I arrived in Varanasi on Saturday and I plan to stay and volunteer here for about two months. I arrived just in time as I had just about reached the point where I was touristed out. I don’t know how people travel continuously for a year. But then again, I’m someone who takes great comfort in routine. I love going every day to the same Bridgehead coffee shop and ordering the same medium skim latte at the same time with the same people. It isn’t that I’m homesick or that I am tired of India. But I have a strong urge to stay put, see the same people every day, make some real connections, develop routines, and not have every conversation centre around where are you from… where have you been … where are you going…
For me there is something tiring and a bit stressful about backpacking and backpacker culture. It feels like we expend a lot of energy in pursuit of the “authentic experience” - trying to get off the tourist track to mingle with locals in their natural habitat. There is an implicit hierarchy of tourist experiences where in trading stories extra points are always awarded to those who discovered the undiscovered beach or were invited into a local’s home (eg: “They’re so poor but so generous – they insisted we all drink their chai *and* they gave us the best homemade sweets we’d ever had!”). I went with one woman I met for a Pizza Hut dinner which sent her into an existential dilemma – did eating at an American chain mean that she was a “touristy tourist”? Was she selling her backpacker street cred for a greasy deep-dish pizza? She resolved to eat the pizza and to never mention this slip to anyone. Of course, this quest for authenticity is all part of the larger pressure to maximize one’s tourist experiences: see everything, eat everything, experience everything. After all – when am I next going to be in Mysore? Many seem to be happily immune to this kind of pressure, but sadly I’m not that evolved a tourist.
Before arriving in Varanasi, I spent about six days in Pondicherry where, with few exceptions, I spent my days working in the mornings and then wandering around in the late afternoon and eating dinner at the same place each night. I did have an ayurevedic massage on day 2 – but I can’t quite find a way to describe it and still have it qualify as appropriate reading material for all ages. To give you some idea - think two masseuse sisters, a canola field’s worth of oil, and enough direct skin-on-oily chair/-oily wooden table for my relaxation to be punctuated with bouts of anxiety re: previous guests and the potential for transmittable disease.
I arrived in Varanasi not quite knowing what to expect. I’d set up my volunteer position at World Literacy Canada (WLC) quite last minute at the suggestion of my friend Tina who had worked for this organization a few years ago and had a very positive experience. I was supposed to leave for Israel on February 16th to do an internship position there through the Professional Internship Program run through their government. But as my time here went on, I felt that I would be missing out by leaving India so soon. I’d not actually heard from the Israel program in a while and had not been informed about what I was to do upon arriving in Israel. As it turned out, yesterday while checking my email at a café in Varanasi, I got an email from Israel telling me that their Internship program had just been cancelled. (Good thing I hadn’t booked my plane ticket to Israel.) How is that for karma?! Om….
Here in Varanasi I’m staying at a friendly family-run guest house about 10 minutes walk from my work here (at a rate of about $3.75/day). I’m not sure what my project is going to be yet. WLC runs quite a few interesting programs – I’m hoping that I’ll be able to get involved in their advocacy and social entrepreneurship programs in particular. In the past two days I’ve been helping with various administrative tasks and getting to know the three awesome Canadian CIDA interns (all women) who have been here for six months and are sadly (for me) leaving next week (not so sadly at this point for them – I’ve been listening to them fantasize about hamburgers, sushi, hot showers, privacy, and lack of leering men back in Canada.…).
I’m sure I’ll be writing lots about Varanasi in the next few weeks (see also Lisa’s awesome blog about her trip here – www.lisaincalcutta.blogspot.com) but so far I really love it here. The WLC office is in a beautiful building owned by the King and overlooking the Ganges River. On my first night here I met an Israeli tourist (who was stopping through on his way to Nepal) and the two of us explored the ghats and took a boat ride down the Ganges in the late afternoon/early evening.
Tonight I’m taking my first Hindi lesson with a tutor who was recommended by the interns. Wish me luck!
As always- please send news as I miss you all! Luv Nadine
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Photos Phinally!
http://www2.snapfish.in/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=276419622/a=115330919_115330919/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Quick Update
Hello from Pondicherry! This will be a very quick update – it has been a crazy long (but good) day here.
My host family in Chennai gave me a small glimpse into the lifestyles of the rich and famous in India. I stayed with Prasanna and her two children in their large central apartment (with their driver, cook and maid). But the Chennai apartment is not Prasanna’s main home. She lives in a town a few hours away in what she described as a “sprawling mansion.”
On my first day at Prasanna’s place, one of the highest ranking officials from the Tamil Nadu police force dropped by for a coffee. As a side note, I asked this officer (in my hopelessly non-politically astute way), who had worked in all areas of federal and state policing, about his views of the effectiveness of the different facets of the police in India. His mouth went into a half-amused/half-annoyed curl and looking me in the eye he said: “All aspects of the Indian police are excellent.”
Prasanna invited me to attend the mendhi party for the wedding of the grandson of a very famous Indian actor (considered the “Godfather” of South Indian cinema and to whom there is a statue erected across from that of M. Gandhi in Chennai). The father is also a well-known actor. Actually, the grandson was marrying his first cousin. The mendhi party was plush beyond anything I’ve seen before. It was held in one of the famous Taj hotels. There was an extensive and professionally choreographed dance show put on the by family, live drummers, a fantasy-garden of food, expensive gift bags, beautiful dresses and people. Aside from having my hand decorated with henna, I spent the evening watching the dancing, eating, and chatting to movie directors. Apparently the wedding (held the following evening) was attended by top Indian politicians and Bollywood actors.
Mahabalipuram was quite the change from Chennai: a laid-back backpacker’s haven full of white European yoga fanatics. During my two days there I had a private (free) yoga lesson by a Belgian yoga instructor/style consultant/aromatherapy/dietician on the roof of my guesthouse (she offered me a lesson after I agreed to switch rooms with her. Her old room had bad energy after her breakup with another yogi who left to go back to Sweden), discussed communicating with spirits and animals with a Swiss man who practices Shamanism, and puked my guts out after drinking juice which (I discovered too late) contained a rogue ice cube.
Today in Pondicherry I took a city bus tour and met a fun Irish woman who seems to like eating as much as I do. Tomorrow we’re having an ayruvedic massage – which promises to be another interesting experience.
Lots of other stuff has happened but I’ll have to keep this one short. Miss you all and send news!
My host family in Chennai gave me a small glimpse into the lifestyles of the rich and famous in India. I stayed with Prasanna and her two children in their large central apartment (with their driver, cook and maid). But the Chennai apartment is not Prasanna’s main home. She lives in a town a few hours away in what she described as a “sprawling mansion.”
On my first day at Prasanna’s place, one of the highest ranking officials from the Tamil Nadu police force dropped by for a coffee. As a side note, I asked this officer (in my hopelessly non-politically astute way), who had worked in all areas of federal and state policing, about his views of the effectiveness of the different facets of the police in India. His mouth went into a half-amused/half-annoyed curl and looking me in the eye he said: “All aspects of the Indian police are excellent.”
Prasanna invited me to attend the mendhi party for the wedding of the grandson of a very famous Indian actor (considered the “Godfather” of South Indian cinema and to whom there is a statue erected across from that of M. Gandhi in Chennai). The father is also a well-known actor. Actually, the grandson was marrying his first cousin. The mendhi party was plush beyond anything I’ve seen before. It was held in one of the famous Taj hotels. There was an extensive and professionally choreographed dance show put on the by family, live drummers, a fantasy-garden of food, expensive gift bags, beautiful dresses and people. Aside from having my hand decorated with henna, I spent the evening watching the dancing, eating, and chatting to movie directors. Apparently the wedding (held the following evening) was attended by top Indian politicians and Bollywood actors.
Mahabalipuram was quite the change from Chennai: a laid-back backpacker’s haven full of white European yoga fanatics. During my two days there I had a private (free) yoga lesson by a Belgian yoga instructor/style consultant/aromatherapy/dietician on the roof of my guesthouse (she offered me a lesson after I agreed to switch rooms with her. Her old room had bad energy after her breakup with another yogi who left to go back to Sweden), discussed communicating with spirits and animals with a Swiss man who practices Shamanism, and puked my guts out after drinking juice which (I discovered too late) contained a rogue ice cube.
Today in Pondicherry I took a city bus tour and met a fun Irish woman who seems to like eating as much as I do. Tomorrow we’re having an ayruvedic massage – which promises to be another interesting experience.
Lots of other stuff has happened but I’ll have to keep this one short. Miss you all and send news!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
So friggin itchy!
I am so crazy ITCHY! I'm really only updating my blog so that I keep my fingers occupied for a bit so that I don't continually scratch the zillions of mosquito bites that are currently covering my arms, legs, face, hands, elbows, neck, ears, feet, back, ankles.... Chennai- last time it gave me runny poo and this time it left me looking like the victim of some terrible skin disease. And yet, I've left Chennai (now in only slightly less mosquito infested Mamallapuram) and am once more returning to Chennai two days from now. My host family in Chennai invited me to attend the weddnig of the son of some ultra famous Indian actor (whose name I can't recall at present)... and so, how could I say no? I shudder to think about what gross ailment I'll leave Chennai with next time. I once asked a doctor friend about the strangest medical issue she'd ever seen and the answer was "milky white stuff oozing from a patient's belly button." I really hope that doesn't happen. That would be truly gross. And given that I'll be wearing a sari to the wedding that may very well show my belly button, it would be particularly unfortunate. If you are still reading this, you are a trouper and perhaps a bit of a gross ailment fetishist, like me. If you are, I recommend that you go to the science library and take out a book on skin conditions. Really unbelievable and engaging stuff. Shoot- I just figured out that I can type with one hand and scratch with the other! Aaaarrrgggg!
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Vietnam
Once again I have a huge chunk of time to account for – in this case, my entire two-week trip to Vietnam. And again, I’m going to start with my most recent few days.
Tina and Hetan (Tina’s husband) met me in Hanoi on February 16th and after our trip to Halong Bay, Hetan returned to Canada and Tina and I continued traveling together through Vietnam. It was really a magical trip and the two of us (sisters and husbands excluded) may be the most compatible travel buddies ever.
When Tina left to return to Canada from Hanoi on January 26th, a cold and cloudy day, I felt the type of heartsick loneliness I had not experienced since the end of visitor’s day at summer camp in 1987. I dragged myself around the deserted streets of Hanoi – everything was closed for Tet holiday (Vietnam’s New Year) – and finally sat down in an empty café to do some work. When Mr. Bojangles began to play through the café’s speakers, it seemed to be the saddest song I’d ever heard and felt I might start weeping into my condensed milk-sweetened coffee.
I realized that sitting around Hanoi by myself for four days of Tet might not be the most uplifting of travel experiences and so I booked myself on a train to Sapa that evening. Sapa is in hilly northern Vietnam and is home to many ethnic minority peoples and is known for its incredible terraced landscapes. I’d seen photos of Caryn’s trip to Sapa and had fallen in love with the place immediately.
Tina and I had actually spent half of the day before trying to find me an organized tour to Sapa, but we made the discovery that all the reputable tour agencies closed town for Tet and gave their employees a week vacation. Those tour companies that were still open in Hanoi were scary and desperate and it was clear that if I booked myself on any of them I’d end up being shipped to Sapa in Bovine Crate class and sleeping on the soiled mattress of some erstwhile Sapa massage parlour. In one memorable encounter we entered “Discovery Tours” through a long dimly lit hallway where a young Vietnamese agent bargained furiously against herself:
Then she took a business card out from the drawer (which, strangely had the name “Fansipan Tours” on it) and scribbled down $65US before handing it to us.
Discouraged about tour prospects, I sat at the café and began researching hotels in Sapa and found one that had excellent reviews and even organized the train travel and hiking for its guests. I emailed Thai Binh Sapa Hotel and 10 minutes later received a response from its wonderful owner. He arranged for me to pick up my train tickets at the station that evening. I shared a comfortable 4-bed cabin with a friendly young Swiss couple and a humourless 40-something radiologist from France. We arrived in Lao Cai at 5 a.m. and a minibus driver met me holding a piece of paper with my name on it and drove me to the hotel where I was greeted with coffee and a warm fire in the lobby fireplace.
That day I wandered around the small town of Sapa. In the centre of town there were tons of children dressed up in their traditional clothing and playing games. I watched one young boy climb up a tall and smooth bamboo pole to reach the bags of candy at the top. I also hiked down to a small village. The next day I went hiking with a group from my hotel. It was a great group. There were four from England who were all part of a volunteer organization and were teaching English and doing other charitable work in Vietnam. There was also a woman who had worked as a nurse with Doctors Without Borders in Sudan and now runs a B&B with her husband in Greece. The same group did another, more treacherous, hike the following day that involved balancing on thin muddy rice paddy walls and scrambling up slick rocks between villages. It was spectacular (I’ll have to upload photos).
After the first hike, I returned to Sapa and decided to go for a walk up to a nearby garden. On my way there I encountered a young Vietnamese woman who was busy hiking up the garden stairs in her high heels. She asked me where I was from (the way most conversations begin) and we spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the gardens together and Ling practiced her English (and she taught me a few phrases in Vietnamese). Ling works at the hotel across from the Thai Binh Sapa Hotel and was on her day off – she works 7 days a week and gets 2 days off per month. She has two jobs in Sapa and works from 6 a.m. until 10 p.m. each day. She hopes to earn enough money to buy a motor bike so that it is easier for her to go home to visit her family and support her mother. She has one sister who works in HCMC and her two other siblings died tragically years back – one in an “accident on the street” and one in an “accident in the woods.” Her mother lives alone as her father now lives with his “other wife” – Ling’s aunt (though from what I gathered, her aunt and father are not legally married).
Ling asked me to go around Sapa with her in the evening and she gave me a small tour and then we went for karaoke and then for some street food (sticky rice with peanuts, BBQ zucchini). She also gave me a present for Tet – a small red envelope with 10,000 dong. I was really, really touched by the gesture.
While sitting in the hotel lobby the next morning I also met another young Vietnamese woman who was visiting Sapa with her family from Hanoi. Trang had the best English of any Vietnamese person I’d encountered on my trip to that point. She struck up a conversation and told me that she’d like to show me around Hanoi when I got back into town.
My trip back to Hanoi was not quite as plush and comfortable as my trip there. Though I’d paid too much for my train ticket back (I was told that only ultra deluxe class was available because of happy new year) when I got to the station the shady ticket agent told me he’d booked me on a later train “VIP.” The tickets don’t say on them the class or style of cabin so it was not until I boarded my train and saw the sticky sheets, rickety upper birth and dirty floors that I realized that I’d been duped. Luckily for me (but unluckily for them) my cabin mates had had been similarly scammed and ended up in my cabin- a warm Jewish newlywed couple from Argentina who were partway through their 2-month honeymoon trip. We arrived in Hanoi at 4:30 a.m. and they were kind enough to bring me with them to their hotel – which was a very nice, clean and inexpensive hotel in old Hanoi.
Trang and I exchanged emails and she told me she would pick me up at my Hanoi hotel on her motorbike the next day to show me around. She arrived on a shiny blue Vespa with a cute (though hardly protective) helmet for me. Two years ago the Government made it mandatory to wear helmets – but from what I can tell, anything from a cloth cap to a bicycle helmet will do.
I’ve never exactly been one who dreams about the open road, speed, and wind in my hair (preferring the subway and other forms of safe and passive transit) but I think that I was meant to ride a Vespa. I can’t imagine a more enjoyable way to get around.
Trang is a fun and bright 26-year old woman who won a prestigious scholarship in her penultimate year of university which allowed her to spend two years studying in Australia where she completed her undergraduate degree and MBA. Trang seems to run with an impressive crowd as her boyfriend is studying on a scholarship in Indiana and her friend is in Amsterdam (also on scholarship). Trang works in finance in one of Vietnam’s top banks and hopes to marry her boyfriend once he graduates and gets a good job. For now, she lives with her parents, spends time with her friends walking around Hanoi, karaoke-ing, going to movies and dinner and purchasing a few new English DVDs each month after she receives her paycheck.
Trang took me to some of her favourite spots in town. After visiting the amazing Museum of Ethnology, we went for rice rolls and ice cream, listened to some live music in the 5-star Hilton hotel (until we began to arouse suspicion and then we used the WC and slipped out) and we ended the night with a trip to the nail salon and a night drive over one of the bridges across the Red River.
I feel so lucky to have had such a good last few days in Vietnam and to have met such friendly and generous people.
I’m now in the Singapore airport. Sadly, I only have a 2 hour stop-over in Singapore – which is not nearly enough time to make use of all the awesome facilities here. I’m heading back to Chennai where I’m supposed to stay at a host family living there.
Tina and Hetan (Tina’s husband) met me in Hanoi on February 16th and after our trip to Halong Bay, Hetan returned to Canada and Tina and I continued traveling together through Vietnam. It was really a magical trip and the two of us (sisters and husbands excluded) may be the most compatible travel buddies ever.
When Tina left to return to Canada from Hanoi on January 26th, a cold and cloudy day, I felt the type of heartsick loneliness I had not experienced since the end of visitor’s day at summer camp in 1987. I dragged myself around the deserted streets of Hanoi – everything was closed for Tet holiday (Vietnam’s New Year) – and finally sat down in an empty café to do some work. When Mr. Bojangles began to play through the café’s speakers, it seemed to be the saddest song I’d ever heard and felt I might start weeping into my condensed milk-sweetened coffee.
I realized that sitting around Hanoi by myself for four days of Tet might not be the most uplifting of travel experiences and so I booked myself on a train to Sapa that evening. Sapa is in hilly northern Vietnam and is home to many ethnic minority peoples and is known for its incredible terraced landscapes. I’d seen photos of Caryn’s trip to Sapa and had fallen in love with the place immediately.
Tina and I had actually spent half of the day before trying to find me an organized tour to Sapa, but we made the discovery that all the reputable tour agencies closed town for Tet and gave their employees a week vacation. Those tour companies that were still open in Hanoi were scary and desperate and it was clear that if I booked myself on any of them I’d end up being shipped to Sapa in Bovine Crate class and sleeping on the soiled mattress of some erstwhile Sapa massage parlour. In one memorable encounter we entered “Discovery Tours” through a long dimly lit hallway where a young Vietnamese agent bargained furiously against herself:
Okay, I sell to you for happy new year price - $100. Okay, no, I sell to you good, good - $80. Yes, I think $75. You like for $70?
Then she took a business card out from the drawer (which, strangely had the name “Fansipan Tours” on it) and scribbled down $65US before handing it to us.
Discouraged about tour prospects, I sat at the café and began researching hotels in Sapa and found one that had excellent reviews and even organized the train travel and hiking for its guests. I emailed Thai Binh Sapa Hotel and 10 minutes later received a response from its wonderful owner. He arranged for me to pick up my train tickets at the station that evening. I shared a comfortable 4-bed cabin with a friendly young Swiss couple and a humourless 40-something radiologist from France. We arrived in Lao Cai at 5 a.m. and a minibus driver met me holding a piece of paper with my name on it and drove me to the hotel where I was greeted with coffee and a warm fire in the lobby fireplace.
That day I wandered around the small town of Sapa. In the centre of town there were tons of children dressed up in their traditional clothing and playing games. I watched one young boy climb up a tall and smooth bamboo pole to reach the bags of candy at the top. I also hiked down to a small village. The next day I went hiking with a group from my hotel. It was a great group. There were four from England who were all part of a volunteer organization and were teaching English and doing other charitable work in Vietnam. There was also a woman who had worked as a nurse with Doctors Without Borders in Sudan and now runs a B&B with her husband in Greece. The same group did another, more treacherous, hike the following day that involved balancing on thin muddy rice paddy walls and scrambling up slick rocks between villages. It was spectacular (I’ll have to upload photos).
After the first hike, I returned to Sapa and decided to go for a walk up to a nearby garden. On my way there I encountered a young Vietnamese woman who was busy hiking up the garden stairs in her high heels. She asked me where I was from (the way most conversations begin) and we spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the gardens together and Ling practiced her English (and she taught me a few phrases in Vietnamese). Ling works at the hotel across from the Thai Binh Sapa Hotel and was on her day off – she works 7 days a week and gets 2 days off per month. She has two jobs in Sapa and works from 6 a.m. until 10 p.m. each day. She hopes to earn enough money to buy a motor bike so that it is easier for her to go home to visit her family and support her mother. She has one sister who works in HCMC and her two other siblings died tragically years back – one in an “accident on the street” and one in an “accident in the woods.” Her mother lives alone as her father now lives with his “other wife” – Ling’s aunt (though from what I gathered, her aunt and father are not legally married).
Ling asked me to go around Sapa with her in the evening and she gave me a small tour and then we went for karaoke and then for some street food (sticky rice with peanuts, BBQ zucchini). She also gave me a present for Tet – a small red envelope with 10,000 dong. I was really, really touched by the gesture.
While sitting in the hotel lobby the next morning I also met another young Vietnamese woman who was visiting Sapa with her family from Hanoi. Trang had the best English of any Vietnamese person I’d encountered on my trip to that point. She struck up a conversation and told me that she’d like to show me around Hanoi when I got back into town.
My trip back to Hanoi was not quite as plush and comfortable as my trip there. Though I’d paid too much for my train ticket back (I was told that only ultra deluxe class was available because of happy new year) when I got to the station the shady ticket agent told me he’d booked me on a later train “VIP.” The tickets don’t say on them the class or style of cabin so it was not until I boarded my train and saw the sticky sheets, rickety upper birth and dirty floors that I realized that I’d been duped. Luckily for me (but unluckily for them) my cabin mates had had been similarly scammed and ended up in my cabin- a warm Jewish newlywed couple from Argentina who were partway through their 2-month honeymoon trip. We arrived in Hanoi at 4:30 a.m. and they were kind enough to bring me with them to their hotel – which was a very nice, clean and inexpensive hotel in old Hanoi.
Trang and I exchanged emails and she told me she would pick me up at my Hanoi hotel on her motorbike the next day to show me around. She arrived on a shiny blue Vespa with a cute (though hardly protective) helmet for me. Two years ago the Government made it mandatory to wear helmets – but from what I can tell, anything from a cloth cap to a bicycle helmet will do.
I’ve never exactly been one who dreams about the open road, speed, and wind in my hair (preferring the subway and other forms of safe and passive transit) but I think that I was meant to ride a Vespa. I can’t imagine a more enjoyable way to get around.
Trang is a fun and bright 26-year old woman who won a prestigious scholarship in her penultimate year of university which allowed her to spend two years studying in Australia where she completed her undergraduate degree and MBA. Trang seems to run with an impressive crowd as her boyfriend is studying on a scholarship in Indiana and her friend is in Amsterdam (also on scholarship). Trang works in finance in one of Vietnam’s top banks and hopes to marry her boyfriend once he graduates and gets a good job. For now, she lives with her parents, spends time with her friends walking around Hanoi, karaoke-ing, going to movies and dinner and purchasing a few new English DVDs each month after she receives her paycheck.
Trang took me to some of her favourite spots in town. After visiting the amazing Museum of Ethnology, we went for rice rolls and ice cream, listened to some live music in the 5-star Hilton hotel (until we began to arouse suspicion and then we used the WC and slipped out) and we ended the night with a trip to the nail salon and a night drive over one of the bridges across the Red River.
I feel so lucky to have had such a good last few days in Vietnam and to have met such friendly and generous people.
I’m now in the Singapore airport. Sadly, I only have a 2 hour stop-over in Singapore – which is not nearly enough time to make use of all the awesome facilities here. I’m heading back to Chennai where I’m supposed to stay at a host family living there.
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