After hopping a speedboat up the Mekong River to the north of Cambodia, I got roped into a shave in the town of Kratie. Just gave into the barking workers in the barbershop as I walked past because I'd let my beard go for a week. Next thing you know I've got my entire face as smoothe as a baby's ass. And I do mean my whole face. The only parts left alone were my nose, lips, and eyelids. This means my cheeks up to the eyelashes, my forehead, and even my earlobes were subjected to the razor. All this for just 2000 Riel. I guess I'm lucky that I didn't get the "monk-do" (they do actually shave their eyebrows off). Not yet sure if I'll look like Teen Wolf when it all grows back... |
5) Pre-teen smoking - Could this sad sight be the reason that I'm a full head taller than the average SE Asian?
4) Vietnamese honking - Souped-up truck and bus mega-horns frankly belong on trains or boats.
3) Prostitution - The odd couples strolling along the streets of Bangkok and beyond are almost worthy of the "5 Funniest" list. (Think old, fat, bald men with smokin' hot young girls) But the sight quickly becomes ugly when you realize just how prevalent this industry (sex tourism) has become.
2) Raw sewage - Open sewers depositing untreated wastewater into the nearest body of water.
1) Rotting heaps - Large mounds of fetid solids decomposing within steps of open air food markets. The combo of sight and smell egdes out the oozing blackwater for worst of the worst. |
5) Chicken hunting - A Lao guy failing to bag his dinner by winging stones at a noisy hen at a Luang Prabang temple.
4) Not-so-relaxing hammock - A guy in Thailand lounging away was lucky to break his fall before the concrete below broke his buttocks when his hammock failed. Wait a second... that was ME! (I've also had chairs collapse on a bus and a boat in Vietnam)
3) Nev 'r' full busses - This item could be on the "worst" list, but one kinda learns to laugh about it. (see: below)
2) An amalgam of random sights from bus windows - Like, say, the vacuous look on the face of a young boy with one hand digging at his nose and the other in his pants.
1) Butchered English - They get an "E" for effort, but the misssspellings and syntax problems can be side-splittingly funny. Thai "Dipping for Chicken Sauce" is a mild example. The contest is to find the biggest and most expensive problematic signs. |
Laos is unique when it comes to money. With few exceptions, there are no bills to be found larger than 5000 kip- (50 cent-) notes. This makes it interesting when one cashes a $100 traveler's check. The 1 million kip one departs with is a heavy load. (insert joke here, i.e. : "Are you a millionaire or are you just happy to see me?")
What really puts the cherry on top is when you go to buy something and no one seems to have change! So in effect, it's a land with no bills larger OR smaller than a fifty cent note! |
There are few constants throughout SE Asia. One is that wherever you go, the sound of roosters, or 'cocks' to non-Americans, greets you nearly every morning. Sounds kinda cute, don't it? Well it's not! You see, these (expletive) cocks don't just do their little song when the sun rises. They crank up the volume at any hour of night.
If there is any semblance of a moon, forget it. You can expect to be jolted out of a deep sleep at least a few times that night. They seem to have itchy trigger finfers that prompt them to doodle-do at 2,3,4,5 AND 6 AM. I've heard these damn birds as early as 10:30 PM! Have they no internal cock clock whatsoever? Add the fact that the lemming effect makes it a free-for-all if even one dumb ass blow it for everyone.
There is still an obvious inbreeding issue despite the fact that whenever you travel by bus there seems to be a rooster sitting next to you. It's a rare day indeed when I can sleep through the night without unwelcome alarm cocks. |
Tough to include just 5, so honorable mention to Phnom Penh, Thad Lo, and Sihanoukville...
5) Vang Vieng - Problems aside, a nice place to chill out
4) Hanoi - It must REALLY be good to make this list
3) Markets everywhere - Colorful sights and smells offer something new every time
2) Angkor Wat - A lock for #1 until this week...
1) Halong Bay - Natural beauty beyond compare |
|
| |
Always looking to get a better deal, in Kunming I was able to get creative. Once, on my way out, I was asked by the staff if I cared to have my room cleaned that day. Feeling just fine about using the same sheets for consecutive days, I declined. I was clear about it, waving my hands and saying 'No, thanks' in both English and Chinese. Well, they went in anyway. Since it wasn't the first time they broke the sacred "DO NOT DISTRUB" rule when the card was on the doorknob, I complained. You see, in China, The Man always wants to know what's going on. I politely explained my position (I felt violated!) and got $2/day off each of the 5 days I stayed at the hotel!
In China, the basic unit of currency is the Renminbi (RMB). But you never hear it called that. Printed on the bill in English is its other official name - Yuan, which is pronounced, "yuen". But you seldom hear it called that either. Usually it's called "kuai". Smaller units of money, called Jiao, are equal to 10% of a quai/yuan/RMB. Of course, no one calls them jiao, they're called "Mao".
If you aren't confused yet, both the yuan and the jiao come in both coin and bill form. Better yet, there are 2 totally different and acceptable versions of kuai notes (old and new, I guess). One of these 3 sets of bills have pictures of Chairman Mao on them. Can you guess which one? Wrong; it's the new yuan. |
In the town of Zhongdian (a.k.a. Shangri-la), at my 1st Tibetan-style temple, my friends and I were approached by a monk after we'd been strolling around for about 10 mintues. He hands us small papers that we soon learn are tickets and expects us to fork over 5 kuai (nearly a dollar) each. We respectfully decline and turn to go, but the monk isn't having any of it. In very un-monk-like fashion, he gets in front of us and tries to physically extort the money from us. Had we known about the fee, we'd have steered clear, so we saw no justification for the strong-arm treatment. Personally, I feel mandatory charges at temples discourages spirituality.
But this monk(ey) means business. Although one of us had already donated at the box in front of the Buddha, he wants it all. As we slowly head toward the exit, he decides to grab my $150 shades and put them in his pocket. Now, I'm not about to call it even unless he's planning to hand me $149 in cash, so I reach in his pocket and come out with a set of keys. The awkward standoff ended shortly thereafter, but it was a strange intro to Tibetan China. The moral of the story is that people from all walks of life, even Tibetan monks, can be jerks. |
Of course there are some downsides to travel in the world's most populous land. Roughly half the world's smokers are Chinese living in China. Politely rolling down the bus window for the women or the rare non-smoking male is not common. And forget doing anything else but obligatory eavesdropping if someone's using their cel phone. I guess they have 150 million low-fidelity phones because yelling is not embellishing your average "inside voice".
But perhaps the biggest challenge to overcome is the reportedly illegal but omnipresent expectoration. For some reason, it's not considered rude or the slightest bit troubling to spit any- and everywhere. And we're not just talking about your basic hack job here. The Chinese feel compelled to hack up the lining of their esophagus. Somehow I've avoided catching the SARS virus in spite of the countless efforts of the practitioners of this national pastime. |
Overall, the cleanliness in China has impressed me. Main drags in big cities have an almost sterile feel to them. How they keep places so clean is obvious. It's certainaly not as if the Chinese don't litter - they seem to do it unconsciously- it's that measures have been taken to combat public filth. Most places have armies of people employed as picker-uppers.
But there is one stone that has been left frozen unturned. The bathrooms. In a country where overemployment has been taken to hilarious new heights, there appears to be NO ONE assigned to scrub the crapper. But it's worse than just that. Running water in the bathroom is a rare bonus. And they look nothing like bathrooms elsewhere. They're more of a shared trough, often - but not always!- with dividers for a semblance of privacy. These "private" holes generally aren't afforded doors, so the next contestant gets free inspiration if he walks past.
Perhaps the most humorous aspect is that we're usually expected to PAY for the honor of further befouling these dank stench pits, even when we've already paid to enter the location in which they're housed! At prices approaching a dollar for admission to one of the darkest hell-holes on the planet, I've taken to watering trees on city streets |
| The end of the line is the site of the Three Gorges Dam, the largest engineering project in the history of mankind. As we arrived at night, I took a trip the next day to scope their progress. I was just a bit disturbed by what I witnessed. A not-so-Chinese-looking guy like myself was able to stroll unmolested into plenty of surely resticted areas (think: "The Fugitive" - 'I did not shoot my wife!') I never even had to use the line I had ready - "It's OK. I'm an American." Got a much closer look at things than I'd expected - all without even buying their 30 kuai/yuan/RMB ticket! A thunderous boom was somewhat unsettling as well; I guess it's all part of the building process. Either that or some eco-terrorist took one for the team. I suspect foulplay won't even be required for this prodigious man-against-nature effort to fail and wipe out this town and many, many others downstream. Have you ever known modern Chinese-made things to last?!? |
The monkeys of Mt. Emei have been trained by Chinese hikers for generations to expect handouts of food. This leads to predictable frustration when someone tries to pass without paying the monkey toll. Of couse when passing them, my main concern was for my shades, as always. Although I was confronted by one rather large male who rummaged through my pockets, he only grimaced and beared his sharp teeth but didn't use them to inflict any injury.
 |
Was further entertained by a decent sunset &, the following morning, sunrise. But neither were as amusing as signs along the edges which read, "Don't turn round the rail" & "Don't throw trash away". Shortly after the so-so "must-see" sunrise at 5:30 that locals had insisted I awaken in time to see, I embarked upon my descent. Many of you may agree that the only thing worse than climbing stairs for miles is coming down them. My pack made me even more top-heavy and prone to going down (on body parts other than my feet.) And let's not forget the damp and often mossy steps, many of which are merely 6 inches wide. The "trail" is paved the entire way, but over half is actual stone masonry. I was lucky that my downclimb was mostly on the less slimy concrete steps.
But this exercise in attentiveness wasn't even the most exciting part of the day's hike. Much of the stairway the the top is flanked by handrails to assist the acrophobic. Leave it to me to realize that these rails can also be used for high-speed & exhilirating rides down. The looks on the Chinese hikers' faces as I zipped past were almost as amusing as the rides themselves. For the final hour or 2, my legs felt like rubber despite the respites the rail rides granted. But somehow I found the bottom without once my bottom finding the ground. And in plenty of time to catch a bus back to Chengdu by dinnertime. |
5) Appropriate Storage of Article on One's Person
4) Don't Reach Your Head or Hands Out the Window
3) Produce Your Commutation Ticket or Throw the Dibs in
2) Offer the Seats to the Old, Weak, Sick, Cripple, and Gravid
1) No Any Tindery, Poisonous, Explosive, Fragile, or Danger Goods into the Bus |
| It's common in China for students to give themselves names in English because they realize it's hard for foreigners to spell, pronounce, or remember names like Yuen Xiao Qiong (real). With the freedom to name themselves & and the advantage of years of life behind them, one would think they'd choose well, right? I'd say their monikers are a mixed bag at best. You decide. There were just too many good ones to list only 5, so have fun with my list of the wackiest of the wacky... |
10) Shower
9) Navy
8) Shimmer
7) Vanilla
6) Clear
5) Enjoy
4) Pound
3) Feeling
2) Only
1) Beyond |
 |
Although the clean, quiet, and orderly aspects set it apart from other cities (I've been to) in Asia and beyond, one can't describe Tokyo without mentioning what I consider its most distinguishing characteristic. In stark contrast to Seattle, where I've spend the better part of the last five years, this city has a few trains running thru it. Instead of 1/4 mile of monorail and a maybe a decrepit Amtrak or 2, I've counted no fewer than 35 different subways and other light rail running within the city limits. This excludes the Shinkansen bullet train and other long-distance service. The rail map looks like rainbow Chutes and Ladders gone wild.
But one would have to expect such outstanding public transit in the world's largest city. (26 million. Mexico City is a distant 2nd at 19mil.) It has led to an entire culture centered around the stations. Shopping malls are more often glued to the rail terminal than along the highway. In fact, I'm inclined to believe that modern-day Tokyo is more dependent upon rail service than the old west circa 19th C. Even a one-hour delay on a bad day could be measured in millions of dollars lost. |
| There are some fairly comical elements to this lifestyle. The rigid structure of this rail culture is one of the features which separates this country from at least others in Asia to which I've been. Two lines form at each door of the cars letting the exiting passengers go first thru the middle without the vigorous shoving that pervades China, Korea, and most of east Asia. Then, on escalators, one single-file line forms on the left* creating a "passing lane" (*Tokyo only. All other parts of Japan it's the right). There is no smoking, food, or, surprisingly, talking on cel phones allowed on the cars. In a country with 100 million people carrying cels, people must find a way to busy themselves on the phone en route. Text messaging -or merely playing Tetris- is the panacea for these otherwise lost hours. A good chunk of the passengers silently play with their mobiles until they disembark for chatting and eating. And in the sad-but-true-and-funny department, female-only cars are allotted during rush-hour to counteract the rampant groping. |
| Just in case you're in the mood for a pack of smokes, you can get a nic fix 24 hrs/day at one of the many cigarette vending machines around the country. This means YOU, kids. No one around to check your IDs here. We aren't ageists like the oppressive countries which banned such machines years ago. And if this seems a little racy, then just wait until you get a load of the PORNOGRAPHY machines. Unfortunately, the kids will need to wait until after dark when the 2-way glass lights up and displays a wide array of magazines, DVDs, and even toys. Ah, yes, what would we do without modern technology. |
| One exchange in China can be rather off-putting to foreigners at 1st. When one says "xiexie" (thanks), a common reaction is a shake of the head, wave of the hands and even a spoken, "No, no, no." One feels like, Well, FINE! I take it back. Thanks for NOTHIN! But really it's just their way of saying "You're welcome" as in "Don't mention it." Then there's the common Chinglish reaction to a tricky English scenario. When asked in the negative, as in, "You're not leaving, are you?", nearly all Chinese people will reply "Yes"...when they aren't. It's a cute trend into which I've chosen to simply assimilate instead of trying to fix. |
To my surprise, the new year as it's celebrated by the Shan people of this part of the world is observed in this corner of China. The Shan's territory covers areas in Laos, Thailand and Myanmar as well, but little did I know, also the Ruili region. The party may consist of numerous traditions, but the aspect that dwarfs them all is the splashing of water to wash away the past year inviting good tidings for the new. Surely ancient methods of splashing involved bamboo & other natural water basins, but the Shan have adapted to modernity and embraced plastic & its luck-spreading virtues. The days before the event see truckloads of colorful weaponry hawked on the streets by clever vendors. Those in the know will arm themselves lest be a defenseless target.
Of course this being my 1st exposure to such an event, I went about my day armed only with the notion that the festival didn't begin until the following day. Since it had been over a week since I'd seen another foreigner, I might have suspected the bullseye visible to the locals 50 meters away. Then it hit me. Not the awareness, but the crack of a large bucketful of water upside my head. I was a long way from home with cotton clothing on and my passport and other unsoakables on my person with nowhere to run. And since I'd already been soaked, I was an irreversibly marked man.
Dodging enemy fire to the best of my ability, I returned alive to my hotel room where I changed into triple S combat gear: swimtrunks, sandals, shades. Once again the hunted has become the hunter. Armed only with a 1-liter squirt bottle I was constantly in need of more ammo, but I held my own pretty well. At first. Feeling cocky from my early triumphs using surprise attack guerrilla tactics, the town seemed to be mine. Walking- nay- strutting down the middle of the road I could feel the old west in the air. But how quickly my invincibility became desperado with empathy for Butch & Sundance. Before long I felt the liquid equivalent of having been turned to Swiss cheese by lead-bullet ventilators. But even in defeat it is one of the most genuine good times one can have. |
|
| An ancient Chinese tradition which has yet to go the may of the Manchu queue and Siberian tiger is the premium placed on pale skin. This millennia-old trend favors the look of pampered royalty over working-class farmer types. Without question, it's the lighter the skin, the better. This prompts an array of cultural stratagems such as the wearing of long pants and sleeves on even the hottest of days. Women often wear huge tinted visors pulled down over their faces causing a striking resemblance to Boba Fett from Star Wars. |
Having learned that my proposed route to Tibet was buried under snow at least head-high, unless I procured snowshoes, a dogsled, or a levitation device, I needed to change my plan. Always averse to backtracking, exponentially so along the treacherous Nu River Gorge route, I decided to employ the services of my host as a guide on a trek to Deqin which included crossing a pass over 12,000 feet high. This daunting task paled in comparison to what I'd initially planned to do, especially since there was a porter to carry my large pack causing me to feel much like Homer with his Nepali Sherpas climbing the Murderhorn.
The trek began thru a couple "suburbs", hilltribes with smaller numbers than Dimaluo's whopping 3000 residents. Got to see a couple examples of churches in rural China. Rustic hardly begins to tell the story. But they seem a more appropriate tribute to the path of Jesus than the garish behemoths that we're so accustomed to in the west. Not long into the journey, a rare occurrence in Asia unfolded. Human settlement ceased. For what amounted to roughly 16 hours of (brisk) hiking, there wasn't a single village and nary a touch of man. The riparian landscape went from semi-arid to lush tropical vegetation at this stage so we were alone amidst countless towering waterfalls and dense foliage. Snow-capped peaks and glaciers comprised nearly 180 degrees of the view from the campsite that night. Although we'd gained over 4000 feet, the next day would be the real test. |
|
| Setting out early, we quickly found land with little other than snow on the surface. Snow hiking of this kind was a new experience for me. The Tibetan guys saw nothing strange about heading straight up the steep slopes sinking down to their crotches with nearly each step. Except for maybe 1 or 2 K, I was content to follow in their footsteps, a much easier proposition. Near the top I would kick back and soak up the views while the pack mules would forge ahead only to have me sprint up to their heels minutes later. The porter guy must've thought I was straining because he offered to take one of my 2 meager packs in addition to the one he hauled weighing thrice my load. He must know that westerners aren't hung up on saving face like Asians who might have hurled themselved off a cliff from the shame of the mere notion of the offer. The truth is that I felt stronger as the day went on, but this may have been dimentia from the altitude well above that of Lhasa. |
| Earlier in the day while ascending we passed a couple creeks which made me think to ask if I should refill my water bottles which where low. When I asked the guide, who speaks virtually no English so we spoke in Chinese, if there was more water ahead, he replied, "Oh, yeah. Lots." So onward I marched. Well, in fact, we'd see nothing but snow and more snow for the next 6 hours of rigorous hiking. Once again, I was surrounded by water, but not the kind I want! You see, the words for "snow" and "water", 'xue' and 'shui', despite having different characters, are pronounced identically to the untrained foreign ear. My guide thought I was just curious about the snow. Fortunately I absorbed all the water I needed through my feet as my Gore-tex socks eventually became fishbowls for the minnows that were my toes. The waist-deep snow doesn't respect such non-expedition quality gear. I imagined that a kind of wetsuit effect took place keeping my feet from feeling cold, but that again could've been delerium from the elevation. |
|
| One of the many checkpoints in western Tibet is in the military town of Saga. Having failed to avoid detection, we tried to play dumb and have some fun with the local militia. Once thwarted attempting to pitch our tent a stone's throw from the army post, we reluctantly went into custody. The army jeep which transported us was upholstered with puppy dog checkerboard which one would sooner expect on a baby's blanket. Once inside the office we played cards while enduring the Gestapo tactics which kept us in limbo for nearly 2 hours. Upon being asked for my passport a 2nd time, I insisted the uniformed agent add "please" to his clunky request to "give me passport." Eventually he complied. Instead of using his Chinese skills to ask for an escort to the restroom, my partner in crime, Sloan, simply dropped his drawers and made as if to add stool the front stoop, revealing a full moon for the many soldiers nearby. The ordeal which we fully expected would result in potentially hefty fines ended without any money exchanging hands. Perhaps our lack of willingness to admit we speak any Chinese had made extortion too difficult for the authorities. We left them scratching their heads as we departed by asking in flawless Chinese if they could direct us to an inexpensive hotel nearby. |
| There is of course a staggering proliferation of prayer flags in Tibet strung across every bridge, mountaintop, pass, rooftop, etc. Then there is the custom of tossing decks of colorful paper prayer cards from similar locations. But the most intriguing form of leaving a human mark upon nature results from the practice of sky burial. This ritual, which I gratefully yet somewhat regrettably did not witness, entail chopping up a 3-day-old human corpse & feeding it to the vultures, in effect providing the deceased with a living grave. But the remains (whatever the birds and wild dogs don't eat) need a home too. It's up to the loved ones to then disperse the dead's personal effects at holy locations around the land. The small mountain of often brand-new clothing seems a bit out of place in a country of generally desperately poor subsistence herders. |
| The town of Yarkand is another vestige of the glory days of the silk road. Today it has largely been whitewashed by the Chinese, but several pockets of the old town remain. The most interesting section is near the main mosque where there is also a sprawling cemetery. When I stumbled upon it I was given a brief tour of the sarcophagi for what I presumed were Muslim clerics by a blind man who added a brief chant to the occasion. But the real attraction of the graveyard is the population of full-time residents who live amongst the tombs. Scruffy, withered and often handicapped, this pseudo-homeless population is qualified at any time to break out into Michael Jackson's "Thriller" song/dance routine. |
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder as we've all heard. Chinese men's interest in pale, lifeless skin has already been documented here. In southern China's/SE Asia's hilltribes, it was until recently considered attractive when women chewed so much betelnut, a mild stimulant, that it stained their teeth. The closer to black, the better. On par with that is the Xinjiang eyebrow fetish. The bushier & more connected the woman's eyebrows are, the more alluring to the local male populace. Instead of plucking 'extra' hair, 'missing' hair is penciled in to create the coveted unibrow. In this case, beauty is in the eye(brow) of the beheld.
 |
| Although not the suggested way to learn about goat nutrition lifting and squeezing your goat is effective and may also produce hilarious results. At the Passu Peak Inn, my 1st stop in Pakistan, the friendly owner, Akbar, is nursing an injured goat back to health in a small pen out back. An Aussie traveler thought it would be cute to pick up "the loneliest goat in the world" like a house pet when we stopped by to visit. When he set it down looked down to see that he was COVERED in milky brown goat squirts. We later learned that Akbar had fed the goat some leftovers of the local spicy lentil dish called "dahl". |
| The local people of this region are said to be the friendliest in Pakistan and I believe it. Composed of several tribes long separated by imposing natural barriers, the area was made part of the country so recently that the people don't even call themselves Pakistanis. The "Hunzakut" as they call themselves often protect their kids from evil spirits (which are thought to enter thru the eyes) by applying black eye make up. Whether it actually wards off evil spirits is unclear, but it sure makes the kids look cute. |
| I've heard that infidels are sometimes stoned in militant Muslim areas, but this is not what I had in mind. Outside my window in Karimabad loom 2 massive snow-caps whose summits were beacons of majesty every morning when I awoke. Between my window and the view is a nice little deck for relaxing out of the sun. And for those who want to get reeealy relaxed, there's a large indica marijuana plant providing extra shade. (I chose of course to go the opposite direction enjoying a rare treat - real cappuccino at the luxurious Cafe de Hunza.) In addition to the opium poppies one often sees, numerous pot plants dot the landscape of this country in which alcohol is forbidden. Not sure if it's what Prez'dint Dubya meant when he said we root out all al Qaeda operatives in the region ("we'll smoke them outta their holes"), but from the amount of success he's had thusfar maybe it would be a better idea. You catch more flies with honey... |
| No, this isn't related to the previous section. Early in my time in Pakistan I've learned that the best way to travel along the Karakoram Highway is on top of the minibuses. Instead of being shoehorned into the crowded van, I kick back, stretch out, and enjoy the views. The locals seem to enjoy the sight of me perched on high like Granny Clampett as well. But it's not for the faint of heart. Sheer drops often flank the road. Worse still, skyscrapers of rock tower above ready to erode themselves onto the road at any time. I like the freedom I enjoy to abandon ship were I to sense danger on either front. |
| The cuisine in Madyan was particularly poor. I jumped at a chance to eat kebabs instead of a ladle of mystery meat stew. "Gimme FIVE!" Not until a few bites in did I inquire about the kind of meat it was. "Chicken," someone says. "I believe you call it the buttocks." I didn't want to know any more as the taste alone had already brought me close to gagging. I try to never waste food, but this time I quietly paid and walked away without finishing my barbecued chicken anus. |
Local people invariably want to know the origin of tourists in Pakistan. They may beat around the bush by saying 1 or 2 other things 1st, but the query is always forthcoming. Below I list the lines I find most amusing, not listed in order of frequency.
5) Your good name?
4) Your country? (the direct approach)
3) Hello, my dear! (Used by men speaking to me, other men)
2) How are you fine?
1) You from Japan? (asked of even the most Caucasian-looking people) |
| The highlight of many Pakistanis' visit to the Kalash Valleys is the chance to leer at women exposing themselves. Well, their heads and necks anyway. They still wear long dresses with long sleeves, but Kalasha women don't don headscarves like 99% of Pakistani women. But an even bigger draw for many is the opportunity to get drunk. Muslim countries of course enforce a total ban of all alcoholic beverage, so the availability of liquor in this non-Muslim region in a big deal. Sure, their Islamic beliefs still forbid them to drink, but that doesn't stop them or even slow them down. Sloshed Muslims aren't hard to spot throughout the day and night. Although it may sound funny the reality is that it's rather sad. Full-grown men behaving like stupid, obnoxious teenagers is not a pretty sight. Some Muslims who live in the area have the telltale swollen red proboscis of full-blown alcoholics whose only relief will be an early death. |
|
I often get asked if I'm Muslim due largely to the rather robust beard I sport of late. So in case I failed to mention it earlier, I should report that, yes, I'm Muslim now. Yeah, one day in Madyan I was sitting around in the shade awaiting the inevitable crowd to gather around me chatting with the brave pioneers who approached 1st. (As in other remote parts of Asia the trick is to keep moving -no matter how slowly- if you're not in the mood to be surrounded.) The region is largely Pashtun, an ethnic group from the Afghan border areas known for its more fundamentalist views on Islam. An older man sits down & we chat as best we can without knowing each other's language. Soon the guy wants me to repeat some phrases in Arabic or whatever which I did solely to amuse and appease. Only later when we found an English speaker did I learn that it was the oath of Islam. The good news is that one can't be tricked into converting, so my oath isn't binding. It might make St. Peter scratch his head though.
 |
| As one approaches Peshawar a phenomenon occurs with increasing regularity. Phantasmagorical bodies float by in the bazaars yet no one seems to notice. It turns out these figures aren't apparitions, but actual living creatures rarely glimpsed in this part of the world. The scientific name for these animals? Female humans. The colorful exoskeleton these woman don is known as a "burka". Despite the fall of the Taliban and its laws requiring them, sales of this garb continue unabated in this region. Why someone would choose to restrict their vision and trap their body heat under a mobile tent is beyond my imagination. Religious fundamentalism continues to make headway in this country whose government figures put the literacy rate under 40%. But the true figure is likely under 20%. Of course women are almost always less educated so perhaps only 5% of them can read. I guess that might explain it. |
5) Bus roulette: The gymnastics performed on city busses (more like mini vans, really)whenever a woman wants to board can be quite elaborate. She is only allowed to sit next to her husband, other women, or alone. The front sections of larger busses actually have a fence cordoning off the women's seats from the hands of sleazy men.
4) Halal meat: To label meat "halal", the only meat Muslims are allowed to eat, involves a complex series of chores. One must slaughter the animal while facing Mecca, chanting things like "God (Allah) is great." And of course pigs can't ever have been killed in that location. Oh, but wild pigs (boar) doesn't count as a pig for some reason.
3) Cleanliness: Word has it that if during toilet visits even one drop of urine gets on one's clothing it must be washed. This also applies if one touches (or is touched by) a dog. Cats are cool though.
2) Arranged marriage: Still de rigueur in Pakistan for the vast majority of the population (95%?). One family even forced a woman to marry a man with Downs syndrome. And of course the youth are expected to keep their virginity until the momentous day which for many doesn't happen until their THIRTIES.
1) Wake up calls: One of the first things one notices in Muslim countries are the loud megaphones blasting every few hours from atop mosques. This is of course the call to prayer which most Muslims do 5 times/day. One of those 5 times is the "pre-dawn" prayer where the chanting states (in Arabic) "prayer is better than sleep." I've been jolted awake by this as early as 3:43 AM. The chanting is sometimes done by men or boys who are tone-deaf resulting in something resembling drunken a Capella karaoke. |
| On a brief sidetrip from Dal Lake to the village of Pahalgam one passes numerous police and army checkpoints which remind the visitor of the volatility of the region. Pockets of Muslim Kashmiri separatists sometimes carry out terror attacks aimed at these largely Hindu forces, but tourists are rarely targeted. That didn't put me enough at ease however when 5 crazed men came running directly at our jeep giving the driver the choice to either stop or run them over. The unnerving ploy is routinely practiced by owner of horses - ponies really- who want the passengers to rent their animal. They merely hope the vehicle allows them to hitchhike until it stops when the virtues of their quadruped can be extolled. |
5) If you're married, divorce speed
4) This is a highway not a runway
3) Be gentle on my curves
2) Be Mr late not late Mr
1) Darling I like you but not so fast |
| Although I've yet to see a sign bearing these words (and get a picture of it) they're rumored to hang in front of numerous businesses around India. Some are quick to label this anti-Semitism but the sign clearly doesn't say "No Jews." Instead, business owners who've been pushed over the edge once too often have decided that the extra money they'd earn from dealing with Israeli tourists just isn't worth it. I've already witnessed some of the horrors myself. Arguing over 1 rupee (2 cents). Complaining about trivial flaws with a hotel room to try to get a bigger discount. And, stunningly, pocketing a pile of money donated in front of the Buddha at a Tibetan monastery! The awful treatment tourists often receive in India stems largely from these types of ugly behaviors of tourists who are usually Israelis. That young Israelis want nothing more than to travel abroad as long as possible after mandatory military service (by both men AND women) for 2-3 years is understandable. What isn't justifiable however is why they insist on being so doggone rude. It's a viscous cycle at this point and the only way around it may be to leave India forever. |
Although I saw cool birds, ferret-type animals & even larger primates called langurs, the brochures don't mention this particular breed of wildlife. My 1st night on the Annapurna, Nepal trek I met a nice local who walked with me to his village where he runs a lodge. I said it would be fine by me with a full moon and a headlamp to walk all night.
"It's not safe to walk at night," he exclaimed.
"Why so," I asked. "Maoists?"
"No," he replied. "Gorillas!"
"Um...don't they only live in Africa?"
"We have here. Like Yeti, but not Yeti. Gorilla. One local made married his daughter to one."
"[snicker] Why aren't there any pictures of them?"
"Not allowed."
I couldn't suppress my incredulity, but he continued insistently.
"You don't believe, but I'm always right! I'll show you tonight!"
In the end I never did get the nighttime safari to see the half-man/half-ape. For the record he was wrong about at least one other aspect of the trek |
| As in Pakistan, people in India suck down cups of chai (boiled milk with black tea, maybe a bit of spices and tons of sugar) like it's going out of style. But the word "cup" doesn't really describe it. On trains or street stalls it's often served in eensy receptacles no larger than a shot glass. In larger restaurants where I'm usually lucky enough to find instant coffee, the scalding hot beverages are served in a small glass (no handle). Ouch! I've taken to packing around a steel mug into which I transfer the contents. Getting what I want into that mug is another story. Coffee is normally served ridiculously weak and drowned in milk and sugar. Even if one says "black", the people carelessly think they hear, "Blah, blah...MILK coffee." So the 13-syllable mouthful I must remember to say every time is "Black coffee, no milk, no sugar, very, very strong." |
| This one might fall under "Funny Money", but after repeated encounters it becomes less hilarious & more enraging. In a country with tens of millions of vendors, it seems as if not one of them is willing or able to provide the correct change after a business transaction. Once when presented a 90 rupee bill, I tendered a 100 rupee note, braced myself & then cringed when the restauranteur actually uttered the dreaded phrase, "Don't you have change?" Having methodically stockpiled small bills over the preceding weeks, I simply smiled and made his day by producing 11 smaller notes for the total. How nice it is to get credit for doing a good deed by merely paying with exact change. |
5) "The Rickshaw Mafia" - Buses stop miles from town away from stations leading to the price gouging, pollution and general annoyingness of these ugly uncomfortable vehicles and their drivers
4) Lecherous, sexually deprived men - Yeah, and I'm not even a woman!
3) Food - It's more like drink, actually. Soupy, overcooked slop comprises 97% of the Indian diet. A country whose food many people rave about ranks at the very bottom of my "Food of the World" list
2) Beggars - Omnipresent, filthy, grabby children and their mothers. Many of them go home at the end of their work day. Babies are often rented to inflate "neediness"
1) Feces- Whether it's cow, dog or human, you see it - and it being PRODUCED - everywhere |
In some regards India is the most chaotic, disorganized & unruly mob in the world. I've mentioned the trains, the Holi grope-fest, and the sometimes death-defying traffic (meaning that it defies death only some of the time). But just try to get someone in a menial service position to do something unusual or bend the rules and you'd think the country is as regimented as Fort Knox. Once, at a hotel where my cousin and I had left some luggage, I returned to drop off her plane ticket for her while she was in retreat at an ashram. As one of the bags was mine I wanted to take it with me.
"I'm afraid that's not possible because the reservation is under your cousin's name."
"But the bag has my name on it."
"It could be someone else with the same name."
"?!?" Yeah...there are lots of Cheyney Steiningers running around dropping off planes tickets for Sara Dondlingers.
But the best was another time at a different hotel. My aunt had left the room she had paid for so I had a place to stay when my train arrived late that night. I knew the combo to her combination lock she'd left on the door & we have the same last name. But, "NO!", I'm not allowed to go in my room. Speaking to other foreigners nearby about my predicament, we were eavesdropped upon by the desk clerk who came rushing over...
"I hear what you say about Indian rules but it doesn't matter because all of our problems are because of the British anyway!"
"Oh, really," I replied. "Even though it's been 60 years since they left?
"Yes."
"Well I come from a country which was a British colony 200 years ago. Can I also blame all my country's problems on the British?"
"Yes." Gotta love that Indian logic. |
| Yeah, I know I've used that line before. but it applies more in this case. The Republic of China (ROC) is clearly the good guy when the huffing, puffing, Communist China (PRC) is threatening war just across the Taiwan Straight. Just a week before I arrived, this thriving democracy flexed its muscle when nearly a half-million people took to the streets to protest a new law passed in Beijing. I've mostly just been laying low in Taipei working hard to dust off my rusty Krusty Chinese after 8 months without using it. The capital is home to Taipei 101, currently the tallest building in the world which also boasts the fastest elevator bringing passengers up 89 floors in 39 ear-popping seconds at a speed of 60 kilometers/hour. It's a fine looking edifice -a notable endorsement considering the architecture I'd been admiring a few days earlier- designed to resemble bamboo in both appearance and pliancy. The latter is a very good thing considering that this is earthquake country |
| One of the more amusing aspects of this country is the way pets are treated. It's been great to at least see dogs not being kicked or otherwise abused as is so common in India. But then to see them dressed up in little denim outfits? Or how about the quadriplegic poochie who had his own little wheelchair - or course propelled by his arms...er...front legs. And it gets even better! This one brought me to near hysterics. On a leash, getting walked around the block by its owner, a yellow tabby. Yes, cat. It gets better. Her sister, a fatter one, was getting walked along side, but in a stroller |
|
