Trips Overdue

I guess I'll just pick up from today, because otherwise I won't be able to remember all the things I've been doing, all the places we've been. I'll have to write about Rishikesh when I get home, because I'm so immersed in this whole mountain town thing that I can't wrap my head around anything else.

Shimla -

We (my friend Hamish and I - he was my dive instructor on the boat in Burma - yet another story- he came to visit India, I had time to do a little travelling with him.) left Monday morning for the train station to hit Shimla, a really lovely little mountain town about 2200 metres up into the Shivalak range of the Himalayas. It was a really neat little train ride, because you have to do about 6 hours on the main Shatabdi Express, then hop on this completely collonial toy train that runs on these little tracks and goes through 103 bridges on its way to Shimla. Now, our main train engine on the express went out, and we had to wait to be kinda pushed into the town to catch the toy train. (Another reason I'm afraid this country has nuclear capabilities...their trains don't work.) We did manage to get there in plenty of time to be absolutely jam-crammed onto this little train. Now, I've visited some pretty awful bathrooms here in India.. but none so terrible, so purtrid, acrid, and horrible as the train bathroom. Which is saying a lot when all it is is a whole in the train floor. Apparently the idea of bracing yourself to pee is more foreign here than sour cream, because about an hour into the ride it was pretty much possible to skate in the sludge from one end of the train to the other with what might be on your feet. Yum. The scenery was enough to completely take your mind away from it. It was this stunning mix of terraced farming, bright jewels of red flowering trees, snow capped mountains, cactus, monkeys.. It was a mix of just about every landscape I've ever seen, sprinkled onto the side of a mountain. This train wasn't completely reliable either, and we periodically stopped between the 103 bridges to give the engine some zen time.

Shimla was completely worth it. It was originally where the British went when Delhi got too hot in the summer, and I can see why. It's pretty chilly up there, at night you definately needed layers. (5 layers for those of us used to the heat). In the day, it's absolutely stunning, very warm, very green. Everything is built into the mountain side, so it has this lovely appearance of brightly colored paint running down the hills, so bright and sweet are all the houses and shops. Its supposed to be a fairly touristy place, but we really didn't see more than a couple white people. The good thing about the places that are tourist attractions is that they don't really give a damn, they know they'll be more, so they don't bother. So we pretty much were left alone to explore the town.

I have to say, the best tea I've ever had in my life was in Shimla. They have these little dhabas (food shops) all around Indian cities.. But the one that we found was beyond amazing. We've officially dubbed them BLD's, because all they say on the outside is "Breakfast - Lunch - Dinner". In Shimla, just down from Christ Church, is this tiny hole in the wall, with the best Indian food and best tea I've ever had. Bar none. I think the most we paid for a meal was 100 rupees, and that was with about 4 cups of tea, 3 main dishes, and about 10 chapatis. About 3 dollars, maybe a little less. We went there for breakfast first, then returned for dinner that night. (Which the grumpy looking little chef seemed quite pleased with.) Every meal left us stuffed, and it was so good it was terrifically impossible to not eat everything, though I'm pretty sure my stomach was begging not to be punished any more. But the smell of this little shop -the onions, the curry, the dahl, the beedies, the fresh mountain air - combined with the fact there were only seats for about 10 people, that everything was made in front of you, that the arch of an eyebrow was all you needed to get more chapatis.. It was fantastic.

Our first full day in Shimla, both Hamish and I slept in, both being exhausted from the trip and having such amazingly comfortable 3$ room beds. (Seriously, it was so comfortable.) I woke up with a bit of a start, I thought maybe somebody was on the balcony, as I could see something moving. Lucky for me and my modesty, it was just a bunch of monkeys unscrewing all my porch lights and smashing them. Just up the hill from Shimla, about a 2 or 3km walk, is the Jakkhu temple, devoted to Hanuman, the monkey god. Which, as you can well imagine, brings many monkeys into the surrounding area. They kind of wander around like dogs do in Delhi, with the exception that the Delhi dogs don't pick your pockets. The temple was lovely, bright and beautiful and sparkly, as expected. We sat and had tea and looked out at the mountains, trying to make out any snowy peaks. We met another little family from Paris, another from Agra, took pictures and relaxed.. It was wonderful.

The next morning we left on the early bus to Mandi, a relatively short (4 hr) bus ride, down from about 2200 metres to only 800metres. Needless to say.. Mandi was a little bit warmer. Now, any of you who know me.. know that it generally takes a LOT to make me throw up, but when I do start.. beware. This story should demonstrate that point adequetly enough.

Indian buses, never mind Indian buses careening around mountain curves.. are fairly erratically driven. It's like one big long game of chicken, played alternately with cars, cows, mountain sides and tractors. So without extreme "intestinal fortitude" as Bryan says, you're almost certain to join the majority of passengers hanging listlessly out the window retching and vomitting. (Thus the strange colour that Indian buses take on after a few months of service.) Hamish and I were doing quite fine, more tired that naseaous, when I felt a big yawn rolling over me; at the same time the lady in front of me felt a corresponding wave of naseau. The universe and science conspiring in this cruel game, we turned a hard corner and above mentioned vomit deposited itself in above mentioned yawning mouth. My.. yawning.. mouth.

After having recovered (not without a lot of spitting, swearing, gagging and water gargling) we continued on out way with our Indy 500 wannabe driver.


Up next - He's going to stop... right?

Its All Uphill in the Mountains

At least I have a good excuse for being totally un-diligent in updating this.. I've been in the Himalayas white water rafting with Bryan for three days, then I got home Monday at midnight and hit the road with a friend at 5 the next morning togo to Shimla, another mountain town up at about 2200 metres. We're doing a week of travelling before I have to head back to start my smashing new temporary job in Political Affairs at the embassy. Its absolutely, unabashadly beautiful up here.. And, all my lovely cold weather friends- it was minus 2 here this morning when I woke up to monkeys pulling the porch lights off in my hotel room.. Its the coldest I've been sinceI left Canada, and I have to say, that with the exception of some terribly awfully stylish leg warmers, my little butt has been a little chilly. I promise a full update when I get home, for now, I'm actually going to knit a scarf on the bus ride to the next town. Missing you all, and always wishing that you could see what I get to see. Take care!

Three Beautiful Things

I'm not sure what makes some particular moments in life so beautiful.. Maybe it's the joy and surprise at witnessing them, maybe it's just a combination of simple factors like mindset and sunlight and perhaps at any other time we would have missed them.. But I'll always remember these three things.

1. I was walking down Nyaya Marg, my street, on my way to the American Embassy for lunch. It was pretty blazing hot, but I had my iPod tuned to Aimee Mann and a bottle of water in my purse so I was alright. Coming towards me, barefoot, was this young guy, maybe 15, 16 years old at the most. He looked like he was talking into his hand, which looked, at 15 feet away, like it was filled with garbage. As I got closer, I could see he was cupping a little bird in his hand, talking to it and petting it. As I walked by, it seemed like everything slowed.. The hot wind starting blowing a little softer, the music was more poignant.. It was a fantastic slow motion event in my life. This boy looked at me, and I'm sure he didn't even register me, so wrapped up he was in talking to this little dusty bird. I'm not sure what it was - but it I do know it was fantastic and beautiful and memorable.

2. I know I've mentioned this before in my favorite things... But I think I need to elaborate, if only because it was 10 minutes in my life that I will cherish. A few Fridays ago, Bryan and I were making cheesecakes to take to his staff picnic, which we delinquently didn't start baking until about 9 o'clock in the evening. By the time we got around to the second one, we realised that we didn't have enough (ok.. we didn't have any) eggs. So we took the puppies, on this beautiful, warm clear night, and walked to the market at the end of the street. Sometimes, just having somebodies hand in yours is enough to make any event perfect unto itself. But to be walking in and out of little spheres of streetlights, comfortable in the city sounds and the beautiful smell of Delhi at night.. it was wonderful. The eggs we bought were still warm from the day, and to have them slipped into a homemade (homemade!!) brown paper bag by a gentleman how didn't know what to watch, us or the cricket game murmering on his little tv.. The brightness of the shop will always stand out. The darker the evening gets, the more the little markets stand out with their bare lights hanging from wires, the glow of little tv sets and the orange fireflies of cigarrette ends - markets end up looking otherworldly, sitting illuminated among all the darkened houses. To be there, warm on the outside, on the inside, to be beside somebody you care about, experiencing such a sliver of lovelyness.. it was beautiful.

3. It was hot yesterday. I was grumpy, sweaty, and in an incredible hurry. Rajesh was driving me to one of the hotels to pick up chocolates, and it was all I could do not to be vocally grumpy. We were driving down one of the wider streets when we slowed down behind a bunch of cars. There was a young guy on a bicycle in front of all the traffic, conducting. He had a walkman on, and both hands outstretched to the sides, leading the traffic in a completely lovely symphony of horns. But he was taking his time, peddling deliberately and carefully, looking alternately like a parade leader and a mad man, furiously and beautifully directing bicycles and rickshaws and cabs and people. We rolled by, and I could only smile for the rest of the day.

I Love Apple Pie.. And Table Tennis Too..

First, a word of warning. If ever you are in the situation where you are inviting a couple of non-english speakers to dinner, I would say, pepper the party with people who DO speak engligh, and a lot of it. That is my little piece of humble advice.

Last evening Bryan and I hosted the Chinese defence attache and his wife for dinner at Bryan's residence. Now, I have to say I was mislead a little in believeing that his wife spoke a bit of english. She spoke none. Well. I suppose "Hello" and "Yes" and "Thank-you", but I can say that in about 10 languages, so it doesn't count. And not like it didn't look like she was trying, but I bet she had an easier go at dinner than Bryan and I who played "cross cultural non-sequiter" (as Bryan put it) with her husband.

It went a little something like this.

Us - "These are my favorite appetizers"

Him - "Yes, I play tennis, I learned from a book"

Us - "Oh. It's good exersise yes?"

Him - "Because Chinese staff live on compound, we get together a lot to cook and drink".

Needless to say, it kept us on our toes. But when you go from speaking about marathons to the system of ranking chinese officials in one giant leap.. You can't decide if you need another glass of wine or if you've already had too many.

My personal source of entertainment (and I'm pretty sure Bryan would second me here) was actually the food. You are all aware of Amit, the strange cook that Bryan employs. Well, he gets really excited when he gets to entertain, and now that Bryan has let him know that four meat dishes and some broccoli does not a dinner make; he's had to find some other ways to express his culinary creativity. Namely by garnishing the food, or creating one off wonders like the tuna casserole that I've heard about.

Last night, it was the mashed potatoes. It was all I could do to kick Bryan under the table and hide my smile behind my napkin when Amit unveils the crockery dish of mashed potatoes with a giant tomato rose in the middle, and toast stuck precariously in all sides of the dish. Toast. Would you maybe like some starch with your starch? Although, when he did bring out dessert, (two types of apple pie.. one that had this strange nuclear green tint about it, individually plated for us with a slice of ice-cream.. ) I did have to chuckle. What did he think? "Well, if they don't eat the failed green slice that looks like it came overnight from Chernobyl, then I'm sure they'll enjoy the one baked in a cupcake tin that doesn't resemble anything close to apple pie. Yes. "

Now, as classy as I am, (no really boys, sit down, stop laughing) near the end of the night I was beside myself with thinking of a nice warm bed to crawl into and forget all about Chinese-American-Canadian relations and funny apple pie. But not before I got something stuck in my tooth and decided to excavate with my tongue, forgetting my mouth was full of tea. At that point in the night, my motor skills and mouth/brain coordination was misfiring at a rapid rate. Luckily, when I spurted tea all over myself with a noise vaguely resembling a wet fart, it was in the middle of a particularily humerous story about how a Chinese army commander decided to surrender Beijng. Good lord. Next time I'll just hold back until they're talking about the dead Pope.

But, we did it. We made it through the evening, tea stained and full of apple pie(s). I'm not entirely sure how we did it, perhaps the Chinese are thinking the same thing this morning. But heck, if we can make it through the Chinese.. I say lets have the Russians next week. At least they'll appreciate the potatoes...

No really, I'm much worse.

I can't even be patient zero here. You think you're the only one that is doubled over in pain, head swimming, doing the Delhi "hurry hurry" shuffle to the washroom.. But no. Our cook's kids are sick. Bryan is sick. My sister is sick, my dad is sick. Eventually, I think you get lost in the plethora of complaints, and you're really better off in a closet that echoes so you can at least hear your groans reciprocated. Becuase it really is hard to show sympathy for anyone else when you're sure that you're going to implode at any second and they definately look like they may be faking.

Even WORSE.. I'm feeling better. Then you have to contend with the naysayers who are like "Oh, at least you're feeling better, I'm still sooo sick." And you want to say "Well, I still have a little headache, and I'm sure I was MUCH sicker than you you wimp." Or is that just me? So now I'm fervently trying to avoid the sick people, not to avoid getting sick, but to avoid psychosematically putting myself back there. I think there must be something wrong with me. In my head. And I'm betting it's worse than anything you've ever had.

Is that a sign?

You could make a killing here in Delhi writing grammatically and sensical signs. No joke. I forgot to mention - on the way to the riding grounds Sunday morning, in blazing 5 inch letters, was this sign:

"Dead Slow Horses Have The Right Of Way".

Althought it's hard to match "R. Stones Uralogical Clinic".. It may come close.

Ms. Poshlust's Favorite Things (April)

1. Tweed - Really, I don't think there is anything more colonial, more dignified, more upstanding.. than a suit, a jacket.. that litterally stands up on its own .
2. Riding boots - I'm hooked. After seeing all the women stomping around in their burnished leather.. I'm in.
3. Hot weather music - Jack Johnson, Zero7, The Roots, Jill Scott... I'm not sure if it cools you down or heats you up..
4. Going to bed with jewlery on - I never knew how wonderful it was to get up at night to pee and look like a sleepy debutante. Jewlery it is.
5. Pineapple juice - I think I drink a carton a day. I have the Oktoberfest mug from the American embassey last October (no shit) and it's the perfect size for about 4 ice cubes and have a carton of juice. I'll forever associate Oktoberfest with pineapples now. Shiza.
6. ArtForum magazine- Any of you with access, enjoy it. My dearest Mr. Almost Poshlust has been so wonderful as to mail me the monthly installments, and I savour them one glossy page at a time.
7. Okayplayer.com - For all of your best hip hop news, book reviews, and an uproariously funny cartoon every morning.
8. Ubiquity - Written by Mark Buchanan, it's a book I never thought I'd read, and definately never thought I'd enjoy.. And now it's pretty much one of my alltime favorite books. Please also read Malcolm Gladwell's "Blink" and "The Tipping Point", and "The Elephant Vanishes" by Haruki Murakami. Camote - these recommendations are all pretty much for you. Who am I kidding. ;-) You're the only one that I KNOW would a) read these and b) love them. Or at least understand them.
9. Beautifully Simple Things - Helped Bryan make a cheesecake on Friday, had to go get eggs at about 10pm, in the beautifully warm dark night. Bought 10 eggs for 20 rupees, they were put in a homemade paper bag, and everyone smiled at us. Life is good.
10. Ticking things off - I have this painfully simple list of things I want to do in life, included are things like making soup, staying silent for one day, etc etc. Small, simple things. Have accomplished one this month, and am close to a second! Drank Scotch and smoked a cigar, which has been on that list since I was like.. 15. Then, on the 27th of this month, I've officially not work make-up for one month! Pretty good for a city girl hey?

Interim Update

So my level of blog absenteeism has been a little high lately. I've been trying to get all my Burma adventures down in a draft, but I think it's going to take me awhile, so I figure I might as well keep blogging in the mean time. Apologizing, of course, assumes that anybody still checks in here, so for those of you who do.. I'm sorry!

It's been busy here in Delhi pretty much as soon as the wheels touched tarmac. I don't know how I manage to be so busy when I really have so little to actually do. I think perhaps I talk myself into being busy.

Saturday attended a staff picnic for Bryan's work, had a lovely time. Made a few new aquaintences while these huge friggin' flying fox fruit bats circled overhead. Honestly, in the past month, I've seen more strange and rare wildlife than I have my whole entire life. It's a rare day where I sit in a palatial backyard smoking a cigar and wondering if they really do JUST eat fruit.

Sunday morning (Camote, you'd have been so proud!) I went horseback riding with the Indian colonel, Bryan, and Greg and Wendy, friends of Bryan. My horses name sounded decidedly close to Flower, so I figured I was safe. Of course, Bryan hops on his horse and succeeds immediately at looking like the Marlboro man, Greg and Wendy look like something out of a British pastoral scene.. And where does that leave me? Looking somewhat like the girl who decided to mount an ornery Mr. Ed. "Flower" was a titch tempermental, and not totally unlike driving a volkswagon minus the power steering and comfortable seats. With the exception that a volkswagon has multiple speeds, and Flower had two: slow, and fast. Kinda like a broken mixmaster. Nevertheless, despite later feeling like I had literally broken my ass, it was a great time. After riding, we went and sat with the Colonel and various other officials in this stunningly beautiful little garden, with a cricket field in the background, and drank lovely tea and had egg sandwiches. It was quite the timewarp, and a most enjoyable one.

Alas, be it the broken ass, egg sandwiches or malaria (we've yet to decide) I'm not feeling so great. I've had a burgeoning cold for the past few days, and now it appears to have switched course and has turned into some sort of achey yucky flu type deal. Luckily, that left me free yesterday to be a complete lay about and watch movies.

If you haven't seen Hotel Rwanda yet, please, please do. It's an absolutely amazing movie. It's based on a true story centering around the genocide that took place in the early 90's. I don't think it's supposed to be one of those movies that you can watch again and again.. but it really is superb. Don Cheadle made me laugh and cry, in a film that really should just have inspired torrents of tears. It's surprisingly unbiased, as much as a film about such a subject can be, and I think my heart actually stopped on one or two occasions. So if you have a chance, please rent it. I'll let you know that the end is uplifting enough to warrant all the tears, which is what I wish somebody had told me!

So, I'm slowly on the mend (I'm sure of it, even though I don't feel like it.. ) trying to find little things to do about the house and otherwise. Hope everyone is well, I miss you all!

Thumbs up I say.

Hello Everyone!

Have no fear, I'm perfectly fine. I was in the middle of Burma when the earthquake happened, and nowhere near Phuket when the tsunami sirens went off. Apparently the quake was felt a little in Phuket, but mostly just intense fear when everyone had to run to the hills. I can't even imagine. So I'm happy that I was in Burma then, safe and sound, underwater actually! I'm just in Phuket airport, on my way to Bangkok for a little bit, then finally back to Delhi. Will be posting all my adventures from there. Hopeing that everyone is well, have missed hearing from you all. Will talk to you in a couple days.