Kathmandu day 2

I am pretty tired of traveling to third world countries just for the sake of traveling to third world countries. you've seen and been in one shit hole, you've seen and been in them all. like i mentioned before, I think I'll just focus my travels on fun activities and food from now on. mostly the food. I'm really tired of forts and pretty buildings and stuff like that. I'm just tired. I realized during my shower this morning that it was the first proper hot shower I've had since Varanasi, India. It's almost been a month. and it's probably been more than a month since I've had a proper night's sleep.

Kathmandu

I’m in kathmandu now. This city is a bit of a dump. The outskirts of the city are extremely poor, all concrete bunker houses. I don’t know what it is about Third World countries but they are all full of half finished buildings. Every building in the city and in the countryside seems to be half completed with rebar sticking out of exposed concrete pillars and unfinished brick walls.

But, Nepal is a lot cleaner and nicer than India. The people are nicer, they don’t spit like Indians, the streets are (relatively) cleaner, the traffic isn’t as bad, etc…




I went to a famous stupa right outside kathmandu, Swayambhu Stupa. It was an interesting 30 minute walk through the streets of the city to the hilltop site. The complex has over 3000 prayer wheels supposedly and is a very sacred site. Tourists call it the “monkey temple” because of all the monkeys around it.

Apocalypto

I watched Apocalypto at one of those tourist restaurants that show movies at night to draw in diners and drinkers. I think the movie should have been called "Running Through Forests for Two Hours", or maybe "A Series of Fortunate Coincidences in Favor of the Protagonist". What an awful movie.

I was supposed to go to Kathmandu yesterday, but I got stuck in Pokhara because of a bus driver strike. I heard a lot about these infamous Nepali transportation strikes (called 'bandh'), I didn't think I'd get caught in one.

But I'm here now and kathmandu city is a dump.

Here I am

There I am

No updates

No updates for 4-12 days, cuz I'm going trekking. I may be back after one day if it's boring and too hard, or I may get caught in an avalanche and never come back.

Fear and Loathing

Fear and loathing in Nepal. Oh, how I fear the things I hate and hate the things I fear. another painful 7 hours local bus ride from lumbini to pokhara nepal. I truly loathe and hate riding local buses.

In pokhara now. Pokhara is one of those tourist towns I've grown to dislike. When I stepped out of the taxi in front of my hotel I was greeted by the sounds of aJason Miraz cover song from a nearby bar. then as i went to bed, i was sung to sleep by the sounds of tom petty, red hot chili peppers and rage against the machine covers.

Have you ever seen a hipster backpacker? I have. Tight black jeans, pumped up kicks and all.

I took a not-cold shower today. first shower in I don't know how long. the air temperature was in the 50's.

The Kathmandu Post

pics from the January 8, 2012 edition of The Kathmandu Post. proof that it's a small world.

I was pleasantly surprised to see Pearls Before Swine (really?! of all comics...) and Dilbert as two of the three comics in the paper. Garfield I was a little disappointed to see, it's barely a step above Family Circus. BUT, as i read this particular day's garfield, I was delighted by it's very subtle and slightly dark stab at the human condition.

I think this isn't a jim davison garfield comic. You can't really tell from the picture but I highly suspect the text in the caption bubbles were changed, it's not the usual Garfield/Jim Davison font. and the joke is just too subtle for Davison. Or maybe he made a wry joke by accident. I don't know. Plus the fact that the only other two comics in the paper are dark and irreverent ones, leads me to hopefully believe this is an altered garfield comic.

Nepal

Bucket List Item #17b: Go on pilgrimage to the sites where the Buddha was born, attained enlightenment, gave his first sermon and died. check.

Bucket List Item #33: Learn Yoga. scratch that. for you yoga fans out

there: contrarian F.U.D. article

If, as Meatloaf would say, life is just a highway and the soul is just a car, then I need sign posts like these:

There's more than enough signs telling us how fast we are allowed to go, telling us where we can and cannot park, and there are signs with arrows directing us to places millions of others have already gone. I need my life to be literally filled with these kinds of spiritual sign posts. That would be pretty awesome...and make more sense.

India: Conclusion

I hate love hate love hate love India.
I could leave it at that, that probably communicates how I feel about India. But I want to elaborate a little more
The cliche dichotomy of "you either hate india, or you love it" was true for me in the beginning of my trip. I went back and forth between loving and hating this place during the first 2-3 weeks. But how do I feel about this place now? I really don’t know. Hate and love are very strong words. I think this illustration best communicates how I feel about India:
If Ron Paul were to become President of The United States and he decided to nuke this dirty, smelly, crowded, shit-filled country off the face of the Earth, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. But on the other hand, if someone gave me a plane ticket, I would come back with zero hesitation.

Happy

HAPPY

Patna day 2

Speaking to a backpacker girl at the train station. we talked about our trips. She said she was doing India for 4 weeks, she asked me how long I was traveling for. I said 2-3 months between india, nepal, and SE Asia, I looked at her huge overstuffed backpack, I saw her looking at my relatively light backapck, then our eyes met and I knew I won that dick measuring contest.

riding the earth

This is the toilet in my current hotel room. About as bad as I've personally had to use in India. I had dark premonitions about that stick in the corner when I first saw it. And when I found out the toilet doesn't really flush my fears were realized. BUT, it turns out a big bucket of water in the bowl does the job just fine, stick not necessary.

But to put my toilet in context, here is a local indian fellow cleaning a street sewer.

Patna

Wherever I go, there I am.

It's been a long couple of days. Lots of traveling and one night stays in far out places. I've noticed it takes about 3-4 weeks of traveling to find my rhythm. I found it now and things are rolling along. Despite the fact here in Patna, I had difficulty finding a hotel room because they are all filled up for the Dalai Lama's KalaChakra a couple of hours away in Bodhgaya. I ended up in this (see pic) dingy little place down a dirty alleyway, paying an exorbitant 600 Rupees a night. It's been rough the past couple days because I've been forced to stay in dirty places like this. I was actually prepared to spend the night in a hotel lobby couch/floor or sleep on the streets, it took me so long to find a hotel room.

This is a developing world bus station. My instincts (also known as logic and common sense and powers of observation) for traveling in these countries have gotten pretty damn good.

Recap: Varanasi: insanest fucking city ever.

Varanasi is intense. I've been in India for a month now but I was still shocked and disoriented by the traffic, the crowds and the narrow shit filled twisting alleyways. When you think of "India", this city is what you probably imagine.

walking the streets (here and in all of india) is like playing the old arcade game Frogger and a game of chicken. I always have this song and music video in my head when i walk around: bittersweet symphony. The lyrics are very appropriate too, for India, or maybe life in general. But the things is, as chaotic as the traffic is, there is order in the chaos and it works.

My new objective for traveling now is food. Because if you've seen one dirty 3rd world alleyway, you've seen them all. You've seen one ancient fort, you've seen them all. you've seen one temple/monastery/castle/etc... you've seen them all.

It rained in my last day in varanasi. I promised myself I will never ever visit india during the monsoons. The narrow twisted alleyway...good god. I was walking in dust-turned-silty-mud full of shit and piss. Cow shit, goat shit, dog shit, cat shit, human shit...every kind of shit imaginable i was wading through. jesus.

Happy New Year

Dear readers,

Plea's do not read this following post. This is free associative rambling that isn't really meant for public consumption.

10:35am

Maybe the answer is there is no right question

10:45am

maybe the answer is on page XXX of Veronika Decides to Die...No, never mind.

10:52am

Found it! The question I've been looking for is on page XXX of Veronika Decides to Die! Perfectly worded and exactly the question I've been looking for!

I have found my question and my answer. The answer is that there is no right question to ask. LOL. How absurd. Apparently, kites had nothing to do with it.

2:00pm

singing and dancing in the rain, I realized maybe the answer isn't "there is no right question", maybe the answer is "don't ask questions". Questions like "what the hell did I just step in?" or "what is that smell?" Either I've watched Fight Club too many times, or Fight Club got it right with rule #1 of Project Mayhem: You do not ask questions.

This is what happens when you read Paulo Coehlo novels while traveling in exotic lands.

I have been unable to sleep well in Varanasi, I suspect my pillow is actually a sandbag. But I did find madness. And I found questions and answers that make no sense, but still bring closure.

Dear reader, if you've read this and come this far against my wishes you might as well have a picture of a granite vagina:

(this is where i quip: I'd like to mine that quarry)

The burning ghats

After breakfast, I thought to myself, "What should I do today? I guess I'll go watch the dead bodies being burned at the river." This line of thought is only possible in the context of Varanasi, India.

it begins with a funeral procession of the body to the Ganges river for a final bath in the sacred water (this sacred water is full of shit, piss, trash and industrial discharge). There is, literally, a line of dead bodies waiting to be burned at the ghats (ghat = riverside stairways). There are dozens of funeral pyres but since it takes a while for a body to completely burn, there is a queue.

There are men who tend the cremation fires, they are called "doms". They lay the fire wood down and then the family sets the deceased wrapped in white linen on top, a family member is given a burning brand to light the pyre.

you can tell how rich the deceased was by how many layers of colorful wrappings his corpse was wrapped in for the funeral procession and how much wood there is on the funeral pyre (the wood is sold by weight). sometimes the family will throw incense powder and other offerings on top of the body.

I watched a dead Indian man's tan face turn black, then shiny and glossy like a melted doll head as the fire slowly crept up, then charred black like charcoal, and then white as the skull was finally exposed.

Is there something beautiful about a burning corpse? the ragged outline of a charring body silhouetted against the orange and red flames...is it elegant? I don't know.

as the body burns down to the torso, the doms will take a long bamboo pole, bring it up to the 12 o'clock position and then whack the corpse. This is done to break up the torso, ribs and skull so it burns quicker.

Feet are a problem. they often stick out of the fire. A couple of times i watched an unsinged foot, with its charred shin bones sticking out, fall out of the fire and have to be shoved back into the pit by the doms.

i didn't see anybody crying, there were some sniffling and red eyes, but that could have been from the smoke and heat. there were no women there.

Watching the endless procession of bodies burn, i was waiting for some kind of epiphany insight, something. but nothing came. well, nothing original at least. I found the usual pessimistic and optimistic clicheisms about life to be completely unsatisfying. Yet i was unable to come up with my own witty and pithy insight. I am not a clever soul.

The kites! The answers are in the kites! I just have to figure out the kites.

Oh, what our lives are worth.

no pictures because cameras are not allowed at the burning ghat. foreigners with camera are met with hostility and lectures.

I love Paulo Coehlo novels, they are written for travel. But watching bodies burn and reading paulo coelho novels in India is a recipe for trouble. Add to that, the visit I made to the site of the buddha's first sermon and I am overwhelmed by volatile emotions and thoughts. poverty, life, death, karma, wealth, desire, health, meaning, happiness, sadness...what is all this?

so it goes.

On the lighter side of things: yesterday, I took my first real hot shower in two weeks and here is a picture of a (admittedly sad looking) puppy:

Onwards

Onward and onward

The Taj Mahal

meh.

Merry Christmas.

Recap: Jaisalmer

- I haven't looked in a mirror for six days now. there are no mirrors in the desert, nor in my hotel. A sneaky Indian could have drawn a giant penis on my forehead while I slept and I wouldn't know.

- I have showered only once in Jaisalmer.

- During the beginning of my trip, I feared I wouldn't be able to get away from India while I was in India, but I was wrong. I was able to get away from the crowd and noise, thank god I was able to get away.

- Back home, I may find a hair in my food once a year. Here in India, I find hairs a few times a week. I guess it makes sense that I'd find hair in my food here, it plays into the whole "dirty and unclean" reputation this country has (and rightly deserves), but I suspect they do it on purpose. It must be a willful thing because it's just not possible for that much hair to end up in food on accident. For all the years I've cooked at home and worked at a restaurant, I have never had hair fall into the food unnoticed (yes, I know).

- A good day now is a day with firm regular bowel movement. If I see or do anything interesting on top of that, that makes it a great day. Life is simple when you travel.

Jaisalmer: day six?

I've been sending out a postcard from every city I've visited. I am hopeful they'll make it to America but sometimes I think I'm just wasting my rupees.


I was watching the sun set over this dusty desert town when a group of young beggar girls came and tried to sell me cheap bracelets. I wasn't going to buy any, but I eventually gave in and decided to see what I could get for 50 rupees. Apparently 50 rupees gets you one incredibly cheap and flimsy, but shiny, bracelet. I didn't even haggle the price, I just decided I was willing to give them 50 Rs as charity, so I bought it at asking price.

I haven't been able to figure out this particular class of people. I think they are some sort of "untouchables" but I'm not sure. They are definitely on the lower end of the caste system though. Because despite their always colorful and distinctive dress, they are always poor, dirty and begging or hustling souvenirs. But the younger women and girls often having striking and beautiful features. Of course, the life they were born into is not a gentle one and all the older women look worn out and tired of life.

In the desert...

...the air is dry and dusty. The sun hurts my skin, but underneath a tree my body will shiver. My lips are hard and cracked. My brow is furrowed from the glare. At night, a cacophony of stars and cold silence, more stars than I ever expected and I expected a lot.

In the desert discontent seems frivolous. Or maybe just far away.

In the desert, I realized I needed to formulate a question before I can look for an answer.

In the desert I read, "If you can't find enlightenment in a situation, at least get some fun out of it".

Camel safari

The camel safari guides cooking us dinner.


Can you tell the difference between a sunset and a sunrise?



morning in the desert.

In the desert...

it can get cold.

One day I will find a hotel that follows through on their promise of hot showers. One day, but not today.

A perfect summary of my life: Tom Waits

The Desert

It never ceases to amaze me when I end up where I am going. When I feel lost and unsure of where I am or how to get to my destination, it always suddenly appears. one way or another, i always get there.

Cold showers that shock and electrocute. Now I know i am traveling.



This is a bhang cookie. Let's just say I should have been more patient and not eaten the whole thing in less than an hour.



Safari Me.