So, this is a record of my traveling weekend along the Bay of Bengal. It will consist of several long posts. You don't have to read, but it was a pretty sweet weekend. At least check out the pictures. They are from India!!
Also, I feel the need to begin this post with this warning:
I started off sick, and I was still sick 4 days later on the early bus home. Fever, chills, splitting headaches and constant sharp jabs in the stomach are not pleasurable traveling companions, and made me an unfavorable candidate for traveling. Thus, not all of my descriptions will do the things and people we saw justice.
But, our trip was a beautiful trip, and I can only apologize for being such a lousy traveling companion after we worked so hard getting this fabulous trip together.
Our journey started here, on a 13 hr overnight trip to Visakhapatnam.
I am on the top bunk, directly across from me was where Riane was sleeping, and perpendicular to us, across the aisle, was where Nathan was. Beneath me were 2 bunks holding men.
Imagine trying to crawl down 3 bunks on a dark, lurching, speeding train and finding your way to the bathroom that when you open the lid, really announces with the extreme rush of cold air, that your toilet is the railroad tracks. That being said, trains are awesome. Trains are stressful. But trains take you to all of the places you would never see otherwise, and locals get just as excited as we were to see some of the sights from the train windows.
Trains also suck. Trains are grungy. And they have men going up and down the aisles, "Chaiiiiii, coffeeee chaiiii..." at ungodly hours.
Visakhapatnam is a coastal town - it is humid. First thing upon waking up after a wild ride on the top bunk of a speeding bullet, I look over at Riane. Strangely enough, there was a Chia pet in her place!! This picture does not do it any justice. Her morning (and the morning of everyone in our section of the train) probably started off horribly because I just laughed - hard, body shaking, heaving laughter - at her for a good 15 minutes. It started my morning off quite nicely however.
A mountain, Kailisakiri, with stairs all the way up to the top. This was not an easy climb. We felt out of place, too, because apparently the thing to do is to take your date (who is in mini heels and a saree) out in the middle of the day to climb these stairs to the top of the mountain where you find these things:
A pretty swell view
Friends that hide under mushrooms
and face trashcans
And Shiva and Partavi
There were other weird sculptures, like snails and huge people, but then it ended up being this huge popular park on top of this mountain overlooking the city with grassy areas and a train that went around the whole park. We also found shrines and abandoned meditation spots that we immediately took over and rested and ate a rescue Fruit by the Foot.
We also found people. Everywhere, we found people - and we especially found people that wanted to take our pictures and take pictures with us all together, individually, etc. Riane and I joke about the need to start special albums of people the 1.) want to take pictures with us, 2.) people want their picture taken ("one snap! one snap!" which turns into 7543798 snaps)
Then we traveled back down the staircase. Harder. Much harder. Powered up the staircase. Then spent the day in stifling heat. Going down the never-ending staircase was a slower, shakier, less sure venture. reaching the bottom and seeing the beautiful beach ahead of us was a welcome site.
So we crossed the street to it.
Please understand, I act as if we just happen upon all of these places.
But India is not easily navigable, and it is full of people who will 1.) ask if you want a ride in their overpriced rickshaw, 2.) run over you
you do not travel easily, in peace, or by yourself.
So yea, ok. the beach actually was directly across from the mountain, so all we did was cross the street. But that was the easiest time we have ever had getting there.
The first thing we encountered was a girl attempting to pee behind a wall. It should have been a hint.
We had not hit the public beach. We were on the empty, private beach and navigating our way around piles of human feces.
But this beach, it was the Bay of Bengal. And who ever thought I was going to be walking the sands of the Bay of Bengal? I kinda thought I was dreaming, so I took some glamour shots to document that this incredibly surreal moment of being in India at the foot of the mountains walking in the Bay of Bengal was indeed happening to me, Allyn Wong.
And then we met people. Beautiful people, full of smiles and laughter, living their lives in little houses on the side of the beach. Men, women, children, they all lined the beach. Children were flying kites, men were moving boats in the water by shoulder bamboo holds, and women watched.
Everyone loves to have their photo taken. And it is fun, taking pictures of people and showing it to them. The children love to see themselves on the display screen, and it makes me happy to see them so happy. Who knows how often they see 3 white Americans walking down the beach with no shoes, in awe of their surroundings with cameras that are made just for the sole purpose of taking pictures and documenting unreal moments. Like children in a fishing village standing on a boat on the coast of the Bay of Bengal.
Children are the most fun to take pictures of, because it isn't just the pictures they care about. They want to know your name, and where you are from. They ask if you can speak their language, Telegu, which we can't, and so they step up to the challenge and speak to us in a foreign tongue, English. Makes me feel pretty inferior to 10 years old in a foreign country that are bilingual, when I am the one from the easily more equipped country with more opportunities to learn foreign languages, yet I speak no other language than English. It is true what most countries say about American foreigners - we don't know anything about where we are going, and we are appalled when they don't speak English. But they can. We are the ones that have forgotten we live in a truly global, interconnected world and we don't know any other language without intense training, because it will "look good on our resume" and possibly be a good asset to our career. But not crucial. So global learning takes a backseat. Sad.
The man next to Riane was very nice. When we got lost on the smelly, incredibly trashy part of the beach, he found us and invited us not only to travel through his little community, but into his home to meet his family, his pets, and to have a cup of coffee.
Talking to strangers does a great many things: it makes you suspicious of their intentions after everything you hear about talking to strangers, it introduces you to a world of things, it opens doors and it opens your eyes.
In his house, a modest house packed in among other modest dwellings but with a stunning roof view of the ocean, we found a beautiful wife, a red chick named Jumpy, 2 beautiful tennis stars of daughters, their family puja (shrine type setup) and a mother in law that taught Telegu. We found wonderful hospitality - coffee, stories of tennis games and being a national boxing champion, explanations of names, traditional Hindi, and friends.
(This eventually pooped on Nathan. Riane and I both found this hilarious. Nathan did not. I suppose rightfully so. Avian flu had its time.)
We exchanged emails and addresses so we could send them a letter of our appreciation at their wonderful, far too generous hospitality and said our goodbyes. We will see this family again soon - they travel to Hyderabad fairly often for the girls' tennis nationals. They will be here in early Febuary.
We took off by rickshaw again, another stressful experience. I was screaming at a man at one point this weekend. He didn't seem to understand my years of experience and perfectly practiced, "No." After I turned on him and in his face yelled, "No. We do not want your rickshaw. Go away." did he actually step back and leave us alone. Riane tries to negotiate. If they don't agree, I walk away and take patient Riane with me. If they follow, she just repeats that no, we will find a cheaper driver. I ignore. Then I yell. We are such a perfect team. Sometimes I feel sorry for the poor rickshaw drivers that got near me this weekend. But then I think about their true rickshaw monopolies and how they seriously rip us off and I am glad I yelled at them. I'm experience new things in India, and so are they. How often are they yelled at by a tiny white girl with a book bag that towers over her in the middle of a busy street?
India is full of experiences for everyone.
I am still working on patience. On that note, I dropped a class spontaneously today after slight deliberation of the huge amount of work I could be doing for unnecessary credits and joined Yoga: Practice and Theory.
Maybe now my patience plan will be put into effect.
Back to the story:
Our driver dropped us off along Beach Road. Beach Road was teeming with people.
So you know, Indians come out after 4, when everything cools off. They are smart smart people.
We walked along, snapped some pictures and got ice cream. We felt bad because we walked past one man offering us ice cream but then stopped at the next ice cream place. Just as the man who had offered us ice cream first walked by us. I can only compare his death glare to my own. I don't blame him. We were spectacles walking down the street (it might have also had something to do with the wind and the amount of trouble my scarf was giving me while every other scarf barely ruffled) and everyone saw us reject him only to accept the next ice cream man. Unintentional.
It was time to find food. We keep doing this even though we feel weird, but we just waltz into hotels and sit down at their restaurants. We do not sleep in 5 star hotels but we eat at 5 star hotels. And in Visakhapatnam, we ate at a 5 star hotel overlooking the Bay of Bengal twice and for both meals, all paid under $20.
We were at Dolphin restaurant the first night.
Note to self and readers: let your food cool down.
It does not matter how hungry you are, that egg roll bite will not cool down in the back of your mouth. On the contrary, it feels a million times hotter and leaves you with peeling skin on the roof of your mouth and then you can't eat for the next week.
I am living proof that the putting steaming hot things in the back of your mouth causes you nothing but agony.
Spit it out.
Better yet, let it cool. Then enjoy your food without looking like a flailing fool.
We headed home to our hygienicly suggestively quarters. This was when I first realized that all showers come with an extra faucet, about the height of your belly button, and this water is hot, unlike the freezing cold water from the shower head. I don't think I took a single shower standing up.
I am glad I am partial contortionist and can take a decent bath squatting under a faucet.
This entire trip, we were always asleep by 10:30. Traveling is exhausting.
Next post tomorrow, with pictures of a stressful, packed, gorgeous train ride to Araku Valley, and a local village. Also, with possible news about Telangana.
In today's news, Muslim women are being told that they cannot vote in their burqas because they must be able to be identified. Makes sense.
Love.
