Incredible India

I'm in India, had I mentioned that? I've been here for a little more than two weeks now. Being in the far North, it feels more like India Light, I'll get to that a bit later.

When I finally decided to quit and go traveling, the two places that I was most excited to visit were China and India. Both countries are so large, so populated, so geographically diverse, so dynamic, so different, that I knew that whatever time I spent traveling, it would be mere glimpses, the slightest of introductions. China did not disappoint, and I have high hopes for India as well.

When I applied for my India visa last summer, I had the option of a one, two and ten year visa. Ten years didn't make sense (my passport will have long expired by then) and two years just felt too long. I wanted to put a time constraint on myself lest I get seduced into traveling for too long. Every couple of weeks I meet someone on a megatrip; two years out of three, five months while planning for five years, etc. There's something that feels wrong about being 'away' for so long. I love what I've been doing the past year, but it's not a normal life. So last August, I decided that one year was more than enough time, and it would force me to come home at a somewhat certain date. A month ago, I realized in horror that August is not that far off and I need to get my ass to India. I had planned on going back into Cambodia, but India was calling and time's a ticking.

After a night in the KL airport, I arrived in Kolkatta, home to over 15 million people and an airport suitable for a large town. They have two passport gates for all flights, fortunately, we were the only plane otherwise it would have been a quite the wait.

After scrupulously checking my passport and visa for five minutes, I was granted entry by a man with an impressive mustaches. Perhaps he got this all important position because of his manly upper lip. I quickly learned that Bengali men exude masculinity, which is apparent from their hairiness and ample mid-sections. Both features would put the SE Asians that I've been around the past five months to shame. If only they were constantly dancing in the street like in the movies, that would truly be incredible.

Battles in Bureaucracy

I knew that India is home to paper pushing and some serious bureaucracy. It took me about five minutes of being in the country to see this firsthand.

There's a fixed priced taxi from the airport into the City. For some reason this is located just five feet from a security gate and for arrival passengers only. After talking to the cabbies outside, I wanted to go back to the taxi agency and ask a quick question. But getting back into the airport was apparently not allowed. As I atempted to enter, the security guard asked to see my ticket. When I told him that I just arrived in Kolkatta and that I wanted to talk to the taxi stand, he looked very confused. I persisted. Finally he resolved that if he checked my boarding pass, no one could complain that he was delinquint in his search. Once past him I still had to navigate my way through three bored, mustachioed guards carrying flint stock riffles, past a two foot high fence and another five feet to the stand. As I approached the guards stood at attention looking to block my way. I pointed towards the taxi stand, slowed my roll and walked right past them. My time in SE taught me to ignore authority whom are typically incapable based on the twin traits of laziness and ineptitude. No harm on this occasion, as the guards twirled their mustache and watched me closely.

Since I'll be here for a couple of months, I wanted to get a sim card right away. I've done this in most of countries I've visited and usually the process takes a total of five minutes at a cost of a couple dollars. Ah technology. In India it's just not that simple. I had been forewarned and showed up with the required documents; copies of passport and visa, several passport photos, bill verifying current residence, signed recommendation from a respected member of the community indicating I am a good person, first locks of my hair, and my original birth certificate. After two plus hours we were just at the point when I would hand the gentlemen three dollars and I would again be connected to the 21st century. Just as I was to taste this freedom, I was denied. Apparently, my hotel bill was not sufficient and they needed to 'verify' my residence. Verification meant calling the number on the bill and asking if in fact I was sleeping there. After three attempts no one answered the telephone. Without voice verification of the hotel manager how could Vodafone ensure that I was staying there? I explained my situation to the phone store. I'm not really living at the hotel (it's gross, I would never live on Sudder street, yuck!), I'm just a traveler. Today I'm in Kolkatta, tomorrow I'll be in Darjeeling, the week after that Delhi, etc. The point is, I'm clearly not living anywhere, just give me the stupid sim card. This approach did not work. With a saddened expression the clerk explained that he understood my itinerant ways, I was both very lucky (to be traveling) and odd (for wanting to), but still he needed to talk with someone. At this point I sheepishly looked at him and asked, "Can't you just say that someone picked up the phone? What difference does it make?" This was quickly rebuffed with a head wave and the following, "I'm sorry sir, but I am not a liar." Oy.

I ran back to my hotel and tried to figure out why no one was answering the stupid phone. The reason being that it was passed six and the only person there was the porter, who in addition to barely knowing English is likely unable to 'operate' a phone. Exasperated, I asked why he wasn't picking up. He just smiled and gave me the Indian Head Nod- think shrugging to one side while smiling and looking vapid. Apparently the Manager would be in the following morning at 11, but maybe later. By this time Vodafone had closed and I had to wait a bit longer for my connection.

I spent the next morning waiting in the dingy lobby of my 'guesthouse' (it really wasn't that accommodating). At eleven one of the staff walked in. When I explained my mobile phone situation he gave me the nod and explained that the manager would be around in an hour, or so. Two hours later, the Manager arrived. I quickly explained the situation that Vodafone needed to verify my address, and that I needed someone to pick up the phone when they called. No problem he said, we're here all day. Great!

I ran back to the store and looked to conclude the transaction. This store is pretty modern and it's located in the nice walking street area of the city. It's also big, with maybe twenty employees working there at a time. They have a nice little queuing arrangement so everything is conducted in a non-Indian, orderly fashion. As I walked in, I noticed two people working and eighteen people loitering. Naturally one of the two was the guy I was working with the evening previous, and I was unable to finish up with another staff member. After waiting for a long, long time, he finally apologized and approached me. "I have the number, let's call this place right now. I WANT MY SIM CARD," I said. No problem he said and dialed the hotel, on the second attempt someone picked up. When asked if I was staying at the hotel, the Manager correctly answered that I had checked out this morning, which was true since I had a night train scheduled. With a pained expression, the staff member looked at me and said he would be unable to complete my request. NO!!!!! I would just have to get my sim card in the next city that I visit. I begged and pleaded but to no avail. After seeing me close to tears, he resolved to ask the store manager what to do. She was engrossed in a telephone conversation that was certainly unrelated to my issue and likely all other business and was deaf to the staff member's queries. After twenty minutes of waiting she finally pointed to some other form, clicked some buttons on the computer, and I was back on track. An hour later, I had a number. Such an ordeal. All in all I think I spent about six hours dealing with this phone nonsense and all for the minor expense of less than five dollars. Apparently, time is not at a premium in this country.

Hacking At Mountains

Hacking At Mountains
One of the pleasures of traveling in Northern Laos is appreciating the rows and rows of lush hills. Unfortunately, the greenery is interspersed with desolate mountains whose slopes have been ravaged by cross cutting lumber practices. the blame is shared between the government and the minority hill tribes people.The government is chopping and selling their forests to neighboring China, always hungry for natural resources. The hill tribes are just continuing their age-old farming practices. Preventing the decimation of the forest is probably harder than it seems. Traditionally, hill tribe farming involves a long cycle; slash and burn mountainsides, grow rice, wait 12-15 years for the soil and vegetation to recover and repeat. As the population in Laos has doubled over the past two generations the hill people have less and less available land. Plus the wood is used for many different functions; house building, cooking, farming (clearing the land), purifying water, heat, light and also as a source of income. Much will have to change to slow the destruction, electricity and clean water must be available, likely not possible without the villagers moving out of the hills and into towns, plus farming practices must be modernized. Changes like this will not come easily. As 'progress' comes in small steps it will make prospects worse in the short term. New roads will encourage more trade, meaning more opportunity for earning money. This is great, but combined with new tools such as chainsaws replacing axes, hacking down the forest will be easier and more profitable than before. All in all not a great picture.

Idiot Traveler
Being on the road for so long, I have the opportunity to meet all types of travelers. Some of them more equipped for a journey than others. A couple weeks ago, I met a lady who was making some of the stupidest decisions I've seen. She finished her trek the day after I did, but was panicking due to lack of local funds. Someone told her change all her money to US dollars since they are the most widely acceded currency. In fact, Lao Kip is the most useful- who would have guessed?! Finding herself with less than a dollar of Kip she freaked out. I can imagine this was an uncomfortable situation, but she had two very reasonable options. Go to the tour agency, where she just spent $100 to change some money or catch a ride to the nearest town with an ATM, only 90 minutes away. Instead she hitch-hiked a ride back to the border town where she entered some six hours away, all the time in the bed of a Chinese pick-up truck filled with loose metal. Idiot!

Two weeks alter on the other side of the country, I saw her again. This time in a travel agency trying to buy a ticket to Hanoi. She was having difficulty because she didn't have a Vietnamese visa. The agency was explaining this to her, but she just didn't get it. Again there were two options; back to the capital and apply for a visa in person or have the travel agency take care of it for a small fee. Convinced there was a third option, she tromped off determined to find a ticket to Vietnam. I can only imagine her getting turned back at the border. Idiot!

Sam the Bookseller
Vientiane doesn't have too much to offer in terms of sites, but on my second visit there I stumbled across a very entertaining bookseller. The following day, I was scheduled to fly to India and I planned to spend my last day in Laos running some errands. My hope was to swap my growing supply of books (current count being four) for a single, fat, India guidebook. Anton had found a shop that was willing to trade books and had a copy of the India one. Perfect!

Not only did I accomplish my goal, but I was thoroughly entertained in the process. After quickly conducting our business, we began discussing our time traveling in Laos. We related our experience of being offered Laos girls and Sam the bookseller was very interested. "Oh, you want a Laos girl? I can get you one no problem. In fact we can go together." Not this again, we chuckled, and this time coming from a man who had just finished proudly describing his family- he has something like ten kids. After we declined, Sam began to tell us about how he was trained by the CIA in the seventies. This intrigued us and we were eager to hear about his experiences.

Sam chose to focus on the lighter side and told us about a wonderful trip he took to Hong Kong. While there, he was wined and dined along with his colleagues and eventually found himself in one of the many redlight areas of the city. Incidentally, this is easier to do than it sounds. As the night proceeded Sam got the courage to ask one of the ladies to sample her expertise. In Sam's words, "WOW! WOW!!!" followed by hysterical laughter on both sides. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to learn exactly what was so incredible about this night, only that it was nothing that he had ever experienced before. He was so enthused that he went back the following night. Naturally we assumed he would go back to the same girl, seeing how he had such an amazing time. But Sam is a true adventurer and was interested in trying out another girl and "WOW!!!! I mean Wow!" again followed by hysterical laughter on both sides.

As if this wasn't enough to prove the sexual proclivities of this man, he then motioned for us to come over and look at some pictures on his phone. Picture 1: Smiling Laos girl, Pictures 2-5 same Laos girl is very states of undress with certain body parts being the particular focus of the frame. Once again this was followed by boyish laughter and exclamations of delight on his side, we merely smirked.

At this point, we were ready to leave. I got my book, shared some laughs, saw a naked girl.... all in all, a positive bookshop experience. But Sam wasn't having it. Before we left we HAD to see a special magazine that he had stashed somewhere in his shop. Like a teenage boy foraging for his naughty delights Sam was giggling in anticipation of finding this special publication. He hid it so well that he was convinced that one of his boys had taken it from him. Just moments before we were set to leave, Sam arose, victoriously holding a Thai porn magazine from some past decade. I'm not familiar enough with this literature to assess which decade, but suffice it to say it was pre-mellenial. As we were politely flipping the pages (I mean who in there right mind would take pleasure looking at a Thai pornography magazine?), two local (older German) customers entered. Sam motioned us to hide the magazine (apparently he didn't feel these old timers were worthy of such fruits) as he exchanged pleasantries with his guests. We took this opportunity to duck out of the shop. For sure the next time I'm in Vientiane, I'm going straight back to this shop.

Laosing Around

Disappointment At First

After a nice couple of weeks in Thailand, I was ready to finally make it into Laos. I say finally because when I left home, I was fairly sure I would travel overland from China and this was likely to happen sometime at the end of last year. Plans change, oh well

I've heard so much about Laos from those that have been here, and I have to admit it was hard not to enter here without some high expectations, which unfortunately were not quite met. The people more than anything are supposed to stand out, but in my first week here I didn't feel that at all. In addition, this supposedly remote country was filled with tourists. A number of whom seemed to be either on their first trip away from home on a break from uni (think annoying British kids) or sunbleached, tank-top wearing travelers straight from Thailand. I found nothing interesting in Vientiane, the baguettes and pastries were meh.

Floating on the River

One of the suppose highlights of Laos is Vang Vien, which is famous for its scenery and partying ways. I was excited to sample both and especially curious about tubing, which is supposedly a SE Asian backpackers right of passage. It involves floating down the river in a large inter tube periodically taking breaks to buy alcohol (or 'happy drinks') jump off rope swings, and maybe look at the impressive mountains, assuming you can pull your eyes off the girls in bikinis. It's a real mystery how this tradition started. I've got nothing against booze, ropes, or mountains, but the whole experience has an unfitting home in the traditionally conservative Laos.

I thought it was ok; maybe worth a look, but definitely not spending weeks in the area. I spent the day with a pair of cheery, Aussie guys, who had their eyes on a couple dainty English gals. While they were hard at work, I was left floating next to a strange young American lady. At the age of twenty she was affianced, traveling the world on her own and planning on conquering the world...that is just after she gets here Ba in a couple of years. It's hard to say exactly what was weird about her. It could be that she would never make eye contact and her lazy eye didn't help.

Highlights of the day included volleyball in a giant mudpit, which was more like playing try not to fall while getting the ball, and sliding down a giant water slide that wouldn't pass safety standards anywhere. I survived both, but not without some bruises.

The whole tubing event was just an excuse to drink profusely. I would have been disappointed if I hadn't met up with a German couple I traveled with in Burma. The town is filled with half naked travelers looking a bit like zombies, needing a fresh dose of a pancake and an episode of Friends or Family Guy before downing another beer. We tried to avoid the kids and spent the day kidding around, climbing in caves, swimming in lagoons, eating good food, enjoying both the company and the surrounding mountains (which look very similar to the mountains of Yangshuo I saw six months ago). With the tubing off the list, I was set to do some trekking, that is after a short stop in Luang Prabang. Luang Prabang, didn't strike me as anything magical. I had seen monks and temples before, some even next to rivers, so no biggy for me. Plus traveling was both easier and more expensive than I expected.

Chinese Invasion

I planned on visiting the NW of Laos and spent the day bussing to Luang Nam Tha located an hour or two from the Chinese border. I was immediately struck by the overwhelming Chinese influence there. Nestled in a high valley, this little town (city by Laos standards) is currently in the process of being developed by the Chinese, meaning there were plenty of Chinese there including the guys who owned the hotel I stayed in. Since I arrived with a Chinese gal (along with two Western dudes) we got some great treatment from owners, who promptly served a banquet in our honor (not really). But we did have mounds of food and like most Chinese men, these guys were doing their best trying to get us drunk. A couple gan beis later, my Chinese was flowing (as best it can flow) and merriment was spread all around.

Many in Northern Laos are unhappy with the Chinese workers and businesses coming south. A typical complaint being that the Chinese are taking Laotian job, but I bet the Chinese are creating more than taking. Laos is extremely laid back, probably to a fault. I've never been to restaurants that constantly warm you to be patient about service. I've been told that 'Hammock ' is an official field of study. Spend any time walking here and you'll see passed out people all around town, tuk-tuks, shops, offices...this nation loves to sleep.

Do you Like Laos Girls?

On my friends suggestion, we (I say we because I have been traveling with an American named Anton for the past two weeks) arranged our trekking from the quaint town (more like village) of Vien Phouka. We had an afternoon to kill before starting the next day, and decided to walk to a nearby village. We didn't' make it, because just outside town we were summoned over to join a small celebration. It turned out to the be the local high school teaching staff having a couple (lots) of drinks. I don't blame them, as their school has about ten teachers for over 700 students, that must be hard.

We proceeded to join them from some beer and struggled to communicate, the English teachers could speak a little, but everyone was really drunk. On a number of occasions, we were asked, "Do you like Laos girls?" to which we replied, "Laos girls are great, we love Laos people!" which was then followed by the "Do you want one?" We just laughed and shrugged. Around this time girls started popping out of nowhere and the proprietor came to introduce himself to us. He was a guide with the local tourist ministry, and opened this restaurants just four months ago. By the time he asked us if we like Laos girls, we had figured out why the 'restaurant' was located outside of town. He was disappointed to learn that we had a guide for a trek, weren't hungry and not interested in sampling the local flavor. shortly thereafter, the mayor came, complete with a little entourage. He shook hands with everyone, including us and then went to examine the evenings special dishes. Clearly, he likes Laos girls.

Careful of the Lychees

The next day we set out on our three day two night trek. it's the end of the dry season so conditions were hot and humid during the day with a relief coming every night in the form of towering thunderstorms. Fortunately, the rain came only at night, but it did make conditions muddy and slippery during the walk. This added a bit more challenge to a trail that had it's shares of ups and downs but wasn't too long. The negative is that the moisture brought out the leaches, who wanted to suck our blood. I didn't get bit too bad, but I found a couple under my socks but luckily before they could do much damage. Anton was not so lucky, a leach attached to his foot causing him to bleed through his sock and a ravenous one some how made it's way to his hip, feasting past the point of exhaustion leaving him with a huge bruise. It was a bit annoying to be on leach patrol constantly taking off our socks and heeding our guides suggestion of checking for lychees (apparently the plural of leach).

I've finished a couple treks so far and this was was my favorite, mainly because we were so isolated. Aside from a couple villagers tending their cows, we were the only ones walking and the 'villages' we visited were indifferent and unimpressed by our presence- as they should be. The first night we stayed in a mixed Muzar, Hmong, and Lahu village with probably about fifty homes and 200 people each. We had the pleasure to stay with the chief, and had a lovely plywood mattress. The elder of his two daughters, who was probably 16, gave the impression of wanting us to leave right away. I think this had less to do with us and more to do with the fact that she probably just wanted some privacy for the first time in her life and we weren't helping.

After a small meal, we wandered the village, and discovered a shaman conducting a ritual. Apparently a woman in the village had miscarried three consecutive times and the shaman was attempting a cure. We learned the miscarriages were the work of spirits who were apparently hungry and eating the babies. So the shaman had to appease the spirits. This was done by offering the spirits three tasty treats, a goat, dog and chicken. These were first passed over the head of the woman thus transferring her essence to the animals and then sacrificed. Finally small bamboo mats were sprinkled with the blood and placed around her house. Hopefully it worked, if she's still not successful in caring a baby to term, maybe she's the next to be sacrificed.

The next day we walked to a small village (maybe twenty houses) where all the babies started screaming when they saw us. I especially like this feeling of being a monster, it's always flattering to know that I'm so scary. The older children and villages just stared at us with mouths gaping open. After a couple of false starts I got them to teach me to count to ten, which is the same for both the Muzar and Lahu language.

dey ma
nee ma
seh lah
la leh
nga mah
koh mah
su mah
ei mah
go mah
de chi

I reciprocated the knowledge exchange by sharing 1-10 with them, then I sparked a fire, recited Hamlet's famous speech and gave a short lecture on modern macroeconomic theory. I expect a new Atlantis will blossom there shortly.

That night we stayed in a really small 'village' of three house and ten people. I've never been to a place so remote, which was interesting to see up close. They are subsidence slash/burn farmers who also keep some livestock. Meaning when they're not cutting down the beautiful forest, they are living amongst shit, lots and lots of cow, pig, goat and chicken poop. Not very sanitary. It started poring just after we were done hiking for the day. Two ladies were not so lucky as they were caught gathering wood in the storm. The older grandmother was already half undressed by the time she made it back into her house. I'm likely to be fantasizing about her for years to come.

After a couple of days in the great outdoors it was nice to return to an actual village. Unfortunately the village had neither electricity nor hot water, in fact my room didn't have water at all, which meant I got to bathe in the river. I didn't have soap so i rinsed myself downstream of where others were showering, that way I could utilize their suds. Just kidding, well sort of since I was definitely downstream of others showering. It was really refreshing dipping into the river in just my skivvies, something I've now had the opportunity to do a couple times. Didn't Jacob meet his wife while bathing in the river? I could totally see happening. I would think the town bath is a total pick up joint.

Anyways, it was a couple days of firsts, I saw a live shaman show, ate dog, was offered opium, saw a baby making a fire, foraged for bamboo, learned to speak Muzar, all around a good trip.

Bus Will be Here by 12

I heard a lot of stories about the terrible Laos buses, but never really experienced problems myself. The worst that happened was when i was trying to get from Vien Phouka to Nong Khiaw. By car, it should probably take five or six, but I anticipated a full day at least. I expected the bus to come at 12 since that's what i was told and arrive some time in the late evening. In fact the bus didn't come until 8 and i got dropped off at 4 in the morning. This after being charged three times the local price- there's a two tiered pricing system in Laos that's not fair. It wasn't that bad because we spent the afternoon drinking Lao whiskey (add some honey to kill the heat) with our guides, eating fried bananas and laughing as they accused each other of visiting the Laos Girl Restaurants often. It all added to my theory of SE Asian men, which is this: they like to get drunk and go to prostitutes. I found this true in Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Laos and Burma. It's a bit icky, but whiskey is really cheap and the girls are pretty so it's easy to see how it happens.

Watch the Flow

The next stop was Nong Khiaw, which was like Vang Vein, but prettier, and without all the kids. The main activity here was just watching the river float by. I found it very meditative and I'm sure it would have somehow been meaningful had a tried one of the many drugs offered to me. I wasn't interested, but after a couple days of reading and relaxing it was time to be active again. We opted to take a canoe out on the river and paddle around a bit. The villagers seemed to think that the river was moving pretty fast and that we needed to rent a guide along to be able to actually go anywhere. But that would have cost $25 each, which is just a crazy number for Laos so we refused and challenged the river ourselves. After five minutes of struggling to go up stream, but floating downstream, we began thinking that maybe the river is going really fast. We resolved to float a bit more and then just beach and hang out. At the same time we saw two ladies making their way up river. This was perplexing, they were eighty pounds and weak and we were beefy Americans. After studying their technique we finally figured out how, use the motor! That would have been good but we didn't have one, so instead we just hugged the shore and slowly made our way back. That was enough exertion for us and we spent the rest of the afternoon drinking Lao Lao and admiring our muscles.

Back Door to Jars

My last stop in Laos was Phonsovan and the Plain of Jars. I was excited to go here since it's one of the few older historical places in the country and will shortly be on the list of World Heritage Sites, that is once they clear all the mines in the are. The ride there was more interesting than the site itself. This was true for the mammoth travel on the back road, and for the plains themselves. Phonsovan isn't that far from Nong Khiaw but it took a day and a half to get there. At eight one night we got dropped at a junction with two little guesthouses that clearly aren't seeing many tourists. let's put it this way, my Lao pasa (speech) was as good as their English talk, and mine is non-existence. When we asked for food, the mother of the guesthouse pointed to some instant noodles. Thinking there must be some better option we strolled the streets, where we asked a couple different groups of people. When we asked for a place to eat, they all said, 'oh we don't have.' That night we feasted on instant noodles. At this time it was dark. They don't have electricity, so we just went to bed. Honestly, I'm not really a fan of going to bed at seven or eight, it just doesn't work for me.

Finally getting to Phonsovan was nice, since after two weeks we once again had such amenities as running water, electricity and milkshakes. Mmmmm electricity. The jars were exciting as they sound, but the time traveling there was nice since we rented some motorbikes and got around that way. I'm happy to say that I'm finally getting comfortable with the bikes. Maybe I'll get a Harley when I get back, yeah right.