Unfinished Diatribe about Turkey

Clara and I have decided to head back to India. We have absorbed a lot of Pakistan, and the 5 bombings and one killing by the Taliban in the City where we had dinner tonight, along with the multiple emails from Clara's mother has swung the pendulum back towards the worlds largest democracy.

We have a dinner invitation from Fasi Azir in the Capital of Islamabad tomorrow. He is a "minor celebrity" in his own words, and a national newspaper columnist whom we met with earlier after I emailed him. Looking forward to more of his insights from this Rhodes Scholar into his native land.

Until we get to post more, here is an unfinished work about my thoughts on Turkey:

TURKEY

First of all, Turkey is a real place. Not just another border arbitrarily drawn on a map, but a place with an identity, a culture, a feel, a look and especially a history all of its own.
It is a place of many stereotypes, with constantly surprising exceptions. Most of all, Turkey is a success, not a perfect one, but an evolving one: a secular Muslim country set
up by Ataturk bridging Europe and Asia, Christianity and Islam, the past and the present,
unlike any other place in the world.

Turkey is:
Arabic calls to prayer 5 times a day
Baklava
Ubiquitous Red Flag’s with crescent, on flagpoles, cars, doors, windows
Full of Smokers
Rug salesmen
Turkish delight
Chai Tea
Insane drivers with no training
Corrupt officials
Turkish barbers giving a close shave
Overseen by the military for better and worse
Backgammon
Full of Fisherman, spending days catching sardines & other things
Middle aged men with prayer beads
Hospitality
Proud and Nationalistic
Growing and polluted
Beautiful coasts
Evil Eyes
Ceramics, markets and historic ruins
Veiled women, hairy men and mustaches
Crooked noses
“Merhaba” and “Teshe Koller” (hello and thank you)
Raki
The Bosphorus
Olives, nuts, apricots, fresh fruits and vegetables
Late night clubs, Turkish music, and street vendors

Ataturk

Turkey is not:
A place for a woman to kick someone in the groin
Organized
Chicken
A place to buy without haggling
In the EU. Yet.
Cheap Gas
Easy to Describe

To describe Turkey you have to start with Ataturk. Ataturk is the father of modern Turkey, equivalent to Americans of Washington, Adams and Jefferson all rolled into
one. He was warrior, statesman, humanist who seems to have foreseen the problems
of the modern world decades ahead of his time. He was an army officer who came to prominence when he led the Turkish troops in their repulsion of the superior English, French, Australian and New Zealand troops at Gallipoli in the First World War. Even at that point he showed compassion for the fallen of the enemy saying to the mothers of the dead that their loved ones were at home in Turkey, equivalent to the loss of the loved ones of the Turkish mothers. After the War, the victorious powers tried to carve up the remains of the Ottoman Empire, but Ataturk took over from the Sultans, expelled the foreigners militarily and set up the modern Turkish state. He foresaw the problems of fundamentalism and set the country up as a secular democracy, with the military overseeing the nascent country allowed to step in and dissolve the government if it believed the elected powers were not being true to the fundamentals of the state. He famously said “Peace at Home, Peace in the World”. He is revered in Turkey and virtually every business has a prominent picture of him in their front lobby. Turkish flags with his face are flown on flagpoles, from balconies, in the rear window of cars. There are statues of him in every town and he is more revered even than Bolivar in Venezuela.

He forbade the wearing of head scarves in schools and business, and it was fascinating to see the pictures of his funeral procession, with hundreds of thousands lining the streets with nary a head scarf to be seen. But yet you can pick up a paper today and see articles about a high school girl being in trouble for wearing a head scarf to receive an award, and certainly will see Ataturk’s name and his ideas known as Kemalism throughout the news.

As an American it is hard to truly get a feel for what it is like to be Turkish. Americans live in fear of perceived enemies thousands of miles away around the world. Turkey has borders with the Europeans whom have invaded for millennia, the Greeks whom they have fought for millennia, the Armenians whom they have fought with for centuries, the Russians are just across the Black Sea, the Persians in Iraq who are Shiites and at odds with Turkish Sunni’s, Iran with a defacto Kurdish state harboring separatist terrorists, and Syria a conduit to the Arabs who abhor the liberal secular society in modern Turkey. Who can blame the Turks for being a bit defensive? But, unlike America which seems to be able to have wars with countries like Japan, England, Germany, and Vietnam and put the past behind us, it seems as if Turkey has a harder time burying the hatchet. To be fair, however, it seems as though they are not the only ones in this part of the world with that problem.

You will find quite a bit of boastfulness or national pride around here. A Kurd we met let us know that the best doctors in the world are Iraqi, that his town had the best food in all of Iraq as proclaimed by none other than Saddam Hussein, and that Kurds actually invented Turkish Delight. A Turkish tourist brochure let us know that Turkish food is one of the three most important in the world. A nightclub in Bodrum assured goers that it was the loudest (and wildest, with the most bubbles!) in the Mediterranean. Plus there is the national statute known as 301 which vaguely outlaws any act or gesture against “Turkishness”.

On the one hand Turks will go out of their way to tell how open they are to all cultures, for example: a centuries old British Fort with a St. George cross in the rock had a description that proclaimed that the fact that the Turks hadn’t ground the granite flat showed how tolerant they were of other people. Many conversations went along the lines of “we don’t have a problem with the __________(Greeks, Kurds, Armenians,….), it is they who have a problem with us. We never did anything, or hardly anything, to them.” For those of us in America a bit dubious of hearing from our leaders about how other countries hate us although we’ve Never done anything to them, starting down this path without objectivity seems potentially divisive. However, scratching beneath the surface and getting to know locals is to find people who really are very tolerant of others, welcoming to all, and perhaps most important: dismissive of the many intolerants around them.

Our last night in Turkey we even discovered that one of our local friends was Jewish and that her family had lived in Turkey for generations, although they don’t go out of the way to advertise it they go about their lives without fear. Make no mistake, this country is 98 percent Muslim, with the calls to prayers being heard from anywhere in the country 5 times a day, with women covered in veils and burkas, men moving their lips and fingers in conjunction with their prayer beads, feet washing at mosque’s and roadsides, and prayer rugs directed at Mecca being used in tiny windowless rooms in businesses everywhere. This, to me, is clearly the success of Turkey: comfortable with their relationship with Islam and showing a way forward in this part of the world where tolerance and acceptance trumps the dictatorial fanaticism elsewhere. As one attractive, sexually liberated, highly educated, well traveled woman told us: “the Persians hate our secular government, the Arabs don’t think we’re Muslims, but we just laugh it off and don’t take them seriously.”

As I was falling asleep last night I thought that Turkey was the closest country in the world so far to the United States. There are rich and poor, a strong middle class, a large minority population whom everyone professes to be friendly with, but warns you not to go into “their” neighborhoods. They have had waves of immigrants, coming and going and they have in the past been brutal to others not like them. They have an active political scene with strong liberals wanting to embrace European ways, and religious conservatives who want to dictate behavior to the masses. The cities are liberal, the countryside is conservative. They have a strong and active military, a growing population and a key part to play in world affairs. The three most flag waving countries in the world are Brazil, Turkey and the USA. Is it any wonder that I find the place so endlessly fascinating, even in the dead of a cold and rainy winter?

Random Observation: For some reason about 90 percent of the people traveling at the airport have burgundy bags. There seem to be a lot of religious travelers here, a high percentage of women in scarves and robes and men in towels and head knits, coming back from or going to their Haj.

The Turks are incredibly friendly, especially once you get outside of the tourist realm. Of course, everyone will offer you tea as soon as you walk into their home or business, but it goes much deeper than that. One tailor who charged Clara $5 to hem her burka, refused to accept payment when I came a week later to sew my rain suit and glove. People went out of their way to help us, to make us feel comfortable, and to just include us in their daily lives. We were invited to people’s homes for dinner, invited to see musicians at their shows, invited to places of work, and best of all to come and stay with them while we waited for our visas. We tried to repay as best we could, by fixing their motorcycles, planing their doors, making and buying food, but it felt like not enough and we really hope to host as many as we can some day back in the States.

The Turks are a happy people, comfortable in themselves. Laughter is evident everywhere. Turks greet each other with a kiss on each cheek, man to man, woman to woman, man to woman, and foreigner to friend. They go out for dinner, drink alcohol, smoke like fiends, have strong opinions, and are open to learning and new things. Most towns have a bazaar one or two days a week with food, clothes and other household items in abundance. Sellers hawk their goods from street corners, to shops, to restaurants. You can buy roasted chestnuts, mussels and smoked fish burgers on the streets. Every waterway is draped with fishermen catching anchovies and whatever else may come along.

There are many women with head scarves and burkas, many not. As Clara has observed, life for Muslim women can be hard especially in the tinier towns. They work the fields, they care for the children and the home, while the men seem to congregate at cafes to drink tea, talk and watch football. We see many women, hunched over from years of hard work. Many of the women seem to have grown into their burkas; it almost seems if they are not allowed to portray themselves in public they let it go to waste. Even when they are able to wear pants, they are the most unflattering we’ve seen yet with yards of extra cloth added for some unknown reason which would make even Angelina Jolie unfit for a seductive look. Women certainly are not completely free in this society, although the laws seem to be in place. Half the university students are female, and many of them work, have their own businesses and dress in a stylish Western way.

The roads are in passable to excellent condition. There is diverse scenery, wonderful sea sides, incredible historic ruins, fanatical soccer fans, friendly motorcyclists, and lots of dirt roads to get muddy and lost in. Super aggressive and untrained drivers are everywhere. Every motorcyclist we met had been in an accident, right up to our last night out where a gentleman who had bought a R1200GS for his first bike crashed after 3 months coming home from the California Superbike School, breaking both wrists. Food is good, although not in the 3 best of the world. Turkish delight is squishy, chewy, rich and decadently delicious. Too much will definitely get you sick!

SouthEast Turkey is a military zone right now. Our friends Alex, British, and Adrienne, Canadian, just got done with teaching English in Iraq for the last 6 months. They were in Kurdistan where they were welcomed and had an enjoyable time. They did not feel unsafe or threatened and in fact said that people everywhere went out of their way to be nice. There wasn’t much to do or buy, but it was a rewarding experience. Alex described the region as clearly thinking itself to be autonomous, with strange sights such as Kurdish Forts and Turkish Forts being opposite each other. The Kurdish Flag flying proudly, the Turkish fort unadorned as it is in Iraq territory. Clearly the truth about the area goes much deeper than the cursory reporting we receive in the United States.

There are many stereotypes of Turkey which are anchored in reality; however, there are seem to be exceptions to all of them. Yes, the large majority of Turkish men have black hair, many with strong mustaches and beards which seem to grow from morning to night but as soon as you think they all look that way you will come into a town and see a redheaded man walking down the street, or two light haired boys playing at a school. Just when you think every Turkish town looks the same, you will come across a whitewashed sea town like Bodrum, or a clean well laid out town in the center of the country. After being convinced that you can’t trust a thing or a price a rug salesman tells you, a gentleman will show you some beautiful samples, explain the business, and not negotiate with you. A young boy will come up to you and speak in proper English
to ask where you are from, and what you are doing. You will see hippie types smoking a joint on a beach, go out dancing till the early hours of the morning, see women dressed very sexily, and even have a local tell you “we killed a lot of Armenians”. Turkey is a diverse place, with surprises at every turn.

I think of all the countries we have been to that Turkey is the most important for the West to engage with. It is a country which is historically suited to trade, of products, ideas, and people. The world has much to gain from Turkey, and Turkey from the world. A strong, stable country at the crossroads of the world could be a beacon for all that peace at home and peace in the world is an admirable goal.

Too Much, The Magic Bus

In Pakistan they spend an amazing amount of time and artistic energy painting up their trucks and buses.

Clara prepares to get Osama!

This vista on the border with the Taliban controlled SWAT area either says "Shariah Law applies here", or "Double Strength Tonic" depending on my interpretation of the Arabic



Here is a crowd that surrounded me as I signed the guest book. I gave the young girl with the scythe the last of our necklaces from Mardi Gras. You should have seen the huge smile that crossed her face. She had such a haunting, inquisitive look.


Our hosts James and Kathy and our armed guard say "orange you smart for being in Pakistan!"



You're just not ready for Pakistan without an AK-47!

North West Frontier Province

Here we are at the Pakistini Supreme Court, off limits to most, but they let us through the barricades!


North West Frontier Province

Here we are in an area named by Britain which sounds like it should be in Canada somewhere. We are staying with our new Horizons friends James and Kathy Copple. James is flight instructor with the RAF on loan to the PAF, which means that we are safely ensconced on a Pakistani Air Force base in Risalpur which is about 60 miles from the Afghan border.

I am probably being stupidly naïve here, as I don’t feel any clear and present danger and am happy to get on my bike and ride into up above the polluted plains into the hills and mountains north and west of here. But, as everyone except Mike Huckabee knows, the western border of Pakistan is full of Taliban and other bad guys. So, today we played golf on the Air Force base, the hosts were great the guests were awful, especially yours truly.

When Pakistan became a nation in 1948 they made a deal with the Pashtun tribal leaders to give them autonomy in exchange for joining the nascent state. What exists now is that Pakistani law is only in affect for 10 meters on either side of the national roads, and Pashtunwali law, decided by a council of elders known as a jirga, decides for all other areas. This is the area along the border with Afganistan where the Taliban and supposedly Osama Bin Laden are hanging out. Reading the papers today, I see that the Taliban has told the government they have two days to get out of the SWAT region which is only about 30 miles north of here. Somewhere in this area on Tuesday allegedly 25 militants were killed attacking a Frontier Corps post.

We are planning to go tomorrow up north near this area tomorrow to visit some friends of James & Kathy. It is hard to gauge the danger, and we look to them for guidance. Of course, the military don’t want him to go almost anywhere off the base but we decided to make this trip that they have done many times. I went with him yesterday to Peshawar to get some electrical fixtures and we ended up in the old town where the shop was which is a no-go zone. He was openly and verbally nervous as we got hemmed in by cars, rickshaws and people in the narrow ancient streets, where there were no foreigners at all, few women (all in full burka), and we got quizzical looks. However, nothing happened and I was able to find the replacement circuit breaker along with the Pashtun guide who had accompanied us from the base. We then drove to the new city where I got money from the an ATM, we enjoyed KFC (also no go zone), and I looked into getting a pass to enter the Khyber area and see the famed Khyber pass. Peshawar has a huge fort which is still a military base, there are many Afghan refugees and immigrants running around who are usually poor and tinier than their Pakistani neighbors.

There are security guards at anything of interest or value. We receive many looks and stares, and a few welcomes, we are clearly an oddity. What is clear by being here is how little control the Pakistan government, and by extension the US war on terror, has in this critical area. It is amazing to think we have given billions of dollars to try and secure this area and root out the “Islamo-Fascists”. We are clearly losing that war of cultures in this area. James and Kathy tell us that in the year they have been here they have seen the area of influence of the Taliban growing, indicated by the fact that women who used to just have to cover their head are now required to wear full burkas, with just the eye slit showing in accordance with Taliban rules.

It would seem to me that we could spend our money much more wisely by using human capital and really getting to know the people and the area. The people here seem nice in the villages, and again it seems as if the powers that be just need a convenient scapegoat to keep Americans afraid of someone. To think that these people who don’t have decent water or power, ½ the world away are going to somehow bring down the United States is complete lunancy.

We need to build bridges, not walls. That is what will serve everyone’s interests.

We're Alive!

Here is a picture of Clara and I at the Golden Temple



We have infiltrated a Pakistani Military base. I was able to disarm a local AirForce guard and get his MP-5 automatic weapon. I made it to Peshawar today, about 30 miles from the Afghan border, where I looked into arrangements to get through the Kyber Pass.

Saw one guy with a Red Sox hat, and no Yankees hats.

Have not found Osama yet, but we seem to be the only ones looking for him here in the tribal areas so the odds are with us.

Over.

New Years in Islamabad

Pakistan has calmed down and returned to normal today. We went another 180 miles north today to Rawalpindi where Bhutto was killed and into Islamabad the capital. We hooked up with Kathy and James, fellow motorcyclists who unfortunately couldn't get us into the Canadian Embassy party.

However, we were treated to dinner by a kindred soul, a local columnist and TV personality Mr. Fasi Zaka. He fascinated us with insight into Pakistan, a funny story about Chelsea Clinton during his time at Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar, and impressed us with his optimism about the role a strong and free press has had in Pakistan.

The roads are less chaotic here, with few 4 legged obstacles and everyone going the same way on the highway. Police and the army are everywhere. Pakistan is kind of like India without color or cows! However, they do an amazing job of painting the buses and especially trucks with multicolor designs of eagles, tigers, Love signs and other things. No square inch is untouched.

Tomorrow probably the NWFP where we will look for Osama and get that 25 million dollar reward!

PS: We send hearty Happy New Year's wishes to Mamita, Joanne, Humberto, Mariano, Meighan, Luis, Brendan and all our family and friends.

We're still Alive!

Pakistan seems to be calming a bit. Clara didn't like the $6.50 special hostel last night so we walked around this morning and decided on the National after seeing some real dumps.
In two hours of walking around we saw only 2 other women, accompanied of course. People stare at us, and especially at Clara. And not just because of her moviestar beauty.
After we moved hotels we rode around the basically empty town and saw the sights. We found a couple cautiously open gas stations, and a couple overtly open ones. Many people were enjoying the large park by the old fort, where many were playing cricket.
Clara felt a bit uncomfortable by the attention so she rested in the afternoon while I went to the zoo. Clara found the Patriots game on espn and got to see her first NFL game of the year, and she was in agreement with the announcers who called him a stud.
The zoo had many animals but was depressing as people fed and harassed the animals. However their elephant, Suzi, was quite impressive. She collected tips from the crowd, played the harmonica and let those who were interested to touch her amazing trunk.
I wish we could train humans as well as animals can be trained. Maybe humans could be trained to not leave trash everywhere, and to poison our environment.
Our power has gone off 4 times tonight so far, and the city doesn't provide water from 10 pm to 6 am.
The USA sure looked good on the tube!
We ended the evening watching the press conference announcing the new 19 year old head of the People's Political Party. Then there was the analysts sitting around discussing. The governor of Punjab saying that Musharraf was legally in charge, and to just wait for elections. A columnist and supposed friend of Musharraf said that the country hadn't been legitimate since 1973 because of an illegal constitution, and a young lawyer tried to explain how nothing Musharraf had done was legal and he should resign. It devolved into people getting disrespected and talking in circles about nothing.

And Nero fiddled away....
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We made it to Pakistan!

We spent the morning at the unrivaled Golden Temple before trying to make it across the border to Pakistan. The border crossing was no problem, and in fact the officials on both sides were very nice. The Pakistani vehicle agent in fact was the first customs official in the whole world who made note of how few pages I have left in my passport and specifically used the tiniest space he could to let us into the country. His boss insisted on getting us some tea, and we shared some pleasant moments in the afternoon sun with the border guards. For some reason, there wasn't much traffic flowing through.

We made it to Lahore about 20 miles away without problems. Pakistan is clearly observing the 3 days of mourning, as no gas stations or cash machines or shops or restaurants are open. There wasn't much traffic and we found our way to the Lonely Planet overwhelmingly recommended Regal Internet Hostel. The place is a dump, but friendly with all the backpackers staying here. There are 7 of us. Usually there are about 35. Two french, one Japanese, one Finnish, a Serbian woman and us. The streets are full of riot police on every corner and the streets are free of the normal hustle and bustle. The Japanese and Finnish guy said they saw the typical rock throwing, etc. riots a few blocks away earlier today. We went for a walk with the incredibly nice Serbian woman who works as an interpreter back in Kosovo. She was clearly on edge as she arrived by plane the day of the bombing to Karachi where she got on a train which was delayed 8 hours because the trains ahead had been burned by rioters. We took her for a walk with us with a large park and zoo being just up the street. We treated her to dinner and she told us about the wonderful time she had last year in Pakistan, how the people are very nice and few if any tourists around.

Most Westerners have left the country, but the consensus is one more day of lockdown, and when they open the gas pumps on Monday things should return to normal. We will keep you posted!

On the Road to Bikaner

Jodhpur to Bikaner, December 27, 2007

150 miles of clear traffic with semi desert conditions especially the last 50 miles or so. At least 3 major accidents, two trucks seemed to have hit each other outside a tiny town with the trucks and a pile of garbage still smoking from a burn. A boxy SUV against a tree, and another tractor trailer flipped on its side. We passed piles of cow and camel bones drying fetidly in the sun. The bizarre and nasty Karni Mata Temple is filled with rats, which are believed to by the living embodiment of the souls of dead storytellers. I was lucky enough to see a good luck white rat after fighting my way into a closet filled with broken feed bags. Did I mention you have to walk into these temples barefoot while the rats run all around. Lovely. For some reason, Clara decided to stay outside.

Bikaner has another beautiful if not quite perfectly kept fort of another Raj clan. It also has the nasty water pool a couple blocks away filled with trash, green water, and nasty, nasty smelling stuff. We were “befriended” by two young guides who showed us into the old city where we saw some beautiful but boarded up havellis, before buying some basala tea spice in the market and seeing another old Jain temple.

I have been pretty immune to the abject poverty but I was taken today by a man with no legs and just shorts rolling through the filth filled streets, while a woman who was with him called out for donations. She also only had her pelvis covered, and it seemed as if her breasts had been hacked off, with just bad scars left. The dirt, grime, cow feces, piles of garbage, horrid smells and poverty here are found in every city. The air is filled with dust, dirt, diesel and gas fumes and is noxious. I feel quite healthy but my throat and nose are constantly running and coughing up stuff. We have just not experienced anything like this in the world, if we aren’t painting a pretty picture, we’re doing our job.

Benazir Bhutto was killed this evening, and within a couple hours our rickshaw driver knew it and reported it to us.

One of the nicest and wisest people we have met was the maitre’d at The Whistling Teal in Udaipur. He started by talking about how the rains used to come on time every year, but now nature seems to be unsettled. I said the pollution was terrible in India and he said there is nothing that can be done about it. I disagreed and said that the problem is that people can do something but they don’t. He said the problem is that “rich people get too much favors” and that they get richer while the poor get poorer. He then pointed to a book on the counter and said “we have good laws on the books here, we just don’t use them” clearly indicating both the corruption that everyone says is so prevalent, and also that Indians don’t use the brains and knowledge that they have. He told me that the beggars at the temples are really businessmen, and that the real poor are out in the countryside, but that even though they are poor they are happier inside. He is from the country and comes into the city to work for 4 or 6 months a year. He left me with “you can live a short life, or a long life, that is what is important”. Hopefully, man will decide that we want to live a long life on this planet.

Beautiful Jain Temple in Rajastan

The most amazing religious building we've seen yet, this temple is more than 500 years old. We made friends with a high school group of boys, and some monkeys on the road were as interested in us, as we in them.

Any news?

So we completed a minor miracle today, trav eling 330 miles in India. Plus we only got run off the road by buses 3 or 4 times.

We were within a few miles of the Pakistan border most of the day and saw big troop movements, and tanks and cannons on the roads and in the desert. We haven't been able to access the internet in a few days so we wondered if there has been any news to stir the military.

We saw the Golden Temple tonight and it was inspiring. The Sikhs are truly welcoming and friendly people.

We probably head to Pakistan tomorrow, wish us luck!
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What is in our future?

Today we visited the beautiful pink sandstone Mehrangarh Fort perched high atop a mountain overlooking the blue colored houses and impossibly crowded narrow streets of Jodhpur.



At the end of our visit we had our fortunes told by the official fort astrologer and palmist. We sat in his office while he read our right hands as curious onlookers stood by the open door and listened to Mr. Sharma tell me that I am a perfectionist, independent, hot-tempered, extremely organized, ambitious, and less idealistic than I used to be. Incredibly, he told Kevin much the same except that instead of organized he is very perceptive and prone to "checking and rechecking things". He told me that I will prosper financially in my late thirties (one can only hope!) and that I am in the right profession; but he suggested to Kevin that he should look into working outside the US. He told us both that we were in a good relationship and that kids are in our future. He also said we both needed to watch our blood pressure: Kevin right now and me after age 50; and we both need more calcium in our diet. Kevin will live to be 80 and I will live to age 84.



Having never had my palm read before, I was quite happy with the reading while Kevin was more underwhelmed and skeptical, but we both agreed that it was fun and interesting and we discussed it while we rode all the way accross town to our next destination.

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Merry Christmas from Clara and Kevin

To All of our family and friends, both old and new around the world
we wish Peace and Good tidings to all!

And Clara gives Besitos

(especially to cute camels! in honor of the three wise men, we took a camel ride today!)

First Roadtrip in India

December 19, 2007

First day on the road. We saw virtually every hazard we had been warned about: cow carts going the wrong way on the highway, motorcycles going the wrong way on the highway, cars going the wrong way on the highway, trucks going the wrong way on the highway, and Tractor Trailers going the wrong way on the highway! We had sacred cows wandering on the road, traffic lights being completely ignored, traffic to weave around on the highway, horrible roads in Mumbai, broken down vehicles all over the road to the point that a three lane highway becomes two lanes with slow trucks in the middle so that they don’t have to switch lanes to avoid the breakdowns. One overturned truck, a tunnel with enough carbon monoxide to commit suicide only about 50 feet long, and to top it off our first camel drawn cart! But no elephants! I want to see Elephants!

We got up early to avoid traffic. Surprisingly, considering the heat India does not start its day early. We were able to get out of Bombay in a reasonable amount of time and through what would be the worst road conditions of the day. We headed north to Surat where we had been invited to a Zoroastrian wedding on Thursday. The pollution was pretty much constant, and the traffic crazy. But, as we got out of the city it quickly became dull green farmland since the rains are 5 months past. We climbed into some hills and a cool breeze actually registered on my face despite the morning 90 degree temperature. There are interesting low mountains here, which look to be sandstone or some other fragile rock, very old, as the peaks have been worn away by the wind in their upper quarter, just leaving a rounded, stubby, stalagmite in the middle of a mound plateau.

We were making such great time, we had time to stop at a place I had always held in high regard: the beach of Dandi. This is where Gandhi went to make salt in an act of civil disobedience against the unjust British laws. We went about 10 miles off the main highway, through pleasant farming towns arriving at the gate where we paid 12 cents to park in the shade, and walked to the bluff overlooking the expansive beach. It was very wide and seemed to stretch for miles in either direction. It was hard to tell how far because of the pollution, north, south and out to sea limited the view. The trash on the beach and the polluted ocean didn’t add to the atmosphere either. But, still I felt the power of the place. The genius of a man to bring down the British Empire by simply walking here to the sea and taking water to make salt, still reverberated for me in the sand, the steps, the signs. He is still honored and quoted here, with the Mayor of Mumbai (a female doctor!) using in an editorial in support of a one day moratorium on cars in January to combat the pollution Ganhi’s famous comment about his Salt March that “a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step”. The tiny museum about his March was chained up at the gate, and some of the wood slats in the arched bridge leading to it were broken and rotted.



Going back on the road to Surat, we were accosted by two youths on a 250 cc Honda. They started talking to us and making phone calls and pictures as we rode along. They insisted that we come to their house for tea. We zoomed around and made it to the nice middle class home, where one of their mothers made us tea and drinks. Of course they invited everyone they knew and soon about 10 boys between 19 and 22 were peppering us with questions. We talked about school, girls, religion and motorcycles. They asked if we had any problems on the trip and we said only a couple in South America and he retorted “oh, because of the black people?”.

Unfortunately, it seems no matter where you go, the darker people are always at the bottom rung of the ladder. There have been two recurring themes on our trip when asking people about directions, travel and geography. Those themes are that the two most dangerous places in the world are always the one in the adjacent area be it city, state or country, and the other is someplace halfway around the world. The other theme is that the darker people are the more they are not to be trusted. Racism, it has been sad to experience, is hardly isolated to the United States. We see it in the adds, the movies, on TV: everyone tries to be as light as possible.




Overall, however, the kids were great and gave us their phone numbers and addresses and insisted we call if we have any problems. After picture taking, they escorted back to the main road to Surat where we continued our traffic battle to find the ‘Parsi Fire Temple’ where we would meet the parents of an old Wabash friend Jimmy Durawala.

We made our way to the center of the crowded, confused, chaotic city where we stopped to ask for directions. Surprisingly, very few people speak English in India. In fact there are over 30 main languages which can vary from state to state or less. It was at this traffic circle where we stopped to ask the police or anyone else for help that Clara coined our new favorite saying. It was inspired by the horde of about 50 people who immediately gathered around us and stared at us with blank expressions and no reply to our question of where the fire temple was. This started to block up traffic as they were in the middle of the road already packed with bicycles, cars, and rickshaws. The police would smack at them with 4 foot long cane batons and tell them to move along, but they would return or new ones would replace the passers-on. Clara turned to me and said “Do you know what’s fun?” After I replied in the negative she retorted “Staring!”




We have decided that we would bet one million U.S. dollars (currently worth about 5,000 Euros I think) on an Indian team against all comers in the World Series of Staring. They are amazing at being able to stand 2 or 3 feet away from you and just stare, unblinking, unspeaking for long periods of time while you sit there, or talk to your wife, or work on your bike or ask for directions. It’s Fun! Some of them will inappropriately touch the motorcycle, and a very few will ask where we are from and how much the bike costs, which is what we are used to from South America. Nowhere else do people fully take advantage of the rapture obtained from staring.

Pervez and Nilly found us in the crowd and took us back to the family home where we met the kind relatives who fed us and treated us like honored guests for the next four days. Once again it shows how acts of kindness come back to reward. Years ago some young men from Wabash College came to Boston to look at graduate schools. Fellow Wabash alum Chuck Grosvenor and I took care of them, including a great meal at the No Name. On of them, Jimmy Durawala, was from India and told me that if I ever go that I should get in touch with him as he had family here. We have stayed in touch over the years, and sure enough, while we were here his close uncle Neville was getting married and so we were lucky enough to be invited, learn about their Zoroastrian religion, and enjoy the festivities. We had lunch and dinner with the family, then settled in for a great night of sleep before the wedding the next day.

Pictures from Udaipur

Snake Charmer!

Here is a Snake Charmer and his band of Rajastani's at a local fair

You ain't seen nothing like this!

Pictures from Ahmadabad in Gujarati, State

Here are Clara and I stuck in traffic, Kevin speaking to the Guru KanuDada, and KanuDada addressing a crowd, our tour bus and a rickshaw touching in traffic (the bus driver hit the rickshaw, then the rickshaw came up and scraped into the bus which provoked the bus driver to get out of the bus in traffic go over and rip something out of the rickshaws steering column leaving him immobile!), and Kevin and Jimmy's Aunt at the Gandhi Ashram

Octopussy!

We have arrived in Udapur, in Rajastan. This where they shot the water palace scenes in Octopussy.

This is the first real tourist hangout since we've been to India and we were accosted by 10 begging children as soon as we stopped in town.

But, the people are nice and it looks to be a beautiful spot to enjoy Christmas!

Peace and Love to everyone!
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Action shot in India

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