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Toptal Scholarship for Women Blog:"Paying It Forward"

Toptal Scholarship for Women Blog:”Paying It Forward”

“Paying It Forward” Dedicated to my Filipina Step-Mother, Aunts and Cousins- your examples to me as a child have lit my way on a road less traveled by.

Here I am, taking another step on my journey towards changing the world for Women.  In September I start Capilano University’s Rehabilitation Assistant Diploma Program in my adopted hometown of North Vancouver, BC, Canada.  There I will earn…

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Culture Shock- alone in a sea of men

Culture Shock- alone in a sea of men

I noted in my blog about being driven back to Agra through the pitch black back roads and through villages getting around a big traffic jam… One thing I noticed as we drove in the dark on the main highway- there weren’t any women not accompanied by a man anywhere to be seen, and not very many of them either.  Where the heck are all the women? At home because in India, “Nice girls don’t go out at…

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I arrived in Agra by train in the morning, got settled in at N Homestay, and at the suggestion of their guide/driver Mokul, I took the rest of the afternoon to visit Fatehpur Sikri- home of the Jama Masjid mosque and Mughal palace predating the Taj Mahal.  Little did I remember that the entrance fee for the Historic palaces had gone up to 500 INR, so I only had enough money for it, and to take the bus back to Agra (and maybe a bag of chips).  Lunch consisted of the leavings of my goody bag from Simla.  Luckily I did bring a scarf  (I had completely forgotten my hat) because the Jama Masjid is an active mosque.  I have also been using my water purification drops when filling my water bottles from the tap, and so far, so good.  One could go broke keeping up on drinking water here in India. Also, I paid $20 CAD for this water purification kit, so I might as well use it. TRAVEL TIPS TO FOLLOW, SO NECESSARY FOR SURVIVING FATEHPUR SIKRI.

Arriving in Agra, I knew right away I had officially arrived in India, and gone were the days of orderly, friendly, clean little towns.  It was a madhouse of Autorickshaws around the train station, and all of the drivers clamoured at me “taxi? taxi? hotel, miss? hotel?” Basically one has to say “No,” firmly and give an emphatic shake of the head about a million times or or ignore them completely running the gauntlet until you find your driver, – which will happen, seemingly by magic. After riding the regular public bus from Agra (very hot and dusty- bring a scarf just to put over your nose to filter some of it out), there are tour touts waiting for you at the little bus depot in Fatehpur’s bazaar.  If your hotel or homestay has a driver/tour guide and offers to take you to Fatehpur Sikri (hereafter “FS”) for 700 INR or suchlike cost- DO THIS!   Learn from my mistake.  I decided I didn’t want to spend the 700 INR for my own private autorick and tour, and simply took the 40 INR bus ride from Agra. I thought I was being really smart by forgoing the extra cost…

There is a direct path straight up from the bus depot in Fatehpour’s bazaar towards the gate to the mosque, but one is essentially walking a path of garbage, so I took the long way around and took a second look at the bazaar, which was full of vendors and services of every sort. Traffic slowed to a crawl those last 50 meters from the beginning of the bazaar and the bus depot. The road above the bazaar leading up to the mosque and palace grounds, though, is wide, free of traffic, and lined with ice cream and goodie vendors, so Indian families take full advantage of the refreshments before going into the so-called abandoned city.  Walking up the ramp to the entrance of the huge and extremely impressive Buland Darwaza (Victory Gate) entrance to the Jama Majid mosque, I couldn’t help but laugh at the frolicking and leaping goats combing the ramparts for goodies left by tourists.

As soon as I entered into the mosque, a young man calling himself a “guide” offered to show me around.  These guys (and there are a lot of them) are touts, not guides.  They will indeed take you around the mosque, they’ll show you all the different parts of the grounds and tombs, they have good information, and they will even take really nice photos of you and for you while on the grounds, and will be very pleasant- but they will conclude their tour at their own little blanket set out with the souvenirs they sell- usually carvings in soapstone or alabaster.  There’s nothing wrong with buying from them except they’ll give you the hard sell and you will have to haggle within an inch of your life, and there’s nothing wrong with not buying from them and tipping them for their time instead.  They’re not as happy with the tip as they would to sell you their stuff, but whatever.  Bazinga.  I saw all the parts of the mosque- was encouraged to do all the little things that people do when they visit, like tying a string in the lattice screen of the white marble tomb of Shaikh Salim Chishti and making a wish (NO TELLING), and genuinely enjoyed my tour.  I found the cemetery and the crowded ladies-only cemetery behind lattice screens interesting as the marker stones were very compact. The honour of being interred within the mosque was only conferred to family members of the saint. The white marble tomb with the reflecting pool before it, and single tree growing beside it within the broad expanse of the mosque complex courtyard was genuinely beautiful.  I explored the courtyard of the mosque once I left the young tout, and there is no angle from which this little building is not striking and a spot of visual coolness in the expanse of baking redstone.  It was also a constant hub of activity as people came to pay their respects, tie their string, make their offering of thrown perfume or rose petals and some rupees to the saint.  Directly outside a group of musicians crouched in the shade, playing and singing their devotions. I noticed that the tomb had gutters leading directly to the pool, so that rainwater would be collected there for both its beauty and utility.

Exiting the mosque from the King’s Gate, I then proceeded into the expansive palace grounds, paying the entrance fee at that point.  The architecture and gardens were unlike anything I had seen before (or would see again in India), especially the 5 tiered Panch Mahal, and it’s no wonder for King Akbar who lived here encouraged unique designs melding Islamic, Hindu, Christian and Buddhist elements and imagery in the decor. King Akbar decreed that each religion was to be respected equally, and to “seal the deal” he took a queen from each faith.  The special audience hall (Diwan-i-Khas) and the decorative pool in front of his palace use a quartered square design illustrating the new faith he developed, called Din-i-llahi (God is One).  Wandering around this place was genuinely enjoyable. There were lots of arcades in which to shelter from the sun, gardens to refresh the eye from all the red sandstone, and wonderful spots from which to view the surrounding farmlands.  Within the palace grounds, I also discovered the striped chipmunk-like squirrels, wild green ring-necked parrots and many songbirds and swallows (and pigeons) that inhabit India.  To sit in the shade from the softening afternoon sun and breeze, journaling and watching the parrots and other birds race from buidling to building to tree was a real joy.

I was really glad that I had come out to FS and explored these amazing buildings.  Until I was foolish enough to NOT run and catch the bus I saw leaving the bazaar as  I came down to the corner. “Busses run for another two hours,” I told myself, “I’ll grab a quick snack and catch the next bus.”  Famous last words.  I waited at the bus depot and no other bus arrived. I had a snack, wrote in my journal and exchanged a few pleasantries with a couple of the touts there who were brothers… and then it started getting dark.  The young Islamic touts started to look a little uneasy on my behalf and gently remonstrated me “Why didn’t you run for that bus?” Finally one of the young men said “I don’t want you sitting here after dark. Tourists have been stranded here before by the bus. I have seen it and helped them get back to Agra before. Maybe the last bus will be here at 5:45, but if not then you should let my driver friend take you back to Agra because none of the tourist taxis come here.”  This was factually correct and not an exaggeration on his part, I hadn’t seen a single white car with the blue and yellow “Tourist Taxi” emblem painted on the side since arriving in FS, and there weren’t even any Autoricks.  Two of the young touts  arranged someone to drive me back and they tried to quote me double the price of what my homestay driver had offered for the return trip. Boy was I mad at myself and a little annoyed with them as I tried to discuss the discrepancy with them.  When he finally admitted that what he was really including in the price was a commission for him and his brother who had both kept me company for two hours while I waited, and arranged my ride, my frustration vanished.  I was happy to give them a commission, but I was not happy about being ripped off for a drive back to Agra- qualitative or semantic difference, as either way I was out a lot more rupees than I wanted to be for the day, but I don’t have a problem with rewarding people for taking their time to help me.

As it was, there was a massive traffic jam on the road back to Agra, and my driver was fortunately able to get out of the jam before too many vehicles boxed us in from behind, so we took a link road around the blockage and made it back to Agra with only a little delay.  It was a bit of an adventure itself and when I experienced some acute culture shock (see next entry).  I tried to not kick myself too hard for having to pay so much money to get back to the homestay, but on the other hand FS is a good hour outside of Agra, and I was very relieved that I got back safely and in comparative comfort. Who knows when I would have got back to Agra if I had gotten on that bus. For all I know, it was the thing causing the jam.

Matriarch Naghma of N Homestay had a wonderful thali dinner waiting for me when I got back to their place, and was kind enough to sit and chat with me while I ate.  She told me the interesting history of her family home, how happy and content she was to share it with travelers, and how this was definitely the best part of her life with her sons grown and one of them recently married.  After eating, I was grateful to retire to my very spacious room, shower and wash my clothes and retire to bed.

Tomorrow is the Taj Mahal at dawn.

                    Fatehpur Sikri (Agra) Oct. 15 ’16 I arrived in Agra by train in the morning, got settled in at N Homestay, and at the suggestion of their guide/driver Mokul, I took the rest of the afternoon to visit Fatehpur Sikri- home of the Jama Masjid mosque and Mughal palace predating the Taj Mahal. 

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Reflection- Garbage/Pollution in India

Reflection- Garbage/Pollution in India

I mentioned, in my last travel entry, the garbage in India.  I talked about it like it was only along the train tracks in the city, but it was literally everywhere.  Garbage in the streets, in the fields, along the roadways, choking the rivers, covering riverbanks in layers of garbage and plastic, garbage tips- literally a downward hill embankment that people just spontaneously made into a…

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“Bob-Ji” my pet spider in Simla. don’t be scared, he guarded my bathroom well!

Coffee House rear balcony view.

Heritage train station on Simla-Kalka Heritage rail

Heritage Railway Station

View from Heritage Railway

Adorable “Bloom Rooms” Hotel in Dehli.

Woke at the crack of dawn to find that my body was doing it’s  natural female letting go thing, which definitely explained yesterday’s tearfulness on the physiological level…

But, no rest for the wicked, as they say, so I got myself up and power-walked back to The Coffee House for another fantastic breakfast and coffee sitting on one of the back balcony overlooking the town terraces and Himalayan foothill mountains.  On the way back out of town to fetch my luggage, I observed a family of monkeys clambering down the side of the last building of The Mall from the roof using drainpipes and telephone cables, and was deeply touched by the baby of the family making his brave yet cautious effort while her mum watched intently.  The wee one made little noises of trepidation the entire time “ooh, eeeh, umm, ohoooh” I could hear his thoughts, “Umm, I’m going to try this out… Um, oh dear, ok, annnd…. umm, ok I’ll try this this way, oh jeez, I’m not sure now…” Of course he made it safely and he and mum caught up to the rest of the group.  It was very sweet. These are the kinds of monkey behaviours I like, and when they’re quietly preening each other while basking in the sun on top of the walls, etc.  I snatched my bags after bidding good-bye to my pet spider “Bob-Ji” (all my pet spiders are named “Bob”, but since this was an Indian spider, I felt he should have an Indian inflection to his name) who kept guard in my bathroom during my stay, and walked downhill to the train station.

I was sorry to be leaving Simla.  I realized that like Dharmsala it’s “India-Lite” in that it’s a friendly, clean and safe tourist town, though in two days I had seen most of what it had to offer.  I was also super excited for the excruciatingly slow “toy”train ride along the  World Heritage Simla to Kalka line (built in 1906, one travels 96kms, through 102 tunnels, and over 988 bridges in 6 hours).  I got into the 1st class car, and was astounded by how narrow and tiny the train was altogether- economy class in airplanes have higher ceilings and more leg room- and I felt deeply sorry for the gigantic German tourists squeezing themselves onto the miniature bench seats.  Everyone in the train was very friendly, but we had to be as we sat knee to knee!  This train ride, despite the heat, distance and cramped quarters was absolutely worth doing! The picturesque multiple-tiered and arch supported stone bridges, tunnels short and long, gorgeous and ever-changing mountain vistas, and changing vegetation were stunning.  There are a number of heritage train stations along the line that are also beyond adorable, and seem to have no other function except to be perfectly kept up with gardens, lovely hanging planter baskets and shining sky blue and white tiled water stations, so the station master cum gardener can stand proudly in front of it and wave the train on with his green flag.  I was sitting facing the rear of the train, so had real difficulty getting photos of these quaint jewel-like train stations in time.  I would go back and do it all again to get a lot more photos.  There were many instances where we on the train were looking down onto roadways, and they had an awful lot of views of rock faces, landslide areas, and dust.  The vegetation as we wound our way down from elevation was an ever-changing delight and wonder.  The tops of the mountains in Himachal Pradesh are very dry, water is pumped and trucked up to towns and city cisterns, so leaving Simla initially the landscape was quite sere with short grass, shrubs, pine trees and stands of Prickly Pear and Danda Thor cacti! Only at elevation, there was also a rarely seen tree with fine pink blossoms that rivaled cherry blossoms in loveliness, although they were far more delicate.  We later reached the pine forest level, and it was a gorgeous sight as each pine needle glinted and gleamed in the sunshine as if it had been polished, and the colour was  vibrant and fresh. As we continued to descend, the pine gave way to deciduous trees like mountain ash and arbutus, which, again, if you live in British Columbia and have ever been traveling through the interior and Okanagan, they don’t seem so exotic- but it was good to see that a lot of these forests have been preserved and the hills not completely denuded. And of course, the wildflowers grew in colourful profusion at every point down the mountains. The flowers in India… Incomparable.

We finally arrived at Kalka, a completely unremarkable and purely utilitarian transportation hub town on the border of Himachal Pradesh.  There I joined a tour group of Canadians, Brits and Germans in the “Executive” waiting room, which had a lovely washroom, air-conditioning and comfey couches to enjoy while waiting for the Kalka to Delhi train.  Amusingly, a couple of the ladies there recognized me from my wanders in the streets of Dharmsala, and they happened to be from Vancouver.  We all got onto a regular express train to Delhi, and I appreciated the reclining chair, A/C- and the meal and 1L water bottle provided.  It wasn’t immaculate, but it was definitely a clean train- I might have been one of the dirtiest things on it!  Train travel is definitely an improvement over bus travel, but one does get a view of the town garbage tips and constant litter beside the tracks, which is quite sad.  Except for the upsetting amount of garbage Indians strew everywhere (it’s not their fault, the caste system makes it very difficult for the upper castes to put their minds to problems that are “beneath” them, like sanitation, garbage collection, sewage. It’s actually quite ridiculous that India has no recycling program nor proper sewage and water works, but it’s definitely a hangover from India’s historical context. Bureaucrats and officials in high levels of government LITERALLY have not been capable of wrapping their heads around managing garbage because it should not even be on their radar- they’re too “upper class”, it’s not something they have ever been concerned about) , the views are still much more picturesque, and a waxing gibbous moon was shining outside my window.

I was picked up from the New Dehli train station with little hassle by the driver supplied by “Bloom Rooms” hotel.  The poor guy (whom I discovered was, you guessed it, from Dharmsala) had to run to the opposite side of the station when I failed to wait for him on the platform.  I was sorry to have done that to him because Sanay was one of those devastatingly handsome, tall, bearded Indian men.  Oh yes, there are a lot of very tall, devastatingly handsome, full bearded Indian men in India. When Indian men are devestatingly handsome, they are truly and ridiculously handsome. It’s devestating.  Anyway. I was sorry to see him go.

“Bloom Rooms” in New Dehli, by the way, is an absolutely charming contemporary hotel very near to the train station that takes one to Agra.  I highly recommend it.  Everything is very Western design and Western clean- and the charming beech wood, white and yellow rooms have bunkbeds! I tumbled myself into the gorgeous shower and then into bed as quickly as possible.  Next stop is Agra for the Taj Mahal… tomorrow.

Simla-> Kalka-> Delhi Oct. 14 ’16 Woke at the crack of dawn to find that my body was doing it's  natural female letting go thing, which definitely explained yesterday's tearfulness on the physiological level...

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Oct. 13 '16 - Reflection on Grief

I needed to be taken care of by someone, and I was all alone.

[Linda, my older sister, died of cancer in early October, about 2 weeks before her 50th birthday and 3 weeks before my own birthday, in 2013.  Concurrently, I realized that someone I cared about was a “fair-weather only” friend (Male B), after they ghosted from my life the same week she passed away.  When I got home from putting her effects in order and emptying her apartment, I discovered the…

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Shimla, Oct. 13 '16

Shimla, Oct. 13 ’16

This slideshow requires JavaScript. Wonderful sleep achieved! There is not the horrible dog barking here in Simla to disturb my sleep, nor is enough traffic able to fit through these extremely narrow streets up by the Spars Lodge that one wakes due to the beeping of horns.  I call this little budget place a total score on all fronts. I woke up at the crack of dawn anyway and snuck in a couple of…

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Simla- Oct. 12 '16

Simla- Oct. 12 ’16

This slideshow requires JavaScript. The bus ride to Simla was not nearly as comfortable as I’d hoped, nor as uncomfortable as I feared.  I got a classically Indian bus: pretty grubby, but otherwise comfortable enough.  I was happy to ride with average Indians around me, sharing stories about their travels, and the seats reclined so we all slept snuggled deep in blankets, heavy coats and touques…

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McLeod Ganj & Bhagsu- Oct. 11

McLeod Ganj & Bhagsu- Oct. 11

This slideshow requires JavaScript. 7.5 hours of almost unbroken sleep achieved! I got out of bed at the crack of dawn again, did some asanas, bathed and was ready for the day early.  I chatted with another a lovely soft-spoken clean-cut hippie from Austin, TX with one of those exotic American names I can never remember (are you sure that’s not a car model name?) over breakfast on the patio. He…

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McLeod Ganj & Tsuglagkhang- Oct. 10

McLeod Ganj & Tsuglagkhang- Oct. 10

This slideshow requires JavaScript. I may have only been here 24 hours, but I’m a bit fed up with McLeod Ganj as I write this.  when the traffic noise and honking finally stopped, all the local dogs started to bark unceasingly until very, very late (or very, very early depending on your perspective).  I remember this same experience from the town of Cahuita, Costa Rica, but it’s still tough-…

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Nightmare Temptation Reflection- Oct 9

Nightmare Temptation Reflection- Oct 9

2200- First night in McLeod Ganj I just woke up from one of the worst nightmares I have ever had.  My sister who passed away, and another woman (who?) were literally screaming at me in fury for doing this trip- accusing me of totally forgetting about my “baby”, demanding I pay them back the money willed to me by I don’t even know who, telling me to give up on going back to university ever because…

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Reflection Oct. 8- Mumbai

Reflection Oct. 8- Mumbai

I saw and must acknowledge the poverty I saw as I drove to and from the airport. Witnessing 3rd world conditions is not a new experience for me having traveled extensively already, and it wasn’t as though I toured the slums but we certainly wouldn’t need to to be faced with the extreme poverty and filth people live with here. Jetty boats pulled up onto the shores of a river- seemingly made out of…

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View from my balcony @ The Green Hotel, McLeod Ganj

Details of balcony view

“Chorten” temple, McLeod Ganj

A little about my arrival in Delhi- I was horrified.  In the airport, people were laid out on their belongings wherever they could to sleep waiting for their flight, and any part of the airport not enclosed was teeming with mosquitos and flies.  The air was as thick with bugs as it was with smog- I couldn’t tell if the haze over everything was the usual pollution of Delhi or the fact that the area was completely infested  following the monsoon rains.  My hotel shuttle driver didn’t warn me, and I would have really appreciated a head’s up.  I was actually pretty grateful I was still in my heavy westerner clothes, too thick to get a bite through. I tried to put my hat on before getting bit on my scalp and or face, but I’m certain I wasn’t successful.  It was pretty scary, with me just having taken my first dose of anti-malarial meds, and no protection against Dengue.  As we walked to the car, any light source we passed was surrounded by thousands of jockeying, swarming brown bugs.  I really felt for anyone who didn’t have a good home in Delhi at this time. Imagine having to deal with that for days on end!

Although I wasn’t in my hotel room until 0100 this morning the hotel was perfect. “Hotel Airport Residency” is close to the airport (important since I have to go back for my flight to Dharmsala), India clean (towels and bed sheets clean, but slightly dingy, and everything else clean, but fixtures a little worn and hard-water stained), extremely spacious and very well appointed- the shuttle cost includes the return to the airport, too.  The service from the extremely young workers (they can’t be older than 19!) and Indian breakfast this morning was great! Instead of porridge, I had the traditional masala dhosa– a large savoury crepe stuffed with spiced mashed potato. I was also faced with the Indian version of coffee- instant Nescafe! Leave your discerning coffee palate behind folks!  But I was back at Delhi airport by 0800 clean, in my new Indian clothes, and comparatively well-rested.

The flight to Dharamsala happens on one of those small charter planes that you bus out onto the tarmac to board- really fun.  My seat neighbour was a lovely lady, Corrine, who had been an RN in her past (and hated it for the same reasons I did), has been to the OSHO resort, and is visiting Dharamsala for the first time.  We were both at the end of our traveling tethers and so relieved to arrive.  The view from the plane, once away from the Delhi smog and sprawl was amazingly beautiful, for a glacier-fed lake surprised me.  It was fun to trace the runoff river paths down the mountain with their rapids, falls and flats- all visible from the sky.  The drive up to McLeod Ganji from the purely utilitarian town that is Dharamsala proper near the airport was equally charming with wildflowers and villagers, and challenging to my vertigo with its unbelievably steep, narrow and twisty way.  Of course traffic went both ways along this narrow track, and the drivers have reflexes like lightning. I continually avowed my faith that existence would see me arrive safely at my end destination.

My preconceptions of McLeod Ganj were quickly shattered as it’s a CROWDED place on the weekend.  I think this is something I had to see before I truly understood about being in any part of India; this area is a bustling tourist town, home to all the monks and nuns in residence or visiting here, AND all the Indian and Tibetan people as well.  The streets are constantly full of vehicles, animals and people on foot- there is no such thing as a sidewalk here.  The 5 point intersection at the centre of town with roads leading back over to Dharmsala over a high road (I took the low road up), and over to nearby Bhagsu and Dharamkot is a seemingly a mass of taxis and scooters, and a constant cacophony of beeping horns and the traffic policeman’s whistle.  Oddly, a lot of restaurants are situated at every point of this intersection, and they seem to be quite popular.  I guess people enjoy overlooking the chaos they themselves had to go through to get to their respective hotels!

After settling in my hotel, I took a little walkabout.  Yes, there are cows in the streets, hawks and kites overhead on the wing, dogs, monkeys and even a lone chicken hanging out at a public dumpster not far down the road from “The Green Hotel”.  I watched monkeys clamber up through the trees and over rooftops equally today.  My room’s balcony faces the mountains, so it’s lovely, but the room itself is nothing fancy.  Bring your own padlock for added security to your door as there is an additional bolt you can secure upon leaving your room- and ALWAYS close and secure your balcony door unless you want monkeys ripping through your stuff! Hotels in India don’t provide maid services- they clean between guest stays and upon request only.  Remember that before you track the dust (made up of countless different species of garbage and dung) into your bedroom or bathroom areas.  I went to the famous “Nick’s Italian Kitchen” for lunch and shared the table with Kim, a buddhist nun from Montana- and proceeded to talk her ear off after inquiring after an Internet place in town (closed today).  It was really lovely to chat with her and hear her story of how she came to becoming ordained as a nun.  I didn’t get much else done.  By the time I finished lunch, it was nearly 4pm and it was nice to feel settled in my room.  I am really looking forward to my visit to the Tsuglagkhang Complex tomorrow and taking lots of photos of the interesting things I’ve spotted already.  Kim mentioned that sunrise is absolutely stunning here, so hopefully I’ll be up for that, for I want nothing more than to go to bed.

Kim also mentioned I had missed H.H. the Dalai Lama’s talk today as I sat in my taxi today, and he leaves tomorrow for Europe.  Of course I’m very disappointed- that layover in London and Mumbai robbed me of an opportunity it would seem, but how could I have known about this talk a year ago?  However, he will give more talks here and elsewhere (even in Vancouver), and I have been in His Holiness’ presence before- the memory of that day and recollection of how his presence literally feels in my body stays with me and sustains me to this very day.  In the meantime, washing my socks in the sink and giving myself a facial it is- tee hee!

  Dehli -> McLeod Ganj/Dharamsala Oct. 9 A little about my arrival in Delhi- I was horrified.  In the airport, people were laid out on their belongings wherever they could to sleep waiting for their flight, and any part of the airport not enclosed was…

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Arrival! Mumbai Oct 8 '16

Arrival! Mumbai Oct 8 ’16

One of the dresses I brought home from Mumbai- camouflage in a 70’s quilt! I’ve been in India less than 24 hours, and I’m pretty sure I’ve been taken advantage of already.  I just dropped $400 CAD on clothes! However, the experience was priceless in and of itself.  I asked my taxi driver (after an unsuccessful attempt to register at the Canadian consulate – it was closed) to take me to a VERY…