I have been in Delhi for the past few days running around like a rat in a maze. Go do this, go do that, talk to them... and the usual response: Next! I have been thwarted from embassy to embassy to foreign affairs offices with no results. My Indian visa has expired as of yesterday and now I am an illegal alien. My options were to leave yesterday (without a visa to any other country) or to book an airline ticket and have a confirmed exit date.
The other tourists in the office overheard my pleas to gain an exit visa and they offered comforting support and advise. Many of them have had friends or family have their visas expire and had to pay a fine to leave India. Some payed some bakshish (the phrase for bribes here) to the customs officials to look the other way. My options are limited. I was considering making a run for the border but that might be a risk I cannot afford. With possibilities like 'return to Delhi' or possible deportation I've opted to try one more time at acquiring an exit visa.
I have to provide confirmed travel proof of leaving India before they will grant me the exit visa. So this means I have to get a ticket booked and somehow have it faxed to me where I have no possibility of receiving a fax. It's great fun. So for now, I am stuck in Delhi and disliking a better part of it.
The only up side is that I have good people whom I keep company with and are fabulously Canadian. Last night I went to my first movie in India, something I've been waiting for for sometime. The seats were really narrow, obviously ergonomically designed for the small Indian in mind. The seats swivelled to allow for a relaxed position if you like having your knees kissing the bottom of your chin.
I am absolutely freezing in Delhi and can't manage to keep warm. I was wearing four layers of clothing yesterday morning and still my teeth were chattering. After being in the south and having such a simple existence, this Delhi business is not up my alley. It's by far the trendiest and flakiest place I've been in India. It's very odd to see sheep obey so obediently to Page 3's and city publications instructing where to eat or where to shop or even what to wear. It's nothing new coming from the consumerist lands of North America, but the following is devout here. I prefer the real India of small villages and cities.
There is a small experiment I conduct while I travel and that is simply to smile and say hello to people. The inner child is only a smile away with Indians - you smile at them and their eyes light up. This is not the case in Delhi. Yesterday I counted how many responses I received... out of a staggering 54 smiles and hello's I only received 14 smiles and 3 hello's back. It's just very odd to experience one side and then see the other side. I love India and from the bumper stickers... India is Great! But I just want to get out of here and be with family. The sanctuary of family is something I am truly missing.
The Indian Tour is coming to a close. Everyday I meet the people whom I shared journeys, tears and frustrations with. I traveled from Nepal to Benares with a beautiful man named Itzak - he just appeared out of thin air today. It seems that everyone keeps getting drawn to this fabulous land, or beach rather of Om. Everyone is closing out their one year tour or are off to Thailand, Sri Lanka and other various lands undiscovered.
I am slowly slowly trying to motivate myself to make the journey north to Pakistan. My visa expires the 17th of January and is no longer creeping but coming with brute full fast power. I have to make pit stops in Mapusa (Northern Goa) and then off to Mumbai, shuttling off to Delhi with a quick refuel in Chandigarh. After Chandigarh I will be heading to Amritsar to catch a bus across the border to Pakistan. The fabulous part of all of this is that my mother will be flying to Pakistan on the 19th. I will be surrounded by motherly love (and a great deal of concern and question periods) and family. The amount of support given by family in Pakistan through emails and phone calls has been overwhelming and unexpected. I thought for sure that my whole family thought I had lost my mind and joined a cult (which are both truths ;)
Still in the fabulous area of Gokarna surrounded by Masala Chai Philosophers, European hippies that have never gone back, molecular and genetic biologists and a stack of familiar faces from the Andaman Islands. What once was a doomed looking recovery has turned out to be a fantastical gathering of traveling companions and reflections.
During one of the famed discussion periods the topic of my accident came up. The significance of all that was represented on that lucky December day was analyzed. Why was it that the other two riders made it through and the bulls hit me? The fact that the bulls were fighting to begin with on the road I was traveling upon was also in question. What did all this represent - it all happened for a reason? That reason was the mission of this particular discussion.
A consensus was met with the Hindu significance of the cow as the basis. The cow is a sacred animal in India. There is a law that exists here that if you kill a cow you can serve eleven years in prison. Cows mingle with the crowd here at Om Beach, not to mention the rest of India. They have the right of way all the way.
Nandi, the bull, is Shiva's vehicle. In order to create one must destroy and that is on Shiva's broad greyish-blue (with a pinch of lavender) shoulders. Shiva gives and Shiva takes. So getting back to the story of my renaissance, the two bulls (representing the creating and destroying aspects of Shiva) fighting for which one was to prevail and claim their pride and rule. In a world of duality, both of them need to exist to represent the whole. I thankfully accept the message which was hand delivered.
Something in me needed to be destroyed to allow room for something to be created. Boiled down to the bare elements, what remained in the pot was quite black - an ego. Watching my wounds heal I've learned a great deal about my ego. The ego was the raw flesh that existed in place of my skin, that protective layer that shields me from bacteria and infections was removed to bare my vulnerability. I had been caring for the wounds but lo and behold in India it is extremely difficult to shield away infections.
Losing sight of what is precious and dear in this world comes with great pain and loss. I lost sight of this and allowed something in me to grow and permit me to forget. As a result, I had to learn the lesson the hard way as I have often found myself doing in the past.
Since my camera has expired I have hired help. I have an official photographer by the name of Natalia Agote Urquia from Spain. She sounds very British but is lie. I had to have some record of this majestic location. I will be uploading these images in the coming days. I just wanted to give thanks to a swimmingly splendid specimen of what it is to travel by yourself and never being by your self.
Season's greetings to all. I have made it to Gokarna, home to Namaste, Paradise, Om and Kudli Beaches. I have no idea that it is the holiday season. No reindeer, no Santa and most importantly... no snow.
I'm managing with nursing my injuries back to health but it is an arduous task. What makes it so difficult is dealing with everything by myself. I'm not going to discount the efforts made on every one's part to help me out, but what I'm saying is that without the love and caring that I am usually surrounded by, it makes things difficult.
I was crestfallen this morning upon waking up and for the first time while travelling I no longer wanted to be here. I know I just have to get through the next couple of days and I will be surrounded by those people I've met along the way.
As for my plans for New Years... I have none and quite honestly after reading an email last night I have no desire whatsoever to be in the area that I'm in. I have a few options: Bangalore (but both people I know there are not available), Hampi (Doctor's place) and Mumbai (Shekhar whom I met in Benares). So it appears that my inauguration to 2007 will be spent with, myself and eye. Someone told me once that the way you start your year is how the year will unfold - interesting. To top it all off I have no visa to enter Pakistan again so that means I have to get a visa before the 17th of January - which means Delhi. My mother is coming to Pakistan on the 19th so it will be nice to be amongst momness and familial love.
For right now... I've shed tears, frustrations and am tired and weak. A nice little hello to lift spirits might be in order... I know I'm the one that usually does it... but today I'm asking for a little bit of help and a kind word.
The holiday season is usually when all of us get together with long lost friends, loves and family. I'm definitely missing that aspect of Toon right now. I had a great telephone call yesterday and it was the first time I remembered what I have in Canada. I miss you all and Genvieve... thank you for being on the other end of that phone.
You Are Beautiful is a simple, powerful statement which is incorporated into the over absorption of mass media and lifestyles that are wrapped in consumer culture.
This statement and the context in which someone finds it gives meaning to its message and purpose to this project. The intention behind this project is to reach beyond ourselves as individuals to make a difference by creating moments of positive self realization in those who happen across the statement: You Are Beautiful.
Intention is the most important aspect of the You Are Beautiful project in its idea of purity. Graffiti and street art are an act not a style, but stylistically large corporations have been copying and using the 'urban decay' look to sell products.
It all comes down to intention. Nothing is sacred. Everything that has a perceived value becomes commodified. Companies hire out teenagers to slap up stickers and posters, and pay their fines when they are caught by the police. This is not street art, but a marketing campaign.
The reasons why street artists are doing what they are doing, in the way that they are doing, is not simply to question their surroundings; but to provide alternative perspectives, meanings, or values to those of consumerism.
Advertising elicits a response to buy, where this project elicits a response to do something. The attempt with You Are Beautiful is to create activism instead of consumerism.
You Are Beautiful uses the medium of advertising and commercialization to spread a positive message. Projects like these make a difference in the world by catching us in the midst of daily life and creating moments of positive self realization.
Do you remember your mom always asking you to make sure you always had clean underwear in case you ever got into an accident?! Well, let's just say it was a good thing I had clean underwear on.
I decided to end an argument between two cows with propelling my motobike into them at roughly 30-40 km/h. Yes, three's a charm - it was my third accident since owning the bike. First one leaving Pokhara in Nepal, the second outside of Bangalore, Karnatika and theis one outside of Panjim, Goa.
I am also glad that I wear gloves, helmet and full face coverage. I am as very lucky individual. Apparently I wasn't listening and this one had to leave me with an injury or two. The accident couldn't have happened in a better place (all things considered), ten meters in front of a hospital. I went in covered in dirt and blood. They cleaned the wounds and wrapped me up. Meanwhile, Oded and Nitsan (the two glorious gentlemen whom I shared sunrises, accidents, repair shops and many laughs) loaded my bike up on a truck and were taking it to the mechanics they knew in Mapusa. The x-ray technician wasn't 'in' today and the chemists (pharmacy) was closed for lunch. So, I did what any crazy person would and i jumped in the Tata hauling my bike for two and a half hours. Dropped off the bike finally and went to the Government hospital for treatment. After x-rays we learned of a radial fracture.
So I am planning to go to Hampi. I met a doctor on the plane from the Andamans to Chennai that offered up her home, family and food to me. It's better than going to the hospital here where there is no one to hold my hand ;)
All you worry-bodies out there - I'm fine. Just a scratch and the inconvenience of having a large plaster splint on my hand for a couple weeks. Could have been worse... I'm still smiling.
I've had my first (well, sort of) run in with the police. I found out today upon my arrival in Andaman that 5 C.I.D. (the equivalent to the C.I.A. of the US&A) officials conducted an investigation on me.
I was apparently followed for five days to determine whether or not I was a threat to the general public. They followed me from Port Blair to Havelock Island.
You're probably asking yourselves, "What did you do this time?"
This time... I'm innocent ;)
Somehow the information reached local authorities that my parents were of Pakistani descent. It mattered none that I was a Canadian citizen and my parents have been in North America since the late 50's - nope, not one bit.
Apparently they came to the guest house with myriad questions. I was apparently suspect looking carrying around metal boxes and chains. These are from my motorcycle and are handy luggage to care for ones belongings. Although amongst the crack-down investigations team, the most flamboyant person to have come to Andaman Islands was indeed a terrorist.
This is really the first incident where I have had any difficulties with having Pakistani blood running through my veins. It's quite sad that the genius' down at the Indian Central Intelligency Department came up with this theory but if there are any 'boom' that transpires in the next little while... I'm the usual suspect.
I've recently found out I'm famous. That is to say that Naveen Andrews from the ABC series 'Lost' is famous. I have sufferred from mistaken identity here in the Andaman Islands and it does have it's perks. I have to admit with a little bit of cococut oil and a clean shave that this guy does resemble me.
I am Khayyam and I do not eat green eggs n' ham. Khayyam I am ;)
About me?! I live by the way, that's it! Or perhaps a new way to finding a different way to arrive at the way. But then that would be many ways and if it's your way that's the way it was always supposed to be, furthermore, there are many ways in which to arrive at the way and your way which also means that there was never really a choice to find your way to this way. This way or that way, it all weighs the same ;)
Ideas Guy | Designer | Consultant | Wordsmith | Comedian | Photo Clicker | Habitual Line-Stepper | Fool .♥. Made in Canada #hashtagmafia
I have been in Delhi for the past few days running around like a rat in a maze. Go do this, go do that, talk to them... and the usual response: Next! I have been thwarted from embassy to embassy to foreign affairs offices with no results. My Indian visa has expired as of yesterday and now I am an illegal alien. My options were to leave yesterday (without a visa to any other country) or to book an airline ticket and have a confirmed exit date.
The only up side is that I have good people whom I keep company with and are fabulously Canadian. Last night I went to my first movie in India, something I've been waiting for for sometime. The seats were really narrow, obviously ergonomically designed for the small Indian in mind. The seats swivelled to allow for a relaxed position if you like having your knees kissing the bottom of your chin.
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