Picture Time!

Here is a link to my photo albums- http://s360.photobucket.com/albums/oo50/pfbarker/

You'll have to copy and paste the link, because I still can't get hotlinks to work.

There's a lot of them! I'll still be arranging them in a video montage but until then you can sift through the mounds on that website. Tomorrow I will be answering all your questions so be sure to check back then.

A Clean Cut

So the decision I made to go to a barber in a Cairo back alley was only marginally better than my decision to cut my own hair before I left. I tried explaining in Arabic how I wanted him to cut my hair but he must have not understood. It's a little shorter than I would have liked but much better than the debacle that was my self-administered haircut.

Actually the whole experience turned out to be pretty cool. I got a haircut, nose-hair trim, forehead shave (seriously), shave, aftershave, shampoo (with a slight head massage) and a powder for $8. I was pretty happy.

That's pretty much it for this update. I'm heading out tonight back to Amman for the evening and then tomorrow morning to Frankfurt (Germany, not Kentucky) and then onto Chicago were Jess will pick me up at the airport. So I suppose this will be my last post from abroad. Let me get settled back in at home and I'll answer all your questions and post links to my pictures from the trip. I'm even going to make a couple slideshows set to some music and I'll post the links to those, too. I'm actually even contemplating keeping this blog as an update to my life, but I my life isn't nearly as exciting as these past 45 days have been for me. I guess we'll sort all that out soon. Until next time...

I Bit It

Well I've been through the desert on a horse that actually had a name. Abu Khalid I believe.

Today I spent my morning touring the Pyramids and the Sphinx. Literally the last major sight/site on my trip. Of course there's a reason that these are lauded as one of the most magnificent places in the world. Pictures don't really do these things justice. Nor do they give you the full scope of the area. These are literally on the edge of Cairo (well, Giza, but you get the picture). In pictures it looks like there is nothing but miles of desert around, but if you do a 180, you're just a few steps away from banks, hospitals and restaurants. The city has literally grown right to the edge but it stopped by the barbwire fences that surround the grounds of the Pyramids.

I hired a horse and guide for 2 hours for about $45. I thought it was kind of steep, but it turned out to be alright. I got a horse riding lesson, also. You would think being from Kentucky I would have a general idea of how to ride a horse but I really don't. I mean, I have a vague concept- pull left when you want to go left, right when you want to go right. The difficult part, I discovered, is when the horse picks up the pace over a walk. I had a hard time synchronizing my body to the trot of the horse so I was bouncing up and down a lot. I'm just glad there was no roof. My guide swore that when the horse picked up the pace to a gallop it was smooth sailing. We took off. I was all over the place and having a hard time holding on. I started tilting a little bit to the right. A little bit more. More. More. I faintly hear the guide say "khara!" which is the Arabic equivalent of "shit" as I plunge face first into the sand. My shoulder landed first, then my head smacked the hot sand. The guide rushed over to see if I was ok. I slowly got up and brushed myself off. For the first time in my life I understood the phrase "When you fall off the horse...". It's not easy, you know? Your confidence is shaken. My guide's confidence in me was also shaken and he didn't let go of my reigns the rest of the time. When he took me to the base of one of the Pyramids he made me reassure him that I wasn't going to fall off when I climbed a few levels up. Of course I'm not going to fall. Well, not unless the pyramid picks up and starts galloping across the desert. My shoulder still is sore.

He also made me pose for all sorts of silly poses. You know one of those pictures where it looks like you're holding the pyramid by the tip? Yeah. He also made me jump and took a couple pictures that way. I also stood on the horse. Actually in the end I was pretty pleased with the pictures. He's obviously done this type of thing before.

So the sightseeing portion of my trip is over. I will head back home Sunday morning. I'll see if I can't blog again before I get back to the States.

Until then...

Museum? Snoozeum!

To be completely honest, Egypt doesn't really tickle my fancy (and please forget the fact I just used the phrase "tickle my fancy"). First, they speak a different Arabic here that causes taxi drivers to cock their heads in confusion over what I say and really lessens the albeit small amount I understood in Syria and Jordan. Cairo also doesn't seem to have much of a character to it. It's just a big city. I liked Damascus much more.

So yesterday I side aside a chunk of my day to tour around the Egyptian Antiquities Museum. Everything I read leading up to this trip said it was a must-see stop in Cairo. The museum has over 250,000 pieces of history on display from the very small to the very very large. The sheer number of artifacts was impressive. It was very cool to be walking through thousands of years of history. But I unfortunately didn't enjoy my time spent there. Let me tell you why.

1. Admission is $10. Can't you get into the Louvre for less than that? I mean, you kind of have to pay it because you have to see the museum, but isn't that a little excessive?

2. There's nothing to explain the process of obtaining a guide. I was approached by a couple of men asking if I needed a guide. Of course, if you're approached by a "guide" in any other country you run as fast as you can. These guys aren't legit and are just scamming. Were these guys at the museum legit? I don't know. No one told me. I did ask one guide how much he charged and it was the equivalent of $20 an hour. Considering most spend 2 hours browsing, no thanks. Not for me.

3. If you don't elect to hire a guide, you're on your own. No brochures, no maps, no direction. There is one map in the entrance but you sort of have to walk away from it to see anything in the museum, so it's not much help.

4. Only about 15% of items in the museum are labeled in any way. If they are labeled, it's in Arabic and English and the English is pretty suspect.

5. It's hot in the museum. No A/C. Everyone is walking around fanning themselves with beads of sweat all over. Not only hot, but dusty and dirty.

6. Not that I minded that much, but all the artifacts are just laying around and anyone can touch them. Of course, there are big signs posted everywhere that say "Don't Touch" but what do you think that makes people want to do? Touch, of course. And when it's so accessible, why not? I could have sat in a sarcophagus if I wanted. The huge museum only has a handful of guards and hundreds of people. There's not much they can do.

7. A popular attraction in the museum is the Mummy Room. Where they keep, well, the mummies. I had read in a book beforehand that there is an extra admission fee to the Mummy Room of 20 Egyptian pounds or about $4. Imagine my shock when I get there and see that the actual admission fee is not 20, but 100 pounds or $20. What?! I know some of you (including my mother) would say "Aw, you should have just paid it. Mummies!" But when you read the Arabic and realize they only charge Egyptians $2 to get in, you have to take a stand on principle and refuse. I mean, what sense does it make to charge twice the price of admission to the general museum for one room in the museum? I guess people pay it, though. Just not this guy.

Can you imagine how expensive a trip to the museum could be for a family of four? That would be $40 for entrance fees. About $40 for a guide for two hours, and $80 for entrances to the Mummy Room. $160? Does that not seem like too much to you? Now, I realize these are artifacts that you can't see just anywhere. And, in their defense they are truly beautiful pieces of work and must be viewed. I just think it's a sham with the prices they charge.

Ok, I'm done ranting. I actually had a great evening last night thanks to some cool CSers in Cairo. We all met up for dinner at a place called Sequoia. It was a really spectacular restaurant situated outdoors right on the Nile. We all ordered a sheesha and sat around and talked until 2 in the morning. For those of you who are curious, my new favorite sheesha flavor is lemon mint. I feel like I could get out of bed in the morning and smoke that and not need to brush my teeth. Quite refreshing. And as always, quite the eclectic group of people at the dinner. Me, two grandmothers from Georgia, a New Yorker, an Egyptian-American, an Italian and two Egyptians. We're meeting again tonight for some karaoke. I'll see if I can't get video of me singing some Amr Diab or Nancy Ajram.

Tomorrow I've hired a driver to take me to the Pyramids and Sphinx. That's what I've come for. I'm excited.

I've gotten some great questions so far from you all. I'll answer each and every one of them in a coming blog, but until them, keep sending questions!

Feedback

So my trip is winding down and I (as cheesy as this is) want to have an "all-reader edition" of my blog. So I'll take your questions and answer them. Want to know the 5 best parts of the trip? Ask! Anything you want to know just email me, facebook me, post it in the comment section or by any other means you know. I'll then compile the questions and answers and make it my final blog along with my parting thoughts. This is your homework assignment. Get on it!

I Can't Think of a Clever Title

Damascus was top notch. I really really liked the city. It's such a wild mix of people that it makes for intriguing people watching at all times of the day. I was surprised to find out that a little over 10% of the Syrian population is Christian. I would have though the number was much lower, but I would have been wrong. There is a strong Christian community in Damascus stemming from Biblical times. I actually went to the house of Annanias (whom you might remember from your Sunday School class) where Paul stayed for a few days. I forgot how much rich Biblical history resides in Syria.

During the evenings I met with a Syrian named Soubhi. He is fresh out of medical school but didn't ask that I call him Doctor. He was a real down to earth guy who spent some time in the states in Houston working in a hospital. He also holds a slight grudge against UofL because they denied him a position working at their school. I immediately liked him.

We spent the majority of our time just walking the streets of Damascus and talking about life. He is a really well informed guy and made a great tour guide. He told me lots of stuff that I didn't know like how to tell the difference between a Sunni woman and a Shia'a woman by the way they tie their hijab (Shia'a covers the chin). We also talked about Hizballah, Bush and Syrian-US relations. I did notice, however, that when we started talking about these topics, his voice got a little lower and he looked around a lot to make sure no one was listening. I then touted the greatness of America because people literally stand on street corners and speak out against the government because it's their right. I told him the story of the Dixie Chicks and how they fell out of favor with the country music community a few years back.

Last night we met again and went on top (or as close as we could get to the top) of Jebal Kassir, which is a large mountain that overlooks the city. Everyone I spoke to said that this was a must-see in Damascus and they were right. It was a cool, breezy evening on top of that mountain and the view couldn't have been better. Aside from the few fellows who were offering us prostitutes, it was a pretty serene setting. Around 8:45 the final call to prayer for the evening began ringing out from each of the many many mosques that dot the city. Soubhi told me that a couple years back there was a movement to organize one call to prayer so it would be in unison. It was overwhelmingly defeated and it remains that everyone starts on their own clock, which are never ever the same. So from the top of this mountain the call to prayer starts and I tell Soubhi it sounds like a haunted choir. One voice sounds nice, a mix of voices at all different points of the prayer sounds like a battlefield of wounded men moaning. I'm not sure my "haunted choir" label was really understood by Soubhi. He gave me a sympathy laugh. Or maybe I'm just not that funny. That's a possibility also.

So this morning I checked out of my cell at the monestary and through several means of transportation have arrived safely in Cairo. This, of course, was not without its obstacles. More ATMs that didn't work, annoying children sitting in front of me on the airplane that decided to smack me in the head while mamma lit up a cig (I swear to you- this happened. What was the last year you were allowed to smoke on an airplane?? 1985? How can you not know that's not kosher? You should have seen everyone's faces when they first got the whiff of that cigarette. It was a priceless moment.), taxi drivers arguing over cartons of cigarettes (do cigarettes make the world go around?) and a scene straight off of Animal Planet (except involving humans) as I approach my hostel in Cairo. It's been quite the day and now I'm plum tuckered.

I think my plan of attack tomorrow will be to go to the National Museum and relax a bit. I'm not ready to tackle another full day in the heat by going to the Pyramids. I'll save that for Thursday or Friday. They also do an evening light show with the Sphinx and the Pyramids, so I might check that out. There is also a CS meeting tomorrow night that I will attend. I've met a CSer in every country and every city so far, so I can't break the streak now.

That's about all I can think of for right now. It's almost 1am here and I'm not completely sure how to get back to my hostel, so I should probably start looking. I know it's around here somewhere...

A Quick Note

Sorry my blogging has been suspect here. The internet is suspect, also. It won't let me post without certain programs blah blah blah. Hopefully when I land in Egypt tonight these problems will be solved. I'll post more about how much I really liked Damascus and Syria later tonight (or afternoon for my States readers). So all I have to do now is exit Syria, cross back into Jordan, get a taxi to the airport, exit Jordan, wait for my flight, get a Egyptian visa and find my hostel. Sounds easy right? I'll let you know how it goes (along with the story behind the haunted choir of Damascus). Take care!

Pimped Out

I forgot to add that all my Facebooking and blogging (since Blogger is blocked, too) comes courtesy of www.pimpmyip.org. The Texan gave me the tip last night that this website is a way around the censors and will grant you access to any banned sites. It works!

Golden Rules

When you get lost, you get desperate. When you're lost and penniless, you get really desperate. So went my first night in Damascus. For some reason I have been having troubles with my ATM card in some countries. I had major problems in India and I encountered the same problems in Syria last night. To compound the problem, Syrians aren't huge ATM fans so they're few and far between. To compound it even more, most ATMs close when the adjoining bank closes, which is around 4pm. So I'm hungry and penniless walking the streets of Damascus looking for any place that will dispense cash. Ok, so I wasn't completely broke- the 6'8" Texan had spotted me the equiavlent of about $10 so I was getting by on that. But with money running short I was getting really worried I would have to wait until tomorrow to get some cash. I started asking people on the street, but they had no idea. I spotted a young fellow that I pegged as someone who would speak good English. I was right. He offered to drive me around until I found something, so I broke a cardinal rule of childhood and hopped into the car with a stranger. I never even actually got his name, but he dropped me off in front of a bank and drove off. I walked up, inserted my card and the machine spit it right back out. No dice.

So I started walking. I used what little money I had left to buy a shawarma and a water and continued looking for ATMs. Suffice it to say I found about 4 more, but none would give me any money. I hadn't really been paying attention to where I was going so I was completely lost. I knew I was heading in the correct general direction, but I was winding through back alleys and completely lost. I stopped several people to ask directions and all were most helpful. In fact one guy reached into the bag he was carrying and gave me a handful of weird nut looking things. They were big and red. I had never seen anything like it. Breaking cardinal rule No. 2 of not taking candy from strangers, I thanked him and walked on. After a few minutes I put one of the things in my mouth. It had a truly strange texture and I had to spit it back out. I tossed the rest respectfully along the side of the road.

I got even more lost after that. But Patrick, just get a taxi you say. Well, I would have but all were full. Not even joking. Every single taxi was full. I kept walking in the general direction and found some open cabs, but I was so close at this point none of them would take me. I finally found a guy who walked with me to my hotel. He was most kind.

After I got back, Sameer (the guy from the taxi) came and picked me up and we (along with his girlfriend and the Texan) went out to dinner for her brithday. It was actually a very enjoyable evening and we shared a hookah and had some good food. It is very nice when you're a solo travler to have someone who will take you under their wing and take care of you. After dinner (which oddly started about 11pm) Sameer took me to an ATM that he knew would work, and it did. I am now flush with cash and ready to take on the city.

So all in all not the most interesting story to tell (or listen to for that matter) but it definitely made for an interesting evening. My first impressions of Damascus are positive ones. All the bad things you hear about the country are, as usual, totally wrong. I've found the people here to be truly nice and welcoming to Americans. Everyone I've talked to aspires to go to America one day. Now Damascus is quite different from Amman. Amman is a very Westernized city. Roads are in good shape, everything is labeled in English and Arabic. McDonalds, Burger King, KFC and Applebee's dot the landscape. Huge malls and grocery stores are everywhere. Damascus is quite the opposite. Little English on the streets. No American fast food chains. The only traffic law is to wear a seatbelt. So for a first time visitor to the Middle East, I would recommend getting your feet wet in Amman and then, when you're ready, hop over to Syria. Here you will get the true scope of the region.

Alright, enough rambling. I am going to do a little sightseeing before I meet with a CSer tonight for dinner. I'll keep you up to speed. Take care.

Facebook

Just a short post about Facebooking here in Syria. Apparently the government has blocked access to the website. I tried to log on and got an error message. I lamented out loud to the guy on duty in Arabic that there was no Facebook. That led to a small exchange that went like this (in Arabic, of course)-

Me: "What? No facebook here?"
Guy: "No, I'm sorry. No facebook."
Me: "That sucks" (I actually said this in English)
Guy: "Where are you from?" (back to Arabic)
Me: "The USA."
Guy: Has look of hesitation. "Just one minute"
Me: "Um, ok."

He goes and retreives a small flash drive and sticks it in my computer. Clicks a few icons and voila! Facebook. Apparently I passed the sniff test.

I Mean, Syria-ously

So much to catch you all up on. Sorry about no posting yesterday as internet in Jordan is a little tricky and moreover I was busy all day. Here's how yesterday and today have played out...

So I wake up, get ready and go to the local Safeway to meet two CSers for a day trip to Petra. One Jordanian male and a Polish female. We made quite the team. The girl arrives first so we're just waiting on the guy who will be driving us the 3 hours south to the ancient city. So we wait and wait. Then we see him coming. He pulls up in his small blue hatchback and unfolds himself from the car. He's bigger than me in both aspects- taller and thicker. How he fits himself into the car I'm still not sure. We get in and the trip begins. You know all great trips begin with the words "Hey, cross those wires in the floor so we can have music."

Actually, the trip to Petra wasn't that bad at all. The conversation was pretty good and both he and the Pole were very nice people. It was a fairly uneventful trip aside from the speeding ticket he got while doing 110kmh in a 80. His car GPS clocked his highest speed at 137kmh, what the equates to in miles, I do not know. But it was pretty fast.

We arrive at Petra and I shocked to find out that the price of admission has gone up. When I was there in 2004, it was around 15JD (about $22US). That's expensive, but I suppose that since Petra is now one of the new 7 wonders of the world, they felt that substantiated a rise in price to 21JD (about $31). Of course, this isn't unprecedented. I paid almost $20 to get into the Taj Mahal and $20 to get into Angkor Wat. Of course, locals pay only 1JD, 40 rupees and $1USD respectively to get into those places. Could you imagine the outrage if foreigners were charged $20 to go to the Statue of Liberty and Americans were only charged $1? Ah well. What can I do?

Again, a fairly uneventful trip once in Petra. I had taken the proper precautions beforehand- drank lots of water, wore sunscreen and tried to stay out of the sun as much as possible. But, like last time, I got really worn down by the sun and got a little nasious by the end of the day. I was ready to go home. But my Jordanian friend had other ideas. He suggested that we travel a little further south to Aqaba so we could do some duty free shopping (read: he needed some smokes). I voiced my objections. I'm tired, hungry and want to go home. He insisted that it wasn't that far away and that we would be home at 9pm at the absolute latest. He hadn't been wrong about distances and directions thus far, so I trusted him. Almost two hours later at 730pm we arrive in Aqaba. Aqaba, for those who don't know, is a really neat place. It is at the southern tip of Jordan situated on the Red Sea. It's a really beautiful place and from there you can see 4 nations. Jordan, Israel, Egypt and Saudi Arabia are all within sight. We literally spent 15 minutes in the town, he picked himself up a bottle of Vodka and we were back on the road by 8pm.

We took the Dead Sea road back to Amman. Of course Nabil (the Jordanian) promised it would only take 2 1/2 hours tops. I again took him at his word. Of course by this point all hope of 9pm was out the window and I was hoping before 11. It quickly became obvious when we saw the first roadsign that said Amman 310km that 11 was looking more like 12. All in all, it was a fairly quiet ride back home. All of us were tired and the heat of the desert caused us all to be a little uncomfortable (did you really think he had A/C?). I had one of those surreal moments in my life though as we were cruising through the Jordanian desert and finally come across the Dead Sea, illuminated by moonlight. The smell of salt was thick in the air and I just looked around me with a Pole in the backseat sleeping and a Arab in the driver's seat bobbing his head to Lil Wayne on the stereo. As I looked across the Sea and looked upon Israeli settlements in the West Bank it was almost too strange to be my real life.

We finally pulled back into Amman around 1130. Nabil swore that all the roadsigns were wrong even up to the moment I got out of the car. I really hated to tell him that he just misjudged it all. Oh well, he'll know better next time. It was a great day though. Despite the long hours in the car I really liked both the people I was with and enjoyed their company. Chalk another victory up for CS.

Today on the way to Syria I made some friends the old fashioned way- chance encounters. I got up early and had breakfast with Andrea and then went to her school for a little while to use the internet and try to figure out where I can stay in Syria. Due to the fact the details of my trip from this point on are, how should I say, fluid, I din't plan for any acommodation. I found a place and called from the school. All booked. Andrea talked to some of the other teachers at the school and all of a sudden it became "Let's Find a Place for Patrick" as I sat and stared blankly at a wall while the Arab secretary was busy on the phone calling around Damascus trying to find a place for me to rest my head for the night. I felt pretty helpless and kind of embarrassed. Maybe incapable is the right word. She finally found a place for me at the Deir Mar Paulus and sent me on my merry way.

I caught a cab to the bus station and then found a "sevees" which I booked to take me to Damascus. A servees is a funny thing. It's more of a shared taxi. Basically you wait around until you get 4 people wanting to go to Syria, you all pile in and you're on your way. To call it cramped would be an understatement. Of course with my luck there was a girl in the car which automatically meant she got the front seat. Being scrunched in the back between two guys is definitely against custom here and thusly she had all the legroom in the world while myself, a 6'8" Texan and the Syrian Nick Pendley crammed ourselves in the back. I got the hump. It was a really uncomfortable ride the one hour to the border and one hour to Damascus. I'm pretty sure all my lower extremities fell asleep at one point and sweat poured. I envied the princess sitting in the front seat gabbing on her cell phone. She didn't know how good she had it. The only saving grace of the trip was that I really got along well with the two guy in the backseat. We had a lot of good conversation and they were both eager to help me since it was my first time in the country and the city. The Texan even offered his place for me to sleep tonight but I delined because of my prior booking. The Syrian Nick Pendley invited us to his girlfriend's birthday party tonight so I think I'm going to go. He even offered to pick me up. After we arrived in Damascus he bargained a cab for me, we scheduled a time to meet and then parted.

The cab ride was fairly short to the hotel. I hesitate to call it a hotel though because it's really not. In fact, it's a monastery. Apparently Deir Mar Paulus means St. Paul Monastery so yours truly will be shacking in a convent for the night. A nice nun met me at the entrance and showed me to my room. Nothing fancy at all, but complete with an Arabic New Testament and a picture of the Virgin Mary on the wall. Should be pretty interesting.

So that long piece of writing catches you up on my life right now. Fairly entertaining even to me. I'll be sure to let you know how the rest goes. Until next time...

Jordan (not Michael)

I've arrived in Jordan. Don't have a whole lot of time to blog right now, but just thought I would update my whereabouts.

Despite arriving at 3:30am, my friend Andrea met me at the airport to give me a lift to Amman. I met Andrea while studying Arabic in Jordan in 2004. She now teaches at an American school here and has lived in Jordan for 2 years. The purpose of my visit, to be honest, is really just to see her. Amman isn't a booming tourist hub and while there is tons to see our in the country, the city itself really lacking.

Since gender rules are a little more complicated in Jordan than say in Japan, I couldn't stay at Andrea's place and instead ended up sleeping in one of the most interesting places yet. Andrea has arranged for me to stay with a family here, but seeing as how my flight arrived at such an ungodly hour, I slept in the hallway of Andrea's school. It worked out quite nicely, actually. I had a nice foam mat and a pillow. I slept extremely well.

When I finally rolled out of bed this morning we went on a little excursion to find some hummus and bread- two staples of the Jordanian diet and a favorite of yours truly. I quickly became re-oriented with the city even though it has changed a lot in the last four years. For starters, they now have Starbucks, which they didn't back then. Amman is a very very westernized city- probably the reason I like it so much. I immediately felt more confident here and more at home. I'm sure a lot of that has to do with the fact I've been here before and know a little of the language and have friends already, but something intangible really puts me at peace about this place. Also the fact that there is little humidity does wonders for your mental state.

Not much of a plan here. Just see and hang out with Andrea for a little while and then move on to Syria. Tomorrow, though, I will go with a couple CSers to Petra in the southern part of Jordan. It's about a 3 hour car ride away from town. I went to Petra back in 2004 but I feel that it is a place you cannot just see once. It is truly magnificent and very worthy of the honor of being one of the New 7 Wonders of the World.

So that about sums it up. I'll check back in later. Take care.

The Colonel Spoke to Me

You know, the cool thing abut being from Kentucky is that everyone has heard of it. Granted, just because of KFC, but that's a stepping stone into a deeper conversation. Every country I've ever been in has had a KFC (save Andorra and the Vatican). It is truly a worldwide phenomenon.

I had to go to the post office this afternoon to mail a package (which is a totally different blog entry itself) and noticed a KFC next door. I decided to give KFC New Delhi a whirl. Before you all start groaning please note that I've eaten SO much Indian food I've grown a little weary of it. And I wasn't really feeling a Chinese buffet. So anyway I placed my order for a King Kong box and took my seat. As I sit, scarfing down a delectible chicken leg and rubbing arms with more turbans and sarees- it dawns on me. KFC truly is global. I like global things. I like global jobs. I like KFC. I'm from Kentucky. See where I'm going with this? So I don't know if KFC has a "overseas operations supervisor" position but I might really be interested in something like that. Travel, meet people, learn culture, tailor KFC to meet cultures and represent my state and my country.

So, if anyone from my Louisville readership area has any connections over at Yum!, pass my blog along. If they're interested in a young, cultured, fiercely proud Kentuckian (I was humming My Old Kentucky Home at the Taj yesterday- don't ask why. I don't know) to promote their good fried chicken abroad, we can talk.

I'm only half-way kidding. :)

I've Got to Get Out of Here

Luckily, my time in India is winding down. Let me first say, before I go on tangents, that, in general, India is a nice country. I've met some truly wonderful people here and I enjoyed their company very much. I just don't know if I'll ever want to put myself through this again.

India is so exhausting. Never mind the unbearable heat and humidity (I know- my fault for planning a trip in August), it's just the daily grind of life here that makes the country somewhat intolerable. I can't go anywhere without being harassed to buy something and I truly cannot trust anyone I meet in the street. Asking something as simple as "where can I find a tea shop?" and you get a response like "Oh no, all tea shops in the city are closed because (insert ridiculous excuse). Let me take you to buy silk pajamas. Very nice price."

On Sunday I wanted to go to the Gandhi Museum to see where he spent his last months and to see the spot where he was killed. I found a young-ish rickshaw driver and asked him to take me there. "Oh no," he said. "It's closed today." I asked why, knowing good and well that it was open. "Because it's Sunday of course. But I will take you to the India Gate. Come, get in." I rolled my eyes, walked away and found a driver that would take me there. Seriously, why does it have to be so difficult? Why couldn't he just take me there? He lost money because he lied to me. Where is the economic sense in that?

You see, in this country (at least from my experience-India apologists feel free to disagree), as a foreigner, your guard must be up 24/7. People are trying to get you to part with your money on every corner. Remember the other day when I asked the driver for an ATM and he took me on a ride? I found an ATM the next day only 100 yards from my place. It just gets so tiring trying to separate out all the BS.

I think the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back was yesterday when I went to the Taj Mahal in Agra. Even once you pay the money to get inside you are constantly bombarded with "guides" looking to show you around. You can't step 50 feet without being bothered. One guy followed us (I met two Colombians and an Italian I traveled with for the day) almost 200 yards, being most helpful in directing us where to get the tickets and the admission process. Of course, he also wanted to sell us a "tour" of the place. We declined. It just continued all day long. Our hired driver wanted to show up "Emporiums" where we could get souvenirs for cheap. Outside every place there are women with naked babies touching their lips and saying "Chapathi" which is a bread and then motioning for us to give them money. There are many many more instances of this during the day, I just don't have time (nor do you really want to read) to recollect them all. It just became so exhausting and irritating that I just wanted to get back to my hotel room and read a book.

Please know that I understand the disparity between these folks and myself. I realize that they're just trying to get by in life in whatever way they can. It must be a horrible life not knowing where your next meal will come from. If anything it's a sobering reminder of just how good I have life back in the States. Even the poorer folks in the States have it better than this portion of the Indian population. I feel truly bad for their condition but question how much I am really helping.

I really debate on giving money to the homeless. In the States I sometimes (as most do) hold back because we believe they will all just go buy more liquor or drugs with it. India is different. No doubt these people are starving and really just want to eat. (I forgot to tell this story earlier, but in Cambodia I actually had a kid come up and steal food off my plate as I sat at a street cafe.) But what kind of culture does it create? These people then become dependent on handouts for life and never really become productive members of society.

I don't have answers. I just know that all the incessant begging and touts trying to dupe me have left a bad taste in my mouth. India, as wonderful and exotic of a country as it is, is extremely difficult for traveling. It is difficult to know who to trust and who not to trust. I've been a lot of places and seen a lot of things, but India is in a class all it's own. Here to hoping I haven't pulled all my hair out by the time I land in Jordan tomorrow night.

Kallu Nai

So today started out with meeting a CSer for breakfast. Madhavi was supposed to host me during my stay in Delhi but some unforeseen circumstances arose and she wasn't able to but she still agreed to meet me for a meal. Madhavi is one of the most fun people I've met while I've been on this trip. She is hilarious and has viewpoints quite different than the "good Indian girl". She's just a little more liberal than most. Sure, she still wears the saree, but you can also find her hanging out her window screaming at the rickshaw drivers when they won't get out of her way. She provided me with several laughs during our time together. I think her general funniness is amplified by her very Indian accent. I think the term we would use in the States for a girl like her is a "firecracker." Designers of the Patterson School summer reading list will also be happy to know that Madhavi gives her ringing endorsement of the book "In Spite of the Gods".

Before we parted I asked her about theatre performances in Delhi. I was interested in seeing a show. I didn't' care what show, just something "Indian". She told me she'd look into it and give me a call. True to her word, she called me about an hour later and told me about a show called Kallu Nai. She explained that the only drawback was that it was in Hindi. I told her it didn't really matter and that it might even be better that way. I thanked her and got ready to go.

Of course my rickshaw driver got lost. We're cruising up and down the road with no idea where the place is. When we finally find it, it's about 2 minutes to show and I rush up to the ticket counter and request one ticket.

"Sir, you realize this show is in Hindi?"
"Um, yeah. One ticket please."
"No English."
"Ok. Yeah. Sure. One ticket."
"No refund. Please fill out this card."

He shuffles me over to this other desk where I put my name and email address down and throw it in a bowl. I run to the bathroom real quick and wash my hands and then return to the theatre and find my seat.

I would consider it an authentic experience. Here I was, surrounded by sarees, turbans and leather sandals with my little white face sticking out like a sore thumb. The fact I was wearing deodorant also drew attention to me, I think. I started drawing up a game plan. I want to fit in, so I decided just to laugh when everyone else did. That worked fairly well, only it was like a 2 second delay. I would look out of the corner of my eye and see if people were smiling and I would smile too. I had no idea what was going on on that stage. Best I could tell it was about an Indian Popeye with a Hitler mustache who moonlights as a Doctor. Whether he was a real doctor or not, I'm still not for sure. The show was really not too bad. I could have done without the strange Indian House music during the interludes and the shoddy choreography but that's nitpicking.

The show ends and the cast comes onto the stage, takes a bow, everyone claps. Yadda yadda yadda. Then, the director comes onto stage and takes a mic. I cant' understand a word he's saying so I just take my cues from everyone else. He calls a little girl from the audience and she comes up on stage. Then, from stage left comes a familiar bowl filled with paper. Uh oh. Door prizes. (As a side note, who ever heard of door prizes at a play?) I slouched in my chair a little. Please please please don't call me. The little girl pulls a name out. Completely Indian name. I'm safe. Whew. Let's go home. The woman walks up to the stage to accept her prize. The director implores the girl to pull another name. She does and hands it to him. He looks at the paper, cocks his head, shows it to the guy standing next to him. "Pah-treek Bahr-keer". I can feel the eyes all looking at me. Everyone knew I was the Patrick Barker. I looked around and stood up, walked up on the stage as the director babbled in Hindi. I took my prize, gave a completely awkward bow and walked off the stage. I could see the folks in the crowd concealing smirks. Oh well, they can laugh. I've got a fantastically awesome air freshener and they don't!

Afterwards I needed a dose of home. I should have known better. I asked a rickshaw driver to take me to the McDonald's close to my hotel. I walked in with dreams of a couple cheeseburgers, fries and I coke. But, as Meatloaf says, two out of three ain't bad. I should have known that there would be no beef in that place. Not with all of it walking around out on the streets getting in the way of traffic. I had to settle for a McAloo Tiki, which was a weird potato patty stuffed with peas and covered in a creamy sauce. It actually wasn't so bad. I may have another one tomorrow.

So that was my evening. I'm going to change clothes and turn on CNN World so I can actually hear some English spoken tonight. Take care.

One Fine Evening

Just a quick one to let you all know about the truly marvelous evening I had. When I first signed up for CS, tonight is what I had in mind. Roopinder Singh and his family hosted me for dinner tonight in their home outside of Delhi. I was more nervous on my way there than I ever have been meeting the parents of a girlfriend. I mean, at least the parents have the same culture as you*. Your job as the boyfriend is just to be polite and don't say anything stupid. But tonight I was worried about cultural divides and language barriers. All fears quickly subsided as I found out what a truly welcoming family the Singhs were. Not only was Roopinder, his wife and two children there, but also his sister-in-law, her kids and mother-in-law. It was a full house.

I won't give you a play-by-play of the evening, but suffice it to say this is one of, if not the, highlight of the trip. These are experiences that can't be replicated or had everyday for that matter. I count myself as blessed for having met them.

More tomorrow...

*Actually, meeting Jess's dad and step mom was pretty nerve-wrecking since their culture is different and they're throwing Spanish at you.

A Round of Observations

Just some random thoughts.

-No matter how hard I try, I will never understand why here, and in the Middle East, men want to hold hands with each other. It's a very very foreign concept to me. I was told it just shows they are very good friends. Ok, I can understand that, but is it really necessary to hold hands in the process? I tried to imagine holding hands and walking downtown Lexington with some of my male friends but my brain wouldn't even let me. The idea must be so repulsive that my mind can't comprehend it. You NEVER see men and women holding hands here. Only men and men. I'll never get it.

-I've decided riding on a bicycle rickshaw is like that girl in high school that kept breaking your heart but you couldn't get over her. Cycle rickshaws are hot, slow and bumpy. But for some reason I'm in love with the idea of being pedaled through the streets of Delhi. Each of my journeys I've been rained on and had no canopy. Everytime I swear I'll never get on another one, but I do.

-They don't care to stare you down here. Nothing imposing, just curiousity I think. Guys will stare holes through me. Sometimes I start to feel like a New Yorker and want to yell at them "What the hell are you staring at? You want trouble? I'll give you trouble!" But I typically refrain.

-I've seen too many penises already. Guys just pee wherever suits them in broad daylight on the side of the street.

-I got my first taste of cows in the road today. True to what I had heard, traffic slowed and yielded rightaway. I was hoping that when a cow wondered onto the road it would be like in Return of the Jedi when the Ewoks first saw C3PO and started chanting and worshipping him. Unfortunately, that's not how it usually goes here.

-I'm addicted to bargaining. When I get back to the states I'll probably forget and try to bargain for jar of Ovaltine at Kroger. "$4? No, I think that's too expensive. $1.50. Good price for you!"

-I want to take pictures of every single person I see. It's ridiculous. Everyone is so unique with the clothing, beards or jewelry that I just want to snap pictures all the time. I realize I've just got a Canon point and click and I'm not on assignment from National Geographic so I refrain. Plus I don't know where I would find a SD card big enough to fit 1.6 billion pictures.

-The food is soooo good here. I'm spoiled now and will probably refuse to pay $12 for Chicken Makhani from Tandoor when I know I can get it on the street in Delhi for $1.50.

-What's the deal with the time here? Delhi is EST +9:30. Where did the extra 30 minutes come from? Why can't they be conformists?

Alright, so those are my thoughts for now. I'll get back a little later on with another round. As you can tell, this country is really an assault on the senses and a truly wonderful experience.

A Love/Hate Relationship

If my time in India started out any rockier, I would be Sly Stallone. I was just praying the whole trip wouldn't go like the first 24 hours did. And it hasn't.

It started with an email from my CS host two days before I was set to leave. She regretted to inform me that she couldn't, in fact, host me. So I was scrambling to find a place from CS with no luck. I ended up booking a hotel from an internet cafe in the Bangkok airport. Complete with taxi service from the airport which proved to be a wise decision.

So, I land, seemlessly get through immigration, pick up my bag, find the guy holding a sign with my name no it and I'm on my way. We start on the road and he asks me if I'm hungry. A little bit, I reply. But something fast, like McDonalds. It's late and I'm tired. So what does he do? He drops me off in a smoke-filled restaurant full of seedy looking men and tells me to order food and he'll wait outside. Not what I had in mind. Blame it on Southeast Asia- I'm skeptical of everyone who is even the slightest bit nice to me. Plus I had left my bags in his car and in general just didn't trust anyone. I finished as quickly as I could (paid with credit card because I didnt have ANY rupees) and got back in the car. We then proceed to stop at 3 ATMs, none of which will dispense any cash to me. Things are starting to look down for India. I didn't hit rock bottom until the next morning.

First let me say that India is a world unlike I've ever known. Being outside for 10 minutes (if you believe it) makes me long for the sanity and organization of the Middle East. (I later found out that the only reason it's such a mess around my hotel is that I'm staying in Old Delhi, which is like being thrust back into the 18th century save the incessant car horn honking. New Delhi is actually much more civilized and saner.) So my mission yesterday morning is to find an ATM. That's the only goal. I hired a cycle rickshaw, we negotiate a firm 40 rupees price (about $1US). He starts peddling. Suffice it to say I ended up nowhere near an ATM, raining pouring down, soaking wet, huddled in a weird little pod thing sitting on the ground cursing my life and this country. After I climb back onto the rickshaw I had to hop off a couple more times in protest because he was trying to charge me more to get to the ATM. When we finally arrived, the ATM wouldn't accept my card. Next ATM, same story. Delhi's monsoon rains were pouring down at this point and I was in no mood. Finally I got to an ATM that realized I actually have money in my account and pulled out that equivalent of $375US because my math sucks and I couldn't get a grip on the conversion rate.

Speaking of Rocky, you should have seen me. I was staggering down the street like a prize fighter in the 10th round. Being tired, wet and hungry are not feelings that any human desires to feel, but all were hitting me at once. I finally make it back to the hotel and, much to the amusement of the hotel staff, sopping wet. I ask "Does it rain everyday?" The bubbly clerk replied "No! Today is the first day of monsoon!" Awesome. Glad I could be a part of it.

But, thankfully, the day got better. I had a nice brunch at the hotel restaurant and ventured out to see the Red Fort, one of Delhi's main attractions. I also scheduled to meet a CSer in the evening. Around 7pm I met Mohit at the metro station. Mohit is a really cool guy. His English is near flawless and his entusiasm for his city and his country spills out in his speech. He took me to see the Presidential Palace and all the government buildings which I would compare to the Mall on Washington. He proved to be an OUTSTANDING tour guide. He knows so much history about the city and country. Much more than the average person I think. Without him, I would have been aimlessly wondering around the city saying "Oh, that's pretty". But now I know the stories behind it all. After sharing an ear of corn prepared by a street vendor, we went back to his home where his mother had prepared dinner for us. What proceeded was a wonderful night of conversation, good food and fun. CS once again saves the day!

Today I will also meet with a CS family for dinner. I will go to Roopinder Singh's home tonight where his wife and children will meet me and we will have a Punjabi dinner. I'm very excited. I've spoken with him on the phone a few times and he seems like a great guy.

To sum it up, India is outstandingly overwhelming at first. Nothing operates the way I would like it to, which may be part of the problem. India works at its own pace. I've realized I'm going to have to push and shove if I want to get anywhere. But this country is amazing. Truly a world all it's own. Alright, I need to get moving because other folks are waiting on the computer. But trust me, more is surely to come from India. Hopefully I'll avoid the monsoon today.