Katie: WHy do the Indian men stare at the western women like this? It's so disrespectful.
Olly: Because in American movies men get the women easy, in Hindi movies they have to sing and dance.
On that note please watch the cheese that is Bollywood. How Snoop ended up with this crowd I may never know.
Prepare yourself for an intense giggle:
Friday, August 22, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
The first hair is free
India is not a clean place. Not everywhere is dirty, but then you walk out the door and the illusion is ruined. Today I took my backpack to the luggage room at the train station. I have a full day until my 20 hour ride back to Mumbai and didn't want to lug my now stuffed backpack throughout the crowded streets of Delhi. As I waited in line I looked at the people around me, those who were not blatantly staring at me were either blowing snot rockets, very publicly touching their willies, or holding their undiapered baby at a distance so that it could defecate on the ground. Once in the luggage room I was assured that my backpack wouldn't get lonely in the company of the hundreds of rats moving about on the ground. I'm sure as soon as I left they burst into song ala Cinderella and starting sweeping the place up a bit. I'm sorry I missed it.
This has inspired me (along with the 3 more hours I have to kill) to jot down a few of the more disgusting food tales from my trip. I've had to become rather forgiving, one small bug (with the excwption of a roach) or hair and I'll pick it out. After that I have to say something, which is usually an ordeal. For example, the other day I ordered fruit, muesli, curd at a new restaurant. Upon stirring I noticed a black fleck. I picked out some sort of gnat and started looking more carefully, as I dug deeper I found atleast 5 of the lil' buggers. I called over my waitress, it went like this:
ME- Hey, um, theres like a bunch of bugs in my breakfast.
Waitress: Oh.... No mam
ME- What, No? See theres lots of them, you can even see his lil' legs.
Waitress- Oh no, this is rice bug, very clean, no problem
Me- I think it's a problem, you see, I'm not a big bug fan, in fact I'm a vegetarian
It took several minutes of this to get her to take it back for something else.
One day Olly's luck was particularly bad, he found a mouse poop in his curd at breakfast, which the waiter insisted that it had fallen in after it was served. The very same day he found feathers in his chicken chow mein. The waiter, very simply stated "No sir, these vegetables." To which Olly replied, "Oh is that what you call feathers in this region?"
Another time I had tofu fried rice with loads of coarse little hairs. I was a bit confounded because all of the hair was blonde. I showed my waiter and he disappeared into the kitchen for several minutes. When he returned he looked relieved. "Mam, is only hair from canvas bag, so now you eat." I don't know if canvas is considered a delicacy in some parts, but I had the feeling my stomach wouldn't appreciate it all to much.
Don't even get me started on the coffee. One day I got really excited because a restaraunt had filter coffee on the menu, what they brought out was a similar consistency to wet soil. They just put powdered coffee through a filter.
A day dream of sorts
I walk into a Starbucks and say "I'll have a tall cup of the house coffee, no room for cream, and where is your bathroom?" At which point I wander into the palacial American bathroom, with no need to bring my own toiletpaper.
Isn't that beautiful?
Signing off
I'm Katie Leaper
This has inspired me (along with the 3 more hours I have to kill) to jot down a few of the more disgusting food tales from my trip. I've had to become rather forgiving, one small bug (with the excwption of a roach) or hair and I'll pick it out. After that I have to say something, which is usually an ordeal. For example, the other day I ordered fruit, muesli, curd at a new restaurant. Upon stirring I noticed a black fleck. I picked out some sort of gnat and started looking more carefully, as I dug deeper I found atleast 5 of the lil' buggers. I called over my waitress, it went like this:
ME- Hey, um, theres like a bunch of bugs in my breakfast.
Waitress: Oh.... No mam
ME- What, No? See theres lots of them, you can even see his lil' legs.
Waitress- Oh no, this is rice bug, very clean, no problem
Me- I think it's a problem, you see, I'm not a big bug fan, in fact I'm a vegetarian
It took several minutes of this to get her to take it back for something else.
One day Olly's luck was particularly bad, he found a mouse poop in his curd at breakfast, which the waiter insisted that it had fallen in after it was served. The very same day he found feathers in his chicken chow mein. The waiter, very simply stated "No sir, these vegetables." To which Olly replied, "Oh is that what you call feathers in this region?"
Another time I had tofu fried rice with loads of coarse little hairs. I was a bit confounded because all of the hair was blonde. I showed my waiter and he disappeared into the kitchen for several minutes. When he returned he looked relieved. "Mam, is only hair from canvas bag, so now you eat." I don't know if canvas is considered a delicacy in some parts, but I had the feeling my stomach wouldn't appreciate it all to much.
Don't even get me started on the coffee. One day I got really excited because a restaraunt had filter coffee on the menu, what they brought out was a similar consistency to wet soil. They just put powdered coffee through a filter.
A day dream of sorts
I walk into a Starbucks and say "I'll have a tall cup of the house coffee, no room for cream, and where is your bathroom?" At which point I wander into the palacial American bathroom, with no need to bring my own toiletpaper.
Isn't that beautiful?
Signing off
I'm Katie Leaper
Not so baby steps
I woke up and wanted to eat before I took on the marathon. Unfortunately I didn't want the biscuits in my room. I got ready fast and began the climb. 248 stairs, 248 very steep stairs from my room to the main street. I climbed up, only stopping twice to catch my breath. Then I meandered over to the Peace cafe and crunched on my favorite breakfast of Muesli yogurt with banana and Mango. My newly made friend Phillip from Austria was there, we chatted for a good hour or so. Then down, down, down 302 slug covered steps to the Tips Tse Monastery. There I meditated for 1/2 an hour. Then my friend Nyima, a Monk at the monastery, talked to me some more about the sand mandala upstairs. We have been talking about it a lot, because I am trying to acquire the tools they use to make it. Apparently the one I got in Nepal is nothing like the ones they use here. This sand mandala is like nothing I have imagined as they have managed to stack the sand 3 dimensionally. I said goodbye to Nyima and he double checked that I would be at the ceremony where they blow the mandala away. They only make it once a year so it is a special occasion. I told him I wouldn't miss it for the world then began the ridiculous hike back up, up, up the 302 steps.
I grabbed some 10 rupee momos (20cent dumplings) from the street vendor and turned down the begging mother who uses her child to get money. There is a place right up the street that watches children for free so that women can work, so I have minimal sympathy. After my snack I head to The Tibet Post, where I am volunteering. I spend a good 2 hours working on a grant proposal, which is a rather new experience for me. I read some stories about the Olympics in China and find myself wondering why the Olympic committee picked somewhere so corrupt and evil to hold the Olympics.
Next I get dinner at an Indian restaurant, Matter Paneer and Garlic Naan with Hot Ginger water, yum. It's starting to rain, as it often does here, and I realize that I left my big rainbow umbrella at the Tibet Post. I run down the hill as fast as I can to Gu Chu Sum, where I am volunteering in the evenings. Gu Chu Sum is a safe-place and school for Ex-political prisoners of Tibet. Each night I come and practice conversational English with the sweetest group of people you could imagine. Tonight was especially hard as Panden is explaining to me how China was forcing abortions and sterilizations on the Tibetan women in his community. He took a stand and protested the actions, a brave move that landed him in prison for 13 years. He told me about the torture, and how they tied him up from the ceiling by his thumbs and hit him in the stomach with a stick. 13 years later when he escaped to India they tortured his family for 20 days after. I didn't want to cry in front of him, it was a challenge. There are 20 students at GuChuSum, all with similar stories. On my way out one of the students, Choukyi, lent me her umbrella. Tomorrow I am teaching them all a Yoga class.
I am spending one month here, and this is a pretty typical day here. I am really glad to be here during the Olympics, supporting Tibet. I'd like to ask all of you reading to please keep your television tuned away from the Olympics. I don't support a country that denies the most basic human rights.
This place is amazing. Good people, good food, amazing mountains, and lots of chances to volunteer. It's also very humbling. I'm very blessed to know that my family and friends are safe and sound. I hope you all know how much you mean to me.
ALL my love
I grabbed some 10 rupee momos (20cent dumplings) from the street vendor and turned down the begging mother who uses her child to get money. There is a place right up the street that watches children for free so that women can work, so I have minimal sympathy. After my snack I head to The Tibet Post, where I am volunteering. I spend a good 2 hours working on a grant proposal, which is a rather new experience for me. I read some stories about the Olympics in China and find myself wondering why the Olympic committee picked somewhere so corrupt and evil to hold the Olympics.
Next I get dinner at an Indian restaurant, Matter Paneer and Garlic Naan with Hot Ginger water, yum. It's starting to rain, as it often does here, and I realize that I left my big rainbow umbrella at the Tibet Post. I run down the hill as fast as I can to Gu Chu Sum, where I am volunteering in the evenings. Gu Chu Sum is a safe-place and school for Ex-political prisoners of Tibet. Each night I come and practice conversational English with the sweetest group of people you could imagine. Tonight was especially hard as Panden is explaining to me how China was forcing abortions and sterilizations on the Tibetan women in his community. He took a stand and protested the actions, a brave move that landed him in prison for 13 years. He told me about the torture, and how they tied him up from the ceiling by his thumbs and hit him in the stomach with a stick. 13 years later when he escaped to India they tortured his family for 20 days after. I didn't want to cry in front of him, it was a challenge. There are 20 students at GuChuSum, all with similar stories. On my way out one of the students, Choukyi, lent me her umbrella. Tomorrow I am teaching them all a Yoga class.
I am spending one month here, and this is a pretty typical day here. I am really glad to be here during the Olympics, supporting Tibet. I'd like to ask all of you reading to please keep your television tuned away from the Olympics. I don't support a country that denies the most basic human rights.
This place is amazing. Good people, good food, amazing mountains, and lots of chances to volunteer. It's also very humbling. I'm very blessed to know that my family and friends are safe and sound. I hope you all know how much you mean to me.
ALL my love
Have your snake and eat it to!
Other possible titles:
Vanilla Manali
Olly Manali/ Manali Olly
Katie fight off hippies, which turns out to be pretty easy (thanks Jamil)
Manalijauna
Katie Snake-lady
Here I am in Manali, haven to hippies. At every corner you will find something amazing to eat, some sort of amazing shop, snake charmers, and Marijauna plants. The plants are all males so everyone smokes hash, and I mean everyone. The fields of marijauna plants fill the air with their smell, and where there are no plants there are groups of hippies creating the smell on their own. Yesterday I went into a papier mache shop and within 5 minutes I was offered opium, hash, Manali cream, MDMA, and LSD. Wow.
This morning, on my walk down to breakfast, I passed the usual set of snake charmers. I never stop because I know they just want to hit me up for money. Today I decided to stop and ask a question. I was told that the snake charmers remove the venom from the cobras so that they are quite safe. The affect is that the snakes don't live more that 3 weeks after that.
Baba-"No miss, my snakes very old, I have long time. Look you take picture"
Me-"No no no, How much are you going to try and charge me for that?"
Baba-"No miss price is no important, here you give my friend your camera."
Then ala Zoolander his friend started snapping pictures of me in various positions with various snakes. He draped me in a Python then took off his Saddhu hat and beads and put them on me. Next he placed his basket of Cobra on my head. Snap snap snap!
Baba-"Ok Miss, now you give for me 1,000 rupees."
Me-"Dude you must be out of your freaking mind, I'm a backpacker. I'll give 50 or none."
Baba-"Miss my baby cobra very poison, he bite you 20 minutes you dead. 500 rupees madam."
Me-"Bring it on Baba, I can't think of a cooler way to die than to be bitten by a cobra in the Himalayas of India. Are you gonna take the 50 or should I just go?"
Baba-"Very poison, 100 only"
At which point I rolled my eyes and walked away until they chased me down the hill for the 50.
I've been spending my evenings in this nice cool town at the shop of a different Baba named "Om Baba". He lives on a commune with Unichs and other Babas where they hand-make purses. His stall is raised off the ground on the main road, which has been quite good for people watching. The bags that he sells take 1 month each to make and are filled with secret pockets. I met one Israeli fellow who bought one the night before. Om Baba told him that there were 14 pockets in the bag. The Israeli found 11 and spent the subsequent week tring to find the last 3.
Manali is really a great place, it's so nice and cool. There is this really great restaurant called "Dylans, Toasted and Roasted". They have a huge painting of Bob Dylan on the wall. Every 1/2 hour or so the waiter comes out with a tray of hot chocolate chip cookies, which is usually emptied within 45 seconds, SO GOOD
Vanilla Manali
Olly Manali/ Manali Olly
Katie fight off hippies, which turns out to be pretty easy (thanks Jamil)
Manalijauna
Katie Snake-lady
Here I am in Manali, haven to hippies. At every corner you will find something amazing to eat, some sort of amazing shop, snake charmers, and Marijauna plants. The plants are all males so everyone smokes hash, and I mean everyone. The fields of marijauna plants fill the air with their smell, and where there are no plants there are groups of hippies creating the smell on their own. Yesterday I went into a papier mache shop and within 5 minutes I was offered opium, hash, Manali cream, MDMA, and LSD. Wow.
This morning, on my walk down to breakfast, I passed the usual set of snake charmers. I never stop because I know they just want to hit me up for money. Today I decided to stop and ask a question. I was told that the snake charmers remove the venom from the cobras so that they are quite safe. The affect is that the snakes don't live more that 3 weeks after that.
Baba-"No miss, my snakes very old, I have long time. Look you take picture"
Me-"No no no, How much are you going to try and charge me for that?"
Baba-"No miss price is no important, here you give my friend your camera."
Then ala Zoolander his friend started snapping pictures of me in various positions with various snakes. He draped me in a Python then took off his Saddhu hat and beads and put them on me. Next he placed his basket of Cobra on my head. Snap snap snap!
Baba-"Ok Miss, now you give for me 1,000 rupees."
Me-"Dude you must be out of your freaking mind, I'm a backpacker. I'll give 50 or none."
Baba-"Miss my baby cobra very poison, he bite you 20 minutes you dead. 500 rupees madam."
Me-"Bring it on Baba, I can't think of a cooler way to die than to be bitten by a cobra in the Himalayas of India. Are you gonna take the 50 or should I just go?"
Baba-"Very poison, 100 only"
At which point I rolled my eyes and walked away until they chased me down the hill for the 50.
I've been spending my evenings in this nice cool town at the shop of a different Baba named "Om Baba". He lives on a commune with Unichs and other Babas where they hand-make purses. His stall is raised off the ground on the main road, which has been quite good for people watching. The bags that he sells take 1 month each to make and are filled with secret pockets. I met one Israeli fellow who bought one the night before. Om Baba told him that there were 14 pockets in the bag. The Israeli found 11 and spent the subsequent week tring to find the last 3.
Manali is really a great place, it's so nice and cool. There is this really great restaurant called "Dylans, Toasted and Roasted". They have a huge painting of Bob Dylan on the wall. Every 1/2 hour or so the waiter comes out with a tray of hot chocolate chip cookies, which is usually emptied within 45 seconds, SO GOOD
Ms.Rickshaw
All of the Indians knew I was coming. I'm a bit famous here if you didn't know. Everywhere I go my adoring fans call out to me. They've come up with... well, a bit of a nick name for me. I am their beloved Miss Rickshaw. Everyone wants a piece of me:
"Excuse me, Miss Rickshaw! Miss Rickshaw?!"
People crowd around me in droves to get a good stare in at their dear Miss Rickshaw, they even ask me to take pictures with thier kids. Moving on.
Olly and I seem to be psychotic, we are psychotic because we willingly made the decision to take a 26 hour government bus from Pokhara to Haridwar. No AC, and once again no shocks in bus. My tailbone literally hurts. Also joining us on the bus were 2 delightful German brother's named Lars and Nick. I was so exhausted from the trip that once we actually got to Haridwar I slept for a day and a half. I felt like instead of riding the bus I had been hit by one. I finally forced myself awake and Olly and I took a cycle rickshaw to the Ganges.
View more photos The water there was loads cleaner than in Varanasi. I washed my arms and face in the freezing fast flowing water. I would have jumped in for fear of being swept away.
I wanted to be cold, cold and comfortable. We decided to split the cost of a car with the Germans to Manali, high up in the Himalayas. Another 15 hour drive and here I am, deep in the mountains, surrounded by hills and hippies. More stories of that soon.
"Excuse me, Miss Rickshaw! Miss Rickshaw?!"
People crowd around me in droves to get a good stare in at their dear Miss Rickshaw, they even ask me to take pictures with thier kids. Moving on.
Olly and I seem to be psychotic, we are psychotic because we willingly made the decision to take a 26 hour government bus from Pokhara to Haridwar. No AC, and once again no shocks in bus. My tailbone literally hurts. Also joining us on the bus were 2 delightful German brother's named Lars and Nick. I was so exhausted from the trip that once we actually got to Haridwar I slept for a day and a half. I felt like instead of riding the bus I had been hit by one. I finally forced myself awake and Olly and I took a cycle rickshaw to the Ganges.
View more photos The water there was loads cleaner than in Varanasi. I washed my arms and face in the freezing fast flowing water. I would have jumped in for fear of being swept away.
I wanted to be cold, cold and comfortable. We decided to split the cost of a car with the Germans to Manali, high up in the Himalayas. Another 15 hour drive and here I am, deep in the mountains, surrounded by hills and hippies. More stories of that soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
