Bags locked, people arranged on the lower-most of the triple-decker beds of the B1 3AC car headed for Varanasi, or Banaras, or Kashi, depending on whose asking and whose responding, we leave the mountains of Risikesh for a different sort of settlement further up the Ganga, or or Ganges, depending on which textbook you consult.
The swaying of the train rocks us all to sleep, singing an initially ear-splitting lullaby that soon becomes sweetly familiar as the wheels of the train clank-clank-clank along the seemingly-endless line of tracks. I fall asleep with one arm clutching my bag with valuables: passport, wallet, camera, iPod, and the other cradling my mandolin, legs wound-up in the straps of my backpack.
“CHAI GARAM CHAI GARAM CHAI” is my alarm clock this morning. I sit up, sleepy-eyed, and feel a Styrofoam plate with vegetable cutlets and a masala omlette stuffed into my lap in between eye rubs. The man will be back to claim his 40 rupees later. The breakfast is almost edible, but everything tastes better after being washed down with a 5 rupee cup of chai.
~*~
I arrive in Banaras after hundreds of miles of yellow flowers and a few too many experimentations with the train food vendors who earn a living by moving up and down the train line, jumping on one train after another and walking up and down the aisles vats of chai, buckets of chips, and fanny platters of chickpeas and tomatoes. I climb off the train with everything I boarded with! --- an accomplishment considering the horror stories I’ve heard about stolen handbags, backpacks, and shoes.
I’ve been told that if I’m looking for the “typical Indian experience”, I’ll find it in Varanasi (or Banaras, depending on who‘s talking). The streets are filled with people dodging bicycles weaving in and out of rickshaws who will stop for nothing but the highly revered cows who move from one trash heap to the next in search of India’s delicacy for its holy, free-roaming livestock: Food Scraps à la Plastic Bag. At sunset, looking out from my hotel room balcony, I see sadhus clad in saffron robes and lay Hindus flocking to the Ganga for the evening ritual fire puja. India: where ropes of spirituality are tied to outright contradictions to form a complex web of chaotic existence coated with a thick layer of dust.
~*~
Watching a human corpse lay on a platform of sandalwood logs, torso separated from legs by engulfing flames, waiting to be burned into ash and accepted into Mother Ganga-ji, a serene calm resonates throughout my body. Death is close.
I don't feel the knot in my throat until I look away from the burning corpse and think about what it would be like to see someone I knew down there. Women aren't allowed on the cremation grounds, so my view was basically where I would have been --- if they let me there at all! Then the knot came. I remembered what it was like to watch the few bodies I've seen be placed and dropped into wholes in the ground, how quickly they disappeared and how distant it made me feel from them. I like it this way much more. It seems more personal, more ceremonial, like you have more time to say goodbye for good and then after, you never know, you could just be swimming among the ashes of a loved-one. That's comforting to me. Now that's not saying that I would swim in the Ganga-ji anytime soon...or ever.
In a holy place,
B(ee)
10 February 2010
06 February 2010
ALSO!...
I've bought my ticket home. A sign of the end. And the beginning. The end of an incredible journey, pilgrimage, chapter of my life, and being home ignites the turning of a page and continuation of the story.
p.s. Everyone should read Siddhartha. Amazing story with (at least) a morsel of insight for each of us.
p.s. Everyone should read Siddhartha. Amazing story with (at least) a morsel of insight for each of us.
Hare Om...
India is leading me on one big introspective journey. Just when I thought my days of introversion were behind me, there the Ganga came, making me turn inward again all over again. But we've been having some great times, me and the Ganga. I even cleansed myself in her sacred waters yesterday. Freezing, it was. And I'm not sure what my feet touch at the bottom: plastic bags, other trash, decaying corpses...I'd prefer not to think about it.
Sentences are still hard to form. Words come out in a conjumbled mess and I have the feeling, stronger than ever, that you really have to see, hear, smell, touch, and experience India to understand the depth of some of the things I would say. But I managed to put together some prose with pictures from Kumba Mela.
Kumba Mela is essentially a three-month long festival of renunciants (sadhus) that happens every 12 years and we were in Haridwar just in time to catch the beginning of it. We spent four days in a sadhu camp with Swami G, a guru from Ujjain. Some of the best four days of my life, save being woken up at 3:45 every morning by sadhus chanting, dancing, and singing.
I'm also loving the meaning of these Indian greetings. Namaste (my light in you touches your light in me) and Hare Om (blessed praises to the sound of existence) are a few favorites!
~*~
Walking from the ashram, to the camp of Swami G,
My heart is pulled in opposite directions.
It moves me to tears and smiles.
A horse, with a twisted fetlock,
Nimbly navigating its home in the concrete jungle yesterday,
Today, standing still,
Over a small pool of blood.
He whinnies, softly, as a friend nuzzles his neck.
On the same block, one sandlot away,
A puppy, finds his next meal,
When a shopkeeper pours the remains of his breakfast ---
Crumbs of bread, onto the street.
He pushes his muzzle inside the plastic
Digging, deeper, for morsels of sustenance.
My heart cries, my eyes smile.
~*~
Swami says “God is not many.
God is one.”
Swami says “God is everywhere.
In everyone.”
Swami says “Stop searching for god.
God is in you.”
My eyes still glance, from side to side,
Then land in Swami’s eyes,
Flooded with
god.
Inside a Haridwarian temple,
A table ---
Cluttered with used candle holders
Already-burnt matches, red string,
And fresh orange flowers,
Vibrant as the pictures of baby god(desse)s they were presented to.
Splotches of candle wax
Mask the faces of Shiva and Krishna.
Their eyes no longer capture the gaze of darshan-seekers.
Divine leftovers.
~*~
I am pushes to extremities,
Laughing at a trombone player in a parade one minute,
And demanding for my change from a rickshaw driver the next.
My falsified anger releases satisfaction;
My smiles are a reminder of others’ woes.
~*~
A clothes-less sadhu,
Traveling by foot with ash as clothing,
Earth as his home,
Humanity his family,
Invites us into his tent
Which sits on the edge of the Ganges ---
Overflowing with the sacred ---
And offers us cups of tea.
His ash-washed face
Illuminates
A light
Brighter than the bulb above his head.
When the city turns off the power,
The tent remains full of his light.
~*~
A Shiva linga, phallus,
With a cobra coiled round
The sacred gift.
Milk and water purify,
Flowers decorate the
sacrificial alter.
This puja had no prior
meaning to me,
But my eyes are in a
trance,
My body is in tune.
As I listen to the foreign
parade of noises,
My mind gravitates
towards that
Which Swami tells me is singular, everywhere, in me.
Sentences are still hard to form. Words come out in a conjumbled mess and I have the feeling, stronger than ever, that you really have to see, hear, smell, touch, and experience India to understand the depth of some of the things I would say. But I managed to put together some prose with pictures from Kumba Mela.
Kumba Mela is essentially a three-month long festival of renunciants (sadhus) that happens every 12 years and we were in Haridwar just in time to catch the beginning of it. We spent four days in a sadhu camp with Swami G, a guru from Ujjain. Some of the best four days of my life, save being woken up at 3:45 every morning by sadhus chanting, dancing, and singing.
I'm also loving the meaning of these Indian greetings. Namaste (my light in you touches your light in me) and Hare Om (blessed praises to the sound of existence) are a few favorites!
~*~
Walking from the ashram, to the camp of Swami G,
My heart is pulled in opposite directions.
It moves me to tears and smiles.
A horse, with a twisted fetlock,
Nimbly navigating its home in the concrete jungle yesterday,
Today, standing still,
Over a small pool of blood.
He whinnies, softly, as a friend nuzzles his neck.
On the same block, one sandlot away,
A puppy, finds his next meal,
When a shopkeeper pours the remains of his breakfast ---
Crumbs of bread, onto the street.
He pushes his muzzle inside the plastic
Digging, deeper, for morsels of sustenance.
My heart cries, my eyes smile.
~*~
Swami says “God is not many.God is one.”
Swami says “God is everywhere.
In everyone.”
Swami says “Stop searching for god.
God is in you.”
My eyes still glance, from side to side,
Then land in Swami’s eyes,
Flooded with
god.
~*~
Inside a Haridwarian temple,
A table ---
Cluttered with used candle holders
Already-burnt matches, red string,
And fresh orange flowers,
Vibrant as the pictures of baby god(desse)s they were presented to.
Splotches of candle wax
Mask the faces of Shiva and Krishna.
Their eyes no longer capture the gaze of darshan-seekers.
Divine leftovers.
~*~
I am pushes to extremities,
Laughing at a trombone player in a parade one minute,
And demanding for my change from a rickshaw driver the next.
My falsified anger releases satisfaction;
My smiles are a reminder of others’ woes.
~*~
A clothes-less sadhu,
Traveling by foot with ash as clothing,
Earth as his home,
Humanity his family,
Invites us into his tent
Which sits on the edge of the Ganges ---
Overflowing with the sacred ---
And offers us cups of tea.
His ash-washed face
Illuminates
A light
Brighter than the bulb above his head.
When the city turns off the power,
The tent remains full of his light.
~*~
A Shiva linga, phallus,With a cobra coiled round
The sacred gift.
Milk and water purify,
Flowers decorate the
sacrificial alter.
This puja had no prior
meaning to me,
But my eyes are in a
trance,
My body is in tune.
As I listen to the foreign
parade of noises,
My mind gravitates
towards that
Which Swami tells me is singular, everywhere, in me.
21 January 2010
Can't I Just Unpack?!...
The kind of traveling we're doing now --- the type where you don't even bother unpacking your clothing and instead limit yourself to two outfits, the one you arrive in and the one you leave in, for the course of your time in a certain place --- just isn't my cup of chai.
Delhi was...a big city. But contrary to the theory that my father put forward during our time in Bangkok, Delhi did not look a thing like "any big city you'll ever visit". I was surprised, but it was refreshing that crowds of millions of people in one place can look different than just any other city. I was happy to live away from the hustle and bustle of the proper city, happy to see some "essentials" while there, and happy to leave the smog-ridden airs of India's capitol city...
...for the smog clouds of Amritsar --- the capitol of the Sikh world and home to their most renowned temple, The Golden Temple. It was an absolutely beautiful structure, some say, and I would agree, the second-most beautiful in India next to the Taj, of course. It had all white marble fort-like walls surrounding an inner "tank" of water, in the middle of which sat a gold-encrusted temple. There was one walkway to and from the temple, symbolizing our singular and universal passage into and out of this world.
We ran into a wonderful Sikh man who offered to give our group a 2...ahem 4-hour (remember to multiply at least twice to compensate for Indian time) tour of the temple. He not only talked with us about the temple, but was open to questions about his faith and the history of his people in Punjab. He told a very interesting story, one that I would be hard-pressed to find in any World History textbook that I have come across in my Western education. He also brought us to a wonderful Indian restaurant and then took some of the ladies shalwar and shawl shopping. He was a saint of his faith, and the world, and I was personally enormously touched by his presence and his words.
And now, after a few too many days of smoggy air and busy roads full of rickshaws, cars, and bikes, we are in Dharamsala --- the seat of the Tibetan Government in Exile. The adorable little town looks like it was painted onto the side of a the foothills (these would be called mountains anywhere else in the world) of the Himalayas. And although we can see snow under the shadow of the enormous clouds perched on top of the Big Guys, today was perfectly warm and sunny and I even took off a layer when we got here! I'm told this is not normal and Google tells me it should get a bit chillier in the coming week.
I love Dharamsala. And I think I would love it even if I hadn't come from three consecutive cities of smog. It's a lovely place, as far as I have seen. Highlights of our eight days here: long life ceremony for the Dalai Lama (who is in town!) along with thousands of others, private meeting with the Karmapa Lama (spiritual leader of the Kagyu school of Tibetan Buddhism), visits to NGOs, talks on Tibetan Buddhist philosophy. It's looking great!
Breathing clean air,
B(ee)
Delhi was...a big city. But contrary to the theory that my father put forward during our time in Bangkok, Delhi did not look a thing like "any big city you'll ever visit". I was surprised, but it was refreshing that crowds of millions of people in one place can look different than just any other city. I was happy to live away from the hustle and bustle of the proper city, happy to see some "essentials" while there, and happy to leave the smog-ridden airs of India's capitol city...
...for the smog clouds of Amritsar --- the capitol of the Sikh world and home to their most renowned temple, The Golden Temple. It was an absolutely beautiful structure, some say, and I would agree, the second-most beautiful in India next to the Taj, of course. It had all white marble fort-like walls surrounding an inner "tank" of water, in the middle of which sat a gold-encrusted temple. There was one walkway to and from the temple, symbolizing our singular and universal passage into and out of this world.
We ran into a wonderful Sikh man who offered to give our group a 2...ahem 4-hour (remember to multiply at least twice to compensate for Indian time) tour of the temple. He not only talked with us about the temple, but was open to questions about his faith and the history of his people in Punjab. He told a very interesting story, one that I would be hard-pressed to find in any World History textbook that I have come across in my Western education. He also brought us to a wonderful Indian restaurant and then took some of the ladies shalwar and shawl shopping. He was a saint of his faith, and the world, and I was personally enormously touched by his presence and his words.
And now, after a few too many days of smoggy air and busy roads full of rickshaws, cars, and bikes, we are in Dharamsala --- the seat of the Tibetan Government in Exile. The adorable little town looks like it was painted onto the side of a the foothills (these would be called mountains anywhere else in the world) of the Himalayas. And although we can see snow under the shadow of the enormous clouds perched on top of the Big Guys, today was perfectly warm and sunny and I even took off a layer when we got here! I'm told this is not normal and Google tells me it should get a bit chillier in the coming week.
I love Dharamsala. And I think I would love it even if I hadn't come from three consecutive cities of smog. It's a lovely place, as far as I have seen. Highlights of our eight days here: long life ceremony for the Dalai Lama (who is in town!) along with thousands of others, private meeting with the Karmapa Lama (spiritual leader of the Kagyu school of Tibetan Buddhism), visits to NGOs, talks on Tibetan Buddhist philosophy. It's looking great!
Breathing clean air,
B(ee)
15 January 2010
Overwhelmed, in a Word...
Internet is scarce here in India. As are heating, electricity, and water for the next month or so. Communication will not be as frequent as it has been the past four months (god...has it been that long?!), although I wish it could be.
India. So far. Has been so many things, but most of all one huge sensory overload. The sights (bright colors, people people people, and poverty at its worst), the sounds (frequent melodious car horns, talking, screaming) and the smells (spice-filled food, trash decomposing on the side of the street, sewage) --- it's felt like a nation-wide, never-ending movie that I've been placed in without a script or part to play.
I've already fell deep into and have seen the light out of my first India-induced illness. It could have been the food; it could have been the exhaust fumes; it could have been the overwhelm. But I did not let it stop me from visiting the Taj Mahal yesterday. Checking it off as my second Wonder of the World, I can understand why it is on that list. It was absolutely beautiful and we got there late enough for the fog to have settled so we could actually see the structure in all its white marble beauty.
We're moving six times in eight weeks in India, moving from Delhi to Amitsar to Dharamsala to Haridwar to Varanasi to Sikkim and Rajastan. It should be quite the experience, and if I can't tell you all about it here, I'm sure you'll be hearing about it for years to come when I return.
Overwhelmed, in the best of ways,
B(ee)
India. So far. Has been so many things, but most of all one huge sensory overload. The sights (bright colors, people people people, and poverty at its worst), the sounds (frequent melodious car horns, talking, screaming) and the smells (spice-filled food, trash decomposing on the side of the street, sewage) --- it's felt like a nation-wide, never-ending movie that I've been placed in without a script or part to play.
I've already fell deep into and have seen the light out of my first India-induced illness. It could have been the food; it could have been the exhaust fumes; it could have been the overwhelm. But I did not let it stop me from visiting the Taj Mahal yesterday. Checking it off as my second Wonder of the World, I can understand why it is on that list. It was absolutely beautiful and we got there late enough for the fog to have settled so we could actually see the structure in all its white marble beauty.
We're moving six times in eight weeks in India, moving from Delhi to Amitsar to Dharamsala to Haridwar to Varanasi to Sikkim and Rajastan. It should be quite the experience, and if I can't tell you all about it here, I'm sure you'll be hearing about it for years to come when I return.
Overwhelmed, in the best of ways,
B(ee)
11 January 2010
The "Typical" Indian Experience...
I'm here! In India! Out of the horrible concrete jungle of Bangkok and feeling better already!
My last few days in Thailand (and I'm not really sure I like to think of Bangkok as part of the Thailand I love, anyway) were memorable in their own sort of ways. Bangkok made me and my computer sick. Me, litterally ill; my computer, crashed. But with a fresh hard drive and a whole new country of adventures to embark on, it's feeling nice to move on from Bangkok, to say the least...
I'm sorry to bash on Bangkok so much. I'm sure it has its redeeming qualities. I just couldn't find them between the hassle, dirt, smog, and crowds.
Ok, honestly, maybe India isn't that much different. But it's new! And the best part is that if I feel Bangkok-sentiments growing about any place I end up, it will be alright because I won't be there longer than two weeks!
And now, after I'm done ranting about Bangkok, we have first impressions of India.
We ended up getting out of the New Delhi airport well after midnight last night and were carted off in taxis to a Tibetan community in Old Delhi. When we finally got there, it was 2 AM (felt like 3:30 AM) and we were all ready to crash. Little did we know, we were about to receive the "typical" Indian experience.
The group had to be separated into two different hotels right down the street from each other. So we sent a few people off into the first hotel and the rest of us (eight people) follow Debbi, our new assistant director and local India expert, down the street to the other hotel. After knocking on the locked door for a good three minutes, we finally hear a groan from inside the building. When Debbi said that we were here to check in, the voice seemed to utter "...no..." Molded persistent by living in India for 10 years, Debbi insisted that we in fact did have reservations and should be let in. This went on for a few more minutes until the man finally came to the door and unlocked it just enough for Debbi to get her body inside the building, insisting that the rest of us follow her. They told us that all the rooms were taken; they had no keys. Debbi knew differently. After bringing the worker from the first hotel over, the situation was finally resolved and we were given the keys to four rooms with minimal furniture, no hot water, standing at a solid 40 degrees Fahrenheit.
Needless to say, I slept in layers.
And lucky for me, it's the style here to wear large Pashmina-style scarves instead of coats. I feel like I'm wearing a comfy blanket around all day. It's like I'm at home...almost...
There's much more I could write about. Many emotions have been going through me in the last twelve hours, but those feelings will resolve themselves in other blog posts.
Exploring, myself and my world,
B(ee)
My last few days in Thailand (and I'm not really sure I like to think of Bangkok as part of the Thailand I love, anyway) were memorable in their own sort of ways. Bangkok made me and my computer sick. Me, litterally ill; my computer, crashed. But with a fresh hard drive and a whole new country of adventures to embark on, it's feeling nice to move on from Bangkok, to say the least...
I'm sorry to bash on Bangkok so much. I'm sure it has its redeeming qualities. I just couldn't find them between the hassle, dirt, smog, and crowds.
Ok, honestly, maybe India isn't that much different. But it's new! And the best part is that if I feel Bangkok-sentiments growing about any place I end up, it will be alright because I won't be there longer than two weeks!
And now, after I'm done ranting about Bangkok, we have first impressions of India.
We ended up getting out of the New Delhi airport well after midnight last night and were carted off in taxis to a Tibetan community in Old Delhi. When we finally got there, it was 2 AM (felt like 3:30 AM) and we were all ready to crash. Little did we know, we were about to receive the "typical" Indian experience.
The group had to be separated into two different hotels right down the street from each other. So we sent a few people off into the first hotel and the rest of us (eight people) follow Debbi, our new assistant director and local India expert, down the street to the other hotel. After knocking on the locked door for a good three minutes, we finally hear a groan from inside the building. When Debbi said that we were here to check in, the voice seemed to utter "...no..." Molded persistent by living in India for 10 years, Debbi insisted that we in fact did have reservations and should be let in. This went on for a few more minutes until the man finally came to the door and unlocked it just enough for Debbi to get her body inside the building, insisting that the rest of us follow her. They told us that all the rooms were taken; they had no keys. Debbi knew differently. After bringing the worker from the first hotel over, the situation was finally resolved and we were given the keys to four rooms with minimal furniture, no hot water, standing at a solid 40 degrees Fahrenheit.
Needless to say, I slept in layers.
And lucky for me, it's the style here to wear large Pashmina-style scarves instead of coats. I feel like I'm wearing a comfy blanket around all day. It's like I'm at home...almost...
There's much more I could write about. Many emotions have been going through me in the last twelve hours, but those feelings will resolve themselves in other blog posts.
Exploring, myself and my world,
B(ee)
04 January 2010
Christmas "Vacation"...
So much to update on, but to make a long story short, I had a splendid time showing off Chiang Mai to my parents and I think they enjoyed it almost as much as I did. I felt like a tourist for the first time there during our visit to Doi Suthep, but I guess I was just a tourist trying her best to fit in my whole time there anyway.
Bangkok...we all wished we could have done without, but knew it was a "must" if we were in Thailand. We saw may different worlds there, and maybe these collisions left our bodies confused and unsettled. The best part of Bangkok was listening to fireworks from all over the city echo across a skyline of skyscrapers for a good thirty minutes after the clock struck twelve.
Cambodia, we loved. Particularly after the unsettling feelings we had from Bangkok. The temples are gorgeous, the food is delicious, and our hotel had a pool. We had a wonderful tour guide (and driver) who gave us a very personalized tour of the sites in the area and even complied when we didn't want to vist the market or (god forbid!) more temples because of the heat.
I loved Cambodia so much that I decided to stay until I have company from my trip in Bangkok. I visited a wonderful orphanage last night and it made me want to spend some quality time in this country. For the first time over my break, I felt like I was back integrating myself with the culture rather than just doing the normal tourist rounds and it was really nice. I hope life finds me back in this wonderful, beautiful country surrounded by smiling faces, glorious laughter, and warm hearts.
Keeping the travel high,
B(ee)
Bangkok...we all wished we could have done without, but knew it was a "must" if we were in Thailand. We saw may different worlds there, and maybe these collisions left our bodies confused and unsettled. The best part of Bangkok was listening to fireworks from all over the city echo across a skyline of skyscrapers for a good thirty minutes after the clock struck twelve.
Cambodia, we loved. Particularly after the unsettling feelings we had from Bangkok. The temples are gorgeous, the food is delicious, and our hotel had a pool. We had a wonderful tour guide (and driver) who gave us a very personalized tour of the sites in the area and even complied when we didn't want to vist the market or (god forbid!) more temples because of the heat.
I loved Cambodia so much that I decided to stay until I have company from my trip in Bangkok. I visited a wonderful orphanage last night and it made me want to spend some quality time in this country. For the first time over my break, I felt like I was back integrating myself with the culture rather than just doing the normal tourist rounds and it was really nice. I hope life finds me back in this wonderful, beautiful country surrounded by smiling faces, glorious laughter, and warm hearts.
Keeping the travel high,
B(ee)
24 December 2009
Christmas Eve in Thailand...
It's been weird, being away from home, the cold, and the snow for the Christmas season. There are some things I haven't missed, like the crowds that seem to appear out of nowhere after the Thanksgiving turkey has been cut up and put in the freezer. And then those holiday soundtracks that rarely differ from store to store.
But being in a tank top and light shawl on Christmas Eve? That is weird.
But Chiang Mai has welcomed me (and all of the rest of us Christian-inspired tourists) in with it's holiday charm. Plastic trees were taken out of the storage rooms of guesthouses about a week ago, and the holiday jingles started echoing from a small, but noticeable number of shops and restaurants around the same time. Completely manageable. Not too much; not too soon. Just enough to get you excited just in time for the real deal. It's odd, that a country that doesn't even celebrate a holiday can make me feel better about holidays than my own country ever did.
No station playing "A Christmas Story" all day, but luckily I snagged it from a friend before he departed for Bangkok.
The best Christmas gifts I could ask for will arrive in CHX in less than 24 hours. And will probably be fast asleep, recovering from their travels, this time tomorrow.
Happy holiday wishes to everyone!
B(ee)
But being in a tank top and light shawl on Christmas Eve? That is weird.
But Chiang Mai has welcomed me (and all of the rest of us Christian-inspired tourists) in with it's holiday charm. Plastic trees were taken out of the storage rooms of guesthouses about a week ago, and the holiday jingles started echoing from a small, but noticeable number of shops and restaurants around the same time. Completely manageable. Not too much; not too soon. Just enough to get you excited just in time for the real deal. It's odd, that a country that doesn't even celebrate a holiday can make me feel better about holidays than my own country ever did.
No station playing "A Christmas Story" all day, but luckily I snagged it from a friend before he departed for Bangkok.
The best Christmas gifts I could ask for will arrive in CHX in less than 24 hours. And will probably be fast asleep, recovering from their travels, this time tomorrow.
Happy holiday wishes to everyone!
B(ee)
12 December 2009
I Know I'm Being Influenced...
The first indicator that I have been in Thailand longer than the average tourist, with a map in one hand and a schedule in the other, was that those people started hurriedly passing by me on the street, maps and timetables in hand.
I was that tourist at one point. I creeped up on others and walked closer than usual to pressure them to move faster before dodging between motobikes and parked silaws to gain a few feet on the casual walkers. I was guilty, but I've gotten over it.
I no longer tap my fingers on the table waiting for food to come out. I don't mind if they bring the food out as it's hot, instead of letting it cool down and waiting until all meals ordered are ready. I'm not irritated if getting the bill to me isn't the top priority on their list. I've slowed down. The Thais have made me slow down.
And I think I present myself like this too. Or maybe I've just gained some insight on how Thai business is done. The last two purchases I've made, the Thai buisnessmen (yes, they've both been men), have slashed the price down without any pressure on my part. Maybe it's a courtesy for engaging in conversation and spending more time in their shop than the average passerby. Maybe they can see that I haven't just booked three nights in a guesthouse with the intention of seeing "all the Chiang Mai has to offer". I'm here for more than that, and I think we both know that.
B(ee)
I was that tourist at one point. I creeped up on others and walked closer than usual to pressure them to move faster before dodging between motobikes and parked silaws to gain a few feet on the casual walkers. I was guilty, but I've gotten over it.
I no longer tap my fingers on the table waiting for food to come out. I don't mind if they bring the food out as it's hot, instead of letting it cool down and waiting until all meals ordered are ready. I'm not irritated if getting the bill to me isn't the top priority on their list. I've slowed down. The Thais have made me slow down.
And I think I present myself like this too. Or maybe I've just gained some insight on how Thai business is done. The last two purchases I've made, the Thai buisnessmen (yes, they've both been men), have slashed the price down without any pressure on my part. Maybe it's a courtesy for engaging in conversation and spending more time in their shop than the average passerby. Maybe they can see that I haven't just booked three nights in a guesthouse with the intention of seeing "all the Chiang Mai has to offer". I'm here for more than that, and I think we both know that.
B(ee)
10 December 2009
My Onesie...
[The following is a piece I wrote for the community newsletter that I thought warranted a blog post. Pictures to follow!]
In one of our lectures, we learned about the religion of consumerism. Our arjan even proposed that this was the most practiced religion in Thailand, second only to Buddhism.
We’d all like to say we’re frugal. We’d all like to say that we’re “conscious buyers”. But when it comes down to it, when you’re walking around the streets of Chiang Mai and you see something that catches your eye, you can’t help but promise yourself you’ll eat street food in favor of expensive pseudo-Italian for the next three days just so you can buy that perfect item.
For me, it was a onesie. Gray, with a slight hue of moss, amethyst, chartreuse, steel, wisteria --- whatever color you’re looking for, really! It was my idea of perfection, manifest in a garment; an elastic tube top with adjustable straps attached to a pair of high-waisted, loose, cotton pants with pockets(!) and elastic bottoms. It was displayed on a mannequin outside a (literal) hole-in-the-wall shop. I saw, I touched, I swooshed, I admired…
I walked away. I didn’t even look at the price tag. I saw the careful attention to detail of the items around the shop; I saw the quality of the fabric used; I saw a man handcrafting a bag in the back. No way would I spent the last of my stipend on a piece of clothing…I needed to eat lunch!
But my mind did not stray from that glorious item of clothing. I yearned like I hadn’t in a long time. “I deserve a treat,” I told myself. “I’ll at least go back and casually glance at the price tag…” So I did. And to my surprised, I saw three digits on the tag, and the first one wasn’t even higher than I could count on one hand! [Keep in mind, we're talking Thai Baht, here.]
But a onesie? My first onesie since I needed snaps around my legs to facilitate diaper changing. I mean, I did get those fleece spaceship footsie pajamas from my roommate’s mom for Christmas last year, but those are for special occasions! This, was no small deal.
As I tried it on in the make-shift changing room which consisted of a sheet pulled between me and the street-end of the alleyway-wide shop, I didn’t need a mirror to know that I would be eating cheaply for the next few days. As I made the transaction (which, like everything in Thailand, was lackadaisical), I was informed that it was the last one in the shop --- the last one in this line --- my last chance, and fate, working her magic.
And as I wore the onesie around town for the rest of the day, I knew I had found something special. One person said I was channeling an elephant, the animal closest to my heart; another was distracted from her advising session because of the awe-someness of me in my new prize; a random man on the street laughed as I walked by and I like to think it was because he was jealous. Me? I felt comfortable and f-a-b-fabulous for the rest of the day.
A word of advice to all shoppers in, and out, of Thailand, if the love you have for something is so strong that you’re willing to ration your food spending for the next few days, go for it! You have until the day you die to make up for uneaten food. It’s not every day that you come across a onesie that will make you feel fabulous for the rest of your life.
Happy in my onesie,
B(ee)
In one of our lectures, we learned about the religion of consumerism. Our arjan even proposed that this was the most practiced religion in Thailand, second only to Buddhism.
We’d all like to say we’re frugal. We’d all like to say that we’re “conscious buyers”. But when it comes down to it, when you’re walking around the streets of Chiang Mai and you see something that catches your eye, you can’t help but promise yourself you’ll eat street food in favor of expensive pseudo-Italian for the next three days just so you can buy that perfect item.
For me, it was a onesie. Gray, with a slight hue of moss, amethyst, chartreuse, steel, wisteria --- whatever color you’re looking for, really! It was my idea of perfection, manifest in a garment; an elastic tube top with adjustable straps attached to a pair of high-waisted, loose, cotton pants with pockets(!) and elastic bottoms. It was displayed on a mannequin outside a (literal) hole-in-the-wall shop. I saw, I touched, I swooshed, I admired…
I walked away. I didn’t even look at the price tag. I saw the careful attention to detail of the items around the shop; I saw the quality of the fabric used; I saw a man handcrafting a bag in the back. No way would I spent the last of my stipend on a piece of clothing…I needed to eat lunch!
But my mind did not stray from that glorious item of clothing. I yearned like I hadn’t in a long time. “I deserve a treat,” I told myself. “I’ll at least go back and casually glance at the price tag…” So I did. And to my surprised, I saw three digits on the tag, and the first one wasn’t even higher than I could count on one hand! [Keep in mind, we're talking Thai Baht, here.]
But a onesie? My first onesie since I needed snaps around my legs to facilitate diaper changing. I mean, I did get those fleece spaceship footsie pajamas from my roommate’s mom for Christmas last year, but those are for special occasions! This, was no small deal.
As I tried it on in the make-shift changing room which consisted of a sheet pulled between me and the street-end of the alleyway-wide shop, I didn’t need a mirror to know that I would be eating cheaply for the next few days. As I made the transaction (which, like everything in Thailand, was lackadaisical), I was informed that it was the last one in the shop --- the last one in this line --- my last chance, and fate, working her magic.
And as I wore the onesie around town for the rest of the day, I knew I had found something special. One person said I was channeling an elephant, the animal closest to my heart; another was distracted from her advising session because of the awe-someness of me in my new prize; a random man on the street laughed as I walked by and I like to think it was because he was jealous. Me? I felt comfortable and f-a-b-fabulous for the rest of the day.
A word of advice to all shoppers in, and out, of Thailand, if the love you have for something is so strong that you’re willing to ration your food spending for the next few days, go for it! You have until the day you die to make up for uneaten food. It’s not every day that you come across a onesie that will make you feel fabulous for the rest of your life.
Happy in my onesie,
B(ee)
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