Final words of wisdom

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” - Henry Miller -

As the faithful followers of this blog might remember; I really wanted to go to Varanasi because I was hoping to find something important there, that is, the reason I chose to go to India.

Well, I found many things in Varanasi, the most fascinating Hindu city on the banks of the Ganges.
People were bathing and washing their clothes in the Ganges, taking sips of its highly polluted water and not to forget there were the live open-air cremations of which the ashes flow down that same ‘Holy River’. The shocking thing about all this was that I wasn’t shocked. Early one morning, sunrise-time, I took a one-hour boat ride to watch the people performing their daily rituals. It was unreal, entertaining, inspiring and unforgettable. One of the best moments in my India! 

I also found fellow travelers, which makes you feel less alone while backpacking on your own. There were the shy mouth cap-wearing Japanese girls I shared the boat ride with, the Belgian couple that made me realize it wasn’t easy speaking Dutch after using mainly English in the previous 3 months, the American girls who I met in the train to Varanasi and I was about to meet many, many times more during my trip and of course the lonely Japanese guy who needed me to fight of all the Indian touts at the train station like Dal needs Chapati.

The most valuable thing I found was the guest house where I was staying, owned by a family with their hearts at the right place. This family runs the Learn for Life Society and a few years ago started a free school for local poor children. The Society also runs a woman empowerment group. They are really doing great work and a short visit to the school was very inspiring. On a daily basis they provide some 50 children with breakfast and lunch, a school uniform and lessons in Hindi, English, Mathematics, Science, Stitching and Arts. These children get a way better chance to escape poverty than the numerous children I saw working and begging in the streets.

It opened my eyes. It was actually there all along but this experience and all the poverty I have seen in India makes me want to dedicate my future career in helping people who really need it and for some reason do not get the opportunities to escape their sometimes miserable situation.
So finally, (I think) I found what I was looking for!

And if that wasn’t enough, I came across another school on my next stop in Bodhgaya, one for orphan children; Siddharta Free Children Educational Centre. Two kindhearted guys I met at another charity organization brought me there. Again, impressive work they are doing at this free school in the extremely poor state of Bihar. However, just like at the school in Varanasi, they are too dependent on random donations. Donations are more than welcome of course but they are not regular which makes the school very difficult to manage and expand plus there is always this uncertainty about having to close down due to insufficient funds. In the next few weeks I'm going to see if I can help them change that.
(If you want to know how or contribute to this noble cause, just contact me on dennisvanerp_87@hotmail.com)

It has been two weeks since I left India. Already feels like months. Luckily it hasn’t been so hard adjusting to the Dutch lifestyle again. Some structure is actually nice after 3 months in that crazy country  subcontinent. I do miss the people though…I miss the Indian families that invited me for delicious dinners and the teachers and staff at the kindergarten. I miss my buddies at the gym and of course our mildly insane neighbor. They quickly made me feel at home in Chandigarh. Not to forget, I’m very thankful to my Indian friends who organized so many things for us and tried to help us out wherever they could; Anmol, Harmeet, Karan, Kunal, Preet and Robin…you are always welcome in my country!

Fortunately I wasn’t the only outsider in India. I met a bunch of foreign trainees like me. Too bad I didn’t have the chance to spend more time with the great people that arrived in the last few weeks but the first 2 months gave me sufficient time to get to know some interesting characters:

-          Daniela; with her I shared the mind-blowing Golden Temple experience

-          Malick; my African brother who always takes care of his eggs

-          Maria; my Ganges-dipping partner in Rishikesh

-          Sebastien; the spiritual Dutch connection

-          Jonas; our chai-making white Sikh, who is always interesting to listen to

-          Marta; my energetic Colombian friend who always puts a smile on my face

-          Jose; the dancing, cooking and turban-wearing Brazilian party animal

-          Nora; such a sweet, positive and great girl who is sooo cute together with Preet

-          Sasha; spontaneous, always laughing and easy-to-fool blond roomie

-          Mariano; crazy,crazy, crazy guy who is always in for a joke, and a surprise

-          Martin; my fellow adventurer, thali-lover and Holland-supporting Terry Fox runner

-          Gabi; basically impossible to describe in one line. Let’s just say she’s a big part of my India.

Guys, I miss you!

Ok, enough with the sentimental crap. Let’s not forget what this blog is about.
Competition! Dennis versus India! 27 versus 27 so far..
Lots of things happened the last week, let’s see how it affected the score shall we?

India gathered…8 points!* After visiting the main burning ghat (cremation site) in Varanasi I had to throw away one of my favorite shirts as it smelled too much like burning bodies (1)
* Not a Himalaya mountain to see during 3 days in Darjeeling. My dream trip was not complete (4)
* My 24-hour train to Delhi had a delay of 9 hours so I finally spent 33 hours in that train, pretty pissed off and ignoring all the friendly but privacy-destroying Indian people around me (2)
* It eventually took me 44 hours to go from Darjeeling to Chandigarh. My rhythm was out of control! (1)

Dennis gathered… 11 points!
* Survived some very questionable restaurants in Agra, Varanasi and Bodhgaya (2)
* Sleeping like a baby in my first (not-so-spacious) sleeper train (1)
* I am able to talk about cricket with the Indian people and they actually believe I know a lot about it (1)
* I managed to go to Darjeeling even though my train ticket got cancelled last minute (1)
* Finally got the courage to get rid of my curls by having a funnily-performed haircut at a Darjeeling barbershop (1)
* Ran out of money during the delayed train ride but managed to buy a bus ticket to Chandigarh with the 200 rupees I received from a nice stranger (1)
* Introduced the sexchange theme in India (2)
* Donated a hockey stick + ball to the kids of a nearby slum area. They were very happy! (2)

So…I won!
Let’s do a rematch some day... 

Thank you for reading,

Dennis Singh van Erp

Holi Shit

It’s been a while since I updated this blog of mine.
Reason?
Too busy seeing other parts of this Incredible India.

The last 2 weeks of my amazing stay I realized one of my more recent dreams; travelling through India with nothing more than a backpack full of clothes, some rupees in my pocket, my precious camera around my neck and the travel Bible in my hand.

I am back home now. Not Chandigarh-home but ‘really’ home in good old Gemert, where the cows are locked in, the sun is hiding, the food is spice-less and let’s face it.. everything is still the same.
Time to take a trip down memory lane with the help of my notebook. I see that the first words I wrote are: Why not? Famous words in Chandigarh among the interns. There, it has a deeper meaning, something you will only understand after living in India for a while.
According to my notebook, it’s Sunday evening (March 20), and I’m on a rooftop restaurant having some chai and looking at the Taj Mahal for the first time of my life. Although it is only lighted by the full moon (which seems to be full here every day) it is still an impressive sight, mostly caused by the thought of visiting it tomorrow in daylight. I am all alone now because I said goodbye to my 13 colourful friends earlier this day. They joined me for one of the most extreme religious festivals in the world:

- Holi -

Wikipedia says: Holi is a spring religious festival celebrated by Hindus. The most celebrated Holi is that of the Braj region, in locations connected to the Lord Krishna: Mathura, Vrindavan, Nandagaon and Barsana. The main day, also known as Dhuli Vandana in Sanskrit is celebrated by people throwing coloured powder and coloured water at each other.

I say: Holi is an extremely colourful religious festival celebrated by Hindus. The most crazy and chaotic Holi is that of the Braj region, in locations connected to the Lord Krishna: Mathura, Vrindavan, Nandagaon and Barsana. The main day, also known as Dhuli Vandana in Sanskrit is celebrated by people attacking and blinding innocent foreigners in small crowded streets, collectively, from rickshaws, shops, roof tops and up close without giving them a chance to recover from their purple, green, yellow and pink injuries, by using coloured powder/paint and organized blockades.

Yes, we ‘celebrated’ Holi in Vrindavan.

Unforgettable!

One thing keeps coming to mind; walking together through the small streets of Vrindavan, trying to protect each other from the never-ending numerous paint and powder attacks, shielding my face by looking down at the wet, pink-coloured tiles and feeling happy, excited and a bit angry and scared at the same time.

I realize now this represents very well how I see India:

- too many people

- colourful

- being a target as a foreigner

- crazy, mostly in a good way

Monday morning; I wake up at 5 AM so that I’m sure not to miss the Taj Mahal in all its glory at sunrise. First I take a shower, already the third one after the Holi spectactle, trying to get rid of my pink nails, back and neck. Still no success! Once on the streets I happily notice I’m not the only one with Holi-tattoos.
I arrive at one of the many roof top restaurants at around 6 and although the sun is not visible yet I finally see the white marbled wonder in clear daylight. Some monkeys join me for the view while the sun is finally showing its face and gives the Taj Mahal a beautiful soft glow. After taking too many pictures and some breakfast I decide it’s time to walk back to the hotel and discover that one of the monkeys has stolen my camera cover. You know what, I don’t even care! I’m backpacking through India, I feel good, I feel independent, I feel strong, I feel alive! Nothing and no one can stop me.   

Later in the afternoon I walk through the South Gate and staring at one of the most famous buildings in the world. The feeling is indescribable. Not just because of its beauty, but more what it represents to me and that I’m able to be here on the other side of the world. I am ‘able’, meaning that I have the guts to leave my safe and secure surroundings in my own country, to discover other cultures and other people. And discover more of myself. It makes me very proud that I changed a few years ago in someone more adventurous.
Well, so apparently the feeling is not indescribable because this is exactly how I felt walking through the gate.

Ok , so I am proud. But am I also winning? Let’s take a look at the score shall we?

-Marchl 17^th:  Being really sick for the second time in such a short time, just before I’m supposed to go on my dream trip. I’m taking an (expensive) blood test to rule out some things. I’m panicking, am I able to travel like this?    India: 3 points

- March 19^th: After our bus to Fatehpur Sikri breaks down, we jump on some sort of pickup truck with other Indian people. We adjust very well to the Indian ways of transportation.    Dennis: 1 point

- March 19^th: Getting pretty aggressive as the touts around Fatehpur Sikri are really getting on my nerves. A policy of ignoring doesn’t help and it’s really too much for me.    India: 1 point

- March 20^th: Sharing an auto rickshaw with 14 people, twice. We adjust very well to the Indian ways of transportation.    Dennis: 1 point

- March 20^th: Sitting on the roof of the taxi because our clothes are too dirty after the Holi war. We adjust very well to the Indians way of transportation.    Dennis: 1 point

- March 20^th: Creepy Indian guys harassing our girls throughout the day. I cannot believe how disgusting these people are!    India: 1 point

- March 20^th: Surviving the Holi Vrindivan War.    Dennis: 2 points. (At least!)

- March 21th: Monkey steeling my camera cover.    India: 1 point

- Decision not to rebook my flight back home but go on the journey after all despite feeling like dying.    Dennis: 3 points

Looks like it's going to be a tight match until the last minute.
Next stop: Varanasi, another unforgettable part of my trip… but more of that in the next story. I’m going to ride my bicycle now.


"I am not the same having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world" - Mary Anne Radmacher Hershey

Orange pride

Already sick for a few days now.
As always I use my customized get-well-soon program, consisting of taking rest (meaning not doing as many things as usual), taking in lots of vitamins and listening to music, the best medicine in time. I consider myself to be a healthy person and I believe that your body should try to heal itself first before feasting yourself on the medicine cabinet. Almost everyone I meet here believes in the opposite; pills please! They might think now my attitude towards medication is a Dutch thing but don’t  worry, it’s a Dennis thing only.

However, my method is not working. I should have known, this is India; positive or negative, everything is more extreme here! So I went to see a doctor this morning. Feels like a personal defeat but it has to be done. Being refused at the first hospital for questionable reasons, I start wandering around to look for anything that slightly resembles a doctor’s practice. While being harassed by an Indian guy/boy who wants to be more than a good friend (if you know what I mean), I finally find another ‘hospital’. I love the way they dare to call such a small practice a hospital. They kindly help me within several minutes and I walk out with a bag of medicines, fewer rupees in my pocket, but a bit more hopeful.
I’m back home. A bit hesitant at start to actually take in all this medical crap, but after gangster Gabi tells me to “just ride the trip and you’ll wake up a new man” I swallow the 3 different pills and start writing on this new medicine high. Usually my writing process is initiated with a nice glass of rum and coke. But this is also just fine..  

Anyway, new topic: cricket.
India is cricket. You will see kids play it here every day and everywhere. I still don’t understand what makes the sport so attractive. Maybe because it connects the people? When the Dutch football squad has to play for the Euro or World Cup for instance, the entire country slowly turns orange and everyone seems to love football all of a sudden. The country is never more harmonious as during these tournaments.
I miss that feeling. Although I’m not always happy with the climate/way of life/cold people in my own country, I do feel proud wearing an orange jersey or seeing the Dutch tri-coloured flag.
So when I heard there was going to be a cricket match between the Netherlands and South Africa for this year’s World Cup, my orange heart grew of happiness and curiosity.
I bought so-called student tickets at the stadium a week before, the Indian way. That means not at the official ticket counter because I couldn’t prove to be a student but after some asking around, making a scene here and there and being sent to some back-office, I finally got hold of the tickets. 50 rupees only (almost 1 euro) for a 6 hour match, no bribe needed. Incredibly cheap! And incredibly helpful people. Oh, and I almost forgot; some local news channel also interviewed me regarding the upcoming match. It was time to act as a big time cricket fan and although I didn’t even know before that Holland had a cricket team, I think they bought it.

Between buying the tickets and the actual match, I just want to mention this epic, out-of-control, party-hard, hilarious and most of all perfect weekend in Delhi. There are a few reasons why it was that good:
For one, it was my return. As you may recall, I spend my first day in India there, totally blown away by the chaos. Now, I was coming back more experienced and capable to handle its extremes. And it was a proud moment walking out of the station and feeling like a king, the king of Delhi.
Second, we went with an amazing group of (crazy) people. Each one of them having a positive attitude and fulfilling a certain role within the group, complementing the others. You feel like you’ve been with these people for years. It doesn’t get any better than this.
Furthermore, the previous weekend trips were to spiritual and religious places. It made you think, it made you calm and quiet. Delhi on the other hand, nothing spiritual about this place! Delhi equals crazy! It therefore really felt like going for holidays with friends, just forget about work and obligations for a while and just go wild. The ‘jumping pics’ express these feelings.
Last but not least, lots and lots of alcohol leading to drinking games and a ‘masala peanut’ war in our hotel room (declared as Bagdad) until early in the morning. I have seen things that night…my god.

 

Alright, back to cricket.
The day before the match me and Gabi, my half Filipino/half Dutch partner in crime, are being interviewed by a news reporter of the Indian Express. He wants to do a story about the Dutch connection with cricket and how we are planning to support our team.

How we eventually supported the Orange cricketers?

First of all by waking up with a huge hangover thanks to a memorable party I don’t remember, me calling everyone else on their cell phone to wake the fuck up and by putting on our orange outfits. Part of the outfit was the orange turban. Problem: no one to tie them. Solution: Martin going on the streets to ask random Sikh people to help us. Result: wearing a great orange turban! The face painting session follows and we get more and more excited. But the hangover is holding us down. So let’s drink some beer to kill it! We get into a tuk-tuk to the nearest liquor store, shout “HOLLAND” to all the people staring at us, chug some Kingfisher and we feel sooo good! Slovakian Martin acts like even a bigger orange supporter than me and Gabi looks like she just stepped out of the Dutch 60’s. Karan, the first Indian with Dutch flags on his face is there to control us.

Then, tipsy tuk-tuk to the stadium, taking pictures with the security guards, robbing another liquor store from its daily routine and finally arrive at the entrance of the place where the magic is supposed to happen. We enter the stadium, shout “HOLLAND” and hundreds of Indians simultaneously turn their faces to us; crazy white people, wearing turbans and dressed in orange. Phones are appearing everywhere, pictures are taken and we’re able to sweep up the not so impressive crowd whenever we want. It doesn’t take long before we get tired of it but I think we had a nice 15 minutes of funny fame. Finally settled in our seats, our African counterparts under the lead of Malick join us. Orange together with Green in colourful India.

The match takes long. Too long. The effect of the beers runs out and we get very sleepy on this sunny day. I realize that cricket is not my game.  But let’s be honest, it might also have to do with the fact that Holland is not good at it.

Next day: Orange and Green all over the newspapers!

"A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles" - Tim Cahill

Destiny

“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” - Martin Buber -

 

I discovered that writing (putting my experiences and thoughts on  ‘paper’), has become some sort of a passion for me. But it hasn’t become easier, on the contrary.
Two weeks ago on a Thursday we had a small get-together in our sector 48 trainee house. That evening many said that they read my blog and they thought it was breathtaking, out of this world and life-changing. They didn’t say it in those exact wordings but I got the feeling that when they said my blog is very good, this is what they meant.
Now, the pressure is on. People have expectations. Result: Writer’s Block!!

Let’s try it anyway. Luckily my cousin Roel, who is in Nepal right now, is also keeping a blog and he writes with a lot of passion. He motivates me. I take out my little pink notebook which my sister gave to me and see what I’ve written down. In this notebook I describe what I’ve seen each day in a few small words, just as a reminder for later so that I’m able to relive each and every day in India when I feel the need for it.

One thing I definitely won’t forget is my work at Banyan Tree School. You remember me saying I took an extra job as a ‘spoken English teacher’ to a class of mainly female teachers? Perhaps the best part of this new job is getting to know the Indian women. Not in the sense of finding a partner, but in the sense of finding out how these women live their lives in this still male-dominated country.
In my opinion, the best way to learn about a new culture is by talking to the people and let them explain how their daily lives look like. I’ve already talked with a lot of Indian people about our cultural differences but 99% of these people were men. It feels like I only heard half of the story so that’s why it is so interesting to hear from all these female teachers.

The writer’s block ends not so surprisingly at the next weekend trip. Friday (February 11th) at around 11 in the evening, we leave for Dharamshala, or better said: McLeod Ganj, home of the Dalai Lama. The Tibetan government-in-exile is situated there and so are a lot of Tibetan refugees. Besides tourists, like us, a lot of people also go there to study Tibetan Buddhism and culture. If only I had the time to do this…
Before going I read that the town has an average elevation of 2082 metres. Yessss! I want to do things here I cannot do in the Netherlands. And being in a beautiful mountainous area is one of them. Did you know that the highest ‘mountain’ in my country is about 333 meters high, and that we have to share it with the Belgians and Germans?

Our journey doesn’t start off well. The taxi we ordered is not as spacious as the one we used for Rishikesh. I’m right next to the driver whose English is very poor. My backpack is on my lap and I cannot move my legs. To make it even worse, the driver doesn’t allow me to fall asleep! He needs someone to talk to so that he doesn’t fall asleep either. Therefore I keep my eyes open but there’s no talking. How can I hold a proper conversation when the only Hindi words I know are types of food I read from the menu a few times each week?
Anyway, we arrive at McLeod Ganj at around 5 in the morning, earlier than expected. They allow us to stay at the hotel we only booked for the next day. As we are a bit up north and in the mountains, it is ‘rather chilly’. I wear all my clothes I brought along and go to sleep. 3 hours later we wake up, red-nosed by the cold, to discover we have a great view from our hotel room of a snow-capped mountain. Energy fills my body.

We walk along the calm and peaceful streets until we found ourselves in a nice Tibetan café for our well-deserved breakfast.  The food is inside, energy level now is through the roof. Some of our group arrive a bit later (girls) for breakfast but I’m too eager to explore more of the city so I’m not going to wait any longer. We decide to meet each other later at the main square, which is nothing more than a small junction between roads and paths. Me and Martin, my equally adventurous Slovakian roommate, start roaming the streets for that one special picture. And suddenly, there he is! The Dalai Lama! Just buying some fruits and vegetables on the streets. Hmm, maybe it’s a look-a-like… You’ll be the judge.

After walking a bit uphill and being chased back down by some pretty aggressive monkeys, we meet up with the others and make our way to the Tsuglag Khang, the Dalai Lama’s temple. First impression: simple. Some kind of disappointment goes through my mind. That’s the danger of being spoiled with the image of the Golden Temple in Amritsar. It creates such high expectations for every  ‘religious’ place that comes after. Quickly I decide to eliminate this thought, not being too focused on the buildings but start looking at the people and what they do. That’s more like it.

I see old ladies performing some kind of ritual by lying faced-down on a plank, getting up, putting their folded hands in the air, and lying down on the plank again. I ask some Tibetan-looking people how many times they do this. ‘It depends on the person. Some do it 200 times, some do it 300 times. Whatever you like.’ Impressive. Then I enter one of the rooms and I get captivated by a huge painting of the Wheel of time (Kalachakra), which regards time as cyclical and consisting of repeating ages. Then I notice something else. Around all the gods/mythical persons/don’t know what they are, there are cookies and juice packages and what not. They are the cheap brands I see every day at the market. Later I’m being told these are offers from the people. Whatever you offer, it will be stalled next to these figures for a while.

All around the rooms there are so-called prayer wheels which contain several thousand mantras. The Buddhists walk a few times round, in a clockwise direction, and spin every prayer wheel. Of course I do the same.

I’m describing too many things of the trip and I can’t wait to share with you the moment which messed up my mind. So let’s fast-forward.  We found ourselves walking a Kora (ritual circuit).

Colourful flags and mantras all around, great views over one of the valleys, impressive temples, loads of prayer wheels, 1 cow, some beggars whom I kindly give 10 rupees with great thankful smiles as a result and an empty stomach after all this walking. Let’s have some lunch! I take out my travel Bible to see if there are any nice places nearby. I find one within reasonable distance and once we arrive at the restaurant it appears to  be closed. Ok, no big deal, we’ll look for another place. And then the moment we get back on the streets again it happens…

I SEE SOMEONE I KNOW

Let me explain. In the corner of my eye I see two blond women walking down the stairs and I already know one of them is her. I double check and indeed, it’s Tove from Sweden, who I got to know during my time in Madrid. A friend, a classmate and a fellow Erasmus student. She’s together with her mother.
We look at each other for a second or two and then realize this is really happening. Oh my god, what a coincidence! What are the odds! We talk a bit, click some pictures, everything happens in a blur to me. This is so strange. Meeting each other in this huge country, in the same place, in the same street and it all depended on a matter of seconds. I keep thinking: ‘If the restaurant had been open I might have never seen her.’ Is this what they call destiny? The next hours my mind is going in overdrive. I just cannot believe it!

The next day; waking up red-nosed again. This day is all about going further into the mountains. It’s raining a lot but that doesn’t stop me. I’m from Holland, I was born in the rain. Again, Martin is the only one who takes on the adventure with me for which I’m very grateful. We experience amazing views, take amazing pictures and just feel amazing. One of those days that I’m very happy to be travelling and not stuck in that flat country of mine.

The weekend has been wonderful. McLeod Ganj is peaceful and unique with its Tibetan-Indian community. One weekend was too short to experience everything the city and its surroundings have to offer, but it was yet another trip that made me think.

Some random thoughts on the way back:
Time flies. I stay the same but my ideas about life are changing.
I never really believed in anything, just rationality. But this weekend I was being pushed in the direction of believing in destiny.
Maybe it’s destiny that brought me to India. Is that the answer to one of my questions I had in Rishikesh? If so,what am I going to find here? My future occupation, the love of my life, change in attitude? Or an encounter with someone who can open my eyes with just a few words. I think I will find the answer in Varanasi. Every week I think about this place a few times. It’s in my mind, like India was a few months ago, and Madrid a few years before.
Some minutes later the rationalist in me takes over again. I know a lot of international people and maybe some of them were also very nearby  while I was visiting other countries throughout the years, but I missed them then.
It does make me wonder though…

Tip for today: If you ever experience a writer’s block… just go to India

                                                                                    and take me with you.

January 28-30: Rishikesh, City of spirituality

With a group of 13 people we arrive at our hotel at 3.30 in the night. The freezing cold wind makes us quickly go into our rooms and crawl underneath the blankets. They smell like death. Unable to sleep at first due to the cold and the smell, I find myself rested and fit the next morning, ready to see another small part of this incredibly diverse country called India.
 
First 5 minutes on the streets of Rishikesh: 1 monkey and 3 cows. It’s like a zoo! After having banana honey pancakes at the nearest restaurant it is time to check out the city and its people. First thing I notice: a lot of tourists. I’m not used to that. In the first month it was usually me or the group I was with who were the only ‘white’ people around. The closer we get to the Lakshman Jhula Bridge, which crosses the holy Ganges and connects one part of the city with the other, the more monkeys we see! Apparently these monkeys are trained thieves, who are able to steal your purse, glasses or camera in order to exchange it for all the food you have. Before we cross the river we descend a small stone stairway which leads us to a peaceful rocky area besides the Holy River. Such a beautiful setting that we stay there at least an hour to chill and enjoy the moment.

After that we finally cross the narrow bridge, which is also used by motor bikes, cows and monkeys. On the other side I cannot resist the temptation anymore of all the wonderful clothing shops and it doesn’t take long before the first purchase is realized; some headgear, made in Nepal (can’t wait to show it to my cousin Roel who is in Kathmandu at the moment). Ok, so the first urge is satisfied for now. Let’s walk around and see all the interesting-looking people of which this city is rich of. A lot of ‘pelgrimish’ people and many of them wearing orange,  the national color of the Netherlands, the color that fills me with pride. I wonder how their lives look like. What brought them here? How do they spend their days? Are they making a living or are they just begging all day long? Too many questions that will remain unanswered, for now. 

Why did I actually come to India, why not a different country?
 Did I really just follow my feeling or was it a rational decision? Maybe even destiny?
The same holds for these questions; they will remain unanswered, for now…

Back to the trip. Eventually we walk around Rishikesh the entire afternoon and lay our tired bodies on some pillows in a tent/restaurant. One of those places with a vibe that makes you high without having to use any drugs or alcohol. The sun goes down and the city goes to sleep, early. We have some dinner with a great evening view over the Ganges and then we end the night with a smuggled bottle of vodka (alcohol is forbidden in Rishikesh),pieces of Slowakian chocolate and Robin’s palm reading session until the electricity suddenly gets shut off. Bed time. Back to the blankets of death.

The alarm goes off at 7 in the morning. Why did I put an alarm again? Oh yeah, I was planning to wash away my sins in the holy Ganges. I’m excited! Then I open the door, c-c-c-c-old…not so excited anymore. But hey, this might be my last chance ever to do it. I walk through the town, which is still sleepy just like me and I go down the stone stairway which leads me to the river. A lot of monkeys are coming my way. Shit, they see the orange I have with me. I try to scare them away but they are aggressively coming closer and closer. No one around to help me, so I run up the stairs again and start laughing about this funny situation. The monkeys are not following me but I finish my orange and take another path to the Ganges. I get settled on one of the rocks, just to enjoy the silence. I’m not ready to bath yet. First close my eyes and relax. After a while Maria shows up, who promised me the night before to join me. Now it is time. The Ganges is calling me. I’m answering its call. I take of my headgear, scarf, shoes, socks, jacket, sweater, shirt, t-shirt and undershirt and roll up my sweatpants. I slowly walk into the Ganges until the water reaches my knees while thinking: “ I never thought to be walking into the Ganges one day”. I wash my face and the rest of my body. I’m probably only a minute in the water but it feels like eternity. Maybe this is one of those reasons why I chose for India and not another country. Maybe this was somewhere in the back of my head when I was still back home. To bath in the Ganges this morning was my own idea, no one suggested it to me and of the 13 people we are with I’m the only one who did it. I had this strong urge to do it. Was it there all along?

Now I’m pure again.

Maria and I go to a German bakery for some breakfast. A breakfast that gives me amazing energy, with an amazing apple crumble as well! Actually, two amazing apple crumbles because Maria can’t finish hers. Life is smiling at me!

Not long after that, Prem Baba (Love Guru) is smiling at me. I am sitting cross-legged on a small pillow in a simple room. In the room are about 200 people, seated in the same position, beautifully chanting the same melody repeatedly like angels, but every time with a tiny bit more power. Most of them are followers of the Brazilian guru we came to see. Everyone is dressed up so nicely, but simple, non-materialistic, and they all look so peaceful. The first minutes I can’t stop looking around. But then the music grabs me. I close my eyes and let the chanting take me to a different place.

Peace.
Disconnected.
Happiness.
Whatever happened after this, including the love guru’s speech, it didn’t even come close to this moment. All the ‘spiritual stuff’, especially the meditation part, and what I’ve heard and seen about it this weekend, might be a good thing to try out one time.

After spending the last hour shopping for souvenirs and clothes, I leave this city with a new Indian look and a new look on spirituality. I also leave this city with a lot of questions. That’s a good thing right?

“People don’t take trips – trips take people” 
 - John Steinbeck -

Something special happens every day.

India. A bit strange, but I like it.

The last story I wrote happened already more than 3 weeks ago. As this is India, since then lots of things made me smile, were mildly annoying, left me in surprise, amazed me and made me think.

                Just too much to talk about…

And many of the things I want to share with you are too hard to explain for the moment. You have to be here to fully understand them and judge them by its true value without being prejudiced. Maybe I can explain them properly later on, when I’m back home, and have a chance to look back and reflect on the feelings, ideas, taste and atmosphere I’m experiencing now.

But for the moment, let me share some things that happened here to give you a small impression;

Monday afternoon, January 10^th
Having lunch in an Indian coffee house with Daniela and 2 new roommates from Korea and Switzerland.
We are sharing a table with an Indian guy, no emotion on his face. He sees we are having trouble figuring out what all the things on the menu actually mean, so he explains everything to us and even helps us ordering. After finishing his own meal he stands up and says to us: “Don’t pay the bill”. “Why not?” we ask, with not even the slightest idea what he means by that. “I already paid for you”. No way! And then he left.
There’s no better way to say Welcome to India than that.

Tuesday afternoon, January 11^th
Should have started my job the day before.
But AIESEC didn’t take care of it on time. No worries, this is India. Everything has a 3-days delay. Here, Indian Standard Time is also called Indian Stretchable Time. Still, my orange clockwork is taking control over me and I decide to look for the school, while jogging with my girls, leaving a lot of Indian people amazed with surprise on this very sunny day. After asking lots of people where the address actually is (not as easy as in Europe), we finally find Woodsbury School.
“Sir Dennis, we were expecting you”. I make an appointment to meet the principal the day after and happily walk back to our crappy trainee house. On our way we pass a Sikh temple where they are celebrating the 10^th Guru’s birthday. So…let’s take a look!
Rule number 1; take off your shoes and socks and cover your head. Then it is time to enter the temple and sit down, legs crossed, and pay respect to the guru/pray. Finished? Let’s have a free lunch with all the Sikh’s and when you need more chepati (sort of a small pancake), just fold your hands. I feel perfectly comfortable with all the Sikh customs, after the ‘golden’ experience in Amritsar. Such a pleasant feeling when you start to feel experienced with a new culture, when you start to feel ‘at home’.
We were the talk of the temple.

Wednesday morning, January 12^th
Appointment with the principal of Woodsbury; my new employer.
After a warm welcome of all the Madams (the entire staff is called Madam), Madam Principal gave me my job description; teaching 2 and 3 year olds. Ouch! That’s not what AIESEC promised me! They were supposed to be some years older so that I could actually communicate with them and teach them English. Fuck.

Thursday Morning, January 13^th
The children still have holidays, extended because of the cold winter. Me and my co-teacher (Madam) are preparing the lesson material for the coming week. Preparing means writing down nursery rhymes and doing crafts. From graduating at Tilburg University at the top of my class to cutting colored paper somewhere in India. Nice one Dennis.

In the evening I had some pork in a non-Indian restaurant. Sooooo good! Except for some chicken once in a while, I’ve become quite the vegetarian. Not by free will though.

Friday evening (and night), January 14^th
Nice gathering in our house with a few people, representing every continent. Ended up in a type of rock club with a DJ and a drummer who both had a different view on rhythm. Horrible combination. Closed off the night back home with my favorite drinking game; Mex!

Saturday morning, January 15^th
Rat in mi Kitchen is a nice UB40 song. But not when you actually have a rat in your kitchen! Malick, my roommate representing Senegal, saw a huge mouse, Tsjernobyl huge. So I think it’s a rat…
The idea of having a rat crawling around made us clean the kitchen like never before. We came across a lot of mouse/rat droppings in a few cabinets which haven’t been used so far. Now we know why they are not being used. Damn that was nasty.

In the evening we had a big party in our house, almost all the foreign trainees of Chandigarh at the time were here to drink and dance. So many different nationalities and cultures in one room but everyone is your friend within a matter of seconds. It would be nice to invite some of our world leaders to these kind of parties and show them how people should treat each other. Don’t you think?

Sunday afternoon, January 16^th
All day long we have new people moving into the house. We start the day with 6, lose 2 of them, and get around 10 new ones in return (from China, Russia, France, Taiwan and Brazil). They are all accompanied by their AIESEC traineeship managers. I think I’ve met about 20 new people in just a few hours, all asking where you are from and more standard questions like that. Stop! This is too much! I need a break. Like India this house is too crowded…

What better way to get rid of the stress than a Bollywood movie! Yamla Pagla Deewana was my first experience with this phenomenon in which of course dance and song plays a big part. But that’s not the only difference with watching a ‘western’ movie back home… People in the cinema were cheering and clapping when the lead characters appeared, when these made funny Punjabi remarks or during unreal over-the-top fighting scenes. No need to be silent during the movie, nobody was! Other minor differences were: the men in the movie were constantly crying instead of the woman, there was no kissing to be shown while the opportunity was there several times, the movie lasted for 3 hours and people left the theatre a minute before the movie actually ended. Although I didn’t understand much of what was said due to the lack of English subtitles, it was a great experience.

Monday morning, January 17^th
First day with the kids at kindergarten. They are 2 and 3 years old. Staring at me, afraid of this big white stranger. I have to do prayers, sing and do little dances. Not feeling comfortable. Can only communicate with them by gesture and facial expression. Why am I here again?

Tuesday afternoon, January 18^th
Sort of a mental breakdown. I tell the principal, after the same shitty day as Monday, that I’m not happy with this. It’s not their fault; it’s just that the AIESEC organization here in Chandigarh was not entirely honest about the job description. I want to teach older children, children who can actually understand what I’m saying. After the mental breakdown I decide pretty quickly that I can turn it into a positive thing. Let’s look for a second job for in the afternoon, something that suits my qualities better! For that I need to undertake action. And although I’m used to being smart, pretty and modest, I’m not very good in taking initiative. So this should be a good exercise.

In the evening something terrible happens. The Internet, one of our primary needs to survive and equally important to water and electricity, disappears! At the time we think it’s only temporary. But now I know better… Total panic in the house! Thanks a lot, AIESEC Chandigarh.

Wednesday morning, January 19^th
The kids are getting used to me. Some sitting on my lap, some calling me uncle. They start to talk a lot to me, no idea what they’re saying though. Damn language barrier.

Thursday afternoon, January 20^th
I went to the Chandigarh hockey stadium to ask if I can play some hockey there. I would never forgive myself if I don’t try to play my favorite game in India, where hockey is the official national sport (although cricket is way more popular). I got to talk with the sports administrator and one of the trainers of the Academy situated there. He is an ex-player and –coach of the Indian national team. The sports administrator is not sure if it will be possible to play there but when the trainer hears I’m from Holland there is no problem whatsoever. Yes, at times, being Dutch has some nice perks.

Friday afternoon, January 21^th 
After buying the necessary hockey equipment (stick, shoes, shin pads and ball), for about 55 euro’s (that’s about 1 hockey shoe in Holland), I went again to the stadium. Started to play a bit on the practice field outside the stadium, where some small children were also performing their tricks. After showing my rusty moves some of them came up to me; “What’s your name?” “And should we call you uncle or brother?”. So brother Dennis played a little match with these kids. Fuck, they’re already so good! They’re not playing in the stadium though because that’s only for the people who have the money to join the Academy. Such a shame, they are really, really good!

Taking initiative pays off. I found an extra job! I had a talk with the principal of the Banyan Tree School, a primary/secondary school almost next to the place where I live. It’s only for one hour a day after my kindergarten activities, but listen to this; I will teach spoken English to the teachers(!) there. Walking back home after hearing the good news, I was very excited. Not nervous at all, just very excited.  “Why am I not nervous? Did I already change that much?” I start to smile.

In the evening there was this wedding party going on in the open space between the apartment buildings where we live. Oh man, how I wish to be one of the people eating and dancing there! They played a lot of Punjabi music so we started to dance a bit of Bhangra on the balcony. Some people noticed us and a girl who knows Daniela thought we were very funny so she invited us! Woohoo!
Although the party was almost at its end, we put on our fancy clothes and entered the party. We were seated at a special table. About 7 waiters/cooks surrounded us and made sure we got the most amazing, delicious North Indian meal. Although we just had dinner it was too good to refuse. Even while being filmed by a camera crew, I had no trouble finishing this great meal. I love Indian food! Saturday afternoon, January 22^nd

Sunday afternoon, January 23^rd
We played football. Dutch, Russian, French combination vs. Senegalese, Indian, Taiwanese combination. No Spanish opponent so we won.

Monday , January 24^th
You remembered me saying it was very cold here in Chandigarh? Well, things changed. During the nights it’s still quite chilly but during the day it’s like Dutch summer! And we’re still in January… incredible!
Still no internet though. It has been almost a week now since we lost the connection. Apparently AIESEC didn’t pay the bill. It’s getting pretty annoying because I want to use it in order to prepare my classes and to contact the people back home. Besides, I cannot post any stories on my blog now. This one is getting too long!

Maybe you notice that I'm not very positive about the local AIESEC here. There are a lot of nice people in that organization, don't get me wrong. And they want us to have a good time. But as an organization they fail tremendously. Their goal of trying to bring as much people to Chandigarh as possible should be drastically altered to a policy with a stronger focus on the quality of internships and quality of living. They do not take us seriously as they keep on promising things that eventually won't be realized. Letting people sleep in the living room where they do not have a single centimeter of privacy, where they can only sleep when the last person goes to bed and are woken up by the first one who is having his breakfast in the kitchen is unacceptable. At one point, the maids stopped coming. The maids are poor children who probably have to do these kind of jobs to support their family. Why did they stop coming? AIESEC didn't pay them for the last 6 months. Unacceptable.

Tuesday afternoon, January 25^th
First lecture to the teachers of Banyan Tree School. I arrive in a class with around 20 female teachers (some have their children with them) and one guy. My first true teaching experience. It was very fulfilling! This was the professional experience I was looking for when I came to India. Still can’t believe I just taught a class of adult people. And I think I was actually pretty damn good for a beginner. I was confident. Now I need to make the teachers more confident in speaking English. That is going to be my main goal for the next month.

Seeing more of India is my other main goal.
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“Without new experiences, something inside of us sleeps.  The sleeper must awaken.”
- Frank Herbert -