A billion differences

Both Beijing and Mumbai have about 15-20 million people residing in their city, but the contrasts between the two is best illustrated by simply taking a taxi to/from the airport

Leaving Mumbai, Kate and I catch a cab outside the Taj. The cab is from the late 1950s. The meter is on the outside of the car on the passenger side, which means that everytime you hire a taxi the driver has to slide over, stick his arm out the window, and push the button down on what ammounts to an external odometer. The taxi doesn't have A/C and Mumbai is a ridicuously humid place. There are, of course, no seatbelts and no radios. Drivers compensate for this by singing and driving recklessly. Everytime there is a traffic jam, which is often, the drivers turn off the engine. The road that we drive on does have lanes, but it also has cows, autorickshaws, cyclerickshaws, wheelbarrows, fruit carts, precessions celebrating Ganesh, and people bedding down for the night. No joke! The freeway overpasses have people sleeping on them, not under them, ON THEM! The backseat is relatively comfortable, but that is because it doubles as a bedroom for the cabbie. This makes the backseat have a certain odor called "cab driver feet." The ride to the airport takes 1.5 hours and the driver keeps yelling at us in Hindi despite the fact that we obviously don't understand a word of what he is saying, except "traffic." The honking is incessant. All the cars (plus others) are jockying for postions. Road rules are not followed. If there are 3 lanes, traffic is 5 abreast. Its like NASCAR at very slow speeds. Child beggars bang on the windows. The ride terminates and the cab drivers always try and tell you that the ride costs more money than it does. Since the meters are as old as the cars, every cab driver is required to carry a chart that converts what the meter says into what the cost is in rupees. When you ask the driver "how much?" he always says a number higher than the actual, which then requires you to demand to see the conversion table. The driver then "searches" for the chart. He doesn't produce the chart until you lean back in the seat making it obvious that you are not paying until you see the chart. He then "finds" the chart. You look at the chart and inform the driver of the real price. He smiles and without looking at the chart himself says, "okay."

In Beijing, I exit the airport and join the orderly que for taxis. I enter a taxi from the 21st century. The man flips the meter (which is inside the car) and a computerized voice welcomes me to the taxi. The taxi is clean, it has A/C, power windows, airbags, a radio, and seatbelts. I don't wear mine out of principle. The cab driver doesn't speak much English, but he doesn't expect that I speak Mandarin which leads to a fabulous, quiet ride, in airt conditioned comfort. He drives on a freeway that contains only cars. We get to go fast and by "fast" I mean normal speeds. The lanes are marked and the cars stay within the lanes. No one use4s their horn the entire 45 minute drive. The driver is even wearing white gloves. We arrive at the hotel and I pay the farevisible on the meter and then it prints me a reciept.

I will reserve final judgement on this debate until I take a taxi in Shanghai. After all, maybe Beijing has cleaned up its act for the olympics.

Communism

I don't really understand communism. I mean China is supposed to be communist but there are more shopping malls per square kilometre than any capitalist country I have ever been to. The big difference is that I can't read my own blog. China has banned it!! I can post to it and I can rearrange page elements but I can't actually view my blog. Just think of the revolution if 1. 034 billion Chinese could read myassisflying.blogspot.com

The Taj Palace

WARNING: This article discusses pooping and all things associated with it. If you are faint of heart, don't read on.

For the better part of a week, Kate and I having been staying at a pretty shitty hotel. It's called Maria Lodge and it is essentially 3 floors of a decrepit building. It has a wall A/C unit and costs us only $15 dollars a night, but it has a few drawbacks.

There is no toilet in the room. We have a squat toilet at the end of the hallway that we share with the occupants of the other 12 rooms on this floor plus the manager and his mentally challenged helper. However, each of the other rooms contain 4 Indian men sharing a double bed. Not only does the bathroom smell like what you imagine a squat toilet that 52 people are using would smell like, but the hallway smells as well. It smells like really disgusting smelling feet. You exit our room at the opposite end of the hallway and are immediately struck by the muggy heat that accumulates in the corridor. Then the smell hits you. It is 50m to the bathroom and you try and hold your breath. Of course, then you have to enter the toilet of horribleness. Eventually you have to breathe and you will regret this. For those of you who don't know, squat toilets don't have running water, there is no way to flush. You go to the bathroom in a hole and when you are finished you fill a bucket up from a separate tap and pour that down the hole. This usually doesn't make the poop go anywhere except to float on top of the hole. You are supposed to use your left hand and the bucket of water to wash your bottom, but that just doesn't work if you are use to using toilet paper. Kate and I carry baby wipes with us. The problem being is that there is no where to dispose of these once they have been used. You can't put them down the hole because they will just clog it up. There is no rubbish bin, not that it would matter if there was because India doesn't believe in rubbish collection. So it goes out the window and lands on the roof of the building next door. That's right, for a week Kate and I have been going to the bathroom and then throwing the loo paper out the window. The first time you do this it feels sooooo wrong. After that, it makes you giggle every time! If you only have to pee, you could walk down the Hallway of Stinky Feet or you could just pee in the shower in our room. Guess which one Kate and I did. I don't think that will be a difficult guess. So besides the bathroom issues, the room leaves a lot to be desired. The door doesn't lock from the inside. Kate and I decide to put the shower bucket (nicknamed the security bucket) in front of the door. That way we will hear if anyone tries to enter the room. This would be excellent logic except we are taking sleeping pills at night. I had a whole conversation with Kate the other night and I don't remember a damn bit of it. The other downside of this hotel is the proprietor. He sleeps in the hallway. He sleeps naked. When he does get up, he only feels the need to wear a towel. This is not pretty (see picture at right). The hallway is also where the proprietor cooks his meals on a kerosene stove. The hallway is the only fire exit as all of the windows have bars on them. After a week of this, Kate and I decide that we should treat ourselves to a night at the Taj Mahal Palace. We get up early and pack our backpacks and head to the Taj. The lady at reception tells us they have no rooms, that they are "fully booked." Kate and I don't believe this because the night before we had looked this up on the internet and they had plenty of rooms. We leave very disgruntled. We then call the Taj and surprise, surprise they have plenty of room. We book a room over the phone and then we turn up to the Taj to check in and complain. The lady at the front desk remembers us and upgrades us to a room in the palace wing. Nice try, sweetheart, but we are still taking to the manager. Kate does all the talking. The manager is so very sorry that we were treated this way. So what if we smelled like we had been bathing in the feet of 50 Indian men and looked that we were homeless. We are white and we have credit cards and that alone should get us entry to the Taj. Our room at the Taj has a TV with English language channels, a indoor bathroom, continuous A/C, a clean shower, real cloth towels, sheets, toliet paper that can go IN the toilet, and other such luxuries that we have not had in 2 months. When we arrive back at our luxiourous room, there is a complimentary bottle of wine with a note of apologies. Kate and I drink it with no hesitation. We spend the next day hanging out at the pool and using the spa before we have to catch a plane. I heart the Taj!

bollywood is a bitch

Kate and I signed up to be extras in a Bollywood movie. It was to include free drink and food all day, last from 6 am to 6 pm, involve us getting our hair and make-up done, and pay 500 rps. The night before we go down to Leopold's cafe to grab a drink. We run into the crew of Delta pilots (Todd, Allan, and Bob + some British guy???) that Kate had met 2 nights ago and join them at their table. One drink leads to 2, 2 drinks lead to 3, and well, we all know how that goes. It's now 1 am and Leopold's is closing. We go back to Steven Todd's room at the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel. Yes, Delta pays to have their pilots stay at the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel, a 5-star deluxe hotel and arguably the best hotel in India. Someone brings out the Red Bull and vodka, then the Taj brings us by free champagne, because that is what a group of loud obnoxious Americans need, more alcohol. We have an interesting discussion (read argument) about natural selection of mating partners. The next thing you know Kate's watch alarm goes off signalling that it is 5:30 am and time to awaken for Bollywood. We look at each other in utter disbelief. We grab our stuff and run (literally run) out the front door of the Taj, along the boardwalk, back to our hotel. We lay down for a couple of minutes until at 6:30 we get awaken by a man wearing only a towel. (He is the proprietor of our ridiculously cheap hotel and he always walk around in just a towel. Lovely! see next article) He tells us that the bus has experienced a flat tire but will be here in 5 minutes. We stumble out the door and down the stairs. We get on an old school bus with about 16 other white kids on it. We then ride in the heat (about 45 C/111F), ridiculously hung over, for an hour to get to the set. The set is located next to the place where fish are laid out to dry. The place stinks of dead, rotting fish. This does not help our nausea. Kate gets her costume (read weird yellow shirt) and we get "breakfast". Breakfast consists of spicy grits and a boiled egg. A bolied egg that comes from a cardbpard box. The cardboard box is filled with boiled eggs that are already peeled. THe guy reaches in with his bare hands and puts a boiled egg on your plate. I am so hungry/hung over that I eat mine. Then we sit, in the heat, in front of a fan, which a group of disgusting smelling Isralei men keep standing directly in front of, so not only does everyone sitting there not get the air flow from the fan, but the air that does get to us smells like man ass sweat. Then we sit for longer. Kate and I decide to bail. We head out of the complex, some director man asks us where we are going, we lie and say to the bathroom. We get to the front gate the security guard is very helpful he tells us we will have to take a local bus to the train station and then either take a taxi or train back to Colaba. So we sit in his chairs waiting for the bus and we sit for longer. The guard is starting to chat us up. Kate is not helping me. She is reading her newspaper as I struggle to come up with a reason that we can't meet the security guard for drinks tomorrow. We are way out in the middle of nowhere and have no idea how to get back so we need this man to tell us which bus to catch. I can't just tell him to get lost and hope he still wants to be nice. We spend 10 minutes discussing where we should meet as I pretend not to know any sort of landmark in Mumbai. Finally, we are saved by the bus! The bus takes 45 minutes and it does not make us feel less nauseous. We get to some train station way outside of town and I hail down the first cab we see. This turns out to be the slowest cab in all of Mumbai. Usually taking a cab in India means travelling at ridiculously high speeds while weaving in and out of traffic, this man did none of these things the one time we really wanted to be somewhere in a hurry. He stops for gas, he gets passed on the freeway by autorickshaws. They literally are powered by lawn mower engines. It took over an hour to get back and it is painfully hot.

Our reward once we did return was to call Steven Todd and sit by the Taj pool for the rest of the afternoon. Steven Todd took such good care of us, I highly recommend him to anyone. He ordered us a pizza and had it sent to his room. Then he lets us eat it on his bed while watching a movie in his air conditioned room. He lets us EAT ON HIS BED. I don't know about you, but I give Kate dirty looks when she eats on our bed and she is even paying for half of it. What if we had horrible manners, what if we wiped our greasy hands on his fabulously expensive sheets. I couldn't believe it and it was absolute heaven!! He then lets us take a shower, use his laptop, and have a nap. I think he finally wakes us up at 9 pm to see if we want dinner and we head back to our crap hotel where we pass out for the next 12 hours. The moral of the story being if you ever have a hangover find the Steven Todd nearest you. It's the best!

Practicing Imperalism

Yesterday I spent all day practicing my best imperialistic attitude. I went to the Shiv Neivas hotel (about $325 a night) and paid $7.50 to use their pool. I had the glorious, clean, white marble pool all to myself. It even came with a waiter who stood behind me the whole time, THE WHOLE TIME, just in case I needed anything. He wouldn’t even let me move my lounge chair. Nothing makes you feel more hegemonic than directing a waiter dressed in an all white 3 piece suit, in 45C heat, on where to position your sunbed while wearing a bikini. This kind of power does have its downside though . . .I burned my bottom.

This morning I went horseback riding through rural Udaipur. It was good fun and all the children shout and wave at you. Apparently, all the area we were in used to house tigers and leopards which is why a hunting palace was built by the king here. However, now it just looks like south Texas scrub brush. Supposedly there are still leopards there, but I didn’t see any. Probably a good thing because I don’t think I could have controlled my horse if it saw a leopard.

I am off to Mumbai tonight. Hopefully you will next see me as an extra (and when I say “extra” I mean star) in a Bollywood movie.

Octopussey

I have left the city of burning bodies and am now in a place called Udaipur, after a quick stop over at the Taj Mahal. The Taj Mahal was very pretty, but kind of makes you wonder why someone would waste all the time, energy, and money on a palace that nobody can live in.

Anyway, Udaipur is most famous for being the location where the James Bond film "Octopussey" was filmed. It has a lake in the middle with these 2 gorgeous palaces, except right now the lake is not very full so you can actually walk to the palace. It is a very romantic city (at night, when you can't see all the trash). Last night, I sat on a rooftop courtyard and watched "octopussey" while I ate my dinner. It was the first Bond film I had seen staring Roger Moore. I must say it was quite a good movie except the DVD quality was bad so it kept pausing. This was a bit annoying, but not really much you can do about it. Today I went on a tour of another palace. It was a dizzying place and I can't imagine living there. You could see out the window a spot you wanted to get to, but then you had to take this maze of narrow staircases up and then down and around the corner only to come out at a different place. It would have been impossible to find someone else living in the house without a cell phone or a homing pigeon. Tonight I went on a "boat ride" out to another palace that was absolutely breathtaking. There had been a wedding there the day before and tourist could not go to the island. I don't even want to know how much it would cost to rent out this place (secretly: I totally want to know). It is a shame I can't post the pics (too large). This is all pretty tame compared to the other night. . .
The day started out by taking a local bus from Pushkar to Ajmer, which is about a 30 minute ride. Of course, this was in the hottest time of the day about 45 C (113 F) and the bus seats 36 but there are 50 people on it including a man dressed like a monkey (complete with tail) eating a banana. I then take an autorickshaw (motorcycle with cab attached) to the train station and take a train from Amjer to Udaipur. This takes about 6.5 hours. I then take another autorickshaw to a hotel and drop off my stuff. It is now 9:30 pm. I leave my hotel in search of dinner. I find a rooftop restaurant and order dinner. In the meantime, I meet an aussie, a french woman, and a german man. we all end up having dinner. it is then decided that we should go back to their hotel and play texas hold em poker. Not for money, we just play for matches. Little did we know how competitive we all were, over MATCHES. We played for four hours, until just me and the aussie were left with our matches. At this time it is 3 am, I tell them all good night and I go to leave the hotel. Only problem is that I can't get out of the hotel. The doors are all shut. I am in the bottom floor of the hotel looking for someone who works there when the biggest rats I have ever seen come out of hiding. (Note: I say hotel, but it is really like a small apartment building. In the bottom floor is where they store all the construction materials and motorcycles during the night.) I can't find anyone so I head back upstairs and tell the others. We then go and search for the best room in the hotel. (Note: In Indian hotels you have to supply your own lock so all of the rooms are open.) We find a lovely room with A/C which is nicer than anything that I have stayed in during my travels. I slept in beautiful comfort for a couple of hours until the others had to catch their train and then I simply snuck out the front door and waked the 50 m to my own (not as nice) hotel.
This has given me an idea of how to make India even cheaper. I will simply befriend other travelers, go to their hotel, "accidentally" get locked in, and then stay in nice free rooms. I wonder if they will be suspicious if I am carrying my luggage. . .

Ganges Cremations

Just came back from watching cremations at the edge of the Ganges river. It was really interesting to witness. Firstly, there is no emotion shown at these funerals. Women are not allowed to attend as they are too emotional. The body is carried through the narrow streets on stretchers followed by their male friends and relatives. They take it down to the ghat where there are about 10 fires burning all the time. They burn about 200 hundred bodies a day at this particular ghat. You can stipulate which type of wood should be used on the fire and the cost varies accordingly. The body is placed on a stack of wood and it is up to the son of the deceased to set the fire. It takes about 3 hours for it to burn until the point where they lift the rest of the corpse into the Ganges river. The lower caste people are burned in public while there are special places for those of higher caste, politicians, and military officers.
It is an odd ritual to watch since it is so public, but not emotional. The shroud covering the body burns off quickly so it is obvious what you are viewing fairly early in the process. The ash falling from the air and onto your hair and clothes is that from dead human bodies, but it doesn't really evoke any emotional response. Of course, it is not PC to take pictures so none of you have to worry that I am going to show you the process.
Tomorrow morning I am going on a boat ride to see the morning cremations.

A note on the Ganges river. The MOST polluted river in the world. The Ganges has 1.5 million faecal bacterium per 100 mL. Water that is considered safe for SWIMMING has 500 bacterium per 100 mL. Indians not only swim, bathe, and do their laundry in the river, but they also drink it and worship it. It has Kate and I scared to brush our teeth or shower. I look down and think, "Is the water running into the drain brown because I am dirty or is it brown because. . ."

This is not a fun thought.

Other than that. I love India! It is crazy crowded and super dirty, but it has a charm. Maybe it is the reminder to be grateful for where I was born or maybe it is the will of so many people who physically struggle just to survive a single day, but for whatever reason it is an inspiring place and you can get pants tailor made for $5. I got 3 pairs! I may get more tomorrow or maybe shirts. . .

Welcome to India!

Kate and I left yesterday to go from Pokhara to India. The man said it would take 6 hours, it took 8 to get to the border with India. It could have taken 4 hours except we were apparently on the scenic bus with seats that not only didn't recline, but actually made you sit at a slightly forward angle for EIGHT hours. Not so scenic when you have to stare down at your feet. We get to the border at about 3:30 pm and go through Nepali customs and then India customs and then get ready to take a shared jeep to the train hub in India. The man says that the ride will take 2 hours, the ride takes 5.5 hours. We pile in a jeep type vehicle with 1 Canadian girl, 5 Israeli guys, and 5 locals. This means that everyone is actually slightly sitting on someone else's lap. Kate is sitting up front with two locals who are sharing the drivers seat and the Canadian girl sharing the passenger seat with Kate. The drive starts off bad and never gets any better. First off, we have to keep stopping so that the locals can get out of the drivers side and shift into the proper gear. Since he is shifting into his friend's crotch, he keeps stalling the car. Then one of them gets out of the car and gets it back into first gear and then the driver hops in again. This happens at least 4 times. Then bags start falling off the roof of the jeep. So we have to stop and adjust the rope. This happens at least twice. Then we have to stop at a bunch of check points. The co-driver has to get out of the car 400 m away from the check post and walk to the gate and talk to the police for at least 20 minutes. This happens at least 4 times. Everytime we stop the israleli's want to be let out of the trunk of the car. They have nominated me as the guardian of this task. I am not happy with my assigned job. Mainly because every time we stop and they get out it takes another 5 minutes to get everyone back into the car. It is not easy to pack a clown car. 3 hours in to the 2 hour journey, we are finally getting somewhere. Then the driver decides that it is time for chai. He pulls over the car. All hell breaks loose! We all start yelling that we are not going to pay if he stops for chai. Kate is vigorously giving the horn a workout. The Israeli's are yelling as much as we are. They want to catch a 9 pm train and it is already 7:30 pm. The driver collects the co-driver and we are about to start moving on without chai when we realize we have a flat tire. The Israeli's start trying to flag down another vehicle. I check for the spare. The spare is merely for decoration as it is the BALDEST tire I have ever seen. At this point mutiny breaks out. A couple of us get on top of the car and start undoing the tie downs for the luggage. The Israeli's start negotiating a new price for the rest of the ride with the new vehicle. Then the real hassle begins. The 3 guys in our car who appear to have an interest in the taxi service start getting aggressive that they want 70 rps for the ride they have given us. We estimate that we have gone less than half way on a 100 rp journey. The men start to man handle everyone and trying to forcibly put their luggage back on taxi 1. A shoving match breaks out between the Israeli's and the taxi men, the Israeli's have just finished their 3 years compulsory military service, the Israeli's lose. Everyone is yelling. People are staring at us. Cars stop on the road to watch the spectacle.

The 2nd taxi driver and the 1st taxi driver have an earnest discussion. They decide that the 2nd taxi driver will drive into town and buy a tire and drive it back. In the meantime, we all have a coke and discuss our failed mutiny. After an hour, the 2nd taxi driver returns with a tire. The tire is fixed and the luggage is reattached to the 1st taxi. We all pile back into the clown car and the driver announces he needs 50 rps from someone as the emergency fee. We all refuse to pay. He doesn't have enough money to pay the 2nd taxi driver for repairing the tire. (just a little side note: 50 rupees is about $1.25 USD. It is seriously cheap to have a tire fixed in India). Now the 1st taxi driver and the 2nd taxi driver get into an almost physical yelling match. After 2 minutes, it is decided the 1st driver will pay the 2nd driver down the road. Now we are finally getting on the way. The rest of the drive is filled with animals who have been hit by cars. Goats, limping dogs, and cows with holes in them. It isn't pretty but we finally make it to Gorkhapur at 10:30 pm. Kate and I find a hotel room and book our train tickets to Varanasi for the next morning. Mosquitoes also find our hotel room as well. A lot of mosquitoes find our hotel room. I don't get much sleep. Kate sleeps like a baby while the mozzies silently feed on her flesh. Speaking of flesh. . .

The man says the train takes 6 hours, the train takes 9 hours. It is long and hot. Very hot. 100F in the shade hot. We are starving. We have eaten both of our snickers. We finally make it to Varanasi at 3:30 pm and get to our hotel. Varanasi is the holiest Hindu city in India. It is where many people come to die, believing if they are cremated in the Ganges river they will be free of the rebirth and death cycle. You can watch cremations, public cremations. We are not doing that tomorrow morning however as we need one day to recuperate from all the traveling. Never-the-less I am VERY excited about this.

5416 meters!

After 17 days, Kate and I have finally returned from the Annapurna circuit. It was 300 km (180 mile) round trip through the highest mountain range in the world. At times it was grueling and resembled the news pictures of Afghanistan more than anything else, but the mountains are just majestic. The food was the traditional rice and lentils with the daily Snickers to boast our morale. The showers weren't warm and we had to do our laundry every other day by hand. It takes forever!!!! I have a new found love of the washing machine. At higher elevations, all my socks froze so I stopped doing laundry at all until we got over the pass and came back down. At the pass, the mountains on either side of us were 7500 meters tall, not that you spend much time looking when you are trying so hard to get up the hill. Some people were suffering from altitude sickness and actually rode yaks over the pass. We made a lot of friends on the way with the kind of camaraderie that not bathing for long periods of time brings. We are now in Pokhara relaxing, feasting, and getting our clothes laundered. Kate ate about 3 pizzas last night. It is kind of scary how much food she can fit in her stomach. We should head out to India in the next couple of days, but you never know. . . for now, it is simply off to breakfast.