MoWenck are okay! I must apologize for not posting a message here sooner to let our fans, friends, and family know that we were out of tsunami harms way. We were (are still) in Bangkok when the tsunami struck because of Biman Bangladesh Airways. Briefly*, the story goes like this:
MoWenck was scheduled to return to Bangkok on 23Dec04 via Dhaka Bangladesh on Biman Airways. The plan was simple, spend a night in Bangkok and then get Tyler's arse planted in the sand on a beach in the south in time for Christmas. Well as luck would have it-and it really turned out to be traveler's luck-my arse was firmly planted in an Airbus 310 seat on Christmas day en route to Bangkok after 2 nights in wonderful Dhaka, Bangladesh.
Our flight on 23Dec from Delhi to Dhaka was delayed (7 hours) and we missed our connecting flight from Dhaka to Bangkok. So Biman put us up in a hotel for the night and reassured us that we would be in Bangkok the next day. There were 15 of us 'stuck in transit'. The next morning we got up bright and early for our 1030 am flight and had breakfast. First we were told the flight was delayed. Then we were told that the airport was closed due to fog (the problem with that fib was that every 30 minutes or so a jet would fly over our hotel). All the while other Biman passengers are showing up and taking off from the hotel to their destinations abroad. At about 1400 everyone is becoming annoyed. There were 3 Indian guys on holiday who were really upset because they were paying $200/night for a hotel in Bangkok and they were stuck in Dhaka. The hotel manager (an employee of Biman) refused to allow us to go to the airport where we could speak-in person-to a Biman representative (speaking on the phone was getting us no where) or arrange alternative travel. At some point I asked a Biman rep-on the phone of course-if I could come and pick up my luggage...the answer was no.
Part of the problem is that we were 'stuck in transit'. That means we gave up our rights as human beings and apparently allowed Biman to do with us what they pleased. You see, as a 'transit' passenger you are not legally in Bangladesh. You have to leave your passport and ticket at the airport. If you leave the hotel, you are breaking the law. Finally, pissed and exasperated, I told the hotel manager I didn't care if I was breaking the law because I was being treated like a prisoner. He laughed and I proceeded to tell him that I was going to call the US embassy-a desparate bluff, I didn't have the embassy's number with me. The manager wishing to avoid an unpleasant scene (the Indian guys had just contacted their embassy) finally relented and promised to take us to the airport after lunch. So we ate a dismal lunch where all 15 passengers expressed interest in going to the airport to find out what was happening.
The hotel manager did not want to let all 15 of us go to the airport so after lunch he renegged on his agreement. Then it started getting crazy, the manager would only take 4 of us to the airport. Everyone wanted to go so this would not work. Then the manager after a long phone call-sensing mutiny-announced that we would be on the 1030 flight the next day. This appeased no one as we had been told that we would be on the 1030 flight that morning. Everyone gathered in front of the hotel as we prepared to flag down taxis to the airport. At this point the manager said we needed to sign a letter relieving him of all responsibility if we should get arrested or in an accident or anything else while on the way to the airport. We all refused. Then he told us that if we left there was no guarantee of a room if we had to stay in Bangladesh another night. The situation was deteriorating quickly. Finally we all agreed (the manager also) that 3 of us would go to the airport to sort out our business. I got a list of all the stuck in transit passengers names and together with 2 of the Indian cats we set out to the airport with the hotel manager. My goals were simple: 1) try to get us confirmed on a flight to Bangkok the next day; 2) find out about our luggage; 3) determine if there was any way to get to Bangkok that night on another airline. When we got to the airport the hotel manager gave us 15 minutes to go inside and get the information we needed, if we didn't make it back in 15 minutes we would have to find our own way back to the hotel. 15 minutes maybe an eternity in the West but in places like Bangladesh 15 minutes evaporate in a flash. You can't get ANYTHING done in 15 minutes but I was on a mission.
In the airport I went straight to the transit desk where there was complete chaos. There were many passengers to many destinations with the same problem. Biman couldn't possibly complete all of the scheduled flights, not with their limited fleet. Cooly but not so calmly I spoke to everyone until I got to the night shift supervisor. Finally someone who could help me...I got a confirmed list of passengers for the next morning's flight to Bangkok (we were all on the printout), I determined that our luggage was in Bangkok (went out on the overbooked flight at 1030 that morning) and that there was no way in hell I was getting to Bangkok until the next day. Satisfied we made our way to the designated meeting spot, it took me exactly 15 minutes to get all this done! The Indian guys were impressed. I was working on another time schedule-I knew the Simpson's was on Star World at 1830 and I didn't want to miss it (and I didn't).
Anyway, the next day we got to the airport and of course our flight was delayed**. After several hours at the airport we finally boarded an airbus 310: destination Bangkok. We arrived in Bangkok Christmas Day at 1530. It was 32 C outside. After some effort I collected our bags and we scooted away to our oasis in Bangkok, the Suk 11. We got there in time for a free X-mas dinner and gift exchange (we had plenty of crap from India to use as gifts for the exchange) and a cold beer (or 3). All I wanted for Christmas was to get to Bangkok and I finally got what I wanted# so all in all it was a good Christmas.
Of course the next morning the killer earthquake and tsunami struck the region killing and injuring tens of thousands of people. I was supposed to be parked on one of those beaches that morning but alas, I was in Bangkok and didn't even feel the ground shake. The scene here has become very dramatic with stories of survival, personal loss, and complete catastroph. It is looking like a very solomn NYE in Bangkok. If you have a chance please make a donation to the red cross or other organizations trying to help the people of this region. Thank you and have a safe NYE and a prosperous healthy new year.
NOTES:
*You know how 'brief' I am when I write a blog.
**Due to "Unavailability of Aircraft". As far as I can tell, every Biman Airlines flight starts with the saying: "We apologize for the delay due to unavailability of aircraft". And I have flown 5 times with Biman.
#I got my own gift from India in the gift exchange. I figure I can always re-gift it. LOL!
Our plan for the rest of India is simple: spend a week exploring the North and West of Rajasthan before heading South to the state of Gujarat and the beaches of Diu. Then, back up to Delhi via Eastern Rajasthan. On 19Nov04 we took an overnight train from Delhi to the the city of Bikaner in the Northwest corner of Rajasthan. Bikaner is located on the Northern edge of the Thar desert. Bikaner is an industrial city with little to offer in the way of tourist attractions especially when compared to the other popular destinations in Rajasthan (Jaipur, Udaiphur, Pushkar) but MoWenck figured we could kill some time exploring the old city (where we found a fantastic Jain temple) and the fort (that we never got to see because it was closed for local elections) while squeezing in a three day camel safari.
Bikaner’s proximity to the Thar Desert and relative obscurity make it an ideal place to arrange a camel safari. Within 24 hours of arrival in Bikaner we were on our way into the Thar Desert on the back of a camel. We opted to join an Italian couple on a guided three day safari. Joanna the juggling midwife; every time we stopped for lunch or the night, out came the juggling balls for practice; her partner Sylvio the equestrian mechanic whose chilom overfloweth with smokey-smokey seriously, this guy never missed a chance to spark up, were a shanti pair to travel with. Our guide, Babu, was excellent offering relevant information and allowing each of us to enjoy the safari in our own way-not to mention he was a good chef. The camel-men (boys?!?) were polite, respectful, and helpful. Then there were the camels.
Camels are nasty, smelly, and cantankerous by nature. You can lead a camel to water but you can’t make it drink-oh boy! Camel farts aside-and believe me, camels FART, our camels were pretty well behaved. While camels are ideally suited for survival in the desert they make less than ideal mounts. First of all there is that damn hump in the middle of the back. Second, every camel I saw came with an entourage of flies. Third, a camel’s gait has less rhythm than a middle-aged, white, Republican senator. All of these factors combine to make riding camels a literal pain in the arse. The locals don’t ride the camels unless they have to. Camel riding is a novelty reserved for Western tourists who have some romantic notion about riding a camel through the desert. After about 100 meters the novelty of being a camel jockey wore off for me. Unfortunately we had three full days of camel riding fun ahead of us (with breaks riding on the
camel-pulled cart as we pleased, so it wasn’t all that bad).
There is something special about being in the desert. It seems like a vast, parched, wasteland. Indeed deserts typically are vast and parched-and the Thar Desert was no different in that respect-but deserts are rarely a 'wasteland'. The desert teems with life, all beit a harsh life for the organisms that live there, it is life none the less. The Northern Thar desert has a type of berry tree (illegal to cut down) that grows just about everywhere. The locals come and collect the berries for consumption. The berries are not all that delicious-or nutritious I would imagine-but they are free. Other life includes antelope and vultures, lizards and snakes, desert mice, and much much more. It was amazing to travel through this desert and see some of the fauna and flora. Oddly enough (at least it seemed odd to me) the Thar desert is also home to many Indian farmers. The agriculture in the desert includes growing watermelons, during the monsoon, and other crops with irrigation during the dry seasons.
We would cruise into villages where the kids would run out to say 'ta-ta' (like 'good-bye'). At night we camped on the dunes. Sunset and sunrise in the desert provides such a pleasant variety of colors and the sky is wide open. At night for the first few hours we had a bright 3/4 moon that illuminated our meals. After about 0300 the sky was dominated by the stars and the milky way. Fantastic! As the Thar Desert is close to the Pakistani boarder and as I am like any red blooded American, I kept my eyes and ears peeled for any signs of Osama or Big Al operatives (not really). I am happy to report that we didn't come across any terrorists in the desert.
Just a little story about how India is dirty. In the Thar desert, we used the sand to clean our our dishes. After every meal we would first rinse the dishes with water and then use the sands of the desert to clean and dry the dishes. Who would have thought it, use dirt to clean your dishes? Now that is India!* At the end of our camel safari we stopped off at the famous "rat" temple where the rats are sacred and infest this Hindu temple. Capping the whole thing off with a half-hour rooftop bus ride back to Bikaner. It was a great trip.
Back in Bikaner we tried to visit the fort but as I mentioned it was closed for elections so we spent most of our time rapping with other tourists who were either coming or going on their own safaris.
We decided to break up the trip South to Gujarat with a stop in the city of Jodhpur (aka the Blue City). Jodhpur is another one of those cities without much on tap for the tourist-although Mo and I had fun walking through the bazzars of Jodhpur-except Meherangarh Fort. The fort is an impressive testament to the days of war, honour and extravagance that charactorize Rajputana. The fort is impressive and well presented with the best self-guided audio tour I have ever experienced at any museum (not saying much but this really was a good tour!). We spent a few hours touring the palace inside the fort and the grounds. It was really cool, especially the old weapons. While in Jodhpur we also managed to find a non-veg restaurant that served beer in which to celebrate Thanksgiving. There was no turkey but there were plenty of Indians-oh man that is a horrible joke, but I typed it so there it will stay. The food was pricey but equally tastey so all and all it was a good Thanksgiving.
A forray into the wilds (not really) of Gujarat or How on Mo's birthday Tyler got a free bede, chai (served in saucer), and gel pen or An
unsuccessful success:
From Jodhpur we headed South to the Indian state of Gujarat. We decided to break up this trip to the Arabian Sea port city of Diu with a stop in Ahmedabad, the capital of Gujarat and then Junagadh. We 'had' to travel first class air con on the train-technically we could have gone non-reserved hard seat but that really isn't an option for a 10 hour overnight hop. It was an interesting experience and despite the additional cost (~250 rupees/person) I'm glad we opted for the first class air con trip. As I've mentioned in an earlier blog, there isn't much difference between first and second class sleeper, at least on the surface, to warrant the price difference. The compartments are the same ('cept for the air con of course) but in first class they provide a pillow, sheets, and a blanket for added comfort. The good thing about ac, besides the climate control factor, is that it means the windows remain shut that in turn means less dust inside the cabin. It also significantly reduces the noise. After about 10pm, the first class car doors are locked so you don't have to worry about undesireables walking through the car and going through your personal desireables (possessions). In our compartment we had a nice family of four (they actually bought 3 seats!) and another gentleman who happened to be in the same caste as the family. They were certainly of a higher caste, they knew how to modulate their voices when they spoke (ie. they knew the difference between their indoor and outdoor voices) and they spoke superb english. It was quite a pleasant trip and I have to admit that first class is better but not at the price.
We arrived in Ahmedabad at 0630, not a particularly good time for the city
apparently. Ahmedabad is a sprawling city and by most accounts offers little in the way of tourist attractions (I've heard that before) or accomodation. As a matter of fact the guys on the train could not believe we wanted to get off in Ahmedabad. Despite their advice we got off at the station and found our way to the old quarter where we planned to find a room. The first place we checked didn't have a room available right away but convinced us to wait 'a few minutes' until a room was ready. While they worked on cleaning a room for us (and evicting some poor Indian family from said room) I wondered around the old quarter checking out other guest houses. I found the accomodation to be either to expen$ive or grossly-well gross. Eventually the room was ready at our first guest house but it was not up to specs for the cashish so we headed off to another place. We ended up paying a whopping 500 rupee/night for a clean room with cable tv. Our plan for Ahmedabad was again simple: we planned to explore the Calico Textile Museum (supposedly one of the world's finest-oh goody!!!) and the Ghandi Ashram/museum (Ghandi is Gujarats famous son) for a day. For Mo's birthday we planned on a trip to the Nal Sarovar Bird Sanctuary. Of the Nal Sarovar Bird Sanctuary our guidebook says:
A visit to Nal Sarovar...is best between November and February, when the reserve attracts colonies of flamingos, cranes, storks, pelicans,
ducks,and geese. Nal Sarovar is seen as a valuable asset by conservationists for a reduction in road building and industrial pollution, both fast drying out Gujarats remaining expanses of wetland.**
That sounds great but it is not very helpful for actually visiting the sanctuary located some 60 K out of Ahmedabad. We figured no problem, a visit to Ahmedabad's friendly tourist information office should answer all our questions about visiting the sanctuary. Our timing in India has been impeccable, as I read the information about the tourist office I realized it was the 4th Saturday of November, as it turns out the office is closed Sundays and the 2nd and 4th Saturday of each month. D'oh!
We decided to explore the old quarter of Ahmedabad (skipping on the Ashram and textile museum) on the way back to the train station where we would arrange travel to Junagadh. Walking through the markets of Ahmedabad was a lot of fun. Not many tourists, or Westerners for that matter, make it out to Ahmedabad and we were like celebreties. Inevitably we would be asked three questions: 1) how are you? 2) what is your name? 3) what country do you come from? Often all three questions were asked in rapid succession with little or no interest in the response. Because of this I started to have fun with the answers. Sometimes I would answer: 1) Well. 2) Tyler. 3) America. Other times I would be nasty: 1) Groovy. 2) Mountain Boy. 3) The People's Republik of Berkeley. or 1) Fine. 2) Rutheford. 3) Gamehenge. or 1) D'oh! 2) Homer. 3) Springfield. It became quite amusing for everyone involved.
We wondered through bazaars where colorful saris and cloth was sold, through spice markets, past jewlary shops and electronics shops etc. Mo stopped in a perfume oil shop and picked up some scents. It was a good time. We made it to the station to find out that our option was hardseat 7 hour ride to Junagadh our next destination in Gujarat. Swell. We made it back to our guest house and collapsed in front of the television. That night at dinner we discussed our options for the next day. We could visit the textile museum (where I am sure thrills abound) and Ghandi's Ashram, no problem; or we could go for broke and try to find our way to Nal Sarovar on our own. We decided to be adventurous and make a trek to Nal Sarovar.
Our hotel could get us a taxi service for ~$22.50# to visit the sanctuary, of course that was way out of our budget. Our other option was to try public transpo which Mo adeptly determined should be possible. So, early the next
morning we made our way to the state run bus stand and ascertained that it was
possible to get to Nal Sarovar preserve on the public buses with a transfer at
Sanad. Great! We were able to learn that the bus for Sanand left from platform 9 only problem is that all signs were in Gujarati! A kind gentleman showed us the way and as it turned out a bus was pulling away from platform 9. I flagged it down, it slowed up and the conductor jumped off to let Mo and I on. I asked the conductor if it was the bus to Sanad, he nodded in the affirmative but I was not entirely sure he heard or understood me. We hopped on to the moving bus and amazingly found a seat at the back of the bus. The conductor came back and collected our fare (12 rupees/person) and we were finally sure we were on our way to Sanand and hopefully Nal Sarovar.
Mo made an inquirey at the bus stand in Sanand (I'm a poet) and determined that the next bus to Nal Sarovar did not leave for an hour. So, we decided to explore our environs and find some lunch. Sanand is a crossroads village that has grown into a rural city. We walked down the main market street past fruit and spice merchants, shop keepers, and hawkers of every sort. We 'shared' the street with camel drawn carts and tractor drawn trailors and other pedestrians. It was dirty, dusty, and polluted-but then what Indian city hasn't been (I know, I know, Dharamshala, but I said that was no Indian city!). We found ourselves a dingy little hole in the wall with very high turnover and sat down to some fried Indian snack foods for lunch. The total came to 18 rupees for both meals. After that we bought some bananas and found our way back to the bus stand where our Nal Sarovar bus awaited us.
It is another 42 K to Nal Sarovar from Sanand. This bus was virtually empty with
only a few locals joining us for the ride into the Gujarati wilds (LOL!). Anyway the bus stumbled and bumbled its way down the road past rice paddies and camel carts stopping at a local village where all the other passengers got off. Finally we came to the entrance to the bird sanctuary (about 2 K from the village of Nal Sarovar) and the bus driver pulled over for us to pay our admission fees. Before we even got off the bus the driver and conductor were pleading our case. We were greeted by all the locals who offer their services as guides, rent bicycles, etc and by the official who collects entrance fees. The official informed us it would be US $5/person plus $5/camera to enter the preserve; the local price is 30 rupee/person or ~ US $0.80. You see, in 2001 the Indian Government decided to cash in on tourists visiting national monuments and parks-they created a two-tiered fee system aimed to penalize tourists. The two-tier fee system is not uncommon in Asia, and indeed it is almost impossible for me to pay the local price for anything-but what the Indian Government did is crazy. The entrance fees are too much for backpackers, and so they don't pay it. The bus driver as I mentioned was pleading our case to the official trying to convince him to let us in as Indian nationals. They parlayed our case to no avail and Mo and I were not willing to pay $15 to enter an undeveloped bird sanctuary. The guides and locals joined the fray but to with no luck. It was sad because the official, the locals, and the bus men all knew the two-tiered system was whack. In the end, the bus went on to Nal Sarovar without us, we waited at the entrance to the preserve for the bus to return and take us back to Sanand and Ahmedabad. Despite the fact that we never made it inside the sanctuary, Mo and I considered our little adventure a success, we made it there afterall.
When the bus came back around to pick us up, the driver was fuming-literally, as he had a lit bede in his mouth. The locals all said a bitter goodbye, they were not mad at us but at the two-tiered fee system. As I got on the bus the driver called me to the front of the bus and started ranting to me in Gujarati. Mo and I smiled and nodded-it was clear he was venting about the two-tiered system.*# Occaisionally I would say "not fair" and "30 rupee, yes. 225 rupee, no." I don't think he cared that we couldn't understand a word he was saying. He was clearly pissed. In the end he offered me a consolatory bede and we smoked in
silence.
When we got to the local village the driver dragged me over to the chai
stand for a tea and unscheduled stop. All the villagers gathered around as the bus driver told our story. Seriously, by the time I got my chai-served in a tea saucer and not the cup (this makes sense. The saucer provides greater surface area for the hot tea to cool and thus allows for quicker consumption)-there were about 40 people gathered all involved in the discussion. The elders of the village did most of the talking, the younger ones just wanted to know where we were from. Finally the bus driver began to tell me-half in Gujarati half in English-that I should write a letter to the Indian Government to complain about the two-tiered fee system.## We made it back to Sanand without incidence but found the bus station to be somewhat of a zoo.
It was chaos-people everywhere and lots of them, most of them, waiting to catch a bus to Ahmedabad. So Mo and I got 'in line' and a crowd grew around us as the locals started to notice the strangers in the strange land. People came at us from all directions, using the three questions to practice their english. Old and young, rich and poor, they were all interested in us. Eventually I befriended (or did he befriend me?) a young university student who spoke passable english (not just the three questions). A local policeman pulled up and joined the circus, joking with me and the crowd. He turned out to be quite a charactor. Finally the express bus for Ahmedabad pulled in, it was so full people were sticking out of the windows and door. The crowd surged and Mo and I were in the thick of it. Push came to shove, the bus started moving, people were still clammoring to get on-MoWenck were standing on the ground and at that moment we decided to wait for the next bus. It took another 30 minutes with several false alarms and much fun with the locals before we finally did get a bus headed for Ahmedabad. Before we left my new friend offered me a gift, a blue gel pen. It was so Indian of him to offer it, and so Indian of me to take it. LOL!!!
After all these trials and tribulations we found ourselves back at our hotel in time
to catch the Simpson's episode for the day (Bart divorces his parents and is granted his emancipation. Quote: "Half of my money goes to Vegas wife, half to Bart, what's left for Mo?" -Homer J.) That night I took Mo out to a fancy smancy all you can eat veg-non-veg BBQ joint complete with hookah smoke (we had apple flavor) and traditional Indian music. It was a nice treat for the both of us. The next day we planned to leave Ahmedabad for better or worse-taking the 7-hour hard seat unreserved second class only train South to Junagadh. Of course, we never made it to the textile museum or the Ghandi Ashram. Maybe on our way back through????
Notes:
*Although, I have to admit that on our safari I got to have solid bowel movements for the first time in nearly a month! Say what you will about the sands of the Thar desert but they worked wonders cleaning our dishes. I know that some people-most people-don't want to hear about my bowel movements but this is a blog about budget travel in India and any honest account of budget travel in India is bound to cover BM's sooner or later. For the budget traveler in India the stomache upsets or the trucks are as inevitable as the India Rail system or auto rickshaws.
**The Rough Guide To India, 4th edition; October 2001; Rough Guide Ltd.; London; p686
#I say ~$22.50 'cause I never know what the exchange rate is, all I do know is that it keeps getting worse. I've noticed a change from when we started traveling 7.5 months ago when the dollar was the currency of choice. Lately it has been swinging towards the Euro as the dollar continues to get weaker. What else should I expect? I mean George Bush got re-elected-the first incumbant president to be re-elected after presiding over an economic decline-and his economic record is about as good as Enrons. I mean, the guy NEVER was part of a successful business venture; every business he touched withered and died or lost money. In the immortal words of my friend Nic Doughdy, "He couldn't even run a baseball team and you made him president!" (TWICE!) Thanks a lot G-dub and middle America for letting me down.
*# This is just another example of poor legislative policy. Of course the Indian
Government is not the only government guilty of bad policy. The idea of the
two-tiered fee system is to protect locals while generating more money for the
government. As is usually the case when law is passed to 'protect the poor', what actually happens is the poor get screwed and the legislative body prospers. This case is no different. The locals were losing business because tourists were unwilling to pay the fees. Yet it seems that the constituencies continue to re-elect the legislators who continue to screw them-as a matter of fact, the more inept, the more corrupt, the worse the legislator-the better the official polls at election time. What the hell!??! This isn't just an Indian thing either, it happens everywhere. When will the people wake up? The poor will continue to be poor. To paraphrase from the Nobel prize winning author Gabriel Garcia Marquez, "The day shit is worth money, poor people will be born without assholes."
##That's right Nils, August and Marlowe, someone in India was telling me I should write down my complaints in a letter. Can you believe that? Me, complain? I guess it is my fate to write letters of complaint. Maybe I should write one about whining Mack "I am bitch" Brown and the BCS snow-job on Cal.