Vol 85 India Part 1

Whew! I finally got my internet back in my apartment. Now I can tell you where I went in April. Drum roll, please........... Jaipur, India!

I didn't have very long but I made the most of the time I had. The ticket was only a couple hundred bucks and I didn't have to pay for hotels because I couchsurfed, so why not go for a quickie?

The couchsurfer I had arranged to stay with for the first couple of days had neglected to give me his phone number before I left. I kept writing to him and asking for it in the days before my flight but he flaked. So I landed in Jaipur with nowhere to go. My plane landed very early so I just lounged around the airport for a couple of hours until I figured things would be opening up. My plan was to find an internet cafe open and check my email, hoping that Sanjay would have finally left his phone number.

The problem with that plan was that NOTHING was open when I got into town. I could not find an internet place open. I could not even find a cafe open. So I walked around with my backpack on my back. I just couldn't believe I was in India with nowhere to go. And it was hot. Really hot. And I had bought new walking shoes that were not quite broken in. So I was sweating like a pig and developing blisters. Is it just me or does everyone have trouble with shoes when they travel?

I snapped a few photos as I walked but I mostly just gawked. Everything you have ever heard about India is true. It is hot. It is dirty. It is smelly. There are billions of people everywhere. They are all poor. There are people living on the sidewalks. There are beggars everywhere.

But there was something I had not anticipated; something I had never heard about.

There are urinals on the sidewalks. Open urinals. As in unenclosed. As in, I'm walking by this guy and he is peeing. Right there. 2 feet from me. No, I'm not kidding.

There are 2 types of street urinals. This kind is found when there is a long cement wall alongside the sidewalk. Sometimes they have a little half-wall around them like this. Most of the time they do not. Again, I am not kidding.

This type is found in market areas. As you walk down a busy street, if you look down an alley you will see a urinal about 6 feet in.

Another type of alley urinal, this one surrounded by construction mess.

I took this photo of a street vendor.

When I got back to Oman and looked at it closely, I realized this dude is peeing on the sidewalk. No urinal, just peeing on the sidewalk.

Ummm.... not sure I've grossed you out sufficiently so I'll just add that you should now also imagine what an Indian, outdoor, sidewalk urinal smells like. In the heat. Ok, got it? Allrighty then, let's move on from that, shall we?

Looking into courtyards, mini-temples are a common site.

As are (sacred) cows. Cows really can go anywhere they feel like. They just plunk themselves down. I came across cows in some pretty odd places. People just go around them.

These are bicycle rickshaws, a common way for people to get around. And just like in so many other countries I've visited, people just cop a squat wherever. I wonder why North Americans don't squat?

The "friendly" Jaipur police. See the sign above the window? "May I help you?" These dudes do not look helpful.

Tons of street vendors. One of the first things I did as I was wondering around was get a somosa from a street vendor. Heavenly.

This photo pretty much shows what the streets in India are like. Crumbling, decaying walls and asphalt with garbage strewn about for decoration.

In amongst the decay there are pockets of pretty, like the paintings on this building.

Apparently you don't necessarily need a shop in Jaipur. This street vendor has taken over the side of the road.

Every time I turned around someone was hauling something on a bicycle. Those are goats, by the way, not dogs.

Another sidewalk pottery shop.

Eventually one of the internet shops opened and I was able to check my email. Finally Sanjay had given me his phone number! I called him and told him I was here and he gave me directions to his house. I caught an auto-rickshaw and I was off. What's an auto-rickshaw?

This is. A 3-wheeled motorcycle with a canopied seat big enough for 2 or 3. They have them in Thailand too, only they call them tuk-tuks there.

This is Sanjay, my host.


And his wife, Anu. As soon as I arrived Anu fed me the Indian version of beans on toast. Simple but yummy. Sanjay left to go back to work and Anu and I chatted a bit.

Their daughter.

The view from their balcony. Yup, India is poor.



I shot this video from their patio.

It was really stinking hot out and I was really tired so I lay down for a nap...... and woke up 3 hours later! Sanjay and Anu were also hosting a couple of sisters from South Africa. They had been out when I arrived but they were home and on their way out when I woke up. As they were leaving and Anu's back was turned, one of them threw a note into my lap. I hid it until I had a chance to read it. It said: "Warning!!! These people will try to scam you!!! Don't let them get a taxi for you. We'll explain later."

How bizarre is that? Anu and I chatted some more and Cindy, the South African couchsurfer, and her sister, Viloshnu, came back. We all chatted until Sanjay got home from work. They took us to a fabric/clothing shop. I cannot buy ready-made clothes because I'm too tall for the pants and skirts and my boobs are too big for the tops. So I bought a fabric set for an Indian pant suit with matching scarf and figured I'd have something stitched back in Oman. It only cost me a couple of bucks so why not? Cindy and Vilo looked at a ton of stuff but bought very little.

We stopped at a curry shop on the way home for take-away, which we ate with rice back home. The curry we bought from this guy was incredibly good. In the same way that Thai food in North America is nothing like Thai food in Thailand, Indian food in India was sooooooo much better than I'd ever had. This guy was cooking up a storm. The guy in the background is pulling bread out of a tandoori oven.



Sanjay and Anu and their daughter went straight to bed after dinner so finally Cindy and Vilo were able to explain their note to me.

They told me that they had been traveling for a few weeks in India. It was Vilo's first time in India and Cindy's 5th time. Cindy is a very active CouchSurfing host back in Durbin, South Africa, but she had never traveled as a CSer before this trip.

They were not having a good time of it. They said that everywhere they went their hosts tried to scam them. Some of them owned shops they would pressure them to shop in. One of them offered to pick up train tickets for them, then wouldn't give them their change when he got back. All of them had taken them to their cousin's, brother's or uncle's shop where the girls were convinced their hosts received a hefty commission if they purchased anything.

Cindy told me that Sanjay had offered to get a taxi for them to take them around for a day, site seeing. He told her it would be 3000 rupees for the day. Cindy and Vilo had only paid 1000 for the same service in another Indian city so they declined and arranged their own cab. Apparently Sanjay had gotten quite upset, telling them they would never be able to get a better deal than he was offering. They ended up paying 900 for the day with the cab they arranged for themselves.

He also took them to his jewelry shop then tried to pressure them into buying. Earlier in the day, while chatting, Sanjay had asked me not what sights I wanted to see, but what items I wanted to buy. Ever the cautious traveler I had told him I was not much of a shopper. When he told me about his shop I told him I don't wear jewelry. He was quite disappointed and actually seemed to lose interest in me after that conversation.

As I was getting ready for bed, I looked in my wallet to organize it. It looked as though money was missing. The only money I had spent since arriving was for the cab into town, the street samosa, the internet and the auto rickshaw to Sanjay's. Hmmmm..... was there 500 rupees missing? I was not completely sure, but it seemed there was. So I made a very careful count of my money and decided to keep a close watch on it from then on.

Went to bed and slept well considering the lumpy mattress and the heat. Seems I have grown accustomed to air conditioning in Oman.

Vol 84 I Was Kidnapped by a Chinese/Arabian CouchSurfer

Let me tell you a little story.

I have not had internet at my apartment for about 3 weeks now. Every morning I ask the building guy "Internet?" and every morning he replies in broken English "Whole building. Bukrah inshallah". The literal translation of bukrah inshallah is "tomorrow, god willing" but the actual translation around here is "I have no idea when, maybe never".

This whole no internet thing has really cramped my style. Turns out, I'm addicted to the internet. I was lost without it, which was a bit alarming. I'm not supposed to use the internet at work for anything other than business and I respect that so I stayed away from hotmail, messenger and couchsurfing.

I got bored. I watched movies on my laptop. Then Angie arrived. Angie is a Scottish couchsurfer who lives in Australia. She was the first person I ever hosted, I think, back in November. She's great. Last time she was here we went hiking at wadi bani awf. There's a blog about it if you want to refresh your memory. The DSL line in my apartment was still sort of sometimes working for her first couple of days here. My sister tried to say Hi to me on Messenger one day when I was in the shower and racing for work. Angie told Michele I was not available.

Angie was here about a week and a half. It was pretty great. I took 3 days off and we went on a grand road trip. Perhaps I will write about it later.

Then she left and I was back to being bored. Back to watching movies on my laptop. I wasn't replying to anyone's emails.

Last week my Mom called me. I was at work but I happened to be near my cell phone. She said she hadn't seen me online on Messenger for a while. I told her my internet was down. She said "Oh" and I assumed she'd want to hang up, it being a long distance call to the Middle East and all. I told her I loved her and we said goodbye.

4 days later I got a call from my sister.
"Hello" I said.
"Hi, who's this?" she said.
"It's Susan, who's this?"
"It's Michele"
"Hey Michele, what's up, Buttercup?"
"Susan" she say's, "it's Mom".
Now seriously, with an opening like that I thought she was about to tell me that Mom was dead or in the hospital or something. "What about her?"
"She had a panic attack last night. She thinks you've been kidnapped by a couchsurfer or something".

I'm not shitting you. That's what she said. "What the......."

"She has been worried that she hasn't seen you online and she knows you haven't logged into couchsurfing"
"But I spoke to her a few days ago! She called me!" I said.
"I know, I know" she replied "but she thought it didn't sound like you. She tried calling you again yesterday and she says someone speaking what sounded like Chinese answered".
"Ummmm......ok......"
"Susan, she woke up this morning having a panic attack. She asked me to call you. I'm here with one of my Arabic speaking friends in case whoever answered could only speak Arabic"
"Ummmmm.........ok.........."

Honestly, how could I not laugh? I've been working my ass off at work, wracking up the overtime because we are short staffed right now, spending my nights watching movies on my laptop and they are sitting at home thinking I've been kidnapped by a Chinese/Arabian couchsurfer? Seriously????

"How do you know you're really talking to me now?" I asked her.
"Ha ha" she said. "Because I 'm talking to you. I can hear it's you"
"What if it's not me?"
"What's the name you call me as kids?" she asked.
"Poophead" I replied, knowing that wasn't it.
"Ha ha" she said "Come on, what was it?"
"Pretty sure I called you Poophead" I wanted to see if she seriously doubted it was me.
"You Goof......"
"I don't know, Michbushka, I'm pretty sure I called you Poophead"
I could hear her relax.

We hung up shortly and I sat there thinking "what the hell was that?" My sister has been here, she knows how safe it is. Kidnapped by a couchsurfer?

I got a text message from my Mom about 30 minutes later saying she was glad I was ok, that I am precious to her. I didn't know I could even get a text message from Canada. When I first got my phone here I tried saying Hi to a couple of friends back home and I got no reply so I assumed that meant I couldn't send texts home. I replied to her. And she replied back. Turns out it does work. So why didn't she just do that when she first started to worry about me?

Silly Mommie. Sorry to poke fun at you, but I will be snickering over this one for a while. Kidnapped by a Chinese/Arabian couchsurfer. Seriously.