Train Mishap

I did it! I am finally liking India.

I am now in Trivandrum, the capital of Kerala, the farthest southern state of the country. I had no intention of coming here, but the British girls were coming, and seeing as I had nothing else to do, I followed. Well, as I was researching Kerala a bit, I stumbled across this ashram:
http://www.sivananda.org/ndam/

So I ditched my plans with them, still headed to Kerala but for a different purpose now.
Getting here was hellacious. I missed my train, and it was utterly moronic. You see, something inside of me said that no train as decrepit and slow-looking as these Indian trains could be on time, much less early. But early my train was, by a full half an hour, and though I was sitting on the platform (!), I missed it. I only had the sense to ask one person if this was, in fact, the train to Trivandrum, and he confirmed my suspicion that it was not. Well, he was wrong, I asked no one else, and I was left with very few options. As good as the Indian public transportation system is, it is not enough for the population, and train tickets have to be booked days in advance. So I was waitlisted for the 11:30 p.m. train (mine had departed at 9:30 a.m. that morning, leaving me an entire day at the station), with very little hope of getting on. I tried to buy a non-waitlisted ticket for Sunday's train, but the man at the counter did not understand my request, and kept shooing me away. Seeing as I was feeling like everything was getting lost in translation and I was holding up a massive line, I left the reservation office with just my waitlisted ticket.

I spent the day trying not to beat myself up. I treated myself to Domino's and watched Inception, neither of which calmed the gnawing feeling in my stomach that I would be staying in Goa for another two days at the least.

As it got closer to 11:30, I was still not off the waitlist, and I was getting a little desperate. I kept asking the reservation office what I should do if the train should come and I am not off. I knew there was someone on the train with whom I could speak, but I couldn't get my question across, and again, people behind me in line were getting impatient, some even shoving me out of the way. (One time, a nun did this, and I instinctively gave her the dirtiest look, before I felt massively guilty. But really! A shoving nun!)

At 11:30 a train arrived, and I was determined to board, but I had to find the ticketmaster. As the train pulled to a stop, hundreds of people poured our of the doors - it was a big stop where they could get some late night food - and I could not find one person who worked for the train. I didn't even have a clue if this was the right train, as key information, like the train number, was not painted on to the side. I boarded the train and ran through the dark cabins, where almost everyone was asleep. Every time I saw a conscious person, I asked for someone - anyone- who worked for the train, but no, no, no, was the only answer I got. I left the train and did the same thing on the platform - Does anyone work for this train??? - but no again.

Finally, these well-dressed Indian boys who spoke good English (!) approached me to ask if I was lost.

"Yes!" and I couldn't control myself, I broke down crying.

Now, I am not the girl who cries to get her way. Let me say that now. I do not cry if I get a traffic ticket, I do not cry at work, and I do not cry in the middle of Indian train stations, just to play the sympathy card and get aboard.

But I cried.

Oh man, did I cry. I was so worked up, I couldn't even understand what they were saying to me, only that they were trying to devise a plan that would get me on to the train. It involved bribing a ticket officer. I was keen to do it, but just before we worked out the details, the train - it turns out not my train at all - honked that it was about to leave. The boys had no choice but to get back on the train without me, but before they did, they brought me to a little office on the platform. No line here!

Inside the office there was more crying, and this time these workers seemed truly desperate to get rid of it. At first, they tried to send me back to the reservation office, the one in which I had been pushed out of line over and over again, but I refused to go, only breaking down a little more.

I'm not sure who pulled what string, or how it happened, but at some point, I was attached to a government worker who would be working on the train I was trying to board. They said he would get me on the train, but not to lose sight of him. I took them at their word, and did not let him out of my sight for a minute. (This was probably a bit creepy and weird when he left the office to smoke a cigarette and I followed.) But sure enough! My train came, a bit past midnight, and I followed him like a devoted puppy. As soon as the trian stopped, he checked a list, and told me which seat to take! I shook his hand, tears welling up again, and said "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" over and over again.

I am sorry for my outburst, I really am. It's embarrassing and goes against the type of way I seek to deal with people, but I am so happy to be in Trivandrum.

And now I am off, Eat, Pray, Love style, to an ashram. I called them last night and they have enough room for me. This ashram has a very strict schedule, 5 a.m. to 10 p.m., of yoga, meditation, and vegetarian eating. I am soooo excited!

Mumbai, Goa and (a lack of) Yoga

Hello! I'm in Goa now, after about four days in Mumbai. It was CRAZY, but I think I was getting used to it by the fourth day. India is pretty amazing, but a lot harder to cope with than Thailand. The people are not friendly like in Thailand, though you do get the occasional REALLY helpful person, and those are who I try to focus on. So many people, though, get so angry about nothing. Men, mostly. And some are gross. Today I was on a bus and it was super crowded. I was sitting down and there were tons of people standing up in the center aisle (about a foot wide), and this guy literally had his crotch pressed up against my shoulder. I mean, yeah, it was crowded, but he could have twisted his body so that anything different was touching me. His butt would even have been better. When I tried to lean away from him he just kept at it. Eventually I flung myself forward in the seat and gave him a mean look, and he stopped. Don't let that upset you - that was the grossest thing to happen to me so far.

So. Mumbai. Like I said, it was crazy, but I really wanted to give it a chance because of Bangkok. I think after just four days in Bangkok I did not love the city, and I wanted to love Mumbai. It is an amazing city. One night my traveling partner (a friend of a friend, Viviana) and I went to this uppity music venue and listened to the most gorgeous Israeli singer (her voice being the gorgeous part). I bought her cd. The venue was super swanky and we were surrounded by rich Indians and Europeans. Then the very next day I visited Dharavi, the largest slum in Asia. It was INCREDIBLE. Over one million people live in this slum, which is actually just a term for housing built illegally on government property. Not everyone in the slum is poor; in fact, many work outside the slum but choose to stay because it's this crazy community. We saw everything from the different businesses (recycling plastic, making leather, putting together GUCCI purses - later sold at about 1000x the price) to the houses to the schools. The schools were absurdly cute - all the students in uniform repeating English phrases. They LOVED us, just kept saying, "Hi! Hi! Hi!" I'm sure their teachers were annoyed. Other than that, we saw a lot of sights, like the Gateway of India (built for one of the British kings back in the day) and other sights, like these caves carved with gods like Vishnu and Ganesha.

I decided to go to stay with Viviana and travel with her to Goa because she is only here until Thursday, and I figured I might as well have company until then. Then the best thing happened, and we met these two amazing British girls. They are Indian by decent but were born in the UK, and they are totally on my wavelength. They have been here for a couple of weeks and plan to stay until the 25th, so I may just tag along with them until then. They are really calm and really, really nice, and one of them is even doing Teach First in the UK. It's the British equivalent of Teach For America. The hotels we have stayed at have not been conducive to meeting other people, but I feel very lucky in having met them.

Goa is okay. It is a super beautiful beach state, and after Mumbai I feel like I am breathing a breath of fresh air, with the lack of pollution and lack of people, but it has been a little strange. For one, it is the off season, so TONS of things are closed, including a hostel I was soooo looking forward to staying at, where you do yoga on the roof. Oh well. Been here two days and have spent my time on the beach, wandering the towns (they are all close together) and today visiting Old Goa, where I saw the most miraculous cathedrals I have ever seen. (The whole area was conquered by the Portuguese so everyone here is Christian! Weird.)

Last, I have been doing a cleansing of sorts. No caffeine, no alcohol, and no meat! It has been super easy, since Hindus are supposed to be vegetarian. Most restaurants are vegetarian, but if they aren't then there is a whole section of the menu devoted to it. I was going to try to do yoga every day, but you would never guess! It's impossible in India!! I swear. In Mumbai I tried to go to this yoga center but they said I had to get checked up by a doctor and pay a membership fee for the whole month and pay for the individual class on top of that, AND I would have to commit to a specific time for every day, like, always come at 3:30. Weird. Then here, I found this place on a recommendation, and it's really too weird to explain, but these two Western girls basically came to the door of their house where we were separated by bars, did not attempt to open the door, and interrogated me about my yoga experience. They seemed utterly confused about why I was there, and wouldn't take me on becuase I don't know Ashtanga. The thing is, I HAVE practiced Ashtanga yoga before (it's a type... they're all similar), and I tried to tell them that but they kept saying, "Do you know the 8 poses?" I was like, "I know a lot of poses in yoga. What is one of the 8?" And the girl got EXTREMELY flustered and basically yelled at me that she didn't have time to walk me through the poses. It was super weird. All poses in yoga have names, and I think I would have recognized them if they had dared tell me. So I am giving up on searching for yoga - I will let it find me.

I haven't been so lonely, only for minutes at a time, not for the whole day or anything. There was one afternoon in Mumbai when I was really overwhelmed and bummed out, but I just said to myself, "Take it one day at a time," so that's what I'll do.

Last of Thailand

Okay, that title is decieving because I am now in India and have been here for 6 days, but I want to take this chance to write down some of the notes I took in my last week and a half in Thailand. Jake and I traveled to Railay Beach first, then up to his old village in the Northeast.

(These are the notes, in order of when I wrote them down, which is out of order from when events actually happened.):

Issan

• The neon lights of gas stations look out of place juxtaposed against seemingly endless kilometers of rice paddies.
• A loud CLANK! like an anchor against metal, and then the bus filled with smoke. A worker hurried to teh back to open a window but the only explanation Jake and I have gotten is "mai ben rai." But now we are driving about 20 mph toward the village.

The Village

I am sitting in Jake's 2nd family's living room while he showers with a bucket (surprisingly refreshing!) and I am running around in circles with Pii Thian, a relation to jake's host father, Paa, though that relationship is unknown. Both Pii Thian and Paa have English-Thai dictionaries in front of them and are picking words at random to teach me. It goes something like this:

Pii Thian: Farmer

me: Farmer?

PT: Farmer

me: Farmer

PT: Farmer speak English, chowna speak Thai

me: chow now

PT: chow naaaaaa

me: chow naaaaaaaa

... and so it goes. It's funny to think of Jake spending 6 weeks doing this, learning Thai in this way.

Railay

Before we went to the village, we had 4 nights in Railay Beach. On the first we stayed in a shabby treehouse, three floors up. To get to our 3rd floor we had to climb a ladder. On the 2nd night electricity went out at the "resort" and we were forced to use candles to climb said ladder. I got very nervous that one of the hundred or so people would make a mistake with the candl;e in the middle of the night, and we would be trapped in our 3rd floor room. Jake shared my anxiety, so that night we moved, and for just 200 more baht ($6, split between the two of us), we went from a supremely cramped, dangerous situation to a spacious room, with hot water and a balcony.

Our entertainment on Railay was slow. Whereas we were used to the beaches of Thailand being hubs for nightlife, Railay didn't have much to offer.

We went rock climbing, the main attraction of the island and the most fun. For 800 baht we rock climbed for half the day in some of the most gnarly rocks I have ever seen. Unlike in America, where before you attempted to climb actual rocks you would get an hour or so of lessons on tying knots, belaying, etc., we were more of less thrown into the situation untrained. Our guide was a master, who knew every hold on every cliff face. I relied on him to tell me whre to put my foot or hand, and though at times be as much as 75 feet below me, he would shout up, "Abby! Right... hold byu your right knee..." and sure enough, there it would be!

Of our 4 days, we had exactly one taht was picture-perfect, no rain. Jake and I chose on that day to treat ourselves to a real resort ($90 a night), where we exploited all their services, from the man who retrived our luggage from the second hostel to the breakfast in bed they didn't really offer. It was fabulous, just lying around on th enicest beach on the island, reading and relaxing.

Bangkok

At a hostel on Rambuttri Road. I am trying to read while I wait for Jake to return from getting his 30-baht haircut, but I am feeling too expressive to intake someone else's words.

Bangkok continues to be the best place on Earth. I liked Korea while I was there - the food was fun and the country was surprisingly easy to navigate - but it doesn't hold a candle to Thailand. Here, all pleasures in excess (food drink, cheerfulness, heat). I am loving life, and especially the food.

Jake and my first meal was at Chote Chitr, where we overate the crispy noodles, green curry, and fried fish, then topped ourselves off with our favorite street dessert of heavily buttered bread and bananas (see last post in Thailand for reference to very same meal).

Yesterday we visited Thammasat, where, as I was munching on my gloriously-simple-but-all-time-favorite-Thammasat-meal of chicken, rice, and spices, I was accosted by Pam, the old exchange coordinator. She looks the same and said that after I left Thammasat started getting many students from UT, as many as 14 in one semester. When I studied abroad, I was the sole representative from the entire southern United States. (Perhaps I can attribute the rise in UT exchange students to the huge poster of Meris and Lily paying alms to the Thai monks in Ayutthaya hanging outside the UT BBA exchange office?)

Today we made a trip to the old tailor's, where Jake is getting three new shirts made. I didn't want to because of the hassle and the fact that my job does not requre collared button-ups, but sure enough, I found a navy blue I liked, and before I knew it I was coughing up the less than $30 for a custom-made shirt. It turned out to be no hassle at all, because the tailor keeps everyone's measurements and what they have bought in the past in a big scrapbook with little samples of cloth taped directly on to the pages. When he pulled out my file, there they were - the sheer white, bright blue, and light pink swatches of cloth my shirts were made of two years ago.

Then came the remeasuring. While my waist seems to have stayed put, my hips have expanded by a full five centimeters. The Thai/Indian man taking my measurements laughed and said, "You need to run!" Sigh, only in Thailand is that sort of comment endearing.

Got to go. My bowels have quickly returned to the state they were in when I left!

Thailand Tomorrow

Been waiting for two and a half years...(!)

Odds and Ends - Seoul

Two things that have gotten me to look like a rambling lunatic in Korea: teaching and Spanish. The former happened when, lo and behold, every Westerner I have met has been a teacher. I had fully intended to leave teaching behind on this trip, to shake it off and refresh myself before September. Believe me, I did. But then Jake's friend, John, started asking about TFA, and here I go, one soju too many, yammering to him at 6 o'clock in the morning about the freaking workshop model. Next thing I know it's 7 a.m. and he is excusing himself to the balcony, where Jake finally got a word in edgewise. Ay.

The other time - also soju-influenced - happened when I met a manfrom Peru. I don't think I've mentioned this before, but we have met no one in Korea who speaks English, at least not outside of Seoul. By the time I met my Peruvian friend, I had gone at least three days only speaking fluently to Jake and Audrey, so even speaking the semblance of something fluent to this street vendor was just too delightful. I started off by asking him normal things: How much are these earrings? I speak a little Spanish. Where are you from? and ended the night by looping around to see this guy twice, using my ever-increasingly-sparse Spanish vocabulary to bombard him with what were most likely unrelated phrases and questions.

We're in Seoul now, a city I really like, staying at a hostel that feels more like a coop. Last night we went out with everyone in the hostel, plus met up with John, and Charity is with us, too. Today Meris arrives!

I want to add pictures and will try, but I have to buy the right cord and also load pictures on to computers that do now belong to me. I tried to explain to a man at an electronics store that I wanted a USB cord, miming the question by pointing to my camera. Things looked promising when his eyes lit up and he scurried away, but he only returned with the phone number for Seoul's Nikon store.

First Days in Korea

To the extent that Bangkok was the dirtiest place I have ever been, Seoul is the easiest. Subways cast a web over the city, leaving no area untouched, and trains or buses depart to all areas of the country at least a few times a day.

Greetings from South Korea! When Jake and I first arrived, feeling surprisingly fresh for two people who had just spent 42 hours traveling, we saw Audrey within a few minutes, and the three of us spent the first night getting oriented. We rented cell phones, since Korea does not use the sim card system, and phones won't be usable in other countries we travel to, then we found our hostel, ate some porridge, and went to sleep at about 9:30 p.m., with the hopes that we would be minimizing our jetlag. It pretty much worked.

The next day we spent in Seoul, visiting the Indian Embassy and attempting to explore the palace in our neighborhood. Apparently, Mondays are holidays in South Korea, and everything was closed. Next we headed south, to Audrey's hometown of Jecheon, where we stayed in a "love motel." I expected, as per the name, a seedy sort of place, but it was actually very clean. The walls were covered in stunningly floral wallpaper - each wall a different color - and we were provided with... er... "love" accessories, including lube. All three of us slept on the floor, on thick mats. We were told this is how traditional Korean households sleep - things called minbaks - but we keep getting conflicting information.

Jecheon was bigger than expected. I wish we had known where Audrey was born - whether it was in the countryside or to a family who inhabits the apartments in the city. It was hard, but pleasing, to imagine her as an infant, taking her first breath in this city. The town itself seemed average in terms of size and liveliness, but it was surrounded by three national parks. In the train on the way to the city, we passed what I have always thought Japan would look like - rolling hills set among a thick fog.

In Jecheon we saw a political protest, the aim of which seemed to be generally against North Korea. A crowd of about 300 sat in front of an outdoor stage, where fiery male speakers urged the crowd to wave their flags, and we heard music from a marching band of sorts (sans the marching), composed of all elderly women. Leafing through a cartoon book describing North and South Korea's histories, I realize how much of a threat South Korea still feels by North Korea.

Now we are in Mokpo, a coastal city in the Southwest. This is the liveliest city we have been to so far, with a shopping area to rival Hong Kong and tons of people out on the streets, enjoying meals, going to bars, etc. We had the best meal of the whole trip on our first night here, Korean barbecue pork chops and some kind of intestine. In South Korea, meals are an event. With every entree you are served at least half a dozen other components: kimchi (pickled cabbage... mmmmmm!!), rice, seaweed, eggs, chili sauce and a few other sides we have yet to figure out. Everything comes out in these individual plates, so you are left feeling like your meal is a true feast, all the parts complementing the others so nicely. That night we also loaded up on soju, the standard Korean drink. It is similar to sake: more potent than wine, but less so than vodka.

Today we plan to spend our third and last day in Mokpo before we head to Gimpo tonight to visit Jake's friend from home.