Friday, May 17, 2013

Welcome Home


Hello, hello! It has been a couple of weeks since my last post, and while not a whole lot has happened in that time, actually a whole lot has, so I felt I should write to update you all.

First of all, you may be wondering (or not): what the heck have you been up to since India, giiiirrrrll? (italics stylistic choice of author). Well, let me tell you.

Garrett and I got back on Thursday, the 18th of April, as I am sure all of you remember since I know you marked it on your calendars with big block letters and hearts and THANK GOD underlined three times next to it. I planned to stay in Phnom Penh through the weekend to regain my senses a bit and slowly acculturate back into life in Cambodia, but alas: the stars had other plans. It all began on the fated day of April 19th, 2013, at around 9:30 in the morning...

My boyfriend (that would be Garrett) left for work and after farting around on the Internet for a while, I decided to venture out and take care of some errands. I stopped by the PC office to do a few things, and then went on my merry way to buy a few groceries, whistling as I went and remarking on the lovely morning sunshine and the carefree song of the birds, chirping and trilling as they carelessly flitted from tree to tree... 

I was riding my bike on Preah Sihanouk- one of the main streets in Phnom Penh- when the newly constructed and sleek-looking bakery, Tous Les Jours caught my eye and I thought, Hey! I’ll get some bread for Garrett and me to try later, congratulating myself for my quick thinking and observant eye. I crossed to the other side of the street and continued towards the bakery, my mouth watering greedily as I fantasized about the warm, fluffy piece of heaven that was about to come into my possession. This day could not get any better, I thought. Well let me tell you: it couldn’t.

All of the sudden, WAM: a man sitting in a parked car just in front and to the right of me threw open his door without checking to see if anyone was behind him (read: me), thereby crushing the top of my foot with the bottom edge of the door as I slammed full force into it, still riding my bike at top speed.

Instantly I stood up, fuming and throwing around curse words like they were candy: What the hell did he think he was doing, throwing open his car door without checking to see if anyone was behind him?? What, does he think he owns the road, just because he has a Lexus?! Who the fuck (sorry, grandma) did this guy think he was? And, perhaps most importantly, DID HE REALIZE HE JUST CAME BETWEEN ME AND FRESH BREAD?!

I sputtered and heaved, furious at the injustice of it all (the birds had stopped their song at this point and I began to notice the sweat concentrating on my upper lip) and then looked down at my foot. And saw the pool of blood surrounding it. And quickly found myself kneeling on the ground encircled by a throng of onlookers, wailing for help, tears burning at the corners of my eyes as the guy from the car rushed over, wide-eyed and trying to help any way he knew how...

Now. Something you should know about accidents in Cambodia is that they are very common, and so reactions to them typically aren't very expedient; people stand around and watch when moto accidents occur, the "diffusion of responsibility" taking full effect as everyone gazes around at each other, waiting for someone else to make the first move. This was not what happened in my case, and I was very lucky for that. There were multiple people who jumped to action, doing what they could to staunch the blood (I'll leave it at that) and quickly finding a way to get me to a nearby clinic. I was impressed with how swiftly people moved, and felt something like "communal responsibility" take hold of those around me (whether or not this was simply a product of my being delirious is still up for debate).

I’ll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say that I needed stitches (six of ‘em), and was unable to go back to site at the end of the weekend as I had planned. I actually ended up staying in Phnom Penh for the next three weeks, going to the Peace Corps office daily to have Joanne- Peace Corps’ medical officer- clean my foot, check it for infection, and change the bandages.

As you can imagine, I was not thrilled with this turn of events. Don’t get me wrong: I greatly reveled in being powerless to do anything for myself, perhaps a little too much; week three looked something like this: L- I guess I can help you with breakfast… G- Are you sure? You don’t have to, if you want to sleep longer… L- Yeah, I guess you’re right. I should probably just stay here. I'm still in pain… (rolls over and snuggles back under the covers). G- *narrows eyes at L*). However, at the end of three weeks, I was ready to get back to site and catch up with people I'd missed: my family, Ohn. At this point it had been about two months since I’d seen them. It was a little hard to see Banya (the baby you’ve seen pictures of in this blog over the course of the past year), look like he’d grown twice the size of when I'd last seen him with twice as many teeth, a huge mop of hair, and now able to say “ba!” or touch! when my mom sticks him on her hip to bounce over to the posters of animals where he can touch a picture of an elephant or unicorn (a real animal in Cambodia, apparently) and proudly pronounce his new word with a big ol' toothy smile.

Anyway, I will wrap this up here since I’ve already gotten a little wordy (sorry about that- I can’t seem to consolidate my words/stories when I write… You should talk to me in person and then you’ll feel lucky). I promise to update very soon with a full report of the progress of my library (will it ever end? You know as well as I do the answer to that one), and other adventures/happenings at site, plus a discussion of my FEELINGS (oh no ruuunnn) regarding approaching the end of my service (July 7th is likely when I will fly out). Stay tuned and I look forward to writing to you/hearing from you soon. Don’t forget to comment, or if you’re too shy to do that, send me an e-mail! leah.mortenson@gmail.com. I’d love to hear what all of you are up to. :)

And now for the good stuff:


Frayyyynnnndddss. The night before my very good friend Amie (far left) headed back to America, and a few days before the start of the COS (close of service) conference for PCVs finishing up services in the next few months.


Taro ice cream with Oreos, half a Reeses Easter bunny, rainbow sprinkles, and a candle just for funzies. This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to not exercise for two months.


Mango picking with my Khman friend Sopia. I’m pretty sure he was bit by about a million fat red ants while climbing the tree to collect mangoes.


Rice fields in May.


I love Khmenglish


Getting my hair and make-up did for Khmer wedding photos. Pictures to come.


War wound.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Indian Epic FINALE!!: Varanasi and Darjeeling


... And so we meet again! This entry brings us to the final destinations of Garrett’s and my travels through India: Varanasi and Darjeeling, located in the regions of Uttar Pradesh and West Bengal respectively.

But first thing’s first: how’d everyone do with the riddles?? My mom’s the only one who tried these, isn’t she? DISAPPOINTING, YOU GUYS. Well in case you were wondering, the second one—as my mother correctly guessed (way to go, mom! You rule)— was a coffin. The first answer was—of course!— a towel. Now you have something to bug your friends/family with at dinner. :-]

Ok. Ready?


Our stay in Varanasi began after an overnight train from Agra. The ride was uneventful, the main source of entertainment being Garrett and me passing our cameras back and forth to crack up at how silly we were in various pictures (and for Garrett to repeatedly do that voice from the picture of him looking at the candy-coated fennel seeds: Hmmmmm)...

We got into the train station and took an auto rickshaw to the edge of town, where we got out and walked the rest of the way since the road narrows too much for rickshaws or cars to enter. We were peering around at our unfamiliar surroundings in an overheated daze when, as if by magic, an Indian man appeared, asked for the name of our hotel and then turned to walk away in a brisk stride, wordlessly motioning for us to follow…




There's our guy, with the scarf/towel over his head. He was super tall, which made it easy for us to keep track of him as we snaked our way through narrow alleyways- galis- and passed vendors selling steaming, yummy-smelling foods and colorful sweets behind display cases.











We had to dodge several motos and meandering, lackadaisical cows as we went.








After winding up seemingly endless flights of stairs through the galis, and continuously reassuring myself that this abnormally tall mystery man was not a masked murderer leading us to some dark, dead-ending street to our doom, we made it! Our anonymous friend leaving just as quietly as he'd arrived.



Our room was big and well lit, but the air- conditioning was off most of the time as management reserved the right to turn it off at certain hours to preserve energy... (I thought this reserved me the right not to have to pay for the A/C I wasn't using but apparently I was wrong...[passive aggressive?])






Luckily, the food at the roof-top restaurant made up for the crummy A/C. For our first meal in Varanasi I had a paneer parantha: a fluffy, air-pocketed bread filled with curried cheese curd, eaten with ketchup and washed down with a plain sweet lassi. So. Good. You. Guys.



There was a nice view of the Ganges from the roof. We could see the ghats—or flights of stairs leading down to the river-- and the strings of boats tied together at the water's edge. Below, people washed their clothes and took baths, pouring buckets of the polluted water over their heads... It's definitely not an ideal way to "get clean" but some people have no other option as it's their only source of running water.




In the afternoon we hid out from the heat until early evening, when we ventured out to take a boat ride on the Ganges. Every night at 7 there's a river worship ceremony called ganga aarti at nearby ghat, so we went for an hour-long ride to be back in time for the ceremony.







Setting up for the ceremony.










Our guide Monu was an eager-to-please and knowledgable 17-year old who talked with us about movies (he hadn’t seen Himmatwalla but had plans with friends to see a seemingly equally mesmerizing movie called Commando), and explained the history of Varanasi to us as we waded further into the Ganges.




Varanasi was originally called Kashi- meaning bright-and went through a series of other names before eventually coming to rest on its current one, which is a combination of the names of the tributaries on either end of the Ganges—Varuna and Asi.


We passed a burning ghat where a cremation was taking place.

In Hindu culture it is tradition to burn bodies once they’re dead, however there are a few exceptions to this. Children are considered sacred so if they die, their bodies are released into the Ganges. Similarly, pregnant women cannot be cremated, nor can those who died of snakebite or leprosy, since it is thought that the poisons in their bodies would be released into the air and be at risk to others.

As we got closer to the burning the smell actually got sweeter, meaning the person being cremated was wealthy enough to have his/her family burn sandalwood at the cremation in order to attain higher status in the next life.

Floating along we'd sometimes be overwhelmed with a powerful stench, at which point Monu would scrunch up his nose and point to a dead body in the water, floating along as casually as a piece of driftwood or a buoy... It was interesting to experience this- and to see how normal it seemed for Monu; as if seeing a dead body was just another part of the day, no more interesting or worthy of note than what he had for breakfast or what he planned to do later on in the day... Life begins and ends at the Ganges, so for those who live here seeing death face to face is not as big of a deal as we would think.

At this point we started to hear music from the ceremony so we turned back.





What we saw once we got there was pretty spectacular. Priests stood on platforms lit with colorful lights and candles, and chanted and danced on the stage while wafting incense in the air.







People crowded onto the steps of the ghat in an attempt to get the best view and boats pulled in at the edge of the water, tying their bows together to form a solid mass. As the ceremony went on, young girls hopped from boat to boat balancing wicker baskets on their hips to sell tea candles and geraniums in beds of banana leaves for viewers to send off into the Ganges with a wish or a prayer...



Here are a couple of videos to give the essence of the evening. The first shows the ghats before the ceremony, as they were setting up and people blessed themselves with water from the Ganges or took their evening bath (politely disregard Garrett's and my lame attempt at small talk about cricket with Monu). The second shows the scene as we move from one ghat where a smaller ceremony was taking place, to the main ghat where the larger one was starting. 

As we left the ceremony we were ambushed by a guy armed with bindi powder, who smeared the red paint on our foreheads and then expected a donation in return (*shakes fist*), but we were soon able to escape from the chaos by slipping into a cozy, quiet restaurant where we took refuge.



OMG. DINNER. We split a daal fry (a lentil dish), garlic naan which turned out to be sub-par (naan was not as great as we'd hoped it would be while in India), and a plate of paneer tikki (the yummy roasted cheese dish we had with Preena in Delhi) on a bed of white rice. We washed it down with glasses of lime soda with salt and sugar. NOM.



WHOA, DOUBLE WAMMY ON THE FOOD PICTURES. This is what I ate for breakfast the next day: a chocolate banana pancake with a glass of milk coffee. It was basically like a spongy crepe with banana slices in the middle, and chocolate frosting on top... SO GOOD. I had to steal bites of Garrett's the next day when I made the mistake of "branching out" and trying the cornflakes with curd... (Yeah, idk what I was thinking either).

After breakfast we went for a walk along the ghats. Our guesthouse was in the middle of the stretch of ghats, so we decided to just head out in one direction and see where it took us. We walked along the river, going up and down stairs as necessary, stepping around mangy dogs and trash, talking about this and that and nothing at all...







Tapestries drying in the sun














Munshi Ghat, one of the more aesthetically interesting ghats.











We saw another cremation taking place at the ghat we'd seen with Monu the day before. Monu said that there are about 120 burnings every day along the river. There are just over 80 ghats in all, but only a few are used for burnings.












This frightened and intrigued in equal measure.









It was now about 11 o clock and we hadn't eaten for AT LEAST two hours, so as you can imagine, we were more than ready for a snack. Garrett was **VERY CONCERNED** that we try this lassi place we'd read about in our guidebook, which boasted “#1 lassi in all of India” so we had to go find it to see for ourselves.

You guys...


...this is what we found. Creamy, yogurt-speckled lassis overflowing terra cotta bowls and flavored with banana, pistachio, and coffee for me, and apple for Garrett… It was SO GOOD and is definitely *IN THE RUNNING* for best lassi I’ve ever had (don't know if I'm ready for the full commitment...).

The lassis are made right in front of you by this guy equipped with just a few ingredients, a cutting board, and a mixing bowl, sitting on the edge of this small shop that opens into an alleyway. The walls are decorated with pictures made by former happy customers who were so moved by their Blue Lassi experiences they had to document them—with custom-made drawings and favorite flavor combinations to help out indecisive patrons in the future, and extra passport photos to leave their mark...








Those looks? Those are the looks of sheer and utter joy, my friends.









We spent the rest of the afternoon lounging at a pool, where we paid a slightly exorbitant sum to use the facilities… I KNOW I KNOW: why swim at a pool in Varanasi when you can swim anywhere and we probably missed out on TONS of cultural sites, things you can only see/do in Varanasi, etc... But it was HOT, you guys, and there was really nothing I'd have rather done than spend the afternoon in that lovely, cool pool (which happened to be located at a swanky hotel we never would have been let into otherwise, sooooo that was another big pull).

In the evening we found a restaurant on the main road at which we decided to dine based on the fact that it was packed with people, and very active and loud.


We each ordered a veggie thali, which was composed of chapathi (do you like how every food picture has at least one bite taken out of it?), aloo gobi (potato dish), a paneer dish with chickpeas, an eggplant dish, curd, and a bed of white rice.... As well as papad (the fried, tortilla-looking thing on the right), and sambar (a thin, tomato-based soup with lentils) to pour over rice or eat with breads… *deep breath* (Are you wondering how I didn't gain 25 lbs over the course of this trip? Because I am too).

Garrett got an almond lassi to drink (which was amazing- remember the apple crumble-like dessert from the previous post? There were basically chunks of this at the bottom of his drink), and I got a mango. This meal was SO GOOD and provided the perfect exclamation point to the end of our travels in Varanasi as we waddled back to our guesthouse, full to bursting and giggling at nothing and everything, finally passing out to the tune of Monty Python's And Now For Something Completely Different and the gurgles of our own well-fed tummies.

The next day we left for the train station after breakast to catch our train to Darjeeling. Since Darjeeling is in the mountains, you have to take a train to a place called New Jalpaiguri first and then take a shared van to get to Darjeeling. The trip was about 21 hours in all: 18 hours to New Jalpaiguri and then another 3 1/2 to Darjeeling.







Heh












If I was a mother in India I would DEFINITELY buy my children editions of Sports Ganesha. Just sayin'.






As it turned out, our train was delayed by almost four hours (this is not uncommon in India but was luckily the first time we’d experienced it), so we hung out in the “gents waiting room,” reading, eating clementines, and eyeing the other people in the waiting room until it was time to go...

I was a little worried we’d lose our minds on such a long train ride (this was the longest we’d taken yet), but somehow- between watching Parks and Rec (and probably making enemies with everyone in our car by laughing hysterically the whole time), eating dinner (this was especially exciting; train food in India is its own breed entirely), and watching Good Will Hunting (what a great movie! I can’t believe I’d never seen it… and that Matt Damon and Ben Affleck wrote it themselves. #impressed), and making googly faces at the happy baby seated across the aisle from us- we survived.

After stretching our limbs back into their normal positions, getting off the train, and gazing around cluelessly for a few minutes, we located a van headed in the direction of Darjeeling (yay!), so with a van packed full of people we set off on the second leg of our journey towards the hill station of Darjeeling…






It started to get pretty mountainous as we went further up into the hills.








And the temperature started to drop, which was a welcome change. It was kind of a shock to go from Varanasi’s heavy, humid, air to that of Darjeeling’s which was cold and dry. I probably could have stayed here forever.





The hair-pin bends just get sharper as you go up.

After practically everyone in our van had vomited (there was a family of five with two little kids who DID NOT do well with the bends), and we had gone around seemingly endless curves in the road, our ears popping as we crept into increasingly higher levels of elevation, we finally made it! We dropped off our stuff at the guesthouse, and set off to do what we do best: locate and eat food.






There was a nice view of the surrounding foothills/tea plantations as we meandered down the steep streets that led to town.







EEK THIS WAS SO GOOD, YOU GUYS! Since there's a large Nepalese community here (they say that the clearest Nepalese is spoken in Darjeeling), as well as a large group of Tibetan refugees, there are a lot of options as far as cuisine is concerned. We wandered into the first restaurant that caught our eye and ordered a plate of momos, or dumplings, and this chow mein dish with veggies, and split a large beer. As we munched on our food and drank our beer a little girl (I think she was the restaurant owner’s daughter) would periodically come over to our table to see if we'd become more interesting since she last checked in on us, stepping up to the edge of the table on the tips of her Uggs to peer up at us curiously.... Pretty much the cutest thing in the world.


From the center of town there was a road that stretched out towards the foothills so we walked out there to see the view of the surrounding area.






Tibetan prayer flags are strung up all over in Darjeeling.
















The View.






Having wandered around outside for quite some time now, we once again found ourselves growing hungry and decided to find some street food to try before it got too cold and dark. I forgot to take pictures of our meal (I KNOW: I didn't think it was possible either) but we split a yummy, warm veggie wrap and another plate of chow mein. Our whole meal- including a couple of desserts we found on the way back- cost about 64 rupees (or $1.19). #cheapanddeliciousfood

The next day we woke up to the sound of Garrett's alarm at around 4 AM, as we'd planned to go to a nearby look-out point which reputedly has a great view of the Himmalayas and from which point- on clear days- you can even see Mt. Everest. We were so warm under our pile of blankets, though (have I mentioned Darjeeling is cold?) that we couldn't do it, and we sacrificed viewing Mt. Everest for a few more hours of shut eye...

As it turns out, we woke up later to find that it was cloudy so we probably wouldn't have been able to see anything anyway (#rightchoices). This time of year is supposed to be the best as far as visibility is concerned, but this wasn't what we experienced while we were there; for most of our visit it was rainy and cold, so when the clouds did part and we were able to catch a glimpse of some vaguely mountainous-looking mass, we'd get really excited about it.

We showered and piled on as many layers as we could (several shirts, a pair of jeans, socks with sandals...) and made the long, arduous trek upstairs to breakfast... (It's a hard job, but someone's got to do it).


Ahhh yes. Nothing like a hard-earned meal. This Tibetan bread was fluffy, moist and slightly sweet and was served with jam and yak’s butter (so delicious- who knew!). We also had banana porridge and cups of chai, which you could (and we did) pour loads of sugar into from this tiny carafe which had been cleverly converted into a container for sugar. Garrett ended up having a stomach bug for the better part of our stay in Darjeeling so this is pretty much what he ate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It was pathetic and adorable. (SORRY YOU GUYS BUT IT WAS AND WE ARE DATING SO YOU SHOULD BE USED TO IT BY NOW).

After breakfast we went out to do more exploring of the town, now much more active since it was no longer a holiday (the day before had been Bengali New Year). I bought some postcards and sat on a stoop to write them, looking up at the people walking around in the square as I paused between cards.


We bought some tea to bring back for ourselves and loved ones (although, I have to say: I was not too impressed with the tea in Darjeeling... It was weak and not very flavorful), and walked to the post office, passing the town's clock tower on the way.






There are murals like this all over India that were commissioned by the government to help employ disadvantaged and underutilized artists and help beautify the streets.






We had more momos for lunch, trying some that were filled with cheese (actually cream cheese) and pieces of red cabbage, and splitting a plate of curried rice, washing it down with hot cups of chai to warm ourselves up.







At this point in our journey our stay in Darjeeling- and in India- was coming to a close... (you never thought it'd happen, did you?) Our train to Calcutta was leaving in the evening, so the time had come to find a van headed back to New Jalpaiguri.

If you have spotted any ring-adorned left hands throughout these posts, by the way, you have discovered the EASTER EGG in my Indian Epic posts (I'm not sure that makes any sense but just go with it): Garrett's and my farriage rings. That's right you guys: farriage, aka fake marriage.

We'd heard it was easier to travel as a couple and keep seats together on trains/buses if you wore fake rings, and we thought this sounded like a lot of fun anyway so we decided to try it out. As it turns out, we really didn't need to do this since it was the "off season" and hardly any tourists were around anyway, however we discovered we liked being farried so we decided to just keep up the act for the rest of our travels. #farriage.







Me, putting on chapstick













Snack and Rose













This weird, creeping fog drifted across the mountain as we made our way down, lapping at the base of the hills and adding a feeling of otherworldliness to the scene...






Hard to capture from a moving vehicle but you get the idea.

We made it to Calcutta without incident, had our last meal in India at the airport ($10 for a cheese roll-up! My word), and hopped on a plane headed back towards more familiar territory...

There’s still SO MUCH I haven't seen in India- Garrett and I barely grazed the surface of what there is to see/do there- so rest assured I will be back and there will be more opportunities to read about my travels in this crazy, wonderful country at some other time in the future, when time and money permit...
~~~

Thanks for tuning in and putting up with my endless commentary/nerdy humor/sometimes pedantic story-telling (sorry) throughout these posts. I appreciate your comments and hope you've enjoyed reading the posts as much as I have enjoyed writing them. :) Talk to you soon, sending you lots of love from Cambodia.