So here we are again, another week and I'm writing another post (though i probably should have written this one a week ago).
I spent some time going through Tamil Nadu, then up to Rishikesh and I am no at the Swami Rama Ashram just outside of Rishikesh town. It's a beautiful place where the Ganga flows by serenely and the chanting from nearby temples floats down from the hills and across the river. It's a new section to my journey so you might notice a change in my future posts, who knows.
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Every place in India that I go I am struck by the differences to the last. 'INDIA' seems like a unity from the outside but we forget that it is about the size of Europe and of course each region has it's own flavour and even different flavours within it.
Being from the UK I am subtly aware of the different accents we have and the reputations of the different places. Being a londoner I of course don't know where these places are and cant tell the difference between the voice of someone from leeds or liverpool, but hey I'm from the capital I dont need to know these things. Right?
I suppose that every region in India has similar nuances that I'm just not picking up but there are some things which I've noticed.
People in Kerala smile. If they make eye contact with you a grin comes onto their face and more often than not they will try to talk to you, especially if you're on a bus. Maybe it's the fact that they are the most affluent region or that they are more used to tourists or maybe even that they have the highest literacy rate in India. But the fact remains that you feel welcome there.
In Tamil Nadu people are far harder. The towns are noisier. People will try to scratch money from you, raise prices and generally rip you off. When you make eye contact with someone on the street they glare at you, you do not feel welcome.
Apart from maybe in Pondicherry. Here the french made a Galic outpost, with wide tree shaded streets. Even though the french are not there their influence most certainly is. Decent croissant and bread can be bought in bakeries and there is a general European vibe about the city. It's very much still india with the honking or bikes and tuk-tuks but there is a different feel in the air.
Rishikesh is something else entirely. A massive spot for both Indian and Western tourists it is a hub of spirituality and business. There is a feel of calm pervading the atmosphere, perhaps provided by the Ganga flowing gently by or slowly seeping into the general consciousness because so many people here are meditating and practicing stillness and calm in the ashrams. Regardless it is an amazing place. The hawkers and shop owners dont bother you. Cows walk leisurely through the streets. And most of the people I've met walk around with an open heart, happy to talk to new people and hug them - even without having had a single drink.
Every place I visit creates a new insight within me. Each new culture reflects on my own.
This is what traveling is about, experiencing other modes of being that throw your own into a new light.
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While in Tamil Nadu I noticed some things about men and women in India that made me realise how very different the roots of this society are to my own.
On the train I started talking to a man who was with his family, I asked him where he was from 'Rajastan' he said, explaining that they were on their way to see family. I turned to the other adult in the carriage asking her where she was from. He replied 'My wife is from Rajastan also'. I could see that she understood me but there was a look of slight shock when I spoke to her. The husband speaks for the wife, you dont talk or even look at another mans wife. Shocking and not true in all of India but true for this family.
It's been explained to me that for a man in Indian society a wife is for family but men are for the connection of souls. It's similar to Ancient Greece in a way, Woman are for Children, Men are for Pleasure. Homosexuality is very taboo here but men will walk arm in arm, hand in hand along the street whereas they wont talk to and perhaps even wont look directly at a woman. Strange how at home physical contact between opposite sexs is socially acceptable but if two men touch in any form of affectionate way that is hitting each other then it's seen as award - and god forbid that anyone see it and think you were one of those homosexuals that I hear about in the news corrupting our children. Women in our society I guess have less of an issue, can walk down the street arm in arm, but you wont see that in India. Strange rules both here and at home. Why can't we all just be ok with touching each other as long as both people are happy? Why does English society have such a problem with physical contact in the first place? From where comes this inability to hug?
In Delhi and the other big cities (e.g. Mumbai and Chennai) people are more western. You see girls wearing trousers and even once I saw hot pants - a scandal to my eyes I can tell you (I kid you not). Men wear t-shirts where in the country they only ever wear shirts. The cities try to emulate western society, even to the point of there being a HUGE industry in skin whitening creams.
I wonder if this westernisation will trickle into the rest of the country? I wonder whether over the next few hundred years different societies will trend towards each other. It's possible though perhaps not. And if it did what would it look like? With the decline of the west and the growth of India and China perhaps in a hundred years we'll be saying things in hindi and people will be getting surgery on their eyes to look asian.
Then again probably not. Whatever the rich can afford will be the fashion. If its rich to stay out of the sun and not work in the fields people will want to be white. If its rich to be able to afford to not work and instead go on expensive holidays to hot countries then being brown will be what people want.
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So the bell rings and that means its lunch time at the ashram. Time for me to go and eat. I dont know when I'll write next but I will.
Ciao
Thursday, 29 March 2012
Friday, 16 March 2012
Beaches, Tribalism and Being Alone
For the past week and a half I have been on a beach. That is correct.
The sun rises up above the cliff and spills its glorious rays onto the sea, the surf flashing in the light. Varkala, a backpackers beach haven. It has meant that for some unknown reason I have found it hard to find the time to write - although i've been doing nothing. This is the first part of my journey that has felt like a real holiday, wake up, eat, read, chat, swim, eat, sleep, is the routine of the day - and my oh my is it relaxing.
Last time I wrote I was rushed out of the cafe because 10:30 is curfew for businesses here - so now I have given myself ample time to write.
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Time goes strangely here. With nothing to do everything takes a little bit longer. With no structure the days seems to formalize and create itself. You get blown about, this way and that, meeting people and doing things you never thought you would.
Being a lone traveler you are free to do anything you want, be anyone who you want. You are a blank canvas each time you meet someone new. It is liberating, for no one has a connection to your life at home. You could tell someone your deepest secrets and they might assume that it is just a normal conversation for who you are. You can be incredibly honest about yourself, perhaps even more so than when you are just by yourself; several times I've found myself saying things that even I hadn't fully realised for myself.
It is liberating but it is lonely, most people who you meet you will only have a passing relationship with, a surface conversation, even if it reaches into your depths. Some people you immediately connect with but the vast majority of the time you will not be heading in the same direction as them. Many people I've met are coming to the end of their trip, which is a shame because they are so lovely.
Travelers are of all different nationalities, creeds, colours, attitudes but because you are traveling there is something that connects you. There is an awareness that you are having a similar experience. It enables you to meet people complete out of your circle of life at home and gives you a common reference to talk to those people through. From the gentleman from london who's spent the last 2 years in a hugging ashram, to a taxi driver who's sold his house to explore the world. From the Quebecians who are passionately not canadian, to softly spoken German hippy girls. From the Latvian couple missing their children, to the football obsessed South African who never has a top on. All these people are just glimpses of the world and remind you how small your section of it is, how cut of from even the rest of your society you are purely by what you do, where you live, how you were brought up. The world is massive and your circle is but a drop in the ocean. Each new person, new culture, new experience expands your horizons, making you realize the reality of your place in the world.
A couple of days ago I went to 2 different festivals in India. Not huge and well known like Holi (where people throw coloured dust all over eachother) but small and intimate local temple festivals. This highlights for my how integrated religion is into the life of India. You see it everywhere, from the 'Alla's Gift' painted on the side of rickshaws to the offerings which shops leave outside their doors every morning, but during a festival everything is thrown into a new light.
There is something present in these that the west has lost along our development, a raw tribal energy that the hymns and songs of England cannot attempt to capture.
The sound of a multitude of drums catches your attention as you walk to the temple along the busy road crowded with people and the occasional hoot of an auto-rickshaw as it attempts to squeeze through the throng. The whole village and surrounding villages converges for this religious, cultural, tribal, spiritual moment. Everyone is dressed in their indian best, the young girls in colours with flowers in their hair put there by mum, the teenage boys in jeans and t-shirts because they are oh so cool, the old toothless men wearing long sleeved shirts and lungies (a male skirt that is traditional keralan wear).
Everything is a swirling mix touch with chaotic energy as you draw closer. A loud blaring voice thrums over the crown on a speaker phone but just adds to the background noise of people talking, several different drumming groups playing different tunes, elephants trumpeting, people singing, people selling. On the road and in the temple grounds people sell pop-corn, peanuts, drinks, traditional food, toys, balloons, sandals and many more items. That atmosphere is partly that of a fairground, partly that of a carnival and partly that of a religious occasion. Women approach the shrines with poise and reverence. Men work themselves into a religious fervor, dancing to the drums.
The flowing sea of people, the rhythmic noise and the beauty of the temple connects to something deep inside you. As you draw towards the drumming the beat picks up, almost reaching the speed of something that you would hear in a club. Several westerns around the circle bopping up and down wanting to dance but the rest of the men are just standing, listening, taking in the rhythm. Several of the more boystorous young ones get swept up and dance like mad, still high from the thrill of carrying a 4 story high bamboo tower around the temple at breakneck speed while it teeter and tottered - threatening to crush most of the crowd.
Westerners stand around taking photoes of the 36 Elephants who are about to parade around the temple while Indians walk by not glancing twice unless one of their friends are sat atop the mighty creatures in traditional dress. These tamed, wild creatures, trained at birth to obey the commands of their human masters don't react to the noise and the crowds, they just stand still, majestic until you see the chains around their legs and the somewhat vacant look in their eyes. I would not like to be a trained Elephant.
There is a feeling that everyone who lives here is at the temple. A feeling of togetherness, of community. Mothers talk to each other over the heads of the children that they are not doubt planning weddings for. Men stand around in groups, perhaps talking about business or cricket. The Tribal roots of my Judaism are thrown into a bright light. A shame that we lost the drums at some point along the way.
The sun rises up above the cliff and spills its glorious rays onto the sea, the surf flashing in the light. Varkala, a backpackers beach haven. It has meant that for some unknown reason I have found it hard to find the time to write - although i've been doing nothing. This is the first part of my journey that has felt like a real holiday, wake up, eat, read, chat, swim, eat, sleep, is the routine of the day - and my oh my is it relaxing.
Last time I wrote I was rushed out of the cafe because 10:30 is curfew for businesses here - so now I have given myself ample time to write.
------------------------------------------------------
Time goes strangely here. With nothing to do everything takes a little bit longer. With no structure the days seems to formalize and create itself. You get blown about, this way and that, meeting people and doing things you never thought you would.
Being a lone traveler you are free to do anything you want, be anyone who you want. You are a blank canvas each time you meet someone new. It is liberating, for no one has a connection to your life at home. You could tell someone your deepest secrets and they might assume that it is just a normal conversation for who you are. You can be incredibly honest about yourself, perhaps even more so than when you are just by yourself; several times I've found myself saying things that even I hadn't fully realised for myself.
It is liberating but it is lonely, most people who you meet you will only have a passing relationship with, a surface conversation, even if it reaches into your depths. Some people you immediately connect with but the vast majority of the time you will not be heading in the same direction as them. Many people I've met are coming to the end of their trip, which is a shame because they are so lovely.
Travelers are of all different nationalities, creeds, colours, attitudes but because you are traveling there is something that connects you. There is an awareness that you are having a similar experience. It enables you to meet people complete out of your circle of life at home and gives you a common reference to talk to those people through. From the gentleman from london who's spent the last 2 years in a hugging ashram, to a taxi driver who's sold his house to explore the world. From the Quebecians who are passionately not canadian, to softly spoken German hippy girls. From the Latvian couple missing their children, to the football obsessed South African who never has a top on. All these people are just glimpses of the world and remind you how small your section of it is, how cut of from even the rest of your society you are purely by what you do, where you live, how you were brought up. The world is massive and your circle is but a drop in the ocean. Each new person, new culture, new experience expands your horizons, making you realize the reality of your place in the world.
A couple of days ago I went to 2 different festivals in India. Not huge and well known like Holi (where people throw coloured dust all over eachother) but small and intimate local temple festivals. This highlights for my how integrated religion is into the life of India. You see it everywhere, from the 'Alla's Gift' painted on the side of rickshaws to the offerings which shops leave outside their doors every morning, but during a festival everything is thrown into a new light.
There is something present in these that the west has lost along our development, a raw tribal energy that the hymns and songs of England cannot attempt to capture.
The sound of a multitude of drums catches your attention as you walk to the temple along the busy road crowded with people and the occasional hoot of an auto-rickshaw as it attempts to squeeze through the throng. The whole village and surrounding villages converges for this religious, cultural, tribal, spiritual moment. Everyone is dressed in their indian best, the young girls in colours with flowers in their hair put there by mum, the teenage boys in jeans and t-shirts because they are oh so cool, the old toothless men wearing long sleeved shirts and lungies (a male skirt that is traditional keralan wear).
Everything is a swirling mix touch with chaotic energy as you draw closer. A loud blaring voice thrums over the crown on a speaker phone but just adds to the background noise of people talking, several different drumming groups playing different tunes, elephants trumpeting, people singing, people selling. On the road and in the temple grounds people sell pop-corn, peanuts, drinks, traditional food, toys, balloons, sandals and many more items. That atmosphere is partly that of a fairground, partly that of a carnival and partly that of a religious occasion. Women approach the shrines with poise and reverence. Men work themselves into a religious fervor, dancing to the drums.
The flowing sea of people, the rhythmic noise and the beauty of the temple connects to something deep inside you. As you draw towards the drumming the beat picks up, almost reaching the speed of something that you would hear in a club. Several westerns around the circle bopping up and down wanting to dance but the rest of the men are just standing, listening, taking in the rhythm. Several of the more boystorous young ones get swept up and dance like mad, still high from the thrill of carrying a 4 story high bamboo tower around the temple at breakneck speed while it teeter and tottered - threatening to crush most of the crowd.
Westerners stand around taking photoes of the 36 Elephants who are about to parade around the temple while Indians walk by not glancing twice unless one of their friends are sat atop the mighty creatures in traditional dress. These tamed, wild creatures, trained at birth to obey the commands of their human masters don't react to the noise and the crowds, they just stand still, majestic until you see the chains around their legs and the somewhat vacant look in their eyes. I would not like to be a trained Elephant.
There is a feeling that everyone who lives here is at the temple. A feeling of togetherness, of community. Mothers talk to each other over the heads of the children that they are not doubt planning weddings for. Men stand around in groups, perhaps talking about business or cricket. The Tribal roots of my Judaism are thrown into a bright light. A shame that we lost the drums at some point along the way.
Monday, 5 March 2012
First impressions, revolution and ipad.
I walk off the plane and warm hits me like a wall. Not the familiar are at Ben Gurion but something else entirely. That the first thing, the heat that wraps around me like a blanket, all encompassing.
I find arrival to a new land in always an amazing experience, you walk into a world that is unfamiliar to you and immediately start comparing it to the other places you've been. Your mind tries to see something familiar in all the unfamiliarity, maybe a reaction to a sudden transport that doesn't let you see the changing landscape and cultures on your journey. Flight is teleportation of a sort.
India is calmer than I expected, apart from the roads, though most people I talk to tell me this is just what kerela is like. Kerela is the most educated and economically well of state, with a democratically elected Communist government the state has thrived and tourism is now bringing in even more money.
India makes me think of what England would have been like during the industrial revolution (but set in the 21st century) - there is a mixture of an older culture being thrust forward by industry and new technology. There are buildings being build left right and centre in Enarkulam, the city next to fort kochi, where I am staying. Giant shopping malls sit next to old contreet buildings. Where the rubbish of the industrial age rusted or broke to dust the plastic left my this post industrial revolution litters the street and rivers. One person sells coconuts and bannasa out of a corrigated iron shack while the shack nextdoor sells mobile phone credit. A man sits on the floor outside a building, in the street, banging at an old engine piece with a hammer, recycling. 10 Small girls in formal english school uniforms pile into an autorickshaw to go to school. I see some elephants being washed and an india boy takes photoes with an ipad.
Some people have lots, others not so much but everyone here seems relatively happy and laid back. People seem contented with their lot.
All the men wear shirts, even those who wear the traditional lungi - a skirt like sarong. This tradition is something left over by the english, for why someone would wear an ungodly shirt in a climate like this I do not know.
The roads are like rivers, lines and lights being barely even an indication of how things should be. The cars, trucks, buses, motor bikes, richshaws, auto rickshaws and more flow in and out of each other. Occasionally this flow and ebb is disturbed by a person crossing the road or a cow sitting in the middle of it like a rock in the centre of the stream.
India is a mixture of modern and old. Colonial and native. Energetic and peaceful.
It is that and a lot more.
I find arrival to a new land in always an amazing experience, you walk into a world that is unfamiliar to you and immediately start comparing it to the other places you've been. Your mind tries to see something familiar in all the unfamiliarity, maybe a reaction to a sudden transport that doesn't let you see the changing landscape and cultures on your journey. Flight is teleportation of a sort.
India is calmer than I expected, apart from the roads, though most people I talk to tell me this is just what kerela is like. Kerela is the most educated and economically well of state, with a democratically elected Communist government the state has thrived and tourism is now bringing in even more money.
India makes me think of what England would have been like during the industrial revolution (but set in the 21st century) - there is a mixture of an older culture being thrust forward by industry and new technology. There are buildings being build left right and centre in Enarkulam, the city next to fort kochi, where I am staying. Giant shopping malls sit next to old contreet buildings. Where the rubbish of the industrial age rusted or broke to dust the plastic left my this post industrial revolution litters the street and rivers. One person sells coconuts and bannasa out of a corrigated iron shack while the shack nextdoor sells mobile phone credit. A man sits on the floor outside a building, in the street, banging at an old engine piece with a hammer, recycling. 10 Small girls in formal english school uniforms pile into an autorickshaw to go to school. I see some elephants being washed and an india boy takes photoes with an ipad.
Some people have lots, others not so much but everyone here seems relatively happy and laid back. People seem contented with their lot.
All the men wear shirts, even those who wear the traditional lungi - a skirt like sarong. This tradition is something left over by the english, for why someone would wear an ungodly shirt in a climate like this I do not know.
The roads are like rivers, lines and lights being barely even an indication of how things should be. The cars, trucks, buses, motor bikes, richshaws, auto rickshaws and more flow in and out of each other. Occasionally this flow and ebb is disturbed by a person crossing the road or a cow sitting in the middle of it like a rock in the centre of the stream.
India is a mixture of modern and old. Colonial and native. Energetic and peaceful.
It is that and a lot more.
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