A Fine Balance or Me and Ma Camel

cool camel Cappadocia, originally uploaded by Christiane B.

Have been discussing the point where filth and pain cease being quaint and become nothing more than filth and pain. I realized I am in the in-between stage where I am perfectly aware of the fact that yes, it's ridiculous to be sitting in a stuffy box in a bus made out of bug infested cloth that has not been disinfected since 1982, the year the bus was made. Yes, it is hilarious especially when we and our now slightly decimated bags are juggled around like dominoes at every bump in the road (and lucky us got the baaaaaack compartment) while our only protection from the outside world is a shabby glass wall, but I do love it just a little bit, enough to do it again. And it does feel just a little bit quaint and awesome to be cruising through the night in a chaos of women in gorgeous saris, bags, stern looking men, music blasting, people jumping on and off, the smell of spicy rotis and samosas while watching the night roll by with the windows open and the bugs swarming. Yeah, it's pretty great.

In that spirit, we have decided to give a whole different style of dirt and pain a go. Camel safari here we come: cooking over a bonfire, starry starry nights, sleeping in more filthy, buggy blankets in the sand and lots of ass pain, yay, I can't wait. Especially the part where newly acquired husband will be smashing his balls on the camel saddle. He has no idea what he is in for.

Beasts Unrestrained

, originally uploaded by Christiane B.

Anything is possible in India and you only have to learn to play the game and know when to grin and say "bite me". You arrive in a town, any town and amazingly you will end up with the "most best and most honest and most fast and most good English speaking" rickshaw driver every time. He might be so much good that he even has a little travel journal where he has asked other travelers to underwrite his general goodness in every language, thus you feel refreshed and happy you found the one man on the block you can trust. If you don't pay attention he will drive you straight to his friends gem shop without batting an eyelash and later explain how he is not ripping you off, he is only showing you options, you decide what to buy, what to eat and what to do. He will be outraged that you hold him responsible in any way and he will say "if anything one my part not good, I appologize (and now give me my tip mothefuckers)", his voice will become lamenting like a widows and he will add something about him not being your babysitter, him just showing you good place, good price, saving you much money. Ha.

However, you can also make him into your personal bitch for everything. Certainly use him as a tour guide, make him find you an internet cafe, make him wait, then make him drive you to a palace for some touristing, then make him find you a place to buy mangos, a place for flip flops, make him wait while you have lunch and make him store your bags at his friends hotel for some easy frolicking around the city before re-boarding a train to somewhere. The reason for our trust on the latter is that we have too much shit so in a "let-kharma decide" moment we figured, if it all gets stolen minus passport and my porsche camera, at least we don't have to carry it anymore. I don't want to loose all my bangles and dirty tank tops but it would be a bit of a relief! And it turned out nobody wanted my bangles or my dirty tank tops so we are stil loaded high. In the end you pay him five dollars and that was probably double what his servics were worth, but who cares.

Our current location by the way is desert town Udaipur, Rajasthan. The town is prominantly featued in the slightly outdated James Bond film: Octopussy, which, for good measure, we re-watched last night. James Bond was so much better when sexism was less taboo. Unfortunately our abode is less glamorous and our autorickshaw drivers are less skilled than James'.

Now onto the beasts. All beasts in India are living unrestrained lives. Goats and cows obviously roam freely. Cows due to their holy status even sleep in the middle of the highway and won't budge and traffic swerves around them. Cows trampel through shops because they can whereas dogs get kicked if they only approach a puddle of dirty water in the proximity of a shop. Donkeys are hereded along the road without reins, without any way to realistically lead them to where they are destind to be going, yet they do seem to end up where they are supposed to go. Yesterday I even saw the biggest elephant I have ever seen gently waddle down the small road wearing no head piece, making all traffic come to a halt while perched atop her was a little man with tiny bamboos stick and nothing else to make her stop or go.

There must be something about the laws of chaos that allow the beasts in India to be themselves. And so newly acquired husband and I shall be on the loose.

Everything is Better in Agra

Things have turned a lot peachier since we managed to escape Varanasi. Not that that was easy. On a previous escapade around town our unfortunate auto rickshaw driver lost his front tire and we cycle rickshawed our way back home, not without paying him a bundle because he looked quite gaunt and scrawny and promising him he could take us to the train station the next day. Needless to say the latter was not a gesture from my personal bleeding heart, but we travel in a democracy and newly acquired husband does have the added gravitas of two crutches (that are too short for him).

On the fateful night of our departure out guy did show up on time but without a working rickshaw. Apparently him or better yet, his boss/pimp saw it fit to have us hang out in the mayhem of evening traffic (when everyone hauls everything they own back home on every imaginable vehicle in the midst of ear-splitting honking) shining our flashlights into his toy bike motor. Protests and shouting matches ensued when we made our exit. But oh, just in time, his brother did manage to show up in a working auto rickshaw. Not until we are 20 minutes down the road do we notice the unfortunate fact that this particular vehicle has no lights. Our 2 hour drive resembled an advertising run on how to become road kill as we were dodging trucks, cows, bikes, pedestrians and more rickshaws, some of which also had no lights, slowly but yet too fast bumping our way along the pitch black country road.

The train station was dire. People even tried to steal newly acquired husband’s crutches and I managed to get in a fight over luggage space complete with throwing a bunch of teenagers their one hundred bags straight out of my seat and into their laps. It appears Varanasi unleashed a beast in me and I forgot all the chill I may have acquired over the month and change and the fact that actually all that goes wrong really just makes for a better story and adds hilarity to mundane things. Hanging over us was also the knowledge that unless the leg situation of the husband improves we may be send home early, only where home is, that is not entirely clear. Hauling bags on crutches and a peg leg is no future!

But now we are in Agra, sipping mango lassis on a rooftop overlooking the Taj Mahal, Germany made it to the European Cup final and even the parasites seem to have died off and life is a happy beach again. I pretty much forgot for a few days that I am on vacation and that I am happy. And most imprtantly that I am NOT doing spreadsheets right now. Now, we figure worst leg case scenario we can still sit on Thai beaches, pouring Pina Coladas over the effected area, throwing mango chunks to the monkey and frying our brains, so the future is bright.

The major insight of the past few days is that whereas living and traveling in South America some years back really turned me on to economic development and sustainability and all that wonderful stuff that I made into my career, this makes me want to be a fashion photographer. It pains me to see the pretty saris be laid out to dry in the dirt and cow dung, I want to take pictures of the pretty bejeweled girls and boys who wear the glitter and the colors and have the pretty faces (maybe in front of their scenic, ragged home town well and always with lots of happy cows) and I just wish all the non-bejeweled ragged ones would already be happy and taken care of. Call me impatient but I feel like working in economic development for what, three years, should have done the trick and there should be no more sad poor people out there.

Off to the Desert

Street Corner, originally uploaded by Christiane B.

After three days of cow patty jumping, watching the river rise to spill all it's gooey goodness upon the holy sidewalks and picking up the odd stomach parasite at every meal, we have decided to move on, albeit at a different formation. Newly acquired husband will lead, loaded high with souvenir stuffed bags, on crutches, his leg in an oversized wrap, (which on the packaging was modeled by a very happy Indian girl in a light blue negligee so there is hope) and me following, crouching over every few minutes giving my parasites a moment to reshuffle asking newly acquired husband about the behaviour and status of his parasites.

We are picking up the pace now, giving ourselves a full 24 hrs in Agra to oogle the Taj Mahal at which point we are guaranteed to be saturated with more souvenirs, having learned more scams, made more random friends. The street kids stick to us quite literally speaking like flies to shit in the alleys that we have been roaming. Without a doubt the most entrepreneurial generation in an already amasingly entrepreneurial nation.

This weekend should have us in Rajasthan, more specifically in 50C weather by a lake in the desert. Hopefully we will make it without having to invest in a peg leg or declaring outselves post-eating in the most post modern way possible.

AHOY

Varanasi

We are in Varanasi. It takes dirty to a whole new level. Bombay is overwhelming and sweaty, the Everest trek was not exactly littered with comforts but here there are bodies burning by the river, bodies being carried through town, bodies being washed in the Ganges while cows and goats hang out, eating a concoction that is half human and animal shit and the other half just regular garbage like chicken bones, potato peels and plastic bags. In the midst of all the shit, people are praying and the Ganges, filthy with dead fish, more garbage has mourners dipping in between all that mess, tasting the river on their tongues, then going for a swim. Kids are diving in, laughing, oblivious to the mourners. That is if they are not busy catching giant dying fish with scarfs and tarps straight out of the water. I'd say this is the most 'Indian' and insane place we have yet seen. People are crouching down in all of is, stuffing food into their mouths from their dirty hands. Impromptu crickets matches make you run for cover. I am amazed what filth humanity can survive in.

I literally feel sick just looking at it.

Also we just managed to get out of Kathmandu before major riots started over fuel prices. There had been lots of strikes and general tension but on the way we left it all came to a head. "No going to airport today" we were told. We did manage to get there though despite the fact that everything was shut down. The streets were full of people walking, with what seemed a purpose, at 8am, no taxis or public transport but lots of anger mounting. One cab dude said, ok, fine, I take you, but we got to go right now. Apparently they get pulled out of the cabs and get their asses kicked if they break the strike. So we sat around the airport for 8 hrs, then our plane miraculously showed up, a huge airbus. There were only 8 passengers who had made it to the airport. Well, here we are.

My Postcard to You

My Postcard to You, originally uploaded by Christiane B.

Everest is the peak in the background to the right that you can't really see.

More peaks than you will ever want to see here: www.flickr.com/drunkenponies

Victorious at Everest Basecamp

Victorious, originally uploaded by Christiane B.