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Published: February 22nd 2007
This will become one of the first famous quotes of our trip, provided by our first guide.
And, he is more than right. We have already had so many experiences of this.
From who gets paid what how, to fraud -- we are beginning to become a wee bit cynical.
Our first guide no doubt got backsheesh everywhere. I am convinced no government agency benefited by entry fees we were to pay to get in anywhere. Equally, I am sure that even dear Surjit is in on the game. Kickbacks are common and maybe nobody gets hurt so all is fine. But somehow in India, I am always feeling like the ultimate patsy. A soft heart may not be so good an attribute here.
"What do we tip this one?" has already become our least favorite conversation to have amongst the four of us. We don't want to offend and so just hope for the best.
The fraud of yesterday that was the one I am sheepish to admit as a rookie move. The four of us were dropped off at what should have been a very safe and good place for lunch. After leaving the table and coming back, our drinks had arrived. Now, the three others know how to drink beer. I never learned, so a bottle of water was waiting as ordered -- you guessed, lid unscrewed. When I took it off, I thought the bottle looked a little too full, commented to the others and so carefully only drank a glass and a half. Instincts say -- send it back -- good Protestant upbringing says, don't make a fuss. Instincts are always right.
Poverty is a bigger fact of life than a dodgy stomach. I was deeply concerned before coming how I would deal with a woman knocking on my window or approaching me in the street clasping a baby and a sad face. Or what about the limbless shambling up to ask for enough to feed himself? I never expected the young girl of about five turning cartwheels in traffic with big lipstick circles drawn on her face to look like a clown asking for money. We learned quickly that while much need is real, there is actually a Mafia structure at play. The equivalent of a pimp trains some to do the job well and takes a cut of the profits. Now, I know there is real need out there, but now my heart says pick a good agency, a really good agency like Child Haven that my friends Katherine and Ian have both worked at and are confident in the use of funds, and support that instead of random giving. I am not sure if that is a perfect answer, but if I don't know that things are indeed as they seem, maybe that is the right answer for now.
A big deal and a fascinating sight for us has been the Sadhus in Varanasi. They are the wildest guys I have ever seen. The theory is that these men (no women) are so highly evolved that, at their best, they can appear and disappear at will. They, too, are headed straight for heaven. In the meantime, however, the one we met today had dreadlocks down to his ankles and a beard not quite so long. The more fascinating part of them, no pun intended, is the full nudity with which they display themselves. But, it gets better. They do not consider themselves nude because they are covered in human ashes from their hair down to their ankles like some weird suit. Beard thick and knarled, hair that defies description, they are indeed a spooky white sight. The theory is that they give up all that they own and roam the land with only an alms bowl and a trident (I think to represent Shiva). To see a grown man covered in human ash with his penis pretty much wrapped around a trident is something I can with equanimity say was not something I had planned! Turns out, however, that the poverty gig is a bit of a farce. In fact, the people are so supportive of them that they in some cases can be quite wealthy. So much for vibrating your way to heaven. Still, there seemed to be a fair number of hippy white girls hanging around them, so maybe their charms are greater than I could appreciate.
Yesterday, I bought the most beautiful silk sari that was to be made into a formal salwar keemis (I know I have spelled this incorrectly!) -- a Punjabi suit of long tunic, baggy pants and a scarf that you fling everywhere for effect. I was so excited -- it was a beautiful silk of great texture, wonderful brocade and a rich rust colour with cream detail. They promised to make up the outfit overnight -- no, I don't wonder who didn't get to go home for dinner that night -- and deliver it to my hotel today. It arrived and what I got bore a striking resemblance to what I had bought. Except that the cloth was now a cheap rayon polyester and not silk. The thing hung badly where the sari draped like a dream. I was despondent all afternoon thinking what a putz I was but lesson learned. Not an inexpensive lesson, but one that could be recovered from quickly enough. Finally, we were drinking yet more gin in Tiina and Larrye's room around 7:00 when they asked me to model it for me, thinking no doubt that if I put it on the style would encourage me. Well, it looked like a maternity gown with an apron front. Worse, the scarf had a seam right down the centre. Given that the sari was six metres long, there should be ample to make a good cut of it all. Sandi brilliantly came up with a solution -- email all involved -- retailer, Surjit, and Kamesh, our dear guide of yesterday. We honed the solution one step further -- call Kamesh and advise him of the fraud his friends perpetrated and see if he had any ideas. Brilliantly, Kamesh was just steps away showing yet more tourists the nightly worship ritual we saw the night before. He dashed over, doubtless pleased to listen to a few less mantras tonight, and fixed it for me. He called the owner of the store, and after heated words that focussed on the bad seam instead of the bait and switch, gave me the money back himself with the promise from the owner to pay him back. So, I have my rupees, and the shop has the outfit back. And, I learned a big lesson. I love Kamesh. NO, sorry, that wasn't the lesson, although he is a peach. The lesson is, in India things aren't always as they seem.
We went this afternoon by foot to the burning ghat. While we were told to expect "Touts", we were still caught out. Self-appointed guides take you to the spot where women are allowed to watch. They give you a bit of interesting info, all the while saying that they do not do it for money but they work the ghat helping old people die in comfort. But, of course, that is not the end of it. They then point to a very old woman lying a few steps away on a mat and claim that she looks after the people and finds ways to pay for wood for the poor (the $18 you may recall if you read the last entry). So, no he doesn't take the dough but is very clear on what we should give her -- as it takes two cords of wood to burn a body and each cord is expensive, we should each leave 300 rupees. These are ridiculous numbers here. We knew it was a scam, but we paid a bit each anyway. We are not as dumb as we look though -- when he claimed we were not allowed to go back down to the waterfront as we had come in, but had to go through some temples with him on the way back we chose to ignore him and carry on our own path. I am learning.
There are countless more stories like this, and a few I will share with you when I am not quite so tired. India is wonderful but people are right -- there is an intensity to it that is, at this early stage anyway, enervating. To bed for now!
yours,
Nancy
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Dawn
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Thank you!
Nancy, thank you so much for taking the time to share your experiences in this format. I'm inspired to do the same thing on my next trip because it is almost like keeping a diary and you are sharing so much more than what is usually shared when trying to recall everything when you get home. Thank you for the interesting cultural and personal insights - lots of fun to read! Is it hot? How does it smell? Cajun sends a big hairy hug!! :o)