March 25, 2008

Suriname's Linguistic Khichri

The New York Times has an article on Sranan Tongo, the creole language that is spoken by a majority of people in Suriname, in South America.

Suriname, like Guyana and Trinidad, has a large Indian diaspora population from the 19th century, people who came across originally as indentured laborers. For a country of just 470,000 people, the linguistic and cultural diversity is truly astonishing:

To get a sense of the Babel of languages here, just stroll through this capital, which resembles a small New England town except the stately white clapboard houses are interspersed with palm trees, colorful Chinese casinos and minaret-topped mosques.

Slip into one of the Indonesian eateries known as warungs to hear Javanese, spoken by about 15 percent of the population. Choose a roti shop, with its traditional Indian bread, to listen to Surinamese Hindi, spoken by the descendants of 19th-century Indian immigrants, who make up more than a third of the population. And merchants throughout Paramaribo speak Chinese, even though the numbers of Chinese immigrants are small. (link)

Is it just me, or is Suriname exactly like Queens? (The food options sound enticing.)

For the curious, there is a Sranan Tongo-to-English dictionary here (not many words derived from Indian languages, as far as I can tell), and a “Sarnami Hindustani”-to-Dutch dictionary here. (Of course, for the latter, you need to know Dutch!)

I would also recommend a reader comment on an earlier post by Vinod (where he mentioned the Surinamese Indians in Amsterdam).

amardeep at 01:52 PM in Travel · 37 comment(s) · Direct link

February 26, 2008

Advertising India without pimping it

I’ve never been a big fan of the Incredible India tourism advertising campaign. I find it orientalist and tacky, like the images below:

Coffee Brown? WTF - why are they advertising india based on the “exotic” skin color of the Indians?

Still, I concede that it’s hard to advertise India without being a bit exotic, after all, you’re trying to appeal to tourists based on cultural novelty. They’re not going to India for the skiing, they’re going because the culture is different.

That’s why I was so tickled by the television advertisement below for the 15th International Pondicherry Yoga Festival [via BB]. I thought it did a good job of showcasing some amazing yoga, but doing so as incredible physical activity rather than random freak show. For some reason, I found the video appealing and it didn’t set my orientalism alarm off, even though they were showing some impressive contorsions.

Did they do something different here or did they just do it better? Or perhaps you feel these ads are just as orientalist and exotifying as the GOI’s ads … what say you?

ennis at 02:51 PM in Travel · 35 comment(s) · Direct link

July 01, 2007

A better way to see Gujarat

A friend of mine from here in Texas recently handed me a copy of the Gujarat guidebook she’s edited and published after living there for some time (and with the additional help of some paid local writers). Since my family is originally from Gujarat I’ve never even considered the need for getting my hands on a guidebook before each visit there. After skimming through nearly 400 pages rich in history and photography I think I’ll be taking this along on my next trip to the motherland. Think “Lonely Planet on steroids”:

A grill would have totally completed this cover picture.

Five thousand years of civilization

Savor the history and romance, colors and textures, rhythms and dance of a land where time have never stood still.

From the rocky heights of the Sahyadri Mountains across to the salt flats of the Desert of Kachchh, Gujarat has something for everyone. Wander through remains of ancient Indus Valley civilizations; venture to meet the lions of Gir Forest; soak in the legacy of Mahatma Gandhi; dance on the streets for nine nights of Navratri. Enjoy an unparalleled ethos of hospitality. Experience vibrant crafts, exquisite architecture, rich wildlife reserves, colorful festivals and eclectic traditions. Join five millennia of seafarers, merchants and settlers from around the globe and come explore Gujarat. [Link]

What the hell. Gujarat has lions? I wonder why my dad has failed to ever mention this salient fact to me (but I’m sure he’ll comment on it and give me an earful down below). I remember going all the way to the northern part of India on a tiger safari but had no idea that there were lions right there in Gujarat. I think part of the problem is that to me Gujarat is just Ahmedabad, and if someone asks me what you do there I’d say “ummmmm…CG Road, Gandhi Ashram, and Siddi Sayid.” I love eating Amul cheese sandwiches when I am in India but I didn’t know I could take a tour of the Amul plant and watch it get made. It’s probably similar to going wine tasting in Napa (but cheese sandwiches are better than wine). The guidebook also taught me a little about the village (Sarkhej) that my grandparents lived in and where my parents partially grew up. I’ve been there but either didn’t know, or couldn’t remember, the significance of the place until I read here about the complex that the village was built around:

Sarkhej Roaza is a mosque, tomb, and royal complex dedicated to the memory of Salikh Ahmed Khattu Ganj Baksh, the spiritual advisor of Ahmed Shah…The Roza was a retreat for successive rulers, each adding a garden or pavilion. Sarkej is another excellent example of a structure that combines Hindu and Islamic design.

The best guidebooks are those that give you a deeper appreciation for what you are visiting by putting it into a context that you can relate to. I appreciate the fact that this book is compiled from the perspective of an Indian American who’s been living there for a while and has been seeking out overlooked places instead of simply relying on guidance from relatives or other travel books that don’t contain nearly this level of detail.

India Guide Publications develops comprehensive travel guides to lesser known destinations in India. Our informative, easy-to-use travel guide books give travelers a complete resource to navigating the rich culture and sights of India’s unexplored regions.

A passionate and energetic team of writers, researchers, designers and map makers, we are totally committed to promoting the insider’s perspective to Gujarat. Locally driven - we know the local culture, speak the local language, and have a deep connection with this space. [Link]

I asked my friend if there will be more guidebooks like these covering some of the other Indian states. I think they are open to collaborating with other groups who want to do other states. I know most people don’t go on vacation to India in the summer but given that everyone I know seems to be planning a trip somewhere right now I thought I’d throw out this tip to some of you who might be going to Gujarat soon.

abhi at 11:02 PM in Literature, Travel · 37 comment(s) · Direct link

June 22, 2007

Kingfisher Airlines -- coming soon to the U.S.

I always find it a little suspect when people try to do novelty airlines, maybe because I’m one of those paranoid people who, even after years of flying and hundreds of flights, still routinely thinks “We’re all going to die!” at least two or three times on any given flight. Thus, I will never fly the now-grounded “Hooters Air,” even if it does come back. (Guys, keep your eyes on the… cockpit? please?)

Kingfisher Airlines might end up as a better bet, but as might be proper in an airline that emerged out of a beer company, if I do ever fly with them I’ll still probably feel compelled to smell the pilot’s breath before I take my seat. Apparently, Kingfisher Airlines, one of India’s newer domestic carriers, has signed a deal with Airbus to buy several jumbo and superjumbo planes, with an eye to entering the international market. The move is part of a general boom in international travel to India (which has been up by about 40% this year alone).

The New York Times article about the event spends as much time talking about the lifestyle of Kingfisher’s flamboyant CEO Vijay Mallya, as it does considering the economic viability of the venture (they do note that Kingfisher Airlines has yet to turn a profit as a domestic carrier in India):

Mr. Mallya personally is the sort of unfettered corporate czar that many American boardrooms have not seen in at least half a century. He surrounds himself with a close group of longtime advisers, wears copious diamonds, holds business meetings at his house until 5 in the morning, winks at female journalists and flaunts the “good times” corporate motif in most aspects of his life.

At home, a Mercedes, a Ferrari and a Bentley are parked in his driveway. His ornate living room is filled with silver gilded furniture and art objects like a marble statue of a nymph-like woman, as well as a Picasso sketch. His CD collection includes dance, lounge and party music.

A group of largely silent young women clad in white deliver drinks, answer phones and clean up ashtrays. (link)

Kya baat hai. Vijay Mallya seems to be a mix of new-school Indian self-confidence and ambition (this is a huge endeavour), and a kind of old-school, “ladies’ man” absurdity that seems to have come out of some 70s Bollywood movie. Even the attractive female flight attendants are a big part of the company’s marketing campaign, which seems like an obvious Vijay Mallya touch (see this article).

In general, I have to say that Kingfisher’s “keep the good times rolling” marketing campaign simply isn’t appealing to me. From an airline I really want the boring things — professionalism, competence, and yeah, safety — not so much “party time.”

But is he perhaps appealing to a real demographic, one that’s a bit less stodgy and paranoid than me? Are people really going to fly Kingfisher “Good Times” Airlines to go to and from the Desh?

amardeep at 05:44 PM in Business, Humor, News, Travel · 74 comment(s) · Direct link

June 11, 2007

Ocean's Eighteen: Indian Tourists in Vegas

Recently, I went on a four-day trip to Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon, with eighteen relatives from India. The group was mainly cousins, uncles, aunts, and a two-year old baby (my cousin’s; I left my own kid at home). Some were from Delhi and Bombay, but others were from smaller towns in Punjab and elsewhere.

The biggest surprise for me was realizing that many of my relatives were awed by the lights and sounds of Las Vegas — and only modestly impressed by the Grand Canyon. You can kind of see why: the New Las Vegas is obsessed with showing off its grand, pseudo-classy facades (i.e., the fountain show at the Bellagio that Steven Soderbergh admires so much), while downplaying both the less glamorous past and the seediness that still exists in the fringes, in places like “downtown” Las Vegas. To a first-time visitor, it might be easy to miss how pseudo the new Vegas really is.

In the casinos themselves, I saw lots of Desis in the older, cheaper casinos on the north end of the strip — where the table minimums are $1 or $2. I didn’t see quite as many in the Bellagio, where the minimum bets start at $20 and go up (considerably) from there. Personally, I am not really that into gambling, so my favorite casino is still Circus Circus: give me Whac-A-Mole over Roulette, any day. At least you’re likely to walk away with a prize (i.e., a teddy bear), rather than a big hole in your pocket where your life-savings used to be.

In terms of cuisine, we went twice for satisfying lunch buffets at India Oven, at the north end of the strip. (Is it the only Indian restaurant on the Las Vegas strip? I didn’t see any others) There weren’t many options at the Grand Canyon, so we ate at Denny’s (which was a flop; my relatives really didn’t like it) and Pizza Hut (better).

Speaking of Desis on the Strip — since there are already so many Desis visiting Vegas, why not a Desi-themed casino? There’s already the lightly Morroccan-themed Sahara and the heavily Egyptian Luxor, the pseudo-Italian Venetian (where you can even go for a gondola ride), and the pseudo-French Paris. Donald Trump already has the pseudo-Desi Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City, so maybe we could step out on a limb and call it… Maharajah? (Las Vegas is already completely defined by kitschy appropriations and simulations of real places and cultures — why not embrace it?) If I had $1 billion to invest in a casino in Las Vegas, I would model my Maharajah on the Lake Palace at Udaipur, except in Las Vegas — unlike Udaipur — the lake would actually have water in it.

amardeep at 09:18 AM in Travel · 72 comment(s) · Direct link

May 22, 2007

The lost continent of Kumari Kandam

I’m sure the science-fiction geeks amongst y’all know about the lost continents of Atlantis, Lemuria and Mu. These are the “missing continents” that were submerged in the Atlantic, Indian and Pacific oceans respectively.

[The story of Atlantis has its origin in the Platonic dialogues, while Lemuria was hypothesized in the late 1800s as an explanation for why there were Lemurs in both Madagascar and India but not in Africa or the Middle East. Both are now beloved of mystics and kooks. Nobody really cares about Mu, although it is sometimes confused with Lemuria.]

However, I’ll bet you’ve never heard of the Tamil analogue, the lost continent of Kumari Kandam! Proponents say Kumari Kandam is Lemuria, different names for the same continent that once covered most of the Indian ocean:

Sri Lanka together with India, Indonesia and Malaysia were a part of this continent. Many islands in the Pacific and Indian oceans are remnants of this continent that in ancient time covered the whole area of today’s ocean. [Link]

The lost continent of Kumari Kandam

It turns out that everything does not actually come from India, it comes from Kumari Kandam. And by everything, I do mean everything.

“Homo Dravida” first evolved in Kumari Kandam; it is the cradle of civilization; the birthplace of all languages in general and of the Tamil language in particular. This is where the first and second great ages (Sangams?) of the Tamils happened, not in India, but in the true Dravidian homeland, further south.

R. Mathivanan, then Chief Editor of the Tamil Etymological Dictionary Project of the Government of Tamilnadu, in 1991 … [produced] the following timeline …:

ca. 200,000 to 50,000 BC: evolution of “the Tamilian or Homo Dravida”,
ca. 200,000 to 100,000 BC: beginnings of the Tamil language
50,000 BC: Kumari Kandam civilisation
20,000 BC: A lost Tamil culture of the Easter Island which had an advanced civilisation
16,000 BC: Lemuria submerged
6087 BC: Second Tamil Sangam established by a Pandya king
3031 BC: A Chera prince in his wanderings in the Solomon Island saw wild sugarcane and started cultivation in Tamilnadu.
1780 BC: The Third Tamil Sangam established by a Pandya king
7th century BC: Tolkappiyam (the earliest extant Tamil grammar)… [Link]

The continent was destroyed by three large floods which wiped out most of the golden civilization with it:

It is believed by some Tamil scholars that the first academy existed at southern Maturai and was terminated by sea devouring the city. The Pandya king established a second academy at Kapadapuram. Again, the sea devoured the city. The Pandya king established the third academy in present Maturai (far away from sea coast). [Link]

What was left was later wiped out by the Aryan invasion that corrupted the remnants of the once great Tamil civilizations:

“After imbibing the mania of the Aryan culture of destroying the enemy and their habitats, the Dravidians developed a new avenging and destructive war approach. This induced them to ruin the forts and cities of their own brethren out of enmity”. [Link]

I’m looking forward to seeing a version of the comic book Lemuria entirely settled by Tamils. When Aquaman or Namor come to visit, they can serve them Dosa/Idli .

ennis at 12:22 PM in History, Humor, Science, Travel · 115 comment(s) · Direct link

April 20, 2007

The Chaat of Destiny

Some paragraphs were accidentally omitted from Somini Sengupta’s recent article on Chaat and other Delhi street foods in the New York Times. Because I am a super-devoted-Somini Sengupta groupie (a “Sengroupie,” you could call me), I was sent the missing paragraphs as a gift, under strict order not to reveal my sources:

The reporter visits a lost alleyway in Mastinagar, a suburb of Delhi. In the alley are an endless variety of special chaat stalls unknown to western taste-buds and unimagined by western food tourists. This is as “street” as it gets; if pressed, the people of this alley all state that they have never been near an air-conditioner or even a piece of plastic. Indeed, it is highly unclear whether the residents of Mastinagar have ever been outside Mastinagar, or even know that their “Shehr” is in the city and state of Delhi (indeed, one resident referred to the city, rather anachronistically, as “Tughlakabad”). In the lost alley, one finds an almost infinite variety of Chaats, some of which were tasted by a reporter. A short list of the highlights follows:

Orientalist Chaat: This type of chaat will fulfill all your desires for mystical knowledge and understanding, and set your brain on fire. If this chaat is eaten, it is said, the eater will learn a thousand yoga poses (a DVD is included), a thousand Sanskrit chants that will lead to Enlightenment, and perpetual unity of mind and body in pure relaxation bliss. After eating, you will have reached the other side of the moon, tasted the stars, found the ergonomically perfect chair, and finally know the answer to the question, Why Did the Bodhi-Dharma Leave For the East? (NOTE: Insiders report that Orientalist Chaat is exactly the same as regular Chaat, only 10,000 times more expensive.)

Erotic Chaat: This chaat is an aphrodisiac composed entirely of garlic and crushed Viagra powder. Not especially tasty, but surprisingly “potent,” as a reporter subsequently discovered.

Chaat Feng Shui: This Chaat, which is composed entirely of wind, water, and garam masala, is not meant to be eaten, but rather dispersed around a room in need of redecoration. Pirated Chaat Feng Shui originates from China, which continues to flood the Indian market with inexpensive rip-offs of actual Feng Shui.

Message Chaat: Kiwi, lime, mustard seeds, and ice cubes. Once the ice cubes have melted on your tongue, it is said, your message has been telepathically sent to the individual you are thinking of (the strength of the message is increased if the recipient has also eaten chaat recently). This type of Chaat is especially popular with Delhi’s young men, who are notoriously shy when it comes to talking to women they are not closely related to.

Immunity Chaat: The demons that chase you will be temporarily silenced by this chaat. Their multifarious coloration will be neutralized to blue, and the eater will suddenly be able to eat the blinking blue demons for extra points. This Chaat is also said to protect the eater from “Delhi Belly,” and is generally eaten by those who are planning to go on to eat other Chaats. As a result, some Chaat addicts of Mastinagar jokingly refer to Immunity Chaat as the “Gateway Chaat.”

Absolut Pani Puri: Absolut Pani puri is essentially regular Pani Puri (admittedly, not a “Chaat” per se), only with shots of Vodka instead of “pani.” This is thought to have been invented either at a rave party in Goa, or by the members of an Indian-American college fraternity, Delta Epsilon Sigma Iota. It was perfected at the Official Bhangra Blowout After-Party, 2003.

Penn Masala Chaat: This chaat tastes a little syrupy, but it is known to cause the eater to burst into spontaneous acapella renditions of Bollywood tunes.

Raagapella Chaat: Raagapella Chaat is ssentially similar to Penn Masala Chaat, but with a funny/clever desi-ized version of “Motel.” Many insiders predict Raaagapella Chaat will soon give Penn Masala Chaat a run for its money.

Gandi Chaat: Universally known as the best, most sublime form of chaat of all, Gandi chaat (also known as “Drrrty Chaat”) is exceptionally rare. This chaat is made of pure, ancient Indian dirt, and is served with ketchup. What constitutes the dirt is of course a strictly guarded secret; insiders say it comes from tribal regions of India that have never once been visited by outsiders, where all the inhabitants are albinos. Food archeologists have been desperate to understand the properties of this mysterious form of chaat, and have repeatedly tried to have samples sent by secure couriers to western labs for analysis. But the Drrrty Chaat is so addictive that no courier has every withstood temptation — and the Chaat has always somehow gotten eaten along the way. All the couriers have also mysteriously died, leading to the rumor that this Chaat, if ingested outside of India, will lead to instantaneous death.

(What other varieties of Chaat can be found in Mastinagar?)

amardeep at 02:38 PM in Food, Humor, Travel · 32 comment(s) · Direct link

February 24, 2007

There's No Place Like Om

Oh no. Hot on the heels of Amrita’s most excellent rant on her visit to the “Gateway of India” themed event at New York’s ABC Carpet & Home, and the subsequent deployment on the same thread of the neologism “Ho-rientalists,” here comes, via the SAJA mailing list, a new development that brings it all together more beautifully than one could have dreamed for. It turns out that if you visit the ABC show, which runs til March 14, you can enter to win one of “Six Unique Travel Experiences” being offered by the Taj Hotels group in conjunction with a desi-owned New York travel agency called Our Personal Guest, and known as Tattva Tours.

Tattva? The term the brochure uses to translate this rather complex mystical concept is essence — as in, the essence of India. The press release explains:

Each 10-day tour explores a distinctive cultural perspective of India; some tours also offer a choice of Northern or Southern India itineraries. They are designed to bring out the essence of an Indian experience and are named after the elements that, according to Eastern philosophy, form the basis of all existence.

For details may I direct you to the tour brochure, which is a marvel of — shit, every single last damn cliché you could possibly round up about the mysterious, mystical, spiritual, romantic, esoteric, and not least, luxurious Orient, all set against glowing ochres and purples and yellows and labeled in the requisite faux-Devanagari script. It offers conceptual summaries of the six tours, which include Agni (“The delicacies by Indian fire - It’s not what you taste, it’s what you spice your memory with”), Vaayu (“A flight of fancy with Indian royalty - It’s not how you fly, it’s how high you soar”), Bhoomi (“The earthy splendour of Indian crafts - It’s not what you touch, it’s how it caresses you within”), Aakash, Jal, and Kham.

If we start quoting the descriptive copy for each of these tours we’ll never get out of here, so let me just offer one editorial gem:

Vaayu - Wind
Knowing no bounds, the royalty of India knew no limits when it came to revelry and celebrations. Without India’s royalty, pink would not have become the navy blue of India.

Now hold on a second. This might sound like gibberish to you, but then again, chances are you just aren’t sophisticated enough to understand it. After all, Our Personal Guest is aimed at a very specific type of client, the OPG Traveler:

The OPG traveler wants the best, and knows how to get it. Typically, our clients are well read, highly mobile and sophisticated in their tastes. The OPG client often believe they know best. They have their own inner time clocks, own sense of what specifically interest them and are willing to read learn and be challenged. They have reviewed the available products in the market and concluded that none of them are suited to their needs.

Testimonial of satisfied clients follows. For instance:

This is just to reiterate how very pleased Lord Moore and I were with our amazing two week swing through India. Your careful arrangements were flawless. Every car was waiting exactly where it should have been, every reservation honored.

As befits his Lordship, contact with the natives is limited to only the most civilized among them:

All Tattva Tours include the expertise of an eminent local host; local greeting rituals; a traditional first night welcome dinner at the hotel, a private dinner with a local family; and a signature spa treatment to encourage relaxation upon arrival.

I wonder what Taj Hotels and Our Personal Guest will do if the winner of the draw turns out beneath the appropriate station. Come to think of it, that gives me an idea. Maybe those of us in New York should all stop by ABC Carpet & Home on Broadway and enter the contest. I could use a vacation myself and what could be more restoring to my body and soul than this chance to reconnect with my glorious ancestral heritage.

siddhartha at 11:47 AM in Travel · 42 comment(s) · Direct link

January 28, 2007

Everything is Illuminated

[some names have been changed]

Delhi

“What is your business in India, sir?” Police inspector sahib was looking me intently in the eyes (with what I swear was a smirk). It has been proven by the record of El Al that the single best method of revealing a suspected highjacker is by employing a thorough screening interview.

“I’m actually not staying in Delhi, but just transferring through to Nepal. My younger brother is getting married there.”

“But you are Indian, no?”

“I’m American, but yes, my parents are from Gujarat. Well, actually my mom is from Africa but she is Gujarati too. But the girl, she is Nepali.”

“But your last name is not Gujarati. You must be Bihari.”

“No, I’m quite sure of it. I am Gujarati”

“Can’t be. I have Bihari friends with the same last name.”

“I know, I tried to convince my father once that we weren’t Gujarati also…but after a half hour he got mad at me and said I was just wasting his time and that even great-great-grandfather was Gujarati.”

“I think you must be from somewhere else, not Gujarat.”

Should I have continued to argue some more? Maybe he was right. My confidence regarding this whole matter was rapidly deteriorating. I was equally troubled by the fact that I could not locate Bihar on a map. Who knows who migrated where 300 years ago? He had a gun. Most importantly, I still hadn’t been given the clearance to pass. There was a very long line behind me and I could feel stares on my moist back. Inspector sahib kept on with that smirk and his head was now cocked to the side. I don’t trust people with side-cocked heads. I gently reached for my bag without his verbal clearance. With purposely slow movements (eyes on the ground) I walked away. I hoped that airport security did not determine me to be a counterfeit Gujarati unworthy of passage. My family had gotten away with it for a few hundred years. I couldn’t now fail them all.

Kathmandu airport

“Mr. Abhishek? I am Mr. Baji’s driver. He has asked me to pick you up and take you to the party. There is a bandh in the valley. I just have my motorbike. Things are very bad. Driving is not safe on Ring Road. They are stopping people.”

I had been traveling for 36 hours. My family had arrived here ahead of me. A party was to be held tonight so that our family could meet my brother’s fiance’s family. It would be the first chance for me to finally meet my new sister. I looked down at my two large suitcases and then up again at the driver of the man my brother would soon refer to as “daddy.” He looked at my bags too.

“Ok sir, let me see if I can find a car somehow and we can take some different routes.”

A western style open-air restaurant

It wasn’t until I arrived at the party that I figured out that the groom and his family would not be attending because they were essentially trapped in their hotel rooms just outside the valley. Mr. Baji was a shy and quiet man, only to be outdone in both shyness and quietness by Mrs. Baji. Far outdone.

“Your family cannot come.” Although it sounded like a question I realized that it wasn’t.

“Wait, my brother isn’t even here?”

“No, it is too dangerous. You cannot meet them today. We will send you to another hotel tonight. Will you be okay here?”

I looked around the open air restaurant, bar in the center, kids running around. This is how our two families would first meet. More than 200 Nepali-speaking Bajis surrounding a single unshaven, puffy-eyed, counterfeit Gujarati who was rapidly assesing the situation in the same manner as a left-behind Navy SEAL with only one round left in the chamber. The only easy day was yesterday Abhi. My Bihari family was counting on me to make a good impression for all of them.

“There is Susie.”

“Oh, I have never met her actually.”

“Never? First time?!”

“No. The engagement was so quick and when I went to Idaho I did not get a chance to…”

“Come.”

Running the Gauntlet

“He says it is too dangerous and wants 2000 rupees to take you.”

“Are you sure it is a good idea for me to go, then?”

“Yes, sir. Right now it is safe. Very early. They are not stopping cars.”

The car hurtled through narrow streets which were blanketed by a thick cloud that had decided to sleep in. Like it did every morning. Dogs would appear out of the mist and dodge the taxi just in time. An average Nepali dog has an IQ far higher than most western dogs I believe. Evolution disguised as death-by-automobile has long since excised the dross. To keep my mind occupied I imagined a first conversation between a rough-necked Nepali street dog and an American bitch. Would she be impressed by his life experience and multitude of ugly scars or prefer a dog born with a silver spoon in his mouth instead? The latter could give her a sweater to wear while the former could build a fire with his paws.

I arrived at the hotel at the edge of the valley. My family would want to know all about the party. The front desk informed me that the roads had closed just behind me. Again.

Budhanilkantha

Man of Faith: “Nobody can explain it. Even though he is reclining on his back you can see the reflection of his face in the water. Even scientists don’t know why.”

Man of Science: “I don’t believe it. Science can explain everything because that’s how God set up the system. It is the same way that karma explains “evil men.” We just haven’t discovered all of science so far. That’s all. But he wants us to.”

Man of Faith: “Tell me how then? Why can we see his face in the water?”

Man of Science: “Well…rays of light travel in a straight line. Any part of the statue that is in a straight line from the water…I’d actually have to be able to get down to the water’s edge to check this all out properly. Hey, check out this sad looking goat. Is it still alive?

Man of Faith: “That red paint on it means it will soon be offered as a sacrifice.”

Man of Science: You’re kidding! I think he knows. Look how sad it looks. That really sucks. He definitely knows how this will end.

My brother and I then walked back to the hotel. But not before stopping in front of a sign that reminded me that I was threadless under my shirt.

She can leave him at any time

“You see,” her oldest uncle the journalist explained to me, “in the Newari tradition the woman is more important. Before marrying her human husband she has already been married to God…in the form of a fruit. This means that if her husband dies then she does not have to mourn him as a widow. She can simply find another husband. Also, she can choose to leave him if she wants to at anytime. As long as it is for the fruit that she originally married. Ha ha heh. Strange customs no?”

Strange but nice I thought. How refreshing. The woman is given more importance. I had to explain this to my assorted relatives who assumed they were on the more important side of things. The four hour ceremony was a “masala-like” (oh yeah, I said it) mish-mash of religions and cultures. I did not even notice when the shoes disappeared.

“How did you know to steal his shoes?” I asked her cousin. “I didn’t think you guys would even know about that.”

“But we watch Hindi movies,” she said coyly.

I hate Bollywood.

The ceremony was nice. The fruit was not at all jealous about this second marriage. The Baji’s gained a son as compensation for the great sadness they would soon have to endure.

Pashupatinath

I gazed down at the platform. The royalty of Nepal had all been burned there. Right there. Not a hundred yards downstream, three bodies were burning even now. Men waded the shallow river just beneath neighboring platforms. Gold coins are often placed in the mouths of the dead. The men mined now for these small treasures. They sifted through mud, ashes, and remains. I wondered if this place was really creepy at night.

Prakash

“What is your name?”

“Abhishek.”

“Ohhhhh!” said all four in unison. “Like the actor. Do you know the actor? [make karate chopping moves]”

“Yeah, yeah. Like the actor.” This was getting to be rather routine. Anytime I told someone my name they informed me about a famous actor with the same name. I really hate Bollywood.

Of the four children (ages 9-12), Prakash’s English was the best. They were all on winter holiday until next Sunday. During this time they freelanced as smiling guides around Bhaktapur. The British couple, the Ugandan/American mother and daughter, and I had unofficially hired all four. As I took in the sites Prakash told me about his family, his brother, and his friends. He asked me what I did and I tried to explain but I don’t think he understood. He didn’t understand the word “Moon.”

“Prakash. You are the smartest student in your whole school aren’t you?”

“No Abhishek. I am second.”

He led us into a store where my travel companions looked for souvenirs.

“Abhishek. I like you very much. I don’t know why.”

“I like you too Prakash.”

They left waving a half hour later after we had given them some money. Sometimes local guides are worth hiring.

“Abhishek,” I heard in a whisper five minutes later. I stepped out of another store. Prakash and the gang were back.

“Can I talk to you? I need this book for school. Can you get it for us.”

“What kind of book.”

“It is a Nepali-English dictionary.”

“How much is it?”

“I don’t know Abhishek, I will take you to the bookstore. Come.”

“Wait. You go ahead of me. Go into the store and ask how much it is. Then come out and tell me and I will go in.”

Prakash looked perplexed. Then he smiled and shook his index finger at me.

“Oh Abhishek, you are very clever. Ok, I find out how much.”

As Prakash, Praveen, Laxmi, and Devi walked away with their new dictionaries I thought of that one quote from that one book that always seems to linger in the back of my head:

Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody’s around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I’m standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they’re running and they don’t look where they’re going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That’s all I do all day. [Link]

It is of no use to you

I had never been shaken down before. I am always prepared though. Always. I pulled my decoy wallet out of my pocket. The real one was safe in the other pocket. My carry-on bag was full of the silverware that my brother and mom had offloaded on to me after the wedding. The fact that it was wrapped in dirty laundry made the whole situation rather sketchy. Now the Nepali guards wanted their hard-earned cut.

“Do you have money? You will have to pay tax.”

“Why? These aren’t commercial goods. I am coming from my brother’s wedding. This was all used for the religious ceremony.”

“No, we cannot let you pass. Do you have any money? Just give it to him. It is of no use to you now.”

After a few moments like this I took a wad of small bills out of my fake wallet and wadded them some more for good measure. Crumpled bills look like they are worth more than neatly folded bills.

“Here, this is everything.” I handed it to him but he directed me to put it in my bag instead. Then he pretended to fold my clothes and took the money out of my bag. He was right. I had no use for it. I did however have plans for that money. Much later I would take the foreign currency out of my real wallet and hand it over to those who really deserved it.

We are all the same

The Punjabi aunty sitting next to me asked me what I was doing in Nepal.

“My brother got married there.”

“To a Nepali girl?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, that is good. We are all the same anyway, isn’t it?

“Yes.”

abhi at 08:21 PM in Musings, Religion, Travel · 79 comment(s) · Direct link

January 13, 2007

Bait and switch

“Have you seen Nepal?” Apparently those words appeared at the bottom of a poster hanging on the wall of Royal Nepal Airlines’ offices in Delhi. The poster featured this lovely picture:

“Have you seen Nepal?” Apparently neither has Royal Nepal Airlines.

It took a sharp-eyed tourist from Peru to notice the obvious error and tattle to his countryman before the world was made aware of this sinister plot. To that tourist I can only say, “don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“The airline … offered apologies to Peru for using the picture of the Machu Picchu Sanctuary on a poster to promote their country and assured that the lamentable error has been corrected,” the statement said.

“As a consequence, the Nepalese airline fired an employee in the rank of a manager … It is concluded that it was an isolated error,” it added. [Link]

I wish this news would have broken a week later! I’ve hiked to Machu Picchu and will be in Delhi next Saturday en route to Kathmandu, Nepal. What a coup it would have been to pose in front of this poster for the entertainment of SM readers (although perhaps “coup” is the wrong word in this context). I’m wondering if I can take a lot of pictures in Nepal and use them in a poster encouraging tourism in North Dakota where SM’s headquarters are based. By the way, do we have any Nepali readers in the house? Should we even consider a meet-up?

abhi at 10:07 AM in News, Photos, Travel · 19 comment(s) · Direct link

Mombasa Days

I’m here in Mombasa on the coast. Mombasa is Kenya’s second largest city and a popular holiday spot for its beaches and laid-back lifestyle. It’s also a different culture from the interior. Here, the Swahili, Arab, Indian, Portuguese, and British colonial influences blend into something uniquely Indian Ocean. It’s tough to tell where one culture stops and another begins, or which person belongs to which group, or even if such concerns matter at all.

There are auto-rickshaws plying the streets (called tuk-tuks here), people in every variety of Islamic garb from skullcaps and robes for men, to scarves and full purdah for women—or no special dress at all. With its colonial architecture, palm trees, blue ocean, and cultural melange, Mombasa seems a lot like Pondicherry. The tourist development is elsewhere, so the place is surprisingly “local,” and the people are friendly. In the late afternoons the streets are full of schoolkids in uniforms. Mildew grows on the yellow and white apartment blocks, with laundry drying outside.

I took a tour of the Old Town and have posted some tourist snaps below. It’s the poorer quarter of the city but the most interesting, with architectural flourishes from all the contributing cultures. My guide was Mahir Mohammed (who also goes by Ali Mohammed and Ali Baba). Photography wasn’t particularly welcome in Old Town, but he smoothed most things over. The issue seemed to be that I would make money off the photos and was therefore exploiting people commercially, so I didn’t take many pictures or press the issue. At one point, we were in a narrow lane looking at a coop of pigeons. Ali was telling me about them and clucking at them (I wasn’t photographing), and a woman came out of the house and yelled at him. We walked on. He told me she was accusing him of using her pigeons for his business.

The Indian presence is very strong in Mombasa. All the restaurants serve more than one Indian dish (curry, biryani, somosas, chapatis, etc.). There are Hindu temples and Ismaili mosques. Well-off Indians own shops in town and estates on the ocean, but there are poor people in the mix in Old Town. My hotel, a colonial-era three-star with mosquito nets, a fan, and a dipper in the bathroom, has Preity Zinta calendars at the reception desk and behind the bar. (There are also a large number of a craggy old single European men in shorts, and this is the tourist off season, which makes me wonder how Mombasa figures in the sex trade.)

Some tourist snaps from Old Town and the rest of Mombasa are on the flip.

Shopkeeper in downtown Mombasa

Shopkeeper in downtown Mombasa

Mombasa harbor from Old Town

Washing at the harbor well in Old Town

Swahili doors and child

Indian-influenced architecture

Ali Mohammed and shark jaw

Women in Old Town

Are there desis in Old Town?

Chapatis in Old Town

More architecture

Indian Ocean babes and cats

Hindu temple in downtown Mombasa

Indian Ocean and Tusker

preston at 09:21 AM in Travel · 26 comment(s) · Direct link

January 06, 2007

DesiDeals.net

Like many desis, I love me some deals. I know I am playing into stereotypes here, especially because I am Gujarati, but come on EVERYONE likes good deals. The enjoyment for me isn’t just finding a good deal, but the whole process: it is the hunt, the chase, and the glory in opening the mail and finding that rebate check that you thought might not ever come. Suffice it to say, I spend a good percentage of my time on the internets perusing some favorite deal sites.

But while I like finding good deals, one of my pet peeves is really poor customer service and the feeling that I have been taken advantage of. So when I was visiting one of my new favorite deal/consumer rights blogs, The Consumerist, (part of the Gawker family of blogs) I was a bit dismayed to hear the tale of our desi brethren, Mahesh, who reported on his parent’s really poor experience on United Airlines.

Mahesh’s parents flew from Omaha, Nebraska to Colombo,Sri Lanka, but at LAX, United Airlines (UAL) refused to honor their tickets, saying that they had not “been approved, authorized and authenticated.” The family ended having to pay $2860 extra to complete their journey. Apparently, Sri Lankan Air Lines, a United code-share partner, could not find the reservation Mahesh’s parents made. Mahesh wrote three letters of complaint to UAL and so far his parents have only received two $300 coupons in return. When Mahesh scoffed at the sum, United wrote, “our policy does not permit us to respond with the generosity you had anticipated. (link)

It seems that instead of writing letters, which I am a big fan of, now when desis are wronged, we blog. So as a good South Asian, Mahesh has started his own blog detailing his battle with United Airlines’ Customer service at evilunitedairlines.blogspot.com. His story is really messed up and I hope the airlines eventually do the right thing and refund the extra three grand his recently operated-on parents had to hand over to get home.

sajit at 04:41 PM in Aviation, Business, Issues, Travel · 20 comment(s) · Direct link

"Ji Hain! Lahore!"

This is brilliant. Via SAJA, here’s the story of the Pakistani-American brother who has bought land in Lahore, Virginia, and has great plans for its use:

We spoke to the present American owner of a portion of the town’s land, and also the Pakistani American who has recently bought that piece of land to develop it to match the Pakistani town of Lahore. The new Lahore will have a school, a museum, an airport, and a replica of the famous Shalimar gardens in Lahore, Pakistan.

The report, for the Voice of America’s Urdu TV service, is by journalist Imran Siddiqui and features great local characters who are interviewed in English.

This opens up a lot of possibilities. For instance, there is a Delhi in New York, Delaware, California and Ohio. There’s an Agra in California and Kansas, and another in Oklahoma where there seems to be no shortage of land to build your miniature Taj. There’s also a Bombay in New York, population 1,192, with a tantalizing but undeveloped backstory:

The town of Bombay, comprising township Number One of Macomb’s purchase and. all of the St. Regis reservation on the American side of the boundary, was erected from Fort Covington by an act of the Legislature passed March 30, 1833, to be effective on the first of May following. Its name was chosen by Michael Hogan in compliment to Mrs. Hogan, who was a native of Bombay, India.

There are also Calcuttas in Ohio and West Virginia, a Madras in Oregon, and even a Lucknow in western Ontario. I couldn’t find a Thiruvananthapuram.

siddhartha at 12:44 PM in Travel · 27 comment(s) · Direct link

December 24, 2006

Travelers: Beaches of Bangladesh, Chatting on Indian Trains...

I hope y’all are enjoying your holiday travels. For me it’s yet another December spent at home on the East Coast, followed by 3 days of hard-core academia at the annual South Asian Literary Association and Modern Language Association conferences. (Note: I’m not really complaining: this year we are blessed by the presence of a smiling, gurgling little baby. But yeah, a change of scenery would still be nice.)

Travel journalists, by contrast, get to have leisurely travels all the time — for work. Today I was particularly drawn by a recent New York Times article about visiting beaches in Bangladesh, and a Times of London travelogue (thanks, Indianoguy) of a reporter’s trip all around India. Going to the beaches of Bangladesh (on the eastern tip, near the border of Burma/Myanmar) is something I would never have thought of doing, but it actually makes perfect sense. Incidentally, the tourist board’s official motto is perhaps unintentionally comical, but actually works despite itself: “Visit Bangladesh Before Tourists Come.”

And my favorite bit from the London Times travelogue is about a train ride to Jhansi:

Train journeys here are great levellers. Few Indians frantically fill their time, as westerners do, with work or reading. They regard the journeys as a chance to “interact” and talk, about anything from the price of aubergines to the finer points of Tantric meditation. By the time they get off, they’re exchanging business cards and pledging eternal friendship.

As fillings turned to extractions, the cabin attendant slouched past with an urn of peppery tomato soup, which he served in plastic cups (they would have been biodegradeable pottery cups five years ago). He scattered it with a handful of croutons from his pocket. The lady dentist seized her moment. “How does your daily routine here compare with back home?” she asked.. “How does India compare with UK?”

I said the UK is ordered, startlingly quiet and clean in comparison, and that its people are reserved and, in places, few and far between. I mentioned North Ronaldsay, the Orkney island which is three miles long and one mile wide, and has a population of less than 50. “Amazing!” said the dentist. And I described how my wife and I go walking in the Derbyshire Peak District and sometimes meet no more than six or seven people in four hours. “Astonishing!” said the biotechnology student.

He had a point. In the packed 3rd class carriage next door, some sort of evolutionary struggle for survival seemed to be going on. I said that British trains sometimes travel with as few as a dozen passengers. And that, if it’s even ten minutes late, there could be a riot.

This was a lie, but it seemed pretty relevant, as our train was now four rather than three hours late. (link)

I especially like the point about how mass-transit in the west is largely anti-social, while the experience in India (or perhaps all of South Asia?) is the opposite. (Does anyone have favorite subcontinental train/plane/bus experiences they want to share?)

Incidentally, if you’re sick of reading about western travelers in India (while they’re far from uniform, the stories always seem to have comments on the crazy traffic patterns and the smell), there are some great “internal” desi travel stories up at OkTataByeBye.com. I thought this in-depth article on Lucknow was an especially good read. And there are plenty more.

amardeep at 04:22 PM in Travel · 46 comment(s) · Direct link

October 09, 2006

Brangelina in Trouble? [Updated]

Pitt and Jolie in Rickshaw Drama! Jolie-Pitt Photog All Choked Up! India Gets a Jhalak of Brad & Angelina!

The news wires are all abuzz with desi-related gossip about the couple we love to hate, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.

Pitt and Jolie, along with their three children, are in India to shoot scenes for the upcoming movie A Mighty Heart, in which Jolie stars as slain journalist Daniel Pearl's widow, Mariane. Pitt's Plan B production company is coproducing the film...Relentless paparazzi coverage of the Jolie-Pitt clan's visit has led the couple to remain holed up in Pune's Le Meridan Hotel almost nonstop since they arrived by private jet late last week. [link]

Brangelina starring in The Great Rickshaw Escape

Brangelina in India has created all the frenzy that the Hindustan Times Page Six thrives on. First, we had Angelina Jolie wishing she were filming in Pakistan instead, where Daniel Pearl's abduction had originally taken place.

Meanwhile, Jolie says she and Pitt are disappointed they are not shooting the film in Pakistan. Security concerns there caused officials to suggest they work elsewhere. So with the exception of a few background scenes shot in Pakistan, A Mighty Heart will be made in Pune.

"I am disappointed that we could not shoot the film in Pakistan, a country that I love and have visited three times," said Jolie in a statement issued on Saturday by Trevor Neilson, an adviser to the couple.

"They talked with people from all levels of the Pakistan Government and there's certainly no hard feelings. But it became clear that it was preferable to film in India," Neilson said. [link]

Now, we have Brangelina's security with an (almost) killer choke hold...

A bodyguard for Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie manhandled a British photographer as he tried to take their picture at a hotel in western India, an incident caught on video by an Indian television station. On Saturday afternoon, when Pitt and Jolie tried to leave the hotel, one of their security guards caught a British photographer trying to take their photo, grabbing the man by his neck and verbally abusing him. [link]

And the infamous rickshaw escape...

The couple were chased by photographers, cameramen and reporters, forcing them to turn back after a 20-minute ride that took them past stores in downtown Pune, in western India.[...] Several traffic signals slowed their short rickshaw ride. At every red light, security men traveling in a rickshaw behind jumped out and surrounded the three-wheeler to prevent the media from snapping pictures of Pitt and Jolie. [link]

Oh, Brangelina. Welcome to the motherland. I'm placing bets that the next baby in their internationally adopted clan is going to be desi. Any takers?

Update: You can watch The Attack of the Brangelina Security Guard here! (Thanks, Manish!).

taz at 10:50 PM in Arts and Entertainment, Film, Travel · 53 comment(s) · Direct link

August 29, 2006

Are there like any desis up there?

For the past week I have been absent from this website while on an anthropological excursion for SM (like anyone but my monkey assistants even noticed). Sometimes a blogger just needs to get out of their bunker and talk to the real people. The question I was seeking an answer to was a profound one. Do those states…you know, the ones up there near the Canadian border…do they even have any desis that live there? For my excursion I needed a field assistant. My brother (we will call him P to protect his real identity) has lived in Idaho for the past two years and served as a good travel companion.

From L.A. I flew to Portland, Oregon where I had a layover. While walking from one gate to the other I had my first desi sighting. It was a Sikh man with a long flowing beard and an unusually large turban who I spotted in the TSA security line. Upon closer inspection however, two things became clear. First, the man was white and not desi. Second, he was a TSA screener and not a passenger.

Four hours later (damn airline delays) I landed in Spokane, WA where I collected my possessions at baggage claim. I began to re-arrange some of my gear when a woman walked up to me holding a sign.

Woman: Excuse me but are you Mustafa?

Abhi: Heh. No, sorry.

Woman: I’m sorry but you are the only one that looked like he was…lost.

“Lost” of course was a very clever euphemism for “brown.” I didn’t mind though. The name “Mustafa” reminded me of a powerful figure with a glorious mane. For just a minute I forgot about my military short haircut and hummed a little Hakuna Matata as I waited on the curb for my brother to drive up.

Our first stop was Idaho Falls in southern Idaho. In racially homogeneous states it is difficult to tell if people are really looking at you differently or if it is your expectation that they will look at you differently that simply clouds your perception reality. Before I even walked through the door of the restaurant where we had dinner, I was subconsciously on the defensive. There are many of us who would never consider living in some cities or states based only upon our preconceived notions of what racial attitudes there must be like, regardless of the objective reality. Not at that restaurant nor at any other time during my trip was I made to feel uncomfortable. I was uneasy quite often though, mostly because of my own perceptions (and a seven day long beard that made me look menacing to myself).

The next day we reached the Grand Tetons National Park. This led to another observation. In our U.S. National Parks system, a system that brings in many visitors from every state, there isn’t much racial diversity. The overwhelming majority of visitors are white (a lot of them are retirees). Asian-Americans also represent pretty well, but not as much as one might expect. There are fewer Latino visitors than expected as well but African-American visitors are the rarest of all. National Parks are among the cheapest vacation options available to Americans. Pretty much anyone with gas money and a tent can have a good vacation with their family in one. Class and race should not be an issue and yet it is strikingly so. This is even more apparent on the popular and backcountry trails than near the visitor centers and scenic points. Why don’t more minorities visit our National Parks?

The blogger and his brother in pursuit of a story for SM while searching for “brown” bears near the Grand Tetons.

Next we went to Yellowstone National Park. I was keeping a running tab on how many desis we encountered during our trip. In five days I saw maybe fifteen and made a big deal about pointing out each family (to the annoyance of P). I didn’t see a single desi in the states of Idaho, Montana, or Wyoming outside of a National Park. In Butte, Montana I had P drive through the city slowly so that I could search for and take a picture of an Indian restaurant. Surely there must be a “Curry Palace” or something? There was none. I insisted that we stay in a desi owned motel but the odds were not in our favor. Doesn’t the AAHOA know that there is a lot of untapped territory up there?

And so I now wonder. Are there any SM readers that live in Idaho, Montana, or Wyoming? Should I have arranged a meet-up in one of those states last week? Would our meet-up have aroused suspicion?

My question remains largely unanswered. Are there any desis up there?

Side note: If anyone is interested in the non-anthropological aspects of my trip last week then I will have more pictures on my blog by late Tuesday.

abhi at 02:03 AM in Musings, Photos, Travel · 171 comment(s) · Direct link

August 27, 2006

The World Wide (and Village Wide) Web

I can see the Bollywood movie now. It would be like Swades, but instead of SRK bringing electricity into the village it would be installing an internet connection. Instead of an NRI romance, it would be internet love. What exactly am I talking about? Why, you didn't hear?

An Indian village has uploaded itself onto the Internet, giving the outside world a glimpse of life in rural India.Visitors to Hansdehar village's Web site (http://www.smartvillages.org/) can see the names, jobs and other details of its 1,753 residents, browse photographs of their shops and read detailed specifications about their drainage and electricity facilities.

Most of the residents can't yet surf the Hansdehar Web site as the village is not yet connected to the Internet. [link]

It's cute. These villagers have ideas on how to use the internet- to get better prices for crops by trading online, job hunting, and even, wife searching. The website itself has pictures of the village, tourist attractions, and even a voter list. I think there is great potential with getting Indian villages connected to the web. I really started thinking about this when I bumped into Nipun from Charity Focus, when he was walking across India in an attempt to tie in service with internet in the villages (yes, he blogged his trip). The internet does have it's advantages in connecting villages with the rest of the world, and I see a lot of potential with this.

But what about the privilege associated with getting accessing an internet connection? Seems like an MIT grad at United Villages is trying to take care of that with the advent of 'drive-by Wi-Fi.'

United Villages ...is working with Indian nongovernmental organization Drishtee to network 50 villages in Orissa's Cuttack district, where bus-powered Wi-Fi service begins this month... "You have drive-by McDonald's, and we have drive-by Wi-Fi," says Mr. Hasson. The buses will use short-range radio to pick up electronic messages three or more times per day from Wi-Fi-enabled computers placed in kiosks. Hubs near bus stations will handle traffic via a connection that can be as slow as dial-up.

UV will sell pre-paid cards, with phone number and email address assigned to them, in different denominations (up to 100 rupees, roughly $2.20).[link]

Interesting- so it seems like even though people with television sets won't be able to watch Paris Hilton's too-racy-for-India banned music video, it looks like people in buses with Wi-Fi connections will still be able to download and watch the video. Indian villages online, drive-by wi-fi at bus kiosks, and a banned Hilton video; I can see the Bollywood script now...

taz at 02:52 AM in Film, Science and Technology, Travel · 35 comment(s) · 1 reader(s) linked · Direct link

August 13, 2006

You can check out anytime you like...

From today’s New York Times, this lede:

SHE was Glinda in a sari. Early that morning, she had glided ethereally across the courtyard with her fellow healing goddesses, their feet bare, their flowing white garb edged in gold. The bird trills reverberated off the palace walls.

“Please sit,” she said prayerfully. Soon, thick warm sesame oil infused with medicinal herbs began to permeate my meager muslin thong. She breathed heavily, karate-chopping the oil with the edges of her hands. She gently pummeled me with poultices, hot bundles of herbs resembling bouquets garnis. In the background, I heard oil sizzling. I felt a strange compulsion to go fry myself in a wok.

Pummel me with poultices! Stay me with flagons! Gag me with a spoon! What on Lord Krishna’s blue earth is going on here?

It’s just San Francisco-based writer Patricia Leigh Brown receiving treatment, for research purposes, at the Kalari Kovilakom Palace for Ayurveda in the hills of Palakkam, Kerala, where “ayurvedists — longevity-seekers who are already deeply into the present moment — come … to detoxify and purify with ayurvedic doctors, the new yogis, for whom mind, body and spirit have been fused for more than 3,000 years.”

Exempted from the resort’s two-week minimum stay rule, Brown was able to pick and choose her treatments, avoiding the “stamina-challenging sequence of enemas” and secretly brewing Peet’s Coffee in her room.

The article is long, and not entirely as ridiculous as would appear from the opening. By the end, in fact, some interesting cultural analysis has crept in. En route, however, you get lines like “My spine was a cobra unfurling,” and the apparition in Brown’s mind, during treatment, of a vision of Dick Cheney. Surely that can’t be therapeutic.

siddhartha at 10:12 AM in Travel · 18 comment(s) · Direct link

August 09, 2006

Xeni Goes Trekking

No, not Star Trek — across the Himalayas. Xeni Jardin, a freelance journalist who is on the Boing Boing blogroll, recently went to India, China, and Tibet for NPR, as part of a four-part series called “Hacking the Himalayas”. The Boing Boing post introducing the series is here; the main focus is on how technology is transforming the lives of Tibetans, both in Tibet and in exile in India.

The first two parts in the series have links up at NPR, though as of now only part 1 has audio (part 2 is expected to go up later today). The first story is actually not on the Tibetans themselves, but on a partially-nomadic local tribe called the Gaddi, who are based around Dharamsala and various villages in Himachal Pradesh. Most of the story is about their local folk traditions, which are apparently somewhat in decline. I’m not quite sure what technology (or Tibet, for that matter) has to do with it, but at least the story is something other than the usual, “look, they have Cyber Cafes!” type of thing.

Xeni has started a blog dedicated to providing auxiliary material to the stories that air on NPR. Among other things, she has a short post there on the popularity of hip hop amongst Tibetan-in-exile teens in Dharmsala.

(Link via Desipundit)

amardeep at 09:11 AM in Travel · 4 comment(s) · Direct link

June 25, 2006

Traditional Indian Architecture: Vicarious Traveling via Flickr

While browsing the deeply-discounted “remaindered” aisles at my local Barnes & Noble, I came across Satish Grover’s Masterpieces of Traditional Architecture. It’s a coffee-table book with beautiful photographs and appreciative descriptions of fourteen of India’s ancient and medieval architectural masterpieces.

In his introduction, Grover points out that the ancient sites in India are all religious (Buddhist, Hindu, Jain, Muslim), not because India was traditionally especially devout. In fact, only the religious structures were carved in stone, so they are the only edifices to survive. The secular architecture of ancient India might have been pretty wonderful too, but those brick and timber buildings have all vanished.

Since I can’t do any real traveling this summer because of work, I thought I would link to images on the web of the various monuments in Grover’s book as a kind of vicarious travelogue. A lot of people have tagged these sites in their Flickr photos, though for slightly more obscure places like the Karle Caves you have to search on the open internet to see what comes up.

First, one of the oldest of the structures described is the Buddhist temple that has been carved out of a cave at Karle, close to Lonavla in Maharashtra. Building was started at 100 BC, during the height of the earlier, “Hinayana” school of Buddhism (i.e., when the Buddha was not considered a God). The cave is designed to mimic the design features of a wooden temple, and contains flourishes and columns that aren’t actually structurally necessary in a cave (they would be if the building were freestanding). In some ways the stone carving is similar to the caves at Ajanta, though Ajanta has wall paintings that Karle lacks.

This reporter from the Tribune went to Karle, and was underwhelmed at the gaudy tourism trade that’s opened up outside this truly ancient temple. There’s also a Hindu temple to Ekveera Devi that’s been built outside of the cave, which is now for most visitors the main attraction. Visitors throw coins and picnic by the Buddhist stupa in the main prayer hall, also called chaitya. Perhaps to avoid all this, one could go at an awkward hour (i.e., early in the morning).

The second ancient monument is also Buddhist, the Sanchi Stupa and temple complex, which is near Bhopal in Madhya Pradesh. Here, Wikipedia has a pretty good description as well as high resolution images. The Stupa was built by Ashoka in the 3rd century BCE to house relics of the Buddha, though additional structures were built over the course of many centuries. This site also has some helpful summaries of the Jataka stories that are represented in the many stone carvings that surround the main Stupa.

One of the earlier temples near the Stupa, oddly, resembles a classical Greek structure because of the design of the pillars. This description of Sanchi, written in 1918, suggests that it might have been the handiwork of foreign stone carvers in India.

My favorite discovery from Grover’s book is the Kailashnath Temple (sometimes spelled “Kailashnatha”). This is a beautiful site, carved out of a huge slab of basalt rock. This temple is the heart of the Ellora caves (which also have Buddhist and Jain caves/carvings), and it was built starting in the 7th century C.E.

Here Professor Fran Pritchett’s site at Columbia University has the best images. I would especially recommend this page, which has early British engravings of the temple. In the various close-ups one finds, the carvings look truly stupendous; check out this image, depicting the story of the Ramayana carved on a large slab of rock. Wow; this site is high up there on my “must visit” list.

Then of course, there’s Khajuraho, which everyone knows about — but how many people actually visit the site? (I won’t link to specific images for obvious reasons, but if you do a search in Flickr or Google Images there is a lot to choose from.) In addition to being “ancient porn,” as one Flickr commentor bluntly put it, the sixteen temples at Khajuraho really are beautiful structures. The question of what inspired these erotic carvings, and how they fit into the local Hindu religious rituals, is one that is seriously worth pondering. (One of Grover’s speculations is that the carvers might have been from a local tribe or cult, bringing in ideas from outside of Hinduism.)

The Konark Sun Temple in Orissa, built in the 13th century, appears to be a glorious architctural experiment that didn’t quite come off as planned. The shikharas, or spires on the top of this temple collapsed some time after it was built, and the temple was on the verge of collapse when the British took charge of its restoration in the mid-19th century. Their efforts, and subsequent efforts by the government of India, have kept it standing, but you can’t actually go inside. See Wikipedia, as well as this Indian history site

There aren’t a lot of good shots on the internet of the Dilwara Jain Temples in Rajasthan. You get good exterior shots, but I haven’t been able to find the beautiful interior carvings reproduced in Grover’s book on the internet. These temples were built in the 11th-13th centuries, and were carved entirely out of white marble. Grover doesn’t claim that there is a special, Jain architectural style, but he does suggest that these temples are demonstrations of the Jain community’s wealth and influence.

One group that did obviously bring a distinctive architectural style were the successive waves of Muslim rulers. Besides the Taj Mahal, the Qutub Minar, and Fatehpur Sikri (all of which have entries in Grover’s book) there are places like Gol Gumbaz, the mausoleum of Adil Shah. It was built in the mid 1600s in Bijapur, and it is one of the largest one-piece domes ever constructed. (See this Flick image). Unfortunately, the inside of the building is dark and effectively unadorned. (This is where you wonder if religious devotion impeded the imagination of the builders.)

(If you read the Wikipedia entry on Gol Gumbaz, you’ll find a link to an entry on the architecture of Domes in general, which is pretty informative. I now know what “squinches” and “pendentives” are!)

There are several other sites mentioned in Grover’s book, but I think I’ll end with the Meenakshi Temple at Madurai. This is one of the most widely photographed temple sites in India, and you can see why: it’s a huge temple (built in the 1500s), surrounded by nine massive, beautifully decorated Gopurams (gates). Here is a beautiful image taken at night. And here is one taken at dusk. (Seriously, click on those; you won’t regret it.) Another must-visit site for me at least.

amardeep at 09:12 AM in Travel · 20 comment(s) · Direct link

June 15, 2006

The Insider's Maharaja

Maybe it’s just me but when you travel to foreign locales isn’t there some kind of charm to having the “commoner” experience? Of going somewhere and moving (as my father says) “with the people”?

The Wall Street Journal called it “VIP Travel on the Cheap” but I think a better name might be (with all due respect to the anonymous maharaja in question) “People Who Want To Visit Foreign Countries Without Having to Interact with Anyone Who Actually Lives There”.

One of the hottest concepts in travel right now is the “insider” experience, where travelers are promised a chance to hobnob with celebrities, go behind the scenes where other tourists are barred and be treated like visiting dignitaries.

Companies are selling tours of Russian President Vladimir Putin’s entertaining room, visits with Olympic athletes and drinks with an Indian maharaja — complete with an elephant parade.

Now, I’m not saying you have to go to India and tan in the Dharavi slum or drive an auto rickshaw around Queen’s Necklace during rush hour or do a load of whites under the oppressive third world sun. But, if you’re going to sit in a plane and make the commitment and fly all the way around the world to India, shouldn’t you actually try to see some of it?

Candace, I ask you: Isn’t there some charm to riding in a cramped, crowded train car at the end of the day, even if you have to face the occasional indignity of being molested? Isn’t there some adventure to drinking contraband coconut water from the side of the road, even if you have to face the certain indignity of being cross-examined every time you leave the bathroom in your grandparents’ house as to whether or not you have loose motion? Isn’t there some connection to be made in an open-air market among the sights and sounds and smells, even if, lost in the dialects and language barriers and unfamiliar gesticulating, you don’t understand a word?

This “insider” experience, on the other hand, sounds kind of like the upper-echelon equivalent of going all the way to Bombay to order a Papa John’s Pizza. Which you can do now.

Part of me wonders if I’m being too sensitive and overly protective about the charms of a country I’ve never lived in because, despite that small irony, it’s always evoked a sense of homecoming I’ve never felt anywhere else in the world.

And to that end, I might have been able to look the other way, too, had Candace Jackson’s travelogue not meandered from the pages of the Journal to Talk of the Nation last week.

CONAN: Hmm. Looking at it for the other end of the telescope, as it were, for a moment, what’s in it for the Maharajah of Jaipur to offer a dinner?
Ms. JACKSON: Well, I mean, in that case, you know, the maharajas in India, a lot of times, sort of use their palaces as tourist attractions. There you’re, the special access you’re getting is, you know, a possible meeting with the maharaja himself. So, you know, on some level I think, for that one, the screening process to even be able to do it is quite high. So, he might just be interested in meeting high-profile Americans himself, or, I don’t, you know, I don’t want to speak for him.

Back at the ranch, Candace Jackson concluded her Wall Street musings with the following:

On a business trip to India, Jennifer Joseph used a travel agent to arrange for cocktails with the maharaja of Jaipur. He met her and a group of her friends at the palace gates, where they had arrived on a horse-drawn carriage, and gave them a tour of his home.

“He was a little reserved, but very welcoming,” says the 25-year-old television producer. The maharaja asked them about their travels and showed them photographs of previous visitors, including Jacqueline Kennedy. “It felt like something out of a movie.”

He was a little reserved? Dude, maybe he didn’t want you at his house.

Then again, I take some small, delightful, giggling comfort in the fact that maybe this anonymous maharaja was not, in fact, who they thought he was but rather a re-patriated IT worker — with a penchant for cocktails, Western women and Adobe PhotoShop — exacting his revenge on a world that’s willing to travel to the ends of the earth in search of perceived realities.

TheBarmaid at 07:47 PM in Travel · 19 comment(s) · Direct link

June 08, 2006

Another Hijra-Visit Candidate

Ah, mysterious India, ever in flux yet steadfastly the same! While greenbacks, terabytes and bushy-tailed MBAs woosh back and forth between Bangalore and Wall Street, the eructations of Tom Friedman speeding them across the Flat World like some kind of ill pneumatics, the doings of the superstitious masses still supply orientalists correspondents with fare for cutesiness and condescension. As Henry Chu sat barricaded at the crib contemplating his balls, Jonathan Allen of the New York Times was bravely setting off into Delhi’s diesel dawn to document the queer customs of the Hindoo:

the creators of the new Swaminarayan Akshardham temple complex that towers over east Delhi thought to include several features not commonly found in Hindu architecture, including an indoor boat ride, a large-format movie screen, a musical fountain and a hall of animatronic characters that may well remind us that, really, it’s a small world after all. There are even pink (sandstone) elephants on parade.

After noting that the temple is inspired by Disneyland (“We visited five or six times. As tourists, I mean,” the temple’s PR officer clarifies), Allen goes on to, let’s see, analogize Indian temple-goers to people waiting for the toilet, and Indians in general to dogs, amongst whom he is like an unflappable elephant…

Wait, you think I’m making this up?

Here are the toilets:

The appeal of this might at first be lost on visitors to India, who are usually coming to see the country’s abundance of genuinely ancient buildings [say wha…? - ed.]; Indians, who are surrounded by them, will generally grab any opportunity to escape from all that decrepitude for the afternoon, ideally to a place with musical fountains. The crowds here aren’t pilgrims; they’re day trippers. (…)

And so, although Western tourists are welcome, they can expect to receive the occasional look of benign giggly bemusement, the same kind a gentleman receives upon joining the line for the ladies’ toilets. (…)

The dogs:

Sometimes the allegorical power of elephants is overestimated, as in the tableau which, according to the caption, claims that: “One problem elephants never face is the generation gap.”

The one that most strikes me is the creature shown “equipoised and nonchalant amidst barking dogs”; for the tourist sometimes overwhelmed by the colorful chaos of India, this could well be the most relevant elephant.(…)

Portrait of the author as a patient pachyderm:

People cut in line and tread on my toes, which strike me as things Bhagwan Swaminarayan would not do. It seems the combined efforts of the Akshardham’s robots, elephants and talking boats in relaying BAPS’s essential message of humble compassion may still not have been enough.

As I leave the temple, a horde of rickshaw drivers surrounds me, loudly and physically hustling for my business. I again try to adopt the posture of the unflappable elephant.

But unlike Henry and the hijras, this elephant has balls. Jonathan gets all New York on motherfuckers:

Then it occurs to me that that elephant must get ripped off all the time, and I argue furiously with the drivers until one of them relents and agrees to take me back to central Delhi on the meter.

Balls and all!

siddhartha at 03:36 PM in Religion, Travel · 20 comment(s) · 2 reader(s) linked · Direct link

May 31, 2006

Like No Business I Know

Technics aside, a perfect photograph usually involves both, an absorbing subject matter and an image that leaves an imprint as if it were a memory of one’s own. Take these qualities and wrap them around India’s filmi phenomena, turn the roll into a series and what you have is the stuff that dreams are made of. Bollywood dreams, to be (slightly inaccurately) exact.

Jonathan Torgovnik’s extensive travels throughout India in the early 90s led him to rural India’s nomadic cinema halls and the masala movie sets of Chennai and Mumbai. On the way he managed to create a completely riveting contribution to the study of Indian cinema in the form of Bollywood Dreams (Phaidon Press, 2003). This (unbelievably perfect coffee table) book feels like a deeply personal photo essay as well as a tribute to Indian cinema’s grass roots. All seen through the eyes of a former combat-photographer for the Israeli army.

Online exhibitions of Torgovnik’s work with the Indian film industry can be found at Digital Journalist and foto8. A short (5min.) self-narrated clip of his photographs can be found at Google viddy. His website too is chock full of goodies, like the Mumbai laughing clubs series, which is reducing me to fits of giggles just thinking about it. Or the Satosh series, which is pure breaking my heart. Either way, I can’t stop looking.

neha at 11:09 PM in Arts and Entertainment, Film, Photos, Travel · 3 comment(s) · Direct link

May 17, 2006

Getting away for a while

Days like today the wanderlust sets in and I feel like getting away for a while. Unfortunately, until my wealthy Uncle Sam starts providing me with cash (~seven months from now) I will remain as broke as a joke. In the meantime I will be gazing longingly at the pages of Time Magazine Asia. Their current issue features The Best of Asia. Did you know that the best Red Light District Experience in Asia is at…Cooco’s Den & Café in Lahore, Pakistan (note that Time currently has the wrong description here)? What I really wanted to know is where I could go to just blow out for a few days.

“You must be crazy” is the response you tend to meet with when announcing an intention to vacation in Afghanistan. But for the courageous traveler willing to overlook the backdrop of simmering warfare between U.S. forces and Taliban insurgents, the country offers astonishing rewards—none more uplifting than Band-i-Amir. These five connected lakes in the central Bamiyan province are among the world’s least visited yet most dramatic natural wonders. Spilling like a string of sapphires across golden desert canyons, buttes and mesas, the lakes of Band-i-Amir (the name means “jewels of the king”) are fed by an underground source, rendering them preternaturally pristine. Their purity and extraordinary depth give the lakes a blueness of indescribable intensity. Local legend has it that a plunge in these waters is a cure for madness. Possession by djinn, or demons, is a standard Afghan explanation for insanity—but djinn hate swimming, the reasoning goes, especially in a holy lake said to be carved out of solid rock by the magic sword of warrior-saint Hazrat Ali. Local faith in the healing powers of these waters is evident in a small shrine at the first lake, where the recently exorcized leave discarded clothing and tokens of thanks. If they’re right about the waters, then you’re in luck: even if you were a little crazy to vacation in Afghanistan, Band-i-Amir will restore your sanity. But you don’t have to believe in the folklore to rejoice in the fact that you ignored the naysayers and ventured here: the surreal beauty of these lakes is a balm for every soul. [Link]

Now for this next “Best” I felt a little guilty for imagining myself there. We shouldn’t be happy about bargains brought about by unrest…err, right?

Visiting violence-wracked countries isn’t everyone’s idea of a vacation, but local unrest can be a boon for the bargain hunter. Nepal, which has endured 10 years of civil war, is a perfect example. Although foreigners haven’t been targets in the conflict between the government and Maoist rebels, the U.S. Department of State asks Americans to defer all nonessential travel to Nepal; the British government tells its citizens to remain vigilant. But if you can live with a moderate level of risk, you’ll come across fabulous hotel and restaurant deals and have some of Asia’s most iconic sights, like Durbar Square and Everest, virtually to yourself. [Link]

I still don’t understand the next “Best.” What the hell is a “Democratic Dreamscape?” It is hard to imagine that a place where politicians spend their days arguing can be considered a “Dreamscape.”

It is a wonderful irony that one of Asia’s most rambunctious democracies should be housed in its most ethereally elegant parliament building. But such is the case in Bangladesh, where the Jatiyo Sangsad Bhaban, or National Assembly—flooded by natural light and ringed by the still waters of an artificial lake—is the official arena for politics of breathtaking malignancy. Situated on a 200-acre site in the center of Dhaka, this giant gray octagon of a building at first looks like it was hallucinated by Isaac Asimov, or that it came to George Lucas in a dream. In reality, it is the deeply thoughtful work of American architect Louis Kahn. [Link]

This next one is just silly in my opinion. “The Best Place to See the Indian Boom.” The answer: aboard a new airline:

If you suspect that India’s economic boom is only benefiting the country’s rich, then book yourself on a flight on one of India’s budget airlines. Pick someplace nice—Goa, for instance—and once you’re aboard, take a look at your fellow passengers. There’s a high likelihood some of them are flying for the first time in their lives. Chances are many are visiting Goa for the first time as well. [Link]

I take that back. One of the most deeply satisfying things to ever witness in your life is watching someone fly for the first time. It actually chokes me up.

Finally, I know that I am not keeping it real since the next place isn’t in South Asia but…The Best Place to Get Naked is:

When you do it for the first time, you stand there for mere seconds, thinking “I can’t believe this,” before scurrying for the cover of your fashionably minimalist bedroom. The second time, you force yourself to linger a little longer and at least take in the view. But well before your stay at the Park Hyatt is over, you have accustomed yourself to standing naked in a bathroom that comprises nothing but glass on three sides, situated above one of the busiest intersections of one of the busiest cities of the busiest continent on earth. Sustaining it all is the questionably held faith that the thin panes in front of you really are reflective.

Attaining the physical and aesthetic heights required of statement buildings, and lapped by vast tides of Gangnam district traffic below, the Park Hyatt occupies one of the choicest sites of the South Korean capital. It is the work of fashionable Japanese design house Super Potato, and the firm’s brightest bolts of inspiration were surely the Park suite bathrooms—translucent aeries that lord it over the unknowing populace. [Link]

Because at the end of the day, no matter how bad you feel, nothing cheers you up like getting naked…

See Related post’s: Never shake your bucket of nuts too soon!, Rough Riders

abhi at 06:53 PM in Travel · 9 comment(s) · Direct link

May 16, 2006

Kamra obscura

A cloud-darkened sunset carried the light in at a rich angle on the shore of the Arabian Sea. You can eyedropper some of my favorite hues right off these sheets, like