Do you mind if I ask you something?

Do you mind if I ask you something?

November 19, 2010
“Do you mind if I ask you something?” This seems to be the approaching sentence of men in Jaipur. Yes, I do mind. Why? Because in 24 hours 10 people have already asked me the same question. “Why do Westerners come to India to get to know our culture and they don’t speak to locals?”. Maybe because locals are too annoying and people get tired?
Well, they don’t get it. And most times they are boring questions, where do you come from, what do you do, what did you like about India, and so on.

Tonight another guy approached me in this same way. At my reaction, the same as usual, rude, he said that this wasn’t what he wanted to ask me. It was “Can I offer you a chai so that we can chat a bit?”. Ok, not much difference, but because he had the guts to reply to me (usually after my rude reply they run away) I got curious. And I got this free chai (well, half to be honest, they brought us a glass of tea and one emply, where my half was poured.

Well, he wasn’t too bad. He told me some interesting stories. Like, why are Indians not good at playing football (soccer)? Because at every corner they would open a shop. And this is so true! All ground floors of the buildings are shops or restaurants, not one single flat or house. Flats are from the first floor up. No garage, there’s no need for them. 

He likes cricket, anyway. I don’t know anything about cricket, and he says that he’s not even trying to teach me something because it’s very complicated and after 2 minutes I’d be tired. I only know that matches can last for days. And people don’t get bored because they put money on them, so they are always interested in how the match goes.

jaipur

He then told me that they their arranged weddings do work because the mentality is different, people are ready to compromise to stay together, while in the Western World this is getting more and more difficult. Which is true. 

A bit earlier I had another interesting meeting. I was at a temple dedicated to Lord Krishna and was looking at pooja (or puja), one of their celebrations-prayers, and I guy talked to me. He works for a travel agency, that provides buses and guides to groups of foreign tourists. He doesn’t understand why so many elderly from Europe come to India and spend all the time inside their buses, like in a cage. They go out of their hotels, get on the bus and get off just to visit palaces and museums. No walking in the streets. No talking to locals. They can’t even go to the shops they choose, they go where they are taken. Well, I guess some people are scared of somthing so different from their own country and growing old it gets more difficult. But he is right, that’s not traveling. It is true that here in India at some point you get tired and you don’t want to talk to anyone. But sometimes interesting exchanges can happen.

Jaipur is very pretty. “The Pink city”, it’s called. They use a lot of “sand stone” to build, which I am not sure what it is. I visited the palace of the town today. €4.5. A lot! But it was worth it. Inside was a museum with traditional clothes and accessories worn by Mahrajas. And it’s a nice building. When I went outside a guy on a rickshaw offered to take me on a ride. At 30 cents, for one hour. This included a visit to a couple of shops, that weren’t mentioned in the offer, but it was nice nevertheless. I bought some earrings at less than one euro. But I left the carpets where they were. In the factory where they pring saris, I was covered in golden powder. I’m still sparkling.

Bye from Jaipur, Rajasthan. A region famous for the colours of its fabrics.

McLeod Ganj

McLeod Ganj

November 19, 2010

I haven’t written since my birthday. But I feel like in McLeod Ganj I haven’t done much deserving to be shared.

What I like about this place is that it doesn’t look like India at all. It’s full ot Tibetan refugees. But they don’t live secluded in a sort of residence like I’ve seen in Nepal and Darjeeling, they live in a town and they are well integrated. Of course, it’s not Tibet and it will never be the same, but they seem happy. And they’ve got their beloved Dalai Lama here with them.

There are many tourists and the main pastime seems to be chatting. Tibetans talk a lot to Westerners, to share their story. And there are many journalists too. So I felt a bit out of turn, I didn’t want to be part of the crowd. I talked only once to a guy at a restaurant, 40 years old I believe, that hasn’t married yet because in McLeod Ganj there’s lack of women. He fled Tibet 16 years ago. Now he can’t go back because he was an activist and he would be arrested.

Tibetans are beautiful, I forgot how it’s pleasant to stay around them.

I took a massage and a reiki course during the 5 days I spent in the cold of these mountains. I liked the massage one. Maybe because the teacher was actually good looking. Reiki I don’t know. It’s a healing practice that utilizes the energy that passes between bodies. The teacher didn’t seem professional and I hate how he breathed. And reiki involves too much meditation. I should do 21 days of “self healing”, but because it takes 72 minutes each time, I haven’t started yet.

While he was “healing” me, I had to focus on the 7 chakra, the poins of… energy maybe? that govern the rest of the body? Something like this. But he didn’t explain anything!

The first chakra is at vagina level. “What can I write on the blog?” I was thinking when he asked me to focus there.

“Please concentrate on your second chakra”, Sha… I can’t remember how it’s called. A bit below the belly-button. Ohhmmmmm…. I need to pee.

3rd chakra. 2 fingers above navel. I’m getting hungry.

4th chakra, at sternum level. How long since the last time a man touched me?

5th chakra, throat. I’m getting thirsty.

6th chakra, fronthead. Here I could almost focus, maybe because I had to cross my closed eyes and this put me on a trance.

7th and last chakra, on top of the head. “Hasn’t it finished yet?”.

No, I wasn’t a good student. I hope he was good enough to open my chakra on his own, because I wasn’t very helpful. And he kept telling me “feel the good energy opvj” opvj? what’s opvj? How could I focus with someone talking like this?

The whole time I was thinking abotu Sibel. She’s a girl I met in London a few months before I left. She’s Turkish and worked at my same trave l agency; we were introduced by Patrizia, from Sardinia, because she had a spare room in her apartment. Sibel is also using Reiki. And being close to her gives me the goosebumps. She’s so peaceful and serene, I would have spent hours talking with her. About energy, aura, cats and witches. She seduced me when she said that she believes I was also a witch in a past life. Wow, wouldn’t it be cool? I remember she told me that because during Inquisition witches suffered a lot and died in horrible ways, when they reincarnate they prefer to erase their memories and forget about their magic. Apparently for this reason I’m allergic to cats, despite loving them. So beware of me, I can be dangerous!

Anyway, witches aside, I loved Sibel.

Birthday with the Dalai Lama

Birthday with the Dalai Lama

Novembe 13, 2010

I’m in McLeod Ganj, a small town near Dharamshala, where the Tibetan government is in exile. I arrived in the morning at 6.30 on a bus from Delhi.

The bus was like the oldest public buses we have in Italy, that we don’t see on the roads anymore, and seating next to me a man weighing 150kg, of course. It’s weird how our mind understands what we want to understand, sometimes. I thought the guy told me he was getting off 2 hours from Delhi, he actually got off after 10 hours, when there were 2 hours left to Dharamshala.

There was cold air coming in from the windows. A gravel road and the driver going like crazy. Nevertheless I was able to sleep. Not very well, but I’m not particularly tired. And my arrival here couldn’t be better: a guy offered me breakfast because I’m a guest and it was his duty.

In the square where the bus arrived there’s a Coffee Day, a chain of coffee shops where they make that gelato affogato that I sometimes dream at night (but I don’t know if I will be able to have it here because it’s too cold, we are at 1770m above sea level), there’s a hot shower in the guesthouse and a clean dormitory where a bed costs me only 1,5 euro per night.

There’s also an ayurveda massage school at the guesthouse. Tibetan momos in the streets. A coffee shop with free wifi 10 meters from there. And that is exactly where I rushed as soon as I changed my shoes.

It’s 5 am in Italy, why is there no one on skype? But what do I find on Facebook? I beautiful birthday video made by my family. People were looking at me and wondered why I was crying and laughing. Thanks a lot for the birthday wishes. I would spend all birthdays away, if this is what I can expect.

The Dalai Lama lives here. Maybe he’s around these days? I might tell him it’s my birthday… Oh no, I checked their website and he’s in Japan now, for a Peace Nobel price summit. Maybe next time…

Delhi, what a surprise!

Delhi, what a surprise!

Why I liked Delhi and think you should visit it

November 11, 2010

I don’t know why everybody advised me against visiting Delhi. Only Manuel, the guy from Perugia that I met in Darjeeling, told me I should come because it’s the capital and it’s like going to Italy and not going to Rome (which is not completely true because Rome is Rome, you go there because of its history and architecture, not because it’s the capital of Italy). Anyway, I like Delhi. A lot.

There’s everything you need here. In the Old Delhi there are tiny alleys full of pedestrians, bicycles and rickshaws, small restaurants, stalls, drug users, trash, dogs (dogs in India are particularly ugly, and often sick). Urinals that you can smell from 10 meters away.

And there’s the New Delhi, with large boulevards lined with trees, nice parks, coffee shops with jazz music and toilet paper in the bathroom, very clean roads, restaurants from all over the world with super high prices, government palaces and diplomatic buildings.

People are not worse than other places, on the contrary. In Varanasi and Agra they were more insistent. Here you are often asked if you need a rickshaw, but a part from that, you are free. You are not stopped to chat to be invited to the brother or “uncle” shop after 5 minutes.

The underground is amazing. Super clean (it’s forbidden to spit here), air conditioning. And there are coaches reserved to women, which is good, if you consider the bad Indian habit of brushing against women’s body. And because there are so few women who walk around, the coach is quieter than others.

In Old Delhi there’s the largest mosque in India. It’s called Jama Masjid. It can host up to 25,000 people. It has various entrances, through numbered gates, like a stadium. Impressive.

There are many foreigners, because for many visitors it’s the landing city, and because many live here, as diplomats or as outcast. Yes, for the first time I’ve met foreigners that live in India and lost their soul somewhere. In Kolkata I had met two intellectuals, Tom and Shasha, here in Delhi many junkies. Shame.

I wouldn’t mind living in Delhi for some time. Because there’s everything. The true India and a bit of the Western World, so when one is tired of lentils can go and get a chocolate milkshake.

It’s a bit of a shame I was here only for two and a half days. Tomorrow I’ve got a bus to McLeod Ganj, a vilage near Dharamshala where the Tibetan government is in exile. On the mountains, in the cold.

Will I see the Dalai Lama? I’m quite excited.

delhi
Agra: Taj Mahal and more

Agra: Taj Mahal and more

November 9, 2010

Sonia asked me to write about my experience at the Taj Mahal. And I don’t know what to say.

The first time I saw it, from the rickshaw taking me from the station to the hotel, my heart stopped beating for a second. But to tell you of the hour and half that I spent around this amazing palace is difficult.

It’s huge and imposing and beautiful. It’s all made in marbe, with beautiful inlay works on all the walls. Semi-precious stones create stems and petals. It gives such a sense of freshness that you feel the urge to hug it.

There are loads of people, at any time. I was at the ticket office at 5.45 am, the office opened at 6 am, I was the 6th in line, but they opened the gate of the palace only at 6.30 and at that time there was a crowd already. It was impossible to take a picture with no people.

For foreigners entrance was about 13 euro, for Indians 0.30. Why isn’t there something similar in Italy? I wuold surely visit more museums here too.

On Friday it’s open only for muslims that wish to pray. There’s a mosque inside its walls, on the left of the Taj.

taj mahal in agra

The Taj Mahal was built between 1631 and 1653 by emperor Shah Jahan as tomb for his second wife, who died giving birth to their 14th child. Nice thought.

Other sites in Agra: the fort and the Baby Taj

In Agra the most famous building is certainly the Taj mahal, but there are at least two more interesting monuments that I visited: the fort and mausoleum Itimad-Ud-Daulah (also known as Baby Taj).

The red fort was built in 95 years, it’s a fortified citadel and a Unesco Heritage Site since 1983.

A curiosity about the fort: in one of its towers was incarcerated Shah Jahan, the man who built the Taj Mahal for his wife; he was imprisoned here for 8 years, until his death in 1666; from here he could see the Taj Mahal, where his wife was resting.

Itimad-Ud-Daulah is where is buried Mizra Ghiyas Beg, a persian nobleman whose daughter, Nur Jahan, married emperor Jehangir. It was Nur who had the mausoleum built for the father, in the same style in which she built the mausoleum for her husband, near Lahore in Pakistan.

It was the first Maghul structure to be built completely in marble, and the first tomb along the river Yamuna.

New friends in Agra

I must stop telling people where I’m staying. Tonight a boy came looking for me.

We spent many hours talking earlier today, he told me he’s got a girlfriend, that they love each other very much but the parents don’t know about it because they come from different castes and they wouldn’t approve. But they want to marry; he will finish university first, find a job, and then he will tell his parents.

He asked me for help because she doesn’t want to have sex and he would like to know what he can do to make her change her mind. Nothing dear, until she’s ready.

I don’t know if he hoped I could help him, in the meantime.

It’s a bit annoying, because you can’t relax in your own room. So no more info around. And I will have to say that I am traveling with my family and that they are waiting for me at the hotel for dinner or something like that.

I don’t know if I can do it, it’s difficult to lie for me. But I have to.

Lucky man at the Taj Mahal

Lucky man at the Taj Mahal

Some more stories from Varanasi and Agra

Nov. 8, 2010

I’m in a super cool coffee shop. Air-con, sofas, large windows and many types of coffees. I had a huge ice cream with coffee. Maybe it’s not the best for my insecure stomach, but I really wanted it, you need a treat from time to time.

I’m in Agra, the town of the Taj Mahal. I’ve seen it from far away, from the terrace of my hotel, and it was enough to leave me speechless. I’m so happy, I’ve been dreaming of coming here for so many years! And finally, I’ll visit it tomorrow, at sunrise. With that light it must be even better.

I left Varanasi last night. Every time I leave a place I feel bad. In Varanasi I spent the last two days with two boys I met along the Ghat. They took me around town, to visit a Nepalese temple with Kamasutra scenes adorning the roof, we went to have the best lassi (yogurt with ice) in the world (second only to that of Janakpur) and I wanted to go to the cinema, but I would have had to pay for everyone (1 euro per person), and that was above my daily budget, so I decided not to.

Varanasi Ghat

One evening I had 10 minutes of panic, because I was in the middle of the labyrinth of alleys that is Varanasi, in the dark, with few people, with three kids that I didn’t know, going to places I didn’t recognize. But nothing bad happened.

Later that night a man by the ghat asked if I wanted a “Kamasutra massage”. How do you do it? “with condoms”, was his answer. First massage, then oils, then kamasutra. With condom. 1.6 euro, all included.

I’ve met Mowgli again. He brought me to his house to meet his family. When we arrived his mother was resting on the bed that they use as sofa, chair and table; she got up to let us sit down. I don’t know why we went to meet his family if after a couple of minutes they left us alone. Maybe he just wanted to show me where he lives. 5 people in one room 2 meters by 3 that is a kitchen, bedroom, living room and laundry at the same time. There’s also a terrace where they sleep because the room is too small to fit them all. The father works, but probably he doesn’t earn enough to get a bigger home.

Not all the dead in Varanasi are burnt along the Gange. Pregnant women, children, leprous and those killed by a snake bite are tied to a stone and thrown into the river. Kids and pregnant women because they are pure. Those killed by snakes because the snake is holy and you can’t burn his venom (or something similar), leprous because leprosy is god’s punishment. Well, I don’t really understand it, but this is what I was told. Sometimes a corpse comes back afloat.

Along the streets that take to Manikarnika Ghat, the main ghat where corpses are burned, you can see groups of men escorting the dead. They sing to their gods while they walk. Only men take part to the ceremony. The excuse is that women are too sensitive, they cry too much and disturb. Or they might jump into the fire themselves.

Yesterday morning I woke up at 5am and took a boat along the Gange. Amazing. At 5.30 it was still dark, but there were many people bathing and praying. They washed their clothes, men in their underwear, women completely dressed in the water, but they were in different ghats, men and women. Amid rubbish and offers. And with the bottom of the river swarming with corpses.

The previous evening, as part of the Diwali, I saw people taking statues of the goddess Kali to the river and throw them in. In Kolkata I saw the neighborhood where they build the statues in straw and mud, I thought they were for the temples, but they are actually for the river. Families pay as much as 100 euro for a nicely decorated statue, they take it to the river, kiss it everywhere, make it turn a bit around itself, throw some offers into the river (mainly fruit and vegetables, plastic bags included; a man threw a coconut and three steel teaspoons… and I wondered if a knife wouldn’t have been more useful for the coconut?) and then the statue. They can throw the statue directly near the shore or rent a boat and go 10 meters into the water. They are all happy and take a lot of pictures during the ceremony.

varanasi

Agra

Muslim women in Agra walk with their face completely covered. They see where to put their feet looking down under the shawl that covers them.

Earlier today I had a lassi. The seller advised me to be careful with the men of Agra, that are a bit disreputable. He told me that he is 34 years old (he looks like my father), he’s married with two children, 7 and 10 years old. When he goes home in the evening after work the children are already sleeping. His wife loves him so much that she wants the children to sleep in another room, so she can have him all for herself. When he’s back his wife serves him dinner, then locks the door, undresses him and makes love to him. She would like to do it every night, because she loves him so much. But he can’t do it so often, so he asked her to give him some respite one every other day. “You’re a very lucky man”, I told him. After the second son the wife told him she doesn’t want another child, so they use a condom. He left me speechless. He suggested I find a husband soon because meditation in the morning and sex in the evening are the ingredients for a happy life.

I thanked him for his interesting tips and promised I would think about what he told me.

While he was talking to me I wondered what was wrong with him. Was he a bit retarded? Or does he think that in Europe we talk freely about our sex life with strangers? Or does he force his wife to have sex every other day and pretend that she wants it so that he feels loved and important? Or was he just teasing me? I will never know. Well, very lucky man in any case.