The Chili Pepper and the Buffalo

The first thing I did when I stepped off the plane in Bangkok, having arrived from Delhi, was to stop, close my eyes and breathe deep (for those of you expecting a linear blogging time line, sorry to dissapoint). Gone were the thick particulates of soot and dust, gone were the stinging eyes from the Delhi pollution. Bangkok is as western a town as I've experienced in SE Asia, so it was a joy to experience some of the creature comforts of home.

However, as I now sit in Luang Probang, Laos, I realize that I left a part of myself in India. For it's chaos, it's assault on the senses, it's humantiy concentrated - it is a land of indescribable beauty, of life unbounded by preconception, of intense spirituality sitting directly beside intense destitution. It is a land that must be experienced to be believed. Understanding it is another undertaking.

Dave, Govinda and myself in Pai:



My tour of Thailand landed me in Pai, as I mentioned in my previous entry. During this restful, rejuvinating stay, I experienced the requisite "white guy chili pepper episode." I was happily eating my Papaya salad with Dave and Govinda at our favorite curry house, Na's (which has spolied me for Thai food...). As I sat and masticated calmly on my slightly too big for my mouth bite, I felt a quiet crunch. At first I thought nothing of it. Moments later I could feel the heat rising on the whole of my toungue. It was like someone slowly turning the flame of a burner from simmer to "melt anything that dares come near." My feelings moved from slight amusement to slight concern, from uncomfortable to disquieting pain, then from inescable agony to fear. I tried everything, beer, soda water, bread, rice, more papaya salad (bad idea), panang curry, my arm, dave's arm, the chair's arm.. ANYTHING to try and escape this feeling that my tongue and throat were being caused unspeakable harm. In the end I put my forehead down on the table, attempting to ride out this exerpeice through slow breathing, meditation and the practice of watching and feeling the pain without being the pain. After 20 minutes I wiped the tears from my eyes, and assured Dave and Govinda that I was "ok." The residue of this episode continues, however. The next day I felt like I had been drugged. My stomach was a mess, my energy very low and all I wanted to do was sleep (which I did). The next night we went to Na's again, and I had one small taste of the Panang curry, and while my mouth loved it, my stomach had a visceral reaction, indicating that any thoughts I had of eating ANYTHING resembling spice was ill advised. Three days later I could still feel the swelling in my throat as I slurped fruit shakes and Soda waters. And now, two weeks later, I still have a cough that was unleashed by "the chili pepper." My new motto: 'Fear the Pepper.'

Na, the cause of so much pleasure and pain...:


I left Pai with my blood acidity at an all time high, but ready to move it on, move it on. Saying goodbye to Dave and Govinda for the last time, and having extended my trip an additional 3 weeks, I travelled to Chiang Mai where I got a 5 hour minibus to the town of Chiang Kong. The next morning the group that I had met and was travelling with took a boat across the river (and across the border) to the Laos town of Huay Xai. I have heard it said that going to Laos from anywhere is like shifting into first gear. It couldn't be more true. There's no hustle and bustle. The people are kind and move in a quiet, pragmatic, though determined way.

We spent the day in Huay Xai and got a bus the next morning to Luang Nam Tha. This road is renowned as the most difficult stretches in Laos. This is changing slowly, however, as China and Thailand are funding the redevelopment of the road to establish easier trade routes. This being the case, there were lots of bulldozers and earth movers on the trip. About 2 hours into the what would end up being a 13 hour journey we noticed that the driver was stopping to put water on brakes in order to cool them down. We were to find out that this was not because of excessive downhills; the brakes were shot. This being the case, the driver continued to push on, ensuring we never moved out of 1st gear on any downhill, being passed by vehicle or person with the capacity to move over 3 miles per hour. When he did use the brakes, the entire bus shook like a burping exorcism. This harrowed journey lived up to its reputation and we were all relieved to arrive in the sleepy and spread out town of Luang Nam Tha. We spent the next day biking to waterfalls, with incredible vistas of Rice paddies sprinkled with bamboo huts.

Laos Boys:


Laos is a big conglomeration of small villages. It is said that the entire population of the country could fit in one small Bangkok neihborhood. Children are everwhere. The average age of this country HAS to be 9. But the children are self reliant. They do not rely on their parents, they take care of their younger siblings and generally have no shortage of things to keep them occupied... either playing, which you see a lot of, or helping with village tasks.



The following day we took the short ride from Luang Nam Tha to Muang Sing. This is a place bigger than a village but smaller than a town. Within 30 seconds of getting off the converted pickup truck that carried us we were were offered bags of marijuana, opium, and whatever other opiate derivatives exist. Opium is big business in this area (the Golden Triangle of Thailand, Burma and Laos is world renowned for it's Opium harvest). After politly declining all offers for this and an assortment of hilltribe trinkets, we found guest houses and proceeded to book a two day trek to visit and stay with the hill tribes of Laos.

The trek was fantastic. Our guide, Mr. Mai was fluent in English, Laos as well as different hill tribe dialects and gave us an amazing experience. Trekking through the Laos jungle was surreal... plants that I had never seen before, walking quietly up to a meandering river where we soaked our feet. Lunch of sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves and vegetables, cliffs falling off the trail for hundreds of feet with dangling vines creating a curtain through which you could just discern the rock faces. We visited 5 different villages during the trek and stayed with one for the night. We stayed at Sop Ee Kao which is a Akha Pouli village; this opposed to the Akha Pfiai and Hmong villages that we also visited. Sop Ee Kao was an assortment of bamboo huts built on stilts, situated on a beautiful hillside. There were probably 50 or so huts, and it ws difficult to discern who was watching who.. us or them. The vilage is only accessible by trail and I would guess the population was about 250 (with dogs and pigs, about 4000). One side note: THE way one is woken up in Laos is by rooster.. it never fails.. everyplace I have stayed in this country, every morning, roosters start going off at 4am.

Our village for the night:


The chief of the village had died a few days earlier and the family had been recieving visitors for three days. Mr. Mai informed us that we had been invited to dinner by the family. The four or us arrived at dinner at the chief's house were politely seated amongst the other 20 family members in attendence. The chief's younger brother was next in line as chief and had assumed his duties. He ceremoniously brought in his new responisibilites by keeping up his very obvious opium addiction. All night I was seated by him, and he did nothing but smile, heat his opium, smoke it, close his eyes for 20 minutes and then repeat.

For those you that didn't know, the only meat I have been eating for the past 9 months has been seafood.

As we moved around the place mat set on the floor for 7 people, we watched as Water Buffalo, prepared 4 different ways was brought out to us. There was also a bowl of sticky rice. Flush in the overconfidence of my body as a well-oiled machine I proceeded to eat. Ginger Buffalo, dry rub buffalo, barbecue buffalo and buffalo curry. To not eat this would have been rude, as we were the guests of honor, and I have always made clear that my not eating meat was not dogma but practice. No sooner did I place one piece of meat in my mouth than another was placed in my bowl. Coupled with hot tea and many rounds or Lao Lao (Lao rice whiskey... you can get shnockered on this stuff and then take the paint of ANYTHING), the night was very enjoyable.

The person who REALLY runs the show:


We slept on a bamboo platform after each getting a one hour massage from members of the hill tribe (this was an added bonus that none of knew was part of the gig). We awoke (to roosters), and I watched the sunrise as the village came to life with the women crushing rice and the men, generally, watching them. Mr. Mai cooked us the traditional breakfast of noodle soup with vegebtable and it was at this point that I realized that all was not well "down there."

We hiked to within 30 kms of the Burma and Chinese borders and finished our trek at about 4pm back in Muang Sing. The hiking was consistent uphill the first day for 7 hours, and consistent down hill the 2nd day for 5 hours. The villages that we visited made me realize how open a community is when you're essentially living on top of each other. There are few secrets, and there is a resulting calmness and lack of self-conscience that I found reassuring. These people have a well defined life and are very much self-sufficient (though without the women, the men would starve and freeze).

That night I began to hear the rumblings of Intestinal Armageddon. I now refer to this period in my life as "Revenge of the Buffalo." The following two days were spent osciallating between core melt down and Intestinal choir rehearsals. I felt like I had swallowed a mixture of sulfuric acid and razor blades. I pulled through, however, dehydrated but stronger for the experience (?). So, much for my well-oiled machine.

A short ride back to Luang Nam Tha and we were on a bus for Luang Probang. My compatriots opted to get off earler to Nong Khiaw, and I finished this 11 hour bus ride, not able to feel my ass or legs, sitting on the hump covering the transmission just to the right of the driver, in total and complete blissed-out Lao style.

I am now enjoying the comforts of Luang Probang, a beautiful town with fantastic French colonial architecture, great night bazaars, great food (yes, I'm still recovering and have been subsisting on fruit, yogurt, granola and tasty french baguettes) and a vibe akin to Pai and McLeod Ganj. Beautiful walks along the MeKong, great teas, reading, yoga and absorbing.

One view from Luang Probang:


love to all - eb

Thailand... the first two weeks

okay, so it's been two weeks since my last post, so I figured it was important to get something down to quell the inbox assault.

I have spent the last two weeks in Thailand. The first 5 days in southern thailand in the Krabi area, island hopping, spending new years at a beach bungalow with a cool group of people from France, Denmark (represent), Ireland and Holland. They were all younger than I am, so safe to say that Eben realized that he can't party like he used to... however, he recognized this prior to the party, unlike previous occassions and was able to pull through to sunrise on new years day before getting sleepy.. unlike his compatriots who stayed at the beach party until 6pm the following night.

Switch back from third person to first person: I spent some time on the Railly peninsula that has fantastic limestone cliffs, great for rock climbing, in addition to incredible beaches, diving, snorkeling, and TONS of tourists.

After meandering the west coast of southern thailand for a bit, I took a taxi to the town of Krabi, where I took a minivan to the bus station, where I took a small bus to Sungthat, where I hopped a bigger bus for an overnight trip to Bangkok, arriving at 6am, where I hopped a cab to Bangkok airport, where I bought a ticket for Chiang Mai in northern thailand, departing two hours later. Upon arriving in Chaing Mai I got a cab to the bus station where I than got a local bus for the 4.5 hour trip to Pai where I was stuffed in the back, with packages everwhere around me and tons of people from the local tribes packed in around me. My seat was essentially a piece of plywood covered in cloth. I arrived in Pai, a bit harried where I strapped on my backpack and walked the mile or so to the guest house where I met up with Dave and Govinda... welcome faces to see after travelling on my own for 5 weeks.

My week in Pai was spent going to natural hot springs in the morning watching the sublight burn off the morning mist hanging in the trees, eating incredible fruit, thai salads and curries, creek walking a beautiful river, waterfalls, lying in hammocks sleeping and reading, doing yoga, hiking, and riding my motorbike everwhere. Genereally my thoughts were that Eben + Motobike = bad idea. However, after a few near misses, I got the hang out of it and am now ready to buy a Harley when I get home... Riding a motorbike around northern Thailand has to be one of the great things to do in life... true bliss.

So, with all this hard travelling, I have decided I need to relax, so I have extended my trip another three weeks. I am now planning on returning in early February.

I am in Chiang Mai, northern Thailand, now, awaiting my minivan to take me to Laos. I am planning on being in Laos a week or so, ending in Luang Probang... with the potential of heading to Cambodia and possibly Burma after that.

I hope everyone is happy and healthy. My love to all. -eb

Rajasthan, onto Kerala

It took a few days... a week, actually, to recover from Rajasthan. With all it had to offer, I found the intensity to be overpowering. Being a man, travelling alone, made me more of target with less of a shield. This seems a bit counter-intuituve, but I believe that while the Indian men may oogle and lear at western women travelling in India, they are less likely to approach them. Being a man, they had no problem in approaching me, sometimes surrounding me, coaxing me to a rickshaw, shop or any other assortment of things. I learned later than I would have hoped that acknowleding you speak English is a questionable decision, saying you're an American was bad and saying you're from California was worse. If you're an American you might as well have 'ATM' tatooed on your forehead. California is home to Baywatch and everything Hollywood, so right off the bat, these folks have plenty to chose from in terms of making coversation. One tactic I picked up was when the quesiton is posed "where you FROM??!?!" the correct answer is "BULGARIA!". They really have no idea how to respond, as no one speaks Bulgarian, and you can then easily pretend you don't understand what they're saying to you in English. I learned this trick to the end of my time in Rajasthan, unfortunately, but I highly recommend it to anyone planning travels to India.

Being a bit short on time, I flew from Udaipur, Rajasthan through Bombay (Mumbai) to Kochi (Cohin), Kerala on the southwestern corner of the subcontinent. I knew as soon as I arrived that I had "arrived." As the plane was descending it was clear blue water and palm trees as far as eye could see. I grabbed a cab (easily and without diress) to Fort Cochin, and old Portugues Fort.

Kerala is as laid back as Rajasthan is in your face. While there were still the cat calls for taxi, rickshaw, guest house, food, etc, they were not as persistent once you made your intentions known.

Kerala is the only democratically elected communist region in the world, so I've been told. It has the highest literacy rate in India as well as one of the highest life expectancies. The poverty, trash and beggars seemed less than other parts of India I visited.

I stayed at a simple guest house with a powerful and loud ceiling fan (well needed) and did almost nothing for three days. I did not realize how much tension I had been holding in my day to day travels the previous few weeks until I was in a place where I could really relax. For three days I slept long, took walks along the coast and read. (okay, day three I also took a Keralan cooking class and saw a Kathakali dance performance (very cool)... those of you that know me, know I'm not the best at doing nothing). Having regained my strength and my mood, I took a bus from Cochin to Appelly where I would board a boat for a backwaters cruise further south. The bus ride was crowded. I had my backpack on my back and my daypack on my front and for two hours I was standing, completly crushed in the mass of humanity that had similar aspritations of travelling to Appelly. I could not turn at all... even as I felt the man behind me's hand reaching into my pocket for my wallet, I could not turn to face him. (I swiftly grabbed his hand and squeezed with everyting I had and I felt a little whimper - message sent)

I realized that I still felt a little tried from the intenstiy of the past month's experiences. After finding a guest house in Appelly, I went in search of some food. I sat down, ordered some fish curry, when a guy came and sat next to me. He introduced himself as Ameer. I kept waiting for him to ask if I wanted to visit his friend's shop, etc, etc, but the question never came. He was a really nice guy, 25 years old, and he was just interested in showing me Appelly. We walked around the immense temple festival that Appelly was holding and then he said he would take me to the beach. We hopped a rickshaw and were there in 15 minutes. We sat on the beach, with some of his friends joining us, sang Christmas carols, I helped them with the words to Hotel California, and they attempted (in vain) to help me with the lyrics to their favorite Indian pop songs. More of Ameer's friends arrived and they started building human pyramids in the sand. They were having a blast and laughing in the sheer joy of building human pyramids on the beach and then crashing down on each other in a giggling heap. After a little while I indicatd to Ameer that it was time for me to go to bed. He immediately grabbed his friend, Shake, and volunteered his services to drive me home. I hopped on the back of his motorbike and was promptly driven to my guest house. With a shake of his hand and a humble thank you, he sped off back to the beach. That night was exactly what I needed to get back on my feet.

The next day I took a 7 hour backwaters boat ride to Amma's ashram at Amritanandamayi. Some of you may have heard of Amma as the 'hugging mother' or the 'hugging saint' She is one of the few female saints in India and her ashram is an amazing place situated between the ocean and the backwaters. There are thousands of devotees that stay there. Amma was just geting back to the Ashram after a trip to Tamil Nadu when I arrived. I got my room in the ashram for 150 ruppees a night ($3). I had two roomates, Haunaman from the Isle de Reunion, close to Madagascar, and Devananda from Germany. Both were wonderful guys and long time devotees of Amma's. They were staying for a few weeks each. Amma's was a wonderful place to spend Christmas. There were people from all over the world there, everyone sharing in the experience of knowing that where we were, was special. There was a short series of Christmas songs before Amma gave her Christmas blessing. I think most people at the ashram had to be told it was Christmas, however it was a beautiful place to be.

Amma's gives her blessings (Darshan) through hugs. She has given over 33 million hugs, and has been known to give hugs for 22 hours straight without getting up, stretching, drinking water or going to the bathroom. To recieve a hug from her is to understand what all the hub-bub is about. It was 'devine.' I spent three days at the Ashram and boarded the boat for the remainder of the journey full of life and gratitude.

I moved from Amma's to the beach town of Varkala and spent two days doing yoga, body surfing, and eating great fish that we picked from the market and gave to the chef. Safe to say, I'm a fan of Kerala. (Ed, you were right: Kerala Rools)

I hopped a flight from Trivundrum (now called Theravarunandapurem... or something close to that... i'm not kidding) to Delhi and returned to old familar: Pahar Ganj. I spent the night in Pahar Ganj, now accostomed to the stinging eyes and stuffy nose of the body acclimatizing to Delhi's pollution. I left the following morning for the Delhi airport en route to Thailand.

As I look back on the last 6 weeks, it seems a blur. I came to India looking for adventure and I found it. I also learned a lot about myself, and the world. India is like no place I have ever visited. I was told that one's time in India is exactly what you make it. Some people will go running away swearing never to return, others will have uncovered something that will lead them to India again and again. I think that I am somwhere in between. India is a very difficult place to travel, but it also holds something incredibly special. India is a place I know that I will return to, but I will look forward to the next trip more afer discovering the trick of telling them you're from Bulgaria.

As for the deeper experiences I had in India... for those you will have to ask me in person.

"Many are terrified of India's unabashed display of our shadow sides and run. I have heard tales of people who stepped off the plane, breathed in her tumult, and got on the next flight home... But she liberates us who stay from the West's insistence on chirpy optimism, which she gently exposes as a lie. India makes you feel in your pores that for every birth there is a death and for every problem solved a new one arises. She is a constant reminder that the ugly is the other side of the beautiful, decay of growth, dirt of cleanliness. In India heaven and hell are not as distant from each other as they can get, one in the skies, the other deep in the earth's bowels, but meet, not as enemies, but as dancers pirouetting in the eternal paux de deux, celebrating the myster... When I persist in pigeonholing life into nicely regulated (and invariably clean) little compartments, India casually tosses my expectations right back in my lap... 'I'm losing my serenity,' I hissed at a bank clerk after having spent all day trying to untangle currency problems which would have taken ten minutes to solve at home... 'Madam,' he answered, 'it takes many years to attain serenity. One does not lose it in a day.'"
- Cheryl Bentley, Enchanted

Poverty, Astrology and Cricket

If I have found three omnipresent aspects to India they are poverty, astrology and cricket.

The poverty hits you like the pollution in Delhi. In big cities, almost everytime your rickshaw stops there is an assortment of men, women, children, many without limbs, or suffering from some debilitating ailment.... they are very close, asking for ruppees, indicating their need for food moving their fingers from their opposite hand's palm to their lips. At first it is striking; the intensity and magnitude of the number of people you experience in poverty is a shocking assault. It then moves to a hard-to-accept-reality of the day to day existence in India.. Finally it moves to something that you notice and experience, but with a tacit understanding that if you're going to make it outside of your guesthouse past 10am that you have to protect yourself by focusing on other things.

The poverty is of an intensity that you don't see in parts of the western world. Never do you see and over-weight person in poverty in India. You easily see that the poverty that exists is at a level far lower than in developed countries. It is about getting food of any kind on the 'table.' There are no creature comforts.

What accompanies much of the poverty is the trash. Disposal of refuse is not what of India's strongpoints from what I can tell. Some have told me that it is cultural, pulling from the foundations of karma and reincarnation. I have come to think however, that it has more to do with the country's incredible efficieny with which almost every aspect of any trash is utilized. Don't get me wrong, by all accounts I have witnessed, India has a trash problem. Trying to find a trash can anywhere is like trying to find a beer at a tea-totelers' wedding... there just aren't any. However, the cycles that the trash goes through is amazing. There are very few elements of pile of garbage that are not reused in some way in the vast Indian society. I once threw an empty water bottle into a large wheel-barrow that a man was pushing filled with hundreds, neigh, thousands of similar plastic water bottles... as I did, he stopped, put out his hand and demanded "backsheesh!!" (which is Hindi for tip...) I stood a tad dumbfounded, and gave him 5 ruppees... at which point he said what is probably one of 5 English words he knew and said "TEN!!" - I smiled and said "no", laughing at yet another example of a 'request' for backsheesh.

In parts of any city you will find the poor (genearlly lowest caste) going through the garbage and utilizing an amazing portion of that which has been discarded. I was told by a man I befriended that many a person's full living is made by scavanging the useable elements from the trash of others in Indian society. There are entire communitites that exist outside middle class suburbs subsisting only on that neighborhoods' trash. This is done on a more tremendous scale by the lower elements of the "Untouchables" caste known as "Rag pickers"

Following is a quote that I read that I think aptly describes the feeling of being a Westerner in the midst of the poverty and beggars of India. In case you were wondering I am VERY MUCH a westerner, (I realize this provides many of you with a lot of fodder to clog the comments box.. please see my blog re. Rishikesh and enlightenment and then read the comments)):

"This is a place where the mundane becomes eternal, where the visitor has to come to grips with beggars and the meaning of life. What should you do? Does giving encourage? Is it a duty, as the Muslims say? Can you pretend to be Christ? Every time you are approached is unique: you give out of pity, guilt, sometimes love, duty, exasperation, disgust, haste. You finger the wad of rupees in your pocket, wondering about your destiny. Then a filthy beggar boy, whom you've just rejected, smiles at you and melts into the crowd, blessing you in your selfishness. Patterns of thought and belief crumble." - James O'Reilly and Larry Habegger, Merle Haggard and the Ambassador

As for Cricket: everywhere you turn there is a pickup cricket match.. in the night darkened streets of McLeod Ganj, in the litter strewn dirt paths of Jaipur, in the sandy parks of Kochi... if there is a group of boys together, and they are not oogling western women travelers with their "horrified horny" approach, then they are playing cricket. I still can't figure the game out, but it's everwhere...I know there's a "century" something, a "castle", a "half castle", wickets, bats (I think.. that might be my word) and a scoring system that I don't understand that can prolong games up to a week in length. (this should provide good fodder to anyone that complains that football games last too long...)

You pick any Indian paper and it has two things (depending on the day)... Cricket scores and Bollywood updates (think People/Star/Us magazine Indian-style). Indian movies and music has India just stepping it's toe into the waters of western-style entertainment. You will not find a man and woman kissing in any Indian movie, but you will see wonderful displays of overemoting and kitche song and dance romance scenes.

I have also found the wedding classifieds to be humorous... While Indian movies are very much about love and courting and the dynamics of more western relationships, India is still rooted in it's long traditions of arranged marriages and gender roles. Most of the time when I start to get to know someone and I ask how many brothers and sisters they have, their answer only mentions brothers. It was enough to make me think that no one ever had any sisters. The male child is definitely the child of choice. Female infanticide is still very common with 47 girls being born to every 53 men. I believe that things are changing in this regard, but I have been told that it will be a long time before anything resembling gender equality reaches outsdie the biggest cities.

While I am firmly rooted in my belief of a "love" relationship and marriage, I have come to better understand the premise of the arranged marriage, especially when undestanding the role of extended family in India, the respect that children generally have for parent's decisions and discretions and the role that Vedic Astrology plays in any decision. Whether or not two people are a match, what day and what time their wedding is, is very much dependent on the Jyotish or Indian Astrologer (among many things)... that is also why you will find so many wedding on the same day and during a similar time of year (it's not because the flowers are blooming, I assure you.)) Astrology plays a tremendous role in familial decisions that are made in India.

Back to Cricket... another great quote follows:
"Sociologist Ashis Nandy, who has written a book on cricket said, 'It's an Indian game that was mistakenly brought by the British. It's an unpredictable game where the variables are so many, where there are negotiations with fate, and we are playing not with an opponent but with our own destiny. That clicks with the Indian self-conscience, the South Asian way of looking at the world and our own fate.'"

India has been called an impenetrable culture for westerners, and I am beginning to understand why. However, it is that impenetrable aspect that makes it an incredible place to visit. I have determined that you don't vacation in India, you adventure in India. The north is incredibly different from the south, and the east from the west. The spiritual depth of the country begins right at the surface; more than anything else, that is the factor that has made this trip so fascinating.