Ron Jeremy and Jethro the Bullrider

As soon as I got down from Girnar Hill I made arrangements to travel to Sasan Gir. People come here for one reason, to see lions. The biggest thing that sucks in Gujarat is how bad the government wants to fleece the tourists. To enter the park it cost $50 US, plus $10 for the permit, and another $10 for your camera. As a result a black market economy has developed with eager local guides ready to lead you into the park illegally, on foot (as opposed to in a jeep if done legitimately) for less rupees.

To help the local people I took advantage of these opportunities. My first trip was to a temple. Well, that's how we got into the park. It was really to go to a spot on the river where my guides were fairly certain that I would be able to photograph some crocodiles, another animal that lives in the jungle here. We took a local road through the park, didn't see any lions, but drove past some pretty cool village scenery.

It was well worth the trip even if I hadn't seen any crocs. This area also doesn't see much tourist traffic and so the people are amazingly friendly. It's also one of the least crowded spots I've seen in all of India, lending it a very laid back and somehow more "authentic" feel.

I haven't mentioned the fact that nothing too extraordinary has happened since I've returned to India. This was a major concern for me because I read the presence of normalcy here as an omen of impending apocalypse. But, before I left Delhi I figured out that the reason for this was the fact that I was spending so much time in South Delhi where life goes on kinda like it does back home, but that's a big 'kinda'. I felt it time to raise this issue because of what happened next.

I hired a local guide to lead me on foot, and unarmed, into the lions' main habitat. Perhaps I should mention that there aren't just one or two in the park. It's supposedly overcrowded with lions and they apparently wander outside the park limits frequently, with one even being spotted on the beaches several hours south of here. I was hoping that this year there has been enough cow to keep them full and not looking to sample me.

We first crossed through even more awesome village life and then waded through a river to reach the jungle's fringe. The whole time I'm complaining to myself about how sore my legs still are from those 10,000 steps, as if it would really matter if/when I was being dragged down by a half dozen lions. The trees were really hooking me up as well, being so low to the ground that whenever (every 3 seconds) I turned around to see if I was about to be lunch I would then almost lose an eye as I stumbled over stones or whatever. I was really enjoying the hike nonetheless.

After about two very intense hours of not seeing any lions we reached a point where the jungle kind of opened up to a large river valley. Here all the normal things were occurring, women washing the laundry, nearly naked men bathing, some herders sitting in the shade watching their cows, goats, and water buffalo. It was just chill and I really didn't even care that I had yet to see any lions.

So we continue walking on the river's edge, and I'm just taking it all in, appreciating every minute when I notice two butt naked boys playing with a few water buffalo out in the middle of the river. At first I thought, "that's kind of odd, but no, it really isn't" considering where I'm at. But then I realized that they weren't just playing, but that one was actually trying to mount the buffalo. And by mount, I mean Ron Jeremy, not Jethro the bullrider.

Contented with my second lion safari I then returned with my guide to his home where his sister-in-law prepared our lunch, as is customary in traditional Indian homes, unless the family can afford servants. All things considered, it was the best meal I've had in Gujarat, with an absolutely surreal atmosphere and good food.

The next day I went on two more jeep safaris and still did not see any lions. This led me to believe that all the lion photos they have back in the village area are actually mail ordered from Africa.

It also made me realize that the real story in Sasan Gir is with new star Ram Jeremy and his debut "Indian Rodeo 1: Your Buffalo and a Beedi".

Enlightened as such, I returned to the river to ask him some tough questions (and hopefully catch him in the act again) rather than waste any more time in the damn lion sanctuary. I mean, this story was so important to me that I decided to further delay my stay in Sasan Gir just to get the inside scoop. As me and my guide/translator (though he didn't speak any English, and hardly any Hindi either) headed down the river I decided to hone my interview skills. I asked questions to people we encountered along the way, such as, "Why does Jamal (apparently Ram Jeremy's birth name) like the buffalo?" "Is Jamal a good man?" and "Do you like the buffalo too?"

Since my Hindi is severely limited I couldn't go much deeper than that. And ultimately, to my extreme disappointment, Ram wasn't to be found.

[Pics from top to bottom, jeep trail in the main park, crocs sunning on a river bank, a shot from our suicidal journey into the park, and the guide's sister-in-law preparing lunch (notice the little wood fire stove in the corner...the floor functioned as a cutting board too!)

Junagadh and Girnar Hill

My next stop in Gujarat was Junagadh. I had several reasons for coming here. One, the ancient fort is supposed to have been first built by Chandragupta, the father of one of two very underappreciated (in the west) genius rulers in India, Asoka, a personal hero. Secondly, was the pilgrimage site of Girnar Hill where several important Jain and Hindu temples are located.

The fort was interesting, but I never did see anything that could without a doubt date to the period of Chandragupta. There were some cool baolis (step wells), though they were crap compared to the one I saw in Ahmedabad. And the Masjid (Mosque) was pretty cool too, being so old.

Perhaps the most noteworthy thing about Girnar Hill for the non-expert is the 10,000 stairs that must be climbed to reach the top. I set out early in the morning and had a pretty uneventful journey. It's a well maintained hiking trail with friendly pilgrims and ultra relaxed vendors who don't even ask you to look at their stuff. So far this has been characteristic of Gujarat. Hospitality, openness, good cheer, and tourist free. Sometimes it's been tough going, but it is definitely one of my favorite places in India, and especially with regards the people.

[Pics, from top to bottom, Mahabat Maqbara (mausoleum in Junagadh), a view from the top of Girnar Hill, and a pic of some pilgrims leaving the Temple of Neminath I believe (the most important Jain temple on the hill?).

Kutch

My first journey out of Delhi this time was to Gujarat. I had been looking forward to this trip for over a year and was not to be disappointed. After a brief stop in Ahmedabad I headed to Bhuj, the capital of Kutch. My guidebook says this place is famous for its textiles, but my goal was to visit the Great Rann and possibly spend a night or two kicking it with the nomadic tribe that lives out here. To facilitate this end I first obtained the necessary permit (a formality for entering a strategic military zone) and then caught a local bus to a village named Khavda.

I thought that this place was pretty well established on the tourist front, but once I arrived, and got laughed off the bus, I discovered that there were NO autos, and not even a rickshaw, they said "village hai". Realizing that this could just be a language barrier problem, I pushed my case to see the Rann by bus or auto but to no avail.

As I began to think about how bad life was going to suck without even a hotel around and the possibility of another bus not passing through the region until Sunday, (4 days away), I saw my friends from the bus that dropped me off. They inform me that they are returning to Bhuj that night, after going to this "maili" in Nasare or something like that. This village isn't even on the map, but since it was my only hope I had to take it.

We began plowing through the Kutch. Though it clearly looks like a desert apparently it isn't classified as such because during the monsoons the region floods and leaves only scattered islands. Interestingly a massive earthquake in 2002, I believe, actually altered the course of the great Indus river which used to run through here, leaving this wasteland.

I soon became plagued by delusions that I might be being kidnapped. I'm totally paranoid and have several adult male villagers, some apparently friendly, others hostile (even after a preemptory smile), conversing in Kutchi, the language of the region, chuckling here and there and staring at me while taking me out into the middle of one of the most barren and remote places I've ever seen. My irrational fear stemmed from the eerie deja vu, like I've seen this in the movies or something, of the situation, the fact that I had already admitted to being American, and that I was in an overwhelming Pakistani nationalist region. My fears were soon assuaged when several women boarded and were headed to the same festival.

I couldn't believe my luck. On the way we passed through a section of the Rann. Photography of the Rann is technically prohibited (according to the permit), but being off trail so far, and having gotten stuck in the sand I seized the opportunity for a few snaps.

This festival was everything probably any tourist in India could ask for. It was completely indigenous, I was the only outsider. The traditional fight of the sub-continent, Maili, was the event my driver and the conductor came for. They pulled the bus right up behind the other spectators and had me get on top to ensure that I had the best view possible. To make me even more comfortable they had a couple of guys hold a shawl behind us so that we would be protected from the already intense sun. The driver turned out to be a major player in these fights, and even went on to have his ass handed to him later in the day.

The surrounding scenery was the most special part for me. The tourist industry cannot reproduce such a thing. The beautifully gaudy traditional clothing of the women (some with drunk-buddy-style tattoos covering their arms, throats, and face), fantastic jewelry (the Nath being my favorite), harsh climate, and very friendly people. It was perfect and surpassed all of my previous trips to neighboring, and in many ways similar, Rajastan.

The villagers who had gathered for this annual event, Sunni Muslims, were celebrating Mahoram, a festival I haven't quite figured out the significance of yet.

[From top to bottom, these pics are of my driver and the conductor, a shot of the Rann from the vantage point of our being stuck in some deep sand, and two shots of the fights]

Back in Delhi

Being so eager to finally be returning to India, my 6hr flight from KL seemed to last as long as the 20hr flight from the states. The India action of course began as the people on my flight gathered. Nothing too crazy happened but it was enough to put a smile on my face. In fact I couldn't stop smiling. On the plane things began to pick up pace. You know, people standing up as the plane accelerates down the runway and stuff. This time however the strange behavior wasn't so unbelievable to me.

Once the plane had begun its decent I could see the scattered lighting of Delhi appear through the THICK winter smoke/haze that characterizes this place during the season. I could even smell the odor that accompanies this scene before we landed. It's not bad, kind of like a burning pile of not-too-toxic rubbish. To me it’s kind of pleasant. And notably, people were still using the toilet as the plane touched the ground.

My guidebook for Malaysia describes Chinatown in Kuala Lumpur as chaotic, I would love to hear the author's assessment of Delhi. I mean, once I was out of the baggage claim area I had three cabbies trying to lead me out the wrong exit while telling me that this was in fact another way I could go to get to the same place. Despite the fact that I told them I did not need a cab they stuck to me like glue. Crossing through the double doors that dump you in the line of fire one is greeted by maybe 500 glaring Indians and an endless symphony of auto horns.

The further I got from the airport the crazier shit became. Weaving in and out of traffic, dodging cows and pedestrians in poor yet normal visibility, we reached a section of road that was closed. Like any rational person in India we decided it was better to just move to one side and carefully proceed against traffic, on their side of the road. ...I tried to take note of everything that was going on around me but it was impossible.

I awoke the first morning to the sounds of auto horns, various mobile "-wallas", and blaring music and speeches from an unknown Mandir (temple). My hosts have gone out of their way to make sure I have everything I could ask for, but the transition has still provided a bit of a shock. I guess it’s difficult, for me at least, to remember how unpleasant a bucket shower is when standing in a room so cold that one ordinarily wears pants, jacket, and shoes.

Things sure haven't changed here, and yet it’s good to be back.

Nub Etiquette

So far so good. I made it to Malaysia and even managed to catch a few hours sleep on the plane.

As soon as I left the airport I made my way to Batu Caves in the northern part of Kuala Lumpur. What an interesting city. Pictures of the skyline led me to believe that the city was huge. I also expected it to be much more like Thailand, more rugged. It's actually ultra techy and not quite what you might expect this region to look like, merely "developing". That is to say that modern sky rises are flanked by restaurants serving up banana leaf thalis.

The caves are now the site of a couple Hindu temples dedicated to one of Shiva's sons whose name I don't recall. It's the beginning of the pilgrimage season here and I was expecting to see some "masochistic" displays as the bible said would be taking place. I must have been too early.

The jetlag hit and so I returned to the hostel and made arrangements to visit Taman Negara, a "primary jungle over 130 million years old". A 4 hour bus ride and 3 hr boat ride later I had reached the edge of the park. It looks like what one would imagine.

Some of you might like this. I found a guide taking a few people into the jungle on a short nighttime hike. As we walked along he pointed out some things here and there, including a huge scorpion which he then proceeded to prod with a stick he had, agitating it real well. While he had everyone's attention I decided to simulate a rabid tiger by throwing this nice sized log (which I had picked up earlier on the hike) back into the brush behind them. It scared the shit out of them all. That trick never gets old.

I think my favorite part of this journey was the village inhabited by nomadic Orang Asli, an indigenous tribe of Malaysia. Characteristic of my entire trip so far the people were very friendly and open. ...I've managed to accept the inevitability of tribes such as these encountering "modern" civilization and was paid many times over by learning how to build a fire out of next to nothing, make a dart gun, and poison arrows. Their method is so effective that monkeys fall from the tree three minutes after being hit. One dart will drop a monkey, but it takes four for a person. A member of the tribe demonstrated how the gun worked...he fired two shots and put them both in the head of a doll (within the surface area of about a dime, maybe smaller) 40 feet away.

Earlier in the day I was enjoying a discussion with one of the tour operators. Some of you may not be aware that Malaysia is an Islamic state...I'm not sure if this is formal or just an observation, I do know that hijabs (the head scarf that Muslim women often wear) are everywhere. Anyway, this guy thought that if the money dumped into the Iraq war had been spent on alternative fuel research there wouldn't have been such devastation (I think the worst is yet to come...). I thought this was a unique approach, maybe because I don't follow the news close enough. Have you guys heard this before? His solution does appear to assume the war is about oil, but isn't that more consistent than our administration's appeals to humanity?? I mean seriously.

This same dude hooked me up with some root he said would make my "apparatus" function like it did when I was 20; a natural viagra. If I get the courage to overcome my fear of inducing an actual problem, or if I get someone else to try it first, I'll report back.

Once back in KL I headed straight for my hostel room, where the man with flesh eating bacteria was hanging out. When he saw me he naturally began asking how the trip went. After chatting it up a bit with him I started for the room, and just then he extended his left, and only, fist of nubs. My nub etiquette is a bit rusty so, while trying my hardest not to show the pinnacle of fear that I was then experiencing, I shook "hands". What should I have done? Any ideas? I Immediately made for the restroom where I could scrub my hands like never before, but still had trouble sleeping that night...

Before leaving KL I wanted to visit a couple of notable Mosques, and of course make my way up the Petronas Towers. The towers are pretty cool. Keeping with much of the architectural trend of KL the towers exhibit some of the best contemporary Islamic flavors I've seen. The five tiers represent the five pillars of Islam. Anybody remember Qutb Minar? Believe it or not there is some resemblance.

Masjid Negara, one of the largest Mosques in the region, was beautiful but it was the conversation that I had with one of the staff that really made the trip. We spoke for hours about Islam. She said a number of things that you might find interesting. Like in a hadith (saying of the Prophet) the story of a man entering a Mosque and pissing on the floor is accompanied by the Prophet instructing his followers to not get angry but to instead just clean the mess because perhaps the guy just doesn't know what he's doing. Another thing she shared was how in Islam, and I question the universality of this interpretation, it is an honor for the woman if her husband takes a second, or more, wife. She explained that some men have stronger desires and that adultery was still sin, so if a man is inclined as such and can treat each wife equally then he can take more wives. It would be interesting to find such a family and speak with them one on one.

That said, I decided to set about enquiring as to how often such arrangements occur. All I did was ask the guy working the counter at the hostel. He looked at me like, "are you serious?", and replied that he knew many people who have more than one wife.

The next story worth sharing regards the shitbag who tried to force himself into my room as I slept. I was startled awake about midnight by my door about to be rattled off its hinges. At first I just yelled "hello?", and it stopped. But I was too shaken to just roll back over and go to sleep. Instead I got up, got dressed, set a couple of alarms, and waited with a full nalgeen bottle in hand, the only thing I had that could possibly function as a weapon. A bit later I hear some language I don't recognize outside my door and it seems like someone is trying a key on my door, or trying to pick the lock. This time I say, "You got the wrong room." in a voice meant to convey impending doom on those fools. The shit stopped and I was finally able to fall back asleep.

That morning I woke early and visited a Mosque somehow not even mentioned in my guidebook. It's a bit outside of town but nonetheless worth the trip. I believe it was built by the current Sultan of that particular state. For some reason I had assumed that the "Sultan" designation was no more.

On my way out of town I dropped by Malaysia's "new city" as I heard it referred to. The place is called Putrajaya and I think its basically the administrative center of Malaysia. It houses the brand new office of the Prime Minister, and another spectacular Mosque. The entire surrounding area was brand spanking new and is the most amazing development I have seen in a long time. Everything from the architecture to the landscaping was fantastic.

Let me conclude this section with a twisted story. I was talking to the other guy working at the hostel and referred to Nubs (in order to find out if his condition was contagious) by making a "slicing" motion on the upper part of my arm. Well, later, this other dude did the same thing when he wanted to tell me that Nubs could help me out with tickets or whatever. We got a laugh out of it...maybe you had to be there.