Indian Samurai इंडियन सामुराई

“India is like hotel California, you can check out anytime you want but you can never leave.”

Holy Cow! An Indian adventure, Sarah MaccDonald

“India is rather like a wave – resist it and you will be knocked over, but throw yourself in and you will come out the other side.”

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

“Do you think anything could prepare you to India? It is like a giant onion. Every layer you peel gives way to new elements that you know nothing about.”

East of the Sun, Julia Gregson

 Big flashback every time I am on large road in India and I see a horse nicely getting his way through the traffic:

 Then obviously a horse is not SO surprising when you see every day cows, buffaloes pulling a carriage, camels … And on top of it, they are the horses of marriage; it is not like people really travel on horses.

 But it systematically reminds me this scene from the movie The Visitors:

 India, a bit of the Middle Ages and a bit of the 21^st century, it is quite accurate isn’t it?

You know you have been living in India for a very long time when... 

You insist your colleague organise yoga classes in the office.  

You go to the yoga class on a Friday evening – not just any Friday, it is a closing day (for my sales). But you go anyway because you need to do a little exercise and to relax: in the past two days, despite the jet lag and a huge work load inherited from a week of business travelling in Europe, you have had to spend 8 hours in the car to encourage your teams in the warehouse located in the freaking suburbs.  

But today is a closing day and you have a professional conscience so you keep your blackberry within reach. 

So you know that you have been living for a very long time in India when at 7 pm on a Friday evening you are on all fours on your office floor (in the "cow" position for yogics), the phone stuck to your ear and you negotiate a last minute promotion (and this slightly edgy bargaining continues in other exotic positions...).

The next morning, on the advice of the guy at the hotel, we decide to go to Jagannath temple at 5 in the morning, the “best time” according to him. We are excited: it is an important place of pilgrimage, apparently a site that Hindus should visit at least once in their life!

How surprised we are when we discover, at the entry number one, that only Hindus are authorized to enter!! But how??? It was written nowhere on the site of tourism of Orissa!!

I jabber a bit of Hindi and the guard sends me to the “identification office”.

In the most total chaos of pilgrims, cows etc, we turn around this immense temple, with guys following us all along.

At the last entry, it seems that we will be able to enter. A so-called priest with a loincloth and only one tooth begins to talk to us. I leave shoes, camera and cellphone (all of this is prohibited) to my friends and go to try my luck with these guards.Nothingl. When I go back to my friends, I am a bit irritated (I respect; but I would have found nice if the guy at the hotel or the rickshaw had informed me; it is 5 in the morning for the love of God!!). The priest is still there pestering them. He wants to sell offerings for the God we won’t be able to see. It pisses me off!! I ask him to leave us. The fellow understands that his pathetic strategy to get money from us has failed and gets upset: “You are Christians? HERETICS!! Go back to your country. ”

Mmmmhhhhh. Mmmmmhhhhhhh. And YOU WANT MY FIST ON YOUR FACE @fod,ezi#[|éfr€ioz@] ?? (I did not say that, it is not very politically correct, and he was old and skinny, and above all I could not the words, but it gives an idea of the atmosphere on that early morning with people annoying tourists at any hour…)

It reminds me of the situation Christian-Hindus is tended a little in Orissa, and apparently, this is not a joke.

But not regrets, it was awesome to see all the pilgrims and the fishermen when we got back to the beach.

This time, the taxi to the airport was there one hour early. The boy comes to seek me on the beach for me to announce it and I indicate to him that I want to take my breakfast first. He asks me what I want. Just toasts. 30 minutes later, we are in the restaurant room. And 20 minutes later, nothing. Nothing at all. I call the boy, inquire where the toasts are. He looks at me with empty eyes and asks “what toasts?”. Holy cow…

Puri, Orissa - Nov 2011

Retrospectively, first words of Lonely Planet on Orissa: it is very laid-back.

Ah! That it is the least you can say!! No stress there…

I learned my lesson: to avoid bad surprises next time, I will take the Lonely Planet, no matter its weight, and I will know that the following temples are for Hindus only:

·         Jagannath Temple of Puri (Orissa) and Lingaraja in Bhubaneshwar (Orissa)

·         Golden Temple of Vishwanath in Varanasi (Uttar Pradesh)

·         Temple of Guruvayoor in Guruvayoor (Kerala)

·         Temple of Trimbakeshwar close to Nashik (Maharashtra)

·         Temple of Balaji in Tirupati (Andhra Pradesh) – but apparently people from abroad have already entered there.

Apparently an American tourist succeeded in melting down in the crowd and entering the temple in 2010. She was arrested and she must have had a good time!! (Source: http://www.eturbonews.com/20247/us-tourist-arrested-india-entering-jagannath-temple)

More details on tourism in Orissa, Puri area: here 

I have often heard that travelers form their first impression of the visiting country by her airport. I personally form it from her taxi drivers. For instance, you quickly get that Germans and Swiss Germans are a little tight-ass, that you don’t get to mess around with the baby seat – the rule is the rule and they don’t care that the little one cries to death after traveling for 15 hours. In this spirit, Italy felt just like home: not only did the airport taxi driver did not even mention the baby car seat (just like all the other drivers by the way) but also he shoved all the bags in the car, and the five adults including Papi at the back with Baby Samurai on his lap and the stroller falling on his head. And then he drove just like an Indian, the phone in one hand, taking tight turns. It was such a soft landing for us!

In many aspects, Italians are the ‘Indians of Europe’ or ‘white Indians’. The way they are attached to their mother and family – even though here I am just talking about their reputation, I didn’t experience it myself – seems quite similar. Quite easy going, warm and relaxed with the rules people. And the crowd in the streets of Florence, it was as bad as Old Delhi, simply suffocating! I don’t have any other generality to share about Italians, except that (almost) all we met were very friendly!

We just had one incident: as I was parking, my neighbour thought I scratched his car while I just left some dust and possibly slightly scratched the varnish but really I don't see how I was very careful and my favorite Indian was watching from outside). He was yelling “va fan culo” and other insults, becoming red-faced. My favorite Indian was remaining very calm (luckily he didn't understand Italian) and if I had not been so worried watching the reactions of my husband, I would have gone and slapped this angry fellow myself! When we left, leaving him disappointed by our very calm attitude, what do you think he did? Bah he scratched our vehicle. Brrrravo!

I loved the landscapes of Tuscany, and its steaks and ice-creams and pasta. I loved the Chianti, Montepulciano and Brunello (local wines) and hated its bread which is made without salt (an aberration).

We had decided to take it easy and spend the week moving only in Tuscany. We visited a few medieval villages that abound in the region – and they are either dead (nobody except one or two oldies on a bench) or packed with tourists – but especially at night, when we had to go hunt for food. This will definitely leave a special taste to the memory of our holidays! And then we mostly got lost on dirt roads.

We would decide at the last minute about where to sleep (which would not have worked well in full season I think) and would usually end up in an Agriturismo. Beware, an Agriturismo it is not as romantic as it may sound, unlike what I had imagined. I had indeed a very picturesque view of this form of accommodation, with beautifully renovated farm buildings and where the guests can milk the cows and pick tomatoes. Well it is nothing like that! If the buildings are generally quite charming, all these are working farms. The owners are very busy during the day, and not necessarily inclined to entertain the city dweller who wants to play farmer for a day. And if it is one of these farms who use tractors, well there will be noise – you can bid farewell to the nap under the olive trees to the sound of silence! And in those where they keep animals (and we’ve not seen many in Tuscany where they are more about wine and olive oil production), well you’re not in the zoo. So better be aware.

We first spent a few days in the vineyards where my favorite Agriturismo was the 7 Camici, where you can watch the sunset over the vineyards from your natural hot pool):

We then landed in the South, near Grosseto, in a farmhouse with a huge plot (Tenuta San Carlo) where we could see cows, ducks and rabbits, climb discreetly on the parked tractors and ride a bike to the beach, play with the dog and our Baby Samurai was happy. So we stayed there for three nights.

And to end our trip on a high note, I booked (at the last minute and it was Easter weekend) in a Florence hotel near the airport, which seduced me with his baroque style – I found it sad to spend the last night in Italy in a Novotel or an Airbnb: the Villa Villoresi. It takes some time to get used to the very ancient house, its heavy paintings, its 80-year-old owner-manager from another time, and the ‘Butler’ who carries the suitcases in a blue jacket and serves dinner in a gray one. Our room was a tiny not-so-comfortable closet but we had been warned. In short this place is a little creepy but you can start warming up to it after 2 glasses of Chianti!

When I moved back to Mumbai in January I was dead on doing a road trip from Delhi with my best friend, like Thelma and Louise and all! 

Well, it would have been an I20 instead of a convertible and Madhya Pradesh instead of the American far-west in the background. Maybe not as glamorous but you do with what you have right?! Thelma and Louise IndianSamourai-style! 

Because of lack of time, unavaibility of Thelma, cold winter, cat to transport, bad states of the roads and all my Indian friends recommending against my road trip, I finally flew to Mumbai… 

But I did more or less the planned itinerary with my parents this summer and I have zero regret to have cancelled the road trip! My car would probably be good for a toss, and my back as well. That is if we had made it at all… 

5 hours to travel 250 kilometers from Gwalior to Orchha. On the good road. The bad road is only 125 kilometers but apparently too bad to be travelled. I can’t even imagine what the bad road is like after travelling the good road. The first part is full of holes which are not there in the second part (the new highway) but both are equally full of trucks, people, carts, cows and god knows what else… Total anarchy… 

Which made me even happier to have opted for train rides from Delhi to Gwalior (3 hours) and from Gwalior to Indore (overnight)! I hesitated a lot with a car drive for the whole trip… 

Gwalior appeared to me as a very busy city. But this may be due to the fact that we visited the fort on Independence day. It felt like the one million inhabitants of Gwalior had decided to do the same thing… We were constantly surrounded. It was even funny to see how fast a crowd would gather around us when we would move to another place in the fort… Unfortunately my GoPro had no more battery. 

After an hour or so my smile faded though. It was a very hot day (38 degrees) and I started suffocating.  

We found shelter in the Taj heritage hotel. Nice but soulless. So we fled back to our heritage hotel, the great Deo Bagh by Neemrana!

Last Monday was celebrated Janmashtami, Krishna’s birthday – Krishna being an avatar of Vishnu. I had a glimpse of this God in Majuli (see http://www.indiandacoit.com/archive/2011/05/02/majuli-isl...).

I was told that in “Maharashtra, people enact the god’s childhood attempts to steal butter and curd from earthen pots beyond his reach. A similar pot is suspended high above the ground and groups of young people [also called Govindas] form human pyramids to try and reach the pot and break it.”*

So obviously I had to see that…

My friend was not so comfortable bringing a white girl into Indian crowds and I was told to dress from head to toes. But I got to see it!!

We went to Lalbaug, in Parel, one of the best spots apparently. There, on a big ground, with a stage in the back, were three pots hanging and many pyramids coming up and down. All trying to break the pots and get a prize for it (up to 90,000 Rs – 1,200€)!!

It started raining but the enthusiasm was not showered away!!

I could not really understand how they break the pot because some teams could sometimes have done it but did not. Maybe they were just training? But I did see a pot getting broken!!

Another interesting tradition – which could have proven very dramatic for my camera recently saved from waters – is kids sending water bombs.

Govinda festival, Mumbai - Août 2011

*”Krishna made cowherdesses happy by the bliss of his cosmic dances and the soulful music of his flute. He stayed in Gokul, the legendary 'cow-village' in Northern India for 3 years and 4 months. As a child he was reputed to be very mischievous, stealing curd and butter and playing pranks with his girl friends or gopis.”

Source: http://hinduism.about.com/od/festivalsholidays/a/janmashthami.htm

2 years ago I went for work to Guwahati, in Assam. I had strictly no idea where Assam was but since there was work there, why not go?

I realised fast enough that I was far, far away from Mumbai. No internet (except in private houses) even with the datacard, constant electricity cut-offs. An incredible number of insects. I was there for work remember, so all this was quite unexpected!!

Then I saw on a map where I was and I thought that it was the first time and the last time...

Till the moment my distributor said 2 magic words. Rhinoceros and Brahmaputra. Done, one day I'll go back to Assam...

It took me two years but I did it!!

No need to say, Assam is a difficult place to reach but maybe it is part of what makes it so unique. Probably the most beautiful place I have seen in India!

About 5 hours by plane to reach Guwahati then 6 hours by car to get to the natural park of Kaziranga.

This is the place with the most number of uni-corn rhinoceros in the world. And Indians did a fantastic job: there were only a dozen rhinos left 50 years ago and now there are more than 2,000!!

And they are so confident they won't be disturbed that they don't mind the elephants (carrying the tourists), nor domesticated cows - a good companion to chew grasse...

2,000 is even a greater number when you know that gestation lasts 15 months for a rhino and that they reproduce only once in 8 years (they have to wait for the baby to be grown-up and independant before starting again!).

It is SO peaceful there. Just needed to tell one (Indian) family jabbering on an elephant to please be silent. They got so surprised!! Maybe no one told them that on a wildlife safari it is better to remain quiet?? Minor incident anyway... 

Photos speak for themselves...

Kaziranga, Assam - April 2011

On a cold winter night, in the streets of the small town of Luzern, while the snow gently spreads its flakes, an Indian man and a French girl are walking and conversing cheerfully. Our as much as nature allows: while her teeth are chattering, his jaw seems to be completely clenched by the cold... 

Suddenly the man interrupts the conversation: “So, are we gonna play it Indian style or Swiss style?” The time the message reaches his colleague’s brain, and she wonders what the heck he is talking about, she realizes that he is no longer by her side. So she turns to see where he might be and... he is by the signal, pressing the button for the red light to come. She then looks around her and realizes that she is... in the middle of the crosswalk! And the signal? But what signal? In these empty streets it didn’t even cross her mind to look for a signal! 

It’s the world upside down, almost! The Indian one crossing wisely like a (German) Swiss and the French one wildly like an Indian. Well, ‘almost’ because one needs to know that Parisians actually do not care much about signals nor crosswalks – and all that would actually be the drivers’ fault!* 

Thus the Parisian is better prepared to India than the Luzerner or the Hamburger (or any German). This being said, nothing really prepares a non-Indian to street-crossing in the chaos of Indian traffic where pedestrians have to compete with animals, cars travelling in the wrong direction, buses that never stop. The best (safest) way to cross is to stick to an Indian (and in a way that he would get hit first)... (sticking to a cow also works but it can take a long time because they often decide that the middle of the street is in fact ‘the place to be’...). 

* “When it comes to cars and pedestrians, all Parisians know that a car won’t stop for a pedestrian. Especially at a pedestrian crossing. A car which actually stops at a pedestrian crossing shall be honked at and its driver immediately suspected of homosexuality. Knowing that they don’t belong at pedestrian crossings, Parisians cross the street mostly randomly. So it’s only logically that Parisians cross the street whenever they feel like it or whenever there is a break in traffic.” Source: http://www.o-chateau.com/stuff-parisians-like/crossing-the-street-in-paris.html

My weight, and my supposed resemblance to Katrina Kaif’s sister, is a big topic among my customers all across India. To their defence I must say that I am probably the only foreigner girl they do business with (and for so long), and that it’s in their blood, gossiping... So I'm well known. In all humility. Not a meeting where I don’t get to hear about my weight. Curious is it not?

I have a fantastic client. A big vet, always wearing a tie decorated with dogs, a voice from beyond the grave, an impressive collection of yucky stuff kept in formalin and gadgets full of dust everywhere in his clinic.

When we met for the second time (one year after the first time), it was morning and I was not yet really awake (like pretty much every morning in fact) and very cranky (it happens, luckily not every morning!). And I was greeted with something like "Oh! You really have put on weight since the last time we met!” Bam bam! Go swallow your pride girl... Even though I know it is kind of a compliment in India, there are days you just can’t take it... So that morning I could not help but tell him, with a smile, that in my culture this kind of comment was highly offending. You moron.

When we met for the third time (four years after the second time), I saw him coming from far (as in literally). I didn’t believe it was possible but... He looked at me from toes to head, paused, and tells me: "Oh! You love Indian food don’t you eh! You have put on so much weight since last time!” He would have added "you fat cow" and I would have had it all! Except that this time I was in a good mood and moreover I was more or less back to the weight I had when we first met so I just smiled...

I will conclude by quoting one of my big clients – which had pushed the limits by even giving an estimate (of 3-4 kgs) to my weight loss in April – who told me, the same week I met that vet: “I am doing very well, how do you find me??" He had put on weight since April and was expecting a compliment...

Ah! Culture...

See also in the same spirit:

http://www.indiandacoit.com/archive/2011/12/15/the-encounter-of-the-day.html

http://www.indiandacoit.com/archive/2012/05/02/how-to-put-an-elephant-in-one-s-pocket.html