lunes, 29 de diciembre de 2008
viernes, 18 de abril de 2008
THE END
Abans d'escriure el llistat de conclusions finals sobre aquest viatge a la Índia, amb el qual don per finalitzat el blog (pel que respecta a la Índia), he de contar breument les dues darreres etapes del viatge.
Després de deixar Darjeeling vaig anar a Siliguri per agafar el tren cap a Varanasi. Vaig partir de Darjeeling dissabte horabaixa i vaig arribar a Varanasi dilluns horabaixa, gràcies a les 18 hores de retard del tren. Però bé, això és la Índia i tot és possible. A Varanasi vaig esser-hi fins el dissabte següent. Em vaig retrobar amb dos companys de viatge - de l'etapa d'Anantapur - i més envant amb més persones que he conegut viatjant. Coincidències o el que sigui, no ho sabria definir. Els dies a Varanasi els vaig ocupar voltant pels carrerons, comprant roba i regals, sopant amb amics, passejant pels ghats, observant gent estranya (n'hi ha molta), mirant com cremen els morts, etc. És un lloc on es respira pau, tranquil.litat i un aire enrarit que t'envolta i t'absorbeix.
Amb els dies comptats vaig anar a Agra a fer-me la foto més turística de la Índia: el Taj Mahal. Apart de ser hiper-turístic i molt car entrar-hi, el Taj Mahal és realment impressionant. Resulta gairebé impossible visitar-ho quan hi ha poca gent (per no dir ningú) perquè sempre està ple: jo vaig esser-hi a les 6 del matí i ja havien 200 persones esperant a l'entrada. Aquesta realment és una visita que puc borrar de la llista: val la pena, sense cap dubte, però no caldrà repetir.
I d'Agra cap a Delhi ja per agafar l'avió de tornada. Entre i entre, algunes compres que van duplicar el pes de la meva motxilla. I fins aquí aquesta vegada a la Índia. Segur que repetiré.
Conclusions finals:
1. Guanya Pepsi
2. A la Índia, tot és possible.
3. Evitar polos a tota costa.
4. Trepitjar una merda de vaca NO és bona sort, és simplement qüestió de temps.
5. NO contestis a la pregunta: "què vols pagar per això?" És una pregunta trampa. Limita't a somriure.
6. "Si senyor/a" + cara de poker = no tenc ni puta idea de què vols. Et portaré el que me sembli bé a mi.
7. Pregunta preferida per establir conversació: "de quin pais? d'on ets?"
8. Homes caminant de la mà NO son necessàriament gais. No pot haver-hi tants.
9. Moure el coll d'esquerra a dreta NO és un exercici pel coll. Si és que SI, ho fan; si és que NO, ho fan; si no saben, ho fan.
Before writing my list of final conclusions about the trip, with which I shall consider the blog (the India trip section) finished, I will briefly talk about the last two stages of the trip.
After leaving Darjeeling I went to Siliguri to take a train to Varanasi. I left Darjeeling on Saturday afternoon and arrived Varanasi on Monday afternoon, courtesy of the 18 hour delay on the train. But this is India, and everything is possible. I stayed in Varanasi until the following Saturday. I met with two friends from the days in Anantapur and later on with other people that I'd met at different stages. Coincidences or whatever, hard to define. My days in Varanasi were spent walking around the narrow streets, purchasing clothes and presents, lunching and dining with friends, strolling up and down the ghats, people watching, observing the cremations, etc. It's a place of peace and calm; it has a strange atmosphere that surrounds you and absorbs you.
With the days numbered I headed to Agra to take the most typical tourist photo in India: the Taj Mahal. Apart from being hyper-touristy and very expensive, the Taj Mahal is certainly impressive. It's virtually impossible to see it with few people, as it's always full: I was there at 6am and there were about 200 other people in front of me waiting. This is one of those visits that can be ticked off the list: absolutely worth going, no question about it, but no need to see it again.
And from Agra to Delhi to take the plane back home. In the process I did some shopping that doubled the weight of my now-torn backpack. And so this is all that I could manage this time in India. I'm sure there'll be a next time.
Conclusions:
1. Pepsi wins.
2. In India, everything is possible.
3. Avoid ice-lollies, at all cost.
4. Stepping on cow-shit is NOT good luck, it's just a question of time.
5. Do NOT answer the question: "how much do you want to pay?" It's a trick question...just smile.
6. "Yes sir/madam" + puzzled face = I have NO clue what you want. So I'll bring whatever I want.
7. Favourite ice-breaker: "which country? you're from?"
8. Pairs of men holding hands and NOT necessarily gay. There just can't be that many.
9. Wobbling of the head from left to right is NOT some kind of neck exercise. If the answer is YES, they do it; if the answer is NO, they do it; if they DON'T know, they do it.
Després de deixar Darjeeling vaig anar a Siliguri per agafar el tren cap a Varanasi. Vaig partir de Darjeeling dissabte horabaixa i vaig arribar a Varanasi dilluns horabaixa, gràcies a les 18 hores de retard del tren. Però bé, això és la Índia i tot és possible. A Varanasi vaig esser-hi fins el dissabte següent. Em vaig retrobar amb dos companys de viatge - de l'etapa d'Anantapur - i més envant amb més persones que he conegut viatjant. Coincidències o el que sigui, no ho sabria definir. Els dies a Varanasi els vaig ocupar voltant pels carrerons, comprant roba i regals, sopant amb amics, passejant pels ghats, observant gent estranya (n'hi ha molta), mirant com cremen els morts, etc. És un lloc on es respira pau, tranquil.litat i un aire enrarit que t'envolta i t'absorbeix.
Amb els dies comptats vaig anar a Agra a fer-me la foto més turística de la Índia: el Taj Mahal. Apart de ser hiper-turístic i molt car entrar-hi, el Taj Mahal és realment impressionant. Resulta gairebé impossible visitar-ho quan hi ha poca gent (per no dir ningú) perquè sempre està ple: jo vaig esser-hi a les 6 del matí i ja havien 200 persones esperant a l'entrada. Aquesta realment és una visita que puc borrar de la llista: val la pena, sense cap dubte, però no caldrà repetir.
I d'Agra cap a Delhi ja per agafar l'avió de tornada. Entre i entre, algunes compres que van duplicar el pes de la meva motxilla. I fins aquí aquesta vegada a la Índia. Segur que repetiré.
Conclusions finals:
1. Guanya Pepsi
2. A la Índia, tot és possible.
3. Evitar polos a tota costa.
4. Trepitjar una merda de vaca NO és bona sort, és simplement qüestió de temps.
5. NO contestis a la pregunta: "què vols pagar per això?" És una pregunta trampa. Limita't a somriure.
6. "Si senyor/a" + cara de poker = no tenc ni puta idea de què vols. Et portaré el que me sembli bé a mi.
7. Pregunta preferida per establir conversació: "de quin pais? d'on ets?"
8. Homes caminant de la mà NO son necessàriament gais. No pot haver-hi tants.
9. Moure el coll d'esquerra a dreta NO és un exercici pel coll. Si és que SI, ho fan; si és que NO, ho fan; si no saben, ho fan.
Before writing my list of final conclusions about the trip, with which I shall consider the blog (the India trip section) finished, I will briefly talk about the last two stages of the trip.
After leaving Darjeeling I went to Siliguri to take a train to Varanasi. I left Darjeeling on Saturday afternoon and arrived Varanasi on Monday afternoon, courtesy of the 18 hour delay on the train. But this is India, and everything is possible. I stayed in Varanasi until the following Saturday. I met with two friends from the days in Anantapur and later on with other people that I'd met at different stages. Coincidences or whatever, hard to define. My days in Varanasi were spent walking around the narrow streets, purchasing clothes and presents, lunching and dining with friends, strolling up and down the ghats, people watching, observing the cremations, etc. It's a place of peace and calm; it has a strange atmosphere that surrounds you and absorbs you.
With the days numbered I headed to Agra to take the most typical tourist photo in India: the Taj Mahal. Apart from being hyper-touristy and very expensive, the Taj Mahal is certainly impressive. It's virtually impossible to see it with few people, as it's always full: I was there at 6am and there were about 200 other people in front of me waiting. This is one of those visits that can be ticked off the list: absolutely worth going, no question about it, but no need to see it again.
And from Agra to Delhi to take the plane back home. In the process I did some shopping that doubled the weight of my now-torn backpack. And so this is all that I could manage this time in India. I'm sure there'll be a next time.
Conclusions:
1. Pepsi wins.
2. In India, everything is possible.
3. Avoid ice-lollies, at all cost.
4. Stepping on cow-shit is NOT good luck, it's just a question of time.
5. Do NOT answer the question: "how much do you want to pay?" It's a trick question...just smile.
6. "Yes sir/madam" + puzzled face = I have NO clue what you want. So I'll bring whatever I want.
7. Favourite ice-breaker: "which country? you're from?"
8. Pairs of men holding hands and NOT necessarily gay. There just can't be that many.
9. Wobbling of the head from left to right is NOT some kind of neck exercise. If the answer is YES, they do it; if the answer is NO, they do it; if they DON'T know, they do it.
miércoles, 9 de abril de 2008
Darjeeling
Arribar a Darjeeling no es cosa facil. 12 hores en tren de Kolkatta, rickshaw de 30min a Siliguri i jeep de 3 hores a Darjeeling. Pero avui hi ha vaga i toca agafar bus de 5 hores a Darjeeling. Mel. A mes ens toca seure al darrera de tot on es noten mes els bots (i no n'hi ha pocs, no). Arribam l'horabaixa i ablanits. Toca relax.
La meva idea era anar a fer una mica de trekkin, pero tot d'una veig que no sera possible: no tenc sabates, ni calcons, ni forro, ni sac, ni temps, ni res de res. Aqui fa fresqueta: tot el dia amb calcons llargs, calcetins i una jaqueta. Aixi i tot, en 4 dies he fet 2 excursionetes (per la zona), he vist el 3er cim del mon i casi veig la coronacio d'un lama budista (si m'hagues despert d'hora). Podria ser pitjor. Darjeeling no es el que m'esperava: no es un poblet de muntanya. Tot i ser brut i tenir problemes d'aigua i de vagues, es un lloc placid amb gent molt amable. A mes les dones son molt guapes, en general, i alegren la vista. Podria ser pitjor. Em qued amb les ganes d'anar a Sikkim i fer trekkin. La propera vegada.
Getting to Darjeeling is not an easy task. 12 hours by train from Kolkatta, 30min rickshaw to Siliguri and 3 hours by jeep to Darjeeling. But today there is a strike and it's a 5 hour bus ride to Siliguri. Sweet. Even worse: we have to sit right at the back of the bus, where the road potholes are more felt (and it's not just a few, nope). We get there in the evening, battered. It's relaxing time.
My idea was to do some trekking, but I can see already that it's not going to happen: no shoes, no trousers, no fleece, no sleeping bag, no time...absolutely nothing. It's fairly cool here: walking around all day with trousers, socks and a jacket on. All in all, in 4 days I've taken 2 short treks/walks (around the area), I've seen the world's 3rd largest peak (just) and I almost attended the coronation of a buddhist lama (if only I'd gotten up early enough). Could be worse. Darjeeling is not what I expected: not a small mountain town. Despite being dirty and having serious water shortages and problems with strikes, it's a placid place with very nice people. And the women are extremely beautiful, in general...nice to look at. Could be worse. I would have liked to go to Sikkim and trek. Next time.
La meva idea era anar a fer una mica de trekkin, pero tot d'una veig que no sera possible: no tenc sabates, ni calcons, ni forro, ni sac, ni temps, ni res de res. Aqui fa fresqueta: tot el dia amb calcons llargs, calcetins i una jaqueta. Aixi i tot, en 4 dies he fet 2 excursionetes (per la zona), he vist el 3er cim del mon i casi veig la coronacio d'un lama budista (si m'hagues despert d'hora). Podria ser pitjor. Darjeeling no es el que m'esperava: no es un poblet de muntanya. Tot i ser brut i tenir problemes d'aigua i de vagues, es un lloc placid amb gent molt amable. A mes les dones son molt guapes, en general, i alegren la vista. Podria ser pitjor. Em qued amb les ganes d'anar a Sikkim i fer trekkin. La propera vegada.
Getting to Darjeeling is not an easy task. 12 hours by train from Kolkatta, 30min rickshaw to Siliguri and 3 hours by jeep to Darjeeling. But today there is a strike and it's a 5 hour bus ride to Siliguri. Sweet. Even worse: we have to sit right at the back of the bus, where the road potholes are more felt (and it's not just a few, nope). We get there in the evening, battered. It's relaxing time.
My idea was to do some trekking, but I can see already that it's not going to happen: no shoes, no trousers, no fleece, no sleeping bag, no time...absolutely nothing. It's fairly cool here: walking around all day with trousers, socks and a jacket on. All in all, in 4 days I've taken 2 short treks/walks (around the area), I've seen the world's 3rd largest peak (just) and I almost attended the coronation of a buddhist lama (if only I'd gotten up early enough). Could be worse. Darjeeling is not what I expected: not a small mountain town. Despite being dirty and having serious water shortages and problems with strikes, it's a placid place with very nice people. And the women are extremely beautiful, in general...nice to look at. Could be worse. I would have liked to go to Sikkim and trek. Next time.
Kolkatta
Arrib a Kolkatta i el 1er obstacle es que es festa; es Holi, festival hindu del color. Festa = taxi car. No passa res. 2on obstacle es que la recepcio a molts hotels esta tancada. No passa res. Trob una oberta i em fic a un dormitori amb 5 altres persones, de colonies. Problemes resolts i vaig a veure que es aixo de Holi. Resultat: cara, mans, bracos, roba...ple de color (putada que costa molt esforc llevar-s'ho). Holi es el bon rotllo indio: gent pel carrer pintant-se l'un a l'altre, ballant i, curiosament, algun borratxin indio (dels primers que veig).
Kolkatta despren un aire de majestuositat. Conserva gran part dels edificis grandiosos de l'epoca colonial (en estat de conservacio millorable, clar) i aixo, juntament amb grans carrers amples i el riu, es mescla per crear un ambient relaxat i cosmopolita. Tot i ser una ciutat amb turistes i molts voluntaris estrangers, Kolkatta es tot tranquil.litat i l'agressivitat d'altres llocs (comerciants, rickshaws, etc.) no esta present aqui.
Despres d'un dia ple de visites turistiques (Victoria memorial, Kalighats, Howrah bridge, Park street, etc.) amb nova companyia de viatge, em vaig permetre un massatge shiatzu (de fet gratuit) gracies a Keti, companya d'habitacio al Paragon (les colonies). Tot un luxe. Mans d'angel. El problema d'anar de colonies es que alguns nins et lleven coses. I a mi em van llevar les 5fingers. Li vaig dir al monitor, pero no va poder fer res. Una pena. Per superar la decepcio: un altra sessio de shiatzu (em vaig relaxar tant que em vaig adormir). I aixi, amb visites i caminades entre massatge i massatge, ha arribat dilluns i l'hora de partir cap a les muntanyes: a Darjeeling.
Kolkatta despren un aire de majestuositat. Conserva gran part dels edificis grandiosos de l'epoca colonial (en estat de conservacio millorable, clar) i aixo, juntament amb grans carrers amples i el riu, es mescla per crear un ambient relaxat i cosmopolita. Tot i ser una ciutat amb turistes i molts voluntaris estrangers, Kolkatta es tot tranquil.litat i l'agressivitat d'altres llocs (comerciants, rickshaws, etc.) no esta present aqui.
Despres d'un dia ple de visites turistiques (Victoria memorial, Kalighats, Howrah bridge, Park street, etc.) amb nova companyia de viatge, em vaig permetre un massatge shiatzu (de fet gratuit) gracies a Keti, companya d'habitacio al Paragon (les colonies). Tot un luxe. Mans d'angel. El problema d'anar de colonies es que alguns nins et lleven coses. I a mi em van llevar les 5fingers. Li vaig dir al monitor, pero no va poder fer res. Una pena. Per superar la decepcio: un altra sessio de shiatzu (em vaig relaxar tant que em vaig adormir). I aixi, amb visites i caminades entre massatge i massatge, ha arribat dilluns i l'hora de partir cap a les muntanyes: a Darjeeling.
I get to Kolkatta and the 1st obstacle in the course is that it's a holiday (bad planning); it's Holi, Hindu festival of colour. Taxi = more expensive. Not a problem. The 2nd obstacle is that many hotel's reception desks are closed. Not a problem. I find one that is open and I chek into a dorm room with 5 other people, summer camp. Problems solved and I head out to check this Holi thing out. Result: face, hands, arms, clothes...full of colour (damn hard to wash off too). Holi is the indian-way good vibes: people on the streets painting each other, dancing and, funny enough, some drunk locals (first I've seen).
Kolkatta has an air of majesticness. It still has many of the grand colonial buildings (could be better in condition, of course) and this, together with wide paved streets and the river, combines together in creating a relaxed and cosmopolitan atmosphere. Despite the many tourists and volunteers from around the world, Kolkatta is all peacefulness and the agressive nature of other tourist spots (shopkeepers, rickshaws, etc.) is not so here.
After a day full of tourist visits (Victoria memorial, Kalighats, Howrah bridge, Park street, etc.) with new travel company, I allowed myself a shiatzu massage (actually for free) courtesy of Keti, roommate at the Paragon (summer camp). A real treat. Hands of an angel. The problem with summer camp is that other kids take your stuff. In my case, someone took my 5fingers sandals. I told the instructor about it, but nothing could be done. A real shame. To get over it: another session of shiatzu (fell asleep, it was so relaxing). And with this, going places and walking in between massage and massage, Monday has come and so too the time to head to the mountains: to Darjeeling.
lunes, 7 de abril de 2008
Ciberabad
Crec que m'he aburrit a mi mateix escrivint l'entrada anterior del blog. No vull ni imaginar lo aburrit que deu haver estat llegir-la (dubt que ningu l'hagi llegida sencera). Per aixo mateix passam de blog-opinio a blog-enumeracio (menys quan calgui).
Despres de la decepcio de Putthaparti vaig fer una aturada tecnica a Anantapur per recollir la motxilla i vaig agafar el tren cap el nord: a Hyderabad. Tretze hores de viatge i ja era a un dels centres musulmans del pais. Hyderabad es, en realitat, una cuitat mes de la India. No te l'encant de Mumbai ni la magnificencia de Kolkatta. Te molt de transit, molta contaminacio, molta brutor, molta gent, molta calor i poques vaques. El que si que te es gent molt amable i hospitalaria, quan no et volen vendre res. Apart d'aixo: el barri arab amb una de les mesquites mes grans del mon (Mecca Masjid) i els bazaars tipics on es troba de tot, l'estatua de Buddha en peu mes gran del mon (al mig d'un llac); son les atracctions principals a Hyderabad. En 3 dies no he vist cap altre turista al carrer: novedos. Al tercer dia he agafat un vol (fent trampes, si) cap a Kolkatta.
I think I bored myself writing the last blog entry. I don't want to imagine how boring it must have been to read it (doubt anyone did, at least in full). Hence the blog will now be a list of what I've done, more or less.
After the big disappointment of Putthaparti I made a technical stop in Anantapur to collect my backpack and took the train heading north: to Hyderabad. Thirteen hours later and I was in one of the major Muslim centres of the country. Hyderabad is, simply, another city in India.It doesn't have the charm of Mumbai or the grandiosity of Kolkatta. It has a lot of traffic, lots of pollution, lots of dirt, lots of heat and few cows. What it does have is very helpful and hospitable people, when they are not trying to sell you something. Other than that: the muslim quarters with Mecca Masjid (one of the largest mosques in the world) and the traditional bazaars where anything can be bought, the standing Buddha statue, the largest in the world (in the middle of a lake); they are the main attractions of Hyderabad. In 3 days I saw no other tourist on the street: novel. The third day I took a flight (slight cheat, I know) to Kolkatta.
Despres de la decepcio de Putthaparti vaig fer una aturada tecnica a Anantapur per recollir la motxilla i vaig agafar el tren cap el nord: a Hyderabad. Tretze hores de viatge i ja era a un dels centres musulmans del pais. Hyderabad es, en realitat, una cuitat mes de la India. No te l'encant de Mumbai ni la magnificencia de Kolkatta. Te molt de transit, molta contaminacio, molta brutor, molta gent, molta calor i poques vaques. El que si que te es gent molt amable i hospitalaria, quan no et volen vendre res. Apart d'aixo: el barri arab amb una de les mesquites mes grans del mon (Mecca Masjid) i els bazaars tipics on es troba de tot, l'estatua de Buddha en peu mes gran del mon (al mig d'un llac); son les atracctions principals a Hyderabad. En 3 dies no he vist cap altre turista al carrer: novedos. Al tercer dia he agafat un vol (fent trampes, si) cap a Kolkatta.
I think I bored myself writing the last blog entry. I don't want to imagine how boring it must have been to read it (doubt anyone did, at least in full). Hence the blog will now be a list of what I've done, more or less.
After the big disappointment of Putthaparti I made a technical stop in Anantapur to collect my backpack and took the train heading north: to Hyderabad. Thirteen hours later and I was in one of the major Muslim centres of the country. Hyderabad is, simply, another city in India.It doesn't have the charm of Mumbai or the grandiosity of Kolkatta. It has a lot of traffic, lots of pollution, lots of dirt, lots of heat and few cows. What it does have is very helpful and hospitable people, when they are not trying to sell you something. Other than that: the muslim quarters with Mecca Masjid (one of the largest mosques in the world) and the traditional bazaars where anything can be bought, the standing Buddha statue, the largest in the world (in the middle of a lake); they are the main attractions of Hyderabad. In 3 days I saw no other tourist on the street: novel. The third day I took a flight (slight cheat, I know) to Kolkatta.
viernes, 28 de marzo de 2008
Vicenc Ferrer vs. Sai Baba
Vam arribar a la Fundacio Vicenc Ferrer (FVF) ben tard, damunt la 1.30del mati i la pau i tranquil.litat que es respira al recinte s’agraeix despres d’un llarg i accidentat viatge. El mati seguent, havent descansat i recarregat bateries (totes: cos, ment, camera, ipod, telefon...) vam anar a berenar i identificar-nos com a visitants a l’autoritat competent. Fent la passejada des de les habitacions fins a l’oficina d’apadrinament, amb aturada tecnica al menjador, un se n’adona d’un fet curios i notable: el recinte es silencios, net, ordenat, tranquil. En resum: tot el que no es la India. Alla enfora, rera les barreres de l’entrada, hi ha renou, brutor, transit, fums...
We arrived at the Fundacio Vicenc Ferrer (FVF) fairly late, at about 1.30am and the peace and quiet in the compound was a lovely surprise after a long and shaky journey. The next morning, having rested and charged up batteries (all: body, mind, camera, ipod, phone...) we went for breakfast and to identify ourselves as visitors with the authority in charge. Walking from the rooms to the sponsorship office, with pit-stop at the dining hall, one notices something strange: the compound is silent, clean, orderly, peaceful. Basically, everything that India is not. There in the distance, beyond the entry gates, there is noise, dirt, trafic, fumes...
We arrived at the Fundacio Vicenc Ferrer (FVF) fairly late, at about 1.30am and the peace and quiet in the compound was a lovely surprise after a long and shaky journey. The next morning, having rested and charged up batteries (all: body, mind, camera, ipod, phone...) we went for breakfast and to identify ourselves as visitors with the authority in charge. Walking from the rooms to the sponsorship office, with pit-stop at the dining hall, one notices something strange: the compound is silent, clean, orderly, peaceful. Basically, everything that India is not. There in the distance, beyond the entry gates, there is noise, dirt, trafic, fumes...
Despres d'identificar els nins/nines apadrinats (i no era nomes un!) i planificar visites els dies seguents, ens vam posar en marxa amb les visites als diferents centres que te la fundacio. Hospital, hospital de SIDA, hospital de maternitat, centre de planificacio familiar, centre de manualitats per discapacitats, etc. Molt interessant i, cal dir, que es fa molta i molt bona feina (tant per part dels voluntaris com per part dels treballadors de la FVF).Al final d'un dia ple de visites tocava passar per l'oficina i saludar el Vicenc. Parlar amb el Vicenc no deixa indiferent a ningu. Es un homenet vell (88) amb la fragilitat aparent d'un gerro de vidre, que treu foc per la boca. A estones no sembla del tot lucid, pero en general sap el que es diu. La provocacio verbal com a metode d'analisi de qui n'es receptor es una tecnica molt usada ( i que m'agrada molt a mi). Quan ho fa un padrinet, que sembla que s'ha de trencar si s'aixeca, amb la tranquil.litat de molts anys de bagatge, de molts anys de sofriment i de molts anys de feina pels altres amb grans millores i fites aconseguides, no pots fer altra cosa que somriure i jugar-hi, sabent que perdras. Te caracter i es carismatic (aixi ha aconseguit el que ha aconseguit). El seu missatge es poderos tot i que no deixa d'estar antiquat, en certa manera.
After identifying the sponsored boys and girls (not just one!) and planning the visits for the following days, we got going with the visits to the diferent centres that the FVF has. Hospitals, AIDS hospital, maternity centre, family planning centre, disabled arts and crafts centre, etc. Very interesting and, one must say, that much work, and good work, is being done (both by the volunteers as well as the workers). After a day full of visits it was time to drop by the office and greet Vicente Ferrer. Talking with Vicente Ferrer doesn't leave you feeling indifferent. He's an old man (88) with the apparent frailty of a glass vase, that spews fire out of his mouth. At times he doesn't seem quite with it, but in general he knows what he's saying. Verbal provocation as a means of analysing people is an extended technique (one which I happen to like). When an ol grandad, who seems will break if he stands up, does this to you, with the peace of mind that gives him many years of suffering for others and much good work done with plenty of achievements in the aid of people, then all you can do is smile and play the game, knowing full well you will loose. He has character and carisma (that's how he's achieved all he has). His message is powerful, though it's old and tired.
El dia seguent era dia de visites als poblats. I aqui es quan torna a escena el polo de Hampi (molt probablement). 40 de febre, vomits i diarrea - lo tipic d'una intoxicacio. Per sort em va (ens va - al David tambe, 1 dia i mig despres) passar estant a la FVF i no sol a qualsevols lloc. Amb un equip medic de 4 metges i 2 enfermeres, vaig estar ben ates. Dos dies despres i com a nou: purificat, desintoxicat i aprimat.
The next day was day of visit to the villages. And here the ice-lolly from Hampi (most likely) makes a second appearance in the play. 40C fever, vomits, diarrhea - the usual for food poisoning. Lucky for me (and David - a day and a half later he too fell) I was at the FVF and not alone elsewhere. With 4 doctors and 2 nurses around, I was well taken care of. Two days later and as good as new: purified, detoxed and thinner.
Despres del petit parentesi vaig anar a visitar Vijaykumar al seu poblat, que va resultar ser a 3 hores de cami. L'experiencia de les visites als pobles dels nins apadrinats, com ja m'havien comentat, es una mescla entre emotiva i violenta. L'ocasio es tota una festa per la gent del poble. En el meu cas em va rebre TOT el poble, amb dances tribals i musica. De l'entrada del poble fins a la casa de Vijaykumar vam anar en processo, amb la musica, les dances, i jo com si fos l'imatge d'un sant que passejen a les festes. Violent - amb el poc que m'agrada a mi ser el centre d'atencio. La resta del temps va passar entre explicacions de la traductora, presentacions de tota la familia, regals que els havia duit, cants i balls dels nins i nines, fotos, etc. Una experiencia globalment positiva, molt interessant. La familia i el poble realment estan contents i es senten honrats que algu que els dona suport economic (indirectament) vengui de tan alluny per visitar-los. Per mi hi ha dues coses negatives. Una es que, tot i l'espectacle visual i de color de la visita (molt bonic), un no veu realment com viu la gent al poblat - el dia a dia, els problemes que tenen, etc. Altra es el tracte i la veneracio cap a la teva persona. Qui aporta 18 euros al mes per ajudar els projectes de la FVF no es cap sant/a. Hi ha moltes motivacions per donar suport als que el necessiten; el reconeixement esta be per alguns - pero la idolatracio ja es una mica massa.
After the small break in activity I went to visit Vijaykumar in his village, which happened to be 3 hours away. The experience of visiting the village of sponsored children, as I had been told, is a mixture of emotional and awkward. A visit is an festive occasion for the whole village. In my case the WHOLE village was waiting for me with tribal dances, music. From the entrance to the village until Vijaykumar's house we walked in procession with the music, the dancing and I, as if I was the image of some saint that is carried around the town for some festive celebration. Awkward – I really hate being the centre of attention anyway. The rest of the time was spent listening to the explanations from the translator, introductions to the whole family, giving presents I had for them, dancing and singing acts by the children, photo session, etc. A globally positive experience, very interesting. The family and the village people are really happy and honoured that someone that helps them economically (indirectly) should come from so far away to visit them. For me there were two negative things. One is that, despite the beautiful display of colour and sound (very attractive), one cannot really see how these people live – the day-to-day, the issues they face, etc. Another is the way you are treated and venerated. Someone who contributes 18 euro a month to help fund FVF projects is not a saint. There are many motivations for giving to the needy; self recognition is ok for some – but becoming an idol for that reason is a bit too much.
La resta de la setmana la vaig passer de relax al recinte de la FVF. Durant la setmana s’ha anat creant un grup de gent jove molt interessant que, per diverses raons, estaven de visita per lliure. Juntament amb els voluntaris hem compartit dinars, sopars, tertulies, cerveses, jocs, trucs, experiencies, etc. Realment molt interessant i instructiu. Salutacions a tots: David, Juantxo, Idoya, Lagui, Amaya, Benji, Ana, Veronica, Jose, Ezequiel, Israel i segur que me deix algun altre. I tambe a tots els voluntaris i voluntaries. I despres de perrear uns dies a Anantapur vam decidir de fer una visita – gairebe obligada – a Putthaparti: la casa de Sai Baba.
The rest of the week was spent relaxing at the FVF. During that week a nice group of young people traveling around and visiting the FVF has formed. Together with the volunteers we shared meals, chats, beers, games, thoughts, etc. Very interesting indeed. Regards to all. And also to all the volunteers. After bumming around in Anantapur for a few days we decided to make the next visit – almost compulsory – to Putthaparti: the house of Sai Baba.
Sai Baba es un homenet vell (un altre) que als 14 anys es va autoproclamar la reencarnacio de no se quin sant o persona sagrada. Els seus fans el consideren la reencarnacio de Deu a la Terra. I a comprovar-ho anarem. Entrant a l’ashram de Sai Baba – despres de 2 hores de bus – vaig tenir la mateixa sensacio que a l’entrar a la FVF: ordre, neteja, silenci. Igual, pero a major escala. Aqui hi ha milers de persones, es un altre nivell. El montatge es monumental: dins el recinte hi ha supermercat, llibreria, oficina de correus, etc. Afora no es queden curts. Putthaparti ha passat de ser un poblat pobre a una ciutat amb hospitals, universitat, milers de tendes, restaurants, etc. Tota una transformacio. Es fan dues ceremonies al dia, el les quals pot o no compareixer el guru. El demati despres d’arribar ens llevarem d’hora i anarem al temple. Jo estava emocionat, expectant. Entrarem i ens col.locarem. Dones i homes separats, fora sabates. El temple es una nau industrial gran, sense parets i el sol es ciment. Les decoracions al sostre i l’altar ho diferencien d’una altra nau industrial qualsevol. Vam esperar una hora. Comencen els cantics. Expectacio. A la vora del temple esta la casa del guru. El seu cotxe espera fora pel trajecte de 15m (60m si comptam fins l’altar). 40 minuts de cantics despres sembla que es mouen figures alla alluny a la casa. Efectivament, el guru fa l’entrada al recinte (moment patrocinat per Toyota). Molt lentament va anar passant pel carril cotxe, mentre la gent es posava les mans al cap fens sons d’adoracio. El guru va passar i va mirar (rera el vidre); va anar fins l’altar, on el van treure i el van ficar a unes estancies tancades on, suposadament, rep certa gent i canta amb ells. Ja no el vam tornar veure. Resultat: absolutament no-res. Ni il.luminats, ni impressionats, ni res de res. Ara, cansats i malhumorats, aixo si. I jo me deman: si aquest homenet fos Deu (o el que un ho vulgui anomenar) o la seva reencarnacio aqui, no ho notaria jo al veure’l i estar en la seva presencia? En resum: una estafa.
Sai Baba is a little old man (another) that at the age of 14 self-declared the reincarnation of some saint of sacred person (no clue who). His fans consider him the reincarnation of God on Earth. And we headed out to check this very thing. Walking into Sai Baba’s ashram – after 2 hours of bus – I had the same feeling as walking into the FVF: orderly, clean and quiet. The same but at a greater scale. There are thousands of people here, it’s a different level. The setup is certainly impressive: inside the compound there is a supermarket, a bookshop, a post office, etc. Outside it’s just as impressive. Putthaparti has changed from a tiny poor village into a city with hospitals, a university, many shops, restaurants, etc. A full transformation. There are two ceremonies a day, in which the guru may or may not make his appearance. The morning after our arrival we got up early and headed to the temple. I was excited, full of expectations. We got in and took a place. Men and women in separate wings, no shoes. The temple is but a large industrial warehouse, without walls and paved. The decorations on the ceiling and the altar are what make this place somewhat different from any industrial warehouse. We waited an hour. The singing started. Expectation. Next to the temple there is the house of the guru. His car awaits outside to cover the full 15m into the temple (60m if you count to the altar). 40 minutes of singing after it seems there is some movement there in the distance. Indeed, the guru makes his entrance (moment sponsored by
I ara al que ocupa el titol d’aquesta entrada de blog (a la fi): Vicenc Ferrer vs. Sai Baba. Despres d’haver estat als dos llocs la primera conclusion es: ambdues organitzacions tenen un aire sectari (Sai Baba molt mes). Vicenc Ferrer es un predicador, un evangelista. El seu missatge d’ajuda als alters neix de la seva ideologia catolica. Despres d’escoltar-lo varies vegades un se n’adona que aquest rerafons sempre l’acompanyara. Un fet semblant passa amb el Sai Baba. El missatge de pau, amor i espiritualitat es el que atrau a tanstissima gent en un mon tan necessitat d’aquestes qualitats. La direfencia, pero, es molt notable. Rera el missatge de Vicenc Ferrer hi ha tot un grapat de persones treballant en el mon real: ajudant a la gent que ho necessita. L’accio que predica Vicenc es el que realment dona valor a la FVF. I que fa el Sai Baba? No ho se ben be. El que si que es clar es que la quantitat de diners que rep en donacions es monumental, arreu
Conclusio: KILL THE GURU. Els gurus sobren. L’accio que es fa es el que queda. No estic il.luminat: una pena.
And now for the subject of this blog entry (finally): Vicente Ferrer vs. Sai Baba. Having been in both places the first conclusion is: both organizations stink of sect (Sai Baba considerably more). Vicente Ferrer is a preacher, an evangelist. His message of helping others comes from his catholic ideology. After hearing him several times one realises that this will always be a part of his speach. Something similar happens with Sai Baba. The message of peace, love and spirituality is what draws so many people in a world that is so needy of such qualities. The difference is, however, quite important. Behind Vicente Ferrer preaching there are a whole bunch of people working in the real world: helping people in need. Action is what makes the FVF a worthy organisation. What does Sai Baba do? I’m not entirely sure. The huge amount of money he receives in donations has been used to build hospitals, university in Putthaparti – and the development of the town is there to see. But further than that people are still living in poverty. There is no active aid for people.
Conclusion: KILL THE GURU. Gurus are expendable. Action is what remains. I haven’t been enlightened: it’s a real shame.
miércoles, 26 de marzo de 2008
Hampi Hampi
El que mes impressiona de Hampi no son tots els temples i monuments que hi ha als voltants, sino l'escenari on es troben aquests. Hampi esta situada als dos marges d'un riu i aixo dona molta vida al lloc: tota la zona es un petit oasi enrevoltat de muntanyes formades per grans roques col.locades de maneres inverosimils. Mirant les roques es podria ben concloure que algun gegant ha passat un bon grapat de setmanes col.locant-les d'aquella manera, que sembla qualsevol cosa menys aleatoria. Pero be, pels que som mes cientifics-racionals en el nostre pensament (no se exactament que vol dir aixo) el paisatge de Hampi es una majestuosa coincidencia de la Natura.
The most impressive thing about Hampi are not the temples and monuments in its surroundings, but rather the stage where these are located. Hampi spreads to both sides of a river and this provides it with much life: the whole area is a small oasis surrounded by mountains made of great big boulders put together in unbelievable ways. Looking at their disposition, one could easily conclude that some giant has spent a good few weeks placing them in that manner, which seems anything but random. For those of us that are more rationallly inclined in our thought (not quite sure what that means) Hampi's landscape is a majestic coincidence of Nature.
Vaig arribar a Hampi amb un nou company de viatge: el David de Valladolid (rima inclosa), fruit d'una altra coincidencia (o la Providencia, com diria ell) i de l'accent marcadament espanyol amb que parlam la majoria de persones del pais (no tots). Hampi es un petit poblat als dos marges del riu Tungabhadra (ho he hagut de mirar) i que viu, basicament, dels turistes i dels molts peregrins indis que venen aqui. Aquests dos dies els hem dedicat a explorar la zona a peu sota una intensa calor. La majoria dels temples son ara nomes monuments, alguns en millor estat que altres, dins els quals no es venera cap deitat. Els que encara son temples en us son els mes bruts i l'estat de conservacio i neteja a algunes zones es mes que millorable. Hi ha tot un grapat de gent que dorm i, en general, viu dins els temples. Tots els fems, la brutor, les vaques, les monees, la calor, juntament amb les ofrenes (fruita, flors, encens, etc.) del dia i de molts altres dies passats, es mesclen per crear un ambient deliros, fantastic, inverosimil, que qualsevol podria qualificar de mistic.
I arrived in Hampi with a new travel companion: David from Valladolid (doesn't work in English), as a result of another coincidence (or Providence, as he would like to call it) and of the distinct Spanish accent with which we speak English in Spain (not all of us). Hampi is a small town spreading to both sides of the river Tungabhadra (had to check that just now) that lives, basically, off tourists and pilgrims that come here. We've spent these two days exploring the area on foot under the intense heat. Most of the temples are now just monuments, some in better state than others, in which there is no religious activity. Those that are still temples are the most dirty and their conservation state and cleanliness in some areas is more than improvable. There is a whole bunch of people that sleep and, in general, live inside the temples. All the garbage, dirt, cows, monkeys, the heat, together with the offerings (fruit, flowers, incens, etc.) of the day and many other days past, blend together to create a delirious, fantastic, unbelievable atmosphere that many would qualify as mistical.
Al final d'un llarg primer dia amb una passejada d'uns 15km sota la calor, vam decidir creuar el riu (amb barca, 10 Rs. - 2 minuts; negoci rodo) i explorar l'ambient de l'altra banda. Problema: darrer creuament en barca a les 18h. Solucio (cortesia d'un heaviata alemany): es pot creuar a peu per un lloc, banyant-se fins els genolls o cintura. Preparacio: banyadors, xancles, frontal, bossa hermetica pels diners. Tot llest. Vam creuar en barca i vam explorar aquella banda del riu. L'ambient es molt mes relaxat, amb molts chill-outs i poques tendes. Millor per quedar-s'hi (per la propera vegada). Una tenda amb un al.lot indi que parla castella gairebe perfecte: casat amb una cordobesa (petit mon).
At the end of a long first day with a 15km walk in the sun, we decided to cross the river (by boat, 10 Rs. 2 minutes; can't go wrong) and explore the atmosphere of the other side. Problem: last crossing at 18h. Solution (courtesy of heavy metal German): river can be crossed on foot, with water up to knees or waist. Preparation: swimming trunks, flip-flops, headlamp, sealed bag for money. Ready. We crossed by boat and explored that side. There is a much more relaxed atmosphere there, with plenty of chill-outs and few shops. Better to stay (for next time). A shop with an indian that speak near perfect Spanish: married to a girl from Cordoba (small world).
Hora de tornada. Xerrant amb una al.lota suissa ens comenta que no es pot creuar el riu a peu: han obert les comportes de la presa riu amunt i el nivell ha pujat casi 2 metres. Ens mostra un video que ho confirma. Increduls nosaltres baixam al marge del riu per valorar la situacio. Frontal al cap, navegant pels fems, ens adonam que per creuar caldra nedar i la corrent recomana no fer-ho de vespre. De tornada cap amunt es materialitzen del no-res quatre cans. Comencen a encalcar-nos, lladrant...merda! Corre, corre, corre....costa amunt. S'aturen abans d'arribar als primers edificis. Ara tot son rialles, suor, adrenalina. Finalment vam quedar a aquella banda del riu el vespre. Pel que costen les habitacions no es pagat, millor que nedar al riu de vespre.
Time to head back. Talking to a Swiss girl she tells us it's not possible to cross the river on foot: the flood gates of the damn upriver have been opened and the water level is 2 metres higher. She shows us a video that confirms this. Disbelieving people that we are we head down to the river side to asses the situation. Headlamp on, navigating through garbage, we realise that in order to cross we will have to fully swim and the current would recommend not doing this at night. On the way back up four dogs appear from nowhere. They start chasing us, barking...shit! Run, run, run...uphill. They stop short of the first buildings. It's all laughter now, sweat and adrenaline. Finally we stayed on that side of the river that night. For the cost of a room, it's not worth swimming in the river at night.
El dia seguent visitarem el temple Hanuman (monkey temple) amb les seves 600 i mes escales. Grans vistes des d’alt. Despres de tornada a l’hostal per preparar la maleta i agafar el bus cap a Anantapur. Esperant el bus a Hampi feia moltissima calor. Un polo fresquet: gran idea. Gran error, jeje. Despres d’una experiencia mitica en bus durant gairebe 6 hores per carreteres (camins) intransitables a vegades – tota una odisea de la qual un se’n riu despres (nomes despres) – arribarem a Anantapur.
The next day we visited the Hanuman temple (monkey temple) with 600 plus steps. Great views from the top. After that back to the guest house to pack the bag and take the bus to Anantapur. Waiting for the bus in Hampi it was very hot. A nice ice-lolly: great idea. Big mistake, hehe. After an unbelievable experience by bus during almost 6 hours, driving on sometimes undriveable roads – an odissey of which one can laugh after (only after) – we arrived in Anantapur.
The most impressive thing about Hampi are not the temples and monuments in its surroundings, but rather the stage where these are located. Hampi spreads to both sides of a river and this provides it with much life: the whole area is a small oasis surrounded by mountains made of great big boulders put together in unbelievable ways. Looking at their disposition, one could easily conclude that some giant has spent a good few weeks placing them in that manner, which seems anything but random. For those of us that are more rationallly inclined in our thought (not quite sure what that means) Hampi's landscape is a majestic coincidence of Nature.
Vaig arribar a Hampi amb un nou company de viatge: el David de Valladolid (rima inclosa), fruit d'una altra coincidencia (o la Providencia, com diria ell) i de l'accent marcadament espanyol amb que parlam la majoria de persones del pais (no tots). Hampi es un petit poblat als dos marges del riu Tungabhadra (ho he hagut de mirar) i que viu, basicament, dels turistes i dels molts peregrins indis que venen aqui. Aquests dos dies els hem dedicat a explorar la zona a peu sota una intensa calor. La majoria dels temples son ara nomes monuments, alguns en millor estat que altres, dins els quals no es venera cap deitat. Els que encara son temples en us son els mes bruts i l'estat de conservacio i neteja a algunes zones es mes que millorable. Hi ha tot un grapat de gent que dorm i, en general, viu dins els temples. Tots els fems, la brutor, les vaques, les monees, la calor, juntament amb les ofrenes (fruita, flors, encens, etc.) del dia i de molts altres dies passats, es mesclen per crear un ambient deliros, fantastic, inverosimil, que qualsevol podria qualificar de mistic.
I arrived in Hampi with a new travel companion: David from Valladolid (doesn't work in English), as a result of another coincidence (or Providence, as he would like to call it) and of the distinct Spanish accent with which we speak English in Spain (not all of us). Hampi is a small town spreading to both sides of the river Tungabhadra (had to check that just now) that lives, basically, off tourists and pilgrims that come here. We've spent these two days exploring the area on foot under the intense heat. Most of the temples are now just monuments, some in better state than others, in which there is no religious activity. Those that are still temples are the most dirty and their conservation state and cleanliness in some areas is more than improvable. There is a whole bunch of people that sleep and, in general, live inside the temples. All the garbage, dirt, cows, monkeys, the heat, together with the offerings (fruit, flowers, incens, etc.) of the day and many other days past, blend together to create a delirious, fantastic, unbelievable atmosphere that many would qualify as mistical.
Al final d'un llarg primer dia amb una passejada d'uns 15km sota la calor, vam decidir creuar el riu (amb barca, 10 Rs. - 2 minuts; negoci rodo) i explorar l'ambient de l'altra banda. Problema: darrer creuament en barca a les 18h. Solucio (cortesia d'un heaviata alemany): es pot creuar a peu per un lloc, banyant-se fins els genolls o cintura. Preparacio: banyadors, xancles, frontal, bossa hermetica pels diners. Tot llest. Vam creuar en barca i vam explorar aquella banda del riu. L'ambient es molt mes relaxat, amb molts chill-outs i poques tendes. Millor per quedar-s'hi (per la propera vegada). Una tenda amb un al.lot indi que parla castella gairebe perfecte: casat amb una cordobesa (petit mon).
At the end of a long first day with a 15km walk in the sun, we decided to cross the river (by boat, 10 Rs. 2 minutes; can't go wrong) and explore the atmosphere of the other side. Problem: last crossing at 18h. Solution (courtesy of heavy metal German): river can be crossed on foot, with water up to knees or waist. Preparation: swimming trunks, flip-flops, headlamp, sealed bag for money. Ready. We crossed by boat and explored that side. There is a much more relaxed atmosphere there, with plenty of chill-outs and few shops. Better to stay (for next time). A shop with an indian that speak near perfect Spanish: married to a girl from Cordoba (small world).
Hora de tornada. Xerrant amb una al.lota suissa ens comenta que no es pot creuar el riu a peu: han obert les comportes de la presa riu amunt i el nivell ha pujat casi 2 metres. Ens mostra un video que ho confirma. Increduls nosaltres baixam al marge del riu per valorar la situacio. Frontal al cap, navegant pels fems, ens adonam que per creuar caldra nedar i la corrent recomana no fer-ho de vespre. De tornada cap amunt es materialitzen del no-res quatre cans. Comencen a encalcar-nos, lladrant...merda! Corre, corre, corre....costa amunt. S'aturen abans d'arribar als primers edificis. Ara tot son rialles, suor, adrenalina. Finalment vam quedar a aquella banda del riu el vespre. Pel que costen les habitacions no es pagat, millor que nedar al riu de vespre.
Time to head back. Talking to a Swiss girl she tells us it's not possible to cross the river on foot: the flood gates of the damn upriver have been opened and the water level is 2 metres higher. She shows us a video that confirms this. Disbelieving people that we are we head down to the river side to asses the situation. Headlamp on, navigating through garbage, we realise that in order to cross we will have to fully swim and the current would recommend not doing this at night. On the way back up four dogs appear from nowhere. They start chasing us, barking...shit! Run, run, run...uphill. They stop short of the first buildings. It's all laughter now, sweat and adrenaline. Finally we stayed on that side of the river that night. For the cost of a room, it's not worth swimming in the river at night.
El dia seguent visitarem el temple Hanuman (monkey temple) amb les seves 600 i mes escales. Grans vistes des d’alt. Despres de tornada a l’hostal per preparar la maleta i agafar el bus cap a Anantapur. Esperant el bus a Hampi feia moltissima calor. Un polo fresquet: gran idea. Gran error, jeje. Despres d’una experiencia mitica en bus durant gairebe 6 hores per carreteres (camins) intransitables a vegades – tota una odisea de la qual un se’n riu despres (nomes despres) – arribarem a Anantapur.
The next day we visited the Hanuman temple (monkey temple) with 600 plus steps. Great views from the top. After that back to the guest house to pack the bag and take the bus to Anantapur. Waiting for the bus in Hampi it was very hot. A nice ice-lolly: great idea. Big mistake, hehe. After an unbelievable experience by bus during almost 6 hours, driving on sometimes undriveable roads – an odissey of which one can laugh after (only after) – we arrived in Anantapur.
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