner or glimpse it through a hole in the wall, then your understanding changes as your move through or around what you see. The whole things is a series of exposed discoveries and hidden It is very cool and is one of the few truly impressive works of modern art I’ve encountered anywhere.

These pictures don’t really do the experience justice, but I’ve posted some so you get a flavor.

Chandigarh

In addition to having a cool name, Chandigarh is one of the only planned cities in India, and was build almost entirely in the 1950’s and 1960’s.
From the day I spent there was very pleasant. The air was clean, the ground was largely uncluttered with litter; a striking change from Amritsar. Of all the cities I’ve seen in India so far, it seems the most hospitable.
The city is structured in sectors, which measure 1200 by 800 meters. In each sector is a small community that contains most of what is necessary for daily life: schools, shops, houses, businesses and green spaces. The idea is residences spend most of their time in their own sectors, which have the feeling of small towns, only venturing to other blocks for external things they require. All in all, it seems to work pretty well for the Chandigarthians. It has the highest literacy rate of any city at 90%, and is the only city in India with a population that is more than 50% female. From what I saw the green spaces do not suffer from the tragedy of the commons problem I mentioned earlier, all the parks I saw were filled with people just enjoying the day.

If you decide to go, it can be done in a weekend from Delhi. Its about 5 hour bus ride from Delhi, stay overnight and drive home the next evening. Make sure to see the Rock garden, the City Museum, the rose garden and the lake. All are worth a stop.

Viceroy's Lodge

This is the viceroy's lodge in Shimla, from where British India was ruled during the summer for a century. Partition between Indian and Pakistan was decided upon here, and Mountbatten apparently made the final decision to leave India from here as well.

Tragedy of the Commons

One of the constant features of communal green areas in India are squatters, homeless and other indigent people trying to eek out a living. There’s nothing wrong with it, these people are desperate and using the resources available to them. But constant overuse does tend to make many Indian parks look rundown and generally unpleasant places to be.

Religious equality

Just an sign I saw near the Wagah border. I *think* it reflects broadly the belief of the Sikhs, but I'm not sure about that. Regardless, part of what has allowed the different cultures of India to exist side by side for so long are statements like these.

Indian democracy

Also at the Wagah border. For all its problems and difficulties, India is the worlds largest functioning democracy, which is tremendously to its credit. It was not obvious to anyone 50 years ago during independence that India would either stay together or remain a democracy.

Just the mere fact that it exists today as it does is an accomplishment.

This immigration brought to you by Pepsi

Saw this while out at the Wagah Border closing. Optimistically, on the way to the actual border gate the Indians have set up an immigration facility, I guess just in case all the Pakistanis change their mind and decide to immigrate. The Pepsi logo is all over the place...This immigration made possible by support from Pepsi.

Elevator of Doom

Sorry for back tracking, but I'm going through my roll of pictures and found some more to share:

This is a sign for a elevator which goes from the bottom of the mountain to the top in Shimla. Its a very long elevator with a small carriage--it could fit maybe 3 people by American standards but darned if we didn't fit 6 people plus a elevator door man in there.

First, look at the last bullet point on the sign: "All Efforts will be made to take out stranded passengers due to a electrical failure of technical fault, which may take a minimum of 20 to 25 minutes." At least they let you know that help will come eventually, not necessarily a given here in India.

Second, I just find the Times of India Slogan at the top to be very funny. The slogan might as well be "Times of India: for People who Deserve Love"

Himalayas

I saw this from Shimla. Yup, those are the white-capped Himalayans in the background there. Very pretty.

Regarding tuktuks.

This is a set of rules I’ve compiled while having spent the past few weeks interacting heavily with autorickshaws, although its applicable to cycle rickshaws and taxis as well. Rather than tell you every little rickshaw story, I hope this gives a general sense of what interacting with the drivers is like:

-Do not accept any rickshaw driver who approaches you. This is especially the case for drivers who meet you off a bus or a train.

-Use a pre-paid taxi or rickshaw stand if at all possible. They’re usually poorly labeled and hard to find but are well worth the 3% commission.

-If no pre-paid stand is available, focus on drivers who are on the road returning from a previous run. The fact that they are returning from a run is at least one data point suggesting that a prior individual negotiated a reasonable fare from this driver. In addition, if you meet them on the road it is easier to walk away if the fare is not to you liking.
When not driving, the drivers tend to cluster together for company. While it is sometimes possible to negotiate groups of drivers against themselves, more often than not they collude amongst themselves to set an absurdly high price.

-Before going into a context with rickshaw drivers, such as getting off a bus or train, know exactly where it is you want to go, and have a rough estimate of how much it costs to get there. Figuring out such things while three noisy people crowd around you for attention is sometimes tough to do.
One option for determining a reasonable fare is to ask a local person, such as a fellow bus passenger before departing. Another is to determine the approximate distance on the map and estimate 8 rupees per kilometer.

-If you cannot get a prior fare estimate, cut whatever the driver first quotes you in half, maybe more.

-Be realistic that as a non-native speaker you are going to pay more, and keep the fare in perspective. If you can keep what you pay to within 50% of the estimated price of a local person, it is usually acceptable.

-Unless the meter is working, demand a price be set before you get in the autorickshaw. Recognize also that the meter is never working.

-DO NOT let them pick up your baggage or try to help you unless a price and a destination has already been agreed on.

-Demand a “Yes” or “No” reply to the question: “Do you understand where I want to go and how to get there?” If they don’t, they will usually try to brush you off with an “okay” reply. This is unacceptable because it will waste your time when they stop to ask for directions, and will possibly cause an argument if it is further than they thought.

-Carry lots of 5 and 10 rupee bills. A common trick is claiming that they don’t have change for larger bills.

-Do not agree to be taken to other places which are “on the way” to where you are going. Invariably these are shopping locations that will pay a commission to the driver.

-Demand to be dropped exactly where you wish to be dropped, not across the street, not around the corner. If they refuse to do so, you pay half.

-If a disagreement arises over the fare during your trip, upon arriving do not be afraid to pay the originally negotiated fare and to walk away. Such “misunderstandings” on where you wanted to go (Oh, you meant the famous Jama Mosque in OLD Delhi, not the non-existent one in NEW Delhi…) invariably falls in their favor and is a ploy to get clueless tourists to pay more.

-Do not accept “luggage” or “extra passenger” charges that are tacked on after the fact. During negotiations they see exactly how many people you are and what you are carrying. Such things are included in the price.

-Feel no pity. Realize that as a group no other set of people in India will consistently try to screw you as often as the rickshaw drivers, pretty much because when they see you as a foreigner they think they can. There’s no way they will agree to a fare in which they lose money, so the best you can do is negotiate as reasonable a fare a possible. True their job sucks, but compared to many of the people you meet on the street, they’re actually pretty well off. If you feel the need to give away money, give it to the actual needy, of which India has plenty.

-Relax. If you sit back and see the humor in this absurd mode of transportation, negotiating with them can be kind of fun at times. Recognize you will be overcharged the first ten times you try, but also recognize that you’re usually being overcharged a dollar or two at most. Sit back and enjoy the learning experience.

Sick

I caught a cold on the way to Amritsar. Luckily I still haven’t gotten “delhi belly,” but I did feel pretty bad for a day or two. You know you’re sick when you’re wrapped in blankets hopped up on cold medication, watching “Van Helsing” on hotel HBO and think: “This movie is pretty good. The plot holds together well.”

Wagah Border Closing

Went to see the Wagah border closing between Pakistan and India. Basically every evening the Indians and the Pakistanis draw crowds to see an stylized face offbetween border guards to march around and "hrmph" at each other.

Imagine a blend of Kabuki theater with the Ministry of Funny Walks, observed nightly by hundreds of nationalistic Indians calling for ceremonial blood, and you start to get the idea.

Its really more of a tourist draw at this point than the actual reflection of any sort of open-door policy. There were easily hundreds, if not a few thousand people there, and it quickly adopted the air of highschool pep-rally.

I did find the confirmation of a steriotype to be very funny, however. The steriotype is that Pakistanis, while smaller in number are more organized and so would be able to hold their own against the Indian hordes in an all-out war. In the border closing ceremony, the Pakistanis, even though they were fewer by a factor of 10 were able to out-shout the Indians at times because the Indian loudspeakers kept failing, and the crowd had a hard time staying together on their chants. It was very funny.

I couldn't catch all the chants, but a very common one was: "Hindustan! Zindabad!" which, I think means "India Forever!"

Golden Temple

Yup, its as cool and as pretty as promised. It reminded me of St. Peter's in Rome, in the sense of being a holy and impressive place; what it lacks in size it makes up for in glitter. This picture doesn't do it much justice, but I hope it helps a litte.

There were loads of pilgrims and worshipers. Twice while I was there a random old Sikh man came up to me and said words to the effect of: "Welcome! You are my brother, and all doors here are open to you. Please enjoy and stay as long as you like."

I also hadn't realized until I saw the Sikh mueseum at the Golden Temple just how violent the Sikh's history was. They were constantly being killed by everyone--the Moguls, the Hindus, the Bristish, the French, the Afghans, the Persians. To be fair, they gave as well as they took--for example their bitter loss to the British at 1846 the battle of Ferozeshah caused a British officer to comment "One more victory such as this and we are undone." More info here.

Jallianwallah Barg

Jallianwallah Barg was the site of a massive massacer of Indian protesters at the hands of the British in 1919. It alienated millions of perviously loyal Indians and united much of the Indian indepence movement.

Read more about it here,

Amritsar

Amritsar stinks. No, I mean literally. It’s a crowded canyon of buildings, dust, dirt and smog. Diesel fumes seem to be everywhere, even though the place is choked with more bicycle rickshaws than I’ve ever seen. Already run down with a cold, my eyes started burning and I began coughing within 10 minutes of being in the city. And I wasn’t even there during one of its famous dust storms!

With the exception of the Golden Temple, the Atari border closing and Jallianwallah Barg, there is nothing worthwhile to see in Amritsar. I’m serious—the other sites are not worth the cost of the rickshaw ride to them. I went purely out of a morbid curiosity and was sorely disappointed.
So, go to Amritsar, see the Golden Temple, Jallianwallah Barg and the border closing in a day, then go away.

Temples of Thought

I just want to talk a little more about why might the Tibetan Buddhist minimalist approach to temples make sense for them. If you accept the notion that Buddhism is a school of thought, or a philosophy as well as being a religion, then perhaps large grandiose temples are unnecessary. You either accept the philosophy or you don’t, and while logical or religious arguments might be convincing, no amount of bombastic architecture is going to get you to change your mind about what is being said. One might as well construct an altar to the fundamental theorem of calculus, or to Kant’s Categorical Imperative.

Grover Norquist’s Utopia

A few more words about the Tibetan government in exile. As far as I can tell it is the logical conclusion of the “starve the beast” strategy of federal reduction that is popular with many people in America today. It imposes no tax burden on its population, it supports itself through donations and foreign aid. Citizens elect a political leader (the Dalai Lama is the spiritual leader) who provides for their common defense both by appealing to the Indian government, and generally permeating the idea that Tibetans aren’t a threat to anyone. In terms of social programs it helps out Tibetan refugees fleeing Nepal and Chinese Tibet as it can, and supports the Dalai Lama in his attempts to preserve Tibetan culture as it becomes diluted around the world. For municipal duties it provides services such as road repair in the Mcleod Ganj area through volunteer labor. And as far as I can tell, that’s pretty much all it does.

All in all, with maybe 10 parking spaces for the entire organization, the Tibetan Government in Exile is the one government in the world that Grover Norquist might plausibly fit into his bathtub and strangle. Perhaps he should visit McLeon Ganj to see what it looks like…

Dharamsala

In a small little town in foothills of the Himalayas is the seat of the Tibetan Government in Exile, and home of the Dalai Lama, also known as the city of Dharamsala. There are a number of things misleading about the above sentence.

First of all, even though everyone calls it the city of Dharamsala, everything of interest actually happens in a former hillstation 10 km away called McLeod Ganj. McLeod Ganj is not a city. Its is three streets on a ridge which come together in a bus stand around which a network of squat, square garage-looking buildings are erected. The buildings are mostly stores, residences, restaurants or hotels. The population, given what I saw wandering the streets is about 60% Tibetan and 40% backpacker. The Dalai Lama’s house and the seat of government is a 10 and 20 minute walk respectively from the bus stand.

The kicker about the Dharamsala area is that there is NOTHING to SEE in any of these places. The center of Tibetan Buddhism is a drab concrete building with a small room in which a colorful if unassuming alter has been set up. The Tibetan government is an even more austere place, a few small concrete buildings which look like dorms next to a Buddhist monestary. True there are a few short hikes with pretty scenary, but they are not all that impressive. The bottom line is that all the sites to see, from the Dalhi Lama’s residence to the pretty vistas of the mountains and nearby waterfalls, can all be seen in one day without the burden of a camera, because there’s not much to photograph. The picture I’m posting is one of the few I took in Dharamsala before I realized how unphotogenic it is.

But strangely enough, even though there was nothing to see there, I found Dharamsala and Mcleod Ganj oddly compelling. The point is no to see things but to experience things. There are constantly various classes being taught throughout the area, on subjects ranging from Buddhist philosophy to Tibetan cooking to mediation, Yoga and massage. Classes are cheap, usually 100 to 300 rupees for a course of 8 to 10 lessons, which usually takes about two weeks.

So, if you’re going to just visit there, don’t plan on more than a day. You’ll be bored. But if you have the time to stay there, consider being there at least two weeks, stay in one of the cheap 100 rupee a night hotels, take classes during the day and hang out with dispossessed westerners at night. I’m not saying you’ll find enlightenment, or even understand Tibetan cooking by the end, but at least you’ll have a sense of bettering yourself and have had an Indian experience which is different than the standard tourist’s.

Dharamsala: It is a great place to live, but I wouldn’t want to visit there. Yeah, you read that right.

All hail the mighty yak!

Saw this in Shimla. Reminded me of a poem written by a friend of mine when I was younger. Sadly, I can't find it, but there was the line, "All Hail the Mighty Yak!"

Which is funny.

Shine ya shoes, guvna?

For a while I was confused why all Indian's shoes seem to be shiney and clean. Its like they buy new ones every week. Then I realized it was these guys. They just hang out on street corners and shine your shoes for 10 rupees (25 cents) a pair.

Depending on the kindness of strangers

For all my ranting about the bus ride, it wasn't a total disaster. I met a number of interesting people, including a policeman from himachal pradesh and a Buddhist monk. In addition to pleasant if halting conversation, they generally helped me out, letting me know when stops were coming up, or other such useful details of bus travel.

That seems to be happening a lot here, my depending on the kindness of strangers. Whether these random gestures are the acts of hosts who want to welcome a guest in their country, or of a parental instinct to aid a babe lost in the woods has yet to be determined. Both seem plausible, really.

Bus to Dharamsala

The bus from Shimla to Dharamsala is scary, long and uncomfortable. Its an 8 hour long "ordinary bus" ride through the night, leaving Shimla at 21:30 and arriving in Dharamsala at 5:30. The seats are very narrow, seating 5 across a school-bus sized space, and have too short a back for you to scrunch down and rest our head. Luggage is stored where ever you can make it fit, be this in the overhead wrack, under the seat, in the asle, or next to the driver (where I put my pack).

The bus was packed with people, but luckily it made stops along the way, so people gradually got out. Even so, at the beginning lots of people were coughing on each other because they had no choice, and I swear I heard someone throw-up.

But honestly, neither the crowd or the possible threat of disease was the worst part. By far the worst was the driving. To get from Shimla to Dharamsala, you go down one set of mountains, across a valley and up another set. So, most of the roads are narrow and twisty. The roads were so narrow and twisty that at one point we got into an impass with a bus going the other way, and had to do a 16 point turn to get around each other. Needless to say, our driver felt in necessary to take these turns as fast a possible. There were definate moments where I sincerely wondered "are the break out? How could he think this is a good idea?" The shocks on the bus were also terrible, so we felt every bump in the road. So, we spent much of the ride being shaken and thrown from side to side; imagine a rollercoaster without loop-de-loops, but for 8 HOURS. With potty breaks every hour, of course.

Next time, I spring the extra $1.50 for the delux bus.

Not so lonely planet

Just an interesting note: many Indians I have met have been fascinated by my Lonely Planet guide book. I think I've meet more random people because of it than any other single factor; its often used as a conversation starter as they come over to see it.

Perspective watch: It is better to serve in Heaven?

I hung out for a part of yesterday with a very interesting fellow named Bhawani, who I met at the end of a hike through an area called the Glenn. The hike was very pleasant, but was almost entirely down hill, and the prospect of walking back up was daunting. Bhawani was overseeing a road repair site, and we began talking as I trudged past. After speaking for a while, he offered me a ride back up the hill on his way to his next site, which I accepted on the grounds that my feet hurt. We ended up spending the rest of the afternoon together, as he drove me around to a few places off the beaten path in Shimla, ending with a cup of tea the town center.

Anyway, Bhawani is a 30 year old native of Shimla who owns a contracting company doing road work for the local government. His company has 35 workers, working on 5 difference sites. He speaks excellent English, is from a Brahman family, and is very involved in something called a "Youth Congress," which I understood is where future politicians are groomed to get involved in Government. He is the eldest son of a family of 5, is unmarried, but his parents are apparently on the look-out for a suitable wife.

He also desperately wants to go to America to live permanently. He mentioned wanting to leave within an hour upon meeting me. As the afternoon progressed, he went so far as to ask if I would "sponsor him" for a visa by writing a letter to the US embassy. He seemed to think that unless he had an "in" with a citizen there was no way that he could get a visa. I explained to him that while many things in India worked like that, American visa applications did not, and that nothing I could put in a letter was likely to help him get approval.

I tried to figure out why he was so interested in going to the US. I explained that the lives of first generation immigrants are usually difficult, and it would likely be doubly difficult for him since he did not have family there. I also explained that the America presented on TV and in movies was not at all what daily life is like; Baywatch or Friends are popular precisely because they are NOT real. But he was adamant about wanting to go, almost obsessed with it. He was convinced that life is better in America, and would gladly give up the upper-class life he has in India for a shot at what he is certain will be a better one.

I never was able to pin him down as to exact reasons, but my mother tells a story, the point of which is that being college educated is taken for granted by people who have such an education, but is a very big deal for many people who do not have one. Perhaps it is a similar situation for Bhawani. Being American, like being college educated, is taken for granted by those who have it precisely because we see it too closely. We focus on the annoyances or the disappointments, and forget the thousand little ways in which "membership" allows us to glide over obstacles which are insurmountable to others. For those on the outside, however, few things are as special or desired, no matter what they are weighed against.

Or, maybe he figures he has a shot at Pamela Anderson, now that she and Tommy Lee are on the rocks.

Culture watch

Is is in appropriate in Hindu culture for a stranger to sit next to a woman? Twice now I've had a seat on the train or a bus next to a woman who was sitting across from her husband. Upon seeing that I had to sit there, they wordlessly rearranged themselves so that I was next to the man.

Just kinda weird.

What the Monkey God taketh away, the Monkey God returneth

Yup. I got my sunglasses back. They're bent and mangled, but they've come back to me. Here's the picture of when the monkey took them, sorry its so dark, the cafe I'm at doesn't have picture editing tools.

They were found on the other side of the mountain when a passer-by saw the monkey drop them. He/she was on their way to the Jukoo temple, where the Nepalese man recognized them as mine. Since he didn't have my contact number, he dropped them off at the Shimla government tourist office. When I stopped in there this morning to get directions to the bus station, the woman behind the counter saw my face, said "You were the American attacked by the bander (monkey)? Are these glasses yours?"

Anyways, it is awesome. The lenses seem unscractched so I'm gonna see if I can get them repaired. After all, the monkey god gave them back...I pretty much have to wear them now, don't I?

Carolla as a status symbol?

In the internet cafe where I'm typing this, there is a TV commercial which shows a very successful man wooing a very pretty woman by alluding to the fact that he drives a carolla. Just little trippy.

No rabies!

Happily, even through monkey do sometimes have rabies, according to the CDC website it can only be transmitted via a full bite. Their spit needs to come in contact with my blood. Since the scrathes didn't bleed, and regardles the monkey didn't bite me, I think I'm okay.

The other worry is tetnus, but since I had a booster in August, I think I'm squared away.

Onward!

Monkeys: 1 Linton: 0

I went up to see the Jakoo temple, which is the highest point in Shimla and offers beautiful views of the valley. After over an hour climb, I finally reached the top, which opens up onto a flat area with a pleasant looking temple, as well as viewing plaforms of the valley around.

But the fist thing that strikes you upon walking up is not the view. Its the monkeys. Hundreds of them. Everywhere, in the trees, on the roofs, in the fountains, on the ground. Just hanging out (pardon the pun). It turns out Jakoo is a temple to Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god.

As I walked towards a viewing platform for a picture, one monkey took a special interest in me. He kept watching me, edging closer and closer, while the others just kind a milled about. Not thinking much of it, I turned my back on him to look out over the beautiful vista, and he jumped on my back. Startled, I knocked him off me, but not before he'd scratched at my face and grabbed my sunglasses.

It turns out the monkeys like two things from humans, food and shiney things. My sunglasses, being shiney, were a prime target. The scratches weren't deep, he'd made them while snatching at my classes. It turns out monkeys have fingernails, too.

Now I was in a conundrum. I was in the temple of the Monkey god, and a monkey had just stolen my 2-day-old sunglasses. I had no idea what I could and could not do, much less what I should do. Nobody seemed to be around. Should a yell at it? Try to scare it? Throw a stone? What if I killed it? Would the monks kill me?

As these thoughts were racing through my head I heard a shout from behind me and stone zipped past, missing the monkey by about a foot. A bald Nepalese man can running from one of the building shouting and holding a pack of food.

It turn out this happens all the time. Monkey attack people a lot, and apparently are a well-known hazard. So much so that the temple employs people to try to get items back from the monkeys. Thus, for the next half hour this little Nepalese man yelled, threw stones, offered food, got out ladders and climbed on rooftops in an effort to get my sunglasses back. We tried working as a group, even recruited a passing teenager to help keep an eye on where it was. But sadly our efforts were to no avail, the monkey evaded us and ran away down the forested side of the slope.

It was about halfway through the failed hunt that I reflected on what was going on and started to see the absurdity of this all. I had bought the sunglasses for $5 in Delhi to replace a $7 pair I'd lost in the Ganges. Mentally noting to pay even less for my next pair, I took a picture of the monkey with my glasses; if I can find an internet cafe with a USB port I'll post a picture soon.

Resigned to my loss, I tipped the man for his efforts, took a few snap shots of the splendid view, hoped the monkey god enjoyed his offering, and headed down the mountain.

Stupid monkey. Now I need to figure out if I have rabies.

Indian train crowds

I still haven't figured out how the Indian rail system estimates passengers on their website. My first train had an estimated 5 seats empty for the class of rail I was in--I would guess there were maybe that many in the whole coach. Conversly. it estimated the second train to be very empty, over 20 seats, but it was packed to the gills.

I guess the lesson is not to trust the India Rail website

Train to shimla

Made it safely to shimla. The trip took longer than planned, so I was almost 13 hrs on a train.

The last leg of the trip is on a narrow gauge train that takes 6.5 hrs to climb 90 km into the Himalayas, through over 100 tunnels. I made most of the trip sitting as the one westerner in a tiny little car with over 15 Indians who all knew each other. They were part of an extended family trip from Mangalore. Happily, I made friends with them about 45 minutes into the climb, and then spent a lot of time talking to different family members. They pretty much traded out with each other as my conversation with each reached the end of their English ability. (They spoke Tamil, so not even the few Hindi words I know where of use)

The most memorable member of the family was this skinny old man with huge glasses who was really interested in his new cell phone. It was a little tiny nokia which he kept proudly taking out and showing to me, playing different rings, texting other family members. I never figured out if this was his first phone or not; he clearly was very skilled in how to use it, but he was also kept pulling it out too much for someone who was unfamilar with cells.

All in all, it was a pretty nice way to spend what was otherwise a long and cramped train ride.

Dharamsala

More Elephant Polo

Dave was kind enough to host this for me.

http://dev.sinapseconsulting.com/dave/elephant_polo.mov

Its a movie clip I took of elephant polo, which gives a pretty good feel for how the game proceeds. The pop you hear is one of the elephants stepping on the soccer ball. And that's a different Dave laughing in thebackground.

Leaving Delhi for Shimla

I’m leaving Delhi tomorrow morning for northern climes. I’ll be taking an 11 hr train up to Shimla, which was the summer capitol of British India. I’ve been told its pretty and worthy of a stop, so I am going.

Inexplicably, the name of the city is not shown on the map above. But trust me--a little tiny "Shimla" is hidden under that star.

This is the first trip I’ve taken in which I did not have the different legs pre-scheduled and tickets reserved. I’m pretty much gonna decide in Shimla where to go next, when to leave and how to get there. Wish me luck!

Possible Client for Orbitz

I was in the New Delhi train station this afternoon buying tickets, and it was a very interesting experience.

As a prequel, it took me most of a days worth of pondering the Indian rail system before I felt comfortable enough to begin ordering tickets. Once you “get it” it is actually pretty straightforward, but it is very different from my previous ticket ordering interactions with amtrac or airlines, and until I was familiar with how things were arranged, it was very intimidating.

A major source of the confusion stemmed from the India rail website, which inexplicably only lists schedules for immediate connections between two stations. You cannot put in start and end stations and have it figure out the middle. So, for example to get from Delhi to Shimla, you had to already know that it requires a train change in Kalka. For you to even begin to think that Kalka is on the way from Delhi to Shimla, and thus might have a role to play in your travel plans, you need to have a better knowledge of Indian geography than I had... You can quickly see how the way things are set up makes it difficult to travel between places you do not know. Rather than rant further about the Indian rail website, let me just say that if it were like Orbitz.com, in which you enter start and end destinations and let it make suggested routs, then I’d guess 2/3 of the travel agents in India would be out of a job.

Okay. Back to the train station ticket counter. It was very crowded, with about 7 or 8 bank-teller like windows in front of which rows of 15-20 people were lined up. The teller windows have written on the wall above them helpful purchasing advice in English and Hindi. “Do not purchase tickets from touts, such reservations are not guaranteed” and so forth.

To purchase a ticket you must wait in one line, “the enquiry line” to get a “Reservation Requisition Form” from a bored looking elderly man. You then fill it out with your travel plans, and then wait in front of one of the bank-teller windows in order to have the information typed into the computer by another bored man, who also accepts money for the ticket.

Indian Stretchable Time

The ticket purchase process is phenomenally inefficient and time consuming, and is a prime example of inefficient bureaucracy. But I was also struck by how well the Indians accepted the wait. They were fine with it. Perhaps not happy about it, but they had clearly internalized that waiting was a part of train tickets, and so chose not to dwell on such things. There was a little talking, but most of the people did not seem to know each other, so there was the studied silence of strangers forced to be in close proximity. Kinda like at the DMV or on metro trains.

This ability to wait seems to permeate a huge swath of Indian culture. Indians are constantly waiting. Be it for train tickets. Or for the train. I’ve only seen one Indian run to try to catch a bus; they’ll wait for the next one. Taxi drivers think nothing of waiting for hours for a client to return. Construction workers will just lay down and nap until their equipment comes. Indians don’t mind being bored.

Americans would rage against such tedium, I think. We hate waiting. We hate wasted time. Although shortened attention spans due to modern media might be a partial explanation, I think the main reason is because we think of our time as our own, and so feel umbrage when someone is squandering it, almost as it they are stealing from us. And in a way they are, if you take seriously the notion that “Time is Money.”

Indians seem to feel very differently about the matter. I can’t explain the mind set, only what I’ve seen them doing. But they certainly do not seem to mind if someone takes their time but does not fill it.

Equal Rights

The Indian Rail Ticket Purchase system is also the one place I’ve seen so far in India where women seem to come out ahead of men. Literally. Women have their own purchase line off to the side which goes significantly faster than the men’s lines. And I understand in train stations in which there is no woman’s line, women have the right to go to the front of the line to purchase their tickets. Pasang made gentle fun of me when I came back and complained about this.

Personal Space

Another lesson learned from the train station: Indians have very very different notions of what is sufficient person space. Its almost Japanese in how small it is, but not quite that bad. While waiting in line, the guy behind me kept pushing up against me. I kept inching forward, or to the side, or otherwise adjusting my position, and each time he would inch forward until I was touching the guy in front of me, who also didn’t seem to care.

As if the extra three inches closer would somehow make the line shorter.

Moral Hazard

For the most part, Delhian drivers seem far more skilled than all but a few American drivers that I’ve seen. They seem more focused, react faster and are less flustered by surprise then American counterparts. That said, their method of driving is ridiculous. Even accepting that they might lack the training that American drivers receive (and we don’t get much) what they do at times just lacks plain common sense. They take drive extraordinarily aggressively, exploit dangerous gaps and take needless risks.

They also generally lack car insurance. I’ve been in two minor car accidents while here, and in both the parties yelled at each other for a while, then drove off on a huff. In America there would still be yelling, but you’d also trade insurance numbers before stewing for the next few days.

Hold those two thoughts: aggressive driving and no insurance.

Economics has a concept called “moral hazard” which claims that a person who posses insurance for a particular activity tend to be more reckless in said activity than those without insurance. Sadly this seems to break down in Delhi, where most of the people do not have insurance. In such a context one would expect them to drive more carefully and defensively, since they would be the ones to absorb the cost of an accident. But that doesn’t happen. Instead they choose to drive dangerously.

So nobody has insurance, but everyone is acting recklessly. How is this possible? Is moral hazard wrong?

Or possible answer is that moral hazard does not apply when people do not have insurance; it merely predicts an increase in recklessness when insurance is present. But I don’t see how Delhians would drive even MORE recklessly than they do, short of actively driving into walls crash-test style.

Any other ideas out there? Am I badly misrepresenting moral hazard?

30 minutes over Jaipur

Dave and I drove with some friends to the city of Jaipur, which is about 300 km southwest of Delhi. Told this trip would take about 3 hrs each way, and that we were would be going down to see ELEPHANT POLO, Dave and I readily agreed. Since the polo was to happen in the afternoon, I hoped to be able to tour a little around the city of Jaipur, which is famous for it beauty and color.

Sadly, the trip took 5 hours down and 6 hours up. While the trip was justified because we got to see ELEPHANT POLO (they’re big animals, so I feel the capitalization is appropriate) we did not get to spend much time in Jaipur. In fact, we were in downtown Jaipur for about half an hour, most of which was spent in the car.

So, things I can say about Jaipur: As advertised, it’s the “pink city,” and is full of many pretty colors. There were lots of people wearing turbans and sporting very impressive handle-bar moustaches. The outside of the “palace of winds” is very pleasant. The view across the street from the “Trident Hilton,” seen above, is fantastic.

A socio-economic roller coaster

The polo match was held on the Jaipur polo grounds, which is nestled about 1.5 km off the main road to Ajmer. The interesting thing about this last 1.5km to the polo grounds is that it takes you through a very poor and crowded looking slum. It really is phenomenal, and I wish I’d gotten pictures worth posting. You pass dirty broken down homes and piles of garbage that children are looking through. The place was a study in dogs, dust and drear.

The unpaved road ends abruptly in the arched gateway of the Jaipur polo club, which looks like a western country club. A man in uniform with a massive handlebar moustache salutes as you drive by. You drive up to green polo fields, white clubhouse, horse stalls, pool, tennis court, servants offering drinks. When we arrived two patrons were lounging by the pool with their bikini-clad girlfriends. They played some tennis for a change of pace, and that pretty much seemed to be how their days went.

Anyway, the point is that it was just jarring, shifting from one socio-economic extreme to the other without a clutch.

Normal Polo

Less boring than I feared, but nothing like what Ralph Lauren promises in his commercials. I think its an upscale version of NASCAR—people watch It in anticipation of the crashes and the injuries. Like NASCAR, it seems an exercise in players getting into and out of each other’s way.

Elephant Polo

Oh yeah, its as cool as it sounds. I’m not sure the elephants realized they were playing a game, but then again I’m not sure polo horses do, either. Even though they are unalike in almost every describable way, I kept thinking of the hippopotamus ballet from Fantasia. But this is way cooler because it has 3 meter mallets.

I’m still trying to get the video I took off my camera, so you can see the pace of the game.

If I can I’ll also post the video of the elephant vs children tug-o-war held afterwards. Oh yeah, you read that right. 50 little children pulling on ropes in one direction, while the elephant tied to the other end went in another. As might be imagined, it was no contest. Thankfully the children had the sense afterwards to get out of Jumbo’s way as it lumbered off field. I can’t even imagine the liability forms necessary to stage an elephant vs children tug-o-war in the States. Seriously, the only forum in which it might plausibly happen is a Fox reality show.

India: Where Fox doesn’t need to make up reality for you.

Speed bumps

As suggested by the previous post, the primary means of speed regulation seems to be the unmarked speed bump. In Delhi they have them every few hundred meters. On the highway to Jaipur it was every few kms. As might be imagined, higher/steeper bumps require slowing down more, so these are used on side roads and in neighborhoods. Similarly, shallow bumps are used on main roads and highways to regulate higher speed traffic. Some of the bumps are camouflaged as crosswalks, which makes the bump hard to see; I imagine this improves the effectiveness of both.

I actually think widespread speed regulation by unmarked bump is a genius idea, and should be implemented in the States. I’m serious. Think about it, such a system would eliminate the need for many traffic police, whose tickets are the most candy-ass way a government can raise revenue. Those personnel can be diverted to real law enforcement and/or counter-terrorism efforts. In addition, speed bumps are almost perfectly progressive, since the cost of damage done to a to a given car which hits it too fast would scale with the price of the car, and the speed at which it was hit.

One obvious downside is that on well-known roads individuals would “game the system” by speeding up and slowing down appropriately. But the same is true right now of speed traps—the locals all know where they tend to be, and at least with bumps everyone is forced to slow down in those places.

One reason it might not work is that different cars have different ground clearances, and so experience different levels of pain for the same bump at the same speed. Namely, what is a 35mph speed bump for an old Carolla might be a 65 mph speed bump for an SUV. I don’t know of an argument to contradict this, save for the empirical evidence that it clearly works for the Indians. Land Rovers and Jettas all end up traveling about the same speed here, without obvious intervention from the police.

Lintonian Dynamics, Three Laws of Motion on Indian Roads

I’ve been wanting to write about Indian driving for a while. After much consultation with Dave, and having spent a little while now in the chaos that is Indian traffic, I think I can generalize three laws for how traffic operates here.

Law 1) Right of way scales with inertia.

Big things trump small things, fast things trump slow things. So for example, slow trucks get out of a fast moving car's way, but when a car and at truck are moving at the same speed, the truck goes pretty much where it wants to. Similarly, at traffic lights moving traffic has right of way for at least a few seconds after the light changes, before cross-traffic can get going.

Law 2) Culpability falls on those behind.

As a driver, you are only responsible for what you hit, not for what hits you. Therefore, drivers keep very very close attention to the 180 degrees that are in front of them, and neglect totally what is behind; its someone else’s problem. This neglect includes checking rearview mirrors when changing lanes or pulling out into traffic.

Law 3) That which is not prohibited by a sign is allowed.

This law was originally “there is no third law” but after some more reflection I realized this wasn’t true, because if a sign is posted, it is generally followed. For example, I have yet to see U-turns where a “No U-turn” sign is up. Similarly, people obey “reduce speed” signs and also “use turn signal” signs. But the Indian government has neglected to post “drive in your own lane” signs. Nor did they erect “stay the hell out of oncoming traffic” signs. So, such things are done as the driver sees fit.


There are some interesting further implications of these laws, which I’m sure will be expanded as I stay here:

--As the smallest and slowest thing on the road, pedestrians have no value. Pedestrians cross the street as they can, and at their own peril.

--Crosswalks offer clear lines of sight, but confer no right of way.

--Horns are blown not in hostility (usually) but to indicate that one driver is behind another and has the intent to pass. This is done both to notify the forward driver of the rear driver’s intent, and as a challenge, to see if the forward driver has the balls to do anything about it.

--Speed is not regulated by signs or by police but by speed bump, some of which can be hit at surprisingly high velocity.

Bangalore Beef

Finally saw some water buffalo. The little beef you eat here is "bangalore beef" also known as water buffalo. Its a little tougher and a little saltier than USDA ground chuck. Also, all the leather shoes and jacket are buffalo leather. Not sure about comparisons, but it looks about the same.

The reason for the substitution should be obvious, since bovines here are sacred as...well...Hindu cows.

Dusshera

Dusshera has been the big festival that I keep stumbling across. It commemorates the defeat of the Demon King Ravana by Lord Ram to rescue his wife Sumitra.

The upshot is that they have celebrations for a solid week or so. I was told by an Indian I met on the train that it is approximately equivelent to Christmas; not the most important day on the Hindu religious calender, but the one that people enjoy the most. Dusshera was what the people in Chondni Chowk were starting when we were there.

Anyway, as part of the festival they burn the Demon King Ravana in effigy at sunset. So, you can see the big effigy of Ravana that is full of straw and fire crackers and ready to be burned. Sadly we had to leave before the fire started, but I saw a from the train on the way back to Delhi. Also, you can't see it in this picture, but the field this was held on is absolutely packed. Behind me is a whole lot of people having a good time.

Shiva

Passed this statue of Shiva on the road out of Rishikesh. Just thought it looked really neat and thought I'd share. Its big, maybe 5 or 6 stories tall.

...and we walk dogs too.

Saw this in a store while walking through Rishahesh. Talk about a full service place! I never did figure out what "punch karma treatment" was.

Rishikesh

On the last day we stopped by the city of Rishikesh, tucked beside the Ganges and at the base of the foothills of the Himalayas. Its traditionally a center for yoga teaching and also a big western college hang out. This is where the Beatles stayed while in India, and also where they apparently wrote most of the White Album.

All in all, it didn't seem that different than other parts of urban India, though there definately seemed to be more cows and holy men. Also yoga studios all over the place. The cows wander around the streets and get fed by the shop owners. I wasn't certain if its an obligation of Indian tradition to feed a cow when it approaches your door; I saw a shop keeper feed a cow once, then when it clearly wanted more she pushed it away and went back inside.

The yoga studios all seem full of western tourists in varying stages of indian dress and dreadlocks. We didn't go into any, but we passed by quite a few. I don't know where Indians go for yoga, but this doesn't seem to be it.

The holy men pretty much sit on street corners and read texts, or hang out. Occationally you'll see one walking in the crowd, in what looks like a holy trance. Strangely enough, they're never so enrapt in their prayers that they fail to step around the omnipresent cow patties.

Red bull girls

On the second day of the trip we had gotten back from a hard day rafting and were resting under the canopy when we saw a set of four attractive girls descended from the forest and walk towards us on the beach. They each had "red-bull" backpacks shaped like a red bull can. Upon arriving, they greeted everyone, told us a little speech about red bull, distributed some pamphlets and a free can to everyone. They were very pleasant, chatted for a while, then once everyone was happy with their red bull, they went back into the forest for points unknown. The camp staff swore they had never seen the girls before, which seemed believable given their expressions and that they were getting cans and pamphlets as well.

Except for the lack of sound-track, it was exactly like a commercial. In America, companies film a positive product interaction and then broadcast it to the public, hoping people will remember. In India labor is cheap enough that they can create individual positive product interactions on a wide scale. Kinda trippy.

Happy Birthday, Dave!

To everyone else, who doesn't know the Dave I'm talking about, Happy Friday!

A monkey, cow and dog walk into a train station...

...and never seem to walk out. Another peculiarity of Indian train stations is that they're full of animals, primarily dogs, monkeys and cows, though you get the occational chicken in a cage. When I orginially framed this picture there was a dog in it, but it ran out before I could click the shutter.

Shortly before I took this picture, the train in the far tracks started to leave and a guy ran to jump into a second (lowest) class car. Unfortunately, he didn't get a good hand/foot hold due to the crowds and he fell down into the muck between the tracks. He had sense enough to keep his head down until after the train had passed, then he gathered his stuff together climbed back onto the platform and cleaned himself off in the public sink which you barely can't see on the right edge of the picture. What makes his falling onto the tracks particularly disgusting is that in Indian trains the toilets don't drain to a storage tank, but are literally a hole in the floor that dumps onto the tracks. So he landed in stuff that looked, and probably was, pretty foul.

Train station cups

One of the interesting aspects of Indian train stations is that they do not allow tea (chai) to be sold in anything except very flimsy unglazed single-use earthenware cups. This is for both trash control and public works program. When finished with your beverage, rather than dropping the cup in the trash (a rare occurance) you smash it on the ground or on the train tracks where it becomes ground into dust and eventually swept away. In addition making all these little cups provides jobs for a number of Indians, which is also a good thing.

As far as I can tell it seems an inspired solution to a number of problems, in a context where labor and mud is cheap, but where paper cups and trash removal is not.

Your money will become a burden

While we were out on the Ganges we came across one of the more unfortunate exports of the US, reality TV. Somebody was filming an Indian reality TV show which involved people carrying backpacks. We saw the people with the backpacks. We were told that the words on the logo translate as "Your Money Will Become A Burden" and the logo is of a guy in a backpack with money leaking out.

So, all you India TV watchers out there, keep your eyes peeled for a new reality TV show this fall!

Ganges from a hight

Got this picture from the top of one of the hills. You can see Rishakesh in the lower left, and other towns by the Ganges as is disappears into the foothills. It was very pretty, I hope this picture captures some of it.

Rafting on the Ganga

Dave, Shannon and I (and a group of about 15 other americans) went on a whitewater rafting trip along the Ganga (Ganges river) this weekend. It was an extended weekend, we ended up being out on the river from Saturday through Wednesday evening. Counting a 6 hour train ride there and back, and it was a long, but fun trip.

This is a picture of the camp, which was deep in the foothills of the Himalayas, about a 30 minute drive from Rishikesh, in Utteranchal. Looking at the map, I thought this would be close enough to get pictures of the white-topped Himalayan Giants, but we were apparently still a few hundred km too far away. Still, the foot hills clocked in at 3-4000 feet, which puts them on-par with the shorter of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

The river was much bigger than I expected it to be, with a very fast moving current. Since we were so close to the mountains the water was quite cold (your feet went numb in a few minutes) but in the afternoon this was a pleasant contrast to the hot sun. The river water was brown from silt, so you couldn't see more than about a foot into it, and I was told it was unsafe to drink. This was unfortunate, since I had the bad habit of whooping while running rapids, often getting a mouthful of "Ganga juice" from an unexpected wave.

To wash ourselves there was a mountain spring-fed pool about 100 feet from the campsite. The water was warmer than the river and significantly cleaner. You basically brought biodegradable soap, sat in a pool and let water cascade over your head; it looked vaguely like one of those Herbal Essence commercials. Shannon enjoyed bathing there so much that she compared it favorably as the best experience of her life, joking that it easily outdistancing her wedding day. She said it enough times that I think it was starting to give Dave a complex.

We spent the mornings either rafting or hiking in the Himalayan foothills, the afternoons relaxing, kayaking or repelling, and the evenings hanging out with each other around a campfire.

The highlight of the trip was the whitewater rafting, for which I was unwilling to bring the digital camera, so sadly there are no pictures of the rapids. Needless to say, it was a lot of fun. I fell out of the raft (both on purpose and by accident) enough times to have washed away few life-times worth of sin.

Blessing on a hike

While hiking in the foothills our little group came across a holy hermit (also called a Baba, we found out) who presided over a shrine to Vishnu. When we met him he was sitting by the side of the road reciting prayers from a book. He followed us for a ways up the trail, where we came upon his shrine and he went around the group blessing us. Nobody was quite sure what to do next so we kind of stood around awkwardly for a while, put a few rupees in what we hoped was an offering jar, and went on our way.

Cute little indian Girls

As part of the same hike where we came across the Baba, we wandered through a village up on a plateau overlooking the river. Of course using the word "cute" to describe them probably makes me gay, but darnit, they're so gosh-darn cute I just had to take a picture.

TV antenna

Saw this in the same remote town as the little girls. It really was a small place, a few cows and goats, a horse or two, a few large fields filled with crops, a couple of houses. As far as we could tell it was at least an hour's walk from the nearest road. Its clear that westerners came through enough to be unsurprising, but we were still interesting because everyone came out to watch us pass.

Anyways, as you can see it clearly wasn't so remote that they couldn't get a satellite TV.

Back in Delhi...everything is fine

I've gotten worried emails from people about the earthquake in Pakistan. Where we were in Utteranchal was very far away from the epicenter. It was felt a little, but no damage. Thanks for your concern, however!

While we certainly seemed to dodge a bullet, please send your support and prayers to those victims in Kashmir who weren't as lucky.

That said, I'm tired now and will write about the trip later on.

A short walk in the Hindu Rishikesh

I'm leaving in a few hours to head up to Rishikesh for an extended weekend of hiking and rafting. I should be back on Wednesday with pictures of the Himalayas.

Cheers!

Lodi Gardens

Went to the Lodi Gardens today. So far, its the most pleasant free place I've seen in Delhi. Lots of nice landscaping punctuated by the occasional ruined tomb. Its far from the road noise with quiet paths to walk. There's also a zen garden which smells of cabbage, but if you meditate on your navel you hardly notice.

I believe these are the same Lodis as Sher Khan Lodi mentioned a few posts back, who Humayun defeated to conquer Delhi. So the winner got his tomb in a walled-off UNESCO site while the loser's tomb is kept in a public garden where any rif-raf can come through. I wonder, if ol' Sher Khan Lodi had realized the stakes were so high, might he have fought even harder?

Tuk-tuks

Three-wheeled auto-rickshaws, also known as tuk-tuks, are the cheapest and fastest way to move around Delhi. In heavy traffic they're also the scariest, being extremely rickety and without any sort of safety equipment.

Just how flimsy they are was driven home today when the tuk-tuk I was riding got a flat tire. The driver asked me to step out. He then tilted it up with one hand, and propped it up with a branch he found by the side of the road. He then changed the tire and we went on our way.

The fact that he picked it up with one hand just accentuates the feeling that in these things WE are the crumple zone...

Humayun's Tomb

Went to Humayun's Tomb today. I'm still unsure who Humayun was, but his tomb is a pretty site which served as the architectural model for the Taj Mahal. Its also the only place I've seen here so far where the fountains are filled with water and...fountaining.

Highly recommended.



Update: An alert reader found this background on Humayun:

Humayun

* Son of Zahiruddin Muhammad Babur and father of Akbar.
* Shir Shah Sur ruled Northern India from 1540 to 1555. He toppled Humayun and held out for 15 years until Humayun took back his Empire. In 1555 Humayun recovered the throne of Delhi from Sher Khan Lodi.

-------------------

A small note on Kabul Politics in the mid sixteenth century

Humayun took Hindustan as his kingdom and set his brothers as kings of other lands. In 1540 Sher Khan drove Humayan from Hindustan. Sher Khan then took he name Sher Shah. Humayan sought aid from his brothers but they were not willing to lend full aid and comfort.

By 1544 Humayan crossed over into Safavi Persia. Humayan was able to gain the backing of Tahmasp Safavi Shahinshah of Persia after converting to Shia Islam. In 1545 Humayan entered the Mughal empire with an army. This started a 8 year war that finally resulted in Humayan entering Kabul as undisputed leader in 1553. At this point Humayan had his brother Kamran blinded and the court of Kamran was gone forever. Humayan ruled until his death in 1556.

Sounds like a nice guy.

Nehru Museum

Went on a walking tour of Indian political history. Stopped by the home, now museum of Jawaharlal Nehru, India's first prime minister. Next went to the home of his daughter, Indira Gandhi, and then to the home of his main political ally, Mahatma Gandhi.

For those who visit the Delhi area, the museum has a pretty good summary of the history of Indian independence, which seems largely a story of the Nehru family.

Nehru/Gandhi dynasty

Just to clarify, Indira Gandhi was Jawaharlal Nehru's only daughter. She acquired the name Gandhi by marriage, and is not related at all to Mahatma Gandhi. Her son, Rajiv, succeeded her as prime minister after her assassination in 1984. He served from 1984 until his own assassination in 1991.

I hadn't realized how important a family the Nehrus/Gandhis were. They're like the Bushes or Kennedys on steroids, but with a stronger sense of dynasty. Check out this to see how much. From independence in 1947 through 1991, the Nehru/Gandhis were NOT prime minister for only 5 years. To top it off there was a strong push to make Rajiv's Italian widow, Sonia, prime minister in 2004.

American Shout-out

Saw this in Nehru's study. Apparently he was a big fan.

Indira Gandhi's Smriti

Went to the place where Indira Gandhi lived and was assassinated. (You'll notice, a pattern, Mahatma Gandhi died where he lived, too)

This was by far the most crowded, by a factor of 10, of the three places I went today. The people in the smriti has a distinct sense of mourning, both for Indira and her son Rajiv. I was surprised by this feeling of loss because I had thought Indira was the closest thing to a dictator that independent India has yet had. I suppose as with most deaths, people regard politicians more fondly after-the-fact.

As Nigel pointed out, she did have a distinct sense of style. Her home was surprisingly spartan, considering the power she held, but everything she did have was the best. For example, there was only one painting on the wall but it was a Van Gogh.

Gandhi's Smriti

Went to the place where Mahatma Gandhi lived the last years of his life, and where he was assassinated. It had been turned into a museum/memorial.

It is interesting that of the three sites I visited today, this was the only one with western tourists (besides me, obviously). Tourists outnumbered Indians, actually. I don't know if this is indicative of the diminishised role that Gandhi plays in India's consciousness, or if he permeates so much that no one feels the need to visit.

At least in the way the museum presented it, Gandhi realized he had been targeted for assassination, and seemed to have accepted it. He consistently refused armed protection, and also refused to change his daily routine. He also made a number of quotes to the effect that he was frustrated with divisions in post-independence India, and would rather die than to see it continue. Talk about the biggest guilt trip, ever.

Just as a side note, they called Gandhi "Bapu," which means father. This is because he's regarded as the Father of the Nation. I just like the sound of the word. Bapu Bapu Bapu.

Gandhi leading his people...where?

One of the more interesting aspects of Mahatma Ganhdi's legacy, certainly one that is played down, is that modern Indian culture seems to have rejected most of his teachings and philosophies. This is clearly the case with respect to his non-violence, his anti-materialism and much of his religious tolerance. Even the caste system, although officially abolished, is apparently still discretely observed.

In this context, if even only during his lifetime, it is all the more impressive that Gandhi was able to induce so many Indians to his world-view against their instincts. From what I've seen he did it through a combination of shrewd politicking and sheer strength of personality.

Catholic Shout-out

Just a shout-out to all the catholics out there. First and only christian church I've stumbled across so far in India.

Safdarjang's Tomb

Walked over to a really impressive tomb today. Not quite as cool as I'm sure the Taj Mahal will be, but it has the advantage of being in walking distance of the apartment.

If I can't be cremated for some reason, bury me in one of these.

Gender Relations Watch

Apparently places like Safdarjang's tomb are make-out place. Today was one of the few times I've seen young Indian mix-gender couples showing public displays of affection. And they were out en-mass; you couldn't turn a corner w/o stumbling over one or two. Didn't feel right taking pictures, but this on the wall of the tomb sums it up pretty well.

It does speak to the distinctions (made in Bollywood movies, atleast) of "love" and "arranged" matches. It certainly appears in places like this that love matches are alive and kicking.

Fashion peculiarities

For some reason men from hot climates like wearing trousers and long-sleeved shirts. I don't know why that is. I wander the streets with my shirt un-tucked and my sleeves rolled up as far as they will go, in a desperate attempt to expose as much of my sweat-soaked skin to the intermittent breeze, and (almost) every Indian who passes me is wearing full-length trousers, shirt tucked in, sleeves rolled down, everything buttoned up. Am I missing something?

Economic Dynamism Watch

I'm still trying to find the economic dynamo that Tom Freidman warns about in The World is Flat; I don't see how a culture that requires signs liks these is going to become a superpower. But then again I'm in the wrong city (supposedly). So, there will be more updates on that as/if I see them. I'm hoping to wander around the campus of IIT sometime (India Institute of Technology, one of the big tech schools here). Perhaps I'll see it there.

Perspective watch

BMW's main website does not have an India option. They've got Iran, Kazakhstan and Macedonia, but no India. Are there really more people with the means and interest to purchase a BMW in Nicaragua than in all of India?

Culture watch

This means something. I have no idea what, but it must have some significance.