Same Same

Actually, my time in Thailand has been anything but monotonous - I just thought it was a fitting title, seeing as that's probably the single most widely used English phrase by native Thai speakers. Seriously, they even make t-shirts that simply have the words "Same Same" on them, and I'm sure they sell like hotcakes. Don't even get me started on the gold mine of hilarious/witty t-shirts that this country is...the guys from www.randomshirts.com should take a trip down to Th Khao San in Bangkok on their expense accounts, and take notes.

* It wasn't my intention to endorse randomshirts.com, and I maintain that this blog exists for non-profit entertainment purposes only. However, if you knee-slappin handsome geniuses of t-shirt designers notice this blog and decide to cut me out a royalty cheque, you can find my address in your order database.

So I've done quite a bit since my last blog posting, with the most notable events being about a week split between visiting Chiang Mai, the second biggest city in Thailand, and Pai, a hippie backwater mountain village that is probably the 5,690th biggest city in Thailand. They were both pretty groovy in their own ways, but overall I preferred Pai, due to the "getting back to nature" appeal, as well as the bohemian live music scene. I actually just left there this morning, and spent almost an entire day buses, although it didn't really seem that long due to the "effectiveness" of the Thai-manufactured generic anti-nausea tablet that I took before I set off. FDAA approved? Somehow I doubt it. But I'm OK...at least for now.

Anyways, I'm now in a little town called Chiang Khong on the banks of the Mekong River, which at this point also forms the border of Thailand and Laos. If all goes to plan, I'll have crossed into Laos by tomorrow morning, and will be on my way to Luang Prabang on a riverboat. I've heard mixed reviews about this journey - some say that the scenery and general serenity is unbeatable, while others I've talked to have implied that it's the most boring, uncomfortable thing that they've ever experienced, and that I'd be better off to take an 8-hour minibus (I've been on enough of them to realize that the latter group must have really hated the boat ride).

OK, I know what you're thinking right now: it's been 2 weeks since Tom even made an effort of over analyzing an ideology, geographical location, or wholly irrelevant subject that he's come across. You are very correct, and I'm going to continue to abstain from this action for tonight, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I've been giving my brain a bit of a break as of late, and therefore haven't engaged in a whole lot of mental tooth-picking to speak of. More importantly, however, this internet cafe is swarming with wholly harmless by extremely annoying bugs, both big and small, and I really can't stay still any longer.

So I'm not going to. I'm assuming Laos has the Internet by now, so you can expect another post in the next week or so. Hope all of you students out there are satisfied with your exam results, and have settled nicely into your mind-numbing summer employment. Same goes for all of the lifers that might be reading this blog. To all of my faithful readers that are retirees (undoubtedly the only ones that have time to actually get through one of my typical posts) : keep it real.

Cheers
Tom

A Passage to Thailand

So, the title of my blog has officially become outdated. However, due to the confusion that a title change would inevitably cause, and considering the possibility that this might somehow upset my loyal fanbase (all two of you), I'm going to maintain the status quo. Just be aware that I won't be spending any more than 2 more days in India during the current trip; the rest of it, besides my final departure from Delhi, will be spent touring in Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and a possible little beach jaunt in southern Vietnam.

Speaking of that - I just remembered I've been promising a brief run-down on my tentative itinerary for the last couple weeks. Well, as a preamble I'll emphasize that it remains just as subject to change as it was when I first mentioned it. So, if all you gambling fiends (you know who you are!) are placing bets on where I am anytime in the next couple months, and are "cleverly" basing your wager on the following rundown, don't be too generous with the odds you give to your opponent.

I'm already about 5 days into my trip, having stayed in Bangkok with my friend Sarah since Monday. Bangkok was fun, although according to Sarah, I'm a huge square and pretty well failed to partake in the rockin' good times that the town has to offer (probably pretty accurate). So I won't spend much time on that, other than mentioning that 1) the city is massive, 2) there's a crazy travellers-gone-wild district called Khao San (surely butchered that spelling job) that resembles Wasaga Beach x10 in Asia, and 3) there are some pretty sick temples (see photos). This morning, I left for the ancient capital city of Ayuthaya, which is where I am now. I checked into a groovy-little guest house called Tony's Place, and then spent the day riding around the town on a bike that I rented for about a buck (don't worry Mom - I assure you it didn't have a motor). I saw some cool museums and ruins, and booked a train ticket to Phitsanulok,which is nearby to another ancient capital city I plan on visiting. Man, my plans sound exhilerating, don't they? I bet you wish you were travelling with me, so you could get your name in the Guinness Book of Records under the category of "most monotonous temple visits within a period of 4 months". What can I say - I'm a bit of a history buff.

After Phitsanulok, I'm off to Chiang Mai, which is in the extreme north-west of the country. Apparently it's a big city in the middle of the mountains, so I'm planning on using it as a "base camp" for a few days, as I make day trips to check off the Lonely Planet reccomended destinations in the surrounding area (don't worry, I plan on ripping out the "temples" page in order to resist the temptation). By the time I leave Chiang Mai (probably around April 26th or so), I'll visit a few smaller towns in the north, and probably go on a couple overnight guided treks in the mountains.

I plan on crossing into Laos around May 1st, and taking a riverboat down the Mekong River to the town of Luang Prabang, which seems to be a highly-reccomended destination. I plan on spending about 1 1/2 weeks in that country, and then I'll fly down to Cambodia on about May 12th-13th. By this point, I plan on meeting back up with some friends from the India semester, and we'll do some sightseeing in Cambodia, and spend the last week or so on a beach somewhere, possibly southern Vietnam. After that, I'll likely catch a flight from Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) to Bangkok,where I'll get my flight back to Kolkata, and finally make my way back to Delhi to fly home.

Basically, I might as well have got the 12 year old internet cafe attendant to write that last paragraph for me - his gibberish probably would have been just as close to how my plans will actually work out. Speaking of that little Thai squirt, he's asking me in the typically polite Thai manner to get the heck out of his store, because it's closing. Those pics will have to wait- I'll try to get them up in a couple days. I'm off to eat dinner at a floating restaurant!

Cheers
Tom

The Kolkata Special: An entree of India, with a starter of Britain and globalization on the side

This is it: my last night in India (until I come back to catch my flight home from Delhi, that is). I was going to post last night, but it had been one of those days that India and I just weren't seeing eye-to-eye, and I was pretty worn out by the evening. Happens frequently enough; on this particular occasion, it was a combination of 1) my being antsy to get to Bangkok, 2) a crappy hotel room, and 3) me walking through a very Indian marketplace, crowded of course, being laughed at by everyone I ask "do you know where I can find a mosquito net."

"Where can I find a mosquito net?" Not exactly SNL material, but whatever tickles your funny bone I guess. Plus, this is India - 95% of what happens (and what is talked about) in the bazaar is totally beyond a Westerner's understanding.

All of that considered, I didn't really give Kolkata (Calcutta, for all of you politically-incorrect neo-colonial bigots) much of a chance on my first day. So, I woke up this morning determined to soak in whatever it had to offer. The day started off well: I took my first ever human-drawn rickshaw to Park Street (tourist / middle-class Indian hotspot) and had a half-decent filtered black coffee (always a nice touch!). I then proceeded to the local YWCA, and attended a church service that I'd been invited to by someone I met in the same coffee shop. Henry is a British guy doing some very interesting-sounding work with young adults and street kids in the city, and he played in the worship band of the small congregation that gets together in the good ol' Christian Association (imagine a church service happening in a YMCA / YWCA in Canada in this day and age!) After the service, we hit up a cute little all-day breakfast joint for bacon and eggs, and parted ways after visiting the Oxford bookstore, where I naturally gave into the temptation to buy yet another book that I probably won't read while I'm here.

I'm starting to identify this as a bit of a problem I have. No need for the room with the padded walls quite yet though, I don't think.

Anyways, it was almost 2:00 by this point, and there was quite a bit I still wanted to see. Now you all know how much I love recapping the things that I've done in the day, so you probably wont' be surprised that I'm going to cram it into the next 3 or so sentences. I took the Metro (French for subway) down to Kalighat, which is the site of Kolkata's holiest temple...

"Wait a minute, Tom: what the heck does Kolkata have to do with France? If the nearest French-influenced town is Pondicherry (see previous blog) 1500 kms down the coast, why is Kolkata's subway called a Metro?"

Good question: I think the answer is something along the lines of "shut up, stop asking me questions about things I don't understand, and don't interrupt!"

As I was saying, I went to Kalighat, Kolkata's holiest Hindu temple. Due to the fact that I've seen more temples than you can count on he goddess Devi's hands (see photo), I admittedly wasn't that driven to see the monument itself. Rather, I was on a mission to find Mother Teresa's hospital, which I'd heard was in the area. Sure enough, it was directly beside the temple - according to my trusty Rough Guide, the blessed Mother set it up here intentionally, so she could serve the sick and dying that came to the temple for their last rites. I could probably write a whole blog on the little that I've heard about Mother Teresa, so I won't elaborate any further. Basically, it was a really neat experience. After that , I backtracked on the Metro to the Maidan (really huge central park), and checked out the famous Victoria Memorial (rather impressive monument the Colonists built to remind themselves of their own greatness). I then went back to my slum-of-a-hostel, satisfied with what I perceived as a pretty productive day.

Now for what I'm sure is the much-anticipated analysis. From my very-limited point of view, Kolkata differs from Delhi in that instead of being a city that shows glimpses of it's past in the midst of globalization, it's a place where western culture still very much seems like a visitor in the Indian household. OK, so maybe globalization is a bit more firmly planted than that; there are just as many KFC's here than any other big Indian city. It's just that the billboards perching ominiously on the tops of 19th-century buildings still feel very out of place, and when one takes a stroll in one of the bazaars, it seems as if things must be the same as they were 40 years ago. Kind of hard to explain - I just got that vibe.

Ironically, despite it's Indian-ness, Kolkata has deeper roots in western influences than your average metropolis on the Subcontinent. The British started building it in the early 18th century, with the military enclave of Fort William central to the plans. In this sense, it's one of the newer major cities you'll find over herel although it feels like it could be hundreds of years older. The British feel coincides with the Indian culture in a strange way - everything that's old in the city feels colonial, giving it a kind of ghost-town feel in this sense. Don't get me wrong, though - it's just as alive as any other Indian city. The western influence just doesn't feel as strong as in Delhi, despite the fact that Delhi's a much older city, with a much more indigenous heritage.

Unfortunately, it doesn't look like I'll be able to get a fill of either Mumbai (Bombay) or Chennai (Madras) during this trip, making this an incomplete series of commentaries on two of India's four metropolises. Maybe one of you will get to those places sometime soon (Jenn - Chennai???), and can add on to what I've started.

As you might have already picked up, I'm leaving for Bangkok tomorrow morning! I know that I promised a detailed itinerary, but this posting has dragged on as it is, so I think I'll leave that for next time. Signing out from the Subcontinent, I'll talk to you from Siam!

Cheers,
Tom

First edition of the "Finish Tom's Post For Him" game! (A "Tom's Too Lazy to Write His Own Blog Post" initiative)

Aaarrrgghhh......

(Use the "comments" function to finish my thought! Wohoo, this'll be fun!)

The respective psychological states of Tom and Delhi: a comparison

I've been in a bit of a daze for the last few days. It's pretty hard to describe, but I'd classify it as a mix of restlessness and lack of motivation. Most likely they're complimenting each other, due to the fact that they probably originate from the fact that I only have about 2 weeks left in my undergraduate career. So close, but yet still so far: two essays to write in English, along with three exams within the same number of days. It's kind of driving me crazy, and consequently I've found it hard to sit down and firmly commit to getting things done as of late - kind of like a "fit of indecisiveness".

Luckily, this weekend was relatively free on my schedule, and I was able to experience a change of scenery via a trip to Delhi with Jared and John. We've only been here for a day (took a night train and arrived at 6:30 AM), but already I've recieved a good deal of consolation from this city with regards to my recently-emerged character traits, as previously described. You see, just as I've been unable to settle down and make up my mind as to what I'm going to do to be productive, I feel that Delhi is a place that is equally scatter-brained as to its purpose within the country of India, and in the world as a whole.

I think that throughout history, people (very scholarly individuals, I'm sure) seem to have had a tendency to associate human qualities to cities (personification). OK, so maybe Frank Sinatra's referral to New York as the "city that never sleeps" hardly qualifies as a literary device worth of a Nobel Prize in Literature, but you get my point. Well, in light of my recent mental state, I've been inspired to classify Delhi as a city with a touch of schizophrenia, that just can't seem to get it's own identity straight. On one hand, it's a place where people are thought to have lived for thousands of years - most notably, the Islamic occupants of India used it as their capital for the better part of 500 years, firmly establishing it as a place of political centrality and importance. Culturally, however, it's always been a place of diversity, with a number of religious and thought systems being interchangeably dominant over the centuries. For example, Hindu religion and culture, while being the dominant philosophy in the area up to the 12th century AD, was somewhat superseded by the Muslim and British hegemonies that controlled the area in the following 900-year period.

Independence in 1947 firmly re-established Delhi's place at the centre of Indian politics, culture and society as a whole. As far as I can see, it continues to maintain it's traditional role as a political centre in 2008 - in this sense, it's identity is confident and established. However, as I toured the city with my friends on foot and in rickshaw, I noticed that Western culture had gained a firmer foothold here than in any other place I've seen in India so far. Whether you look at the GQ-esque styles that youths are modelling, or the American magazines on display in high-end boutique plazas, it seems that Delhi's definitive role as a centre of Indian culture is disintegrating. Alternatively, maybe it never was a place where a distinct Indian culture was showcased - perhaps it was the stronghold of a type of syncretism, where different traditions from different places came and synthesized into the closest thing that this country has ever had to it's own definitive identity. Either way, Delhi, like myself, is unsure of itself - political centre of one of the world's next great superpowers, sure, but cultural protector against the infringement of foreign ideals? Not quite so confident on that one.

Anways, enough of that philosophizing; I'm not going to edit the past few paragraphs in any way, shape, or form, out of fear that they will make absolutely no sense, and thus represent a half hour totally wasted. I'd like to dedicate the last bit of this blog to a much more important subject - namely, the awesomeness of my host family in Jaipur, the Mathurs. They've been absolutely wonderful, and have made me feel at home to the extent that I feel like I've been there for the majority of the semester, and not only a mere month. Not only is their house huge and beautiful, and the meals excellent, but they have treated Jared and I like sons, and have even accomodated some of our friends on occasion, whether for a single dinner or room and board for an entire weekend. Forget the Taj Mahal and Fort Jodhpur - the memories that I'll really retain from this trip will be of this house, and people within it (Yogesh, Delilah, Anjana, Ruchika, Cheeku, Reena, Neehal, Anita - you know who you are, please forgive my spelling!)

Increasingly bad grammar and utilization of spell check indicates that my 4 hours of sleep on the train last night is losing it's ability to sustain my consciousness; therefore, I'm gonna jet. As I said earlier, exams are coming up quickly, so I may only get one more post in before I leave for Thailand on April 14th. Although it may be a short post, I'll try to get up my itinerary for the next couple months, in the very least.

Cheers everyone,
Tom

Tour buses, hot showers, and camel safaris

I'm starting to realize that regardless of how incredible a time one can have when he/she is playing the tourist, the experience is almost always tainted by their apparent need to bring along some of the amneties of home. In some cases, we're even inspired to invent our own types of "exotic luxuries" - an example of which is the camel safari. This sentiment may come as a bit of a shock to my fellow group members, as I didn't voice any dissaproval of last night's desert outing at the time. However, after thinking it over a bit, I've developed a bit of a negative view of how this very popular tourist activity seems to be currently practiced.

Probably the most salient negative impact of camel safaris, from what I saw, was environmental. Although the scenery was beautiful (the terrain that we covered in an approx. 4 hour trek ranged from scrubland to sand dunes), it was quite often defaced by garbage (the prominence of empty water bottles hinted that tourists were largely to blame for this). Also, although I'm no soil scientist, I seem to recall hearing that sand dunes are delicate formations, that perenially endangered by frequent animal contact (hence the instances of cordoned-off dunes that you'll often see at beaches). Sure, you could say that wild cames have been roaming through the desert since the beginning of time, and these piles of sand have remained intact throughout that pretty-long period. But tourism has surely increased the utilization of specific routes throughout the Thar desert, in this specific instance, which can't be any good in my amateur opinion.

My second major critique is related to the always-fiery topic of child employment. A good portion (if not the majority) of our guides were kids or adolescents, I'd say ranging from about 8 to 16 years of age. My particular escort was 15, and despite a significant language barrier, I was able to have a pretty good conversation with him. Turns out he was a 5 year veteran, having worked with the company (presumably not making a significant portion of the overall profits) since he was 10. Now hear me out: I understand the need for teenagers to drop out of school in some instances, whether due to pressing financial needs or a total lack of desire to participate in academia. But 10 years old? As I mentioned a couple sentances ago, I also saw kids that looked like they could have been as young as 8. Should we support an enterprise that employs kids at this age, in light of the fact that they'd surely be making more of a future for themselves achieving the most basic levels of education? Or, contrary to that rhetoric, is it important to realize that the income from those jobs is a crucial lifeline for their families? I'm a bit more stuck on this one.

So far, the justifications for my disapproval have been based mostly on objective reasoning, regarding socio-economic-environmental impacts. Although, when I push my conscience aside, I recall having a pretty darn good time on the trek, there were a few things that made me feel like I was participating in an activity designed for 65-year-old tour bus tourists from Mississauga. Especially notable was the after-dinner music performance that we had. Although this initially appeared to be pretty authentic, the singing to the tune of "Frere Jaques" (pardon my French, literally) at the end of the night, incorporating some corny lyrics about "enjoying chipatis and daal amongst the dunes", tainted what could have been an enlightening cultural performance. In summation, even the "carnal utility" that I derived from the trek was limited, in addition to my moral objections.

That said, my time in Jaisalmer has been a blast, despite being short (still only 3 days). I spent the better part of this afternoon taking a tour through the Maharaja's palace in the city fort which also contains my hotel. The traditional rulers of this area, the Rajputs, have a pretty rich - if violent at times - history, largely due to the scope of culture-sharing ("syncretism") with different people groups, such as the Mughals. It's off to Jodhpur, another town with a renowned fort (I love forts!), tomorrow, and then back to Jaipur for a final 2 weeks of classes.

Cheers,
Tom

P.S. I'd love to get your feedback on some of the stuff that I've written - It's been far from a normative account by any stretch of the imagination! Hit up the "comment" option, and tell me whether you agree with my sentiments, or think I'm out of my mind.

A quick note on social order in India

If I was in the mood to be concise, the text of this post would consist of the following: "social order" constitutes an oxymoron in this part of the world. But, as you've already learned, I naturally lack the ability to be succinct; therefore, I'm going to delve into a "short" anecdote.

Today is a holiday in India - specifically, the celebration of Shiva's birthday (something to think about: what would be economic state of this country be, if there was a public holiday for the birthday of every god and goddess? Thank goodness this isn't the case!). As this dictated that we didn't have to go to school, Jared and I decided it would be a good idea to take a gander over to Motidungari Fort, a massive colonial-era structure that dominates the skyline of Jaipur. This fort is somewhat unique, in that as well as containing the massive walls, guard towers, etc. that structures of this type are usually characterized by, it also houses a temple. As it happens, Mahashivaratrii (the birthday of Shiva) is a special day for this temple, in that it is the only day of the year which it is open to the public.

Think about what that means. A Shiva temple that is only open to the public one day every year.

Alright - if you didn't get it already, I'm elucidating pure, utter chaos. As has generally happened in various instances throughout this trip, Jared and I quickly made friends with a couple of guys at the bottom of the line (which was ginormous) to get into this place, and they invited us to stand with them in what quickly became apparent was the girl's queue (this type of segregation is common over here). From the relatively calm and serene domain of the fairer sex, we proceeded to observe the insanity that occured in the boys lines. Most notably, the guys would wait calmly in line for about 5 minutes, chatting amongst themselves normally, and then suddenly start yelling and pushing each other further up the path in what resembled some kind of schizophrenic fit of ADHD. After a few seconds, they'd revert back to civilization, and repeat the madness soon thereafter. In the end, this pattern proved conducive to Jared and I getting past the security check: when a cop finally told us to move out of the girls line (how'd he tell?), we proceeded to flow into the guys' line during one of these outbursts, and blend in as much as any pasty-white Canadian can hope to.

I'm sorry to say that this story doesn't have an overly happy ending - Jared and I didn't even end up going to the temple. Becca and Leah, a couple of friends from our study group, had managed to somehow "convince" the guards to let them pass the queue altogether, and after wandering up to the top of the hill to the temple, came back and informed us that we had at least a couple more hours to wait. So we made like bananas and split, before even coming close to our final objective. At the very least, however, the experience proved to be an informative lesson in how Indians "get-er-done". For that reason, I think it was worth it.

Oh, a quick note on my host family, although I'm sure a short summary can hardly do them justice. They are the Mathurs, and they live in really sweet digs - a wicked old early-20th century behemoth of a house. It's a non-nuclear type of family, in that a few extended family members all live under the same roof. Kind of like a granny-flat type situation, but just x3 and with younger people. We live with a sweet housekeeper named Anjana, who makes delicious food, and that man of the house is a freakin retired colonel!

More on the family/city later. Better get back to this paper that I've been procrastinating on for 3 weeks, and by that I mean I'd better go look at Facebook for the umteenth time.

Cheers
Tom