in the thar desert

I am beginning to feel conflicted. Beginning is maybe not the right word, I have always felt conflicted with tourism. In being a tourist, in adding to tourism, in backpacking through cities, villages, towns; and just floating through. How can we become conscious travelers if we are leaving footprints everywhere we go? This is something that keeps entering my mind, and I am just not sure how to deal with it. I have experienced both sides of traveling, the touristy on the go backpacker world, and really trying to get a grasp of solidarity, by living abroad. Learning a new place, a new neighborhood, and familiarizing yourself with faces and people. Trying to learn absolutely as much as you can from different people and cultures than yourself. I prefer the living in solidarity, by far. Sometimes it is more difficult to discover where, and how to do that. Being a white female, I can't always do that. That's another reality I am discovering.

I wish I could just get lost in a place, and truly trust everyone I meet. That is not the case though, I don't always feel safe. I don't trust everyone anymore. I am losing my trust, by the day, in the men that sit on stoops, in train stops, in restaurants, on sidewalks; they just stare. They stare, sometimes out of the same curiosity that I have, but most of the time it does not feel like that.

I guess I am just not sure how to be a "traveler," without being a tourist. I will always be one, that's the truth. If I want to travel and live abroad, I am always going to be a gringa, a gori, and foreigner. There has to be a better way of doing this though. I don't want to float through India, talk to the white foreigners I meet, follow the guide book, and never feel connected to the community. So I guess this is the new mission of this journey, burning the guidebook and just going.

On another note, I finally met up with Chiara, my long lost bezzie from San Francisco. We reunited in Delhi and hopped on an overnight train to Jaisalmer, Rajasthan in the Thar desert of India. My watch was set on Nepali time, which is a mere 15 minutes different than India (because Nepal wants nothing to do with anything India haha) so the journey started out well, obviously. We nearly missed our train, and were running to jump on a moving train, somewhat reminiscent of the Darjeeling Limited. Trying to find our seats, we could not even make it through to our cabin, because the door was blocked by about 100 Indian men, standing and sitting eight to a berth.

We stayed up half the night sharing a bunkbed, and sitting next to thirty Indian men, and thirty pairs of eyes on us. Disguising ourselves in shawls and scarves, we braved the 17 hour ride by telling stories, and huddling next to the breezy window. Jaisalmer is really cold!

We just got back from a camel trek in the desert. Our two American selves, a Venezualan boy, and a Swede, riding camels through the cloudy desert of India. Quite a sight. Being prepared for a sweltering hot desert ride, we were a bit shocked to find ourselves in the middle of the first rain in three months. Camped out in the middle of the desert in a hut, drinking rum, and making up songs, I think we managed to make the most of it.

We were fortunate enough to ride through a tiny little village on the border of Pakistan, where we shared Chai, conversation, and photos with a family. These beautiful dark skinned children running around, were fascinated with our cameras and became the photographers for a day. There were five women, covered in brilliant green, blue, and red shawls. Bangles sliding on their arms, golden plated jewels in their noses. They are princesses of the desert, the most stunning faces I have ever seen. Covering there mouths with their brightly colored armor, all we could do was sit and try not to stare. They don't want any pictures taken because it is disrespectful to the men in the village, and their religion. In many places, only a woman's husband can see her face.

It's hard to imagine this is the same world. These people are living in the same world as New York City. The same world as the snow covered streets of Seattle, and the same world where we can ride in on camel back and then leave for our warm hotel rooms and clean sheets. I don''t know why I was born into my circumstances, but I feel very very fortunate.

Chiara and I heard a woman being beaten last night. We lay awake in the dark listening to screams, and what sounded like slapping. Thinking we should do something, anything, we tried telling the hotel manager what was going on, and he simply replied "she has psychological problems." I do not believe that, but I don't know if we could have done anything. I don't speak Hindi, and I don't understand the deeply ingrained religious and cultural roots that can permit such things to happen. If we had tried to intervene by walking in or calling the police, would it have made it worse? Would this stop for the night, and then continue on a whole new scale the next day? What can we do? It makes me sick.

Is it even acceptable for us to fly around the world with our malaria pills, bottles of hand sanitizer, pockets full of coins, and then leave as if nothing were different. We go back to our lives, our friends, our comfortable homes and cars, and the schedule of a paycheck to pay for all the things we "need." I really am not this cynical, I am just feeling torn between a lot of things lately.

Thinking of you all at home, and wishing I could frolick in the snow falling on my favorite city, drink hot chocolate, and sit around a fire singing Christmas Carols.

this is india.

i stare out the window for hours and hours.
rolling fields of yellow mustard whizz by, water buffalo grazing, goats scurrying, rice picking.
spicy samosa fill my belly, Hindi ballads dance overhead.
a cacophony of honking horns; blaring with ever curve and swerve.
i arrive sweaty, tired, beat, defeated.
i drag myself to the closest hotel.
ten hours on a bus. no bathroom. no lunch. no peace.
a box

hidden beneath a layer of dirt
windows hang on hinges and the sheets are painted with stains and cigarette burns
we chat about the faraway land called America. people. presidents. terrorists. beautiful Bombay.
crawling into the comfort of a mummy sack. my face is stung by mozzies, swarming.
i lay awake, exposed nose, breathing in their bites.
hazy sunlight slowly turns the room into day.
shadows stream through the cracked window panes.
a shadow crawls across the top.
a tail drawn out behind.
pitter pattering feet arouse me from my dreams.
im out in a split second. throwing clothes in my bag, untangle curls turning to dreads.
this new day is going to be good.
i make it all the way to the airport. it says air force.
"there must be a mistake, i need to go to the air Port."
uhh. this is it.
i sit for five hours at the air force base, enclosed in grass, military uniforms, smoking a rollie.
they say the flight is cancelled.
we rush to the station, hop a sleeper train.

still no sleep.
i cannot sleep.
there is an old man in a sweater vest laying across the compartment. staring. his light is on. his eyes are open, and fixed on me. his arms are folded neatly across his protruding belly.
seriously uncomfortable.
i roll to the side hiding under a blanket; my armor.

my death stare is perfected. hours spent cursing the eyes that stick like glue to my face, my body, my skin. i don't want to hate you, but sometimes you give me no choice.

it's becoming harder to discover the genuine, honest, trustworthy, helpful...men. one in a million. no, that's one in a billion. 1.027 billion.

now im here.
and this is India.

I am a bag lady...

I am a bag lady. I live out of plastic bags, paper bags, backpacks, and hippie bags. For the last five months I have not unpacked for more than two weeks at a time. I have my whole life organized into little compartments. Clothes, books, pens, paints, and hair products (cause you all know that shit takes up most of the room in my bags); these are the few things that I am left with, and that I have carried everywhere with me. I have completely forgotten what it feels like to unpack all of my things and put them in there respective places. I am a little overly obsessed with organizing things too, so this has been interesting. All in all, yes it is true I am now officially a bag lady living out of her bags. I'm glad I have accomplished such a feat before I have even turned 24. haha.

bombay

I am deeply saddened and shocked about the recent events taking place in Bombay (Mumbai). I was just there. I was just sitting in Leopold's having drinks and curry. I was just looking out across the water hiding in the shade of the Taj Mahal hotel. Millions of people from all over the globe live there, travel there, love it there, build lives there. Maybe it has really hit home being over in this region of world, and having spent the last couple of months travelling in India. It is just so hard for me to imagine the logic that goes into a terrorist attack of that nature. I have felt empowered and inspired in living abroad, being absorbed in a life so far from my own back at home; but tragedies like these leave me feeling powerless and confused. What kind of attention are they looking to gain, and how do so many people resort of violence in order to gain the spotlight?
What is terrifying is that nobody can predict this, and now it is being coined the 9/11 of India. Over 180 people were killed, and for what? Complete terror...

strikes and burning tires...wtf.

First things first. I am officially moving to Nepal the first week of January! While I have had my reservations working for a travel company, it's pretty much the best option for me at this point...and it will be a great way to explore the rest of Nepal and try to learn just exactly what is going on this land locked country. In case you are wondering WTF I will be doing in this internship, I basically get paid to write another blog all about Nepal, explore the country a bit more, and possibly do some trekking/outdoor adventures. unreal.
Aside from that, sometimes it's really easy to forget you are in a completely foreign country when you create a little routine for yourself, a bubble if you will. Well I definitely had a wake up call from this little dream state I have been living in.
After spending the night at a friends house down the road from my hotel, I had to escape in the morning to make the walk back. First of all I had to jump over a wall surrounding their house because the gate was locked, and I did not want to wake them up. So not only having a hangover from drinking one beer, I also looked like a complete stalker to any neighbor that may have seen me scale a wall spider man style. Great way to begin a day.
Anyway, as I'm walking back on the main road through Lazimpat, people all around just stop. Standing in the middle of the street, the sidewalk, people hanging out windows. A huge mob of adolescent Nepali boys begin rushing by in the middle of road, yelling in Nepali, and in their hands holding crumbling red bricks, some smashing them on the road.
Since I had no idea what was happening, and this was the first real disturbance I had witnessed, I thought there was about to be a "riot on an empty street." I managed to sneak my way through the shadows and make it a bit farther, only to find a giant green school bus sitting smashed up. Green shards of glass lay in millions all around on the road, and a halo of thick black smoke could be seen swiveling around in the distance. There were tires in the middle of the road, ablaze and burning. A massive crew of Nepali men stood in a circle at the intersection, for all I knew plotting their next move.
Well I made it home, and soon found out there had been two murders, by the Maoist's, a few weeks back and the bodies were just found. The events of the day were in protest of the Maoists, and what I later learned is what they call a strike in Nepal. As I was having breakfast later that morning, the same group of rambunctious running Nepali boys made there way through Thamel, the touristy destination of Kathmandu. As soon as they had passed, it was literally a symphony of slamming doors and sliding garage doors. The strike had begun, and nearly ever single shop, restaurant, bakery was closed for the day. Kathmandu became a zombie town. Streets were quieter and slower than any day before, and everything was at a stand still. Shattered glass spread on concrete.
Supposedly these strikes happen quite frequently, and this was just one of many to come..So I have come to realize that I really don't know or understand what is going on in this country yet. There are so many things I cannot possibly understand, and I'm not sure that I ever will. Maybe that's why we need to travel..who knows.

current crazy events...

Just a few things that have happened in the past two weeks in Nepal...

1. I fainted today, AGAIN!! Beginning to feel like this is a pattern and I have no idea why. I was literally sitting at my breakfast spot reading, just so happened to be in a really gruesome part of the Life of Pi, and starting feeling very nauseous. Sitting in a tiny little cafe, I put my head in my hands. Started sweating seriously abnormal amounts, and when all I could think about was how I was going to get from there to my bed, I decided I could brave the streets and try to walk home. I made it about five yards, my vision was gone and I grabbed onto the nearest thing I could find, a sign with flashing lights...and I was out for the count. If anyone has ever fainted, the scariest part is losing vision. I started seeing spots, and then fell into a sort of dream like trance.Woke up on a foreign dirt road once again, though this time surrounded by Nepali faces, and a sweet Aussie man who helped me to my feet. Just a bit frightening, especially because I was FINE two minutes before. Does anyone know why this keeps happening to me?? So now I find myself stuck at ANOTHER internet cafe looking up fainting symptoms. WTF.

2. Walking "home" one night, I literally bumped into a friend from San Francisco who I went to college with. Had no idea she was in Nepal, and had not seen her in at least three years, talk about a small world!

3. Seeing the new James Bond film in Nepal, surrounded by Nepalis and being given a 20 minute intermission in the middle of the movie. Oh, and arriving literally James Bond style on the back of a motorcycle, and the cargo (being me obviously) was not given a helmet, really safe. Just speeding through the narrow streets of Kathmandu on the back of a motorcycle, typical day you know.

4. Just the simple fact that I am still miraculously in Nepal. I hit day 103 of being abroad yesterday. Unbelievable that I could potentially not even have made it half way through this journey...whaattt??

5. Being offered any number of drugs at all hours of the day, nearly every ten feet I walk in Thamel. You want to smoke something, come to Thamel and you will be set for life. I'm not sure what it is about me, or if I have just mastered the whole look of lost, hippy, hobo traveller, stoner, hmmm, uh oh.

6. The wonderful ability to spend hours upon hours reading, drawing, writing, sitting. Something I will always cherish and understand will probably never again happen, once I have to reassociate myself with society and life in the states.

7. Thats all for now....For anyone who actually reads this. Well I am missing home A LOT these days. It feels so far far away.

endless possibilities

oh and I got offered an internship yesterday to write about Nepal, go to festivals and events, eat at restaurants..and just write. Seriously. I might be living in a 2 bedroom apartment in Nepal come January, so if anyone is sick of working or school or life in general...please come visit me!

It is crazy, for lack of a better word, how swiftly our lives change from one direction to the next..mine has done a complete 180 in less than four months, and that is pretty amazing.

thinking...

I just finished reading The Poisonwood Bible. One of those books I bought at least three years ago, tried to read countless times, and gave up...then I put it in a bag, brought it on three planes, and it landed in my hands in Nepal. It has become one of those books that will not leave my head, and I find myself walking around recounting passages as if it were part of my own history. Basically, if you have not read it yet...you must. Brilliant writing.

Aside from having my head in a book for most hours of the day, my feet are also carrying me along winding roads in Kathmandu. This is a much easier task when you are unemployed and alone in a foreign country thousands of miles from home. I jump from cafes, to restaurants, to shops, to bars and I spend hours upon hours walking, and walking: discovering the hidden stupas in dark corners, brightly robed holy Sadhu men; sitting aside shiny bowls fingers adorned with jewels; babies in bonnets toddling on cobblestones; monkeys being monkeys, flirting with traffic and anything with a scent; and most of all I have discovered the ease at which I am able to roam around Nepal. Free from staring hollering men (for the most part, although someone did punch my boob yesterday, ha) free from lumbering cows at every turn of the corner, and free from the hot, sweaty, sticky, humid heat of India. This may be why I am beginning to love this country. I am free to roam, and no one bothers me! As much as I never will ever be anything but a foreigner in this country, or anywhere I wind up, this is the closest I have ever felt to just being another person walking. A pedestrian, a woman, a nomad. Not a white skinned tourist who stands out as if there were a bright spotlight chasing me around.

Nepal is turning colder with every day. I bought a yak wool shawl the other day which I wear proudly, wrapping my shoulders in it's woolly embrace. I never thought I would say that, believe me. BUT, through all the cynicism you may have caught onto from India, I am excited to be back there in the big old mess of things in a few weeks. I will be meeting up with a friend in Delhi, and a few other wandering travelers like me, to cruise to the magical cities of Rajasthan, eat curries until our bellies pop, and sit once again under a scorching Indian sun..possibly on the back of a Camel in the desert.

This is my life these days. What can I say?

obamanos in nepal

I saw the most wonderful woman..ever. After spending my day wandering the alleys again, I spotted her around the corner from my favorite cafe. Standing no more than four feet tall, her face engraved by wrinkles carved deep, her tiny little body bundled up in a colorful wool shawl, and her eyes set intently on the screen in front of her. When she spotted me smiling at her, her face immediately lit up in a Cheshire grin, cheek to cheek, and she just pointed at the screen and smiled back at me. She was watching a rafting video outside a trekking store..just standing, watching, smiling. We just stared at each other for a minute before I continued along my way, looking back to see her still standing and watching, completely enthralled by this video. This is Nepal!

So for all that are interested, I made it to Nepal! It's been about a week so far, and I could not be happier. What a wonderful and much needed break from the craziness that is India.

Although the journey here was a bit tumultuous; from getting harassed by a drunk Indian on the overnight bus ride, bouncing along a road that is not even a road, to spending ten hours sitting upright without a backrest surrounded by Nepali men and women asking me "madame why are you alone?"

Well...Kathmandu is another busy, polluted, and honking city, but in comparison to the Indian cities I have spent my last two months in, it is a mecca of lush green hills, marvelously golden stupas adorned with Tibetan prayer flags, and charming Nepali people. I have been charmed once again.

On a last note...all I can say is hell yes for OBAMA. I spent an hour searching for the US embassy party that would be showing the final polls. I finally found it in just as the polls were closing and people were chanting 10, 9,8....A room filled with Americans, crying, cheering, chanting, hugging, and jumping up and down. Although I am sad to have missed the outrageous street dancing parties in the states, it was wonderful to feel the support on a global scale. All the Nepali people want to talk about Obama as well. I am utterly overjoyed, and anxiously anticipating being back in the states at some point to feel overwhelming energy surrounding me.

cheers.

himalayas and wooly jumpers

I realize there is no way to sum up the last five weeks in a weak blog entry, thus the shit status of the last few blogs...so sorry.

After the horrendous ordeal of being ill in Delhi and being on my own again, I have finally made the next step in this crazy adventure. After bumming around all day in hot sweaty Delhi, I stayed up all night in anticipation of the 3am cab coming to cart me away to the airport. Unable to book a flight, I just had to show up with my fingers crossed.

Luckily...everything worked out! I made it to Leh, in the Ladakh region of Jammu and Kashmir this morning! If I have raved about India before, I think I am in love now.
Through my hazy eyes this morning we flew straight over the Himalayan, brushing over the snow capped peaks, and winding web of shadows.

As the plane swooped into landing, I realized people had starting putting on their real clothes. Down jackets, wool beanies, gloves, and full blown hiking boots. I was left wearing a thin thermal shirt and sandals, feeling like a complete fool not only for my attire but my giant pack full summer clothes. Now I am cozily bundled up in my first sweater, gloves, and wool socks! Oh how missed layering. :)

I met a lovely British couple to share a cab into town with, because of course once again I had not planned anything...but that's the way I like it. We found a charming little guesthouse run by a Ladakhi family, eager to please and make us feel at home. They immediately told us to rest and go to sleep to avoid getting sick, which I obviously had no complaints about.

Leh has already blown away my expectations, and it has been but a few hours of tea and rest to acclimatize to the elevation. Feeling sick now feels like a far away dream, and I am more than ready to begin exploring the north.

Nearing the end of October, Leh begins to cool down drastically and roads start to close. I have yet to see many backpackers here, but that simply adds to the charm.
The dark brown skin, and saris of the south are replaced by; beautiful olive skin, shimmering green eyes, and vibrant traditional Ladakhi, and Tibetan clothing. This is not the same India I have spent the last two months in, and I like it.

The hustle and bustle of Indian cities, heat soaked streets, heckling vendors, desperate begging children with babies, dirty cows, and constant rattle of rickshaw horns is a distant memory. This little town nestled between Himalayan peaks is peaceful and unbelievably beautiful. Even the wandering cows and dogs that run the streets wear shaggy coats, and howl at the moon and not at me.

If you ever come to India...you must come to Leh. Bottom line. Better yet, spend a few months in Southern India, then come here because it will blow your mind. Can't wait to get out and explore...thinking of all of you at home!

mumbai, taj, and beyond

The last few weeks have been a blur of overnight bus rides, trains, and goodbyes. Knowing that my new found travel bezzies would be leaving me soon, and trying to understand how different it feels knowing that your trip is coming to a close when mine is just starting.
AND...since I have been too vague, I have spent the last five weeks travelling with four wonderful British students from Leeds.
After a few wonderful weeks gallivanting around Southern India we finally made some progress in heading up North a bit.
But first...Mysore, famed for its massive bazaars of spices and perfumes, we had to have a look. We ended up stationed about ten feet from the entrance so the boys could purchase some delicious fragrances for their WAGs at home. Once we finally ventured off to explore the market a bit more, the masses took over and we were stuck in a stand still. After being thoroughly groped at every angle the minute I lost the boys in the crowd, I made a vow never to enter another Indian market alone. Not the best situation. Mysore may have been a slight bust, but the next destination made up for it by far.
Hampi: Ill try to post some pictures, because this place is too wonderful for words. Its a small town in Karnataka surrounded by sprawling boulders, temples, and wandering monkeys. We spent the day under the sun climbing rocks, and another cruising by on mopeds.
Next stop Mumbai.
Although we only had a few days to explore, one of which a few of us were a bit under the weather to brave the mumbai heat, this city might be one of my favorite places we have seen, and I'm already planning ways to make it back here before I head home.
After mumbai we spent a unbelievably quick 24 hours on a train to arrive in the mecca of India, Agra, the home of the Taj Mahal. More unbelievably beautiful and magnificent than you would ever imagine. The other landmarks of Agra, while cannot compare to the Taj, are remarkable just the same. We hit up the Agra fort, Akbar's Mausoleum, and made it just in time for sunset at the baby taj.
It is more difficult than you would think trying to sum up the last five weeks in just enough space to keep you interested, but I'm trying.
The last few days have been some of the most difficult yet. After taking a short train from Agra to Delhi, I am now alone again and not quite ready to fend for myself.
After getting violently ill on the train, and spending the last night with my friends sick on a bed, it has been a rough couple of days. I would not have made it out alive if they had not been there to pick up the pieces...
So now...here I am in Delhi, exactly the place I did not want to end up, and unable to find an honest face to help me along my way. If I can manage to book a flight, I will be making my way up to Leh in the far north for a bit, and then hopefully over the Nepal.

unreal.

yes i am alive. i am still in India. and I'm alone again. i do apologize for the huge delay in blog writing, but it has been one crazy month of shenanigans, and you know how it goes.
where do i even begin...
i somehow managed to find myself in the company of four British blokes, travelling up the coast of south India. How did this happen? Well stuck in a blackout one night, we met under candle light and beers....and here we are a month later.
I guess i will start by giving you a few of the highlights from these past few weeks.

We made our way by train, bus, rickshaw, and what was left of our legs down the east coast from Pondicherry, Trichy, Tanjore, Madurai, and finally Varkala..a little slice of backpackers heaven out of the madness of India. Stopping in just a handful of temples (meaning loads) and staying in the most budget of all places.
Let's see...the most outrageous of our travel tales begin in Allepuzha, or Alleppy on the Western Coast of Kerala. Kerala for those of you who have never been might just be one of the most beautiful places on earth. Imagine India meet the amazon, winding alleyways and dense palm groves are intercepted by the hectic streets of India. Kerala is also the most literate state of India, and is operated by a communist government.hmm. The first downfall of this trip was agreeing to take a four hour taxi from Varkala, as opposed to a shit hole public bus that would cost 50 rupees. We needed to splurge.
In Alleppy we were greeted by the most ruthless of all hagglers, trying their best to convince us to take their houseboat. Alleppy is located right on the gateway of backwaters that run up the coast of Kerala, and supposedly taking a houseboat is a "top ten must do." Fed up with all the sneaky people trying to "cut us a deal" we set off on our own to find a boat.
To make this short...we wound up walking into a boating office, and were offered a free nights accommodation if we agreed to doing a photo shoot. The top dog of the office had just purchase a brand new, amazing, massive houseboat and he wanted us to take some photos for the brochure.
So naturally, we said yes...with far less hesitation than you might think.
We spent two wonderful nights floating through the backwaters, lulled by the sweet sounds of nearby fisherman and the melodic beat of washing pounding the rocks. One of the most amazing parts of this journey by far.
On our last day on our sweet little houseboat, we knew the inevitable was coming...the photo shoot. However, I was assuming it would be on some decent boat and that would be it.
Not so much. We made out way to the edge of the backwaters and were dropped off at an estate. You know, just the nicest house I have ever seen. Greeted by a gang of people pool side, we immediately accepted drink offers and made ourselves at home.
We were to learn later, the man in charge of this whole operation is the CEO of a major telecom company, and also owner of massive penthouse suites all over the world.
The next few days were simply unreal. After serving us drinks all day to "loosen up," the photo shoot proceeded on the boat that night. Literally, titanic style, Ben and I had to stand on the bow of the boat for at least an hour, trying not to die of laughter. The next few hours you can only imagine, and don't be alarmed if you are ever in the UK and you see a poster of this little situation. Ridiculous.
Another highlight of this little shindig came a few days later, when we were given an offer to stay at the Munnar estate. Munnar is a hill station in Northern Kerala, surrounded by sweeping tea plantations and palm trees. We stayed in a resort house for three days, pretty much complimentary. Served meals like kings and queens again, we basked in the glow of green tea leave scattering the hills. A breathtaking and beautiful place, and as Ben would say a tranquil and peaceful place outside of the busy and bustling cities of India. If you get a chance, check out Casa del Fauno...and you will see where we stayed. unbelievable. Now you might understand why I have not written in awhile...been a bit out of touch with reality.
So those are just a few highlights...more to come!

home is where the heart is.

So I feel like a semi fool for just now finding the spell checker for this whole blog business. I guess I cannot hide my illiterate errors plaguing me post graduation. whoops.

It feels like I am in another universe. My mind deceiving me and memories fade and become dreams. Our world's are just so different, and I know there are never going to be words to give you that will even come close to capturing a fraction of what happens in India. You just have to come here and see it for yourself. Breathe it. Love it. Hate it. Feel it. and let it take you out.

You truly have to surrender everything in you to allow this magical place to let you skip freely in the streets and not be swallowed whole. You have to surrender everything you are comfortable with, and everything you thought you might feel when stepping out of your reality into India.

I was snapped back into reality yesterday when I realized I had no idea even what day it was, and it was a big one. September 11Th. One of those days we all remember exactly where we were, and what we were doing when we found out. It's like a time warp, where everything feels like a million years ago and yesterday at the same time. That's how home feels to me right now.

India cows Seattle home...



...and now I am trying to understand what is going on in American politics, and where the f*$%$ Sarah Palin came from. Good strategy there, and I am just hoping all those God willing American "feminists" don't fall for it. Really, how are you going to compare Palin to Hillary Clinton. Don't get me started on this, but don't worry I can still vote in India...and I'm trying to stay connected.

I am finallly leaving Chennai in a few days, and will be traveling around. Southern tip to Northern India to Nepal...and beyond. so skype me por favor. wahooo.

Life these days...

Now it has been two weeks and two days in India. I have still not stopped sweating, and I am still amazed by the magic around me.

I have been trying my hardest to blend in, to become a chameleon and wander aimlessly going unnoticed. However, that will never happen. I will never be anything but a foreigner in India. I will never be able to walk down any street, alleyway, or beach without getting stared at, followed, or haggled for money; hands thrust confidently in my face, their stride flowing in sync with mine, "Madame a bee-utiful necklace for you. What cuntry is it? Wher do you live at?" Do you have a number I just want to get to know you ?"
Children skip by in pairs and trios holding hands, braided hair, bindi on the forehead...Hi, hello, How arre you? Whut is your naame? Sweet sing song innocent voices trail behind me as I giggle to myself every time.

Sometimes while I am walking around by myself, I literally cannot stop smiling. I start laughing out loud, by myself, at the complete absurdity of me being in India. I thought maybe there was a slight chance that I would blend in a tiny bit...as people never cease to ask me what my nationality is, where my name is from etc...but not so much in India. I am a foreigner. I have money., or so they are just fooled by my pale skin. I am a woman not wearing a sari. I have curly hair, as one boy shouted from a rooftop "What nice cuurls you have! Why you not let them down?!" Haha. At least someone can appreciate it.

Last week there was a huge festival that is celebrated throughout India. Unable to decipher a single word in Tamil or even a single syllable for that matter, I could not tell you what it is called or what exactly they are celebrating. But...we did make it down to the marina beach a few kilometers from our house in Chennai, to watch the celebratory gatherings at their best. Hundreds, if not thousands of people gathered all day, at all hours to join in the festivities along the shore. Truckloads of people parade through the street, and I mean literally truckloads. Shining faces of little boys hang from poles on the sides and back of the pickup, bandannas tied in knots around their heads. In the center of them is a giant paper mache (at least thats what i thought) statue of the God, Ganesha. Ganesha is a hugely popular Hindu figure most renowned for his massive elephant head. These statues are gigantic, in width and height, towering over most people. On the beach, there were people standing for a mile wide in anticipation of seeing Ganesha go out to sea. On this particular day, there was a crane..yes a towering crane taller than any building in Chennai...and this crane is used to hoist Ganesha in the air, flying high over outstretched hands, and then thrown in the ocean, drowning in the waves.

While this is all happening, at least twenty police men are waiting near the wake, matching in their tan colored unis, with sticks at hand ready to rough up anyone who gets too close. Other groups simply stash Ganesha on a wooden crate and heave him into the water with all their might. I was told there is a law banning the use of non biodegradable materials in the making of this Ganesha, however, I think they maybe got away with it. Spray painted figures of what looked like plastic were thrown into the ocean all day. hmmm. definitely on their way to going green in Chennai.

So I just got back from a little over night visit to Mamallapuram, a charming beachy town about an hour south of Chennai. Mama.. is most well known for the few standing temples that remain, most notable the Shore Temple which is the only one on the beach spared from the Tsunami. A very nice break from the hustle and bustle of Chennai. Narrow roads intertwine and reconnect at all angles. Shop owners stand proudly in front of their shops adorned with shimmering jewels, shawls, and bright clothes. People work tirelessly on the stone carvings scattered at nearly every corner, pounding away at the Buddha bellies, statues, and candle holders.

In my attempts to make friends I met some crazy British people, one woman who told me of her adventures in Kabul when she was 17, and put on house arrest after a major coupe in the 70's, narrowly escaping the guards holding her hostage. uuh WTF. Also a skeezy Irish chap who leads tours in India, although this is his first trip to the vast country,

I think I have sufficiently rambled enough now, yes I still am in India, and yes I still love it here, and yes I still expect anyone who actually reads this to send me something to read as well.

I am in the midst of planning my next adventures and here is how it goes...Madurai to Kochin, all around Kerala, Mysore to Hampi, to Goa...Mumbai, Delhi..and I cannot think that far ahead, but those are the places I want to go so far in the south. So I will be out of commission for awhile, and at best able to check email and such. Thinking of you all in far away places, and wishing I could teleport to each of your porches to have everlasting conversations and drinks.


until then
-sid

something funny...

I nearly forgot about these episodes, but I thought it might bring some sort of entertainment to you.

Number 1:
We went to this fundraiser dinner the other night for a women that my Mom works with. An organization that is starting in November for children who have been affected by HIV, meaning mostly their parents have HIV, or have passed away from AIDS. Sounds like a wonderful thing. When we arrived at this fancy hotel where the dinner was to be held, there is smoke seeping through the cracks and glass windows everywhere. People are holding scarves over their faces and ducking between the glass doors enshrouded in clouds of thick, creamy white smoke. Just as the performances were going to begin, and the guests arriving, they had let off a huge blast of smoke to ward off the mosquitoes. As we later learned, it may have been the phantom DDT which we are all so familiar with. Great...but kind of an ironic fashion of Indian drama to start off the night right.

Later, we were serenaded by dancing children, and an ear rattling renditions of Lionel Ritchie and Sinatra by some creeper European dad from my mom's school. My dad and I sat awkwardly in the back trying to shield our ears as the music rattled the floor boards. It was weird sitting in a room full of Indians, listening to this weird old white man singing songs that were maybe only familiar to our ears.

Number 2:
Walking home the other day my dad and I were approached by this Indian kid who asked where we were from. My dad, who could talk on and on all day without flinching once, immediately struck up a conversation with him, as I stood to the side wiping the sweat from my face. After about ten minutes of standing to the side of a busy intersection we finally peeled ourselves away from him. My dad had unfortunately told him the neighborhood that we lived in, and not really thinking of it too much we headed on our way.

Well...yesterday after our little train adventure the doorbell rings, and guess who. None other than the scrawny teenager we met on the street. Suffering from a coffee/dehydration headache I ran to the kitchen to avoid contact, not wanting to deal with this weird slash awkward encounter again. I thought it was odd enough for him to show up at our house unannounced, especially when my dad had not told him exactly where we live.

Sooo, thinking it would only be a short conversation, and wondering why the hell he was at our house in the first place, I stayed in kitchen waiting for my coffee to brew. Well, after twenty minutes I realized that this was not ending any time soon, but at this point it was much to late in the game to show my face, after hiding in the kitchen. You can't just pop out and say what's up after that long, right? That's weird. So I was faced with a one of those lose lose situations, where I had nothing to do but wait it out in the sweltering kitchen, with nothing to do but stare out the window and the ticking clock. Geez us. Embarrassed that I was in hiding, for nearly an hour! I had to wait for him to leave...and today he called my dad! WTF. I'm just wondering why he is so intrigued by my 64 year old dad that he intends to be instant BFF with the man. It is also my apprehensive single white female mind that's telling me he has other intentions, but who can really be sure. Trying to shoo my dad away while he was on the phone, of course he hands it over to me and says that this kid wants to talk to me. Good Lord. I was super busy of course and irritated that he could interrupt me while I was doing something as important as reading my book. Nevertheless, I guess I just found it odd that he showed up at our house and has been so persistent in contacting my dad. Not really a normal interaction, at least my standpoint. The other part of me is wondering maybe I am just doomed to never make any friends here because the one 17 year who keeps pestering us, just seems a little creepy.

so...balls.

well I'm definitely done now. hope it was entertaining.

and...if anyone feels so compelled to write me letters/postcards/an SOS message you can kindly do so at this address. :)

B3 Kgeyes Residency, No 1 &2
Kalakshetra Colony, Besant Nagar, Chennai 600 090

ooh la la day nueve.

I have been in India a week tonight. That's just crazy.

Where to begin...

We made it to Pondi this past weekend for a little escape from life in Chennai. Pondicherry is about three hours south of Chennai. A bustling little town, French colonial inspired buildings left as remnants of the former colonies; meet India. We stayed in a nice hotel, courtesy of mis padres (this will soon change). Pondi is definitely a much needed break from the madness that is Chennai, but it is still India let's remember.

I'm continually noticing the severe contrast, a paradox really, between so many things in India. Brightly painted French style buildings and neighborhoods, blocks laid out in front of piles and piles of bricks; women wrapped snugly in brilliant blue saris and flowers in their hair, sit cross legged in front of their neatly arranged piles of fish; piles of garbage litter the streets, one such decorated with the head of a cow hide. Have you ever seen the ankles of an elephant posing as the sturdy ankles of a woman walking bare foot through the littered streets? Well I saw this woman shuffling down the street, her hair neatly pleated with braids and a navy blue sari wrapped around her waist. Her bare feet are covered with nothing more than the flesh that billows over her ankles, a disease that I have found to be quite common here...often it's just one leg that is plagued. I cannot even imagine...

We took the bus back from Pondi and to my mothers horror, actually took a bus without air conditioning! She was sure to let my dad know is error, and pouted in the back seat while I sunk lower in my chair. I found the bus to be exhilarating and breezy, despite the frequent close encounters with the other buses lumbering along the narrow roads, blaring horns at our discretion. My mom was also horrified when she later told me that the man I was sitting next to, and me, were falling asleep on each other...just imagine! haha. A scene all to familiar to me having spent many hazy eyed morning busing to work in San Francisco full blown asleep on the crouching shoulder next to me.

I have yet to really venture out of this little bubble of Chennai, but from my observations here, one might think this city has recently been the victim of a bombing...everywhere. Buildings sky high are tainted with streaks of dirt, mildew, and chipping paint. Scaffolding to the ceiling clings on by twine, and empty building floors echo the sounds of the street. You cannot walk a city block without passing a massive mountain of red bricks, left over from a project years ago or ready to be carefully toiled over by the people who spend an eternity breaking bricks for a living. Buildings crumble underneath the hundreds of workers who spend a minimum of 12 hours a day doing heavy manual labor, to do the simple task of renovating a building, digging a trench, or building a roof. This must be the hardest work imaginable, sweating out the hot Indian sun day after day is toil enough.

I am not trying to paint an ugly picture of Chennai, but I am beginning to take to heart what anyone who has traveled here uttered the minute they found out I would be coming here, 'Chennai is kind of a....shit hole.'

Supposedly, there are 350 million people that comprise the middle class in India. But where I am wondering do all these people live, and what do they do? The places I have been where such dire poverty exists, you can easily distinguish between classes. The slums in Cape Town which speckle the horizon, distinctly end when they meet a highway, dividing the two worlds. The rich and famous of San Salvador are separated by walls, gates, even security guards who look down on the shacks nestled along the highways.

Chennai, and I'm guessing in much of India, there is no division of anything. The houses that appear to maybe reside somewhere in the 'middle' are only separated by the shadow that is cast down on the makeshift tarps, bamboo style huts, and sleeping dwellers on the streets. The same auto rickshaws beep their horns effervescently as they weave in and out of single lanes. Children wearing matching uniform saris prance around holding hands, and making up games in the dirt. The folded saris flap in the wind on wires knotted above the streets below. All of Chennai is one big intermixed hodge podge of faces, traffic noises, and the desperation of India's poorest hands outreached into air.

My dad and I took the train yesterday. One day when I was in China, which seems light years away, the subway that seemed so bustling and crazy is now a glittering reflection of what is missing in India. The Beijing and Shanghai subway run every few minutes on the dot, the seats are sparkling clean and there is not a hint of wear throughout the station.

Walking to the train in Chennai, we find the building to be a huge empty warehouse type building, appearing to be 'unfinished.' The inside of the station wreaks of things that I cannot mention, and the lack of signs anywhere left us to wander aimlessly. Each train arrives every 15 minutes or so. The few benches fashioned along the wall hung on loose hinges, dangling at the seams. The walls sag with age, and the tracks seem hardly able to support the weight of a train. However, despite the dreary state of the , the train was actually quite fun, and a fabulous way to see a wider view of Chennai. Most of the city appears to be in similar conditions to my previous observations, but there is always something different about seeing a new place through a speeding train with no doors, clutching onto the railing and hoping not to fall. I did see some giant magnetic creatures wallowing in the mucky waters along the banks of the tracks. I thought they were just more cows, which is a normal occurrence to see cows everywhere these days, but they were water buffalo! I still get really excited to see new animals in the wild, like a used to as an innocent kid visiting the zoo. Some pictures that stay in my mind seem so reminiscent of a movie I have to remind myself that I am actually here...

Well if you have made it this far, then my hat is off to you...if anyone out there is even reading this. At least I have some good reflecting time..hah.

I guess that is all for now...thanks for reading.

Please feel free to write me...I would love it actually.

-s

oh india

After nearly two months of being on the road, and living in a tents and hostels I have finally arrived in India! The transition was quite smooth, sailing through customs, and speeding up time by reading the 900 page book I started on the plane.

The only mishap occurred when I realized after arriving at my parents house in Chennai, that someone had managed to steal all my memory cards out of my checked bag! Someone had stealthily unzipped my bag before it hit the conveyors, somewhere between Beijing, Kuala Lumpur, and Chennai....so I apologize if you happen to find your pictures posted on an obscure Indian website. Mine will be there too!

Mis padres apartment is located on the coast of Southeastern India, on the the Bay of Bengal in Chennai, which is in the state of Tamil Nadu. Chennai, the capital of Tamil Nadu is the fourth largest city in India, topped only by Mumbai, Delhi, and Kolkata. For many, and believe me anyone who has been to Chennai has been sure to tell me the same, Chennai is no travellers paradise or hot spot destination. It is dirty, extremely overpopulated, congested with traffic, polluted, and hot as hell. However, who can tell me that you have not heard any one of those things about another city/anywhere in India? That's what I thought...and so far, Chennai is the only India that I have encountered thus far, and I love it.

I would like to give you a quote written by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, in Out of India: Selected Stories. She is an expat from Europe who moved to India with her Indian husband and children.

"India reacts very strongly to people. Some loathe it, some love it, and most do both. There is a special problem of adjustment for the sort of people who come today, who tend to be liberal in outlook and have been educated to be sensitive and receptive to other cultures...The place is very strong and often proves too strong for European nerves...including Americans...It goes like this: first stage, tremendous enthusiasm - everything Indian is marvelous; second stage, everything Indian not so marvelous; third stage, everything Indian abominable. For some people it ends there, for others the cycle renews itself and goes on."

I fear I am diving head first into this called first stage of being in India. I am swimming in a sea of delight, and can only see everything through a magnificent lens, jewelled in vibrant colors and faces. My eyes are like shutters: blinking and breathing in my surroundings. Even as I walk nimbly and quickly over the mounds of littered trash, growling flea ridden stray dogs, glancing everywhere and anywhere all at once, I can only see beautiful things. I have not been able to erase the optimism, excitement, and thrill of a being in a new and foreign place yet...although I know this may not last long, I am revelling in it.

India is a maze: a winding, speeding, thoroughfare. People, animals, cars, bicycles, children, buses, and rickshaws overflow the streets, impregnating the glittered sidewalks with strings of glowing beads, and fragrant flowers. Ebony dark faces, darker than the night, look at me with eyes of curiosity and wonder. Holding out hands filled with necklaces, trinkets, and hope, our eyes meet for a split second and search for words. Beautiful women, with the same dark chocolate skin stroll around in brilliant and silky saris, wrapped carefully and meticulously, covering everything but the skin on their necks and ankles. Vibrant greens, pinks, purples, oranges, every color on the spectrum magnified. Small and wrinkled old women trudge by with baskets of fruit, barrels of water, and bricks. They carefully balance their treasures on their heads, as though they were carrying nothing but a feather...I have a hard enough time carrying a bag full of books on my back. It is hard to imagine a woman older than our grandmas, who appears to be frail and wrinkled, carrying the weight of heavy bricks on her head. Far from frail, these women are stronger than the oxen pushing carts between beeping cars.

So on to the excitement for today...

I went to the doctor today, you know to get a routine set of vaccinations which I failed to do in the states. I wound up getting a polio booster, and three other shots. Taking the first two with ease, or so I thought, I starting feeling a bit queasy but knowing I still had one more shot to go I brushed it off. After meeting with Dr. John and feeling confidant that I could ward off sickness, we walked out of the office to get a ride home.

As I'm walking outside, I started feeling a bit woozy, by a bit I mean I could not see anything. All I knew was that I had to sit down, so finding the first spot on a cement bench, I sat down thinking it would pass. The next thing I know, I wake up to small dark hands pulling me from the dirt, and sitting me up again.Young faces were peering at me from all angles, asking in perfect English what happened. I was a dishevelled mess, my hair a tangled not of curls caked in dirt.
My face, arms, back and everything was coated in a layer of dust. This feisty old woman wearing a green sari started splashing water in my face with such force, it could have been her palm. She started pouring water over my arms and face, rubbing away the dust and making me drink a sip. My dad came running back out of the Dr's office in a state of horror. He says he saw my face in the dirt, and immediately thought I was going into some sort of epileptic shock! imagine. The green sari had dragged me to my feet and back into the doctors office, bursting in on a patient. To my dismay, the doctor tells me that this is actually quite normal, and many people faint or tend to get sick after having shots. You think maybe he could have told me that 15 minutes prior? That may have been helpful.

For the first time to faint, doing so on a dirt street in India while cars whizz past my face, and Indian hands come to my rescue, I am not sure it could get any crazier. For all I knew, as I rolled back into consciousness, I thought I had been hit by a car. Luckily I was able to sit down out of the road before this all happened, otherwise I could have fallen in the middle of the street, hit my head, or been run over by a speeding vehicle.

Although I nearly gave my dad a heart attack, and I have a mark next to my eye, things could have been much worse. I was so grateful to the swift rescue of the passing bystanders, and to have my dad there to get me home. Laying down in the backseat for the nearly hour drive back home, I made it alive.

So in the aftermath of my near death experience, haha, I have been recovering under the fan in the living room...still sweating, as I'm learning, is a phenomenon that will never cease when you are in India.

well that's all I have for now!

paz.

-s

Bei Jing Huan Ying Ni.

So I have had the past week to explore Beijing alone. Chiara began orientation for her job on Monday, so I have had a ton of quality time to myself...Here are some exciting/random/funny events from the past few weeks involving every ones favorite topic...

Olympics: We have made it to at least 8 Olympic games. Unbelievable. I never dreamed I would be in Beijing, China sitting in top notch seats at an Olympic event. Probably something I have dreamed about since Barcelona '92. Saw a few soccer matches in Shanghai, caught in a downpour of rain we bought an umbrella to blend in with all the Chinese, who carry one regardless of the weather, rain or shine. We sat soaked amidst thousands of Chinese fans, creating our own English chants and trying to yell above the buzz...that was the first week. Beijing only got better.

Most memorable matches by far:

We bought scalped tickets to our first event in Beijing. Thought we would check out the madness of the Birds Nest, you know just to say whats up. In the excitement of the atmosphere we bought tickets from the second person we talked to. I was just excited that he spoke English and I could actually understand him! Chiara was just excited to be there. Thinking we may have jumped the gun, when we realized he totally ripped us off, we started running frantically around trying to find him in the crowd. Nearly impossible anywhere in China to locate anyone, not just at the Olympics.

The match was set to start in ten minutes, and once we entered the arena we were not even in the right place...it was at least a half an hour away.

So Chiara and I, in the midst of our sudden flurry of anger and trying not to kill each other, and curse the British dude, we finally caught a bus and made our way to the right stadium...Once inside, we were astonished to find out that we had scored much greater tickets than we thought.

Roger Federer was in the middle of a doubles match on the first court, and we found our way to the Williams sisters doubles match, sitting nearly on the court. The venue is an incredible array of at least five courts all sprawled out, allowing ample time to rush back and forth between matches.

After the Williams match, which we won! We stuck around to watch Sweden and France play doubles. Not a big deal at all sitting on the front row right behind the service line. The third match went to 18 sets, Sweden going home big! One of the most exciting events I have been too, Chiara and I were probably the only Americans there, but we cheered our little heads off.

As we were waiting in line for some more beers, getting ready for the next doubles match between the Swiss, Federer, and the Brian twins from the US...some random dude walks right up to us and literally hands us two tickets to the the center court. Our scalped tickets were apparently not quite dope enough to let us in to the biggest court. We enthusiastically accepted his offer, gave up our seats after the first US match, and made our way over to the semi final between Nadal (Espana) and Djokovic (Serbia). Just a small little fact, they are ranked number one and two in the world...and Nadal went on to win the gold in singles.

One of the longest days ever, as the matches went on for hours well into the night, but well worth our time and money, at this point we were full force feeling the affects of the Olympic high.



I made a pact to never mention this event again, but in reflection a week later it is too funny to pass up. Feeling the Olympic fever, and obsession with seeing as many events as possible, Chiara and I were directed to a website in which you can actually buy legitimate tickets at the starting price. So naturally we got some tickets to the quarterfinal soccer game between Italy and Belgium. Two huge power houses in the soccer world.

After going on a wild goose hunt to collect our prized tickets, deciding we still had tons of time before the game we made our way back to our hostel. Eventually walking the wrong way for too long, we didn't get back until around six pm. Thinking this was fine, because all day we were intent on the game being at 8, we started watching a movie and relaxing. Half and hour later, just to be sure..this is what went down.

me: Did we check the time on the tickets, just to make sure its at 8?

Chiara rummages through her bag, which always takes at least five minutes..triumphantly pulling a folded ticket out, her smile quickly turns to panic: ummm, We have to go NOW!

me: what the fu*$# do you mean? Its at 8 right?

Chiara: Nope it started at six!! Lets go now, fu#$%#$^(*(#%$#$%.

So in a fit of rage, and a cross between hysterically laughing and crying, we raced out the door and jumped in a cab. Workers stadium was only a few blocks away from our hostel, thank GOD, so we made it just in time for the second half.

Sitting in between a huge crowd of Belgium fans, in amazing seats near the field, thoroughly pissed off that our floozy selves managed to misread the time, we had to shake it off and enjoy the rest of the game. Key word, had...we were still at a quarterfinal game in the Olympics. Still, probably the worst moment of my life realizing what had just happened, we swore never to speak of this event again. :)

but...We totally redeemed ourselves a few days later. We were lucky enough to buy tickets to the US women's soccer semifinal match against Japan. Since I pretty much thought someday I would play in the Olympics on that team when I was ten, it was a pivotal event just being able to watch the game. Feeling the energy of the crowd, regardless if all Chinese people are totally bias to China and still feel the need to wear red and yellow to every event. After sneaking into much better seats, we did manage to get our section cheering for the US,...at least that's what I thought, but who knows what they were really saying in Chinese.

Our ladies won the game, and went on to win the gold...a coincidence that we saw three Olympic gold winners pre gold? hmmm.

So that's it for now...hope this was somewhat entertaining for those of you stuck behind a desk.

I am off to India tomorrow, so until then!


-s

the adventure begins...

First stop Shanghai!

We spent around five days in Shanghai one of China's largest metropolitan cities. Day of arrival: 08/08/2008. As some of you may know the first official day of the Olympics was capped off with the spectacular opening ceremony on this night. This is an auspicious day for the Chinese, so I guess they may have planned that one.

We arrived feeling fresh and ready to go, found our hostel after only thirty minutes of standing in the middle of the sidewalk looking dumbfounded. We piled our giant backpacks into the back of a rickshaw holding on by nothing more than a carabeaner and Chiara's arm. We actually made it into the main square by our hostel, off of Nanjing Road, to watch the Opening Ceremony. There were two huge screens set up and people standing and sitting int he street. Not feeling jet lagged at all, I was wide awake and definitely did not fall asleep on the street. ha.

Nanjing Road is one of the most commercialized touristy spots in Shanghai. A huge outdoor shopping mall, with no cars and millions of people, teeming with glittery retail shops, cell phone stores, and high rise buildings. I was beginning to get a feel for the way China would pan out after being on Nanjing road for five minutes.

Spending the rest of our time in Shanghai at the same gloomy little hostel, we managed to get lost for at least nine hours one day just walking around, attend THREE preliminary soccer matches, (Argentina and the Ivory Coast being my new favorite teams) feel the staring eyes of one million Chinese people as our frizzy hair and green eyes strolled around, and on the day of our departure we almost burned down the hostel. Just another day in China. Pretty much our motto.

Relying on the subway to get around was like trying to walk into a packed stadium at the Olympic games. Except the only difference is that you have to try to cram onto an escalator with a million other people, then shove your way onto the subway. For some reason it is totally acceptable to just barge your way to the front throwing your hips around, and smashing into people. While this is all happening, at the same time a million other people are trying to get off the subway, using the same method. It becomes almost a game after awhile.

I wanted to just sit in the very middle of the station and watch people bustling around me. Speed walking in circles to get to the train. It was as if there was a secret conveyor belt underneath the subway rotating the throngs of people. Everywhere you go, no matter where it is in Shanghai the crowds never cease. I kept thinking we would somehow turn a corner and it would be quite. Never happened.

Shanghai was my first taste of China, and it definitely exceeded my expectations. Far more people, far more humid, and a lot easier to get around with all the Chinese that I know, meaning five words.