Israel and Egypt :: December 2007 - January 2008

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Updated images in the flickr set:

India 2007

Enjoy.

J

 
My first experience with indian domestic flights was when M and I flew from Bangalore to Delhi then Srinagar, Jammu / Kasmir. Yippie.

Kasmir is so beautiful that in the mind's eye, Srinagar's hypertouts become faded colors and shrink to dried flowers. They don't in reality. They whine, they sneer, they snivel and snort. They just want to be friends.

Actually, we made many friends in our walking and bus rides from Dargah to Mosque to Moghul garden. Srinagarians are very sweet and generous if they are not trying to sell you something and we found many that weren't. The city itself sprawls around the edges of Dal Lake. The story is that years ago, folks were prohibited from owing land, so they started building houseboats that stay a short canoe ride away from the shore. Now the stretch of the lake adjacent to the town is sick with houseboats (2000 some) and houseboat waste.

M walked me through incredible crumbly architectures, intricate repetitive painted patterns, exquisitely eclectic chandelier collections, bricks, wood and tin roofs (rusted). I was very happy. We sat and stared at ancient grounds of moghul royalty come alive with school childrens and families both kasmiri and indian. People actually frolicked in the genius features and fountains controlled by the kinetic energy of downhill flowing mountain spring water. We saw it.

Folks we met shared too many conversations about Kasmir's heavenly status: "Is this place not paradise on earth?"... "Beautiful does not begin to describe these mountains."... "When people ask how Kasmir was, you'll have to say it is like your wife."

Although we were nothing but secure, security forces were a ubiquitous reminder of the regions contentious unrest. Checkpoints, flak jackets and Indian soldiers with automatic weapons were the norm. Indian soldiers provided M with many opportunities to speak hindi and practice her mad interrogation skillz.

Kasmiri's equally resent the indian army presence and appreciate the safety that they provide, although most have horror stories to share about the soldiers' abuse of power and mischief. The whole scene reminded me of best case scenario outcomes for the US occupation in Iraq. An occupying force that is relatively integrated into the occupied society. They are not loved, they are not loathed, they are tolerated. It is a question of cultural familiarity and respect I thinks. Everyone wants the occupation to be over - That's not exactly true as some of the solders we talked to enjoyed their time in this heaven-like war zone. If only Iraq was more beautiful, the occupation would be less sticky.

There is a reason that this region has been so hotly contested. So much history, impressive scenery and access to natural resources. We suspect that this will be ground zero for world war four when the access to fresh water grows scarce. Until then, there is always a houseboat to stay on.

 
We spent the last few days getting up late and wandering around Bangalore. M has dragged me to about half of her favorite restaurants, fast food joints and chaat stands. I feel very accomplished having successfully distracted her from her work to appreciate her inner sloth.

We've walked and caught buses and hailed autorickshaws to get a full appreciation for the City's transportation woes. It is a complete oversimplification to describe what we see as "woes." There are 6.5 million residents of Bangalore who get around. That is an incredible accomplishment, just supporting the roads and transportation facilities. What we do see is constant congestion. The bus system is completely over utilized.

There is a subway system (The Bangalore Metro) that is in construction that will hopefully make things easier. It is modeled after the successful Delhi Metro which has had its share of controversy. Lets hope that the Bangalore version doesn't get bogged down. That won't do it on its own. Hopefully there can be some sort of smart growth, transit preferred development and planning to mitigate the growing traffic disaster. Judging on the futility of other planning efforts in indian megacities, I'm not holding my breath on this one.

I like Bangalore. The streets are tight and the buildings are not too huge. The city is booming like no other city that I've seen. Everywhere you look are the tell tale signs of new wealth and transition - bamboo (for external support while in construction), bricks, mortar, fugly "modern" glass facades and dudes with pans on their heads carrying earth. The congestion really hits you when you are in a hurry to get around the City after 5:30PM. Walking in the park makes you feel like you were in Chicago around the turn of the century... everywhere you look, there are families and people enjoying the sun and atmosphere. Maybe I didn't see it before (maybe my bioclock is ticking) but it is astounding how many families you see. This translates to lotsa fancy baby gear, competitive day-care and yoga for moms. As everyone has a digital camera or cameraphone-type device, I suspect that that the new babies will represent the most documented generation in India's history. We should also look forward to some ass-kicking india photographers.

We did a short stint in Mysore. Which was great mainly because we got to take the train. Michele wanted air conditioned chair class on the way out, but I got IInd class on the way back to bangalore. Mysore has a great raj-era palace, plenty of touts and lots of opportunities for street food.

We stumbled on the palace as the sun was setting and joined the masses waiting for the palace stewards to turn the lights on. White bulbs line the 1912 proto-deco flourishes, colonizing moghul grey granite and guilded turrets. When they pulled the lever and flipped switches, the whole thing lit up like a christmas tree (great pictures now in the flickr set). The whole city of Mysore seemed to wander the palace grounds, which before the sun set was an inhospitable wasterland of a parade-area, better fit for a monster truck rally then a promenade. We witnessed the full metamorphosis from emptyness to vibrant public space and the evening was beayootiful. We sat and watched child laborers sell popcorn and balloons and light-up yo-yo balls to the many mysoreans and their toddling offspring.

We sweated in IInd class with a cute muslim family for the 3 hour ride back. The beautiful mother (who must have been all of 17 years old) and three girl chilluns slept and fought and stared out the window. Rice paddies, sugar cane fields, chinese bicycles and shitting ploughhands flew past the window bars. It is good to be back in India. Tomorrow we fly up to Delhi, then Srinagar, Kasmir. Wish us luck avoiding IEDs, tourist bus bombings and debilitating sunburn.

 
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