It's slowly starting to come together... (and photos)

I haven't forgotten to post my final thoughts on my trip, it's just that it's taken me until now to realize that I will never fully have them together all at once, all in the same place exactly as I would like them. It's more of a piecemeal sort of thing, the type of realizations that hit you one by one, sometimes in the middle of the night or maybe it's triggered by a description you hear of something completely unrelated. India is a confounding place to begin with, which makes me think that the experiences I had there will be forever revealing themselves in new and fascinating ways. For example, I've been reading a fabulous book titled "Full Tilt: From Dublin to Delhi on a Bicycle", by Dervla Murphy. I am officially in love with this woman. The book was written in the sixties, when this lady undertook said voyage by herself, with only her bicycle Roz to keep her company, through all sorts of fascinating places: France, Italy, the whole mess o' states formerly known as Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Azerbaijan, Iran (which she never calls Iran, she refers to it only as Persia), Afghanistan and Pakistan. Her observations at times are so akin to what I felt and experienced that it makes me homesick for places I haven't even been yet. This is an example of one passage that makes me laugh because I know EXACTLY what she's talking about.

Doab, 25 April
"...At 7 a.m. the Police Commissioner appeared again to say that a bus was leaving for Bolola at 8 a.m., but I've been long enough in Afghanistan now to know what that means, so I crawled (*1) down to the village at 9.30 and sat in the sun, drinking tea and watching the Bazaar Day crowd, till the bus was ready to go at 12.15 p.m. In these parts no bus will start until double the number of passengers that it was designed to hold have been crammed into and onto it. If there's room for just one more, it'll wait hours for that one to turn up, with the bacha standing out in the middle of the road hoarsely yelling the bus's destination to attract the necessary extra passenger. As Afghans are so indifferent to time (the vast majority have no idea how old they are) (*2) it follows that every passenger comes when it suits him so that it can take up to six hours to fill a bus. Afghans are equally vague about distance: a truck-driver who goes from Kabul to Mazar once a week won't have the remotest idea how far it is; he just knows that if he keeps driving long enough, and if Allah is willing, he'll get there some day. Personally I find all this most endearing after a lifetime of being tyrannized by the clock."

*1: The author was suffering from a broken rib from what she called "a misadventure with a rifle butt" and had yet to seek medical attention, hence the "crawled down to the village".
*2: This describes the general attitude about time in India as well.

I suppose if there is ever to be any sort of book about my travels (not just India) that perhaps I should consider trying to coalesce my thoughts into a solid state at one point or another. The problem with this is that I'm forever thinking "OH! I should have said THAT" or "I forgot to put in THAT part" as new thoughts race through my brain about one thing or another. I guess that's the good thing about a blog, I can just keep adding to it instead of seeing it permanently published all in one place with no ability to add on as I wish.

So anyway, I totally want to be Dervla Murphy when I grow up. AAAAAND I got the rest of my photos uploaded, w00t: http://s120.photobucket.com/albums/o199/IndiaJeanie/ Some of them are hanging on my wall already. Let me know what you think...

Hope

Mom, if you're still reading this, you're not going to be happy with me.

I want to go back to India next year, and if the gods permit, perhaps Kashmir as well.

See, there's this ski "resort" (I use the term loosely) called Gulmarg just outside of Srinagar. Apparently Gulmarg has what many snow experts consider to be some of the best skiing/boarding to be had in the world. I know a guy who is heading there on Friday (hi, Josiah!) and I'm anxious to hear his report when he returns. Depending on a few things, I might try to hit that next year.

The potential pitfall (besides the whole "returning to Kashmir" thing, which doesn't bother me but some of you dear readers may have gentle objections to) is the gear. Ugh. I'd have to cart my snowboard around, which by definition would negate the whole concept of traveling light. But for snowboarding in the Himalayas I think I might be able to deal with it.

Of course, Gulmarg would not be the only stop on the trip. I'd also like to see some more of India that I'd initally planned on seeing but wasn't able to for one reason or another. Rajasthan and Khajuraho are right up there at the top of the list, and they have the added benefit of being not terribly far from Delhi. I'd also like to check out Kerala, a long, skinny strip of beach in the south. BEACH. From snowboarding to the beach! I could handle that.

I'm curious what the Indian embassy will do about the visa, though. I'm getting low on pages in the passport that do not already have a stamp on them. Maybe they'll just put it over the first one.

And one more thing

Happy New Year.

News from home for a change

For those of you who don't live here, I'll tell you a little bit about home instead of everywhere else. Poor Seattle is getting the shit kicked out of it this winter. When I was away in India we evidently had the wettest month ON RECORD. Not being around for that was just fine, especially as I was able to reap the benefits in the form of snow in the mountains to feed my snowboarding addiction. When I got back we were hammered by a small but nasty little snowstorm, which immediately turned to ice, which immediately caused an involuntary few days vacation from work. Great! Not. A couple weeks after that we were hit by a VERY nasty wind storm, which caused all sorts of problems and left millions of people throughout the state without power, some for upwards of 9 days. My home was only without power for 24 hours max, but my workplace was without power for 6 days. Yeah, there went another 3 days of work. Christmas was a little skimpier this year than I would have liked. :( And then yesterday we got hit by another snow storm that was short but extremely effective. It took me a sodding three and a half hours to get home from work last night (I do NOT want to talk about it) and now the western half of the state is a beautiful ice rink. And I lost another day of work.

I'm still trying to figure out if I'll be able to go back to India, or possibly somewhere else, in late February/early March. But I'm not holding my breath, especially with all of these missed days of work. :(

For all the picture whores

Many of you have seen them, but for everyone else who hasn't been ruthlessly subjected to my slideshow, here are a few shots. The bulk of them are slowly being uploaded, but these are a small glimpse into the journey. Click on them for a larger view.


At the Lal Qila (Red Fort), Delhi:



View of the Himalayas from the plane:



The Floating Market, 5:30am, Dal Lake, Srinagar, Kashmir:



Just outside of Ganderbal, Kashmir:





View of the main ruined Hindu temple in the gypsy village in the mountains:



A gypsy man putting out his water buffaloes in the morning:



Taj Mahal (duh):



Agra Fort:





View of the Taj Mahal from the Agra Fort:



Sunrise in Varanasi:



The Bollywood film in process on the banks of the Ganges in Varanasi:



Mountains around Darjeeling:






Window at Enchey Monastery in Gangtok, Sikkim:



Prayer flags on the hike back to the National Highway from Rumtek:



Me in Delhi:

I feel better today

yay.

And the pictures turned out awesome, too. :D

The Revenge of the Jet Lag

Yep, it got me this time. What a bitch. And here I thought I was safe, but nooooo. The good thing is that I'd forgotten just how comfy my bed is, so that was a nice surprise. The bad thing is that it's beyond difficult to leave it.

I hope everyone had a good turkey day, I sure did.

Currently I'm in the process of going through my photos and creating a slideshow. We'll see how that goes, but hopefully I'll be able to throw up a few teaser shots soon.

I'm also still collecting my thoughts (jet lag does not help with this) about India. In the meantime though, here are a few statistics that may be of some interest.

-Number of hours spent in transit (jeep, plane, train): Approximately 110. Yes, you read that correctly.
-Number of hours spent waiting for transit: Approximatelly 45.
-Number of passport stamps from this journey alone: 6. How is it six, you ask? Here's how, and the sixth one is really weird: Entering the UK. Entering India. Entering Sikkim. Departing India. Re-entering the UK. ENTERING THE FRIGGING UNITED STATES. Yes, you read that correctly. I have a stamp in my passport from the US. This must be a new policy in the past two years. Whatever.
-Number of loose (not hitched to a cart or in a field) cows seen wandering the streets in India: I have no idea. Probably somewhere between 50-100. Those are just the ones I've seen. Two of them were wandering around the train platform at New Jalpaiguri.
-Number of dogs seen wandering the streets in India: Far, far more than the cows. Poor doggies.
-Number of cats seen in India: Two. TWO! And they were both in Darjeeling. I asked other tourists if they'd seen any cats and to their surprise they realized that they hadn't. It's weird, I'm telling you.
-Number of times a gun (assault rifle) was pointed in my general direction: Several. At least one was not on purpose. Apparently those dudes don't know that guns should be pointed at the ground or in the air when not actively in use.
-Number of times a gun (assault rifle) was pointed specifically at me: Two or three, I don't remember. (Hi mom! Don't worry, everything is fine!!!)
-Number of times I ate something and regretted it: Once. But not because it made me sick, only because it tasted terrible.
-Number of times I wished I was an Indian national: Every time I had to pay a foreigner's entrance fee to a monument. Rs.20 vs. Rs.750 at the Taj Mahal for fark's sake.
-Number of signs that made me laugh out loud: Too many. I've listed a bunch of them here already, but another one I saw in Kolkata cracked me up-- a newspaper office's sign said "It's unputdownable".
-Number of times my chest was stared at: Seriously? It's not worth trying to count.
-Number of times my face was stared at: Not *quite* as many, but still an awful lot.
-Number of times I smacked someone: Regrettably, none. Although it came close a couple of times.
-Number of times I actually used the tripod I brought: Three. Only three. Each time caused some serious curiosity on the part of the locals-- they were fascinated! And I felt a bit like the intrepid Amelia Peabody carrying it around, as it is rather heavy and weapon-like. This ties in to the statistic above somewhat, as those who are familiar with Amelia Peabody will know.
-Number of times I left something behind in a hotel room: Way, WAY too many. My swiss army knife is gone, somewhere in Sikkim I think. I left my toothbrush, toothpaste, shower gel and shampoo in Delhi (although buying new stuff was a fun adventure), other little aggravating things here and there...
-Number of times I used the mosquito net to go around my bed: 0. As in a big fat ZERO. Lesson learned.
-Number of times I used the rain jacket I brought: 0, although I could have used it several times in London. Unfortunately every time I needed it, I didn't have it with me.
-Number of times I wished I was home: 0, although I did miss my bed an awful lot. And my family and friends, of course. :)

I went, are you happy now??

This is for you, Heather. ;)

Westminster Abbey is perfectly lovely if, well, a bit overdone (to me). It's extremely important historically, and I found it rather perversely funny, given how much they hated each other, that Elizabeth I and her sister Mary are interred together. Forever. Heh. Photography is prohibited but that's not made extremely clear when you first get inside, so I had already popped off a few shots before a guy in a red robe politely asked me to put the camera away. Whoops.

But before I ever made it to Westminster Abbey, I decided to take a peek around an old, ruined, overgrown cemetery in the Stoke Newington/Hackney area near where Naomi lives. I'd seen it in passing on the bus when I was in London before going to India, but didn't have time to properly investigate. I'm fond of old, strange cemeteries and from what I could tell this one looked right up my alley. When I got there today, I was not disppointed-- my god! It's HUGE. I spent about an hour poking around and probably didn't even see half of it. It's a strangely derelict place, all twisted, overgrown ivy on headstones crammed together and falling down and leaning on each other, mixed in with crumbling statues of angels and a few crosses dotted about. There's a ruined abbey in the center which provided a lovely opportunity for some atmospheric, gothy photos. The place is called Abney Park Cemetery if you'd care to google it. Most of the graves seemed to date from the mid-19th century on up to the 60's. At least, the ones that I could read dated from that time. There are also a lot of WWI graves and a memorial near the abbey for the soldiers buried there who somehow didn't merit a headstone.

After leaving Westminster Abbey I headed over to the Tate Britain museum, not to be confused with the Tate Modern. They have a lovely collection of Pre-Raphaelite paintings and historical British portraits. Again, photos prohibited. Fooey. In any case, I saw the famous Waterhouse "Lady of Shallot", which is much bigger than you'd think! It's probably four feet tall by six feet wide, anyway.

Of course, such a day of non-indulgence (the £10 admission into Westminster Abbey not included) required some good, old-fashioned Soho shopping as a reward. I wandered into my absolute favorite trashy-yet-prohibitively-expensive lingerie store, Agent Provocateur, and admired many things that I had no intention of spending upwards of £150 on. Besides that, they didn't have any bras in stock that fit me anyway. Bottoms yes, but tops? Of course not. Hmph. After that I wandered around Liberty, the famous department store, and again sighed over many things I can't afford. It's a curse having such good taste, I'm telling you. I bought a few things here and there and probably blew whatever money I could have used for gas and a lift ticket at Alpental this weekend, but whatever. Oh wait, when I get back I have to sink a ton of money into my car to get the brakes fixed, so I guess snowboarding is out for the next little bit anyway.

I'm still in a very melancholy mood over leaving India and a few other things going on back home, but-- believe it or not, haha-- I'm excited about being able to see all of you when I get back.