Sunday, September 20, 2009

Dharamshala, McLeod Ganj and the trekenture

Just as I was about to say to my guide, "Okay, I've seen enough... let's go back now", I took a deep breath and the return was quite unexpected. I breathed air... not just any air, but air that was so clean and pure; it literally gave me my breath back. I inhaled deeply and put one foot in front of the other as steadily as I could. After all, we'd been climbing the steep trail for the past five hours! I was hungry, my feet hurt, but I was mostly hungry. Maybe more than wanting more of that fresh air, I wanted the lunch I knew was waiting for me at the top of Triund that made me keep on going. The reward was worth the pain I was starting to feel in my quads. I turned a corner and there was a lush meadow with low clouds floating low to the ground. The grass was that fresh spring grass color, almost a lime-green, but not quite. There were some white eagles and some other birds (which made a sound like Asha when she growls) just soaring without a care. It was still up there, with a government guest house, a tea stand, and some scattered tents. I devoured my lunch in less than five minutes and was asleep in another five. This is why I came up to McLeod Ganj , other than to meet with DEVI, an NGO that I wanted to find out more about for Jennifer and my travel course.

As I drifted off, I remembered how the day started. Hakeem, the owner of the Annex Hotel, where I was staying, had hooked me up with this guide. For 2,000/rs,($20), I got a guide and lunch for my trek up to Triund. Not a bad deal, I thought. As we left the hotel to head up to Dharamkot (the trail begins right past the German bakery), we saw all these folks - tourists, townspeople, monks, cows, whatever - lining up on the street, waving Tibetan flags. It was the Dalai Lama, coming back from his overseas trip!!!! Everyone's excitement was palpable. People were exchanging stories about when and how many times they've seen his Holiness and how great it is to be in his presence. And, I was going to share this experience! We waited patiently as trucks loaded with ... stuff rumbled by, a couple of tourist cabs, an auto or two... waited waited... Then, the guy with the megaphone said something (can we ever understand the guy with the megaphone?), and a hush fell over the crowd. A row of cars began to move slowly down the road. I was going to see the Dalai Lama!!!! My camera was ready. I had already spent minutes plotting out the best place to take a photo. Inside the first car were a bunch of Anglos, waving the queen's wave. Okay, the next car... nope, more Anglos. Then, before you knew it -- kinda like the 4th of July parade in Gold Hill, CO -- the line of cars had passed by and .... no Dalai Lama! It turned out that these were Americans from the State Department coming to meet with the Dalai Lama. Oh well, you can't win 'em all. After all, I had what I thought at the time, a hike ahead of me. And, I was going to a teaching later on in the week. But, I was disappointed nevertheless.

It's a good thing that my disappointment had me looking at the ground, otherwise, I would have stepped in a pile of horse shit. In fact, I had to keep my head down the entire time I was climbing because the trail had all kinds of animal crap dotting it. I thought about doing a separate entry on the different kinds of crap I encounter in India. So, a brief recounting: horse, dog, cow, monkey, something unidentifiable, but definitely not human. The trail was steep and at the end of it, we had climbed to almost 10,000 ft. But, there were several chai stands along the way if we got tired. We encountered a few Israeli kids at one of the chai stands and I found out that Dharamkot is called Little Jerusalem by the locals because it's basically overrun with Israeli tourists who trek during the day and party hard at night. And, my guide owns a guest house just a little ways up from Dharamkot, near the Hanuman temple (definitely where I want to stay the next time I come to this area). We stopped off there for a spot of tea and I sat at a table that overlooked the entire valley. It was still early in the morning, about 8:30 or so, so people were still stirring. I saw several women walk by, carrying grass on their backs in these big packs. My guide told me that this is the time to collect the grass which will feed them for the winter. He said that in another month or so, the grass will have become too old and then it gets too cold for people to go out to get food. All along the way up the mountain, he gave me a lesson on different healing plants and showed me caves and small enclaves where monks reside during the winter. He was particularly intrigued by this one community of monks that don't talk at all. Which was clearly not him. I learned so much more from him than merely learning how to pace oneself when trekking. His knowledge about local plants and flowers was amazing. And, although he'd grown up in the area, he still took photos of various flowers. He took a great deal of time showing me all the pictures stored in his camera.

Then, for the walk back down. I was not ready. I wanted to ride on a donkey.. one of those donkeys that I had seen carrying gear up for some folks who were camping. I was pretty tired by the time we got back to McLeod Ganj at around 7 pm. What had started off as a walk in the mountains turned out to be a learning experience that I will not soon forget.

The next day I spent hanging out at this coffee shop trying to get in touch with David, whose illness had taken a turn. I felt very frustrated and decided that I needed to cut my trip short just in case of an emergency. While I was idling time people watching and drinking kashmiri kawa (OMG - the best tea ever), someone asked if they could share my table. Joe, that's his name, is a graphic designer from San Francisco, who's been traveling around India for the past year. He is a yoga aficionado, but not in that Indophilic sort of way. We spent about two hours talking about his travels, politics and whatnot. I hadn't realized how much I missed having a conversation about American politics and culture.

I spent an afternoon going to various gem shops and getting educated about gems. Apparently, McLeod Ganj is the place to get jewelry and precious and semi-precious stones. Not only did I learn about how to tell a fake gem from a real one, I also learned about the healing properties of various stones. Um...and I got asked out on a date by a philosophical gem dealer (quote: "Life is a bowl of ice-cream. You should at least taste it before it melts!"). In the mountains I felt relief from the constant stares of men to which I had become accustomed in Delhi. People were warm and welcoming. I ate the best momos at Kailash Hotel, which was recommended by a few locals. Sad that I couldn't find the chai shop that both Tracy and Amy had recommended.

Below are some photos I took or that were taken of me during the trek. Enjoy, and thank you for reading this for as long as you have.







the scenery as I hiked


This is me upon reaching Triund (5 hours - 5 loooong hours)

Sunday, August 23, 2009

testing

just a test. ignore this one

testing

just a test. ignore this one

Friday, August 21, 2009

Dev D - the Rockin' Film

I think last week I had posted a trailer for the film Dev D; if not, here is the link to its official site:
http://www.devdthefilm.com/
More, importantly, here is the you tube video of the best song - ever- in the history of Indian film. It's called Emotional Atchyar and singing are two Elvis-y impersonators (impersonators once removed). I guarantee you will want to sing this song all the time:



The Rediff review is pretty good, so I'm just linking to it.

I really enjoyed the movie overall. The experimental filming style and the use of music in the film was quite stunning, even if at times, I found the characters a little flat towards the end. It could have been shorter. Oh yeah, I remember writing about a couple of the vignettes last week. I won't say much more, other than that you should watch it! I'm still digesting it...

So, an Indian walks into a club

Some of the best moments in E.M. Forster's A Passage to India are when the Indian "natives", no matter how affluent they may be, are not allowed entry into the clubs reserved for the British. These scenes in the novel clearly demarcate the public/private zones that keep people separated from one another. The clubs represent power, money, racial superiority, among others. They are also very gendered zones, in which women have their own special areas and are not allowed in other parts of the club. Mrinalini Sinha has this excellent piece on clubs in colonial India, in which she discusses how these clubs were a way for Europeans, no matter what their nationality, to make a "home" within the space of the club. Drawing from and extending Habermas' notions of the public sphere, she examines the centrality of the clubs as integral to the making of the "colonial public sphere", where the colonizer was uniquely marked as "clubbable" and "recognized the potential clubbability of the colonized" (492). There was, as Sinha argues, a separation of spheres -- keeping Indians and women out. These clubs traditionally were "gentlemen's clubs", had separate spaces for women, often called the "Hen-house" (498). I don't want to dwell for too long on Sinha's article, but there's this great moment in her essay when she traces the etymology of the club: "the etymology of 'club' -- which derives from 'cleave,' meaning both to split and to adhere, that is, 'uniting to divide' -- nicely captures its ambivalent political function in the colonial India" (504). This, she argues, leads to a "specific enactment of 'whiteness" in colonial India (ibid). It's important too, that clubs were symbols of expressing and replicating British national culture during the colonial period. So, what does it mean when these same clubs continue to thrive in the postcolonial period? My uncle and aunt belong to The Gymkhana Club and the Delhi Golf Club. Both of these clubs have a long history, going back to the early 20th century, although the latter did not gets its current nomenclature till sometime in the 1960s. I have linked above the Madras Gymkhana Club because the site for the one in Delhi apparently "may harm my computer". Hmmm.... Anyway, my uncle has this joke that if you want to become a member of the Gymkhana Club, you have to sign up well in advance of your birth and for the Golf Club, as soon as you're out of your momma's womb. B

All this aside, I will say that walking into either of these clubs is really taking a walk into history, even if that history is evidenced by the peeling wallpaper, faded paints, and old waiters in black and white serving ware... something right out of a Raj novel. The club scene raises some really fascinating questions about postcoloniality and national identity in India, and I've been trying to research the topic, but no luck yet. I will say though, that they are beautiful places in their own way. The Delhi Golf Club has a bar that looks really cool, with red vinyl booths that I would love to try out sometime. Oh yeah, another interesting point of note: last week, my aunt, uncle, Alisa, and I went there and there was this notice of default prominently displayed on a bulletin board. These were members who had not paid their dues this year!!!! Public humiliation! I love it!

After the Rains....

Yesterday was quite an adventure. Alisa and I went to her gym to work out. Gyms here are ridiculously expensive. The one I belong to costs me well over $100/month! Yoga is a bit more manageable. I went to a Sivananda Yoga place with Nathan and Alisa and it costs about 200/Rs, each class (about $4). I'm still figuring out the Sivananda thing, so I'll get back on that one. I've always liked doing Ashanta, so this is a switch. What I do like about Sivananda though, is that between each stretch, you do a rest period. And, anyone who knows me, knows how much I like to slee... I mean, rest. Anyway, her gym is nice, much nicer than mine, even though it only has weight machines and no free weights besides some dumbbells. The shower is also a steam bath with rainshower head. That was NICE.

Afterwards, we went to Saket mall. Saket mall is definitely for the rich or the ex-pats. They have everything from M.A.C. to French Connection to the Body Shop, Esprit, name it. After a delicious lunch, we went to the Lush store (how random is that?) and then left the mall to go to Sarojini Nagar Market. Now, Saroj (as the locals may have it) is the place to shop! It's basically a couple of blocks of cheap "fallen fresh off the truck" western wear. You an really bargain. I got two pajama bottoms for $1.00. And, they're nice. So, we're barely there for about 5 minutes or so (around 3:30 pm) and the skies opened up and it suddenly started to rain. Not too badly, though, so we thought we should at least leave with something! So, we happily continue. Hah!!!!!! Then, it really started to rain! We were trapped inside a store, with the vendor trying to make special deals with us ("rain sale") to buy all this crap from him. About 30-35 mins. later, we decide to make a run for it and try to flag down an auto! We had to practically swim to the main road. After we made it there, we couldn't find an auto to bring us back home. Finally, we got one, even though this other woman was trying to steal it from us (yeah, that's something else here, you gots to be assertive!!!!!). 100/Rs and about an hour or so later, we were back. Here are some photos that I took from the auto:


Tuesday, August 18, 2009

The Third Week's Always a Charm

Well, I've been here for almost three weeks now and finally, things seem to be settling down a bit. Sadly, however, I've watched only 2.5 movies since being here. I will recommend a film called Fashion. Unfortunately, I missed the first third of it, but am planning to get it and re-watch. It stars the amazing Priyanka Chopra, playing a supermodel who falls from grace. Along the way, she makes choices that hurt herself and the people around her. It was refreshing to see a movie which dealt with themes such as: pre-marital sex, abortion, drug addiction, etc. in a way that doesn't pass any judgments and instead, is interested in analyzing those situations. I'm seeing more of that trend in Hindi cinema (okay, after 2.5 of them) and my curiosity is definitely piqued. More as time goes on...

I'm spending a couple of days at Nathan and Alisa's and last night, we also started watching Dev D:

I'm excited to finish watching it. The second vignette, I was told, was inspired by a news story where a school girl from Delhi was video taped performing fellatio on her boyfriend. The video was, of course, posted all over the place. I'm trying to track down the news stories to make the comparison between the film and the actual event.
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Alisa and I went to the Lodi Gardens Restaurant for a posh power lunch last week. The gardens are just spectacular with two tombs: Muhammad Shah's Tomb and Sikander Lodi's tomb. Muhammad Shah (1434 - 44) was the third ruler of Sayyid dynasty. There is a nice, if slightly neglected, bonsai garden. It was the first day of the rains while we were there, so I'm anxious to go back and check out the entire space. There are beautiful paths going throughout the garden - it's supposed to be a jogger's paradise. The restaurant is beautiful with glassless windows that give people eating there great views of the gardens. There is also an amazing outdoor seating area. It might be a great place to read. The food was so-so and pretty expensive, pretty much the same price you'd pay for a good lunch in the U.S. But, I really needed something like that to kick-start my time here. One of the gates to the gardens leads to Khan Market, which is basically a mall for the ex-pat communities. Shops are expensive and beautiful. You can buy just about anything you need there, especially imported products. There are three or four really good bookstores (Bahrisons is probably my favorite). Also, some coffee shops, if you're into that sort of thing. I like walking around there just because of all the different languages I can hear. It makes me a wee less homesick too.
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Indian Bureaucracy -
So, because of my Research visa, I had to go to the FRRO (heck, I don't know what that stands for, but man, everything here is all about initials -- no one calls anything by its full name) to register. There's also AFRRO (I'd rather have that). This was quite an ordeal, spanning three days. So, the first day I get there and after waiting in line for about 2.5 hours, I was told by the reception guy that I didn't have the right paperwork! It was quite annoying since I did bring everything that the USIEF folks told me to. He was extremely rude to me and I left there in tears. Apparently, I needed the original Affiliation letter, which is sent to the U.S. Consulate. Then, they want a proof of residence (lease) and a copy of a utility bill (which is strange since you have to register within 14 days of arrival in the country and who gets a bill in that short amount of time?). Since I'm not renting and have no utilities, my uncle wrote a letter, with everything but the utility bill attached. Second day: I get there a little bit earlier, hoping not to have to wait in line for too long. The office opens at 9:30 (10, according to IST - Indian Standard Time). Again, I'm there for several hours. They did let me get to the next step but the utility bill was an issue, even though I had everything else they required. That was the day of my power lunch. So, I had to go back a third time with a bill. Last night, I was told that so much of how things will go there depends on the mood of the folks who work there. That was pretty apparent to me. I really can't deal with this kind of bureaucracy.
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Last night, there was a dinner at Fulbright house. Fun and nice. I drank four drinks! Here are a couple of photos. The first is of Nathan and Alisa and the second of Alisa and me.



Still to come... joining a gym in Delhi :)