Good day my beautiful mudskippers,
As we all know that being an elite, erudite, and thoroughly charming bloke that I am, means that I have certain sectors of populace to please. Consequently, I took my own sweet arse time to put the videos of my India trip up. While the audio is a bit off and there is plenty of shaky cam. (I refer to them as the typos of the video world) I would suggest that you have a box of tissues beside you because you are about to be taken through an emotional tour-de-force.
The videos are after the jump, and I would suggest having HD switched on.
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Monday, December 28, 2009
Boxing day and Airports
Since December 26, 2009, I have spent 23 hours flying, 12 hours waiting at the Delhi Airport, and 3 hours waiting at the Brussels airport. If I wasn’t the fearless, handsome and yet strangely in-touch-with-his-feelings type of blogger I would say I was tired.
I think I am ready to plan my next travel.
Stay tuned to the blog though. I still have several reflections to post from some days that I have missed. PS who is currently en-route to Goa is one of the guest columnists, and MT also wanted to pen his return from India.
Also, I want to thank you all. I know that there were several people in Ottawa who were following this blog, and I know that there were more than a faithful few in Toronto who were reading this. Trust me, just knowing that people were reading this made me keep wanting to write more.
I have the next two days off work. In those two days on I shall be editing a lot of video footage that I shot, and posting the final copies of a lot of the pictures that I took. They shall all be peppered across social media for you to enjoy. Remember on twitter you can find me @damookman and on flickr you can find me at Aramil Liadon. I suppose I will paste on facebook as well, though it is well against my religion to do so.
Oh hey, I found an emporium. It was this way.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Train ride to Udaipur
So how bad could it be, right? I mean we are at the train station, we already had confirmed seats before we started. I mean what could possibly go wrong?
My last post had the brothers S, and AQ sick. Any analogies that I can draw as to how sick they were would be quite weak in comparison to what they looked like/must have felt like.
The train pulled in (only 10 minutes late as opposed to 15) and we boarded after a little bit of pushing and shoving. Once inside the train realization struck us that we had entered from the wrong side of the train. Being hardened travelers, we pushed and shoved our way right to the other end. I sat between PS and AQ, which in retrospect could have been a bad move. But thankfully those two were so drugged up that they pretty much passed away straight off the bat.
At this point in time I would like to draw your attention to the fact that we were travelling on Christmas eve. And as tradition goes, a certain slightly creepy fat man visits you on that night to give you gifts. Turns out, we did get a visit from a fat man who was quite a lot creepier. The fat man in question was not Santa, but rather was a hijra. Hijra society and their place in the current society is quite a sad tale as they are quite marginalized by society, and one of the only ways that they can support themselves is through visiting families en masse during child births or other joyous occasions. They generally dress as women, and in a very annoying voice, clapping (in a way that I cannot describe) and through socially shaming threats (such as stripping themselves outside of the house, cursing the home owners etc.) will cajole money to be given to them for them to go away. However, as otherworldly this sounds to you my dear reader, people here are quite tolerant of this behaviour. Though wiki will tell you that there are often brutal beatings.
Back to the story, this certain fat man did pay us a visit. He woke up PS by caressing his cheek. Poor PS was so out of it thanks to his medication and so taken aback by a) being caressed, and b) waking up to a guy so fat that his gut was sticking out from under his shirt that he thought it wasSanta a ticket collector. Once he realized what was going on, he was apoplectically angry. It was only due to a combination of grogginess, laziness and sickness that he did nothing.
The hijra on the other hand decided to try and wake me up as well, and as he moved to caress my cheek he was confronted with the open, anger/exhaustion filled eyes of a handsome yet humble blogger. Something clicked inside his head telling him that I probably might not know what a hijra is and yelled out sixer. Now here is the part that confuses me. If I was indeed a foreigner, and did not know what hijra was, there was no conceivable way that I would know the colloquial term for hijra was sixer. NK, our dashing yet slightly stressed out guide sprang into action. He did not want AQ who was sitting beside me touched nor did he want AS (sitting in a seat a one row past us) disturbed. He gave the hijra some money for him to go away. Just like the fat man who watches you all throughout the year and then sneaks into your house to give you a gift, this fat man snuck in, watched us, and gave us the gift of culture-shock.
NK, our dashing yet slightly stressed guide, did get a chance to speak with the ticket collector later on. The T.C completely disavowed any knowledge of anything like this happening on his train. He stated that this kind of stuff does not happen here, but closer to Delhi. Sure….
The rest of the ride was quite uneventful. AS and AQ had no idea what had transpired. We sang Feliz Navidad, and some other Christmas carols at the train station upon disembarking the train. There is something really surreal about singing Christmas songs in Spanish and English whilst dancing at a train station in Rajasthan, India.
I think the quality of the trip is directly proportional to the companions. I have been blessed so far. I have had great friends throughout this trip and have really enjoyed each and every one’s company.
The next post will encompass travelling Udaipur. Also this adventure is coming to an end. While I am delighted to be heading back home. I must admit a small part of me misses hanging out with my friends and discovering more things.
My last post had the brothers S, and AQ sick. Any analogies that I can draw as to how sick they were would be quite weak in comparison to what they looked like/must have felt like.
The train pulled in (only 10 minutes late as opposed to 15) and we boarded after a little bit of pushing and shoving. Once inside the train realization struck us that we had entered from the wrong side of the train. Being hardened travelers, we pushed and shoved our way right to the other end. I sat between PS and AQ, which in retrospect could have been a bad move. But thankfully those two were so drugged up that they pretty much passed away straight off the bat.
At this point in time I would like to draw your attention to the fact that we were travelling on Christmas eve. And as tradition goes, a certain slightly creepy fat man visits you on that night to give you gifts. Turns out, we did get a visit from a fat man who was quite a lot creepier. The fat man in question was not Santa, but rather was a hijra. Hijra society and their place in the current society is quite a sad tale as they are quite marginalized by society, and one of the only ways that they can support themselves is through visiting families en masse during child births or other joyous occasions. They generally dress as women, and in a very annoying voice, clapping (in a way that I cannot describe) and through socially shaming threats (such as stripping themselves outside of the house, cursing the home owners etc.) will cajole money to be given to them for them to go away. However, as otherworldly this sounds to you my dear reader, people here are quite tolerant of this behaviour. Though wiki will tell you that there are often brutal beatings.
Back to the story, this certain fat man did pay us a visit. He woke up PS by caressing his cheek. Poor PS was so out of it thanks to his medication and so taken aback by a) being caressed, and b) waking up to a guy so fat that his gut was sticking out from under his shirt that he thought it was
The hijra on the other hand decided to try and wake me up as well, and as he moved to caress my cheek he was confronted with the open, anger/exhaustion filled eyes of a handsome yet humble blogger. Something clicked inside his head telling him that I probably might not know what a hijra is and yelled out sixer. Now here is the part that confuses me. If I was indeed a foreigner, and did not know what hijra was, there was no conceivable way that I would know the colloquial term for hijra was sixer. NK, our dashing yet slightly stressed out guide sprang into action. He did not want AQ who was sitting beside me touched nor did he want AS (sitting in a seat a one row past us) disturbed. He gave the hijra some money for him to go away. Just like the fat man who watches you all throughout the year and then sneaks into your house to give you a gift, this fat man snuck in, watched us, and gave us the gift of culture-shock.
NK, our dashing yet slightly stressed guide, did get a chance to speak with the ticket collector later on. The T.C completely disavowed any knowledge of anything like this happening on his train. He stated that this kind of stuff does not happen here, but closer to Delhi. Sure….
The rest of the ride was quite uneventful. AS and AQ had no idea what had transpired. We sang Feliz Navidad, and some other Christmas carols at the train station upon disembarking the train. There is something really surreal about singing Christmas songs in Spanish and English whilst dancing at a train station in Rajasthan, India.
I think the quality of the trip is directly proportional to the companions. I have been blessed so far. I have had great friends throughout this trip and have really enjoyed each and every one’s company.
The next post will encompass travelling Udaipur. Also this adventure is coming to an end. While I am delighted to be heading back home. I must admit a small part of me misses hanging out with my friends and discovering more things.
Monday, December 14, 2009
The cabbies of Delhi (part 1 and hopefully the only time I make this kind of post)
This city runs on tips. Understandable, as so much of the traffic that comes through here is based on tourism and there is a lot of poverty. But still, most of our moneyzz (TM) has been spent on tips, tips and more tips.
That being said our cabbies so far have been interesting. There are only two major ones to speak of. R from day one and UK from day 2. R from day one (not his real name) was a very upfront driver who first took us to a money changer in a seedy backalley. "Why oh venerable blogger?" Who said that? Oh its you again, I should have known. It's because, my beautiful lemur, stupid western unions were closed on a Sunday and since he did not "know" where else to take us and just "happened" to take us to a place where he would get a small commission. At least now we knew the game was on.
He was then hoodwinked when we demanded to go to a place for shopping, and eating not on his lists. The bugger got us back though. He stated that if we were looking for items for souvenir we should head to a place called "Emporium". At least he was honest about saying that he is going to get a commission out of this and if we bought anything, he stands to make more. Awesome deal for me, as his "tip" went away.
Day 2 was Agra. Post to follow soon on that day. The driver that we had for that stretch was a completely different person. A very professional man, who led us through some of the worst traffic we have seen thus far. He did however, mention that traffic has been very light thus far. MT's video of the traffic screams otherwise, but hey, who are we to argue. However, I must say he is also the only person to take a shot at MT thus far. Here is how the conversation went.
UK: Sir, you did go to Agra right?
@damookman: Yes?!?
UK: And you saw the Taj, and the other beautiful things there?
@damookman: We did indeed.
UK: And you and the other sirs, took pictures and videos there.
@damookman: Yes.
UK: I only ask because it seems that sir (pointing to MT) does not appear to have found anything other than a traffic jam to videotape.
I like UK as a driver.
That being said our cabbies so far have been interesting. There are only two major ones to speak of. R from day one and UK from day 2. R from day one (not his real name) was a very upfront driver who first took us to a money changer in a seedy backalley. "Why oh venerable blogger?" Who said that? Oh its you again, I should have known. It's because, my beautiful lemur, stupid western unions were closed on a Sunday and since he did not "know" where else to take us and just "happened" to take us to a place where he would get a small commission. At least now we knew the game was on.
He was then hoodwinked when we demanded to go to a place for shopping, and eating not on his lists. The bugger got us back though. He stated that if we were looking for items for souvenir we should head to a place called "Emporium". At least he was honest about saying that he is going to get a commission out of this and if we bought anything, he stands to make more. Awesome deal for me, as his "tip" went away.
Day 2 was Agra. Post to follow soon on that day. The driver that we had for that stretch was a completely different person. A very professional man, who led us through some of the worst traffic we have seen thus far. He did however, mention that traffic has been very light thus far. MT's video of the traffic screams otherwise, but hey, who are we to argue. However, I must say he is also the only person to take a shot at MT thus far. Here is how the conversation went.
UK: Sir, you did go to Agra right?
@damookman: Yes?!?
UK: And you saw the Taj, and the other beautiful things there?
@damookman: We did indeed.
UK: And you and the other sirs, took pictures and videos there.
@damookman: Yes.
UK: I only ask because it seems that sir (pointing to MT) does not appear to have found anything other than a traffic jam to videotape.
I like UK as a driver.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Packing.
When should I start? How many clothes do I need for 16 days? Wait, I think a better question is how dirty is too dirty?
Welcome to "Why must it be always uphill?" This is a travel blog. The contributors are all friends, and I reckon most of the people reading this all know each other. The idea is to chronicle a 16 day trip to India, but then it expanded into my different travels. Whether it be a trip to Europe, or a gosh-darned trip to grocery store in the middle of a snowstorm, expect a verbal diatribe from me about that.
Our flight time is 1845 on Friday. MT and PD (my 2 friends for the first leg of the journey) are scheduled to arrive in about 12 hours. I will post once those idiots swell fellas get here
Welcome to "Why must it be always uphill?" This is a travel blog. The contributors are all friends, and I reckon most of the people reading this all know each other. The idea is to chronicle a 16 day trip to India, but then it expanded into my different travels. Whether it be a trip to Europe, or a gosh-darned trip to grocery store in the middle of a snowstorm, expect a verbal diatribe from me about that.
Our flight time is 1845 on Friday. MT and PD (my 2 friends for the first leg of the journey) are scheduled to arrive in about 12 hours. I will post once those idiots swell fellas get here
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