Do You Know the Way To the Taj Mahal?

The night before I left Palampur, Joginder informed me that the only bus leaving the next day for Amristar left at 4:30 in the morning. I stumbled out of bed to the slightly early, but much-welcomed badgering of Joginder, who had graciously stayed the night to see me off in the morning, and headed up the road to the catch the bus. Seven hours later, I arrived in Amritsar, the most hectic place I had been since Delhi. It took a little getting used to, and I ended up putting my faith in a cycle rickshaw man to get me to a well-priced guesthouse in the center of town. After grabbing a bite to eat, I decided to explore the city and wander towards the main tourist attraction, the Golden Temple. After about forty-five minutes of wandering the streets, I found myself at the temple's shoe depository, so I stowed my shoes and headed inside just after dark. It was quite a beautiful sight; a temple with an entirely gold exterior situated in the middle of a vast pool within the brilliant white complex. And, at night, the lights illuminated the gold brilliantly as the pilgrims said their evening prayers.

The next day, I met a few fellow travelers at the hotel and decided to go grab some grub. The four of us, a Dane, a Brit, a Swede and myself, headed into town. A few of use were craving a taste of the West, so we settled on Domino's Pizza. A vegetarian pizza and a Coke over some good conversation left us satisfied. Afterwards, we wandered the town for a bit, and after stopping to visit the Cave Temple, the Swedish fellow and I, at the other two's recommendation, headed to the Pakistani border to watch a nightly border closing ceremony. Here, the Pakistani and Indian border guards partake in an elaborate, hour-long showcase of marching and yelling culminating in the a closing of the gates for the day. The rivalry between the nations is intensified by the large amount of locals who show up to join the chanting from large grandstands on both sides of the border. It was quite a spectacle as some of the marching is a bit unique, and legend has it the Monty Python skit "Ministry of Silly Walks" was based on this ceremony. While heading back to Amritsar after the ceremony, we chatted with an Indian gentleman from Bangalore about India history and the rivalry with Pakistan. During our conversation, we noticed a copious amount of self-portraits being taken in the seat in front of us. After peering over the shoulder of the fellow taking the photos, we could see he was trying to angle the camera to capture me and the Swedish fellow, Arvit, as we were the only white people around. Although getting my picture taken with locals has happened fairly regularly on my trip , it has not happened anywhere more than in India. Once we noticed this clandestine attempt, and the fact that the cameraman was not quite satisfied with his shots yet, Arvit and I started making funny faces when he took the photos. We all had a good laugh once he reviewed the pictures and could tell that we were onto him! Back in Amritsar, we spent the night chatting with the Dane, the Brit, as well as a Spanish guy we met at the border who also happened to be staying at the same hotel. Great night!

Monday was a slow day. After Skyping away the morning, I headed to the Dera at Beas, a large ashram an hour outside of Amritsar. This was at the recommendation of Manjit, a former coworker from back home who is from Punjab. And it did not disappoint! The place was massive, and entirely self-sufficient. Though I did not stay, guests are provided free room and basic meals in exchange for light volunteer work, and you can stay as long as you like. The entire complex was immaculate. While exploring, I met a retired Indian-American gentleman named Macinder, or Mac, after I complimented his Augusta National cap. We chatted and he told me a bit of his story: he lived in the States for thirty years, and his two sons, both doctors, still lived there. Now retired, he lived in the ashram full time and explained that it can house approximately 400,000 residents at a time! There were dormitories and apartment complexes stacked next to each other as far as the eye could see, so I have no reason to doubt the figure. There were banking facilities and large congregation centers for the religious ceremonies. Quite a beautiful place, and a fascinating, if brief, look into the ashram culture. After a short train ride back to Amritsar, I met a Japanese traveler at the hotel and decided another trip to the Golden Temple was worth it. On our way, we stopped off for a fantastic thali at Brother's Dhaba and then had another evening stroll through the the amazing temple.

After that, I was ready to move on. So, the next morning, I went for one more final stop at the temple to watch sunrise, since I had not seen it in daylight. There, I met Arowind, a gentleman from Kolkata who was a regular visitor to the temple. He invited me fora free cup of chai and biscuits at the temple cafeteria, which supplies free meals during the day for pilgrims, and we discussed the Sikh religion and it's importance in the world. Arowind even tried, impressively but ultimately unsuccessfully, to convert me to Sikhism. We parted ways, and I headed back to the hotel to a welcomed message from my friend Manjit informing me I could stay with her uncle and his family in their village in Punjab. I was so excited to meet some local people. I have found while traveling that frequently, despite my best efforts, I am confined to the tourist attractions and a limited segment of the population which is accustomed to tourism. So I am always grateful to meet local people and learn from their perspective. I was quite excited for my stay in rural Punjab. I took a bus to Nawanshar, about three hours from Amritsar, and met with Manjit's cousins Baljit and Mandeep, as well as Mandeep's father; Manjit's uncle. On the way to their house in the village of Dayal, we stopped by the local grain market, where the family's just-harvested crop was being weighed and bagged prior to being sold at the market. There, we met Baljit's father, another of Manjit's uncles, who was to accompany us the next day around Punjab. We headed back to their home, and Mandeep's mother made a terrific dinner, prior to which we chatted for a while. However, as only Baljit and to a lesser extent Mandeep, knew English, we had a little difficulty but ultimately a great time talking about the next day's adventures.  Lastly, to my great surprise, I was informed at dinner that a Skype call was ready from home. Sure enough, the computer opened and there was Manjit, sitting at the desk I had visited a thousand times back in Bothell, WA, and we started chatting. She called over a few more of the old work crew for a good ol' fashioned reunion. There was much ado over my new look. What a great cap to the day!

The next day, we started early on our tour of Punjab. But before we did, we had a tremendous breakfast consisting of fresh parantha, curd and a lassi. And, all the dairy was courtesy of the families cows, kept just down the road in their stables. Our first stop was a Sikh temple overlooking the town of Anandpur. It is a beautifully maintained temple, and we spent about an hour taking in the morning prayers and the views of the town. After visiting the temple, we visited Baljit's great uncle's house and had a cup of chai and some good conversation before heading to a Sikh museum a few minutes away. The museum was great, complete with an audio guide describing the history of the Sikh religion from its foundations and struggles throughout history. Next, it was decided to visit a hilltop temple just over the border in Himachal Pradesh, the next province. An hour's drive winding up the hills later, we reached the parking lot of the Naina Devi temple. The climb to the temple lasted about thirty minutes, mainly consisting of stairs, with the highlight being Baljit and I making a new friend; a six-foot snake you could hold for just five rupees. Once at the temple, we waited for about an hour to reach the main shrine and pay our respects as the place where the Mother of Hinduism's eyes were laid. Her body was spread over India, and this was the final resting place of her eyes; many people were there to worship. Afterwards, near the temple, Baljit and I climbed through a small cave, which required some rather crafty maneuvering on our parts, to visit another temple inside the mountain. On our way back to Dayal, we stopped in Anandpur for some samosas drenched in a spicy sauce that were absolutely incredible, before getting some bananas and bread to feed the monkeys on the side of the road. After getting home, we rested for a bit before another fine meal of chapati, raita and a spicy vegetable dish all made fresh, and passed the evening playing a card game with Baljit and Mandeep. After a wonderful time, I decided I should be moving on, as I had imposed on Manjit's family last-minute and I still had a few more sights to see in India before I left. What a great day and a half through Punjab though! Incredible memories!

The next morning, after a final meal of parantha and curd with a lassi, I headed off to Jaipur, in Rajasthan; a trip that would end up taking about 24 hours. After being informed that the one bus from Nawanshar to Delhi for the day was cancelled due to a strike, I headed off on a connecting bus, and made it to Delhi in the afternoon. With about six hours to kill before the overnight bus to Jaipur, I wandered the streets of Delhi--including a brief walk through Old Delhi--was kicked out of the metro for sitting and reading (despite paying a fare), and was harassed by a pack of wild dogs on my way back to the bus station. Finally, on my way to the bus, I saw the Delhi Police van for the Bomb Squad Unit parked nearby. I was relieved when the bus finally pulled out of the station at ten o'clock. At about two in the morning, a vicious smoke started emitting from the gear shift next to the driver. The bus pulled over and the driver started making some phone calls, and we were informed that the bus had broken down and we had to wait for another bus passing in the same direction. I felt like I had accomplished a traveling rite of passage: a broken-down bus. Of all the sketchy buses I've taken over the last four months, this was the first to break down. The excitement was short lived, however, as we were crammed onto an already full bus for the remaining three hours to Jaipur, and I ended up sitting sideways on the floor not getting much sleep. But, after arriving, I found the only other two foreigners on the bus, two nice German girls named Lina and Lola, and asked if I could share a rickshaw to their hotel, as I hadn't any hotel booked and no guidebook for Jaipur. Had they refused my request, I would have been at the mercy of the questionable rickshaw men of the bus station. To my luck, however, they agreed and we grabbed a rickshaw to the nearest hotel in their Lonely Planet. After arranging a room, I crashed for the morning, awaking ready to see Jaipur.

After a fruitless search for internet to send a message home, including being taken by a friendly local to "his brother's shop" where at least I got a cup of chai, I headed back to the hotel a little dejected after a wasted day in Jaipur. On my way, however, I ran across my pals Lina and Lola, headed out for a wander through the old city before their evening bus, and I decided to tag along. We spent the next few hours strolling through the bazaars of the Pink City. After Lina and Lola departed, I decided to take in a film at the theater, Bollywood style. So, I went around the corner from my hotel to the local cinema and got a ticket for Aashiqui 2, a rom-com as far as I could tell from the poster. Although entirely in Hindi--except for the instances where the characters switched to English for emphasis and drama--and unnecessarily long, the film did not disappoint. The film was complete with an intermission and copious amounts of singing--although the two main characters were pop stars--but surprisingly few choreographed dance numbers. The most striking aspect of the film was the racy love scene. It was much more explicit than I was expecting for an Indian Bollywood film. Quite an enjoyable experience, as the small, mostly male crowd in the theater was animated and cheering throughout the film, especially during the romantic moments.

The next day I arranged to switch hotels, as the one I was in was lacking in internet, as seemed the entire town, and was rather dingy anyway. This turned out to be a very fortuitous decision. I headed to a Lonely Planet recommended hotel a little outside the city center and discovered it was full. But, just across the road was a nice little hotel with a dorm bed available. It was in rather good shape, and for fairly cheap. And, a splendid roommate appeared in the form of a Kiwi traveler visiting Jaipur for a few days. After a miscommunication with some local fellows regarding a possible cricket match, we decided to head to the Old City to check out some more of the sights, and watch the bustling markets in action. On our way out of the market, we both decided we had not seen enough of the city yet. So, we headed south on an evening wander of the city, with the daylight fading and only a small, vague map at our disposal. First, we came across the impressive Albert Hall museuem, built in the 1800's by the British. Unfortunately, it was closed for the evening. So, we continued onward through the outskirts of Jaipur and passed the main hospital before running into a Hindu temple. A large, white temple dedicated to the Hindu god Ganesh, it was set up from the road with a great view of south Jaipur. We sat watching the crowds come in to worship before closing time. Then, like Supertramp, we took the Long Way Home, walking around the golf club and polo grounds, and across from the main cricket ground of the Rajasthan Royals, and picking up mango and chocolates for a nutritious dinner.

The next day, after the taxi-man I had arranged to take me on a tour of Jaipur failed to show--a miscommunication it turned out--Amber, my Kiwi friend and roommate, and I hit the town to take in some more of the tourist sights of Jaipur. Our first stop was Jantar Mantar, an entire complex devoted to different aspects of astrology. Right next door we toured Hawa Mahal, a large palace with a five story screened facade built so the maharajah's wives could watch the festivities in Jaipur without being seen. The top story had great views of the Old City that we soaked in before deciding to hop a local bus out to the Amber Fort, an old fortress and palace formerly home to the maharajah of Jaipur. The fort was nice, in parts, but some of it was rather run down, and left me wanting. The mirror palace, a small structure built of marble set with a mosaic of small mirrors and stones, was the highlight for me. Afterwards, we crossed the road from the Amber Fort and climbed to the outer wall of the fort, at the crest of the ridge a few hundred yards high. And the views were tremendous, both of the northern suburbs of Jaipur and the Amber Fort, which we caught just as the sun was setting behind it. A truly majestic sight. We headed back down and watched the first few minutes of a very disappointing Sound and Light show at the Amber Fort, and although we couldn't hear much of the sound--because admission was a whopping 400 rupees!--what we did manage to hear was terribly weak. Then, it was back to Jaipur for another night of mango and chocolate, but as the fruit stands were closed for the night, we had to settle for fresh street-side mango juice to accompany our chocolate. Finally, we capped the night off with the second half of Manchester United and Arsenal's 1-1 draw at the Emirates, before calling it a night.

The next morning--our last in Jaipur, as we were both heading off to other parts of India--we decided to get some breakfast with our new roommate who arrived late in the night; another Kiwi by the name of Max. After stopping off for a quick chai, we headed to Parantha Hut for some Indian grub. Satisfied with our meal, we headed back to the hostel before bidding goodbye and going our separate ways: Max and I shared a rickshaw to the train station to store our bags for the day, while Amber headed for a bus out of town. After the train station, Max and I parted as well, and I headed into Jaipur for the last few sights I missed on the days prior. First stop, though, was the lassi stands outside the old city. For a few minutes, I sipped a tremendous pineapple lassi served in a clay cup, and watched the city fly by, solely a spectator of the chaos. But, as my cup ran dry, I headed back into the mix, dodging scooters, rickshaws, cars and bicycles navigating the hectic streets of this fascinating country. Next stop: Albert Hall Museum. This time it was open, and I had a nice long perusal in the fan-cooled museum as a respite from the hot afternoon sun. After entering through an antique English turnstile, I headed through the Indian history exhibit and Egyptian exhibit before finishing on the second floor with the Indian crafts, jewellery and musical instrument exhibits, and a few good views of Jaipur. Unsure of my next destination, but craving a wander, I ventured forth and ended up following the route Amber and I had taken two days previous, this time making a detour for the local shopping mall in need of another break from the beating sun. The mall had a cinema and I couldn't help but indulge myself in a film. On the menu was Iron Man 3, which, unbeknownst to me, was yet to be released back home. The film was nice, though the 3D was unnecessary in my opinion, and was the perfect passtime to await the cool breezes of the evening. An hour walk after leaving the theater and I made it to the train station where an unsurprisingly poor night's sleep awaited me before my morning train to Agra, my next destination.

Early the next morning, I hopped the express train to Agra excited for its most famous attraction: the Taj Mahal. After arriving, I took a rickshaw to Taj Ganj, the area due south of the Taj Mahal where most of the hostels are located, and booked a night in the appropriately named Shanti Lodge. With an incredible view of the Taj Mahal from their overpriced rooftop restaurant and a warm and helpful staff, the Shanti Lodge was a great crash pad for a quick trip to the Taj. I checked in and headed to get some more affordable eats, stopping at the Lonely Planet recommended Taj Cafe, just a few doors down. There, I had a wonderful curry, parantha, and their famous Mixed Fruit Lassi, which was truly delightful. I needed a walk after that meal so I headed to the train station a few kilometers away, solicited by no fewer than ten bicycle rickshaw drivers absolutely stunned that I would attempt such a suicidal walk in the heat and offering a very good price to save me from my stupidity, all of whose offers I pleasantly declined. Until, that is, I was about one kilometer out and a kindly rickshaw driver said that he was headed my way and would take me for free, and that price was right. As he drove he asked the two most common questions I received in India: where I was from and whether I was married. Following my response to the latter question in the negative, he gave me the typical response: an incredulous, "WHY?" I still don't have a good answer. I just shrugged my shoulders and attempted, with only occasional success, to convey the fact that it is not unusual in the states. Then, I politely changed the subject. That seemed to work well. He dropped me off at the station, before continuing on his way home--to his wife and kids, of course--and I headed inside to book a ticket onward to Delhi for the next day. With an afternoon and sunset to kill, I grabbed a bicycle rickshaw--after a fierce negotiation over ten rupees, which I eventually conceded--to the Agra Fort, the main palace in the city. I toured the Fort and stuck around for the view of the Taj Mahal at sunset before heading back to Taj Ganj for some grub at Joney's place, a tiny cafe seating about twenty with a kitchen consisting of two burners, a cutting board and a fridge, but serving fantastic meals. Then it was an early night to make sure I was ready to catch the sunrise view at the Taj Mahal.

I woke early and grabbed a quick bite to eat before eagerly heading into the Taj Mahal for sunrise. As the sun rose to the Taj Mahal's left, the white marble lit up and illuminated the countless Quran verse inscriptions adorning the outside. The tranquility of the grounds was impressive, and though the interior was small and dark, the intricacy of the design and decoration, from the calligraphic inscriptions to the marble screen surrounding the shah and his wife's tombs, was quite awesome. Fun fact about the design: The Taj Mahal was placed on a pedestal about 25 feet high so that the viewer would only see the sky in the background. The Taj Mahal's official literature modestly describes this design feature as "genius." After a few hours roaming the grounds and soaking in the view of the Taj, I headed back to my hostel for check-out sensing an upset stomach on the horizon. And so it was, my tummy had turned and I spent the rest of the day awaiting my evening train to Delhi on the couch at the hostel sleeping on and off and generally feeling awful. But, as the hour of my train neared, I regained enough strength to not vomit on the rickshaw ride to the train station and awaited my journey to my final Indian destination: Delhi. I ended up sitting next to a pleasant Indian couple and their three year old son, who was quite fond of exploding high-fives by the time we reached Delhi. And, upon arrival, I had a scramble to make it to the nearest metro station before the last train, and was lucky to meet a young local fellow named Roz, on his way to the same station. After we arrived at the station, I didn't have change to pay the rickshaw man his 10 rupees, so Roz spotted me, but I didn't have a chance to repay him before we parted company on the metro. If you're out there Roz, I owe you ten rupees, and I feel bad I couldn't make it right. But, on the world turned and I headed to the Main Bazaar area of New Delhi to find some accommodation for the night, luckily finding acceptable circumstances at my first stop, where I settled in for the night.

I passed the next few days in Delhi reading and wandering the Connaught Place area, a bit tired of sightseeing and looking to avoid the crowds and heat of the tourist attractions. Though not entirely restful, as pure rest is impossible to come by in the constant commotion of urban India, it was relaxing in it's own way, an Indian way, and was a good send off from a month exploring a tiny corner of this expansive, populated, crowded, hectic, chaotic, and intriguing country. Next stop: Dubai.

Kids and Cameras

After a terrific five days in Sri Lanka, I headed to India with a bit of nervous excitement. The whole of my trip I had heard about the overwhelming, but incredible experiences that awaited me in India, and I was eager to dive in.

An uneventful flight landed me in Delhi on a Friday afternoon. And, to my surprise, the airport was very subdued. I made my way to the hostel I had already booked, where I dined with some fellow travelers and stayed in for an early night. The next morning, I woke up and headed into the heart of the city via the clean and efficient--something I would find to be rare in India--metro to procure an evening bus ticket to my first destination, Palampur, and then relaxed in my hostel until departure.

The overnight bus journey was pleasant and uneventful, except for the nice chat with my seat mate, a kind Japanese fellow headed to visit family in the north of India. After arriving, I was picked up by one of the volunteer coordinators Sahil at the Palampur bus station and taken to the volunteer house a few miles from the town. For the next two weeks, I would be based here and teaching English and Mathematics to some young kids at a local school. At the house I met Joginder, a quite amiable gentleman, who cooks meals for the volunteers, which I found unfortunately to be only myself for the whole of my stay. After a delicious cup of chai and a quick tour of the surrounding area of Thakadwara--including a trip to find some much-needed laundry services--Joginder made a fine meal of chapati, rice, dal and a curry and I was ready to start teaching the next day.

To my disappointment, the program was rather disorganized. I woke up the next morning to find out it was the very first day of the school year, and so the kids were getting acquainted with their teachers, and my services were not needed. So, my volunteer coordinator Amit and I stopped by the school to introduce me to the principal and my main volunteer coordinator at Gayan Deep School, Monish, and discuss my schedule. It also turned out my schedule consisted of only three, thirty minute classes in the morning, and I was finished by noon. Finally, I was told I could teach whatever I wanted. I didn't know what to say about that one. I was hoping to meet the fellow teachers and discuss how I would fit with their schedules, but that was not to be. Instead, I studied the math curriculum, and was dismissed for the day. After a fine afternoon chatting with Joginder, I met with Bobby, the other volunteer coordinator, and discussed the limited schedule, to which he suggested I could teach some local kids who can't afford school, and I eagerly agreed. He would set that up and get back to me. Then, in the evening, a young lady barged into the place rather hurriedly and introduced herself as Monica, my housemate, then vanished to the upstairs quarters. It turned out she was a dentist along with my volunteer coordinator, Bobby--dentistry being his primary occupation and volunteer coordinating a secondary commitment--and over the next two weeks, she would turn out to be a very friendly, if reserved, housemate whom I wish I could have got to know better with more time.

My first day teaching was both awesome and frustrating. I went to my first class, grade 6, who were really amazing. The class clown, Adutya, was the first to talk, and he never seemed to stop. Since teachers were not provided with a copy of the material, Nandini, a sweetheart, lent me her math book so we could get started. For thirty minutes, we went over their latest math section ordering numbers smallest to largest, and had a fantastic time. The kids, though a bit unruly at times, were good sports and very sharp. My next class, seventh grade, was a bit smaller, but also a bit less cooperative. Also nice kids, but not looking to do math. So, we did English instead. Since I had no idea what I was supposed to teach, I supposed practice reading English could only help. So we read a story and I was relieved of class at the bell--which was a hand-held bell rung inconsistently by one of the teaching assistants. Finally, my eighth grade class was stellar. I got in there and they were eager to do math. I must admit I was skeptical at first--what 8th graders ever want to actually learn math--but they were genuinely interested in going over math problems. So, we solved single variable equations for the period. They were a really superb group of kids, and I was looking forward to that class again. That was all for the day and I was dismissed.

I was getting into a bit of a rhythm by the second day of teaching. On my way to class I stopped by the stationary shop and picked up a notebook, which I immediately put to good use. I cut out small sections and had each kid write their name and place the name-tag on their desk to help me get to know them better. It was a good first day exercise, but I had totally forgot about it on Day 1. Rookie mistake. At the end of class, I picked up the name-tags so I could do a little homework of my own memorizing all the kids names. I found that, for the most part, the three classes represented different grades of unruliness: 7th was the most, 6th in the middle, and 8th was a breeze. The classes were all full of good kids, but some were harder to manage than others. In the afternoon, after classes, I headed with Bobby to a tea plantation to meet some kids I was supposed to teach English to for the rest of my stay, and found them quite nice. There were no books and the kids were ace at the alphabet and counting, so we mostly drew pictures and played games, learning a few words along the way. Some teacher I was!

The third day of teaching brought a bit of a realization: the other teachers were still teaching math and english regardless of what I taught. Initially I was hugely disappointed by this development, but realized that there was no malice intended and, as I would become more intimately familiar during my tenure, that's just how this school works: totally disorganized. So, I set about using my time with the kids to help them further understand the math and English assignments given to them and working with them on their homework. I also introduced the game Hangman, which was to be a favorite of all the kids, and we would play a little bit pretty much everyday. I figured it was good for helping their spelling and I would introduce harder words each time, before letting some of the kids choose words to use. At the tea plantation, I brought some markers and paper from my notebook to do some drawing. When the kids were done drawing, we learned some of the English words for the pictures they drew, like "river," "mountain" and "flag." That was satisfying to help them pick up some vocabulary, even though I didn't have any idea how to properly teach them English.

Friday was filled with more math exercises and games in the morning. The most eventful part of class was finding out, from my students, that Monday was a holiday and not to show up. When I went to confirm with the staff, they replied, "Oh yeah, no class." That was all. Oh, India. This was followed by hanging with the kids at the tea plantation in the afternoon. There, I pulled out my iPhone and the kids and I had some fun snapping pictures. They were pretty enthralled, and though they do not know much English, they know "camera." Thoroughly enjoyable time with the kids that day.

On Saturday, I headed off on  my first excursion. Destination: Dharamshala, the home to His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Also home to many western backpackers preparing for treks into the Indian Himalaya I would find. After a dizzying hour-long bus ride through the foothills of the Himalaya, I arrived at Dharamshala, and immediately headed to the hilltop town of McLeod Ganj, just outside of Dharamshala, where the heart of Tibetan culture--including the Dalai Lama--resides. There are two methods to getting to McLeod Ganj from Dharamshala: walking and taxi. I was going to take a taxi, but upon leaving the bus station, I asked a few young folks if I could join them on the walk. It turned out these kind folk were Tibetan refugees and moved to McLeod Ganj in 2008. Now they were on holiday from studies in other parts of India and visiting family. On the 9km walk up a beastly hill, we discussed the status of Tibet and their hopes for freedom in their lifetime. They were not overly optimistic, but the prevailing opinion was that as more refugees come to India, the collective Tibetan voice will become louder and the issue will gain more exposure. After parting company with the kind Tibetans and wishing them luck in their studies, and their fight for freedom, I spent the rest of the day checking emails in the internet cafe, purchasing a few new reads, including Jon Krakauer's intense account of his summit of Everest called "Into Thin Air." Also, I tried a little traditional Tibetan fare called Momos, which are small vegetable-filled steamed dumplings with a spicy sauce accompaniment. Quite tasty indeed. On the way out of town, I visited the temple housing the Dalai Lama's residence and found the monks in the courtyard paired off arguing, which I found out later was a mental exercise challenging fellow monks to contemplate a philosophical question. Unfortunately, the Lama was out on the road, so I could not stop in for a chat. Maybe next time.

Sunday was a lazy day, with the only notable activity being an exploration of the city of Palampur where I purchased a soccer ball to give to the kids at the tea plantation. They were without much in the way of games, and I thought this would give us another activity for Tuesday. The rest of the day I spent reading and eating Joginder's fabulous feasts.

Monday, without class, I decided to go hiking a little ways outside Palampur to see if I could get an even better view of the Himalaya than I had from my front deck, so I headed to Neugal Cafe. As I started walking, I started to feel a bit queasy and ended up cutting my hike short and finding a nice rock overlooking the town of Palampur and the rolling hills in the valley preceding the Himalaya. I enjoyed the hot sun and cool breeze as I sat reading my book and enjoying the views, before heading back towards Palampur in the early afternoon. On the way down, a kind fellow offered me a lift back to town. He was a retired contractor working on consulting projects for the local planning commission and was just back from a site outside of town. We chatted briefly before he dropped me a short distance from the Bus Stand and I made my way back to the house. From there, things took a turn for the worse. I still felt a little nauseous and my lunch of chapati and jam was not well received by my tummy. The rest of the day and all of the night were spent commuting to and from the bathroom as Pepto Bismal struggled to combat the bug. I spent Tuesday curled up in the fetal position recovering, and was ready for a strong Wednesday at school.

The Wednesday I received was solid too. I started out by finding out that Friday was another holiday, and so no class. Again, this came from my students and had to be confirmed with the staff. This meant that in two weeks, I would teach a grand total of 6 days. High impact right there, folks. But, the kids were great and were already sad to see me leave. We played some games and worked on Math in 6th and 8th grade and read a story in the 7th grade class, to which their comprehension was up dramatically from the previous days. Where before they would just read and move on, this day they actually could answer the comprehension questions at the end of the story. So, I decided the next day, my last, would be candy and games for the kids. This was probably not well-received by the lady-teachers who would have a fun afternoon of hopped-up pre-teens, but then again they were not so keen on my presence, so oh well. In the afternoon, I finally got the chance to give the kids the soccer ball I purchased on the weekend, which went over well. We spent the afternoon playing a little 4v4 in the rows between tea plants.

My last teaching day at Gayan Deep was by far the most interesting. First, the already disorganized schedule was further muddled as while I was waiting to start teaching the 6th graders, another teacher walked in and started teaching. When I inquired as to when I was supposed to teach, she made a comment about this being her period. Oh well, it was my last day, and I was armed with candy! So, I bounced between classes in a completely random schedule, including being literally dragged by some third graders into their teacher-less class to practice english and shake hands (a favorite of the little ones). After saying good-bye to the kids at lunch time, I headed home with a heavy heart but loads of good memories after just two weeks. In the afternoon, we played with my camera and engaged in some general rough-housing, made educational with some practice of the English words we had previously learned.

Friday morning I headed to Palampur to snap some pictures of the town before heading to the meet the kids at the tea plantation for some cricket--a game I still am not quite sure how to play. We played for a few hours amongst the tea plants, and my crowning achievement was hitting one headed for a 6, only to hit a tree and drop into the awaiting arms of the opposition. Wicket. Those last two sentences encapsulate 90% of my understanding of cricket and the terminology. After saying good-bye to the kids, I headed back with a heavy heart yet again, but definitely loads of memories from my time with those great little kids. In the evening, I explained to Joginder that the kids and I played cricket and how fun it was, so he suggested we go to watch the local team, Kings XI Punjab, play on television. So, after dinner, we headed to Monal Restaurant, an establishment close to the house and run by one of the teachers at Gayan Deep, and watched an inning over some banana lassis as Joginder tried to explain a little more about the rules. I picked some more up, but was still light years away from properly understanding the game.

That night marked the end of my Palampur adventure, as the next morning I would head to Amritsar, Punjab, to see one of the most important Sikh temples, made entirely of gold and aptly named the Golden Temple.

Sri Lank You Very Much

I had little plan for what to do and see when I embarked on my journey, but as I found with most of my trip thus far, the best ideas and recommendations come from fellow travelers on the road, not from guidebooks or internet forums. And because of this, I met some really great people and shared some wonderful experiences exploring this most underrated of countries!

The journey started with a common occurrence on my trip thus far: flight delay. By five hours. So, after commiserating with a British photographer named John who was living on the beaches of Sri Lanka, we took our free dinner vouchers and headed through security. And after the unwelcome, but ultimately unavoidable wait, we boarded our flight just after midnight. An uneventful flight preceded a three A.M. touchdown, where we boarded a Colombo-bound bus in hopes of catching very early morning buses to our respective destinations; John to the beaches in the south, and me to the city of Kandy in the central jungles. On board the bus, we met the only other non-Sri Lankan, a German fellow named Lucas who had also just arrived. At Colombo, John headed south and Lucas joined me on a bus to Kandy.

We arrived in Kandy at around seven thirty in the morning and made for the hostel I had pre-booked. With only five days in the country, I figured I might as well pre-arrange accommodation. Lucas joined in hopes of finding some internet and meeting with a friend, which he accomplished at the hostel and we, too, parted ways. After a long nap, and a stroll around the outskirts of Kandy, I called it a day and vowed to start afresh the next. While puttering around the hostel, I overheard some fellow travelers discussing the one attraction I was hoping to see in Sri Lanka: Sigiriya. I introduced myself and inquired as to their plans, and they informed me they were going the next day via bus and would I care to join? Yes, I most certainly would!

So, Bryan, an Aussie, and Tiina, a Finnish nurse, and I set off the next morning to the bus station to catch the seven thirty bus to Sigiriya. On the three hour ride, we passed some beautiful lush jungle scenery, while being at the mercy of a rather daring bus driver. At mid-morning we arrived at our destination, a centuries old city and former capital of the Sri Lankan empire. Sigiriya was the capital during the short lived coup by the king's half-brother in the early part of the last millennium and is marked by a large rock outcropping about a hundred meters high, from which it derives its name: Sigiriya, or Lion's Rock. We strolled around the grounds and started up the rock, which, despite the heat was a pleasantly brief trip. At the summit, we were greeted with an amazing 360-degree view of the heart of Sri Lanka. In the distance, to the north and west were rolling hills and to the north-east was a large lake, all intertwined with bright green jungle as far as the eye could see. What a stunning sight. While there, we were swarmed by a class of English students looking to practice their skills. One by one, all fifteen or so of them shook our hands and asked us questions, until they had exhausted their repertoire and, admittedly, our patience. It was great to chat with them, but we could only answer, "Where is your country?" so many times. They were some great lads though. The walk down was serene, but as the sun bore down at midday, we decided to make our way back to Kandy. Once back, courtesy of a much-welcomed and luckily timed $2 air-conditioned bus, we grabbed some grub at a local "Eating House" that was just off the main road in Kandy. And it was fantastic! Chicken Biriyani with some side dishes of potatoes and eggplant, and the perfect amount of spice. And, all for a little over $2. The rest of the evening we spent playing a new card game Bryan taught us called Yamish, learning Aussie words like sunnies, mozzies, and Macca's, and chatting with a pleasant young Kiwi couple en route to Vancouver B.C.

The next day Bryan headed off and Tiina and I decided to check out Adam's Peak, a landmark much recommended by fellow travelers. Since we didn't need to catch the bus until evening, and I hadn't seen much of Kandy, we spent the morning and early afternoon walking the streets and circling the lake in town before heading to the bus station. On the three hour ride to Hatton, the largest town before the hike, we saw the Sri Lankan countryside transform from lush green jungles, to pine trees and tea plantations. Another bus to Delhousie, the jumping off point for the hike, and we were at the base of a mountain. It was well after sundown and the only indication of the looming peak was a string of lights twisting into the night's sky. Now, the common itinerary for the hike is to grab a room, and start the hike at two in the morning, just in time to catch sunrise. But, Tiina and I fancied ourselves rather intrepid, and decided we could hike early and get a good spot for sunrise. We left at eleven thirty and were up by one thirty in the morning. We checked out the footprint along with two monks studying in Colombo, one from Burma and one from Thailand, who were on the same bus as us into town. Then we wandered about the summit's small temple amidst the locals catching some shut-eye in their rather cozy looking sleeping bags before heading for the sunrise spot: a row of benches facing the eastern sky. Others, including the lovely ladies at our hostel in Kandy, told us it would be cold, but, we thought, come on, this is Sri Lanka! So, we packed only a light sweater, and what a life saver it turned out to be at the summit. It was cold, and the steady breeze whipping about the summit made the cold night drag on. But, night eventually passed as we watched lightning dance across the southeastern horizon and awaited the eagerly anticipated sunrise.

As sunrise approached, it quickly became evident that clouds would obstruct the direct sun. But, even still, the horizon was illuminated a deep red and the as the sun rose, the light revealed cascading waterfalls of low-lying clouds sweeping through the valleys below. It was a truly powerful sight to see all of nature's glory from atop a tiny peak. Which is another revelation that morning brought: we were on a pretty steep peak. The night before, as we were hiking, we had no idea what the peak looked like during the day. I assumed it was a large hill that was just a bit steep. Not so. In fact, it was more like a tower, and in the daylight I was able to properly appreciate the hike we had made the night before straight up into the sky. As we headed back, I happened to run into Lucas, the German gentleman from the Colombo-Kandy bus ride and we chatted on the long, sunny walk back down to Delhousie. It was great to see him again, and eventually we parted, for the last time, in Delhousie. Tiina and I caught the bus back to Hatton and then had the fortune of catching the train to Kandy, which provided some better views of the Sri Lankan countryside, though I can't say I saw many of them. After the nighttime hike I was properly exhausted, and the bumpy train ride put me right to sleep. We returned to the hostel in Kandy, and I crashed for the rest of the day, save dinner and packing for the next day's journey back to Colombo and onward to India.

The next morning, I grabbed a tuk-tuk down to the bus station and hopped on the bus to Negombo, a city near the Colombo airport. After yet another bumpy bus ride, in which my seat mate was a little too close for comfort, I hopped off the bus and into the airport not quite ready to leave this wonderful country. But, India and its promised adventures beckoned, and I willfully obliged!

Eye of the Thaiger

After the overnight bus from Ranong, I landed in South Bangkok at five in the morning the following day with a decision to make. Either, spend a day traveling and head straight to the Mo Chit bus station and directly to Chiang Mai, or kill a day in Bangkok and take another night bus. I chose the former, as I was eager to settle down somewhere. With my shoulder still easily aggravated, I am not so sure it was the right decision.

The taxi ride across town was easy enough and I even landed in time to catch a bus five minutes later directly to Chiang Mai. However, as is the case with many of the buses in Southeast Asia, the seats on this bus were not meant for someone over six feet tall, and especially not one with a broken collarbone. So, after another nine hour bus ride, I was quite relieved when the bus finally pulled into the Arcade Bus Station outside Chiang Mai. After telling the songthaew driver, a convenient red pickup with bench seats in the back used as taxis in Chiang Mai, that I needed to head to the center of the city, he dropped me at the Tha Pae gate in downtown Chiang Mai. I checked into the Central Guesthouse and slept the rest of the afternoon.

The next day, I got in touch with Dasha, a friend I met in Nha Trang, Vietnam who is teaching English and Russian in Chiang Mai and we agreed to meet. She had been living in Chiang Mai for eleven months and had not done "the touristy stuff." So, we agreed to do something touristy, and I had just the thing in mind. I had heard through the grapevine, and various tourist literature, that there was a local attraction called the Tiger Kingdom a short distance from town where you can, you guessed it, fraternize with live tigers. we agreed to meet in the afternoon and head out of town in a songthaew to meet some kitties. The place was amazing, and in addition to the many tigers they had a stately lion and some beautiful parrots. The tigers were available in different sizes: smallest (cubs), small, medium and large. We chose the big cats, though in retrospect, the cubs were incredibly cute and we both would have loved to play with them. The big cats were amazing and regal, nonetheless. Though very tame, which rumor has it is due to a heavy dose of drugs (which the establishment denies), these tigers are still intimidating creatures. We made our way into the cages with the guide, and a nice German fellow we met in the lobby, and proceeded to pet and rub the belly of this most vicious of felines. It was so incredible to b so close and intimate with such a powerful animal. I had not properly appreciated the size of Bengal tigers, of which these "large cats" were under two years old, and I would be lying to say I wasn't a bit nervous. The guides found it amusing, at one point stepping between two "playing" tigers. I was a bit astonished, but they seemed to not think a thing of it. Yeah, a little stick with some distracting leaves on the end is sure going to do you a lot of good when the tiger has had enough, pal, so I thought.

Back in Chiang Mai after the Tiger Kingdom, we grabbed some amazing Indian food, and parted ways to rest up, before meeting with some other travelers I had met in Nha Trang who also happened to be in Chiang Mai. We grabbed some drinks at a bar before moving to the night club scene at the "Square of Despair," a collection of night clubs in Chiang Mai with an obviously notorious reputation. The four of us, Dasha, myself, and our two friends, one American and a Dutch gal enjoyed some beers and were chatting when I heard the familiar, "What-what what what...What-what what what" and I thought, could it be, then I was sure, it was Thrift Shop, blasting over the speakers at the club in Chiang Mai. A surge of PNW pride ran through me, along with a slight tinge of homesickness, as the beat bumped and lyrics flowed. I asked if everyone at the table knew the song and the resounding response was "Yeah, duh." And, as the Dutch girl finished the chorus, "...this is f**kin' awesome," I thought, yes, this IS f**kin' awesome!

Since I had crossed to Thailand via a land border with Cambodia, I was only granted a fifteen day visa in the country. However, I arrived twenty days before my flight out of Bangkok. Uh-oh. This is a common occurrence and has even spawned a market for visa run packages from local tour shops. All a visa run entails is crossing the Thai border, waiting about thirty minutes, and coming right on back. So, Friday I embarked on a northbound bus headed for Mae Sai on the border with Myanmar. As soon as we exited the bus, a songthaew was waiting for visa-runners headed to the border. After the ten minute ride, we walked across the border, checked in with Myanmar authorities and paid our 500 baht visa fee. After strolling the tourist market, and being hassled by some particularly aggressive Burmese vendors, most of us made it back to the catch the 2:30 bus back to Chiang Mai. At the border, I chatted with an American yoga instructor making his last visa run before heading to teach yoga in India, and an Irishman living in Chiang Mai who has made the visa run many-a-time. Indeed, his passport was full of Burmese and Thai immigration stamps. Why he didn't just get a longer term visa, I am not sure.

The next few days were spent recovering from the ear infection I had from the island, along with some more touring of Chiang Mai of both the local and touristy persuasions. On Saturday, Dasha and I walked the night market street and perused the offerings before grabbing some dinner and amazing pastry desserts from the local vendors. After that we absorbed the local music scene at the best jazz club in Chiang Mai. What a treat that was as the house band was playing an hour long set that we caught from outside the open air club as it overflowed with fellow spectators. A great atmosphere, coupled with tremendous music. That was certainly a treat. Sunday was a slow day, capped by a walk along the even larger Sunday Night Market, with a very wide selection of the work of local craftsmen as well as a great selection of food vendors setup in a central Chiang Mai temple's courtyard. The chicken curry was fabulous, by the way. On Monday, I hopped a songthaew to catch the temple at Doi Suthep outside of Chiang Mai. The hour long ride up the windy hillside roads led to a beautiful, golden hilltop temple with a great balcony for looking out over Chiang Mai. The only downside was the view, or lack thereof, blocked by the increasing seasonal smog due to the burning of farmland in preparation for the new planting season.

Tuesday, my second to last in Chiang Mai, was great fun. Dasha and I met up to learn all about the culinary techniques of northern Thailand in our cooking class. From 9-3:30, we perused the local organic market and cooked six different dishes along with our fellow classmates. The only others to do the full day class were an American family living in Singapore and on vacation in Chiang Mai. Great people, with a wonderful little girl who was quite the enthusiastic culinarian. At least while her interest held, which was until about lunchtime. After making an appetizer, fried dish, soup, entree, dessert and curry, and devouring them all, we were stuffed and content. We decided to retire, with plans to meet up the next day for lunch before I headed back to Bangkok.

Having had a generous helping of Thai food the day before, we decided to mix it up and head to the local Mexican spot. It was, well, pretty much what you would expect of a Mexican restaurant in Northern Thailand. Decent, but nothing like home. Afterwards we headed to the refreshing air conditioned comfort of the local shopping center to indulge in a little dessert of chocolate sundaes. Mmm, those were quite tasty indeed. After that, Dasha had a class to teach, and I a bus to cacth, so we parted ways, hoping to meet again sometime soon, probably not in Northern Thailand!

The last few days in Bangkok were leisurely. After a long night bus, a few of my fellow passengers and I headed to a cafe just off the infamous Khaosan Road to grab a bite, as we were all to early to check in to our respective hostels. Sharing a chat and a coffee and watching the monks collect their alms at sunrise with some great, if brief acquaintances, was a wonderful experience. After breakfast, I shared a taxi down to central Bangkok's Silom district where my hostel was located and crashed for the better part of the day. Having little planned for the afternoon, and it being dreadfully hot and muggy in the Bangkok sun, I decided to turn to the trusty Trip Advisor app for suggestions. And, lo and behold, the number three attaction in all of Bangkok was the cineplex not too far from my hostel. Sold. I headed down to the theater, and though I was not too interested in any of the movies, Olympus Has Fallen caught my eye and I decided to give it a go. The most bizarre part of the experience was standing while a song and montage played celebrating the King of Thailand before the movie started, which I was informed is not in lieu of a national anthem. I tried to picture that happening in America... and couldn't. Speaking of America, after the film where a Secret Service agent (albeit played by an Irishman) saves the President and probably the whole world by thwarting the ruthless terrorist attack being perpetrated on Washington, D.C., I was in a distinctly patriotic mood. What did I do to celebrate? Those most American of activities: overeating at McDonald's. I say overeating not because I ordered an unusually large amount of food, but because all of their food is unusually large and gives you the feeling of overating, even if you don't finish. Needless to say, I checked out for the night.

Friday was spent roaming the streets of Bangkok, including the claustrophobic and disorienting markets of Chinatown and grabbing a few coffees along the way. In the evening I grabbed some food with a Canadian fellow from the hostel and ended with some rooftop beers and chatting with our hostel companions for a few hours in the evening. Great fun, and great conversation.

My second to last day in Southeast Asia, Saturday, was marked by the most backpackery of experiences: a trip to Khaosan Road to enjoy the lively festivities. A few of my fellow hostelmates shared a cab uptown to the notorious road and spent the night with a few beers and good conversation. But, best of all was the people watching. Grabbing a seat and a beer at one of the sidewalk bars provided front row access to the circus. Another night of good company and conversation, as well as an incriminating photo snapped of me munching on a scorpion. Alas, 'twas not meant to be, as I had no interest in digesting a fried bug. Not on that night, and probably not any other.

Finally, after a lazy afternoon in Bangkok, I am headed to Sri Lanka, and then to the sub-continent, for what is surely going to be an adventurous ride.

Passage to Bangkok

After a brief, exciting trip through Cambodia, I was determined to take it slow in Thailand and finally allow my shoulder to properly recover. I was semi-successful. After two bus transfers and a long wait at the border, I crossed into Thailand and made my way to Bangkok. The bus stopped at the famed Khao San Road, where all the foreigners go, and I grabbed a hostel before setting out for my first foray into the famed world of cheap streetfood. A one-dollar plate of Phad Thai later, and I took a quick tour of the city before calling it a night.

I only planned to be in Bangkok as a stopover, before heading south to the islands, and beaches, near Ranong. So, in the morning, I headed to the southern bus station and bought a night bus ticket south. With most of the day to kill, I wandered through the streets and grubbed on an amazing curry dish with an iced coffee and toured the city by foot. I eventually wandered into the area of Bangkok with many gun shops. Although in a rather reputable area, shops windows were lined with handguns, assault rifles, shotguns. I was a little stunned, at first, but then I remembered: This is Bangkok...

I hopped on the night bus, where I met a friendly German gal from Hamburg also headed to Ranong, though to a different island. After an aggravatingly bumpy ride, we reached Ranong in the early morning and headed to the pier to catch our respective ferries. A few hours of waiting around and I was headed to Ko Chang, or Elephant Island, where there was only four hours of electricity per day, $10 bungalows, no cars and good beaches. That was about all I knew of the island before reaching it.

It turned out to be a beautiful place. I befriended a German woman on the ferry, after another round of interrogations regarding my sling, and she recommended the resort, which was really a collection of rustic bungalows and a restaurant, where she was staying. I followed her, and luckily they had a bungalow with a view of the beach available. I checked in, and for the next six days, five nights, proceeded to hike, read, swim (float, really) and eat. The island had few roads, and I quickly hiked them all to see the different parts of the beautiful island. While the west side of the island had a long beach, along which my bungalow was situated, the east coast was all mangroves and swamp, and good views of the Thai mainland.

No only did I meet the German woman, but also some of the fellow guests at the resort. I never discovered why, but they were mostly germans. I am not sure why this particular island chain so attracted German tourists, but they were all nice enough, so I didn't give it too much thought. The only other fellow was a Canadian named Dennis, staying on Ko Chang for the umpteenth time, and he was a pro. We had some good conversations, but mostly I was at the island to rest and read. After crushing three books and enjoying the beach, it was time to press on to other parts of Thailand.

So, after nearly a week, and bidding my new friends goodbye, I headed back on the ferry to the mainland city of Ranong. Before getting on the ferry, however, I realized I couldn't hear hardly at all. For the past day or two, I had water in my ears and couldn't shake it. One of the fellow guests, a German named Wolfgang, was a avid diver and had some hydrogen peroxide that I tried to use, but it didn't help. So, I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to spend yet another day in a Southeast Asian hospital.

Upon reaching Ranong, I set out for a bus ticket en route to the hospital. With my ticket to Bangkok acquired, I headed to the Ranong Hospital for a quick visit. Although not to dissimilar to the Lao hospital, it was slightly more advanced and definitely more organized. After about an hour wait moving between two waiting rooms, I was treated by a lovely young female doctor who explained to me that I had Swimmer's Ear, as I had suspected, and prescribed some antibiotics and pain killers. Five dollars later, I was equipped with my drugs and ready to go. Smooth and efficient, well played Thai healthcare, well played.

After another few hours roaming the back streets of Ranong and getting some pre-departure grub, I was off to Chiang Mai, Thailand, via a layover in Bangkok.