Rewind: Breaking Out and Re-Entering

Summary: In the spirit of tradition, my family and I took our annual holiday trip. The destination this year was Korea and Taiwan; not too much to report because it was, in short, a smooth trip that was more about the experience than the sights.

Recently (a month ago) came back from a trip to Korea and Taiwan with the family. There was some concern about my return to Lucknow, but all has been sorted out, and I’m glad to be back.

Some quick thoughts and reactions about the trip (plenty more where these came from):

Overall

• Surprisingly not as much culture shock as one might imagine, though I did miss the sight of cows and the sounds of honking Ambassadors. I did not cherish “fitting in” as much as I thought I would, though that could be because I was with family. The impact of “fitting in” is something you recognize only when you no longer do.
• Language makes a place feel either very foreign or very comfortable. Given all the possible ways we can communicate, we do seem to over-rely on verbal language.
• Meeting up in a foreign place without any ability to contact one another can be a fun adventure! (I still think about everything that could’ve gone wrong but didn’t.)

Korea (Seoul)

• Streets were pristine, even sans trash cans.
• Very limited English-speaking ability by the general public; reminded me of some of my initial frustrations in Lucknow. All in all, however, people were very friendly and tried to help. One guy who gave us directions came back to us a minute after he walked off to correct the information he originally provided.
• Females were very fashionable and wore short skirts and leggings even though it was snowing!
  DMZ (De-Militarized Zone, border between North and South Korea) is surprisingly touristy. Also, apparently there were 4 (of an estimated 20) tunnels found, dug by the North for a surprise attack into Seoul. They discovered one of the tunnels by sticking PVC pipes filled with water in the hills; pressure from explosions during tunnel-digging would cause the water to fly out. I thought this to be exceptionally simple and ingenious.
• Restaurants tend to specialize in one item or “type” of food (similar to what one might encounter in Lucknow’s Chowk), unlike the all-encompassing menus to meet the demands of modern society (e.g., Royal Cafe's Indo-Chinental menu).

Taiwan (Taipei, Kaohsiung)

• I saw some similarities with Indian food that I never noticed before, such as paan, paratha, chiki, and chai.
• There was one time we asked for directions to the nearby metro station and the guy offered to give us a lift. We took it – it was a strange, heartwarming encounter.
• People kept pinpointing us as Hong Kong-ese (based on our Mandarin accents), not just Chinese. Such a refined distinction felt strange, though I guess being “Chinese” is a touchy subject out there.
• New Year celebration at Taipei 101 was surprisingly “clean,” and very well-organized. A free concert with some great stars was involved, and people were sober and just having a good (not “crazy”) time. Much calmer than expected. Getting home was a bit difficult, as they set up some serious crowd-control measures (e.g., restricting entrance to subway stations to ensure the safety of folks ‘down under’).

All in all, it was a good, low-key trip. Makes me think about the “East Asian” (or, more generally, “Asian”) categorization – while it is a Western construct, it’s somewhat appropriate as there were noticeable cultural similarities (perhaps a product of historical invasions and colonization). At the same time, there are also major differences between the cultures, and the distinct national personas get lost in the grouping.

I usually self-identify as Chinese (when the American element is recognized and understood); should I instead be responding with “Asian” or “East Asian” until further questioning, or perhaps jumping to “Hong Kong-ese” before broadening to “Chinese” when people ask where Hong Kong is?

Rewind: A Rajasthani Reunion

Summary: There’s nothing like meeting up with old friends and making new ones. It doesn’t matter what you do (or don’t do) together; I found that during Jackie and Jeremy’s recent trip to India.

Imagine the warzone also known as the Jaipur train station. People running into each other from all directions. Unidentifiable sounds, each louder than the next. And, amidst the chaos and mayhem, a weary, dirt-ridden videshi survivor emerges, oblivious to everything around her. Her few hairs are frazzled. She wears two packs – one on the front and one on the back – to shield her body from foreign contact. Her head emerges like a turtle’s, eyes barely able to see over the front pack.

Upon seeing her, one doesn’t know whether to pity her, to help her, or to hug her. Jackie, in her characteristic inability to decide, settles for all three, and I take it. And so the adventure begins.

We spend the rest of the day in the van, taking a 3-hour detour to visit a village Mayank works with before reaching his ancestral home. (Check out the organization he founded, Greenlight Planet, competitor to Stanford alumni's D.light for providing a safe, affordable alternative to kerosene lamps.) Village visits always make me happy, because folks are so warm and friendly. They invited us to stay the night, which I found to be a tempting offer given the prospect of the nighttime village-road driving that lay ahead.

We finally reach the haveli at night. To give you a sense of the history and character of this place, the haveli has been passed down through Mayank’s family for 8 or 9 generations. None of his family lives in the house anymore, but a ‘skeleton staff’ maintains it and the properties nearby. After an amazing traditional Rajasthani meal, we set about exploring the different levels of the house, finally settling on the second floor by a fire, gazing at the stars.

Back in the day, Mayank’s family basically ran the village; one can think of them as feudal lords. As such, they set up a trust to help those in need. The trust has since manifested in social services such as a health clinic, a school, and a computer training center. Originally planning to leave by 11 am, we finally hit the road at 2 pm, after a tour of the village and the family properties. (Indian time.)

Enter Mandawa Palace. I don’t know how so many people find things “off the beaten path,” but to my knowledge, this place was at least a 4-hour drive from the nearest city, and it was flooded by European tourists. Tourists sun bathing by the pool, unnecessarily showing way too much skin.

By the time we reached Jaipur at night, we were all wiped, testy, and nauseated. My proudest achievement of the trip was the next 40 hours – Jackie, Jeremy, and I didn’t leave the hotel at all. In fact, we only left the room four times, for food. (We considered room service, but thought that might be a little excessive.) Recovery is hard work – not only were we recovering from the car rides, but also from sleep deprivation, weak immune systems, and Delhi Bellies. In retrospect, I wish I’d bugged the room, because it was one great conversation!

In my mind, our trip ended there, because everything else is a blur. In fact, those 40 hours themselves were a blur, and I’m no longer sure it happened. Perhaps it was all a dream, a dream from which I awoke with a smile.

Happy New Year!

Nava saal mubarak ho! Wishing you all the best in this new year.

A lot has happened in the past few weeks, and it’ll take awhile for me to catch up on blogging about everything. In the meantime, you can follow some of the adventure via pictures here.

Also, as an update, the clock is ticking on my time in Lucknow.

My Calcutta Shaadi (Marriage)

Summary: Having recently attended a friend’s wedding in Calcutta, I now have a greater understanding of Indian weddings. While the execution tends to differ by region, the specific couple, and the couple’s families, the consistent theme still seems to be food.

I made a bold claim in my last post – namely, that I was starting to understand this wedding business. What I really meant was I was starting to understand how weddings in Lucknow work. I just returned from a trip to Calcutta where I partook in festivities for a friend’s Gujarati wedding, and it was a bit different. For example:

• The sangeet was not ladies only, and consisted of organized performances and choreographed dances by both the bride’s and groom’s party. (Attendees were also from both parties.)
  
• The baraat (procession) occurred in the afternoon, and was followed immediately by the wedding ceremony, which includes exchanging garlands, pooja, and walking around a fire seven times.
  
• The bride and groom stood and smiled for pictures during the reception, greeting and interacting with the guests (versus looking somber and acting passively while everyone else moved around them).
  
• Through all of this, the bride and groom had physical contact (e.g., they performed a dance number together).

Part of this might be because the bride and groom had known each other previously, so this wasn’t a completely arranged marriage in the traditional sense.

Goodness there are a lot of functions for an Indian wedding! I attended probably only half of them, but that was still four different functions. The first night was the sangeet, which included choreographed dances. The second night was another dinner, and the third day was the marriage function, followed by the reception after a costume change (or, as my friend calls it, a “recovery period”).

Since we were from the groom’s side, we participated in the baraat (music and dance procession) in the streets. Our friend the groom sat in a chariot in the back with a few others (I believe one is his brother-in-law) while we helped him celebrate this glorious day by dancing our way to the venue.

When we reached the venue, the bride emerged, wearing a beautiful sari and who knows how many pounds of gold on her. She was covered in one thing or another (bangles, mahendi, makeup, gold, etc.) from head to toe; oh, she looked stunning. They exchanged garlands (each had to shy away the first time or two, before allowing him/herself to be “caught”), and, after a few rituals, the bride retreated to change saris. At that point, the bride’s ‘mother’ steps in for some fun; her task is to pinch the groom’s nose. (I’d explain further, but I myself don’t understand.)

The rest of the ceremony involved other ritual and pooja, etc. We (my friends from America and I) were given front row seats, as our hosts kicked out others to make sure we were sitting close to the events and comfortably. (Oh, it was an awkward situation!) Food (appetizers) was of course served to us, and plenty of pictures were taken of us.

Mind you, not a minute during this entire ceremony was there silence. Little attention was paid to the bride and groom; most of the hustle and bustle was about food and discussions among guests. It’s as if the bride and groom were doing their thing “on stage” just in case you wanted to watch.

This was, of course, followed by food, after which we left to prepare ourselves for the reception (read: more food) to follow a few hours later. The reception essentially involved a quick interaction and picture with the bride and groom on stage, and food.

The theme of the wedding was: food.

It’s strange. At American weddings, the attention is all on the bride and groom. In this case, the bride and groom seemed peripheral to the events; it was as if they were part of a force bigger than each of them, and they had no choice but to comply to what was requested of them. It really is a celebration not of the couple, but of the families and their friends. The bride and groom just happened to be the casualties of this union.

Another Side of Agra and Delhi

Summary: Xi and I played tourist for the weekend in Agra and Delhi; though I had been to both cities previously, we explored places I had never seen before, all of which were absolutely delightful and pleasantly surprising.

This past weekend, my friend Xi and I played tourist in Agra and Delhi. As I had been to both places before, Xi was gracious enough to adjust her program to places I hadn’t yet seen. Some highlights from the trip:

Agra Cantonment Police Station: Our first destination was the Taj Mahal, and we caught an autorickshaw from the Agra Cantonment Train Station. A policeman hops into the front even before we pull out of the parking lot; I initially assume he’s just catching a free ride, but a heated argument between him and the driver hints otherwise. The bits of conversation I catch (“I picked her up from the Agra Fort station,” and “She speaks some Hindi”) aren’t enough to help me understand the nature of the dispute. We slowly turn out of the train station into a small road, and into a police station courtyard. The driver stops the autorickshaw, gets out, and continues arguing with what has now become three policemen. Only after one of the policemen confirms the autowallah’s story with us do they let us go, with smiles on their faces. Turns out they thought the driver was ripping us off, and were asking for baksheesh (a bribe) of 200 Rs., not knowing we were only paying 50 Rs. for the ride. Yet another example of justice gone wrong.

Fatehpur Sikri: A former capital during Mughal emperor Akbar’s reign in the late 16th century, before the capital was moved to Lahore. A mere 26 miles from the mayhem of Agra, Fatehpur Sikir is quite a gem. It’s not only a nice escape from the crowds and touts in Agra, but the walled palace complex itself is rather well-maintained and quite astonishing. The palace itself was in better condition than Delhi’s Red Fort, and the nearby masjid was larger and more breathtaking than the more popular Jama Masjid (also in Delhi).


The Apartment (at the Singapore High Commission): See previous post.

Imperial Hotel, Delhi: We stopped here in the morning to pick up one of Xi’s new acquaintance-friends. Easily the nicest hotel I have ever seen, the Imperial feels like an estate; I almost expected a stable in the back. The interior was beautiful, stunning, spacious, classy, and elegant. Think Titanic meets Pride and Prejudice.

Jama Masjid Minaret, Delhi: Never in my previous visits have I climbed the minaret at Jama Masjid; this time, we were lucky enough to have a male accompany us (females are not allowed up without a male). The spiral staircase to the top was extremely narrow; each time we encountered someone heading down, bags had to be dropped and both parties had to flatten against the wall. The top wasn’t any more spacious (of the 5’-radius circle, only 60% was ground one can stand on), but it provided a nice view of the expansive metropolitan city that is Delhi.

Akshardham, Delhi: An exquisite new Hindu temple complex completed in 2005, carved from red sandstone. As we walked through the complex, stripped of all our non-monetary belongings, we mused about the Disneyland / theme park ambience and debated whether or not the fact that the temple is only five years old detracts from the significance of the intricately carved figures.

All in all, it was a great weekend with good company, interesting conversation, and new experiences.

It also made me realize just how little of Lucknow I’ve actually explored.

The Country Bumpkin Meets the High Life

Summary: Sometimes, you don’t realize what you’ve got until it’s gone. Other times, you don’t realize what you’ve missed until you get it back.

The past eight months in the heart of the cow belt has turned me into a country bumpkin; this past weekend, I finally saw myself for what I’ve become.

Xi, a friend from Monitor, was recently sent to Mumbai for a project, and we arranged for a fun-filled weekend in Agra and Delhi. She has a friend working for the Singapore High Commission in Delhi, who was nice enough to let us both stay with him. Preliminary email exchanges foreshadowed what was to come – there was talk about his two spare bedrooms, playing pool and foosball in his apartment, and cars and drivers. Reading those emails in our humble office, I found myself feeling a little uncomfortable, and it wasn’t (entirely) because I was sitting on a plastic patio chair.

Delhi itself felt deceptively new for the country bumpkin. The train station, NZM, had a 24-hour Vegas-like café with music next door. There were still many lights and cars (and people!) out and about at 10:30 pm. It was like being in a dream; everything I used to know but no longer remembered.

Then there was the Apartment. When I first stepped into said Apartment at 11:32 pm on Saturday, October 10, 2009, I felt like I entered a parallel universe. Seventeen seconds later, I took my first breath in this foreign place, and commenced the exploration process. There were many things that “first” caught my eye – the spaciousness, the cleanliness, the pool table, the big-screen LCD television, the cleanliness, the couch, the brightness, the white walls, the shiny floor, and, did I mention the cleanliness? (He is from Singapore, after all.) Now, unless you’ve actually experienced life here in Lucknow, it’s hard for me to explain exactly why I was so struck by each and every one of those items listed.

After almost an hour of jaw-dropping awe, I made it into the bathroom to take a much-needed shower. As some background information, I’m lucky enough to have a shower at home, though poor water pressure sometimes forces me to surrender to the buckets. In order to maximize enjoyment from the shower, however, I have to time it very precisely, given that I rely on the sun to heat my water.

So I step into his shower underneath the raindrop shower head, and I turn the hot water on. The water starts falling on me, and washes away any remaining sanity left on me. I laugh. Not just any laugh, but the guttural laugh of a madwoman who has lost her last screw. And I can’t stop laughing. The more the water falls, the harder I laugh.

I finally pause long enough to see the shower settings (because yes, there were settings), and, like any good explorer, I test them all. There’s the stylish removable showerhead spray, the lateral jacuzzi-massage jet spray, and the regular spigot. I tried them all, in every possible combination.

As I stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom onto the tile floor, I finally remembered what it feels like to be clean. To feel like I am at home.

On the Road: Nainital

Summary: A short, relatively uneventful weekend trip to Nainital, a nearby hill station, gave me a taste of a “local’s vacation.”

Many festivals and holidays occur in the months of September and October, and I decided to take advantage of one of the rare two-day weekends at the office.

After much wavering, a last-minute decision was made to visit Nainital, a small, colonial “hill station” built around a lake. A recommended escape into an admittedly over-commercialized version of nature, Nainital is a family vacation hotpot amongst locals.

Given that the images of Nepal burned into my mind are still so fresh they’re hot to the touch, I didn’t have very high expectations of this place; this proved wise, as Nainital neither impressed nor disappointed. Nainital felt like a fusion of Lake Tahoe and Pokhara, but unfortunately less beautiful and stunning than both.

One of the first things my friend and I did was trek up to the Eco Cave Park, which is a group of six natural caves open for exploration, with only a few directional signs and even fewer safety precautions. Tempted as I may be, I can’t in good conscience call this experience “spelunking.” On the other hand, as I squirmed through small openings and climbed over muddy, slippery boulders, I couldn’t help but to think that a place like this would be a law suit waiting to happen in the U.S. But such was not the case in India; instead, couples and families freely explored the dimly lit and mildly dangerous caves, accepting the risk as part of the 15 Rs. entry fee.

While I can’t say much about the naturalistic scene of Nainital, I will talk about the culinary experience, as the rest of our day, aside from the hour on the lake in a peddle boat, was spent hopping between food joints. Now, I’m going to go out on a limb and claim that Nainital has the best momos my recalibrated palate has ever tasted. (If you ever find yourself in Nainital, find Sonum’s Fast Food in the Tibetan Market.) This small town managed to harbor quite a few gems, including (real) feta cheese, fro-yo (i.e., frozen yogurt, or soft serve), and…persimmons! Granted, the fro-yo was disappointing at best, but the persimmons were heavenly.

Our second (and last) day was spent with a group of three foreigners, after a chance encounter left us all walking up together to Snow View, which is, on a clear day, supposed to have great mountain views. We were not so lucky, and ended up being the view ourselves. Back in town, however, we managed to catch a bit of the Dussehra festivities.

All in all, Nainital wouldn’t rank particularly high on my list of recommended places to visit in India (perhaps on par with Lucknow), but I can see why it would be overrun by families on vacation. When I have a family, maybe we’ll go to Lake Tahoe and I’ll tell them about how it reminds me of a small town I once visited in India called Nainital.

The Hidden Utopia Between India and China

Summary: My recent trip trekking to the Annapurna Base Camp in Nepal was not without surprises or setbacks, but it was the perfect vacation at the perfect time. Pictures are available here.

The word Nepal conjures up fond memories of breathtaking mountains, stunning scenery, beautiful and friendly locals, numerous and fun tourists, and good food.




Things that mercifully escape the forefront of my memory include:

1. Unrelenting cloudy skies peppered with rain, wind, and cold.
2. Leeches, leeches, and more leeches.
3. Steep stone steps. Lots of them.
4. An unnecessarily heavy pack (~10 kg), especially when compared with that of my guide.
5. Having diarrhea the first 6-7 days of the 12-day trek, resulting in too many meals of daal soup and rice.
6. The day we walked 5.5 hours just to end up 2.5 hours from where we started, due to relentless rain, which created swollen and dangerous river-waterfalls. The next morning, we put on our cold, wet clothes and trekked 7.5 hours in suboptimal (cold, windy, and wet) weather to make up for lost time.
7. A 7-hour bus ride from Pokhara to Kathmandu which ended up taking 14 hours due to a landslide.
8. A “postponed” (i.e. cancelled) flight back home discovered at the last minute, and the resulting panic. Don’t worry, I ultimately got an extra day in Kathmandu (hotel and relevant food eaten at the hotel paid for).
9. Potholes on the runway, causing flight delays and slight, amusing fear of missing my overnight train back home from Delhi to Lucknow.

In spite of all this, my three-week trip to Nepal turned out to be the perfect vacation, a well-timed and much-needed break from Lucknow. (See pictures from the trip here.)

To give you a sense of how much I’d lost it by the time I left, I found myself standing in the perfume section in Delhi airport’s duty-free shop, bursting out in uncontrollable laughter. (How long it had been since I smelled such “fresh,” wonderful smells!) This almost maniacal laugher resurfaced when I looked out the window of the plane and saw the lush, seemingly endless green hills of Kathmandu Valley.

Though this purely joyful first impression largely remains with me, it has since been deepened by a greater understanding of the cultural complexities of Nepal. True to its geographical position, Nepal feels like something that’s four parts Indian and one part Chinese: underdeveloped, divided, hierarchical, and poor, but rich in history, culture, joy, and love.

In my 12-day trek to and from the Annapurna Base Camp, I was consistently struck by the stunning natural beauty juxtaposed with tremendous poverty. On the trails, I was frequently passed by locals carrying unbelievable loads, sometimes barefoot. One afternoon, while relaxing at the lodge, I witnessed three men make three separate trips up and down the mountain in the course of an hour, each time carrying what must’ve been 50+ pounds of wet sand on their foreheads.


Such sights conjured up a mix of often incongruous feelings, including embarrassment, gratefulness, awe, sadness, helplessness, admiration, destiny, injustice, privilege, guilt, weakness, and strength.

However, one feeling that never surfaced was pity. In the place of pity stood admiration and respect: admiration of their persistence in the face of seemingly insurmountable life obstacles and their ability to find joy amidst everyday hardships, and respect for their pride and strength.

These people might not be able to teach me about the Pythagorean Theorem or the String Theory, but I’m sure they can teach me a thing or two about what’s important in life.

“The India Confusion”

I find India impossible to explain or describe to someone who has never been or experienced it. Apparently I am not alone, as I stumbled upon this article, which seems to put in words some of the things I’ve seen and experienced but couldn’t explain. (Read the full article here.) In the meantime, here are some excerpts:

Background: “It is a unique, overlapping, and entangled landscape - one living within the other. India is one part stuck in history. You, as a tourist, are going there to experience this living past. The other part is the modern India that facilitates you as a traveler. India’s past collides with her present in the middle of the road. You witness this never-ending and mind-boggling fusion of contradictions.”

First Impressions: “Your welcome to India is not a friendly one. The first thing you notice is the people. I mean lots of people. People moving in all directions. You have to deal with the worst of India head-on, and it’s really raw. Be it the beggars, the touts, the poor children, or the local taxi drivers, you have to deal with all of them minutes after your arrival.”

Culture: “There is no Indian culture! … And you fail miserably if you are on a mission to find "real" Indian culture. India is not a monolithic cultural block. It’s an anthology of a thousand countries within a country.”

Class: “There is nothing like the contrast between the poor in villages and the rich in the cities. The extreme rich and the unimaginably poor live almost side-by-side in any Indian city. … All share, more or less, the same public landscape. The cultural co-existence of these classes is an unexplainable miracle.”

Family: “Parents play highly influential role in their children’s lives. … A family is more of a collective consulting body where everyones opinion matters. … The family is the elementary building block of the Indian society.”

Communication: “Any layman on the road wants to say something to you. Indian love to talk, and do so even with a total stranger on the street. Such communication hardly starts with introductions by name. … They talk for hours as if they are long time friends, and may depart without knowing each other’s names.”

Advice: “The most valuable currency you need to enjoy India in total is patience. She never allows you to run faster than her nor she is bothered about your hurry. The India elephant moves at her own pace, stopping here and there at its own wish, enjoying every bit of it’s journey. Follow it’s procession in style... it is the best way to enjoy India.”

India is like nothing else I’ve ever seen; at the same time, traveling elsewhere has prepared me for India. It’s the kind of place you have to experience firsthand to understand, but the initiation process definitely not for everyone. But if you can tolerate, accept, and embrace it for what it is, you’ll want to keep searching for more.

A Family Affair: Delhi, Jaipur, Agra, and Lucknow in 10 Days (Part III)

Summary: Agra and Lucknow were relatively uneventful. Taj Mahal was, of course, incredible, and Lucknow was, well, Lucknow.

Day 7, Agra: Taj Mahal, Agra Fort, rest, Sadar Bazaar (Panchhi Petha), dinner at Park Restaurant. We spent a few hours at the Taj Mahal complex (sneaking in a nap on the actual Taj structure), basking in all its splendor. Migrate over to Agra Fort, where we see not one, but two Chinese tours (Taiwan and Hong Kong)! We return to the hotel mid-day and make the most of our late checkout. Visit Sadar Bazaar to buy Panchi Petha (as I promised my landlord’s son), and an early dinner. Return to the hotel, kill 2 hours vegetating in front of the TV in the hotel lobby, and catch our overnight train to Lucknow.

Day 8, Lucknow: Visits to Sahara School and Mavaiya, lunch at Royal Café, Janpath Market, Saharaganj (the mall), dinner at Elizabeth’s. My parents got to see the office and how DSH works in a school setting! My plan for them in Lucknow was mostly a culinary one, and Royal Café never fails. (I lucked out; because they were “touristed out” by this point, claiming they’ve already seen the best of India with the Taj, the parentals decided to forego Bara Imambara and the Residency.) To retreat into AC after lunch, we head to Saharaganj, the ever-popular air-conditioned mall nearby. They search for “Indian” clothes to buy, and both score in Big Bazaar (the Walmart of India). And no trip to Lucknow would be complete without a taste of Deepmala’s cooking (our diet).

Day 9, Lucknow: Lunch at Tundey Kebab, Aminibad, Barista (café), dinner at Urvashi’s. Thanks to a 4-hour power outage and the heat in the dead of night, my parents and I sleep in. I take them to Tundey Kebab, a famous, hole-in-the-wall establishment in Aminibad to taste the Lucknow mutton kebab. After doing some focused shopping in Aminibad, we retreat back into AC at Barista, where we meet Elizabeth before heading to Urvashi’s for dinner. Over dinner, Urvashi not only gives us the quintessential linguistic Hindi lesson, but also shares personal stories about the dangers and perils of India.

Day 10, Lucknow: House visits, lunch at McDonald’s, airport. My parents’ visit comes with formalities and expectations. (We are, after all, in India.) I meant for them to visit both my current and former landlords, but there just wasn’t enough time. My parents decided skipping the former landlords was a minor offence compared to not meeting the current ones, so we spent our morning upstairs. My plans for a nice farewell lunch were ruined because the taxi showed up an hour late, and we ended up at McDonald’s (fast and safe!). (Luckily, my parents have, by this point, learned the meaning of “Indian time.”) I send them off, but not before a final layer of bureaucracy at the airport (“No, visitors can’t enter check-in.”).

Throughout the trip, my parents couldn’t stop talking about how India reminded them of Hong Kong / China in the olden days. And the fact that they ate more Indian food those past 10 days than they’ve eaten in their entire lives.

A Family Affair: Delhi, Jaipur, Agra, and Lucknow in 10 Days (Part II)

Summary: My parents get the “real” India experience, where nothing goes as planned yet there’s always another way. As I always say, no trip in India is complete without a train fiasco.

This day deserves its own entry. Sorry, mom and pop, for a wasted day and a miserable 6 hours.

Day 6, Jaipur: The day of heck. I had planned for us to take an AC deluxe bus to Agra (again, new experiences), reaching Agra by mid-afternoon. Murphy’s Law, or a series of unfortunate events, took over.

Unfortunately, there was no AC bus leaving for Agra at our identified time.

Fortunately, there was a non-AC bus. Fine, we’ll roll with the punches.

Unfortunately, the bus moves a foot, before driver turns off the engine and steps off. Passengers gradually follow suit. I have no idea what’s going on; the few words communicated to us are in Hindi.

Fortunately, I find someone (Puru) who can explain the situation to me in English.

Unfortunately, he tells me the bus is cancelled, because the road to Agra is closed due to violence, a byproduct of the recent elections (déjà vu!).

Fortunately, he also needs to get to Agra and finds out there’s a train leaving in 3 hours.

Unfortunately, it’s hard to buy tickets on such short notice. Either General Seating (everyone I know cringes at the thought) or Tatkal (expensive, and also probably not available).

Fortunately, there’s usually a tourist quota for Tatkal tickets, making it a somewhat feasible option.

Unfortunately, nothing, not even Tatkal, is available. The train is completely overbooked.

Fortunately, I’m able to buy waitlisted tickets, with numbers 430, 431, and 432.

Unfortunately, the seats are in sleeper (non-AC) class, which may be moot since there’s no way we’re getting pulled off the waiting list, and hence we can’t officially board the train.

Fortunately, I visit the tourist office, which confirms that buses started running again an hour after the initial cancellation announcement. We can still catch the next bus.

Unfortunately, we don’t know if the roads will close again, and we might be stranded midway.

Fortunately, I’m still holding onto our waitlisted tickets. This is India, and there’s always another way. We’re still going to board the train, and I’m going to “talk” to the conductor to work things out. Puru will be boarding at the next station (15 minutes away), and he’ll help make the arrangements.

Unfortunately, we still don’t have confirmed seats.

Fortunately, we hop on as soon as we can to try to find seats and space for our luggage. We manage to find a completely open berth (bench) and claim it.

Unfortunately, the actually belongs to another family.

Fortunately, the family doesn’t say anything to us, even though we’ve clearly usurped their seats.

Unfortunately, this means we’re all very cramped, and it’s 120°F outside.

Fortunately, the conductor comes around, checks my ticket, and doesn’t say a thing.

Unfortunately, we have 120°F wind blowing in our faces for the next 6 hours.

Fortunately, we make it to Agra at ~9:30 pm (only 5 hours after planned!) and check into our air-conditioned 5-star hotel (again, thanks to Monitor). Upon checking in, they give us drinks and chocolate! We don’t bother leaving the room to search for food.

My parents somewhat aptly describe the experience as “going from hell to heaven.” When such highs and lows are experienced in succession like this, it really makes you appreciate what you have.

A Family Affair: Delhi, Jaipur, Agra, and Lucknow in 10 Days (Part I)

Summary: My parent’s first 5 days in India were spent in Delhi and Jaipur. We did the normal touristy things, though made a point to chill in air-conditioned venues in the heat of mid-day.

My parents recently decided to visit India “on their way” to Hong Kong. After my experience with Varanasi, having a good time was secondary to not getting sick.

The photostory of our trip can be seen here. In short, the trip was full of juxtapositions, of new experiences. The longer version is as follows:

Day 1, Delhi: Killed time by meandering through the mean streets of Delhi, soaking the non-Lucknow atmosphere. Collected the parentals in the evening with a makeshift airport pickup sign and fake flowers. Night consisted of unpacking the goodies they brought over (it was like the Christmas I never had!) and unwinding.

Day 2, Delhi: Old Delhi, including Red Fort, lunch at Karim’s (amazing!), Jama Masjid, Chandni Chowk, Barista (café) at Connaught Place to cool down, Janpath Market, India Gate, and dinner at Saravana Bhavan (a South Indian restaurant with a branch in NorCal). I’m trying to give them all sorts of experiences here, including what Southern India has to offer.

Day 3, Delhi: World Heritage Sites galore! Qutb Minar, Lotus Temple, Humayun’s Tomb, early dinner at Pindi Restaurant, Paharganj (backpacker’s hideout). Basically we vegetated for a few hours at Qutb Minar, enjoying the grass, the trees, and the breeze. Lotus Temple was closed so we took pictures from outside. Humayun’s Tomb was a glamorous prelude to the Taj Mahal. And, I was able to talk the guy into selling me a local (aka cheaper) ticket, using my broken Hindi (the first of many attempts to come)!

Day 4, Jaipur: Train, City Palace, Hawa Mahal, shopping, dinner at Choki Dhani. The day of luxury. Took the Shatabdi Express to Jaipur (What service! What copious amounts of food!), and vegetated in our 5-star hotel room (courtesy of Starwood points from my stint at Monitor) before finally venturing out into the Pink City, where we were stereotypical tourists, sightseeing, photo-taking, and shopping. Choki Dhani is a recreated Rajasthani village and resort, with a traditional Rajasthani meal and all sorts of fun, festive, cultural, and bizarre performances. It was like going to a middle-school carnival.

Day 5, Jaipur: Breakfast, Amber Fort / Palace, nap, dinner at Handi. Breakfast is worth noting because it was an incredible 5-star hotel buffet breakfast, on the house! (I must’ve eaten half my weight in yogurt, mushrooms, and fruit.) Spent a few hours at Amber Fort, being harassed by guys who learned enough Chinese to sell us things (yi bai kuai), where even my Hindi couldn’t save us (Nahi chahie! Jao! Choro!). We wanted to also see Jaigarh Fort, a 1 km walk from Amber, but different things (i.e., heat) precluded it, so we instead went back to the air-conditioned hotel room with the dangerously comfortable beds and napped. The only thing reason we got ourselves up for dinner was the thought of waking up hungry in the middle of the night (not to mention a lost chance at continuing our culinary adventure).

I pause here, because I need a breather before I try to relive Day 6.

Varanasi II: "The Real Deal"

Summary: On the banks of the Ganges, Varanasi is one of the oldest and holiest cities in India. It’s a photographer’s dream, and unlike anything I have seen before. Yet all I vividly recall is the aftermath, as Elizabeth, Anna, and I all get deathly ill. And, of course, no trip is complete without a train fiasco.

Will the real Varanasi please stand up? Wait, no, please sit down again.

The morning we left the Krishnamurti Retreat Center, we took a day trip to Sarnath, the place where Buddha gave his first teachings. There are lots of temples around this area (some which you can stay at), and an archaeological site.

Migrating to the main town afterward, we settled in at Assi Ghat and changed out of our kurtas into more touristy, less conservative, non-Lucknowian attire. We spent the rest of the day alternating between meandering along the ghats (platforms/stairs leading into the river) and eating and relaxing. And, of course, being attacked by monkeys and nudged by buffalo.

Let me pause and tell you a little something about Varanasi. Varanasi sits on the banks of the holiest river in India, the Ganges. As such, Varanasi itself has become one of the holiest places in India (for Hindus). Hindus visit Varanasi from all over India, to bathe in its water and to bring back bottles of holy river water, which is believed to cure illness. The only hitch is that the Ganges is one of the most polluted rivers in India.

Why? Because bodies are burned and cremated on the ghats, and then dumped into the river. Only, the bodies don’t completely burn, meaning you may be lucky enough to see remains of the corpses floating down the river. There are also 6 types of bodies, such as children and sadhus, who do not need to be cremated because they are already deemed “pure;” these bodies are tied to a rock and dropped into the river. The rope falls apart in 3 days, and the body resurfaces. Two or three hundred bodies per day are cremated and/or directly deposited into the river. In spite of all this, people continue to bathe in it and drink its water to cleanse themselves physically and spiritually.

My impression of Varanasi revolves around the ghats and the Old City. The ghats is a great place for people watching, if you don’t mind being harassed. Constantly. The Old City, home to the Golden Temple, is itself a chaotic mess of narrow lanes, filled with pedestrians, store owners, and the occasional cow and motorcycle. Everywhere you look, there is life and color. But I also frequently found myself frequently approached by aggressive Indian men. It was tiresome, and in many ways made me miss Lucknow.

Varanasi begins kicking our butt around midnight our second night, when Elizabeth bolts out of bed to throw up. Her body is so weak she lies face down on the bathroom floor; she can’t even muster the strength to crawl back into bed. She continues to throw up / diarrhea through the night, and Anna joins her about 3 hours in. They (barely) manage to survive through the morning, when I go downstairs to call a doctor.

Enter the doctor into a room that reeks of vomit, and he proceeds to diagnose each of them. Pulse, stomach tenderness check, symptoms, etc. Temperature. Elizabeth is 101 F, Anna is 97 F. On each of their prescriptions, he writes, 99 F. I guess he didn’t learn about the flaw of averages.

They stay in bed the rest of the day, alternating between states of consciousness and unconsciousness. In the meantime, I’m trying to enjoy my last day in the city. I start feeling nauseous that evening, my entire body breaking out into hives. We manage to catch our 5 am train, but it was not easy. I’m quite weak by this point, with a fever and continually on the verge of vomiting.

We board the train, and I think we’re home free. All I have to do is pass out for the next 5 hours and we’ll be okay. I can’t think or do anything else, other than push away the nausea and try to fall asleep. Suddenly, I feel a body loom over me. A deep, man’s voice: “Ma’m, what’s your seat number?” One eye squints open. Pause. “Sir, these are our seats.” “Are you sure you’re in the right car?” “Yes.” Another man chimes in: “Let’s see the tickets.” “Here you go.” “Ma’m, your reservations were made for April 11.” The helpful teenage girl sitting next to me: “Today is the 13th.”

At this point, all I can think is, You’ve got to be kidding me. This isn’t happening. Of course this is happening. This is India. I just want to go home. Maybe if I ignore them they’ll go away. But of course, I had to face reality, and we got up and inched to the back of the car. It takes all my mental and physical energy to stay vertical.

Anna looks at us and says, “I’ll talk to the conductor. Stay on the train, we’ll figure this out.”* We can make a last-minute decision to spend the day or another night in Varanasi, given the fact that we may not have seats. But the thought of staying in Varanasi another day makes me even more nauseous. The train starts moving.

I’m not sure what happens next. All I remember is finding chained suitcases occupying the seats at the back of the car, and me gradually pushing them aside. I remember Anna coming over and telling us we now have seats, and I proceed to sit down and pass out. I remember wanting to open the train’s side door and to stick my head out and vomit, but worrying about getting my head chopped off. I remember realizing that the bathroom is always an option, but I would rather try to control the nausea than gag there. It’s all too much; we finally reach LKO.

The autorickshaw ride back to the apartment was tougher than the train ride. We were so close, and I was awake and as conscious as my current state allowed. The heat and incessant honking penetrated my core and reverberated in my head. We finally get into our apartment, where I pass out for the next 8+ hours.

In fact, I’m pretty much useless for the next two weeks. I have a relatively high fever and diarrhea (silver lining: no vomiting!) for the next 2-3 days, and the girls talk me into getting my urine, stool, and blood tested with them. (I usually think my body will work itself out, and I don’t fret about it. Basically, I’m a doctor’s worst nightmare.) I find myself horizontal and inadvertently anorexic for the next week. And basically under house arrest for the week after.

I have no desire to return to Varanasi ever again.

Note: When Anna finds the conductor, she says, “Sir, mai dosti bimar hai.” [Sir, my friends are sick.] Him: “Apko Indian hai???” [You’re Indian???] Let’s try again: “Sir, mai dosti bimar hai.” [Sir, my friends are sick.] Leave it to folks here to know what's important.