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The
India Adventure Tour Diaries – Chapter 9
The last time we checked
in with Beez and his wife CC they were staggering out of a week and a half
of silence and separation. Together again, it was almost time to release
their lips from the supple tit of mother Inja… Leaving
Pondicherry
After
our 10 day Vipassana silence retreat, we quickly grabbed a taxi back to our
apartment in Pondicherry. Well, we quickly got into the cab… it was
actually a 3 hour trip. It is amazing that for the price of a cab ride to
the airport in Vancouver, you can hire a cab in India for almost the whole
day. As we got closer to Pondicherry, we started to wonder how things worked
out for our friends, Netty and Phil. We decided to lend our apartment to
this hilarious British couple because we obviously didn’t need it. It was
odd that we lent our apartment to them, considering how we met them. Before
the Vipassana silence course, we had gone out for breakfast at the
Coramendal restaurant, a touristy place, right on the Bay of Bengal, that
served a tasty breakfast of idli (like a rice ball the size and shape of a
large clam) and masala dosai (a thin pancake filled with curry potatoes).
Quite often, Corrina and I would start conversations with other tourists at
this restaurant. Most tourists who came to Pondicherry only visited for 2-3
days, so compared to them, we were the Carl Sagans of Pondicherry (Huh??
You were good at astronomy?! – ed). One day, we noticed
this British couple sitting beside us: Phil, a tall skinny British young
man, and his breakfast companion Nettie, a muscular, black British woman
with an enormous smile and even bigger… laugh. They were having a great
time, making jokes at each others expense, which we later found out was a
constant part of their daily routine. As they went to leave, Richard Martin,
a kind waiter, who could be found smiling 18 hours a day at the
restaurant, came running up to their table and told them, in broken English,
their 100 rupee note was a counterfeit. As they played with the note, I
couldn’t resist. I wandered over and asked if I could see the phony bill.
I mean the note was only worth $2, only in India does this seem possible. With
this introduction, we sat down to learn more about their lives. Phil and
Nettie are a married couple traveling around India after they were booted
out of Vancouver. They had sold all of their possessions in England and
immigrated to Vancouver in the summer of 2003, but when Nettie was offered a
job as a teacher, the immigration board refused to allow it; quite a pity
for Canada in my opinion. They would have been great Canadians; racially
tolerant, hard working and very funny. What more do you need to be
Canadian? They
decided to trade in their dreams of a lifetime in Canada to a year traveling
around India. Surprisingly,
Canada wasn´t the only place where they have been kicked out!. They were
also tossed out of the local
ashram hotel. When Phil told me about this, I was excited to hear what had
happened. Was it a drunken party? Wild orgy on the staircase? Preaching
Christianity? The Ashram hotel
does not allow “non-devotees” to book a room for more than 1-2 days, as
the management wants the flexibility to kick out non-believers like Phil and
Nettie. Unfortunately, Phil and Nettie didn’t know about this system.
After their first night, they decided to extend their stay. They go to the
front desk and say, “Alright
good chappies, I’ll be takin´ the room for two weeks”. “Oh
kind sir! Oh no sir! That is not possible, you can stay for one more day,
perhaps two”. “I
need a place for two weeks, is the room available or not?” “Oh
kind sir! You can come down to the desk each morning and I will tell you if
the room is available” “That´s
madness!¨ Phil responded exasperatedly. The
front desk clerk looked up at him and said , “I’m sorry you will have to
find other arrangements, please leave this hotel immediately, you have no
right to be so rude with me¨. So
despite knowing that they were counterfeiters and shit disturbers, we
knew they were fabulous people. In fact, they were such amazing people that
not once during our 10 day meditation did it occur to me that I should be
worried about the things we had left in our apartment in their trust, and as
expected when we returned there were no problems. Contacts After
getting our apartment back, we started to prepare to leave Pondicherry.
According to philosopher/physicist/world traveler Dr. Chris Archer, it takes
3 months to feel at home in a new place. As we packed up our bags to leave
Pondicherry, we felt like we were “leaving home”. Our deluxe 3 bedroom
apartment on the Bay of Bengal was an oasis in the midst of the anarchy and
our cultural isolation. But the siren of the next Smugglers tour began
ringing in my ears and it was time to start the journey of packing up our
bags in India and getting to the Smugglers gig in Toronto in the next 21
days. We
decided to mail home all of the things we didn’t want to carry for the
last few weeks in India. If you want to mail a package to Canada, you take
your stuff to a mailing service that will build a cardboard box for your
things. They sew the box shut, wrapping it in a linen cloth. While I was in
line for this service, the proprietor introduced me to a distinguished
Indian gentleman standing beside me. He was an eye doctor who worked close
by. He noticed that my glasses were extremely ugly and asked me if I
intended to buy contact lenses while I was in India. He told me that it
would cost $30 for the eye test and a bunch of disposable lenses. I thought,
“Hey good idea, cheap contacts!” Early
the next day, I ventured out to find him. As I approached his “office” I
realized that he worked at the local Pondicherry general hospital, a
building reminiscent of a 1950’s east german apartment block: grey,
industrial, boxy, and dirty. Ah, what the hell, must be a good place to get
cheap contacts, you don’t have to pay for the fancy showcase windows! I
cautiously entered the building. There were hundreds of people sitting everywhere.
Entire families camped out on floors. As I looked down at each person, I saw
terribly sick people, broken arms untreated, crying children, nursing
mothers. I thought to myself that the first floor must be for emergencies or
something, the “routine eye check up” part must be on the second floor.
As I walked up the stairs, I saw the same scenes. I started to worry. “Why
have I entered into a building concentrated with terrible diseases? Fuck…
Am I going to catch the hoochy koochy flu? FUCK. Oooo... FUCK FUCK
FUCK!!!” I pushed on, looking for “Eye Care, room 309”. As I turned
the corner, I saw his office. It
was the same scene, 30-40 people sitting around waiting and wailing, with
bandages on their eyes, appearing to be in quite a bit of pain. Puss and
blood was everywhere. I saw a line up where I was supposed to register for
my appointment. I couldn’t do it. It just didn’t seem morally correct to
take a place in line considering that people who really needed the help
would have to wait, so I could get some cheap contacts. I ran out of the
hospital, thankful to breathe the “fresh” air. Crazy
Gig! Yacht Boys
and Billionaires.
He
didn’t have a very high opinion of the billionaires, he considered most of
them exceedingly boring, but worse still were their offspring. They would
come onto the yacht, rudely boss around the yacht staff and complain about
everything. Aren’t you glad
you don’t have these problems! If
you have the time, the best way to travel is to choose one place in the
country of your choice and just stay there. I have tried the “I must see
everything” type of touring. “40 towns in 40 nights”. It always ends
up the same, a long checklist of things I’ve seen. This is great for
bragging rights but bad for depth of experience. Here is an example. We
became quite friendly with the aforementioned waiter, Richard Martin at the
Hotel Coramendal. He is a handsome, 24 year old Christian (hence his
non-Indian name). He appeared to be one of the happiest people I have ever
met; constantly smiling and laughing; yet his life was very difficult. He
worked from 6am to 10pm everyday, he was earning 2000 rupees per month
(approx. $60). His sister had cancer so the family had huge hospital bills
to pay off AND now that she has been cured, she is going to university to be
a nurse. Richard’s father told him he must pay for her school tuition. He
did get free room and board, but has trouble sleeping because he didn’t
have a mosquito net and the other workers who slept in his room snore louder
than a White Whale concert in an empty club in San Antonio. On
our second to last night in Pondicherry, Richard wanted to go out for dinner
with us. He came over to our house at 9pm, getting off work a little early.
He gave us a gift, a small candle holder. We were shocked. Then we trundled
off to a nice little Chinese restaurant around the corner. When the bill
arrived, I tried to pay for it, yet he refused, vehemently. The bill was 500
rupees, a quarter of his monthly earnings. Corrina and I were taken aback at
his generosity. Our
apartment in Pondicherry was adjacent to the residence of a high ranking
Danish government official. He had “round the clock” security, basically
two friendly old Indian men, who sat and watched the traffic go by. As soon
as we moved in, they started doing services for us, helping us open our
door, fixing our bikes, looking after our friends when we weren’t home.
There was a third, younger security guard, but he only worked occasionally
and basically ignored us, so we ignored him. We liked the other two very
much, despite our inability to communicate in a shared language, so on our
last night we gave Corrina`s bike to one of the guards whose daughter had
just lost her bike in an accident and gave the other guard a little cash. As
we returned to our apartment on our last night, the third security guard
appeared. He had not even smiled at us for 4 months and suddenly he is at
our door, asking me for a tip (baksheesh) for his “services”. This
really annoyed me because I didn’t think that he deserved a tip. But, he
can clearly see that we have given the other two guards something. I don’t
want him to feel too bad, but on the other hand, if he wants a tip, he
should provide some kind of service.(though
I guess he might consider the fact that no one broke into our house in 4
months his service). (This is extortion!
Don’t give him a cent! – ed) I
told I’d think about it, slammed the door in his face and went to bed. At
6am we got up to leave, and there he was still waiting at the door! I loaded
the bags into the taxi, and gave him a tiny tip, and off we went to Bombay!
(Okay, it’s called Mumbai now, but I like the sound of Bombay better!)
Following
this whirlwind of entertainment, we whisked ourselves off to Udapir in the
state of Rajasthan, for our last Indian tourist event. Back in chapter 5, we
met three fabulous ladies in Auroville (Jordana and Marta from Spain, and
Sita from Holland). We enjoyed their company so much that we agreed to meet
again in Udaipur. There was only one hitch. Marta’s boyfriend Nick had
also joined our Spanish princesses. I was concerned. Sometimes previously
great people can turn very weird when there
boyfriend-girlfriend-wife-husband-lover shows up. All
of the nervousness was for naught, as Nick turned out to be a fascinating
fellow. He and I had a lot in common. One strange coincidence is that we
both had built our own sensory deprivation tanks when we were teenagers and
both had a deep admiration for John Lilly. (the inventor of the sensory
depravation tank and inspiration for the movie “Altered States”). Udaipur
is a strange, romantic, desert city surrounded by mountains and ancient
ruined palaces. The movie
“Octopussy” was filmed there and to celebrate this, at least 20
restaurants show Octopussy EVERY NIGHT! One
strange thing happened to Corrina and I. We went for breakfast on the
rooftop of a hotel, which was deserted, except for our party of 6 (I was
actually happy that it was deserted because I have a bizarre, subversive,
disturbing, unique, annoying and constant phobia regarding seating
difficulties for large groups) [actually ANY sized group, literally from
two to twenty, and it’s never a problem – ed] After our fantastic
breakfast without any seating issues whatsoever, the waiter-owner of the
hotel, a tall skinny 40 year
old Indian man with the compulsory mustache, asked us if we wanted to book
massage with him. I guess he is a waiter-owner-masseuse. He suggested
that we sign his guest book. The comments in the book were quite strange.
“If I was a little more immodest, I would have taken off all of my
clothes”. Uh oh… sounds like a Yoga teacher/hair dresser scene to me! We
politely declined, but he continued to sell us. He
said “if you let me hold your hand, I can tell you things about your
health”. Oh I see, waiter-owner-masseuse-psychic doctor!
While
in Udaipur, I discovered the pleasures of SMS texting on the cell phone,
often coordinating our nightly dinners together by this method. After 5 days
in Udaipur, we left our dear friends, physically. But we continued to SMS
during our final few days in Jaipur. As we arrived at the airport in Delhi,
I SMSed our dear friends, saying ”we are at the Delhi Airport, the Indian
journey is over, it was great to meet you”. Ten minutes later, we received
a SMS message in return: “I’m approaching the Delhi Airport, see you in
20 minutes!” Wow, what an unexpected surprise. We checked in, went
through security and found a dingy Indian coffee shop. After 30 minutes went
by, we received another SMS message, ¨security won’t let me through as my
flight doesn’t leave for 6 hours¨. But
CC and I couldn’t go back through security! Finally, after waving at Nick
from 20 feet away, I decided to pull a classic Grant Lawrence. I just
ignored all of the guards and walked over to where he was standing. The
guards came running up to me and told me that I couldn’t go any further,
so Nick and I stood talking to each other over a security barrier. I started
to get nervous, sweaty and panicky, so I started to returned to our side of
the airport. As I was about to leave, Nick said “Beezer! Do you want this
book by Marshall McLuhan?” “Sure,
thanks”. Amazingly, no one checked or noticed that I had a book in my
hands that I didn’t have before. Could have been a good scam! As
we sat in the Delhi airport we were surprised that things that had seemed so
foreign to us when we arrived -the dirty streets, the ramshackle buildings,
the surging humanity, people asleep on sidewalks- all seemed normal. In our
short stay, we had really grown to love the kindness of the Indian people,
the fabulous food, and simple lifestyle we were fortunate enough to
experience. India taught us that there is so much more going on than the
obvious physical world and at the same time, how important it is to be more
aware of the natural world. The life-death cycle so close to the surface as
bugs compete with cows to eat your banana peel. It is still hard to
comprehend that a billion people can keep a country together, particularly
considering their extreme racial and religious differences. But I guess that
is the magic of India. One of the most important lessons we learned is that
most countries do not need to be feared. One of the original reasons why we
decided to go to India was because we thought it would be too hard to go
India when we were older, now we know that we were ignorant.
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