From Soot to Silk

Hey all:

My notes from the road continue, today coming straight out of...Mumbai (better known as Bombay), India! I'm completing my 2 1/2 weeks here tonight, when I head out for South Africa. India has forced me to tighten my trip's focus. I've decided to change the format a bit from the last emails. I love recording everywhere I've visited, but it's not the most important aspect of my journey. Personal interactions are paramount to my cultural immersion. I'm going to highlight individuals, with a few interludes and toss in a laundry list of visited cities (which anyone may question me about at any time). Let's see how this works out. Today's topics will cover: Meet the Parents; Discovering Faith In Humanity; Examining My Birth Certificate; The Mortality Struggle; Agra Part 1; Agra Part 2; The Pink Guide; Coming To A Head; Lights & Crackers; Redemption; Taking A Dip; Resolution; Mosque Markets; Agra Part 1 Redux Bombay Style; Trip Definition. I've been slightly sick recently, so I hope we can make it through everything.... Here it goes!

 

Meet the Parents: A Favorable Match

 

I left Sri Lanka feeling good. I had a very random contact, a few degrees from me, who has family in India. The family contacted me the day before my departure from Colombo (capital of Sri Lanka). They sounded very friendly and upbeat. I had no idea of what to expect. All I hoped for was a friendly face, maybe a place to crash, any recommendations about travel, etc.  Before I knew it, I had a guesthouse setup, a family house setup, specific airport instructions, multiple phone numbers/email addresses, essentially the works in terms of travelers security for my imminent arrival in India. The email also mysteriously said, "Your trip has been planned." Planned? I've never met these people before in my life. I don't even know what I want to see. It sounded like an unbelievable deal....

 

Discovering Faith In Humanity: A Crazy Coat

 

I sat around the somewhat crummy Colombo International Airport; much more relaxed then my last flight from Bangkok. I had newfound friends in India, no need to be anxious. A woman went by with a huge leather coat, with these crazy cream tassel-looking threads coming off in all directions. I must admit that at first, I thought she was insane; Sri Lanka and India are HOT. On the bus from the airport to the plane, she happened to be standing right next to me. I wasn't even sure that it was a coat at first, but upon inquiring she confirmed my suspicions. Actually, the coat turned out to be really cool looking, and I complimented her on it. We started chatting and it turned out she was traveling to India for her wedding! Her name is Bec and she's an Aussie. While very friendly, she also seemed a bit cracked-out, due to her 24+ hours of travel. We talked but then had long separated seats, so we thought we'd catch up upon arrival. Little did I realize that halfway through the flight, she was sitting one row behind me. It turns out some sleazy drunk guys harassed her on the plane. It's a long story, but thankfully she extradited herself from the situation. We passed through immigration together and grabbed our baggage. My written instructions specifically noted I should grab a pre-paid taxi from the airport to my guesthouse. When I told her how I planned to travel, she nonchalantly told me "Raman will help you." Raman turned out to be her fiancé. If I went with her, I wouldn't be able to return to the pre-paid taxi both inside the restricted arrival area. I had to make a snap decision, and I went with my gut. Following her out of the arrival area, we quickly ran into Raman. Bec introduced me to Raman and told him what was up. I gave him the address of the guesthouse. He accepted me point blank, and told us to wait while he grabbed a cab. Before I knew it, we were all in a taxi and I had about zero control of the situation.

The Resolution

So how'd it work out? You can probably tell from my verbiage, but think of this situation in America? My Dad and I think on similar wavelengths, and when I told him he said, "So you got screwed." Nope, we got almost all the way to the guesthouse when I remember I was supposed to call the family when I got in. It was already past midnight, but I figured they'd be waiting so I asked to borrow Raman's phone. I reached them and couldn't understand what their instructions, outside of that the guesthouse was out and I should go to the family house. Raman grabbed the phone and thankfully took charge of the situation. Sure, he knew the area around their address; we could be there within 20 minutes. We pulled up to the house and they refused to let me pay a PENNY! And so went my indoctrination into being a guest in India....

 

Examining My Birth Certificate: My Last Name's Wood, Right?

 

This family accepted me into their home like a long lost son. I don't know how to write about it, how to explain to (most) people from a Western culture about being a guest in India. I feel like it's so foreign of a concept, many people I know might dismiss it out-of-hand. I continue to struggle with it now. But before I get into the struggle, let me do my best to paint the picture. I show up after 1 am, at a family's house in a foreign country that I've never met and have the slimmest of connections too. Thankfully it's a Saturday night so they don't have to work tomorrow, but I'm not talking about a 20 something household. I show up at 1 am wondering if anyone's was awake, if I'd kept anyone up, how in the world this would work. In yet another great oddity, Raman knows Vijay, the father of the household, b/c he's a famous political journalist. Regardless, Raman and Bec left in the taxi after I had safely arrived. Not only was this family up, they were talkative! Their late 20-something son and daughter-in-law soon arrived. They asked me about my trip. Wanted to know my trip's "purpose," hhhmmm, how to define a "see the world journey." They rambled off names of various sites on a "must see" list of India. I had a miniscule two weeks, but agreed to let myself be guided by their hands...little did I know what that entailed.

 

The Mortality Struggle: "De-Godding" Myself

 

There's a famous saying in India, "the guest is God." Doesn't that sound nice? I've heard it many times here, even on the tv yesterday when an Indian bride's father matter-of-factly explained spending $50,000 USD on his daughter's wedding (in India!). When Indian's say "guest is god" they aren't lying or talking about some ideal, they literally put you up on a pedestal as high as they can fiscally manage. My trip suddenly transformed itself from buses to planes and roach motels to marble palaces. My host family has a cook, maid, and driver. I spent my first full day in India being driven around to various "significant sites." I accepted the kindness at first, but it worried me. What a foreign concept. I don't know these people. I had no way of repaying them. This became important when I discovered my itinerary included multiple flights around the country. When I explained how I'd be traveling, they quickly assured me I didn't have to pay for anything but my entry tickets and food throughout the trip. What?!? Why? It's something like an endless holiday. But it made me uncomfortable. Accepting generosity was one thing, but this was something else. I felt like it was too much. But no one would listen. My discomfort would continue for much of India, making this leg of travel one of the hardest bits (even when living in some of the easiest conditions).

 

Agra Part 1: Meet Bombay Family #1

 

My first trip outside of Delhi happened to be one of my best. I went to Agra, mainly to see the Taj Mahal. But in the spirit of this email, I'll write about possibly an even better part of the trip, where I befriended an amazing Bombay family. Muhendra and Rutuja have two children. I first talked with Mrinal, their young boy. They were up from South India to tour a bit, and I just happened to be seated next to Muhendra on the tour bus. While we were only cordial at first, our friendship grew. I shared lunch with them, and found myself joining their small four-person group. We traveled together all day, and their family treated me wonderfully. They let me pay for my own food (which I appreciated) and demonstrated how to eat it. Eating with my hands has proven difficult at times, especially RICE, but they were supportive through their giggles. They also helped guide me a bit through Taj….

 

Agra Part 2: Taj Stands Alone

 

The Taj Mahal is magnificent. I should end this section there, but don’t have the guts. Similar to Angkor Wat, this is a MUST SEE. I can't verbalize the experience. Pictures do it no justice. Strangely, being directly beside or inside it doesn’t do it complete justice either. The best possible angle I saw is upon arrival. You look up and there it is. Tons of guides hound you at the entrance, but they’re utterly unnecessary. The Taj Mahal stands alone in magnificent beauty. It can take your breath away. Anything outside of periodic discussion would take away from the impact. Complete marble. Unequaled craftsmanship. Supposedly the artisans all lost their hands afterwards to ensure its uniqueness, all participating knowing their final destiny. While I could explain its historical facts (as I know them), they are unnecessary. The Taj Mahal hit me like a ton of bricks. All I can say is see it, and then you’ll understand.

 

The Pink Guide: Arranged Marriages

 

While in Jaipor, I met my first good guide. When I say good, I mean the first guide who treated me as a fellow human being. I was allowed to do crazy things like: open my own door, hear my own name (instead of sir), skip things that didn’t appeal, avoid shopping, eat real India food, meet some of his friends, etc. etc. I call him the Pink Guide because Jaipor is the Pink City (it’s former ruler decided that main street should be entirely pink). I have his name & address somewhere, to send him a copy of the picture, chai (Indian tea) cups in hand, we took with his friend, but I don’t know where it is. So instead he’ll be known here as my Pink Guide. He made it into the email, outside of his friendliness, because of our discussion of marriage. After my not-so-entertaining experience in Tamil Tiger land, I’ve been a little hesitant about discussing my marital status. Amazingly enough, my marital status constantly comes up (not because everyone wants an escape-to-America marriage). It’s just a natural topic people discuss around here. Almost everyone I’ve talked to for over 10 minutes has delved into the “are you married” discussion. Most people I’ve met here of marriageable age are married. Most weddings seem to still be arranged. After many discussions with friendly Indian acquaintances, I’ve learned a lot about the traditions of Indian couplings. The parents generally decide when children should be married, and there’s a whole marriage industry that exists to help them find the proper mate. Many different concerns go into the correct marriage partner: caste, religion, astronomical signs, habits, resume, and profession, just to name a few. Once a match is proposed, the parents meet and discuss the possibility. If all parties (parents) agree, the “children” meet and decide if they want to proceed. The decision period can last a day to a few months, and if agreed, the wedding will come on the earlier possible astronomically auspicious date. Most Indians find it somewhat shocking that no, I’m not only not married, but I don’t even have a girlfriend! Why not!?! My Pink Guide and I discussed his family, and then naturally turned to mine. His wedding was arranged. When I explained I was to young for marriage (my usual excuse in these circumstances) he quickly inquired when my parents planned on arranging my wedding! I couldn’t help smiling. I kindly explained that Americans don’t generally have arranged weddings, but I hoped to eventually get married and have kids when the time was right. He seemed okay with that answer. I found the whole situation amusing, and still do to this day.

 

Coming To A Head: Holiday Marble

 

I regrettably reached Kujarajo (sp?) by plane. The ticket cost over $100 USD, which I was not allowed to pay (not that I wanted to pay that much money). But Kujarajo was a must see. The Karma Sutra temples are there. How could I miss the legendary temples carvings? Obviously I couldn’t but I should have. I arrived and knew things were amiss. On the plane I’d met a really friendly couple, and offered to share my lonely car & driver with them. They gladly accepted but the driver wasn’t so happy on arrival. Of course everything is already paid for, so whatever. Anyway, the whole thing turned into somewhat of a mess. Ali and his girlfriend went with the flow. I eventually got to the hotel, only to discover my previously to luxurious digs had suddenly been upgraded into the outrageous price range. I stumbled blindly into my assigned Holiday Inn. I know what you’re thinking, Holiday Inn doesn’t sound expensive, but this Holiday Inn more closely resembled an Intercontinental. I found all marble everything, all foreigners everywhere, all AC rooms, all huge rooms, all multi beds, all private bathrooms, all nth expensive. And yes I wasn’t paying for it. And yes, that made me even more uncomfortable then if I had paid for it (which I never would have at this stage in my life). It upset me on multiple levels. Not only was I uncomfortable with the expense, but also I was effectively cut-off from the local population. Slowly a definition of my trip began to develop. I reached my climax of unhappiness in Kujarajo.

 

Redemption: Biting The Bullet

 

I finally decided I had to stand up and command my position. I’d written to travel agents and told my host family what I wanted, but no one seemed to respond. How could I possibly feel for the pulse of India when I was shunned from the common Indians room, from an all-consuming fear that if we shared the same air I may get sick? I called the travel agent and told him to cancel the hotel in Varanasi. He dithered and dathered like everyone here seems to do when you want something they don’t agree with. Finally I just said, “I don’t care. Get any money back you can. I’ll find my own hotel. I’ll pay for it myself. And it will be under 500 rupees ($11).” And with that I lifted the grindstone of guilt and unhappiness off my chest temporarily. Varanasi glowed beautifully for me, partially because of my decision and partially because of my guide. Varanasi claims to be the oldest living city in the world. It’s super religious and I saw amazing things. I had my best Indian guide by far, Munindra. I saw Hindu’s taking their traditional dip in the Ganges River. I saw laundry people beating the absolute hell out of laundry on rocks setup beside the water (Munindra claimed that this method is the same as a washing machine…I remain skeptical). I saw a body being traditionally cremated in public, and another being prepared farther up the river. I saw where Buddha preached his first sermon. And best of, I made a new friend in my guide Munindra. After the tour was over we got chai and talked about our lives. He’s yet another person who explained the “guest is God” theory of Indian beliefs. Varanasi was one of my favorite spots in India by far. He also introduced me to an Indian charity, where I could direct some small monies without directly rewarding the infinite beggars.

 

Taking A Dip: Meet Bombay Family #2

 

Jaisman and his family were on my tour bus to Haridwar. I loved the Panicker Tour Buses because I could escape all the foreigners. This one only had 12 Indians and me. We drove all night through the FREEZING COLD (I could have used Bec’s crazy coat) and reached the famous temples in the morning. The trip was great. Eventually I befriended Jaisman’s family over breakfast when I asked his son what was good. The son immediately responded “Chinese,” which made us all chuckle since his parents knew I was inquiring about Indian food. They welcomed me into their fold, and I witnessed many Hindu customs presently. They took a dip in the Ganges, and I followed! All Hindus are supposed to wash in the Ganges once. I couldn’t resist their friendly overtures, and soon found myself washing in the very pure waters (they had re-opened after a cleaning three days previously). This emails getting super lengthy though, so I’ll leave it at that.

 

Lights & Crackers: Delhi Devali

 

I happened to be in Delhi for Devali, one of the biggest annual Hindu festivals. It’s a festival of lights. The country turns crazy. I’d equate it to a cross between Christmas and Fourth of July in the States, with the fireworks being set off by individuals instead of professionals. And we’re talking about some HUGE FIREWORKS. Indians call fireworks crackers, a slightly amusing phrase. Anyways, crackers go off for days, and literally create an intense fog throughout the city. Some of these personal pyrotechnics blow up into massive multi-colored umbrella stars. I can’t believe some people do this with liters, and some must do it drunk! While the crackers side was slightly scary, the other parts were really enjoyable. I met tons of family, most notably an Asian film journalist who’d judged at Cannes twice previously! My host family’s daughter and thirty-month old grandson arrived from Hong Kong. Kabir (the 2 ½ year old) is absolutely adorable and we really hit it off.

 

Resolution: Good Times in Delhi

 

I had to make good with my host family in Delhi somehow. I met up with Raman and Bec again before leaving, where they thankfully let me take them out for dinner. They also helped me indescribably by finding the very nice present I wanted for my host family. The family was completely shocked and somewhat upset with the large size of the present. I kindly welcomed them into my last two weeks in India! J But overall my experience with them was unbelievable. I still feel like part of their family, and am glad I came. Their generosity turned into one of the hardest things I’ve encountered on this trip. But I eventually came to terms with it in my own way, and feel happy with the eventually resolution. I feel I gained a set of life-long friends in my host family, and an amazing friend in their son Kulin. I left Delhi very satisfied (although both exhausted and sick from a complete lack of sleep).

 

Mosque Markets: Masses of Humanity

 

My host family set me up with their extended family in Bombay. I met up with my host Mom’s nephew and his cousin, both of whom are Muslim. They took me out to see Bombay’s beautiful mosques, and their packed accompanying markets. Many of the mosques bathed themselves in green light, amplifying their gorgeous architecture against the night sky. To call the markets crowded would be an understatement. I’ve been in big markets before, but this was something else. I would get separated from these two guys almost immediately. They were VERY conscious of me though. Even with my willingness to push and jostle, the crowds were overwhelming. Part of the reason for such masses of humanity was my timing. Today is Ead (sp?), the festival after yesterday’s breaking of the Muslim Ramadan fast. Three days ago was Devali. I was in the markets yesterday. The whole country is crazy; what fun! J

 

Agra Part 1 Redux Bombay Style: My “God-ship” Continues

 

I called Muhendra yesterday to tell him I was in Bombay. He was ecstatic. He picked me up from the YMCA today, wondering why I hadn’t called him earlier. I actually wasn’t physically able to call him though, because I needed to sleep so badly. Bombay had been a rest and recovery city for me. Muhendra took me out for amazing Indian-style crab, which I wasn’t allowed to pay for (I peaked at the bill though, and my whole crab, that had been shown to me live beforehand, cost under $7 USD, welcome to the good life). But I was prepared to accept his generosity, and really enjoyed our time together. He showed me part of the city, and then I eventually pooped out because I’ve still a bit sick.

 

Trip Definition: A Working Definition

 

I’m traveling to meet people, experience culture, discover the world and taste the food. I almost always prefer people to buildings, and generally find museums remarkably boring. While my revelations are actually much more deep then those quick two sentences, I’ve been writing way too long and my plane leaves for South Africa soon. This working definition will have to do for now.

 

My laundry list of visited places: Delhi, Agra, Udaipor, Johdpor, Jaipor, Kujarajo, Varanasi, Haridwar, and Bombay. I visited some smaller towns near Agra and Haridwar, most notably a temple and mosque within inches of each other near Agra which extremist Hindus have vowed to demolish, but I don’t have the time to grab their names.

 

I’d like to thank all of you that email me; it really keeps my enthusiasm up. Sometimes I find it hard to sit down and write these big letters home, but it sounds at least some of you truly enjoy them. With Bush’s victory, I might stay away for a while (just kidding, kind of). Korea does sound appealing though, if I could find an interesting job. Hope to hear from you all soon. Go BEARS!

Missing everyone,

Ben

 

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