HatHead

august 16, 1999

hi everyone – i’m back safe and sound. some final thoughts to leave you with:

–i used to be afraid of flying until i took an indian bus.

–the two main mantras in india are “not possible” and “no problem.”
the former is to be used in any situation involving financial negotiation
the latter is universally applied to all other situations

–had a great time and happy to be home after 43 hours in transit. will talk to you all in person soon!

love, o

august 11,1999

so patty decides to get homicidal and kill about forty flies (just call her ali “patty” baba). this brings a whole swarm of ants as cleanup crew. patty opens the window and lets them all back out, not realizing a number of them decide to park themselves in my suitcase. including my underwear. this morning i received new meaning to “ants in the pants.” i do not recommend it. and yes they do bite.
over and out
love, o

august 9, 1999

hello all –
 first of all, thank you to all who wrote me — mom, claudia, rick, apryl, charles, alexa — it is very expensive to do email here, so i have not been able to respond to everyone in person, but i am delighted to hear news from home.
i am in jaisalmer, a desert fortress in the west, near the the pakistan border (but not where the trouble is – still – they say stay away from the border…)
enchanting view, good food — in fact best cuisine we have had in india. tonight we take a jeep to the desert to see sunset and then stars. with beer. at risk of being abducted by strange jeep drivers, we insist on someone we know coming with us. sure, let’s drive out to the middle of the desert in a jeep with four indian men we’ve never laid eyes on before now — nope. not happening. patty and i agreed that a camel safari probably sounds a lot funner than it actually is. too hot and very saddlesore. “but madame, no one comes to jaisalmer without going on camel tour!” well we are no one. speaking of, there are a gazillion tourists here — mostly french, then spanish, italian, and israeli. no americans but us. too many tourists for me. i am so used to haiti, where we are the only ones. tourism has affected indian culture, and not in a good way. it makes everyone crazy. women get double whammy – give me your money, give me your body. uh hunh…

in india they have a long history of political unrest and war. so many fortresses and relatives deposing and imprisoning other relatives – it almost seems the expected thing to do (lock up dad and announce, i am maharaja now!) saw some gruesome weapons which have seen a lot of action and have actual blood stains still on them. well…maybe…

have started to read indian books – no more gurus, unveiling india, may you be the mother of a hundred sons, all very interesting
the drill goes like this – you go to the used book store, bargain for some books, read them, bring them back and use the returned books to bargain for more books –
kind of like a public library system with small fee involved as well as the entertainment of negotiating a price – it’s a twofer!

patty and i are kicking around the idea of hiring a jeep to take us back to delhi, via the shekhawati region, which is famous for frescoed walls, and not too touristed. i am looking forward to getting home. it seems at the end of a long trip is when the anticipation of homecoming brings on a little homesickness.
see you all soon!

love, o

august 4, 1999

dear friends — i am fine. i was nowhere near the train crash – do not worry! patty is here and i am rapidly developing a beer belly. she has corrupted me into eating meat too.
yesterday our driver mustafa, who is in love with both of us (he swore patty to secrecy), had his MOM cook chicken for us and we packed cold beer and chapatis and chocolate (only words beginning with “c” were allowed on this picnic) and we went to his friend’s horse farm where it is very beautiful and there is much shanti (peace) and stayed all day. his mom made the best meal we have had in udaipur so far – ginger coriander cardamom and love sauce. the best.
will take a train on friday, worry then. no not really. joke from patty.
love, o
ps laure — have you read “may you be the mother of a hundred sons”? i will bring it for you if not!
pps mustafa’s word for gay woman is “bachelor” – he keeps asking me if patty is a bachelor!

july 30, 1999

hello friends – udaipur is sometimes called the venice of india. it is very beautiful here and cleaner than any place i’ve been so far. there are two manmade lakes, with palaces in the middle of them. i am staying in a basic place with a beautiful view and cold beer on the roof (that is for patty’s benefit, she will be joining me tomorrow for some sun — dharmsala has been cold, rainy, and moldy!) i have been driven around by mustafa, a rickshaw driver, and vicky (nickname, but male), a playboy.  once a man latches onto you here, he is like a burdock. vicky took me to a big hindu ceremony in a temple 10 km outside town. now i know why everyone went to india in the 1970′s. everyone began smoking pot and hash including our rickshaw driver. i declined to participate in the religious enlightment of drugs. miles from town and he’s stoned, and there there is no headlight on his rickshaw (it is pitch dark by now with no streetlights). imagine a tiny invisible auto rickshaw on the road in the dark, with gigantic overloaded trucks swooshing down on you like maniacs. i was not happy, but lived to tell the tale.

the best thing i have done so far is to go out to the country with mustafa and sit in a peaceful horsefarm.

only other news is that a monkey puked on me in the agra rail station.
having a fine time!

love, o

July 25, 1999

hello friends – the taj mahal is even more beautiful in person. hired an ancient bicycle rickshaw for the day driven by mangla. i figure an old geezer must be a good risk, since he’s made it this far. he is great too, very nice.

saw the agra fort – so interesting
talk to you soon

varanasi retrospective:
some big fat lady was pushing me and i turned around to tell her to cut it out and it was a big white cow!

love, o

july 23, 1999

hi everyone  — thanks for writing to me! just a quickie to respond to questions:

1) in the temple i sat with my legs straight out in front of me (on the floor) because my long skirt was too wet to get my legs crossed inside of it. the temple guard told me to pull my legs up. then the guards started throwing out indians who perhaps were not hindu or believers and seemed to be hanging  out in the temple socializing, or smiling too much or something. at that point feroz (who is muslim) and i decided to leave before we suffered the ignominy of being kicked out.

2) traveler’s advice — always have a small carry-on with essentials, including a change of clothes to tide you over for a few days in case your luggage is held up. (i actually did this but left a few important things out as i had to do it at the last minute in the airport when they told me my luggage was too heavy to carry on). i actually don’t miss my luggage much.

3) yes i have been in contact with patty.

yesterday went to sarnath for the afternoon where there is a large complex of buddhist and (one) jain temples. there was a stupa commemorating where the buddha spoke, and many ruins (mostly foundations) of other temples. then went to the burning ghat where hindus bring their dead to burn their bodies on wood pyres (300 kilos of rainforest wood for each body — there is electric technology now, but it is not popular). after three hours they put the remains of the body in the holy river. certain people are not eligible for burning — lepers (their karma is too bad), snakebite victims (they might poison the air if they are burnt), sadhus (they are too holy already), children and pregnant women (also too holy already). these people are all weighted with a stone and put in the river. it is said if you die in varanasi you will go directly to heaven. but i’m not ready yet….

i took a sitar lesson, but found the instrument too strenuous for me. have been taking yoga class every morning. had a massage yesterday. all of this has been taking place in the temple/ashram/music school around the corner. the place has been 7 generations in c’s family. he is a ravi shankar lookalike (did you know shankar is from varanasi?) who walks around all day in his lungi (that’s indian talk for man’s sarong skirt), a halo of hair sticking straight up around his bald head. he wears the string around his body signifying the brahmin cast. his wife m. gave me the massage and she was excellent.

today i might have time for a tabla lesson and i have also been invited for dinner before my train.

here is an idea of prices: yoga class = one dollar, massage = 7 dollars, sitar lesson = 2 and 1/2 dollars

today i am taking the overnight train to agra to see the taj mahal before returning to delhi to retrieve my luggage. am hoping that patty will descend from cold rainy mildewy dharamsala and join me in sunny sandy jaisalmer instead.

love, o

july 21, 1999

hello friends-

how’d she get to varanasi you ask? well, it’s like this—-a Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Railstation. i met up with two dutch guys from holland (haha are you paying attention?) these guys are so nice – marco and arend. you know, gay people have incredibly equal rights in holland! but, i digress…i was going to the railstation to buy a ticket to jodhpur, having given up completely on my luggage and anxious to get the hell out of delhi and begin my adventure proper. so they said why don’t you come to varanasi with us, it’s great, full of holy people taking baths in the ganges. so here i am after a 14 hour sleeper train ride. the rail station is a trip! it is so beautiful here. the old city near the ghats (that’s indian talk for steps leading down to the ganges and there are about 90 ghats, all indecipherably and unpronouncably named) is a maze of narrow alleyways. no cars, no bicycles even. the alleys are about the width of our american sidewalks. full of sacred cows and sleeping dogs. alexa, the dogs look better here in india than they did in haiti! maybe more respect for animals here. a holy hindu city where the pilgrims begin each day with a dip in the ganges at sunrise. i found a basic place with a rooftop room for less than 5.00 a night. beautiful view of the river, and windows facing sunrise and sunset! there are monkeys running free all over here. i am afraid of them. how do you ask a monkey to step aside? politely.

(delhi retrospective: 1) i saw an elephant on the immensely crowded streets of old delhi. this guy was riding him. where does he park his elephant at night? 2) my hotel window became my tv, especially at night when fans went off and i was too hot to sleep.  there was always drama on the street below. a young couple lived beneath my window (3 stories down), sleeping on a piece of cardboard at night. 3) the indian women are like jewels. they are beautifully dressed in deep colors, and they never look hot or dusty. they perch elegantly on the back of motorcycles (sidesaddle). they have especially beautiful feet, which they adorn with graceful sandals, nail polish, and toe rings. since they can’t bare much else of their bodies, they make the most of a good thing. in contrast, we tourists look terrible –bedraggled, dirty, and dressed in frumpy clothes.

Laure thank you for your note –why are all of our beautiful dance friends getting pregnant and leaving town? hope it’s not catching! thank you rick too. congratulations on graduating!

so right after i booked my ticket to varanasi, emirates decided they found my luggage after all. i must return to delhi to get it out of customs – only because my birkenstocks and my DEET are in it. otherwise, i’d say forget it. so now i will hang out in quiet varansi for a while. thinking that rajasthan might be too much, in addition to dharamsala. may take the train out of delhi to amritsar and hang out there, then rail to pathankot, then bus to dharamsala, for anyone who is looking at the map!

my reading material is shakespeare — light to carry, and dense to read (will last a long time).

ok i am fine. talk to you soon. someone let know you got this email, ok?

love, o

July 15, 1999

hello dear friends – i am well and safe. the flights were long but uneventful. i almost got thrown out of a temple today. they didn’t like the way i was sitting. no, i was modest and all that, but they neglected to post the rules on the wall that there was only one way to sit. it was raining cats and dogs today all day. or should i say it was raining rats and mongooses? i met up with feroz who is showing me around. we went to the lakshmi temple (hindu) to get out of the rain. the guidebook describes it as “garish.” justified. but interesting all the same. we took our lives in our hands with a bicycle rickshaw and then autorickshaw.

emirates lost my luggage. i had packed only one bag with the intent of carrying it on (it was small!) but didn’t know that internation flights have rules about weight of carry-on. forced to repack quickly at logan, and threw in most (but not all!) of the essentials into my small day pack. patty – sorry but your q-tips and charcoal pills and alka seltzer are either in a) boston b) london c) dubai d) delhi airport. multiple choice, pick one.

ate last night in a south indian restaurant. very good food, cheap too. not  crazy about my digs – palace heights – hot and not big on clean. will investigate better digs for next time.

in the next few days will head out for rajasthan. probably jodhpur, jaisalmer, bikaner, maybe one other. (pushkar?) then on to dharamsala.

having an excellent time, wish you all were here!

love, o

A simple run to the Co-op for some feta cheese. The chunky brown girl at the cash register, sporting an indecipherable straightened hair style which can only be decribed as anvil-shaped, has not finished with the customer in front of me. Even so, she picks up my feta cheese and proceeds to inspect it. Carefully she squints and reads all the print on all six sides of the package. She turns it over and over again, rereading from each new angle, as though she might have missed the good part the first time through. I get nervous, shuffle my feet, stare at her in helpless fascination. Finally I can’t stand the suspense. “What do you think of the cheese?” I ask innocently. “It’s sheeps’ milk.” She looks at me accusingly. “Well…yeah.” I’m wondering where this is going. “I’m not a fan” she says flatly.

Have I missed something? Is reviewing customers’ purchases an important feature of the employee manual? And must she fondle so? Because at this point I want to take my cheese to the back of the store for a fresh unhandled piece. Should I speak to the manager? Maybe I should lurk around a bit now, to hear her weigh in on the food choices of the unsuspecting schnook behind me.

No. Too weird. My violated cheese and I leave the store, our collective tails between our legs.