Friday's Place Kerala

Pushka 24/11/2009

This is the first time since my last post that I really feel compelled to write. Putting the words down on ‘paper’ or rather seeing them appear on the screen might help me to make some sense of MY India so far. Yes, we have finally arrived after 10 days of Pakistan. From Multan we traveled to Lahor for an overnight stay (cool city Lahor) and then crossed the Pakistan – India border at Wagah on the morning of 19^th November. The crossing went smoothly without any complications or weird questions from the customs officers on either side – we just had to fill out about a zillion forms! And there it was our first Indian state, namely, Punjab. From the border we drove approx. 40km to Amritsar to see the Golden Temple, Sikhism’s holiest shrine. The temple is a beautifully delicate and peaceful golden structure floating in the middle of an expanse of water. Anyone can visit regardless of their faith. Although it is the most welcoming of places I felt that my presence somehow invaded this holy space full of devotees most probably making the pilgrimage of their lives. I can only think that my feelings were due to me being quite overwhelmed by the generosity of the people while Mark thinks I’m just a sinner and as such would feel out of place at a holy sight. Despite my reservations and Mark’s comments it was a humbling experience and I really like the Sikhs. They are a jovial, chirpy lot and they really seem to love and enjoy life.

The same afternoon we went back to the border to witness what I can only describe affectionately as the most ridiculous and funny marching competition between the Indian and Pakistani border guards. All the guards are about 7 feet tall and dressed in very elaborate gear with hats adorned with a fan shaped decoration sticking out from the top. They keep marching up and down with great speed kicking their legs vertically up into the air. I mean, you have to see it to believe it. The Indians make quite a show of it. The stands are packed with people dancing, singing and cheering. 90% of the noise came from the Indian side while the Pakistanis remained more subdued since their side of the stand was only one tenth filled.

After the day in Amritsar the plan was to drive into Rajsthan. We stayed the night in Sirsa and crossed the Punjab/Rajasthan border the next day. The transition from the well cultivated agricultural landscape of Punjab into the deserts of Rajasthan was almost immediate after entering the state. We took a beautiful rural road to Churu (our overnight stop before Jaipur) and for the first time after Pakistan entered areas where there were no Westerners or any other tourists passing through. When we stopped at a village the children behaved as if they have seen a ghost since they haven’t as yet seen a white skinned blond person. However they couldn’t curb their curiosity and they got braver when I produced the camera. They were still cautious but they liked the novelty of having their photos taken. The men of the town gathered around the bike and all wanted to be photographed next to it. We were getting surrounded by quite a large group of locals that were getting closer and closer so we decided that it was time to move on. Nevertheless, this was ‘real’ India now, the India I’d been waiting to experience. Brightly coloured dresses of the local women set against the golden sand lit by the late afternoon sun, flat roofed mud huts morphing into the landscape, farmers working the fields with camels, women walking home with firewood on their heads, shepherds herding goats, humpback cows and buffalo languidly strolling the roads oblivious of the traffic,etc. Some of the scenes were almost biblical and it felt like we went back in time.

Jaipur, our next stop, was three to four hours drive from Churu. A busy, polluted city invaded by modern monstrosities swallowing what is left of the old city. It felt soulless and the City Palace that is supposedly one of the main attractions is quit tacky and fake looking. Unfortunately or rather fortunately there was an election on the day of our visit and most of the other tourist attractions were closed although, I would love to have seen the observatory with the huge sundial. The shopping, Jaipur is so famous for, wasn’t brilliant. The bazaars were full of all same low quality stuff and we got a lot of hassling from shopkeepers and various young men trying to lure us into shops to earn commission. Despite all that, and thanks to the independent traveler’s bible, the Lonely Planet, we found a lovely shop that sells ethically produced goods and they had some wonderful things. It was heaven! I spent hours in there trying lovely silk trousers and tops and choosing the cutest outfits for Matilda. Mark patiently sat on the bench trying to suppress his stomach’s cries for lunch or rather, by the time I finished, dinner. Bless him!

Two nights in the city seemed enough and we set off this morning. We are in Pushkar at the moment. A very different Rajasthan. A smallish town set around a lake that is unfortunately almost empty due to the really bad monsoon. It is the sight of one of the world’s few Hindu Brahma temples thus it is an important pilgrimage sight. It is full of hippies, great shopping, fantastic food, beautiful old buildings not obscured by modern soulless concrete monstrosities and the locals are much more easy going. If you climb to the top of any building you see children flying paper kites from the rooftops. We are staying at a very simple guest house run by a lovely young couple who have a 16 month old baby. Brigitte is English and Nuria’s (Mark’s friends) daughter who is married to Chacha, a local man.

I haven’t seen or experienced much of Pushkar as yet so I’m unable to write much. However, the shops, the food and the dope we were offered on several occasions tell me that it seems to be geared towards a certain type of tourist – a young hippy type! I’m aware that I’m most probably overgeneralizing and I hope I’ll have a better perspective after I have taken more in but the reason I had to mention this is that the change in vibe really unsettled me. I want to get away as soon as possible but at the same time I really like it and I want to stay for a while. But this is Indian, isn’t it! It is full of binary opposites. It’s making me question every single thought, feeling, action or decision. It’s saying “Hey you, wake up! Life is not always the way you think it is or you want it to be! Get a grip, sort yourself out! Come on, wake up!” And all I can do is panic and go deeper and deeper into the abyss of confusion. Now I know why people say that when it comes to India you either love it or hate it or, in other words, it will make you or it will brake you. I secretly hoped this journey would be not just a sightseeing trip but also a journey of self-discovery. I have been waiting for an eureka moment or some great cataclysmic event that would occur as a sign that would prove a shift in my soul. But all this time ‘India’ has been working its magic most subtly without me noticing, its sensuous and at times cruel veils have been slowly wrapped around me and it’s time to start, very gently, peeling back the layers, one by one. I gather I have a whole mountain to climb here and I have only made a few baby steps towards the summit by recognizing, or rather admitting to myself, what’s up. There is still a long, long way form me to go. And oh boy, it’s going to be a tough one . . . I haven’t realized but I have been entirely overwhelmed by the experience so far and it is only by writing this blog that I’m able to verbalize and face what’s going on. I’m as yet not certain of how to proceed and I sure will need some time to digest it all (and supposedly there is more to come). I doesn’t help that I’m away from my beautiful daughter Matilda and that I miss her terribly. Every day, no matter how good or bad it has been, a voice deep inside shouts at me to get on the plane and get back to her as quickly as I can. How naïve or blind I was. Before leaving I almost persuade myself that I’ll be able to ’switch off’ – “Whatever that’s suppose to mean, you silly cow!” – because there will be so much going on. I mean, there is a lot going on in my head as well as my heart. Likewise, lack of sleep, two weeks of being invaded by intestinal bugs and the fact that we have been on the road and have done quite a distance in a fairly short time without having a longer break from being on the bike, doesn’t help either. I admit, I have greatly underestimated India’s power to emotionally disorientate and I will need some time to piece it all together. So I better get some sleep or at least try to have a calm rest minus the nightmares.

1 Comment November 25, 2009

Multan (17-11-09)

On Sunday 15^th November we woke up at about 5am (after only four hours of sleep) and   set off for Multan at about 6.30 am. As mentioned previously I’ve only been on the bike once before down to Rogate and back and this time we decided to do a 1,000km journey from Karachi to Multan. Remember this is a third world country and whatever distance you travel you have to double it due to the appalling state of the roads, the varied traffic consisting of overloaded lorries, bicycles, mopeds, donkey carts, horse drawn tongas, rickshaws and  beaten up cars. There are no lines and no rules. Wherever there is a gap there will be a vehicle trying to squeeze through and it takes a lot of concentration not to crash. Mark was amazing and I felt unusually at ease. He ’s either really brave or utterly mad and I haven’t decided as yet which one it is but I have the rest of our journey  to figure it out.

Anyway we set off on this trip to Multan and I really enjoyed being on the bike. Besides a few teething problems like my helmet being a bit tight and a few aches and pains we started off fine. The landscape was changing, becoming more rural and greener, full of cotton, rice and sugar cane fields.  We were told that it will take about ten hours to get to our destination and taking into account that we will have to do more stops to stretch our legs we added about two to three hours extra. We were confident that we can do it in one go although Mark has never done a journey this long in one go ever before (although he didn’t tell me that at the time). So we set off all enthusiastic and positive. Well, we did manage to do it in one go but it didn’t take twelve or thirteen or even fifteen hours. It took us altogether eighteen bleeming hours. It was painful and I still don’t know how we did it suffering from lack of sleep, cold (the temperatures drop quite drastically at night), physical pain and poor visibility. My first trip on the bike was a ten minute one while the second one  lasted a ‘bare’ 18 hours. I think I definitely deserve some brownie points here or even a badge. Mark thinks I’m great, I thing Marks great and that will definitely do. But what really keeps me going is the thought of the £100 I’m going to get from Steve on my return!!!!!

It was exhausting almost to a point of torture but we are here now recovering in Multan. We are staying with Mark’s friends in a lovely house with a hot shower and three servants. But more about that another time.

Leave a Comment November 17, 2009

Karchi (14-11-09)

Yet another trip to the port this morning. There we were nervously clutching our petrol can at the customs house at ten o’clock as agreed with our agent . . . and yes, you’ve guessed it, he wasn’t there and neither was the paperwork. We decided to have breakfast within the customs house compound and I’m so pleased we did because we had the best cup of tea since we arrived. The bearded elderly gentlemen brought us a teapot and two glass cups half filled with hot water just to warm them up. So we started another day with a lovely breakfast of wonderfully served tea, omelet, toast and a newspaper . . . how civilized. We were definitely ready to tackle another day of waiting around for all sorts of officials to stamp bits of paper and extort more cash from us. And there you go . . . after merely 5 hours we finally managed to get our hands on the beast. A crowed gathered to break the crate under the watchful eyes of Mr. Reynolds and then the latter managed to speedily put the wheels on under the watchful eyes of about fifteen coolies. Now you cannot disappoint the audience so we desperately hoped that the battery wasn’t flat and that the engine was going to star without any major trouble. I could never have imagined that the purring of a motorbike engine would be sweet gentle music to my ears . . . ah what a lovely melody. And off we were out of the port into the manic streets of Karachi. I’ve only been on a bike once before so this was my second time and it was so cool, so exciting and I definitely want more! Can’t wait to hit the road tomorrow at about 6am.

 Appendix:

(I should mention that the bike shut down a few times and there was a funny burning smell and some smoke coming from somewhere down below but that was only due to Mark forgetting to connect the earth wire.  It was quickly sorted!)

Leave a Comment November 16, 2009

Karachi (Friday 13-11-09)

Great news!!! The bike has definitely arrived but is unfortunately still stuck in a crate in the port. But we manged to have a glimpse. I still can’t believe it since I started to think this is it, Karachi is the beginning and the end of our journey! After not getting much sleep last night due to Mark’s frequent visits to the bathroom as a result of something doggy he ingested the previous day, we nevertheless went to the port this morning to sort out the paperwork and sweet talk the officials. It took about six hours and a lot of waiting since everything happens at a snail’s pace and it takes three times as many people to do a job that half a person could accomplish in half the time it took them. Despite it all everyone was really nice and we had a very interesting talk with the customs officer who is a very well traveled and educated man. It was refreshing to speak to someone who can rise above the extremism and ignorance of the masses. We were promised we can pick the bike up tomorrow at 10am and are planning to set off for Multan very early Sunday morning.

 We’ll keep you updated!

Leave a Comment November 13, 2009

Karachi (Thursday 12/11/09)

Fourth day and we’re still in Karachi. Considering our visa permits us to stay in Pakistan for only 15 days, and taking into account the current unstable political situation, one would think that we would be on the move by now trying to get over the border to India and onwards to Friday’s Place in the south. As much as I’m anxious to move on it is out of my hands and up to the customs and shipping agents who are the ones that need to release our means of transport, the old Beemer we shipped from home. Remember this is Pakistan! Efficiency and speed are not on top of the agenda. Having traveled around the subcontinent for business and pleasure for the past 30 odd years, Mark is very much used to the pulse and pace of the country, but I’m a novice and feel there is a lot for me to learn here especially when it comes to patience.

We’ve been here since Monday 9^th November and the ship carrying the bike only arrived this morning. When we booked the container in the UK we were told it would arrive on 7^th November, then the Pakistani agents gave us yesterday’s date and finally Mark just got off the phone and was told the ship is being unloaded right now. If we are lucky we might get the bike on Saturday or even a day earlier.

We are staying with Mark’s friends who he has known since his carpet dealing days and who have been very generous and have advised us on our safety. I have consequently seen and learned a bit about carpets and have absorbed and admired Marks passion and expertise on the subject. It’s been quite an eye opener talking to these people when it comes to politics, religion and gender issues. They are all devastated by the current situation in the northern regions and are hopeful that the Taliban will be defeated. Their economy has been hard hit and I have no idea how they do any business at all. There are no foreigners who would buy handicraft goods or fake antiques and those bazaars are silent and drab. The country seems to rely on the US for basic rations like wheat, rice and dhal so I do wonder how this country sustains itself. At the moment the sugar wholesalers have also shut down and considering the amount of sugar they consume in their never ending cups of tea and various sweets they’ll soon be out of their domestic supplies. When it comes to education of women and practicing religion Mark’s friends are not overly traditional but when it comes to their wives the gender differences and restrictions become very apparent. Women stay at home looking after the house and the children, are not allowed to go to work (there are some changes visible on this front when it comes to younger generations but it is certainly not a prevalent trend) or leave the house during the day unaccompanied, they are certainly not allowed to frequent traditional eateries – I was the only one during lunch time and, as you can imagine, got quite a few stares – and the female population is visibly outnumbered by men on the streets especially during the day. ‘I don’t/wouldn’t allow my wife to . . . ‘ comes up frequently in conversation and, as you can imagine, it really hits a nerve every time.

On the bright side we have managed to walk around and absorb the smells and vibes of the city. Karachi is a large port city and here and there you get a glimpse of its grand Moghul and colonial style past visible through the rubble of only a few remaining dilapidated sand coloured buildings but most of it is tower blocks of gray concrete and metal bars. Chaos seems to be present wherever you look. The edge of the road serves as a rubbish tip for all sorts of litter including rubble. Walking along the pavement you get ‘blessed’ by an occasional water trickle or are faced with a pool of water that has come streaming down the building from one of the flats as a result of a water-tank overflow. Directing your gaze towards the heavens you notice that the electric cables and wires supplying the households and businesses are bunched together into what appears like big bird nests and are just hanging off distribution poles and buildings. How anyone can make any sense of what goes where is anyone’s guess! The upper stories of the buildings mostly serve as flats for the masses and don’t you think you can escape the chaos of dust, rubbish and the cable nests of the streets once you’ve entered. In addition the walls of the stairwells are decorated with red coloured spit marks as a result of the male population spiting when chewing pan (a concoction of betel leaf, erika nut, lime paste, black tobacco and various aromatic spices) and if you didn’t know better you would think a terrible homicide had taken place in every corner and dark niche of every building. Aesthetics and desire to create a beautiful clean environment to live in do not feature. As for the plumbing . . . something to be desired. The so call ’shower’ is really a bucket job. Fill a bucket with water, scoop some water in a smaller jug and splash yourself with or pour it over yourself. Those who know me can only imagine that it will take some time for me to get used to it but I intend to perfect the technique!

The city is interwoven with narrow streets packed with bazaars and the bizarre. The little bazaar shops are grouped together according to their trade just like medieval guilds and you can find almost anything from fabrics, traditional shalwar kameezes, Aladdin shoes from Multan, pots and pans, electronic goods, photography studios, leather goods, jewelry, wigs, etc. Everywhere you go there are street sellers offering delicious fried snacks and sweets as well as ruby red pomegranate and sugar cane juice. Empress bazaar is a haven for any tourist or photographer. Sacks of spices, nuts, dates and rice compete alongside beautifully displayed vegetables. Some of them are very unusual and one in particular with a nobly star shaped deep purple outer shell that revealed a crispy white tuber similar to a water chestnut in taste, was from some kind of water lily root! Moving in the sea of bodies the aromas of turmeric, dried chilies, black pepper, garlic and ginger mingle in the air with spicy dishes from the street vendors, dust, pollution and bloody smells of the butcher’s market. It is a full blown attack on all your senses. The food is delicious, fresh and quite spicy. Wonderful soft, light chapatis cooked on an upturned karahi (similar to a wok) and, puffy but fairly salty naans and rotis unlike the ones I’d tasted at home baked in charcoal fired clay oven or rather a barrel shaped hole in the ground. The small dough balls are rolled out and spread on a sort of a hard fabric cushion. The cushion is then shoved into the hole, the flat bread slides off, the cushion is pulled out and the bread is turned over and eventually pulled out with two long metal poles. The oven is extremely energy efficient since once the coal is fired up there is no more need to add extra fuel and standing five meters distance from the oven the heat is overbearing. Imagine standing above it like the baker does for hours on end. Although the Pakistanis love their meat Mark hasn’t seen or tasted any as yet. He’s been really looking forward to fatten up on chicken and get as far away from a vegetarian diet but he’s been pretty unlucky since when our host realised I’m vegetarian he’s been feeding us copious amounts of lovely dhal and subji (broad term for vegetable curry).

The temperatures are high here but the cool sea breeze full of sand and flies takes the edge away. With one single exception of an elderly man shouting after us to go back to our country people have been very pleasant and curious (I was asked if I am Muslim by a boy of about seventeen or eighteen) about who we are and what we are doing in Pakistan. It’s been put to me if I’m American and I make sure that they know I’m Slovene and Mark is Irish for the time being since everybody loves the Irish (not so sure about the British). I get a lot of stares but everyone is generally polite. We have only come across one foreigner and he had the same expression of surprise as we did when we encountered one another.

So far so good. I am however desperate to start traveling. If we are very lucky we might get the bike tomorrow . . . if God is willing or rather if the customs officers are willing.

1 Comment November 13, 2009