Greetings from the Matthew Ridenour of the present, which in the "Matthew Heads East" alternative reality timewarp, is the Matthew Ridenour of the future. I am going to do something TOTALLY unorthadox, and break the chronological blog code. I have to inform my faithful and wonderful followers of where I ACTUALLY am. I am in Jomsom, Nepal- trekking through the mountains and valleys of the Himalayas. And it is good.
I have managed to find the only "cyber cafe" within a 200-mile radius. And it is good. Our outfit is small but strong- led by none other than the man himself, Mr. Robby Rai (whose house we stayed at in Kathmandu for our first week in Nepal). Pastor Meg (a.k.a. "THUNDER) is the muscles of the gang. Standing only 5'4" in height, he packs a punch that crushes opponents thrice his size. He even literally carried me on his back across a river. I'm not kidding. Pastor Thunder is no joke. Then of course, there is my faithful friend and brother, Greg Zapf. Greg is a constant source of encouragement, and is also currently totally constipated- and has been for days. So pray for that. Finally, there is me- thus rounding out our fearless outfit.
We have been hiking up into the mountains, meeting people, sharing the gospel with them. We have been enjoying the beauty of this incredible part of the world- soaking it in. We were able to literally soak it in at a wonderful natural hot spring pool after our first and fairly brutal day of hiking, up to the town of Tatopani. "Soaking it in" left our hands pruned- and it was good. The main purpose of the trip is to glorify God and to be a part of what He is doing here in the Himalayas. We are meeting with local churches and small communities of believers to encourage them and train them a bit in the Bible.
Earlier this week, in the town of Lete, we met with the 3 Christians in the entire town. Until 2 months ago when Robby and another team came through, there was 1 Christian. He is overjoyed that he now has some fellowship. Robby sat down and explained some basics of the faith and such, and then suddenly turned to me: "Pastor Matt, please explain for these 3 from the fall of man up through the new covenant with Jesus. Pastor Thunder will translate." "Uh.... ok", I responded. And we were off. I did my best, through the Spirit.
Greg, Thunder and I hiked from 8,000 ft. to 14,000 ft. to reach the ceremonial location where Hindus during this month drink the blood of yaks on top of the mountain. Unfortunately for us, they couldn't perform this ritual anywhere within a 6-hour hike from civilization. But we had to see it. So we hiked. And hiked. And hiked. It was grueling- but we pressed on in the faith that we would see what few westerners see: the yak-blood ritual. And so, 6 hours and 6,000 vetical ft. later, we arrived. In the clouds. And could barely see. "So... where is it?" I asked. This was the awesome point at which we realized there was nothing to see. We had missed the ritual for the day. Perfect.
Given the situation, we made the best of it by befriending some locals in a hut who served us yak milk, yak meat, and some cheese dish that I didn't understand. But I ate- and was stoked. We purchased about half of a yak's worth of yak meat, Pastor Thunder threw the bag over his shoulder, and we were off- down the most treacherous mountain descent of my life. It was envigorating.
The main reason I am giving an update is to request prayer from you. Please pray for our time here- as we meet with people and with churches- may God's Kingdom go forth and He be glorified. I pray that we will be led by the Spirit to build meaningful and lasting relationships, and that we get to experience God's redeeming work here in Nepal. THANK YOU SO MUCH! More to come soon.
Blessings,
Matt
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
KATHMANDU 2.0
SUNDAY, JULY 12
Greg and I continually awoke throughout the night, switching off turns in the bathroom. Add to this the fact that I had a chronic cough that seemed to manifest itseld as soon as I lay down in my bed each night, and continued all night. Needless to say, it was a lovely scene.
Greg didn't eat, as his stomach was still not to be trusted. I tried a bit of rice. We were a fairly sad scene. After meeting a different missionaries and locals in the area, our stomachs were telling us it was time to leave. So we headed back to Robby's house.
Witnessing the exchange was, for me, brilliant. Ten to twelve minutes later, Greg was speaking to us on Matthew 7. It was well done. After Greg finished his 15 minute talk, Robby commended him on a job well done. He then proceeded into over an hour of monologue about the text. And it was really good. When it comes to the Bible, Robby Rai knows his stuff, that's for sure. At the end, he informed me, "Pastor Matt, you are next. Tomorrow you will preach on the Kingdom of God." Lucky for me, I had some real prep time.
Greg and I continually awoke throughout the night, switching off turns in the bathroom. Add to this the fact that I had a chronic cough that seemed to manifest itseld as soon as I lay down in my bed each night, and continued all night. Needless to say, it was a lovely scene.
NEPALI HOUSEWARMING
In the morning, we felt like doing just about nothing. So that's pretty much what we did. I began to get restless in the afternoon, so thankfully Robby had planned for us to go visit a church member's housewarming party. Robby, Ganga, Greg and I took a taxi out to the very well-constructed 4-level home that was being "blessed" by a ceremony. This meant that we sang a few songs of worship, and then 3 different men gave sermons in Nepali. I'm still not sure what they said, but 90 minutes later, we prayed and then ate some food. It was different than anything I had experienced, but God was glorified by it.
Greg didn't eat, as his stomach was still not to be trusted. I tried a bit of rice. We were a fairly sad scene. After meeting a different missionaries and locals in the area, our stomachs were telling us it was time to leave. So we headed back to Robby's house.
IMPROV PREACHIN'
I believe it was this night that we all sat around Robby's kitchen table, discussing spiritual matters, and then, around 9:00pm the conversation began to wane. After a few moments of silence, Robby asked, "Well pastors, what should we do now?" I was thinking, "Go upstairs, read, attempt to go to bed, and regain my health." What came out of both Greg's and my mouth was: "I don't know. What do you think, Robby?" "Pastor Greg, you can preach for us on the topic of faith", was his response. Greg, obviously taken aback, said "Uhm, ok." Noting his hesitation, Robby offered direction: "Use Matthew 7:24-27." Greg inquired, "Ok. So can I prepare at all?" "Oh yes, you can have ten minutes to prepare. Maybe twelve" Robby informed him, without hesitation.
Witnessing the exchange was, for me, brilliant. Ten to twelve minutes later, Greg was speaking to us on Matthew 7. It was well done. After Greg finished his 15 minute talk, Robby commended him on a job well done. He then proceeded into over an hour of monologue about the text. And it was really good. When it comes to the Bible, Robby Rai knows his stuff, that's for sure. At the end, he informed me, "Pastor Matt, you are next. Tomorrow you will preach on the Kingdom of God." Lucky for me, I had some real prep time.
Friday, July 10, 2009
KATHMANDU
We awoke, after sleeping soundly through most of the morning, to a home-made breakfast- made by none other than Ganga Limbu himself. We descended the stairway to the kitchen where we met Ganga for the first time. Ganga is a wonderfully charming, gracious, bright young man who has a passion for Jesus. He also works for Robbie- helping lead groups around that come to stay at Robbie's house in Kathmandu. So there he was, making omlettes for the three of us- which was wonderful.
We spent the rest of the day touring a bit of the city- eating lunch at a local Nepali restaurant in town, where we were fortunate enough to have our first taste of the Nepali staple meal: Dal Bhat. Essentially, Dal Bhat is a plate of rice, and you pour various foods on top and mix it all together. These include: lentil soup, sliced potatoes, and meat curry. Basically, it's awesome. Specifically when you join the Nepalis in eating purely with your hands. It's liberating.
We went to a shopping center, Namaste Market for a few items, and then it was back to the house for dinner. Stephano had to bid us farewell, as he was staying with a friend of his from Brazil, Rosana, who lives in Kathmandu. So the original group of four was now down to just Greg and myself. Luckily, we picked up the constantly spiritually deep conversation and high entertainment value of Robby Rai.
To be honest, the next week in Kathmandu was very low-key. Specifically when contrasted with the previous 3 weeks of my life. The main focus was on learning with and from Robby Rai: about evangelizing and relating to Nepali people, learning much about Hinduism and Buddhism, and building the firm foundations of our knowledge of the gospel. It was really different, and really good. I will outline the main events, but will keep it as brief as I, Matthew Ridenour, can.
FRIDAY, JULY 10
Greg and I awoke once again to "Omlettes with Ganga". We then walked to a house in the meighborhood to meet up with a group of three Canadians in KTM on a missions trip. From there, we hiked up a hill overlooking the Kathmandu valley, where they have a prominent Hindu temple and Buddhist shrine. We walked the streets of the neighborhood- very beautifully traditional village ambiance, praying for the people there. We prayed over the temples- that the Truth of Christ would be known. After our prayer walk, we had a delightful lunch of traditional Nepali Momo's (large pot-stickers filled with meat or vegetables). SO GOOD! Seriously- my favorite new food.
After lunch, Ganga asked us if we would like to pass out bibles to the local residents. I was a bit nervous about this prospect- I mean, how would the people receive us as we outsiders give them our Christian text? But before I knew it, he was already talking with the restaurant owner, sharing the gospel with the staff, and asking me to hand them a Bible. So there it was. It was that simple. If they didn't want it, no pressure.
We continued on, passing out Bibles to anyone who wished to have one. Surprisingly, we were met with enthusiasm and smiles as we passed out The Bible to a group of elderly Hindu men, just as with a group of younger women. It was wonderful.
As we walked around the town, we witnessed the filiming of 2 separate Bollywood movies- and they were both absolutely horribly acted. None of us could actually believe what we were seeing. But I will have to look out for both the movies- see if we made it in the backgrounds.
SATURDAY, JULY 11
In Nepal, the Sabbath is on Saturday. Maybe that's true everywhere. I'm not sure. But they go to church on Saturday. Which is different. Except if you're a Seventh-Day-Adventist. In that case, you would fit right in with the Nepali church-going calendar. Needless to say, we went to church on Saturday. Which was a first for me.
Also among the firsts for me were: everyone sitting on the ground (rugs) for the entire service, separation by sex: males on the right, an aisle and then women on the left, and a worship band with just a guitar, drum set, and 4 violins- accompanying a radical Nepali choir. It was a beautiful service, and I actually got emotional for the first time in years while singing "Lord I Lift Your Name On High", as I heard it in a foreign tongue it took on a whole new dimension. It was incredible to see the older Nepali women, dressed up in traditional long, colorful dresses and pashminas, standing up, lifting their hands, and singing their hearts out, praising Jesus. I was really surprised and overjoyed with the environment- the Spirit is alive there.
After church, a lady offered us some traditional food, so we ate up. As if that weren't enough, Robbie took us to the "best steakhouse in town"- Everest Steakhouse. It was here that I ate my first $4.50 fillet mignon. It was wonderful. Unfortunately, Robby forgot to mention that we should order our meat "well-done" instead of "medium". BIG mistake. Greg and I both payed for that one steak for the next few days- Greg more severely than I. Robby later apologized when he realized that our stomachs could not handle undercooked Nepali beef.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
VARANASSI --> KATHMANDU
TRAIN TO GHORAKPUR
The "3 Musketeers" boarded the night train from Varanassi to Gorakhpur, India- near the border of Nepal. After getting on the wrong cab (with about 1.7 million Indians inside, and an average temperature approaching 180 degrees F), we realized that we had bought FIRST CLASS seats. This meant, although we had no air conditioning, and no glass in the windows, we had our own private room. Private, that is, until during the middle of the night, when random Indian dudes would jar open the closed door that refused to lock, hop onto the top bunk, and sleep for 2 hours. This happened a few times during the night. The 3 of us were each too tired to care- or at least too tired to fully recognize what was transpiring within our private room.
COULD I DISCUSS JESUS ON A TRAIN, SAM I AM? YES YOU COULD, GREEN EGGS AND HAM
Before we went off to bed, Greg, Stephano and I had a wonderful conversation about each of our faiths. Stephano explained his search for faith and Greg and I got to talk about our faith in Jesus. It was a respectful and uplifiting conversation. We got to hear about Stephano's struggles with the church, having grown up in a Catholic home, and why he believes that Buddhism is a better fit for his life. Greg and I explained why we believe Jesus is the truth, and how we have each come to trust in that truth. I tried to explain that faith in Jesus does equate to some static, ritual-based dogmatic creed, but that it is a wibderfully adventurour, personal relationship with the living God. Even though not all Christians exhibit this truth in their lives, that does not disprove the truth of the Bible. At one point, Stephano just flatly asked: "So how do I get to Jesus without all this other church stuff?" It was a profound question. I find myself asking the same thing- when I see the inconsistencies between the Jesus of the Bible and the Jesus professed by many Christians. Sometimes there is a disparity. Stephano saw how attractive the TRUE Jesus is, but how He is often missed by Western culture. We tried to assure Stephano that anyone can, in fact must, come directly to Jesus- without anything else tacked on. Simply Jesus. In the end, it was really just good to hear where Stephano was coming from, and hear his thought process on these important and all-too-easily dismissed topics.
In the morning, we arrived to the sun gently streaking across the north-Indian countryside. It was beautiful. Soon after, we arrived. Transferring directly onto the adventurously ghetto local bus, we rode for the next 2 hours to the border of Nepal. Grabbing a quick breakfast at the border town then passing through border control, we approached the sign. The long-awaited sign. "Welcome to Nepal", it read. It was liberating walking across that border- out of India and into Nepal. Immediately, the air was fresher, the grass greener, the people more friendly, and most importantly, mush less cow shit.
NEPALI MINI BUS
As we had only been traveling for 12 hours at this point, we knew we couldn't be nearly done. And in fact, we were right. We boarded a Nepali mini-bus for Kathmandu: a 1970's Eurovan meant to hold 8 that in fact held 16 of us. There were 4 in each row that should have been either 2 or 3, depending on the row. I believe they added in an extra row somehow as well. It defied the general principles of physics. Einstein would have been baffled by this minibus.
The 3 of us rode on with 13 other Nepalis along the bumpy, windy road for the next 10 hours. And then it happened: the driver inserted a CD, and Blink 182's "All the Small Things" came on. At this point I had seen alot, but I NEVER would have guessed I would be driving through the countryside of Nepal with 13 natives, listening to Blink 182 songs from 1999. To be honest, Greg and I sang along. It was too perfect- how could we not? Don't judge.
As we drove, the scenery turned from "incredibly beautiful" to "the most beautiful landscape I had ever seen". Massive green hills diving into a gently winding river, with small hand-crafted homes dotting the rice-pattied hillsides. Narrow pedestrian bridges suspended high over the river, connecting two quiet villages on either side. A girl and her mother carrying a basket full of vegetables across a bridge, and two elderly men talking with eachother on the side of the road, overlooking the river. Every inch was green, save for the river itself. It was serene. It was simple. It was rich.
Though I had about 6 inches too little of leg room, and my knees were in my stomach, I didn't want the drive to end. It was breathtaking. Add to this my iPOD- playing Jon Foreman's albums for both Stephano and myself. It just fit.
Against my wishes, eventually, we did arrive in Kathmandu- around 10:00pm. We hopped into a taxi, and he drove us over to Robbie's house. Robbie and his wife, Leona greeted us out on the street, as they don't have an address- it's just a street. But it worked.
WHAT IS YOUR VISION?
Meeting Robby Rai, like being around Robby Rai in any capacity, was an experience. He was very passive, slow to speak, subdued. He and Leona showed the 3 of us up to our top-floor room, and then Robby sat down to talk with us. He waited a moment for silence, then looked at Stephano and asked, "Brother Stephano, what is your vision?" I couldn't believe it. He didn't ask Greg or me anything, just out of nowhere asked Stephano to share his vision with us all. Stephano gave a fine answer, but it was so unlike any other first interaction with another person I had experienced.
We went to bed that night excited to finally be in Kathmandu- glad to be in a place where we didn't have to pack up and leave the next day. Needless to say, we slept well.
Thank you God!
The "3 Musketeers" boarded the night train from Varanassi to Gorakhpur, India- near the border of Nepal. After getting on the wrong cab (with about 1.7 million Indians inside, and an average temperature approaching 180 degrees F), we realized that we had bought FIRST CLASS seats. This meant, although we had no air conditioning, and no glass in the windows, we had our own private room. Private, that is, until during the middle of the night, when random Indian dudes would jar open the closed door that refused to lock, hop onto the top bunk, and sleep for 2 hours. This happened a few times during the night. The 3 of us were each too tired to care- or at least too tired to fully recognize what was transpiring within our private room.
COULD I DISCUSS JESUS ON A TRAIN, SAM I AM? YES YOU COULD, GREEN EGGS AND HAM
Before we went off to bed, Greg, Stephano and I had a wonderful conversation about each of our faiths. Stephano explained his search for faith and Greg and I got to talk about our faith in Jesus. It was a respectful and uplifiting conversation. We got to hear about Stephano's struggles with the church, having grown up in a Catholic home, and why he believes that Buddhism is a better fit for his life. Greg and I explained why we believe Jesus is the truth, and how we have each come to trust in that truth. I tried to explain that faith in Jesus does equate to some static, ritual-based dogmatic creed, but that it is a wibderfully adventurour, personal relationship with the living God. Even though not all Christians exhibit this truth in their lives, that does not disprove the truth of the Bible. At one point, Stephano just flatly asked: "So how do I get to Jesus without all this other church stuff?" It was a profound question. I find myself asking the same thing- when I see the inconsistencies between the Jesus of the Bible and the Jesus professed by many Christians. Sometimes there is a disparity. Stephano saw how attractive the TRUE Jesus is, but how He is often missed by Western culture. We tried to assure Stephano that anyone can, in fact must, come directly to Jesus- without anything else tacked on. Simply Jesus. In the end, it was really just good to hear where Stephano was coming from, and hear his thought process on these important and all-too-easily dismissed topics.
In the morning, we arrived to the sun gently streaking across the north-Indian countryside. It was beautiful. Soon after, we arrived. Transferring directly onto the adventurously ghetto local bus, we rode for the next 2 hours to the border of Nepal. Grabbing a quick breakfast at the border town then passing through border control, we approached the sign. The long-awaited sign. "Welcome to Nepal", it read. It was liberating walking across that border- out of India and into Nepal. Immediately, the air was fresher, the grass greener, the people more friendly, and most importantly, mush less cow shit.
NEPALI MINI BUS
As we had only been traveling for 12 hours at this point, we knew we couldn't be nearly done. And in fact, we were right. We boarded a Nepali mini-bus for Kathmandu: a 1970's Eurovan meant to hold 8 that in fact held 16 of us. There were 4 in each row that should have been either 2 or 3, depending on the row. I believe they added in an extra row somehow as well. It defied the general principles of physics. Einstein would have been baffled by this minibus.
The 3 of us rode on with 13 other Nepalis along the bumpy, windy road for the next 10 hours. And then it happened: the driver inserted a CD, and Blink 182's "All the Small Things" came on. At this point I had seen alot, but I NEVER would have guessed I would be driving through the countryside of Nepal with 13 natives, listening to Blink 182 songs from 1999. To be honest, Greg and I sang along. It was too perfect- how could we not? Don't judge.
As we drove, the scenery turned from "incredibly beautiful" to "the most beautiful landscape I had ever seen". Massive green hills diving into a gently winding river, with small hand-crafted homes dotting the rice-pattied hillsides. Narrow pedestrian bridges suspended high over the river, connecting two quiet villages on either side. A girl and her mother carrying a basket full of vegetables across a bridge, and two elderly men talking with eachother on the side of the road, overlooking the river. Every inch was green, save for the river itself. It was serene. It was simple. It was rich.
Though I had about 6 inches too little of leg room, and my knees were in my stomach, I didn't want the drive to end. It was breathtaking. Add to this my iPOD- playing Jon Foreman's albums for both Stephano and myself. It just fit.
Against my wishes, eventually, we did arrive in Kathmandu- around 10:00pm. We hopped into a taxi, and he drove us over to Robbie's house. Robbie and his wife, Leona greeted us out on the street, as they don't have an address- it's just a street. But it worked.
WHAT IS YOUR VISION?
Meeting Robby Rai, like being around Robby Rai in any capacity, was an experience. He was very passive, slow to speak, subdued. He and Leona showed the 3 of us up to our top-floor room, and then Robby sat down to talk with us. He waited a moment for silence, then looked at Stephano and asked, "Brother Stephano, what is your vision?" I couldn't believe it. He didn't ask Greg or me anything, just out of nowhere asked Stephano to share his vision with us all. Stephano gave a fine answer, but it was so unlike any other first interaction with another person I had experienced.
We went to bed that night excited to finally be in Kathmandu- glad to be in a place where we didn't have to pack up and leave the next day. Needless to say, we slept well.
Thank you God!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
VARANASTY: DAY 2
As there was no possible way to survive a repeat of Varanassi: Day 1, we planned a much different day for ourselves. It began with a leisurely breakfast at the hotel (with a round of Lassis), and ended with us hurriedly boarding a tuk tuk, as we were nearly late for our valuable appointment to teach children English at the local elementary school. Clearly stating our destination, the German Bakery (next to the school), the driver nodded and we were off.... for about 1/3 as long as we should have been. Once the driver had driven about as far as he had decided to drive, he just stopped- telling us in broken english to get out. "We're not even close", we replied in unision. "No go further. Traffic. You walk", was the response. Believing it was not too far a walk, we set off- frustrated, but with high hopes for the teaching experience.
IT GONNA RAIN!
That's when it rained on our parade. Figuratively, and had we possessed a parade, literally. Cuz it started pouring. And I don't mean California pouring. I mean middle-of-tropical-monsoon-season-gnarly-national-geographic-flood-pouring. And our wonderful tuk-tuk driver had just dropped us off in the middle-of-God-knows-where Varanassi. We walked. And walked. My clothes got to the point where, had I fully immersed myself in a pool of water, I would have been more dry. Large puddles roughly the size of Iowa began to form in the prominent and numerous potholes spotting the streets. To our wonderment, we all realized that all of the "Holy Shit" from the thousands of cows (reincarnated human beings) walking the streets was breaking down and flowing into the massive puddles we were walking through. Mmmmm! There was not much else to do but laugh at the situation we were in. As we walked, laugher brewed into frustration- and frustration brewed into us hailing a second tuk tuk. The "fabulous four" (Jessie, Stephano, Greg and myself) piled into the tuk tuk, explaining once again that we had to go to the "German Bakery". We were already 20 minutes late for our teaching arrangement, so time was of the essence. We made that known.
Racing through the poop-water streets, our nimbly evaded everything except for the poop-filled puddles- which splashed up all around us. We didn't care. It was an adventure.
A BAKERY BY ANY OTHER NAME...
After 10 minutes, we arrived at a bakery. Apparently, our driver knew the word "bakery". The problem was, it wasn't even close to the "German Bakery"- neither in name, or in location. At this point we were 30 minutes tardy for our own class, lost in a monsoon poop-rain, completely soakingly wet, and outside a cozily inviting bakery. The choice was obvious: ditch the kids.
No, that wasn't the actual thing we were thinking, but getting to the school at this point was hopeless. For whatever reason, God had not made our path straight to get to the school. So we made the best of it.
The remainder of the afternoon consisted of drying off, relaxing, eating delightful food, drinking wonderful chai tea, and playing some serious matches of 2-on-2 chess with a travel set that Greg had bought. It was beautiful- and intellectually stimulating.
THE GANGES 2.0: NOT THAT UNPLEASANT
After 4 hours of chess (2 games), we decided it was time to move on. Jessie had to hop on the train back to Delhi in a few hours. Against all odds, we set out on a final tour of the waterfront of Varanassi- along the infamously disease-ridden Ganges. We made certain to stay far south of the body-burning section, and found the walk along the river surprisingly charming. Beautiful, broad stone walkway, cascading with stairways down to the river. Had I not been aware of the scene just a few hundred yards up the river, I would have regarded the area as "pleasant".
And JUST as we were enjoying the sunset amidst dramatically dark blue clouds overhead, our new-found comrade, a 12-year-old street peddling kid prophesied that it would "rain in 15 minutes". Sure enough, 15 minutes later, to the second, it began pouring. Again.
By this point, we were pros. We ran through poop-filled puddles quickly and nimbly- like a herd of gazelles running amidst the spring rains of the Serengeti. We ran through narrow streets of houses and past families with children greeting us with smiles and shouts of "Hello!". It was wonderful. We emerged out of the narrow network of alleyways and onto the main "boulevard"- flagging down a tuk-tuk for our return to the hotel.
BREAKING UP THE FAB FOUR?
Back at the hotel, we cleaned up and shared our final meal together (a few King Fisher beers and some appetizers) at the hotel bar. It was surreal that we had known eachother for so short a time, yet had become so close- and now our group of four was splitting off.
We walked out and said our goodbyes (or so Jessie thought), and saw Jessie off in her taxi. Stephano, Greg, and I went back to the bar, and then realized that we couldn't just sit there. We were a unit. The three of us "dudes" agreed to hire a tuk-tuk to drive us to the train station to see Jessie off properly. We hopped into the tuk-tuk, and were about to take off, when a tall Indian man with a big shotgun walked up next to me and just stared at me. I had NO idea what was going on. I asked the driver to leave. We didn't move. Once again, more intenseley, I told the driver to leave. The man stared me down. I was honestly scared. We pulled off, leaving the creepiest man on earth in our Indian dust.
We arrived a few minutes later at the train station, and hopped over the masses and masses of people lying on the floor of the station and platform. Luckily, we had practice with this, as we had been in this situation before. But this was the most people laying everywhere I had ever witnessed. I mean, nearly every square inch of floor space was people.
FINAL FAREWELL
We carefully hopped our way to the platform where Jessie's train was stalled, waiting to leave. The three of us ran down the length of the trian, looking into each car to see if we could spot her. We got to the very end, and had missed her. Figuring we wouldn't be able to find her at this point, we walked back. All of a sudden I spotted her in one of the cars. We slammed a "We Heart Jessica" makeshift paper sign to the rainy window of the train, and she looked up. It was awesome.
We met Jessie on the outside of her car, and said our final, proper, goodbyes. We were all much more satisfied. Then the train began to take off. Stephano and I ran alongside the moving train, while Greg literally held on to the stairway. As the platform disappeared, Greg hopped off and we stopped running. It was rad.
FARE THEE WELL, VARANASSI!
Our ride back in the tuk-tuk was fun- we got to pick up a policeman who forced himself into our vehicle against our will, without a word, and without a rupee. I guess that's how it works- cops ride free whenever they want.
We packed up the rest of our belongings back at the hotel, caught a bit of the "Michael Jackson Funeral Showcase", and were off. Back to the train station, onto our train without a hitch.
Goodbye Varanassi. Hopefully I will not be visiting you anytime soon. But may God bless you nonetheless.
Monday, July 6, 2009
VARANASTY
Hello. This is Matthew Ridenour. You may remember as the chief editor of such blogs as "Matthew Heads East". I know I haven't updated much of anything as of late- but don't think I've forgotten my mission. I FULLY intend to "stay the course". Unfortunately (or fortunately) I have been out of internet's reach for the majority of the last 2 weeks- attributing to the lack of posts. So if you failed to receive a reply to an email you sent to me, please understand it is nothing personal. It just means that your email may have been slightly less important than the others I had to tend to with a limited amount of time.
I will now attempt to pick up where I left off- back into the chronological format that we all know, love, and warmly embrace. Cheers!
AGRA, INDIA: CITY OF TAJ
Where did I leave off? Oh yes! The Taj Mahal. As we rejoin our two bold heroes, we find them entrenched deep within the throes of a new and unfamiliar society....
Basically, Greg and I left the Taj around 8am and had about 12 hours to kill before our train left, in a city KNOWN the world over for its crappiness. Seriously. And literally. There's cow crap everywhere. Manu decided to take us to "Mac-D's" for some lunch in an air conditioned, nearly sanitary space. I got a McVeg Puff. Not sure what it was... just ordered because it sounded the funniest to say. We then toured the "mall" of 12 or so retail stores, and then went back to the hotel to chill out before dinner, as neither of us felt particularly healthy.
PIZZA HUT: THE FLAWLESS RINGING BELL SYSTEM
Knowing that we had reached the inevitable "last supper" with Manu, we let him decide where to eat. "Pizza Hut". The decision was clear.
Pizza Hut in India has all the classic pizzas: the "Chicken Masala Munch", "Veggie Delight", and of course, "Hawaiian". The meal was truly very tasty, and we all left shaking the Pizza Hut "ringing bell"- installed to allow the customer to make the appropriate amount of noise relative to their perceived quality of experience. Ring the bell violently = Best meal ever. Ring the bell timidly = Enjoyable. Don't ring bell = The cook spit in my masala munch pizza. The "ringing bell" system is much more effective than telling the waiter that you appreciated his service. Or giving him a tip.
After dinner, it was off to the train station. We bid Manu "Adieu" over near tears (Greg only), and were off to wait for the night train to Varanassi. Amidst the 26,000 Indians laying all over the station floors, we managed to find a group of lost-looking foreigners much like ourselves. Enter: MAGIC!
NIGHT TRAIN: AGRA --> VARANASSI
This is the point at which we met our 2 other travel buddies: Jessica (Jerry Bruckheimer's personal flight attendant from Orange County) and Stephano (Brazilian working in Brussels as Portuguese translator for the European Union). The 4 of us were a match made in heaven.
We boarded the train, and Jessie, Greg, and I were in the same room (along with 2 Canadians and an Indian family of about 16). We had a great time talking about California, hearing about Jessie's travel solo from South Africa to Turkey overland for over a year, hearing about flying in airplanes with Jerry Bruckheimer.... normal conversation stuff.
Soon enough, we were all best friends, and before we knew it we had arrived in Varanassi in the morning.
VARANASSI? MORE LIKE VARANASTY.
Jessie, Stephano, Greg and I left the station for a hotel completely unprepared for what lay ahead. After checking in and eating, it was time to go down to the Ganges River. Our hotel was 5km from the river, and being the unassuming foreigners we were, we decided to walk. Bad, yet adventurous idea. After over an hour of walking the dirt road in 95 degree heat and asking (with minimal success) every 5 minutes for directions, we eventually arrived at a street bazaar area. Jessie proceeded to buy souvenirs from nearly every shop owner and his cousin, while the rest of us were forced to continually deny the ever-present and blatantly forceful carpet seller and his cousin. Pushing our way through the bazaar, we moved on to the next stage in our journey: assailed by irresistably cute schoolchildren wanting their picture taken, then asking me to buy them candy for the picture. "Oh, no- that will rot your teeth." Narrowly escaped that one.
The final and most challenging stage: getting by the dozens of "Holy Cows" and their "Holy Shit" while winding through the confusing network of narrow stone streets. During this difficult stage, we regrettably lost a few members of our ourfit to the "holy shit". By this point, only Stephano and I could continue on to the witness the glory of the Ganges unscathed. And eventually, we arrived. The mighty Ganges- the Hindu Spiritual Mecca where dead bodies are publicly cremated.
DEAD BODY MANAGER WANTED!
We were immediately greeted by an informational "tour guide" who explained the scene before us. He was of the "untouchable" caste, and introduced himself as the "Dead Body Manager". To which I replied, "Do you put that on a Resume?" He didn't get it.
Essentially, a group of 8 men will carry a freshly dead body (wrapped in a white bag and decorated with flowers) down to the river, purchase a bundle of logs from the certified Hindu body-burning log vendor, perform a ceremony over the body in the Ganges, place the body on the logs, and light the logs on fire. As this transpires, boys immersed in the water beside the dead bodies and ashes will search for jewelry that may have fallen off the dead bodies.
Apparently, those who can't afford logs may opt to simply put the body on a boat and send it down the river in hopes that the gods will revive the dead person back to life. I asked if anyone had ever come back to life- the dead body manager said "No".
To be honest, I didn't understand the process at all, but that's my take. After the informative session with our very own dead body manager, we attempted to soak in the scene for a second- which proved tough. It was such a heavy experience- the spiritual darkness was tangible. Not only was it spiritually unhealthy, the whole area was completely unsanitary. I refuse to believe that religious practices that completely disregard basic human health are centered in truth. I pray over the area- that the TRUTH of Jesus might come to the people of Varanassi.
DOLPHIN HOTEL: GOOD FOOD AFTER BURNING BODIES
With heavy hearts, we sullenly departed in search of anything else- which brought us to the roof deck of the Dolphin Hotel. The Dolphin Hotel proved to be our little slice of heaven in the midst of craziness all around- the calm in the eye of the storm. We stayed for over 3 hours: enjoying good food, chilled Lassis (yoghurt drink that Stephano drank by the gallon), great conversation, and warm sun with a slight breeze. The experience was made all the better when contrasted from the heaviness of the previous scene. Luckily, we were all able to process it together.
TESTING THE WATERS
We left Dolphin Hotel and continued along the riverwalk towards the "German Bakery". On the way, I decided that I had to at least touch the Ganges river with my feet- just to say I did. Stephano agreed that he would touch it with his hand. No one else stepped up for the potentially fatal challenge. I approached the dead-man's-ash-carpeted water a bit nervous, but concious of the goal ahead. The thought did occur to me that I could accrue a gnarly foot disease from this stunt, but I pushed it aside. I waded out. Not bad. And to this day, no foot disease. Take THAT, Ganges!
We continued and came to some city steps where we met a man, Pasha: absolute skin and bones, in his seventies, begging for food. Jessie and I sat down on the steps with him and we began to talk. He explained how he had no food and had a number of medical conditions. Greg ran off to get him some food while I conversed with Pasha. It was heart-wrenching to hear his story- void of hope for a fuller life. However, by the time we had chatted for 10 minutes and fed him some good Rice pudding and a Chewy Granola bar I still had in my bag, he was all smiles- praising Lord Shiva. It was beautiful. Pasha asked where I would be traveling next: "Nepal and Calcutta", I answered. His face lit up, and his toothless mouth formed a smile: "Calcutta? I grew up there! I could be your tour guide! Take me with you!" The thought did cross my mind of just taking him along for the rest of the journey- but in the end, sweet as Pasha was, two American twenty-somethings transporting a 75-year-old malnutritioned Indian through the mountains of Nepal would most likely be a logistical nightmare. Politely, I declined Pasha's sweet, but difficult-to-execute offer.
HOLY SHIT!
Wishing Pasha all of God's blessings, the group left and made our way to the German Bakery to enjoy some upstairs "Houkka Lounge" style relaxing. After an hour we once again braved the "Holy Shit" stained streets of Varanassi to witness a "big deal" Hindu ceremony on the banks of the Ganges. On the way, the inevitable occured. I stepped in it. It. Yeah. It. I yelled out "Shit!" as if someone had inquired as to what I had stepped into. A young Indian man turned to console me: "No, it's good. It's a Holy Blessing- it comes from the Holy Cow." "Uhm... you're kidding, right?" I asked. "No, really, it's a blessing. Good luck", was his response. "I'm sorry, but this bull here does not make HOLY shit" I told him, pointing at a bull next to me. And I kid you not: immediately after I finished that sentence, the Holy Bull lunged with its full body at me. Luckily, I evaded him and ran up a few steps to safety, but it was close and totally unexpected. I guess the bull taught me a lesson.
We arrived at the ceremony and once again, our entire group was lost the entire time... but at least this ritual was not conducive to uncontrollable vomitting. Essentiially, 6 young men each stood up on separate platforms and held different gold vases or lit metal objects on fire and waved them around in synchronization. This went on for an hour and a half... and when we looked around and realized that literally NO westerner spectators were left in the crowd besides ourselves, and given the fact that we had NO understanding of anything we were watching, we decided head back to the hotel to beat the crowd.
BEATING THE CROWD
Unfortunately in India, you can't "beat the crowd". The entire country IS a crowd. If you want to beat the crowd you have to buy a plane ticket from Delhi to Des Moines, Iowa. Our small group of four quickly found ourselves trapped in the middle of the most insane amount of people moving through the streets of Varanassi I could possibly imagine. For us, the experience was comparable to a 5th grade schoolgroup traveling from Romania being dropped into the middle of San Francisco's Gay Pride parade. We were lost, a bit confused, and didn't know if we were gonna make it out.
Eventually (THANK GOD!) we found a Rickshaw that we all piled into- embarking upon the most wild rickshaw drive of my life. Narrowly avoiding masses of Indians people, Holy Cows, dogs, other rickshaws, bicyclists... the list goes on- and at the same time maintaining a pace with which you would have believed we were filming the Bollywood version of the Keanu Reeve's classic "Speed", I clung on tightly while being very impressed. Our driver managed not only to expertly weave through every obstacle, but also to pick up various "buddies" or "cousins" of his along the way.
And as we were just getting near to the hotel, of course, the rickshaw's tire blew out. AWESOME! We pulled off, and the driver informed us we would no longer be riding with him. DOUBLE AWESOME! We began walking... unsure exactly of where we were going. After a few minutes, another Rickshaw approached us and we hopped in, arriving safely back at the hotel. Phew!
At the hotel, the four of us ate dinner and debriefed about the day. There was ALOT of disbelief mentioned, as well as some good laughs. We all concluded that it was the most all-around intense day in recent memory. Oh, Varanassi!
I will now attempt to pick up where I left off- back into the chronological format that we all know, love, and warmly embrace. Cheers!
AGRA, INDIA: CITY OF TAJ
Where did I leave off? Oh yes! The Taj Mahal. As we rejoin our two bold heroes, we find them entrenched deep within the throes of a new and unfamiliar society....
Basically, Greg and I left the Taj around 8am and had about 12 hours to kill before our train left, in a city KNOWN the world over for its crappiness. Seriously. And literally. There's cow crap everywhere. Manu decided to take us to "Mac-D's" for some lunch in an air conditioned, nearly sanitary space. I got a McVeg Puff. Not sure what it was... just ordered because it sounded the funniest to say. We then toured the "mall" of 12 or so retail stores, and then went back to the hotel to chill out before dinner, as neither of us felt particularly healthy.
PIZZA HUT: THE FLAWLESS RINGING BELL SYSTEM
Knowing that we had reached the inevitable "last supper" with Manu, we let him decide where to eat. "Pizza Hut". The decision was clear.
Pizza Hut in India has all the classic pizzas: the "Chicken Masala Munch", "Veggie Delight", and of course, "Hawaiian". The meal was truly very tasty, and we all left shaking the Pizza Hut "ringing bell"- installed to allow the customer to make the appropriate amount of noise relative to their perceived quality of experience. Ring the bell violently = Best meal ever. Ring the bell timidly = Enjoyable. Don't ring bell = The cook spit in my masala munch pizza. The "ringing bell" system is much more effective than telling the waiter that you appreciated his service. Or giving him a tip.
After dinner, it was off to the train station. We bid Manu "Adieu" over near tears (Greg only), and were off to wait for the night train to Varanassi. Amidst the 26,000 Indians laying all over the station floors, we managed to find a group of lost-looking foreigners much like ourselves. Enter: MAGIC!
NIGHT TRAIN: AGRA --> VARANASSI
This is the point at which we met our 2 other travel buddies: Jessica (Jerry Bruckheimer's personal flight attendant from Orange County) and Stephano (Brazilian working in Brussels as Portuguese translator for the European Union). The 4 of us were a match made in heaven.
We boarded the train, and Jessie, Greg, and I were in the same room (along with 2 Canadians and an Indian family of about 16). We had a great time talking about California, hearing about Jessie's travel solo from South Africa to Turkey overland for over a year, hearing about flying in airplanes with Jerry Bruckheimer.... normal conversation stuff.
Soon enough, we were all best friends, and before we knew it we had arrived in Varanassi in the morning.
VARANASSI? MORE LIKE VARANASTY.
Jessie, Stephano, Greg and I left the station for a hotel completely unprepared for what lay ahead. After checking in and eating, it was time to go down to the Ganges River. Our hotel was 5km from the river, and being the unassuming foreigners we were, we decided to walk. Bad, yet adventurous idea. After over an hour of walking the dirt road in 95 degree heat and asking (with minimal success) every 5 minutes for directions, we eventually arrived at a street bazaar area. Jessie proceeded to buy souvenirs from nearly every shop owner and his cousin, while the rest of us were forced to continually deny the ever-present and blatantly forceful carpet seller and his cousin. Pushing our way through the bazaar, we moved on to the next stage in our journey: assailed by irresistably cute schoolchildren wanting their picture taken, then asking me to buy them candy for the picture. "Oh, no- that will rot your teeth." Narrowly escaped that one.
The final and most challenging stage: getting by the dozens of "Holy Cows" and their "Holy Shit" while winding through the confusing network of narrow stone streets. During this difficult stage, we regrettably lost a few members of our ourfit to the "holy shit". By this point, only Stephano and I could continue on to the witness the glory of the Ganges unscathed. And eventually, we arrived. The mighty Ganges- the Hindu Spiritual Mecca where dead bodies are publicly cremated.
DEAD BODY MANAGER WANTED!
We were immediately greeted by an informational "tour guide" who explained the scene before us. He was of the "untouchable" caste, and introduced himself as the "Dead Body Manager". To which I replied, "Do you put that on a Resume?" He didn't get it.
Essentially, a group of 8 men will carry a freshly dead body (wrapped in a white bag and decorated with flowers) down to the river, purchase a bundle of logs from the certified Hindu body-burning log vendor, perform a ceremony over the body in the Ganges, place the body on the logs, and light the logs on fire. As this transpires, boys immersed in the water beside the dead bodies and ashes will search for jewelry that may have fallen off the dead bodies.
Apparently, those who can't afford logs may opt to simply put the body on a boat and send it down the river in hopes that the gods will revive the dead person back to life. I asked if anyone had ever come back to life- the dead body manager said "No".
To be honest, I didn't understand the process at all, but that's my take. After the informative session with our very own dead body manager, we attempted to soak in the scene for a second- which proved tough. It was such a heavy experience- the spiritual darkness was tangible. Not only was it spiritually unhealthy, the whole area was completely unsanitary. I refuse to believe that religious practices that completely disregard basic human health are centered in truth. I pray over the area- that the TRUTH of Jesus might come to the people of Varanassi.
DOLPHIN HOTEL: GOOD FOOD AFTER BURNING BODIES
With heavy hearts, we sullenly departed in search of anything else- which brought us to the roof deck of the Dolphin Hotel. The Dolphin Hotel proved to be our little slice of heaven in the midst of craziness all around- the calm in the eye of the storm. We stayed for over 3 hours: enjoying good food, chilled Lassis (yoghurt drink that Stephano drank by the gallon), great conversation, and warm sun with a slight breeze. The experience was made all the better when contrasted from the heaviness of the previous scene. Luckily, we were all able to process it together.
TESTING THE WATERS
We left Dolphin Hotel and continued along the riverwalk towards the "German Bakery". On the way, I decided that I had to at least touch the Ganges river with my feet- just to say I did. Stephano agreed that he would touch it with his hand. No one else stepped up for the potentially fatal challenge. I approached the dead-man's-ash-carpeted water a bit nervous, but concious of the goal ahead. The thought did occur to me that I could accrue a gnarly foot disease from this stunt, but I pushed it aside. I waded out. Not bad. And to this day, no foot disease. Take THAT, Ganges!
We continued and came to some city steps where we met a man, Pasha: absolute skin and bones, in his seventies, begging for food. Jessie and I sat down on the steps with him and we began to talk. He explained how he had no food and had a number of medical conditions. Greg ran off to get him some food while I conversed with Pasha. It was heart-wrenching to hear his story- void of hope for a fuller life. However, by the time we had chatted for 10 minutes and fed him some good Rice pudding and a Chewy Granola bar I still had in my bag, he was all smiles- praising Lord Shiva. It was beautiful. Pasha asked where I would be traveling next: "Nepal and Calcutta", I answered. His face lit up, and his toothless mouth formed a smile: "Calcutta? I grew up there! I could be your tour guide! Take me with you!" The thought did cross my mind of just taking him along for the rest of the journey- but in the end, sweet as Pasha was, two American twenty-somethings transporting a 75-year-old malnutritioned Indian through the mountains of Nepal would most likely be a logistical nightmare. Politely, I declined Pasha's sweet, but difficult-to-execute offer.
HOLY SHIT!
Wishing Pasha all of God's blessings, the group left and made our way to the German Bakery to enjoy some upstairs "Houkka Lounge" style relaxing. After an hour we once again braved the "Holy Shit" stained streets of Varanassi to witness a "big deal" Hindu ceremony on the banks of the Ganges. On the way, the inevitable occured. I stepped in it. It. Yeah. It. I yelled out "Shit!" as if someone had inquired as to what I had stepped into. A young Indian man turned to console me: "No, it's good. It's a Holy Blessing- it comes from the Holy Cow." "Uhm... you're kidding, right?" I asked. "No, really, it's a blessing. Good luck", was his response. "I'm sorry, but this bull here does not make HOLY shit" I told him, pointing at a bull next to me. And I kid you not: immediately after I finished that sentence, the Holy Bull lunged with its full body at me. Luckily, I evaded him and ran up a few steps to safety, but it was close and totally unexpected. I guess the bull taught me a lesson.
We arrived at the ceremony and once again, our entire group was lost the entire time... but at least this ritual was not conducive to uncontrollable vomitting. Essentiially, 6 young men each stood up on separate platforms and held different gold vases or lit metal objects on fire and waved them around in synchronization. This went on for an hour and a half... and when we looked around and realized that literally NO westerner spectators were left in the crowd besides ourselves, and given the fact that we had NO understanding of anything we were watching, we decided head back to the hotel to beat the crowd.
BEATING THE CROWD
Unfortunately in India, you can't "beat the crowd". The entire country IS a crowd. If you want to beat the crowd you have to buy a plane ticket from Delhi to Des Moines, Iowa. Our small group of four quickly found ourselves trapped in the middle of the most insane amount of people moving through the streets of Varanassi I could possibly imagine. For us, the experience was comparable to a 5th grade schoolgroup traveling from Romania being dropped into the middle of San Francisco's Gay Pride parade. We were lost, a bit confused, and didn't know if we were gonna make it out.
Eventually (THANK GOD!) we found a Rickshaw that we all piled into- embarking upon the most wild rickshaw drive of my life. Narrowly avoiding masses of Indians people, Holy Cows, dogs, other rickshaws, bicyclists... the list goes on- and at the same time maintaining a pace with which you would have believed we were filming the Bollywood version of the Keanu Reeve's classic "Speed", I clung on tightly while being very impressed. Our driver managed not only to expertly weave through every obstacle, but also to pick up various "buddies" or "cousins" of his along the way.
And as we were just getting near to the hotel, of course, the rickshaw's tire blew out. AWESOME! We pulled off, and the driver informed us we would no longer be riding with him. DOUBLE AWESOME! We began walking... unsure exactly of where we were going. After a few minutes, another Rickshaw approached us and we hopped in, arriving safely back at the hotel. Phew!
At the hotel, the four of us ate dinner and debriefed about the day. There was ALOT of disbelief mentioned, as well as some good laughs. We all concluded that it was the most all-around intense day in recent memory. Oh, Varanassi!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
AGRA
Saturday, 4 July + Sunday, 5 July
JAIPUR JUMBLIES STRIKE!
The next morning I awoke with the bad taste of "Kambakkht Ishq" still in my mouth. I brushed my teeth, and then realized it wasn't just the horrible movie I had seen the previous night- I had come down with a case of the infamous "Jaipur Jumblies". If you have any type of an imagination, you can probably guess that mixing poorly cooked Curry Chicken with 100 degree heat in the middle of a country where cows and people both relieve themselves in creative ways all over every street translates into a wild ride for anyone's insides. The "Jaipur Jumblies" hit and I was out for the night and the next day, and then the next. In fact, Greg got a good case of them as well. Cuz that's what brothers do.
ON THE ROAD AGAIN...
Jaipur Jumblies and all, we piled into the Tata and drove on our way to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. I tried to sleep the whole car ride, but it was rough. We arrived at a huge mosque on the way that we toured around with a local kid as our guide, but it was tough to enjoy with my stomach in the state it was, and with a constant barrage of sellers trying to get me to buy the same wooden chess set. Good news: Greg and I were given some sweet shawls to wear over our shorts, as only long pants were allowed- which made for some good pictures.
In the late afternoon, we arrived at Agra, checked in, and I checked out. I passed out for a few hours on the bed, and eventually Greg and I went to pick up dinner- I could only eat a small amount of egg fried rice. Then it was back off to bed again- big day in the morning.
TAJ MAHAL + AMERICA'S FREEDOM
We awoke at 5:30am to meet the sunrise over the Taj Mahal. This was a wise decision. Not only were there barely any people, the lighting was incredible for photographing the Taj, and it wasn't yet 300 degrees in the shade. In order to showcase our patriotism, and to bring glory to the shining beacon of democracy that is known as "THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA", Greg and I both dressed in three colors, and three colors only. Red, White, and Blue. Little did we know, these were also the colors of France, England, Cambodia, Nepal, and many others. But America is the most important anyways. Though the date was July 5 for us, we were intent on celebrating July 4 on American time- not Indian time.
We were met by the same mass of kids selling stuff, but it was manageable this time. We payed our $17/ticket (compared to $0.50 for Indians) entrance fee and were on our way. And it was unreal. The view of the Taj from the entrance arch is indescribable- it's a real life postcard. I could have stayed there for hours. But we had to press on. The form and construction of the Taj is impeccable- especially the perfectly shaped dome on top. The building has such a prominent presence- standing proudly as if it knows it's marvelous. It was totally beautiful.
The inside was underwhelming. I was expecting a grand interior space, and it's not. The roof is much lower than I had anticipated, the tomb in the center keeps visitors from experiencing the space, and the peripheral interior rooms eat out much of the main central space. But the outside is incredible.
After walking the complex for nearly 2 hours, we chilled out in front, and after a while we had a group of followers who wanted cell phone pictures with us. We agreed- if we could take a picture with our camera as well. By the time we took the shot, a posse of 15 smiling Indian dudes were standing in the picture. I tried, without sucess, to get everyone to say "AMERICA!" when we took the picture. Maybe next time.
SO thankful I got to see the Taj Mahal. A total experience.
JAIPUR JUMBLIES STRIKE!
The next morning I awoke with the bad taste of "Kambakkht Ishq" still in my mouth. I brushed my teeth, and then realized it wasn't just the horrible movie I had seen the previous night- I had come down with a case of the infamous "Jaipur Jumblies". If you have any type of an imagination, you can probably guess that mixing poorly cooked Curry Chicken with 100 degree heat in the middle of a country where cows and people both relieve themselves in creative ways all over every street translates into a wild ride for anyone's insides. The "Jaipur Jumblies" hit and I was out for the night and the next day, and then the next. In fact, Greg got a good case of them as well. Cuz that's what brothers do.
ON THE ROAD AGAIN...
Jaipur Jumblies and all, we piled into the Tata and drove on our way to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. I tried to sleep the whole car ride, but it was rough. We arrived at a huge mosque on the way that we toured around with a local kid as our guide, but it was tough to enjoy with my stomach in the state it was, and with a constant barrage of sellers trying to get me to buy the same wooden chess set. Good news: Greg and I were given some sweet shawls to wear over our shorts, as only long pants were allowed- which made for some good pictures.
In the late afternoon, we arrived at Agra, checked in, and I checked out. I passed out for a few hours on the bed, and eventually Greg and I went to pick up dinner- I could only eat a small amount of egg fried rice. Then it was back off to bed again- big day in the morning.
TAJ MAHAL + AMERICA'S FREEDOM
We awoke at 5:30am to meet the sunrise over the Taj Mahal. This was a wise decision. Not only were there barely any people, the lighting was incredible for photographing the Taj, and it wasn't yet 300 degrees in the shade. In order to showcase our patriotism, and to bring glory to the shining beacon of democracy that is known as "THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA", Greg and I both dressed in three colors, and three colors only. Red, White, and Blue. Little did we know, these were also the colors of France, England, Cambodia, Nepal, and many others. But America is the most important anyways. Though the date was July 5 for us, we were intent on celebrating July 4 on American time- not Indian time.
We were met by the same mass of kids selling stuff, but it was manageable this time. We payed our $17/ticket (compared to $0.50 for Indians) entrance fee and were on our way. And it was unreal. The view of the Taj from the entrance arch is indescribable- it's a real life postcard. I could have stayed there for hours. But we had to press on. The form and construction of the Taj is impeccable- especially the perfectly shaped dome on top. The building has such a prominent presence- standing proudly as if it knows it's marvelous. It was totally beautiful.
The inside was underwhelming. I was expecting a grand interior space, and it's not. The roof is much lower than I had anticipated, the tomb in the center keeps visitors from experiencing the space, and the peripheral interior rooms eat out much of the main central space. But the outside is incredible.
After walking the complex for nearly 2 hours, we chilled out in front, and after a while we had a group of followers who wanted cell phone pictures with us. We agreed- if we could take a picture with our camera as well. By the time we took the shot, a posse of 15 smiling Indian dudes were standing in the picture. I tried, without sucess, to get everyone to say "AMERICA!" when we took the picture. Maybe next time.
SO thankful I got to see the Taj Mahal. A total experience.
Friday, July 3, 2009
JAIPUR: THE PINK CITY
Jaipur is cool. It's got it's issues, sure, but it's lightyears ahead of Delhi. It was just nice to be out of that place and more in the countryside of Rajasthan. They call it the "Pink City" because apparently all the buildings along the roads are painted pink, but I didn't really notice. It looked more like dirt on the walls. Regardless, we were thanking God for getting us here- it was a big step up regardless.
I'll paint the picture for you: Jaipur has a few incredible complexes, a reasonably decent town, and a lake that, for health reasons, should only be viewed- never touched. But on this lake sits an insane White Palace in the middle- appearing to float.
TOURIN' THE FORTS
Both of the fortresses (the main fort below, and the Amber Fort above) we toured were unreal. Set up on a large hill overlooking the entire countryside, the forts are larger than life. Exploring these well-maintained complexes was a treat. Fortress walls extend along the ridge of all the surrounding mountains, creating a smaller-scale "Great Wall of China". It was incredible.
After these tours, we were off to the main town palace complex- my personal favorite. Apparently the main house in one of the courtyards is regarded as the one of the "world's most beautiful buildings" by some international architectural board. That's pretty vague, but essentially it's an incredibly richly detailed building. We toured through the rest, and eventually were finished with learning for the day- given the fact that it was over 100 degrees, once again. For some reason, we felt compelled to visit a "sun dial park" next door, so we didn't give up on learning for the day. It was pretty cool, a number of huge scale sun dials- personally I'd rather use a wristwatch, but to each his own.
KAMBAKKHT ISHQ: BOLLYWOOD'S FINEST HOUR
Night came, and given that it was Friday night, it was time for some fun! In Hindi, this phrase translates to: "Go see the new Bollywood movie." So, with Mannu as our guide, we went to the movie theater for the opening night of the movie we've all been waiting for in the States: "Kambakkht Ishq". It's a big deal. So big, in fact, that they totally sold out while we were in line. We figured it was time to cut our losses and go home. But then Mannu reminded us of one important detail: Greg and I are white. Using this truth as his battering ram, Mannu pushed to the front of a crowd, spoke to a security guard, and a few minutes later, we were walking in the sold-out theater. As we took our seats, that same security guard showed up to collect his bribe money. I looked at Mannu, and Mannu just said to pay it. So we did, and that was that. We bribed our way into the opening night of a Bollywood film of which the title made no sense to us.
I don't have the time to go into the whole movie, but the basic concept is this: take everything that's wrong with Hollywood and backward American values, and package it so that over a billion people in a single country can be taught that having a "Cadillac Escalades" will make them happy, and that they can purchase anything on credit without paying it back. It was sad. It made me sad to see my country pouring filth into cultures around the world. At the same time, I'll admit it, it was pretty entertaining. Specifically, the random song/dance sequences. It was basically India's High School Musical, except with an uncomfortable amount of base sexual humor and a theater filled almost entirely with 19-year-old Indian dudes. The jokes were horrible (they were so imaginitive that in one scene the bodyguard unknowlingly drinks a shake with Viagra in it- and hilarity ensues), the acting was even worse, and though it was an Indian movie for an Indian audience, the entire movie was filmed in Los Angeles, and it has cameos from none other than Densie Richards and Sylvester Stallone. In fact, after beating up a group of rag-tag Los Angeles gangsters, Stallone even delivers the movie title line IN HINDI: "Kambakkht Ishq." ("Bloody Love").
The movie played for an hour and a half, and then the lights all came on, and I was confused. "Intermission", Mannu told us. Wow. I've never had an intermission in a movie- especially one that's this poorly done. Every one of the seriously 4,000 people in the audience gets up and goes to the drink/popcorn stand to huddle in masses that in no way resemble lines, and push their way to grab an 8-ounce coke. Then it's back in for the 2nd half. I couldn't believe how long this movie was. 3 hours later, the whirlwind of emotions that is Kambakkht Ishq comes to an end, with 19-year-old boys all over the theater standing up to dance and clap out of time to the final song.
I wouldn't necessarily recommend "Kambakkht Ishq" to anyone, but if you happen to see it, I'd enjoy hearing your thoughts.
I'll paint the picture for you: Jaipur has a few incredible complexes, a reasonably decent town, and a lake that, for health reasons, should only be viewed- never touched. But on this lake sits an insane White Palace in the middle- appearing to float.
TOURIN' THE FORTS
Both of the fortresses (the main fort below, and the Amber Fort above) we toured were unreal. Set up on a large hill overlooking the entire countryside, the forts are larger than life. Exploring these well-maintained complexes was a treat. Fortress walls extend along the ridge of all the surrounding mountains, creating a smaller-scale "Great Wall of China". It was incredible.
After these tours, we were off to the main town palace complex- my personal favorite. Apparently the main house in one of the courtyards is regarded as the one of the "world's most beautiful buildings" by some international architectural board. That's pretty vague, but essentially it's an incredibly richly detailed building. We toured through the rest, and eventually were finished with learning for the day- given the fact that it was over 100 degrees, once again. For some reason, we felt compelled to visit a "sun dial park" next door, so we didn't give up on learning for the day. It was pretty cool, a number of huge scale sun dials- personally I'd rather use a wristwatch, but to each his own.
KAMBAKKHT ISHQ: BOLLYWOOD'S FINEST HOUR
Night came, and given that it was Friday night, it was time for some fun! In Hindi, this phrase translates to: "Go see the new Bollywood movie." So, with Mannu as our guide, we went to the movie theater for the opening night of the movie we've all been waiting for in the States: "Kambakkht Ishq". It's a big deal. So big, in fact, that they totally sold out while we were in line. We figured it was time to cut our losses and go home. But then Mannu reminded us of one important detail: Greg and I are white. Using this truth as his battering ram, Mannu pushed to the front of a crowd, spoke to a security guard, and a few minutes later, we were walking in the sold-out theater. As we took our seats, that same security guard showed up to collect his bribe money. I looked at Mannu, and Mannu just said to pay it. So we did, and that was that. We bribed our way into the opening night of a Bollywood film of which the title made no sense to us.
I don't have the time to go into the whole movie, but the basic concept is this: take everything that's wrong with Hollywood and backward American values, and package it so that over a billion people in a single country can be taught that having a "Cadillac Escalades" will make them happy, and that they can purchase anything on credit without paying it back. It was sad. It made me sad to see my country pouring filth into cultures around the world. At the same time, I'll admit it, it was pretty entertaining. Specifically, the random song/dance sequences. It was basically India's High School Musical, except with an uncomfortable amount of base sexual humor and a theater filled almost entirely with 19-year-old Indian dudes. The jokes were horrible (they were so imaginitive that in one scene the bodyguard unknowlingly drinks a shake with Viagra in it- and hilarity ensues), the acting was even worse, and though it was an Indian movie for an Indian audience, the entire movie was filmed in Los Angeles, and it has cameos from none other than Densie Richards and Sylvester Stallone. In fact, after beating up a group of rag-tag Los Angeles gangsters, Stallone even delivers the movie title line IN HINDI: "Kambakkht Ishq." ("Bloody Love").
The movie played for an hour and a half, and then the lights all came on, and I was confused. "Intermission", Mannu told us. Wow. I've never had an intermission in a movie- especially one that's this poorly done. Every one of the seriously 4,000 people in the audience gets up and goes to the drink/popcorn stand to huddle in masses that in no way resemble lines, and push their way to grab an 8-ounce coke. Then it's back in for the 2nd half. I couldn't believe how long this movie was. 3 hours later, the whirlwind of emotions that is Kambakkht Ishq comes to an end, with 19-year-old boys all over the theater standing up to dance and clap out of time to the final song.
I wouldn't necessarily recommend "Kambakkht Ishq" to anyone, but if you happen to see it, I'd enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
DELHI, INDIA
After a 6 hour flight I landed and set foot for the first time in "Incredible India" (note: "Incredible" subject to change). Waiting for my backpack in baggage claim, I spotted him: none other than THE Greg Zapf. We embraced. It was magical. So good to see my old friend. Specifically given my current location on earth.
Just after midnight we hopped in a taxi and were off. To where? We did not know. Apparently, neither did our cab driver. After about an hour of circling around at a snail-like pace in a vintage boat of a car from the 1940's, passing along a mud road with dogs, cows, and people sleeping on either side. For some reason it didn't seem like the right neighborhood for the hotel.
Fortunately (depending on how you look at it), it was our neighborhood. Turns out it was just what we refer to as a "ghetto" in the United States. But everyone knows that the ghetto is always where the adventure lies. So I was excited. We checked into the hotel and called it a night.
Wednesday, 1 July + Thursday, 2 July
DELHI, DAY 1: TOO MUCH.
Where to start? Let me start by saying that Delhi is too much. I can handle alot, but it's just too much. Too many people, too much traffic, too much trash everywhere, too much heat, too much humidity, too much in-your-face street peddling, too much unsanitary. (NOTE: while grammatically incorrect, "too much unsanitary" is the closest I can come to the intended meaning).
We toured through the Red Fort (cool), the entrance to the main Mosque (cool until a little girl latched onto Greg's arm screaming and crying for money... after we were advised not to give any money to the children... and when he didn't respond she latched onto me, continuing to scream and cry between us, as we continued to walk. Eventually we turned onto a shopping street where an old shop owner rushed at the girl as she was latched onto us, grabbed her, and hit her on the head. I yelled out at the guy to "chill out", but the whole scene was over so fast and she was immediately sent on her way. Both our hearts were torn- what to do? It's such a complex situation with the beggar children.
LOSTNESS
We continued through as the only foreigners in the area, getting lost in the narrowly winding network of streets that began to look the same. Eventually we emerged on a rickshaw, then hopped off in favor of walking the main streets. After much more walking than we had planned (due to a scale discrepancy when consulting the map) in 105 degree weather, complete with walking in front of a trash heap on the side of a main road with a dozen donkeys (some of them dying), we decided it was high time we let Delhi win this battle. Try as we might, we could not walk this city. We would be forced to travel by vehicle for the remainder of our trip.
THE MEAL THAT REDEEMED A CITY
A tuk-tuk drove us to Connaught Place, the tourist ring, and we found a sit-down Indian eatery. The food was absolutely exquisite. Among the best meals of my life. A paneer curry dish with fresh garlic Naan and a cold brew while escaping the infamous "Delhi Heat Stroke"- it was heavenly. Literally. I worshipped God while eating it. It was that good. Greg agrees.
LOTUS TEMPLE
The only thing that is nearly as good as that meal in Delhi is the Ba'hai faith Lotus Temple. I had studied this in my "Concrete Structural Engineering" course at Cal Poly, probably because my professor was Indian, but the building is masterful regardless. The form actually resembles a partially opened Lotus Flower, made entirely out of pour-in-place concrete. It's a work of art being inside the space- as well as the approach from a distance, specifically when you arrive at sunset as we did. This was a total highlight.
DELHI DAY 2: WHEN TOO MUCH REALLY BECAME TOO MUCH
The next day, Greg and I knew we had to get out of Delhi- no matter what. We checked out of our hotel and began Mission: Get Anywhere But Delhi. Unfortunately, this entailed us breaking Delhi's Golden Rule: never walk. We began to walk to the train station... with all of our bags... in 100 degree heat... and got lost... again. Eventually, we picked our way through the piles of trash enough to find the station. We boarded a totally surprisingly clean Metro train. Undoubtedly the cleanest place in the city. It was impressive.
DANNY OCEAN
We arrived at Connaught Place where we were smooth-talked by a guy named Thureq, who goes by Danny, who nicknamed himself "Danny Ocean" after George Clooney's character in Ocean's 11. I didn't see the resemblance. But after an hour of negotiations, Danny Ocean sold us on a 4-day trip to Jaipur and Agra with our own private driver.
"THE DRIVE"
Minutes later, we were in our air conditioning-enabled, white Tata 4-door, with Mannu as our driver. Mannu, Greg, and I became fast friends. Like the 3 musketeers. If the three musketeers were made up of 2 Americans and an Indian, instead of 3 lame French dudes. We were getting to know eachother, telling jokes and stories, and then BAM! Out. Of. Nowhere. Either a hopelessely unaware, or determinidly suicidal Indian dog wandered out a bit too far beyond the sparsly planted concrete island in the middle of the highway, and met his maker. We seriously plowed right into a mid-sized dog, and Mannu continued driving. I freaked for a second. "Should we pull over?" I asked. Mannu pulled over to inspect the damage. A piece from the grill was missing, so Mannu walked back towards the crime scene to recover the piece. While he was gone, some local boys came over to hang out with us. 2 of the 3 boys were literally in the middle of showers, but still they ran over, sporting their skivvies. It was quite the bizarre scene: Greg and myself on the side of a highway, surrounded by dripping wet Indian village boys in their underwear, and our driver down the road recovering a piece of his car from a dead dog on the highway.
Mannu returned, grill in hand, and we got back in the car, assuring Mannu that the dead dog was not his fault. Incredible India!
JAIPUR: GLAD TO BE ALIVE
The rest of the 5-hour drive was less eventful, and we arrived in Jaipur without a hitch. We checked into the hotel, and went out to a great tourist restaurant, Indiana, complete with a three-piece band and a dancing woman carrying 5 stacked pots on her head while stepping on the blades of swords and glass and other random household objects. Give the girl something sharp to step on, and she'll do it. The best was when she began her "traditional" dance, and needing a partner, came over and grabbed me. Little did she know, she was getting herself into an American/Indian Dance-Off for the ages. We spun each other around, twisted down to the ground, and even had an opportunity for some individual free-style. It was great. Right now about 20 different Japanese tourists are showing all their friends pictures of when the "American White Boy" danced with the "Indian Glass Stomper".
We went back to the hotel and hung out on our front porch with some students de Barcelona, Espana, and I got to practicar mi Espanol. After some good coversation, we called it a night.
Just after midnight we hopped in a taxi and were off. To where? We did not know. Apparently, neither did our cab driver. After about an hour of circling around at a snail-like pace in a vintage boat of a car from the 1940's, passing along a mud road with dogs, cows, and people sleeping on either side. For some reason it didn't seem like the right neighborhood for the hotel.
Fortunately (depending on how you look at it), it was our neighborhood. Turns out it was just what we refer to as a "ghetto" in the United States. But everyone knows that the ghetto is always where the adventure lies. So I was excited. We checked into the hotel and called it a night.
Wednesday, 1 July + Thursday, 2 July
DELHI, DAY 1: TOO MUCH.
Where to start? Let me start by saying that Delhi is too much. I can handle alot, but it's just too much. Too many people, too much traffic, too much trash everywhere, too much heat, too much humidity, too much in-your-face street peddling, too much unsanitary. (NOTE: while grammatically incorrect, "too much unsanitary" is the closest I can come to the intended meaning).
We toured through the Red Fort (cool), the entrance to the main Mosque (cool until a little girl latched onto Greg's arm screaming and crying for money... after we were advised not to give any money to the children... and when he didn't respond she latched onto me, continuing to scream and cry between us, as we continued to walk. Eventually we turned onto a shopping street where an old shop owner rushed at the girl as she was latched onto us, grabbed her, and hit her on the head. I yelled out at the guy to "chill out", but the whole scene was over so fast and she was immediately sent on her way. Both our hearts were torn- what to do? It's such a complex situation with the beggar children.
LOSTNESS
We continued through as the only foreigners in the area, getting lost in the narrowly winding network of streets that began to look the same. Eventually we emerged on a rickshaw, then hopped off in favor of walking the main streets. After much more walking than we had planned (due to a scale discrepancy when consulting the map) in 105 degree weather, complete with walking in front of a trash heap on the side of a main road with a dozen donkeys (some of them dying), we decided it was high time we let Delhi win this battle. Try as we might, we could not walk this city. We would be forced to travel by vehicle for the remainder of our trip.
THE MEAL THAT REDEEMED A CITY
A tuk-tuk drove us to Connaught Place, the tourist ring, and we found a sit-down Indian eatery. The food was absolutely exquisite. Among the best meals of my life. A paneer curry dish with fresh garlic Naan and a cold brew while escaping the infamous "Delhi Heat Stroke"- it was heavenly. Literally. I worshipped God while eating it. It was that good. Greg agrees.
LOTUS TEMPLE
The only thing that is nearly as good as that meal in Delhi is the Ba'hai faith Lotus Temple. I had studied this in my "Concrete Structural Engineering" course at Cal Poly, probably because my professor was Indian, but the building is masterful regardless. The form actually resembles a partially opened Lotus Flower, made entirely out of pour-in-place concrete. It's a work of art being inside the space- as well as the approach from a distance, specifically when you arrive at sunset as we did. This was a total highlight.
DELHI DAY 2: WHEN TOO MUCH REALLY BECAME TOO MUCH
The next day, Greg and I knew we had to get out of Delhi- no matter what. We checked out of our hotel and began Mission: Get Anywhere But Delhi. Unfortunately, this entailed us breaking Delhi's Golden Rule: never walk. We began to walk to the train station... with all of our bags... in 100 degree heat... and got lost... again. Eventually, we picked our way through the piles of trash enough to find the station. We boarded a totally surprisingly clean Metro train. Undoubtedly the cleanest place in the city. It was impressive.
DANNY OCEAN
We arrived at Connaught Place where we were smooth-talked by a guy named Thureq, who goes by Danny, who nicknamed himself "Danny Ocean" after George Clooney's character in Ocean's 11. I didn't see the resemblance. But after an hour of negotiations, Danny Ocean sold us on a 4-day trip to Jaipur and Agra with our own private driver.
"THE DRIVE"
Minutes later, we were in our air conditioning-enabled, white Tata 4-door, with Mannu as our driver. Mannu, Greg, and I became fast friends. Like the 3 musketeers. If the three musketeers were made up of 2 Americans and an Indian, instead of 3 lame French dudes. We were getting to know eachother, telling jokes and stories, and then BAM! Out. Of. Nowhere. Either a hopelessely unaware, or determinidly suicidal Indian dog wandered out a bit too far beyond the sparsly planted concrete island in the middle of the highway, and met his maker. We seriously plowed right into a mid-sized dog, and Mannu continued driving. I freaked for a second. "Should we pull over?" I asked. Mannu pulled over to inspect the damage. A piece from the grill was missing, so Mannu walked back towards the crime scene to recover the piece. While he was gone, some local boys came over to hang out with us. 2 of the 3 boys were literally in the middle of showers, but still they ran over, sporting their skivvies. It was quite the bizarre scene: Greg and myself on the side of a highway, surrounded by dripping wet Indian village boys in their underwear, and our driver down the road recovering a piece of his car from a dead dog on the highway.
Mannu returned, grill in hand, and we got back in the car, assuring Mannu that the dead dog was not his fault. Incredible India!
JAIPUR: GLAD TO BE ALIVE
The rest of the 5-hour drive was less eventful, and we arrived in Jaipur without a hitch. We checked into the hotel, and went out to a great tourist restaurant, Indiana, complete with a three-piece band and a dancing woman carrying 5 stacked pots on her head while stepping on the blades of swords and glass and other random household objects. Give the girl something sharp to step on, and she'll do it. The best was when she began her "traditional" dance, and needing a partner, came over and grabbed me. Little did she know, she was getting herself into an American/Indian Dance-Off for the ages. We spun each other around, twisted down to the ground, and even had an opportunity for some individual free-style. It was great. Right now about 20 different Japanese tourists are showing all their friends pictures of when the "American White Boy" danced with the "Indian Glass Stomper".
We went back to the hotel and hung out on our front porch with some students de Barcelona, Espana, and I got to practicar mi Espanol. After some good coversation, we called it a night.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
BANGKOK. (INSERT IMMATURE JOKE HERE).
BUS RIDE ADVENTURES: VOLUME 14
The next morning Katie and I left boarded the bus marked for Bangkok. This proved to be both more uncomfortable and more adventurous than any of the buses I had taken up to this point. Which is saying ALOT. Trust me.
The morning began by packing the entire bus full to the brim with people, stacking all of their belongings into a 12 ft. tall tower in the back of the turn-of-the-century public transit vehicle. When this infallible system could hold no more, the overflow of belongings spilled into the aisle- 2 backpacks high along the entire length of the aisle. In case of fire, just sit there unable to escape and accept the fact that you booked a 12-hour international bus ticket that costs roughly the same as a Vente Caramel Macchiato.
In the midst of this mayhem, Katie and I befriended a smooth-talkin', wise-crackin', and honestly very delightful Aussie (that's Australian for "an Australian citizen") named Brendon. We chatted about various travel experiences- apparently he had just called his boss to tell him he wouldn't be back at work, and that was that. He tried, with minimal success, to convince Katie to do the same. He also described in detail each of the various times that he had gotten "massively wasted" on the trip. It was fun.
After 4 hours on the bus from hell, we arrived at the Thai border. After an hour of filling out forms, paying money, and waiting in lines, we were officially in Thailand! Alright!
We were greeted by a massive upgrade: a brand-new 15-passenger leather seated van with fake chrome rims. And given that we only had 30 people... it should work out... oh no. Guess that whole arithmetic thing didn't work out this time. As the first group left, we waited for our "ride" to show up. Thankfully, it actually did. And we were off- in style!
BANGKOK: ARRIVAL
We arrived in Bangkok and immediately began touring around- just as the skies immediately began monsoon raining. Running for cover to equip ourselves with our trusty rain jackets, Katie and I braved the storm, which was already flooding up the streets to near-curb height. Wandering the streets, we discovered a Thai restaurant! Who would have guessed... in the middle of a town like Bangkok? I got my first dish of Phad Thai actually in Thailand. We had a wonderful dinner and conversation, enhanced only by the 4 T.V. screens playing the "Transformers" movie inside the island-themed Thai shack- inspired dinner restaurant. Just what you would expect.
The next day was a mad rush to see as much of the city as possible without missing our flights out that left at 6pm. I'm proud to say that we rose to the task.
DO "PIGEON FEEDERS" HAVE TO SUBMIT W-2 FORMS?
We toured some Busshist temples and such, and then happened upon an elderly Thai couple very politely feeding a group of pigeons with bags of seed. "How nice", I thought. The nice elderly couple gave us some seed. and we joined them in feeding the swarm of pigeons. 10 birds at a time would crawl all over us in search of food- it was alot of fun. We got some great pictures. In fact, the wonderful elderly couple handed us more and more bags of seed and even took pictures for us. When the pigeons died down and we thought we were on our way, the wonderful little Thai elderly couple began to get hostile. "500 bhat! They demanded." Oh! So that's what the perfect elderly couple was doing. We had unknowlingly enetered into a "pigeon feed" business relationship with them. I threw some bhat at them, as more locals began to crowd around and demand money, and we ran out of there. A narrow escape. Or was it?
BENY: AN INTRIGUING MESS
As we continued to walk, on our way back to the main tourist area, a tuk-tuk driver named Beny pulled up and offered a 20 bhat ride to multiple temple sites around town. Knowing it was a scam, we declined. Beny remounted his tuk-tuk, drove around the block, and reemerged. "Ok. 10 bhat." "No. Thank you." Once again, he pulled around the block, came back: "Ok ok. 5 bhat for ride all over town." "Beny- there is no way you can make a profit on a 1-hour tour for the equivalent of 15 U.S. cents. It's a scam." Once again, he left, drove around, and came back. Katie and I could not believe our eyes. "Ok. 4 bhat." "No", I replied. Beny leaves, follows the prescribed routine yet again, and pulls out all the stops. "Ok. Free. No cost. Just get in." By this point I knew it was a scam, but his persistence was so intriguing I couldn't deny him. At this point I had to see what would happen. "Ok. We'll do it." So we hopped in and Beny drove us without a hitch to the first stop, a 45 meter tall statue of Buddha. Talk about a massive statue. It was insane! Each foot of the standing Buddha was 10 feet in length. Glad we were able to see it, we returned to Beny, unsure of where we might end up yet. But I was intrigued. We departed, and after about 3 minutes, it all made sense. Beny stopped in front of a custom suit tailoring business and instructed us to get out and tour through the shop. As we got out, unsure of how to handle the situation, 2 American guys getting into a taxi began talking with us. "Don't go inside", they said. "It's a complete scam and this guy will keep driving you to different shops until you buy something. Just hop in our cab with us and we'll take you wherever you'd like." Katie and I didn't think twice. We ditched Beny, as he stood in disbelief, and slid into the cab. The guys, both from Tampa, Florida, drove us around and dropped us off at the Great Mountain Stupa. They were incredibly friendly, and it worked out perfectly.
The tour of the stupa was great. Best views of the city we saw the whole time- 360 degrees of urban bliss, while standing on a platform with my girlfriend, 12 Buddhist monks, and myself. Those monks sure make for some great photos.
As we were running late, we raced back (as best we could) to grab our stuff to go. I bargained for a "Diesel" messenger bag, which I was told would sell for over 100 Euros, and I got it for the reduced price of $16. Too true. We caught a hot pink taxi (featured in the soon-to-be-released straight-to-DVD film "Hot Pink Taxi Chronicles: Bangkok").
Thank God, Katie and I made it with plenty of time, checked in, said our final goodbyes, and flew to home and on to Delhi, respectively.
It will be tough to find a better travel partner.
The next morning Katie and I left boarded the bus marked for Bangkok. This proved to be both more uncomfortable and more adventurous than any of the buses I had taken up to this point. Which is saying ALOT. Trust me.
The morning began by packing the entire bus full to the brim with people, stacking all of their belongings into a 12 ft. tall tower in the back of the turn-of-the-century public transit vehicle. When this infallible system could hold no more, the overflow of belongings spilled into the aisle- 2 backpacks high along the entire length of the aisle. In case of fire, just sit there unable to escape and accept the fact that you booked a 12-hour international bus ticket that costs roughly the same as a Vente Caramel Macchiato.
In the midst of this mayhem, Katie and I befriended a smooth-talkin', wise-crackin', and honestly very delightful Aussie (that's Australian for "an Australian citizen") named Brendon. We chatted about various travel experiences- apparently he had just called his boss to tell him he wouldn't be back at work, and that was that. He tried, with minimal success, to convince Katie to do the same. He also described in detail each of the various times that he had gotten "massively wasted" on the trip. It was fun.
After 4 hours on the bus from hell, we arrived at the Thai border. After an hour of filling out forms, paying money, and waiting in lines, we were officially in Thailand! Alright!
We were greeted by a massive upgrade: a brand-new 15-passenger leather seated van with fake chrome rims. And given that we only had 30 people... it should work out... oh no. Guess that whole arithmetic thing didn't work out this time. As the first group left, we waited for our "ride" to show up. Thankfully, it actually did. And we were off- in style!
BANGKOK: ARRIVAL
We arrived in Bangkok and immediately began touring around- just as the skies immediately began monsoon raining. Running for cover to equip ourselves with our trusty rain jackets, Katie and I braved the storm, which was already flooding up the streets to near-curb height. Wandering the streets, we discovered a Thai restaurant! Who would have guessed... in the middle of a town like Bangkok? I got my first dish of Phad Thai actually in Thailand. We had a wonderful dinner and conversation, enhanced only by the 4 T.V. screens playing the "Transformers" movie inside the island-themed Thai shack- inspired dinner restaurant. Just what you would expect.
The next day was a mad rush to see as much of the city as possible without missing our flights out that left at 6pm. I'm proud to say that we rose to the task.
DO "PIGEON FEEDERS" HAVE TO SUBMIT W-2 FORMS?
We toured some Busshist temples and such, and then happened upon an elderly Thai couple very politely feeding a group of pigeons with bags of seed. "How nice", I thought. The nice elderly couple gave us some seed. and we joined them in feeding the swarm of pigeons. 10 birds at a time would crawl all over us in search of food- it was alot of fun. We got some great pictures. In fact, the wonderful elderly couple handed us more and more bags of seed and even took pictures for us. When the pigeons died down and we thought we were on our way, the wonderful little Thai elderly couple began to get hostile. "500 bhat! They demanded." Oh! So that's what the perfect elderly couple was doing. We had unknowlingly enetered into a "pigeon feed" business relationship with them. I threw some bhat at them, as more locals began to crowd around and demand money, and we ran out of there. A narrow escape. Or was it?
BENY: AN INTRIGUING MESS
As we continued to walk, on our way back to the main tourist area, a tuk-tuk driver named Beny pulled up and offered a 20 bhat ride to multiple temple sites around town. Knowing it was a scam, we declined. Beny remounted his tuk-tuk, drove around the block, and reemerged. "Ok. 10 bhat." "No. Thank you." Once again, he pulled around the block, came back: "Ok ok. 5 bhat for ride all over town." "Beny- there is no way you can make a profit on a 1-hour tour for the equivalent of 15 U.S. cents. It's a scam." Once again, he left, drove around, and came back. Katie and I could not believe our eyes. "Ok. 4 bhat." "No", I replied. Beny leaves, follows the prescribed routine yet again, and pulls out all the stops. "Ok. Free. No cost. Just get in." By this point I knew it was a scam, but his persistence was so intriguing I couldn't deny him. At this point I had to see what would happen. "Ok. We'll do it." So we hopped in and Beny drove us without a hitch to the first stop, a 45 meter tall statue of Buddha. Talk about a massive statue. It was insane! Each foot of the standing Buddha was 10 feet in length. Glad we were able to see it, we returned to Beny, unsure of where we might end up yet. But I was intrigued. We departed, and after about 3 minutes, it all made sense. Beny stopped in front of a custom suit tailoring business and instructed us to get out and tour through the shop. As we got out, unsure of how to handle the situation, 2 American guys getting into a taxi began talking with us. "Don't go inside", they said. "It's a complete scam and this guy will keep driving you to different shops until you buy something. Just hop in our cab with us and we'll take you wherever you'd like." Katie and I didn't think twice. We ditched Beny, as he stood in disbelief, and slid into the cab. The guys, both from Tampa, Florida, drove us around and dropped us off at the Great Mountain Stupa. They were incredibly friendly, and it worked out perfectly.
The tour of the stupa was great. Best views of the city we saw the whole time- 360 degrees of urban bliss, while standing on a platform with my girlfriend, 12 Buddhist monks, and myself. Those monks sure make for some great photos.
As we were running late, we raced back (as best we could) to grab our stuff to go. I bargained for a "Diesel" messenger bag, which I was told would sell for over 100 Euros, and I got it for the reduced price of $16. Too true. We caught a hot pink taxi (featured in the soon-to-be-released straight-to-DVD film "Hot Pink Taxi Chronicles: Bangkok").
Thank God, Katie and I made it with plenty of time, checked in, said our final goodbyes, and flew to home and on to Delhi, respectively.
It will be tough to find a better travel partner.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
SIEM REAP: IT'S A BIG DEAL.
Ok. So this is the time that I ACTUALLY speed things up in order to get anywhere within the realm of where I currently am (Kathmandu, Nepal). Though I will not have the capacity to share all that I would like, rest in the knowledge that wild adventures took place around every corner. Also note that any writing samples should be taken from the first 2 weeks of writings, and not these rushed and often grammatically incorrect entries. So fasten your seatbelts, keep arms and legs inside at all times, sit back, and enjoy the quickest re-cap Matthew Ridenour has ever attempted in his life.
Friday, 26 June + Saturday, 27 June
SIEM REAP: TEMPLES GALORE!
Sleep-deprived, we arrived at 6am. Seng (the quiet tuk-tuk driver with a heart of gold we would have for the next 2 days) picked us up.
We toured (viz Seng's trusty tuk-tuk) into the entrance of the temples of Angkor Wat, built by the Khmers between 800 and 1200 A.D. Apparently it's cool to charge $20/person/day to enter. We saw many absolutely jaw-dropping temple sites that I had studied in Architectural History class. Not that I remembered any useful knowledge, but it nonetheless illustrates that these are a pretty big deal.
We spent most of the first day in the main complex, Angkor Thom, where we ran around taking photos like little children in a candy store. Around every corner was a new and incredible view or room or stone statue. My top 2 experiences in Angkor Wat were:
1. Walking through Thep Phnom, the temple where the mildly entertaining, poorly acted blockbuster, Tomb Raider was filmed. Having studied the complex in Architecture school, I knew the main postcard scene of the huge old tree with snake-like roots growing out of the ruins was in the complex. After walking through courtyards and ducking under doorways, we turned a corner, and there it was: the money shot. I got so excited- got a bunch of photos of the tree, myself next to it, and Katie and I in front of it. It was a beautiful moment. After soaking in the glory of the scene for a few minutes, we continued on our way out... only to find that the ACTUAL money shot was in the NEXT courtyard area! I was floored. And felt a bit foolish. But mostly was floored by the scene. It's unlike anything in the world. Now I know why Simon West decided to have Angelina Jolie's stunt double run around this complex in the middle of Cambodia- it's unreal. In this case, my ignorance made the whole experience that much richer.
2. Arriving from the backside at Angkor Wat, the main temple complex, with 4 cone-shaped roof mounds projecting above a central courtyard- basically the "Big Momma" of ancient temple complexes- and seeing 2 Buddhist monks in vibrantly bright orange cloaks sitting on the faded brown steps to the entrance. Walking up the steps and taking photos with them (some of the best of the trip) and talking with them for a half hour. Then continuing through and out to the main processional entrance that passes over the huge moat surrounding the complex. Looking back at the complex behind, as the day turned to dusk and the sun began to set was a worshipful experience.
Instead of describing how incredible each of these temple complexes were, I'm just gonna say this: "Go." You will not regret it. And if you don't believe me, just ask Ms. Katie Martin. She's a more trustworthy source anyway.
Other highlights of Siem Reap included:
1. Eating a wonderful dinner at the Kris Warner-recommended "Soup Dragon" restaurant on the main tourist street in Siem Reap. Surprisingly, the food actually lives up to the awesomeness of the restaurant's name.
2. Attending a Seng-recommended (as he gets a commission) "Traditional Cambodian Dance Performance Buffet." Surprisingly, it was actually worse than it sounds. It was horrible. Katie described it as "Cruise Ship Entertainment". I agree. I'm sure I'm supposed to appreciate this dance style because it is "traditional," but unfortunately I'm an uncultured American who needs something at least close to Cirque Du Soliel in order to be mildly entertained.
Friday, 26 June + Saturday, 27 June
SIEM REAP: TEMPLES GALORE!
Sleep-deprived, we arrived at 6am. Seng (the quiet tuk-tuk driver with a heart of gold we would have for the next 2 days) picked us up.
We toured (viz Seng's trusty tuk-tuk) into the entrance of the temples of Angkor Wat, built by the Khmers between 800 and 1200 A.D. Apparently it's cool to charge $20/person/day to enter. We saw many absolutely jaw-dropping temple sites that I had studied in Architectural History class. Not that I remembered any useful knowledge, but it nonetheless illustrates that these are a pretty big deal.
We spent most of the first day in the main complex, Angkor Thom, where we ran around taking photos like little children in a candy store. Around every corner was a new and incredible view or room or stone statue. My top 2 experiences in Angkor Wat were:
1. Walking through Thep Phnom, the temple where the mildly entertaining, poorly acted blockbuster, Tomb Raider was filmed. Having studied the complex in Architecture school, I knew the main postcard scene of the huge old tree with snake-like roots growing out of the ruins was in the complex. After walking through courtyards and ducking under doorways, we turned a corner, and there it was: the money shot. I got so excited- got a bunch of photos of the tree, myself next to it, and Katie and I in front of it. It was a beautiful moment. After soaking in the glory of the scene for a few minutes, we continued on our way out... only to find that the ACTUAL money shot was in the NEXT courtyard area! I was floored. And felt a bit foolish. But mostly was floored by the scene. It's unlike anything in the world. Now I know why Simon West decided to have Angelina Jolie's stunt double run around this complex in the middle of Cambodia- it's unreal. In this case, my ignorance made the whole experience that much richer.
2. Arriving from the backside at Angkor Wat, the main temple complex, with 4 cone-shaped roof mounds projecting above a central courtyard- basically the "Big Momma" of ancient temple complexes- and seeing 2 Buddhist monks in vibrantly bright orange cloaks sitting on the faded brown steps to the entrance. Walking up the steps and taking photos with them (some of the best of the trip) and talking with them for a half hour. Then continuing through and out to the main processional entrance that passes over the huge moat surrounding the complex. Looking back at the complex behind, as the day turned to dusk and the sun began to set was a worshipful experience.
Instead of describing how incredible each of these temple complexes were, I'm just gonna say this: "Go." You will not regret it. And if you don't believe me, just ask Ms. Katie Martin. She's a more trustworthy source anyway.
Other highlights of Siem Reap included:
1. Eating a wonderful dinner at the Kris Warner-recommended "Soup Dragon" restaurant on the main tourist street in Siem Reap. Surprisingly, the food actually lives up to the awesomeness of the restaurant's name.
2. Attending a Seng-recommended (as he gets a commission) "Traditional Cambodian Dance Performance Buffet." Surprisingly, it was actually worse than it sounds. It was horrible. Katie described it as "Cruise Ship Entertainment". I agree. I'm sure I'm supposed to appreciate this dance style because it is "traditional," but unfortunately I'm an uncultured American who needs something at least close to Cirque Du Soliel in order to be mildly entertained.
Friday, June 26, 2009
BACK TO PHNOM PEHN: COULDN'T GET ENOUGH
At 7:30am we were on our way to the infamous bus back to Phnom Pehn. The ride was smooth, and we arrived by lunchtime. We called Kris and arranged that we would meet up for dinner before the Friday night worship service at the orphanage. That meant we had 3 hours to do about 600 things. 1) Buy night bus tickets up to Siem Reap - CHECK. 2) Eat lunch at a cool place on the river where they say that Chicken Fingers take 3 min. to prepare when they actually take 30 - CHECK. 3) Tour around Phnom Penh & see Royal Palace - NOT REALLY. 4) Meet up with Katie Davis who works at a local micro-finance office that partners with Kiva - CHECK. 5) Get to "Freebird" bar & grill by 5pm for dinner with Kris - ALMOST CHECK.
THE ROYAL PALACE: SERIOUS ABOUT SLEEVES
Knowing we were in a crazy hurry, Katie and I hired a tuk-tuk driver... who we later discovered spoke no English. He was, however, totally cool. Which more than made up for it. He took us by the Royal Palace, we hopped out, walked up to ticketing, and immediately walked back out- apparently sleeveless shirts are a faux pas in the Phnom Pehn Royal Palace. Either that or the ticketing lady really just didn't like Katie. Our McGyver solution: grab the blanket covering the back seat of the tuk-tuk and cover Katie's shoulders with it. The driver seemed cool with it. We walked back, confident in our new method- only to be, once again, denied. The sleeves must be attached. Who knew?
Bruised, but not beaten, we left and tuk-tuk'd over to meet Katie Davis at her office. Miracuously, we found the place, and were greeted by Katie at her office entrance. She explained the micro-finance process to us: how her company gives small loans (with a $500 limit) to local farmers or small businesses to aid them in their pursuits. It's a great process, that was nice to learn more about.
FREEBIRD: A LITTLE SLICE OF AMERICA IN THE HEART OF CAMBODIA
By the end of our time with Katie the clock struck 5pm. We were supposed to be with Kris then. Crap! I called Kris, and he directed us to simply meet him at the restaurant. No problem. Little did we know, we were entering into the middle of Phnom Penh traffic in the middle of the busiest area in town. Lucky for us, our driver didn't care about traffic. Incredibly, our tuk-tuk managed to push through spaces between buses, cars, and motorbikes that were approximately the width of a pencil, and we arrived in no time.
Dinner was great- I was fortunate enough to eat the first Mexican food I had even seen in 2 weeks. 3 Camb/Mex soft tacos = Not quite on par with Tex/Mex, but not bad. Not bad at all.
WORSHIP SERVICE AT THE ORPHANAGE
After dinner we were off to the orphanage for worship. We arrived and entered the sanctuary to 80 children singing praise songs to "Preya Jesu". It was beautiful. Kids of all ages: from 18 months to 18 years, and even staff and pastors. Up front: a single high school boy on synthesized keyboard with all the drum tracks programmed, and 3 singers with microphones. It was awesome.
The worship was all in Cambodian, and so we just took it all in from the back for a while- until they began singing "Shout To The Lord". I recognized the melody and began singing it to myself along with the rest of the room singing in their native tongue. It was so powerful- the reality of the situation hit me- that we were all praising the same God as one. A picture of heaven. I focused on the words, and they made more sense than ever before. It was a wonderful and emotional experience.
After worship, the pastor preached, and after they split the room into 2 and began praying out loud for specific requests. The kids, though of a wide age range, were very focused and excited to be in worship. It was refreshing. After the service, Katie and I got to meet a number of the children, as many of them ran up to us and wanted to be near us. Once I began picking up a few of the boys and throwing them around the room (not literally, Child Services), many more came up and wanted to be spun around or raised up above my head and dropped back down. It was so fun. My most faithful companion, probably the cutest kid I've ever seen, maybe 4 years old, wanted to be spun around by his arms. So I spun him until we were both dizzy. Immediately, he wanted to go again. Then his friend jumped in. So I spun him. Then the other kid wanted to go again. Then the other one. Repeat this process 10 times. Then, the 2nd kid got tired, but the first one could not get enough. Seriously. We kept agreeing on "Just one more"- which turned into 3 more. I was starting to get nautious. But it was totally worth it to see him laugh. He was a totally hilarious lil' ball of energy.
Katie connected with a bunch of the girls- they all loved her. They were doing girl stuff- like talking. As for me, after about 50,000 spins, it was time to bid the orphanage adieu. We spoke with a few more of the kids, and soon enough we were back in Kris's car.
Kris dropped us off and we said our final goodbyes. What an incredible time it had been with him! So encouraging to see the work that Foursquare Children of Promise is doing in Cambodia- and so glad Kris is being used so faithfully there. It was an enriching time.
NIGHT BUS: SIEM REAP
We packed our bags up and got ready to head out for our night bus to Siem Reap. We decided to just go for it and charter the bus instead of staying in Phnom Pehn and leaving the next morning. Good decision? Bad decision? You decide.
We arrived at the "bus terminal" (a.k.a.) a sidewalk on some barely lit street in some random neighborhood in Phnom Pehn at 11:30pm to wait for the bus. At midnight the pre-WWII assembled bus arrived to sweep us off on our 6-hour journey to Siem Reap.
This bus had all the amenities: seats that leaned back at least 4 degrees, an aisle down the middle, and some windows. It even had a flat tire that we got to wait on the road for an hour while they fixed- and one of the drivers threw all the passenger's bags up onto the 2nd level, right where I was, to get them out of the way for some reason. All of these circumstances, combined with a jarringly bumpy road, contributed to my being awake nearly all night. The good news: I made it the furthest through my "Sleep" playlist on my iPOD I ever have. Normally I'm out by the 2nd song- this time I made it to the 2nd to last. Also good news: Katie got to rest. I don't know how she managed this superhuman task, but she did, and I'm not only glad... I'm impressed.
THE ROYAL PALACE: SERIOUS ABOUT SLEEVES
Knowing we were in a crazy hurry, Katie and I hired a tuk-tuk driver... who we later discovered spoke no English. He was, however, totally cool. Which more than made up for it. He took us by the Royal Palace, we hopped out, walked up to ticketing, and immediately walked back out- apparently sleeveless shirts are a faux pas in the Phnom Pehn Royal Palace. Either that or the ticketing lady really just didn't like Katie. Our McGyver solution: grab the blanket covering the back seat of the tuk-tuk and cover Katie's shoulders with it. The driver seemed cool with it. We walked back, confident in our new method- only to be, once again, denied. The sleeves must be attached. Who knew?
Bruised, but not beaten, we left and tuk-tuk'd over to meet Katie Davis at her office. Miracuously, we found the place, and were greeted by Katie at her office entrance. She explained the micro-finance process to us: how her company gives small loans (with a $500 limit) to local farmers or small businesses to aid them in their pursuits. It's a great process, that was nice to learn more about.
FREEBIRD: A LITTLE SLICE OF AMERICA IN THE HEART OF CAMBODIA
By the end of our time with Katie the clock struck 5pm. We were supposed to be with Kris then. Crap! I called Kris, and he directed us to simply meet him at the restaurant. No problem. Little did we know, we were entering into the middle of Phnom Penh traffic in the middle of the busiest area in town. Lucky for us, our driver didn't care about traffic. Incredibly, our tuk-tuk managed to push through spaces between buses, cars, and motorbikes that were approximately the width of a pencil, and we arrived in no time.
Dinner was great- I was fortunate enough to eat the first Mexican food I had even seen in 2 weeks. 3 Camb/Mex soft tacos = Not quite on par with Tex/Mex, but not bad. Not bad at all.
WORSHIP SERVICE AT THE ORPHANAGE
After dinner we were off to the orphanage for worship. We arrived and entered the sanctuary to 80 children singing praise songs to "Preya Jesu". It was beautiful. Kids of all ages: from 18 months to 18 years, and even staff and pastors. Up front: a single high school boy on synthesized keyboard with all the drum tracks programmed, and 3 singers with microphones. It was awesome.
The worship was all in Cambodian, and so we just took it all in from the back for a while- until they began singing "Shout To The Lord". I recognized the melody and began singing it to myself along with the rest of the room singing in their native tongue. It was so powerful- the reality of the situation hit me- that we were all praising the same God as one. A picture of heaven. I focused on the words, and they made more sense than ever before. It was a wonderful and emotional experience.
After worship, the pastor preached, and after they split the room into 2 and began praying out loud for specific requests. The kids, though of a wide age range, were very focused and excited to be in worship. It was refreshing. After the service, Katie and I got to meet a number of the children, as many of them ran up to us and wanted to be near us. Once I began picking up a few of the boys and throwing them around the room (not literally, Child Services), many more came up and wanted to be spun around or raised up above my head and dropped back down. It was so fun. My most faithful companion, probably the cutest kid I've ever seen, maybe 4 years old, wanted to be spun around by his arms. So I spun him until we were both dizzy. Immediately, he wanted to go again. Then his friend jumped in. So I spun him. Then the other kid wanted to go again. Then the other one. Repeat this process 10 times. Then, the 2nd kid got tired, but the first one could not get enough. Seriously. We kept agreeing on "Just one more"- which turned into 3 more. I was starting to get nautious. But it was totally worth it to see him laugh. He was a totally hilarious lil' ball of energy.
Katie connected with a bunch of the girls- they all loved her. They were doing girl stuff- like talking. As for me, after about 50,000 spins, it was time to bid the orphanage adieu. We spoke with a few more of the kids, and soon enough we were back in Kris's car.
Kris dropped us off and we said our final goodbyes. What an incredible time it had been with him! So encouraging to see the work that Foursquare Children of Promise is doing in Cambodia- and so glad Kris is being used so faithfully there. It was an enriching time.
NIGHT BUS: SIEM REAP
We packed our bags up and got ready to head out for our night bus to Siem Reap. We decided to just go for it and charter the bus instead of staying in Phnom Pehn and leaving the next morning. Good decision? Bad decision? You decide.
We arrived at the "bus terminal" (a.k.a.) a sidewalk on some barely lit street in some random neighborhood in Phnom Pehn at 11:30pm to wait for the bus. At midnight the pre-WWII assembled bus arrived to sweep us off on our 6-hour journey to Siem Reap.
This bus had all the amenities: seats that leaned back at least 4 degrees, an aisle down the middle, and some windows. It even had a flat tire that we got to wait on the road for an hour while they fixed- and one of the drivers threw all the passenger's bags up onto the 2nd level, right where I was, to get them out of the way for some reason. All of these circumstances, combined with a jarringly bumpy road, contributed to my being awake nearly all night. The good news: I made it the furthest through my "Sleep" playlist on my iPOD I ever have. Normally I'm out by the 2nd song- this time I made it to the 2nd to last. Also good news: Katie got to rest. I don't know how she managed this superhuman task, but she did, and I'm not only glad... I'm impressed.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
SIHANOUKVILLE: DAY 2
BEACH SELLERS
The next morning was absolutely brilliant. I met Katie out on the beach as she was surrounded by a cluster of 6 Cambodian girls, talking with them as they succeeded in selling her hand-made bracelets. I ended up with 2. She was also getting a mani/pedi from an older Vietnamese woman. I laid down in the beach lounge next to them to get some reading done while soaking up the sun. This was apparently too much to ask. Within 2 seconds of taking my place, I became the new focus. Bracelets, necklaces, fruit- everything I had always wanted was for sale from the kids there. That's when the mani/pedi lady's sister showed up. She claimed she would simply start on one hand- free sample- and then I could decline. But everyone knows that you can't just start a mani/pedi and then stop all of a sudden. After trying to resist, I caved and got my 2nd mani/pedi of my life. The first being bringing some gnarly hands and feet back up to U.S. Health Department standards after 3 weeks in Kenya.
THE EVERLASTING SWIM
Armed with perfectly formed, glistening nails, Katie and I jumped in the Cambodian tropical water for the first time. Perfect temperature. So perfect, in fact, that we decided to make a swim of it. Spotting a rock peninsula that seemed close enough, we began swimming. After 15 minutes of kicking and paddling, the peninsula seemed further away. "How is that even possible?" I wondered. Needless to say, it was much more of a workout than we had anticipated. Which turned out great. Especially when the final 200 feet were spent falling on each other while attempting to walk across sharp rocks to reach the destination first. It was the slowest moving race I've ever witnessed.
SCOOTIN' ADVENTURES
After exploring the wonderful rock peninsular region in all of its beauty, we walked back to the beach. We had bigger plans. Those plans involved driving our scooters 12 km outside of town to the Ream National Forest. I was on empty, so it was high time to put some gas in my hog. We drove to a nearby station, and about 1/4 mile before arriving, the beast began to putter out. As my hog slowly lost all power, I shifted over lanes of traffic, until I ran completely out of gas and it died on me at the intersection in front of the station. I reacted quickly: pushing the scooter out of traffic and onto the shoulder to avoid being killed, and then up the hill to the station. Whew! What a relief that I made it! I had the attendant top me off, and Katie and I were off again- smiling the whole scenic drive.
NOON: AWKWARD SITUATIONS ABOUND
We arrived at the turnoff for the park, and followed the road until we saw a sign that read "National Forest Tourism Office". Assuming this was the start point, we entered. We had no idea what we were getting into. As we pulled in, a Cambodian guy in his late 20's walked out to greet us. "Hello, I am Noon. I am guide for National Forest. I will take you on tour." "Great!" we thought.
Noon showed us the different hikes we could do. Then he told us it would be $7 each. "Noon- why does it say $4 each here on the poster?" I inquired. Without skipping a beat, Noon replied: "Oh, that was made in 2003. It's more now." I knew we were in for a treat.
We payed him the $14 and began walking to our scooters. Noon stopped us: "Oh, also, could I drive one of your scooters? I don't have one." Hmmm... this was getting strange. "Ok, fine." I said "take Katie's, and she'll ride with me". As we got ready to leave, once again, Noon had a great idea: "How about I take the girl with me?" "You mean my girlfriend?" I asked. "Yes. I want to practice my English," he nonchalantly replied. "Uhm... no. You can practice your English with us when we arrive." Noon seemed content with that answer and we were off.
We drove up to a random Cambodian military base in the forest, and parked our scooters. Noon walked ahead of us, explaining the geography and ecology of the area. All of a sudden, Katie screamed out that she had gotten stung. We stopped, and sure enough, she was either stung or bitten twice on her back by some huge Cambodian bee thing. I was bummed. We did our best to medicate the stings, but she was in pain. She was a total trooper though- continued on hiking without a single complaint. That Katie Martin- she's one tough woman. As we hiked, Noon informed us of others that had been stung by bees like that. "Once, a man was stung by bees here, and then he died." "WHAT?" We asked, "Are you KIDDING? Noon- this is serious." "No, but you're fine. Don't worry. He was stung many times." Way to instill confidence , Noon.
Then, Noon stopped us at a tree. He told Katie to put her hand around the tree. Then he told me to as well. Then he asked Katie for her camera. "Ok. Now don't cry!" he told us. Then he took a picture of us. Holding the camera up again, he then said, "Ok- now kiss." Caught off guard, we asked "What?" Unphased, Noon repeated: "Kiss now and I take picture." This exact same situation happened about 12 times. We arrive at a rock formation: Noon wants the camera. We arrive at a barely trickling waterfall: Noon wants the camera. We arrive at the beach: Noon wants the camera. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced.
The scenery was beautiful, and Noon definitely added some flavor to the hike. We went back to the scooters to head to our final destination: the beach. Once again, Katie and I were about to hop on together, and then Noon worked in a smooth proposition: "I will take Katie with me this time, because it is hard for me to squeeze the brakes for going down hill." "Uhm... no. She's not riding with you. And beyond that, no one should ride with you if you can't squeeze the brakes," I replied. That seemed to suffice for Noon. We took off, chuckling about the situation. While driving Katie's scooter, Noon stopped off twice: once to buy himself water (with the money we had given him) and the second time to buy cigarettes (with the same stash). Finally, we arrived at the beach and noon pulled another one of his classic "I take picture- now kiss" moves. By then it was time to head back and say farewell to Noon. In order to make certain that Noon wouldn't try to pull some funny business (as he had already the whole afternoon), I told Noon to hop on the back of my scooter with me, and Katie would drive separately. This actually made for some really good conversation about Buddhism and Christianity. By the end, I encouraged Noon to look into Christianity to see who Jesus was. It was an unexpectedly blessed time.
We bid adieu to our friend and guide, Noon. He had grown on me alot. All of his quirks and strange phrases were starting to become endearing.
SCOOTER DANGER!
Katie and I drove back the 12km to Sihanoukville, as the wind howled, pummeling our little scootrs and making staying on the road a task. Add to this the fact that there is no shoulder, and cars & trucks go whizzing past, barely making enough room for the American tourists putting along. At one point a huge bus was coming at me in the opposite lane, and out of nowhere a bus appeared next to me in my lane, pushing within inches of my scooter. I was so freaked out I almost lost it and pulled off the road into the dirt, but going at 30mph that would have been treacherous. Luckily the bus missed both Katie and I, and we arrived back in town safely. Thank you GOD!
Once again, we were lucky enough to have another incredible evening of dining on the beach with fresh caught & grilled seafood. By this point we were so exhausted and sunburned from the day that we each went directly off to bed after dinner. What an adventurous day!
The next morning was absolutely brilliant. I met Katie out on the beach as she was surrounded by a cluster of 6 Cambodian girls, talking with them as they succeeded in selling her hand-made bracelets. I ended up with 2. She was also getting a mani/pedi from an older Vietnamese woman. I laid down in the beach lounge next to them to get some reading done while soaking up the sun. This was apparently too much to ask. Within 2 seconds of taking my place, I became the new focus. Bracelets, necklaces, fruit- everything I had always wanted was for sale from the kids there. That's when the mani/pedi lady's sister showed up. She claimed she would simply start on one hand- free sample- and then I could decline. But everyone knows that you can't just start a mani/pedi and then stop all of a sudden. After trying to resist, I caved and got my 2nd mani/pedi of my life. The first being bringing some gnarly hands and feet back up to U.S. Health Department standards after 3 weeks in Kenya.
THE EVERLASTING SWIM
Armed with perfectly formed, glistening nails, Katie and I jumped in the Cambodian tropical water for the first time. Perfect temperature. So perfect, in fact, that we decided to make a swim of it. Spotting a rock peninsula that seemed close enough, we began swimming. After 15 minutes of kicking and paddling, the peninsula seemed further away. "How is that even possible?" I wondered. Needless to say, it was much more of a workout than we had anticipated. Which turned out great. Especially when the final 200 feet were spent falling on each other while attempting to walk across sharp rocks to reach the destination first. It was the slowest moving race I've ever witnessed.
SCOOTIN' ADVENTURES
After exploring the wonderful rock peninsular region in all of its beauty, we walked back to the beach. We had bigger plans. Those plans involved driving our scooters 12 km outside of town to the Ream National Forest. I was on empty, so it was high time to put some gas in my hog. We drove to a nearby station, and about 1/4 mile before arriving, the beast began to putter out. As my hog slowly lost all power, I shifted over lanes of traffic, until I ran completely out of gas and it died on me at the intersection in front of the station. I reacted quickly: pushing the scooter out of traffic and onto the shoulder to avoid being killed, and then up the hill to the station. Whew! What a relief that I made it! I had the attendant top me off, and Katie and I were off again- smiling the whole scenic drive.
NOON: AWKWARD SITUATIONS ABOUND
We arrived at the turnoff for the park, and followed the road until we saw a sign that read "National Forest Tourism Office". Assuming this was the start point, we entered. We had no idea what we were getting into. As we pulled in, a Cambodian guy in his late 20's walked out to greet us. "Hello, I am Noon. I am guide for National Forest. I will take you on tour." "Great!" we thought.
Noon showed us the different hikes we could do. Then he told us it would be $7 each. "Noon- why does it say $4 each here on the poster?" I inquired. Without skipping a beat, Noon replied: "Oh, that was made in 2003. It's more now." I knew we were in for a treat.
We payed him the $14 and began walking to our scooters. Noon stopped us: "Oh, also, could I drive one of your scooters? I don't have one." Hmmm... this was getting strange. "Ok, fine." I said "take Katie's, and she'll ride with me". As we got ready to leave, once again, Noon had a great idea: "How about I take the girl with me?" "You mean my girlfriend?" I asked. "Yes. I want to practice my English," he nonchalantly replied. "Uhm... no. You can practice your English with us when we arrive." Noon seemed content with that answer and we were off.
We drove up to a random Cambodian military base in the forest, and parked our scooters. Noon walked ahead of us, explaining the geography and ecology of the area. All of a sudden, Katie screamed out that she had gotten stung. We stopped, and sure enough, she was either stung or bitten twice on her back by some huge Cambodian bee thing. I was bummed. We did our best to medicate the stings, but she was in pain. She was a total trooper though- continued on hiking without a single complaint. That Katie Martin- she's one tough woman. As we hiked, Noon informed us of others that had been stung by bees like that. "Once, a man was stung by bees here, and then he died." "WHAT?" We asked, "Are you KIDDING? Noon- this is serious." "No, but you're fine. Don't worry. He was stung many times." Way to instill confidence , Noon.
Then, Noon stopped us at a tree. He told Katie to put her hand around the tree. Then he told me to as well. Then he asked Katie for her camera. "Ok. Now don't cry!" he told us. Then he took a picture of us. Holding the camera up again, he then said, "Ok- now kiss." Caught off guard, we asked "What?" Unphased, Noon repeated: "Kiss now and I take picture." This exact same situation happened about 12 times. We arrive at a rock formation: Noon wants the camera. We arrive at a barely trickling waterfall: Noon wants the camera. We arrive at the beach: Noon wants the camera. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced.
The scenery was beautiful, and Noon definitely added some flavor to the hike. We went back to the scooters to head to our final destination: the beach. Once again, Katie and I were about to hop on together, and then Noon worked in a smooth proposition: "I will take Katie with me this time, because it is hard for me to squeeze the brakes for going down hill." "Uhm... no. She's not riding with you. And beyond that, no one should ride with you if you can't squeeze the brakes," I replied. That seemed to suffice for Noon. We took off, chuckling about the situation. While driving Katie's scooter, Noon stopped off twice: once to buy himself water (with the money we had given him) and the second time to buy cigarettes (with the same stash). Finally, we arrived at the beach and noon pulled another one of his classic "I take picture- now kiss" moves. By then it was time to head back and say farewell to Noon. In order to make certain that Noon wouldn't try to pull some funny business (as he had already the whole afternoon), I told Noon to hop on the back of my scooter with me, and Katie would drive separately. This actually made for some really good conversation about Buddhism and Christianity. By the end, I encouraged Noon to look into Christianity to see who Jesus was. It was an unexpectedly blessed time.
We bid adieu to our friend and guide, Noon. He had grown on me alot. All of his quirks and strange phrases were starting to become endearing.
SCOOTER DANGER!
Katie and I drove back the 12km to Sihanoukville, as the wind howled, pummeling our little scootrs and making staying on the road a task. Add to this the fact that there is no shoulder, and cars & trucks go whizzing past, barely making enough room for the American tourists putting along. At one point a huge bus was coming at me in the opposite lane, and out of nowhere a bus appeared next to me in my lane, pushing within inches of my scooter. I was so freaked out I almost lost it and pulled off the road into the dirt, but going at 30mph that would have been treacherous. Luckily the bus missed both Katie and I, and we arrived back in town safely. Thank you GOD!
Once again, we were lucky enough to have another incredible evening of dining on the beach with fresh caught & grilled seafood. By this point we were so exhausted and sunburned from the day that we each went directly off to bed after dinner. What an adventurous day!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
SIHANOUKVILLE: DAY 1
The day before us was shrouded in mystery. Where exactly are we going? How do we get there? When do we leave? All our questions were soon answered when deciding to book a bus from Phnom Pehn down to Sihanoukville, a laid-back beach town set on the Cambodian coast.
ROADSIDE FOOD: INSPIRATIONAL
By noon we were off. The bus ride was great- Katie and I got to share music, read, ya know... stuff you do on the bus. We stopped at a roadside eatery and I purchased a Cambodian dumpling- a spherical bread mound filled with some meat concoction in the center, kind of like a jelly donut, except more nutritional and not as good. I looked at my dumpling and saw potential for it to star in its own Primetime NBC sitcom in which the dumpling shares a downtown Manhattan apartment with a New York accountant, Dwayne. It's called "Dwayne and The Dumpling" and it premiers Tuesday night at 8 on NBC. When I pitched the idea to Katie, she loved it. Hopefully the NBC reps feel the same.
WELCOME TO SIHANOUKVILLE! EVERYONE YOU MEET WILL NOW LIE TO YOUR FACE
We arrived in Sihanoukville around 6pm, and were immediately met by the typical mob of taxi, tuk tuk, and motobike drivers. It was great. Narrowly squeezing our way through the crowd, we grabbed our bags and were easily persuaded by 2 young Cambodian motobikers to hop on the back of each of their bikes. They each put our huge backpacks in their laps and drove, while we hung on behind them. It was super fun. Without describing where we were headed, they drove us up to a hotel on the main road along the beach- on the other side of the beach. When we told them and the hotel staff that we were hoping for a hotel on the beach, they all responded with "No. Not possible. No hotels on the beach." "Really?" I asked, "That's strange, because I was just told by a friend that there are hotels on the beach." "No. The government does not allow hotels there. Only restaurants." I had a strange feeling. "Please take us somewhere else", I requested.
So we were off- to another hotel further from the beach. Again, the same conversation. Us: "Take us to the beach." Scooter Boys: "No hotels there." Finally we had had it. "Fine," I said. "We will go find one ourselves." The scooter boys immediately changed their tone: "Ok, ok. We will take you to a hotel on the beach." Astounded, I lost it: "No you will NOT take us. This business relationship is over. You lied to our faces multiple times. We are through, and I hope that you learn from this and never lie to foreigners again." It was actually very liberating. I paid them, and they were off- and more importantly, we were free.
MOTORBIKES TO CALL OUR OWN
It was at this point that things got good. REAL good. Katie and I went to the hotel counter and rented our OWN motorbikes. "We don't need those guys," we chuckled, "we're doing this ourselves!" And boy did that pay off. After loading our enormous backpacks onto our backs, fastening our messenger bags to our laps, and revving the engines on our new rental scooters, we were MOVIN'! The process was actually much less smooth than this, but we did our best. I mean, we had multiple bags hanging off each direction, and aren't necessarily accustomed to driving scooters on dirt roads in Cambodian beach towns. But we got the hang of it. Most importantly, we had FUN! We were both just laughing at how ridiculous we looked: white tourists timidly driving matching scooters around Cambodia with all their possessions strapped to their bodies. Add to that the fact that we couldn't really turn well at all, and it made for good material from a marginally funny Will Farrell comedy.
BEACH DATE NIGHT
That night we went out onto the beach, where they have restaurant after restaurant, each grilling fresh seafood and vegetables- while you sit in cushioned lounge chairs on the sand. It was an absolute delight. Such good food. Such an incredible environment. And so few people- it felt like an undiscovered slice of paradise.
As Katie and I were conversing, who walks by but my British friend, John. "John!" I exclaimed. John was less excited (Brits aren't a very excitable people), but he had a wide British grin. We all caught up for a while and then continued with John to a bar down the beach. Foreigners hired by the bar awkwardly invited us to join them on the raised wooden dance floor as a "DJ" pressed play on his iTUNES for various American Top 40 songs. We danced for a while (as the only ones). After a bit, Katie and I decided it was time to leave- and go to another place on the opposite side of the beach that turned out to be nearly the same scene. Except for the fact that 2 15-year-old Cambodian DJ's dressed up like 50 Cent were spinning poorly cut mashups of Lady Gaga mixed with The Mamas and the Papas "California Dreamin". It was interesting, to say the least. So we danced there, amidst the DJ's emerging onto the dance floor, complete with NY Yankees hats cocked to the side, sports jerseys open to the breeze, and baggy "gangster" jeans- while singing at the top of their lungs "All the leaves are brown!..." and pop and lock break dancing. I felt right at home.
ROADSIDE FOOD: INSPIRATIONAL
By noon we were off. The bus ride was great- Katie and I got to share music, read, ya know... stuff you do on the bus. We stopped at a roadside eatery and I purchased a Cambodian dumpling- a spherical bread mound filled with some meat concoction in the center, kind of like a jelly donut, except more nutritional and not as good. I looked at my dumpling and saw potential for it to star in its own Primetime NBC sitcom in which the dumpling shares a downtown Manhattan apartment with a New York accountant, Dwayne. It's called "Dwayne and The Dumpling" and it premiers Tuesday night at 8 on NBC. When I pitched the idea to Katie, she loved it. Hopefully the NBC reps feel the same.
WELCOME TO SIHANOUKVILLE! EVERYONE YOU MEET WILL NOW LIE TO YOUR FACE
We arrived in Sihanoukville around 6pm, and were immediately met by the typical mob of taxi, tuk tuk, and motobike drivers. It was great. Narrowly squeezing our way through the crowd, we grabbed our bags and were easily persuaded by 2 young Cambodian motobikers to hop on the back of each of their bikes. They each put our huge backpacks in their laps and drove, while we hung on behind them. It was super fun. Without describing where we were headed, they drove us up to a hotel on the main road along the beach- on the other side of the beach. When we told them and the hotel staff that we were hoping for a hotel on the beach, they all responded with "No. Not possible. No hotels on the beach." "Really?" I asked, "That's strange, because I was just told by a friend that there are hotels on the beach." "No. The government does not allow hotels there. Only restaurants." I had a strange feeling. "Please take us somewhere else", I requested.
So we were off- to another hotel further from the beach. Again, the same conversation. Us: "Take us to the beach." Scooter Boys: "No hotels there." Finally we had had it. "Fine," I said. "We will go find one ourselves." The scooter boys immediately changed their tone: "Ok, ok. We will take you to a hotel on the beach." Astounded, I lost it: "No you will NOT take us. This business relationship is over. You lied to our faces multiple times. We are through, and I hope that you learn from this and never lie to foreigners again." It was actually very liberating. I paid them, and they were off- and more importantly, we were free.
MOTORBIKES TO CALL OUR OWN
It was at this point that things got good. REAL good. Katie and I went to the hotel counter and rented our OWN motorbikes. "We don't need those guys," we chuckled, "we're doing this ourselves!" And boy did that pay off. After loading our enormous backpacks onto our backs, fastening our messenger bags to our laps, and revving the engines on our new rental scooters, we were MOVIN'! The process was actually much less smooth than this, but we did our best. I mean, we had multiple bags hanging off each direction, and aren't necessarily accustomed to driving scooters on dirt roads in Cambodian beach towns. But we got the hang of it. Most importantly, we had FUN! We were both just laughing at how ridiculous we looked: white tourists timidly driving matching scooters around Cambodia with all their possessions strapped to their bodies. Add to that the fact that we couldn't really turn well at all, and it made for good material from a marginally funny Will Farrell comedy.
BEACH DATE NIGHT
That night we went out onto the beach, where they have restaurant after restaurant, each grilling fresh seafood and vegetables- while you sit in cushioned lounge chairs on the sand. It was an absolute delight. Such good food. Such an incredible environment. And so few people- it felt like an undiscovered slice of paradise.
As Katie and I were conversing, who walks by but my British friend, John. "John!" I exclaimed. John was less excited (Brits aren't a very excitable people), but he had a wide British grin. We all caught up for a while and then continued with John to a bar down the beach. Foreigners hired by the bar awkwardly invited us to join them on the raised wooden dance floor as a "DJ" pressed play on his iTUNES for various American Top 40 songs. We danced for a while (as the only ones). After a bit, Katie and I decided it was time to leave- and go to another place on the opposite side of the beach that turned out to be nearly the same scene. Except for the fact that 2 15-year-old Cambodian DJ's dressed up like 50 Cent were spinning poorly cut mashups of Lady Gaga mixed with The Mamas and the Papas "California Dreamin". It was interesting, to say the least. So we danced there, amidst the DJ's emerging onto the dance floor, complete with NY Yankees hats cocked to the side, sports jerseys open to the breeze, and baggy "gangster" jeans- while singing at the top of their lungs "All the leaves are brown!..." and pop and lock break dancing. I felt right at home.
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