A Whole New World

Walking up to the Taj Mahal is much like a step into Aladdin's world, where you have to dodge camels, holy cows, rikshaw drivers and people selling their goods. The sun beats down and you bless the hot breeze ruffling your cloth prison.

If you are able to make it through the maze of people and animals to the welcome gates (and security screening), then you are able to observe the magnificent gleaming white mausoleum; the Taj Mahal. If the camels trotting along beside you to the arched entry did not transport you into a different time, the architecture will (as long as you can ignore the cameras sung around every neck).

While never a student of architecture, I can appreciate the beauty and grandeur of one of the seven wonders of the world. The “how” of such buildings boggles my mind. How were people, so long ago, able to build these majestic buildings with rudimentary tools and an army of elephants? I wonder what we leave behind to inspire the future?

To some, the Taj (as I like to call it) may be just a big white marble building, but to the Mughal emperor Shan Jahan it was a mausoleum to his third wife, who died during child birth. Jahan's love and grief for his wife, it is said,were so strong that he felt compelled to commemorate his love her.

Construction began in 1632 and ended in 1648. They were both laid to rest in separate tombs, which sit squarely in the center of the Taj. The size and presence of the building is commendable, but even more stunning is the intricate marble work famed in this area of India. It is called Jali.

The Taj Mahal was constructed using materials from all over India and Asia and over 1,000 elephants were used to transport building materials. In all, twenty eight types of precious and semi-precious stones were inlaid into the white marble (thank you wikipedia).

Enough of the history lets get to the photos where you can see the true beauty!

Sikandra

We spent a brief moment at the Tomb of Akbar the Great the third Mughal emperor.

Fatehpur Sikri

Jaipur nicknamed the pink city (as the old town is still an organized framework of pink on pink)

Amer Fort (where Amy famously lost her new Thai sunglasses while posing for a picture... see previous post)

City Palace

This is a place of kings and queens. In fact, Amy and I managed to be in town the day of a coronation for Japiur's new king. Last week, Maharaja Bhawani Singh passed away. The king had only had a daughter, and she had had a son, who is a 12 year old named Padmanabh Singh. They have no real power, and haven't since the 70's when entitlements were taken away- but it's still fun.

Katie in her first Saree

I think we're turning Japanese, turning Japanese, I really think so!

The most amazing Kebabs in Delhi!! Tundey!!

blah blah blah blah …. travel … blah blah … hot sun, slight breeze, forts, palaces, kings, wifes, architecture, building, meaning, air con, tour guide, religions, no water, naan, dal, Jaipur, Taj Mahal, Mughal history, fans, rikshaws, taxi, tourist, galub jamun, cannons, City Palace, water, camels, locals, hotel, Hindu, more dal, elephants, heat wave, Agra, Sikandra, pistols, fortress, honks. You get the drift. -unitl next time... Amy

And I Still Got Love for the Street

TRAFFIC

“Do you think you can drive here?” seems to be the question on everyone's lips.

I say a silent prayer to every God I've been introduced to along this journey when I pull the car door shut behind me and settle into the tiny aluminum cans that fill these streets with a kind of rapt excitement; 2 parts dread, 1 part thrill.

The streets of India are a kind of alternate universe. In this universe there are an entirely different set of laws and cultures. A camel trots along the edge of the road- trailing an oversided cart in its wake. An elephant plods toward us, it's ears waving frantically to cool its face.

I could spend a lifetime trying to comprehend the language of beeps and squawks that fill the air. I can hear them now in my hotel room above the road. Beep. Beep. Beeeeep. Squawk. Chime-didily-chime-chime (some kind hiccuping duck- sorry UO fans). The big rigs are the strangest- they emit a sing-song-y tune that is so silly coming from such a large vehicle (reminding me of an ice-cream truck in summer).

Sense of sound is some much more relied upon here than sight. In fact, many drivers choose to tuck their mirrors up against their cars to prevent them being ripped off by a close encounter. They drive half blind and use this secret horn language to avoid collision.

Vehicles, for the most part, drive on the left side of the road. This, however, appears to be optional. Traffic lights also appear to be optional (especially for rickshaws and cyclists). There is a weaving and dodging pattern to the flow. A jerk forward to a slam of a stop, barely missing the back tire of a motorbike slipping in front of us.

It's like a video game- for reals yo. Terrifyingly delightful. The redeeming quality, the fact that, because of traffic, vehicles are not able to exceed more than about 30 mph (at best).

My other favorite thing about traffic here: the art work I'm surrounded by as I journey along. The truck drivers here take a certain pride in their forest green trucks, decorating them with hand made paintings, and draping their mirrors and dashboards with idols and flowers. Sometimes the calligraphied instructions on the back, advising other drivers to, “Stop. Honk Please. Stop” is spelled particularly creatively, and occasionally the classic painting of a cow her calf often actually depicts a bull with udders.

To answer their common question: NO, I don't think I could drive here.


OLD TOWN
Yesterday we adventured into “old” Delhi", a title earned by impressive relativity, as everywhere in Delhi is old (in fact, the area known as “New” Delhi was built by the British in 1931, a monumental new quarter of the city designed by the British architect Edwin Lutyens to house the government buildings).

The buildings in Old Delhi a made of a hodge-podge collection of materials. The bottom level is filled with shops selling specialty items- with alleys dedicated specifically to shoes, or books, or jewelry. The upper stories are less solid appearing, with corners crumbling, falling away from themselves. Laundry on lines strung between windows hangs heavy above our heads.

The disrepair of the second, third, sixth stories are quiet; a series of ruins connected to one another in crisscrossing patterns- a piece of yesterday floating eerily above us. The cracks and chips give the building character, personality, wisdom.

Below, the incessant clamor and bustle breathes a life of its own. The street level of Chandni Chowk is a throbbing, vibrant, pulsating organ. The push of pedestrians, rickshaws, motorbikes, cyclists, cars, and carts swarm around us- seeming to feed off the heat swelters and invades every nook and cranny. They brush against one another lacking order and structure. There are no rules in this piece of the world.

Our rickshaw thumps and careens through the solid wall of people. We squash together in the old space, surrounded by brightly colored ribbons, sequence, lays sold exclusively on this unnamed (as far as I can see) alleyway. This street is an inlet of a larger alley, selling only shoes.

As we jut down the alleyways the stares come in twos and threes. A wide eyed, unembarrassed gawk that lingers as we pass. White, here, is exotic. I see their eyes snapping pictures of my alabaster-ness as they slump against a wall, sit heavily on a stoop or wonder past in the other direction. They do not care that I see them seeing me. They smile and sometimes wave. A novelty.

These ancient paths- no more wide in places than the rickshaw jarring me in one direction and then the other- come together and apart. These paths are the veins of the city, bringing life and warmth to the shops and restaurants. The blood flow in these tiny capillaries is unbelievable. I fear they should burst and hemorrhage a hot bath of city in every direction. I love it.


Here's some shots from our trip to Old Town. And a sneak peak at the stuff for our next blog. Stay tuned.

Khmer Rouge, "K"ambodia, Kebabs, and Kings

Sorry for the long delay in blogging … we had a little intermittent internet connection issue and now all is well and working at top speed! We'll try to catch you up with a synopsis of highlights... or you can just check the photos :)


Angkor Hospital for Children's (Cambodia)

As part of our tour around the world we wanted to explore health care in places different from our home. A visit to Angkor Hospital for Children was our first experience with a foreign health care system. The open air registration area was an immediate difference from the typical waiting rooms of the US.

This hospital was started by a Japanese photographer in 1999. Per the website, he was deeply moved by his encounters with the ill, maimed, and malnourished children of the war-torn country. As a way of giving something back to Cambodia in return for the many images he captured there, and as a symbol of gratitude for the inspiration he gained from Cambodia’s ancient monuments, Izu dedicated himself to building a pediatric hospital near the temples. They are doing amazing things here and really working on education in the rural communities of Cambodia with focus on nutrition and general health.

We were able to get a tour of the facilities and see their ER, ICU, operating theaters, inpatient (with 50 beds for sick children- their family squeezing in under and around their cots), an eye clinic, pre and post surgical wards and their outpatient areas. The three most common diagnosis' are diarrhea/dehydration, respiratory infections, and finally, malnutrition. Amazingly, the hospital is able to function without charging any fee to the patients (in fact, they often pay a family's return journey).

The average income of rural Cambodia in the Siem Reap area is about $7/week. The cost to travel down (often times poorly maintained) roads, can far exceed this figure. Families are forced to sell everything (their homes, cows, whatever they own) to make the trip to ACH, in hopes of seeking quality health care for their children (as state-run hospitals are not highly recommended).

It was fascinating learning about their health care, nurses education and responsibilities, funding efforts, medical records, etc.

If you are looking for a good cause to donate to you should check out this hospital. Website: https://angkorhospital.org or http://www.fwab.org/

Sobering history:

On a more somber note (if you can get more somber than sick children), we'll briefly reflect on one of our stops at a museum called the Cambodian Land Mine Museum. The museum was started by a local Cambodian, who, having served as a child soldier for the Khmer Rouge and fought with the Vietnamese, now works to deactivate and recover the astoundingly large number of active land mines in the area. There are over 500,000 mines (they think) which are still hidden around the country, mostly in rural areas, lying in wait. There are many people/children who have lost a limbs and lives due to these mines in the years following (in fact, these mines continue to detonate and cause harm at a surprising rate today). The proceeds of the museum are put towards the children living on site who, either because of poverty or disfigurement are desperately in need of fostering.

Website:
http://www.cambodialandminemuseum.org/menu.html

Our favorite Buddha:

During our Cambodia adventure, our host family took us up for a day to “the mountain” and “the waterfall.” The “the” here is primarily because we were unable to understand exactly what mountain and waterfall we visited. We'll do a bit of digging and keep you posted.

The park was a few hours drive from Seim Reap and crawling with tourists. Only, the tourists were, by and large, Cambodian (not foreigners). We had a delightful picnic lunch by, what our young host called, “the poor people's swimming pool.” We explored the waterfall right along side the orange clothed monks (my obsessive habit of photographing them at all costs is plainly visible below). We leaped along large slippery rocks, the cool spray of raging water mist seeping into our skin, the wobbling bridge beneath our feet- shaken heartily by the young Cambodian children behind us. Blissful.

After eating our fill, we journeyed along a foot path (and motor bike path- of course) through the jungle, emerging on a small village where a famous pile of gargantuan stones sit like they were placed their by God. One of the larger stones is of particular interest. The top ¼ of the stone has been carved into the shape of the lying Buddha. A set of stairs several stories high take you to the top, where you can my (Katie's) most favorite Buddha of our trip (and we've seen A LOT!). Above our heads flit thousands of colored triangles of cloth. A rainbow of cotton. Beautiful.

Incredible India:

We were warmly welcomed to India by Mishty Varma and the Varma Family earlier this week. For those of you who don't know Kellie, I'll fill you in. Kellie is my coworker and her in-laws live here in Delhi. They are some of the most wonderful people you will ever meet and have taken us under their wing and have opened their home to us.

Some of you may have heard the joke about Delhi belly (a kind of upset stomach tied to a geography never sounds good), but I think we are going to get a different kind of Delhi belly from all the amazing food here. In the past, my relationship with Indian food has been a kind of "okay, I'll have some, but don't expect me to get too excited." I will confess, I am now converted..... dal, chickpeas, kababs I could go on and on and on. These people know how to cook!!

We went to a spice shop yesterday and were bombarded with the slew of masalas (spices) greeting us. An entire store devoted to flavor. I could get used to a place like this.

More to come...

Perhaps we'll fill you in on the past 3 days in a bit... the Cambodia recap took more out of us than we imagined...

But we'll live you with some pics of India so far:

Tughluqabad-This was considered the third city of Dehli and one of the most striking ruins/forts and where Ghiyasuddin's tomb is.

Laxmi Narayan Mandi Temple-a Hindu temple dedicated to the goddess of wealth (Laxmi) and the preserver (Narayan).

Happy Easter!

Katie and Mishty doing their food fight!

Tughluqabad Top Models

Street Food... Mmmmm.....

Photos around the Presidents House.