Flies, shit and holy men

I'm tense. I could use a massage, but I think India is the wrong place for that. Wouldn't have a clue where to look. Still don't even know where I can buy a beer. A Kingfisher, please. Apparently I was too late for that tonight. At least I got my artificial mango juice. I was lucky that guy hadn't shuttered his shop otherwise I might be in even more dire straits. That hit the spot for a minute.


Take a load off, you might advise. Well, I just dissolved a pack of Vegeta, a natural dietary fibre supplement I purchased in Indonesia a few months ago, with some water hoping to take a load out. Same same? It might not have been a good idea considering I'm sharing a bathroom tonight. I got a nice room near the Ganges for only $4 a night! See, I'm that fucking guy already.

I love Indian food, I really do. But I've decided it's not meant to be eaten every day. Not by me. I rarely eat bread anymore or anything with wheat other than some processed, sweetened goodies I feel inclined to eat when I haven't had my beer. Oh, that has wheat too, doesn't it? Anyway, there's a lot of bread [naan, chappati, puri and roti for example] in India that I seem to be consuming. And it's fucking my shit up, quite literally.

Speaking of shit, I stepped in some fresh cow shit walking around this evening looking for the aforementioned mango juice. Watch your step, I heard people saying earlier. It's pretty easy to spot there in the middle of the street. Not, however, at night walking down a dimly lit lane and trying to get through  some cows that are just "hanging out" wherever they please. I'm still a bit frightened of cows, especially those with horns, after that water buffalo charging incident a few years ago.

So, I had some shit on my flip flop and on my big toe. It slid right into the muck, like stepping on a banana peel. At least I didn't land on my ass. Aside from the plethora of cow shit, there are also a lot of flies. As you might imagine. It doesn't smell that bad, considering the turds, flies, people peeing on walls, bodies being burned into the Ganges and undoubtedly sewage pipes leading there as well. And me, releasing excess gas with every step, provided I know it's not liquid gas. Imagine.

Varanasi is a strange place. Well, no, India is a strange place. Maybe not for an Indian, but for me. I like it sometimes and other times I want to come running back to Thailand or Cambodia or Vietnam or Indonesia or anywhere but India! I want to be be surrounded by beautiful women, I want to eat food that doesn't give me gas, I want to not be stared at - oh wait, cancel Vietnam - and I want to learn a language I want to learn. I'm sorry, but Hindi just doesn't interest me.

So, get the fuck out of India, ya fucking bastard! Hey, give me some more time. I'll eventually leave it to the hippies. And the people lounging outside my room playing the flute. For fuck's sake, put that shit on mute! Almost needed a beer because of that. Instead, I put in the ear buds and saved a little sanity in the process. Got these four Spanish hippies playing the flute and singing Kumbaya outside my room. I paid for it, all $4 of it, and I expect some peace & quiet! I liked the owner of this place, but the people he let's in here....

I think I feel better now. I need some rest before I rise at dawn to walk along the ghats and hopefully take some quality snaps while the lighting is good. And try not to get scammed or give to unholy "holy men" along the way. That will happen unless I'm still not feeling recharged after sleeping on another hard bed. Or if I find myself excessively squatting over the porcelain toilet in the floor. I hope not, but you can be sure I'll tell you all about it. Sweet dreams.

India day 2

This shit ain't easy. My eyes and ears have seen and heard a lot today and my feet are fucking tired. Extremely tired just doesn't sound right. I need to hide away in my hotel room for an hour or two. I feel refreshed after a cold shower and drying myself with a towel that smells a lot like bleach and a little like piss. I’m sitting naked in a brown plastic chair listening to the taxis and motorcycles honk and battle it out for street position. I’m glad I’m not walking among them right now.

The keyboard in the first internet cafe. Recycled from 1990? Not complaining, it had a story in those keys.

I woke up this morning with the intention of possibly changing hotel rooms. I’m paying 600 Rs (rupees) or US$12 for a decent single room. Certainly nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable and relatively clean. I decided to check out the Hotel Maria, a budget place down the road that seemed to be quite popular among backpackers and I thought it might be a good place to meet some folks and get some advice regarding travel in this vast country.

As soon as I saw the room, there was no way in hell I was going to take it. It was 250 Rs (US$5) and I’m just too old to do that to myself. Walls looked like they were rotting, two dingy single beds and part of the wall was just a curtain made with old sheets. And they shared a bathroom with numerous other rooms. A couple in another room noticed that this room was available and immediately ‘claimed’ it and the manager offered me their room instead.

The $5 prison cell at the Hotel Maria. No thanks.

I had already decided against the place, but I wanted to see this room in comparison. The bearded and long locked guy inside shook his head and whispered Don’t do it and proceeded to show me all the red bumps on his hand, presumably from sleeping on a dirty mattress ridden with bed bugs. Fuuuuuuuuck that. I've been there before and it's not something I want to experience again. EVER.

So it's safe to say I’m still at the Pioneer Hotel and happily paying 600 Rs. After this ordeal and nearly sweating through my t-shirt at just after nine in the morning, I decided to change into a tank top. It's hard to apply sunscreen to an already sweaty surface. My next aim was to purchase an Indian sim card and after nearly an hour of waiting and signing my name over and over and over, it was mine. These little things seem to take so much time and fortunately I have time to kill.

Street on the way to my hotel. I took this picture and a local resident angrily asked 'You have permission to take picture here?' to which I scoffed and mumbled something like 'Fuck you bitch.'

I walked around a bit. I got a glass of fresh orange juice for 20 Rs (US$0.40) and walked around some more, ultimately settling on a sidewalk cart selling coffee, chai, yogurt, omelets, curry, chapattis and more. A small glass of chai was delicious and only 5 Rs (US$0.10). A small bowl of fresh yogurt was 10 Rs (US$0.20). I ended up chatting with some folks who've been in India for a few months and I slowly began to warm up to this place.

Not hungry, but wanting to sample more, I ordered a two egg omelet for 14 Rs (US$0.28). The guy diced a chili and a small onion and threw them into the eggs, whipped them up and poured the mixture  into the pan over the burning coals. The vegetable curry was 10 Rs (US$0.20) and each chapatti was only 2 Rs (US$0.04). It was good and I was stuffed and away I went for less than a buck with a bloated belly.

I wandered. I went down Park Street. I bought a map, finally, and found a cafe in which I could unfold it. It was the size of Texas. There was no way I was going to stand on the street holding this map looking like a lost tourist. I got a vague idea of my immediate plan. Take the metro to near College Street, wander by Calcutta University, check out this coffee shop and then walk to the nearby Hugli River and take a gander at the supposedly rather impressive Howrah Bridge.

Well, I took the metro and the rest is history. The metro was fast and efficient, but honestly I felt like it could have been 1960. I never found Calcutta University or the coffee shop, but it was just as well since I didn't really want a coffee. I wandered by some other universities and asked numerous people who pointed me in this or that direction. And I never made it to the Hugli River either, seems the map wasn't quite to scale.

Along the way, I indulged in some fresh watermelon and papaya mixed with a dash of salt and served on some leaves for 10 Rs (US$0.20). I dodged a cow running across the street and I walked into an area where people seemed genuinely surprised to see me. I chugged a couple of mixed fruit shakes. Grapes, pomegranate, papaya and something else for 10 Rs(US$0.20) a glass. I kept going, dodging cow shit along the way.

Some kids started talking to me. I stopped to chat and more people stopped to see what the ‘commotion’ was about. There was no commotion, just a tall white guy ‘lost’ in Kolkata. One kid started to do a hand stand down the sidewalk. Impressive. I engaged them a little. They were nice and wanted me to take a picture. More people were watching. I told them I didn’t have my camera, wanting to take a picture, but not wanting to take it out of the bag. This guy I had spoken to before the kids came up to me, came back out of nowhere and said Go as he looked into my eyes. Huh? Goooo. That was enough for me and I just walked away never once glancing back.

I was really tired at this point and just wanted to get back to the comfortable area near my hotel. Everyone stared at the white guy, that or politely gave me the sideways head bob. The weirdest fucking method of acknowledgment I’ve ever experienced, but I guess it’s preferable to a complete stare down. Or just laughter, which I mostly tended to ignore and muttered Look at you to myself. I’m grumpy now and it’s hard to smile anymore.

I found a metro station eventually and found out it was ‘broken’ so I ran back upstairs to find a bus. They were all packed and proceeded so slowly, I figured it might be just as fast to walk. Easier than trying to get on one and deal with that shit. There will be another day for the bus! I decided it wouldn’t be so bad to splurge for a taxi. Tired of walking. But they were all occupied too. The streets were also packed, but I seemed to be managing them well, despite nearly getting hit by the occasional motorcycle.

A car turned a corner and a dog yelped. The car kept going, but the dog didn’t. It shook on the ground and blood pooled out of his mouth onto the pavement. People noticed and were affected, as I was, but there was nothing to do. I turned back and the dog still shook, but I moved on as did the mass of humanity. It stays in your head for a while, but slowly fades as you effectively fight for your own survival just walking down the street.

I tried some lentils. I hadn't been hungry all day, but this massive pan of dal looked delicious. Enough people were standing around eating so I thought that was a good sign. 8 Rs (US$0.16) for more than I wanted. Just adding more fuel to the fire I thought and hurriedly made my way closer to the Esplanade continuing to dodge pedestrian and vehicular traffic. Almost there.

Finally, I recognized Hartford Lane and sighed a deep sigh. Turned in on the home stretch and was happily home. My home for now anyway. If home is where the heart is, my home is in Southeast Asia. For sure. I walked by a few chai stands and one guy caught my eye, said something and started pouring me one before I could refuse. He opened a tin of biscuits and handed me two and I sat on the long low bench on the other side of the street taking small sips of the amazing brew until he poured me another.

I don’t think I’ll be in Kolkata for much longer. This place is alright, but it ain’t my cup of tea. Aside from the chai I’ve encountered. I might say that everywhere I go, but I won’t know until I experience it. I’ve heard you either love India or you hate it. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be a hater, but I’m trying to open up to it. I love the food, that much is true, but will I love anything else? Remains to be seen. 

India day 1

I arrived! Started getting anxious yesterday about really traveling for a change. Do I really want to do this? Yes, I do. Just breathe through those moments of anxiety. This too shall pass. Blah blah blah. I got to Suvarnabhumi airport this morning in plenty of time, but needed it to stand in Air Asia's ridiculously long lines even after web check-in. And then there were lines going through customs and security. Finally, once through all of that, I could relax for a few moments and catch a glimpse of who else was traveling to Kolkata (Calcutta) this lovely morning.

Mostly Indians. Surprise, surprise, but actually I was a little surprised. I was expecting to see a fair few backpackers with their overgrown hair and 'same same' singlets wanting THE INDIA EXPERIENCE. Dude, let me tell you about this time I was in INDIA... whoa! Forgive me if I ever do that. I am so much better than you because I have been to India. I spent six months there and spent ten dollars a day! The food was amazing and I never got sick. And I was in a Bollywood film!

Anyway, my flight went smoothly and it was just a few snoozes away. Everything is closer when you're not based in the USA. What once seemed so distant is actually quite close. There were a lot of men on the plane. Macho macho men. I sat in seat 23C. Dude two seats to my left was snoring before we even took off. Nobody on the plane seems that friendly. I hate staring contests. What the fAck you are looking at? Eventually the guy to my left asked if I could switch with his friend in 8C. Do you really miss him that much?

That pissed me off. I-n-c-o-n-v-e-n-i-e-n-c-e. Can you spell it? Move from my aisle seat with more leg room to a window seat. Check if there was overhead cabin space for my backpack and then ask if this guy wanted to eat his fried rice with his buddies who had already missed holding his hand. He smiled gratefully and the two inconvenienced guys on his left managed to stand up and let him out and me in. Once all was said and done, it was all good, but I never pull shit like that. And I don't expect it from others.

The Kolkata airport is not big. I was surprised by this. I got through customs, reclaimed my backpack and there I was at the exit. It was hard to tell who worked there and who were passengers. And I didn't see an information desk. I needed to change money so I went to the ONE money changer. It was not a good rate and they charged a commission. Eventually I gave in, lost the equivalent of eight dollars in the transaction, prepaid for a taxi and went outside, expecting to smell shit immediately, but didn't and was herded to the ancient yellow taxi not far from the exit door.

Wow, that was easy. It was indeed easy in retrospect, but at the time, it was a pain in the ass. I didn't want to change my money at that rate, but had no other choice. Nobody seemed to want to help. I thought they spoke English here. Well, they do, but certainly not everyone and it ain't that easy to understand. Breathe Tyler! Sitting in that taxi was like a step back in time. I sat on the edge for the duration looking out the windows taking it all in and wondering where I'd end up.

The answer, eventually, was the Pioneer Hotel for 600 rupees a night. That's US$12 and not a steal, but a great deal better than the shitholes I was presented by the relentless touts trying to get a tip or a cut of the hotel rate. FAck you buddy, you ain't getting a tip. The fan seems to work well, the bathroom towel reeks of bleach, but the room is cheerful and airy and the staff are reasonably friendly. Has a better vibe than the other dozen places I saw. And well, I tired of looking!

Kolkata, or at least the area I'm in near The Esplanade, doesn't seem that big. I don't even know what tourists do here. So, I walked around, had more staring contests and tried to laugh them off. Ignored a lot of people and tried to get a smile out of others. Saw a crow munching on dead rat in the gutter, saw dudes taking a piss at the public urinals on the street, saw a lot of poor people, saw a little girl who lost her mom and I wanted to be that guy who stood by her side in that brief moment of desperation.

I watched in awe at the human rickshaws and dodged tuk tuks and taxis. I wanted to try a lot of street food, but didn't. I followed a guy into his shop even though I knew he'd want me to buy something. He refused to believe he was shorter than me even though I was clearly looking down at him. I asked him how tall he was. I don't know, he shrugged and still managed to elude defeat. It was all nonsense and somehow I felt like they were trying to distract their opponent so they could take one of his kidneys.

Eventually I just got up and walked out without saying goodbye thinking what the fuck was that while checking my pockets and vital organs. I think I walked around a lot because I am tired. My feet hurt and so do my eyes. Not from visual stimulation although there is definitely a lot of that. Something is in the air. I also managed to eat some delicious food as I was expecting. The Blue Sky Cafe did not disappoint with an amazing channa masala for lunch and a vegetable masala for dinner. The naan was perfect, the service was outstanding and the price was ridiculous.

It wasn't as absurd as some of the prices I saw on the street, but I decided to save the diarrhea for another day. I will try some of that shit, but sometimes I just want the luxury of sitting down inside on a real chair and get served. I don't want anyone pouring my 7UP into my glass or pushing in my chair, but having to choose from a menu is nice on occasion despite having too many options. It's also nice to step away from the reality that lies just outside the door, to pretend it doesn't exist, if only for the time it takes to consume your meal.

Well, I made it through the day without the need for a Kingfisher. I thought for sure it was one of those days, but I think I overdosed on masala instead. I'll be farting myself to sleep shortly. In the meantime, I hope the d-bags out by reception stop the occasional bantering otherwise I'll be disgruntled in the morning. I'm prepared for that. I keep saying that, I'm really trying to convince myself, but I know this is going to be a test of patience. And I really hope I pass the test. BRING IT ON.

Too many choices!

The best oatmeal cookies this side of the Mississippi.

I'm feeling a little bit anxious, thus the need to write. And consume. I was only going to eat a few of these oatmeal cookies, recently purchased from the 7/11 around the corner. I was going to throw the rest of them, like frisbees, into the night air, but temptation got the best of me. The first one was so good and the rest of them quickly followed. After each cookie there was some irritation in my throat, which could have only been relieved by a little more oatmeal. It's best for me to stay away from this kind of thing as it really provides little benefit other than to help soothe my anxiety. I'd have to consume a hundred bags of these if I wanted the amount of oatmeal needed to assist in the formation of a proper deuce.

This is my last night in Bangkok for a while. It's good to be moving on, going somewhere new, but I'm comfortable damn it! That's the best time to stir things up. I'm going to miss the ladies at the fly-friendly restaurant under the Pranee Building who have been serving up cheap and delicious fare for me twice a day the past couple of days. I'm going to miss that bowl of chilies and ground up peanuts. I'm going to miss the guy serving up sliced fruit at the end of Soi Kasem San 1. And the drunk homeless guy who manages to ask for change without really bothering me. I like his technique.

I almost feel like I live here. I've been in Bangkok now on four different occasions over the past couple of months and stayed at the White Lodge three times now. I'll almost miss the feminine dude who always refuses my request for a discount. I'll miss the boiled peanuts, the coconuts, the air-conditioned Sky Train, walking through MBK for lack of anything else to do and I'll miss walking by the table of cheap secondhand boxers on my occasional evening stroll through Siam Square.

I think I've been to Thailand six times now and I've really only scratched the surface. I'd like to take a month trip around Isan, the northeastern region of Thailand, in search of the best flied lice. Renting bicycles and consuming time until it's time to eat again. Talking to tuk tuk drivers and hookers and regular people too. Oh wait, they are regular people. Learning more of this language. I love learning languages, I just wish I was more proficient at doing so. 

There are too many choices in this life we lead. Well, not for everybody. I can't sit still and live behind a white picket fence, climbing the corporate ladder, taking the dog for an evening stroll and pretending like I don't notice the neighbor across the street while I'm watering the lawn. I can live here or there or anywhere and that is part of the problem because I want to live everywhere. I don't want to uproot myself every time I get comfortable, just when the itch gets too unbearable not to scratch.

I think I could live in Bangkok. Why not give it a try? But having just spent six nights in the countryside breathing fresh air, swimming in rivers, riding bicycles and enjoying the good life, why not there? I also know I'd like to try Cambodia. Siem Reap or Phnom Penh would do. And shit, Laos is the most beautiful country I've ever visited. I think I could find something there if I looked. And well, Vietnam is always a fallback. I've always said I'd love to live in Sapa, in the far north of Vietnam. My heart just feels good there. Why did I never give that a try? Or Indonesia...

I hate making decisions! I used to wish I lived in a communist country so I had my life's work chosen for me. Just tell me what to do. That way I wouldn't have to always wonder if I was making the right choice. And then I lived in Vietnam and well, that didn't help. But nobody was really forcing me to do anything. Just grin and bear it. And sometimes I could and sometimes I couldn't, which leaves me here, now. Still going and still unsure about tomorrow. But that's life I suppose. We're all in the same boat I guess, but some of us are in shackles and rowing the fucking thing and some of us are at the helm...even if we don't really know where we want to go.

Facebook

A quick note about Facebook. I have recently taken a temporary hiatus from wasting my time and numbing my mind. I'm sure I will be back soon as I have pictures to post and news feeds to overburden. But I'm doing my best to in the meantime to regain some lost sanity. Email me if you really need to get in touch. The address is tadpierce AT hotmail DOT com. I'm pretty sure you won't.

I'm going to Disneyland!

I didn't do my homework, that much is for sure. That's why I've spent the last nine days in Thailand and not in India, but oh well! I hate planning and so, I just didn't look into what I needed to do until I was ready to go there. Everyone goes there, I thought. Surely it's easy. And well, it was pretty easy, but it helps to do a little research. I could have gotten it done in Phnom Penh last month and not wasted any time, but could have, would have, should have, as they say.

I submitted my visa application six working days ago and got the hell out of Bangkok. The sanest thing I could have done. Nothing wrong with Bangkok if you're actually doing something here, but just bumming around and getting caught up in the sidewalk traffic and constantly stepping on other people's heels gets old quick. And no, I don't need to go shopping. I don't want to go to that temple and I don't want to be looking for an air-conditioned place on a relatively nonstop basis. It's hot in the hot tub.

So, I took off for Kanchanaburi. I had intentions of seeing other cities before I came back to Bangkok, but I didn't. A little ashamed about that, but I did manage to change guesthouses. At least that gave me the  impression I was getting a slightly different experience. And well, I learned to drive a motorcycle, I got to swim in the River Kwai, talk to some interesting expats and hookers and just felt like I was able to chill out for a minute. Not like I haven't had time to do that over the past few months.

Anyway, I'm back in Bangkok and getting more anxious by the minute. Today was visa pick-up day and I wasn't even 100% sure I had gotten my visa even though I had already booked my non-refundable ticket to Kolkata in two days time. I received a text and an email with the message A decision on your Visa application has been received at the India Visa Application Centre and is ready for collection. Well, great, I think, what the fuck does that mean, exactly?

I found out it means that I'm good to go! And now my passport is safely back in my hands and I'm about to leave my safety net of SE Asia. Thailand is soooooo easy. Cambodia is equally as easy and Vietnam as well. I'm ready more than I've ever been for India, but I'm still more than anxious and not entirely sure what to expect. I guess that's what makes it interesting. I have just over two months for India and Nepal before I have to get back to the states to see the family. It's been too long.

I'm not even in India, but I feel like I already have diarrhea. I can smell the feces, see the faces, hear the noise, feel my heart racing, yet I know, what I feel now ain't nothing compared to what I'm going to experience. Bring it on, I think. That's just the beer talking. I am ready, like I said, but it's way out of my comfort zone. It's good to get out of your comfort zone. It'll be alright, I'm fairly sure, it's just been a while since I've actually really tested myself.

So, I've got a couple of easy days remaining here in Bangkok before it gets even hotter, noisier, dirtier, smellier but likely more interesting, more stimulating and more appealing. I don't know about the last one. I certainly don't know Bangkok, but I've been here enough to be more than comfortable and that takes away some of the excitement., which makes it slightly dull. I think to myself, bring on the fucking food poisoning, the bed bugs, the harassment, the scams, the chaos, that is India. But I'm really not that ready. I'm a little scared to be honest, but excited. Here we go!

Thai food pt. 2

 

The first dish here is vegetarian pad si ew. I almost always choose rice over noodles, but when it comes to Thai food I occasionally choose the more processed stuff. And when I do, it's usually pad thai because it's familiar and relatively comforting. But not this day. This dish had tofu, eggs, broccoli, carrots, cabbage and some other good shit. At first, I thought the food at my guesthouse was going to be expensive, but apparently that was just for Western food. This was only 40B (US$1.33).

Today, I intended to go to the same place I ate last night, but it was closed, fortunately for me. So, I went to the restaurant a few doors down and this is what I found. It wasn't on the menu, but every restaurant can make fried rice so I asked for it. Can you make fried rice with eggs, tofu, vegetables and cashews? The cashews, initially forgotten, came later in a separate bowl. Delicious and only 35B (US$1.17). Now seriously, can they be making any money!? In Vietnam, this would be 24,000VND. The food in Vietnam is cheap, but you would never find it this cheap.

And finally, this was my dinner tonight. I decided to go back to the same place I had lunch. It was that good and cheap. And well, the wait staff was pretty cute and surprise, surprise, they were not ladyboys. I didn't bring my camera so I had to take this grainy shot with my mobile. A vegetarian green curry with lots of vegetables and tofu. I think all that soy has enlarged my breasts. Anyway, it tasted as it looks, de-freakin-licious. The curry was 40B (US$1.33), the rice was 10B (US$0.33) and the big beer Chang was 55B (US$1.83). You cannot find a cheaper, more delicious green curry outside of Thailand. I am not George Zimmer so I will not guarantee it.