Concerning Confidence Men, Gem Scams and Basements

Something has transpired. A very curious something involving exactly the elements described in the title of the post - con men and a gem scam. It feels rather surreal in retrospect, but I will start back at the beginning.

The train ride to Jaipur took 23 hours. Yes, I spent 23 hours being transported across the country much like a chicken is transported to the slaughterhouse. I traveled "sleeper class" with hundreds of Indians and two Israelis from Dubai. The train wasn't pretty. It did not smell like a bed of roses. There were more rats at the train station than I care to remember (a seething, throbbing mass of them). There was no toilet, naturally, just a hole in the floor. Still, the families on the train were, in a word, quaint - eating their samosas, drinking chai, listening to obnoxiously loud music. I'd say I enjoyed the experience. I'll do it again.

I arrived in Jaipur at about 8 in the evening. I caught an auto rickshaw to the Vaishnavi Guest House. I was able to get a better room than I had in Mumbai for less than half the price. Anyhow, the rickshaw driver agreed to meet me the following morning to show me the sights. Which, is exactly how I spent yesterday morning and afternoon. Jaipur is a beautiful city. It's more relaxed and is a welcome break from the chaotic drudgery that characterized Mumbai.

Unfortunately, rather than taking me back to my hotel my rickshaw driver, Khan, insisted on taking me to visit his boss. I acquiesced when he promised a decent meal, but thought it rather peculiar. We arrived at a typical looking, middle class residence. We took off our shoes, and Khan took me down to a sort of half basement. There were a half dozen men lurking about, all very smartly dressed and immensely friendly. More still, there were rows and rows of supposedly precious stones, diamonds, and gold. I was growing very suspicious, but I ate some very enjoyable vegetable thalis with Khan and "the boss" on the floor, in the middle of a beautiful, handmade Indian carpet. After dinner, the sweet talking commenced.

It's hard to describe, but the entire thing felt immensely staged. They flattered me, they lamented about customs duties and taxes, and they told me how much money I could make if I would only transport precious stones for them - to Paris or New York or Antwerp. In the middle of the conversation "the boss" took a call on the speaker phone from the "Venice Exposition." They flattered me some more, told me how honest I looked, told me how I could make 12 thousand dollars "don't you want to make 12 thousand dollars?" the boss asked. I said "not terribly, I just want to live a simple existence as a sadhu." This threw him, but they wouldn't give up, so I promised to go out for drinks with them later in the evening. I had Khan drive me back to my hotel, I paid him for driving me around during the day, and I told him I didn't want to see him again. After he departed I spoke with a couple of the Nepalese porters about it. They admitted that quite a few of the rickshaw drivers are involved in the tourist gem scam business.

I spent the latter half of the evening with a couple guys who work at the hotel across the street, drinking Kingfisher beer on a rooftop under a beautiful crescent moon. I might be going out to the desert with them for a day or two. We're supposed to go to a little town called Bikaner.

I hope everyone back home is doing okay during the snows and power outage.

Ticket to Ride

That's right, I have a ticket to ride - a train to Jaipur. A ticket to Ahmedabad was not to be had, so I went with the next best thing. I even bought another ticket to Delhi. How much does a 1100 km, 14 hour journey cost? About 7 dollars. That includes a pallet for sleeping. Pretty fair, I'd say.

Therefore, my plan is to leave Mumbai tomorrow evening, arrive in Jaipur the following evening, stay in Jaipur for a few days, and then depart for Delhi. I think it will feel good to be in a smaller city for a bit. (I believe Jaipur only has about 4 million people.)

In other news, I took the ferry out to Elephanta Island today. Incidentally, I struck up a conversation with a fairy whilst waiting on the other ferry. The fairy was a very friendly, affable gay man named Micky. He's a dancer and dance instructor from Calcutta. We talked for over an hour about Indian and American culture, romance, the terrorist attacks, and the overarching unity of all existence. Micky is traveling to perform in Alaska in March. An interesting fellow.

I also spoke with one of the ferry operators about the Mumbai attacks. He said it was a pretty crazy thing to witness. Apparently, he watched the entire thing unfold from the landing dock. He said he was amazed how long it lasted. I'm rather amazed as well. The state police headquarters are practically right next to the Taj Mahal Palace hotel.

Anyway, the photo up top is from Elephanta Island. This island is famous for its carved Shiva cave temples. In the Shaiva tradition of Hinduism, Shiva is both the creator and the destroyer. His frenzied dance brings about the destruction of the universe while his slower, more graceful steps bring a new world into being. He's really a very fascinating and useful vehicle for explaining an important philisophical concept. Destruction breeds creation. Creation requires destruction.

While you're brooding over that, I'm going to find something spicy to eat. Peace.

Republic Day

Today India... sleeps. Or, supposedly celebrates its Constitution, but the city seems rather quiet for the moment. I'm seeing preparations and set-up for a celebration or two. There were men in their snazziest suits and women in their most beautiful saris outside the National Mint. Mostly though, I think people are relaxing.

Yesterday, Sunday, was also a rather slow day. Traffic was strangely nonexistent. The taxi drivers were mostly asleep in their cabs - their bare feet dangling out the open side doors. Hundreds and hundreds of young boys played cricket in streets throughout the city. I strolled over to the Churchgate train station, hoping to reserve a ticket to Ahmadabad. I was told, rather brusquely, by an agitated ticket window operator that I should "go zee-sst!" Which I later interpreted to mean "go to CST - Chattrapati Shinvajji Terminus." So, today I'm going to try once again to reserve a ticket out of this city.

Despite my better judgment, I bought another book yesterday. Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children. It's a very good read, so far, but it means more weight in my pack. I might have to lose something to compensate... maybe my hair product or my aftershave balm? Why did I bring either of those things to India? They seem so totally useless.

Oh, I had a nice chat with an Australian bloke this morning. In typical white-man-in-India fashion he had on a hammer and sickle t-shirt and shorts. Friendly chap, though. We talked about the various types of train tickets to be had. His outfit was less obnoxious than the American I saw yesterday in a Gandhi shirt, shorts, and flip flops. It must be intensely amusing for the locals.

Day Two

I really don't understand how this city functions. The thousands of taxi cabs are like bumper cars. The traffic lights are few, and where they are to be found they are largely ignored. Sanitation is... severely lacking. I cannot even find a store to buy soap. In fact, I have yet to see any soap in India.

Basically, I figured a city this populous would have to have some similarities to Western cities - i.e. Rome or Barcelona. Those were the two comparisons I had in my mind before I arrived. I imagined Rome with more pollution and poverty and a little less order. Such a comparison cannot be made. Mumbai is unique. It is a sprawling, crawling mass of humanity with seemingly little regard for organization.

I'm going out in search of food. And, maybe a new hotel.

Mumbai

This place is twice as dirty, three times as polluted and immeasurably more impoverished than I anticipated. And, my expectations were already pretty low. I am overwhelmed. It's partly the jet lag that has me feeling down, but this is certainly the most difficult experience of my life.

The flights were relatively uneventful. I had to go through special security in Frankfurt due to the Mp3 player Monica bought me. One would think the Krauts had never seen one. They actually ended up doing a chemical test on it before they allowed me to pass. I actually appreciated it because it gave me something to do during my seven hour layover.

My flight to Mumbai was delayed slightly, causing me to arrive at three o'clock in the morning, local time. (By the way, India is 10 1/2 hours ahead of Indiana. The half hour is referred to as Indian "stretch" time.) So, in the middle of the night I arrived in a city more populous than Australia. I had some difficultly getting a hotel, despite using the airport's reservation desk. Everyone is trying to rip me off. I'm white, therefore I'm basically wearing a sign that says I am rich and ignorant. Thankfully, even getting ripped off 25 rupees here and 50 rupees there means I have still wasted less than 2 dollars.

The 45 minute taxi ride to my hotel was... enlightening. Maybe revelatory is the word. I watched from the window with both a broken heart and a sense of morbid fascination. The slums are immense. Beyond immense. They give new meaning to squalor. More yet, beyond the millions living in the Dharavi slums (the largest slums in Asia) there were thousands sleeping homeless on the street. Literally, on the street, because all of the benches and building overhangs were already taken. I found the homeless population when I lived in Washington DC heartbreaking, but this is something altogether different. Imagine driving past women and babies - young children sleeping on the same street as rabid dogs. The sulphurous cloud of pollution hanging everywhere, coupled with the stench of human and animal waste. I am not exaggerating.

I felt guilty, but I couldn't help but hope that my hotel was in some clean, Western quarter of the city. A place with plenty of white people where I might feel safer. Such was not to be. My taxi stopped at the Sea Lord hotel (no sea view). I had intended to stay at the marginally nicer Sea Palace hotel, but there was some confusion at the airport. Still, I have a quasi cleanish room with a working (cold) shower and an inner lock for my door. I'm paying an exhorbitant lodging fee (by Indian standards) of about 1700 rupees a night - about 25 dollars a night.

Well, I hope everyone back home is well. You are all in my thoughts.

Namasté

Greetings! Namasté is a way to say "hello" in hindi. This will be my blog for the duration of my Asian travels. I plan to spend the majority of my time in India, but I also hope to see Singapore and maybe even Vietnam before I return stateside. I have a one-way ticket to Mumbai, and I do not plan on returning until I burn through the majority of my cash. I estimate this will take somewhere between 2 and 7 months. Yippee.

I have received a number of questions about this trip (you all seem to think me nutty), and I would like to address the question I have received incessantly - why India? My reasons are many, but chiefly I chose India because travel there is cheap, English is widely spoken, and there are a billion people to meet (literally). Also, the social scientist in me is fascinated by a country in such a period of rapid transition - economically, culturally and ecologically. Does that satiate your curiosity? I doubt it, but it will have to do for the moment.

Moving on, I fly out on January 20th. It now occurs to me that I am leaving on Inauguration Day, and it saddens me that I will only enjoy a few brief hours of the new Obama presidency. It's a funny thing to wait so long for the end of the Bush era (error) and then not stick around to gloat and bask in Obama's glory, as I was intending. Still, I am certain I will follow U.S. political news from abroad.

Alrighty, that is enough for tonight. I will post once more before I leave.