Wandering Footsteps: Wandering the World One Step at a Time » South Asia

India Is

Brittany — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 11:07:00 +0000

India is… toilets. Nowhere in the world have I ever experienced disgusting toilets with such consistency. Holes in the ground with dirty footrests on either side, no water or toilet paper with which to clean yourself or the space. And the smells, oh the smells. If you were blind, you could smell an approaching toilet a hundred meters away. And for some reason, I always had to take a big whiff of my toilet upon entering the stall. I may as well have photo-documented each toilet I peed in!
India is…yoga. It just fits here and feels more right than anywhere else in the world. I got yoga fever while here, and did it even though one of my feet was out of commission! There is nothing like starting the day with a Sun Salutation while out in the open air, under the shade of coconut trees, overlooking the water, hearing the waves, and literally saluting the sun. Ooooommmm never relaxed me so much – I think I might have found my third eye!
India is… food. OF COURSE! The vegetables – potatoes, tomatoes, okra, aubergine, beans, cauliflower, peppers… a vegetarian’s heaven! The curries – who knew that masala wasn’t the only one? The soups – mild and protein-filled daal, sour saambar. The grains – chapatti, naan, roti, paratha, puri, rice. The snacks – samosa, dosa, idli, vada, chaat, utappam. And the spices and flavours – coconut milk, chutney, masalas, and chilis! All washed down with a deliciously sweet cup [or two] of masala milk tea!
India is… men. Oh, how they stare! Indian men do truly take creepy to another level, as Sahnah declared midway through our trip. They don’t look away when you stare back, they make you feel like underdressed cheap women, even when you’re wearing shorts down to your knees and loose-fitting t-shirts. They touch you when you’re not paying attention. They ask you to take your photograph, and when you say “NO!” they pretend to take a photo of something
else but really snap yours. India is… a feast for the senses. The smells of incense and food mixed with garbage, toilets, and body odors. The sounds of horns blaring, Hindi music playing, men shouting, beggars singing, and prayers being chanted. The sight of bright fabrics and patterns for women’s clothing, sparkly gold and silver jewelry, people, traffic, commotion everywhere, beautiful temples, buildings, and beaches, as well as lush foliage and coconut trees.
India is… awesome.

Into the Wild of India

Brittany — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 11:03:00 +0000

I returned last night from a fortnight trip to India. My travel buddy and old friend, Sahnah (met while studying in Senegal, saw Anchor Wat together in 2008) had never been and could get there on air miles, so even though I had already been twice, I enthusiastically agreed to meet her
there. It also helped that it was actually cheaper for me to fly to Mumbai than anywhere on the African continent!
Unfortunately, something bad happened the day before I was to leave for India. While horseback
riding, my horse got spooked by a giant lizard and began bucking and running. I managed to hold on for some time, but eventually fell off the horse and badly sprained my left ankle. That day I kept my foot elevated and put absolutely no pressure on it, as when I did, searing pain shot up my entire leg. The next day was much the same, so I had to travel to India in this condition.
It was a rough journey, full of staring people and me hopping along, watching enviously as others quickly marched forward on two good feet. The injury affected my trip, especially the first few days, when I couldn’t walk around Mumbai and explore it with Sahnah. Slowly, though, it heeled, and by midway through the trip I was able to walk more or less normally, though I still have quite a lot of pain and inflammation. Bless Sahnah for being such a patient person, and a naturally slow walker!
Our trip was spent in Goa, Hampi, and Mumbai. In Goa, we did typical beach things – swim, read books lie around and soak in the sun, kayak, eat, exercise – but with a Goan twist. You swim for hours because the water is so warm, you get on a one-person kayak with two people and fall off 6 times because the balance is off, you do yoga classes every morning to start off the day right, and you eat curry, chapatti, naan, parotha, samosa, thali, rice, dosa, and dahi for each meal. You meet wonderful people, from England, Sweden, Switzerland, the US, and Nepal, and these people become your dinner dates, your drinking buddies, your volleyball team, your fellow yogis, your body-surfing spotters, and your travel companions. We brought two of them – Candice and Clarence from Switzerland – to Hampi with us, where we soaked inthe beauty of the ruins around us, ate the best Indian thali of the trip, motored around on broken-down scooters, struggled through the heat and dehydration of the day with smiles, a few laughs, and a lot of coconut water, and night-capped it all with a glorious hilltop sunset and a huge Indian feast. We brought two Americans and a Nepali – Ben, Marlene, and Bikul – to Mumbai with us – or rather they brought us, as one of them lives there – and there we shopped, we ate, we drank, we danced, we walked along the boardwalk, we got lost, and we talked, talked, talked, talked, talked.
I’ll miss so many Indian things. I’ll miss the sunsets, which I got to watch from Marine Drive and Chowpatty Beach in Mumbai, the spectacular beaches of Goa, and Sunset Point, surrounded by the 800-year-old ruins of Hampi. I’ll miss the chai – the best tea in the world, the only way to wake up in the morning, the best conversation-enhancer, and the perfect way to digest each and every meal. I’ll miss hearing and reading Hindi all around me, a language that feels familiar, that I can mildly understand, and that I relish trying to speak. And I’ll miss the head bobs and the sing-songy accent. My family probably remembers me picking up this accent whilst living in Nepal, and I certainly got the head bob down as well. Folks, it’s back! Temporarily, I’m sure, but I love it and wish I could head bob my way around the world and into the ground, but I’d probably just confuse most of the world with my counter-intuitive body language. Google “Indian head bob” if this didn’t make sense to you.
Now I am back on the farm, and despite the comforts of home (especially my cats), I feel sad. After the excitement of Mumbai and the socializing I did throughout the trip, I, yet again, feel isolated. As much as I enjoy time to myself, and as much as I wanted this life on the farm and this year away, I think I have realized that 28 is not the age to leave society and become a hermit. The character from my favorite film, Into the Wild, resonates even more profoundly with me
now than ever. At the end of his life, he realized that it was wrong for him to escape society; that people and relationships made life beautiful; and that running away from it all, no matter
how romantic, was naïve. Unfortunately, for him, by the time he realized this it was too late, as he had already ingested a poisonous plant which was slowly starving him to death. For me, thankfully, it comes early enough to allow me to actively decide to rejoin society – the good and the bad of it – before I too swallow the poisonous plant.

Walking Through Memories

Brittany — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 13:30:00 +0000

On March 4th, I left for Nepal, excited, anxious, happy to be returning to a place I once called home. On March 13th, I left, 3 days early, happy to be returning to Bangkok, the place I now call home.
What happened that made me want to leave and so happy to return to Bangkok? I spent nine days walking through memories…
I arrived at the Kathmandu airport and was greeted by Muna’s parents, just as I was the first time I journeyed to Nepal. I was taken in the family vehicle past busy and narrow streets, past Pashupathinath temple and around Ring Road to Maharajgunj and Muna’s family home. It was the same process, only this time more familiar. I greeted Anita, Kali, and Kanchi, as well as the family dog, Pepchu. I ate Ama’s yummy daal bhaat and felt the evening chill that I’ve only ever felt in Kathmandu.

Sounds great, yes? It was. The next day was nice too. I had lunch with the family, and then left, alone, to walk the streets where I used to roam. I soaked in the sights, smells, and sounds, and let me body and mind wander among the memories. It was nostalgic, but not in a bad way. I walked past my old apartment and neighborhood, down the narrow markets of Assan and Chetrapathi, and ended up in bustling New Road before looping back up to Thamel to meet up with old friends.
Old friends that have new lives.
The next day, I was greeted by a big dirty water balloon on the back of the head as I left Muna’s apartment. Holi, the festival of colors, was four days away, and the city was starting early…. and targeting ME. Maybe if they’d known I wasn’t a tourist, but a former resident of their town – maybe they wouldn’t have struck me so?
I moved into a guesthouse that day, as Muna’s family home was about to be bombarded by relatives. I returned to my old guesthouse where I had spent almost two months falling in love with Kathmandu. Everyone remembered me, and it felt that no time had passed at all, in some ways.
I wanted to go to Chitwan the next day, to relax by the river and revisit a place I had always loved. But the roads were closed due to political turmoil.
I wanted to go to Pokhara to visit my host family and my old school, but I no longer had their phone number and no one was responding to any of my emails (this may have been because Nepalis only get 4-8 hours of electricity per day now because it hasn’t rained in seven months and there isn’t ebough hydro-electric power!).
Instead, I stayed in Kathmandu. That would have been fine by me, if my friends still lived the lives they lived a year ago and the residents of Kathmandu didn’t see me as target practice for their water balloons.
So I hid. Ihid from the balloons. I hid from the memories. And I realized that Kathmandu is no longer my city. It was, once, but it has writhed out of my grasp. It happened gradually over the past year, only I hadn’t noticed. I was so busy remembering Kathmandu as my city, Nepal as a place I knew. In the land of Thais, Nepal is a haven to me – a place where I know the language, the people, and the culture.
But I am no longer in Nepal. I am in Thailand. I have failed to learn this language and this culture because I’ve been afraid of losing my knowledge of Nepal, bit by bit, strand of information by strand of information.
What I realized while in Kathmandu is that it represents the past, and that I need to live for now. I am in Thailand now. And that’s pretty good, too.
So as I walked through re-awakened memories and remembered where I was this time last year, I realized that a wonderful, eventful, and education year has passed and brought me to this equally full and beautiful moment in time. So I hopped on the plane, and flew back to the present, to my life here – brimming with possibility and full of new knowledge about culture, language, and people to learn.

Eternal Recurrence

Brittany — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 14:19:00 +0000

It seems strange that I am, yet again, writing in my blog. My blog which is reserved only for trips across the globe.
This can only mean one thing…
Yes, I am departing yet again. I am leaving the comforts of the West and the security of my family, and heading out for yet another adventure. This one, back in Thailand!
I will be teaching English in Bangkok. For those of you that remember, this was my original plan two years ago, before I got sidetracked with building libraries and volunteering for NGOs in Nepal. Ohhh Nepal…
Anyway, the timing for teaching English in Thailand is actually more perfect right now than two years ago. I returned from Asia in March and have struggled to find a job ever since. I think I was rejected one too many times from jobs I thought I was qualified for, and that forced me to find an alternative. Combine that with the fact that I did come to ONE realization this summer – that I DID see teaching in my future – and that three of my college friends who were teaching in Thailand were beckoning me there, and it was really a no-brainer.
So, on October 8th, I will arrive in Bangkok. I will be teaching at Sarasas Ektra School (http://www.ektra.ac.th/EngVersion/index.html) starting on October 27th.
What will in do in the meantime? What else?

Wander.

South Indian Sunshine

Brittany — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 16:46:00 +0000

I’ve been back from South India for just over a week and am now officially missing the wonderfully warm weather and the beaches. It was a wonderful month of sunshine, fresh air, and great food.
The journey began with a lot of traveling. A 40-hour bus ride from Kathmandu to Delhi (which, because of traffic actually took 46 hours), and a much more comfortable 40-hour train ride from Delhi to Bangalore. Finally in South India, our 3 week trip included stops to Kochi, Alappuzha, and Varkala Beach (100 km North of Thiruvananthapuram) in the state of Kerala, and then a visit to Pondicherry in Tamil Nadu before returning to Bangalore and flying off to Delhi.
Bangalore itself is a booming IT city and perhaps the capital of South India. I had heard that it was clean, beautiful, and exciting, but I found it rather polluted and un-astounding. I was just waiting to get out of there as fast as possible and head to the beaches of Kerala! Kochi, our first stop, is also called Fort Cochin and is an island off the coast. A short, 3 rupee ferry ride gets you there. Once you step out, it’s like being back in old Colonial times. The streets are narrow, the buildings old and whitewashed, the atmosphere very English. We spent a bit of time wandering around the area, soaking it in, and then took a ferry to another island where, 25 km down Cherai Beach awaited us. Now, if I had seen this beach later on in the trip it wouldn’t have astounded me, but at the time I was so happy to be sitting on white sand, with coconut vendors around me, a great book in my hand, and the warm waves of the Arabian Sea just before me that I was blissfully content. The next 2 days were spent there soaking in the sun, at least on my legs, arms and face – women shouldn’t wear bathing suits in India or they attract unwanted staring and attention.
From Kochi, we traveled to Aluppuzha, the main starting point for houseboat tours of Kerala’s infamous backwaters. Hundreds of years ago, the backwaters – which are like huge lakes situated about 50 km from the coast – spread over a 300km territory. But, slowly, people began to take chunks of these watered lands and transform them into fertile agricultural territory. Finally, in 1950 the government put a stop to it, but by then 2/3rds of the backwaters had already disappeared.
Taking a houseboat backwater cruise is an expensive outing, costing roughly $35 per person, but it’s one of those things that you can’t not do in Kerala. So we did it. And I really loved in, for the most part. You depart at 12pm on a private houseboat, cruise the waters for an hour, stop for a 2-hour traditional South Indian meal on a banana leaf, and then drive again for another 3.5 hours. While the boat is going, I was so content – staring out at all the natural beauty around me, letting the sun’s rays warm me and that unique waterside’s breeze cool me… I could do that for days and days – heck, maybe even the rest of my life! But, because of an agreement with the local fishermen to let them have the waterways in the evenings and early morning, our boat had to park on the side of the backwaters, and it stayed there for the next 14 hours! I know the reason for it and I understand it, but the experience would have been a lot more satisfying if we were able to cruise the waterways at least until bedtime. It just wasn’t enough cruising time – I wanted more! Once the boat stopped, we prepared for dinner – another South Indian meal – played cards, laughed, and slept early in order to catch the sunrise the next morning. Then, after a light breakfast and tea, we were off again for the last hour of our cruise.
From Aluppuzha, we traveled 160 km south to Varkala Beach, where we spent the next 5 days basking in the sun and playing in the water. Less touristy and developed than the better-known Kovalam Beach 60 km south, this cliffside town with a picture perfect beach was a little slice of paradise. If it had been up to me, I would have stayed there until the end of my trip, and easily occupied myself with swimming, reading, eating, relaxing. French-Indian food, and speaking French to all the French tourists as well as some locals. In the evenings, after filling our stomachs with too much delicious food, we would walk down the 2km Promenade and watch the Bay of Bengali waves crash into the rocks. During the day, we would go North or South to explore other towns and But what can I say? I was with a restless group of people who wanted to explore another state, so we went next to Pondicherry on the East coast. Perhaps the only place in India that has remnants of being colonized by the French, it was easy to spend some time wandering the beautiful streets, eating beaches. We discovered a place called Auroville, 40 km North of Pondicherry. Created in 1968 as a village of peace and unity, 2000 people from 44 different countries live there and contribute to the proper functioning of the place. They all live in small sub-communities which have as their main purpose anything from organic farming to traditional medicine, and everyone works at least 5 hours a day, producing things to help the community move forward. It was a fascinating place, but I don’t think I could ever live there. People were really nice there, though, so we returned often to have a cup of tea or an organic salad here or there.
Back in Bangalore, I was feeling a range of mixed emotions. Excitement at heading back to the West, sadness that the trip was over, and a deep knowledge looming over me that very soon I would begin to miss the life I had led in Kathmandu. In fact it’s true, because now that I have been gone from that world for a week, I have begun to miss certain aspects of it, and I do feel a greater sense of cultural anxiety coming back this time – perhaps because I know it will be for such a long time.
But for now, I content myself with seeing old friends and places here in Chicago.

Nepal Runs out of Gas

Brittany — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 05:32:00 +0000

Here is a list of the things that AREN’T available in Nepal at the moment:
1) cooking gas
2) petrol
3) kerosene
4) water
5) electricity

Maybe it’s a sign that it’s time to go. Which is convenient, since I leave in 4 hours. Wish me well, and wait for exciting and interesting upcoming blog posts!

My Travel Plans

Brittany — Sun, 10 Feb 2008 10:36:00 +0000

I’ve booked my ticket. I’m ready to go. I’m leaving in 10 days. For those of you that are curious or concerned, here is my itinerary:
February 20: Take the 40-hour bus from Kathmandu to Delhi, as I did back in October
February 23: Take a 35-hour train to Bangalore, in the south of India.
February 24 – March 15: Explore the Southern area of India, specifically the regions of Kerala and Tamil Nadu. Don’t worry – I won’t be alone. Three other friends from Kathmandu are coming, and we will be meeting two more of their friends in Bangalore.
March 15: Take the train from Bangalore to Delhi
March 19: Fly from Delhi to Chicago
March 19 – April ??: Visit friends, old professors, and families I used to babysit for. Sometime in April, my mom will pick me up, we will have a girls’ weekend, and then drive back to Toronto together.
So friends and family – I am officially leaving Nepal. It’s been an amazing time and part of me would love to stay, but it’s time to go. Indeed, I will miss the place and the people, but it’s time for me to be reunited with family and old friends, get a job, and begin the process of applying to grad school. So for those of you in Chicago, Toronto, and elsewhere, SEE YOU SOON!! Brittany’s coming home!!

A Guiltful Day

Brittany — Sun, 10 Feb 2008 10:26:00 +0000

I knew this day would have to arrive eventually, but for the last 5 weeks, I saw it as a happy day for my dog Hershey – the day she would be reunited with her true owners. I knew I would miss her sweetness and her docile, loving nature, but I assumed that she would be happy to see her owners and return to a stable life at home.
Unfortunately what I didn’t know was that her owners hadn’t seen her in 17 months.
As I put Hershey’s leash on for the first time since she arrived, emptied her water bowl, and placed her few belongings in a plastic bag, I felt sad. She knew something was going on too, and she looked at me with sad, long eyes. I walked her down the stairs. She didn’t want to go. I walked her out the door. She didn’t want to go. I walked her down the street. She didn’t want to go. I walked her toward her owner…
She didn’t even recognize him.
Picturing that moment the last 5 weeks, I had envisioned her running toward her owner and jumping in his arms, her tail wagging and her eyes lit up. I was thus confused, bewildered even. I began to chat with the owner, and found out that they hadn’t seen her since she was a puppy, and that they didn’t even know where in Kathmandu she was or who was taking care of her. The friends they had left her with eventually passed her on to the people who passed her on to me – which means that in the last 17 months she has lived in 4 different homes with four different families.
Suddenly, Hershey’s character all made sense – why she always followed me around everywhere and constantly begged for love. My head began to spin. I wished I could run away with Hershey and keep her with me forever. I WOULD GIVE HER LOVE, I WOULD CARE FOR HER.
But no. She was already being put in the back of the truck. She was going to spend the night outside, at the home her “owners” had just bought and would be moving into the following day. She would be cold, alone, and wondering what she had done again that made another owner give her up.
She looked into my eyes one last time as the owner shut the trunk door. Tears began to run down my face as I tried to explain to the owner what a good dog she was. How she loved food, was perfectly trained, and just wanted love. He didn’t know this about her. He didn’t even know his dog.
This was 4 days ago and the guilt I feel now is just as profound as it was that guiltful day. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be a happy reunion for Hershey. Instead, she is left wondering what she did wrong this time, why she can never seem to keep the love of her owners, and why no one seems to want her.

Brittany’s Dog Haven

Brittany — Thu, 31 Jan 2008 08:31:00 +0000

Two weeks ago, as I was walking home from work, I stumbled across a small, brown, unmoving figure curled up on the side of the road. His adorable puppy-dog face and small size, combined with his obvious helplessness, made the decision easy. Without a second thought, I picked it up and took it home.
I didn’t realize until later that my new puppy was sick – very sick, actually. All of a sudden, saving his life became my number one priority. I called a local NGO that treats street dogs and, to my surprise, they came straight to my house. They gave him an intestinal worm treatment, and prescribed me all sorts of medicine to give him over the next few weeks. “What about his skin problem?,” I asked, noticing the bumps and dandruff all over him. “He’s too young and weak,” the doctor replied. “Your job is to get him strong and to keep him from biting himself to death. We’ll visit again in three weeks.”
And with that they were off, leaving this sick puppy with a girl who has never taken care of even a HEALTHY dog before! Feeling rather uneasy that this puppy’s life was solely in my hands, I wrapped him up in a blanket and put him to sleep.
Over the next week, I did my utmost to make him strong and well. I bought a hot-water bag, which I refilled hourly, to keep him warm in this brutal Kathmandu winter. I fed him warm milk through a bottle. I woke up three times each night to help him fall back asleep. I bandaged practically his entire body to keep him from scratching himself. I bathed him. I clothed him. I medicated him. I fed him.
And in return, I got flees and a great lack of sleep.
But I don’t care. It was all worth it. I’d do it again in a second – because now, two weeks later, he is healthy and happy. He’s become a normal puppy! He plays and bites all day, and sleeps all night. His appetite is back, his skin problem is vastly improving, and he’s ever so cute!
To top it off, he gets along with Hershey, the three-year-old black lab I’ve been babysitting for the past month. They are so adorable together – playing, sleeping together, keeping each other company. And I’ve even found my little puppy a home for when I leave next month.
Thus, all is well in my household. I have two robust, content dogs, and even though my apartment smells of dog and has black fur all over, I am content too.

Coloring our way to Communication

Brittany — Tue, 08 Jan 2008 14:25:00 +0000

I realize that I haven’t written a lot about my current volunteer position at the Tibetan Reception Center. Things are going quite well there. I spend my mornings there working on art projects with the children. There is quite a good collection of art supplies so myself and the teachers can think of plenty of creative projects for the children. Since I’ve been there we’ve made masks, flags, puppets, Christmas trees, butterflies, and hats. Sometimes the children choose to free draw, often drawing pictures of their villages, families, Tibetan landscape, or Buddhist stupas. The kids love to paint, cut, and glue (especially sparkles!). Some of the children evidently had opportunities to draw and color prior to their arrival here, but many also complain that they don’t know how to draw or color! Sometimes that doesn’t stop them and they dive right in – but sometimes, the kids won’t color independently or will need a little coaxing. It’s a very rewarding feeling when you see a child that won’t participate and after spending a little time with them, they gain enough confidence to make art themselves!
Even though I can’t really speak Tibetan (beyond the basics of “how are you?,” “what’s your name?,” and “very good!,” I manage to develop special relationships with each of the kids. Maybe I’m not well suited for this position in a way though, because I become attached to the kids so easily and am always disappointed when they leave. But the nature of the place is such that the children only remain a couple weeks before leaving on buses for Dharamsala (in India). I’m always sad when I show up at work one morning and don’t see the faces I was hoping to see. Though the children of the past are never forgotten, I am always eager to get to know the new faces, hear their stories, and see their artwork.
After over two months at the center, I still cannot believe that these children are the same children that spent weeks or months crossing the greatest mountain range on earth, in secret, at night, and in the cold of winter. These same kids who smile, laugh, hug, and draw seemingly without a care in the world were just forced to climb Himalayan mountain after Himalayan mountain top escape the injustices in their own country and seek better lives. It reminds me how strong and resilient children are and how, with a little love and care, they can bounce back after difficult experiences and begin to make a return to their lives of innocence. That, more than anything else, is what makes me know that my job at the Reception Center is important.