Welcome to Port-Nag

The week after I got home from India, Ryota and I flew to Nagasaki for a three day weekend. Ryota couldn’t take time off work to come along with me to India, but even if he had been able to, he later confessed that he had no desire to go (his loss!).

Nagasaki is on the island of Kyushuu, the southernmost main island (Okinawa being further south). It was my first time to Kyushuu, and it’s an island known for rugged landscapes, fierce people, and really delicious food.

The city of Nagasaki itself has its own unique history. It was one of the first places in Japan allowed contact with the Western world. It also was the target of an atomic bomb at the close of World War II. Hiroshima is more famous for being bombed, and indeed most of Hiroshima’s tourism is centered around that fact.

Nagasaki, on the other hand, seems untouched. I thought it looked rather like a cross between San Diego and San Francisco, to be honest. There were rolling steep hills, but the bay was calm and the water looked inviting-even in the middle of winter.

Technically, we came to this city because I was interested in visiting nearby Mt. Unzen, which is famous for hot springs.

We did a little bit of sightseeing around the city- mostly the harbor, a shrine  for our New Year’s visit, and a hilltop dedicated to 26 martyred Christians- then set out for Unzen. The countryside was stunning and made me fiercely homesick for the ocean. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not meant to live farther than an hour from the beach!

Mt. Unzen was freezing cold when we got off our bus. Oh, and the entire place smelled like  rotten eggs- which made me happy because it meant the “hot springs” were actual hot springs and not heated water pumped up from an aquifer. However, as we walked around the calderas I was a bit disappointed; pipes criss-crossed the hills, pumping water directly into the resort hotels located off the main street. According to photos I saw in one lobby, a hundred years ago the area was covered in actual pools that were used for recreation (and hotter ones were used for fun things like boiling criminals alive!).

Ryota and I soaked at a hotel hot spring for a few hours then headed back to Nagasaki. We ate chanpon- a noodle and veggie dish Nagasaki is famous for, then went home the next morning. It was a really short trip, but we could still relax! 

Chanpon!

Hooray for crossing something off from my J-Town Bucket List!

Kali's Revenge

Leg Five: The Long Journey Home

 

Remember what I said about trains running on Delhi Time? Well, our limits were pushed when it came time to get back to Delhi. From the Mowgli Resort we crammed 7 people and their luggage into a jeep built for 5 people and no luggage and the drove the 45 minutes to the station. The roads were bumpy. My arms were numb. We managed to stay sane by playing the “Purdy White Things” game, which started as a joke making fun of the reactions white tourists have when they catch each other’s eyes in India. From there it developed into bashing British colonialist stereotypes, then moved onto rednecks punctuated with Conehead-esque laughs. It was hilarious, but I think you had to have been there to fully appreciate how utterly ridiculous we were.

The only cool thing about this train station

  Anyway, we arrived at the station to find out our train was going to be an hour late. In India that’s code for ‘The train will arrive whenever it feels like it’. Two hours later, the train pulled into the station and we leaped on. We had a time kicking out some free-riders who were sleeping in our bunks until the conductor showed up. Rather than booting them off the train, as I would have been happy to do considering their attitudes were awful, he made them work for their trip. We would see the same guy handing out pillows, blankets and other amenities throughout the duration of the ride.

 

After getting settled, we were exhausted and ready to sleep. That’s when the horror began.

 

I saw something scurry across the wall from the corner of my eye. Michelle started yelping and I almost had a panic attack right there. I leaned over from the top bunk and counted. I stopped counting at 9, even though I hadn’t numbered them all.

 

Cockroaches. Our cabin and probably the entire train were infested.

Not taken on the train, but this was basically my face for the next 17 hours.

  After my awful experience living in horrendous Leo Palace apartments, I no longer have any fear toward spiders.

 

Roaches, on the other hand, make me cry hysterically almost instantly.

 

Meagan donned a headlamp, people on lower bunks clawed their way higher, I fought back tears, we armed ourselves with shoes, looked at Judy with jealousy and pity (she was conked out from stomach medication), and decided not to turn off the lights at all. It was a long night. We survived, but I would rather have had what I learned was lurking on the previous train: rats.

 

Someone mused about what a third train might offer and we unanimously decided: bed bugs.

Waiting out our time in purgatory

  Once we arrived in Delhi (17 hours later), our BAMF driver Mr. Singh protected us from a horde of people waiting on the platform to beg, hawk and offer taxi rides. There was some last minute shopping and sightseeing, then some of us were off to fly home while the rest returned to the hotel.

 

New Year’s Eve was spent in the hotel room watching Inception and drinking Rum and Coke. Those of us who hadn’t left already were simply too exhausted to go out. And then there were the ‘can’t breathe this toxic air’ and ‘We have no idea where the party is at’ issues. You know what, it was for the best. You know why?

Happy 2012!

  New Year’s Day, the day I had two 6 hour flights ahead of me, I woke up with massive stomach issues. My digestive system hit the “abandon ship” button and my body readily complied.

 

Vomit in the hotel. Vomit on the road. Vomit in the airport. Vomit in the plane. What a great final gift from India, right?

 

I was utterly terrified that Japan would quarantine me for being sick, so I stopped in at both the Delhi and Kuala Lumpur medical rooms. I had fluids, anti-emetics, and a whole slew of other pills but they didn’t help. Luckily, the first flight was not full and I managed to score a row of 3 seats and sleep through the worst of it.

 

I felt like a steamrolled watermelon by the time we got to Malaysia, and my friend was worried about me so we had a wheelchair cart my sick bum across the airport. The flight to Japan was booked full, but by that point I had cleared out whatever evil bacteria was in my body.

Hey mom! You should have seen the other girl....

  After what seemed like an eternity, I finally reached Japan and they-Thank goodness!- didn’t quarantine me. Miss Maya rode with me all the way to Ryouta’s house in Kanagawa just to make sure I would be OK. His mom immediately took my dirty clothes and washed the India off of them after I got home and passed out.

 

A week later and my tummy is a little dodgy, but I’ve at least gotten most of my appetite back! It could have been worse; I could have gotten sick the first day instead of the last morning. Overall, the trip was rad and I don’t regret going. Would I go again? Hmmm, only time will tell.

Smashing! Let me wiggle my moustache and adjust my monocle

Leg Four: Tigerland

 

I have always loved tigers. Actually I have always loved animals. I remember my first favorite animal being the elephant; I probably drove my parents crazy by re-watching Dumbo and Babar when I was little. After that, I switched to the horse, which has stubbornly remained in my heart. At the same time however, I think tigers are absolutely breathtaking.

 

Hm, maybe it’s because people who could never say my name correctly just pegged me with the nickname ‘Tiger’? Who knows?

 

Anyway, one of the main reasons I became dead set on doing a tour in India was because of the tigers. It saddens me to think that they might be extinct in the wild during my lifetime, and I decided that trying to see one would be my personal goal for this trip.

 

Taking a train to Bandhavgargh National Park, on the other hand, was memorable in its own way.

Cabin fever!

 Our first overnight train was spent in blissful ignorance. Trains run on ‘Delhi Time’, meaning they are either exactly on time or, as is more often the case, running hours late. The train from Agra was 50 minutes late, and we defended our luggage from questionable wet spots on the platform, hawking salesmen and grabby beggar children wagon train style- by shoving it all in a circle blocked by our bodies.

 

We were picked up at 5 am from the train station and driven to the Mowgli Resort. It was a breath of fresh air being out the city- literally! I could breathe without hacking up lung and my chest didn’t hurt anymore.

  

Our resort was out in the middle of nowhere, which was a welcome relief at first. We relaxed the first day and took a few walks around. It was great not being stared at nor having to worry about getting pick-pocketed. There were many ridiculous and often inappropriate games we thought up to pass the time.

 

The next morning dawned bright and early. We wrapped ourselves in some blankets, clamored into a jeep and took off for the forest. Immediately upon entering it we saw a rare Barking Deer, common deer, wild boars, peacocks, jackals and monkeys.

But our eyes were still scanning the brush for any sign of the king of the beasts. The only thing we had seen so far was a paw print in the sand.

Paw prints in the sand

  Just as we were giving up hope, we rounded a corner and saw a group of jeeps at a standstill. Tourists were hanging over the edges and contorting themselves while pointing their cameras off into the grass.

 

As we pulled up, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust, and then I saw him. His stripes were doing their work because he was practically hidden, lying under a low growing tree. He was looking in the direction of the commotion calmly, apparently used to the paparazzi treatment. Though my camera wasn’t able to catch his face as easily as my eyes could, he was wearing this look that seemed to say, “Yeah? So what are you going to do?”. If you’ve ever owned a snobby housecat, you know this look. Now imagine it several hundred pounds bigger.

 

Eventually the tiger stood up and wandered back into the forest. I was so ecstatic. I had actually seen a live tiger! In the wild! In India!

Hide and seek with the tiger

Hide and seek with the tiger, Part II

  As we were driving away, we passed our rival, Charles. I should call him “Gary Oak” because that’s what he was like to the 6 of us. We met by chance on the train to the park and he told us all about how he’d gone on safari in South Africa. Honestly, I am sure that he is a swell guy once you get to know him, but he was a bit too smarmy for us NOT to tease him a little bit about it.

 

The tiger we saw that morning was the only one we saw. I would be lying if I said I was disappointed, yet I keep reminding myself how lucky we all were. Some people were at the resort for days without seeing a single one.

 

So yes, all is well that ends well.

 

Oh wait, there is that bit about the hellish train ride back to Delhi. To be continued…

I wish my camera had a 'Pollution' setting

Leg Three: The Road to Agra and the Glory of the Taj Mahal

 

We did a lot of driving on this trip. Sometimes it felt like forever, but, at the same time, we were able to see more of the countryside. Honestly, even though it was winter, I wasn’t expecting the arid climate that greeted us. I guess I’ve seen and read too many romanticized accounts of India (I’m looking at you, live action Jungle Book) and was under the impression that the entire continent, with the exception of the base of the Himalayas, was steamy jungle.

We made several stops along the road to Agra. The first was to Chand Baori. This was a random sidetrack, but it was nice to stretch our legs.

In the tiny town, we meandered around the ruins of a Hindu temple called Harshat Mata. It had been built around the 9^th century, but after Muslim leaders came to power in that area of India, the temple was sacked and the faces of most of the animals and humans were destroyed (per Muslim doctrine which prohibits their depiction).

Across a courtyard and a metal swing gate was the abandoned home of the old royals (supposedly). It wasn’t a palace, and it wasn’t a castle. In fact, it kind of reminded me of The Treasure of Petra in Jordan. Oh yeah, except for the enormous step-well located right in front of it.



Our next stop was Fatehpur Sikir, the city of King Akbar the Great (Not General Akbar of Star Wars fame). The complex is built of stunning red sandstone, but sadly, it was abandoned 14 years after completion due to water shortages. Our guide for this area was phenomenal, and impressed us all by being able to name the last 10 Prime Ministers of Japan. Hooray for higher learning!

As night fell, I started having trouble breathing and was constantly coughing. The closer we got to Agra, the more irritated my throat and chest became. Eventually, I ended up wrapping my bandana around my face and doing my best thug/old west bandit impression.

Meagan protecting me from the 'fog' would make a great apocalypse poster

When we got to Agra, our hearts sank. The place was filthy. Everything was shrouded in ‘fog’- the nice term Indians give to the combination of smog, smoke and dust filling the air. Even the inside of our hotel was hazy and faintly smelled like a forest fire. Luckily, one girl had an inhaler, so I didn’t die. Which was especially a good thing because I would have been very angry and definitely would have come back to haunt everyone in Agra had I died before seeing this:

I don’t need to describe the Taj, it’s been done. Suffice to say, it was breathtaking. The design, the craftsmanship, the semi-precious stones hand carved and glued into the surface- I loved every bit of it. Well, except the visibility, which we were told is the worst in the winter. I hear the summer is gorgeous, but you go right on ahead and enjoy those 122 degree days. Thanks.

From the Taj Mahal we passed the next few hours visiting a workshop run by the same families whose ancestors completed the work on the monument. I swear, my wallet opened and spent the money inside of it of its own accord!

Semi-precious stone inlay at the Taj Mahal. Not what I bought.

The next stop on our trip: Bandhavgarh National Park, AKA Tigerland!

130 Camels to Jaipur

Second Leg: India-Delhi and Jaipur

 

I was not looking forward to flying over the Indian Ocean. Flights over water terrify me, yet I do them often enough you’d think I’d get over it.

 

The flight from Kuala Lumpur to Delhi was something like 6 hours, but it felt much shorter because I sat next to a wonderful woman. Her name was Emma, and she is married to an Indian citizen, has spent a lot of time in India, and thus was able to give me some great tips. We eventually moved on to swapping travel stories and I was left with an even greater thirst to travel (Sneak peak: I’m already thinking about my next adventure!). However, based on what she told me, she has a pretty cushy life (husband is the son of a diplomat, now a businessman, private schools in Sweden growing up, she’s a marketing advisor, yadda yadda yadda), so it’s going to be hard to catch up. However, I have youth on my side.

 

Anyway, first impressions of Delhi were: Good lord this place is foggy. What’s that you say? Indeed, it does smell like a campground. Oh, you mean that’s smoke? Not from a fire but from multiple fires? Fires people light on the streets to keep them warm? Garbage fires? Oh, excellent! Jolly good!

 

After waiting for Ron and Meagan to arrive, we piled into the car and headed into the city. Our driver, Mr. Singh, casually said, ‘’ Indian drivers need 3 things: Good brakes, good horn, and good luck’’.

 

He wasn’t kidding. There are no rules to driving in India. Sudden lane merging, passing, going against traffic, going with traffic, using blinkers, using horns, driving on the sidewalk, crossing 6 lanes of traffic because you missed your turn, splitting lanes- it’s all optional and practically required to drive like a lunatic. By the time we reached the hotel I was trying not to lose my dinner.



Counting stacks

We had a mad counting spree with our strange new monopoly money, paid off our tour, and then went to bed.

 

The next morning, we began our drive to Jaipur. There were many ‘Horrified Teigan Faces’ made, we saw multiple vehicles with people hanging onto the runners while driving at freeway speeds, nearly crashed into herds of camels/cows/men/children/women/cars, and eventually counted the distance down to Jaipur in the local equivalent: camels (it’s approximately 130 camels from Delhi to Jaipur). Many laughs were had and Mr. Singh probably thought we were insane for shrieking every time we saw a camel.

 

Jaipur was cleaner, I could breathe, and the city was lovely. Our doorman, nicknamed Beardy Moustachey, was a sweet fellow who called me Madame like the married Frenchwoman I am not. How did this even start, considering India was a British colony? I digress.

 

Christmas morning dawned early, with someone pounding on the door. Turns out, Santa even visits when you are away on holiday!

   After breakfast we drove to the Amer Fort. I am not going to give detailed history lessons this time, so if you are interested in more detail I suggest you see what Dr. Google has to say.　Suffice to say, it was the palace of the Rajput Maharajas and was built about 500 years ago. We debated riding elephants to the summit, had bindi placed on our foreheads after visiting a temple, avoided beggars and hawkers, tried on saree while viewing traditional textile making, took an elephant ride on the outskirts of the city, went to the astronomical instrument palace of Jantar Mantar where several Indians randomly asked to take photos with me and I came to the conclusion that Indian schoolgirls are just as giggly and excitable as their Japanese counterparts.

The view from Amer Fort

I'm kinda 'saree' I didn't buy one





The best part of the day was made when our Tour Guide, also named Mr. Singh, took us to his house. We had expressed interest in henna and kite flying, and we just assumed he was taking us to another touristy spot.

He introduced us to his wife, his brothers, his sister in law and his adorable children. His wife was absolutely stunning, spoke no English, and made the most delicious masala tea I drank in all of India. Ron attempted a kite flying battle with the boys while us ladies had henna drawn on by his daughter and sister in law.

Being invited into his home spur of the moment was such a wonderful experience. It was definitely the least ‘touristy’ thing we did, and was eye-opening simply sharing a few hours the way most Indians live their lives normally.

Painted and pretty

Definitely a great Christmas.

Save the prime minister!

I just got back from a whirlwind tour of (part of) Malaysia and India. While the trip was amazing and left me with many incredible laughs and memories, I am so thankful to be back in a clean, organized and technologically sound country. There is a lot to talk about so I will break this blog into parts per city.

 

Ready? Adventure time!

 

First Leg: Malaysia

 

My friend Maya and I found ourselves at Narita Airport the morning of the 22^nd. After some high tension and stress regarding one of our friends and her visa arriving extremely late, we were confident everyone would meet up safely in Delhi in a matter of hours.

 

Maya and I had planned a layover in Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia for a number of reasons. Foremost was price. No matter how hard I searched, there were no direct flights that fell on the days I was looking for. Second was time. I’m sorry, but I didn’t much fancy a 9+ hour layover in China without being allowed to leave the airport.

Third, by going to Malaysia and leaving a day earlier than planned, I could break the trip in half and see a bit of a new place.

 

First impressions of Malaysia consisted mostly of, ‘’Holy cow! It’s so green! And warm! And humid! And this train to the city is great! And…!’’. Long story short, I could see myself going back and exploring more. The added bonus is that US citizens don’t need to shell out big bucks for a visa!

 

After checking in to our hostel, we meandered, ate dinner, avoided the foul smelling durian fruits (strangely named ‘King of Fruits’ but I refuse to touch it), and went on a paparazzi adventure trying to snap a shot of the Petronas Towers. Eventually, we were successful!

Sparkly

  The next day, we had the morning and early afternoon to kill, so we decided to go to the KL Bird Park, the world’s largest covered aviary. Inside was amazing. The birds are, for the most part, given complete freedom and can fly around, eat, avoid humans and poop all over them to their hearts content. It was a really great way to spend the day!

Birdies

Hey Mr. Peacock!

    Afterwards, we grabbed some lunch, passed by a throng of people heading to the National Mosque for lunchtime prayers. Which reminds me, I was really impressed and struck by just the small slice of life I witnessed.

 

While many Malaysians are Muslim, many are not. At the airport there were a lot of female security officers. The Muslim women had their hair wrapped up beneath their uniform berets. I often saw them walking directly alongside non-Muslims (or perhaps more lax ones who didn’t care about covering their hair). I saw them holding similar positions to men. I saw them interacting with people who dressed identically to them, and interacting with people who obviously were very different. It was refreshing. It was something I wished I could share with every person who had ever lumped the religion into one awful breadbasket.

 

Malaysia sits at a crossroads in South East Asia. It bears marked influences from China, Indonesia, Thailand and countries even farther west. I was sad to go, but, like I said, I have a feeling I will be back.

End of the Year Party

Bonenkai.

 

Basically, it means ‘End of the Year’ party. I was kindly invited to 2 different parties from my different schools, but unfortunately they were on the same day. Since my base school had invited me several weeks before, I went with them.

 

The party was held in a really nice restaurant that looked like it popped right out of the pre-war Showa era. The rooms were tatami mats, there was thick carpeting throughout, the walls were Spartan in true old-school fashion, and the wood of the interior and exterior was lacquered so dark it was almost black.

 

Seating was by random choice out of a hat. At first, I was a little disappointed with my placement since I was practically in the Siberia of teachers I didn’t know. Even with my decent Japanese it was sometimes like pulling teeth trying to get a conversation going. In hindsight though, I now have a standing invitation to visit the calligraphy teacher whenever I wish.

 

Dinner was traditional Japanese food- which meant I couldn’t identify most of it, even after a cautionary nibble. All in all, it was tasty.

"Old Man Troupe" singing 'Hey Jude'

   The fun began after everyone had eaten. The teachers were all divided up into groups, with each group having to put on a small performance or skit of some sort. There was karaoke, a capella, singing, dance routines, a magic show and the crème de le crème- Team English (hint hint) and their bilingual rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

In English, Rudolph is about celebrating uniqueness. In Japanese, it's about being happy finally being useful. Cultural differences, much?

  After the official party, a group of us continued on to the Ni-ji-kai (Second Party), which was karaoke. Everyone had a blast and I was incredibly impressed with O-sensei’s liveliness. She still has the Waseda party spirit! 

This photo sums up the nights revelry about right

   The night ended with a brief visit to the local standing bar, accompanied by the awesome I-sensei. We chatted with Yousuke and bar owner Kazu before turning in for the night.

 

Ah, I love Iwatsuki High School.