Maybe you thought I was done writing when I got home. Well, you were wrong! This cold temperature is making me sick, and I'm starting to realize that I don't understand people here anymore. I miss India and all the people I've become friends with.
There are no people dancing. There are no indian songs. No A. R. Rahman. No hospitality. No outgoing people (with some few exceptions). By coming back I understand so much more of why I left and why I plan to go away again. It's not that I love my friends, the true friends that I like so much, but it's just the atmosphere that is tearing me apart.
My heart is aching for so much more. I'm pretty sure I won't find anything here and my search has to continue outside the borders until I really know what I want in life. Being back home is just confirming my longing to other places.
I really don't know what to do to fix this until I get to leave again, but my first move is to try to visit most of my friends in other cities. I miss you all so much and I really need other places to hang out than my own city...
Cold or not, you all warm my soul!
Be right back in a jiffy! There are more to come!
søndag 10. mai 2009
torsdag 7. mai 2009
Home Sweet Home. (??!)
After a 21 hour long journey I find myself back in cold Norway (7 degrees celsius) with a thin shirt and sandals on my feet. The company I flew in with mixed up my luggage so my sitar is now hopefully somewhere to be found in Brussels.
Even though getting inside an airport should be fairly easy when reading signs, I spent the 20 first minutes at Chennai International looking for the entrance, walking back and forth between taxi drivers who wanted to take me to a nearby hotel. Over and over I had to tell them that I was leaving.
- "But, no, it is a nice hotel!"
- "Listen my good man; I'm leaving India. I'm departing!"
Getting checked in went smoothly, but when going through immigration the lady in the booth looked at my passport picture, then looked at me, and looked at the picture again. I started laughing telling her that "I have changed quite a bit in one year.". Her expression changed to somewhat sceptical, walked to another booth with my passport and got an another guys opinion. I was let through all the way to customs right next to immigration. There they didn't like the fact that I didn't have the boarding card from Brussels to Norway. I had to tell them that the air company couldn't give me that until I got to Brussels because it was two different companies. After explaining to them about my lip piercing, that it didn't hurt, didn't bleed and was not in the way of my eating I was let out to join the other passengers in the security. Security was also the same. All my belongings were going through the scanner and I was going through the detector and even because of all these safety precautions I had to be body searched again. The detector beeped on my belt buckle. He looked at it and I just had to comment that "it was fairly huge". (Just imagine how that sounded like to the others around him). He smiled at me and let me pass. Bingo! I was on the plane back.
In Brussels everything went fine. I was talking about ice skating and extreme sports with the immigration police man and went on to the next plane to Oslo. This is where I realized where I was going. Quiet business people minding their own business. No people asking about where you went from, why I have tattoos, my piercings. Everyone grey and dull. On the plane I was almost having a breakdown. I was close to going nuts. I needed to do something. I was twitching and turning in the seat. Finally I just closed my eyes and tried to imagine I was somewhere else. Anyhow, I think it will take some time getting used to the fact that it's not warm outside. That it isn't as easy meeting new people. That it is more boring food. But, hey, have to make the most of it right? Only few months until Trondheim and then few months for Melbourne (?)! All right. I'll keep you updated on the changes. I may be home, but I'm not done writing.
Even though getting inside an airport should be fairly easy when reading signs, I spent the 20 first minutes at Chennai International looking for the entrance, walking back and forth between taxi drivers who wanted to take me to a nearby hotel. Over and over I had to tell them that I was leaving.
- "But, no, it is a nice hotel!"
- "Listen my good man; I'm leaving India. I'm departing!"
Getting checked in went smoothly, but when going through immigration the lady in the booth looked at my passport picture, then looked at me, and looked at the picture again. I started laughing telling her that "I have changed quite a bit in one year.". Her expression changed to somewhat sceptical, walked to another booth with my passport and got an another guys opinion. I was let through all the way to customs right next to immigration. There they didn't like the fact that I didn't have the boarding card from Brussels to Norway. I had to tell them that the air company couldn't give me that until I got to Brussels because it was two different companies. After explaining to them about my lip piercing, that it didn't hurt, didn't bleed and was not in the way of my eating I was let out to join the other passengers in the security. Security was also the same. All my belongings were going through the scanner and I was going through the detector and even because of all these safety precautions I had to be body searched again. The detector beeped on my belt buckle. He looked at it and I just had to comment that "it was fairly huge". (Just imagine how that sounded like to the others around him). He smiled at me and let me pass. Bingo! I was on the plane back.
In Brussels everything went fine. I was talking about ice skating and extreme sports with the immigration police man and went on to the next plane to Oslo. This is where I realized where I was going. Quiet business people minding their own business. No people asking about where you went from, why I have tattoos, my piercings. Everyone grey and dull. On the plane I was almost having a breakdown. I was close to going nuts. I needed to do something. I was twitching and turning in the seat. Finally I just closed my eyes and tried to imagine I was somewhere else. Anyhow, I think it will take some time getting used to the fact that it's not warm outside. That it isn't as easy meeting new people. That it is more boring food. But, hey, have to make the most of it right? Only few months until Trondheim and then few months for Melbourne (?)! All right. I'll keep you updated on the changes. I may be home, but I'm not done writing.
onsdag 6. mai 2009
The D-day; 6th of May 2009.
So the time has finally come. Less than three hours and I'm on my way to the airport with excess weight in the backpack and a sitar. This is going to hurt my wallet. And of course my heart.
Today I've been doing the last preparations for leaving this place, but I've also started preparations for my new trip. If everything goes as planned I'll be in Melbourne for a year from february 2010. I've met a girl from Melbourne that will help me with accomodation if it will be necessary, and of course it will. Once you start traveling you can't stop and the only way to keep on looking forwards is to start planning the next trip as fast as possible.
Anyhow, this was supposed to be about leaving this place, but I think I've said what needs to be said. It's hard to come up with more explanations while watching all of my stuff packed down in a backpack realizing that this is it. I'll be in Oslo by twelve on Thursday 7th and I hope that people won't leave me alone for the first weekend. Yes, this is an encouragement. See you people back home soon, see you people in India at a later time and see everyone else of you before you know it!
Today I've been doing the last preparations for leaving this place, but I've also started preparations for my new trip. If everything goes as planned I'll be in Melbourne for a year from february 2010. I've met a girl from Melbourne that will help me with accomodation if it will be necessary, and of course it will. Once you start traveling you can't stop and the only way to keep on looking forwards is to start planning the next trip as fast as possible.
Anyhow, this was supposed to be about leaving this place, but I think I've said what needs to be said. It's hard to come up with more explanations while watching all of my stuff packed down in a backpack realizing that this is it. I'll be in Oslo by twelve on Thursday 7th and I hope that people won't leave me alone for the first weekend. Yes, this is an encouragement. See you people back home soon, see you people in India at a later time and see everyone else of you before you know it!
søndag 3. mai 2009
Departure day closing in...
First of all I can't understand how time flies. At some point it felt like I was going to be in India forever and now that I'm getting used to the idea of going back home it's like "SNAP! It's over". I've been thinking of what I will miss of India;
Secondly I'm amazed by how small the world is. When staying in Varkala I met a friend from my own hometown on the beach, unknowing that we both stayed in India at the same time, and in different places in India. Last night I met a Danish girl, through some common Indian friends, that have been studying in Ireland together with a former classmate of mine that also has lived in my hometown and spent a lot of time in the village where I grew up when we were growing up. There has also been one other guy from my hometown here in Pondi during our studies, but that weekend I was away in Bangalore, but this just proves how ridicilously tiny the world is. Or how people from my hometown are trying to colonize the world yet again.
Now it's time for me to figure out how I'm going to get all my belongings back home without paying a fortune at the airport in overweight charges. I'll just say "Mail, mail, mail!".
- The friends I have made that I'll hopefully see again in not too long time.
- The food: Idly, Vada, Thali, Naan, Paneer Butter Masala, Channa Batora, Dosai, Porotha and all the other vegetarian dishes that I really enjoy eating.
- The way food is eaten: using only right hand formed like a scoop, using the thumb as a spoon to shovel it into the mouth, using the pointy finger and middle finger as fork and knife. Eating is so much more intimate in this way and it's way better to enjoy the whole experience of the meal.
- The hole in the wall; Our regular bar with beer served through a hole in the wall. The first weeks we thought the employees hated us cause they looked at us in a weird fashion, but they turned out to be really great and always greeted us when we passed by even though we didn't buy anything at that exact time.
- Rickshaws; an easy and cheap way to get around if you really don't want to walk, or if you have to get to the other side of the town really fast to a liquor store to buy Bacardi Breezers before closing time.
- Eating out.; I haven't prepared my own food in a long time, I nearly don't know how to do it anymore. But where one thing lacks another thing steps in to take it's place; I've been washing my own clothes by hand in the shower with a detergent bar, using an hour just to get done. (Yes, I should have an applause for that.)
- The heat; even though it has been incredibly hot here for the past weeks and I've been sweating like a pig, I'd rather sweat than freeze.
- The outgoing people; It's a fact that it's hard to come to a personal level with Scandinavians in particular. This is not an issue in India. This could be kind of over the top for many reserved Europeans, but when you get past that border you will meet so many great people and get strong relations to them.
Secondly I'm amazed by how small the world is. When staying in Varkala I met a friend from my own hometown on the beach, unknowing that we both stayed in India at the same time, and in different places in India. Last night I met a Danish girl, through some common Indian friends, that have been studying in Ireland together with a former classmate of mine that also has lived in my hometown and spent a lot of time in the village where I grew up when we were growing up. There has also been one other guy from my hometown here in Pondi during our studies, but that weekend I was away in Bangalore, but this just proves how ridicilously tiny the world is. Or how people from my hometown are trying to colonize the world yet again.
Now it's time for me to figure out how I'm going to get all my belongings back home without paying a fortune at the airport in overweight charges. I'll just say "Mail, mail, mail!".
fredag 1. mai 2009
Backpacks, drums, restless bumpy bus rides and long lasted return to Pondi.
Actually has this post already been summed up in the title, but I could try to explain a bit more even though your fantasy could do the rest more interesting. Yesterday, at 5.30, I got up, had a shower, cleaned my wounds and packed my stuff together. I went down to the junction near our hotel in Munnar where me and Paul parted ways for the last time in India. He went back to Kerala and would finish up north while I had to get back to Pondicherry for my final week. I went up to the Tamil Nadu bus stand where I met a sleepy bus driver that told me that the bus would leave at 7.00 AM and not 6.30 as I was told. I asked if I could wait inside the bus, and that was OK. At 6.23 we were on our way. This Indian time is a mysterious wonder by itself.
The bus trip was really interesting....and scary. The long, steep hillsides of Munnar is nothing you want to challenge. Tell that to the bus driver. I found out that the best thing was to try to sleep. Close the eyes, lean back, listen to the engine and hope that no one starts screaming. That trick actually helped a whole lot. Everyone told me that the bus was an express bus to Coimbatore. They were wrong. After much discussions back and forth I finally got on to the right bus that we changed to. This went to Coimbatore, but no one on the bus could help me to find the bus stand where the bus to Pondicherry, or Chennai, left from. So I just got off at a bus station. Of course, the wrong one... From this point out I had a lot of helpers. At least seven of them. I felt like Snow White, not referring to skin color as one could imagine. I have never gotten that many business cards in my whole life;
- "Call me if you need any help!"
"Yes, I will."
- "No, but seriously, call me!"
Anyhow, the people of Coimbatore are very helpful and wonderful beings, and even though all buses to Pondicherry were full, they managed to get me the last seat on a local bus. And the guy who managed that really didn't know how much that meant to me. Spending one night at a hotel in Coimbatore only waiting for the buses the day after to leave was not what I could dream of unless having a nightmare. The samaritan looked at me as I was stark raving mad when I shook his hand and thanked him of all my heart.
At this point the clock was 13.17, the bus would leave at 20.30. So what do you do in a town you don't know, where it was hard enough trying to find the bus stand to leave from, and you really won't lose that position again? You stay!
Or at least you stay in the area. I think I didn't leave further away than 5 minutes from the bus stand. Luckily it was a hotel close by with both restaurant and bar. Next door was an Internet Cafe. So the linear story was the following:
Now there was only one and a half hours left. I left for the bus stand where Indian eyes meassured me up, down and sideways as if westerners never travel around India in local buses, which they actually may not do... too much... After an hour the bus arrived and I could kill the last 30 minutes killing mosquitoes in stead. The journey for Pondicherry lasted for nine hours on bumpy roads and hard seats. But the prize at the end of the rope was getting a double room in Pondicherry with an own rooftop and view over the bay of Bengal. And after breakfast and a little rest I'm now ready to take on to Pondicherry once again. This is it. The last week. Cherish every waking moment.
P.S.: while taking the bus I started thinking of every person we have met that hasn't been mentioned here. We have met some very interesting people; from the crazy scotsman in Varkala to the 15 year old Brahmin kid from Mumbai at the hotel in Kottayam that I amazed with card tricks. The local auto repair man from Coimbatore that just wanted me to call to the two Boston girls in Munnar that didn't want me to sit alone eating lunch in a local restaurant. And there are many, many more, but of course I can't write all their life stories and the impressions that they left. But maybe they'll end up in a book once, along with stories about power failure, rooms full of cockroaches and staff that unexpectedly enters your room at night while you're sleeping to hold your hand. India is amazing and hard to explain, but it's worth trying, right?
The bus trip was really interesting....and scary. The long, steep hillsides of Munnar is nothing you want to challenge. Tell that to the bus driver. I found out that the best thing was to try to sleep. Close the eyes, lean back, listen to the engine and hope that no one starts screaming. That trick actually helped a whole lot. Everyone told me that the bus was an express bus to Coimbatore. They were wrong. After much discussions back and forth I finally got on to the right bus that we changed to. This went to Coimbatore, but no one on the bus could help me to find the bus stand where the bus to Pondicherry, or Chennai, left from. So I just got off at a bus station. Of course, the wrong one... From this point out I had a lot of helpers. At least seven of them. I felt like Snow White, not referring to skin color as one could imagine. I have never gotten that many business cards in my whole life;
- "Call me if you need any help!"
"Yes, I will."
- "No, but seriously, call me!"
Anyhow, the people of Coimbatore are very helpful and wonderful beings, and even though all buses to Pondicherry were full, they managed to get me the last seat on a local bus. And the guy who managed that really didn't know how much that meant to me. Spending one night at a hotel in Coimbatore only waiting for the buses the day after to leave was not what I could dream of unless having a nightmare. The samaritan looked at me as I was stark raving mad when I shook his hand and thanked him of all my heart.
At this point the clock was 13.17, the bus would leave at 20.30. So what do you do in a town you don't know, where it was hard enough trying to find the bus stand to leave from, and you really won't lose that position again? You stay!
Or at least you stay in the area. I think I didn't leave further away than 5 minutes from the bus stand. Luckily it was a hotel close by with both restaurant and bar. Next door was an Internet Cafe. So the linear story was the following:
- Thali at the hotel restaurant, which was the best thali meal I've had in India.
- Internet at the internet cafe.
- And finally cricket and a couple of KingFisher's at a dark hotel bar where sunlight was denied by thick curtains.
Now there was only one and a half hours left. I left for the bus stand where Indian eyes meassured me up, down and sideways as if westerners never travel around India in local buses, which they actually may not do... too much... After an hour the bus arrived and I could kill the last 30 minutes killing mosquitoes in stead. The journey for Pondicherry lasted for nine hours on bumpy roads and hard seats. But the prize at the end of the rope was getting a double room in Pondicherry with an own rooftop and view over the bay of Bengal. And after breakfast and a little rest I'm now ready to take on to Pondicherry once again. This is it. The last week. Cherish every waking moment.
P.S.: while taking the bus I started thinking of every person we have met that hasn't been mentioned here. We have met some very interesting people; from the crazy scotsman in Varkala to the 15 year old Brahmin kid from Mumbai at the hotel in Kottayam that I amazed with card tricks. The local auto repair man from Coimbatore that just wanted me to call to the two Boston girls in Munnar that didn't want me to sit alone eating lunch in a local restaurant. And there are many, many more, but of course I can't write all their life stories and the impressions that they left. But maybe they'll end up in a book once, along with stories about power failure, rooms full of cockroaches and staff that unexpectedly enters your room at night while you're sleeping to hold your hand. India is amazing and hard to explain, but it's worth trying, right?
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