Day 139, 140
On the bus again. This time from Dahab to Nuweiba. Dahab rubbed me the wrong way, so I'm on the road again.
There is a pretty girl in the seat across from me. She is going to Damascus to study the Arabic language.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Day 138:
A do-nothing day today. I am waiting for my bus to Dahab. I strolled a bit, down the main promenade to a nice Internet cafe and then to a pizza and pasta restaurant that I found last night. Good food. Good prices, too.
I took a little boat trip around the river, but cut it short because the boat tout kept making annoying conversation as I tried to read my book. He insisted that we go in his "motorboat" rather than in a Felluca, which also pissed me off.
I'll miss the falafel place down the street from my hotel. The guys that run that restaurant are pleasant and the food I've eaten there has been good enough to help me get my appetite back. I lost it, as you may remember, way back in Dharamsala. I've lost a bit of weight since then, and am looking a bit too frail for my own good.
A do-nothing day today. I am waiting for my bus to Dahab. I strolled a bit, down the main promenade to a nice Internet cafe and then to a pizza and pasta restaurant that I found last night. Good food. Good prices, too.
I took a little boat trip around the river, but cut it short because the boat tout kept making annoying conversation as I tried to read my book. He insisted that we go in his "motorboat" rather than in a Felluca, which also pissed me off.
I'll miss the falafel place down the street from my hotel. The guys that run that restaurant are pleasant and the food I've eaten there has been good enough to help me get my appetite back. I lost it, as you may remember, way back in Dharamsala. I've lost a bit of weight since then, and am looking a bit too frail for my own good.
Day 137:
I was unnecessarily cross with the hotel manager today! Eeep... I really have reached some sort of breaking point. Gotta get home soon... I've no more patience for stupid people.
Went to Luxor's "west bank" today in a small group. The five of us went to see Luxor's most famous historical sights, particularly the "Valley of the Kings" where a slew of Pharaohs were entombed back in the day (including "King Tut"). Some dozen kings, queens and their children were laid to rest here, and great temples and statues were erected over the years as a means of perpetuating the personality cults of the old Egyptian rulers. Everything on the sight is massive and awe-inspiring (if only for reasons of SIZE) - more so, maybe, than the pyramids. The hieroglyphics readily on display here seem to make the site more humane and literary. Our group went inside three tombs.
One temple that we visited later was built by Ramses III as a way to celebrate his military victories over the Libyans. We learned that defeated soldiers were mutilated by the Egyptians... and such acts are depicted on the walls of the temple. We saw images of women COUNTING trophies collected from enemy soldiers... heads, hands and genitals. Hmmm.
Tomorrow afternoon I will begin a 16 hour bus ride to Dahab. I will be in Jordan in four days time, I hope. For the record I have so far spent nine days in Egypt.
I was unnecessarily cross with the hotel manager today! Eeep... I really have reached some sort of breaking point. Gotta get home soon... I've no more patience for stupid people.
Went to Luxor's "west bank" today in a small group. The five of us went to see Luxor's most famous historical sights, particularly the "Valley of the Kings" where a slew of Pharaohs were entombed back in the day (including "King Tut"). Some dozen kings, queens and their children were laid to rest here, and great temples and statues were erected over the years as a means of perpetuating the personality cults of the old Egyptian rulers. Everything on the sight is massive and awe-inspiring (if only for reasons of SIZE) - more so, maybe, than the pyramids. The hieroglyphics readily on display here seem to make the site more humane and literary. Our group went inside three tombs.
One temple that we visited later was built by Ramses III as a way to celebrate his military victories over the Libyans. We learned that defeated soldiers were mutilated by the Egyptians... and such acts are depicted on the walls of the temple. We saw images of women COUNTING trophies collected from enemy soldiers... heads, hands and genitals. Hmmm.
Tomorrow afternoon I will begin a 16 hour bus ride to Dahab. I will be in Jordan in four days time, I hope. For the record I have so far spent nine days in Egypt.
Day 136:
The museum, last night, was quite striking. While the Cairo museum was a nice old-world affair - very much an "Indiana Jones stayed here" kinda place - the Luxor museum is a modern, well thought out, informative and engrossing place. The history on display really does reach out and grab you. This is a good thing, because the Luxor museum contains the same statutes and pharonic relics as the Cairo museum, which I couldn't really relate to.
If anyone reading this managed to get to Luxor, I highly recommend exhibit 61, "Statute of King Thutmosis III," excavated from the nearby Karak temple. It's one of the finest examples of ancient Egyptian sculpture I have yet to see. It's fine details and wonderful restoration are breathtaking in all of it's essential simplicity. That piece alone makes me want to return to the museum for a second visit.
I spent today taking in the sights at Karak. The temples is all about columns and statutes. And a horde of visitors. It made for a pleasant few hours of walking and gawking under the hot sun. As usual, though, there is little y way of explanation on sight - perhaps to create work for the local tour companies.
The heat here has me moving at a snail's pace, spending a few hours touring each day, and the remainder of the day just reading, writing and napping. Tomorrow I plan to travel to the other side of the Nile to see the famous Valley of the Kings and all of the famous tombs therein. Exciting!
The museum, last night, was quite striking. While the Cairo museum was a nice old-world affair - very much an "Indiana Jones stayed here" kinda place - the Luxor museum is a modern, well thought out, informative and engrossing place. The history on display really does reach out and grab you. This is a good thing, because the Luxor museum contains the same statutes and pharonic relics as the Cairo museum, which I couldn't really relate to.
If anyone reading this managed to get to Luxor, I highly recommend exhibit 61, "Statute of King Thutmosis III," excavated from the nearby Karak temple. It's one of the finest examples of ancient Egyptian sculpture I have yet to see. It's fine details and wonderful restoration are breathtaking in all of it's essential simplicity. That piece alone makes me want to return to the museum for a second visit.
I spent today taking in the sights at Karak. The temples is all about columns and statutes. And a horde of visitors. It made for a pleasant few hours of walking and gawking under the hot sun. As usual, though, there is little y way of explanation on sight - perhaps to create work for the local tour companies.
The heat here has me moving at a snail's pace, spending a few hours touring each day, and the remainder of the day just reading, writing and napping. Tomorrow I plan to travel to the other side of the Nile to see the famous Valley of the Kings and all of the famous tombs therein. Exciting!
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Day 135:
Luxor, now. I haven't actually DONE anything, but I have located a nice cafe, where I am sitting now... writing in this journal and drinking fine mint tea. The mint tea in India was nice: just regular tea with a bunch of fresh mint leaves stuck in the pot. I wonder now when I started to like the taste of tea, rather than simply liking the IDEA of tea. Perhaps that happened on the floor of a temple in Jeollanamdo.
I don't think that I will spend much time in Luxor. I will see the museum and the temples across the Nile and then move on. Save for the historical sights, the city seems unremarkable and charmless. I was thinking of spending ten days in each middle eastern country I visit (perhaps longer in Turkey) and today is my seventh day in Egypt. Even if I rush to Jordan I will surely end up staying longer than ten days.
Something interesting will happen tomorrow, maybe. I must close now and walk to the museum.
Luxor, now. I haven't actually DONE anything, but I have located a nice cafe, where I am sitting now... writing in this journal and drinking fine mint tea. The mint tea in India was nice: just regular tea with a bunch of fresh mint leaves stuck in the pot. I wonder now when I started to like the taste of tea, rather than simply liking the IDEA of tea. Perhaps that happened on the floor of a temple in Jeollanamdo.
I don't think that I will spend much time in Luxor. I will see the museum and the temples across the Nile and then move on. Save for the historical sights, the city seems unremarkable and charmless. I was thinking of spending ten days in each middle eastern country I visit (perhaps longer in Turkey) and today is my seventh day in Egypt. Even if I rush to Jordan I will surely end up staying longer than ten days.
Something interesting will happen tomorrow, maybe. I must close now and walk to the museum.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Day 133:
Went to the Giza Pyramids (and Sphinx) yesterday. Pretty cool. I love that they charge twenty five Egyptian pounds to go inside Khufu. After paying, one walks down a cramped tunnel for three minutes. That tunnel ends at an empty room. After looking around for a few minutes, one turns around and goes back out.
All for the price of a happy meal, ladies and gentlemen!
The Pyramids are impressive. But what does one write? Who knows, who knows?
The guy who manages my hotel is a twenty-three year old Egyptian national of Saudi extraction. He tells me that he has a girlfriend that he wants to marry, but that his father doesn't approve of. His father has another girl in mind. "I don't love her," he said to me. He also said this to his father, who said it isn't such a big deal, because if they have some marital problems, he can just take a second wife. And a third. And a fourth.
Oh to be a Saudi man.
Went to the Giza Pyramids (and Sphinx) yesterday. Pretty cool. I love that they charge twenty five Egyptian pounds to go inside Khufu. After paying, one walks down a cramped tunnel for three minutes. That tunnel ends at an empty room. After looking around for a few minutes, one turns around and goes back out.
All for the price of a happy meal, ladies and gentlemen!
The Pyramids are impressive. But what does one write? Who knows, who knows?
The guy who manages my hotel is a twenty-three year old Egyptian national of Saudi extraction. He tells me that he has a girlfriend that he wants to marry, but that his father doesn't approve of. His father has another girl in mind. "I don't love her," he said to me. He also said this to his father, who said it isn't such a big deal, because if they have some marital problems, he can just take a second wife. And a third. And a fourth.
Oh to be a Saudi man.
Day 132:
Alright, here's my story:
I spent the winter of 2004 hanging out with The Kid. The Kid was good to know because she introduced me to a lot of good music. Back then I wasn't very hip, musically speaking. I really liked The White Stripes and The Ramones, and I had once heard the name "Karen O." But, really, that was about the extent of my coolness.
One day The Kid said to me, "do you know Elliott Smith?"
I said, "Is he that guy from The Smiths?"
The Kid's response was one of astonishment and vague disdain. Fortunately I was able to pass of my honest reply as some sort of unfunny Joke.
...
Okay, that's my story.
Alright, here's my story:
I spent the winter of 2004 hanging out with The Kid. The Kid was good to know because she introduced me to a lot of good music. Back then I wasn't very hip, musically speaking. I really liked The White Stripes and The Ramones, and I had once heard the name "Karen O." But, really, that was about the extent of my coolness.
One day The Kid said to me, "do you know Elliott Smith?"
I said, "Is he that guy from The Smiths?"
The Kid's response was one of astonishment and vague disdain. Fortunately I was able to pass of my honest reply as some sort of unfunny Joke.
...
Okay, that's my story.
Day 131:
I dig that there are Korean restaurants all over the developing world. I dig also that the only people we find dining at them are Korean people. Well, Korean people and former ESL teachers turned wayward backpackers.
I like to visit the Korean restaurants, rocking up in my dirty boots and ripped t-shirt. I like to eat my bibmbap in the style of Mr. Kim, the head of the parent's association at my old, twice a week, country school assignment in Suncheon. Mr. Kim was also a scruffy guy... HE was straight off the farm. Now at my city school post, the parents association was made up of 50 soccer-mom types, but in the country we had Mr. Kim. Indeed, he was a scruffy guy, but we were happy to have him - most of the kids at the country school didn't even HAVE parents, living instead with grandparents and aunts and uncles.
At the cafeteria lunch table, Mr. Kim's eating style was... well... it was all about the spoon. No chopsticks for Mr. Kim. Maybe you won't understand this if you haven't eaten at a Korean school cafeteria... but, yeah, Mr. Kim was rural and awesome. That's all you need to know.
I find that my Mr. Kim impersonation, performed at Korean restaurants in a half dozen countries so far leaves fellow diners mystified and confused.
I ate at the Hana Korea restaurant in Cairo this afternoon. Pretty decent... great rice. The K-restaurants in Delhi all used Indian rice. Yuck.
Spent today walking the streets, both in the claustrophobic and frantic downtown and in the upper-crust neighbourhood of Zamaluk. Mostly I was just looking for a Lonely Planet guide to Europe. After visiting four bookshops I gave up and went for lunch (see above). I saw a few nice buildings, including a big ol' cathedral, and a few nice gardens. From a busy bridge, I stared out at the mighty Nile river.
I dig that there are Korean restaurants all over the developing world. I dig also that the only people we find dining at them are Korean people. Well, Korean people and former ESL teachers turned wayward backpackers.
I like to visit the Korean restaurants, rocking up in my dirty boots and ripped t-shirt. I like to eat my bibmbap in the style of Mr. Kim, the head of the parent's association at my old, twice a week, country school assignment in Suncheon. Mr. Kim was also a scruffy guy... HE was straight off the farm. Now at my city school post, the parents association was made up of 50 soccer-mom types, but in the country we had Mr. Kim. Indeed, he was a scruffy guy, but we were happy to have him - most of the kids at the country school didn't even HAVE parents, living instead with grandparents and aunts and uncles.
At the cafeteria lunch table, Mr. Kim's eating style was... well... it was all about the spoon. No chopsticks for Mr. Kim. Maybe you won't understand this if you haven't eaten at a Korean school cafeteria... but, yeah, Mr. Kim was rural and awesome. That's all you need to know.
I find that my Mr. Kim impersonation, performed at Korean restaurants in a half dozen countries so far leaves fellow diners mystified and confused.
I ate at the Hana Korea restaurant in Cairo this afternoon. Pretty decent... great rice. The K-restaurants in Delhi all used Indian rice. Yuck.
Spent today walking the streets, both in the claustrophobic and frantic downtown and in the upper-crust neighbourhood of Zamaluk. Mostly I was just looking for a Lonely Planet guide to Europe. After visiting four bookshops I gave up and went for lunch (see above). I saw a few nice buildings, including a big ol' cathedral, and a few nice gardens. From a busy bridge, I stared out at the mighty Nile river.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Day 130
So here I am, outside of the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. Educational place. Sort of. It's a big, sprawling complex, packed to the rafters with... well, with "stuff." Really, for the casual visitor it's all a little random, with few information panels to explain the myriad of statues, gold ware, jewelery, tomb contents, carvings, potteries and knick-knacks that are on display. That said, the King Tut exhibition is quite nice and well explained and the centerpiece of the ground floor, two larger than life stone statues of some Pharaoh and his queen are rather stunning - they seem to hold court over the shambolic proceedings of the museum floor.
Lot of beautiful women here. Sort of. Like, they've got big breasts and lots of cleavage and short-shorts. And they speak with silly English accents. It's all sort of "chav," I guess you could say. Err... it's been awhile. I, uhm, got to Manali some weeks ago (months?) and upon seeing all the silly young hippies I proclaimed to S my love of white girls with big breasts. But upon seeing this? Uh... maybe I'll reconsider that proclamation...
So here I am, outside of the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. Educational place. Sort of. It's a big, sprawling complex, packed to the rafters with... well, with "stuff." Really, for the casual visitor it's all a little random, with few information panels to explain the myriad of statues, gold ware, jewelery, tomb contents, carvings, potteries and knick-knacks that are on display. That said, the King Tut exhibition is quite nice and well explained and the centerpiece of the ground floor, two larger than life stone statues of some Pharaoh and his queen are rather stunning - they seem to hold court over the shambolic proceedings of the museum floor.
Lot of beautiful women here. Sort of. Like, they've got big breasts and lots of cleavage and short-shorts. And they speak with silly English accents. It's all sort of "chav," I guess you could say. Err... it's been awhile. I, uhm, got to Manali some weeks ago (months?) and upon seeing all the silly young hippies I proclaimed to S my love of white girls with big breasts. But upon seeing this? Uh... maybe I'll reconsider that proclamation...
Day 128, 129
Egypt, now. It's been just a few hours so far. Seems okay - usual tout bullshit and price gouging, but not so nearly as obnoxious as in India. I got into an argument with a taxi driver who very much wanted to keep the change.
Anyways... Oman. Oman was pretty nice. Not nearly so hot as Dubai - a pleasant 30 degrees most afternoons, with night times that were breezy and wonderful. R and I spent out first couple of nights walking around Muscat, the capital, checking out the sights. We slept in Mutrah a neighbourhood of the capital district that is little more than a fish market and a gold and silver souk. There is a pleasant corniche (street?) that takes pedestrians and drivers from Mutrah to the old part of the capital... a (historically) walled area that houses some government buildings and the Sultan of Oman's palace. It also houses a very curious "Oman/France" friendship museum. Oman and France seemingly share very little history (about half of the museum's exhibits are about the museum's opening), but it is a pleasantly quaint place.
Later, a five hour bus ride took us to Sur, further along the coast. Sur is a soothing city, very laid-back and under-touristed. R and I visited an old fort on the outskirts of town which is ostensibly Sur's only "sight." Well... I should say that we TRIED to visit the fort; when we arrived, we found it closed up: without any visitors for some weeks, the sole museum, guide felt comfortable closing up to take a trip to the market for the afternoon.
Can't say I blame him...
Instead of visiting the castle R and I sat in the dirt and watched some children play dominoes. Those half dozen kids played the game like they were preparing to be 70 years old... slamming the dominoes in the dirt and actually keeping score in a ragged old school notebook. The eldest kid smoked a cigarette that the youngest fetched for him half way through the game.
And I guess that's Oman, in a nutshell. A few nice markets, a laid back pace, lots of Islam, nice buses, pricey taxi cabs...
R has left for America. I'm on my own again. Some words about Egypt next time.
Egypt, now. It's been just a few hours so far. Seems okay - usual tout bullshit and price gouging, but not so nearly as obnoxious as in India. I got into an argument with a taxi driver who very much wanted to keep the change.
Anyways... Oman. Oman was pretty nice. Not nearly so hot as Dubai - a pleasant 30 degrees most afternoons, with night times that were breezy and wonderful. R and I spent out first couple of nights walking around Muscat, the capital, checking out the sights. We slept in Mutrah a neighbourhood of the capital district that is little more than a fish market and a gold and silver souk. There is a pleasant corniche (street?) that takes pedestrians and drivers from Mutrah to the old part of the capital... a (historically) walled area that houses some government buildings and the Sultan of Oman's palace. It also houses a very curious "Oman/France" friendship museum. Oman and France seemingly share very little history (about half of the museum's exhibits are about the museum's opening), but it is a pleasantly quaint place.
Later, a five hour bus ride took us to Sur, further along the coast. Sur is a soothing city, very laid-back and under-touristed. R and I visited an old fort on the outskirts of town which is ostensibly Sur's only "sight." Well... I should say that we TRIED to visit the fort; when we arrived, we found it closed up: without any visitors for some weeks, the sole museum, guide felt comfortable closing up to take a trip to the market for the afternoon.
Can't say I blame him...
Instead of visiting the castle R and I sat in the dirt and watched some children play dominoes. Those half dozen kids played the game like they were preparing to be 70 years old... slamming the dominoes in the dirt and actually keeping score in a ragged old school notebook. The eldest kid smoked a cigarette that the youngest fetched for him half way through the game.
And I guess that's Oman, in a nutshell. A few nice markets, a laid back pace, lots of Islam, nice buses, pricey taxi cabs...
R has left for America. I'm on my own again. Some words about Egypt next time.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Day 122-127
I'm on the Arabian Peninsula! Oman, specifically. I don't really know how this happened.
A synopsis of a sort:
I left Delhi the morning of the twenty-second. I was sick at the airport, actually: one last bout of that bacterial bullshit that has been chasing me since Leh. It was quiet funny, really. At the check in counter I felt myself overcome and told the girl I had to scoot to the bathroom - "just wait five minutes, sir" ... "Nope, gotta go right now... bye!" Planning to throw up, I instead blacked out for a few moments on a bench halfway to the toilet. As if thanking me for getting a flight far away from India's dirty side streets and tourist ghettos my body decided to (finally) take care of itself and using a flash sweat it pushed the sickness right out of me long enough to let me check myself in and board my flight. For once I was able to get by without taking any antibiotics.
Flying with R, we stopped at Bahrain to change planes. R and I made a mad dash through customs so that we could spend a few hours poking around Manama, the capital. The city proved to be a curious, though agreeable city. Bahrain is quite a wealthy country, as is most of the peninsula (save Yemen). It's also a very EMPTY place, with a population of little more than 600,000. As a result, the streets of the capital are wide, clean and well maintained. It's a place full of American chain restaurants - TGIFriday, Chillies and Pappa John's are all well represented on the ground.
The people in the city are friendly, too, seemingly happy to encounter genuine tourists in a place where most people come only for business. We were given a lift by Khalil, a sales rep for Johnson and Johnson who happily explained that he's lived his whole life in the capital and that he loves the town and "knows everyone." Khalil really was a hoot... so happy with his work selling beauty products that he insisted on showing R every single page of his product catalogue while despairing the fact that he had no free samples to hand out.
Anyways, we wandered a bit around the bases of some impressive skyscrapers, sent a few postcards and then hurried back to the airport to get our connecting flight to Dubai. The departure area in the Bahrain airport, like all of Manama is a wide open and empty place, punctuated by high end retail spaces and chain restaurants. There many not be many Bahrainis on this planet, but those that DO exist seem to be in possession of some coin.
And then... Dubai.
Dubai is HOT. Forty degrees in the shade. Fuckin' 39 in the sun. NO relief! The heat is what visitors notice first. Then, one notices the cost of it all... ten dollar cab fares, eight dollar coffees, and the rest. R and I did get a good deal at a hotel by way of an Internet reservation, but I think I spent as much in Dubai in three days as I did in a month of India. Whoops.
But all in all, it's a pretty nice town. It's one of the wealthiest cities on the globe and also one of the most opulent. Fitting the THEME of it all, R and I spent an entire day at the City Center Mall, a sprawling retail complex of several floors. We enjoyed some retail successes at the bookstore and also at the movie theatre. Just getting to the mall was special experience - we staggered through 40 degree heat for about an hour, arriving exhausted and dehydrated, all the while mumbling platitudes about how awesome a guy Lawrence of Arabia was.
Even our hotel was, all by itself, a real fun experience. It was rather enlightening to see middle aged Saudi visitors dancing and getting drunk on forbidden Heineken in the hotel restaurant, all while wearing the usual white sheets and headpiece. We even had a very beautiful Arabic hooker knock on our door, trolling for business. One images that the Islamic world is not always like we think it is...
I'm in Oman now. Have been here for a couple of days. I'll write a bit about that next time.
I'm on the Arabian Peninsula! Oman, specifically. I don't really know how this happened.
A synopsis of a sort:
I left Delhi the morning of the twenty-second. I was sick at the airport, actually: one last bout of that bacterial bullshit that has been chasing me since Leh. It was quiet funny, really. At the check in counter I felt myself overcome and told the girl I had to scoot to the bathroom - "just wait five minutes, sir" ... "Nope, gotta go right now... bye!" Planning to throw up, I instead blacked out for a few moments on a bench halfway to the toilet. As if thanking me for getting a flight far away from India's dirty side streets and tourist ghettos my body decided to (finally) take care of itself and using a flash sweat it pushed the sickness right out of me long enough to let me check myself in and board my flight. For once I was able to get by without taking any antibiotics.
Flying with R, we stopped at Bahrain to change planes. R and I made a mad dash through customs so that we could spend a few hours poking around Manama, the capital. The city proved to be a curious, though agreeable city. Bahrain is quite a wealthy country, as is most of the peninsula (save Yemen). It's also a very EMPTY place, with a population of little more than 600,000. As a result, the streets of the capital are wide, clean and well maintained. It's a place full of American chain restaurants - TGIFriday, Chillies and Pappa John's are all well represented on the ground.
The people in the city are friendly, too, seemingly happy to encounter genuine tourists in a place where most people come only for business. We were given a lift by Khalil, a sales rep for Johnson and Johnson who happily explained that he's lived his whole life in the capital and that he loves the town and "knows everyone." Khalil really was a hoot... so happy with his work selling beauty products that he insisted on showing R every single page of his product catalogue while despairing the fact that he had no free samples to hand out.
Anyways, we wandered a bit around the bases of some impressive skyscrapers, sent a few postcards and then hurried back to the airport to get our connecting flight to Dubai. The departure area in the Bahrain airport, like all of Manama is a wide open and empty place, punctuated by high end retail spaces and chain restaurants. There many not be many Bahrainis on this planet, but those that DO exist seem to be in possession of some coin.
And then... Dubai.
Dubai is HOT. Forty degrees in the shade. Fuckin' 39 in the sun. NO relief! The heat is what visitors notice first. Then, one notices the cost of it all... ten dollar cab fares, eight dollar coffees, and the rest. R and I did get a good deal at a hotel by way of an Internet reservation, but I think I spent as much in Dubai in three days as I did in a month of India. Whoops.
But all in all, it's a pretty nice town. It's one of the wealthiest cities on the globe and also one of the most opulent. Fitting the THEME of it all, R and I spent an entire day at the City Center Mall, a sprawling retail complex of several floors. We enjoyed some retail successes at the bookstore and also at the movie theatre. Just getting to the mall was special experience - we staggered through 40 degree heat for about an hour, arriving exhausted and dehydrated, all the while mumbling platitudes about how awesome a guy Lawrence of Arabia was.
Even our hotel was, all by itself, a real fun experience. It was rather enlightening to see middle aged Saudi visitors dancing and getting drunk on forbidden Heineken in the hotel restaurant, all while wearing the usual white sheets and headpiece. We even had a very beautiful Arabic hooker knock on our door, trolling for business. One images that the Islamic world is not always like we think it is...
I'm in Oman now. Have been here for a couple of days. I'll write a bit about that next time.
Day 120, 121
Delhi and India are done! In five hours time a taxi will arrive to take R and myself to the airport. We will fly to Dubai, as I wrote last time, with a stopover in Bahrain. I'm excited - India has been, largely, a drag. Too loud... too crowded... too dirty... too many demands on my rupees...
I've actually developed a visceral reaction to Hindi pop music; it's so screechy and grating that I actually become ANGRY when I hear it.
China has a sense of decency and a sense of the space that humans require to remain sane. India lacks that sense.
But nonetheless, the last few days here have been okay... I went to the cinema twice with R and spent some hours walking in circles around Connaught Place, Delhi's finest commercial district. I spent a small fortune on food, both western and Indian along the way.
I'll really miss the HBO in my hotel room.
Delhi and India are done! In five hours time a taxi will arrive to take R and myself to the airport. We will fly to Dubai, as I wrote last time, with a stopover in Bahrain. I'm excited - India has been, largely, a drag. Too loud... too crowded... too dirty... too many demands on my rupees...
I've actually developed a visceral reaction to Hindi pop music; it's so screechy and grating that I actually become ANGRY when I hear it.
China has a sense of decency and a sense of the space that humans require to remain sane. India lacks that sense.
But nonetheless, the last few days here have been okay... I went to the cinema twice with R and spent some hours walking in circles around Connaught Place, Delhi's finest commercial district. I spent a small fortune on food, both western and Indian along the way.
I'll really miss the HBO in my hotel room.
Day 115-119
Okay, so I WAS going to update, but then I got SICK. My third beat-up, broken-down sickness in the past month and a half. Dammit. This one was a fever, combined with headache and a side of vomiting. I awoke from a restless sleep after the first night of the illness to find my muscles sore all over from the fever. BUT: Ciprofloxacin for the bacteria and ibuprofen for the head and muscles evened everything out.
Have been here in Delhi for the past four or five days. R's stupid bookish self and U's middling good-looks depressed me, as I wrote last time. And now that she has left, he is depressed also. We will fly to Dubai shortly. I turn 25 shortly. Twenty-five in Dubai.
I grow old, I grow old. I wear dirty clothes. The line sin my forehead are deep right now. Will it be possible to age backwards once I get back to comfortable living in Canada?
Delhi remains decidedly loud and unremarkable. I've cashed myself up with enough American bucks to carry me through to Cairo, and I've obtained a fresh passport. Going to try to find some sort of Indian souvenir next. Tomorrow, perhaps, I will buy one of those Rajistani fabric/glass work things. They are occasionally beautiful.
R and I are determined to get ourselves stamped into Bahrain during our layover en route to Dubai. There is also an Iranian island named Kish that might allow us devilish north americans in. Oman remains the main destination for this leg of the journey. Two weeks, tops.
Okay, so I WAS going to update, but then I got SICK. My third beat-up, broken-down sickness in the past month and a half. Dammit. This one was a fever, combined with headache and a side of vomiting. I awoke from a restless sleep after the first night of the illness to find my muscles sore all over from the fever. BUT: Ciprofloxacin for the bacteria and ibuprofen for the head and muscles evened everything out.
Have been here in Delhi for the past four or five days. R's stupid bookish self and U's middling good-looks depressed me, as I wrote last time. And now that she has left, he is depressed also. We will fly to Dubai shortly. I turn 25 shortly. Twenty-five in Dubai.
I grow old, I grow old. I wear dirty clothes. The line sin my forehead are deep right now. Will it be possible to age backwards once I get back to comfortable living in Canada?
Delhi remains decidedly loud and unremarkable. I've cashed myself up with enough American bucks to carry me through to Cairo, and I've obtained a fresh passport. Going to try to find some sort of Indian souvenir next. Tomorrow, perhaps, I will buy one of those Rajistani fabric/glass work things. They are occasionally beautiful.
R and I are determined to get ourselves stamped into Bahrain during our layover en route to Dubai. There is also an Iranian island named Kish that might allow us devilish north americans in. Oman remains the main destination for this leg of the journey. Two weeks, tops.
Day 109 - 115
Yeah, I've recently lost the desire to update. I feel sad. I'm here with R in Delhi, and he's brought his Korean sweetheart with him. They've been travelling together since Pokhara, as I think I have mentioned before. His stupid shy, bookish self coupled with that one reminds me too much of loves lost and loves that never were.
I can avoid being a third wheel by walking in the other direction, but avoiding feelings of longing and nostalgia is a little trickier.
C'est la vie.
R and I will travel together to Oman and the United Arab Emirates. We are sorting out the specifics right now. The Korean sweetheart will leave soon, and so R is also trying to sort THAT out. I spend my hours walking about, eating, and visiting the 'net cafe.
We are all staying in the Korean tourist ghetto. Yikes. Before coming here, the three of us spent a week in McLeod-Ganj (Dharamsala). Not a very exciting place.
Real updates starting tomorrow.
Yeah, I've recently lost the desire to update. I feel sad. I'm here with R in Delhi, and he's brought his Korean sweetheart with him. They've been travelling together since Pokhara, as I think I have mentioned before. His stupid shy, bookish self coupled with that one reminds me too much of loves lost and loves that never were.
I can avoid being a third wheel by walking in the other direction, but avoiding feelings of longing and nostalgia is a little trickier.
C'est la vie.
R and I will travel together to Oman and the United Arab Emirates. We are sorting out the specifics right now. The Korean sweetheart will leave soon, and so R is also trying to sort THAT out. I spend my hours walking about, eating, and visiting the 'net cafe.
We are all staying in the Korean tourist ghetto. Yikes. Before coming here, the three of us spent a week in McLeod-Ganj (Dharamsala). Not a very exciting place.
Real updates starting tomorrow.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Day 99-108
At long last, an update! I've been out of sorts, lately... variously sick, anxious and depressed. I've really lacked the initiative to write anything. But, I must keep at it. Whatever "it" is supposed to be. This update will be casual: I'm just trying to put pen to paper.
To catch up:
Srinagar was actually quite wonderful. The Kashmiri touts who haunt all of India and Nepal can be quite annoying away from home, but it seems like when they are in the homeland, they dial back the obnoxiousness a fair bit. Meanwhile, the soldiers at ever street corner are foreboding, the razor wire on the sidewalks in dangerous and the military checkpoint at the front door of the post office is annoying.... but all of it is quite adventurous from the perspective of an outsider.
The town has a somewhat interesting, if incredibly loud "old town," full of architecturally amusing mosques, temples and shrines. The real jewel of the town, however is the world famous (uhhhhh) Dal Lake. which is home to hundreds of houseboats, used by both locals and free spending tourists. The lake also is a home to floating gardens and a morning floating market. It is a stellar place for early morning row-boat trips.
I learned that at one point there was a Hindu Quarter in this time, but that that population mostly left the city following the civil violence of the 1990s. One can see the big old houses of that community on a boat trip around the canals of the old city.
Humorously, as I took a boat trip one day, some souvenir sellers approached me on the broadsides, trying to sell their tat pirate style. Points for originality, perhaps.
In Srinagar, for the first time since somewhere back in CHINA I actually felt quite "at home" in my hotel. I stayed at a big, rambling old guesthouse run by a local family, which was headed by a generous old patriarch who spent most of his days sitting out front forcing apple slices on all who passed by ("he could manage in English, "Kashmir Apples are best"). Cleaning and things like that were taken care of by a 30sish son, somewhat disabled. It made me happy to see him well taken care of by his big family... he was doing better than so many other disabled guys I've seen on this trip.
The tour work for the hotel was done by a 16 year old nephew, a real cute kid. Strolling one night with a French woman I had met earlier in the day I found him hanging out on a street corner with some much older looking dudes. I chastised him for hanging out with such shady characters (especially on a school night), much to the delight of those shady characters. He took it all in stride, and when the French woman kissed me on each cheek in parting (as the French are prone to doing) the kid demanded to know why I wasn't taking her back to the hotel.
Only in Kashmir, right?
More catching up next time.
At long last, an update! I've been out of sorts, lately... variously sick, anxious and depressed. I've really lacked the initiative to write anything. But, I must keep at it. Whatever "it" is supposed to be. This update will be casual: I'm just trying to put pen to paper.
To catch up:
Srinagar was actually quite wonderful. The Kashmiri touts who haunt all of India and Nepal can be quite annoying away from home, but it seems like when they are in the homeland, they dial back the obnoxiousness a fair bit. Meanwhile, the soldiers at ever street corner are foreboding, the razor wire on the sidewalks in dangerous and the military checkpoint at the front door of the post office is annoying.... but all of it is quite adventurous from the perspective of an outsider.
The town has a somewhat interesting, if incredibly loud "old town," full of architecturally amusing mosques, temples and shrines. The real jewel of the town, however is the world famous (uhhhhh) Dal Lake. which is home to hundreds of houseboats, used by both locals and free spending tourists. The lake also is a home to floating gardens and a morning floating market. It is a stellar place for early morning row-boat trips.
I learned that at one point there was a Hindu Quarter in this time, but that that population mostly left the city following the civil violence of the 1990s. One can see the big old houses of that community on a boat trip around the canals of the old city.
Humorously, as I took a boat trip one day, some souvenir sellers approached me on the broadsides, trying to sell their tat pirate style. Points for originality, perhaps.
In Srinagar, for the first time since somewhere back in CHINA I actually felt quite "at home" in my hotel. I stayed at a big, rambling old guesthouse run by a local family, which was headed by a generous old patriarch who spent most of his days sitting out front forcing apple slices on all who passed by ("he could manage in English, "Kashmir Apples are best"). Cleaning and things like that were taken care of by a 30sish son, somewhat disabled. It made me happy to see him well taken care of by his big family... he was doing better than so many other disabled guys I've seen on this trip.
The tour work for the hotel was done by a 16 year old nephew, a real cute kid. Strolling one night with a French woman I had met earlier in the day I found him hanging out on a street corner with some much older looking dudes. I chastised him for hanging out with such shady characters (especially on a school night), much to the delight of those shady characters. He took it all in stride, and when the French woman kissed me on each cheek in parting (as the French are prone to doing) the kid demanded to know why I wasn't taking her back to the hotel.
Only in Kashmir, right?
More catching up next time.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Day 99:
So, Srinagar.
I was a little bit lost tonight, trying in vain to find my hotel. I was scared - not of wandering the streets at night and stumbling into a bad neighbourhood, but rather of wandering into a nest of razor wire.
Yikes. It's that kind of town.
Indeed, Srinagar has the feeling of a city under occupation. This was evident to me from the beginning - on either side of the road into town soldiers strolled, carrying automatic weapons and walking slowly, seeing everything. The interior of the city proved to be similar - soldiers, razorwire and pillboxes are everywhere. The region's population is predominantly Shiite Muslim, and the territory is part of what India's 1948 war (and subsequent wars) was fought over.
I didn't explore too much today. Arriving at about 8:00 am after a fourteen hour jeep ride from Ladakh, I sacked out a t a hotel for a few hours before spending the afternoon walking around Dal Lake a bit, which lies at the centre of the city. The lake is pretty enough - full of touristy houseboats and little rowboats it is easy on the eyes. There's a lot of tourist infrastructure in that part of town, though it seems to be catering to only a small number of tourists. It seems that most of the foreign tour groups stopped coming here after the last round of violence, although I spotted a lot of domestic Indian visitors.
It's a shame that the industry is dead, but I'm sure it will come back soon enough. C told me that when the Maoists launched the last general strike in Kathmandu the tourist trade there simply died... but to look at Thamel now one would call her a liar... business is booming.
Oh.... I found a photography shop in town run by a toothless old Indian guy. I went in to buy some postcards (for some reason, postcards are hard to find around here). The guy had an awesome stack of cards left over from the 70s and 80s. I picked out twenty for myself, and as I flipped through the stack I came across a whole lot of old photos, sometimes of Indians and sometimes of westerner: all developed decades ago but never picked up.
So, Srinagar.
I was a little bit lost tonight, trying in vain to find my hotel. I was scared - not of wandering the streets at night and stumbling into a bad neighbourhood, but rather of wandering into a nest of razor wire.
Yikes. It's that kind of town.
Indeed, Srinagar has the feeling of a city under occupation. This was evident to me from the beginning - on either side of the road into town soldiers strolled, carrying automatic weapons and walking slowly, seeing everything. The interior of the city proved to be similar - soldiers, razorwire and pillboxes are everywhere. The region's population is predominantly Shiite Muslim, and the territory is part of what India's 1948 war (and subsequent wars) was fought over.
I didn't explore too much today. Arriving at about 8:00 am after a fourteen hour jeep ride from Ladakh, I sacked out a t a hotel for a few hours before spending the afternoon walking around Dal Lake a bit, which lies at the centre of the city. The lake is pretty enough - full of touristy houseboats and little rowboats it is easy on the eyes. There's a lot of tourist infrastructure in that part of town, though it seems to be catering to only a small number of tourists. It seems that most of the foreign tour groups stopped coming here after the last round of violence, although I spotted a lot of domestic Indian visitors.
It's a shame that the industry is dead, but I'm sure it will come back soon enough. C told me that when the Maoists launched the last general strike in Kathmandu the tourist trade there simply died... but to look at Thamel now one would call her a liar... business is booming.
Oh.... I found a photography shop in town run by a toothless old Indian guy. I went in to buy some postcards (for some reason, postcards are hard to find around here). The guy had an awesome stack of cards left over from the 70s and 80s. I picked out twenty for myself, and as I flipped through the stack I came across a whole lot of old photos, sometimes of Indians and sometimes of westerner: all developed decades ago but never picked up.
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