Monday, July 2, 2007

Errata for Sri Lanka Rough Guide

A. (p.432) “From India [Buddhism] traveled north into Nepal, Tibet and China, developing in the process into a new type of Buddhism, Mahayana.”
1. Buddhism traveled into China first and subsequently Tibet inherited Buddhism, but only after a long period of time (Tibet didn’t become Buddhist until 7 ce).
2. Mahayana was conceived in India and was established as a distinct tradition by 2 ce. It is erroneous to say that it ‘developed in the process of travel.” For example, the Perfection of Wisdom Sutra,’ a staple Mahayana sutra, was developed in India.
B. (p.433) “[On the idea of karma] Some schools of ancient Indian philosophy took this idea to its logical conclusion – the Jains, for example, decided that the best thing to do in life was nothing at all.”
1. This is complete nonsense. The Jains have a very rigorous and demanding ethical system which involves the purging of material defilements (ajīva). Besides, there are no religions that require people to do nothing so the whole idea is absurd (except, perhaps, Daoism – although even this would be a bold oversimplification).
C. (p.433) “The exact route to enlightenment and nirvana (1) is long and difficult – at least according to the older schools of Buddhism – requiring millions of lifetimes. Exactly what nirvana is meant to be remains famously vague. He compared a person entering nirvana to a flame being extinguished – the flame doesn’t go anywhere, but the process of combustion ceases.”
1. Enlightenment is nirvana. They are synonymous, although it would be easy to think they are separate. As for the latter part of the paragraph, it is true that nirvana is difficult to understand, but in Theravada it is a kind of mental state. Sometimes people confuse it with a Christian heaven, but this is an error on the part of western interpreters.
D. (p.433) “Otherwise they can hope for little except to lead a moral life and hope to be reborn as a monk themselves at some point in the future.”
1. Okay, but a little oversimplified. In Theravada there is no reason why a layperson cannot realize nirvana. It is only that a monk is able to dedicate himself to the task of realization. In practice, most laypeople do not bother with such aspirations.
E. (p.434) “As Theravada Buddhism developed it came to be believed that the Buddha himself was only the latest of a series of Buddhas – Sri Lankan tradition claims that there have been either 16 or 24 previous Buddhas…(1)” “Instead of trying to emulate the Buddha, devotees simply worship one or more of the Mahayana deities and reap the spiritual rewards. Not surprisingly, this much more popular – and much less demanding – form of the religion became widely established in the place of the Theravada tradition. (2)”
1. Theravada did not “develop” in this way (whatever that means). The idea of past and future Buddhas is canonical and an artifact of the Jatakas - the Buddhist birth stories – as well as the more authoritative Nikaya texts. Also, in Theravada there are 24 Buddhas so I don’t know where 16 comes from.
2. The latter claim about Mahayana is thoroughly inaccurate. Some Mahayana Buddhists do ‘worship’ Bodhisattvas and Buddhas, but usually for the same reason lay Theravada Buddhists do (for karma). Generally, Mahayana adherents precisely want to emulate the Buddha (arguably, unlike the Theravadans) and believe that they can realize Buddhahood themselves (something Theravadan Buddhists disagree with since they believe there can only be one Buddha in any given epoch). It si also wrong to say Mahayana ‘replaced’ Theravada Buddhism. Mahayana countries largely did not experience Theravada Buddhism at all. The Mahayana/Theravada distinction is rather more subtle than the rendering provided in the RG.
F. (p.435) “Devotees visit their local temple as and when they please, saying prayers (1) at the dagoba or Buddha shrine (or that of another god), perhaps offering flowers, lighting a candle or reciting (or having monks recite) Buddhist scriptures, an act known as pirith (2).” “Although Theravada holds that the Buddha himself should not be worshipped, many Sinhalese effectively do so (3).”
1. It is not right to refer to Buddha veneration as “prayers”. This implies that Buddhists expect the Buddha to grant the prayer as the Christian God is meant to. However, no Theravada Buddhist believes that the Buddha is alive. He was a man, and now he is dead. What he left behind, i.e. his spiritual ideas, should be respected however. This process of respect and veneration (through flowers, lighting incense and following appropriate rituals) results in positive karma accumulation.
2. When monks recite sutras or talk about Buddhism publicly, this is known as bana. Pirith is only when laypeople give dana (i.e. venerate monks or a Buddha image through the giving of food items, incense or flowers). If a layperson recites sutra this is also known as pirith. The monk/lay distinction is important.
3. The last sentence is an error that arises from a misinterpretation of the notion of prayer. It is wrong to say that Buddhism prohibits the worship of the Buddha (whoever said that?). The sacred texts explicitly promote it (for example, see the Dīgha-Nikāya). No Buddhist would expect intervention from Buddha, of course, since he is dead – although there is no prohibition from believing that (no actual Theravada Buddhists do of course). All of this is grounded in a Christian approach to Buddhism.
G. (p439) “Sri Lankan Buddhist temples (viharas or viharayas) come in bewildering range of shapes and sizes…etc.”
1. This is a bog error. In Sri Lanka, a vihara is a monastery (a place where monks are trained or live). Technically, a pansila (or just pansil) is the name for a temple.

Saturday, June 30, 2007

A Rough Guide to Restaurants in Colombo

168 Restaurant (Chinese) - Really trendy and popular with the locals. Definitely a premier place to eat Chinese. As with all Chinese food in Sri Lanka it is made quite hot. The sweet and sour pork is fantastic.
4/5
Il Ponte (Italian) – The only place in Colombo you can get a pizza that comes close to Italian. Avoid Pizza Hut (utterly hopeless). Domino’s is a preferred option. Il Ponte is located in the Hilton, but is actually across the road.
4/5
1894 (Fusion - Fine Dining) – Since it’s fine dining it is very expensive. Targets rich business people and expatriates who are staying at the Galle Face. Nonetheless, the quality of the food is what you would expect for the price.
5/5
Royal Thai (Thai) – As the LP says, it’s the best place for Thai in Colombo. With that comes a hefty price. The waiting staff are some of the best I have encountered (in Sri Lanka and otherwise). Décor is great as well.
5/5
Navratna (North Indian) – Good north Indian food and quite well priced. The bonus is that a house band regularly comes here to play. As a consequence it has a very nice atmosphere.
4/5
Seaspray (Buffet – Seafood) – Pretty average food, but a nice view of the sea. It is buffet only as far as I know.
3/5
Chesa Swiss (Western) – A great place to go if you desire some legitimate western food. This place is run by some Swiss expatriates so they know how to please travelers from the west. Surprisingly inexpensive given how classy the restaurant is.
4/5
Mango Tree (North Indian) – This restaurant is very popular with the local community and also seems to be a premier hang out for expats. However, I found the food very average. Navaratna is my preferred option.
3/5
Siam House (Thai) – Rather a hit and miss affair. I’ve come here and sworn by the food, but other times I left very dissatisfied.
3/5
Barefoot Café (Western) – A nice enough place that sells yummy sandwiches and milkshakes. However it is unjustifiably overpriced and you may find you have to wait a long time to get served.
2/5
The Gallery Café (Western) – When I went it was full of foreigners. It is very expensive and the food is pretty good. The entrance area is really neat so that is a bonus. Pretty ambivalent about this cafe.
3/5
Paradise Road Café (Western) – Milkshakes are amazing – I swear by them. The rest of the food is pretty good. The gnocchi is really tasty. Might pay to give the hamburger a miss though.
4/5
Greenlands (South Indian) – My preferred South Indian option. Cheap and quick food. The staff aren’t always super friendly or anything and the place is a bit run down, but it’s a cool place.
4/5
Saraswathie (South Indian) – I’m in two minds about here: the staff are friendly and congenial and the food is pretty tasty, but its also rough as anything and not for the weak stomached. Not convinced about the hygiene either. Cheap as free.
3/5
Golden Mile (Seafood) – This restaurant has bad 80’s music on endless rotation. But it’s not all bad: the food is okay and well priced and the view is great. With such a huge menu the dishes aren’t always ideal.
3/5
Mount Lavinia Hotel (Various) - Has one of the best views of Colombo. The quality of the food depends on when you come. In my opinion the lunch option can be pretty disappointing, but dinner is usually nice. Can be expensive.
3/5
Sirisandha (Sinhala) – It’s just a small hotel, but this place has the best biriyani and kotthu I’ve found. It’s also very, very cheap. Located on the corner of Kohuwala junction.
4/5
Delifrance (French) – Very average fare and quite expensive. Good if you’re dying for a sandwich. The coffee is (my wife tells me)( hopeless).
2/5
Café Lavinia / Il Gelato (Baked goods / Ice Cream) – Il Gelato (there is a branch on Duplication Road and Odel) has the best ice cream I’ve had in a long time – better even than when I was in New Zealand. Coffee is good I’m told.
5/5
Crescat Boulevard Foodcourt (various) – Indian is great. My wife tells me that the Chinese is pretty good. On the whole the whole place is quite cheap and is good for lunch on the run.
4/5
Saffron (North Indian) – One of the best Indian restaurants in town. Highly recommended. The décor is also fantastic. Staff are very friendly and considerate. Can eb expensive, but a good choice for Indian.
5/5

11 Scams I Have Encountered

Here are a bunch of scams that I have experienced since I've been in Colombo. They all have to do with drivers (usually Trishaw drivers).

1. “No change!” – The driver, upon arrival at your destination, tells you he has no change. This will happen even if the difference is only 30-40 rupees. As a consequence, you have to: (a) find someone else who can supply change or (b) – what the driver is hoping you will do – give him a big tip. As a rule, unless the driver is an absolute state of poverty (unlikely if he has gas in his trishaw), the ‘no change’ ploy is usually legitimate rip-off material. It makes sense if a driver cannot give change for a 1000 rupee note, but he should have 10 or 20 rupee bills available for sure.

2. “200 Rupee for Gas please” – You suddenly stop at a gas station (a “petrol shed” as they are called in Sri Lanka). This is not an unusual occurrence. But instead of fueling up straight away, the driver asks for you to give him (usually) 200 rupees to pay for the gas (because he has no change of course! – see above). This is fine if you remember to deduct the gas money from your final payment. However, the driver is banking on you forgetting, and as a consequence becomes 200 rupees richer (it’s easy to forget when you are in a rush, and the driver will gauge the urgency of your trip. And if you really are in a rush stopping for petrol will just add to your consternation increasing the likelihood of you forgetting).

3. The Great Cultural Triangle Scam – This happened to us in Anuradhapura. We prearranged a tour of the sacred area with the guest house ('The Grand', it was called). We were quoted by a staff member that the whole affair would cost 2200 rupees for the day (including entrance ticket – or so we thought). This was a very good price so we agreed. The next day, the actual driver informs us that we don’t need the ticket because he can sneak us past all the checkpoints (the guards are all his mates). The 2200 rupees is actually a direct payment to him. Alternatively, you can pay 2200 rupees for the ticket alone and 1200 rupees (so he loses out a bunch of money if you follow the official, non-corrupt route). He is banking on you being a greedy bastard and as a consequent he will make a lot of money. There are two problems for you: (a) if you get busted you’ll get in a world of trouble with the police, (b) if you go to cultural sites outside of Anuradhapura you will still have to pay for the ticket. It is possible for the customer to 'benefit' from this scam, but I'm against it because I'd rather the money I pay go towards prservation of the historic site instead of an unscrupulous three-wheel driver. Plus you are not directly promoting corruption.

4. “I have to go back as well!” – The driver, after dropping you tries to overcharge you because he ‘needs to drive back as well.’ This is, obviously, nonsense, since you are only paying for when you are in the vehicle. You’re not paying for his transport! The cheeky bastards!

5. “It’s a one-way street” – A very common scam in Colombo. The driver – either before or after the trip – tells you that there is an extra charge because he had to go along a one way street (i.e. the journey was delayed because the council has abruptly changed the road flow causing you to have to double back). This is a difficult scam to police since sometimes the driver is telling the truth. Often, however, the driver is lying and is relying on your lack of knowledge about Colombo roads. In such cases, the journey is very short or doesn’t even go along a one-way road.

6. “I need money for board” – This happened to me once when we hired a van to take us to Galle. The company charged us quite a lot for the whole adventure (about 10,000 rupees if I recall properly), but in spite of this, when we arrived at the city the driver insisted that we pay an extra 1000 rupees for his accommodation. In our case the driver claimed that he thought our hotel would supply driver accommodation (in Sri Lanka, they usually do, but it is not necessary so he should have been prepared for the possibility that there might not be any available). There is nothing wrong with paying his board, but (a) the extra payment should have been arranged through the company prior to departure, and (b) the driver could easily have pocketed the money and stayed at a friends house (it happens). I happen to believe that on such occasions the company should pay the drivers accommodation bills - not the customers who are essentially paying extra for something they didn't know about whne the contract was established.

7. The Old Extraneous Route Trick – Pretty simple scam that happens nearly everywhere in the world. The driver – taking advantage of your lack of knowledge of local geography – takes you on a merry trip through the city, finally arriving at your destination. Of course, he’ll charge you extra for the privilege of his involuntary tour. Actually, this happens less than you might think in Sri Lanka. Generally, the driver can rip you off just as easily by taking you on a direct route and just overcharging you. For this reason, this trick works best in metered vehicles.

8. “There’s a bomb in [wherever you are going]!” – This can only happen in Colombo I swear. The driver picks you up, and half way to the destination suddenly remembers that the police are hunting a bomber in the area. This trick works best if there is an unexplained police and military presence and snarled up traffic (both things that happen in Colombo all the time). The driver then suggests an alternative destination (of his choosing, ho ho) which invariably involves him getting a commission or kick-back. This happened to us once, although in our case we just went home instead. The driver will probably charge you something on top for being a sap (“I helped you out, give me a tip, etc.”). When you subsequently discover there was no bomb scare in the area you want to find the driver and hurt him badly.

9. “This is my friend.” – An oldie but a goodie. Either: (a) you return after an excursion (say, visiting a temple, the zoo, whatever) and find that your driver has an extra ‘passenger’ or (b) he stops on the way to your destination to pick up ‘a friend’. Whatever the variation, the driver’s friend is trying to bum a ride. They are both relying on the fact that, as a tourist you are either hopelessly naïve, easily pushed around or dumb. Obviously you shouldn’t pay for anyone else’s ride and what is more – it could be potentially dangerous (doubly so if you are a lone woman since the drivers and their stupid friends are all male). In such a ciircumstance find another driver, or at the very least refuse to ride with strangers.

10. “The fuel prices have increased” – Basically, the driver tries to convince you that there has been an increase in fuel prices so he must increase the cost of the fare. It’s possible that this claim is true, but there is no way you can verify it. Even if it is true it would be a very, very negligible change in cost – especially for a three wheel (they run very cheaply for short distances). Chances are he is relying on you not following local fuel price hikes (and who would?). In any case, this is almost certainly a primo rip-off.

11. “I know where that place is…” – Not so much a scam, but just an annoyance. You hail a trishaw, and tell the driver where you want to go. He seems hesitant, but finally insists that he knows the destination (in Colombo, this can happen even for major places – like the museum or whatnot. It is amazing the lack of knowledge some trishaw drivers have about their own city. This is worse in India I found). Half way to your destination, you find that your driver actually has no idea where he is going and is stopping every few minutes for directions. This is: (a) a waste of time for you and (b) potentially a waste of money since the driver might try and charge you more of the hassle. In the end it takes twice as long to reach your destination. It's especially annoying when you're making a trip under the midday sun.
The travel books insist that most drivesr are honest, but that there are a few rotten apples. Good for them, but as for me, I've found that most drivers are dishonest and will try and rip you off as a matter of course. This is okay if you're just visiting and willing to shell out a few extra rupees, but if your travelling light or - as in my case - actually living in the country, it can try your nerves. A lot of drivers seem to believe that: (a) as a foreigner you are a chump that they can exploit (of course, most people are not chumps, but like any foreigner, we simply rely on the possibility that people are being honest), and (b) you are disgustingly rich, so have no qualms about lightening your wallet. FYI - I've seen plenty of locals get ripped off by morally challenged drivers, so it's not just travellers that are targets.
The bottom line is that it is pretty hard to resist getting ripped off. Aside from all these various tricks, drivers will just overcharge you anyway because you are a foreigner. Plus, even if you argue over the price, chances are it will not be worth the hassle. They can be very, very persistent. Paying them extra is the best way to get rid of these unscrupulous characters sometimes. God they are cheeky bastards.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Review: Island of Blood by Anita Pratap

On reading Island of Blood: Frontline Reports From Sri Lanka, Afghanistan And Other South Asian Flashpoints I was struck by the fact that one learns more about Pratap and her careerism than one learns about the conflict zones under scrutiny. Anita Pratap is an award-winning journalist who has worked for the Indian Express, Time Magazine, India Today and eventually CNN.
The book itself is essentially a biographical account of her experiences reporting from these various conflict zones. Biographical accounts written by journalists are common enough, but it is the peculiar narcissism that mars Pratap’s work that really strikes the reader. In these kinds of biographical accounts it is acceptable for the author to provide an account of their feelings and comportment towards the incidents under analysis, but when it obscures an understanding of the encounters there is a problem. And this is precisely what happens in Island of Blood.
Although Pratap discusses coverage and incidents in Afghanistan and India, I will focus on her discussion of Sri Lanka which substantially makes up her book anyway. This is partly because many of the flaws become most evident there.
First, let me say that there are some positive aspects to the book. Pratap recounts a number of interesting and enlightening encounters: running from the IPKF, covering the 1984 riots in Colombo, taking note of the 1989 JVP uprising, and smuggling a boy out Batticaloa (to name just a few). She also adequately recounts some of the historical and contextual connections that her encounters are grounded in (however, there are other books – like Swamy’s Tigers of Lanka that realize this goal more effectively). But in spite of these positive matters the book, I would say, is fatally flawed.
The initial problem is with her narcissistic and self-serving style of writing. The horrors that she witnesses are delivered almost exclusively through her own emotional reactions and this – as a consequence – results in the book being focused on her rather than the victims of the attacks. Her narcissism is painfully obvious in the following self-assessments: “Akbar had planted the seeds of my reputation as a daring, fearless journalist” (p.52), “But crisis always transforms me into Ms Professional.” (p.127), “I guess I’m tough.” (p.129), and so on. The worst case is the painful-to-read epilogue in which she says (amongst numerous other self applauding comments):

“All through, I maintained my calm, always the determined Ms Professional, journeying to in accessible areas, reporting, taking notes, dredging details and information that no one else could, faithfully telling the world what I’d seen and heard, competing to be the first to break the news…” and so on. Also, “While reporting these tragic events, there were times when I felt faint, felt ill. But succumbing would have meant missing the deadline.” (p.273)

The epilogue goes on like this at length and these seemingly endless comments are distracting for the reader. The reader does not want to hear an author pump up his or her ego. The merits or flaws of the author are for the reader to decide based upon the actions and successes of the writer. For Pratap to insist on her journalistic excellence is painful to read and insults the readers intelligence.
There is also the troubling matter of Pratap’s impartiality. Pratap explains that she is Prabharkaran’s preferred journalist – something Pratap takes some pride in explaining. To some degree this betrays her loyalties:

“I shared the Tigers’ vision of their destiny. I was sure Pirabhakaran’s uncompromising commitment to Eelam would ensure his trajectory as the most powerful leader of the Sri Lankan Tamils. So I ignored the other groups and concentrated on the activities of the LTTE. Needless to say, this endeared me to the Tigers. They felt that I was the only one who understood their spirit, their superiority, and their inevitable pre-eminent role in the Sri Lankan ethinic conflict.” (p.71)

What she means to say is that ‘needless to say, this endeared the Tigers to me.’ She gets it around the wrong way of course, but could this be a Freudian slip? Pratap is certainly enamoured by Prabharkaran, describing him at length as charismatic, muscular and decisive. Yet she omits any detailed examination of his brutal leadership and morally unscrupulous activities. At one point in the book she declares that she, “did not want to put him in the spotlight” and that she wanted to understand his “psychology.” Yet the book has a certain humanistic tone (she even admits to this in her epilogue) and she seems eager to let her audience know about the immoral activities that are executed in Sri Lanka. So why not ask Prabharkan uncomfortable questions? Is it because she wants to preserve her premier position as favoured journalist? There is no reason why she cannot have both (Robert Fisk achieves this with Usama bin Laden). Yet she has a double standard because she is happy to ask difficult questions of Sinhalese killers (and that, after all, is what these people are). For example she disapproves of Premadasa Udagampola for his brutal crackdown on JVP supporters. She describes him as having become:

“… a burly, brutal engine of revenge taking pleasure in exterminating his enemies. His campaign of terror was even more ruthless and effective that the JVP’s” (p.110)

While conducting an interview with him, he produces a gun and places it on the table in front of them in order to intimidate her. She replies:

“’That gun is not going to stop me from asking tough questions.’ A faint quiver of a smile flickered across Gill’s stern face, and eh answered my questions, staring at me intently while his fingers caressed the revolver.” (p.111)

Why is it acceptable to ask tough questions of Udagampola and not Prabharkaran? If she is engaging in some kind of moral awareness project, which cannot be denied, then she has a responsibility to be even in her interviews. And she does, after all, judge Udagampola to be morally unpraiseworthy. Consider the following extract:

“I caught a gleam in his eye. An indescribable gleam. Years later, when somebody asked me to picture evil, what came to my mind was that gleam.” (p.111) (Small point: First, she says the gleam is indescribable but then characterizes it as “evil”. This is inconsitent).

The book implies that she has been charmed by Prabharakan in some way and that she agrees with his politics (although she seems reticent on the matter of his brutality).
At one point, after an interview and having learnt that Prabharkaran likes Chinese takeaway, she quips: “Surely he is entitled to some good food.” (p.123). It seems self- evident that, no, he is not so entitled since he denies basic services (let alone luxuries) to his own people, the people he is precisely trying to protect. Instead, Pratap seems to regard his resourcefulness at being able to obtain Chinese takeout in spite of the embargos against him as praiseworthy. If she had have bothered to explicate that Prabharkaran is feasting on Chinese takeout (in fact, growing fat, as she points out) while his own Tamil people starve due to his intractability, there would be something morally useful at play. As it stands it only goes to show how uncompassionate Prabharkaran is for his own people and how gullible Pratap is.
Pratap describes at length how resourceful and talented Prabharkaran is and how well organized the LTTE are. This is fine (it may well be true), but is there any need to glorify them? On Prabharkaran:

“That’s the critical difference between Piribhakaran and most politicians (p.121)…He never boasted or threatened [to kill people]. He just did it…” (p. 122).

When one makes statements like this, one better quickly add that it is morally impermissible to assassinate people arbitrarily, hold extra-judicial killings, abduct children and force them to fight against their will. But Pratap does not do this. The above comment seems to be is praise of Prabharkaran’s ability to kill people. Better for Pratap just to report that Prabharkaran is good at killing people merely by explaining the facts. She endangers her own credibility by making these kinds of value judgements in such an arbitrary fashion.
On the whole, Prataps moral aptitude can be called into question in various ways. At the beginning of the book she explains that having had a privileged childhood, the 1984 riots helped her:

“…grow up, made me realize that another world of violence, horror, injustice and brutality exists. It prepared me for life, especially for the personal challenges that were soon to come hurtling my way” (p.52)

Fine. But surely any vaguely sensitive person is aware of these horrors already? If it requires one to actually witness such atrocities in order to be morally sensitive to them, then it says few positive things about the moral fortitude of such an individual. On the whole, Pratap comes across as hopelessly naïve in these passages.
If that were her intention, there are better ways to explain her journalistic development (i.e. as a story of her development from a simple reporter to a towering authority on south asia). I do not want to suggest that Pratap is morally autistic, but is rather confused in her moral convictions. This is somewhat evident by her inconsistencies and implausible explanations for moral failure. For example, she later says, having witnessed looters murdering and burning innocent Tamils on the streets of Colombo:

“Those were not men looting and burning and murdering on the streets of Colombo. They were demons escaped from some infernal region of hell. Most of them were drunk. It’s not possible for human beings in their senses to commit such ghoulish crimes.” (p.57)

But of course they do. Pratap’s pseudo-moralizing doesn’t help her case. She should either report the bare facts or engage in the business of moral debate maturely. This doesn’t involve her simply writing off morally impermissible acts as being perpetrated by the possessed. This is nonsense because it implies that the mass killings and violence that go on in Sri Lanka (or anywhere else for that matter) are not motivated by conscious, calculating minds, but instead are motivated by some other – possibly supernatural – action. The trouble is that many of these crimes are often committed by knowing and thinking participants. Prabharkaran, for example, purposefully murders civilians for the supposedly rational purpose of the founding of the state of Eelam. Only a particularly zealous theist would suggest he is possessed.
Her moral confusion is also evident when she later presses her driver to continue on in spite of the danger quite unaware – it would seem – that she has a responsibility to consider the welfare of her employee (p.107-109). Why, given the dangers, could she not hire a self-drive vehicle? From her own account, the driver was eager not to go on and – apparently – suffered a mental break-down on account of her insistence (“he was hunched forward in his seat, clutching the steering wheel tightly – out of fear or to stop his trembling…I felt sorry for him, I felt bad about bullying him, but I had a job to do (p.109)). The encounter is meant to illustrate how frightened the local people were and how brutal the police were at that time (all true), but it indirectly shows how career orientated Pratap is and how she (in this instance) disregarded the needs of those in her care.
Her pseudo-philosophizing extends in other directions. After witnessing a man (who was later murdered) voting in spite of the promise that there would be retribution, Pratap writes:

“Societies have survived only through the heroism of such ordinary men and women who live and die, faithfully living out their principles, undiscovered by the media. In many ways their actions, their beliefs, their very existence remains, like them, simple, ordinary, innocent, without being exaggerated and distorted, lionized or demonized, as inevitably happens when presented through the prism of the media.” (p.113).

This flowery monologue only illustrates how desperate Pratap is to say something profound. Various profound things could be said I suppose, but in her case they seem to result in tired clichés and poor prose. (Incidentally, she refers to the above man as “A god-fearing Buddhist…” (p.113), but Buddhists don’t believe in god so this is nonsense). Her melodramatic style of writing is especially evident in the following account:

“Sri Lanka, this enchanting tear-drop shaped island in the Indian ocean, began to resemble a drop of blood. Murder became the great leveler, sparing neither guerilla nor parliamentarian, rich nor poor, soldier nor farmer, priest nor president. It became an island where the blood of its ordinary and extraordinary inhabitants continuously spilled and seeped into its red earth. An island of blood, swirling with broken dreams and broken hearts.” (p.114)

I’m not sure this style is suitable for this kind of writing. In fact it is more like fiction prose (the quality of which is up to the reader as far as I am concerned – I don’t think much of it). Basically, it just doesn’t fit with the tone and nature of the writing which seeks to expose facts, not mysticize historical event. I cannot say much in favour of her writing style at all, which is amazing given that she is a print-journalist and has presumably written countless news reports.
I don’t mean to say that the violence that goes on in Sri Lanka is the explicit domain of Prabharkaran and the LTTE. The Sri Lankan government and other paramilitary factions have perpetrated their own brutal crimes. In fact, Pratap is quite adept at describing the crimes executed by these latter groups. But that is precisely the problem – she is inconsistent in her reporting. Why in heavens name did Pratap not interview and child soldiers or investigate their abductions? These are unique activities peculiar to the LTTE and Pratap was in a special position to engage in their investigation. Island of Blood is satisfactory as an account of the conflict in Sri Lanka, and, if one can get past the self-congratulatory prose, an enjoyable enough read. The problem is rather with the failure of the author to engage in a morally meaningful way with the material that she is confronted with. I think this is an important aspect of journalism that should not be overlooked or trivialized.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

India: Pokkhara - Kathmandu

We left Bhairawa (the town that our Lumbini-Kapilivastu adventure was based in) the day of a festival known as Holi. This was a big problem as Holi is the Indian-Nepali festival of colour. This entailed people stalking the streets with handfuls of fluorescent powder which they would liberally throw at random passersby, covering them from head-to-toe in bright pinks, yellows and reds. Everyone we encountered in the area seemed to have been smeared with the stuff. To Kumudu and I, it was a MASSIVE inconvenience as it meant we had to try and avoid people that were likely to target us and ruin our clothes (not knowing it was holi we had not worn disposable clothing - and anyway, we rather liked all the clothes we had bought). Besides all that, we weren't too fussed about the whole business since it wasn't exactly an activity you consented to - although all the locals universally regarded it as great fun. Needless to say, we failed miserably at avoiding the locals attack and as the bus careened (as they all do) at top speed along the outskirts of Bhairawa, a cheeky kid threw an entire bucket of water at the bus, directly hitting Kumudu and I and soaking our clothes. On the face of things, it seemed like the bucket did not contain any holi powder (we later discovered we were wrong about this). We forced the bus to stop so that we could change, much to the dissapointment of the other passangers (which suited me as the passengers seemed to think getting soaked was completely hilarious - we couldn't see the humour in it. Actually, on a side note, the Nepali people seemed to have a very cruel sense of humour. For example, in Kathmandu I bumped my head somewhere and a random old lady cracked up as if it was some brilliant joke. Real life slapstick is not funny!).

Kids playing in a river at the bottom of a gorge, along Siddhartha Highway (between Bhairawa and Pokhara):





Hawkers sell food to passangers on the bus as we wait for lunch break to finish:




Back to the holi later, first let me say something about the bus ride. The bus was meant to leave at 9am. We waited in the bus for an hour before getting bored and asked where the driver was. The bus depot guy said he was having lunch. I said that we didn't care and that we wanted to go. Bad move. I've since discovered (after living in Sri Lanka) that "he's having lunch" usually means "he's stuffing around and will get there when he feels like it" (post offices and customs facilities are notorious for this in SL). So I returned to the bus and glumly waited until the driver showed up a full 2.5 hours after we were meant to leave. So now at 11.30am we finally left. It was a public bus so was: a) kind of old and gross, and b) crammed FULL with people the whole journey. We elected to take a public bus because we were trying to save money and because there was no private bus between Bhairawa and Pokkhara (if there had been we probably would have forgone the public bus ride and forgotten about our 'money concern'). Already 2 hours late, the bus never seemed to arrive in Pokhara. It was meant to be a 5-7 hour bus ride (bad enough) but turned into a marathon 11 hour trip! Why this was the case I can't exactly tell, but I expect it had something to do with all the people that jumped on board the bus and the late start. What was even worse was that I had contracted (another) stomach bug and was in a certain degree of discomfort during the ride. I spent the first day in Pokhara in convalesence (but ce la vie right? - it is India and Nepal after all).
View of the lake from outside the hotel:



Me rowing Kumudu around on the lake:



We were delighted to arrive in Pokhara. We both thought Pokhara was kind of like Aspen or Arrowtown in NZ, a kind of little mountain township. It was really fantastic actually. Apparently it was a former hippie enclave, and it was HEAVILY tourist orientated (which after our experiences in the badlands of India was kind of a relief). Also, from Pokhara onwards all our accomodation was fantastic. The Pokhara hotel (Yak and Yeti Lodge, it was called) was the best place we stayed in and I stayed up late while sick watching the Disaster Files - it was rubbish, but it was a New Zealand program (I was chuffed).
The hotel was next to Pwewa Tal Lake, an enormous and lovely lake which - reputably - reflects the Annapurna ranges in its water (we did not experience this btw). The Annapurna range is part of the Himalayas and contains three 8000 m high mountains (the tallest in the world). During our stay we never really got a good look at the range because of cloud cover. We could have got up early to see them, but we were recovering from our blitz through the centre of Nepal and could not bring ourselves to get up at 5am.
We visited a Tibetan settlement on the outskirts of Pokhara which was nice (the Tibetans have been driven out of their homeland by the Chinese and have settled in Nepal and India mainly). While in Pokhara we took advantage of the shops and bought a Thangka (a Tibetan painting, ours was - basically - an 'esoteric' diagram of Nirvana used in tantric meditation - and tantric meditation is not 'sexy meditation' btw). We also went for a boat ride on the lake - I rowed (Kumudu was scared, hehe - oh and it was complete with an ominous bailing tool) and later climbed up a large hill that overlooked Pokhara to get a view of the mountains (we kinda saw them through the clouds). On top of the hill was another Japanese World Peace Pagoda. The climb was a bitch - in the LP it said it was 15 min. More like 1.5 hours).

Local Tibetan kids at the Tibetan settlement:


A gompa at the Tibetan settlement:


After a few days in Pokkhara we took a bus to Chitwan National Park in central Nepal. This time we took Greenline Buses - a bus that caters principally for tourists so is all tricked out and comfortable (thank god). However the taxi driver that took us from our hotel to the bus depot took us to the public bus stop instead. He pointed at another delapidated bus and said, "This bus go to Chitwan." I wailed him out and soon we were on our nice comfy bus. Chitwan National Park is a sprawling wild life reserve that has been deemed a UN protected territory. In spite of this, the rare Nepali one horned rhino is still poached by Maoists and other criminal groups. It was quite a remote area and we had to transfer from the main bus to a small vehicle and then, after being dropped off with our gear at a deserted township, we had to cross a river (the bridge had planks missing and everything) board a jeep and head to the "resort". It was actually quite a nice spot situated as it was right next to the reserve.

The gentleman that operated the place was this weird old guy who forgot EVERYTHING: He forgot: a) to pick us up on the day we arrived (which was part of the deal - although he subsequently sent a vehicle for us), b) he forgot whether we paid him at all (??), c) he forgot to wake us up (as pre-arranged) causing us to nearly miss our exit bus, d) he forgot what times the safari activites were booked for, etc etc. It was actually kind of funny because he was just some crazy old dude. At Chitwan we also met an American who was an interior designer (he was raving gay) who claimed that he was pals with the Clintons. He described how he organized some rich Jewish kid's bamitzfah and that he built an indoor golf course for his promo shots. He also mentioned that he was certain the US was going to invade Iran. He told us a lot of other odd stories. I was pretty sure his Nepali 'guide' was also his lover.

Us getting splashed by an elephant:

Our safari elephant:


As for Chitwan we had a cool time taking a jungle safari in which we saw several rhinos, deer and heard a tiger. Riding an elephant is cool for the first half hour but then your arse gets sore. We also took an elephant bath - in which you get the bath - and also went for a canoe ride. Actually, the canoe ride was nearly aborted when the guide saw a rhino bathing up river. "He might charge us. Run up that bank if he does," he told us unhelpfully. Another guide went and threw rocks at the rhino until it wandered off disgruntled (I swear that the guy must have been suicidal). Behind us was this elderly tourist in another canoe who nearly had a heart attack when he saw the rhino in the water and protested that it was dangerous etc etc. ...It probably was.

One other thing: In Chitwan we encountered this implausibly stupid money changer. She agreed to change our US travellers cheques, but after Kumudu had counter-signed the cheque she refused to bank it because she didn't accept Sri Lankan or South African passports (she'd had bad history with nationals from those countries or something - I didn't care). "Thanks for telling us that after we signed the cheque. Shall we now just use that US$100 cheque as toilet paper?" (Okay I didn't say exactly that, just something similar). In spite of her own incompetance she simply refused to change the cheque and we had to argue with her for a good 15-20 minutes to get her to relent. I basically went bonkers and had to let Kumudu handle the situation. Eventually, she called her manager who more or less instantly told her to proceed with the exchange (these frustrating occurances are the bread and butter of social interactions in South Asia and no mistake).

We only really needed 2 day in Chitwan as we were satisfied with our wildlife encounter so we pressed on to Kathmandu. After another luxurious (by Nepal standards) Greenline bus ride we arrived in Kathmandu on time (a miracle, of course, and indicative of the fact that we were on a bus designed for tourists). Kathmandu was a cool place and had some of the best food in our entire trip. The food in Pokhara was western, but completely sucked. Indian food was always tasty, but almost certainly poisonous. Kathmandu had great western food - which was good as typical Nepali cuisine is kind of naff (Kumudu tried it and liked it, though). After many months of being without pizza, I got to indulge in it which was great. We even dined in a pizzaria which was a favourite of the homocidal prince of Nepal who subsequently massacred several members of the royal family.
We stayed several days in Kathmandu and visited Swayambunath (a cool stupa located on a hill overlooking Kathmandu) and Bodhnath (another Buddhist area characterized by a large Tibetan community). Swayambunath was great and has a stupa made famous by the Buddha eyes that adorn the peak of the monument. It was flooded with tourists and I was continually annoyed by their general disrespect for Buddhist customs (for example, you shouldn't pose in front of a Buddha statue - it's kind of like doing bunny ears behind a Jesus statue in Jeruseluem and taking a snap - not kosher). It would be okay if they didn't know, but all the guidebooks detail these customs so there is no excuse. People just don't care. Bodhnath was a favourite spot in Kathmandu and we visited it twice, once at night and once during the day. We ate pizza overlooking the stupa as the light faded - it was cool. One curious thing about Nepal was that it seemed to be in a continuous state of blackout. I thought that Sri Lanka was bad. The state of the electricity may have had something to do with the Maoist insurrection, but who knew. Also the place we stayed at was nice (Astoria Hotel) but the staff were kind of retarded and seemed unable to fix our hot water (this was fine in India, but Nepal was very nippy and cold showers were not nice).

Sadhus hanging out at Hindu temple:

Bodnath stupa in Kathmandu:


We also visited an important Hindu location called Pashupatinath which was another Varanasi-like place where people get cremated. It was characterized by a hospice (where people die), a series of ghats were the bodies are cremated, and a Ganges tributory where the remains are disposed. There was also a network of caves up-river where holy men, sadhus, meditatate and continually smoke weed. I've since discovered that being a Hindu sadhu is kind of an entrepeneurial activity and seems to have little to do with moksha (liberation) and more to do with rupee (cha-ching). A bunch of sadhus posed for us and we were required to give them some money. We gave them about 20 rupees. They were annoyed by this since they saw we had more money. They seemed to be involved in a similar racket in Varanasi. We also spotted someone being cremated on the ghats. The guide said, "You can take a photo -the family isn't here." We declined, although the ghat subsequently ended up in an image taken at distance. Otherwise, the site was characterized by a lot of phallic paraphenalia (which I always find a weird aspect of Hinduism given how conservative Hindus actually are - I suspect these sexual aspects emerges as a function of the importance of marriage and the relation between man and women in living Hindu society).
Subsequently, we visited Durbar Square in Kathmandu, Patan and Bhaktipur (the central square of the three main Nepali cities). Kathmandu Durbar Square was crowded with people and choked with hawkers and other annoying people (btw - Kumudu and I were continually approached by leather jacket wearing, greased hair oddballs who wanted to sell us weed. It was really weird and creepy. Although the tourists were weird and creepy as well so it kind of made sense). In Kathmandu Durbar Square (KDS) we saw Kumari Devi who is a Nepali living goddess. She is selected at birth by way of a series of highly specific physical attributes. Once found she is locked away in a particular building in KDS and only taken out for certain festivals (notably dasein). When she hits puberty, however, she loses her status as goddess and another person is selected. basicaly the goddess exists as an immortal 1-11 year old. After she is released from service her life sucks because no one will marry her or socialize with her. We left the Kathmandu Durbar Square quite promptly.
Patan was a little quieter which was nice. The Durbur Square there had a Krishna temple ("He is play-boy god!" the guide said. Sure enough, the temple had ancient porn sculpted around its struts. The guide told us: "When people want to know how to make baby, they come here. No need for books or lessons at school." I wasn't sure if he was joking). One of the central temples in Patan is also where the dasein festival is centred. There, kumari-devi is taken - put in a cage (basically) and made to watch 122 buffalo slaughtered and a whole host of chickens and goats. That kid must be screwed up - actually we asked the guide about this, he didn't get the question. After the slaughter is done, the buffalo entrails are hung up around the temple. Last year's intestines were still hanging, all cracked and dry, from the temple support struts. Why all the slaughter? For Kali of course, the goddess of blood and destruction. The Nepali people are very in to esoteric, tantric Hinduism which entails a lot of: a) sexualized Hinduism and b) the fetishization of the shakti consorts of the gods which are often violent in character.
Bhaktipur was far far away, expensive to get to and bitterly cold. We had not brought proper clothing for the weather ( I only bought two full pairs of pants, one pair was stolen in Bhairawa). As a result we didn't stay long.
After we finished in Kathmandu, we flew back to Kolkatta (stayed at CKT Inn again) and then went on to Colombo via Chennai, basically backtracking. I was sick (again!) on the way back so the flight was a bit uncmfortable (and delayed, groan). We wanted to press on to Tibet, but lack of money prevented this.
So when we got back to Sl, we discovered that the holi powder that we thought we had avoided had actually got on some of our clothes. What was worse was that when we tried to wash it out, it just got in the water and stains other clothes. We lost about 5 T-shirts that way. Stupid holi festival!

Sunday, April 1, 2007

India: Varanasi-Kapilavastu

After Bihar we entered Uttar Pradesh and arrived at Varanasi (also known as Benares). This required us to get up excrutiatingly early and catch a train from Gaya. Gaya, as already mentioned, is a highly disreputable place, so lurking around the train station at 4am was not a joyful proposition. In any case, we were made to wait an extra two hours before the train arrived, and we eventually alighted at Varanasi, tired and hoping that our next hotel would actually be a good one.



Kumudu and I by the Ganges:





Sitting by a ghat:





The star attraction:



Varanasi is one of the premier holy cities in India. It is important for the Buddhists because of its proximity to Sarnath, and to the Hindus on account of the Ganges (the Ganges is of particular religious significance only at certain places, for example, Hardwar and Varanasi). On the face of things, however, Varanasi was very much the same as any other Indian city, i.e. dirty and over-populated. Nonetheless, the ganga was a magnificent sight, and the ghats (bathing platforms) were really a cultural experience. We visited the Ganges as part of an early morning boat trip. We were lucky, because we were the only two people on the boat (we subsequently saw several boats that were literally crowded with tourists snapping away with their cameras; at one point there was a boat traffic jam as all the tourist barges collided with one another). At that time, the Ganges were obscured by a thick mist that prohibited a good view of the surrounding area, but as we moved forward, people, boats, and buildings would emerge mysteriously out of it. We saw people washing clothes in the river, bathing (bathing in the river confers the elimination of one's sins) , corpses being cremated (cremation at Varanasi guarantees a sound rebirth or moksha i.e. liberation), fisherman snatching up the few fish left in the river and people reading newspapers on the ghats. We even saw a dead cow being summarily dragged and dumped into the river (animals, holy men and children are simply put into the water; they are not cremeated). Not to mention the implausible number of tourists! Later still, we went for a walk along the ghats closer to sunset and found it equally beautiful. There were countless water buffalo and cows wandering about aimlessly. Many of the Indians were eager to get out of their way, and one person literally threw himself out of the path of a cow who was simply ambling along.
We also made a point of visiting Sarnath while at Varanasi. Sarnath was the town at which the Buddha preached his first sermon, i.e. the first turning of the wheel of the dharma-law. We had a lengthy chat with the Sri Lankan monk who was operating the temple there, and he gave us a pirith nool (see earlier). The stupa there was majesterial and ancient - a ruin from at least the days of Asoka, but probably even earlier. The ruin itself indicates where the Buddha preached the first sermon. There was also a Jain temple nearby and a Bo-tree where a group of Singhalese pilgrims chanted pirith. On the way back, we passed the 'Centre for Higher Tibetan Studies'. The institute my prospective superviser works at - I didn't know this until the next day, but for some mysterious reason chose to look more closely about where he was meant to be doing his research. Having found that he was in the same city I was in (through pure chance mind you), I set about trying to meet him, only to discover he was on his way to Delhi! I chose to interpret the missed-meeting as a fortuitous sign.
We were aso exceptionally lucky with the hotel at Varanasi. Hotel Haifa was a new and well maintained place. The room was cheap, as were the meals (although the facilities were a rip-off and I got a virus from their computer). The food was also magnificent, and they had great Israeli food (as it turns out Israeli's really like India).
After Varanasi, we took our final train trip to the hole that is Gorukhpur. Gorukphur is north of Varanasi, and was relevant to us only beacuse it was near the border with Nepal, and also because it was very close to Kushinagar - the place where the Buddha died. Hotel Bobina, the place we stayed, was by far the worst hotel we stayed at in India. It was the kind of place that had everything, and therefore had nothing. By this I mean that it had a pool, a bar, a restaurant, even a gym (the latter, I didn't look at - thank god). However, because it only got about two guests a year, or something, it could not upkeep it all. So therefore it excelled in nothing. The room was a mess: peeled paint, grotty old beds, broken toilet, phone and TV that didn't work. And the smell - everything smells in India, but the hotel had this distinctivly awful smell that I cannot quite explain. We later discovered that it was on account that the cleaner used bleach on EVERYTHING! After eyeing up the mosquito infested restaurant, I soon realized that it would be an error to eat there. However being that there was no restaurant closer, we reluctantly ate there. I was right. I instantly got sick from their suspicious food. Oh, and their food was priced in silly ways: a boiled egg cost 3o rupees each, not including bread. That would mean that two eggs and bread would cost 120 rupees: a silly price for such a basic item (it should have cost about 60 rupees).
Nonetheless, we hired a car and headed off to Kushinagar the next day. Kushinagar is the place where the Mahaparinibbana Sutra was preached, and also where the Buddha died between two Sal trees and was cremated. It was a very special place and probably my favourite Buddhist site. It had a certain brooding, isolated atmosphere, possibly enhanced by the gathering storm clouds that greeted us. The area is surrounded by paddies, and quite routine in terms of land features. However, there were several beautiful Buddhist Temples from several different countries, and also the excellent Golden Reclining Buddha. The statue is probably one of the finest Buddha statues I have seen, and has the Buddha in his death bed repose, complete with a golden cloth (the sutra describes how Buddha and Ananda, his chief disciple, are outfitted with gold blankets). Nearby, was the even more significant stupa, erected countless years ago to comemorate the place where the Buddha was cremated. Kushinagar is quite remote and difficult to get to so we were the only visitors making it very special. The Sri Lankan monk at the nearby temple even made us some tea!

Kumudu outside Mahaparinibbana Temple:




Golden Buddha (you can see our flowers as well):




Full image of the Golden Buddha:




At the stupa at which Buddha was cremated:






Kumudu:




We hired another car, escaped Gorukphur, and made it for Nepal. After getting our passports stamped quickly we headed acrossthe border, evading the visa touts and the long line of Tata trucks that snaked their way to the border. Instantly, we saw that Nepal was much cleaner than India - arguably cleaner than Sri Lanka - which was the first relief. The second relief was that the Nepalese people were much friendlier and helpful. We arrived at Hotel Glasgow - an average place, but comfortable. We arranged for a car to take us to Lumbini and Kapilavastu. The whole plan was up in the air, however, on account that - as was explained to us - Maoist rebels in the area could make the trip potentially dangerous. However, due to pure luck and a resolve to get to the place regardless, we managed to get a van that would drive us around.
Lumbini is the place where Buddha was born, and is therefore significant to all Buddhists. It is possibly the most temple-rich Buddhist site, with about thirty different temples from different countries and sects dotted around the huge sprawling area. We explored many of these temples with a dodgy cycle rickshaw. But the main attraction was Maya Devi Temple - the place where Buddha's mother, Maya Devi, gave birth to Buddha under a Sal tree. The ruins of the temple include a small sqaure plaque, on which is meant to be an image of Maya Devi giving birth: however, it was too worn for us to see anything. The plaque is also meant to pin point the exact location of his birth, although this seems rather unlikely. Outside the temple was a pool in which Maya Devi is said to have bathed, and a large and very gnarled Sal tree. We hung around the place for a while, considered buying a Singing bowl (but decided it was too kitch) before heading for Kapilavastu.

Kumudu and I by the 'Eternal Flame':


A gompa - a Tibetan stupa:



Me rotating a giant Tibetan prayer wheel:

Maya-Devi Temple:



My Maya-Devi by the bathing pool near temple:

Kapilavastu is where Buddha was brought up and raised. It is, reputably, the place where he realized that his life of luxury was an illusion and something that should be overcome. All that remains of the palace of Kapilavastu is a very faint ruin, but the gateway which Buddha would have rode out on in his chariot still remains. Although, there was very little there, it was still a unique place and seemed relatively un-plied by tourists. We also stumbled across a peculiar little kovil built into a tree, and a crazy old woman with a cane lurking outside. The image inside was of an elephant - a rather peculiar image as far as I can tell, and I could not figure out what deity it represented.


At the gates of Kapilavastu:




Friday, March 23, 2007

India: Chennai - Nalanda

Our first stop in India was Chennai. As if in anticipation, Kumudu instantly gets a bought of Delhi Belly. We are both surprised since we both thought I would be the one to suffer such a fate. This prophecy is later confirmed: over and over again...
Chennai was everything we expected: dirty and noisy. The drama of being stared at by locals starts as soon as we step on the plane from Colombo. However, it's not me they are looking at, but rather Kumudu. Apparently she is quite the celebrity in India. We suspect that the possibility of an 'Indian' being married to a white man so perplexes the locals and offends the sacred Vedas so much that they cannot look away. She is constantly and repeatedly asked whether she is an Indian, whether she speaks Hindi/Tamil/Bengali/Urdu etc. Revealing that, no, she is actually from Sri Lanka, is immaterial. Sri Lanka, it seems, is regarded as some obscure, little heard of province, in which the inhabitants speak some Indian dialect out-of-state, i.e. Hindi/Bengali/Tamil/Urdu etc. At one point I tell a vagrant who has accosted us, and is demanding to know where K is from, that she is actually South Korean and her name is Soon-Yi, and that - yes - all South Koreans look remarkably like Indians. Eventually we both go mad and pretend we are German tourists who don't even speak English.
We visit various sites in Chennai, including Marina Beach. An enormous beach that was devastated by the 2004 Tsunami (see picture). It is the highlight of our trip to Chennai. At a large Hindu kovil (temple) my shoes get filched by some reprobate. A true Indian welcome! (See picture below for image of missing shoes).
At Marina Beach, Chennai:

Next stop - Kolcatta (formerly Calcutta). Arrive at Chennai airport to discover two-bit flight has been cancelled. Immediately board another two-bit flight which has us arrive in Kolcatta late and tired. The Lonely Planet describes the CKT Inn as a real find that is 'tucked away in an office building'. Tucked away = concealed behind a dirty, homeless-person infested alley. Nonetheless, we soon come to realize that there is no such thing as a completely reputable place of abode in Kolcatta, nor India for that mater. K and I aim for 'mid range' venues with the notion that they would be: a) comfortable, but b) not to expensive. We find, however, that there is a very wide gap between 'budget' and 'mid-range' and you can neer guarentee that any of the places we lodge in will be anything resembling comfortable. We are satisfied, however, when we hear from other travelers that 'budget' is suitably horrific and that we are actually in a fairly pleasent little hole.
At the Victoria Memorial, Kolkatta:
A street near our hotel, Kolkatta:
Kolcatta is an old looking city, plied with yellow taxies and endless beggers. We have a great time exploring the dingy back streets, and the various cultural institutions. We skip Mother Theresa's house and head straight for the Victoria Memorial, the Kalighat and the Botanical Gardens. On our second day, as we head to our regular breakfast venue (called 'Flurry's), we are quickly accosted by a small leech-like begger boy whose desire to rob us of our money borders on assault. Demanding that we 'give him 10 rupee' he practically attacks us, touching our limbs and pushing us around the street! We manage to escape his clutches by escaping down a side alley while he is distracted. Later we visit the Asiatic Society. An interesting place for me since they have plenty of old Sanskrit texts, but the caretakers are plainly annoyed at the presence of any interlopers and give us plenty of evil looks as we potter around the dusty shelves. We also have to sign an implausible number of 'guest books' plainly designed to infuriate the guests such that they neer return and also tell their friends ot to visit. A brilliant plan!
Kumudu and I returning from Kalighat:
Kalighat, Kolkatta:
The best place in Kolkatta was the Kalighat - a temple dedicated to Kali. Kali is the goddess of blood and violence, and goats, buffaloes and chickens are routinely slaughtered at the temple in her honour. Kali is the savage aspect of Pavati, the consort of Shiva. She also represents his shakti or 'power' in Tantric hinduism. This explains why Kali becomes more popular the further north one gets - i.e. closer to the Nepal, the Himalayas and the Tantric schools. The temple is an interesting place, and we are assaulted by a myriad of guides one of whom we grudgingly pay for a tour (the problem with guides are: a) they always try and rip you off and b) you never know if they have any idea what they are talking about). In any case, we end up with a tikka each (or bindi in Singhala) which is meant to be both a ward and a blessing, a symbol of the ubiquitous 'third-eye'.
After we finish at Kolkatta, Kumudu and I arrange for a train to take us to the remote town of Gaya in the middle of the somewhat lawless state of Bihar. Regretably, many of the Buddhist sites we intend to visit are located in the middle of one of the most lawless states in India! Another Indian contradiction?
We arrange for a first class ticket to Gaya, naively thinking we would get a private cabin. Instead we have the privilege of hanging out with two Indian businessman and eating some train food of questionable merit. We arrive at Gaya in the dead of night, are knocked over by how freezing it is, and quickly requisition an all-terrain three-wheel that quickly drops us at our hotel - Vishnu International. The Vishnu International is a nice little place, i.e. clean, but has no hot water and a generator that wails all night long. A funny story about hot water: Whatever place we stay at, no matter what the staff may say, the hot water never ever works the way they say it will. The upshot of this is that the staff will insist that it works and spend a good 20 or 30 minutes hanging out in your bathroom turning the water on and off, before finally declaring 'No hot water!'. Our protests that they should simply bring us a bucket go unheard. This is the case for all the hotels we stayed at.
The following day we visit Bodhgaya - a half hour three wheel ride from Gaya. On the way we spot three dead dogs and several starving ones. It is also one of the filthiest towns we have seen, trash piled high everywhere. The place is quite remote and the locals seem disturbed at the prescence of outsiders. Nonetheless, the people are friendly and the townsfolk at Bodhgaya are more used to visitors. Bodhgaya is the site at which Buddha attained enlightenment. The Bo tree that the Buddha sat under is no longer there (destroyed by Queen Ashoka), but a replacement from the holy Mahabodhi in Sri Lanka now stands in its place. We witness several sudhas worship in the Tibetan style (which amuses me greatly) and walk around the beautiful grounds. Its funny that while everywhere else in India is grubby, the Buddhists at least manage to keep their sacred places clean.
The Mahabodhi Temple, Bodhgaya:


Goats eating a sari at Bodhgaya:




Once we finish at Bodhgaya we arrange for a car to take us out to the even more remote spot of Nalanda and Rajgir. The car arrangements are a fiasco in which we try to employ the aid of a local agency, only to discover they have no idea what they are doing. And in any case, the organizer has the manner of a serial killer so we quickly back out. Instead, Vishnu International supplies a vehicle. The cost is exhorbitant, and the driver incompetant, but it is much preferable to taking a dodgy local bus for two hours (we discover how right we were later when we are forced to take a local bus in Nepal - more on that later). As we leave Gaya destined for Rajgir, the driver stops to let in another passanger. Low and behold its the same fellow who attemped to organize our aborted plan the previous day! He's a sly looking fellow who insists that it is 'his car' and 'his driver needs someone to come back with'. We tell him to bugger off and leave him by the side of the road.
Rajgir is a barren piece of land in the middle of Bihar that is composed of a great deal of dry schist like land, and several messa-like hills that rise up in the distance. On one of these hills the Buddha preached several of his sermons including the important Brahma-gala Sutta. In order to get up the hill one takes a highly suspicious gondala that would be an OSH law-suit in the making in NZ. At the top is a marvelous stupa - A World Peace Pagoda (there are several such stupas around the world, all developed by the Japanese as part of their anti-nukes initiative). There was also a beautiful Tibetan temple. The whole place was very quite and quite serene. Another interesting feature of the area was the use of tongas - a tonga is a horse drawn cart which is used to ferry people around from here to there in a fairly cheap way. We had a great time clopping around the streets in these things, especially given how spread out the whole area was.
The next day we travelled to Nalanda. This required us to take a local bus for about 6 km. It was an interesting experience that involved several hair raising encounters with local traffic and lifestock. Once there, we took another tonga to the Nalanda ruins and had a great time looking amongst them. Nalanda is especially important to me since it is the site of the great Buddhist University where many of the most famous Buddhist philosophers were to live. Nagarjuna was, in fact, the director of the university for a time. Dharmakirti, Dignaga, Vasubandhu were all students there for a time. We had another guide at Nalanda who was very informative. Unfortunately, the place was populated by the most enormous wasps ever conceived: they were huge and yellow with a huge barb, and these long dangly legs. They completely freaked me out and whenever I saw one I gave it a very long berth.
It was also here that we bumped into Nick. We already met Nick at Bodhgaya while we had lunch. He introduced himself and sat down with us; he was an American who was right into his martial arts and Buddhism. He claimed he was in Mumbai teaching the Police force ninjitsu or some such rubbish. In any case, we bumped into him again at Rajgir AND Nalanda. He was an interesting character, but not someone I'd wish to spontaneously encounter three times. He was completely self absorbed and regarded himself as some kind of guru.
Kumudu at Nalanda ruins:
Me at the famous Nalanda ruins (the large structure is the remains of a stups):
Finally, the claim that Bihar is a lawless state was somewhat confirmed when we tried to leave Rajgir with the same driver a few days after we arrived. As we went to leave, he failed to stop at a tollbooth - on purpose obviously. The next thing we know, an overweight man is running after the car, screaming something in Hindi. Soon, the driver is being soundly beaten about the face by the man, causing him to look humiliated and angry. Obviously we are both scared witless, and the encounter is made more disconcerting by the crowd of children and adults that quickly flock around the car. Luckilly, the driver pays his due and we are soon on our way, but we are left with the distinct notion that vigilante justice reins supreme in Bihar.