India

So today is the first day of my fourth week here and so far I have nothing coherent to write, but I am forcing myself to do so. I'll give a short summary of the last three weeks.

I arrive in New Delhi at 2 a.m. I didn't have a travel book, nor could I have found one in Central Asia. I was hoping to flip through one on the way there. Because of the present situation, the flight from New York was virtually empty and everyone aboard was heading to Central Asia. Normally it's the other way around and most people are heading to India, taking advantage of Uzbekistan Airways cheap, government subsidized airfares. I won't go into details, but in the first 8 hours, I spent $50. This was due to lies, cheats, and as one stickler for the rules put it, 'there are no friends in business.' That first day the guide books for sale everywhere were very tempting but I steered clear for reasons that were not yet fully hashed out. By the third day I left. I had ups and downs. I deciphered the public bus system and registered with my embassy. I also got cheated by some cabbies and a shoe shiner threw crap on my shoes and then demanded more than what he quoted.

I ran away quickly to Shimla. It's amazing I ever left that place. Long ago the British had declared it the only residence of any sensible colonialist. They found no scruples with governing the country from a remote mountain village. The sun is warm and the air is cool and everywhere there are monkeys. It's a big holiday place for honeymooners and anyone that just wants to enjoy life. I did, but pressure kept me moving. I was on my way to Dharamsala, but I got lost. Part of the reason why I can't believe I've been here for three weeks is that for one of those weeks I was in the Himalayas, which look nothing like my preconceived notions of India. Delhi most definitely fits, but Himachal Pradesh is another world. It's cold. It's sparsely populated. The food is limited to chow mein and momos (residents claim a third dish, thukpa, but I don't count chow mein in broth). They are predominantly buddhist. My highlights were interesting to say the least. I visited the world's largest Buddhist monestary. I was detained by the military for traveling without a permit (which I may add was not mentioned by three travel agents, one of who suggested the route, as well as the Government Tourist Office in Delhi who said, 'You do not need any special permits in Himachal.') I spent a day in a hotel near a spiritual center that sang a very monotonous song from 5 a.m. to about 11 p.m., blasted over loud speakers without rests. I stumbled into a hippy colony and ran away after learning that the war surfaced in their minds as little more than a joke during 2 p.m. breakfast.

I don't want to spread bad reports on Dharamsala, but now seemed like a bad time to visit. For the most part, the war seems to come first on my agenda. Every morning I wait for the newspapers and the first thing I do in a new town is find where I can get one. I read a few different papers and at cyber cafes check out the ones back home as well as a European paper. Not only do I think about it constantly but so does everyone else. Dharamsala had some beautiful parts, but no one was willing to face the reality the way I was - am. The foreigners didn't want to discuss it. Even outside of Dharamsala I got very little but a poorly acted, 'yeah, it's too bad.' The Indians for the most part see very little to discuss unless we narrow the topic to Kashmir. The view is in general very pro-U.S., and not the watered down version President Bush is restrained to now, but rather the 'bomb them into the stone age' version. I believe that if Pakistan did not pose a nuclear threat the same tactics would apply in Indo-Pak relations.

Enough about the war. I have another gripe. So I mentioned I'm traveling sans guidebook. At first it was a supply side problem. Then I just didn't want to cough up fifty bucks. Then it became a challenge. Then it became a cornerstone of ideology. The big problem is that the guide books provide independence. People can pick one up and go off confidently. Before I got here I was already disillusioned by them because I found the tourist road to be very narrow. Most people stuck to the book and whenever I ventured to even the remote parts of the book, I found myself on virgin soil. I didn't like the idea of one company dictating where the tourists go and who gets their money. But it's become more than that now. When I get off a bus at night I have to swallow my panic. I'm alone with no idea what to do. I also have prepared for this and know every tourist on the bus. Unfortunately they all have guidebooks. Unfortunately they are in a race to get to the best hotel first. The other tourists suddenly get cold and take off, disappearing into cabs and rickshaws. Because of the guidebooks, tourists don't need each other. They don't need the security of a community . With everyone following the same book there is a battle to stand out. I have found myself to be very much alone. One of the things I was looking forward to was meeting other travelers, but I'm slowly weening myself off that desire.

That's another thing, why I came here. I routed my plane tickets to India because a book told me too. It said to spend a good deal of time in India because it's cheap. That never quite settled with me so I came up with the notion of riding a bike across India. It gave me an excuse to go, even if it was not my reason for planning to go. During my stay in Central Asia, the bike ride seemed silly. It seemed like a waste of 3 or 4 months since for the most part I would just be riding a bike and seeing village after village after village. Eventually I called off that plan. By the time I left for India, it was a huge void. My sole reason for even staying was that I'd already spent $350 on my visa and anti-malarial medication. Given that I don't have a guidebook and came with only two cities in mind, I started reading. I read a history of India. I read a commentary on women and caste. I read some short stories on partition. I read every little article in every paper I pick up. I ask a ton of questions from anyone who looks like they might have an answer.

Part of the reason I can't summarize the last three weeks is that there is no cohesion. As far as I can see there seems to be very little reason for India to stay united. There is no shared experience. I can tell you about the Kyrgyz or the Moroccans, but not about the Indians. From their history I get absolutely no help either. The only way I can describe this place is as one giant laboratory. Everything that could ever happen seemed to have happened at one point in time, and probably is happening as well. The answers to life's questions may not be here, but all the raw data certainly is. The results of every possible experiment lie in the people, places, and history of the sub-continent. In the past I find monuments to a civilization that are nothing short of utopia - peace on earth, or at least as long as the sub-continent was undiscovered. I also find unspeakable horrors. In the present I can say the same thing.

In Morocco I struggled with the question of what is the third world. I find that discussion childish in the face of India - shopping malls, sports cars, bollywood, nuclear power, famine, female foeticide, drought, unimaginable poverty, unbelievable wealth. This world doesn't fit in anywhere. In fact everywhere else should be judged with India as the center. Every other civilazation past and present seems to be a subset of the sub-continent's history.

Realistically speaking, I don't expect to ever understand this place. Please excuse me if my further entries are as incoherent as this one. I definitely understand why one on a trip such as mine should definitely include India for a substantial proportion. I intend to continue running around this place for two more months, and expect the time to go by just as quickly.

P.S. For the most part I've stayed healthy and for the most part I've neglected my camera.