Paging Peter from New York! And, tales from the road

Jaisalmer - Jodhpur - Udaipur

May 30

After the camel safari, I didn't write anything for a whole day because I was so irritated by the whole experience. The particulars are now irrelevant, but I will say that, for the amount of money I spent that evening, I could have started saving towards purchasing my own camel. However, the camel ride itself was nice, and watching the sun set on the Sam Sand Dunes was beautiful.

Speaking of camel purchases:  My camel driver, upon finding out that I am from New York, launched into a soliloquy about the last guest he had from New York – a fellow named Peter. Peter enjoyed his camel ride so much that he decided he would like to purchase a camel, and asked the young man to arrange the sale. So, Peter from New York, you jackass, you have a teenaged boy in Sam, India, waiting desperately to hear from you regarding this exchange! He probably stands to make considerable money off the commission, and actually took you seriously, you ignorant blowhard – he’s tried to call you several times but hasn’t been able to get through. He spoke about it almost non-stop the whole ride.

Afterwards, I was taken to something that amounted to Medieval Times Rajasthan. Traditional music played and girls in richly decorated dresses twirled around a circular dirt stage while the audience was served snacks and beverages. Afterwards, we went into a dining hall and had a meal of traditional Rajasthani food. All told, the evening ended up costing me nearly $50, which may not sound like much but is a freaking FORTUNE in India, where a typical dinner at a nice restaurant costs around $5 (including beverages). To put it in perspective, my driver earns around $80 a month.  It wasn't as much the money that vexed me; it was the fact that I wasn't given a choice.

Ahem. Moving on. The next day we headed off through the desert to Jodhpur, the "Blue City". When we first arrived, I was bitterly disappointed to discover there was not even a single blue building in sight. It wasn't until I headed to Mehrangarh Fort, which is perched on top of the mountain range that overlooks the city, that I realized I was wrong. From a distance, many (and in some places, most) of the building are blue. It's quite beautiful.

Yesterday evening, I went to dinner at the house of a local family. I assumed, rather cynically, that it had been pre-arranged by the tour service and that I would be expected to pony up some Rupees at the conclusion. I was somewhat humbled when, at the conclusion of the dinner (which was delicious home-cooked food, served on the patio of a modest but tidy house), the family merely thanked me for coming and waved goodbye.

This morning, I met BK at around 9:30 and we headed for Udaipur, the "city of lakes". Or maybe it's the "city on the lake". I'll figure it out tomorrow. The drive here was very cool, probably the coolest yet. We traveled through small villages and towns, stopping twice at interesting temples (one Hindu and one Jain; the Jain temple was incredible) and passing through an animal sanctuary (where we saw monkeys!).  The coolest part was the scenery, though. The landscape seemed to change every hour of the nine hour journey. We started out in the desert and then climbed some mountains, which turned into rolling hills, which turned into farmland, which turned back into mountains. The day went by very quickly.

Tomorrow I'm going to tour Udaipur - check out the City Palace and apparently, go for a boat ride. Should be interesting; so far, if anything, India has proven to be anything but boring.

Into the Desert - Hotter, not harder

Jaisalmer Day 3/4

May 28

Yesterday, I awoke at 4:30 AM on the train to Jaisalmer. We had stopped at Jodhpur and when the woman in the bunk below mine vacated her seat, I seized the opportunity to climb down and enjoy her window. We rolled out of Jodhpur and into the desert to Jaisalmer.

It was quite remarkable, the desert in the early morning. It was the direct antithesis of everything Delhi. It was serene and quiet. There were no garbage heaps lining the train tracks, only miles of endless desert, pocked with scrubby brush and sparse grasses.

By the time we arrived in Jaisalmer at 11 AM, the searing desert heat was beginning to overwhelm the train's puttering air conditioning. I put my palm to the train window and felt the warmth pulsing through. In Delhi, people kept telling me with a smile, "Rajasthan much harder than Delhi!" It wasn't until then that I realized I had misunderstood them. They were saying hotter, not harder. Hotter than 115 F?

When I got out of the train, I realized they weren't exaggerating. It must have been close to, if not actually, 120 F.  As I pushed through the crowd (I'm getting the hang on this India-style crowd surging), I was relieved to see my driver holding a sign with my name on it. It wasn't going to be another fiasco like Delhi.

He is a cheerful fellow who goes by the name BK. He informed me he will be accompanying me until I meet up with my fellow students in Jaipur. He has since proven to be an excellent driver with a good sense of humor, which is good news because he's my only companion. Last night he took me out to see some very nice Jain temples in the desert, urging me to run though a herd of goats while he snapped a photo with my camera.

Today I toured Jaisalmer fort. It's a majestic, massive structure that rises, golden, out of the desert. It's a beautiful, fascinating place that is still inhabited by some 4,000 people. I had an excellent tour guide, who I was reticent to use at first but am very glad I did. Tonight I head to Sam Sand Dunes for more touristy fun with the desert gypsies.

If India is teaching me anything, it's how much I take for granted living in the States. Right now, at the peak of the desert heat, I'm sitting in my hotel room (too hot to do anything else) with some fans blowing. The AC stopped working this morning because it runs on a generator which needs to juice up before it can turn on again. I hurriedly emailed my mom and lovely boyfriend from an Internet cafe this afternoon, because the hotel (which is a very nice hotel, it's not some hole in the wall!) has no Internet or WiFi. I am glad I have my driver because, as I learned the first day I was in Delhi, going around unaccompanied causes quite a stir. I try to ignore the blatant sexism and just pretend I'm on "Mad Men: India". While the people are warm, hospitable, and cheerful, most of them are so desperately poor, I spend at least a full hour of each day saying "no" to some tout or another (or on days of weakness, I cave). While the surroundings are astonishingly beautiful, when you look down, the streets are still filled with garbage and cow poop. It's a land of extremes, and it's still taking some getting used to.

No Sleep Since Brooklyn

Day 2 - Delhi (May 26 2012)

I'm writing this now from the top bunk of a train bound for Rajasthan. My day in Delhi was highly uneventful. I went to bed last night at 7 PM after a decent dinner at a vegetarian restaurant near my hotel. I woke up at 3 AM and couldn't get back to sleep, so I decided to just wake up and take a nap later. I managed to keep myself occupied until 7 AM. After I had breakfast, I felt my eyelids getting heavy, so I laid down for a "quick nap".

I woke with a start. My room had no outside facing windows, so it was pitch black day or night with the lights off. I turned on the light and fumbled for my watch. I guessed it was about noon, and I was mentally kicking myself because I had things to do - I needed to buy a cell phone and I wanted to find an internet cafe (the internet service at my hotel was nonexistent, except for the first morning when I managed to steal a neighboring place's WiFi for about 5 minutes before I lost the signal). I hoped I had enough time to accomplish both, and maybe some time left over to check out the local market before I had to leave for the train.

When I saw my watch, my jaw dropped. It was 3:30 PM! My car was coming to pick me up at 4! I scrambled to pack my things up in time to meet my taxi. Apparently the 3 days with minimal sleep finally caught up to me.

The train station was only about 3 km from my hotel, but it took about 40 minutes to get there. I am finding this to be par for the course in Delhi. Traffic is horrible.  Also, it's not "traffic" in the way we think of it in the States. Cars, lorries, bicycles, rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, ox-drawn carts, motorbikes and pedestrians all vie for the same strips of unevenly paved road. There are no "lanes" as far as I can tell. Much like the concept of "queuing up" or "standing in line", this seems to not exist here. Everyone just crams themselves and whatever form of transport they have in the same general direction, laying on their horns incessantly. It's loud, smelly, and confusing.

Which is exactly how I found the train station to be! Delhi station is a huge cluster of old cement buildings with dim lighting. Inside, it's filthy, hot and crowded. People push and shove their way through throngs of passengers. I was actually glad the travel agency sent a guide to get me on the right train. Carrying a heavy bag, navigating the snaking passages to the tracks, and trying to hear the track announcements over the din of the crowd on my own would have been difficult, if not impossible.

We got to the right track, and as the guide led me to my seat, some clown stuck out his foot and tripped me, which prompted a wave of giggles behind me. What a dick.

So now I'm here, on the top bunk of an overnight train. I hate the top bunk (no window!  Also, it requires acrobat-like skills to get up and down). I am looking forward to getting to Jasailmer tomorrow. I've only had one real meal since I arrived, which may be contributing to my crankiness and overall lack of humor at the moment. Rajasthan is supposed to be even hotter than Delhi, a fact that my brain cannot even comprehend. My guide told me it was supposed to be about 48C tomorrow (around 120F).  

Temples, Touts, and the High Price of Fame

Delhi, Day 2

When my plane was landing in Delhi, I saw the local fire department outside, playing a game of volleyball. It was 5 AM. "Hm," I thought, "Things seem to be different here."

I had no idea how right I was. One of the first things I realized when I got to India was that I was going to have to forget everything I knew and start from scratch.  Basically, press the reset button on my whole understanding of "how things work".  None of that applies here.

My first day was very long. I got in at about 5:45 AM local time after a 7 hr flight from Helsinki. I had managed to eke out about 2 hours of sleep on the plane, so when I arrived I was  exhausted. Since I left New York two days earlier, I had gotten a total of around 5 hours of sleep. A driver was supposed to meet me at the airport, but when I didn't see him I jumped into a taxi and went to my hotel. Immediately I went to my room and after a quick breakfast of toast and tea, passed out.

About half an hour into my nap, there was a knock at my door. I stumbled for the door, still half asleep, and opened it to find the proprieter of the hotel standing there with a small, mustachioed man. "This is your driver, he wait for you at the airport since 5 AM!" They both stood there, looking at me expectantly. The driver looked so dejected you'd think I had stood him up for prom. He clutched a now hot bottle of water and a neat folder holding my typed itinerary. Still dazed and groggy, I accepted both items, apologizing profusely. I explained that I went to all 6 gates at the airport looking for him, but I was carrying a heavy backpack and was very tired, so I gave up after about 20 minutes. They both nodded and left, giving me disappointed looks. I felt terrible, but sleepiness soon overwhelmed the guilt and I fell back asleep.

I woke up about an hour and a half later and spent the rest of the day sightseeing. I was shocked to learn that the travel agency had booked a driver (same guy! augh!) to take me to all the major sightseeing spots. I am a pretty independent person, so I was a bit chafed at first. I was all set to do the sightseeing by myself - I had even mapped out my routes on the metro before I learned about the car.

In the end, I was very grateful for the car for three reasons:  One, Delhi is huge. It's probably the largest, most sprawling city I've ever seen. Trying to navigate the metro would have been a nightmare. Two, it's hot here. Really, really hot. Yesterday was around 47 C (which is about 115 F). Walking around is exhausting. After five minutes in this heat, even my sweat is sweating.

Three, it turns out that a white woman traveling by herself in India is a Pretty Big Deal. All day long, everywhere I went, I got the full celebrity treatment. Long stares (one guy even rolled down his car window to stick his head out for a better look), random people touching me (nothing pervy, usually just on the shoulder), and hoardes of school children waving and yelling "Hi! Hello!". I had experienced a bit of that in Vietnam, so I wasn't too fazed. I just smiled back at people and took photos with them when they asked (which they did, a lot).

The only time it was actually a problem was at Jama Masjid, India's largest Muslim mosque. It's a breathtakingly beautiful structure in the middle of Old Delhi that can hold up to 25,000 worshippers at once. I made sure to follow all the rules - I removed my shoes and made sure my head was covered with a scarf. I wandered around in awe, snapping photos and trying to take it all in. A young man approached me and asked me to take a photo. I obliged, and his friend snapped our photo. Then it was his friend's turn. Okay, sure. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by young men, eager to get a photo on their cell phone with the White Lady. I took a few more photos and then beat a hasty retreat back to my rickshaw. That was the only time it was a little unnerving.

This country isn't a place that is easy to describe. It's one of extremes - extreme beauty, extreme hospitality, but also extreme poverty and extreme need. The need is something I will struggle to get used to; the endless touts (my driver took me to no less than FOUR "special shopping for you!" pit stops yesterday) and feeling like everyone is definitely trying to scam you (but being really nice about it!) can wear on a person.

Tomorrow I have a "free day" before I board a night train to Jaisalmer. I will try to purchase a cell phone and practice my woeful haggling skills. I have a feeling being a keen haggler will come in handy.

Day 1: Finland - Yeah, no, it IS the destination...

24 May - Helsinki

I'm sitting in the Helsinki airport now, wondering what the hell I was thinking when I booked a flight that had a 12 hour layover.  I actually know what I was thinking - "Oh! That will give me enough time to check out Finland for a bit!" Bad move, Past Meg! Bad move! The crucial element that I overlooked when I pressed "complete purchase" was the time factor. I just got off a red eye from New York. I haven't slept in almost 24 hours. I don't really feel up for sightseeing just now.

Scandinavia has its own unique charms, though.  I look forward to checking out the city on my way back from India. I imagine it will be a bit like Iceland with neat, low buildings and shockingly tidy streets. The airport is very similar to Reykjavik - all clean lines and wood with exposed metal ceilings. It looks just like an Ikea store.

At 7:30 local time tonight (about 12:30 PM NY time), I will board my second flight, which will take me to Delhi. Just the other day, my lovely boyfriend and I had a conversation about antipodes, or polar opposites. I can't help but think about that now, as I sit in the carefully climate-controlled, extremely clean and orderly Scandinavian airport.  In a matter of hours, I will be in Scandinavia's antipode - chaotic, hot, and (this is just a guess but I don't think it's that big of a stretch) dirty Delhi.

By the time I actually arrive, I will undoubtedly be roadkill and ready to fall into the nearest bed I can find.  Whoever said "It's the journey, not the destination" was definitely not referring to a 36 hour haul across the planet. It's a special kind of eye-watering, slowed-thinking, bone weariness. At the end of it, you're ready to sell non-essential organs for a shower and a bed. And on that note, there's a cheerful lounge chair across the way that is calling my name. It's the closest thing I'll see to a bed until tomorrow. :)

Lessons I Didn't Learn: Prologue

A deep sigh emanated from the other end of the telephone receiver.  "Someone be right up," a voice said after a pause.  

Click.  

I looked down at the lifeless receiver I was clutching in my hand with resigned dismay.  I let it slide back into the cradle and turned my gaze out the window.  It was a beautiful day in the South Bronx.  Fluffy clouds speckled a perfect blue sky that hung over a collage of brown and gray rooftops.  Somewhere a couple blocks away, a car alarm sang faintly, insistently.  I heard - felt, rather - the bass from a passing car.  I tried very hard - very consciously - to absorb whatever peace this tableau offered for a brief moment.  Outside, all was quiet.

I took a deep breath and turned my attention back to my reality:  My classroom, inside which the sky was falling.  The inmates had taken over the asylum.  Or, to be more accurate, the kindergartners had taken over.

"Someone be right up."  

On the feeble strength of that promise (broken in the past many times over), I gathered what was left of my strength and sanity and made one final attempt at restoring order. 

I gazed around the room, dully assessing the situation.  Chairs were overturned, crayons were strewn haphazardly around, and children were running amok.  I absently ducked a marker whizzing by my ear as I tried to prioritize:  Do I first break up the fight, or pluck the dancing kid from the top of the table?  As these thoughts went through my mind, I was already in motion, gently swooping the dancer from the table, placing him on the floor with a chastising look as I raced toward the fight.

"Someone be right up."

I felt the ping of a crayon hitting me in the back as a tiny student ran past me, giggling devilishly in the midst of a lap around the classroom.  I managed to break up the fight with minimal resistance (I was bigger than the 5 year olds - a nice change of pace) but it still smacked of breaking up a gladiatorial match in the coliseum.  Spectators booed, opponents cursed each other (and their opponent's mother) as they were physically dragged from each other.  They were unharmed, but their 5-year-old natures surfaced once they were apart.  Crying for mommies ensued.  

"Kayden," I said with as much gentleness as possible to one of the brawlers, "why were you guys fighting?"

"He -- he -- he -- he said," he gasped between sobs, "-- he said I was -- said I was a dummyyyyyyyyyyy!!"  The remembrance renewed his uncontrollable sobbing.

A dummy?  Most five-year-olds would have tattled.  They would have found their teacher, and tattled their little brains out.  The matter have been treated gravely by the Adult in Charge, and everyone would now be making Play-Dough spaghetti together.  This was the South Bronx, though.  These five-year-olds threw down.

I looked up from Kayden and saw that the dancer was back on the table for a reprise, the sprinter was still going strong, and - - "YOU!"  I spotted the crayon sniper, perched on a counter, whipping crayons and markers at unsuspecting targets.  She was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

I sighed, ruffled Kayden's hair, and secure in the knowledge that both fighters were now separate, and enveloped in groups of concerned peers counseling them ("don't cry, he's a dum-dum!"), headed towards the sniper.  She was nearest at the moment.

. . . . . . .

It took five adults to subdue the kindergartners that day.  Five grown adults - myself, the principal, the literacy coach, a nearby teacher on her planning period, and eventually, their classroom teacher, plucked from her lunch break.  All of them cast accusatory looks at me.  All of them wanted to know what happened here.  All of them wanted to know I lost control to such an incredible degree.

I was asking the same question myself.  

. . . . . . .

Our culture is filled with inspiring teacher stories ("Lean on Me", "Mr. Holland's Opus", "Stand and Deliver", "Dangerous Minds", "Half Nelson", I could go on, but I won't).  They usually involve some noble soul striding in from a hazy prior life to inspire students to greatness - beyond greatness, even.  We wipe away tears hearing these stories, moved past the point of admiration.  It fills us to the brim, these huge stories of selflessness and determination in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.  Tales of regular people reaching so far past themselves in the pursuit of making other people better, of making kids matter - kids who otherwise wouldn't.  Matter, that is.

This is not that story.  This is not a heartwarming story of overcoming odds and breaking through boundaries.  This is the opposite of those stories.  This is a story of my attempt to be like those other stories and my subsequent miserable, utter failure.  This is not a tale for the feint of heart.  This is a story about losing - losing hope, losing faith, nearly losing sanity.  And also, it's a story about poop.  And dead pigeons.  And stolen cars.  

Thank you, Kidney Infection!

I have been sequestered at home for the past two days with a kidney infection. It's been pretty bad - today I felt a real sense of accomplishment that I was able to put on pants when the delivery guy rang the bell. It's rendered me pretty much incapacitated (walking huuuurts), so I've had lots of time to cruise the internet and get caught up on a lot of link-clicking I'd generally have to skip. And I have to say, OMG! People I know are totally awesome and doing awesome shit that makes me feel sort of lame for being so lazy and not living up to my potential!

Should you find yourself bedridden by a kidney infection (or bad sushi) or just have some free time and want an awesome way to entertain yourself, please, check out my awesome friends and acquaintances (in no particular order):

1) I went to high school with Mandi. My memory is, in general, pretty vague and unreliable but I think we had yearbook together at one point and had a pretty fun time. Anyway, Mandi is now poised to become a hugely famous and successful author. I can't wait to name drop. Please check out her blog, and shortly, her book, The Crantz Chronicles.

2) I work with Lauren. She moved to NYC from Alabama and is just a doll. She's so sweet and, as it turns out, way talented! She collaborated on this wicked catchy tune with a friend of hers (whose music I am really digging).

3) My boyfriend left on Monday for Russia (which, admittedly, has made the past two days suck that much more). He's acting with his company, Studio Six, in a major international theater festival. NYC representing in Moscow! Take a look, feel proud to be an American, have flashbacks of "Rocky IV"!

4) My other co-worker/pal, Jen, just did a review for a graphic novel that made me want to read more graphic novels.

Also, one of my best friends just finished the first chapter in a book he's been working on for a while now (not yet available for public consumption). He also somehow finds time to do an amazing Song of the Day blog that is always entertaining (email him to sign up, it's awesome!).

Cheers to all the amazing people in my life who inspire me/make me feel like a lazy bastard on a daily basis! xoxo