From 1,5 million to 100, KL to Kota Bharu

After over three months in India, I must admit stepping out from the airport in Kuala Lumpur was a bit of a relief. Kuala Lumpur (KL), the capital of Malaysia, has a population of about 1,5 million and as hardened travelers we were prepared for the worst, but oh no, Malaysia was a different deal. Finding the right bus in India was not always an easy task, but here we got tickets and found the right bus without trouble as the buses were LABELED and people were HELPING us to find the right bus. The bus was AIRCONDITIONED and the seats were SPACIOUS and CLEAN. What was this place? Had we just spent three months on a different planet? It seemed as if Malaysia would be a walk in the park compared to the slippery rock climbing of India.

After about an hour on the bus and the minor hassle of finding a place to stay, we found ourselves in what seemed to be a five star guesthouse; The Green Hut. The room had ALL of the following:

• Bathroom INSIDE the room
• Hot water
• Mirror
• AC
• WiFi
• White and clean sheets

We spent the previous night "In Jail" in Calcutta, the room in KL was a nice  change!

Matt only had about 20 hours in Malaysia, so we would have to get our hands dirty right away. One stop on every traveler’s checklist in KL is the Petronas Twin Towers. We went, we saw, we took pictures and we left. Moving on, during the day we also made it to China Town and to the biggest outdoor aviary in Asia (where we got rained on, badly) and got some tasty Chinese food from one of the countless restaurants around the corner from our guesthouse.

The famous towers, there they are!

Unfortunately, that’s about all you have time for when spending ONE DAY in a country. Matt flew back to the US while I was staying in KL to await the arrival of my friend Niina, who had been traveling all over South East Asia the last few months. I spent the next day with my newly purchased Lonely Planet and much beloved WiFi, trying to figure out our route for the next few weeks. Niina arrived later that day and after a few beers and sharing travel stories from the last few months, we finally came up with a brilliant plan at 2 am. The weather forecast showed nothing but thunder and rain the following days in KL, so the next day we would head northeast to Kota Bharu from were we would make our way down the coast to Singapore.

From KL we headed to Kota Bharu and hit all the stars in Malaysia before our last stop in Singapore

So early next morning we got bus tickets on an overnight bus. Even if buses in Malaysia operate fairly well, there is always room for confusion. After a chaotic hour or so of waiting for the right bus to arrive, having no idea when or where it would, we finally managed to get on it. Even the creepy guy that had spent the last hour getting closer and closer to Niina, drawn in by her red hear, repeating “hello” about 87 times and giving us thumbs up, was seated in the back of the bus a safe distans away from our seats in the very front.

Seven smooth hours later we found ourselves in Kota Bharu at about 5 am, creepy bus station guy next to us. Great. Thankfully, a hostel we could escape to was close by and we even got a good deal for a few hours of sleep and a shower. There where two reason why we had come to Kota Bharu:

1. from here you can make your way down the coast and stop in various beach destinations, and
2. we had heard there might be a possibility to stay at a local village nearby.

We were planning to do both, so the next day we walked over to the tourist information and got some fantastic help from a happy Malaysian man who greeted us in Finnish when he heard where we were from. Only a few hours later, bags packed, we were heading to a small village just outside Kota Bharu with our host.

Our pretty host with her mother.

The village was situated on a small island, which meant getting on a tiny boat that would take us across the brownish waters. We learned that the village had about 40 houses inhabited by around 100 people and that it survived mainly by fishing. There was one school on the island, but older kids had to go to another island for school. We also realized that our host probably had the most of the money in the village. Her house was big, clean and bright and during my many months of traveling, this was the nicest place I ever stayed at. Chickens and goats were wandering around the village accompanied by 7-year olds on motorbikes and an ape on a leash.

Main road

We walked around the island and had some cute kids entertain us before walking back to the house and getting a Malay cooked dinner of rise, chicken and dried fish. Our hostess told us about the simple life in the village and said she couldn't imagine a safer place; she never locks the door to her house.

Pouring sand from the ground with a smashed coconut in to a bucket is a fun game!

The "simple life" intrigues me, but unfortunately we could only stay for one night. The next day we woke up early to make our way back into town and take the bus to our next destination. After months in India, I was in need of a vacation and that's what Malaysia was all about. Next stop: turquoise water and giant sea turtles!

Ghost Town Calcutta

I didn’t know a lot about Calcutta when arriving there, but I had heard a lot of bad things about it. Words like “intense”, “dirty” and “nothing there to see” sounded oddly familiar. So then why go? A good friend of mine from college was from Calcutta and he convinced me it’s a great city and it was also my exit point from India for continued journeys through Malaysia and Singapore. As a result, when I finally felt well enough to travel after my ultra-horrible sickness in Varanasi, we packed our bags and took the 15-hour overnight train to Calcutta.

Tired, but happy, travelers after a fabulous overnight transit.

When we got off the train we were prepared for a brutal attack from countless rickshaw drivers, but there were none. After a few minutes of walking, we found the ferry to the city and got our 5 or so rupee tickets (that were thrown on the ground after inspection) and boarded the ferry. I now knew I would like this city. Perhaps because of my continuous love affair with big bodies of water or perhaps because the city looked oddly modern from a far. But wait a minute; Calcutta is supposed to be a dirty city filled with history, isn’t it?

After the ferry ride, we learned rickshaws are hard to find and took the more luxurious and expensive alternative of a yellow cab. He kindly drove us to Sudder Street, the backpacker area in Calcutta, and after checking a few hostels we settled with a 350 rupee room that we quickly renamed “Jail”.

"Jail" had rigorous rules, bars on the windows and various writing on the walls. Extremely charming.

Once settled in, we knew we would have to do some heavy touristing, as we only had a couple of days in Calcutta. First on our list was Victoria Memorial, pretty but forgettable. I think travel buddy Matt and I both enjoyed the clean and green premises more then we did the white marble.

Can you spot the white marble in the back? There it is!

Next was a temple dedicated to the goddess Kali. This was my first Kali temple and it turned out to be pretty interesting. A priest at the temple showed us around, even though we told him we wouldn’t give any donations (we knew it was coming though). He told us about the goats that are sacrificed at the temple, a few unlucky ones waiting for their turn and traces of blood from the even more unlucky ones on the temple floor. We asked the priest why Kali is always portrayed with her tongue sticking out. He told us she is apologizing to her husband Shiva for accidentally stepping on him while she is dancing.

Apology accepted, Kali!

We were also asked to “cleanse our hands” before entering the temple with some yellow sticky water from the Ganga. Great. Most temples in India are “Hindi only” and white fellows like myself are usually not allowed inside (especially as I am a white WOMAN). This one, however, was a welcome exception. Inside the main chamber we found a rather disturbing statue of Kali with three orange eyes staring us down and as we left, people were grabbing our ankles. I was glad to be out of there, these types of things can be very intense and I was even happier to see a more upbeat side of the religion; kids were playing in a big swimming pool with water from the Ganga. 

After leaving the temple, we went around a corner and cleaned our hands with our remaining drinking water and headed for lunch. The plan was to get to a Lonely Planet recommended Bengali restaurant. Easier said then done. Finding a specific temple/restaurant/hostel or whatever you are looking for can be quite difficult in India, but fortunately Kali had blessed us with some good luck and we actually found exactly what we were looking for. Ordering food can be equally tricky when menus are not available in English and the waiter doesn't know any English. Thankfully, our waiter brought us some plates with food that we could simply choose from. The result was giant shrimp and some fish and a big bowl of rise, naturally scooped in our hungry tourist mouths with our right hand.

The first time I got a plate of food in front of me without utensils to go with it and didn't hesitate was in Varanasi, by Calcutta I was a hand-eating pro!

After two short days in Calcutta, I had come to enjoy the city more than I would have ever thought possible, but my visa was running out and we had to move on. So we headed for the international airport in Calcutta, expecting a busy airport of a 14 million people city. I am from a town of about 60 000 people. The airport in my town is busier then this one.

Good bye ghost town Calcutta of 14 million people, good bye India!

And that's it. My time in India was sadly up, but without hesitation we set foot on the plane that would take us to new destinations and new adventures!

Holy Cow!

There are a few (read a lot) of things that are holy in India. One of these things is a cow. Another is the river Ganges. In Varanasi you will find both. Varanasi is one of the seven sacred cities in India and this is where people wish to go to die and get cremated on one of the burning ghats. If not cremated, the other alternative is to get thrown in the Ganges when you die. This option is only for children, pregnant women, sadhus (holy men) and lepers. The corpses are taken to the middle of the river where they are sunk using stones as weight, becoming fish food. When we arrived in Varanasi we walked down to the river and made our way towards the main burning ghat. It didn’t take us long to spot a dead body in the river. I am not telling you this to shock you (which I realize it might do), but I want to try to explain the controversy I experienced while in Varanasi. And please excuse me if any of these facts are wrong, it is a subject that is not always easy to get your head around.

Shaving your head is part of the ritual when visiting Varanasi and the Ganges (photo by Matt Wicks)

The reason these people are not cremated is that their souls are already regarded pure; hence no need for cremation. A nice thought, but how does it work in practice? Seeing this shook me up and I had a hard time to accept it.  It seems as such a brutal thing to do, but then it is a natural part of the culture and it doesn’t seem to bother any one else, so why should it bother me? In Finland it seems as death scares most people and we try to lengthen our life using various medicinal methods. However, in India I get the feeling that death is seen as a natural part of life (which naturally it is) and it is accepted more than feared. In Varanasi, death is as evident as lunch. Corpses are carried around town, making their way to the burning ghats, where the bodies are dipped in the Ganges and put on a closely calculated amount of wood (sandal wood being the most expensive alternative). The fire is started with an ever-burning flame. We counted around seven cremations going on at the same time, new bodies constantly arriving. The fires are managed by untouchables, the lowest cast in India (note: the cast system is no longer in use, but still evident in some parts of the society), and the bodies burn for several hours.

Controversy # 1: the last part of your journey is being cremated in this sacred place, but this process is managed by people that upper casts will not even look at or touch (hence the name) when they are alive.

Varanasi is not only abouth spirituality and death, there is also a lot of life there!

The cremation does not bother me, even though it is out in the open and the air is filled with smoke from the burning bodies. It seems as a natural way to go, burning to ashes under the blue sky. What does strike me as odd is that in this holy place, cows are walking around, goats are eating the flowers around the burning bodies and there is a fly covered dead dog lying on the ground that no one seems to be bothered about.

Controversy # 2: being a sacred place, I would never have thought that there would be stray dogs and goats walking around or that there would be so much trash lying around (of which I guess a lot is just parts of cloth from the burning bodies).

Back to the river Ganges. People from all around the country come here to bathe in the river, as this washes away their sins. Walking down the river, or taking any of the countless boats that offer rides up and down the river, you will see people praying and bathing in the water, doing their laundry and even drinking the water. Obviously the river is not clean, we saw a stray dog pull out a dead goat one evening and there is trash all over the river. Is it the belief of the river being pure or is it the lack for alternative bathing/laundry places that gives people the will to get in this water?

Man praying in the river (photo by Matt Wicks)

Controversy # 3: being a holy river were sins are washed away, you might think that at least the river would be litter free, but not even the Ganges has been spared from the littering.

Laundry day (photo by Matt Wicks)

Moving on to the cows. There are more cows in Varanasi then I’ve seen anywhere else in India. For you to understand why this is worth mentioning, let me explain how the city is laid out. There is a main road that runs sideways the river, but between the main road and the river is countless of narrow allies. These allies are filled with small shops, restaurants, people and cows. Walking in these allies was one of the most exciting and exhausting things I’ve ever done in my entire life. Motorbikes keep driving past, only missing you by inches, making it impossible to retain a steady pace. It’s hot, sweaty and trashy, but it’s also intriguing. Cows going through piles of trash, looking for something edible (this often being a peace of newspaper or a plastic bag), children playing and running around, beautiful sari wearing women, stray dogs (dead or alive), there is constantly something to look at in Varanasi.

Cows making their way to the ghats (photo by Matt Wicks)

 

 Controversy # 4: holy cow, not to be eaten, but OK to let them eat trash. For a country that loves animals, where they are used for work and for making a living, it strikes me as odd how ill treated many of the animals are (goats cramped in the luggage compartment of a bus, cows eating trash, stray dogs being kicked around). In my mind, this equation just doesn’t add up.

 

There is so much more to wonder and ponder about in this town, but I think I’ll leave it at this before I get too carried away. But one more thing, before I let you get back to your facebooking, e-mailing or whatever you where doing. In my last post I told you Varanasi was one of the most sickening stops on my travels in India. This is not because of the litter, the polluted air, the sweat, the heat, the death, the dirt, the out of control traffic, the cows, the dogs, the goats, the motorbikes, the river or any of the other countless features of Varanasi that will truly test you. It may not sound like it, but Varanasi was one of my favorite places in India and I would like to go back there and preferably stay for longer. The problem was I got sick. Again. We spent about seven days in Varanasi, of which I spent about five in bed. Walking out the door, it didn’t take me more then a few minutes to be ready for another nap. I was drained, tired and hungry. Another trip to the doctor, some more medicine and a few days of rest and I was feeling a lot better. But despite the sickness, despite the controversies, despite all the things that will drive you to the boarder of insanity in India, it has taken up a place of its own in my little heart. As we took the night train from Varanasi (at last after I got well enough to be able to leave the room without the threat of fainting), I was about to spend my last couple of days in India. And they would turn out to better then what I expected. About 12 hours of a train ride away, the last city on my India tour, turned out to be one of my favorite stops, despite my prejudice towards it.

Exhausted and happy traveler (photo by Matt Wicks)

Agra

When you think of India, what is the first thing that comes to your mind? For many of you it will probably be a white marble wonder called the Taj Mahal. It was a "must see" on my list, especially as it is only a few hours away from Delhi. However, I had been dreading the day when I would have to go to Agra. The Taj is the number one tourist attraction in India, which means a lot of people that will try to rip you off. But finally the day came, and with bags packed we ran to make the train that would take us to the famous tomb.

No caption needed.

We arrived in Agra late at night and left the train, with our guards up, to find a shitty little room to spend the night in. Next day we reluctantly got out of bed and payed the 750 rupees it costs for foreigners to get in. And there it was. It's nice, but (I'm sorry India) pretty boring, so about an hour of walking around was enough (especially as my accompanying traveler had already been to the Taj Mahal). As we had the whole day to spend in Agra, we decided to go see Agra Fort. I would take Agra Fort over the Taj any day. It was big, it was pretty and there were a lot of people watching to be done. It was simply fun. And I must admit, we did have a great time in Agra, even though the constant hassle with rikshaw drivers was a bit overwhelming at times.

Happy in Agra

Agra, check. Recommended? If you want to see a big, white building and get harassed by touts, then yes. It was nice, but let me tell you, the next stop would be the most intense, interesting and sickening experience of my travels in India...

Home away from home

I realize I was living in Delhi for almost three months and have yet to tell you guys about it. I have had my share of tourist attractions in Delhi, but I’ll spare you the boring details, because what I really want to tell you about is my everyday life in the capital of India, so here it goes!

Me and Delhi, we have a bit of a love-hate relationship, not too different from an old marriage; there are days when we love everything about each other and then there are days when we drive each other that’s-it-I’m-packing-my-bags crazy. Still, every time I return to Delhi it feels like home. It’s the one place in India where I know the metro like I know my backyard (although technically I don’t have a backyard), the place were I go out for morning runs and the guys at the coffee place across the street knows what I want without me telling them. Lately our relationship has gotten even better. I think it’s all the couples therapy of great friends, cool collage parties and, naturally, almighty Indian food (that can make even the worst day seem like a good one).

A ten-minute walk from college is the cozy market Katwaria Sarai. I would go there to buy fruits and toilet paper, passing some auto drivers, “auto miss”, the gang of gamblers sitting on the street playing cards and the barber giving 10 rupee haircuts. I get my bananas and walk back, “auto miss” getting The Stare from half of the people I pass.

The school were I studied is called Indian Institute of Foreign Trade and it’s absolutely insane. It’s located in South Delhi, also known as The Posh Part of Town. I stayed at the collage hostel in a two-bed suite. My room also had two chairs, two TV’s (of which I used neither), two desks but oddly enough, only one nightstand. My bathroom was a bliss; the sink did work, but once you got it going it was hard to turn it off, I had a shower tap, but no shower and my toilet didn’t flush. Because of this, I highly valued my bucket. My bucket was my washing machine, my shower, my toilet flush and my sink.

This is how you get a heater working. Until it breaks.

During my studies, I have had about one or two lectures a day, so my schedule was pretty relaxed, but don’t for a second think this makes school easy. Did I mention it’s insane? Schedules arrived way to late and they changed almost daily (I might have mentioned this in a previous post?!). I had no introduction to the system or to what would be expected from me and not a single time did anyone (from administration) ask me how I’m doing or if I needed any help. Most of the time I had no idea of what was going on or if there was anything I needed to do. The only thing that saved me from total destruction was my fellow students who, patiently, guided me through the classes of IIFT.

IIFT campus

A couple of weeks ago, our Spanish teacher called us all donkeys. This is the same professor that two days later asked me out for a date. I didn’t really know how to respond or what to do about the situation, but this act is about as inappropriate in India as it would be back home. I didn’t (of coarse) go on a date with the professor and as school was coming to an end, I decided to let it slide. Now don’t get me wrong, creepy professors and crazy schedules aside, I’ve also had some great experiences in school. For example, when I was asking one of my teachers about an exam, being worried about something I’ve forgotten to do, he told me “please don’t worry dear child and go celebrate that the course is over”. Dear child? Go celebrate? This made me all warm and fuzzy inside. I wish all professors were like him! We also had a crazy college party a couple of weeks ago. The downstairs lobby of the main building transformed in to a party scene with people dancing, smoking and drinking, lights flashing, music blasting. It was everything you could ever imagine an Indian college party to be and perhaps a little bit more! :)

Still after three months, I find myself fighting the culture I so badly wanted to understand. India is clearly not adjusting to me, so I should adjust to India. A task that takes five minutes to accomplish back home, can easily take five hours to accomplish in India. For example, about a week ago I found out my dad and his wife, who were coming to visit me in Delhi, wouldn’t be able to make it. This was a big disappointment for all of us, but it also resulted in a funny visit to the post office. As I had planned to send home some stuff with my dad, I now had to ship it home. So I packed up my stuff in a box, taped it shut and marked the address on the box. Simple enough. Only I obviously had some mental problems and had forgotten I was in India. Because of “security issues” we had to make our way from the post office to a close by market to get the box properly sealed, only to find out there was no one in the market who would do this. The second option was to get some white cloth, wrap it around the box and seal it with red wax. Yes, red wax. So dear brother, when you get a package that looks like it’s been sent from the 1600^th century, don’t throw it out the window. It’s just my box of stuff arriving from half way across the world.

Post office facts:
Man power needed: 3 people from three continents
Result: 1 wax-sealed box successfully sent
Total time spent: about 3 hours

Picture perfect paradise

This is by far the hardest post I’ve written so far. I’m struggling to find the words, to express myself. Why? Because I just spent two weeks in paradise. If you look up “tropical paradise” in the Oxford dictionary, I’m sure you’ll find a picture of Havelock Island in there. Just when I thought India couldn’t get any better, India showed me how horribly wrong I was. And it’s not just a tropical paradise, but also a quiet one. You can sit at the beach for hours without anyone around. However, a couple of days after my arrival, the island didn’t seem so quiet any more. It was time for Holi, the color festival in India. The war was on…

Holi girl

Holi warrior boy

Holi is mainly a North Indian festival where people go around throwing colors on one and another and I thought it wouldn’t be celebrated on the islands. Boy was I wrong. We were walking to the market when we realize we were in the middle of a war. Kids with guns filled with red and green ammo, aiming at our still spotless clothes, we realize we aren’t going to make it. We are going to be colorful before the war is over. Very colourful.

At the market it self, the atmosphere is vibrating with music and colorful people dancing around. “Way too clean” I hear someone say and next thing I know I got a hand full of blue in my face.

No one is safe! Except the spotless policemen handing out candy in the street.

The first time I get hit by The Bucket of purple water I’m thinking, “this can’t be happening”. By the third bucket or so I don’t even bother. After a few hours of Holi, we’re pretty exhausted and pretty colorful as well.

The result of The Holi War

At the time, I was a blond. Several months after Holi, I still had pink stripes in my hair.

Not so blond any more...

The next day we go to beach # 7. The beaches and villages have the exiting names of Village # 1, Beach # 5, Village # 6 ½ (no, I’m not joking) and so on. Beach # 7 has been named best beach in Asia and it is not hard to see why. At the end of the beach is a lagoon of crystal clear water changing from a light turquoise to the deepest blue. The white sand feels warm under my feet and the whole beach is lined with a green jungle. The beach where we are staying, beach # 5, has a different beauty. It is lined with trees that are pretty much growing on the beach, thick branches resting at the edge of the water. Words like beautiful, scenic, mesmerizing all fall short, there are no words to describe this beauty.

Beach # 5

The island has a nice vibe to it too. One night we enjoyed a couple of live acts with travellers from all around the island gathering in one place, the smell of cigarettes and sweat filling the evening air, purple haired and sunburned people sipping on beer, sitting on the hard wooden floor, mosquito bites itching, music filling the entire space. It feels magical and the evening simply makes me very, very happy. Another night we arrange a small campfire at Summer Camp Havelock, as we like to call our little community at the El Dorado resort, sitting around the fire singing kumbaya, roasting marshmallows. Ok, so the kumbaya is replaced by my Canadian friend’s compositions and the roasted marshmallows by a not so chilled Kingfisher...

Summer Camp Havelock!

You hear people say they go to India to “find yourself”, whatever that is supposed to mean. That’s not the reason I came to India, but I must admit I did find a piece of me that had been lost for a very long time. It happened on my last day in Havelock. I left for beach # 7 early in the morning, taking a jeep instead of the bus for once. Watching the scenery that makes postcards look ugly and dull from the back of the jeep with some crazy Hindi pop song blasting through the speakers I arrive and do the 15 minute walk to the lagoon. I’m sitting under a tree watching the waves wash up on shore and it hits me. I feel infinitely happy and my life feels fulfilled. At this very moment I feel no cravings, I'm longing for nothing, perfectly and utterly content with my life as it is. I guess a couple of weeks in paradise will do that to you! With that I would like to thank Picture Perfect Paradise and all the people who shared the place with me. Thank you!

Beach # 7 at sundown

So that's my worthless story of paradise. For some awesome pictures on Holi I'm hoping my favorite American will post sooner rather then later, go to mattwicks.wordpress.com, because a picture is, after all, worth a thousand words!

Brach # 5