a mixed goodbye to another year, another country

I got a sunburn on my birthday- my first in years. I'm not sure what happened really- I think maybe I was just too relaxed to think about danger, about reality.. All day we spent swimming slowly in the coral reef with snorkeling masks suctioned to our faces (the 3rd one from our hotel's basket of sandy wares was finally actually suctioned- before that I was a blind, fogged in mess- and serious comic relief for the gregoire.) It's been many years since I tried scuba diving and I had forgotten the stunning wilderness of the land beneath the water. The fish were intricately designed radiant colors staring at us calmly, curiously as we wove in and out of their lives. One little black and green one even followed Gregg for a long time, swimming in place when gg was still.. We forgot ourselves out there, let the last few months get swept out in the tide. That's why I forgot to put on sunblock.

So after our dinner on the beach- food that they BBQ right in front of you, a long walk and a desert with oreos and ice cream (no chocolate cake to be found in the land of tropical fruits and coconut milk), I lay on my burnt back a long time feeling the fire of forgetfulness and the weight of my body against all of these years.

It is so strange to thread our way in my memory from the snowy peaks of the Himalayas to the burning beaches of southern Thailand. It feels like it must be years, but it is only weeks!

Pelling.
We had to get a special permit to enter Sikkim- a tiny square of land squished between Nepal, Tibet and China- and don't forget Bhutan! Apparently they have been torn between India and China for a long time and have their own (sometimes violent) freedom movement. So India plies them with funds to build their roads and schools in a bid to keep them happy enough being Indian. Funnily (or sadly) enough with this money and freedom from the strict religious rules of Hindu society- they have the highest rate of alcoholism in India. The difference is immediately clear as you cross the border in the quality of the roads- whereas through the Himalayas to Darjeeling was a jarring, treacherous route- the road to Pelling was smooth and gradual.

We left Darjeeling two days after a huge snowstorm buried us on Valentine's Day- our first snow this winter- when we woke to the sounds of cheers from the townspeople in the main square. The electricity was out, and everything stayed closed (and would remain that way until after we left.) We spent the day involved in a series of snowball fights- starting when Gregg was pegged by a middle aged Indian woman giggling wildly and continuing sporadically all day.. the great equalizer.. tourists vs. townspeople townspeople vs. townspeople tourists vs tourists...Our Valentine's Day was a strange assortment of frozen donuts and waxy cookies eaten by our woodstove and crackling candles lent to us by the hotel.


That was the last time we were warm.

Pelling off season was sort of depressing- most of the hotels were missing their top floors and under construction. It poured rain so we were unable to see the mountains surrounding us or take the trek we had planned. Luckily we were with our new dear friends Alex and Beatrice and we sat for hours eating Tibetan momos, drinking milk tea and laughing hysterically at our enormous bodies wrapped in every layer we owned. There was just no way to get warm and we took to carrying the tiny heater we rented from the hotel and plugging it in wherever we were sitting.

One incredible luck of timing was our arrival just before the Tibetan New Year- during the chaam dances. One day we woke early and hiked up to the monastery to watch this ancient ritual. At our hotel an older man had explained to us his sadness that his children aren't really interested in these rituals anymore- they had video games and other distractions and the reasons he had loved it- the once a year chance to eat delicious food and get new clothes- had faded with modernity and easier access to all of these things. I wondered which was better- a real appreciation for the ritual and tradition or good food and new clothes more than once a year.. I understand better the divide at the dances themselves- they were pretty incredible: the colorful masks and costumes, the drumbeat, the slow dances. But I understood after a few hours of this that the appeal would wane in the face of movies and television and other exciting distractions. I even found a small boy monk on a top floor of the monastery turned toward the back window and when I approached him and asked why he wasn't watching the dances he shook his head with disdain and I realized he was playing gameboy!!

We went from Pelling to Gangtok- a more populated city and just a tiny bit warmer (we didn't spend the extra money for a heater) and spent our last days in India there. Our final day in Gangtok we had a thrilling glimpse of the peaks that had been surrounded by fog for most of our stay and it was strange to know that beyond them lay our last stop on this journey: China. I'm glad we finished our trip in India in the far north because I loved the Himalayas and the friendlier people there- it left me with a happier sense of India as a whole.

After the north, even Calcutta seemed gentler somehow and we actually enjoyed our last night there- eating a final fabulous Indian meal and wandering through the streets to find Mother Theresa's tomb tucked away in a busy, poor area- full of tiny shops and people washing in the gutters. I felt a sadness for Mother Theresa- spending her whole life working to heal people and there is India, still full of sickness and poverty.. Gregg said that the answer is probably in education and not charity and I thought of the businessmen in our night train- eating a huge plastic wrapped meal and then throwing it all out the window- I thought he was probably right. Actually, it was funny when they men did this Gregg couldn't help himself and asked- What happens to that garbage? They looked at him, confused and said in gestures that someone cleans it up. We sat there, silent, both knowing that it would never be cleaned up. It would just join the masses of trash piled up everywhere in India, polluting their lives and ruining their country. I left India with a feeling of my relationship with this country being incomplete- I don't think you can go to India and leave without a sense of wanting to change something in the world that allows people to poison themselves.

Gregg has done a wonderful job of explaining our entry into the modern world. The shock and relief and strange rumble in our chest for India. It is a haunted feeling- like a strange dream someone has woken you out of prematurely, or the beginning of a love that you lost and never fully understood. I don't really know how to explain the feeling- I do now understand, however, why people return.

A few words on Thailand..

Pad thai with lime and peanuts and the feeling that right now, you could eat another..

An exotic bird calling out to you from a cage on a porch, whistling a catcall and then proceeds to utter long sentences in Thai. You wish you could understand.

Lying, calm on a chair made only to stretch out on while a film plays, a pineapple papaya shake in your hand, and a sensation that something has just dropped into your lap. You look down and there is the tiniest baby green gecko staring up at you (slightly larger than a fingernail.) You stare at each other and s/he sits quietly for a long time before disappearing to somewhere.. (ring a bell oh small crew at burning man with the praying mantis?)

The girls dancing alone on the dance floor beside you- there may seem no difference, but the divide is huge- she is there for business and a good night is one in which she is pinned under a stranger- and you are there dancing out the sweat of India- feeling free.

The impulse to roll around and lick your hotel room, it is so clean.

The view you have now of the turquoise waters you have only ever read about, sitting on a porch in your own hammock, trying to figure out what has just happened to you and who you are now...

love,
foxy zaza (gregg said i needed a nickname)

ps I wrote all of this on our porch because the internet prices are crazy expensive here- THANK YOU all for your birthday messages, I'll write you back personally when we get to a more connected place..
xxxfrom the island of Haad Yao, Kho Phanang, Thailand

Yeah Ok

Culture Shock. Big Time. We have been in Thailand for 4 nights and 5 days and I now know what "culture shock" means. I've heard the term before but I didn't realize that it had physical effects....I guess I never really thought about what it meant. It might have started with the plane even though it was owned by an Indian company....it was high class! We both agreed it was the best plane trip we've ever experienced. From the meal that was not an "airplane meal" at all to the warm thick blanket and big fluffy pillow-- this airline was no joke. Jet Airways was the name-- keep it in your roledexes. The first thing out of the wonderful flight attendant's mouth was "do you want a scotch or a heineken?" (on the house).....I thought---do you believe this lady? She laughed when I asked how much it was. I never appreciated being laughed at so much. Then the meal came, well I should say the menu came which had a small cafe's worth of food on it then the meal, which was not airplane food. It was real food--like really good food. I had snapper with coconut lime chilli sauce with a side of broccolli rabe and leeks soaked in garlic and oil. Now that I think about it though, the roll was still that round white shit brick that is in every place that is called a "cafeteria" or a restaurant three hours outside of any major city. That was the only negative. The flight attendants were going out of their way, this place was in tip-top shape. Actually, one of the reasons that we booked this airline was because of its "alleged" ties to Al Qaeda. They have been accused of being funded by them......sounded good to me---meaning--- this could be the safest airline in the skies! I was also very excited before we boarded because I noticed that the plane was brand spanking new--it just made me feel like we had a better chance you know? See Al Qaeda's not all bad....

After landing and repeatedly expressing my gratitude to the flight crew, my senses were ambushed. It was Soap. No first it was South East Asian humidity but then it was definitely soap. It smelled like shampoo, cologne, hair gel, clean clothes, make-up, nail polish, new clothes, new cars, new furniture, new paint, new carpet, and maybe best of all Soft Scrub. From that faint hint of Soft Scrub anyone that grew up in the West knew that a toilet bowl was being cleaned somewhere, and after two months in India we both had to go.

The airport in Bangkok is brand new with ultra new infrastructure, cafe's, SIGNS, and all the modern goodies. The bus to the city was EASY to find and book, and didn't involve any bargaining. This woman politely asked us where we needed to go and we rudely steam-rolled her cuz we were used to the Indian "touts"(con-artists in India who prey on people in train stations/ airports and try to sell them a fake ticket or tell them their hotel is burned down so they can get you to go to their hotel of choice). She sweetly asked us again what flight we were on and we thought we'd give her a chance. She gave us directions to where the baggage claim was where our bags were coming out ---AND SHE WAS RIGHT!! I looked out the window to catch a glimpse and I saw brand new Toyota Corollas for taxis, new pavement, clean buses, green grass, and no garbage--wow this is going to be really different. I thought South East Asia would be similar to India economically--another lesson learned.

It continued on the bus ride: speed limits, obeyed traffic laws, clean cars and streets, and kept- up often brand new buildings. Even when we approached the city it looked very modern. I know that there is poverty here but so far we haven't seen it. We got off the bus where there were tons of white people--which was another shock cuz we just hadn't seen any whitey's in a long while. We noticed how weird they are with their hand bags, tattoos, sunglasses, and one splash of fashion. We weren't any different. The Lonely Planet(pretty much our bible---the guide book) described this neighborhood as Bangkok's Greenwich Village. Whether being around the "tourist" area was going to be cool or not, we were too tired to find another spot. Stepping off the bus our senses were smacked again---this time hard. The many new faces, the lighter skins, the different clothes, the dj music blasting from the lounges everywhere, the new shiny cars (I even saw a 1970 mustang), the artists selling their art, tatoo parlors, and the newly painted yellow lines on the street on top of brand new pavement. The city street smelled good- of mango and sticky rice, people dressed up going out, sunscreen!, food being sold, and the many items sold in the many many many tons of many shops and boutiques that cator to these thousands of tourists. It's not a tourist center like times square though, it is like Key West in the East Village for 1/10th the price.

We easily found the hotel we chose in the book and again---wham. Hotel: filled with sun burned westerners on line/ leaving and entering/ smoking and drinking in the lobby, a very nice well dressed staff, granite counter top, brand new hardwood floors, and brand new couches in the lobby, plants everywhere- all opening to the outside without windows so everyone could feel the cooler breeze that dusk offered. To our surprise a room was available and we went to look at it. We almost jumped on the beds and sang, "I Can See Clearly Now the Rain is Gone!....." when the doorman opened the door. New paint, clean sheets, new everything man.....and again the whole thing smelled like soap. The hotel smelled like shampoo, the hallways smelled like floor cleaner, and the room was a mixer of bar soap and detergent. I don't know if it was a mixer of me not showering for a week or the absence of clean places in India, but whatever it was we noticed it. It was hilarious, I kept saying, "I smell soap" and Eliza would say, "I know me too!"

Now I will discuss the best part: THE FOOOOOOOD!!! Those of you who love Thai food have been in our thoughts--because we know how you would be flipping out like we are(fred, jules, jon). Pad Thai. done. Yes whether it's cliche or not it was "our best ever". And now we get to be that annoying pompous guest at your birthday party at a Thai restaurant where we explain that "the best Thai food III ever had was in Baaaaangkok, but this stuff is aaayyght". What can I say? It's freakin sick. Pad Thai is dished out on the street like hot dogs in NY and it costs 30 cents a plate. We went to a restaurant and got it for a dollar 50. We can't walk by these carts without eating something. They sell fish, bbq shrimp, mixed veggies with yellow and green curry, fresh oj, mango with sticky rice, chicken skewers with peanut sauce, and heaps and mounds of other things we know are good but we haven't tried. Its like seeing an entire table full of food at a Thai restaurant back home right on one cart all for the price of one meal--it's driving us crazy.

So like I said, it's been a bit of a shock. We are even looking in the mirror and doing our hair before we hit the bars and restaurants up at night. I wasn't taking showers before let alone spritzing my hair....We were out at a club the other night that a our friend Thomas took us to (he's a friend of Kertsen and Ben from Delhi--remember them from Goa?) where there were only thai people. I actually felt more comfortable at this place because it was bizarre again. Dealing with the modern city of Bangkok was making me forget where I was sometimes. To go from India to a bar in the street sipping cold Margaritas (with ICE!) talking to a guy from Seattle sometimes had me confused whether I was dreaming or not. They convert VW camper buses into bars and serve cocktails out of them, and there are 7-11's with seating outside so you can sit and have a bucket of whiskey and red bull. And right now I'm sitting in an internet cafe with brand new LCD flatscreens and everything looks untouched and freshly painted. They even have recessed lighting up in here...

How does it make sense then that I have been missing India? Because of its vastly different culture, landscapes, and social systems. Where else can you go to a grocery store at 9pm to find 2 men building a fire in aisle 6 just for warmth? Or see arranged marriages, 28,000 foot mountains, or funerals in the streets? One main reason why its so fascinating is becuase its also very safe. There are many scam artists out there and places that look delapitated, but very few times did we ever feel unsafe (I think that has to do with the lack of alcohol and drug culture). I'd go back.

We did leave two amazing friends we made in Darjeeling. Alex and Beatrice. Alex was from France but living in Berlin with Beatrice who was from Germany. We spent about a week with them exploring monasteries, restaurants, and going on jeep trips---all through the Himalayas. We really enjoyed their company. At night before we'd separate to go to our rooms, somebody would always say,"Ok where are we meeting for breakfast?" We really miss them....They even got us thinking about Berlin and asked us to stop by on the way back.... Sounds like an affordable city that has tons to offer, and that's pretty rare these days.

Yesterday we took an actual "luxury" bus(guess in thai--unlike hindi-- it means the same as english) to a boat to an island called Koh Phangan in South Thailand. We heard about this place through Alex and Beatrice( other travelers are the most reliable source for info). This place is a postcard. And not one of those dirty sun-bleached ones- all dusty on the rack at a locally owned gas station--one of those expensive shiny ones you pay alot of money for(they say it's because it's not the standard size it's larger) at the "tourist center" where they sell local hand made goods. We just booked a cabin in the sand with a porch, and a hammock for 7 dollars a night less than 100 feet from crystal clear turqoise blue ocean.................... Yeah Ok!.....

gg

dear everyone

Don't worry, we were not on the train from Delhi yesterday..
love to all and we'll write from Thailand!!

Valentines Day Eve in Darjeeling

to begin this post, I have to pull myself away from our cosy woodburning stove with the crooked pipe.. I must wind my way slowly, treacherously switching back on myself down down down this immense slope of a quiet fog-wrapped existence in Darjeeling, and remember everything messy that came before..

well. Gregg and I have been talking a lot about if we're just burnt out or if the north has just been a harsher more depressing reality- the truth is probably somewhere in between..

From the last post in semi-peaceful Pushkar (yet still full of people who want something from you..) Gregg arose from the sleeping bag like a man reborn.. no more itchy-ness and no more fever, but a little bit changed I think. I can't tell if it was the fever or the reading of Siddhartha with a fever, but he is eating less and feeling overwhelmed by the dirt and pollution.. We think it may be an up and down existence in India, two weeks of exhilaration, two weeks of disgust- that has been my pattern.

We left Pushkar on a night near or on the full moon. We dined at our favorite restaurant (Third Eye- Israeli and delicious- and you can eat the fruit!!) and met two people from China who grew up in New Jersey(!!).. They gave us hints for China and we talked for a long time- the huge yellow moon was rising over the rooftop restaurant and we immediately slipped into that deeper level of relationship that traveling induces.. Our discussion was so intense that I seem to have thrown the bus tickets onto my empty plate and off it went.. We said goodbye before I realized that I no longer had the tickets. A frantic half hour later they were finally found by the chef in a very gooey state and we ran blindly in a vague direction toward someone who was to drive us to the bus.. It was during this rush in the wrong direction that we discovered the homeless, less lovely part of Pushkar- the bright moon lit hundreds of blanket wrapped bodies lying on the sides of the road. I wondered if these were the priests that tried to sell us prayers or the shopkeepers that sold too little. It was a ghostly reminder of our position in this town. By the way, my last day in Pushkar I bought food for a homeless boy that had been a shadow my whole time there. Such a smile!! I felt so badly that I hadn't bought him something to eat each day there- if I had known the joy it would bring him.. I guess I am sort of burnt out of pity- I can almost ignore the children now, almost. But that numbness scares me.

I also had a wonderful time with the cows on my last day. Have I talked about the cows? Probably- they are one of my favorite parts of India. I have to resist petting all of them.. They are just so nonchalant and calm and they never look desperate or sad.. (even though they are often munching on trash and filling their bellies with plastic..) And even though my first day in Pushkar two baby bulls gave me a head butt, separately, one crossing the road to do it. I was wondering if I smelled like competition, probably at that point I did. But my last day I bought a handful of carrots at the market and spent the day feeding their juicy snouts. They were appropriately appreciative- one even followed me for a while pushing her nose into my butt for more- the shopkeepers got a big kick out of that.. I was almost the pied piper of bovine.

We arrived in Agra, cowless, after another hell ride on the bus. WARNING if you are traveling in India, don't take the private buses unless you or someone you know has seen it first. We realized we had probably made mistake when the jeep that was supposed to drop us off at the bus and "show us which bus to take" left us on the side of a dirt road, alone. Several hours later we entered one of the hottest smelliest vaults I have ever had to suffocate in. There was another class system to this bus: the rich on the top with curtains across these cubicle-like spaces, the middle class in seats that lay back so that you were breathing in some one's lap, and the poor who lay, coughing, on the floor beneath our seats.. and all with horrible breath. It was a long night.

Agra. Oh nasty Agra. How could you hold such a stunning tribute to love and death and be such a shithole? The Taj Mahal is a building that I could just sit and stare at for several hours, which I did. Apparently it changes color with the sunset which I didn't actually see, but I was content in just watching the white marble play with the light. So massive and intricate. But built for a woman after she died giving birth her eleventh child. Maybe she would have preferred to have less children and instead see this incredible building, but who am I to say? I did think of her though when I watched it, how often we express our love when it is too late.

And poor yucky Agra got none of the love from the Taj (and it was expensive!!)

It seemed to be our trek through the north was about death and shit with a tiny slivers of beauty shining through the dirt.

Varanasi. We slept in a tomb of mosquito corpses- hundreds of bloody specks covered the walls- and opened our window to the smoke of the burning dead. And below us, still, sat the septic Ganges. To get to this hotel we had to fight mobs of desperate, almost malicious touts that wanted us to follow them and would cruelly give us the wrong directions.. There is nothing more awkward than sweating with your backpack pushing your way through a cremation ceremony. I felt disgusting. And covered in soot. We had heard so much about the magical aspect to this city and we searched for it in every tiny crooked alleyway. I even got up at 6am to go down to the ghats and watch the bathing.. (we decided not to take a boat because when we asked the man at our hotel if the boats ever tipped over he said "sure all the time, but no problem, the tourists can swim.. Gregg stayed in bed) I saw cold wet people and babies covered with rashes, doused in the dirty water. I did not feel moved. I felt haunted and ill. I imagined how beautiful it must have been at one time- before you could see the crap floating in the river and the buildings slowly started crumbling and sliding into the water..
But today this holy city seems a sewage pipe of souls.

And back on the train to Calcutta.. Another city we sort of wanted to skip but instead got sucked in because our train was 8 hours late (!!) and we missed our connection (for which we had given ourselves a mere 7 hours.) We spent several hours starving in the station while fighting for our money, a ticket, a dose of sanity. Finally a saviour arrived- Mother Theresa, actually, in the form of a train ticket sales agent. He did, in fact, equate himself with Mother T. and he said he loved to help people.. until he asked us if we could get him a job in the U.S., we believed him. So there we were in the city with the most beggars in India with no hotel and it was Late! We took the first hotel that said they had room and got a prepaid taxi. When we arrived it was double the price and the taxi driver was illiterate and couldn't understand from the form that we had paid already. The hotel doorman was so dismissive I felt sorry for him and tried to explain- nothing helped. I wonder if he ever got paid. The room was an overpriced nightmare. More cockroaches and dirt. We did have an excellent dinner though, Calcutta's one high point..

Off the next day to the aforementioned paradise. In two days we will be heading to Sikkim for the Tibetan New Year (wooden mask Chaam Festival) with new friends from Germany and France, and then off to Thailand..

We are sending our love for Valentine's Day, we can't send you any good chocolate, but we can send you a heart-stopping view... (and wrap you in yak wool hugs)

love,
eliza

From Hell to Heaven with a Stolen Umbrella

Well well here we are again. Back with some juicy stories. Sorry I didn't post last time but I simply had nothing to say. Unless you want me to go on about the details of the movie "Bowfinger" or "Beverly Hills Cop 2", I really wasn't doin much. That fever and scratchy thing finally went away and I still wasn't feeling 100 percent, so I just took it easy in Pushkar, checking out some of the city's beauty during the day, eating, and then enjoying the sunrise with HBO. Can't say it was that bad. I love HBO, it was nice to just "lay" as Beau would say. When I did finally get out, I grabbed some amazing food at this place called "3rd Eye". Since Pushkar is 200km from Pakistan, Pushkar had a Middle Eastern feel to it. This cafe was Israeli run and they dished out some amazing falafels, hummus, cold lemonade with mint puree mixed in, and some pretty damn good chocolate cake. We havn't eaten anything that resembled chocolate since New York. It either tastes like brown bread(whatever that means) or it literally tastes like soil. Im not joking here, and that may just be me but I swear some of it tastes like a handful of brown rocky dirt. So this place was heaven. I basically ate here every day because I knew I had a good thing, and why take any chances when you got a weird rash right?

The rash and the fever subsided but it seemed to be replaced with a new disease I like to call "hating everyone in sight". I don't know what it was, the long time spent away from the culture or just time catching up, but I began seeing things in a really angry way. Looking back on that time (now over), I still don't know what it was-maybe a combination of these things. When I would take these short walks to the cafe, people were acting the way they always did: they would honk their horns blowing out your eardrums until someone moved, they would ask us if we wanted to see their shop-"cheap cheap prices, come come", 'fake' priests would try to scam some money out of you and get you to put flowers in the holy lake, women would ask me to come and see pictures of them dancing(never found out what this scam was), shop owners would charge us double because we were foreigners, people would try to sell us drugs, people would walk with us for a while telling us how great their restaurant was and why we should go, people would try to get us to exchange money (for bad rates so they would make out), and kids women and men would beg for money. Since we touched down in Mumbai, we have met less than 5 Indian people that we had a conversation with that did not want something in return. We are hesitate to talk to starngers because they always want money, want you to stay at their hotel, want to scam you, want to take you somewhere down a dark alley to someplace that "you need to see", or want a connection in the U.S. to get a job. The list goes on and on and on and on and on and I started to lose my cool a bit.

Instead of seeing India as a country that was colonized by England and a country that has gotten the short end of the stick due to political racism (the poorest countries in the world are occupied by people with the darkest skin. In fact the rich to poor list seems to go in shades from white to black: Western countries-US, Europe, Australia----East Asian countries- South Korea, Japan(exception), China, Singapore-----South and Central America and the Middle East----India----and finally the poorest and blackest--Africa.) I now started to ask the question a different way (maybe due to a book T-Lo gave me called Freakonomics where this economist tackles the same issues we always have, but just tries to ask the questions differently). I started asking-- how did these people LET this happen? Why did they allow the British to take control and put this country into poverty? If they were simply out-militarized by them, why didn't they have a military? Why haven't they spent every last dollar they have on population control? If Hindus aren't afraid of death are they afraid of life in this pit? Shouldn't someone be held accountable when the train is 8 hrs late-so the train is not 8 hrs late? Maybe a culture that focuses so much on the next life is just not the way to go, don't they suffer more than we do seeing their children starving?

I also started getting sick of the temples...blah blah blah another temple that was beautiful at one time but now is crumbling and no one seems to be trying to stop it. Plus maybe this religion thing is the PROBLEM not the answer.

All this was going on inside me simultaneously with another discovery I have been making about religion. I have been studying the different religions and trying to understand them a little bit better, because I have always had a difficult time taking organized religion seriously at all. I always saw them as made up stories a long time ago to help people cope with their difficult lives and maybe allowing some people to get worshipped who had weak self- esteem. Plus I had a hard time picking one. There are 19 major religions in the world with over 10,000 sects that each have their own interpretation and most telling you that theirs is the "right" one. Well they are all here and some of them are even combined. Like many hindus just added jesus to one of the many gods that they worship. I thought that was pretty cool, they seemed open to changes. And there are many people who search for a higher consciousness as a way to understanding this world--not a higher god. These people I found I could relate to, they (Buddhists/ some gurus) try to find peace inside themselves through meditation and treating other people with respect. They meditate for hours, days, months in complete silence in a room. They attempt to force all thoughts out of their brain--as soon as that realization that the car payment is due next friday comes to thought they try to get it out of there. So eventually your mind is clean and clear and supposedly that is when you can see clearly and maybe see a light. This all may be a little off (Im still learning-not sure about Buddhists belief entirely) but the jist is you find out the meaning of "god" or whatever that is within yourself. I kinda liked that, and i've been experimenting with it.

To top it all off, I have been reading the book "breif history of time" by stephen hawkins where he explains the big bang, the vastness of the universe, and the potential that we have not even come close to understanding about our universe. Scientists like Hawkins cannot discuss the time before the big bang, they just say there is no point. Because there isn't anything to study its just 'your guess is as good as mine". They just say, yeah there was a big bang where there was this collection of pressure, stars, and gases that blew up and is still going, but what was outside that ball of gas and stuff before it blew? Don't know. Black? Someone's crystal ball and a big joke? dont know. So I started coming around on this whole religion thing---maybe they're all right... funny how literally everything comes back to the big bang...

We reserved a bus from Pushkar to Agra where the Taj Mahal is. One of the seven man-made wonders of the world. The bus--another scam---guy said it was a luxury bus and boy was he a big fat liar. At this point, although I was being frustrated and negative, Eliza and I managed to keep things in perspective and light with humor. Thank god (screw that thank us) that we can do that. She stuck with me through my hatred period by cracking jokes which helped me to crack jokes also instead of spit fire at people. She had her time of frustration weeks ago and she got through it, I guess it was my turn. It felt good too. Some guy selling food on the train for 27 RS didn't want to give me my change from 30 RS because he said "he didn't have it", so I said "alright here's 25 RS thats all your gettin then". I didn't give him the extra 2 RS even when he came back with change I just said "nope too late." Ultimately it didn't make me feel any better in the long run --plus it was an up hill battle.....these people weren't going to change.

I simply can't describe the Taj Mahal in words. It doesn't look real. It looks like a big projection of something a cartoonist did- displayed on the sky as a backdrop. It was inspiring to see this thing, we stayed there for hours. Its no wonder its a world wonder.

We then took a train to Varanassi. I couldn't wait to bash this town with all my might on this blog. A living hell, the filth, the crumbling once beautiful architecture, the men following us for miles to get us to go to their hotel of choice, the real bulls not cows(with balls) that you'd encounter at night in a dark alley, the sewage in the narrow alleys that were their streets, and the ash from burning bodies that were being cremated along the Ganges river--yup no typo there....

Then something got in the way. Time. I have thought about that city more than any Indian city since I left. Hindus take their dead on the Ganges river to be cremated because the Ganges is extremely holy to them, and anyone cremated there will be released from the cycle of reincarnation and finally go to heaven(I think). Many people bathe in the river because of its holy power (I tried not to remind myself that the stretch that they bathe in is septic because of a few very large sewage pipes that empties out right there--meaning there is no oxygen in the water --zero). We stood right there while people were cremated--mothers and fathers. We watched the men that work the cremation ghat weigh the wood that the family had to negotiate over and purchase-just enough wood to completely incinerate a human being to where there was nothing left. These guys were experts, there business was burning humans and they were good at it-down to the last ounce. Death is in the air, literally with ashes landing everywhere, and you don't go an hour without thinking of your own mortality. I still haven't stopped and I am glad I went to Varnassi.

We then took a really long train ride through Calcutta, where we had to stay for a night (whoah-zaz will fill that roach-filled gap in) to Darjeeling. AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH. I'd like to rename this town "AAAAAAAAHHHHHH". We met a really nice guy on the train who negotiated our jeep ride from the train station to Darjeeling(only accessible by road up the foothills of the tallest mountain range in the world--the Himalayas!). The ride was straight up. And up and down for me emotionally.

It was morning and crystal clear, the driver and the passengers were really sweet, and the music he was playing was peaceful. I was thinking alot about my experiences and coming to grips with my "hating everyone in sight" disease. Maybe Indians will figure it out, they just had some bad luck these past two hundred years--it could be argued that colonialism is the single most debilitating{I know there's an "h" in there somewhere but I can't remember where} thing that can happen to a country) . If I was living in Varanassi and I could get 80 RS just by showing someone where a hotel was--shit maybe I'd do that too. Although, I'd prolly hire out ten guys to do it and make three times the money--but thats just me. These people are poor --and they know that we have more money than they'll ever have in their lifetimes, just from saving for a few months in Los Angeles.

And Darjeeling was a good example of people being financially stable and not relying on foreigners so much--and damn that was nice to experience after all we've been through. As we ascended the mountain, people got less brown and more east-asian looking. Each face and skin color telling a story of where they had originally come from.....India, Tibet, China, Nepal.....wow this ride really told a story. The houses were colorful and well kept up, each one with a view that in the U.S. would have realtors screaming "location, location, location!". On top of feeling alot better emotionally, we got really lucky. We were told by many travelers and natives that this area sometimes experiences bad weather and you may not be able to see the high peaked mountains. Because of the clear weather we saw our first glimpse of the top of a distant massive tall block of ice after coming over several foothills. We were so excited, we were going to see this range in the sunshine. Then finally we went around that last corner that we had been waiting for to get a good look. I just shouted, " BOAAAAAAAAA!" I was looking at rolling green hills that led up to shades of grey then white then ice -that seemed separate because of its distance and massive size. I was looking at Kanchenjunga, the third highest mountain in the world at 28,169 ft! Dude that is twice the size of anything I had ever seen before. This is where planes fly at 30,000 ft. The clouds only went 1/3 of the way up the mountain, the Himalayas are unreal! We tried taking pictures of it and it was no use, we laughed every time we saw the photo because it looked nothing like what we were seeing. It was completely covered in snow and ice and took up your entire sightline when you looked north.


We pulled into the cutest little town with big pine trees, wet asphalt, wool sweaters, warm boots, hot soup, and the freshest air i have smelled since Northern california. After we grabbed an amazing hotel with a view of the snow capped mountains and a wood burning stove, we explored. We found that people here don't bother you and they aren't trying to sell/ hawk/ beg/ talk/ stare/ force you at all. They are content, and we are just happy that they let us visit. We had "high tea" with some rich Brits at a really fancy hotel ($200 american a night). It started to rain when we left and I noticed a doorman handing out umbrellas to the guests that were leaving, so I just walked up and put my hand out hoping he wouldn't notice that I had longjohns on under my shorts and two different colored socks. He didn't but when he gave us the once over, I just looked him straight in the eye like "hey doorman-lets get a move on here we're gonna be late for the opera" and it worked. We ended up giving that stolen umbrella to two British friends we met that had been having a rough time without rain gear.

We are all layered up now with wool sweaters, hats, and cut-off wool gloves so we can get a good grip on the soup spoon. Next stop --Sikkim. Even farther into the Himalayas. We are keeping an eye on time though because we want to be on a beach in Thailand by Eliza's Birthday on the 26th. Its just that we love the hot Tibetan noodle soup so much that we might put off the beach paradise for Himilayan happiness.

GGGGGGG-Reg

Me n Rashboy in Rajasthan

Hi everyone. I'm posting on my own this time since Gregg really has only seen the pillow this past week.. He is feeling much better now and I just left him at our favorite cafe having some lemon mint tea. About a week ago, after our first day in Pushkar, he came down with a fever and some achy-ness and a rash. We had the town Dr in (a very nice man) who diagnosed a virus.. We aren't sure what type of virus, it may be that one of the mosquitos from the south brought other gifts besides a simple mosquito bite- but either way, he is feeling better and we are planning our exit.

Teddy left for London after declaring the Dr a competent man- so I was left the lone nurse for my poor itchy patient. It has been a completely different experience, roaming the village on my own.. Before Teddy left we took a sunrise hike to a small temple on a high hill overlooking the city. It was absolutely gorgeous to see the sunrise from behind the wall of mountains that surround the city. We were joined by hundreds of monkeys and a flock of green parakeets, all with their own (loud) greeting for the sun.. I am missing my Teddy and his tall body towering over the crowds..

After Pondicherry we flew from Chennai to Delhi. Flying is definitely the easiest form of transportation here- no suffocating crowds and sweaty long hours.. but you also miss seeing the countryside and the people who are living their lives in a colorful array of fields and homes- you miss the saree clad women with bundles on their heads and the men leading painted cows and donkeys.. Train rides always have a dream-like quality.

Our night in Chennai was a hilarious photo shoot of the absolutely horrendous room we were staying in.. Gregg even posed sexily in the algae green shower- someday we'll get these photos up for you. The hotel owner suggested we leave for the airport way earlier than was necessary, so we breakfasted on airport samosas and chatted with other travelers while waiting for 3 hours for our flight! I've noticed that travelers who have been in India for a while have a hardened, crusty shell on them- sort of a dirty, aged ruggedness. Although this probably prevents harassment, I am trying to stay somewhat fresh and not so drained looking. I don't know why I don't want to look like this- but it sort of seems like India has sucked the juice out of them. My recipe for retaining innocence: sunblock, water and naivety..

(everything has just been erased so I will try to repeat it..)

In Delhi we were absolutely spoiled with the generosity of our dear friend Kersten (Benjamin was on a desert trek) and stayed in her enormous apartment in the south of the city. It was so lovely to sleep in a real, clean bed with blankets and get up and have breakfast and read the paper.. (especially since I was recovering from my 2nd cold in India- I think pollution induced..) I miss these simple things about having your own home. Kersten showed us her adopted city (she is from Austria and studying in Delhi for a semester) and we visited a temple shaped like a giant lotus.. inside you are encouraged to pray to any god you believe in in silence. The day we were there was a holiday (Public Day?) in Delhi so we were accompanied by hundreds of praying people. I sat in the silence and wondered how many gods were being prayed to at that exact moment, and how many were listening. There are times that I wish I believed in a god so that I could join people in having faith that something is out there paying attention- but there is too much pain and hunger here to spend my money on flowers and candy for the gods. I am beginning to see temples and gods as comforts, reassurances that life is more than the simple struggle to eat.. is that what it is everywhere?



We rode the night train to Pushkar, Rajasthan and entered a small magical city that surrounds a holy lake. The story is that a god dropped a lotus and created the lake and our first visit to the lake we each dropped a flower into it as an offering. There are "priests" who try to make you pray with them - with a charge of course- but I told him I wanted to do it by myself and sat and watched people bathe and pray to the small lake. The city is tiny with narrow streets that only fit motorcycles. There are tons of pilgrims, shops, cows and dreadlocked hippies. Our first hotel was home to several families of dread locked children and their matching parents who woke poor sick Gregg at the crack of dawn with their screams, so we finally moved to a more peaceful place. It's $2 more but the paint is not peeling off the walls onto our pillows!! Although last night some man with a really off key singing voice sang into a loudspeaker until 5am- at a temple practically right outside our door. When I asked our hotel about this they said that Pushkar is a very holy city.. but hopefully it won't be so holy tonight!





I've loved Pushkar and its cafes full of laid back travelers (probably laid back because of "bhang" (sp?)-almost like Amsterdam they offer everything with the "special" option- made with some kind of pot mixture.) It's an easy place to be a single woman and roam without harassment. But I'm missing my travel partner and I can't wait until rash boy rises to join me in our adventures.. We will (hopefully) be leaving Pushkar any day now and heading to the Taj Mahal before Varanassi and finally Darjeeling/Sikkim. We are ready for mosquito-less living, a little snow and a wood burning stove and, of course, to finally see the Himalayas...

this is what i called you on mom and dad...