The drive to Kagamega took about 7 hours and passed by Lake Naivasha and Lake Nakuru, where I could faintly see the pink glow that indicates hundreds of wading flamingos. We also drove through Kisumu, which is a city on Lake Victoria, the biggest in Africa, which also touches Tanzanian and Ugandan soil. We stayed at a guest house on the outskirts of Kakamega. It offered a variety of dishes, but the common ones are ugali (white mash made from ground corn), sukuma wiki (greens) chips, and chicken.
I had no idea what I'd be doing, but the first farm we visited had two pigs. One was a little guy tethered by his leg to a stick in the ground, and the other a large sow tethered to a tree. Having never dealt with these creatures before, I watched as Flo (a vet from Nairobi) put a metal cable snare around the little pig's snout as someone wrangled the pig still by grabbing its ears. We took length and girth measurements, got a blood sample from a reservoir behind the eye, checked the tongue for cysts (from Taenia Solium), injected it with ivermectin subcutaneously behind the eye, weighed it, and ear-tagged it. This would become the procedure thereafter.
There is something I didn't know about pigs' vocal habits. When they are not bothered, they grunt happily while eating and walking around. When they are hungry, they whine by squealing loudly. But when they are snared by the snout, they wail like they are meeting their end. It doesn't matter how big they are either, the little ones are just more high-pitched. It took some getting used to this, but eventually it didn't bother me and I became quite the pig-wrangler.
One day I was feeling sick, so I asked to go back to the hotel to sleep it off and be closer to the faciities (to put it nicely). I woke up at midnight that night feeling nautious so i grabbed a bucket from the washroom, but I blacked out and when I opened my eyes again, I was flat out on the ground in a cold sweat. I knew this was fairly serious, so I managed to meander to knock on the next room over where Flo was staying before I fainted again, this time in the hallway. When I opened my eyes I saw Flo and another neighbor whom I don't know hovering over me with concerned faces (I later learned that he was asking Flo if SHE needed any help, implying that I was some drunk tourist who was harassing her by knocking on her door then passing out in my boxers! haha). I managed to get some clothes on and we went to a local hospital who checked my blood pressure and temperature. They told me to come back in the morning when the lab staff were there to do tests. It ended up to be a simple case of Giardia that I picked up either from India or from food in Kenya, which 3 days of tinidazole quickly remedied. It became an ongoing joke that Flo had to deal with this muzungu (what little kids call white people, it means white stranger) in his boxers in the middle of the night. Apparantly all I said was 'we have to go' (implying the hospital).
Before we left, we visited Kagamega Forest, a national park. We saw many colobus and red-tailed monkeys and some of the coolest trees I've ever seen. The reason for the interesting trees is that this is Primary forest, untouched by modern development thanks to Kenyan National Park Service. We also saw some baboons crossing the footpaths in front of us. There was a lookout point where we could see much of the forest, but it was a climb to get there. We took matatus there and back (local minibuses) which drive twice as fast as they should due to the potholes and quality of the vehicle itself, but provide quite an exhilarating (albeit dangerous) experience.
I like eating sugarcane. All you do is take a big stalk, tear off the skin with your teeth, and bite off the inside stuff. Then you chew it to get the juice from it and spit out the fibre. It is natural liquid sugar, and provides quite a midday boost of glucose when waiting for matatus!
Monday, June 16, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Limuru- my introduction to Kenya
It's cold in Limuru. I didn't expect it, and nobody told me, so I packed light and caught the flu after 5 days. It's okay, I'm sleeping it off and pumping myself with lemon ginger tea and vitamin C pills. I'm currently staying at the International Livestock Research Institute (ILRI), a posh complex on the west side of Nairobi. I have a beautiful room all to myself, equipped with everything a hotel room could offer plus a small kitchen, and a couch. Yes, a complete contrast from India has taken place, but it will only last a few days. I start researching tomorrow here at the institute, and in a few days I believe we head off to Kisumu, the city on Lake Victoria!
The first thought I had of Kenya in the airport taxi was that it must be the most fertile land I have ever seen! It is a nature-lover's paradise with large, bold flowers, a wide variety of lush greenery, tall healthy trees everywhere, and hundreds of different colorful birds. I am told that the Rift Valley (Western Kenya) puts what I've seen to shame. I can't wait!
I just spent the last 5 days in Limuru volunteering for "The Nest Home", a place where children live whose fathers have left them and mothers are in prison for petty crimes committed in order to survive. I first took a taxi to the half-way house (ironically half way between Nairobi and Limuru!), a place for the mothers after they are released from prison. They also take care of all the babies under 1 year old. There was a 7-day old baby who was also born 1-2 months prematurely who had an eye infection, manifested by yellow liquid coming from her left eye. I carried her - the tiniest baby I had ever seen - as Raymond (the driver) took us to a hospital where an Indian doctor looked after her. I wanted to speak of India with him but he hadn't been there for years. He prescribed some medicines and we returned satisfied. (I asked as I left today how she was, and the infection is gone, praise the Lord!)
I took a matatu (public 15-seater van, the local travel norm) ride to Limuru, situated about 30 minutes north of Nairobi. When I arrived, I was greeted emphatically by 70 children from the ages of 1 to 17. I spent most of my time hanging out with them, playing with them, and supervising them. Their eyes are so beautiful, bulging like the precious moments figurines except in place of the sickly pale skin, these children have gleaming black skintones. I also got to know the maintenance man, John, as I helped him with various projects around the yard like installing windows and cleaning and rearranging a shed. He invited me to his family home for dinner two nights ago- chapati and potato curry! It didn't taste like Indian food, but it was delicious.
I got to meet a German named Lucas who I shared a room with. He is doing the same thing at the Nest Home that I was, but for many months. He and I checked out the town of Limuru, and it reminded me of the towns in Niger, but a bit more well-off. They had cafes, internet joints, butchers, and outdoor fruit sellers. Nobody really called out to us to buy something like I would expect anywhere in India, which took some getting used to (I kept thinking,'when is someone going to harass me to buy something?'). Instead of rickshaws everywhere, there were only matatus driving by and a whole bunch of guys with motorbikes willing to rent out rides.
I fell sick with the flu on the last day, probably because a few of the children had it and sickness travels fast in dense populations. I really am enjoying ILRI though, and these next few days should be relaxing. I'm actually excited to begin working again! Weird!
By the way, were you wondering why Kenyans always win olympic races like the steeplechase? In Nairobi, the elevation is around 1600 metres from sea level, and in Limuru, it was over 2000. Also, most of the land within the triangle between Nairobi, Kisumu (Lake victoria) and Tanzania (to the south) is over 3000 metres in elevation. To put it in perspective, Toronto is around 100 metres, and Vancouver is only 2. I think we know who to cheer for!
The first thought I had of Kenya in the airport taxi was that it must be the most fertile land I have ever seen! It is a nature-lover's paradise with large, bold flowers, a wide variety of lush greenery, tall healthy trees everywhere, and hundreds of different colorful birds. I am told that the Rift Valley (Western Kenya) puts what I've seen to shame. I can't wait!
I just spent the last 5 days in Limuru volunteering for "The Nest Home", a place where children live whose fathers have left them and mothers are in prison for petty crimes committed in order to survive. I first took a taxi to the half-way house (ironically half way between Nairobi and Limuru!), a place for the mothers after they are released from prison. They also take care of all the babies under 1 year old. There was a 7-day old baby who was also born 1-2 months prematurely who had an eye infection, manifested by yellow liquid coming from her left eye. I carried her - the tiniest baby I had ever seen - as Raymond (the driver) took us to a hospital where an Indian doctor looked after her. I wanted to speak of India with him but he hadn't been there for years. He prescribed some medicines and we returned satisfied. (I asked as I left today how she was, and the infection is gone, praise the Lord!)
I took a matatu (public 15-seater van, the local travel norm) ride to Limuru, situated about 30 minutes north of Nairobi. When I arrived, I was greeted emphatically by 70 children from the ages of 1 to 17. I spent most of my time hanging out with them, playing with them, and supervising them. Their eyes are so beautiful, bulging like the precious moments figurines except in place of the sickly pale skin, these children have gleaming black skintones. I also got to know the maintenance man, John, as I helped him with various projects around the yard like installing windows and cleaning and rearranging a shed. He invited me to his family home for dinner two nights ago- chapati and potato curry! It didn't taste like Indian food, but it was delicious.
I got to meet a German named Lucas who I shared a room with. He is doing the same thing at the Nest Home that I was, but for many months. He and I checked out the town of Limuru, and it reminded me of the towns in Niger, but a bit more well-off. They had cafes, internet joints, butchers, and outdoor fruit sellers. Nobody really called out to us to buy something like I would expect anywhere in India, which took some getting used to (I kept thinking,'when is someone going to harass me to buy something?'). Instead of rickshaws everywhere, there were only matatus driving by and a whole bunch of guys with motorbikes willing to rent out rides.
I fell sick with the flu on the last day, probably because a few of the children had it and sickness travels fast in dense populations. I really am enjoying ILRI though, and these next few days should be relaxing. I'm actually excited to begin working again! Weird!
By the way, were you wondering why Kenyans always win olympic races like the steeplechase? In Nairobi, the elevation is around 1600 metres from sea level, and in Limuru, it was over 2000. Also, most of the land within the triangle between Nairobi, Kisumu (Lake victoria) and Tanzania (to the south) is over 3000 metres in elevation. To put it in perspective, Toronto is around 100 metres, and Vancouver is only 2. I think we know who to cheer for!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Himachal Pradesh and the Punjab
John and I decided to change our plans, cancel our train ticket to Amritsar, and take a 16 hour bus to Manali in search of adventure. This idea was based on the dream to paraglide in the Himalayas (we also had a reference from friends of a safe and good place). Manali is a hill station in Himachal Pradesh (north of Delhi) which was relatively undiscovered until the 1960's. It was just a little mountain village, but now it is a thriving tourist destination with hundreds of shops, hotels, and eateries. In fact, it is so crowded and busy that we decided to stay at a little touristy village just east called Vishist. We met our friend Golnoush by surprise and spent the first afternoon with her hiking to a waterfall. Then we met this tour operator named Ghanthu and realised there was so much to do here! We ended up planning for ourselves a sweet few days that included skiing in a mountain peak, paragliding through 3 valleys, and motorbiking through the winding mountain passes!
The first day, we got in a jeep which took us through countless switchbacks to Rhotang Pass, one of the few peaks that is possible to drive to that still has snow that hasn't melted. We were sporting these ridiculously colored one-piece snow suits that we rented that morning. Mine was flourescent pink, purple, and green, and John's was purple, green and black. I swear the suit was older than me. When I show you pictures, you will think it was the 80's. We quickly realised that the roads didn't actually make it to parts above the snow, so though we had rented the jeep all day to take us up and down the mountain (essentially our gondola), there wasn't much he could do. For all the runs, we had to hike up the snow for about 20 minutes and then have about 3 minute runs down. It was hard work, but super fun- an experience that I never thought I would have. On our last run, we were in the middle of a mountain snow storm, and I was really glad to be wearing the 80's space suit.
The next day we took a jeep to another place called Solang. We hiked up about 500 metres with our paragliding instructors and waited for the winds to subside. I was strapped into the parachute for about 10 minutes when suddenly I was instructed to start running! So I did, not realising that the paraglide behind me was taking flight, and I ran until my feet were lifted off the ground. It was an incredible feeling. The next one was about 30 seconds later when I was 500 metres up, overlooking 3 beautiful valleys! Wow. The winds were a bit wild that day, so when we landed, I sort of felt like a japanese monster (perhaps Godzilla?). My instructor, who was strapped behind me tandem style, was yelling, "side, side!!" to all the people watching on the landing pad. They were running every direction, holding on to their children, and screaming as my big feet landed unopportunistically into a mud puddle. I laughed it off, but not the mud. When John got down, we were joking about going zorbing (rolling down a hill in a big plastic ball). We asked how much it was, and at 300 rupees, we were both game (about $8). What ensued was a super fun 5 minutes rolling down the hill where we didn't cease laughing like little girls. I kind of felt like a 5 year old kid at a carnival, lacking only the pink cotton candy that, wouldn't you know it, was being sold everywhere! We were also offered rides on little white ponies for about 300 rupees, but we had had enough adventure for one day.
The last day, we were both given keys to Pulsar 150's, a popular mid-sized motorbike. First, the renter drove me to the gas station to fill up, and I drove back. I have driven a motorbike only once on the dirt airstrip in Niger last summer, so I was a bit shaky starting up. He proceeded to tell me that I have to buy anything I break (his confidence in my driving skills was overwhelming). John was just starting too, so we spent the first hour just driving up and down a flat spot (quite rare!) with a wide shoulder (equally rare). Then we took off towards a little town that we had never heard of. I'd say that it was really tough to keep my concentration on the bike and winding roads, and off of the serene white-capped scenes in the distance. But driving did demand my attention. Driving in India is on the left, for starters (which by now, I have gotten used to), but in addition, 'might makes right' and the words painted on the back of every big truck, 'honk horn' are the only rules on Indian roads that I am aware of. It is an intense mix of offensive and defensive driving. Anyways, it was an exhilarating experience that I was happy to still be alive afterwards (thank You Lord!).
We took a deluxe sleeper bus to Dharmsala, which arrived just outside of it at 3 in the morning, where we boarded a little minivan that took us up the elevated switchbacks to town. There was an identical van in front of us that had to be pushed at regular intervals, which made a german man very audibly angry! But that made John, me, and the French people in our van laugh. John took off on the first bus out of Dharmsala to meet his mom in Amritsar, so I was on my own for the last few days. I got a room and went to bed till 11.
When I woke up, I had only that day to spend in Dharmsala, which is the residence of the 14th Dalai Lama, and is thus the epicentre of Buddhist teachings and Tibetan movements. I visited some temples and museums that displayed Buddhist culture, and also some human rights institutions that speak against the atrocities committed by the Chinese lately. There was a museum that talks about the Chinese occupation of Tibet back in the 40's which was regrettably closed that day. I learned a lot about the rising movements of the Tibetan people also. For example, in the last few years, Tibetans have become increasingly disapproving of the Dalai Lama's peaceful yet ineffective methods of dealing with China. The influential Tibetan Youth Movement has merged with the 4 other largest Tibetan NGOs on the issue of independence of Tibet to form the Tibetan National Uprising Movement. Their first major move was to have a massive march to Tibet, an act that would bring international attention, and bring light to China's terror, because they are anticipating and expecting open fire at the border. The leaders of this movement are much more Gandhian than Dalai-Laman, in that they are commited to non-violence, but also to non-cooperation. They want to break some rules. So we'll see what happens in these next few years. I am of the opinion that this Tibetan issue can only increase in importance because it involves directly the two nations that will be the most powerful in the coming years- China, who won't take them, and India, who has been housing them for about 60 years and may have to take a side soon. Lately, India is continually being supportive of Tibetans as refugees in India, but will not aid them in their fight against China.
Aside from the Tibetan issues, Dharmsala and Mcleod Gang are half filled with tourists (this being peak season). I went with two French friends to a restaurant that Pierce Brosnan favored during his time in Dharmsala. I had an excellent tuna pizza, and thought about what he would have ordered. I took a local bus out of there to Amritsar, and after 3 stops and 6 hours, I was there. I arrived at the Golden temple just in time to leave my things and catch a shared jeep to the waga border. Yes, the Pakistan border! There is an ecclectic ceremony that happens every night before sundown supposedly to portray a positive Pakistan-Indian relationship. A mirror-image stadium has been constructed, with a gate and two large flag poles at the centre. Before the action started, the Indian side was WAY more packed, and they were blasting popular dance music, so there were some Indians who were moving their hips on the pavement. At 6:00pm, both Indian and Pakistani men assumed crowd cheer-leadering positions by yelling loudly in the microphone (in words I didn't understand) and the respective crowds responded with uproars of national pride. Then soldiers in tall hats resembling a small peacock-feather spread marched towards each other, and stopped short of the gate, raising their legs high as they walked. After much of this, they eventually opened the gate and lowered both flags simultaneously. I noticed the Pakistan flag was lowered slightly slower than the Indian flag, and wondered if anyone was offended, but everyone clapped when they were both down, so I suppose not.
After the jeep ride back, I entered the path around the golden temple for the first time. It is truly magnificent- I believe it's half gold and half bronze (or is it copper?), and is surrounded by a large pool of water (almost a small man-made lake), which provides for great photos at nighttime. The temple itself was glimmering, not to mention the reflection off the lake. They have live music from 3:30am till 11:00pm everyday! There was an excellent tabla player and two vocalists resounding out of bose speakers (not too shabby!) which circumvented the lake. I tried to catch the sunrise, but was late. When I finally walked into the temple, I found a quite surreal environment. There were worshipers prostrating themselves in front of a few holy men taking donations and putting them in a box, while others were performing rituals over some fabric-covered coffins, alongside many people reading/chanting parts from the holy book, with two microphoned tablas and vocalists singing and playing, and a big beautiful video camera catching it all on film!
I asked a man on a bus about the difference in the upside down cone-shaped turbans that the men wear and those with a ball in the front that the teenagers and boys wear. He said that at a time chosen by the father, a son is permitted to start tying it the manly way. It has religious significance 'tied' to it. Perhaps it is to the Sikhs what a bar mitzvah of the Jewish people or baptism of the Christians is, in regards to their faith.
I also visited a place called Jalianwala Bagh. Here is a little park surrounded entirely by buildings except for its only entrance which leads to a street. In 1919, some Indians were assembling peacefully when British General Dyer marched in, blocked the only entrance/exit, and ordered open fire on the masses, including women, children, and men. After 10 minutes and 1600 rounds fired, there were around 1500 casualties and about 2000 wounded. If this doesn't make sense, realize that there is a well in the park (I thought it was about 60 feet deep) that people jumped to 'save' their lives (most died). It reminds me of when people were jumping out of the windows of the world trade centre. To any rational person, it would mean suicide, but in such desperate moments, perhaps it is the safest bet. There are still bullet holes in some bricks in the walls. Nigel Collett, the author of Reginal Dyer's biography said, "As an Englishman, I cannot help but feel sorrow and shame at what he did... The massacre was the worst atrocity by a British officer ever recorded." A prominent Indian named Rabindranath Tagore, who was also a Nobel laureate, denounced his title of knighthood (given to him by the British) in protest. This incident consequently became a stepping stone to Indian independence.
Looking back, my favorite parts of Amritsar were the music, the free food and lodging, and the 5 rupee cokes sold outside! That's only 10 cents! I boarded my last train (classy- 3 tier AC) to Delhi, where I have been packing and buying last minute trinkets. I can't believe I am finally on the eve of my departure from this fascinating country. I actually have SO many memories of my time here, mostly good if not simply bizarre, that I wouldn't put it past myself to return one day. Some Indians I have met claim "The world is in India". They usually mean that India houses every religion of the world- Hinduism, Buddhism, Muslims, Jews, Christians, Jainism, and everything in between. I like to add that there is truly every type of landscape here also. There are snow-capped mountains in the Himalayas, the great Thar desert in Rajasthan, sandy beaches in Goa, rainforest wonder in Karnataka, busling cities in Mumbai, Kolkata, Delhi... vast endlessness in Ladakh, and long reaching rivers like the Indus and the Ganges. In addition, there are so many people groups here; people of Nepali, East Asian, Arab, Mughal, and even British descent (I won't try to name more). I love this land. But I do miss Canada.
I arrive in Nairobi at noon tomorrow, and will begin a whole new experience: a few days volunteering at a children's orphanage, and then researching with a prof from Guelph University for about a month. More to come on that, I suppose!
The first day, we got in a jeep which took us through countless switchbacks to Rhotang Pass, one of the few peaks that is possible to drive to that still has snow that hasn't melted. We were sporting these ridiculously colored one-piece snow suits that we rented that morning. Mine was flourescent pink, purple, and green, and John's was purple, green and black. I swear the suit was older than me. When I show you pictures, you will think it was the 80's. We quickly realised that the roads didn't actually make it to parts above the snow, so though we had rented the jeep all day to take us up and down the mountain (essentially our gondola), there wasn't much he could do. For all the runs, we had to hike up the snow for about 20 minutes and then have about 3 minute runs down. It was hard work, but super fun- an experience that I never thought I would have. On our last run, we were in the middle of a mountain snow storm, and I was really glad to be wearing the 80's space suit.
The next day we took a jeep to another place called Solang. We hiked up about 500 metres with our paragliding instructors and waited for the winds to subside. I was strapped into the parachute for about 10 minutes when suddenly I was instructed to start running! So I did, not realising that the paraglide behind me was taking flight, and I ran until my feet were lifted off the ground. It was an incredible feeling. The next one was about 30 seconds later when I was 500 metres up, overlooking 3 beautiful valleys! Wow. The winds were a bit wild that day, so when we landed, I sort of felt like a japanese monster (perhaps Godzilla?). My instructor, who was strapped behind me tandem style, was yelling, "side, side!!" to all the people watching on the landing pad. They were running every direction, holding on to their children, and screaming as my big feet landed unopportunistically into a mud puddle. I laughed it off, but not the mud. When John got down, we were joking about going zorbing (rolling down a hill in a big plastic ball). We asked how much it was, and at 300 rupees, we were both game (about $8). What ensued was a super fun 5 minutes rolling down the hill where we didn't cease laughing like little girls. I kind of felt like a 5 year old kid at a carnival, lacking only the pink cotton candy that, wouldn't you know it, was being sold everywhere! We were also offered rides on little white ponies for about 300 rupees, but we had had enough adventure for one day.
The last day, we were both given keys to Pulsar 150's, a popular mid-sized motorbike. First, the renter drove me to the gas station to fill up, and I drove back. I have driven a motorbike only once on the dirt airstrip in Niger last summer, so I was a bit shaky starting up. He proceeded to tell me that I have to buy anything I break (his confidence in my driving skills was overwhelming). John was just starting too, so we spent the first hour just driving up and down a flat spot (quite rare!) with a wide shoulder (equally rare). Then we took off towards a little town that we had never heard of. I'd say that it was really tough to keep my concentration on the bike and winding roads, and off of the serene white-capped scenes in the distance. But driving did demand my attention. Driving in India is on the left, for starters (which by now, I have gotten used to), but in addition, 'might makes right' and the words painted on the back of every big truck, 'honk horn' are the only rules on Indian roads that I am aware of. It is an intense mix of offensive and defensive driving. Anyways, it was an exhilarating experience that I was happy to still be alive afterwards (thank You Lord!).
We took a deluxe sleeper bus to Dharmsala, which arrived just outside of it at 3 in the morning, where we boarded a little minivan that took us up the elevated switchbacks to town. There was an identical van in front of us that had to be pushed at regular intervals, which made a german man very audibly angry! But that made John, me, and the French people in our van laugh. John took off on the first bus out of Dharmsala to meet his mom in Amritsar, so I was on my own for the last few days. I got a room and went to bed till 11.
When I woke up, I had only that day to spend in Dharmsala, which is the residence of the 14th Dalai Lama, and is thus the epicentre of Buddhist teachings and Tibetan movements. I visited some temples and museums that displayed Buddhist culture, and also some human rights institutions that speak against the atrocities committed by the Chinese lately. There was a museum that talks about the Chinese occupation of Tibet back in the 40's which was regrettably closed that day. I learned a lot about the rising movements of the Tibetan people also. For example, in the last few years, Tibetans have become increasingly disapproving of the Dalai Lama's peaceful yet ineffective methods of dealing with China. The influential Tibetan Youth Movement has merged with the 4 other largest Tibetan NGOs on the issue of independence of Tibet to form the Tibetan National Uprising Movement. Their first major move was to have a massive march to Tibet, an act that would bring international attention, and bring light to China's terror, because they are anticipating and expecting open fire at the border. The leaders of this movement are much more Gandhian than Dalai-Laman, in that they are commited to non-violence, but also to non-cooperation. They want to break some rules. So we'll see what happens in these next few years. I am of the opinion that this Tibetan issue can only increase in importance because it involves directly the two nations that will be the most powerful in the coming years- China, who won't take them, and India, who has been housing them for about 60 years and may have to take a side soon. Lately, India is continually being supportive of Tibetans as refugees in India, but will not aid them in their fight against China.
Aside from the Tibetan issues, Dharmsala and Mcleod Gang are half filled with tourists (this being peak season). I went with two French friends to a restaurant that Pierce Brosnan favored during his time in Dharmsala. I had an excellent tuna pizza, and thought about what he would have ordered. I took a local bus out of there to Amritsar, and after 3 stops and 6 hours, I was there. I arrived at the Golden temple just in time to leave my things and catch a shared jeep to the waga border. Yes, the Pakistan border! There is an ecclectic ceremony that happens every night before sundown supposedly to portray a positive Pakistan-Indian relationship. A mirror-image stadium has been constructed, with a gate and two large flag poles at the centre. Before the action started, the Indian side was WAY more packed, and they were blasting popular dance music, so there were some Indians who were moving their hips on the pavement. At 6:00pm, both Indian and Pakistani men assumed crowd cheer-leadering positions by yelling loudly in the microphone (in words I didn't understand) and the respective crowds responded with uproars of national pride. Then soldiers in tall hats resembling a small peacock-feather spread marched towards each other, and stopped short of the gate, raising their legs high as they walked. After much of this, they eventually opened the gate and lowered both flags simultaneously. I noticed the Pakistan flag was lowered slightly slower than the Indian flag, and wondered if anyone was offended, but everyone clapped when they were both down, so I suppose not.
After the jeep ride back, I entered the path around the golden temple for the first time. It is truly magnificent- I believe it's half gold and half bronze (or is it copper?), and is surrounded by a large pool of water (almost a small man-made lake), which provides for great photos at nighttime. The temple itself was glimmering, not to mention the reflection off the lake. They have live music from 3:30am till 11:00pm everyday! There was an excellent tabla player and two vocalists resounding out of bose speakers (not too shabby!) which circumvented the lake. I tried to catch the sunrise, but was late. When I finally walked into the temple, I found a quite surreal environment. There were worshipers prostrating themselves in front of a few holy men taking donations and putting them in a box, while others were performing rituals over some fabric-covered coffins, alongside many people reading/chanting parts from the holy book, with two microphoned tablas and vocalists singing and playing, and a big beautiful video camera catching it all on film!
I asked a man on a bus about the difference in the upside down cone-shaped turbans that the men wear and those with a ball in the front that the teenagers and boys wear. He said that at a time chosen by the father, a son is permitted to start tying it the manly way. It has religious significance 'tied' to it. Perhaps it is to the Sikhs what a bar mitzvah of the Jewish people or baptism of the Christians is, in regards to their faith.
I also visited a place called Jalianwala Bagh. Here is a little park surrounded entirely by buildings except for its only entrance which leads to a street. In 1919, some Indians were assembling peacefully when British General Dyer marched in, blocked the only entrance/exit, and ordered open fire on the masses, including women, children, and men. After 10 minutes and 1600 rounds fired, there were around 1500 casualties and about 2000 wounded. If this doesn't make sense, realize that there is a well in the park (I thought it was about 60 feet deep) that people jumped to 'save' their lives (most died). It reminds me of when people were jumping out of the windows of the world trade centre. To any rational person, it would mean suicide, but in such desperate moments, perhaps it is the safest bet. There are still bullet holes in some bricks in the walls. Nigel Collett, the author of Reginal Dyer's biography said, "As an Englishman, I cannot help but feel sorrow and shame at what he did... The massacre was the worst atrocity by a British officer ever recorded." A prominent Indian named Rabindranath Tagore, who was also a Nobel laureate, denounced his title of knighthood (given to him by the British) in protest. This incident consequently became a stepping stone to Indian independence.
Looking back, my favorite parts of Amritsar were the music, the free food and lodging, and the 5 rupee cokes sold outside! That's only 10 cents! I boarded my last train (classy- 3 tier AC) to Delhi, where I have been packing and buying last minute trinkets. I can't believe I am finally on the eve of my departure from this fascinating country. I actually have SO many memories of my time here, mostly good if not simply bizarre, that I wouldn't put it past myself to return one day. Some Indians I have met claim "The world is in India". They usually mean that India houses every religion of the world- Hinduism, Buddhism, Muslims, Jews, Christians, Jainism, and everything in between. I like to add that there is truly every type of landscape here also. There are snow-capped mountains in the Himalayas, the great Thar desert in Rajasthan, sandy beaches in Goa, rainforest wonder in Karnataka, busling cities in Mumbai, Kolkata, Delhi... vast endlessness in Ladakh, and long reaching rivers like the Indus and the Ganges. In addition, there are so many people groups here; people of Nepali, East Asian, Arab, Mughal, and even British descent (I won't try to name more). I love this land. But I do miss Canada.
I arrive in Nairobi at noon tomorrow, and will begin a whole new experience: a few days volunteering at a children's orphanage, and then researching with a prof from Guelph University for about a month. More to come on that, I suppose!
Service and Extremes
It is said that in order for India to develop like many other nations of the world, they need to increase their Tertiary (Service) sector to a level that surpasses the Primary (Agricultural) and Secondary (Industrial) sectors. On paper, I'd agree. However, the ironic opposition to this is that after visiting almost anywhere in India, you experience service constantly. I know the service industries they are talking about refer to entertainment, food, hotels and the like, but I haven't entered a village without being offered to see a reptile ascend out of a reed basket by a snake charmer (what could be more entertaining?), or restaurant owners and hotel operators running up to me and advertising their business. It is a non-conventional type of service, but it is a service. On the train to Delhi last night, five minutes wouldn't go by before another chai wala (person who offers tea), chip, or drink seller walked by preceeded by their nasaly announcements. And after getting off a train, there are 3 taxi and 4 auto-rickshaw drivers without fail, all surrounding me and bargaining for our mutual "good price" (the highest one I'll give and the lowest one they will). I think the key point is that they don't make the government much money. It's the five star hotels and restaurants that the country wants to see on the incline, with a matching entertainment industry equipped with operas, theatres, sporting events, and horse racing stadiums (however, the IPL- Indian Premier League- of cricket which is in its first season must be making a killing). However, the fact that the multiple service industries existing in India don't make the government any money does not negate the fact that they exist, and there is some of the most humble and best service here than I have ever experienced.
I decided yesterday to spend my last meal in Amritsar in a posh place, so I took a cycle rickshaw to Crystal Restaurant. I paid just over 200 rupees (about $5) for world famous Darjeeling Tea, a delicious tomato butter chicken curry, and two orders of butter naan (some of the best bread ever). The youth next to me were busy talking about the Simpsons, and there was a lunch business meeting happening on my other side; I felt right at home. This brings me to my next point in that India is a culture of extremes. These youth were acting as if there wasn't a care in the world, obviously children of successful parents who pay for all their needs (not unlike my upbringing). In contrast, the youth of Sudder Street back in Kolkata were either working extremely hard labour for little pay, or desperately looking for work as a cycle rickshaw driver (which, by the way, makes one sterile after 3 years of hard work). Another example is food. I can eat at a posh place like Crystal's, and as I leave the restaurant be confronted by street vendors selling greasy samosas or puri bread for a few rupees. On any road at any time, there are the poorest people driving cyle rickshaw who are dirty and perhaps sleep on the streets, who are passed every moment by business women and men driving BMWs and the like (there are much more Tata and Honda cars, which are more mid-range vehicles). Anyways, just an observation.
I decided yesterday to spend my last meal in Amritsar in a posh place, so I took a cycle rickshaw to Crystal Restaurant. I paid just over 200 rupees (about $5) for world famous Darjeeling Tea, a delicious tomato butter chicken curry, and two orders of butter naan (some of the best bread ever). The youth next to me were busy talking about the Simpsons, and there was a lunch business meeting happening on my other side; I felt right at home. This brings me to my next point in that India is a culture of extremes. These youth were acting as if there wasn't a care in the world, obviously children of successful parents who pay for all their needs (not unlike my upbringing). In contrast, the youth of Sudder Street back in Kolkata were either working extremely hard labour for little pay, or desperately looking for work as a cycle rickshaw driver (which, by the way, makes one sterile after 3 years of hard work). Another example is food. I can eat at a posh place like Crystal's, and as I leave the restaurant be confronted by street vendors selling greasy samosas or puri bread for a few rupees. On any road at any time, there are the poorest people driving cyle rickshaw who are dirty and perhaps sleep on the streets, who are passed every moment by business women and men driving BMWs and the like (there are much more Tata and Honda cars, which are more mid-range vehicles). Anyways, just an observation.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Foreign folk songs at an ashram
On one of the trains from Kolkata to Jaipur (the one leaving from Delhi), the most peculiar, awkward, and violating thing happened to me. John and I were having a delightful conversation with a couple of British and Indian origin who had decided to settle in a little town on a hill in Mexico when some eunuchs came by. I have tried to ask locals who speak english what the deal is with these people, but nobody seems to have a clue. Some locals give money out of embarrassment, or fear that they will kiss or harass them. Some say that little boys are taken from their parents, castrated, and then forced to dress like women and beg when they reach a certain age. Basically, they are men (with no physical manhood) who dress up in saris (women's garb) and act in a feminine manner (even overly so, I would wager) and ask for money. I have only seen them on trains. They have never bothered me before, or any other foreigner for that matter, but this particular time, there were three eunuchs who approached me. One sat beside me and started to stroke my arm. I made the fatal mistake by asking him to stop and leave in Hindi, which made me seem more local (or at least accustomed) to the eunuch. He persisted in his efforts until the Indian expat lady sitting across from me asked him to leave, and with that, he got up. However, as he left, he jabbed his hand directly on my crotch, contacting the very manhood attached to me which he lacks. I was shocked! He and his two friends were gone in a flash as I, stunned as a deer on the road, was both speechless and actless. The feeling of awkwardness passed soon, but my frustration took about an hour to subside. I guess I was overwhelmed by the lack of rules (or perhaps simply enforcement?) of sexual harassment here, and also felt a deep sadness for the women who undoubtedly get it worse.
Anyway, when we got to Jaipur (after 40 hours on a train) we had a wonderful two night stay at my old host family, the Mathur's, where we read a lot and watched a Bollywood movie in theatres. My host dad arranged a jeep to take us about 30 minutes north of the city to a small Leprosy Ashram called the Ramgarh Reintegration Centre, where we were to volunteer for the next 4 days. We thought that the job description would be similar to working with the sick in
Kolkata (bathing, feeding, massaging) but we were mistaken. This place is a simple place, filled with students living simple lives. This ashram is a vocational training institute where anyone can come (though mostly cured leprosy patients do) to take a six month course on a trade. These include tailoring, perfume-making, dairy operating, electric repairs, two- and three-wheeler repairs, and computer training. What could we do, as they were properly settled and content? Well, by nature of our upbringing, we taught English and computer training! It was great fun- we completed 5 one hour English lessons which covered the basics, and ended with our part of the cultural exchange where we talked about Canada, mentioning hockey, wildlife, and maple trees among other things. In computer training, they were making documents on word and powerpoint. They were ecstatic to watch how fast my fingers type! I helped one man take an article from a newspaper and reproduce it on word.
Like I said, this place is astonishingly simple. Every night before the sun went down we would all play cricket on a patch of ground next to the cows. It was amazing to see so many people enthusiastically playing the nationally-loved game despite their handicaps (many had crutches or canes due to the effects of their past bouts with leprosy). Then they would go to prayer, which consisted of all 38 of them forming lines in front of a little temple, folding their hands, and sounding off a 10 minute song (completely by memorization!) to many of their gods- I caught the words Krishna, Parvati, Shiva, Brahmhan, Ganesh, and others. I kindly folded my hands and silently prayed to Christ, and I felt right at home. After that, we would sit in the grass in a circle until supper. One night, they had a game where they would sing a line from a popular Indian song, and the first word of the next song must begin with the same letter that the last song ended with. They went on for hours as the sun set, and I even joined in with some english songs. The food was plain, the lifestyle relaxed, and their belongings far from extravagant, yet I have never experienced such close companionship and unity among a group of people in those 4 days. Never. Not in any church or friendship circle, and I am apt to guess that I do not yet belong to such an organisation of friends. There is so much to learn from the simple, and my only regret was that we left too soon, so my outlook on friendship and mutual living could not be further nurtured. To be honest, I found it quite exhausting because every second of the day they wanted to spend time with John and I- we had to peel ourselves away to read and even sleep! I suppose my individualistic upbringing is far removed from the collectivism of this ashram.
There was a boy named Saddam Hussain there who was a tailor. They always joked about his name, and he was absolutely hilarious. He also had the best voice of the group, and graced us often with foreign folk songs of India at any time of day.
Before we knew it, we were on our way back to Jaipur, where we took a train to Delhi. We made a last minute change of plans by cancelling our train to Amritsar (Punjab) and instead taking a night bus to Manali (Himachal Pradesh- the Himalayas again!). We have been here for about 4 days, and the adventures have been unbelievable, so stay tuned! All I can say now is that I thank the Lord that we are in one piece, and tonight, I'm off to Dharmsala (the residence of his holiness the 14th Dalai Lama). Phir Milenge (see you later).
Anyway, when we got to Jaipur (after 40 hours on a train) we had a wonderful two night stay at my old host family, the Mathur's, where we read a lot and watched a Bollywood movie in theatres. My host dad arranged a jeep to take us about 30 minutes north of the city to a small Leprosy Ashram called the Ramgarh Reintegration Centre, where we were to volunteer for the next 4 days. We thought that the job description would be similar to working with the sick in
Kolkata (bathing, feeding, massaging) but we were mistaken. This place is a simple place, filled with students living simple lives. This ashram is a vocational training institute where anyone can come (though mostly cured leprosy patients do) to take a six month course on a trade. These include tailoring, perfume-making, dairy operating, electric repairs, two- and three-wheeler repairs, and computer training. What could we do, as they were properly settled and content? Well, by nature of our upbringing, we taught English and computer training! It was great fun- we completed 5 one hour English lessons which covered the basics, and ended with our part of the cultural exchange where we talked about Canada, mentioning hockey, wildlife, and maple trees among other things. In computer training, they were making documents on word and powerpoint. They were ecstatic to watch how fast my fingers type! I helped one man take an article from a newspaper and reproduce it on word.
Like I said, this place is astonishingly simple. Every night before the sun went down we would all play cricket on a patch of ground next to the cows. It was amazing to see so many people enthusiastically playing the nationally-loved game despite their handicaps (many had crutches or canes due to the effects of their past bouts with leprosy). Then they would go to prayer, which consisted of all 38 of them forming lines in front of a little temple, folding their hands, and sounding off a 10 minute song (completely by memorization!) to many of their gods- I caught the words Krishna, Parvati, Shiva, Brahmhan, Ganesh, and others. I kindly folded my hands and silently prayed to Christ, and I felt right at home. After that, we would sit in the grass in a circle until supper. One night, they had a game where they would sing a line from a popular Indian song, and the first word of the next song must begin with the same letter that the last song ended with. They went on for hours as the sun set, and I even joined in with some english songs. The food was plain, the lifestyle relaxed, and their belongings far from extravagant, yet I have never experienced such close companionship and unity among a group of people in those 4 days. Never. Not in any church or friendship circle, and I am apt to guess that I do not yet belong to such an organisation of friends. There is so much to learn from the simple, and my only regret was that we left too soon, so my outlook on friendship and mutual living could not be further nurtured. To be honest, I found it quite exhausting because every second of the day they wanted to spend time with John and I- we had to peel ourselves away to read and even sleep! I suppose my individualistic upbringing is far removed from the collectivism of this ashram.
There was a boy named Saddam Hussain there who was a tailor. They always joked about his name, and he was absolutely hilarious. He also had the best voice of the group, and graced us often with foreign folk songs of India at any time of day.
Before we knew it, we were on our way back to Jaipur, where we took a train to Delhi. We made a last minute change of plans by cancelling our train to Amritsar (Punjab) and instead taking a night bus to Manali (Himachal Pradesh- the Himalayas again!). We have been here for about 4 days, and the adventures have been unbelievable, so stay tuned! All I can say now is that I thank the Lord that we are in one piece, and tonight, I'm off to Dharmsala (the residence of his holiness the 14th Dalai Lama). Phir Milenge (see you later).
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Kolkata, the city that works
India has a sweeping culture. By that, I don't mean that there is a specific domineering set of practices that is being proselytized across the nation. I simply mean Indians sweep. Everyday, every owner of their home, restauraunt, and shop spends a few minutes sweeping the inside and outside of their tidy places. Street sweeping is essential because India has two issues that we do not in Canada: most of India resides in the tropics, and the word "litter" must not exist in Hindi. Regarding the tropics, it is understandable enough because the wind brings the dust to every nook and cranny, leaving a thin (thicker depending on time past!) film of dust over everything. It is the same in Western Africa if I remember correctly. Regarding the latter, I'm sure I have spoken of the garbage issue before, but in Kolkata, it became all the more alive due to the sheer amount of people. The garbage bins I have seen are seldom used despite their written plead, "use me", and when they are used, I believe it is simply dumped in a discrete location. The only dump I have ever seen is one on a side street in Kolkata, but it contains so much food waste (compost) that it is perpetually full of cows, dogs, and birds. The fact is, India's society as a whole simply throws garbage on the ground no matter where they are, expecting that it will get swept! Sweeping is also a must because garbage in the open street drains leads to stagnant water, which can harbour disease. Thus, it is a system that works, (sort of) even though it may seem odd. Perhaps our massive dumps in North America give us more problems than small amounts of garbage evenly distributed (everywhere, as in India). I can think of soil degredation due to leaching of liquid chemicals for one. Anyways, I'll leave that discussion to those with more knowledge on the subject.
Another way Kolkata is a city that works is the contined survival of the poor. There have been so many reasons for the massive amounts of extreme poverty in the city: there was a severe famine in 1943, and the Indian-Pakistani war of 1971 ended in a massive human migration - about 4 million Muslims to East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) and 1 million Hindus to trade places and come to Kolkata. There has also been a communist government that, in the past, led to economic stagnation, which brought many poor farmers to the city to look for work. This is part of the reason that in Mother Teresa's time, there were so many people simply dying on the street from hunger and sickness that she felt moved to start her Missionaries of Charity work (more on this later). All this to say that my impression today of the city's inner-workings must differ greatly from her time and that of the writer of "City of Joy". Yes, there are so many poor in the city, and yes, there is a stark difference compared to some of the wealth that can be seen (grand British buildings that were built when Calcutta was still the capital of India, until 1911), but they are a surviving and hard-working poor. I don't know how it happens, but from my impression-and I walked right through many slums- most people are not in serious want of food. They are provided for, some say by a miracle of God. Countless people run tiny fruit shops, cobblers offer to shine your shoes, and human rickshaws (two big wheels, a seat, and a person in front pulling) haul people all over the city. They work extremely hard, and though their life is unbelievably strenuous, the city's people continue to exist. It works.
John and I volunteered with Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity for 5 days, and it was a truly enriching experience. In the morning I was at Prem Dan, and in the afternoon I was at Kalighat. Prem Dan is a home that provides long term care for men and women suffering from mental illness, leprosy, tuberculosis, HIV/AIDS, and neglect. The men and women are separated, so I worked with the men- there were about 150 in total. Most are elderly, and jobs were very basic, including showering, toiletting, feeding, massaging, and shaving. Everyone sort of found their niche, so to speak, and I found mine in massaging people with chronic pain in their back, legs, arms, or head. Some of these men were suffering so much, yet, they never complained, and were grateful for their current life, which is a lot more than can be said of their life outside the walls of Prem Dan.
John and I ended the Kolkata experience by attending a cricket game! The Kolkata Knight Riders vs The Mumbai Indians match happened on April 29th, and we dressed up in rip-off jerseys and flags to cheer on our team (Kolkata of course!). Shah Rukh Khan owns the team, and he made appearances before and after the game on the field. He is to Bollywood even more than what Brad Pitt is to Hollywood. It was great fun, the stadium held about 100 000 people (massive!!). They did the wave, and people were dancing all the time. In the end, Mumbai won by 7 wickets. I wouldn't have known what that means before the match, but now I feel I know the ins ad outs of the sport, which makes me feel that much more Indian!
Friday, April 25, 2008
The glorious Himalayan Range
Despite the elevation (over 12000 feet), the fresh mountain air compared to polluted Delhi was as refreshing as the dip I took in a freezing fresh mountain river.
The trip started at midnight in Jaipur, Rajasthan, when John and I boarded a night train headed for Delhi. When we arrived, we took an auto rickshaw to Luke's place and began our plans for the day. We had until midnight to pack and buy supplies, including a propane stove, packed food, gear (including my new "forester" swiss army knife!), and a rental tent. We embarked the 32 hour train with 6 loaves of chocolate banana bread from a bakery owned by Luke's friend. The train was filled to the max, but emptied around noon the next day at a popular station in Bihar- it's capital, Patna. Left on the train were mostly those headed to the north-eastern state of Assam. These people were incredibly nice, and we shared a compartment with a family of 5. When we got to New Jalpaiguri, we ate a quick meal, and took a shared rickshaw to Siliguri and a shared Jeep to Darjeeling, a hill station that used to be the summer home of the British when Koklata got too hot (ironically, I am presently in Kolkata in the hottest time of year- it reached 47 degrees Celsius the other day). We ate momos for lunch (a tibetan pirogi) and got another shared jeep to Manebanjan. We booked a shirpa (guide) at the tourist station who was to meet us the next morning, so we set up tent on a plateau and gave our virgin propane stove it's first job- soup!
We trekked for 6 days, covering 87 kilometres, and raising to around 3800 metres at the highest point. The views in the third and fourth day were the most spectacular, we could clearly see Everest, Makulu, Lahotse, Kachenjunga (India's highest, 3rd in the world), and many others. It's called the 'sleeping Buddha' because when viewed from Sankadphu and Phalut (where we saw it), it looks like a big belly, where the one to the left looks like a face (with a nose and chin protruding) and to the right are feet (I guess you have to see it). The views were spectacular, and it felt pretty hardcore to carry 60 pounds on our backs and sleep in a tent. One morning, we awoke to frost on the fly- proof of the cold nights!
Our guide, 'Tsering Shirpa', was a hero. At 38, he is an extremely experienced guide who knows the passes inside and out. Everytime there was a leaking hose on the side of the road, he would do a quick repair- probably saving a lower town from water availability issues. Since we were sleeping in a tent, we had freedom to stay wherever we wanted, so Tsering would bring us to his relatives, who treated us to chapati and Yak meat! Sooo good! Honestly, we spent more time in Nepal than India on this trek (named the Singalila trek) because the main road acts as the border, and we spent most nights the Nepal side. If you get queasy, please skip the next section.
We wanted to eat a chicken for dinner, so every day we would ask Tsering "can we buy a chicken in this town?", which he would answer 'no' until we reached Gorkey on the second last day. A local woman caught a chicken from a small coop, and brought it to us. Because I bought a new swiss army knife (the "forester") and I was dying to use it (no pun intended), they offered the chicken to me to cut its throat. After cutting it (and it did take some sawing force action) it bled a fair bit, and it kicked for a few minutes. An old man was holding on to it, but I can see without a doubt where the phrase came from ("running like a chicken with its head cut off"). We proceeded to make the best chicken noodle soup I have ever had, and a stirfry to top it off. The village cat was happy with the leftovers.
We had a few days in Darjeeling where we saw the zoo (red pandas, himalayan black bears, tigers, snow leapoards, and deer) and the himalayan mountaineering institute. The cuisine in Darjeeling was tibetan and delicious- momos and tibentan bread! We listened to a live band playing covers of random western hits, and then said goodbye to Luke the next morning. John and I saw our first bollywood film in theatres (race) and did a lot of running around. World famous Darjeeling tea, great local novels, and a traditional Gorkey military knife were some of the purchases made.
Life changed as quickly as the weather when we dropped from Darjeeling to Kolkata, but I'll elaborate on that next.
The trip started at midnight in Jaipur, Rajasthan, when John and I boarded a night train headed for Delhi. When we arrived, we took an auto rickshaw to Luke's place and began our plans for the day. We had until midnight to pack and buy supplies, including a propane stove, packed food, gear (including my new "forester" swiss army knife!), and a rental tent. We embarked the 32 hour train with 6 loaves of chocolate banana bread from a bakery owned by Luke's friend. The train was filled to the max, but emptied around noon the next day at a popular station in Bihar- it's capital, Patna. Left on the train were mostly those headed to the north-eastern state of Assam. These people were incredibly nice, and we shared a compartment with a family of 5. When we got to New Jalpaiguri, we ate a quick meal, and took a shared rickshaw to Siliguri and a shared Jeep to Darjeeling, a hill station that used to be the summer home of the British when Koklata got too hot (ironically, I am presently in Kolkata in the hottest time of year- it reached 47 degrees Celsius the other day). We ate momos for lunch (a tibetan pirogi) and got another shared jeep to Manebanjan. We booked a shirpa (guide) at the tourist station who was to meet us the next morning, so we set up tent on a plateau and gave our virgin propane stove it's first job- soup!
We trekked for 6 days, covering 87 kilometres, and raising to around 3800 metres at the highest point. The views in the third and fourth day were the most spectacular, we could clearly see Everest, Makulu, Lahotse, Kachenjunga (India's highest, 3rd in the world), and many others. It's called the 'sleeping Buddha' because when viewed from Sankadphu and Phalut (where we saw it), it looks like a big belly, where the one to the left looks like a face (with a nose and chin protruding) and to the right are feet (I guess you have to see it). The views were spectacular, and it felt pretty hardcore to carry 60 pounds on our backs and sleep in a tent. One morning, we awoke to frost on the fly- proof of the cold nights!
Our guide, 'Tsering Shirpa', was a hero. At 38, he is an extremely experienced guide who knows the passes inside and out. Everytime there was a leaking hose on the side of the road, he would do a quick repair- probably saving a lower town from water availability issues. Since we were sleeping in a tent, we had freedom to stay wherever we wanted, so Tsering would bring us to his relatives, who treated us to chapati and Yak meat! Sooo good! Honestly, we spent more time in Nepal than India on this trek (named the Singalila trek) because the main road acts as the border, and we spent most nights the Nepal side. If you get queasy, please skip the next section.
We wanted to eat a chicken for dinner, so every day we would ask Tsering "can we buy a chicken in this town?", which he would answer 'no' until we reached Gorkey on the second last day. A local woman caught a chicken from a small coop, and brought it to us. Because I bought a new swiss army knife (the "forester") and I was dying to use it (no pun intended), they offered the chicken to me to cut its throat. After cutting it (and it did take some sawing force action) it bled a fair bit, and it kicked for a few minutes. An old man was holding on to it, but I can see without a doubt where the phrase came from ("running like a chicken with its head cut off"). We proceeded to make the best chicken noodle soup I have ever had, and a stirfry to top it off. The village cat was happy with the leftovers.
We had a few days in Darjeeling where we saw the zoo (red pandas, himalayan black bears, tigers, snow leapoards, and deer) and the himalayan mountaineering institute. The cuisine in Darjeeling was tibetan and delicious- momos and tibentan bread! We listened to a live band playing covers of random western hits, and then said goodbye to Luke the next morning. John and I saw our first bollywood film in theatres (race) and did a lot of running around. World famous Darjeeling tea, great local novels, and a traditional Gorkey military knife were some of the purchases made.
Life changed as quickly as the weather when we dropped from Darjeeling to Kolkata, but I'll elaborate on that next.
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