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First and foremost. Drumroll please…..
Kiva Fellowship!! You are reading the blog of a member of Kiva Fellow class number 13. Please visit my site (kivacharlie.wordpress.com) if you haven’t already done so to read about why I have decided to take an unpaid position working with Kiva, a microfinance nonprofit for a year+. Along those lines I am actively soliciting donations to make this commitment a possibility. I am targeting raising
$20,000 and I know I can do it. I truly believe that the work I will be doing will make a positive difference and need your help. The direct link to donate via Paypal is here .At the moment I do not have a fiscal sponsorship and therefore cannot provide tax deductions for donations but I hope to remedy that in the next month. Many of you will receive personal requests in the mail, please don’t throw them in the recycle bin! At least read the note! Also I plan on having a fundraising dinner when I am back in Chicago next summer. No donation is too small, and did I say I really needed your support?. Thanks!
Hahaha…So about that whole commitment to blog monthly, is
it too late to take it back? I will say that there was some reason for my prolonged absence from the blogosphere. My journey brought me to Palestine and while there I had what can only be described as a transformative experience. After this experience I felt it was my responsibility to write coherently about the lead up, process and postscript surrounding it and until I had done so giving the experience lip service in a blog entry would not do. I have written this essay and a version of it will be published as a separate blog entry immediately after I publish this entry. All I ask is that you take the time to respond however briefly to what I have written. Whether you are emboldened, interested, bothered, or any other emotion comes up by what I wrote I want and need to hear that you are thinking and discussing it.
With two lengthy forewords I will start this entry. Hopefully you haven’t headed to ESPN or YouTube yet. My last entry was in April and had me in Dahab, Egypt working to finish my dive master qualification surrounded with a really beautiful scene and beautiful friends. This
entry will consist of; The Beauty of Fighting Kangaroos, Entering Mustafa’s World, Introducing Incredible India…Right?, Northern Circuit, Dharam-holla, Friends and Family for the Soul, Annapurna Calling, A Note on the Art of Bus Riding, Mother’s Impression, Geography Quiz #1…Dhaka, A Taste of Bangladesh, National Geographic - My Room Edition, More to Come. If that list seems long wait till you see the entry. Plus I have gradually pared down my electronics to the bare minimum, losing by choice or circumstance my iPod and camera. While this has given me a lot of peace of mind to leave my bag without worry it means the amount of pictures in this entry are going to be minimal. If you are really smarting I suggest find the name of a place that you wanted to see and copy it into a Google image search, or even better buy a plane ticket.
The Beauty of Fighting Kangaroos My hair growing experiment was sacrificed on the dive master alter and upon finishing my friends gave me a Mohawk. It wasn’t my first growing try and won’t be my last. It also wasn’t my first Mohawk and won’t be my last. Looking back I
see that the community I was living in was really beautiful. Dahab is known as a ‘backpacker paradise’ in Lonely Planet lingo and I am usually quite wary of places described like this. The first day I arrived I set my bags down in the first decent looking place (decent being relative!) and spent the day looking around for a place to spend a few months living. I probably visited a dozen camps and guesthouses but when I walked into Fighting Kangaroo I felt something completely different. I feigned a negotiation for the 20 pound ($3.50) per night charge and left to see other places knowing I would be back. The friends I made while I was there helped me to free me mind, something I tend to have a lot of trouble doing. Sometimes for better and sometimes for worse my mind is always working and it takes a supreme effort to release this process and flow with my surroundings. One day I will be back to watch the sunset from the roof of my old home.
Entering Mustafa’s World I left Dahab and Egypt on my way to Palestine in May. Please read my subsequent entry
to learn more about this experience. One aspect of my time there that I did not write about there is being exposed to the life and plight of a refugee from Cote d’Ivoire. I met Mustafa while in an immigration jail near Tel Aviv and he opened my eyes in a lot of ways to the huge problem of refugee rights and abuses. He had been in the jail for almost two years. His ethnic minority was in great danger due to the civil war occurring in the Ivory Coast. Unfortunately while typing up his story the immigration officer did not understand French, his native tongue, and had misspelled several essential village names. Due to this his application was denied and he had been languishing in jail for all this time due to these clerical errors. His case highlighted the issue of migrant workers as well. He had come to Israel due to their advertising a need across developing countries especially in Africa over the past 10 years. When the wall separating Israel’s definition of the West Bank was completed in 2002 there was a sudden drop-off in access to cheap Palestinian labor. This void has been filled with cheap
African labor. The stories of these people I heard while at Ramle were terrible. I realized how ignorant I am to the situation faced by migrants in America. While I was at Pitzer and in Southern California I was exposed to many ‘illegal’ Mexican immigrants but never got involved in helping them or protecting their liberties. I see this as a responsibility when I get home. When I was released I got in touch with several legal aid and human rights groups in Israel and was able to help secure his release. We had quite the party when we met up in Tel Aviv. As it is in Israel/Palestine the depth of the pain and suffering are constantly being echoed by the highest of highs. Exhaustingly-fantastically-intense.
Introducing Incredible India…Right? I left Palestine in July and spent a few days in Jordan before flying to India. The juxtaposition of landing in
Delhi after my experience in Palestine was overwhelming. Beyond the intensity of India that anyone experiences on their first visit, India happens to be the most popular destination for Israelis in the world. You would be hard-pressed to find a guesthouse without several Israelis there. I knew that
I had not processed what I had experiences in the Middle East and whether valid or not I did not want to go on a ‘vacation’ with people I saw as perpetrating injustice who were now coming to India for a spiritual experience. Now as well as then I see that my own position as an American places me as particularly hypocritical to make these judgments but make them I did. Lately this realization has migrated from my head further to my heart and I found some of the words of Gandhi to be particularly useful in this process.
“It is quite proper to resist and attack a system, but to resist and attack its author is tantamount to resisting and attacking oneself.” My Experiments with Truth M. K. Gandhi 254
“My experience shows me that we win justice quickest by rendering justice to the other party.” My Experiments with Truth M. K. Gandhi 168
Northern Circuit If anyone that is reading this has been to Delhi they will understand why I wanted to leave as quickly as possible. You can literally taste the smells coming from the numerous open latrines. On top of this there
is an insane amount of touts attacking you every turn you make to buy this or give them that. It is totally overwhelming. My room at the guesthouse I was staying at was about the same size as a single bed. I would have to put my bag at my feet and sleep with my head higher then my head. I quickly headed north to see the beauty of the Himalayas. From Deli I headed to Shimla, Manali, Leh, Sonomarg, Srinagar, Jammu, and back to Delhi. The terrain makes trains impossible and all this was accomplished through a good 100 hours of bus rides in about 5 weeks. Good times. I definitely need to come back sometime soon. The whirlwind tour made it difficult for me to appreciate some of the small beauties of daily life offered by Mother India. In Shimla I woke up early to hoof up the large hill in town and see the Monkey Temple - which true to its name is inundated with monkeys. A small tip if you happen to make it to this temple would be to spend the few rupees and rent a stick. In my bravado I figured I would take
care of those little monkeys and I did ok, but it was definitely scary. Scenes from Outbreak kept flashing through my mind. On the way to Shimla I also realized the sage advice that traveling on AC transport in this part of the world requires a winter outfit. The 7 hour trip from Delhi was enough to give me a cold. AC means FULL AC. Not knowing this I was dressed in shorts in a t-shirt as the steamy Delhi weather dictated. The same goes for movie and sound system volume. If it’s there and working the driver will be sure it is going full blast. Later while in Nepal I asked a Nepalese friend about these phenomenons and he said it had to do with the pride that transport operators had in having AC, or a cassette player, or a TV system. Whatever the cause, make sure to bring a coat and earplugs if you make it out that way. From Shimla I stopped in Manali. Manali is the infamous marijuana capital of India and the huge number of plants lining the roads welcomes on the road in. It is a good place to hang out for a bit
if a little slow. Getting out of town to explore the small mountain towns is nice but be careful as there are some disappearances that are rumored to be related to foreigners stumbling upon drug operations. I booked out of Manali after a bit to make it to a music festival in Leh, the capital of the northern Buddhist enclave Ladakh. The festival was not that impressive but coming into the Himalayas for the first time can only be described as magical. The trip from Manali to Leh is 18 hours straight on a minibus. To call the ‘road’ a road is quite a stretch. It is basically the path with the least amount of holes it in. Bumping along trying not to bust my head open on the roof and my teeth out on the seat in front of me was quite an experience. Cresting the second highest pass navigable by car at over 17,000 feet was awe inspiring though. I have spent a lot of time in the outdoors but the Himalayas are just on a completely different scale. Impossible to describe with words. From Leh I hitchhiked with a Russain woman I met to Srinagar. Half of
the journey was in a chicken truck. If that isn’t illustrative enough check out the picture. I stopped in Sonomarg and did a little hiking. It was gorgeous. Srinagar was ok. The scenery is beautiful but the years of war in Kashmir have made it difficult to do much outside the city. There is a huge army presence and it brought back too many memories of my time in the Middle East. On top of that the city of Srinagar is focused on several lakes and a plethora of houseboats. Unfortunately all of these houseboats are and have been for a long time bathing/washing/throwing garbage/emptying sewage/anything else you can imagine into these lakes. I decided not to take a romantic cruise on one of the low lying gondolas on offer. Traveling has so much to do with the traveler’s state of mind. Wherever our minds and souls are at as we travel we attract those at a similar place. I was a bit of a mess and it was apparent I needed some support.
Dharam-holla From Srinagar I passed through the dusty transport town of Jammu for a couple days before making my way to Dharamsala. The Dalai
Lama was giving a 3 day teaching in a couple weeks and I wanted to relax while learning about Tibetan culture and then attend the teaching. I was really lucky to happen upon the Dhensum Monastery and the kindness of the monks there. I randomly met a monk named Tuktim who had a good energy coming off and decided to take him up on his offer to stay in the guestrooms his monastery ran. I learned a lot about Buddhism and Tibetan culture from Tuktim. After a few days I offered to teach an English class in the mornings for the monks. Eventually I was teaching an advanced class in the morning, going to a center to volunteer in the afternoons teaching, and then back to the guesthouse after dinner teaching a beginner class. Even before I started this routine I was constantly made to feel at home. Looking up from my book on the veranda overlooking the mountainside I would see a steaming tea left there by an invisible friend. Although it was sometimes difficult as I have become a vegetarian and many meals had meat I was always invited to eat with the monks. One day, feeling a
swing in my mood and wanting to express it I decided to set up a free hugs stall (an idea that I got from some geniuses who have set up tons of these stalls around the world) outside the small chai shop I would visit every morning. I made a cardboard sign with ‘Free Hugs’ in English, Tibetan, and Hindi. Throughout that day I gave almost 1000 hugs. It was fantastic. Tourists, rag pickers, shriveled old monks, my joy and intention was apparent and no one seemed to be able to deny a hug. Eventually I had half a dozen others who had joined me. It was amazing and throughout the rest of my time I was in Dharamsala people I had hugged that I didn’t even remember would come up to me out of the blue and spontaneously hug me. Eventually the time came for the Dalai Lama’s speech. My monk friends were able to get me into the inner sanctum and I was probably only 20 feet from his holiness. Being in his presence was humbling. I loved his persistent smiling and infectious chuckling. If an exiled leader who has seen so much suffering can contain this capacity
for joy and happiness why shouldn’t I have the same? The content of the teaching was a little less rewarding. The teaching was a translation of an ancient Indian tantric text with interpretations. English speakers had to tune in to a translation on an FM radio a lot was lost in the translation. Also, the topics were quite high level Buddhist discussions and my knowledge of Buddhism is very basic. Feeling rejuvenated I headed to Delhi.
Friends and Family for the Soul In Delhi I met up with an old friend from home, Jimmy. As a surprise I also got to meet up with my dad. My aunt had given him a trip to India as his 60th birthday present. It was just what I needed. The attractiveness of being surrounded by the unfamiliar was wearing thin and I needed some time with people who I knew and trusted. After a couple days with Jimmy in Delhi my dad arrived and I headed to his hotel. Over the past several months I had accumulated many presents for friends and family back home. I was looking forward to showing these to my dad (and to not having to carry
Steve my DM Instructor
The only person I have met who lives on Coke and meat, while never drinking water or eating vegetablesthem). As I tore open my huge backpack in my dad’s 5 star hotel room several roaches alighted around the room. It certainly gave my dad a shock and was a good metaphor for the next week of R&R we would spend together in Rajasthan. We took cars and trains to Agra, Udaipur, and Jodhpur. The Taj Mahal which is unbelievably crowded is still awe inspiring. We arrived in the heat of the day and the massive white marble structure made it almost impossible to stay for long. At one point I thought dad was going to faint and I would have to carry him out. In Udaipur we took an Indian cooking class which was fantastic. Flying around our teacher’s kitchen we made a feast of tasty food. We both got printouts of the recipes and while my dad promised to make some of them for my mom when he got home I’m not so sure he did. Really though, it was great to spend time with my dad. There are not so many opportunities that I have to have prolonged one on one time and I really treasure the long talks and quiet moments. I sent my dad
off back in Delhi and headed to Rishikesh where Jimmy had ended up. Durga festival was underway. Indian festivals are intense and seemingly never-ending. The end of this festival had huge statues of Durga and other protective gods being lowered into the waters of the Ganges while equally huge evil spirit statue were stuffed with fireworks and lit on fire. Fourth of July fireworks back home pale in comparison to the level these shows take on. It was an experience. I had met some friends who told me about the trekking opportunities in Nepal and I got the itch to check it out. Jimmy had heard enough of my stories from Dharamsala and wanted to see for himself so I headed to Nepal and Jimmy to Dharamsala. Luckily for us we are not only great friend but also great travel partners. It doesn’t bother us to come and go, heading in whatever direction we happen to want to take reuniting when it feels right. It’s the same way old friends can come together after years and pick up with the same closeness and banter. Unfortunately close friends and good travel partners are not always synonymous.
Annapurna Calling After
a couple of days in Pokhara researching treks I decided to try the Annapurna Circuit. This is a 3 week walk around Annapurna, the 8th highest mountain in the world. In the end I only did about 2/3 of the trek which took about 10 days. It whet my appetite for being outside again. The first few days were along the Marshyangi River, one of the wildest in the world. I remembered my time in Eastern Turkey getting absolutely worked trying to kayak in the Coruh and the wild rapids of the Indus I had rode a motorcycle along in Kashmir. I also made it over Torong-la pass, officially around 17,700 feet but I walked up a bit more to hit 18,000. I went solo but had met a few other hikers along trip. Some of these accompanied me those extra 300 feet. As we rested at 18,000 about 200 meters from us a massive avalanche began to tear its way down the mountainside. If the bitter cold wasn’t enough to start our descent that certainly was and we scurried down. It was nice to do the trip alone. The trek has enough people along it that I would be
able to get to that Zen place of complete focus on moving my feet and in the evenings I could eat and talk with friends I made along the way. The first day out I had slightly twisted my ankle and that compounded with a chest cold I picked up going over Torong-la were enough for me to call it quits. I headed back to Kathmandu and was pleasantly surprised to find Jimmy there. For the next couple weeks I had a great time totally throwing myself into a routine of hanging out with Jimmy reading, writing, working on my Kiva website, and playing/appreciating music. I met a really nice couple one of which had actually came to Nepal originally on a Pitzer program and was living with an acquaintance of mine from school. Crazy small world. The laid back vibe of Kathmandu and the kindness of Nepali people place it as a destination that I hope to make it back to someday.
A Note on the Art of Public Transport Before I go into my rant on busses I have to say that the capacity to handle adversity put forth by the guys that run these busses
is incredible. I have seen one guy rip through an 18 hour strait drive on a terrible road (debatable whether he was on speed or not as even when the bus had stopped he seemed to be rhythmically turning the wheel with the same tenacity as hour-one), engines bust and be fixed while careening down a road at 60 miles an hour, tires pop at 3 AM and be changed within 20 minutes (not sure if you have seen a bus tire changed but it is quite a bit more difficult than your Volvo), navigate with F1 precision through several feet of water, and maybe most impressive get me where I am going in countries where the quality of driving makes getting into a car something a bit less risky then Russian roulette.
Ok, now my rant. When I was in Dharamsala one of my students at a LIT (Learning Initiative Tibet) English class had the task of asking me in English and then presenting my response to several questions. One of these was “How do you find public transport in India?” My response had to be simple and got a lot of laughs “My teacher says, he is
big , the seats are small , and the journeys are long”. This pretty much sums up traveling by bus in India. If you get the chance I would definitely recommend trains over busses whenever you have the choice. When you book your train tickets make sure you stay in AC-3 or sleeper. When my dad was around we were riding in AC-1 and the people you meet are typically very haughty and stuffy. In AC-3 and especially in sleeper you are a little more packed in but the atmosphere is much better. People want to talk to you, offer you food from the home cooked meals they have brought for the journey, the cars are filled with all kinds of vendors selling local treats at each stop, and the open windows make it so you can really see and smell the countryside. In Nepal the buses were even smaller and significantly more crowded. A bus wouldn’t leave until it had at least double the recommended number of passengers including a full load on the rooftops. On top of this being uncomfortable, Nepal is the first country I have been in where you constantly are seeing mangled buses littering the roadsides. Skeletons left from old bus wrecks. It doesn’t really encourage you. Also, from the Shimla section, make sure you bring your jacket and ear plugs on every trip.
Mother’s Impression United is certainly not known for their service and I have had my share of negative experiences with them. That said, I the midst of trying to book a mileage plus ticket with them from Bangladesh to Hawaii (probably not the most frequently traveled routes) I was given quite a gift from one of these agents. After struggling with several agents due to stupid United policies and bad Skype connections this agent said ‘You know you are allowed one stopover on these flights’. With that she had found me a free trip to Japan. I confirmed the flight with an 11 day stopover in Japan, a country I have always wanted to visit. As I had shortened my trip to Bangladesh considerably I planned on flying through Kolkata on my way to Dhaka. Unfortunately I had forgone a Bangladeshi visa while I was in Kathmandu. It wasn’t that I was particularly busy in Kathmandu. I made my way up to the Bangladeshi embassy one morning and finding it deserted besides the shining Mercedes parked at the entrance I went in to ask about getting a visa. When they told me it was $131 for a one month tourist visa my mind instantly flashed to the car out front and I couldn’t stomach forking out that kind of money for a visa. When I reached Kolkata I realized that this was a standard rate and not only would I have to pay that $131 but I would have to try and get my visa among the throngs of applicants at the Bangladesh High Commission in Kolkata. This process took a few days and as a result I had some time to explore the city. I had heard it was ‘true Indian city’. I wouldn’t go that far but it was certainly crowded and had some of the worst traffic I have ever seen. There was a distinct uniqueness about the Bengali culture though and I enjoyed a lot of good conversations. One day I decided on a whim to visit the mission where Mother Theresa had worked and was entombed. I didn’t expect too much from the visit. What I found almost moved me to tears. Although she was quite austere and strict her understanding and acceptance of people from a range of religions, races, and creeds was inspiring. I am reading Gandhi’s ‘Experiments with Truth’ right now and find a lot of similarities between the two. I ended up sitting in the small working mission and tomb for over an hour. I think what really struck me was her dedication to service. In both her case as well as Gandhi’s this service was inspired through faith. This brought up a lot of other questions about my own commitment to service and lack of interest in organized religion.
Geography Quiz Question #1…Dhaka From Kolkata to Dhaka is supposed to be a 12 hour bus ride, which means that it is at least 15. My bus was lucky enough to run into some unique problems and ended up taking about 18 hours. Many of the traffic jams are created around the numerous ferries that are used to cross the rivers that run all over Bangladesh. At one of these crossings we got off to realize that in a moment of lucidity some drivers had decided to try and cut the line and began to queue on both sides of the road. By the time we got there the lines each were over a kilometer long. Since the cars and busses couldn’t unload from the ferry it was impossible for anyone to get onto the ferry and the genius of the Bangladeshi driver was revealed. Dhaka is the king of bicycle rickshaws, basically a three wheel bike with a seat in the back. There are over 400,000 of them in the city. Often I would sit on a rickshaw in huge jams caused by the fact that no one stops, everyone basically goes whenever they can creating havoc. The only city I have been to that comes anywhere close to this craziness is Cairo. Since the bus took so long I arrived in Dhaka without any idea where I was staying at about 10 pm. A man I met on the bus recommended a neighborhood to me after I told him I wanted budget accommodation. Unfortunately for me there is this idea that all white people need a certain ‘standard’ and he in fact sent me to a place that only had Westins and Hiltons. Not wanting to spend over $100 for a night in one of these places as much on principal as on my dwindling bank account I began to wander around trying to figure out which neighborhood I should head to. In India you can always find someone who speaks enough English to get by. This is not the case in Bangladesh and I was struggling. At one point I ran into a group of policeman on night duty. I asked them where I should go and one took me to the side. ‘Get on this rickshaw and come with me’. At this point I am quite scared. Until recently Bangladesh held the ignominious distinction of being first on Transparency Internationals ranking of corrupt countries. Higher then Zimbabwe… Readying myself to pay some baksheesh (a bribe) I was dumbfounded when we pulled up to the policeman’s mother’s one room house where several members of the family lived. They insisted that I stay with them for the night and I wasn’t in much of a position to refuse. It was a lesson of trusting the kindness of humanity. Rana and his family were nothing but kind to me and welcomed me into their home. I hope to be able to do the same when I am settled somewhere and can offer my help to strangers. A few days later I found myself staying in Gulistan, a crowded neighborhood near Old Dhaka. I loved having no plans and wandering the streets with no one to see. I would move with the huge crowds without any destination. Along the way I found some very cool back alleys. One of these was filled with amazing music workshops. Here I bought a drum and tambourine. While I was in Kathmandu Jimmy had given me an egg shaker and even though my musical talents are not prolific I had a great time. Going forward I wanted to have the tools to include myself and others like me in musical expressing, even if it was only shaking an egg.
One frustrating part of there being almost no western tourists is that the infrastructure these tourists would support was not there. No signs were in English, buses were almost incomprehensible, directions were typically hopeless, and my addiction to the internet was not easily satiated. Not finding an internet café one day I was getting to a point of real frustration. There is phenomenon in this part of the world where if you ask someone for directions they will invariably point somewhere, even if they have absolutely no idea where it is, even if they have absolutely no idea what you just asked them. It is a bigger shame to answer a question with a shrug. After a series of these ‘helpful’ directions in the heat and crowded hearty of Dhaka I sat down on a curb to calm down. One of the people I had recently asked directions from came up to me and told me to come with him. Remembering my experience with the policeman I decided that I should follow him. He took me to a building and up some stairs to his office. It turned out he was a partner in an import/export business and he told an employee to take lunch so I could use his computer. I was a little embarrassed but ended up having some great conversations. They all insisted I eat with them as their guest. As I left I got many invitations for dinner at people’s homes and contact details. Amidst the hustle of Dhaka there was certainly a big heart. I suppose I should have known this as my one experience with a Bangladeshi friend in America was also very good. Shahnila is in my brother’s PhD program and upon hearing that I was coming to Bangladesh set me up with lots of friends and family.
A Taste of Bangladesh…Mmmm tasty I wanted to see more of Bangladesh then Dhaka so I decided to visit the southern part of the country. I headed to Mongla an entrance to the Sunderbans wilderness. This is the region that is frequently hit by cyclones, the most recent of which in 2007 was devastating. The people have rebuilt though and the area is beautiful. This is also one of the areas in the world that is expected to flood first due to the changes in ocean levels caused by the melting of the ice caps. The wilderness is intense. I hired a boat to take me out into the twisting waterways occupied by the largest population of Irrawaddy dolphins in the world. All around are mangrove forests. This is the territory of the Royal Bengali tiger and at one stop a forestry ranger checks to make sure my boatman is carrying a rifle. While relaxing back in town reading at a tea stall a man came to talk to me. This wasn’t unusual, in fact pretty much every person that saw me came to talk to me. There weren’t any other foreigners around. This guy got way up in my face though and offered to sell me a tiger tooth. I politely offered, not swayed by the rhythmic humping he used demonstrate the tooth’s power and to seal the deal. Wandering the small markets I found an old man who had been a sailor and spoke quite a lot of English. He invited me to his home to eat the local delicacy, enormous prawns. Each prawn was about the size of your hand and they were delicious.
From Mongla I made my way by bus to Kuakata. To break up the 14 hour journey I stopped for a bit in Bagerhat to see some of the pre-Mongol Islamic architecture. The most striking of these buildings were a 26 dome Mosque (not really sure but since each Mosque I found in Bangladesh is named after its number of domes I think the more the better), and a museum with a 15 fool crocodile. I was braced for the worst after Mongla but found the museum to be nice and the animal well preserved. Kuakata is a beach town in Southern Bangladesh. The miles long beautiful beach is all the more beautiful since there are practically no tourists and absolutely no foreigners besides me. This makes conversations abundant but difficult. Everyone wants to talk with the gora (whitey) but no one really speaks English. Most talks don’t get past “Country?” “Name?” “Father name?” “Occupation?”. Still it is an amazing spot. The beach is noted worldwide for being one of the few beaches where you can watch the sunrise and the sunset. I wake up in the morning and jog past the fisherman as they begin collecting the nets set out for the night. When the first rays of sun begin to crest the horizon I enter the water wherever I am and take in the birth of the day in the Bay of Bengal. A friend recently told me that the salinity of the sea is the same as our blood as well as our mother’s womb. I spend the rest of the day wandering about drinking tea often watching cricket with a random tea stall owner, reading, writing, and finding new interesting foods to eat. Sometime during the day I usually stop at a barbershop and get a head massage for about a half hour. It costs a dollar. In the evening I eat at a small stall on the beach watching the sunset while playing football with the local youth. I am writing this entry from the veranda of my small hotel overlooking the beach. In a couple days I will jump on a 2 day steam boat back to Dhaka,
National Geographic - My Room Edition This section is not for the squeamish but after last night I felt like I had to include it. Over the course of my travels I have found quite a few animal friends in the places I have slept. Here are a few;
Rats in Varanasi - Varanasi is an amazing city. There a lot of reasons for this, not the least of which is the size and number of rats. I think the city is 4,000 years old and they have had a long time to find the nooks and crannies. The most extreme example of this I found was in the Varanasi train station. At first I didn’t really notice them. I had a few hours before my train arrived and began to doze on the floor with the masses that were doing the same. I woke up and about 6 inches from my face a huge rat was scurrying by. I jumped up to the amusement of those around me and realized that the floor of the place was literally crawling with rats. They seemed to have come in a wave. Running to a different spot I began to notice that there were rats everywhere. Feeling a bit nauseous let’s just say I decided to stay awake until my train came.
Frogs and salamanders in Kuakata - This is what prompted me to write this section. Last night I woke up to an awful racket coming from what seemed like inside my room. I hit the light and jumped up onto my bed holding a shoe. I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to find. Out of the corner of my eye something dark popped up from the side of my bed. Immediately I thought rat. It wasn’t so big though do I decided to investigate this curious variety of jumping rat. Cautiously peering over the edge of the bed armed with a flip-slop I found several frogs that had somehow made it into my room. I have no idea how. I freed the little buggars but after settling back down to sleep the croaking came again just as loud. I popped on the lights and found a salamander in the midst of a throaty call. I wasn’t going to chase salamanders around my room all night with a sandal and I was betting this wasn’t a biting variety so I popped in the earplugs and drifted off to sleep.
Giant cockroaches in Dhaka - Cockroaches are certainly not new. More often than not wherever I am staying has some type of them. When I was in Delhi staying with Jimmy we almost became friends with them. I was still a little squeamish about them but Jimbo make the good point that they don’t really bother you and that there is a lot worse. Also there is no possible way to control them so you might as well just get used to it. When the lights would go off the roaches would come out to play and in the morning you would see them all scurrying under beds, into walls, and down drains. Even though I seemed to be at peace with them I was not prepared for what I ran into in Dhaka. Staying at my policeman friend’s house I woke up in the middle of the night and felt something huge crawling on my led. I grabbed at it and it began to beat its wings. At first I thought it was a small bird and I was shaking around to get it away. Then I realized that it as an enormous cockroach. I mean the kind you see in glass cases in the zoo on a bunch of bananas and everyone goes ewwww. I eventually made it back to sleep but not until I had wrapped a sheet round my entire body in the hot Dhaka night.
Bedbugs in Pokhara - Bedbugs are the opposite of cockroaches. They are tiny and not gross looking if you can even see them but they can cause a lot of damage. When I was in the co-op in Chicago we got them and ended up having to throw out a ton of beds and couches. The same happened in an apartment in Nablus I was living at. I have had them a little bit but always was able to feel one or two and evade getting infested. In Pokhara I would be fully initiated. I got off the bus and found a super cheap Hare Krishna pilgrim hotel. I could deal with the overfilling clogged toilet and clearly unwashed sheets. I laid out my own sleeping bag liner to get into and get ready for bed. After about 60 seconds in the liner it was as if my entire body began to crawl. It was insane. I jumped up and ran out of the room. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep there. This brings up another little traveler tip - When you can look to see if there are any sheets and bedding hanging up around a potential guesthouse. If there aren’t they probably don’t wash their sheets.
More to Come In a few days I will head to Japan from Dhaka. Then I am on to Hawaii for what I hope will be a job with a state representative for 6 months. Then I will be back to Chicago for my sister Emma’s graduation from DePaul University. Next summer will be a time where I can catch up with friends and family. I also am hoping to spend some time working at Manito-wish, my old camp in the beautiful North Woods of Wisconsin. When I am in Chicago I would like to spend some long stretches of time at my parent’s cottage in Michigan to plant fruit and nut trees, work on building a sauna, and relax. I will be in San Francisco for Kiva training next October. I am hoping to organize a road trip the long way down through the South where I have spent far too little time and out to the Southwest and then San Francisco. Then I will be leaving for a year+ on my Kiva fellowship. I hope to spend this time is Asia, Africa, and South America. Somewhere along this stretch I hope to see as many of you as I can. When I am working for Kiva I will be in locations for long periods of time with my own apartment and would love for you to visit!
Since it seems that I am incapable of keeping a blog schedule I will only say that I will try my best to write as frequently as I can. I hope you are happy that the fact that I write so infrequently corresponds with the amazing things I am doing, places I am seeing, and people I am meeting. I also will be developing some more film soon and will add good shots here.
I love and miss everybody and hope to see many of you when I get back to Chicago in May. In the meantime keep in touch. Let me know what you think of what I am doing and what are up to!
Charlie
Charliewood1@gmail.com
Charlie.wood@kiva.fellows.org - kivacharlie.wordpress.com
Charlie@litteradicate.org - litteradicate.org
Skype: Charlieakwood
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Mike Guzaski
non-member comment
WOW!
Reading this made me feel guilty I sat on the couch and watched a few Southpark episodes yesterday. This is an unbelievable travel companion. Keep your head up, all your stateside friends are with you spiritually, especially during the holiday season. Be safe, and looking forward to crossing paths again some time soon!