After Bangkok Nicole and I find ourselves on a ferry to a small island in the gulf of Thailand called Koh Tao. Turtle Island. This spot is a popular scuba diving destination, so we commit most of our time to doing just that.
Oddly enough, I'm struggling to write much of interest about this place. I thoroughly enjoyed the dives, each one allowing me to become slightly more relaxed under water. We saw some amazing ocean life, too. I ate well, I met new people, and had nice, long conversations with Nicole. Nothing specific really comes to mind now, but it was certainly a great time.
I think the trouble is that I expect the juicy pieces of contemplative material to just arrive to me at my whim. Maybe I'm just hitting a wall in which the environment starts to feel ordinary and I have to dig deeper to extract any interesting insights. But I can't escape this feeling that maybe I don't really like traveling all that much. That's not to say I don't enjoy visiting other places, but I don't know if I like moving around for an extended amount of time. It's difficult to thoroughly assess my happiness before versus now, but I'm slowly weighing this out in my mind.
A lot of these thoughts are mood based. Sometimes the conditions just feel so miserable (long, sticky, neck-racking bus rides) that your brain can't escape the why-are-you-doing-this-to-me feeling. I like to think I'm getting in touch with my emotional side, but I've noticed that these particularly foul moods arise without much warning and make me less than amicable. My level of willingness to argue increases and my patience decreases, but I'm usually too frustrated,tired to actually articulate a point so it just turns into fruitless bickering. Then I feel like I'm being made to look like a fool (partially because I can't process humor temporarily and the jokes get personal). Then I start to want space (this is my side of the room) from my travel buddy, but you're stuck together until you arrive, so you have to ride out the tension for a while.
We jest that traveling together is like being married, but without the benefit of a sexual relationship. So... exactly like marriage, we conclude. As we've been roommates before, we're pretty familiar with the ups and downs of friendship as we endure extended amounts of time together. Fortunately we have a pretty good sense of humor about it (when not strangling one another). At some point you become aware of those trivial, self-defeating thoughts and take some distance to laugh at it. Well, it may not be laugh out loud funny all the time, but you've gotta take a moment now and then to pout and whine about how hard life is now that I've quit my job to travel around the stupid, immense Earth and stuff my face with food and indulge in pleasure after pleasure under the pretense that I'm becoming more cultured.
Just kidding, you know I'm already super cultured. What does that even mean? Does it mean I have cultural knowledge or sensitivity or that I just know how to pick a good wine? Does it mean I change myself and assimilate into the culture? When is it appropriate to hold your own and justify the culture you came from? Rhetorical questions?
When meeting other travelers we tend to slump down the list of the usual questions (where are you from, where have you been, how long are you traveling for, this place is amazing, well that last one wasn't a question but I'm gonna throw it in there anyway, etc), but occasionally you get some gems that stand out. For instance after hearing how long Nicole has traveled for, one man remarks, "Only that long? You're just a baby! I've been traveling for nine months."
Another example. A man in Koh Tao asks Nicole, "When you travel do you simply observe or do you try to change the culture?" A loaded question if I've ever heard one, but Nicole answers adamantly, "Change, if I could."
"Ah, so you're one of those people. Me? I just observe."
I don't fault James for this attitude, but we seem to be learning some less-than-useful ideas about world culture. We assume that if you're not merely observing a culture, you're meddling. Sure, we could think of it as being a guest in somebody else's house and that might necessitate a certain etiquette, but that doesn't preclude discourse and the sharing of culture on both sides.
It seems that the most dramatic shifts in culture are often external, perhaps from an invasive colonial presence. As an individual, I don't expect to have that sort of force behind me when I'm participating in this exchange. It's much more innocuous as we're naturally curious, so why should one be withholding while traveling around? I'm not forcing anyone to adopt my point of view. So going back to the question, I would answer neither. I'm not just observing, but I'm not actively trying to elicit change. Change is welcome, however, and I don't doubt that it's a two way street.
Although there are times when you want to just change it. When you read about all of the atrocious things done in the name of religion or family honor or anything, you really want to change the culture that produces such dysfunctional and violent behavior. The thing to consider is that this is not just our culture or their culture, but a global issue. The same is happening at home but we have just as much power to change it (and this power is not insignificant). But has changing a culture by force ever produced anything for the better? The United States sends its armies in the name of justice yet people resent the big stick attitude, possibly because the big stick affected so many innocent parties. I myself don't jibe with the horrendous sexism perpetuated by the Taliban, but if I go and quash a people's right to practice a religion, their way of life, I would be taking away more freedom than I could bestow. These changes need to come from communication and education.
The difficulty is seeing past how we lump groups together. Your brain does this all the time to attempt to make the world simple and containable, but we often fail to recognize when this automation works against us. There are indeed Muslims who are ethical and believe in empowering women with education, exceptions to everything, so we can't just write off a religious group altogether (going against everything we've been taught with since 9/11). If you keep looking and learning, you will find nuances that seem to shatter the previous thought, making you wonder why you felt that way in the first place. This might lead to a never ending spiral of realizations, but let's say it has an upward trajectory.
Every place you visit is rife with social context and unwritten rules, or a vibe. You get a feeling from its inhabitants about what you're free to do, but you also unknowingly project the vibe from your being. In your mind you might attribute it to a country or a city or perhaps a smaller area within each place. For instance you might be comfortable taking your shirt off at the beach but not a few hundred feet away in the cafe. You might feel more comfortable doing drugs in public in Amsterdam because nobody seems to mind, so there is also the question of what you're able to do. Are men and women able to do the same thing in the beach example? You might argue that nobody wants to see a naked body, but why is the woman naked and the man not naked? What if I say you're now in a tribal village. What if I simply say nobody minds, because nobody literally minds. It's an arbitrary social rule.
There are so many things that direct your behavior in public, but you've got to wonder what a public place is, in its essence. You could be alone in a public place, making it seem private for a moment. Similarly in large crowd you can feel as though attention is diverted from you entirely. Sometimes we seek solitude in open places and are disappointed when it's crowded. Sometimes we want to be around a large body of people and are let down when there's not much of a turn out. What would a music festival be like if there were no other people? Sure, you could go from point A to B without bumping into anyone (which might make you spill your beer), but who would you enjoy those moments with? As much as your enjoyment matters to you, belongs to you, other people are entitled to the same happiness. That's what makes it so special when you take somebody else's interests to heart and elevate their needs or desires before yours.
Altruism feels so good that you're not really sacrificing anything, but creating a sort of positive feedback loop. This is what I think to be an essential part of freedom: creating an environment in which people feel free. The city or the country is often of little consequence. Take San Francisco for instance, typically heralded as a safe haven for homosexuals. And that's not because the city protects them, but because the people there are capable of tolerance and compassion and create a feeling of protection. Everybody is contributing. The law is secondary (but unfortunately necessary when someone tries to violate this freedom). So what would it take for every city or country to be a haven for open expression of sexuality? Well we wouldn't need havens anymore, but just a simple consideration of people's freedoms. Gotta spread the good vibes and diminish the harmful ones, and that comes from changing culture little by little.
Circling back to travels, I finished writing this post back in Bangkok at our little hostel, VX the 50, after four days of diving. Nicole had what seems to be a reverse block in her left ear on the second dive, but she spotted an awesome little flatworm before she had to call it quits for a while. We're stopping in Bangkok for a few days to get visas for Myanmar before heading up to Chiang Mai. Also to visit our favorite restaurants. Home sweet home.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Bangkok Part II: Drenched
The wetness of the new year celebration continues for days, but it certainly beats the humidity. Walking home from Sukhumvit Soi 11 felt great in the middle of the night. As we reached our hostel I noticed the commuter trains were operating again. 5am.
This seems to be the trend for the Songkran celebration each night, but I opt out of the debauchery and instead turn in early. On the walk back to our hostel I see a handful of guys outside playing music, so I grab my mandolin and join them. We tune up our instruments and play a little jam. I don't know any proper songs on the mandolin but I play along quietly with Woody and Da King. Then they have their sober friend Lucky pick up more whiskey. So much for an early night! Woody speaks the most English so he describes the group a bit. Lucky is 'mang sa we rat' which means he doesn't drink, smoke, or eat animals. I get excited and try to ask where to find vegetarian food but I can't communicate it simply enough. King is a motorcycle taxi driver. I don't catch much else, but we spend a few hours sitting on the bench in front of their house, playing and drinking and fending off the tiny mosquitoes.
Speaking of vegetarian food, it is rather difficult to find here. India truly spoiled us with Veg restaurants piling up on each other. Now I'm in pork paradise. It might make things tricky, but I just have to get better at Thailand. Challenge accepted. So I don't wither away. Because I'm already so frail.
On the last day of Songkran our little trio takes moto-taxis to Lumphini Park. Our drivers get confused and take us to a number of apartment complexes while we lose Harry while getting directions. It turns out that his driver went straight to the proper spot, so we're not really sure why we got split up. The language barrier is a bit frustrating, but we have no choice but to enjoy ourselves at the festival. Well, I could certainly try, but that would take a lot of effort. The crowds at Lumphini Park are awesome. There are tents everywhere, so I imagine people must flood in from all over to attend. On my walk around the temporary neighborhoods I see a man chasing a massive monitor lizard back into the water. What-the-heck-Thailand-is-awesome. I head back to the main stage where Nicole is getting a massage and I enter the crowd, getting soaked and dancing around the only way I know how. The cold water is so refreshing but I still jump three feet in the air when someone pours a bowl of ice down my shirt.
Our hostel, VX The 50, is great for meeting people and making friends. A nice Dutch woman, Jeanette, sits down next to me and shares photos of her dive resort in Indonesia. She is planning to head straight back after renewing her visa to finish dive master training. After that, New Zealand and Japan. And she's trying to get a working visa in Canada. Anywhere but home, I imagine she would say.
We talk about American history and travel philosophy and shopping in Bangkok. She shares a bit of tasty candy with me and we chat until sleepy time. We exchange our ideas of travel and I probably gain more from listening to her. Seeking out some historical knowledge is imperative to the enjoyment of any place. Not all enjoyment comes from pleasure, but understanding the culture's history as well. She encourages me to see some of the more sobering sights in Cambodia such as the killing fields. I can tell there's a lot more that had a significant emotional impact on her, but it's hard to describe. That alone was sobering.
Coming back to my room for bed, I meet our new roommate Hualing, or Amy for my benefit. Amy is eager to learn English as she doesn't get many opportunities to speak it outside of China. She asks a million questions a minute and it's a blast to talk to her. She's not afraid to be silly and her sense of humor shines through despite any barriers. She claims to be shy, but her speaking is so uninhibited. It's amazing to see how a sentence evolves after she learns a new word or concept, rapidly stringing it all together. I teach her a few words and she does the rest. Full of energy, that one. What a trip. She leaves us with a few gems gleaned from the bathroom stalls in Bangkok:
"If you can't be the best, at least you're different."
"Single? No. I'm just in a relationship with freedom."
She laughs heartily and clears her throat loudly before talking. I ask her if she wants to go to the planetarium and she says she doesn't care as long as she gets to speak English.
This seems to be the trend for the Songkran celebration each night, but I opt out of the debauchery and instead turn in early. On the walk back to our hostel I see a handful of guys outside playing music, so I grab my mandolin and join them. We tune up our instruments and play a little jam. I don't know any proper songs on the mandolin but I play along quietly with Woody and Da King. Then they have their sober friend Lucky pick up more whiskey. So much for an early night! Woody speaks the most English so he describes the group a bit. Lucky is 'mang sa we rat' which means he doesn't drink, smoke, or eat animals. I get excited and try to ask where to find vegetarian food but I can't communicate it simply enough. King is a motorcycle taxi driver. I don't catch much else, but we spend a few hours sitting on the bench in front of their house, playing and drinking and fending off the tiny mosquitoes.
Speaking of vegetarian food, it is rather difficult to find here. India truly spoiled us with Veg restaurants piling up on each other. Now I'm in pork paradise. It might make things tricky, but I just have to get better at Thailand. Challenge accepted. So I don't wither away. Because I'm already so frail.
On the last day of Songkran our little trio takes moto-taxis to Lumphini Park. Our drivers get confused and take us to a number of apartment complexes while we lose Harry while getting directions. It turns out that his driver went straight to the proper spot, so we're not really sure why we got split up. The language barrier is a bit frustrating, but we have no choice but to enjoy ourselves at the festival. Well, I could certainly try, but that would take a lot of effort. The crowds at Lumphini Park are awesome. There are tents everywhere, so I imagine people must flood in from all over to attend. On my walk around the temporary neighborhoods I see a man chasing a massive monitor lizard back into the water. What-the-heck-Thailand-is-awesome. I head back to the main stage where Nicole is getting a massage and I enter the crowd, getting soaked and dancing around the only way I know how. The cold water is so refreshing but I still jump three feet in the air when someone pours a bowl of ice down my shirt.
Our hostel, VX The 50, is great for meeting people and making friends. A nice Dutch woman, Jeanette, sits down next to me and shares photos of her dive resort in Indonesia. She is planning to head straight back after renewing her visa to finish dive master training. After that, New Zealand and Japan. And she's trying to get a working visa in Canada. Anywhere but home, I imagine she would say.
We talk about American history and travel philosophy and shopping in Bangkok. She shares a bit of tasty candy with me and we chat until sleepy time. We exchange our ideas of travel and I probably gain more from listening to her. Seeking out some historical knowledge is imperative to the enjoyment of any place. Not all enjoyment comes from pleasure, but understanding the culture's history as well. She encourages me to see some of the more sobering sights in Cambodia such as the killing fields. I can tell there's a lot more that had a significant emotional impact on her, but it's hard to describe. That alone was sobering.
Coming back to my room for bed, I meet our new roommate Hualing, or Amy for my benefit. Amy is eager to learn English as she doesn't get many opportunities to speak it outside of China. She asks a million questions a minute and it's a blast to talk to her. She's not afraid to be silly and her sense of humor shines through despite any barriers. She claims to be shy, but her speaking is so uninhibited. It's amazing to see how a sentence evolves after she learns a new word or concept, rapidly stringing it all together. I teach her a few words and she does the rest. Full of energy, that one. What a trip. She leaves us with a few gems gleaned from the bathroom stalls in Bangkok:
"If you can't be the best, at least you're different."
"Single? No. I'm just in a relationship with freedom."
She laughs heartily and clears her throat loudly before talking. I ask her if she wants to go to the planetarium and she says she doesn't care as long as she gets to speak English.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Thai New Year: Prepare for Battle
We arrived in Thailand just at the onset of their week-long new year celebration. I haven't seen any fireworks as I expected, but instead the people are engaged in a city-wide water fight for multiple days.
This means war.
Fellow traveler gone soldier Harry von Schassen deploys with our infantry unit to Soi 11, a street known for its clubs and, to our tactical advantage, Volkswagen buses converted into street-side bars. I mean, refueling depots.
After disembarking from the sky train we are stopped by a street vendor who warns us of the coming battle. We don't speak the same language yet he effectively uses charades (gun, you, wet shoes) to attempt to demoralize us.
"We're ready to do what's necessary," I tell him, trying not to let the green show through my expression. He salutes us as we march past, but out of the corner of my eye I see him shake his head in pity, as if saying, "Those poor bastards."
Everything seems ordinary at first, but according to our map we haven't yet reached the hostile zone where casualties are said to be the highest. We are still unarmed until we rendezvous with our squad leader, Matt, but we lost radio connect through facebook shortly after our briefing.
"Mother of God," I mutter under my breath. The night air is sticky and humid, but I smell blood in the air. We procure our libations from the nearest supply depot. Morale is high and people are even laughing and smiling despite the feeling of impending doom.
A soldier from another platoon smiles at me sympathetically, but it's all too late. Just as I recognize the spy in our midst, we are hit with a maelstrom of ice cold water. Man down! Man down! We're still unarmed at this point but Nicole quickly grabs an ice grenade and throws it down the spy's body armor (dress?).
We make a run for the next checkpoint to look for survivors, but our eyes are fogged for some reason. Perhaps the spy poisoned the rations as it might be affecting our faculties of reason. It certainly wasn't the bucket of alcohol or anything. We press on.
Before long we find an unknown squad caught under enemy fire. They appear to be very cold, wet, and demoralized. We decide that Matt is most likely MIA, and having no radio contact with HQ we can only ensure our survival by making allies.
Nicole rushes in bravely to secure the flanks and push back the opposition. She is badly wounded in the first assault but adrenaline and sheer will power create an unfaltering powerhouse within her. She is unstoppable. Like something out of hell, she directs her unabated wrath toward the enemy. Harry smokes a cigarette in the trench, and I see the fear running through his shaking hands. It seems that the gruesome reality of war is too much, but just when I think he's about to flee the scene he suddenly conjures a water pistol out of thin air and runs wildly into the street, dodging taxis and motorcycles, to provide backup for Nicole and this hodgepodge of Russians, Scandinavians, Australians, Germans, Thais, and Nigerians. I couldn't fathom it at first, but this war has gone global.
After hours of exchanging fire with the enemy, we are pushed to the brink of exhaustion. The 10 baht energy drinks only go so far, and we consider surrender by about 3am. I'm drenched from head to shoe and I can't take anymore. But just as we agree to make our retreat, the other side shows their mettle and awards our bravest warriors with alms and respect. It seems that we have reached a cease fire agreement by relentlessly fighting each other, recognizing the apparent futility of it all. Nicole hugs one of the most nefarious of the enemies during the brief exchange. All is well for now, but there is no guarantee that the warring factions won't become restless again.
We part from the company and head back to treat our wounded.
This means war.
Fellow traveler gone soldier Harry von Schassen deploys with our infantry unit to Soi 11, a street known for its clubs and, to our tactical advantage, Volkswagen buses converted into street-side bars. I mean, refueling depots.
After disembarking from the sky train we are stopped by a street vendor who warns us of the coming battle. We don't speak the same language yet he effectively uses charades (gun, you, wet shoes) to attempt to demoralize us.
"We're ready to do what's necessary," I tell him, trying not to let the green show through my expression. He salutes us as we march past, but out of the corner of my eye I see him shake his head in pity, as if saying, "Those poor bastards."
Everything seems ordinary at first, but according to our map we haven't yet reached the hostile zone where casualties are said to be the highest. We are still unarmed until we rendezvous with our squad leader, Matt, but we lost radio connect through facebook shortly after our briefing.
"Mother of God," I mutter under my breath. The night air is sticky and humid, but I smell blood in the air. We procure our libations from the nearest supply depot. Morale is high and people are even laughing and smiling despite the feeling of impending doom.
A soldier from another platoon smiles at me sympathetically, but it's all too late. Just as I recognize the spy in our midst, we are hit with a maelstrom of ice cold water. Man down! Man down! We're still unarmed at this point but Nicole quickly grabs an ice grenade and throws it down the spy's body armor (dress?).
We make a run for the next checkpoint to look for survivors, but our eyes are fogged for some reason. Perhaps the spy poisoned the rations as it might be affecting our faculties of reason. It certainly wasn't the bucket of alcohol or anything. We press on.
Before long we find an unknown squad caught under enemy fire. They appear to be very cold, wet, and demoralized. We decide that Matt is most likely MIA, and having no radio contact with HQ we can only ensure our survival by making allies.
Nicole rushes in bravely to secure the flanks and push back the opposition. She is badly wounded in the first assault but adrenaline and sheer will power create an unfaltering powerhouse within her. She is unstoppable. Like something out of hell, she directs her unabated wrath toward the enemy. Harry smokes a cigarette in the trench, and I see the fear running through his shaking hands. It seems that the gruesome reality of war is too much, but just when I think he's about to flee the scene he suddenly conjures a water pistol out of thin air and runs wildly into the street, dodging taxis and motorcycles, to provide backup for Nicole and this hodgepodge of Russians, Scandinavians, Australians, Germans, Thais, and Nigerians. I couldn't fathom it at first, but this war has gone global.
After hours of exchanging fire with the enemy, we are pushed to the brink of exhaustion. The 10 baht energy drinks only go so far, and we consider surrender by about 3am. I'm drenched from head to shoe and I can't take anymore. But just as we agree to make our retreat, the other side shows their mettle and awards our bravest warriors with alms and respect. It seems that we have reached a cease fire agreement by relentlessly fighting each other, recognizing the apparent futility of it all. Nicole hugs one of the most nefarious of the enemies during the brief exchange. All is well for now, but there is no guarantee that the warring factions won't become restless again.
We part from the company and head back to treat our wounded.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Bangarang!
I never thought I'd be happy to be back in a big city, but Bangalore is treating us very well. Upon arrival I was really excited to see lots of people exercising and a lot of trees. At 8 million people it's quite busy, but something about this place makes me happy. Perhaps it's because I've been able to go running and climbing.
It's very modern so I'm not experiencing the same feeling of environment shock, but culturally it still seems quite diverse. Our hotel managers share lots of stories with us, both about the travelers they meet as well as the social climate of India. It strikes me that the next best thing to traveling is simply running a hotel or hostel. Meeting new people is one of the best parts of traveling, after all, but a problem with this model is that you only meet the people who can afford to leave their countries. I may represent the US when I travel abroad, but even I signify such a narrow part of American culture.
Our hotel is more like an apartment complex with both short term guests such as ourselves and long term guests like students who are here for the term. The brothers Syed and Shakir take us under their wings and not only help us with our daily logistical needs, but they are keen on sharing stories and viewpoints and getting to know their guests.
I spend a lot of my time in the common room playing my newly acquired mandolin (which Shakir practically hunted down for me when I couldn't find a single shop carrying any). It's a somewhat cheap build but it doesn't sound too shabby even if it's difficult to play. My fat hands seem to wrap around the neck in a clumsy, less compact fashion. It makes me miss my guitar a bit, but after I while I've started to get more comfortable with getting around its itty bitty fretboard. It's hard to say if it'll be worth carrying the bulk as I travel, but I couldn't stop thinking about playing for the last month.
We parted ways with Varun on Sunday evening which felt incredibly strange, and his absence still hangs over us. We were essentially roommates for one month, but we shared so much in a short amount of time. Wandering the streets of Mumbai during Holi I got to see his adventurous side come out. His wit was always sharp and we were often laughing at some ludicrous private joke, and now we've had our own adventures to solidify what I think is a pretty special friendship. I may not see Varun for some time, but I imagine it won't take long to pick up again when we're all state-side in a few years.
This compression of feelings and memories really caught me off guard, and as we were making goodbyes I didn't really have the words to say "Holy shit man, we went to India and kicked so much ass together." I extended my hand to shake his and he moved in for the hug. Nicole and I carressed our brown stallion and extended our arms longingly as we walked towards the metro. We were quiet for a long time. We walked home from the city center and indulged in reminiscence of our month here with Varun.
The next few days are low key. Nicole and I agree that we're ready for a new city, so until then we're committing time to reading, writing, and chilling (and shoveling more mangoes into our mouth-holes). I made some nice friends while climbing at the indoor gym here, and Janet was kind enough to let me invite myself along for some early morning slacklining with her friend Thimayya. I haven't necessarily been as into slacking as I once was (since the golden days of Santa Barbara when I had dropped out of college), but social incentives reign supreme. I spend more time asking questions than moving, but I enjoy our witty banter and watching the sunlight permeate the treeline at Cubbon park (after finding its way through the smog layer, of course).
Given my pretty limited scope of meeting people here, it appears that women in Bangalore have more autonomy and social freedom. I imagine there is familial pressure behind the scenes and expectations I'm unaware of, but it seems much more liberal here. I see more women out and about, exercising or driving, which didn't seem as prevalent in Delhi or Mumbai. Janet came across as very assertive and driven. She was even pretty nonchalant about going to work in shorts (something I couldn't even do at my old office). Maybe she's just fearless of judgment, but I hope this is representative of more youths here. Another young girl we met, Sonali, quickly expressed her views on marriage and other expectations she disagreed with. I imagine it's a bit easier to open up to foreign strangers, but nonetheless I sensed a conviction in her to break rules as needed. It's possible these are just generational differences, but I take it as a good sign. I suppose it's not only a matter of expressing those freedoms, but making sure everyone supports that equality.
It's very modern so I'm not experiencing the same feeling of environment shock, but culturally it still seems quite diverse. Our hotel managers share lots of stories with us, both about the travelers they meet as well as the social climate of India. It strikes me that the next best thing to traveling is simply running a hotel or hostel. Meeting new people is one of the best parts of traveling, after all, but a problem with this model is that you only meet the people who can afford to leave their countries. I may represent the US when I travel abroad, but even I signify such a narrow part of American culture.
Our hotel is more like an apartment complex with both short term guests such as ourselves and long term guests like students who are here for the term. The brothers Syed and Shakir take us under their wings and not only help us with our daily logistical needs, but they are keen on sharing stories and viewpoints and getting to know their guests.
I spend a lot of my time in the common room playing my newly acquired mandolin (which Shakir practically hunted down for me when I couldn't find a single shop carrying any). It's a somewhat cheap build but it doesn't sound too shabby even if it's difficult to play. My fat hands seem to wrap around the neck in a clumsy, less compact fashion. It makes me miss my guitar a bit, but after I while I've started to get more comfortable with getting around its itty bitty fretboard. It's hard to say if it'll be worth carrying the bulk as I travel, but I couldn't stop thinking about playing for the last month.
We parted ways with Varun on Sunday evening which felt incredibly strange, and his absence still hangs over us. We were essentially roommates for one month, but we shared so much in a short amount of time. Wandering the streets of Mumbai during Holi I got to see his adventurous side come out. His wit was always sharp and we were often laughing at some ludicrous private joke, and now we've had our own adventures to solidify what I think is a pretty special friendship. I may not see Varun for some time, but I imagine it won't take long to pick up again when we're all state-side in a few years.
This compression of feelings and memories really caught me off guard, and as we were making goodbyes I didn't really have the words to say "Holy shit man, we went to India and kicked so much ass together." I extended my hand to shake his and he moved in for the hug. Nicole and I carressed our brown stallion and extended our arms longingly as we walked towards the metro. We were quiet for a long time. We walked home from the city center and indulged in reminiscence of our month here with Varun.
The next few days are low key. Nicole and I agree that we're ready for a new city, so until then we're committing time to reading, writing, and chilling (and shoveling more mangoes into our mouth-holes). I made some nice friends while climbing at the indoor gym here, and Janet was kind enough to let me invite myself along for some early morning slacklining with her friend Thimayya. I haven't necessarily been as into slacking as I once was (since the golden days of Santa Barbara when I had dropped out of college), but social incentives reign supreme. I spend more time asking questions than moving, but I enjoy our witty banter and watching the sunlight permeate the treeline at Cubbon park (after finding its way through the smog layer, of course).
Given my pretty limited scope of meeting people here, it appears that women in Bangalore have more autonomy and social freedom. I imagine there is familial pressure behind the scenes and expectations I'm unaware of, but it seems much more liberal here. I see more women out and about, exercising or driving, which didn't seem as prevalent in Delhi or Mumbai. Janet came across as very assertive and driven. She was even pretty nonchalant about going to work in shorts (something I couldn't even do at my old office). Maybe she's just fearless of judgment, but I hope this is representative of more youths here. Another young girl we met, Sonali, quickly expressed her views on marriage and other expectations she disagreed with. I imagine it's a bit easier to open up to foreign strangers, but nonetheless I sensed a conviction in her to break rules as needed. It's possible these are just generational differences, but I take it as a good sign. I suppose it's not only a matter of expressing those freedoms, but making sure everyone supports that equality.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Thank you, come again!
Hanging out in cozy Bangalore, I find that too much time has gone by to fully dive into my recent memories. So many thoughts are lost, but that's par for the course. I certainly imposed high expectations on myself in terms of documenting this trip, but admittedly I'm feeling a sense of diminishing return. Naturally being immersed in a new place makes it quite difficult to divorce your thoughts from the environment, but after some time I find it easier to sink into my own mind and float there for a while. I've enjoyed all the stimulation, but now seems to be a time for rest and taking care of my brain. I'll run through a few of our stops and see if anything pops up again.
After Munnar, we spent a night in yet another tiger reserve. Fortunately this one was far more remote, meaning fewer people and a bit more freedom. The lush greenery of tea plants for days gave way to dry forests, waiting for the impending monsoon season to give some color back to the landscape. Well that's a silly projection. Forests don't wait for anything. As we drive along I fantasize about climbing every mountain I see.
Jagadeesh has been a fantastic companion, and he finally partakes in a lot of the outings with us for the last stop on our mini tour. Our endlessly inane and childish sense of humor (which I love) doesn't seem to cross the language barrier, but a discussion on marriage allows us to relate a bit more. It's rare to see Jagadeesh smile, but we exchange a few laughs when he asks us about our opinions and preferences. He tells us that he is committing a sin by not wanting to have any more children after his 4 year old daughter, but his logic regarding overpopulation trumps religious doctrine. He says that this is not a grave sin, but I imagine he might experience some social backlash from deviating from the norm. Although it could simply be a generational transition as these larger issues seem to have a more immediate impact on society. Who knows what sorts of ideals that are progressive and revolutionary now will become irrelevant or even maladaptive in the future. (I've ended the previous sentence with a period because who really wants an answer when they ask something rhetorically?)
After a short time in Parambikulam, we head to Pallakad and stay with Varun's uncle for three nights. Upon our arrival we are stuffed with amazing meals prepared by Dharana's wife Vasinthi. They are very welcoming but it borders on uncomfortable as I start to feel like an encumbrance on their daily routine. Vasinthi prepares almost all of our meals and constantly offers refreshments. It seems rude to decline, and as much as I love the food I am starting to feel like the kid who drinks the blueberry soda in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.
Even so, I can't contain my glee around mealtimes. After those three days of having my inner glut drowning in pleasure, Vasinthi still said that she wasn't sure if we even enjoyed the food. Evidently I wasn't drooling or moaning with delight emphatically enough, but I did my best to reassure her that we've been pampered to the extreme and will part ways with some very fond memories. As enormous as their kindness was, I still think I'd be happy pulling my own (now alarmingly enormous) weight around the house.
But I suppose I treat my guests in a similar fashion. Food is a comfort and treating people to the good stuff builds some sort of rapport. When I have people over my concern for their enjoyment is heightened. I make sure to ask them about their tastes and try to find a suitable beer for them. I'll make an epic smoothie or try to find some other treats to bring out. In those moments we seem to really care about the impression of our home life, extending that comfort by accommodating to different preferences. But in these times I think of my mother and how she is so restrictive of own diet but infinitely giving to others. I sense that Vasinthi gets that same vicarious pleasure out of it, but I wonder why she felt like it wasn't good enough. This troubles me, but I don't know how to insist on doing the dishes or reciprocating in some small way. Sometimes going into somebody else's kitchen can violate their space, especially if they have a specific way of doing things. I feel like the most I can do as a vagabond is accept sparingly and try to express my gratitude as best as possible.
More moans of pleasure, perhaps.
After Munnar, we spent a night in yet another tiger reserve. Fortunately this one was far more remote, meaning fewer people and a bit more freedom. The lush greenery of tea plants for days gave way to dry forests, waiting for the impending monsoon season to give some color back to the landscape. Well that's a silly projection. Forests don't wait for anything. As we drive along I fantasize about climbing every mountain I see.
Jagadeesh has been a fantastic companion, and he finally partakes in a lot of the outings with us for the last stop on our mini tour. Our endlessly inane and childish sense of humor (which I love) doesn't seem to cross the language barrier, but a discussion on marriage allows us to relate a bit more. It's rare to see Jagadeesh smile, but we exchange a few laughs when he asks us about our opinions and preferences. He tells us that he is committing a sin by not wanting to have any more children after his 4 year old daughter, but his logic regarding overpopulation trumps religious doctrine. He says that this is not a grave sin, but I imagine he might experience some social backlash from deviating from the norm. Although it could simply be a generational transition as these larger issues seem to have a more immediate impact on society. Who knows what sorts of ideals that are progressive and revolutionary now will become irrelevant or even maladaptive in the future. (I've ended the previous sentence with a period because who really wants an answer when they ask something rhetorically?)
After a short time in Parambikulam, we head to Pallakad and stay with Varun's uncle for three nights. Upon our arrival we are stuffed with amazing meals prepared by Dharana's wife Vasinthi. They are very welcoming but it borders on uncomfortable as I start to feel like an encumbrance on their daily routine. Vasinthi prepares almost all of our meals and constantly offers refreshments. It seems rude to decline, and as much as I love the food I am starting to feel like the kid who drinks the blueberry soda in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.
Even so, I can't contain my glee around mealtimes. After those three days of having my inner glut drowning in pleasure, Vasinthi still said that she wasn't sure if we even enjoyed the food. Evidently I wasn't drooling or moaning with delight emphatically enough, but I did my best to reassure her that we've been pampered to the extreme and will part ways with some very fond memories. As enormous as their kindness was, I still think I'd be happy pulling my own (now alarmingly enormous) weight around the house.
But I suppose I treat my guests in a similar fashion. Food is a comfort and treating people to the good stuff builds some sort of rapport. When I have people over my concern for their enjoyment is heightened. I make sure to ask them about their tastes and try to find a suitable beer for them. I'll make an epic smoothie or try to find some other treats to bring out. In those moments we seem to really care about the impression of our home life, extending that comfort by accommodating to different preferences. But in these times I think of my mother and how she is so restrictive of own diet but infinitely giving to others. I sense that Vasinthi gets that same vicarious pleasure out of it, but I wonder why she felt like it wasn't good enough. This troubles me, but I don't know how to insist on doing the dishes or reciprocating in some small way. Sometimes going into somebody else's kitchen can violate their space, especially if they have a specific way of doing things. I feel like the most I can do as a vagabond is accept sparingly and try to express my gratitude as best as possible.
More moans of pleasure, perhaps.
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