A Month in India

Debriefing

2008-06-11T12:35:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's long; I have faith in you.

Debriefing Part I: Who I Am

In many ways I’m still processing India and will for quite some time. India showed me new things, gave me new ideas, developed ideas I already had, and reprioritized things. In debriefing, which is more or less a time of reflection and recovery, I’ve tried to put these things into words. I confess, the ideas that aren’t in an immature phase aren’t certain to me, and I really don’t want to hurt or offend anyone. There are some things in my life that are for certain. First of all, I am a Christian in every since of the word. I’m not a Christian out of tradition or to fit in with any group of people.

I believe Jesus is the Son of God and is God at the same time and that his perfect life, murder, and resurrection renewed the relationship mankind broke with God. I believe that those who believe that will have a love-relationship with God for eternity and those who don’t believe will not be included in God’s glory. I believe the act of Christ Jesus defines what it means to love, it defines who I am as a person, and defines my worldview. That said, I have nothing to offer but that love to those who are unlike me, and when I fail to fall short of my offer, I can only hope that you or whoever I trespass will accept my repentance. Nothing angers me more than blatant injustice, and if I am over-critical or apprehensive in reaction to it, I apologize.

All of that said, you know who I am now, and you know that I don’t mean anything I say to be any sort of attack. By God’s grace I do my best to love God, love my neighbor, and love my enemy. I’m attempting to let go of a hatred for unjust people, and remember that they are merely hostages in war (I must give Donald Miller credit for the analogy, which I borrowed from his book Searching for God Knows What). For the most part, my thoughts are religious and spiritual, so if you read nothing else please read part IV, which is on my spiritual thoughts in this journey. This is what I’ve been thinking about since I’ve gotten back from India, and most of it hasn’t really come to fruition yet, but I’ve gotten a lot out it already myself and, religious or not, I hope you do too.

Debriefing Part II: Material Readjustment

Did you ever see the Kevin Costner version of Robin Hood? At the beginning of the movie he’s been kidnapped by Muslims during the crusades and when he finally escapes and gets back to Britain, he runs to the shore, falls on his face and roles in the wet sand. I kind of figured it would be like that for me when I finally got back to America and in many ways it was. I mean, I wasn’t going to rub the ketchup smeared hamburger bun all over my face or douse myself in a proper gin and tonic, but when you walk off the airplane onto carpet that’s cleaner that any plate you’ve eaten off of in the last month, well you kind of want to kiss it. Don’t worry, I didn’t.

Aside from a completely confused sleep cycle, it really is great to be back. Need water? I no longer have to find a stand on the side of the road, make sure that they can make change, and hope for the best. Now, I simply get up, fill a glass with ice, and turn on the faucet. I no longer have cravings for beef, because meat loaf, steak, burgers, and spaghetti with meat sauce are normal staples in American food. A comfortable temperature is as simple as the push of a button, and Brittany and I are no longer forced to sleep on two twin beds pushed together. I was able to go into a bar that had more than Fosters and Kingfisher (terrible beers) and order a Sweetwater Pale Ale (I could only afford one drink for the time being, the gin and tonic will have to wait). I don’t have to hunt down an internet café and use a dinosaur computer to check e-mail

I’ve been reunited with my family, who I missed dearly. I have the comfort of my cat, or I suppose rather she has the comfort of me. Seeing a friend is as easy as calling them up, and once I recover from jet lag, I intend to see them as soon as possible. I’m back in my hometown, Chattanooga, which I knew I loved, but I didn’t realize just how much I appreciate this city (even though it is in the Nanny State).

While being back is great, there are things I do miss about India. First of all, I miss the Soni family. It’s not the same spending the afternoon watching TV, running errands, cleaning, playing guitar, or surfing the net. Being with them was really great, as friendships in India are quite different than they are here. It’s not uncommon to see two grown men, old or young, walking down the road arms around each other’s shoulder or holding hands. I certainly couldn’t see myself holding hands with my good friend Chris or walking down the street with my arm on Brad’s shoulders, and Kailash and I never held hands, but now I see how it’s so easy for them. I’m not criticizing my own friends, as they have been more than generous to me in patience, understanding, and even material giving, so I hope that I’m not making my friends feel like I’m ungrateful. I am more grateful than they know and wouldn’t trade them for any other friend.

All I’m saying is that friendship is different in India and I really value that difference. Kailash was incredibly giving, and it hurt his feelings if you weren’t receptive of his sacrifice. It was a pleasure for him to go out of his way, and it was rewarding to him if he was able to make us comfortable and happy. I kind of got to thinking about that part of the Bible where God is going to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah and Abraham petitions God not to destroy the city if he can find righteous people within it. I’m not sure what Abraham meant by righteous, but think if I have ever met non-Christians who had a genuine heart of love and morality it was Kailash and his family, and whenever I think about that passage now I think that if God was going to destroy India (which is as likely as destroying anywhere else), I would petition Him, “What about the Soni family?” It doesn’t feel right not to mention Suresh, my sitar teacher, who adamantly worked against the social grain, concerning himself with what was good and right above money. He had such a unique innocence about him that some might write of as simplicity (not in the naïve since), but I attribute to his heart for goodness. In many ways, it broke my heart that they aren’t Christians, because they all shared a love so Christ-like, I think it would have been great for them to see a God they could identify with.

I hope the religious commentary doesn’t offend any of my non-religious friends. I know my thoughts can be interpreted as condescending or even as “it’s a shame they’re going to hell”, but I don’t mean it that way at all. I just know that I saw people worshiping papier-mâché idols of gods in order to manipulate the spirits into blessing the person. I also know that the god I believe in isn’t manipulated and doesn’t bless a person because they have anything to offer Him. The god of the Bible has given the greatest blessing of all in the sacrifice of Jesus, and I just saw that same love in the people I became friends with.

There are other things I’ll miss about India. I’ll miss the food, because gulabjamin over here is disgusting and in India it is ecstasy. I’ll miss the inexpensive products like ten dollar handicraft wooden tables, four dollar movie tickets, ten dollar meals for two, twenty five cent mangoes, or a buck to take an auto across town. Speaking of mangoes, the lady we met at the airport gave us this mango that was absolutely the most delicious mango I’ve ever had in my life. The flesh yielded to my lips and the juice flowed into my mouth as its almost overwhelming sweetness aroused my palette. Better than the richest chocolate, sweetest strawberry, or finest gourmet dessert, the mango was nothing short of my top five most sensational experiences. I know that sounds really sensual, and I don’t mean it that way, it was just incredible. I imagine, in Heaven, if/when we eat we will have those mangoes for dessert. They might be served on top of chocolate mouse or with sticky rice, but even by themselves they scream of God’s creation.

With all the religious and food talk I digress, but that’s kind of the point of a debriefing isn’t it? To recover and reminisce. Anyway, I will also miss seeing beautiful women everywhere. See, I don’t mean that I miss having a bunch of women around that were sexy, but I mean, I miss seeing old, young, fat, and skinny women who wore such beautiful clothes that it was hard not to see them as beautiful. I guess what I mean is, I’ll miss sarees which compliment just about any woman who wears them.

There are things I won’t miss. I won’t miss the liter and pollution. I won’t miss the bureaucratic, money driven, selfish culture so many Indians are attached to. Obviously, cultural stereotyping is dangerous, and as you’ve seen I am very accepting and open regarding Indians, because, just like us, they have many cultural problems that not every Indian shares. Unfortunately, the mentality shared by most of the culture is imbedded in everything you do everywhere you go, so it really is hard not to stereotype. I know it sounds weird, but I really do love the people for the most part. I won’t miss crappy restaurant service that even the nicest restaurants delivered. I won’t miss the lack of fixed prices that made every purchase so uncertain.

There’s more I’m glad to have back, more I’ll miss, and more I won’t miss. These are the things that really stuck out in my mind. What I appreciate about my experience most are the people we made friends with, culture, food, architecture, and beauty.

Debriefing Part III: Learning from Each Other and On the Outside Looking In

In many ways, going to India allowed me to step back and look at the United States from a distance. From India, I looked at the United States and I saw a country that voted for people who sicken me. Their politics move with the wind depending on what they think will get the most votes, and I watch the American people eat it up as they look past the lies and corruptness and feed off of the entertainment. I see a country that misses and dodges the point with whether or not our presidents are patriotic enough when they pledge to the flag, if the female candidate is strong enough, and gay marriage. Leadership is a great quality, but many of our past and current candidates are liars. They are so full of the nastiest waste I don’t know why our country even considers them. I don’t know why we aren’t voting for candidates based on their stance on poverty, the environment, and moral fiber.

Strange enough, I also felt like I was on the outside looking in while I was in India. I guess, as a stranger, I was able to witness without involvement. I saw the worst poverty I’ve seen in my life, yet I paid 12.5% in taxes. Where is that money going? I saw a country driven by a discriminatory religion that valued human life based on a label given by a broken system. I saw a country that cared so little for life itself that I’ve had stronger reactions to accidentally running over a squirrel than most of them do to witnessing a human die or starve to death.

As soon as a white person comes in and starts complaining about all of India’s problems, everyone wants to say “You’re just trying to westernize them” or “mind your own business”. Even if those are fair assertions, it doesn’t make it any more ok for India to allow for pollution, prejudice, and neglect. These things are morally wrong according to Hinduism, so how is it westernizing to insinuate that a group of people shouldn’t be hypocrites?

I said I thought we had a lot to learn from each other, but then I didn’t come up with much. Yes, it would be great if India shared the same abhor for death, wise use of money, and strive for equality that the United States did. And it would be great if America valued family more, put love and sacrifice into their friendships, and had better public transportation. But both countries have improvements to make independent of the other. Both have corrupt governments, money management problems, and would rather concentrate on unimportant things in order to divert attention from imperative matters like poverty and pollution.

This is all to say, that so many people have asked me “What did you get politically/sociologically/etc?” and those are great questions I’ve tried to answer throughout my posts and here, but when you start getting into those things you can hit sensitive subjects. My point in all of it isn’t who you should vote for or how Indians need to stop being stupid and start using Western commodes and toilet paper, I’m just saying that as someone who was able to be between cultures for a bit, the thoughts I already had were a bit more accentuated and if either country wants what is best for itself, people need to start really reconsidering morality over popularity and money. Maybe my criticisms and their solutions don’t really address any of that, but I’ve heard so many people say “Why not Hillary? Yes she’s a liar, but the economy was good during Bill and that’s all I care about.” It breaks my heart, that we would value money over integrity or even dodge the real issues that will affect the future (including money in the future).

Debriefing IV: Spiritual

I read lots of books on this trip. I read Power Evangelism by Vineyard (my church) founder John Wimber, The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, Searching for God Knows What, and Through Painted Deserts both by Donald Miller. I also read some of Me Talk Pretty Day by David Sedaris, and has hilarious as it was, it doesn’t really seem applicable to this portion of the debriefing. Of all the books I read, I think I got the most out of Searching for God Knows What, but it’s hard to say because Narnia was so influential as well.

Even though it was the last of the books I read, I think Through Painted Deserts is a good place to start. The book is the autobiographical story of author Donald Miller as he and his friend Paul drive from Texas to Oregon in a Volkswagen van. It’s a rewrite of his first and unsuccessful book, Prayer and Art of the Volkswagen Maintenance which is a reference to the Robert Pirsig book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which is about the author and his son driving cross-country on motorcycles as he philosophizes.

I think Through Painted Deserts (TPD) really struck me; I found it relational that as Don was going on a long journey he considered heavily what he believed and anticipated the maturing of said beliefs. Before Brittany and I left we ignored our increasing weight, were a little less discriminating about how much we drank, and were a bit irresponsible with money. We weren’t gluttons, alcoholics, and didn’t go into debt, but I think it was Brittany who first admitted, “I think we think India is going to solve all of our problems.” It kind of hit home for me, as I really had been thinking that once we get to India we won’t be able to drink, so what does it matter?

It was kind of silly to think going into the pressure cooker it would solve any problems. By pressure cooker, I mean the atmosphere that will break you. In the pressure cooker you aren’t in control and the conditions are no longer pampering. The pressure cooker is a battleground for your emotions, spirituality, finances, and body. And we thought, oh I’ll lose weight in India. Sure it was true, but that didn’t mean that it was going to solve any problems.

As silly as those things were, it wasn’t silly to anticipate that this could be a time of growth and maturity, and it’s for this reason I found TPD so relational. Donald Miller made the point that so many people were quick to associate his trip with “going to find himself”. Just as Donald Miller pointed out, any such journey will certainly teach us a great deal about ourselves, but the term “going to find myself” is a bit strong. I knew that whether I learned something in India from the people, the books, or just experience that I would come back with new insight and maturity. All three of those things certainly contributed to what I’ve come back with.

What I can’t seem to emphasize enough is that I don’t think that I was enlightened, came to any conclusions to their fullest maturity, or am better than anyone for any of this. The following is mostly just thoughts, roughly undeveloped, that I had on the trip that was mostly based on reading, developed in myself and the people, and exercised in experience. Hopefully you read part I, which was more or less an introduction, and saw my beliefs and intentions of humility.

I’m increasingly disinterested in politics. It’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with politics, and I’m really grateful many Christians have concerned themselves with the government. That said, I think the primary problem in our political system is rooted in the human condition.

When I was in India, I made a pretty ignorant statement to an Indian friend that even though I had plenty of money in India, that in the United States I was actually pretty poor. It’s funny what Americans think poor is, but there came a point in India when I really had to ask “Just who am I to think I’m poor?” And it’s true: I have a TV, cell phone, computer, and so much more. Just because a person is making ends meet doesn’t make them poor, it makes them materialistic, a sin I am regrettably the chief of. In India there’s not just poverty, but induced poverty. All of the sudden my inability to pay my cable bill doesn’t make me feel poor. It isn't uncommon for parents to cut their children's arms or legs off so when they send them out on the street to beg, people will feel more sorry for them and give them more money. It isn't uncommon for husbands who are sick of their wives to stage kitchen fires that wives usually survive only to be thrown onto the streets with untreated burn scars. Brittany and I crossed a bridge everyday and saw a man named Hanuman (named after the Hindu monkey god of fortitude and strength) who had no legs. The best we could tell through the language barrier was that he had been an auto driver and been in a terrible accident that took his legs and because he could no longer provide for his wife and daughter, his wife left him and took his daughter and went to south India. I could only picture him lying in the middle of the wreckage, waking to find his legs gone and knowing that his wife would leave him and he would no longer have a home, but have to beg on the streets. It's sad to see little girls begging on the side of the street, and you know it's a matter of time before their pimps stop making them beg for money and start making them have sex with strange and dirty men.

That is poor, and the questions isn’t how a good and just god could let this happen, the question is how people who believe in a good and just god could let this happen. Supply-side economics work great in politics, but it’s no excuse for a Christian to stop loving. Brittany and I visited one church in Delhi, and we went to the pastor’s home where he had a servant and a cook (two separate people). At first I was kind of put out that the pastor of the church was putting his money towards such luxury, but I got to thinking about it. First of all, he opened his house to just about anyone to the extent that one couple in his church who didn’t have a home were staying there until they could get back on their feet. Then I found out the church wasn’t his primary source of income, and that servants in India cost considerably less than they do in the States. I also realized that he was providing them with solid jobs with generous pay (apparently he paid them a bit more than the norm) and a good work environment (air conditioned).

Then I thought about how this afforded his family the opportunity to represent Christianity in front of two people who may never meet a Christian otherwise, and if the servants were Christians then it was providing within the community, which is also great. So, it’s not that the trickle-down effect is bad, it’s just it isn’t any way for a Christian to suppose that they might circumvent the need to love, but I think that it can provide the means to love. We must have a healthy fear that we don’t try and fix things or make excuses with only money.

My friend and I were discussing many of the problems in the church and both agree that the church could really use a reformation, but the question is where do we start? You can't just nail ninety-five theses to a church door, because the church is so divided. You can't stand on a street corner, because that's what bigots do. And we have jobs and wives and lives, and whether you're working a manual labor job or going to school and waiting tables, it's not so easy to just grab a television spot every Sunday morning or Monday night and put in your two cents, not that we would be qualified anyway. But I think I've found the weakness in Christians like us, who recognize the need for reformation. It's prayer. It's not that we're selfish, I mean, we're as broken as the rest, and we don't want to change the church because it's what we want, but we want to change it because we desire to further the kingdom of God. I'm so quick to wonder how I'm supposed to do this, and if I'm doing it right, that I never stop to put it in God's hands. It's so easy to believe you can control things, particularly in America. It's so easy to listen to a sermon where the preacher says "God is in control, and you never were in the first place", and of course you know it's true, but it's not until you really lose control that it hits you. So many times my determination was insufficient, but a simple prayer yielded results. Of course, prayer isn't a magic spell, and God didn't always answer my prayers, and He never did it in the way I expected it. Funny how our idealist plans are so fickle compared to God's plans.

All that said, prayer really is more powerful than we give it credit. In the pressure cooker, it's easy to remember to pray, but when we're in a place where we can't see the pressure cooker, that is spiritual warfare, we lose sight of the power of prayer. I'm not suggesting that you don't understand the power of prayer, this is more conclusions I've come to concerning my own life. I used to pray like it was a conversation with God, but prayer has changed for me in the past couple of months. It’s not as drastic as speaking in tongues, but there is a verse that says the Holy Spirit intercedes for us where words aren't enough. I'm not sure how to put it into words, but there were times when I unpredictably found myself in intense prayer and found myself in the very real presence of God. All of the sudden the crap (and that's just what it is) that we love so much doesn't seem so important. All of the sudden, it wasn't about "doing my part" or "being right" it was about doing right all of the time, even if meant sacrifice.

So, where do we start? Don't be right, do right (being right is good, but pointless without doing right). Brittany and I started feeding Hanuman (no legs) every day. Sometimes we'd save some of our meal and package it, and sometimes we'd even go into a restaurant and sit and wait for his meal without getting anything for ourselves. Within a week or so, Hanuman started making demands of us. "Bring chipatis [bread] at five o’clock", and he even asked us for money, but I kept giving food. I knew that the love we extended to Hanuman wasn't received. I knew that even though we took the time to find out his name and story, which I think so few people who give actually do, and when we took pictures with him we weren't afraid to put our arms around his dirty body, that he had a hard heart. I didn't really understand why I kept giving since his heart was so black and selfish, it certainly wasn't out of obligation, and in retrospect I think it's because I knew that what he meant for evil God could use for good.

Brittany and I had made friends with several people in Udaipur and we wanted to know Hanuman's story, so we told them "We're giving food everyday to this man with no legs, what do you know about him", but no one wanted to talk about him, they just said [paraphrased] "It's good to give to people who can't provide for themselves because they are handicapped. God will bless you, so give!" And it kind of struck me that our innocent curiosity about this man had led to the mention of God. Of course, they meant whoever their god was, but this presented such an opportunity and I was able to say "We don't do it so God will bless us, we give because our god has given us the greatest blessing of all."

These are all new ideas and thoughts for me, which are slowly maturing with the help of Donald Miller, CS Lewis, etc. I think Schindler's List is a great example of how a wealthy person can sacrifice. Schindler was wrong at the end of the movie. He breaks down because if he had sold his car and his gold ring he might have bought more Jews, but if he wasn't wealthy in the first place he couldn't have saved any Jews at all. At the same time, I don't want to come to the end of my life and say that I accumulated any amount of wealth be it spiritual or material that I didn't share to the fullest extent. In some ways, America seems easy because we can justify not giving material goods and simply love people. It's seems even the poorest people aren't looking for money from you as an individual (obviously some are, but I mean the people we have relationships with), but they want love and acceptance regardless of their income.

Narnia brought me to tears several times each book. It wasn't sadness, happiness, and I can't even explain it. It's just Aslan and how amazing He is. I think that Lewis must have really understood who Jesus and God really are to have created a character that essentially posed as another form of Jesus. It's not that I would pray to Aslan, but I understand Jesus so much more through Aslan. It's unfortunate that commercialism tainted the phrase "What would Jesus do?" because I think Christians really need to ask themselves what it means to be Christ-like and to do things like Christ would do.

I read a book called Power Evangelism by the founder of Vineyard John Wimber and he talked about healing and modern miracles ("signs and wonders") as a way of evangelism. I agreed with a good bit of what he had to say and liked the book, and I believe many of his stories are true, but in some ways I think he missed the point. Yes, casting out demons and healing the sick are miracles, but isn't the greatest "sign and wonder" the sacrifice of Christ? And isn't that sufficient in and of itself? Isn't God's love the only love in the universe than can unharden the hardest and darkest hearts? When I pray I feel a power so intensely great crying is the only emotion I can summon to respond. It's not the Beatles' hippie love, it's a love that encompasses the power of God in all of His anger, glory, affection, sympathy, etc. God can change the church, whether it be through us or someone else generations after us. God may never change the church, it may degrade until His return. All I know is Heaven is hardly an incentive to be a Christian. As someone who is a saved victim in a war, I gladly submit myself to the will of God to be utilized for His Kingdom. I don't want to be as successful a Christian as Paul for my own glory, but because I'm so excited to see God's glory. Obviously, my condition, being a sinful human that is, taints my alleged selfless aspirations to contribute to God's kingdom; all the same, I desire so much to rid myself of such selfishness.

We must remember that, just as Donald Miller pointed out that hate towards homosexuals and sinners is like shooting the hostage, that to wage war on the church in the name of reformation is shooting the hostage. We must wage war on ideas. I could attack godhatesfags.com founder Reverend Phelps, and at 21 with no degree I'd probably be justified in my accusations, but it would be of no real use. Instead, why not counter his hate by loving the hostages he is shooting? Instead of telling him that hate is wrong, show him how Christ would love.

Like I said, these are developing thoughts. I certainly don't think I have it all right, and I certainly don't think my ideas (that I've mostly borrowed from others) are all that deep and great. I just think, with as much humility as I can, that we live in a time that the church will either go into a coma or wake from their sleep and that God is empowering His people to work against the Enemy in this dark time for the Church.

Videos

2008-06-09T15:10:00.000-07:00

I totally forgot that I could upload any videos I took on YouTube. Unfortunately, most of them are uneventful; however, for your viewing pleasure I will list them here (chronological).

And three years later (July 2011) I remember to post the link to these videos here from when I was an extra in the Portuguese serial.

Video 1

Video 2

Video 3

Video 4

Video 5

Video 6

Video 7

Video 8

Video 9

Video 10

Video 11

Video 12

Final Pictures...Kind of

2008-06-09T12:45:00.000-07:00

I have/had 4 major projects in the aftermath of our India trip

1) Post and label pictures from our remaining time in India on Facebook. This is done, and you can I'll post links in a second.
2) Write a debriefing where I write my thoughts on the whole trip. It's almost done, but it's so long-winded I'll probably have to spend a good bit of time editing
3) I've separated out about 600 (out of 2700) pictures I'd like to enhance the brightness/contrast/color on in Photoshop, then I'd erase the pictures on Facebook and upload the new set. I'd also use the new set as what I primarily showed friends and family
4) I'm going to make a MySpace music page for my sitar teacher

Actually, please just revisit this post as a change in Facebook album formatting has condensed it into three albums linked here.

While 1 and 2 are either almost done or completed, 3 and 4 will take some time (4 will take a while to get to). Now, if you want more photos, you can pick back up at India 6 and then move on to India 7.

~~So, here's the list~~

~~India 1~~

~~India 2~~

~~India 3~~

~~India 4~~

~~India 5~~

~~India 6~~

~~India 7~~

Keep an eye out in the next couple of days for a final post(s) that goes over the debriefing period. I may split it up over several post or just throw it all on one long post.

For those of you wondering, I'm still recovering from jet lag. In an effort to speed the process up (because nothing is really working) I'm trying to reset my biological clock by not eating as recommended by the latest studies. This puts me in an extremely irritable mood, but hopefully will allow me to stay awake through work (which we resume Wednesday, although I may pick up tomorrow night).

The friend who watched our house while we were away, is staying here for the summer and job hunting. If you or anyone you know has a twin size mattress they'd let us borrow and/or a good summer job available in the Chattanooga area please let us know.

Thanks to all of our family and friends who supported us in our trip. I know you were scared to death, but it was the trip of a lifetime.

Take No Prisoners

2008-06-05T06:34:00.001-07:00

As most of you know, Brittany and I, by the grace of God, made it back to our home in America perfectly safe. Of course, there was around a week or so that my posts yielded little or no information concerning my whereabouts, which is most unfortunate. Things got a bit busy, is all.

We will start with Friday the May 23rd since that's the furthest I can remember back to. That was the night we fed the monkeys! We were doing some walking, and stopping along the way at any stores that looked like they had any sarees Brittany might like, when we rounded the corner to find a wall of monkeys. They were about the size of a 7 or 8 year old and there were about 20 monkeys sitting on the wall and swinging in the trees. They were white with black faces and hands and long tails. Then at the very end of the wall a small and old Indian man in a grayish-white shirt and pants was feeding them vanilla cookies. We spent the half hour (it was around 6:00pm) feeding the monkeys with him. They were pretty greedy, and if you approached them without food in hand they bared their sharp black teeth. It wasn't so much a grimace as much as just opening their mouth as if to show a dentist their teeth.

I think it was feeding the monkeys that got me to realizing just how incredible this trip was. Sure, we've all seen monkeys in the zoo, tamed by captivity, but here I was half-way around the world feeding wild monkeys. Sure, there are plenty of tourist and backpackers, but I'm not sure I personally know anyone who would willing go to India for fun, and so it was kind of cool knowing I was in India feeding monkeys. It was great.

Sunday afternoon, Kailash's brother's son Abhay (I know that's a grammatical nightmare) escorted us to a grocery store. We were hoping for a bigger place we had heard rumor of, but this was nice. We stocked up on breakfast food to save money resolving that tomorrow we'd find this mega-mart.

Sunday night we went to the City Palace restaurant Shiv Niwas. Now, the City Palace is $350 a night, and the restaurant is proportionally expensive, but we went to watch my sitar teacher Suresh play flute and sitar, which he apparently gets handsomely paid for. We each had a drink and shared an entree, and Saresh did terrific. He called me over and asked me to play the sitar he was playing. Up to this point I was feeling reluctant to buy a sitar, but I played this particular sitar and loved it. I told him if I had the money and I could buy this sitar I would buy.

Brittany and I had heard rumor of a mega-market, complete with bar-code scanners and employees in uniforms and just had to go. The first mega-market we went to, was actually only a grocery store, which was nice as we stocked up on breakfast food. Unfortunately, this didn't satisfy our desire for the closest thing to Wal-Mart we could find, and so we invited all of the Soni kids to come with us to Vishal's Mega-Mart. After all the Soni family had done for us, it was nice to do something for them for a change. This took two autos. There were two girls, 17 year old cousins, and four boys who were each a year older than the other, the oldest being 16 who was actually a cousin of an older Soni brother that didn't live in their house.

Vishal's was a success. We didn't buy anything, but we went through each of the five floors looking at housewares, groceries, clothing, and toys. We then stopped for glass-bottled high-fructose-corn-syrup-free cokes at the mega-mart's outdoor fast food restaurant.

By this time the afternoon was simmering down and we discussed further plans. "The most important thing is that you have fun; where should be go now?" I asked. Most of the kids seemed to agree that Fateh Sageh Lake was the place to go. The girls, who were most sensitive to our budget, said that we would have to take autos there, but could easily and safely walk home from the lake. We took an autos there and got to the edge of the lake. It's a bit hard to describe, but it was more or less a road that sat slightly elevated to the shore of a lake. There was some sort of garden island in the middle we never made it to, but along the road there were plenty of restaurants and shops. We took the kids to a small street-food vendor, sat down and had masala dosas. Delicious.

A lot of things are close on Sunday and any shop that isn't is closed on Tuesday. We had become intense friends with the Soni family by that time, spending most of our days with them in their home. The Soni family consisted of two brothers, each of their wives, and their respective children. They all lived in a house connect to a long strip of building and across the street from their house was another portion of garages and rooms. You might have called the part we were staying in more of a commons. Two blue double doors opened to the public, with signs advertising heena and miniature art. You walk up the stairs to the side of the door and enter a small area with a glass case, bench, various plastic chairs, and a family of artists meticulously painting.

Kailash is the youngest of his siblings and because he spoke English so well, we grew close quickly. He was quick to invite us over, or if we were walking by ask us to come in for chai. Normally, whether we had eaten lunch or not, they provided a meal for us, which was no help to my attempts to lose weight. It might have been easier to deny food from them had it not been so delicious. Their wives, who had separate kitchens, always had food going. If it was late at night, Kailash would often provide beer, which he usually sold to me 10 rupees above cost. Merry making with Kailash was a great time.

Sometimes, if we requested ahead of time, and fronted the money for the meat, he would cook chicken or mutton for us. I'm not sure why, but most of the time we ate it in his bedroom. His kids were always coming and going and his wives would always stop and talk in what little English they spoke. We found the chicken and mutton delicious, but tenaciously spicy.

We had agreed on Monday, that Tuesday I would get my haircut and then we would go to the zoo. So, we came over mid-afternoon, only to find that the barber was closed. So, the boys showered and we walked to the zoo. We got all the way there to find it closed. We stopped for ice cream to make up for it, and on our way back saw a few Australians who hitched a ride on an elephant. After making sure the kids got home safely Brittany and I took an auto to the more metropolitan side of the city and ate at south Indian restaurant called Sankalp, which we loved.

The next morning Brittany and I went to our favorite lunch/breakfast place Cafe Edelweiss, grabbed a couple of tuna salad sandwiches and took them to a garden we had seen a few days ago. It was beautiful and well-maintained and we had a small picnic on a couple of rocks in the shade.

We then met up with the Soni family again and the boys escorted me to the barber where I got my haircut for a steep $1.50. It was actually just about the best haircut I've had. I suppose I should mention that during this whole time (the last few days) we had managed to complete our saree shopping and were having them tailored, just so you know. Once we were done with the haircut, we managed to get the same group together and venture once more to the zoo. There were four of us total and it cost $3 for all of us to get in. It was actually kind of a waste.

I really do think Indians put a lower value on life than the West. I know it's a generalization, but this wasn't the first or last time I had seen so little disregard for life. The zoo was supposed to have a crocodile, hyena, and wolf, but they had all died recently. On top of that the snake was missing. The zoo had tigers and lions who we could barely see through the bars of the dens they slept in, and most of the deer and bears were hard to see through the small fencing. The monkeys were the best show as the baboons neighbored the same kind of white monkeys with black faces Brittany and I had fed. They sporadically wared with one another, and pretty soon the baboons took interest in us. Had I wanted to reach through the fence and touch it, I could have, but it was pretty obvious it wouldn't end well if I did. Some of the boys did motion their hand towards the baboon as if to give it something and when they opened their hand to reveal nothing the baboon promptly turned around and waved its butt in the air. The sight was terribly crass, but all the more hilarious.

We moved on to find a leopard coming out of its cage. The excitement turned to horror and sadness when we realized the leopard was sick. It clumsily came out of the den, barely able to stand or move. As it paced in a circle, it seemed to be spiraling towards death and blood began to drip from its mouth. I don't know if you've ever seen a spotted leopard up close, but it's one of the most majestic creature I'd ever seen. Even in death, its beautiful coat of fur, powerful muscles, and captivating eyes were beautiful. It made it all the more horrifying to watch it die and know that no one cared. We left feeling pretty down. We, of course, couldn't tell the zoo keeper because we didn't speak Hindi, and convincing the boys with us (who were bilingual) was difficult. They didn't seem to understand that anyone should care. But we told the man at the door, and he said, as if making an excuse in the name of laziness, "oh that animal is just old". I knew it wasn't true. I knew that this leopard was succumbing to the same fateful neglect the hyena, wolf, and crocodile had. It was probably a matter of a proper diet, some sort of simple medicine, or even just easing the summer heat and all of those animals would probably still be alive. The fact was, no one cared, and that was what was most depressing of all.

After sorting some money matters I was able to get a sitar on Thursday. Brittany's sarees were done and looked great on her. Things seemed to be going well. We were quite worried about the riots in Jaipur. Jaipur was the place of the bombing, which was by Muslim radicals in opposition to India's support of American policies. The Gujjar riots were something entirely different. In short, the Gujjars are a low caste who wanted to be a lower caste in order to qualify for government jobs with caste affirmative action. They decided to riot and pulled up train tracks and blocked roadways. They attacked a police station, where police killed 22 to of them. It did little good as the Gujjars continued to protest up through to Agra. They had blocked our way to Delhi where we were scheduled to fly out. Our bus ticket was canceled and we ended up paying almost three times as much for train tickets that took us an alternate route to Delhi a day earlier than planned.

We had to cram our shopping into Friday and managed to get almost all of it done. We bought a chai set for each of the Soni families and a table for them to use in their commons. We had a fish fry, had a long goodbye of hugs. Brittany and I left upset for so many reasons. We had to leave earlier than we thought, we had a long day of travel ahead, and our time with was cut short.

The next day we woke up and took the train to Ajmer. Ajmer was kind of depressing. We were stressed from travelling, in a strange city, and starving. There was no good food to be had. Most of it didn't look safe or filling. While I was hunting down food Brittany witnessed a mother punching her few-month-old baby in the face just because it had wet itself. Who would have though a baby that can't even walk would wet itself?

We just waiting an hour in the train station until our train came and we hopped it and it took us to Delhi. We shared the train with a slightly annoying, but helpful young Indian. By the time we got to Delhi we were so tired we were nauseated. Furthermore, we were passing by slums on the train tracks, which was a little disturbing, even after all the poverty we had seen all along.

I've said it before, the first night in the city is always the hardest. Brittany and I each had a hefty backpack, she carried our carry-on duffel bag and I had my massive sitar case to tote. We exited the station without a plan and almost no money. We figured we'd just go to the airport and sleep inside. Let me explain (it's a bit complicated). Our plane flew out June 3rd at 12:50AM. This means that out flight left Tuesday morning, but we needed to be at the airport by Tuesday night. Our bus tickets had been perfect. We would have left on the first, gone over night until the 2nd and gotten to Delhi sometime Tuesday afternoon and flown out that night. This was totally different. We had taken an all day train on Saturday and had arrived at the airport that night.

That's right, we got to the airport two and a half days early, and for some reason we didn't realize it. In our heads, we'd sleep at the airport and catch our flight the next day. So, we got to the airport only to find out we couldn't even go inside until 3 hours before our flight, but we were so tired and broke we just slept outside the airport. We weren't the only ones. There was a large tiled area, and even though it was open air it did have a roof. Inside the actual building was a small waiting room with AC you could enter within 8 hours of your flight.

We slept outside, and besides the mosquitoes and flies we were so exhausted we rested easy. The next morning I woke up and called my dad who was like "Um, your flight doesn't leave until tomorrow night". This shocked me, we had the entire day of Monday and Tuesday to kill.

Brittany and I sat talking about what to do and I watched a huge red bus pull under the airport pavilion across the road from us. Within a few minutes a crowd, news crews, and an ambulance were on the scene. Airport employees came out with buckets of water and were squeegeeing it from the bus to our side of the street where the drains were. We watched as they used the squeegee to push the water to us and then we realized the water was red. "Is that blood?" Brittany asked. I thought that it surely wasn't, that we would have seen something, and the workers so casually cleaned it. I went over to the scene and sure enough a couple of people might have died.

We were pretty disturbed by this and found out later that three young tourist were getting their bags out of the back of a bus when another bus pulled in and hit them. Two were killed and the other was in critical condition last we heard. Reflecting on the scene and how it must have unfolded, it's nothing but pure negligence and recklessness on part of the bus driver who was deservingly arrested.

I reluctantly withdrew some money from the ATM and we made our way into town with all of our stuff. We had a taxi drop us off at a cinema, which was in an upscale shopping center with several restaurants to chose from. We watched Indian Jones and Prince Caspian. There was a small stand where, for a dollar a bag, they would watch our stuff for three hours. We had McDonald's for lunch and Subway for dinner, which both really hit the spot.

After the movies we decided to do a little grocery shopping for our day outside the airport tomorrow. I have to say that God really provided for us at this point, and it's hard to explain, but if you had been there you'd know what I mean. After some shopping I checked my e-mail at an internet cafe and my dad had offered to put us up at a hotel. We were really grateful and asked some random Indians if they knew of any good hotels in the area. They spoke decent enough English, but unfortunately couldn't give directions to save their life.

With all of our stuff in hand we probably walked 2 miles before we gave up. We agreed to grab and auto back towards the airport and if we saw a hotel along the way we'd have him stop. We were so exhausted that we agreed to the steep price of 200 rupees ($5USD). There were no hotels along the way. It was incredibly asinine that we would go all over Delhi and not see a hotel. We arrived at the airport and before I even gave him the money the rickshaw driver insisted on 300 rupees. Brittany and I had both made it clear that Rs200 was the price, even using our fingers to notate numbers. He repeated back, "Yes, 200", and now he insisted on 300, but I was too tired to argue. I just walked off and left him with the 200 and told him that I don't know how he can do pooja in the morning.

We slept outside again Monday night and woke up early the next morning. The day went by slow and we had stooped to new lows creating a card deck out of our own paper. It was peanut butter and banana sandwiches for breakfast and lunch. There was a shower in the well-maintained public bathroom, which we did use. We passed the time with Dave Sedaris and naps. By 4:50pm we were allowed in the AC room, where were finaly allowed to sit in a chair and drink purified water from a fountain (as opposed to the expensive bottled water sold outside the airport).

There was an older Indian couple in front of us who made friends with us. The man, Sandi, gave us his book Code Blue 99, which is about his near death experience where he allegedly met God. I'm not sure what to make of it, yet, but it is interesting. The wife, Janet, gave us the most delicious mango I've ever had. Their flight was earlier than ours. He was good enough to change some of my American currency (dollar coins that the currency exchange places wouldn't trade) for rupees, which was enough for dinner. Brittany and I each showered and then had a bit to eat. The restaurant was a dim, but clean bar with delicious chicken friend chicken and fish and chips.

After dinner, it was time to check our bags. We made it through the airport, spent the last of our money on a midnight snack of Subway, and eventually we were able to get onto our plane. In all honest, this was uneventful enough that the brevity of my account might make it seem like it was fairly simple, but I assure you the wait alone was tedious. We were exhausted from traveling with little real sleep and nothing to look forward to but more travel. We did finally get on the plane and slept for most of the flight.

Amsterdam wasn't as bad the second time around. We easily found our connection, but had a five hour lay over. I soon discovered a McDonald's and as I hadn't had beef in over a month Brittany and I each got a Big Mac. Delicious.

We laid around the airport a few more hours and eventually got on the plane. It seems miraculous how on-time everything really was. I watched Vantage Point, a couple of episodes of 30 Rock, and a couple of episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Afterwards I took a dramamine and slept most of the rest of the flight.

Landing in America wasn't as climatic as I had hoped. By the time you navigate through the passport check, pickup your baggage, get through customs, have your baggage rechecked, have your carry-on scanned, and go to re-pickup your baggage the idea of being back in America loses its charm as you want nothing more than to get the heck out of the airport. But we came out of the carry-on check to see my family. Not just my dad and his wife Rebecca, but my Grandma and Aunt Carrie as well. They took us to the Cheesecake Factory where Brittany, Grandma, and I all split three different dishes.

After gift giving and story telling it was time to go home. The drive to Chattanooga wasn't that bad as we were already in north Atlanta. We got home about 7:15 to Kristina (who was watching our house and is now staying with us for the summer) and Kashmir (our cat).

Well if you think that's a lot to read, it's also a lot to type. This time I'm on my own computer and have the time and resources to proofread, and I know this needs it badly, but I simply am worn out from this. Maybe later I'll go back and do some serious revision to everything.

If you've read this far, good for you, I'll post more Facebook pictures in the next couple of days. I actually have a project I want to work on where I sort out the best pictures, enhance the color and lighting with photoshop and make proper Facebook albums out of them, but that will take time.

I also hope to post a debriefing in the next couple of days. I got a lot of out this trip I think I finally found a way to put into words.

Back in the USA

2008-06-03T16:47:00.000-07:00

I'm back, but there's so much to go over. Too tired to make a legit post.

Safe

2008-06-01T04:16:00.000-07:00

I've safely made it to Delhi from Udaipur and our flight leaves tomorrow night. There's so much to post about like the Soni family, changes in travel plans, buying a sitar, a trip to a very sad zoo, women abusing their children in train stations, pretending to be a hobo...ok not pretending...at the Delhi international airport, a bus wreck (not involving us) at the airport, movies in India, being blessed in the names of pagan gods, running out of money, and I'm sure there's stuff I'm forgetting. But I can't go into detail right now. It's not that time is short, it's just that this isn't a good time to be sitting around blogging.

All I can say is, I'm going to miss India, and I've loved it here, but right now I can't wait to get home. I miss everyone, my church, certain foods, and other stuff. Just know we are safe in Delhi and it looks like everything is going according to plan, but it doesn't mean you need to pray any less.

Riots

2008-05-29T21:21:00.000-07:00

Apparently India hasn't heard of rubber bullets and tear gas. There was some degree of anxiety regarding caste-related riots in Jaipur, as city trains and buses must go through the riots to get to Delhi, but things seemed to calm down and the bus-ways opened. So, we bought tickets, and the next day the same riot moved to Delhi where our plane flies, which blocked our bus route. There are options for getting to Delhi, but they aren't fun. Right now the talk is leaving first thing in the morning and taking a longer train around the riots which will be pretty expensive over all. They are attempting to "bring the country to a standstill", something I hope happens after we leave. If all else fails we'll have to take a plane flight on our parents' dollar and pay them back over time.

In other news, life has been good in Udaipur. I did buy a sitar, here's hoping it makes it back to the states. Brittany had sarees made and they look great. I don't have much more time for an update.

I'll Take Jesus for Six Million, Alex

2008-05-27T22:56:00.000-07:00

Culture shock takes on many aspects. Denial, home-sickness, disgust, or awe. I confess, when I first landed in Delhi I really wondered what I was in for as the sour smell of pollution assaulted me. And that's really what India does, it assaults you in every way possible. The Lonely Planet guide book, the bible of India travel, depicts a vivid culture full of color and wonder. I walked out of the airport to see the smog and dirt against the sepia tones of dim street lights.

Culture shock set in, but it was more a sense of wonder more than disgust. It could have been denial, I don't know; what I did know before I ever stepped foot on a plane was that nothing can prepare you for India. So, when I left the airport and got into my first Indian taxi I was immediately taken in by how the adventurous the average car ride really was. I didn't know it was so polluted, trashed, and unorganized. I mean, I kind of knew that things would be unorganized, but I had no idea that things were unorganized right down to a lack of traffic signals. I didn't know it would smell bad, I had envisioned a land of incense. I imagined bright and vivid colors everywhere, and they are, but they are also supplemented by the dirty streets. I also never imagined curry would get old and I would long for a good burger.

A couple of nights ago, Brittany and I made a list of everything we missed. Of course, we miss friends like Chris, Rebecca, Stephanie, Suzie, Kristina, and friends from work. Of course, we miss family. We rarely see our family anyway, but being half way around the world will make you miss your family. We miss our cat. Then there are the western commodities like clean bathrooms with toilet-paper, being able to drink tap water, central air conditioning, clean and organized streets where more signs maintain safer control and blinkers indicate a lane change, less noise, a more sensitive culture, working internet, and the list goes on. Then we miss certain food and drink. You know you can't just buy peanut butter here? We miss cheesecake, burgers, alfredo, a proper gin and tonic (with clean ice and real lime), steak, etc.

Then there are things I will miss about India. Today, I walked less than a kilometer from my hotel and came back with two mangoes, three bananas, two portions of curd (yogurt), and three bottled waters. Grand total? Less than $2 all together. We bought corn flakes, raisins, and almonds the other day. Mix them altogether and you get a great breakfast the Indians call museli (spelled several ways). Delicious. I'll miss the incredibly low fruit and vegetable prices, the ease of public transportation, mom and pop shops, cheap Indian food on every corner, the way everything has an art to it, the vivid colors in the traditional clothing, and meeting so many new people all of the time. I'll miss being able to walk everywhere, petting cows (which I do in secret, as not to offend locals), the prevalence of chai, and even the heat. There's something to be said for spending a long day in the sun and heat, walking everywhere you go. It changes a person on so many levels. There is, of course, the physical aspect of being in shape and weight loss. But exercise is good for you in that it helps you sleep better. Being out in the sun is also healthy, and a lot of research shows it's not just about getting vitamin E but the sun also helps reduce depression. And the heat? It's nice to have a safe-haven where I can use AC at will, but the heat is nice in that curbs my appetite some.

Brittany and I have been reading the book Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris, a humor writer. He talks about being in France and the way everyone talks bad about America as if Sedaris embodied America. They might be at the table talking about America and instead of saying "America's latest policy is horrible" they would look at Sedaris apprehensively and say "Your latest policy is horrible". The same goes here. At the beginning of this month George Bush partially blamed the food shortage on the large populations of Indians and Chinese. While, person for person, Americans consume more food, the sheer numbers in India and China mean they have a higher food consumption. So, in a sense Bush was right, and on the other hand, I'm not sure how Bush expected India and China to take it. And when people ask how America is doing, as if the country is a good friend of mine, I always say "The economy isn't doing so well, but things are going as well as they might." and they usually say "Yes, but it's because you keep blaming your problems on everyone else. You say we are eating all the food, but you eat so much."

I know it is cliché, but to be honest, both countries could learn a great deal from each other. It's so easy to point the finger at another country, but just being in India I recognize that America isn't so innocent as we think. I know a great deal of Americans, myself included recognize many problems with the government and certain groups of people, but that wasn't fully realized for me until I took a step back. It's pretty annoying, actually, to hear people complain about America here. India accuses America of being wasteful, yet they discard trash just about anywhere that's convenient, only for their holy cows to come and eat. I'm not veterinarian, but I imagine plastic bags are not the best thing for a cow's diet.

India is not a country where the corporations have taken over so much. There is no Wal-Mart. Because India is still "developing" there's actually not such a shortage on jobs. The problem is two-fold. First, the caste system prevents the expansion of jobs. Second, a lot of the poverty is induced. Parents cut the limbs off of their children, so their children have a better chance of getting sympathy when they beg. If I give five rupees to a child, who knows where it will go, but I seriously doubt it is his or hers to keep. Husbands who are dissatisfied with their wives will stage a kitchen fire. Sometimes the women survive, but no only really cares; she must have had it coming.

The unassertive culture is depressing at times. Service goes right up to the mandate, and after that you're on your own. If you go into a store with an elevator, they would rather you wait five minutes for the elevator than waste energy running up stairs. Yet, when it comes time to get change, if the cashier doesn't have it, it's not unusual for them to refuse to get change from their neighbor. It is your problem, not theirs.

India is best taken by rolling with the punches. We must realize that much of what we see in the culture of India is based within a system that was developed long before Western society invaded. Then we have to realize that much of what we see in this society is a reaction to the invasion of Western society. Rajasthan was once feudal, which I believe is the direct conclusion of the caste system. It eventually united, and now each town has a palace and/or fort of some sort in which a maharajah still lives today. They mostly serve as philanthropists. Women put eye-liner on their small children, boy or girl, to keep demons out.

If there's one thing I've come to realize, it's that everything I've learned about evangelism is useless. Most of you know I don't believe in conventional door-to-door or street evangelism as effective. But I always gave organizations like Evangelism Explosion the benefit of the doubt, figuring that it would surely be effective in a third-world country. But I'd love to see how those methods are effective. In a country where a polytheistic religion is a way of life, tradition, and religion all at the same time how to do you tell someone they need your god instead of their own?

Am I suggesting the India can't be "saved"? Of course not. God opens doors through crude methods and even bad theology. And Christianity is ever growing in India. I'm not sure it is through running up to Hindus and telling them to drop their six million gods for Jesus, because Indians are so different from Americans in their reaction to such evangelism. It will take Christians in India showing the love of Jesus in a place where gods crumble physically and spiritually. Showing the love of Jesus in a place that has a broken and prejudice system. It will start slow, but to attempt to speed it up can do more harm than good.

Looks like we'll be taking a bus to Delhi as train is not an option and planes are expensive. Please keep us in prayer as the buses may be safe one day and unsafe the next. If they are unsafe, we will be fine, but our bus will be cancelled and we long for home and I'd hate to miss our flight.

Another Adventurous Day in Udaipur

2008-05-24T22:13:00.000-07:00

First this article just came to our attention and may ruin plans to get to Delhi and fly out. Riots are usually short, but the damage may be long term. If they end soon enough we can simply take a bus, which is really undesirable and possibly dangerous. If worse comes to worse I think we can fly, but that's expensive.

I guess it has been a while since I've made a real post, but the story goes back to Thursday. Thursday is when the saree (also spelled "sari") shopping began. Sarees are traditional Indian wear that ranges from everyday use to wedding use. Some are the equivalent of a cheap beach dress, while others the equivalent to a wedding dress. Traditionally, the only other thing a woman might wear is a salwar kamese (Brittany has a few we had tailored) which is a long shirt, baggy pants, and a dupata (long piece of decorative cloth worn around the neck). There was one shop that was recommended that had a couple of used sarees we liked (when buying used you must be meticulous, but used can be better as the silk is already broken in). We wanted to gauge prices so we hired an auto driver to take us to a really nice saree shop. Of course, most places will give an auto driver a commission, so we knew better than to buy. On the way we picked out another saree place close to the one he took us to. He dropped us off and we went inside. We kept giving them a price range and they kept showing us stuff that was double the price-range, so we simply left. We checked out the place across the street and our former auto driver yelled at me from across the street. I took a close look just to make sure, and yes, he was giving me the bird. I admit, I might have had a better reaction, but without thinking I gave him the best middle finger and the most sarcastic look I could muster. I know it was terrible and that's a dirty sign, and giving it back doesn't really solve anything. I followed my gut reaction without thinking. While it wasn't a good or right thing to do, it was kind of comical in some way.

He rushed across the street, dodging oncoming motorcycles and cars and I found very quickly the perfect middle finger I was so proud of hadn't phased him and he was upset we hadn't bought from the shop. He shouldn't have known. For all he knew we were having them tailored and sent to our door, which is very common. He knew because he went back for his commission. It's kind of the most threatened I've felt since I've been in India. The man looked demon possessed, I don't think he was, I mean, I think he was just cracked out on drugs. I simply told the guy that if he didn't get away from Brittany and I, that I would either report him or get violent. So, he got in his auto rickshaw and came to us and then asked us if he could take us some other place, but we ignored him and he left for good.

The next day we woke up early, after all, our hotel is directly across from the Jagdesh temple and Vishnu demands a half hour of incessant and obnoxious bell ringing at six in the morning. It's like having a hangover, only we didn't drink the night before. Once up and going, Brittany went to the internet cafe to add more pictures and I went for my sitar lesson.

Saresh is a good teacher, and very patient with me. Sitar is actually really hard, much harder than any other instrument I've tried to play (perhaps with the exception of violin). It's not really like you imagine it. First thing is you only play the bottom string with your left hand. Like, you strum all of the strings, but the only string you actually fret is the bottom string. Then you are only supposed to use your index and middle finger to fret. You would think this instrument would be far easier than guitar, maybe it is once you get used to it , but the instrument itself is a bit clumsy to hold. It's not only difficult to hold, but pretty much any way you sit with it your legs or backside is uncomfortable; in fact, the proper classical position is like yoga. If you're used to the fret positions of a guitar, you'll quickly find that it doesn't work the same, as the next fret may or may not be a semi-tone difference. The playability is stiff and it's like trying to play a guitar with incredibly high action with an incredibly high-gauge unwound string. Of course, maybe like 2 people will actually understand what I'm talking about. Basically it's hard to hold and it hurts to play. Like guitar, I'm sure you get used to it and with practice it comes more natural.

In all honesty, I'm not head-over-heels for the instrument. It sounds pretty cool and it's really novel, and I'm a fast learner on it, but it doesn't really hold my attention. After a lesson I'm more or less disenchanted with it and don't really feel like picking it up. On one hand, I feel like I only wanted a sitar for the novelty, like the "I have one and you don't" thing or that I'd buy one just because I'm afraid I'll regret not getting one, and on the other hand, it really would be cool to have. It has unique sounds, that I like, and it could really be fun to write music on it. So far, I've only played one sitar I like the sound and feel of enough to drop money on it and it comes out to Rs9500, which is roughly $240USD. Musicians will say that's a good price and everyone else will find it expensive. I did poke around online and I found that buying a sitar in the United States usually starts at $400 for a beginner model (I confess I didn't do much research, so you may find better) and for a middle-of-the-line professional-level like the one I like it's at least $600.

I guess it really depends on money, as the $600 the government owed us is no longer an issue, but I did some math and if I want any money left when I get home I would do well to not use most of it. Then again, if certain things cost less than expected I'll be able to get one, otherwise it will be a non-issue and I won't have the money. I admit, in a sense it isn't disappointing, like there's this optimism of "Oh, more money when I get back home, so I don't have to eat ramen and work extra hard." On the other hand, there's a fear that I will regret it, especially since I like this one sitar. We'll see.

After sitar lessons, Saresh invited us to his house. We took an auto there and spent the morning meeting his family. Then, it was time to head back, but there was no auto so he took us on his motorcycle. This wasn't a big Harley. No, the three of us packed on for the ride of our lives. Brittany and I got off with the adrenaline still pumping.

Then we went to a couple of saree places. We ended up at a small shop where the owner was nice. They throw down a ton of sarees and you pick out what you like and what you don't. Traditionally you kind of narrow it down after that. Things were going well until a young man, about our age, came down and started pushing us. We would say we don't like a saree and he would say "Oh, but this is beautiful and very fine" and sometimes we said "It's ok, set it to the side and we'll decide in a little bit", and when all was said and done we had about 20 sarees picked out we liked. When we started to sort them out they acted shocked and claimed that most Americans buy 20 to 30 sarees and we simply said we don't have the money to buy everything we like. The young man literally scoffed at us and said all Americans are rich.

I'm not saying America is worse off than India, after all people who own TVs are still below the "poverty line", but I will say that even in the poorest parts of Udaipur at ten o'clock at night Brittany and I have felt more or less completely safe, but if I were in a slum in America I would probably be smart to fear for my life. Yes, Brittany and I, in many ways, are poor. Just like anyone, we struggle to make ends meet, and though we've been blessed with many amenities and are grateful for those, we by no means live in luxury. In India, we aren't so poor. I got a leather bound photo album for $7.50. Brittany and I have eaten a gourmet meal, as good or better than your favorite fine-dining restaurant, for literally less than $40 allowing for one drink for each of us. We stayed six nights in the honeymoon suite of an air conditioned hotel with the best view in this city for $100 total. But that doesn't mean I can fork out $200+ for a bunch of sarees I have to turn around and have tailored. I simply refuse to believe every American who buys a saree goes to a little shop, buys 20, and has them tailored. It's not only expensive, but stupid and unnecessary.

So, we narrowed it down to three. Two were chiffon, a see-through fabric that can be nice, but is also good for everyday use and then one silk-blend that was pretty cool. All in all, it cost Rs1100, which we later found was about Rs400 too much. You live and you learn. The chiffon ones were Rs300 and should have been Rs150 at the most, and I figured Rs300 was reasonable as I couldn't imagine getting 5 1/2 meters of fabric for less than that.

Oh well, we went on and looked at some more sarees. One our way to one shop we found a man feeding monkeys and he let us feed them as well. It was quite fun, and interesting. There are pictures on Facebook.

Yesterday we got the stuff together for the sarees. You have to buy fabric for the blouse and petticoat which goes under the saree. Then we went and bought one of the used sarees from the first shop. So, we got all that and with the help of the Soni family, we took it to the tailor. We then found the nicer of the three we bought was too small, so we tried to exchange it only to find every saree they had in the shop was a half-meter smaller than a traditional saree. We had asked them if this saree was 6 1/2 meters (as this particular type was supposed to be) and they said yes, but now that it was only 6 meters they claimed it was normal.

Well it got ugly, and long story short they found one that was more expensive that was the right length. There was more yelling and stuff, but eventually they offered an even trade. We then found that the saree we traded really was worth more and they weren't trying to rip us off. We felt kind of bad for all of the harsh words, and plan on paying them the fair price. They are corrupt people, but being right isn't always as important as doing right.

We just finished Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller and I recommend to just about anyone, Christian or non-Christian. Well, time is running out, but there's more to say. I'll catch you later, in the mean time there are now six India albums on Facebook for your viewing pleasure. Just go a post or two back for the links.

Even Newer Pictures

2008-05-24T02:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was crazy fun, but I have little time, so all I can do is leave you with more pictures. Full update later.

Albums 1 through 5 are full, and you can access them by looking at previous posts which have links (they aren't too hard to find, just scroll down to the post before this one and read it) and the link to India 5 has been fixed.

Now for a public link to album ~~India 6~~

Actually all pictures are now linked in this post.

Tons More Pictures

2008-05-23T02:52:00.000-07:00

This link no longer works as the 5 albums have been condensed into the first 3 previously linked in this post.

~~Quick edit note: the link to India 5 wasn't working and it should work now.~~

Brittany uploaded and tagged some new pictures while I was in my sitar lesson (and yes, it is awesome). She is far more indiscriminant than I am, so you get lots and lots more pictures that usual (she's also better at picking them out)! ~~You can pick up where you left off at the Facebook album India 4 and work your way through India 5, or you may start from the beginning.~~

Public links to Facebook albums India 1, India 2, India 3, and ~~India 4~~ can be found at this post.

~~India 5 (link fixed)~~

Life goes on in Udaipur, looking for Sarees for Brittany and eventually, if money pans out, I'll get a sitar. I'll try and do a full update later.

A World Away

2008-05-22T03:09:00.000-07:00

When a person travels to the other side of the world, to a foreign country he/she has never been to, with a culture where the only thing that is really known is that it is completely different: it changes a person. Sometimes it comes in the form of culture shock, which with me, took on a form of wonder and excitement in the unknown. Can't get a fair price on a rickshaw? Online banking not working? Almost get run over on the way to dinner? Dinner make you sick? You get the point. I addressed these inconveniences almost with a perspective of tolerance, attempting to suck in the culture and ignore the bumps along the road. It worked well for me at first, and I found that it was easy to tuck away impatience and suck it up. When it is 110F and you don't speak a word of the language (Hindi) of course your rickshaw driver is going to charge you extra. You just ate and spent more on a meal than his family does in a week and are staying in a nice air conditioned hotel.

Truth be told, I kind of lost my head in Jodhpur, letting my culture shock take a new turn. Hindus are actually some of the most backward people you will ever meet. In general. It's not to say Christians like myself aren't backwards as well. How do people part of a religion that claims to love everyone, like Christianity, turn its nose up at the poor? And aren't there Christians who represent their religion more accurately? That said, this isn't an attack on any individual Hindu, or Hinduism as a religion, but in general, the mentality of Hindus will wear a Westerner out.

I've already gone over the cow thing. Cows are holy, yet I've seen people feed them and immediately beat them away with a stick. They are left to eat garbage, which is everywhere, which pollutes our living earth. And all living things are to be respected in Hinduism, which is why they have such a massive vegetarian population (probably more than 75%). Yet, Brittany and I went to a lovely park yesterday where they offered camel rides. We were going to do it, but as it turned out the camels were led by a rope that was tied to a nose piercing. It looked painful. We skipped the camel ride.

So, there's the cow thing, the ill-treatment of the environment which greatly affects the cows, and the general disregard for nature. Furthermore, almost everyone here is motivated by money, so a simple rickshaw ride is a matter of dodging places he might get commission. You might say "Take us to Cafe Coffee Day" and on the way he'll try and talk you into hiring him for the day, switching to his hotel, or stopping by shopping venues of his choice. And being nice doesn't work. Usually a straight "nay" (Hindi for "no") does little. Sometimes it gets to the point that you have to say "take us to where we asked, or we're getting out of the auto right here and not paying you". Money talks.

This bears down on a person, not just physically. After a day of trying not to lie, but trying to find every possible reason not to do what everyone wants you to do, we come back to the hotel spent. After a while in Jodhpur I was so sick of hearing "Hello where are you going?", "Hello come into my shop", "Hello what are you looking for?" that I started being rude. It's enough the constant beeping of horns interrupts conversation without the unnecessary shop-owners and rickshaw drivers bothering us, and it gets the point where I simply reply "That's rude" or "If we're interested we'll let you know". It never ends. Now that we're in Udaipur the calamity of the touts has calmed down. But every time we walk by an auto the driver they approach us asking if we need a ride. I know it's the off season and they need the money, but they might have noticed, since we've been here over a week that we don't take rickshaws and that we walk almost everywhere.

But after culture shock comes the wonder. I know it doesn't sound deep to you, but I often find myself wondering at what I've been doing. While the rich are vacationing in Europe, I'm on a rooftop in a desert state in India looking at the sun set on the 500 year old marble buildings. Don't get me wrong, the Louvre is awesome, I'm sure, but I'm in India. Before I came to India I had never ridden on a rickshaw (with the bike), never seen someone pray or bow to a god I didn't believe in, much less a temple of a pagan god, I've never seen people inlay marble, elephants and camels outside of a zoo, wild monkeys, wild cows, brain as a menu item, street food, and well it's all so much to remember.

But I'm in India! I'm somewhere between a tourist and a backpacker, and I feel like that's the place to be. I don't feel the need to cover every foot of every temple, fort, and palace and I also don't feel the need to go around yapping about bhang lassi and how hardcore I am for being here. No, I'm just here and it is a wonder to me. Sure there's something hardcore about being in India, but that's not what India is about. India is about the backwards Hinduism, the vivid clothing, cattle that are all-to-literally "free-range", crazy driving, cheap palace-like hotels, dirty shops, and spicy food.

So many tourists come here, and they go to this or that temple, this or that guru, this or that spiritual exercise trying to find themselves, but they miss the point. It doesn't take bowing before Vishnu to get any sort of self-improvement. In the West we thrive on love and luxury, putting them hand and hand, but here the camel is a symbol of love and the saying goes "If you can love a camel you can love anyone". Look at my blog posts, I teach love. Read Donald Miller, he teaches love. Try and love a corrupt Bollywood producer.

I came to India and I brought my religion with me. For one thing, I figured I'd be on a lot of boring trains, so all those theology books I never read because I had something more entertaining to do, I brought with me. I mean, Narnia and Donald Miller don't classify as direct theology; but the point is, when you're put in the pressure cooker what will you do? Will look for answers in things you don't even believe in? Or will you draw closer to what you do believe in? I'm not saying books solve my problems. Believe me, I'd love the $600 the government owes me to land in my bank account, in fact, I'd actually love to be able to check my bank account (Suntrust online banking is currently down). You know what? I don't think those obstacles are coincidence and I don't believe that reading John Piper will solve that.

But I do believe that fixing the money situation won't fix me as the Enemy would have me believe. I know, not all of my readers are Christians, and even some of the ones who are might be skeptical that my thoughts on spiritual warfare in this country are fantasies. And anyone can believe what they want. I know I'm deviating and bouncing about a bit, and if I had the time this would read more linear, but I guess what I'm trying to say is this:

I'm in India. I've seen one of the wonders of the world, I've seen the sun set on that wonder, and I've seen all kinds of crazy stuff that people who don't go to India will never experience. After a brief time of rolling with the punches, I came to a place where I was bitter that love goes so unrewarded, and now I'm in a place where I have friends and these experiences are breath-taking. I also see where Westerners come here to solve their problems through Eastern Spirituality. I see how the Enemy is at work here. I'm getting a taste of the pressure cooker and I'm learning that India is an exercise in my spirituality, not because of anything in particular India has to offer, but because its very nature frustrates you and astounds you with beauty all at once. I'm seeing how pain can cause growth if you turn to the right places.

It's impossible to most of this into words. You walk on the bridge of Udaipur, you look across the lake and see the palaces and buildings and you can't help but think to yourself "holy @%$&;", and even the expletive does little to conjure the gravity of the matter. How beautiful and different India is. Would I recommend this for everyone? No. Some people are meant for the pressure cooker in other ways. I know in the movie Jarhead (it sucked, don't bother) they are in the Gulf War and they call it "the suck", and I think it's kind of another word for pressure cooker, only we're in India buying beautiful clothes, cheap leather goods (camel leather), and having chai with friends.

Oh bother, I'm sure this is full of missed words, misspelled words, typos, and terrible grammar I have no time to fix. Maybe I'll put it into better words later. I took my first sitar lesson today. It was great fun, but hard work. Sitars cost between $150-250 depending on quality and if the government puts the $600 in before I leave I hope to come home with one. A few more pictures to come soon. Cheers.

Thoughts on Octopussy and Why India is like Dungeons and Dragons

2008-05-20T23:01:00.000-07:00

As I've said, Octopussy was partially filmed in Udaipur, where we are staying now, and just about every rooftop restaurant here has a 7pm showing every night. You would think after 25 years the obsession would die out, but I assure you the hype is still here. And so, Brittany and I got as cozy as we could on the rooftop of Cafe Namaste, ordered a brownie and some chai and began the film. Of course, it is James Bond, but it is Roger Moore Jame Bond, which is kind of hard to watch at times. Though I haven't seen Octopussy in years, I certainly remember liking it a great deal; however, I couldn't hear a thing during the movie this time. The guy in charge of the restaurant would only turn it up a notch or two at anyone's request and it really didn't do a whole lot of good.

But we did get to see James Bond in Udaipur. First let me say, his arrival couldn't have been more stylish. Coming off the boat from Udaipur's famous lake to be greeted by an Indian comrade posing to be a snake charmer. This was 25 years ago too, so all the more pollution free. Bond's friend claims the snake charmer get-up was a bad idea because he's terrified of snakes, but I say it's a bad idea because snake charming doesn't really go on so much anymore, particularly not in these parts (still around in Calcutta). As the lake is full in the movie, I can only suspect it is during the tourist season, which is post-monsoon. The lake is empty now, as the dry season is at its peak just before the monsoon starts. I will concede that there may be a snake charmer or two during the tourist season.

Bond makes a quite amateur mistake or two rather. First he hitches a ride with an auto-rickshaw driver without settling on a price first, and then agrees to go to whatever hotel the rickshaw driver would take him to. Although there are no casinos in Udaipur, there is one in the movie, and it's a good thing Bond won his bet, because he's going to need compensation for his extra-pricey hotel room (as the rickshaw driver is getting a commission) and compensation for his overpriced rickshaw ride.

There's an auto chase scene throughout Udaipur, which is funny to anyone who has been to India, because aside from the wheelies the rickshaw keeps making, it's really not that out-of-the-ordinary. What is unordinary is how every token Indian, Middle-Eastern, and Asian stereotype is thrown into this scene. Yes, there's another snake charmer, a guy walking on hot coals, a man sleeping on a bed of nails, but what is missing are the annoying shop owners beckoning you, and as part of the chase scene takes place on foot, I was surprised there weren't a million rickshaw drivers begging him to ride with them in spite of the fact he had just gotten off a rickshaw and was in the middle of a fight. The weaponry throughout the scene is priceless, and I've seen much modern and medieval weaponry in my time in India, but I have yet to see a five pointed knife or much else that they used.

And later they end up at the Monsoon Palace (it's the palace the maharajah took refuge in during the monsoon; it's on top of mountain to avoid flooding), which isn't heavily guarded as they claim and is mostly a tourist site. But it's where the bad guys are hiding out, and Bond finds himself as the new target in what was a tiger hunt. Of course, the only tigers in this area are long extinct, but the maharajahs did hunt them by Tiger Lake, which is not so immediately outside of the Monsoon Palace. In this chase we encounter just about every conceivable specimen possible. Tiger, cobra, leach, elephant, crocodile, and well the list goes on. Bond stylishly dodges all of them.

After this point it just kind of got old as the sound was too low to understand what was happening. So we left. I still feel like I go the Udaipur Octopussy experience.

India is kind of like Dungeons and Dragons, or just about any role playing game as there always seems to be a quest, and you are constantly honing you India travelling skills. In India you learn: never trust anybody, always agree to a price beforehand, never pay upfront, never pay the original price (always talk them down), don't drink the water (don't even brush your teeth with it), and watch out for cow crap. Of course, these are things you know at first, but you find very quickly that putting them into practice is quite hard. You must always play the stern and mean type of person; otherwise you will get taken advantage of.

Remember that creepy guy I mentioned in yesterday's post? Well, we saw him again and he had the nerve to approach me. I told him we didn't trust him and he asked why. Of course, in America, you smile and pretend, but here, even if they know you are pretending, they will take advantage of that lie. Indians are thick skinned, so the straighter you give it to them more likely you are to get your point across. Padding the truth only makes things worse as it gives them hope you will weaken and give in. So, to his face I told him, "You only want money. We tell you we aren't buying art and all of the sudden you're no longer an artist but you want to take us somewhere else, some place that is not in the city where who-knows-what would happen to us" and as he started to rebut what I said, I simply said "Maybe you're a nice guy, but I don't trust you, I don't owe you an explanation, and you will leave us alone now." Before, when I simply said I wasn't interested in buying he still thought he had a shot and tried to milk me into going to look at sitars (allegedly), but when I came right out and said what was on my mind, I got the job done.

Brittany and I really have two sets of friends here. There are the two guys who work at the Art Village Art School. During tourist season, they don't sell art directly; however, they brought us into their store and simply told us "We are your friends, and we want to share our art with you. We don't normally sell directly, but because money is bad, we will sell directly. If you like what you see and you have the money, but if you don't like it or it is too much money, don't buy it. You can even think about it for a day or two and come back, but whether you buy or not you can always come here and have chai with us." And we did buy, and they invited us back for chai. And we checked prices in two different stores in Udaipur and you know what? Those two guys didn't rip us off. They were fair. We went back for chai and we shared music and talked for hours.

Then, there's a family next to our former hotel (we moved from Dream Heaven Guest House to Nukkad Guest House) and we made friend with them. Though the family has roots in jewelry (according to their caste), they are all artists. Their house serves as a small store (mostly just bottled water), art studio, and home. We bought a small amount of art from them, and Brittany had heena done through the girls the next day. We sat and talked and they fed us lunch yesterday which was delicious. They said we are welcome in their home anytime, and I think they meant it. We truly like them and they seem to like us a great deal as well.

Between both these sets of friends, we are linked to this city, knowing the shops owned by honest and good people and knowing where not to go.

Yesterday we went to the City Palace, which wasn't as great as it cost. Yesterday was the last day in a month-long yearly Hindu celebration. The bells rang well into the night and began again early this morning. Brittany and I weren't too happy about it. One thing is for sure, the Indian perception of annoying is very different from western thought.

I hope you read the two previous posts, as one was a good bit of important information about our whereabouts and goings. The other linked pictures. Since we're going to be at our hotel a while I'll try and post the numbers and contact info soon.

Pics up

2008-05-20T00:37:00.000-07:00

I just wrote a very lengthy post before this one, and I trust you will read it, as it is important. I am only posting here to say that you can now find additional pictures in my Facebook album India 2 and there are new Facebook albums called India 3 and India 4 in my photos. So albums 2 through 4 have new pictures.

For those of you without Facebook here are public links, if they don't work let me know:
India 1

India 2

India 3

Facebook changed their photo album format so now all pictures are consolidated into the above three albums.

Stuck in Udaipur

2008-05-19T22:54:00.000-07:00

Well, it is certainly been an adventure I tell you. After rabid searching there are no trains to Calcutta, Darjeeling, or anywhere else in the state of West Bengal. They are all booked, and although there are possibilities for the 26th or 27th of May, that would only give us a couple of days in West Bengal and then it would be back to Delhi to fly out. We did what any sensible Christian would do, and we prayed. We prayed that if God did not want us to go to the north that he would close those doors. After praying, we left our hotel room and we spent the day desperately trying to get some sort of ticket to West Bengal.

God shuts doors in funny ways, but you kind of know it when it happens. We tried several different options, and found no way to get there. For instance, we did find a place you could book a train online and we actually found a train that would take us from Jodhpur to a city just outside of Darjeeling and it had open seats! It seemed awesome because we could easily take the morning bus to Jodhpur and the train left at midnight and it was only a 15 hour ride! Tickets came to about $80USD all together. But we went to pay and they only accepted Indian credit/debit cards. It seemed simple enough to go to a travel agent, and though it would cost a bit more, they would allow us to pay cash. So, we gave the details to two separate travel agents and neither could find an empty spot on the train. They found one train that would have cost us about $160USD that was over 24 hours long and a plane flight would have been just over $200USD. We simply don't have that kind of money to spend, and if we did, we wouldn't want to spend it on a train/plane ride.

This all may very well be providential. I'm simply speculating here, and I wouldn't be surprised if nothing came of it, but the Muslim extremists who are claiming responsibility for the Jaipur bombings have threatened Calcutta among other places. The Indian news paper also says they believe the terrorist to be hiding in Bangladesh, which is right next to Calcutta. For whatever reason, God closed those doors, and as disappointed as we are that we won't be seeing the Darjeeling tea fields or Brittany's favorite cities, we love Udaipur and are content to stay here. God has put many people in our lives here, and we have made several friends. To be honest, we haven't even seen much of the city, we've just walked around close to our hotel eating at wonderful restaurants (and they really are the best we've had) and looking at art (which we've bought much of).

Because of all this, we'll be moving hotels. We are currently in the air conditioned honeymoon suite of Dream Heaven Guest House for Rs 650 ($16.25USD) and are currently planning to relocate to Nukkad Guest House, a non-AC hotel recommended by Lonely Planet. Since we figured out we'd be stuck in Udaipur, we immediately made efforts to find a cheaper hotel we could settle down in. Last night, when the heat of the day was wearing off and the streets were busy we trekked through town trying to find a place to stay. One after another we had hotels insisting their most expensive rooms were their only rooms and even though the cool of the night was setting in the non-AC hotels were burning up. Most of them had a fan and windows you could open, and we might have survived if we had to, but they were pretty unappealing.

Not having AC is not a big deal really. The mosquitoes are non-existent in this town and if the building is built right, it can utilize the wind to keep cool. As it was already 90F degrees at 11:00 in the morning, the first thing we noticed when we entered Nukkad Guest House was that it had a very cool reception area. They took us up to a room to show us and it was quite nice. It was also very cool and there was a nice breeze coming through the windows. Because the architecture utilized the weather, the room wasn't hot at all! We figured we'd stay at least one night and if it as nice as it seems we'll stay the remainder of our time in India as it is Rs 300 ($7.5USD), and the guy said if we were staying a while he'd cut us a better deal than that. Unlike hotels, guest houses like we have been staying at most of our trip here in India are run by a family who lives on the premises. A guest house may also be called a haveli.

Yesterday was overall delightful. We ate a late breakfast at Cafe Edilwess [sic], a German bakery, that had a delicious and safe tuna-salad sandwich. We then spent the entire afternoon looking for trains to Calcutta, which as you know was unfruitful. We did stop by the Jagdish temple, which is apparently one of the biggest temples to the god Vishnu (kind of like Zeus) in all of India. The architecture was amazing as the entire temple's walls were tiers upon tiers of marble carvings of people and animals.

Later in the day we ended up on a rooftop restaurant across from the temple and watched the sunset behind it as we ate. Then we went browsing hotels. One man on a motorbike stopped to talk to us. He seemed very nice and spoke English very well. He desperately wanted us to come to his art school and see the paintings. That's when the warning signs began. First of all, there are several cons and kidnappings in India you have to look out for. I read about one such kidnapping in a British magazine at one of the restaurants (the restaurant was Savage Garden and had phenomenal continental food).

In this case, two British girls made friends with a couple of Indian guys, which is really common in India. People will stop and talk to you for no apparent reason because they are curious about foreigners. Most of them are honest. Brittany and I have had chai a couple of times with some friends we made, no harm at all. These guys invited the girls for chai and eventually the guys told the British girls they had a friend who was leaving for London soon and wanted to ask them questions about their homeland. They agreed to meet with him and he claimed to have studied in America and had perfect English. Then he proposed that they help him smuggle some gems into London for him. This scam is common, although phasing out since tourist have caught on. Brittany and I haven't come across it ourselves. The guy asks you to transport what he says are valuable precious stones (actually worthless) and you make a small deposit (usually via credit card) as a show of good faith. Then they run up a bill and you never see them again.

These girls knew about the gem scheme and told them they couldn't do it, so the men took them hostage for three days. The men eventually stole their debit cards, drained the girls’ bank accounts, and put them on a flight back to London. They could have easily been raped or killed.

Now, this guy who came to us yesterday asked us to go his art shop, but we were busy looking at hotels so we said maybe tomorrow. So, the place was right around the corner and he showed us the doors and said that artists work in there from 9am to 9pm. I told him I'd come down there sometime after lunch and look, figuring if it wouldn't be a big deal if I skipped out (ok, you caught me, I was lying to get him to leave me alone, I can't say I'm proud of it). He seemed reluctant to meet in the afternoon, but consented. But he wanted a commitment and he didn't want me to meet him inside, but he wanted me to meet him outside at exactly 3pm. This is really unusual in India, as most people here don't do much of anything on a real time schedule.

I told him I wouldn't promise, but if I had time I would come by, and I would just find him inside. Then I said we wouldn't be buying, but looking, as we've already bought much artwork. At this he shifted gears and asked what we were interested in buying. I said the only thing on my mind was a sitar, because we don't buy much really. At this he claimed that he knew a sitar maker about 3km outside the city and we should come with him first thing in the morning. Then he asked where we were staying and said he would come to our hotel. At this, I said, we don't disclose that information and even though he seemed nice enough we're scarred someone may hurt us. I said it very clearly, and in a simpler way (if that's correct grammar) so he would understand, but he acted as if he hadn't heard it and immediately reverted to us meeting him and going to look at sitars.

It was sketchy. I mean, really sketchy. Here was a guy who happened to know a sitar maker in some undisclosed far off location, and who knows what would happen there. Maybe he was honest, but I can only imagine ending up in someone's home, them hitting us up for some sort of con, and us having no way out. No thank you. Chances are he was just a commission-shark.

After looking at some hotels some more, we went to another art shop, that was a family owned place next to our hotels. We had spoken with the family a couple of times, and they never asked us to come look at the art, but had always been very nice. We had told them we would stop by and look at it and when we went, we found they had very reasonable and fair prices, and were very hospitable. They gave us freshly made mango juice, and I tell you, there is nothing like it in America. Then he sold me a beer at a reasonable price and we had a drink together while we looked at the art. I wasn't intending to buy, but they were so kind and the art was so beautiful we picked up a couple of pieces. They also recommended a sitar maker to me, saying they were good friends with him and giving me directions to his shop (just around the corner) and said if I called the number on the window he would be sure to meet with me (the shop is closed in the off-season).

As we haven't seen much to the touristy stuff in Udaipur I guess we're going to make a move to see more of the city. As we won't be paying so much for a hotel room or buying train tickets, it frees up some money for us. The government still owes us $600 from the economic stimulus package. One of the $600 went through in early May as promised, but we still await the other. Once that goes through, we'll do some shop and gift buying.

On a couple of side notes, I must first brag, as every soft drink here is made from real sugar as opposed to high fructose corn syrup like they use in the States. It's the best coke in the world. Mountain Dew has never been better. Second, it is 40 rupees (which is written Rs 40) to every $1 United States dollar. That fluctuates, but almost never more than a couple of rupees. Last, pictures are a no-go right now. I'm going to try again today, but I tried several places yesterday with no luck. If by noon your time there haven't been any added (probably some added to the album India 2 and then a new album called India 3), it means it might be a couple of more days before you see any at all.

Any insight into the Calcutta situation is helpful. It does seem we can't get there, but we're open to ideas. Cheers.

I Watched the Sun Set on Udaipur

2008-05-18T23:57:00.000-07:00

Through Delhi, Agra, and Jodhpur Brittany and I were beginning to think we had come to the wrong place. All we could think about was getting north to West Bengal, but now that we're in Udaipur we don't want to leave. Yesterday was fantastic. As you know, we missed church which seemed to be a bad start, but in time the day got better. After my post we spent the afternoon having chai and sharing music with our two friends at the art school.

It was recommended by a friend that we go to a place called Sunset View Terrace at the City Palace, but it had been booked for a wedding. We heard there are giant bats called flying foxes in the trees during the day. Unfortunately the only restaurant available at the City Palace was $30USD per person and we weren't about to spend that kind of money. No, we were content to dine at a lakeside restaurant Ambria. They had a delicious fish curry and chicken tikka masala (our favorite), amazing mixed drinks, and Foster's beer (if it wasn't for Austrialia, , India's beer selection would be in a heap of trouble, but I most Australians I met equated Foster’s with Bud Lite). Though it was windy, it was an incredible dining experience. We watched the sun slowly sink on the lake, the blue sky turn gray, and the moon peer through the clouds. Truly romantic.

Because we like this city so much we decided to stay an extra day, but I haven't much more to say, and time is running a bit short as I had other errands for the internet. I noticed a few of you posted comments, always appreciated. You don't need an account to post, just do it anonymously and sign your name at the bottom so I know who you are. We've been reading Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller, and I think non-Christians could certainly appreciate it as a book that demythologizes Christianity and even settles a lot of the misconceptions people have about Christianity (whether due to Christians' misrepresentation or the world's misinterpretation). It is an easy read and quite comical.

If anyone is just now tuning in to this blog, keep in mind my grammar and spelling are probably just terrible as I have no time to proofread and no spell-check.

007

2008-05-18T01:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, after getting dressed we got our first view of the beautiful city of Udaipur. Unlike Jodhpur (blue) and Jaipur (pink), Udaipur doesn't quite live up to its name of the White City, but it does feature extensive amounts of marble work. We ate a very nice restaurant, which was most regrettable as the food was mediocre at best. It's the most expensive meal we've had in India yet, and the most disappointing.

On the way from the restaurant we made friends with two Indian guys, maybe a bit older than us, and they invited us to chai. If you don't know what chai is, it is the Indian word for tea, but in India it is "masala" (the Indian word for spice) tea. Chai is a milky, spiced, and sweet hot tea. In America, it is frequently in a tea bag and tastes disgusting, but here it is delicious. They drink it all the time and consider the hot drink to actually be cooling in the summer.

They were both artists, and took us around their art school. Vocational schools in India are quite different as training last around 20 years before you can be considered a master. Both of the guys we met were seniors, which meant they had been painting over 8 years and their master had graduated them. We peeled through tons of their artwork and even bought a few pieces as gifts. In the near future I'll try and take pictures of them and post them next time I post pictures.

We talked music, politics, our respective countries, and they were very helpful. They even recommended a good restaurant to us. In India, every state is different. Each state can be as different as the North and South in the United States. Chai can differ from state to state in India, and thalis (pronounced tall-ee) are also different from state to state. In Uttar-Pradesh (the city Agra, where the Taj Mahal is) their thali was a potato and an assortment of dips and sauces. No matter where you go it seems the thali is more or less a starch like bread of potato that you dip or supplement with an array of sauces or curries. We were told in our guidebook that Udaipur has one of the best thalis in all of India and we must try it. These two guys we met also recommended it. It proved delicious. You get a big metal plate, with several small metal ramakins (sp?) each with a different thing in it, and an assortment of bread. This particular restaurant had all-you-can eat; meaning as soon as you were running low on one thing a server would run up with a cup and ladle of the stuff and fill your ramekin back up. It was delicious (well Brittany didn't care so much for it).

We woke up early this morning to go to church, only have the auto take us to the exact church we didn't want to go to (it was a Protestant church, but looked Catholic) that was on the opposite side of the map we showed him. It didn't matter as the service had just ended (it was from 8am-10am). It also turned out to be a good thing because we had forgotten to take our anti-malaria medicine the night before and had taken it this morning, which made us sick. After a good puking (for both of us), we had a drink at Cafe Coffee Day (it's like Starbucks here) and then about lunch time made our way to Savage Gardens, a restaurant everyone seems to rave about. And it was awesome. I had the fish, which was served with real mash potatoes and Brittany had a pasta with red sauce that tasted very authentic. Quite satisfying.

I seem to continually fail to mention that both Vanity Fair and Darjeeling Limited were both filmed partially in Jodhpur. The James Bond movie Octapussy was filmed here in Udaipur, and there are several restaurants that have a 7:00pm showing every night. We hope to hit it up tonight. Tomorrow night we plan on leaving for the north, but as it is a long trip we are reluctant to get on the ball.

It’s September now and I’m editing this for spelling and grammar leaving the details and writing style intact. I wanted to note that Tarsem Singh, who direct the Jennifer Lopez movie The Cell, filmed his latest movie The Fall at the Agra Red Fort (which Brittany and I saw, but never went into) and Udaipur. Many of the views of palaces and the like are places we either went to or saw every day on in our time in Udaipur. It’s hard to recommend The Cell due to its graphic nature. I have not seen all of The Fall, but what I did see was more or less tame in the area of violence, but lush and vivid in scenery. I can’t speak for the movie other than this.

The Wheels on the Bus Make Me Vomit

2008-05-16T23:37:00.000-07:00

When we finally got on the bus, it turned out to be a rather nice bus in spite of having no AC. The guy at the ticket counter definitely overcharged us citing it as a "deluxe" bus, and I fail to see how anything could be considered "deluxe" without AC, but all the same, the bus was decent. Well, it was as decent as it could be going down the bumpy wandering streets of India. All said, the trip from Jodhpur to Udaipur (both in Rajasthan) was a bit rough. After the first couple of hours I got used to the bouncing and jolting, but Brittany was feeling pretty nauseated from it. I never did get used to the stupid horn that the driver used incessantly. I wanted to throw him off the bus.

And the ride wasn't just rough, it was scary. There are no lines on the street to indicate the lanes, and we frequently went around large lines of dump trucks as we drove through the mountains. We saw four wrecks in all in the seven hour trip, and they all looked really rough and involved large bus-like vehicles. The first half wasn't very noteworthy. Though the Thar is a desert, it is not a conventional desert. It is dusty and rocky. There are no sand dunes and it is not a flat barren desert. There are "mountains" (people who actually live in real mountains might call them hills) and there is greenery everywhere. In fact, there are a few patches of farming with a vivid-green grass-like plant (I think it is rice). As we got into the mountains it became beautiful. It is forest land and monkeys were very common. We saw a lot of rural Rajasthan and it was very neat to see the culture. The closer we got to Udaipur the more towns we started going through, most of them featuring mile-long strips of marble dealers and factories. These shops have stacks and mounds of marble as far as the eye can see.

The first night in a city is always the scariest. You don't know where you are, and because you have backpacks on everyone knows you're looking for a hotel. Everyone wants you to stay at their hotel or a hotel they know of where they get commission. We had a place recommended by a friend we made in New Delhi (many thanks to Emma) and managed to shake the commission-sharks who stalked us. When we finally got there, we negotiated a room down to Rs 650 (about $16USD) and it is the nicest hotel we've stayed in thus far. First of all, Udaipur is not like Jodhpur. Jodhpur is a filthy city with dung and trash and litter everywhere you go. Udaipur is clean (apparently the royalty here is into saving the environment) and romantic. Our room has a view of the entire city, which sits on a lake. The lights add to the romantic feel and we had dinner on the rooftop restaurant which played American-like folk music. The food was good. After a while, the novelty of Indian food wears of and you just want some chow-mien or a pizza, which is what we had.

India is dirt cheap to live in. We stayed at our hotel in Jodhpur for six nights, had them do laundry, and ate at the restaurant three or four times. Total bill? Rs 4250 ($105USD). The only thing here that can be expensive is alcohol, as the taxes are high. While your meal may cost just over Rs 100 (if that) and a beer would be the same, although they are big beers. Kingfisher still sucks. We haven't been drinking much, Brittany particularly as she can't find anything she likes (I don't blame her either). Both of us have been losing a great deal of weight for two weeks. My pants were a bit tight on me, and now I struggle to keep them up. We walk just about everywhere we go, and because of the heat our appetites are satisfied pretty easily. I miss America a lot now, although I am really enjoying my time here. I crave cheeseburgers, clean tap water, good beer, sushi, Italian food, mate', real internet on good computers, safe driving, central heat and air, and real showers. Mostly, I miss the food I think. Of course, more than any of that, I miss friends and family. Weekends with Chris, Rebecca, Sean, Leane, Lisa, and the others. We miss our friends from work, particularly our close friends Stephanie, Suzie, and the others. Of course, we don't see our family too often, but being across the globe makes us miss them more and I'm really looking forward to seeing my family when we arrive in the airport! I know Brittany wishes she could see her family too.

The original plan was to go from Udaipur to Mumbai (Bombay) and then to Goa and then to Kerola. As our trip has progressed we have decided not to go to the south. Slowly, but surely, each planned city/state in the south has dropped out of the plans. We are staying in cities (coincidentally) much longer than planned and between the expenses and time issues, going to the south just doesn't seem like it would be good on this trip. This isn't really bad news. India has been different than Brittany or I expected. It's not the place she fell in love with so long ago. It's not that it has been disappointing, but it hasn't quite been what we came for as it is so touristy. Because we are skipping the south (which is packed with tourism) we'll be headed up to West Bengal where Brittany stayed her first time to India. We're hoping that places like Calcutta, Darjeeling, and Kalimpong will get us away from the greedy touts and inflated prices (we call it the skintax).

In other, not so good, news I just read the latest on the Jaipur bombing. It is the first thing I've read on the incident (everything else was word-of-mouth) and it looks worse than I thought it would be. You can read about it here, and it pretty much says it all. We, of course, are staying away from violence hotspots like Kashmir, but it seems that it isn't Pakistan who is responsible for the bombing. Apparently, Indian Muslims are and they are targeting tourist because India is supporting America. We are currently making plans in the case of an incident, and we're hoping to stay away from anywhere that might be dangerous. The truth is, Calcutta was mentioned by the group as a possible place to attack, but, unless there's another major attack, I think we still plan on going there briefly because it is hardly tourist, and is certainly not tourist this time of year. Jaipur was a well-planned hit on their part as it is packed with tourist year-round (we've met several people in Jodhpur and Udaipur who were there when the bombing happened). We will be flying out of Delhi, so we won't have too much of a choice but to be there. The most important thing is prayer as we travel. It may not be a market next. It could be a train or they could use a bus. The good news is, security is tighter in those areas, but the bad news is things can still get through. So pray for our safety.

Though this computer is slow I think it may have the capability to upload pictures onto Facebook. When I get a few more new pictures I'll try and post them and we'll see what happens. I know they aren't the best and most detailed pictures, I've already taken over 1000, but have no way of quickly uploading them anywhere. When I get home from India, I'll probably start from scratch and upload better selected pictures that have been cropped and photoshopped (to adjust brightness and color, not alter).

They're Organized I Tell You

2008-05-15T22:54:00.000-07:00

Once again, I plague you with a vague cultural reference in my title, and I imagine most of you who have seen Chicken Run probably don't even remember the line from it. In all honesty, I might have even misquoted it a bit.

Yesterday was my hardest day in India yet. The film crew for Ecuador is split into two different crews, the Portuguese and the Indians. Because we were recruited in India we fell in with the Indians (and so did all of the hired travelers, mostly backpackers) headed up by macho-cool Bollywood bigwig Ragesh. Money was discussed vaguely upfront in words like "compensation", but when I pried for a number I was told, more or less, we would get what our fellow American extras were getting. According to Geoff and Chris, two Virginians recruited for the same reason I was, Rs 2000 per day was what they shook hands on.

The day was long, and while Ragesh had entertained Brittany during the first shooting, Brittany was treated as lower-caste for yesterday's filming, which definitely tried our patience. It might not have been so bad if they hadn't told us to arrive at 3:00pm and not even start until 7:30pm, and then left Brittany out in a dust storm with the male Indian servants. As I said, we arrived at three and shooting continued well into the night. In uncomfortable clothes, and even more uncomfortable shoes I stood around waiting for the film to roll only to walk around as if I was at a nice 1905 Indian party. Things seemed to be moving fast, but I was more than done by 3:00am when things started wrapping up.

Ragesh once again revealed his generosity by giving large bottles of cold Kingfisher to the cast, which was nice at the end of a long night. And so, we got changed and he sat down individually with the each extra and gave them their share. This is when things turned sour. First let me say, we did an estimate of 18 hours of work over 2 days, with a day between. Brittany and I stayed 2 days more than intended for this film. Ragesh handed me an envelope with Rs 2000 ($50USD). When I confronted him about paying me half the agreed amount he said that was all that was in the budget, it was what everyone like me was getting, and the natives were getting paid even less. I later found out that one Canadian black girl received only Rs 1500 because she was black.

As Ragesh, who I had trusted and considered a friend, tried to manipulate me into settling I became increasingly angrier. He claimed it wasn't his call (but buying everyone a beer was?) and tried to guilt me by saying he could only give me money out of his own pocket. After over 2 weeks in India I have been on guard of people who will stiff me and take advantage of me, and I thought I had finally found someone I could trust, and when Ragesh betrayed me, it was the straw that broke the camel's back. And while he remained calm the entire time, and begged me to remain calm as to not draw attention to ourselves, I took everything out on him. The beautiful and terrible thing was he deserved it. I didn't call him names or throw a tantrum, I questioned his morality and I made him put himself in my position.

When all was said in done, I told him that it wasn't about the money now, and that I would walk away with Rs 2000, but at least I could sleep at night. He told me to call him in the morning and we would see about calling Bollywood and getting more money. I had him write down the number on the envelope that had the money in it, and he specifically said not to mention any of this to my fellow "actors".

Brittany and I left. It was 4:30am and we began walking from the fort. Some of the Indian crew stopped for us and took us as far as the clock tower, which was closed. So we had to work away around it. It was like a nightmare. Muslim prayer time was coming over loud speakers and dogs were howling. We walked narrow, jagged, and dark alley ways trying to get to our hotel. Dogs viciously barked and followed us, and by God's grace never attacked. We finally were making progress to our hotel, which was probably a little over a mile away. We tried to get an auto driver to take us to our hotel for Rs 20, but he insisted on Rs 50 even though it would have been a two minute drive for him. We continued to walk, knowing we had nothing to look forward to. It was 5:00am in the morning, we weren't packed, and our bus left at 7:00am. We were dirty, Brittany more-so as a bird crapped on her hair, but even then had little time to bathe. We were tired and my feet were sore from the costume shoes.

Finally, we found an auto driver, and he agreed to take us for Rs 20. We got to our hotel and as we walked in the door Brittany saw four dogs feeding on a dead animal, probably the cat we had watched around our hotel. We had seen dogs chase it before, but it always outsmarted them. So, with my blood still pumping from Ragesh, the stress of nothing to look forward to, and the grotesque image of four dogs wildly feeding on something, I was defeated. We were defeated. I had prayed some on the way there, but the more I prayed the more hopeless I felt.

We packed our bags and tried to sleep. I had about an hour when the alarm went off at 6:00am. I knew I'd have to get up and get on a bus with no AC. I would sleep on the bus and therefore my sleep pattern would be screwed up. Then it occured to me that the tickets were literally $5USD total. I figured if I couldn't get a refund or another bus, the $5 would be well spent on sleep. And so we slept on, waking up in time for me to shave (for the first time in over 2 weeks), do some last minute packing, check out of our hotel, and arrange the bus situation. It turned out we were able to simply reschedule our bus for no fee.

As I've said, Brittany and I have been praying about how to love the people in India. I don't know if I handled Ragesh as Christ would have. I do know he deserved every single word I said. I know that I didn't insult him, even though I was blunt. I'm sure Ragesh knew we are Christians, have we affected his perception of Christianity negatively, and if so, does that still mean I handled it wrong? You weren't there, and to explain it all would be tedious; but I do think that there's a line, particularly in business, when stern words are appropriate.

Brittany and I have been purposefully ordering a bit more food than we can eat when we go out. It's normally something cheap, like bread. We keep it with us and give it to street kids when they beg. Today, after arranging for another bus, we ate at the omelet shop one last time. We took one of the omelets with us knowing we would come across a street kid. Sure enough, after some time, a small group of kids asked us for food. They were actually very polite about it, and I gave them the leftovers. It was endearing to see their gratitude towards us, and the way they shared with one another. It's always a risk that they will continue to beg for more afterwards, but they were content to share the omelet.

There is hope yet. Off to Udaipur.

It’s September now and I’m editing this for spelling and grammar leaving the details and writing style intact. As a vital historical note, I should mention Ragesh did slip me another Rs2000 out of his own money. I suspect that it was a simple matter of reimbursement from Bollywood, and didn’t really come out of his own pocket like he would have me think.

Holy Cow, Holy Burger

2008-05-14T23:27:00.000-07:00

Before I get into the actual post, more pictures have been posted on Facebook. They have been added to the album India 2. If you don't have Facebook, and you received the links via e-mail when I first posted pictures a while ago, then you should have received two e-mails. The second one should link you to India 2. Once again, just e-mail me at cowardm AT gmail DOT com, or add me as a friend on Facebook.

In India the cattle are free-range pretty much literally. Of course, if by "range" you mean a grassy field...not so much. No, the cows here are raised to perfection on a steady diet of litter, raw-sewage water, and left-over food. Indeed, for something so holy, you would think that they would be better taken care of, but in all honesty, I don't know many people who would touch these cows. I suppose it really depends on your definition of reverence. Last night we were on our way out of a shop and a cow, with terribly big horns, started swinging its head at Brittany for no apparent reason. While I've seen one cow almost gore a person in attempt to shake off the flies, this cow had no flies around it and definitely came towards Brittany. It was a bit shocking, as most of the animals here are docile.

Perhaps it was revenge. Earlier yesterday Brittany and I were becoming exhausted with the touts. Everywhere you go there's an auto swerving in your way to ask you if you want a ride, or a shop keeping going "Ullo! What are you looking for?" or a begging child going "no mama, no papa, want samosa [a kind of food]". Saying "nay" all day wears a person out, as we wish we could give to the beggars (for many reasons it is risky to do so) and that the shop keepers would keep to their shops and not annoy the public. And so, finally fed up some shop keeper asked me "What are you looking for" and I told him "a beef burger".

Cats are few and far between, although they are often very pretty cats, dogs run rampant here all fully loaded for reproduction. They are usually about the size of a cocker spaniel, but short-haired. They are always calm, except for at night when the power goes out.

Poverty is really hard to deal with. I walk these streets and children beg and I have no idea what Jesus would have done. I, in fact, don't know how to love these people as they are as ignorant and immune to love as they are to insult. When they say Indians are thick skinned they mean it. Brittany and I have chewed out dishonest auto-rickshaw drivers and they have still begged us for business. Emotions don't speak as loud as money does, and as horribly annoying as it is, I can't blame them as even some of the higher-end business owners are stretched for food in the off-season (India is almost vacant of tourism in the summer as it is so hot, and also pours rain in the monsoon late in the summer). In a country where money talks, where is love? Their gods are not loving. Love does not feed their starving families. It is not to downplay the rampant corruption, as so many rickshaw drivers will try and charge us five times the acceptable prices and even try and take advantage of us after the ride.

To give money is folly. Pan is a drug here that works similar to cigarettes and you would be shocked how many street kids (we're talking as young as 4 or 5) are addicted to it. And if you give food they assume you have money to give, and continue to beg. Some of them will even reject food and some of them will then try and pick-pocket you. Usually it just leads to more beggars all of the time. In America, giving food to the poor is seen as a generous and moving act, but here, it is a gateway to more greed. What can I do? Brittany and I have invested a lot of prayer in this, and we're starting to find we can do little things. Today, for instance, two street kids were begging. Unlike most of the street kids they kind of just followed us around and asked for food every once in a while. Most street kids are tenacious and will even resort to pinching and demanding. We took the street kids aside and paid Rs 5 (probably 15 or 20 cents) for what turned out to be a huge meal for them. We gave it to them and left quickly, so as not to attract attention.

Today, I am to return to the fort to do the last half of the filming for my scene (I say "my" scene, but I'm really just in the background and have no lines). It was hard work last time, and in all honesty, I'm only doing it to say "I did it", and not because it's fun. Last time was very tiring, and I can't imagine doing this kind of work for a living, although, if I was getting paid the big bucks I'm sure it would come easier. I did track this down on IMDB, follow the link here to see about it. I'm still not sure which one the main actor is, but when I find out I'll try and post it. I don’t' think the book has been translated to English yet, but I heard it will be soon.

Frightened Inmate Number 2

2008-05-14T03:22:00.000-07:00

For those of you who do not get my title, it means you have in all likelihood not seen Arrested Development, and if you have not, you must. For those of you who get it, I tip my hat.

Before I dive into the meaning of the title, let me first say that Brittany and I are alright. If you've kept up with the news you know that Jaipur, about 5 hours train ride from here, had around eight bombs go off yesterday. We, providentially, skipped Jaipur and are still in Jodhpur, which has shut down in outrage over it. No one seems to be able to explain exactly why all of the shops closed, but all I can seem to get is the word "strike". It is tragic what happened in Jaipur (just poke around CNN and I'm sure you'll see it), and I am grateful that we managed to avoid it. I find it cowardly and vile that anyone thinks bombing civilians or murder will solve any problem.

In a not-so-smooth transition, yesterday was quite terrific for us. After the posting on this blog we went to a world famous omelet shop. Now, I'm sketchy to the idea of a world famous omelet, as it would see that eggs are simply eggs. But the masala cheese omelet was so incredibly substantially amazing I couldn't begin to describe it. All said, it was a symbol to the beginning of a good day.

From there we checked out some spices and textiles and then made our way to the fort. The fort may not have been so interesting without the tour, but we put on the dorky headsets and made our way through the fort. It was quite awesome to see the scars from the cannonballs and traditional Indian armor. It wasn't until we were on our way out that the adventure began. We were stopped by an older, very proper looking, Indian lady in a sari who asked us if we would like to act in a film. On our way through the fort I did see the makings of a movie set, but figured it was for some sort of documentary on the fort. As it turned out, it was a Portuguese television drama serial based on a major book called Ecuador featuring prominent actors and directors.

So, for a small amount of money (more than enough to compensate us for our extra time here) I am to play as an extra (or I have partially). The series is basically about a British man who comes to India and becomes corrupt (or something like that). My scene involves a poker game where the main character (played by their most popular actor) loses all of his money. I play one of three background gentlemen. I'd love to post pictures to Facebook when I can (maybe today). I will return for the other half of the shooting tomorrow. I've met and held conversations with Bollywood bigwigs and Portuguese films stars, and though the work is hard (very hot and uncomfortable), it is quite fun.

Pimp My Auto

2008-05-12T20:58:00.000-07:00

Rajasthan is as different as it is similar to the rest of India. It is distinctly Indian, yet the atmosphere, food, and people are all unique to the rest of India. It is surprisingly a bit less hot in Jodhpur, or at least the mornings usually have a cool breeze. While the autos in Delhi and Agra all run almost exclusively off Compressed Natural Gas (CNG) as an answer to pollution, Jodhpur's autos are slightly bulkier and run on normal gas (all CNG autos are green, while the ones here are black). Many of them are decorated, usually religiously, but don't be surprised if you see a heart shape cutout on the back of the driver's seat with a picture from his favorite movie or the name of his girlfriend.

The day before yesterday, which would have been Sunday for us (like I said the dates on here are not right) we ate dinner at a restaurant called On the Rocks, which had excellent Indian food, unfortunately, our gin and tonics were not served "on the rocks" and though the liquor was probably no stronger than normal gin, it was quite a stiff drink. Our auto driver agreed to take us to our hotel for Rs 50, but he didn't know exactly where it was, so we were nice enough to let him stop a little early so he didn't have to search for it down the narrow streets (it was a short walk, but would have been hard for an auto). He then insisted on Rs 50 a person and wanted Rs 100. I had half a mind not to pay him a single rupee, but instead Brittany and I gave him a stern talking to, which he probably didn't understand, but I'm sure he got the message. I then gave him the 50 rupees agreed and stormed off.

We got back to our hotel late and crashed. All throughout the night Brittany was sick and we unfortunately had to stay in the whole day yesterday. Not all was lost as I got some good reading done and finished the Chronicles of Narnia. If you have kids, these are a must read, surpassing Harry Potter in depth and story. Of course, CS Lewis was a well known writer and theologian, so the Christian allegories might be a turn off, however, I have strong feelings that Christian or non-Christian, these stories are significant and amazing for children of any belief. As for adults, as a Christian, Narnia never meant to me what it means to me now, but seeing Aslan, the Great Lion, throughout the books was moving and put many things in perspective for me.

After reading, Brittany and I spent a great deal of time in intense prayer. I wouldn't say that God healed her on the spot, but we were soon very tired and sleep came pretty easily. Throughout the night the power went off, and without the rumble of the air condition, the sounds of the city awoke us several times. Every dog in the city must have been barking, and we heard dog fights several times that sounded like it would have been right outside our door. When you have no power, and the eerie sounds of dogs howling and fighting start it is hard not to be scared. Furthermore a repeating, but not rhythmic, pounding arose, which we still don't know what it could have been. Suddenly the dogs stopped howling and the power came on within a minute of that.

It rained this morning when we first woke up, but by the time we were taking an auto to town the rain had stopped. Things don't open up until at least 9:00am here, but usually later than that. Today we'll try and see the fort/palace on the mountain and tomorrow we will try and bus to Udaipur. I like this city, but the streets are narrow and there is dung everywhere. Shop keepers spend a lot of time cleaning outside their shops in the morning, but if they do anything, they partake in throwing trash all over the ground. India was used to being able to cast disposable things like banana leaves made into plates, but Western society overtook is so fast the habit was never broken when non-biodegradable materials started coming into use.

I attempted to upload pictures here, but no success. There is one more internet cafe to try it at here in Jodhpur, otherwise we'll have to hope for the best in Udaipur, but I'm excited for you all to see them as they are of us at the Taj Mahal.

Of course, Brittany and I both wish our respective and each other's mothers happy Mother's Day.

Delhi Belly: I has it

2008-05-11T00:42:00.000-07:00

We were sick of Agra before we ever left it, and I was sick in Agra before I left it. I sat at the train station on the brink of throwing up, while we waited for our two-hour late train. Two hours late is actually considered on time in India. That's why if you've seen the Darjeeling Limited it is funny that they are always late for their train, as trains are always incredibly late here. And it's no wonder as our train made frequent stops for lengthy amounts of time for no apparent reason.

But I was sick. I knew I was going to throw up, so I rushed to the train station bathroom thinking I would have to hang over the squatty-potty until I finally just puked, but there was no waiting to it. Every ounce of water and food I had had in the last few hours exited my system. I thought drinking water would help, but I only felt even more nauseated. I'm sure you don't care much to know the gross details of my 12 hour train ride as I laid in the sleeper on the brink of something-or-another the entire time. My body wasn't processing water, it went straight through me (or came back out the way it went in). At one point I even threw up on the floor in the very close area of other persons, who were fortunately completely unphased.

We finally arrived in Jodhpur, Rajasthan. Rajasthan is a desert state, and we were in awe along the way to see the red sandstone desert, mountainous hills, and open desert. By the time we arrived in Jodhpur it was dark and had just rained. Of course, there were the usual touts trying to take you to their hotel. The way it works is, if you use an auto to get to a hotel, that auto gets a commission and therefore your rate is higher. So, we had an auto take us to the clock tower, a historic landmark of Jodhpur, which we agreed to for Rs 30. But he claimed the clock tower was flooded and he would take us to our guesthouse (hotel) for free. Of course he would. So we got out and he insisted we agreed to Rs 35. Brittany told him he was dishonest (I would have had a thing or two to say if I was feeling better) and we stormed off to find the clock tower nearby and not flooded in the least bit.

We used the clock tower and the map in the Lonely Planet guide book to find the hotel we were looking for, and so started to make our way in what we hoped was the right direction. The same auto driver came up and begged us to let him take us to the hotel, and then Brittany and I both gave him a piece of our mind telling him he was dishonest and had no honor because the clock tower wasn't flooded at all. He soon got the message that we weren't worth his time and left. Of course we got lost on the way to the hotel, but after a little over an hour of backtracking and asking directions in the heat of the night we finally made it. It was a nice hotel and I managed to get shower in, which was much needed. When I was on the train I was sleeping, which meant I wasn't wearing shoes, but I soon found I didn't have time to throw on my Chacos in my rushes to the restroom. Squatty potties are the last place anyone should be barefoot.

The owners of the hotel were just as our guidebook said, honest and family owned with great service. It seems that every time someone in this country is deceitful and malicious we find someone who is honest and helpful. Jodhpur is the blue city. We woke up this morning, and I was feeling a bit better, and we ventured to the rooftop of our hotel (which proved relatively high). When they say Jodhpur is blue, it is. Every building, whether faded or rich, is blue. It sits at the foot of a mountain which is lined with a great fort called Meherangarh, which we plan to hit up tomorrow.

I hope all is going well for all of you, and I hope you are keeping up with things on this blog. This internet cafe will probably let me upload my photos onto Facebook, so next time I come I'll be sure to bring the cord to do so.

Quick New Post

2008-05-09T02:42:00.000-07:00

Well, it's hard to go in to depth about anything, but I have 15 minutes left at this internet cafe and I figured I'd say a bit more.

Today we went across the river and through a garden to get another view of the Taj Mahal. As it is Friday (the dates on these blogs are off) and it is closed on Friday, we had a tourist-free view of the building. I have great pictures. Arrogant Bastard Ale is an expensive beer that I had once that was just awesome. I read their web site and apparently if you get your picture in front of a totally awesome place you get free stuff. It was hard, but I managed to pack an empty bottle and get a picture in front of the Taj Mahal. Cheers.

PS. The beer here sucks. I tried the popular Kingfisher and it was like Bud Lite. I was hoping for a good India Pale Ale, but alas, none. Oh well, drinking can be expensive here, so I haven't really gotten into it, just the one beer last night.

PSS. Whiskey is huge here, I'll bring you back some, Chris.

The Perfect Place for Chick-fil-a ads

2008-05-08T21:18:00.000-07:00

After my last post we managed to get to a train station and book tickets to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. So, here we are. Brittany finally got her salwar kameezes from the tailor, and they look great. Then we hopped a train to Agra. After getting off we were immediately bombarded by touts who we had to be vicious towards to get them to leave us alone. One auto driver saw that we carried the India-travel-bible The Lonely Planet guide and recommended one of the hotels in it. He offered to be our driver for the day, much to our benefit as it meant we had a driver in waiting and saved money on auto fees, plus he served as a good guide.

VK is a Muslim family man, clean shaven, wearing a polo shirt and slacks. He is obviously hard working and has an on-hand log of testimonials by other people he has been a driver for. In India, scams are prevalent, and best avoided by never paying for anything in advance. VK showed signs of honesty and also allowed me to pay him the last minute. Everyone here wants your money, and you would think they've never been turned down as disappointed as they look when you walk into a shop and don't buy anything. "Just looking" doesn't really translate here as every shop owner has a lengthy presentation in an attempt to make a sale. We looked at sitars, marble (the real deal, quite nice), and fine rugs all while anticipating the grand finale of seeing the Taj Mahal (we might have gone first, but VK advised that the later afternoon was best as the heat isn't so bad [you must walk barefoot in the Taj] and it looks best closer to sunset, this proved to be invaluable advice).

After turning down jewelry, sitars, marble, and rugs (which usually ranged well above Rs5000/$130USD) we finally made it to the Taj Mahal. Waiting in line wasn't too long, although it would have been more bearable had the street merchants (and by that I means kids with pens and key chains) people claiming to get you to the front of the line at a ridiculous fee left me alone. Alas, no amount of rudeness dampens the Indian desperation to sell, but stern ignoring seems to do the trick with most.

Was the Taj Mahal as glorious as they say it is? Absolutely. My dad went on an Alaskan cruise for his honeymoon and came back talking about how glaciers are kind of plain in pictures, but in real life they are magnificent and beautiful, and even his pictures (admittedly) did little to capture their beauty. And yes, the Taj Mahal is just like this, as majestic and glorious as historians have claimed it is. It looks bigger than the pictures and the intricate marble work is overwhelming. No picture could accurately show how the sun glistens off the side of the dome, or the marble work, in its detail, is divine (not literally, unless you're Muslim). Beauty is an understatement, though, I doubt few, if any, words could tell you just what the Taj Mahal is. I was content to sit on a bench, a prime view, and watch the Taj as the sun sank.

Agra is a Muslim hotspot, and I've found most Muslims to be more honest and friendly than the Hindus. I think their religions calls for honesty and so they tend to be more dependable. I know Muslims get a bad rap in America, but here in India they tend to be good people.

Yesterday, while shopping a Seihk (sp?) was asking about me. Personal questions are common in India, and I'm more than happy to chat, but things are quite different here. Bush is very frowned upon as he is blaming the food and gas problems on India and China. It seems every day there is something in the paper about how Americans eat too much or how the American lavishness is running up cost of everything. It's not that India and China aren't partially responsible for the increase in prices, yet there's something to their accusations. Brittany and I married young for Americans, but in India it is usually a slightly older man and a very young woman (however, the 16 years olds getting married in America greatly disturbs most Indians, but I assure them it's not very acceptable in America either). Having no kids after a year and a half of marriage is really disturbing to Indians, and they speculate that we aren't happy, not having sex, and/or infertile. If you haven't had kids something must be wrong with you, and there is no explaining of it being normal in America.

Most Indians just assume we are rich since we had the money to be here and because we are big people (meaning we have much to eat), and in a sense we are very rich. When we don't buy something we like because of money, most of them are shocked because most Americans who come through their stores have the money to buy anything they like. Of course, there's the other end of the spectrum where several hippies and backpackers come here, but they don't hit up shops. So, I suppose we're somewhere between.

It is taking time to get used to some of the customs. Where we tilt our head to the side or bobble it for uncertainty, it's a "yes" here. Then you never hand or receive something with your left hand, as they don't use toilet paper in India. There is no such thing as cell phone etiquette. Talk as loud as you want. No one here takes initiative. If it's not their job, it won't get done. Need change, but the clerks drawer is out? Too bad, they wouldn't ask a neighboring clerk to hook them up.

We had dinner at our hotel, where we met some fellow Americans and chatted for a bit. Rumors of Rajasthan excite me (we leave for it tomorrow morning). I'm sure to avoid the "bang" lassi (lassi is a delicious yogurt drink, bang refers to hash), but am excited about the blue city of Jodhpur (sp?) and Udaipur.

I believe that those of you who are not Facebook users may access my pictures via this link. Once again, if it doesn't work either get Facebook or simply e-mail me at cowardmATgmailDOTcom (replace the AT and DOT with the appropriate symbols, I cannot post it here for risk of spam). Brittany says I added crappy pictures, and I probably did as I could only view them by the thumb nail and was in a hurry. Still the Beetlenut pictures are priceless. I can't add the Taj pictures just yet, but I will first chance I get. Also, these posts should now be importing to my Facebook Notes.

It’s September now and I’m editing this for spelling and grammar leaving the details and writing style intact. As a vital historical note, I wanted to say that VK wasn't as honest as we would have believed. Even though we were more informed than most tourists, we were still fresh. Anytime an autodriver takes you anywhere, particularly if it is a place he recommends, there's a good chance they are trying to make commission. I'm almost sure VK made commission off of our hotel, and had we bought anything from the sitar, marble, or carpet shops he would have made a decent profit. He recommended a travel place for us and the tickets to Jodhpur turned out to be about $20 or $30 USD more than they should have been. I blamed it on the travel agency, but in retrospect a big bit of that price-gouge must have gone into VK’s pocket. I liked him and am disappointed to think about it.

Saris and Cellphones

2008-05-07T03:11:00.000-07:00

I've tried multiple ways to upload pictures. If you're reading this it means Facebook worked. If there's a way to share it with someone who doesn't have Facebook I'll do my best to link you to it, otherwise, get Facebook and befriend me if you want to see pictures (I'll accept any request within 48 hours). It is restricting as there are over 300 pictures already, so I must be discriminate, and I am at the mercy of my hosts. The computers and internet here are very inconsistent (mostly the computers). If you don't have a Facebook and didn't receive an invite, just e-mail me. On a quick side note, the salwar kamese you see Brittany in is a ready-made salwar suit, which was too big on the bottom and small uptop. She looks great in it, but she has three fitted ones on the way which will look much better.

Well, the banking issue is resolved for now, and hopefully the end of my problems in that area. Another day has come and things are good. We have met such wonderful and generous people here. Our hotel was next to the church we went to on Sunday, but the pastor, Tony, offered us the guest bedroom. I, of course, don't mind making a donation in light of that. That's just a small example of what God has been doing here. We have also met (through Kate, the contact my former college-mate Andrew put me in touch with) several awesome people. VJ and Emma (married Indian and Australian, respectively), Carry-Anne (Kate's South African roommate), Johann, and today we met Lynn.

As I said, God works wonders. Of course, Kate is certainly an example, as I cannot stress enough how helpful and sacrificial she has been. Lynn is an answered prayer. Brittany and I faced some complex money issues that we genuinely believed to be the work of "the Enemy" (could it beeeeeeeeee Satan?). Most of you know me to be reluctant to accept superstition or mysticism, but I have little doubt that the Enemy was hard at work as things were too complex and unusual to be consequence. It seemed like the things we normally could be secure about fell through. So, in the park, waiting for the internet "cafe" to open so we could figure out the banking situation we prayed. Within five minutes Lynn found us. She recognized us from the church, though we didn't recognize her.

She is a South African lady whose husband is out on town on business, and as Tony (the pastor) is away he extended his house to her. She asked us to tea and lunch, and allowed me to use the internet, which proved priceless. Furthermore, God is more than provided my needs by allowing me to stay here for a little while to update the blog and try and upload pictures. Because time is short and this keyboard is uncomfortable, my lack of details may make my story a bit unconvincing as a "miracle", but I assure you that God was at work here.

The thing about traditional Indian women's clothing is that a sari or salwar kamese makes just about any Indian girl very beautiful. I don't mean beautiful as in sexual attractive, because even the older, large, and/or unattractive women still appear beautiful in them. Furthermore, the style of dress here is so natural. As shapes and colors that would normally clash in our bedrooms or in our clothes are actually mixed and matched in a beautiful ways throughout nature, the clothes compliment this mentality. I don't know if that makes sense. I suppose it makes a little. Once again, time is short.

We have done so much, but tomorrow is the Taj Mahal, we hope. I apologize that I am not taking the time to grammar or spell check (most of the computers here don't do that for you, either). I hope all is well wherever you are.

Delhi: Where not to get rickrolled

2008-05-06T04:07:00.000-07:00

Once again, pictures aren't much of an option and I fear they may not be in the future. I apologize as you are missing out on our experience. It's been an incredible few days.

Sunday we went to a church. Christianity isn't banned in India, but it is frowned on and there are many restrictions that we do our best to respect. The church was incredible and it was wonderful to see people of so many nationalities (New Zealand, Australia, India, America, South Africa, South Asian, etc) worshiping together. God is working here in Delhi, and his love is spreading. The Christians here are not "missionaries" or "evangelists" and even find the "missionary" title a little offensive as it is not much of a Biblical term. No, they chose to live among the people in India and love them, and let Christ’s love move people as opposed to touting them with religion.

The first three nights we spent in a hotel nearby, which was pricey and even annoying as the owner was desperate for our business. As funds run tight due to some banking issues, we can't afford Rs (rupees) 2500 ($60US), but God moved very quickly. The church has allowed us to use a guest bedroom for a donation. I can't thank them enough.

We spent Saturday arranging for Brittany's traditional Indian clothes to be made (salwar kamese). Then Sunday, after church we went to another bazaar (market) which was very poor. It was quite an experience.

Yesterday was our first day without Kate and her friends' help. We went to Connaught Place, which is in the central hub of New Delhi. With all of the "touts" manipulating us into using their travel agencies (we are not so easily fooled) we were worn out by Connaught Place and decided to walk south to the India Gate. It was very neat to see, almost like their Arc de Triumph. There was a man with monkeys and he did a show for us and tried force us to pay him afterwards. This happens a lot here. You get a tour from someone seeming to just want to practice their English or find out where you're from, only for them to hit you up for money afterwards. I'm cheap, too bad for them.

We then walked to Lodhi's Garden, the 400 year old tomb of King Lodhi. The gardens were glorious; however, I was more struck by the tomb itself. It is the most beautiful thing I've seen in India thus far. There was Quran scripture carved into the wall that gave me a sense of awe. I'm not a Muslim nor do I speak the language that the carvings were in, but it was somehow moving in its beauty. I have a feeling a picture couldn't even explain it.

Today we traveled to Old Delhi, which is the ancient area of Delhi. It has little British influence and is dominated by Muslims, as one of the largest mosque in the world lies there. First we went to the Red Fort, a gigantic military fortress. There were some old barracks that might have been British built, but the fort itself was Indian. What was more interesting was the mosque not too far away, which was really incredible. You take your shoes off (as you must many "holy" places). We marched up the stairs of a tower to behold all of Delhi. It was pretty scary how high we were. If I ever build a temple, remind me to throw in an elevator...just saying.

The primary means of transportation is an auto-rickshaw, which is much like a three-wheeler with a carriage built over it. We take them everywhere (we are across the street from a market, so they are readily available). It's strange how frugal we must be with money, parting American-cents-worth of rupees for each ride, but it is the way of things here. The ride reminds me of the bus ride at the beginning of the third Harry Potter movie. We somehow manage to survive each ride, but I wonder how we made it past the two buses, three motorcycles, and eight cars all jostling for our spot (there are no lanes). Crazy, yes.

I'm sure I left something just glorious out, but time is of the essence. I hope you are keeping up with this blog, and it's not a waste of my rupees.

I Hate Amsterdam Airport

2008-05-03T08:59:00.000-07:00

For those of you who didn't know, I landed safely in India. The travel guide said that India smiles on those who go with the flow, and I thought I was prepared for anything, but I hadn't prepared for Amsterdam. Our flight had a three hour layover in Amsterdam, and after spending 15 Euros on a egg biscuit and a beer ($30) I started to realize how much I didn't really like Amsterdam. Long story short, my Visa check card might have been put on hold as an identity theft device. My fault for not letting my company know. What wasn't my fault was the overcomplicated phone systems in the airport along with the inability to dial an 800 number.

But we landed safely in India, just in time to see a mad rush at the airport as some popular Indian wrestler had arrived with us. Our connection, the wonderful awesome Kate who Andrew was good enough to put me in touch with, was there to greet us with a friend of hers and had arranged a taxi and hotel for us. Now, if India was a person, it would be one of those vivid charismatic folks you meet who you know everything about, whether you like it or not, within about five minutes. And for every redeeming quality he might have there's a clashing character flaw. India is that guy, but unlike "that guy" India is somewhat endearing. But "clash" is all too appropriate a word as India embodies the very idea of clash. The old and new, the pungent and repugnant, the sweet and the salty, et al.

If there's one thing you can guarantee, it is that every taxi/auto ride is an adventure. "Life or death" might be an exaggeration, but it is a hell of a ride. Through experience, attentiveness, and lots of beeping of the horn our driver navigated us safely to our hotel. While in the U.S. a horn honk might mean a derogatory or profane exclamation, a horn honk in India doubles (almost exclusively) as a "hey there, I'm right here" or "excuse me, I’ll be turning left now" (speaking of left, that's what side of the road they drive on).

India has a strange smell to it, but I quickly got used to it. Have I fallen in love with it? Well, it's a great first date, but probably only because I knew what was coming. I mean, where else do you have to scour every shop for toilet paper? Speaking of toilet paper, being left handed is somewhat unfortunate as it is for unclean purposes and I have already handed some money to people with my left hand. Long story short, it’s not polite.

We managed to pace our sleeping to overcome jetlag, and Kate has been wonderful. Today we went shopping for fabric to have clothes made for Brittany (seriously, 3 salwar kameses cost like $60 max). We had the best Pizza Hut EVER for lunch (not a lot of Indian restaurants in our area) and then for dinner Kate took us to a nice little Indian place (and by nice and little I mean: really little and great food). Afterwards we went to her apartment for chai, where she was kind enough to allow me to use her computer and there was a small group of her Indian/South African/Australian friends fellowshipping with us as well.

Brittany and I have taken great care to start spending a great deal of time in prayer and in the Word. Spiritual warfare is extremely prevalent in India and we are constantly on our guard. Our plans are to spend a bit more time here and then travel to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. Eventually we'll see Rajasthan (dessert state), Karola, Calcutta, and Darjeeling. Who knows what else? Tomorrow we go to Kate's church, try and find a cheaper hotel (money isn't tight...yet), and try and plan the remainder of the week. I will have pictures as soon as I find a way to get them onto a computer. Delhi is not as beautiful as the rest of India (from what I understand) and I'm looking forward to some time in the north.

Please link this blog to anyone and everyone who would care. I will try and update it frequently.