my boob and armpit are a lovely shade of plum, dashed with a glob of green envy. the title says it all. i crashed our motorbike, and i didn't even want to. this act was in no way premeditated for your sympathy. throw out your kleenex and raise up your sandpaper (and not the fine grade). this is kon tum, vietnam.
our intention for the day was to rent a motorbike, go and see all the "authentic" and "unspoilt" villages of vietnam and return to a meal of vegetarian pho and a saigon or three. ellen and i arose from our slumber at 7pm, only to find all of the hostel's bikes had been rented. grumbling followed on our end and our hostel's manager, quick to rectify the situation as i had complemented her recent pedicure yelled into a phone for about 20 seconds. five minutes later, a man appeared with a bike, presented us with the keys and two helmets, making eye contact only to say "5pm." we correctly assumed that this was the hour that the motorbike was to return to it's owner. probably then end of his shift at work.
ellen had trained on motorbike under the tutelage of yoven, a friend we made in da lat. she was to ride us to the villages, where it would be safer for me to experiment on the petrol-fueled vehicle. for those of you who don't know me...i don't have a driver's license. rather, i ride bikes to save your environment people!!
our first stop was actually a pastel colored church with the usual ave maria hanging around. a little nervous, i agreed to take the motorbike around the parking lot in a complete circle. success was mine and i was feeling pretty good. i was still a little jerky on the gas, but it was a clean circle and nothing was damaged...yet.
we must have passed through 3-4 villages, making friends only with those under the age of 7 as we passed. took some shots of the kids, made them laugh, all that good stuff. then ellen climbed down from the bike and asked if i was ready. since the parking lot pre-run had gone so swimmingly, i figured, what the hay...there were no people or livestock on the rode, so they only thing i could hurt was MYSELF, which i promptly did.
lunging forward, things were going quite nicely. i stopped a comfortable distance away from ellen and tried to turn the bike around. a temporary dose of la-la-land made me forget that this was not a bicycle and gripping the handle bar, aka the GAS in a certain manner would make the bike move forward. halfway through the turn i crashed through larger-than-gillian branches and plummeted down a small slope into someones field. i officially maimed my sandals and a toe...all other pieces were in check, although some sore and slightly discolored. the familiar "i'm okay, i'm okay," hung in the air as several villagers, whom i presume owned the field rushed over to help.
i had beat the reaper once more! my smile quickly faded once ellen pointed out the keys were no longer in the ignition. minus shoes; myself, ellen and the villagers frantically tossed foliage and the damaged branches aside looking for the keys. i was in a bit of a panic. we were very far from our hostel and well, we were very far from our hostel. and i had no shoes.
one of the villagers dashed off to their abode, only to return with a key in hand. it fit into the ignition...and it fit into the hole to access the gas...pure luck. we thank youed and kam oned our way back onto the bike; with ellen in the front and continued on our way.
a little shaken by the incident, we stopped for some sugar cane juice and i stuffed my bra with ice. one foreigner with yellow hair and one without shoes attracted a lot of attention...definitely unwanted, and we hopped back on our knight to explore further.
the highlight of the day had to be discovering a school house, under which children apparently on their lunch break were milling about. already turning a healthy rock lobster red, we snuck under the school for shelter. the curious little ones shrieked in excitement and i quickly shifted into english teacher mode and did my normal routine with the kids. we sang, we danced, we piled upon one another, that is until their teacher returned looking a bit unsure. we quickly made our exit and returned to the road, our new home.
riding along the waterfront, ellen let me man the bike once more. i did a clean line forwards and backwards, and that was enough for me...for now. and my mother would be happy to know, the whole time i was wearing my helmet, which was appropriately decorated with a decal on the back that said, "enjoy your life." even with a purple boob, i definitely am doing just that.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
We made it to Cambodia!
Ellen Here.
Cambodia, Oh, Cambodia! What a great unplanned surprise. Thanks to Christine's Suggestions we decided to make the trip even without a guide book. It is so close we figured it would be silly not to.
We made it on a slow boat to Cambodia via the Mekong Delta. And when I say slow I actually mean that in relatives term because we were put on what was called the "fast boat." We took a tour of the Mekong Delta from Saigon and then made it to Chau Doc the last city in the Delta before entering Cambodia.
We were herded with the other foreigners around on a "speed boat" until we got to the Cambodian border were shadiness and small time corruption is alive and well. I forgot a photo so a had to give $2 to the officers, but no one actually took my picture, they just took my money. Gillian forgot her exit card in Saigon so another officer told her she had to give him 50,000 Dong, she only had 49,000 and he said that was fine and shoved it in his pocket!
We made it to Phnom Penh (btw: the ph is silent) in the afternoon and rented bikes and got to ride all around the city just exploring. It is a great little city. Very clean and has tons of expats living there. The funniest thing for us though was that everything is priced in American Dollars. It was even odder for Gillian who had not lived in the US or dealt with US currency for over a year to start thinking of things in Dollars. If you need change smaller then a dollar they will give you back their currency Riel, so it is a trip to get back change in two different currency at one time. In respect of having to use USD, Cambodia has been the most expensive place that we have been so far. The guest houses have been okay but the food is very pricey an average meal for two of us is $10. And to put this in perceptive an average meal for us in India was $2. Even though I have loved Cambodia, I will be happy to be to a less expensive country since we still have 3 months to travel.
We spend the next morning in Phnom Penh exploring the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda.
http://www.adam-carr.net/mainphotofolder/phnompenh/PICT2897.JPG
It was better kept then Disneyland. The grounds and building were perfectly kept and really magical. I could totally live there! After finding a great bakery we made the 6 hour bus trip to Siem Reip which I have fallen in love with.
Siem Riep is the city were Angkor is located just outside of, one of the Wonders of the World.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angkor
Siem Riep is large town whose main industry is tourism for Angkor with a great mix of Cambodian and Western cultures. There is a river that runs through town and a "Pub Street" were everyone does in the evenings for 50 cent beer after sweating 10 pounds off in the day hiking through Angkor in the tropical heat. Gillian and I against the advice of many (mostly tuk-tuk drivers) rented bikes and rode about 10 KM to Angkor Wat and explored temple after temple. It was fun to be on a bike but the heat and my flat tire killed it by the end of the day.
We befriended an Iowan and a Brit and decided today and tomorrow to share a tuk-tuk with them. We made quit a team and it was fun to spend so time with new people, both of them are really well traveled.
There is not much to write about Angkor except, WOW! And we made it to the temple were Tomb Raider was shot.
You will have to see my pictures when I get back.
Cambodia, Oh, Cambodia! What a great unplanned surprise. Thanks to Christine's Suggestions we decided to make the trip even without a guide book. It is so close we figured it would be silly not to.
We made it on a slow boat to Cambodia via the Mekong Delta. And when I say slow I actually mean that in relatives term because we were put on what was called the "fast boat." We took a tour of the Mekong Delta from Saigon and then made it to Chau Doc the last city in the Delta before entering Cambodia.
We were herded with the other foreigners around on a "speed boat" until we got to the Cambodian border were shadiness and small time corruption is alive and well. I forgot a photo so a had to give $2 to the officers, but no one actually took my picture, they just took my money. Gillian forgot her exit card in Saigon so another officer told her she had to give him 50,000 Dong, she only had 49,000 and he said that was fine and shoved it in his pocket!
We made it to Phnom Penh (btw: the ph is silent) in the afternoon and rented bikes and got to ride all around the city just exploring. It is a great little city. Very clean and has tons of expats living there. The funniest thing for us though was that everything is priced in American Dollars. It was even odder for Gillian who had not lived in the US or dealt with US currency for over a year to start thinking of things in Dollars. If you need change smaller then a dollar they will give you back their currency Riel, so it is a trip to get back change in two different currency at one time. In respect of having to use USD, Cambodia has been the most expensive place that we have been so far. The guest houses have been okay but the food is very pricey an average meal for two of us is $10. And to put this in perceptive an average meal for us in India was $2. Even though I have loved Cambodia, I will be happy to be to a less expensive country since we still have 3 months to travel.
We spend the next morning in Phnom Penh exploring the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda.
http://www.adam-carr.net/mainphotofolder/phnompenh/PICT2897.JPG
It was better kept then Disneyland. The grounds and building were perfectly kept and really magical. I could totally live there! After finding a great bakery we made the 6 hour bus trip to Siem Reip which I have fallen in love with.
Siem Riep is the city were Angkor is located just outside of, one of the Wonders of the World.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angkor
Siem Riep is large town whose main industry is tourism for Angkor with a great mix of Cambodian and Western cultures. There is a river that runs through town and a "Pub Street" were everyone does in the evenings for 50 cent beer after sweating 10 pounds off in the day hiking through Angkor in the tropical heat. Gillian and I against the advice of many (mostly tuk-tuk drivers) rented bikes and rode about 10 KM to Angkor Wat and explored temple after temple. It was fun to be on a bike but the heat and my flat tire killed it by the end of the day.
We befriended an Iowan and a Brit and decided today and tomorrow to share a tuk-tuk with them. We made quit a team and it was fun to spend so time with new people, both of them are really well traveled.
There is not much to write about Angkor except, WOW! And we made it to the temple were Tomb Raider was shot.
You will have to see my pictures when I get back.
Friday, March 13, 2009
This is for the Iowa Family
To make this short and sweet:
I got to shoot an AK-47 at the Cu Chi Tunnels and I was a damm good shot thanks to my Uncle Joe. The Cu Chi Tunnels were just like Disneyland but with guns!
I got to shoot an AK-47 at the Cu Chi Tunnels and I was a damm good shot thanks to my Uncle Joe. The Cu Chi Tunnels were just like Disneyland but with guns!
Sunday, March 8, 2009
what can i get for ten dollahs???
whenever i feel sick or expired, i like to compare my brain to a bowl of oatmeal that contains a tad too much liquid; be it milk or water. combine this with flashes of full metal jacket and apocalypse now, and you have the ultimate psychedelic fiber adventure on constant replay. I'M IN VIETNAM!!! so is ellen. i'm pinching myself in saigon and my stomach has never been so excited since i was 16. goodbye lentils and aloo jazz...HELLO CHOPSTICKS (the sequel, as i have been living in china for the past year) AND PHO!
huddled in the back of my 60's literature classroom scouring the pages of a tim o'brien; armed with a massive highlighter...who thought i'd end up here? my father avoided it, only for his daughter to visit it of her own free will. while the city is oozing with museums that contain or depict physical evidence of the war and it offers adventure day trips (the cu chi temples); one could just as easily assume that the citizens of saigon like collecting military relics. the battle scars in this area remain quite latent, although i have to wonder how many of the physical anomalies that we have witnessed can be attributed to the spraying of agent orange.
the only thing that's lacking here is a working knowledge of the language on my behalf. it can honestly provide you with a much richer experience. unfortunately, ellen and i have yet to grasp the six tones (and i thought four was tragic) of the vietnamese language. luckily, everyone seems to have a good sense of humor about the whole shabang; although i've had to physically hold down waitresses while i tried to explain my order through gesticulations. i am not a stranger to this form of assault, as this was also a daily food ordering ritual in yuyao.
i am also no stranger to disneyfied tour spots in asia. elsie and i biked our little foreign hearts out to the chinese jade garden near ningbo, only to confront a series of gardens that seemed to laugh in our faces, a shooting range, and a large empty temple complex next to carnival rides. while it was worth the dong spent to go the tunnels, a little bit less flair could have made the experience more...authentic? i don't know if that's the word i actually want to use, as i would rather miss the authenticity of war and violence firsthand at all costs.
setting: the cu chi tunnels. we came to a series of exhibits that described the viet cong prior to entering the tunnels. there was an animatronix section of viet cong boys and gals dressed in their wartime regalia crafting various homemade bombs. one switch set them ablaze with action as they hammered away at metal panels and carved bamboo spikes. this lasted all of 15 seconds in an effort to conserve energy i suppose. our tour guide was tickled pink after "confessing" to us that every mannequin viet cong gal was his girlfriend. the boy gets around!
approaching the souvenir stand (one of many), we were invited (at a price) to shoot an ak-47, along with other guns that i honestly can't name. all i know is they were big and the sony headphones we were given did nothing to soften the sound. it actually reminded me of 3 am in yuyao when everyone awakes with the incredible urge to set off all of the crackers they have been saving 'neath their beds. ellen and a man from holland shot. i just stood by took photographs of our two gun enthusiasts. the rest of the group ate ice cream cones. ice cream cones on a battlefield...i guess eric and i did that at gettysburg, but ahhh!!! sprinkles. chocolate syrup. foil wrapping.
hovering over the entrance to the tunnels, everyone was given a choice. about half of our crew went down for the first round, but then came out only to realize there was more. yes, the tunnels were hot and dirty...and freaky. i made ellen go first and her khakis served as a beacon as i followed them through meandering stretches and stairwells that lasted all of five minutes, but seemed like a lifetime of staten island museum touch tunnel traumatic experiences.
dusting off our hands, we were shuffled through the remaining souvenir stalls and watched a video which i like to call "american killer hero," as it depicted wartime in the cu chi area and the daily routines of the villagers who simply wanted to live sans the american influence. everyone expected ellen and i to be slightly offended, but remembering the american propaganda distributed during that time period only served to make us embarrassed. to the right was a pinball-machine like construction of the tunnels with a lovely oil painted landscape of american copters.
we hit the w.c., another stand and headed home.
i really wonder about historical monuments and how we choose to convey our past as humans. there are many sides to every story, but however you look at this one, it's just sad for all of the parties involved. i really feel inadequate, under qualified and a bit inappropriate because i have only really scratched the surface of this event in our and vietnam's history. but i am glad i went.
huddled in the back of my 60's literature classroom scouring the pages of a tim o'brien; armed with a massive highlighter...who thought i'd end up here? my father avoided it, only for his daughter to visit it of her own free will. while the city is oozing with museums that contain or depict physical evidence of the war and it offers adventure day trips (the cu chi temples); one could just as easily assume that the citizens of saigon like collecting military relics. the battle scars in this area remain quite latent, although i have to wonder how many of the physical anomalies that we have witnessed can be attributed to the spraying of agent orange.
the only thing that's lacking here is a working knowledge of the language on my behalf. it can honestly provide you with a much richer experience. unfortunately, ellen and i have yet to grasp the six tones (and i thought four was tragic) of the vietnamese language. luckily, everyone seems to have a good sense of humor about the whole shabang; although i've had to physically hold down waitresses while i tried to explain my order through gesticulations. i am not a stranger to this form of assault, as this was also a daily food ordering ritual in yuyao.
i am also no stranger to disneyfied tour spots in asia. elsie and i biked our little foreign hearts out to the chinese jade garden near ningbo, only to confront a series of gardens that seemed to laugh in our faces, a shooting range, and a large empty temple complex next to carnival rides. while it was worth the dong spent to go the tunnels, a little bit less flair could have made the experience more...authentic? i don't know if that's the word i actually want to use, as i would rather miss the authenticity of war and violence firsthand at all costs.
setting: the cu chi tunnels. we came to a series of exhibits that described the viet cong prior to entering the tunnels. there was an animatronix section of viet cong boys and gals dressed in their wartime regalia crafting various homemade bombs. one switch set them ablaze with action as they hammered away at metal panels and carved bamboo spikes. this lasted all of 15 seconds in an effort to conserve energy i suppose. our tour guide was tickled pink after "confessing" to us that every mannequin viet cong gal was his girlfriend. the boy gets around!
approaching the souvenir stand (one of many), we were invited (at a price) to shoot an ak-47, along with other guns that i honestly can't name. all i know is they were big and the sony headphones we were given did nothing to soften the sound. it actually reminded me of 3 am in yuyao when everyone awakes with the incredible urge to set off all of the crackers they have been saving 'neath their beds. ellen and a man from holland shot. i just stood by took photographs of our two gun enthusiasts. the rest of the group ate ice cream cones. ice cream cones on a battlefield...i guess eric and i did that at gettysburg, but ahhh!!! sprinkles. chocolate syrup. foil wrapping.
hovering over the entrance to the tunnels, everyone was given a choice. about half of our crew went down for the first round, but then came out only to realize there was more. yes, the tunnels were hot and dirty...and freaky. i made ellen go first and her khakis served as a beacon as i followed them through meandering stretches and stairwells that lasted all of five minutes, but seemed like a lifetime of staten island museum touch tunnel traumatic experiences.
dusting off our hands, we were shuffled through the remaining souvenir stalls and watched a video which i like to call "american killer hero," as it depicted wartime in the cu chi area and the daily routines of the villagers who simply wanted to live sans the american influence. everyone expected ellen and i to be slightly offended, but remembering the american propaganda distributed during that time period only served to make us embarrassed. to the right was a pinball-machine like construction of the tunnels with a lovely oil painted landscape of american copters.
we hit the w.c., another stand and headed home.
i really wonder about historical monuments and how we choose to convey our past as humans. there are many sides to every story, but however you look at this one, it's just sad for all of the parties involved. i really feel inadequate, under qualified and a bit inappropriate because i have only really scratched the surface of this event in our and vietnam's history. but i am glad i went.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
"guru" is the official buzzword of india, at least from the mouths of wai guo rens (foreigners). if you don't have one, you at least have something derogatory to say about your friends'. i have had the pleasure of watching many a guru in action on television. the usual: a bunch of people dressed in white wriggling upon brightly colored yoga mats that you (the viewer) secretly pray would start flying because lets face it, "aladdin" is way more entertaining and has a far superior soundtrack. i've yet to meet anyone whose guru hustled postcards and diy henna kits in the day time.
varanasi reeks of spirituality (whatever that means)...its inhabitants have divinity in their footsteps and their glistening skin is only slightly tinged with a layer of ashes. for hours, we watched bodies carried in bamboo stretchers and wrapped in gold lame ushered to the shore of the ganga to burn after a quick dip. the relatives of the deceased are mashed in front of, behind, and next to the body. not one member of the grieving parties shed a tear. heads are shaved, white fabric is worn, but their eyes smile and their hips sway to the beating drums that lead the processions down to the ganga.
inspecting the steps of the main ghat prior to the nightly ati (sp?) ceremony, a boy popped his head out from behind a mass of walking saris."don't sit in the crap."
"ehh, i wont. anyways, it's okay. this is india."
"no it isn't madam. this is varanasi. the rest of india is very clean."
"have you been?"
"no...."
"well, i have, and i can tell you there's dirt everywhere."
this was how i found my guru. avoiding cow pies. my guru's name is and was prakash. he's 13 and he has several brothers and sisters. born and raised in varanasi, he comes from what he explained as a long line of business men who mainly sell (aka harass) tourists. little prakash was taking a break from the hustle and flow. he showed me his wares, but only as a side conversation. he had some sun-bleached booklets of postcards and a diy henna kit, which ellen explained she was allergic to.
"then i must throw it away," prakash said, looking at the kit as if it was suddenly emblazoned with the mark of the beast.
"no, no, no," ellen protested, "it just makes me sick."
"then it's no good." she spared the kit's life by quickly feigning interest in the postcards.
"how many rupees for these?"
"80."
"what??? i know someone who will give it to me for 50."
"then show me where they are, so i can hit them. they don't know how to make a profit."
"just give me the indian price."
"i can't give you the indian price. you aren't indian, and if i don't charge you 80 rupees than i don't make a profit."
little prakash saw this was going nowhere. he sat down to tell of his tour guide days and how he has met people from all over the world, whom impressed with his english and general knowledge, have offered to take him away from this "place."
a cell phone rings. prakash digs in his pocket. "i got this from a romanian." it's a text message, he bemoans. his friend wants to know if we need a boat tour. he rolls his eyes. he commiserates with the hassling and says that he usually backs down when he can see that a tourist is upset. he sits. we buy some chai and offer to get him a cup."that's bad tea. foreigners drink that. i'll go get some good stuff." he comes back with a cup that while appears to hold the same milky liquid mine does, it somehow seems more authentic in his little brown hands. we steer the conversation towards culture. ellen and i realized that we have trapped ourselves. we initially told my guru we were from canada because americans are thought to be richer, thus have more rupees to throw around. in keeping with the lie, we discuss canadian issues...you know, hockey, syrup, the symmetrical maple leaf???
prakash and i then discuss love. he confesses that women do nothing but complicates one's life and he's honestly too busy to even entertain the thought of having a girlfriend at the current time. he admits proudly that although his family is traditional, his mother would never arrange a marriage for him unless he requested it. in between shooing away older men who keep asking prakash to convince us that we need massages, he admits to me that i need to watch out for myself because i am "miss universe." he explains by saying that men here want to do "things i don't want to say to you" to you if you are a white woman. we share a laugh and i convince prakash that we are not interested and indian men are simply curious. he smirks. he doesn't believe me and silently whispers that i am lucky that i cant understand what men around me are saying.
with his well-trained eye, prakash targets a middle-aged white woman in a floppy hat. he dashes off every 10 minutes or so to try and sell something. "i'm not so lucky." i try to cheer him up by reminding him of how clever and well articulated he is. he laughs. "i know, everyone tells me this, yet they won't buy anything from me. i don't want to sell my conversation, but i wish i had more luck."
prakash asks about our future indian plans, and i regrettably inform him that we are leaving varanasi the next day. he hunches his back slightly and looks at the ceremony. "it's a shame you know, everytime i make a good friend, they always leave so soon." i actually got tears in my eyes and felt a little mickey mouse club...whether or not it was an act, prakash was and is an extremely lovable and happy child. i considered him so clever for his age, but then remembered that i was also a little spitfire at thirteen, and we probably would've gotten along quite well. it's weird how as you get older, you peg "children" as being naive and simple...yet, they really are as complex as you are at 26...they just have less bills and wrinkles. (to be continued...)
varanasi reeks of spirituality (whatever that means)...its inhabitants have divinity in their footsteps and their glistening skin is only slightly tinged with a layer of ashes. for hours, we watched bodies carried in bamboo stretchers and wrapped in gold lame ushered to the shore of the ganga to burn after a quick dip. the relatives of the deceased are mashed in front of, behind, and next to the body. not one member of the grieving parties shed a tear. heads are shaved, white fabric is worn, but their eyes smile and their hips sway to the beating drums that lead the processions down to the ganga.
inspecting the steps of the main ghat prior to the nightly ati (sp?) ceremony, a boy popped his head out from behind a mass of walking saris."don't sit in the crap."
"ehh, i wont. anyways, it's okay. this is india."
"no it isn't madam. this is varanasi. the rest of india is very clean."
"have you been?"
"no...."
"well, i have, and i can tell you there's dirt everywhere."
this was how i found my guru. avoiding cow pies. my guru's name is and was prakash. he's 13 and he has several brothers and sisters. born and raised in varanasi, he comes from what he explained as a long line of business men who mainly sell (aka harass) tourists. little prakash was taking a break from the hustle and flow. he showed me his wares, but only as a side conversation. he had some sun-bleached booklets of postcards and a diy henna kit, which ellen explained she was allergic to.
"then i must throw it away," prakash said, looking at the kit as if it was suddenly emblazoned with the mark of the beast.
"no, no, no," ellen protested, "it just makes me sick."
"then it's no good." she spared the kit's life by quickly feigning interest in the postcards.
"how many rupees for these?"
"80."
"what??? i know someone who will give it to me for 50."
"then show me where they are, so i can hit them. they don't know how to make a profit."
"just give me the indian price."
"i can't give you the indian price. you aren't indian, and if i don't charge you 80 rupees than i don't make a profit."
little prakash saw this was going nowhere. he sat down to tell of his tour guide days and how he has met people from all over the world, whom impressed with his english and general knowledge, have offered to take him away from this "place."
a cell phone rings. prakash digs in his pocket. "i got this from a romanian." it's a text message, he bemoans. his friend wants to know if we need a boat tour. he rolls his eyes. he commiserates with the hassling and says that he usually backs down when he can see that a tourist is upset. he sits. we buy some chai and offer to get him a cup."that's bad tea. foreigners drink that. i'll go get some good stuff." he comes back with a cup that while appears to hold the same milky liquid mine does, it somehow seems more authentic in his little brown hands. we steer the conversation towards culture. ellen and i realized that we have trapped ourselves. we initially told my guru we were from canada because americans are thought to be richer, thus have more rupees to throw around. in keeping with the lie, we discuss canadian issues...you know, hockey, syrup, the symmetrical maple leaf???
prakash and i then discuss love. he confesses that women do nothing but complicates one's life and he's honestly too busy to even entertain the thought of having a girlfriend at the current time. he admits proudly that although his family is traditional, his mother would never arrange a marriage for him unless he requested it. in between shooing away older men who keep asking prakash to convince us that we need massages, he admits to me that i need to watch out for myself because i am "miss universe." he explains by saying that men here want to do "things i don't want to say to you" to you if you are a white woman. we share a laugh and i convince prakash that we are not interested and indian men are simply curious. he smirks. he doesn't believe me and silently whispers that i am lucky that i cant understand what men around me are saying.
with his well-trained eye, prakash targets a middle-aged white woman in a floppy hat. he dashes off every 10 minutes or so to try and sell something. "i'm not so lucky." i try to cheer him up by reminding him of how clever and well articulated he is. he laughs. "i know, everyone tells me this, yet they won't buy anything from me. i don't want to sell my conversation, but i wish i had more luck."
prakash asks about our future indian plans, and i regrettably inform him that we are leaving varanasi the next day. he hunches his back slightly and looks at the ceremony. "it's a shame you know, everytime i make a good friend, they always leave so soon." i actually got tears in my eyes and felt a little mickey mouse club...whether or not it was an act, prakash was and is an extremely lovable and happy child. i considered him so clever for his age, but then remembered that i was also a little spitfire at thirteen, and we probably would've gotten along quite well. it's weird how as you get older, you peg "children" as being naive and simple...yet, they really are as complex as you are at 26...they just have less bills and wrinkles. (to be continued...)
Layers of Kolkata
Ellen Here:
Kolkata was so much more then I expected it to be. We have received the royal treatment from some family friends and were able to stay at an wonderful old club in the great area of town were everything was walkable. It funny for Gillian to have 3 people serving at one meal while for most of the trip we have been having to chase people down or serve ourselves.
Kolkata was so much more then I expected it to be. We have received the royal treatment from some family friends and were able to stay at an wonderful old club in the great area of town were everything was walkable. It funny for Gillian to have 3 people serving at one meal while for most of the trip we have been having to chase people down or serve ourselves.
The main reasons why I like Kolkata so much more then Delhi is that it is smaller and everything is accessible by foot or metro.
It is a really unique city because it is stuck between many worlds. The city is only 300 years old and was built by the British as its capital. The city was the major Asian port for hundreds of years. It is influenced by British, Persians, and Chinese which all mixed and then are over laid with the Indian Culture. All of these flavors of Kolkata's past are still alive and well in the city put many are stuck in different time periods.
The decaying mansions from the days of the Raj stand next to the new condos going up faster then the ones in Williamsburg.
I was able volunteer in Kolkata and it has had the most impact on me since my time in India. I was a volunteer at for the Missionaries of Charity, the order that Mother Theresa started in Kolkata.
I was only able to spend a day working for them because we made not planed anytime but the one day was enough to see how they ran their ship and really experience it.
A volunteers day starts at 6 am with mass and then tea at the Mother House were everyone gathers daily to get their assignment for the day. The Missionaries of Charity have many hositals, orphanages, and outreach centers through Kolkata and now even around the world. So, I only had expired at one of their hospitals.
At the hospital I worked at, the women work in the womens ward the men in the mens ward. We helped for about a hour washing all the langury and then we spent the better part of our morning just sitting and being with the women on the pourch while the beds were all changes.
The women in this hospital had anything from burn victims to mental illness. But the most important thing was that they were all loved. The work at the hospitals all was done by the sisters or the staff. They were not dependent on volunteers to get the work done. The role of the volunteer was to provide the TLC and a loving touch to these women.
The volunteers really just massaged them and painted their nails. We also feed them at meal times. Even though this seems like a simple and little job, I think that it was one of the most important and most impactful. Everyone needs to know that they are loved and a valued human being no matter what their state of health.
One of Mothere Theresa's major missions was to love everyone and make sure that even the poorest of the poor and the sickest of the sick felt loved. The amazing thing about the Missionaries of Charity is that this is the exact role that their volunteers play and the mission of Mother Theresa is still the main foucs.
Every volunteers that I met was also a blessing to me. There were people form all over the world volunteerting for one day to 6 months at a time. To be able to talk to each of them and find out everyones reasons for being there was a incredable too.
Kolkata was an wonderful way to end India, and I would love to go back there soon to volunteer for a longer amount of tme. We have made it to Vietnam and are running around in Ho Chi Mihn City so stay tuned....
The women in this hospital had anything from burn victims to mental illness. But the most important thing was that they were all loved. The work at the hospitals all was done by the sisters or the staff. They were not dependent on volunteers to get the work done. The role of the volunteer was to provide the TLC and a loving touch to these women.
The volunteers really just massaged them and painted their nails. We also feed them at meal times. Even though this seems like a simple and little job, I think that it was one of the most important and most impactful. Everyone needs to know that they are loved and a valued human being no matter what their state of health.
One of Mothere Theresa's major missions was to love everyone and make sure that even the poorest of the poor and the sickest of the sick felt loved. The amazing thing about the Missionaries of Charity is that this is the exact role that their volunteers play and the mission of Mother Theresa is still the main foucs.
Every volunteers that I met was also a blessing to me. There were people form all over the world volunteerting for one day to 6 months at a time. To be able to talk to each of them and find out everyones reasons for being there was a incredable too.
Kolkata was an wonderful way to end India, and I would love to go back there soon to volunteer for a longer amount of tme. We have made it to Vietnam and are running around in Ho Chi Mihn City so stay tuned....
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Delhi Bellie
Ellen Here!
So it is official:
I got Delhi Bellie while actually in Delhi (haha), or as some people say I have had an Indian Baptism.
Do not worry, I have survived and have been able to move on from Delhi. We ended up having to stay in Delhi for over a week , which was a little too long. However 3 of thoughs days were in the hotel room watching only HBO and CNN. (not because I love movies and the news, but because they were the only English channels on TV.)
Delhi is actually a great modern city and we got to see a larger part of it. Delhi ended up being a place for us as well to get organize and plan the rest of our trip.
It started out very sad because we had to say good bye to Susanna on Feb 16th and we are still trying to move on.
We were able to figure out the Metro easily and were able to move around most of the city by Metro and foot. It was nice to not be at the mercy of Rickshaw drivers and I think they were shocked to see westerners walking.
We have already made it to Vietnam with out even having to leave India. We ventured from the not so pleasant "backpackers" area to the part of Delhi with all the embassies and were we found the little Vietnamese Embassy next to the fortress that is the Chinese Embassy. We got our Vietnam Visas with no problem and leave on March 8 for one month. Our Chinese visa were not as easy and we will just say, at this point we don't have one....
The most interesting thing about Delhi to me was the difference between Old and New Delhi. Old Delhi has these crazy crowded winding streets and ancient temples, while New Delhi has huge boulevards and turn abouts that look much like Paris.
We were able to see much of New Delhi. Gillian even planed a day where we went to all the art galleries. We realized how spoiled we are as New Yorkers because we have Chelsea with all the galleries with in a few blocks. Well in Delhi there are less then 10 good galleries and you have to take Rickshaws between most of them. But we were able to get our fill of art and we even saw a ceramic show!
We made friends with a couple from Northern California who are both retired from the railroad and it was really fun to spend some time with them and get there perspective on India. And now a think I want to go to Mexico next.
The other fun thing we got to do was see a Bollywood movie (which was all in Hindi) and re-united with our friend Tavis who we meet on the camel trek in the Thar Desert. Since he lived in Delhi he took us to a real bar and we had a fun night out.
SO, we made it out of Delhi and I am feeling much better now!
So it is official:
I got Delhi Bellie while actually in Delhi (haha), or as some people say I have had an Indian Baptism.
Do not worry, I have survived and have been able to move on from Delhi. We ended up having to stay in Delhi for over a week , which was a little too long. However 3 of thoughs days were in the hotel room watching only HBO and CNN. (not because I love movies and the news, but because they were the only English channels on TV.)
Delhi is actually a great modern city and we got to see a larger part of it. Delhi ended up being a place for us as well to get organize and plan the rest of our trip.
It started out very sad because we had to say good bye to Susanna on Feb 16th and we are still trying to move on.
We were able to figure out the Metro easily and were able to move around most of the city by Metro and foot. It was nice to not be at the mercy of Rickshaw drivers and I think they were shocked to see westerners walking.
We have already made it to Vietnam with out even having to leave India. We ventured from the not so pleasant "backpackers" area to the part of Delhi with all the embassies and were we found the little Vietnamese Embassy next to the fortress that is the Chinese Embassy. We got our Vietnam Visas with no problem and leave on March 8 for one month. Our Chinese visa were not as easy and we will just say, at this point we don't have one....
The most interesting thing about Delhi to me was the difference between Old and New Delhi. Old Delhi has these crazy crowded winding streets and ancient temples, while New Delhi has huge boulevards and turn abouts that look much like Paris.
We were able to see much of New Delhi. Gillian even planed a day where we went to all the art galleries. We realized how spoiled we are as New Yorkers because we have Chelsea with all the galleries with in a few blocks. Well in Delhi there are less then 10 good galleries and you have to take Rickshaws between most of them. But we were able to get our fill of art and we even saw a ceramic show!
We made friends with a couple from Northern California who are both retired from the railroad and it was really fun to spend some time with them and get there perspective on India. And now a think I want to go to Mexico next.
The other fun thing we got to do was see a Bollywood movie (which was all in Hindi) and re-united with our friend Tavis who we meet on the camel trek in the Thar Desert. Since he lived in Delhi he took us to a real bar and we had a fun night out.
SO, we made it out of Delhi and I am feeling much better now!
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