Note to a friend
The other day one of my friends asked me what it was about India that I liked the most, liked the least and just plain liked about India. Since a lot of my photos will be coming from that experience, I thought it would be worth printing here as well. This is what I told him...
Okay, India. I loved and hated every moment - it's completely full on, in your face, nostrils, mouth, eyes, ears, hands, between your toes, all the time. Which is what is so captivating about that country, and so exhausting. You're never invisible, never all alone - there's always someone wanting something from you, or watching you. "Onerupeeonepenonechocolateonephotoone-shampooonebiscuit...all the time. Or, my uncle has a shop. Or, my brother lives in Canada. Or, or, or. Always.
And the smells! Some of them unbelievably appalling, but most just different, a few truly divine. The sludgy garbage heaps along the railroad tracks in Kolkata's "city of joy", where so many hands have already picked through it that it's not even solid anymore, but which the untouchables sieve through anyway, hoping. Like the innumerable chai stalls that line the road, with their black tea/ginger/cardamom tones overlaying whatever else is nearby, drawing people in. Like the humid draughts from the sweet makers in the early mornings while they're stirring the sugar into their massive cauldrons of goat milk. I walked around in a constant state of awe, wonder, dismay.
Every place I went to was completely different, so it's hard to pick a favorite (good or bad). On the bad side, I would tell everyone to avoid Agra (where the Taj Mahal is) like the plague - it's a city past its prime, whose only attraction is the tomb whose entrance fee is equivalent to about 15 nights in hotel - $25US - and whose merchants know that people only come once so their business does not depend on the quality of service. But I know that there's so much mystique built up around the place that probably no one would listen to my advice anyway. So instead, I'd say, pay attention to your pocketbook there, and watch what you eat. A lot of people get sick in Agra.
On the good side, where to begin?!! Kolkata is the city I long for. The one I dream about, and know I will return to (soon!!). The face of India in my memory and imagination. There is such an energy in that place, it's hard to describe, but no one who's been there would deny it. Something about the fluid interplay of the poor and wealthy, of the old and new, overlayed with perpetual joy in a laid back atmosphere that is easy to sink into. Mmmmm.
Bodhgaya, Buddha's place of enlightenment - a dusty little outpost halfway to nowhere, in the thick of bandit country in the heart of the absolute worst state in the country (the former head of gov't there made off with several million in World Bank aid funds, and not only got to keep the money, but also got to appoint his wife to take his place in the post while he served his jail time and then take up a new post when he was released). Delightful! Something hypnotic about pacing out slow laps around the millennia old stupa day after day, contemplating yourself and all of the myriad people around you. The absolute best people watching place on earth - especially when the monks come in (in their thousands!). I could have spent my entire trip there.
Delhi - everything going a million miles an hour and stopped dead simultaneously. Where bulls and elephants vie with bicycle rickshaws, 1950's ambassador taxis (love those rounded fenders!), motorcycles and Mac trucks for command of the narrow roadways. And where, right in the heart of everything, it's still possible to turn a corner and find something brilliant and unexpected - like the used sari market, with it's mile of gorgeous silks, or the aqua mosque with its lone guardian, or the goat bazaar, where a hundred thousand goats are all on display simultaneously, adorned with garlands and knee bells and painted horns.
Bikaner, with it's quaint old town of centuries-old havellis and gypsy women. The desert, sleeping under the stars, being lulled into a stupor by the gentle sway of a camel for days on end, eating crisp chapatis cooked over the open flames of a dung fire, talking with the goat herds early in the morning, who deliver fresh milk for chai.
Jodhpur, blue city. Overlooked by a monolithic fort with the best audio tour ever created. Could spend a lifetime drinking the rich butter lassis around the clock tower, watching the sellers bring in their loads of old silks for sale. Wandering the labyrinthine passages of colour - so much colour it's like living in a dream.
Udaipur, where the floating palace isn't, and where the coolest handicrafts in Rajasthan are.
Varanassi, the holy Shiva city, oldest in India. Where the dead were burned on open pyres below my guesthouse, on the banks of the Ganges, the flames guiding me home at night and the smoke perfuming my sleep. Monkeys running rampant in and through everything, keeping you on your toes. The most exquisite silks in all of India, 2 colour iridescents in metal tones, and glass beads and baubles and stone Buddha's. And the river, with all it's depth and life, always, always, always beside you.
On the plane, I first though, halleluia, I survived and I'm out!! Followed very rapidly by, oh-my-god-I'm-leaving, take me back, take me back, take me back! Feelings that have pretty much persisted ever since. India.
Okay, India. I loved and hated every moment - it's completely full on, in your face, nostrils, mouth, eyes, ears, hands, between your toes, all the time. Which is what is so captivating about that country, and so exhausting. You're never invisible, never all alone - there's always someone wanting something from you, or watching you. "Onerupeeonepenonechocolateonephotoone-shampooonebiscuit...all the time. Or, my uncle has a shop. Or, my brother lives in Canada. Or, or, or. Always.
And the smells! Some of them unbelievably appalling, but most just different, a few truly divine. The sludgy garbage heaps along the railroad tracks in Kolkata's "city of joy", where so many hands have already picked through it that it's not even solid anymore, but which the untouchables sieve through anyway, hoping. Like the innumerable chai stalls that line the road, with their black tea/ginger/cardamom tones overlaying whatever else is nearby, drawing people in. Like the humid draughts from the sweet makers in the early mornings while they're stirring the sugar into their massive cauldrons of goat milk. I walked around in a constant state of awe, wonder, dismay.
Every place I went to was completely different, so it's hard to pick a favorite (good or bad). On the bad side, I would tell everyone to avoid Agra (where the Taj Mahal is) like the plague - it's a city past its prime, whose only attraction is the tomb whose entrance fee is equivalent to about 15 nights in hotel - $25US - and whose merchants know that people only come once so their business does not depend on the quality of service. But I know that there's so much mystique built up around the place that probably no one would listen to my advice anyway. So instead, I'd say, pay attention to your pocketbook there, and watch what you eat. A lot of people get sick in Agra.
On the good side, where to begin?!! Kolkata is the city I long for. The one I dream about, and know I will return to (soon!!). The face of India in my memory and imagination. There is such an energy in that place, it's hard to describe, but no one who's been there would deny it. Something about the fluid interplay of the poor and wealthy, of the old and new, overlayed with perpetual joy in a laid back atmosphere that is easy to sink into. Mmmmm.
Bodhgaya, Buddha's place of enlightenment - a dusty little outpost halfway to nowhere, in the thick of bandit country in the heart of the absolute worst state in the country (the former head of gov't there made off with several million in World Bank aid funds, and not only got to keep the money, but also got to appoint his wife to take his place in the post while he served his jail time and then take up a new post when he was released). Delightful! Something hypnotic about pacing out slow laps around the millennia old stupa day after day, contemplating yourself and all of the myriad people around you. The absolute best people watching place on earth - especially when the monks come in (in their thousands!). I could have spent my entire trip there.
Delhi - everything going a million miles an hour and stopped dead simultaneously. Where bulls and elephants vie with bicycle rickshaws, 1950's ambassador taxis (love those rounded fenders!), motorcycles and Mac trucks for command of the narrow roadways. And where, right in the heart of everything, it's still possible to turn a corner and find something brilliant and unexpected - like the used sari market, with it's mile of gorgeous silks, or the aqua mosque with its lone guardian, or the goat bazaar, where a hundred thousand goats are all on display simultaneously, adorned with garlands and knee bells and painted horns.
Bikaner, with it's quaint old town of centuries-old havellis and gypsy women. The desert, sleeping under the stars, being lulled into a stupor by the gentle sway of a camel for days on end, eating crisp chapatis cooked over the open flames of a dung fire, talking with the goat herds early in the morning, who deliver fresh milk for chai.
Jodhpur, blue city. Overlooked by a monolithic fort with the best audio tour ever created. Could spend a lifetime drinking the rich butter lassis around the clock tower, watching the sellers bring in their loads of old silks for sale. Wandering the labyrinthine passages of colour - so much colour it's like living in a dream.
Udaipur, where the floating palace isn't, and where the coolest handicrafts in Rajasthan are.
Varanassi, the holy Shiva city, oldest in India. Where the dead were burned on open pyres below my guesthouse, on the banks of the Ganges, the flames guiding me home at night and the smoke perfuming my sleep. Monkeys running rampant in and through everything, keeping you on your toes. The most exquisite silks in all of India, 2 colour iridescents in metal tones, and glass beads and baubles and stone Buddha's. And the river, with all it's depth and life, always, always, always beside you.
On the plane, I first though, halleluia, I survived and I'm out!! Followed very rapidly by, oh-my-god-I'm-leaving, take me back, take me back, take me back! Feelings that have pretty much persisted ever since. India.
posted by Roberta | 7:20 AM
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