A walk in Srinagar to Delhi hospital

The pictures below are from the walk I took with Gulzar my second day in Srinagar. The gentleman on the upper right specifically requested for his picture to be taken. Often, there are men riding atop the buses. It is quite peculiar to be walking on the streets with mountain goats being herded along with the mad traffic, though a bit less congested than in New Delhi. I only realized halfway along the stamping process that I was getting a cheapy mendi which left a bit of skin scorched from the ink. It was all quite a mind blowing afternoon, but nothing quite like what was to come the next few days.

September 29th, 2011

I am now actually back in New Delhi, at the East West Medical Center where I'm staying with a fellow travelerr from Israel, Yifat, who unfortunately broke her arm as we were walking in to the house boat in Srinagar.  Gulzar had left a floor board by the side entrance wide open, and Yifat who was walking right in front of me, stepped into the dark hallway and fell 6 feet into the bottom of the boat.    It's all been like a movie from that accident 2 days ago (or maybe even from when I first arrived in India 8 days ago) to this moment in this New Delhi hospital.  I will write up a more detailed account later as I'm too tired but wanted to post some of these things up.  Yifat and I had been researching and coming up with plans to get out of Srinagar that day; we couldn't have ever imagined it would be this way...so, I decided to fly back with Yifat as this is her first time travelling alone and has been quite freaked out with her whole trip. The whole week has certainly been an experiment (or test) on living a yogic life.  

Trapped in a Srinagar house boat

September 23, 2011 (this blog was written after 'Delhi Madness' but I made changes that caused it to show up later and don't know how to move it back!)

I made it safely here to the house boat of Mr. Fayez Boktoo in Srinaga.  And that is only the start of my troubles!  Since arriving at the house boat, I've been feeling like my every move is being watched and monitored.  I'm "allocated" some nap time after a lunch of Maggi mee (noodles) - believe it or not!  Then Gurzal, the oarsman, comes to my door announcing my presence is requested by Mr. Fayaz.  Upon finding Mr. Fayaz, he casually prompts me to sit and hang out on the kitchen floor while his eldest daughter is getting her hair oiled by the visiting mumfiz.  We're making the most far out chit chat...and I'm mostly observing in blaring amusement at this whole situation while trying to figure out what to do.  Not wanting to just sit on the kitchen floor for hours, I asked to head back to my room so I could clip my finger nails, only to be questioned why I needed to do so.  Mr. Fayaz then escorts me back to the room to get my nail clipper so I can clip them at the front side of the house.  At this point, I'm suspecting they are keeping me away from the young foreign couple I'd seen walk into their room next to mine earlier.  After clipping my nails onto a notebook given by Gurzal, I asked to take a shower.  Again, the same fan fare of an escort.  However, I have to take a bath in the main house as the adjoining shower in my room only provides a cold shower.  

After my "bath" I am happy to go with Gurzal on the little rickety boat rowing around the lake to civilization.  We end up at Nurul Park.  Gurzal is quite happy to be chatting with me in English and seems to have taken a liking to me.  I'm quick to tell everyone about my boyfriend, which I think I should elevate to label of husband very soon, save for not having a ring on me.  I feel more open with Gurzal as he doesn't seem to be trying to hide anything.  He advices me not to buy anything from anyone as I'll just get swindled.  When I asked to buy water, he proceeds to get it for me as I will otherwise be charged more.  He comes back with two big bottles, and tells me he'll return my change later.  I'd given him 100 rupees (about US$2.20) - perhaps these are his actions that tell me his trustworthiness.  We end up buying some potato chips later with the 20 rupees!  I have some fun on the boat by getting to paddle around for a bit.  When we return to the house boat, which I'm suspecting, aren't really even boats, Gurzal never even tries asking for a tip.  He might be my best ally here.

I was shown the family room where I finally meet Mr. Fayaz's wife.  I sit watching her mend some clothing while waiting for dinner to be brought to me.  An elder woman is sitting next to Mrs. Fayaz the entire evening who I do not exchange a single word with nor do I still have a clue who she is.  A relative for sure.  Eventually, I excuse myself to head to bed where I sneak off to meet the young couple from France, who turns out, have been bamboozled into the same house boat trip!  Just like me and Ruben Nagore, from Spain.  

Julien Haran and Auxelie Charazac are young recent college graduates looking to travel through India for 3 months.  Their stories match those of mine and Ruben. It's funny how we all got trapped in the same manner.  We've all just arrived in New Delhi and being overwhelmed with the sights and sound, are taken by a prepaid tuk tuk driver to "India Travel & Information Center" where we're sold this vacation package to a houseboat in Srinagar. Omer Batook, the sales rep, is the son of Mr. Batook, house boat owner.  Get the picture now?  Omer even invites us all to his sister's wedding coming up in early October.  Wanting to escape New Delhi, we all are glad to sign on for something that's going to take us out.  And for that, we're all now on these house boats!  Julien and I figured that at least, we do have some clean air and quiet down time.  But the whole operation certainly is beguiling and they make it difficult for us to get off the boat sooner.  

While my hotel manager in New Delhi had tried warning me to avoid coming here, I think they over did it by scaring me even more and leaving me unsure who to actually trust.  All in all, there are some truths in what they admonished, but thankfully not to the degree they stressed. The same goes for the whole sheistering travel agency.  There is some truth to what Omer has sold me on, but equally as many lies.  I'm not sure why these folks don't just come clean instead.  I'd have been happy to come here anyway just to get some fresh mountain air!  Ah, but perhaps would not have spent US$420.  Hence, the bamboozling.  Underneath it all, it doesn't seem these folks are evil crooks.  They are mostly petty thefts, trying to make a living in this impoverished area.  My plan now is to hunt down Ruben so we can escape this town together!  I don't have any problems staying here a few more days, but just want to make sure I get going sooner than later!

shikara'ing in Srinaga

Monday. September 26th, 2011

What an absolute difference my 6th day in India has been than my first. At the spur of the moment after breakfast this morning, I decided to go for a shikara (think Kashmiri gondola) ride with the three tourists who arrived at the boat house yesterday. Two Belgian gals, an Israelite and me. I figured being with these gals would be a better experience than trying to secretly plan my way out of Srinaga alone. What a beautiful day it turned out to be. We sailed to an island-park in the middle of the lake, then to a mosque and had lunch in town. We even got to spend 20 minutes at the internet cafe and I got to buy some basic amenities (laundry detergent bar and lighter) learning then how much Gulzar had been syphoning off me; 100rupees for a roll of toilet paper, 300 rps for a bottle of beer, 80 rupees for 2 bottles of water -- the total of which should have been just around 180 rupees. (100 rupees = US$2.20) While this is all chump change, it ergs me that Gulzara has been pocketing all this under the guise of being a friend. I've not soon enough learned how these folks are so quick to make money off unsuspecting tourists, no matter who, no matter the amount.

Anyhow, I finally got to have dinner with the gals tonight in the formal dining room. I'm not sure why I've had to have my meals on the kitchen floor until now, but am taking it stride and not letting these small things bother me. It's all been such a crazy opportunity to learn, not only about this culture, but about myself and how I'm reacting to each situation. Every moment seems to leave me pondering how I can be with each in the most yogic manner I know how. Speaking of which, I taught my first yoga session in India tonight, an hour after dinner! All three gals were interested in it and so I took them through surya namaskar and a few other poses ending with a brief seated meditation. It was lovely for me!

Ah, I think the most profound moment today was when Stephanie asked what my religion is or what I believe in to which I replied my take on God and the universe, that all Gods are one. She immediately responded how wonderful it would be if more people shared my religious view that there would probably be less war. I am happy to give thanks in a church, temple, yoga studio or just in my heart. And I am so very glad to have moved past my paranoia of being in India!

FACING FEAR & PARANOIA in India
I seriously don't think I've ever been more afraid for my life than my first few days in India. While researching online for vaccinations for travelers, I'd constantly come across warnings that highly adviced against coming to the state of Jammu & Kashmir because of the civil war outbreaks. Lonely Planet guide suggested checking on the political situation first. I had not had any interest either since there was no yoga studios to be found here. The hotel managers in New Delhi scared me shitless to the beguiling tactics of the Kashmiris, telling me I should threaten the travel agent who'd signed me up for this trip by reporting them to the tourist police if they would not return my money for canceling out. All the warnings of friends and family kept booming out in my mind...It's not a good idea to go to India without a set travel plan; it's one thing to get cheated off my money but there are worse things that could happen; friends of a friend who'd gone trekking around the Pakistan border (where J&K is) were never to be found again. Up till yesterday, thoughts of the house boat owner, Mr. Boktoo, trying to kidnap me or steal all my valuables (not that I had much aside from this iPad and my passport) were still popping up in my head. Mr. Boktoo's secretive disposition didn't help my suspicions. When last night, after another failed attempt to sell me on an excursion, he pulled me aside, actually, to his father-in-law's house where a huge wedding banquet was taking place, to ask me a favor as to not let on the new traveler about my plans so that he could make some money off her, I couldn't have been more relieved. Yes, not for the sake of Yifat, the Israeli gal, who was scared shitless as it was, but for the fact that I finally understood their bizarre unexplainable behaviour! Oh, you mean you've not just been trying to trap me into staying in this god forsaken land forever and paying an arm and a leg, literally, for it? Grrrreat!!!!

Now, the circumstance has left me pondering how and what I had to do, not only for myself, but for Yifat. While I felt sad for these folks who somehow had such a need to take advantage of new tourists to their ancient lands, my sympathy in the end landed with Yifat, the innocent one who got bamboozled 5 times what I had. Nevertheless, I still feel sorry for this community. On the front, they seemed like such good, kind people. And in some instance, they have extended their version of warmth & hospitality. Had I been presented with the plight of this area in a more positive manner (it is quite a beautiful place actually) I may have been happily signing up to visit and more freely spending some money on excursions or purchasing souvenirs. I'd been planning to handsomely tip Gurzal upon my departure anyways. Ah, maybe I will still leave something. But I've been so trapped and turned off with their underhanded ways of going about business, I think I'll be happy to leave. Srinaga, however, has been one big yoga learning opportunity.

Day 2 in Kashmir

September 24th, 2011

I survived my first full day in Srinaga! Got up around 9:30, practiced an hour of yoga with a little bit of mediation and got Gulzar to fetch me a bucket of hot water for a bath. It was awesome! I had to get a bit creative with the pail of water as it was filled almost to the brim. So I used 2 small containers to inter weave filling half cups of cold water with the hot water to splash myself with, one at a time! Tomorrow, I'll have to remember to ask Gulzar to just fill 3 quarters of the bucket! It's a pretty bare bones way of life. These are times I am thankful I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth.

Mr. Baktook continues his insistence that I go on a trek or take the jeep to Leh, part of all the sales package that the french couple was subjected to I suppose. I tell him that I want to meet a friend (Ruben from Spain) at Cafe Robusta, and he eventually takes me there, with Gulzar as my escort, whom I was happy to have tag along. Even though I was disappointed Ruben was nowhere to be seen, I had a very nice walk around town towards the Shrine, or Masjid...I am not sure exactly which. Today, I'm a bit more comfortable looking like a tourist, maybe because Gulzar is with me. I don't think I've seen any asians around here, much less a lone female traveler. And it's quite obvious none of these Srinagans have before either! Or perhaps not in a long time.

Gulzar doesn't ask for a tip but asks if I want to share a beer tonight, which of course I'm buying. I gave him the money for it as he's been absolutely great to have around. I'm not sure I'd have ventured out by myself if not for him! I'm still contemplating how my exit out of Srinaga will be. Not counting tonight, I'll have 5 more nights here. I'm not sure I can last that long, largely due to the poor quality of food. Even though my fear of being kidnapped or being stripped clean of all my belongings are dissipating, I mostly just want to hang around the room so I can do my yoga, read and write. The fact that I don't have any cell phone reception in this region of India that tourists are highly adviced against visiting is what's freaking me out quite a bit. Thankfully, Mr. Bahtook took me to a travel agent friend who let me use his computer for about 15-20 minutes while both men just waited around for me to finish.

Late afternoon, Mr. Bahtook proceeds to drive me over to another "friend's" house to discuss an expedition for my remaining time in Kashmir. He drives through the same part of town Gulzar and I had been walking around, and then through some residential area with high walls encircling properties, which he touts as the rich area. My limited experience being in a muslim state brings forth imagery of Afghanistan I've seen on TV, especially when several bearded men walk out from one of the doors of these walls with traditional white muslim outfits and caps. But I retain my cool. Between my sad state of stereotyping and the less mad than Delhi traffic, my heart is still beating a pitter-patter that will probably register unhealthy on an electrocardiograph. I've spotted a handful of caucasian tourist who've become my points of confidence building. I figured between them and me, they're likely to get kidnapped first!

Dinner is rice and a vegetable curry that I eat heartily. This time, I escape to my room as quickly and quietly as I can, while no one is around me! I'm not sure why I feel obligated to to do any particular thing around the house. Perhaps because everything is so foreign to me. So I'm being watchful about what I say or do, lest they start yelling at me in the high intensity tone they seem to engage in conversation often. Gulzar has brought me an extra blanket and we sat chatting about life and relationships over the one bottle of beer. I know I will sleep well tonight!

Delhi madness

September 22, 2011 All I could recall from my brief readings in the last weeks of the 2.5 inch thick Lonely Planet guide to India was how one is going to get bamboozled, and to not head up to Jammu & Kashmir region. What did I do my first night in India? Sign up for a 1 week stay on a boat house in Kashmir! I've attempted twice now to obtain a refund for signing away US$440, but have somehow lost that piss 'n vinegar in me to argue for it. After all, it is not that high a price I suppose. Yes, way more than what it should actually cost I'm sure. But we're not talking thousands of dollars here. (And that's exactly what the tour guide operators feast on!) I don't think I've ever been this paranoid when in a strange land before. But I realize much of the fear comes from feedback from many friends and relatives about visiting India, and even Russell Peters, the indian comedian. It got to the point where I was wondering if I should even gargle with the tap water after brushing my teeth lest I contract malaria.

The traffic in New Delhi beats any adrenaline rush I've ever felt from roller coaster rides. Or rather minuscule heart attacks. Cows, bullock carts, wheelchair bound folks, tuk tuks, scooters, rickshaws all trying to cross a major intersection while cars honk on every half a minute for all the others to get out of the way! And then, there are the desolate beggars knocking on your car window asking for food while they tote their babies through traffic. Twice I've wondered if my cab driver was going to ensue in road rage. And funny enough, as I write this on my second night in New Delhi, I'm strangely getting used to the humdrum of life outside the hotel. I just have to remember not to sit in the front seat of the cabs.

Tomorrow morning, I am heading to Srinaga, to the house boat on a lake up north. I finally resigned to the idea of spending more than I'd intended (and being had) for the sake of not being kidnapped and held for ransome after a fellow traveller, Reuben, and I discussed thoroughly our stake. Or fate. Funny how when one is about to potentially befall danger, company is equally welcomed. I must say I'd never been so happy to see a hippie looking caucasian. The Japanese tourists I tried to corner earlier could barely understand English!

I realize I just have to learn to stop smiling less, which has become a semi-permanent etch on my face. Just in India. Or maybe just in New Delhi. The sim card seller called three times before I finally realized he was asking me out. The tour agency guys keep telling me I have a nice smile...never mind a gullible face! Wish me much luck and good karma on the lake! ~m.`

Oh, Bali

Oh, Bali



 My week in Bali just did not quite start off as I'd hoped, what with a fever that rendered me sleepless the first night and weakened me for a good two days.  However, Rumah Bali, where we stayed in Tanjung Benoa was the perfect place to spend any such time!  It was simply beautiful, in typical Balinese architecture and surroundings, with a great staff to boot.  Unfortunately, because of the state I was in, I didn't take a single picture!

As I got well, it was time to head over to Ubud, where these photos are from.   I tried hunting down one of my favorite San Francisco yoga teachers, Les Levanthal, who happened to be leading a retreat at Michael Franti's new villa not too far off from town.  Heading out on a scooter, with Pikachou riding pillion, we ended up in circles trying to locate the villa.  All's not lost!  We did get some good sight seeing, shopping and eating done around Monkey Forest Road of course.

 This photo at the bottom, alas, wasn't where we stayed...but is the potential premise of my very own hopeful yoga retreat, perhaps next August!