2014

Amritsar, also I’m going to get a penis

The number of times I’ve sworn I’m getting a penis once we get to Thailand is impossible to keep track of. While I enjoy my chesticles and wearing dresses, I can’t survive another 12-19 hour bus drive that only stops for a ladies peebreak once.

In India (as well as many other places in the world) it is perfectly acceptable for a man to pull his pants down and urinate publicly. Women on the other hand not only have to deal with a far less efficient plumbing system, they also have either to find a toilet, or a bush so far away that no one can hear them scream if they get raped. Because, you know, vaginas are gross to look at, penises are totally fine.

Now that’s off my chest, I’d like to announce that we are currently in Amritsar. Where’s that, you say? I have no idea. Bruno said something about a golden temple and we like shiny things. Men here wear turbans and no shoes. When we arrive at 8 in the morning, it is raining and the streets are all muddy and gross. Poor barefoot guys. Of course, when the weather’s shit, there’s also only one autorickshaw driver around, and he wants to overcharge. We get to the hostel, a large apartment block full of Indians, which means it’s cheap and dirty. Oh well.

20140324-223153.jpg“I woke up like this”

Now, ever since our psychology teacher in High School told us about her trip to India, where she mentioned that McDonald’s is a vegetarian “restaurant”, I’ve wanted to go just for that. What is a vegetarian McDonald’s like? I’ve been harassing Sara, who is gluten, lactose and life intolerant, and finally she budged today. Finding this World famous place is a bit of a struggle though, since no tuk tuk driver knows what or where McDonald’s is – what? So we need to use two different drivers to get here, since the first one just drops us off by a mall-looking place, far away from everything. Finally, when we arrive, I have a large McVeggie meal and it is 27 kr. 27 kr! Denmark should reconsider the prices, but definitely keep the Big Tasty. Oh, how I miss having dead cow in my mouth.

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Getting back to our hostel is the same struggle; two different drivers that don’t recognise the name or address of the hostel, even though it’s super close to The Golden Temple. We rest after our trying day, and at 2.30, we drive to the Indian-Pakistana border for the Retreat Ceremony.

We share a car with two local couples, an old and a newlywed, and they are busy showing us pictures on their phones – Indians love to take hundreds of blurry pictures and then show them all to whoever is willing to look – and they ask to see my husband (we tell everyone we’re married), so I end up showing them a photo of the only guy that’s not Bruno on my phone: Michael from Jaisalmer on a pink scooter. Thanks Michael for sending me that picture, haha.

We get to the border, and that’s when we get seperated from Bruno. All the lines are according to gender, and there’s a seperate line for tourists – these two lines lead to the VIP section. We reunite in this section, standing on a big staircase, looking out on a long street where the two countries meet. On India’s side of the border, local women and children gather on the road and dance and run around with their flag. I recognise one of the songs as Jai Ho from the Slumdog Millionaire Soundtrack. After some dancing, guards do a funny walk towards the gate between the two countries, and then open it. People go absolutely crazy with excitement, and I’ll admit I do too. I find it very moving for some odd reason.

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Guy painted flag on my cheek and I took an awkward selfie

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On our way back to the hostel, the couples insist we stop by a temple. I follow them, just taking it all in, but hurry back to the car, as the driver tells us we only have a few minutes. We get back, and since Sara and I cannot eat Indian food, because it’s so spicy, we go to Domino’s (it’s close to the hostel, give us a break). This place is also vegetarian, just FIY. I have like two slices of pizza, so Sara gives my leftovers to a poor woman on the street as we head to The Golden Temple for the 9 o’clock ceremony. It starts raining again.

218920140324-223604.jpg2193-2Sneak peek of the inside

Now, this temple is so beautiful, especially at night. People are bathing in the water surrounding this golden wonder, kissing the ground around it, and handing out food for small offerings. Once we get inside, we are hit with the feeling of being very unwelcome, as people take a break from praying to look up and stare at us. Everything inside is golden and so beautiful. People are sitting down, praying, while men are playing instruments and singing in a circle filled with flowers and money. We have a quick look around and decide not to interrupt and invade their space anymore. We’ve lost the ever-curious Bruno along the way and have to walk the dark and narrow alleys to find the hostel by ourselves. It proves to be very challenging, mostly because we both want to set each other on fire.

Now, we are both kind of over India by now. Maybe it’s the food, maybe it’s that we feel unsafe and unwelcome too often, maybe it’s because we’re sober. It’s a beautiful, yet confusing country, and I am forever grateful that I got the opportunity to come here and have these experiences, because so few people actually get to do this. I am ready to move on though, but I still have things to see and do here, so I cannot listen to anymore complaining. I have been writing down some general thoughts and observations about India that I will share when we leave in one week. Until then, know that I miss and think about the ones that matter back home and all over the place.

Happy birthday, grandma.

The Pink City

This is a rather appropriate one, considering how pink my life is. I work and live in a pink palace and dye my hair pink every summer, so of course I had to visit The Pink City, Jaipur.

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Now, our first time on an Indian train is quite an interesting one. I find the system super confusing, and the train is old without windows – it’s just carved out holes in the wall with bars on them. India doesn’t seem to have trash cans anywhere, so people just throw stuff out of the windows at any given time, creating big piles of garbage everywhere for the cows to munch on. The three sleeper beds per wall on the train are just seats during the day.

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We get to sit with a nice Indian family, that is talking to us most of the time, and we share our snacks between each other. The beds are so narrow, that falling off is a serious concern for me, who of course gets to be on the very top one, being the shortest of us. Needless to say, it isn’t our best sleep, and we prefer our sleeperbusses.

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At 5 in the morning, we find ourselves walking around Jaipur looking for our hostel, while a drunk beggar is following us. When we find Vinayak, we are shown to the Wi-Fi lounge to sleep for a few hours until our room is ready. The hostel is very nice. The owner knows the names of all his guests, and he always stops to talk with everyone he sees. We certainly feel welcome and comfortable here. He arranges for an autorickshaw driver to take us around town, and we split our sightseeing into two days. Our driver, Sardar, is amazing, and we highly recommend him to anyone who’s in Jaipur! If you want to get a hold of him, his number is ‪09928050788‬.

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The first day, we each pay Sardar 250 rupees. He takes us to a tomb, through the bazars in the Pink City, and then to Amber Fort. That place is huuuge! We get lost a couple of times. We are also some of the most popular people at this major tourist attraction, as groups and groups and groups of Indians ask for pictures with us. One person will take the picture with someone’s phone or camera, and then they’ll switch photographer, until everyone has been behind the camera, and everyone has a picture on their phone.

1999-2IMG_00572035-2IMG_0138-2IMG_0179-220140323-101408.jpgGiving the locals a taste of their own medicine by also insisting on a 1000 pictures with them.

2050-2 Rare sighting of a trashcan!

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It’s a tiring experience walking around so much and taking it all in, but we continue to drive by Water Palace and look at it from afar for a few mintues. Not that impressed.

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Then it’s off to the Monkey Temple, which is older than your mom, so like 500 years old. The walk up the hill is hard enough, but then we find out we still have to walk down the hill to get to the temple – all while being attacked by monkeys! One of the bigger ones by the entrance sees my bag of peanuts – something they insist you buy! – and tugs at my scarf to get to my shoulders and steal my peanuts. I am about to shit bricks. Luckily, one of the young guys hanging around, offering to escort people to the temple without having to worry about monkeys, comes to my rescue. Sara and I are wearing our Punjabi dresses, and they’re not very practical when running away from monkeys.

The next day starts at the Tiger Fort, which is located on top of the steepest hill I’ve ever peed on. Yes, after the most exhausting walk with lots of breaks, Sara and I have to pee really bad, and there are no toilets in sight. So we pee at the gate to the Tiger Fort. Sorry.

The Fort is simple and yellow, and not really worth the walk to me. It does give a nice view over Jaipur, but so does the Monkey Temple.

20140323-101421.jpgThe view is pretty neat for a toilet, eh

IMG_0599IMG_0616Just look at that looong, curvy road we’re walking on! You can spot me and Sara being so far behind Bruno it’s not even funny. 

IMG_0629IMG_0652IMG_0661 This is disgusting and amazing. Of course, women are not allowed to use this, because vaginas are gross.

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We’re soldiers

We then go to the Albert Hall museum, where we basically go in just to pee (again. I drink lots of water, you guys). Sara and I do have a quick look around and see some mummies and weapons, but it isn’t really something we’re that interested in, so we head out again to wait for Bruno.

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Next stop is Hawa Mahal, but we only have 30 minutes to see it, because parking isn’t allowed. It’s stressing us out a bit, so we’re all in a pretty bad mood.

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We stop by a 35 meter tower which is like Round Tower in Copenhagen, but steeper. Here, we once again get to check out the view. Finally, Sardar drops us off at a textile shop called Ethnic Textile. Here, they explain a bit about colorblocks and natural colours made from safran, chili, indigo and spinach. The guys at the shop are super nice, they teach us some Hindi phrases, serve us masala chai and show us a million different fabrics. We end up buying bedsheets, cushions, pashmina scarves and clothes. Oops.

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Jaipur is pretty awesome, but not as pink as I thought. I’ll be back again someday, for sure!

The Golden City

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I have to be honest with you: my butt is very sore today. I had the best ride of my life yesterday. More about that in a butt, err, bit.

Right now, I’m sitting with a cold beer in my hand in Jaisalmer, The Golden City. It is basically a big sandcastle, that I can admire from the rooftop of our hostel, Mystic Jaisalmer. The atmosphere here is amazing. Our first night, after exploring the fort, we sat down with the owner, the great “Mullah”, who offered free curries and masala chai, while we talked about travelling, amongst other things. It was the most amazing conversation I’ve ever had, and I was left feeling so inspired and so in love with life.

Well, let’s rewind a little bit. On the bus, we meet Michael from Germany and Hagar from Israel. Sara and I share a sleeper right across from Bruno, who has this weird tinfoil-looking blanket with him, and we are just laughing at him. At one point, while he is out of the bus, we grab his iPhone and take a collection of the ugliest self-portraits you can imagine.

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Like this one. You’re welcome.

We get to our hostel and get a nice – shared – room. Bruno’s bed is basically the window pane with pillows, but he doesn’t mind. And we have a TV with Bollywood music videos playing all day long! This is pure luxury.

We decide to head out to see some sights and buy some clothes for a desert trip. On our way to the Fort, which is where the party’s at, we stumble upon a Bhang shop, and lots of places selling blankets like these:

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I don’t usually have that kind of problem, but will definitely keep Jaisalmer in mind if it happens.

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Bruno harrassing local women with his camera, as usual.

Once inside of the fort, we just walk around the narrow streets for ages, before visiting as many temples as we can before closing time, with an audio guide in hand.

SONY DSC  SONY DSCSome ladies selling jewelry by the entrance of the fort. They wanted me to be in their pitcure.

SONY DSCSONY DSCSONY DSCI really like this picture. Also, I think that is probably the best looking man in all of India.

SONY DSCSONY DSCSONY DSCSONY DSCSONY DSCSONY DSCSONY DSCCute kids in creepy masks following us around

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Inside one of the temples

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And here are some animal pictures, because Sara is obsessed:

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Sara makes sure all the stray dogs in India stay hydrated.

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Sleepy puppies!

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The following day, the hostel has arranged a camel safari in the Thar desert for us and Hagar, Michael, Campbell and Paolo. We drive out with a funny local guy who’s dancing while driving to the deserted village of Rajasthan for a quick look. Also, from now on I am shamelessly using some of the pictures, the other guys took.

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We then drive out to the desert, where we meet our “camels”, which are actually dromedaries, and our guides. We get on our camels – I’m really just going to continue calling them camels now – and as they stand up, we all freak out. It’s so scary. We start making our way across the desert, stumbling upon a gypsy village, and of course, lots of sand. The camels are quite painful to ride on. Mine is called Michael Jackson!

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After a few hours, we stop at our camp, where the camel guys serve us fried pasta(!), which is definitely an interesting snack to go with our Kingfisher beer. We then go for a walk in the desert, see the sunset and roll around in the sand dunes, which is so much fun.

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As dinnertime approaches, the camel guys have Sara and me sit by the fire and make chapati. We have them with curry-boiled vegetables and rice. So good!

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Earlier on, we all decided to arrange our beds into a circle, so we could all talk before going to sleep. As we are lying in our beds under the stars, we see a shooting star. Then several more. The moon is rising behind the dunes, so Michael, Hagar, Bruno and I go to check it out, and we end being gone for hours, just taking pictures like these, while bugs are crawling on us, because we are standing so still for pictures.

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In the very early morning, we are woken up by the sunrise. Everything’s just so bright out in the open. We decide to go to the sand dunes to check it out and it’s so beautiful.

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We then have breakfast and get back on our camels. We head back to the hostel to have a shower and book our train to Jaipur (we were really supposed to go to Jodhpur), and now it’s time for the train (1st time woo!)

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Thanks a lot, Mystic Jaisalmer!

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Holi cow, what a party!

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We didn’t know India could be this fun. It’s hard to put into words what celebrating Holi Festival is like, but I’ll give it a try.

We sort of came to Udaipur by accident. We wanted to book a bus ticket to Pushkar, but since they didn’t have any busses going, we chose The Venice of India instead.

We check into our hostel, which has what we call “The Porn Elevator” (which means it plays soft jazz music, and has the AC turned all the way up)

Sexy Wind
*soft jazz plays*

We then go out to get cheap clothes for Holi. I’m not about to ruin any of my outfits for this. In one of the stores, we meet Bruno from China, who is on the same mission. We all have the same list of items to get for tomorrow: flip flops, sunglasses, scarves to cover our heads, coloured powders, and coconut oil for skin and hair – especially a blonde like me needs it, if I don’t want rainbow hair. Now I kinda do.

We end up walking around the city together to buy all the items on our list, and while talking about our plans for this trip, we find out that we have similar plans from here. Perfect! We then go to several travel agents together, all with the same boring news: no busses going out on the 18th, which is the date we wanted to leave. Instead, we can either stay here for several days – or leave tomorrow, during Holi. We eventually decide that we will leave the next day. Stressful.

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Because of that, our sightseeing time is limited. Boo (not really).
We get some street food at a small stall, and it’s actually pretty delicious, even though I have no idea what it is. Bruno then takes us to the temple on city square, where the priest is blessing a foreign couple, which involves getting painted on the forehead, hanging flowers around their necks and praying to a decorated sculpture of Ganesh.

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At the temple, wearing the scarves we just bought

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By the city square

We go went to the rooftop restaurant of our hostel to have dinner and a beer before heading back to the city square for a big celebration called Holika Dahan. It is basically a burning of Holika, the Devil, and there is music, dancing and firecrackers too.

In the middle of city square, right outside of the temple, there is a huge stage with lights and balloons. On stage, a lady boy in belly dancing clothes is dancing and dragging tourists on stage to join “her”, and right then it becomes my goal to get up there and dance. We make our way through the crowd, and “she” soon notices us. Next thing we know, we join her and several other tourists for a dance, that ends up lasting about 30 minutes, with a few breaks. The locals especially seem to enjoy Yo Yo Honey Singh – Sunny Sunny Yaariyan
At one point, Sara and I are alone with the lady boy and a traditional Indian dancer, just doing our best Bollywood-esque dance. I do not want to get down from there. We are dancing in front of an entire city and they are loving it just as much as we do!

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The fire with the scene in the background

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Creepy panorama from the stage

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When we finally get down, we meet some nice young locals, around age 10-14, who fill us is on the tradition of lighting a big fire, and they are super interested in my camera. They ask Bruno to take some pictures of us with my camera, but they never change facial expression. They also give me a balloon. Such sweet boys. We then start dancing in the crowd in front of the stage, and a circle forms around us. It’s like an epic dance-off, except it’s just me and Sara dancing like lame-o’s. People are clapping and cheering on us, but then the guys in the crowd start pushing to get to us. Some of them even grope us a little bit, but luckily we have Bruno, the young boys and some nice locals to protect usby pushing the gropers away. Aw!

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The big fire in the center is about to be lit, so everyone put fire crackers around it. The line of fire crackers circle around the fire, then down to a smaller side street. Someone at the end of the line lights up the fire crackers, and it causes a domino effect, so essentially, the fire crackers light the fire. People gather in a big circle around the fire, and we are as close to the fire as we possibly can be.

Holika Dahan (1)

Holika Dahan (2)
I stole these pictures from The Udaipur Times

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I took this one myself, though

As the fire crackers go off, we pull back to avoid getting hit by them, and then shit hits the fan. Some local guys take this opportuinty to hold on to us so we can’t move, and then they start groping us aggressively. I am holding my camera, filming the fire, while kicking the people squeezing my breasts and buttocks and shoving hands down my pants, but there’s not much I can do – they’re too many. The little boys come to my rescue as the crowd approaches the fire to start the real party. After this, Sara and I feel terrible and fragile. The worries we’ve had have until now been for nothing, but tonight has really shown us that we have been right to be careful. At the same time it is also touching that other people aren’t just standing by and watching it happening, but actually trying to help you the best they can. We decide to go back to to the hostel, before people get even drunker and rowdier. Luckily, we have an amazing rooftop restaurant, from where we can see the city square, so Bruno comes with us for a few beers. That’s when we see the fireworks over City Palace, which has its own Holika Dahan celebration. It’s a beautiful full moon night.

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Next day, we soak ourselves in 27 rupees worth of coconut oil (that’s a whole jar), put on our cheap clothes and go outside. We are supposed to meet Bruno outside our hostel, but he doesn’t show up, so we head to the square by ourselves, a bit scared.

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My dusty tunic (it’s supposed to be white), the jar of oil, and the colours for the day

As we step out on the street, we are greeted by aggressive tourists with squirt guns, but as soon as we are in the square, locals approach us and gently touch our faces with the coloured powder, give us a hug and say “Happy Holi!” It is way more peaceful and beautiful than I had imagined. In a way, you feel so much love around you – everyone is the same colour, which is rainbow, and no one is a stranger. This sounds super lame, but it is way more than “just” throwing coloured powder on each other.

We hang out with a couple of tourists as we all throw and rub colours on people. It’s so much fun, but intense. Drums are playing, people are dancing, and police men are constantly watching us, spanking locals with a wooden stick if they get a bit inappropriate. I feel like that should make me feel safe, but instead I find it rather rude.

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The aftermath. It took an hour to barely scrub ourselves clean. My hair will probably never be blonde again!

Still, the men (I have barely seen any local women) get intoxicated, and little kids are grabbing our powders out of our bags, so after an hour and a half, we go back to the hostel and take a shower. It’s a big splash of colour in the bathroom, and of course the owner had already predicted that, so he shows up at our door and starts cleaning the bathroom. And he just won’t leave our room once he’s done, so we force him out by going to the rooftop restaurant ourselves.

Bruno shows up 30 minutes later. He overslept this morning, which is why he was nowhere to be seen, but it’s pretty obvious that he’s had a great time. The receptionists and his friends join us, and of course we get painted again.

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We have a few beers and try bhang, which is a paste made from marijuana, that is put into a sweet drink, like lassi or lemonade. The owner gets us some, but is still being creepy about it, and I suspect that he’s put way too much bhang in the drink, so I only have one sip. When everyone gets a bit drunk and creepy, we check out and head to the bus stop. On the way, we meet some people that recognize us from the night before when we were dancing on stage. We are officially celebrities.

So, that was our Holi experience. I would definitely do that again, because it is a beautiful and fun tradition. Now I’ve got to try and get the red out of my hair for the 30th time. I’m officially a strawberry blonde, ugh.

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Busride from Hell

A 19-hour bus drive. That’s not too bad.

Or so we thought.
After sitting on the pavement of a hot, busy street for what seems like ages, our bus stops a few hundred metres away from us. As we are entering the bus, we are greeted by a handful of local guys right by the driver’s seat, loudly exclaiming “nice” as they stare us down. Creeped out, we go to the back of the bus to get to our top sleeper. As we climb the ladder, the guys go absolutely nuts. They are laughing, yelling and pointing, just because they got to see us bend over to get into our sleeper. Great. At this point, I am 90 % sure we are going to get either robbed or raped at night. I am extremely terrified, so we try to keep our spirits high by singing children’s songs about bad busdrivers.

But it gets worse.
The sleeper is disgusting. It’s old, worn down and downright dirty. It has to be the smallest, most expensive double sleeper we have ever been in, with no AC either.

But it gets worse.
The bus barely drives anywhere for the first five hours. It will drive for 10-20 minutes, then stop for an hour, then drive for another 10 minutes, only to stop for several hours again. Not having AC on the bus is acceptable when you’re actually driving, as the wind cools you down, but being parking for hours directly in the sun with no curtains to block the warm rays is awful. The mattress and blankets under us gets soaked with our sweat. We are getting increasingly annoyed. And the bus keeps stopping. We realise that it doubles as a delivery service, as we stop just to unload packages, and at one point, all the guys are outside, trying to lift motorbikes to the roof and then attach them. This gives the bus a slight tilt, which is just great when your driver is a maniac behind the wheel.

But it gets worse.
The road is so bumpy, and our bus is driving so fast, that our bodies actually elevate and we bump our heads into the ceiling, even though we are lying straight down. It’s like a long rollercoaster ride that you never asked for.

But it gets worse.
We get our only toiletbreak 9 hours into the ride, but we both have to pee long before that. I blame the bumpy road punching our bladders. Sara is so desperate, she takes out a plastic bag and asks me if it’s OK if she pees right in our sleeper, into the bag. Of course I say no, the girl has no aim and the road is bumpy, and I don’t want to spend 15 hours on a pissed-soaked mattress.

But it gets worse.
At one point, I pull aside the curtain that seperates our sleeper with the rest of the bus, and to our surprise, the bus is completely full. So full, that people are sitting on the floor of the bus. We are the only tourists on the bus, and as soon as I pull aside the curtain, people notice us and we are now the most interesting thing to look at on this bus. I close my eyes, enjoying the breeze coming from the window, drying my sweat-soaked clothes a bit. All of the sudden, Sara starts screaming, and I really think it’s because she has to wet herself, since we had had no toilet breaks. No. Big spider crawling right next to me. I freak out completely, find a reciept and try to squish the son of a bitch, but it slips away and crawls out of the sleeper. Except it didn’t really. So 5 minutes later it is back for more, and I brutally kill it in front of several locals just staring at the only blonde person on the bus, who is letting out a victorious laugh.

King of the world

Our 19-hour bus ride turned into 22 hours, of course. We only had an apple and some crackers each all day, one pee break, and so many horny locals around us in this confined space. This was without a doubt a busride from Hell.