Thursday, January 31, 2008

namaste

I'm writing from the airport in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, a very bright and sunny place. On the flight here from Delhi, I was upgraded to first class, after being incorrectly told by the airline representative that my reservation had been cancelled since I didn't re-confirm it. So I ended up having a great flight in the almost empty first-class section, complete with an omelette and champagne. The highlight of the flight was waking up to a beautiful sunrise in a perfectly clear sky. Below us were vast sand dunes and not a single sign of civilization. The stewardess told me we were flying over Oman.

After having an enjoyable three weeks in India, I'm left with that frustrating feeling that I only got a small sample of a truly vast and fascinating place. With such a small amount of time, I limited myself to the western region of Rajasthan, which also happens to be the most touristy region in India (40% of tourists who visit India head to Rajasthan). As a result, I was constantly on the beaten path, struggling to see "real" India and being haggled by people used to dealing with tourists. The sites I saw were beautiful, and quite a few of the locals I met were kind and colorful, but I know I left a world untouched. I keep telling myself it's a good thing that I left something for the next time I visit!

I haven't done a very good job of keeping you all updated while I visited the "Three J's" (Jaipur, Jodhpur, and Jaisalmer, the three main destinations in Rajasthan along with Udaipur, which I wasn't able to visit). I first visited Jaipur, a pretty large city a few hours from Delhi that is known for its pink Old City. The highlight of being in Jaipur was spending time with Aditya and Avani, who were doing work there. Together we had wonderful food, did a little bit of exploring the Old City, and went to an interesting carnival complete with local food, traditional dances, and even elephant rides (which I thought were surprisingly comfortable). While not with Adi and Avani, I spent most of my time wandering around the Old City's markets, seeing notable sites including the City Palace and Amber Fort (a huge fort just outside the city), and talking a bit with locals. It was while in Jaipur that people first greeted me ("Namaste!") without the intent of selling me something. This was refreshing. Coincidentally, I also met a French guy about my age who has been traveling in India for the last four months. Having volunteered in a hospital in Calcutta, he gave me some very valuable information on doing volunteer work. By inviting me for a cup of chai tea, he also helped to break in my fear of sampling India's street food.

After a couple days in Jaipur, I took a bus to the blue city, Jodhpur. The bus departed at midnight, and was scheduled to arrive in Jodhpur seven hours later. These turned out to be the worst seven hours of my trip, and some of the worst in all my travels. Prior to the trip, Avani and I decided to have a very large, tasty meal from a street cafe. One hour into my trip, on the dark bus where I was crammed in a small seat near the window, I got sick. Needless to say, the next six hours of the trip were far less than pleasant. I finally arrived in Jodhpur, and spent the first part of the day doing laundry and recovering from the trip. Then I determined to make the most of my one day in the blue city. I'm glad I did.

Jodhpur was a beautiful city--the blue was more of a deep indigo, and made the city glow in the sunlight. Straying from the busy markets I got lost among the tiny pathways lined by blue. Children ran up and greeted me, inviting me to throw a ball with them. A few adults smiled and asked where I was from. I finally found my way to Mehrangarh, an enormous, spectacular fort that overlooks the city. The fort, which looks more like an huge, intricately detailed palace, seems to have been carved directly into the mountainside on which it rests. I spent most of the day there, wandering around the fort's many rooms and balconies. I sat, wrote in my journal, and had a cup of soup (my first food--excluding a chocolate chip cookie Avani gave me before my departure--since I got sick).

While writing in my journal, people would stand next to me and watch me write. I asked them if they could read what I was writing, and they never could--they just wanted to see my handwriting. Once, a whole family--a father, mother, uncle, and three small children--stood over my shoulder watching me write. They asked a few questions about me, then they each thanked me and shook my hand. Meeting people helped to reinvigorate me after my bus trip ordeal. I was again excited about traveling, in spite of its inevitable risks and discomforts. I was also reminded of the element that is most important to me in my travels: the people I meet.

Interestingly, after this reminder new friends regularly started crossing paths with my own. On the seven-hour overnight train ride from Jodhpur to Jaisalmer, I sat with a couple older Australian women whose passion for India was contagious. They shared some traditional Indian sweets with me, told me about the latest in Bollywood gossip, and further convinced me how essential it is that I see more of India.

I slept very well and woke up in the desert city of Jaisalmer. Made of sandstone, this is known as the golden city. It is also much smaller than my previous destinations in India, having less than 100,000 inhabitants. The focus of the city is its fort, which is still inhabited and full of life, containing eclectic shops selling leather journals, books, colorful clothing, and spices.

I decided to spend my time in Jaisalmer escaping it all, so I hired a guide to take me into the nearby Thar Desert on a camel for three days and two nights. The Thar Desert, which borders Pakistan only 30km from where I was, is not the dune-filled desert you may imagine. It does, however, provide some beautiful sunrises and sunsets, and amazing views of the stars--views that vividly reminded me of Mongolia for maybe the first time since leaving there in 2004.

The highlight of the trip, though, was spending time with the other travelers who were also along for the ride--three adventurous 19 year-old Australian students. Spending time with these three was great. Their kindness, joy, and sense of adventure was contagious. Even though they were only 19, they gave me advice on traveling China, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, and Vietnam, and they wanted my advice for a year-long trip they plan to spend in Latin America. Although I wish we could have traveled together longer, we had to part.

And so here I am in Ethiopia! Having only been in the airport, I can't say much other than that it is definitely a cool feeling to set foot in Africa for the first time!

Monday, January 21, 2008

Leaving for Rajasthan

Thanks to Avani's help, I am right now holding three train tickets that will allow me to explore Rajasthan, India's western region of deserts and palaces, and also the region that borders Pakistan. The region is famous for its "Three J's: Jaipur, Jodhpur, and Jaisalmer," three cities each with its own unique look and flavor. Jaipur is the pink city, Jodhpur the blue city, and Jaisalmer the gold city, which seems to arise out of the desert like a mirage. I will be gone about exactly one week visiting each of the three cities; here's the itinerary (you can find good maps here: http://www.lib.utexas.edu/maps/india.html):

January 22:
Leave Delhi at 6:10am
Arrive at Jaipur at about 11am
See Jaipur

January 23:
Jaipur

January 24:
Jaipur
Leave Jaipur late night (around midnight)

January 25:
Arrive at Jodhpur early morning (about 6am)
See Jodhpur
Leave Jodhpur at 11:25pm

January 26:
Arrive at Jaisalmer early morning (about 8am)
Go on camel safari in desert
Spend night on dunes

January 27:
Return from camel safari
See Jaisalmer

January 28:
Leave Jaisalmer at 4pm

January 29:
Arrive in Delhi at 10am
Leave for Kampala, Uganda, late that night

I'll send more details of my travels in Rajasthan as soon as I have an internet connection and some free time. For now, I'll leave you with a few of the pictures I've snapped so far...

Images from Jama Masjid, one of the largest mosques in India:





Delhi:



The view in a rickshaw:



My backpack is delivered!



Hamayun's Tomb (like walking into a fairytale):



Me and Avani:



Sunrise on the way to the Taj Mahal:



Aditya rapping to "Intergalactic" on the way to the Taj Mahal:



The trio at the Taj:





Monkeys at the Taj (there are monkeys running all around Delhi, too)!:



Good night!

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

playing the game

If you've ever wanted to be shown all the ways you can possibly be ripped off, come to India. One could pack a decent-sized book with all the scams one may encounter here: taxi drivers tell you your hotel has burned down just so they can take you to another hotel that pays them a commission; individuals approach you at free museums claiming you forgot to buy an admission ticket, which they happily collect for; when you finally find a rickshaw with a working meter (most of them work; the drivers just claim they don't), the drivers take you three times the distance to your actual destination, claiming they misunderstood where you wanted to go. My guide even tells of a scam that occurred before the police cracked down on it: restaurants would poison the food of tourists so that they would be sent to a local hospital. The hospital would then reimburse the restaurant a part of the insurance money.

Arriving, finding your hotel, navigating the public transportation system, and finally stepping into that park or museum you've been looking forward to is a trying process in any foreign country. When there are numerous individuals at every step of the process trying to make money off of you by feeding you false information, it's easy to become daunted. I reached a low point yesterday.

I had decided to walk between two relatively close sites in Delhi. Unfortunately, a bridge for only vehicles blocked my path, and forced me to hire a middle-aged man to take me the ten-minute ride in his rickshaw. "How many rupees?" I asked him. He promised me, in fluent English, that he would use the meter. Once in the rickshaw, comforted by being able to watch the progress of my fare on the meter, the man began telling me about himself. He explained that he has lived in Delhi his whole life. He shared his favorite parts of India, which he travels every year, and why those places mean so much to him. He told me his son collects coins, and I offered him a quarter from the US. His son would be visiting tomorrow, and would be very happy to find the coin waiting for him. He was even planning a big celebration for his son. "You can ask me anything about Delhi," he told me, "I will give you an honest answer."

I opened up to him too, seeing no reason not to since I had my current fare right in front of my face--no reason to worry about the possibility of this open, nice guy ripping me off, right? Wrong. I should have known things weren't as they seemed when he acted like he misunderstood my destination and headed in the wrong direction. I caught him in the act, but decided, instead of turning around, to go to another site I wanted to see in the direction he took.

We finally arrived, and I thanked him for the ride and conversation as I withdrew money to pay the 67 rupee fare. "Sixty-seven rupees," I said. He responded: "Oh no, sir. The meter is only a gauge for distance. You need to multiply that number by five." Multiplying 67 rupees by five means I owed this guy eight dollars--at least two times more than any conceivable rickshaw ride around the city could cost, not considering the fact that he even went the wrong way. I told him that price was entirely unfair, and that I thought 100 rupees would be more than fair. He looked at me in the eyes and said, "Sir, that is simply not enough. This meter does not show your fare; it needs to be multiplied by five." I told him I would only give him 100 rupees and he said the words I have already heard and been confused by several times: "Sir, I have never wanted money. I will accept what you will give me, but I ask that you be fair." I swallowed my pride (and my common sense), thought about the good conversations we had about him and his family, and handed him 200 rupees. "If I give you any more, I'm going to have to walk home," I told him. He accepted.

Walking away from the man, I was furious. I was frustrated that I had been ripped off once again. But, even more, I was upset that someone had gained and betrayed my trust so overtly. I wanted to be able to trust people, to listen to and believe what they told me about themselves. I took it personally.

While fuming, I stepped into a nice statue shop, where I was greeted by a reserved young man. I looked for a few minutes, then began to walk out when the man said, "Please know that we will give you 40% off of anything in the store. That is just how it is done here in India." For some reason the man's words resonated with me. It is an assumption in India that things are listed as being more expensive than they are; it is an assumption that they will be bargained down. These assumptions are part of India's culture and society, and here I was taking them as personal attacks and betrayals of my trust. I decided I could either be frustrated with this aspect of India, or I could learn about it and play along. Considering how useful the ability to bargain would be while traveling through my next destinations (Africa and China), not to mention in life in general, I decided I would learn to play along.

Realizing there was no shame in getting the lowest price possible, and that I had little to lose if I tried to offer a price too low, I went to work. I wandered into a packed, chaotic underground market and decided to go shopping for the first item on my shopping list: tape. I only needed a piece, and I eventually found one at an electronics shop. The guy wanted 100 rupees--yes, $2.50 for a piece of tape. After a minute of bargaining, I walked out of the store with a free piece of tape (the guy told me he was only kidding with me--that he didn't actually want me to pay for it. That's after he asked me for 100, 80, and, finally, 50 rupees).

It was only a piece of tape, but it was like a big shiny trophy to me.

When it was finally time to go home, I walked to the rickshaws, knowing that I would pay no more than 100 rupees for the ride back home. "How much to take me to Vasant Vihar?" I asked. "150 rupees." "I'll give you 60." "No way," the first driver told me. "Okay, thank you," I said, and walked away. After this conversation repeated itself with three drivers, I decided I was probably shooting too low. In the end, I got home for a fair price to both me and my driver. From what I've heard from the locals, a foreigner getting a fair price on a rickshaw is a pretty big deal.

Earlier tonight I went out with the interns working with the Clinton Foundation here in Delhi. One of them shared her perspective on being ripped off in India. She considered that India is packed with people, each of whom is on his or her own. Many of these people are extremely poor, and on a daily basis watch people who bought a trip to India for a small fortune that could change their lives forever. Is it really any wonder that they try to earn an extra few rupees off of these foreigners?

I suppose, in the end, that I'm grateful that Indians give foreigners a chance to use bargaining to defend what they have. In many of the other countries I've visited (Chile, Colombia, and Brazil stand out), violence is viewed as a much more effective tool for getting one's hands on a foreigner's wallet.

Monday, January 14, 2008

By the seat of my pants

As some of you have already heard, I've once again decided to let my wanderlust get the best of me. Motivated by the desire to see new parts of the world, the need to do some serious introspection, a confirmed spot in law school, some gracious invitations from friends, and eight months of free time on my hands, I decided to leave home and dedicate the next few months to living out of my backpack. Here's the tentative plan:

January 11th - 20th: Delhi and Agra, India (Taj Mahal)
January 21st - 28th: Rajasthan, India (Jaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer, maybe Udaipur)
January 29th: Fly to Kampala, Uganda
January 30th - February 6th: Gorilla trekking in Uganda
February 6th - 9th: Explore Kampala, Uganda
February 10th - 15th: Safari in Tanzania (Serengeti, Ngorongoro Crater, etc.)
February 16th - March 31st - Zanzibar, Ethiopia, Zambia (Victoria Falls), Botswana, South Africa
April 1st - 30th: China (with possible trips to Taiwan and Hong Kong)
May 1st - July 1st: Southeast Asia (Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos)

I apologize for the details becoming vague in the later months--unlike most of my other trips, I'm planning this one on a day-by-day basis, by the seat of my pants, relying on recommendations of people I meet along the way and nice travel deals I might stumble upon.

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Last Friday I boarded a plane in Orlando, Florida and flew to what is probably the polar opposite of "tranquilo" Montevideo, Uruguay--Delhi, India. Minutes after finding out my airline lost my backpack (aka my lifeblood for the trip) and boarding a bulky, 50s style taxi with red and blue flashing lights that darted through traffic while constantly honking, I had a strong urge to yell "YEEEHAAAAW!!" That wouldn't be the only time I'd have that urge here in Delhi--this fascinating place is not for the tame. Never before have I seen such a level of poverty, chaos, and potential risks to my health, from the existence of TB that requires me to gargle with hot water, to traffic chaos that puts vehicles on sidewalks, flying through red lights, and going the wrong way, to absolutely prohibited food and water "that will give me cholera" (words of my truly generous host, Adi).

But amidst all the chaos and confusion, I'm having a great time. It's actually not hard to in a place where monkeys hang out on the sidewalks. But, more importantly, in Delhi nothing is cushioned--you are faced with raw reality, in all its pain and beauty.

Today was my first day actually experiencing Delhi, and already I have some unforgettable memories. Toward the top of the "unforgettable memories" list is my first ride in a rickshaw! Also, I visited a beautiful, enormous mosque, where I had a chance to chat with some of its more regular visitors about topics including Islam and Uruguay.

Today much of India celebrates the start of the harvest, a holiday (oftentimes compared to our Thanksgiving) that sees many people giving food to those less fortunate than themselves. In the spirit of the holiday, Avani (a friend who lives here), her mom, and her sister kindly invited me to join them this morning as they distributed bags of rice and lentils to poor individuals throughout the city. We arrived at a location with many homeless individuals and asked them to form a line so we could distribute the food. As soon as a line formed, one individual ignored it and grabbed a bag of rice. In an instant chaos broke loose--everyone lunged for the food, forming a large pile of people clawing at each other. Because I was holding a grocery bag containing many bags of food, many people swarmed toward me, fighting with anyone in their way--some went so far as to try to bite my legs. I immediately got back into our car, and listened as pieces of rice hit it--the bags of food were being torn apart as people fought over them. One handicapped woman used her crutch to beat others over the head in an attempt to get some food.

That plan having been abandoned, we decided to instead drive through the city and give bags to poor families and individuals along the way. This plan, which allowed us to share food with several mothers and quite a few children who probably would not have fought through the earlier crowd, was a success. I don't know if it's possible to imagine a more potent, illustrative example of why the method of distributing help to the poor is just as important as what is distributed.

It's getting late here, so I should sign off. I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update this blog, since I'm not sure exactly where I'll be. But I will try to update it as often as possible, and if I can figure out a way to post some of my pictures, I will!

By the way, earlier tonight the airline (KLM) delivered my backpack to my room, and disaster was narrowly averted.

Good night!
Dustin