Toot Your Horn for Urinating on Rubbish Piles

Three of the more common uncouth Indian engagements:

1. Trash Everywhere -- It is actually unbelievable how much trash is scattered around the streets (not to mention the foothills of the Himalayas). Like Thailand, it is impossible to find a trash receptacle in this country; however, unlike Thailand it is impossible to not see garbage everywhere.
2. Public Urination -- Men will pee everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE, in this country. On every wall, on every building, on vehicles, on trash piles, on the rail lines, on the wall of the bathrooms, on the streets, there is pee. It is not limited to certain times of day or to types of crowds or by the number of people in the vicinity. Day or night, among women or children or men, with thousands of people around or none, there will be a man peeing nearby.
3. Incessant Honking of the Horn -- The horns never end. It drives me a little crazy. If there is a person off to the side of the road, not in the path of a car, the horn will be pressed. If there is a traffic jam, and no one is moving, every horn will be pressed. If your vehicle is a bus, press the horn the entire duration of travel so that every person may know where you are. Instead of side view mirrors, the Indians opt for horns. Maybe effective, but terribly grating to my poor little ears.
   

The Day I Went to Pakistan

PHOTO UPDATE:
Some (about half) of my missing photos have been recovered at a data recovery center, and I am putting them into the previous blog posts now.

First off, two days ago was treated as a legitimate religious pilgrim. Ok, maybe not completely legit, but I did meet some real, nice friends at the holiest place of the Sikh religion, The Golden Temple in Amritsar. My new friends first greeted me by laughing at me and the makeshift scarf I had wrapped around my head, and after a bit of chatting and the usual "look who I saw at the temple today, Mom" photos, I was on my way toward acceptance. After the initial laughter had mostly subsided, they decided it was prudent to rewrap my headdress. With me looking more strange than ever, we went to the pilgrim dining area (FREE FOOD!) where we sat in a huge hall on the floor. Servers--people with giant pots and ladles--walked along the lines and rapidly served us all, spilling the delicious slop on the floor only a little, after which we speedily ate and cleared our plates to make room for the next 250 or so pilgrims waiting outside. A little more chatting here, a little barefoot underground temple exploration there, and I departed my new friends.

The next thing I knew I was in a crowded van heading to the Pakistan border (this was a planned trip by me, contrary to the misleading transition sentence). What awaited me was actually a popular event, for both tourists, Pakistanis, and Indians alike. I approached the border crossing at Attari, India from the Indian side with a mob of Indian natives. At times I was running down the street toward the border (to secure a good vantage point) and at others I was squeezing (pushing, shoving, moshing) through small passages with too many people. The destination was a concrete bandstand in sight of the Pakistani gates and the Pakistani bandstands on the side opposite. The crowds filled in the stands on both sides, as the sun approached the horizon over Pakistan.


The events which unfolded before me were strange, unusual, bizarre, funny, adjective, adjective, adjective. The border patrols, soldiers of each respected country, gathered together before an audience of their countries' natives to hold competitions of a "choose an adjective above" nature. Maybe they were ceremonious as opposed to competitive, but each country's people tried to outdo the other's.

Competition One: Flag Run

• Women, run toward the gate carrying your country's flag
• Then, run back the other way

Competition Two: Dance Contest

• Play music on loudspeakers to drown out the music on the other side of the border
• People, dance like you're at a club
• More fun means better country
  

Competition Three: Yelling Contest

• Soldier, yell as long and as loud as you can into a microphone
• Try to yell better than the yelling person in the other country
• Audience, yell louder than the other audience, "Long live Hindustan!!!"
  

Competition Four: High Kick Contest

• Soldier, march to the border using very spastic, highly (barely) controlled movements
• High kick while facing the other country's soldiers; hit your face if you can
• Grunt like you mean it

Then they lowered the flags and everyone went home. I am very happy to see that the India-Pakistan conflict has come to this, coordinating an over the top, campy border closing show, where people with big guns show off to other people with big guns.

Danielle vs. The Streets

Friend Phone call update:
They are still calling me.
Today: 3 missed calls.

Danielle, my temporary India travel companion, had a funny encounter the other day. The streets of India are sometimes congested. Cows, bicycles, poop, fires, people, rickshaws, giant buses, goats, footless children, puddles to avoid, garbage, dogs, cracks, footless cows, you name it, they have it. An Udaipur causeway, walking along, humming a tune, a bull standing in our path. No biggie, twelfth time today, and we continue on our malleable trajectory. Danielle passes first with a light but sure swipe from the bull at her side, a kind of "Hey, watch where your moo walking, pal." Danielle jumps, hops, scampers, sidesteps, flails into the street. Of course I giggle. And of course the middle aged Indian woman next to me giggles.

Then here comes Mr. Big Bad Unforgiving of Path Autorickshaw. Danielle, still looking back with arms in that frozen flail state, hears a "Watch out" from the ever considerate giggling middle aged Indian woman. Thinking the autorickshaw was another bull, Danielle repeats her elegant dosey doe the other direction straight into the ever considerate giggling middle aged Indian woman's friend, jamming her breast with her outreached flailing hands.

Boy, do the Indian woman and I laugh! Danielle apologetic and frazzled and the friend scowling and small, oh, a sight to behold.


UPDATE 4/6/2010:
Photos Added--Udaipur

The Rooftop Danceoff

I went to the roof and these guys waved from a nearby roof and did a little dance. So I repeated. They apparently liked the way my booty bounced, and they did another couple of moves. It escalated into a full out danceoff, mostly Indian style, during which my moves received both cheers and applauses. Clear winner = me. [insert photos].

That was how this blog post was setup until I got the photos off my camera. I finally found a place to upload the photos to my backup drive today. When I plugged it in, lo and behold, the computer deleted all my photos. No more India photos. The Taj Mahal, the camel safari, the desert mountains, all gone. Use your imgaination folks. The competitors in the danceoff were really adorable little kids. About 10 of them vs. me.

UPDATE 4/5/2010:
Photos Added

But new friends can be nice (I think)

I met another set of two similarly-aged Indian fellows in Delhi, but these ones were all nice (although they did try to sell me a trip to Kashmer, a dangerous town, especially for foreigners, due to the fact that the middle of the town is split by the Pakistan-India border). I visited their sister's home where she served me Chai tea (and then the brother-in-law/husband came home and yelled ferociously at the two and kicked us out. I apologized modestly, and he said slightly less angrily that it's okay but I need to leave immediately). Then we went to their home where they cooked me food and shared hookah with me (they showed me Kashmer photos and told me their houseboat in Kashmer was nice). We were going to meet the next day to exchange phone numbers (not after last time, but thank you for your hospitality). They told me that they had seen their brother-in-law kill someone before (...).

It's tough to judge my new friends

Quick Updates:

• Danielle has arrived, and we made it to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal
• The Taj Mahal is amazing. I think we sat there for about five hours
• We are now in Udaipur, home of a lake in the middle of the desert
• It was 102 degrees Fahrenheit the other day... can't wait for the cold Michigan summer
• I saw Windows Millenium Edition on a computer yesterday
• As such, uploading pictures may be difficult because SD readers didn't exist in computers back then

Delhi Belly, as they call it, is not fun. I am through my first round of Cipro (antibiotic) and feeling better again, but "hells bells," it was awful. According to my wishes in my first India post, I did manage to feel well until the third day, and following my course, the third day has brought a rumbly tummy to Danielle. But I've gotta say, I feel damn jovial.

I alluded to this in the last post, but I did manage to make some Indian friends while alone in Delhi. They showed me around, bought me a Chai tea, we had some laughs and exchanged some cultural tidbits--they were mostly intrigued with sex and Westerners (me) having had it and how to talk to girls and the ping pong shows of Thailand [And actually, other Indians who have travelled to Thailand all seem to visit Pathaya, Phuket, and Patpong of Bangkok... repressed sexuality]. Back to it, these guys were nice, albeit awkward in a confused teenage boy sort of way, and so we exchanged numbers with the idea of meeting up the next night for a drink.

Pleased with myself, I headed back to my room to rest after the exhausting day. Within minutes, I get my first phone call from Shan (the one with the phone).

S: Hey, where do you want to meet in the morning?

B: Uh, what do you mean, we are meeting tomorrow night?

S: I know, but where is your hotel so we can pick you up in the morning?

B: The plan is to meet tomorrow night, I want to do my own thing during the day.

S: I understand what you mean, but when do you want to meet in the morning? We can pick you up.

B: Ok, I don't want to meet tomorrow morning. I will just call you tomorrow at five in the afternoon, and we will make plans then.

S: I think we should make plans now, where are you staying?

B: I will call you tomorrow at five o'clock.

(End)

I get a text from another number moments later (the other friend), saying that we should meet in the morning and asking where I am staying. I don't respond. They proceed to call me again and again. That night: 7 missed calls. I decide that we shouldn't meet. The next day: 13 missed calls. The next day: 7 missed calls. The next day: 3 missed calls (not bad). The next day: 8 missed calls (shit). Today: 5 missed calls. I am in my second city since Delhi. Be wary of new friends, as nice as they may seem.

Until next time.

UPDATE 4/6/2010:
Photos Added--Agra and Delhi

India, meet your bitch: Thailand

If I ever thought Thailand was crazy, then India is just a whole other beast. I arrived last night and was driven to my hotel from the airport. I was too scared to leave my room after walking down the twisting, pee-smelling alleys to reach my hostel. So I didn't. And that was after dodging poop and coconuts and stray goats and cows on the main road before we got out of the car and into the alley. And there are people everywhere. They are all so nice and want to be your friend... then they take you to their friend's shop or restaurant twenty minutes out of the way from where you thought you were actually going. Then you have a hard time shaking them because the conversation was so polite and enjoyable until you realized it was a con. I cannot wait to leave the city. Danielle, mi travel compadre, hurry up and get here and we'll head to the beautiful rural areas I've been dreaming of. Not that this isn't at least a bit fun and exciting, don't y'all get the wrong impression.

Anyway, goodbye, Thailand. Miss you, baby. I'll see you in three and a half weeks for Songkran--huge festival, should be fun. In case you didn't know, the last two weeks in Thailand were spent ol' Brett and Denise Magnuson. They dipped their toes in Thailand's proverbial waters, and its actual waters for that matter. They places we visited were repeats for me, but I was smart enough to save the expensive activities for them. Among the cooler ones, we went ziplining in the jungle canopy and hit up the infamous banana bar on Koh Phi Phi. As most of the photos are on my father's camera (why use two when one is better), I do not have too many to share with you. Nonetheless, the last (maybe) of the Thailand photos. Hopefully these blog post things won't be as rare as they've been.

Here's to at least two days without diarrhea (please please please).