Enterring the Cold

We are now in the mountain town of Dharamsala in the Himachal Pradesh Province of India after a 6 and a half hour bus ride (that was only supposed to take 4 hours), a night train, two days in Amritsar, and an extremely nauseating van ride up the foothills of the Himalayas.

Amritsar.

Amritsar is the capital of the Punjab State of India.  It is also noticeably a much wealthier state than Uttar Pradesh, with better wealth distribution for the people.  At every corner, you are not bombarded by entrepreneurs and the prices of goods aren't intensely inflated for foreigners.  Even the public bathrooms are free, providing clean floors, toilet paper, automated sinks, and even the luxury of hand soap!  The Punjab State is the origin of the newest major religion of the world:  Sikhism.  Amritsar is the Mecca for Sikhism pertaining the beautiful Golden Temple.  It is free for entry, free for bag checks, and there is even a free kitchen (paralleling the concept of a soup kitchen).  You'd never believe all of these amenities to be free in India.  The first day we were there, we paired off for a scavenger hunt for information on Sikhism.  Morgan and I were paired and we were off on our quest for knowledge.  After an exploration of the Golden Temple,. we met this boy, Jaswinder, who showed us around to all of the major important spots in Amritsar.  Strangely, the boy ended up expecting money from us (which was not what we agreed on from the beginning).  Oh... the language barriers of traveling creates such awkward moments....

Sikhism is a peculiar religion.  It is based on the teachings of 10 gurus.  Martyrdom is the highest honor one can have.  At an early age, Guru Nanak Dev rejected the materialism of Hinduism and started his own new religion that included all beings for a personal connection with God.  One can describe Sikhism as a mixture of Hinduism, Islam,  and a little bit of Martin Luther's Protestantism.  It is a religion based on the ideals that everyone can have a part of God.  However, during the British raj of India's colonial period, the religion took a dark turn.  Because the Sikh rulers were a minority, there was much persecution of Sikhs during this time by Hindus and Muslims.  One could describe is like the Salem Witch Hunt.  Because of this, Sikhs took up arms and abandoned their quest for peace and defended their land.  This legacy of martyrdom is still seen today: every Sikh man still carries a knife or sword for protection.  Every night at the Golden Temple, the Guru Granth Sahib is put to bed (it is the book of Sikhism, almost like the bible for Christianity) and it is a beautiful ceremony.  The energy of the temple is disturbingly peaceful while the priest (of some sort) sings the verse of a random page.  The Guru is wrapped in ten blankets signifying the ten gurus of before.  Afterward, the Guru is carried on a golden throne to the bed where Sikhs from all over the world watch and sing.  The intensity of religion in India is beautiful and quite intense.

The next day we went to the border closing ceremony.  Every night, a crowd rallies to watch officers in elaborate outfits do high kicks, lower the flags of Pakistan and India, and close the fence that separates the warring countries.  An image one can describe it as is as close to a football game as possible.  It is extremely anticlimactic.  The energy of the crowd cheers with intense patriotism.  I asked a group of barley, muscular Indian men sitting next to me yelling why they were yelling and the answer was, "Because we love India.  It is not that we hate Pakistan but we must show support for India".  The Pakistan side of the fence is separated by gender, therefore the women of India show off their liberation by dancing on the street.  This peacock show of patriotism seems to be intensifying the relations between Pakistan and India.  Will peace ever be resolved?

Dharamsala.

The mountainous town of Dharamsala is cold and crisp: like a Bellingham winter day.  The smell of fresh air and sight of coniferous trees is nostalgic.  Upon entrance yesterday, I was stunned by an extremely nauseating car ride up mountainous regions but the fresh air quickly revived the group.  At this altitude, we are above the clout of smog and it feels great.  Dharamsala is the home of the much-revered Dalai Lama and generations of Tibetan refugees in exile.  Because of the fame of the Dalai Lama, Dharamsala attracts much tourism, making it a western hub in the bottom of the Himalayas.  Here, you can find internet at every corner, western toilets, Italian food, hot showers, and all of the comforts of home.  It is strange to be this comfortable in India.  Tibetans have gained much from Western aid and the signs are everywhere: with NGOs at every corner..  In comparison to the Karen refugees of Noh Bo, Tibetans have really established their cause.  I am excited to work with these people.

This morning was not a good morning.  I had a minor case of food poisoning which left me nauseous and vomiting.  After an entire day's rest, I have recovered to some degree.  However, Charlie insistence on me staying inactive left me bored while the group enjoyed a beautiful hike to some waterfalls.  This sickness won't be the end for me.  I will survive.

J.

The Land of Endless Entertainment Cont'd

Varanasi Cont'd.

Varanasi is a beautiful place.  It is considered to be India's oldest and holiest city.  The entire city contains a constant wafting smell of cow manure.  You must watch as you step for your feet may land in a giant pile.  Indians believe it is a sign of good luck when you step into cowshit.  I must be one hell of a lucky girl.

We spent four days there going to pugas, boat rides, and many explorations.  Indians in Varanasi love talking about the history of the city and the many creation stories that have taken place there.  The city is dedicated to the God Shiva.  At the Marnikarnika Ghat (the burning ghat), it was believed that the fire that burns in the temple is the original fire that Shiva gave to the people.  It is believed to be burning for over 3,000 years.    The days spent in the city was spent wandering on the riverside contemplating life as I observed the many activities involved with the Ganga River:  ritual cleansing baths, children getting the hair from their former lives shaved, sadus drinking tea, snake charmers... the list can go on.  Because there was not much information there that was pertinent to my research, I attempted to take time to just relax.  But it is hard to relax when you can never find solitude.  Women do not walk around alone in India and a foreign women draws much attention.

During one of the evenings, we decided to visit the Dasashwamedt Ghat for a daily puga ritual.  We met a couple of beautiful Indian girls, Roba and Roma, who invited us into their home where we drank chai and ate some Indian snacks.  Indian hospitality never ceases to amaze me.  The best part of Indian hospitality is the necessity of chai tea in every interaction.  Everywhere you go you are given chai: silk shops, art shops, internet cafes, train stations, etc.  As I have reiterated before: if there is a possibility of overdosing on chai, India is the place for it.

One of the most amazing parts of Varanasi is the clash of traditional culture and modern consumerism.  Indians love to manipulate Hindu religious icons into commercial use.  Along the 3,000 year-old ghats, there are an amazing array of street art that has been absent until recently.  Many of the older generation are not fond of this because it is an introduction from Western culture.  But I believe it is a beautiful display of art.  The artist is as mysterious and elusive as the art itself.

Walking along the streets of Varanasi I encountered one of the most serendipitous moments of my life.  Paul, a South African traveler we met in Bangkok, was walking along the street and recognized me.  He still had a snapshot of my Toms shoes on his camera from 3 weeks earlier.  What a small world.  We ended up showing him our guest house where he and a friend decided to stay also.

I fell in love with Varanasi.  At sunset on the roof of our guest house, the pink glow of the sky compliments the multitude of kites flown by children and the call to prayer of Muslims in the entire city.  It is the most inspirational sound in the entire world.  Every day, Muslims from all around the world turn towards Mecca and pray at 6am and 6pm which creates a situation where at least one person is praying to Allah all around the world at all times.  Energy felt for the submission to Allah is more than any words can describe.

Sarnath.

Sarnath is a small town outside of Varanasi.  It was the place where Buddha gave his first sermon after enlightenment.  Because of this fact, it is probably one of the most interesting places I've ever been in.  The main street is literally lined with Buddhist temples.  Every Buddhist country from around the world has a temple there.  It is lined with a multitude of tour buses and tourists from all around the world.

I stayed with a Jain family of four children, a baby, and two parents.  The youngest son, Ankit, is a charismatic 15-year-old who learned English through Dr. Jain and working at a shop.  We worked with Dr. Jain, who has spent the last eight years developing education for the lower caste children of the area.  His schools provide sponsorship and education for children of lower castes, focusing mainly on the young girls to find other job opportunities rather than waiting to become a housewife at the age of 15.  His valiant effort at providing this opportunity for young women is amazing but it does not seem to be changing the job market of India.  Everything in India is run by males.  The few women work in public are the extreme minority.  This is still a young program, however, and with the imminence of modernization in the village life, the prospects for rural women seems optimistic. 

Sarnath is strange.  Because it is the sight of intense religious study, there is a constant echo of prayer songs.  Strangely, there is also a simultaneous constant stream of techno music from the cacophony of wedding parties performed in Sarnath.  I have paralleled it with something like Burningman where one can find party and spiritual enlightenment all in one.

In another moment of serendipity, I ran into someone from my past here in Sarnath.  During a Dharma gathering (where a group of Westerners study Buddha's Dharma), I ran into Mathias Langer, a guy who also went to Mercer Island High School.  What a strange coincidence.  Here we are, on the other side of the world and I have found two other people who also went to my high school.  I referred to Sarnath in my journal as "a cacophony of beats and prayers reverberating the dust-filled air".

Agra.

We are now in Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, after taking another night train through the province of Uttar Pradesh.  I already miss my host family: Ankit, Ankita, Sangeeta, Amit, Amrita, Lalchand and Shotu.  They were the best family any girl could dream of being a part of. I will never forget how Ankit took me to a Japanese monastery to get my nose pierced with a tree thorn by a women, or waking up to his face overlooking mine saying "JENNY WAKE UP!"  Sarnath was a dreamland and Agra is reality.  We have been warned that the food in Agra is extremely dangerous due to the poor sanitation standards and so we decided to walk to McDonalds... the first one built in the world where they necessarily omitted the cheeseburger from the menu.  Indians do not eat cow... she is the mother of the people and sacred to most.  Therefore I ate a chicken masala burger, fries, and brownie sundae.  It was the most rewarding brownie sundae in my entire life. 

Indians are absolutely comical.  There is no such barrier between their thoughts and words.  Every Indian has such a strong personality.  You will never be bored in India, it is the land of constant entertainment.  I love it.

J.

The Land of Endless Entertainment

India is the land of endless entertainment.  At every corner there is a multitude of beautiful faces and amazing characters.  Let's start from the beginning...

Calcutta.

We arrived after a 4 hour plane ride from Bangkok to Calcutta, India.  It was the most intense city I've ever seen.  Thais have never seemed so docile until now.  My favorite quote from Drew upon arrival: "Now I totally understand why Buddhism started, he left his palace and saw this place and needed to chill out and sit under a tree".  Indians are intense.  The meaning of politeness and shame have no concept here.  When you walk down the street, horns are constantly blaring, people are running up to you to sell things, and the faces.. There has not been a minute in India where you go where you are not stared at.  Upon commencement of a simple question, you are immediately surrounded by 10 curious Indian men.  It takes awhile to get used to and at first it seemed petrifying to be alone.  Yet the constant curiosity and assertiveness is definitely what the aloof   Pacific Northwest needs.  The day we spent in Calcutta was the most emotionally and physically draining day of my life.

We first went to the Kali Ghat.  It is the temple in Calcutta dedicated to the goddess of death and destruction, Kali.  It is the place where her toe was believed to fall after Shiva spread her body across India.  Upon arrival, I thought we would be enterring a beautiful temple just like all of the Buddhist monasteries of Thailand.  To say the least, it was the embodiment of Kali.  Sean describes it as the place where Jesus was tortured--metal bars, white walls, flourescent lighting, people yelling and screaming.  It was as if we were in a mosh pit.  We were shoved through this metal gate where people were yelling and screaming at us for money.  When we finally got to the toe, the priest was angry that all I could offer was a Thai baht, pressed my forehead with tumeric really hard (giving me whiplash) and shoved me through the line.  After that traumatic experience we stood around an area where a puga was being performed.  Almost 8 goats were ceremoniously behead with a giant sycle.  Whiskey was shoved into their mouths before the beheading.  Those were traumatic moments.  Imagine in an instant being smashed up against firey humans, heat blazing from the sun, a drum banging next to your ear, people screaming and yelling, your crotch getting groped by random hands, and a goat beheaded before your eyes.  That was the most intense moment of my life.  This experience has left me with a completely different feeling of Hinduism that I never anticipated before.  Hinduism is the most raw religion I've ever participated in.  There is no romanticism of majesty, only stories of creation and art.

After that we went to Mother Theresa's tomb and one of her hospices in one of the slums.  Walking through it was a depressing dose of death.  I've never seem so many hopeless women.  One women Anjali who was near death held my hand and kissed it for so long.  I broke out into tears.  No one should ever be zooified like so on their moment of death.

I boycotted activities for the rest of the day.  We went to Queen Victoria's palace.  All I could do was sit on the lawn and contemplate.  It was a disgustingly beautfiul place.  There should never be such a beautiful palace in a place where slums grow virally and people sleeping on the streets.  Calcutta is a wasteland of poverty.

Indian Train.

That night we boarded an night train to Varanasi.  It was the largest and most crowded train station I've ever been inside of.  Millions of people use it every day and the smell really says it all.  The trains don't have grey water tanks.  Whatever waste humans produce just go right onto the tracks.  We were warned that the train was going to be the most dangerous part of our journey however I was only welcomed by warm hearts and smiles.  One brahmin I sat next to named Roni was an extremely interesting human being.  Coming from an educational background, he is the few of India.  He could only read and write in English but can speak English, Hindi, and Bengali.  We shared music, photography ideas, and minds.  It seems as though Indians are never too quick to ease their curiosity.  Why can't Americans let go of their aloofness and have more interest in the ones around them too?  I was awoken that night by bathroom necessities, cold air, and chants "Chai, chai, chai" by men who board the trains to sell chai tea.  If there is a possibility of overdosing on chai tea, it might happen in India.

Varanasi.

Varanasi is the most interesting city I've ever been in.  Along with the bustling busy-ness of Calcutta, there are cows walking through the streets and alleyways, ghats along the mighty Ganga River, and even more interesting people to interact with.  Despite the warning of our group leaders, I went off in solitude (extremely sick of constantly being with the same people) and explored the ghats along the river.  The most powerful one was the Marnikarnika Ghat where Indians from all around make a pilgrimage to for cremation.  There are bodies burning constantly on different tiers and levels for the differing caste of the person.  The Ganga is a beautiful river, however extremely polluted.  Safety levels of fecal chloroform per liter is 500 or under--the Ganga has 1.5 million in some parts.  Confusingly, there are people bathing in it at all times for ritual purification.  It is believed to cleanse one of their sins.  Everyone you speak to in Varanasi has a different creation story.  I will elaborate in my next blog because my time is up.

It is getting dark.  It is dangerous for women to walk around alone at night. Until next time, J.

NGOs, NGOs, NGOs

I've spent the last couple of days searching for NGOs in the border town of MaeSot.  It is the most diverse town I've ever visited.  Because it is right next to Burma, the town consists of a variety of its ethnic groups, the Karen, Shan, Chin, Rhohingas, and a scoopful of the 136 ethnic tribes in Burma.  Because of this diversity, every city block has a temple dedicated to each of the major religions.  In one corner, you can find a golden Thai Theravada Buddhist temple and on the other you can find a mosque.  There is also a Chinese temple dedicated to Confucianism and a Burmese Buddhist temple.  Surprisingly I have not seen a Christian church seeing that over 50% of Karen are Christian.  Leaving Noh Bo has proven difficult to adjust back to Thai society.  Just as I was acquainting myself quite well with Karen, the tonal language of Thai has left me discombobulated and confused.

The Green Guesthouse where we are staying is located right next door to the police detention center for the undocumented migrant workers.  If these migrant workers are caught in the streets of Thailand without papers, they are sent to this detention center where they can either bribe the policeman for bail or be sent back to Burma.  The cells are empty in the mornings and by the evenings the cell is full of families: children, mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters.  This is the flaw in the Thai bureaucracy which parallels the treatment of our own migrant workers in the United States.  Because of the prevalence of the mistreatment of migrant workers and refugees, there are many NGOs in the area that work to help the community.

Erika and I have spent the last couple of days working to find and interview some people who work at Compasio and the famous Mae Tao Clinic.  To our surprise, a graciously elderly British man volunteering at Compasio (an NGO dedicated to saving undocumented migrant children from homelessness, abuse, and trafficking) treated us to a Burmese dinner while answering any questions we had.  It seems as though NGOs here are much more accepting of help and questions than in the States.  You don't need to have too much experience, just the will and desire to help.  The Mae Tao Clinic is an amazing place.  Just over 20 years ago, Dr. Cynthia, a Burmese, opened up a clinic to help the suffering refugees who were refused help from Thai government.  It is a conclave of small concrete buildings just outside of town.  You would never believe how many people are being treated there.  It is an extremely popular place seeing that these people have nowhere else to go.

Salinee who is the CEO and founder of the NGO we worked with setting up the solar panels in Noh Bo has given me some contacts in which I can maybe enter Mae La, the largest refugee camp in Thailand housing 41,000 people.  It is an incredible place.  You can see thatched roofs as far as the eye can see when driving past it.  No one is allowed to leave or enter.  Offenders will be sent back to Burma.  Food is rationed out because there is no agriculture in the camp:  there is simply no space.  Wouldn't it be an eye-opening experience to live as a Karen in Mae La for a day?

I worry for Salinee, Jobson, M, and Tutu (employees of the solar panel NGO we worked with in Noh Bo).  They left yesterday to illegally cross the river into Burma in order to install more solar panels in the remote Burmese mountains.  It is such an fascinating thing in history to partake in and yet they are incredibly nonchalant about it all. 

The small town of MaeSot has proven to be full of hidden gems and treasures of knowledge.  If you come here as a tourist, you won't be impressed.  But if you come here as a seeker of knowledge, you will be captivated.

J.

The Forgotton Children of Noh Bo

I have fallen in love with the forgotten children of Noh Bo.  We spent all last week living in the Karen village of Noh Bo contingent to the border of Burma.  The Karen are hill tribe people that spread across the border.  All are refugees of this conflict.  But the Karen are so incredibly resilient.  We spent the last week installing solar panels and a well pump into a remote village.  340 meters of digging is grueling in 100 degree heat.  The strong Karen men made us seem insignificant and small but their warm hearts and smiles suggest a friendship that goes beyond language barriers.  The week was spent waking up at 7:30am, then breakfast, then work, then lunch, then more work until around 4pm, then playtime.

The children of Ole's Blessed Home Orphanage are the most independent and disciplined children I've ever met.  At times the boys got violent with rocks and punches but it was always solved with some tender-loving care.  The young girls would always run up to you with beautiful smiles yearning for the intimate loving relationship they've lost.  The older girls are more reserved but they warm up to you instantly when the connection of pure curiosity is understood.  I've made some friends.... Ganay, Weehey, Palerwah, and Yada. Each of them has welcomed me into their world so acceptingly: going to Karen church, riding motorbikes and chewing betelnut, swimming in the river, playing Thacraw and volleyball.... They will always be forever held in my heart.  What incredibly beautiful souls.  Each of their stories are as heartbreaking as the other and yet they've successfully formed a small community within their common tragedy:  the loss of family to war.  At times I felt intense bliss and other times I've been overwhelmed with intense guilt of leaving.  I must go back.

We are now in Mae Sot, a border town.  It is intense, smelly, and buzzing with people of all ethnic patterns.  I have spent the past couple of days exploring and finding some Non-Governmental Organizations to interview.  I've decided to change my research question in regards to the Karen refugee situation in Thailand.  The migrant worker situation here parallels the migrant worker situation in the United States regarding Mexican workers.  I've also discovered a migrant worker art cooperative in town in which Blair and I would love to fund raise for upon arrival home.  The connections I have created have opened up many oppurtunities of future travel and employment.  I must come back.

 Nabayo and Friend

Devotion Time

Going to Karen Church in Style 

Salini stoked on the finish of the Solar Panel Project 

 Last meal at the orphanage.  Karen Independence Day BBQ.

 I miss you WeeHay

 Yada and Jobson

The boys are finally loving on our last night :D

J.