Erin's Guide to Living

Kerala

Posted on October 21, 2013 by erinparker75

Our time in Goa is cut short by our next destination: Kerala.

And that flight was quite eventful due to yours truly. You must remember, at this point I was operating on 4-5 days with no sleep. My brain was just gray mush at this moment. So take that into account when you read the following tale:

I get up to go to the bathroom, which is at the front of the plane. For some reason, I can’t find the door. Imagine my confusion at this moment, when I’ve already witnessed others successfully complete this action. I stand at the front of the plane, wondering why this is such a difficult task. Eventually I admit defeat and turn around, only to find the curious gaze of a Sikh sitting in the front row, watching me. He kindly points to his left (my right) and I turn to find the emergency exit door. That can’t be right. I scratch my head and look back at him. Other people are watching now. He again points to the left, and I hear several onlookers shout out “To your left!” Which is still my right. I turn again, but there is no door. Are they messing with me? What is going on? Why can’t I find this door? By now, most of the plane is watching with amusement to see what I’ll do. More people keep telling me to go to my left. I can only go so far before I’m just turning in circles. So I keep turning, spot a door, and reach for it. I grasp the handle and start to turn it when everyone starts yelling at me. I stop.

It was the cockpit. I tried to open the cockpit door.

Anywho, let’s move past this.

San’s uncle meets us at the airport with transport, and this is what we find when we arrive –

The party bus!

ambient lighting – perfect for night time cruising

San’s auntie cooks every delicious meal for us, and hovers over the table while we eat, ready to ladle our plates with more food if they get too empty. I thought I would find it unnerving, but its comforting and warm, like curling up by a fire.

Every morning she also makes us chai and I drink about 3-4 cups. I want to bathe in it. Chai must be what they serve in heaven. Also, I learned that “chai” means “tea” in Hindi, so now I no longer ask for a “tea tea” (chai tea).

Our 2^nd day in Kerala, Uncle takes us to the Pamba River for a houseboat cruise on the backwaters.

making our way to the boat

Posted in Goa, India, Kerala, Travel | Tagged backwaters, chai, cockpit, flight, goa, hindi, houseboat cruise, india, kerala, pamba river, plane, sikh, spice jet | 4 Comments

North Goa

Posted on October 10, 2013 by erinparker75

(I pulled this straight from my journal entry that I wrote the day we went to North Goa)

Goa: Everything we went through before was worth it for her.

Our second day we take a car to North Goa. Boho vibe. Crowded beaches in Arjuna. Coastline dotted with shacks, restaurants and bars, live bands, massive flea markets, dreads, piercings, tattoos.

Tanned legs in flowy, colorful pants. Incense. Henna. Thatched roofs overhead, and sunlight filters through the cracks, creating a light beam mosaic on the rugs covering the dirt.

Colors. Honks. Dust. Sweltering heat. This guy

Pushy Indian sellers. Grab your arm and pull you in, pushy. I don’t mind it.

So many expats. So many dreads. They all look alike. Thin. Grungy. Tan, leathery skin. Hair that is hastily dreaded and pulled back. Baggy clothes and excessive wooden accessories. No shoes. No makeup.

I love it. I soak it all in and still want more. I want to stay and fully absorb.

The beggars here…they are docile compared to Latin American and Spain. No tricks, gimmicks, or working in teams. I’ve relaxed my vigilante attitude because I’ve realized such an extreme isn’t necessary. It comforts and unsettles me at the same time.

I love Goa. She’s no Latin America, and I have to keep reminding myself to not look for the Latin in India. Let her be what she is. When I do that, I can completely open up and appreciate her for what she is – not as I would want her to be. And that is when her beauty starts revealing itself with subtle splendor.

The gentleness of Emilio, our driver. The kindness in a stranger’s smile. Laughing and negotiating with sellers. Suns that sink into the Arabian Sea. Calm ocean water. Young children wanting their photo with me.

Other backpackers, reminding me fondly of the life I once lived 8 years ago. The satisfaction and contentment in realizing how delicious that was, but the truth is that I no longer yearn for those experiences again.

They remain peacefully in the past, always ready to embrace me when I look at them. But I’m happy to keep moving forward. That part of my life is over.

I want something else now.

photo credits: the illustrious Greg Bryan

Posted in Goa, India, Travel | Tagged anjuna, backpackers, beach, dreads, flea market, goa, henna, incense, india, indian, Latin America, north goa, ocean, Spain, sunset | 2 Comments

Lorelei gets an 8 Hour Nose Piercing

Posted on October 8, 2013 by erinparker75

While moseying around North Goa after dinner, Lorelei decides to get her nose pierced. It’s horrific. And falls out 8 hours later.

#fail

Posted in Goa, India, Travel | Tagged goa, india, nose piercing | 4 Comments

Meet me in the mall, it’s Goan down

Posted on August 29, 2013 by erinparker75

We rush to get on the plane to Goa, which makes a stop in Delhi first. For FOUR HOURS. We camp out in one of the bars and have our first taste of alcohol in 3 days. Then our flight is delayed another 2 hours. We finally arrive in the Goa airport, and this is the first photo I take:

it’s art!

The first thing we notice when we step outside is that it’s WARM. After what seems like days of carrying a chill in my bones, I strip off my fleece and welcome the sticky, humid air to thaw me out. We grab a couple of drivers and off we go to our hotel.

The scene:

We’re all pretty excited, so we get showered and head out to one of the hottest clubs in Goa, and don’t come home until the sun is up.

Just kidding. We showered, ordered room service, and went to bed. Best. Night. Ever.

The next day was spent drinking Kingfisher on the beach, while Greg entertained us with a guitarty. That’s all we did. And it was perfect.

Just to be clear, we went from this:

to this:

guitarties on the playa

Before:

After:

Desolation and despair:

Happiness:

Oh Goa! You sure know how to soothe our Cinderblock scars!

So the hotel was in South Goa, which is very sleepy and where 50 year old angry German couples go to get away from people like us. Now, “people like us” would have been much better off in North Goa, which is the party mecca, and what I pictured when I imagined what Goa would be like. It was also 2 hours away by car. We worked with what we had. And drank a lot. If you don’t know, Americans are quite loud. When you have 8 of us, and strong Kingfisher, and a guitar…well eventually everyone around us left after it was clear we weren’t concerned about their angry looks thrown in our direction.

empty chairs all around

sunset over the Muslim Sea

Posted in Goa, India, Travel | Tagged beach, beer, cinderblock, delhi, goa, guitarty, india, kingfisher, north goa, south goa | 5 Comments

Some notes on India

Posted on August 20, 2013 by erinparker75

So I know it seems like I’m a Pessimistic Patty, but there was a part to my trip that was really just awful, and I made a promise to myself to always be authentic on my blog. Sometimes life isn’t perfect, and it doesn’t work out the way we hope. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

But, it wasn’t all cinderblocks and feces. I just found some rather sweet notes in my journal as a matter of fact that I thought I’d share with you guys:

The Kumbh Mela wasn’t at all what I expected, but, that’s life. You never know how things are going to turn out.

….we have had multiple, deep, true belly laughs daily. And that kind of stuff, my friends, is like diamonds to me. Shine bright like a diamond. (quote from the trip)

Blissed out
Mangas
Mango laisses
Guitarties
4 days
Bed breaker
Masala tea

Exhaustion and fucked up sleep cycles. Constant dreaming of Goa – land of beer. Beaches. Showers. Warm weather.

What I love:

-the children! Never seen happier faces, more open and loving and receptive hearts. They have fully lassoed my affections. I can’t explain their energy – pure, open, loving, bliss, happy, excitement. It’s infectious.

-the colors. Even in the midst of abject poverty, the Indians don’t compromise on beauty. I don’t think Americans demand enough beauty in their world. But the Indians have perfected all things beautiful. Ornate and gilded nose studs. Streaks of red painted in center parts. Heavy kohl liner to accent their dark and seductive eyes. Saris in turquoise, fiery orange, crimson, gold, amethyst, magenta and indigo blue. Bangles in street stalls that glisten in the sun. Heaping mounds of mustard and brick colored spices, ready for scooping. Nothing is bland. Nothing! The emphasis on beauty stands out in such vivid detail. How do I bring that back home?

-open, curious faces that blatantly stare with no reservations or shame. Innocent curiosity. How lovely are their souls and general disposition! They smile easily and readily. It warms my heart.

See? She wasn’t all bad. And even though the Cinderblock was one of the worst experiences I’ve ever had, I still wouldn’t trade it for the world. Because of who I was with 🙂

Up next: Goa

Posted in India, Kumbh Mela, My Life, Rants n Stuff, Thoughts, Varanasi | Tagged beaches, beauty, beer, blissed out, children, cinderblock, color, diamonds, goa, guitarties, india, kumbh mela, mangas, masala tea, saris | Leave a comment

The Cinderblock Part 3

Posted on August 13, 2013 by erinparker75

Shortly after the phone call, we see two of the guys from earlier haul a bed inside the cinderblock. They put it in the corner and then go get sheets. So that is what the phone call was about – he had them bring in a bed so he can keep an eye on us. No telling what we would do to this place, left unattended.

Once it’s clear we will all be sleeping together, we try to get more comfortable. I watch as the owner prepares himself for bed. I know he hates us – I can see it every time he glances in our direction. Then he takes off his shirt which reveals a shoulder gun holster and we all gasp. It looked like this:

source

Turns out, it was just a back brace. False alarm! Ha ha ha. (nervous laughter…)

I go over to an empty table and push 3 plastic chairs together into some sort of makeshift chair bed. I lie down for approximately 3 minutes and get back up. I can’t feel my feet at this point, so we do some exercises under the harsh glow of the one fluorescent bulb he leaves on.

I didn’t know Juana was recording, otherwise I would have cleaned up for you guys. I love Chad’s half-hearted leg kicks. And if you listen closely, you can hear the owner snoring peacefully, completely impervious to the cold.

I look at the clock and 6 minutes has passed. At this point I fall into a heap and just cry. This night will never end. At least my tears are warm.

even John is sad

Somehow, the night passes and we start packing up our stuff around 5AM. The walk to the airport is bleak. It’s cold, we’re exhausted, carrying heavy packs, I’m dirty, my clothes are crawling with parasites I’m sure. Just an all around miserable moment. We finally see the Varanasi airport looming ahead – a sleek structure with modern lines and clean white marble. All I can think about is how odd it looks in contrast to its surroundings.

so happy we made it!

Everyone has their paper itineraries printed out…except for Lorelei and me. Of course. So they let everyone into the airport, except us. I watch the others walk through the doors, heaving giant sighs of relief and practically sprinting to the restaurant. I pull my face off the glass to walk over to the airport office outside.

We are told to wait until the Spice Jet office opens, then we can ask them to print our itineraries for a dollar. Itineraries, people. Not tickets. You need an ITINERARY just to enter the airport. Fucking India.

We’re standing there, and as soon as the window opens, about 3 Indians materialize in front of us and start inquiring about their flights. They’re not ones for queuing. But I have no resolve at this point to care. Lorelei pushes them back and says “We were first! No!”. I nod my head in approval. The Indians step back, and Lorelei hands our passports through the window. We get our itineraries, go through about 23 security checkpoints, and board our plane to Goa via Delhi.

Posted in Allahabad, Delhi, India, Kumbh Mela, My Life, Travel, Varanasi | Tagged airplane, airport, allahabad, cinderblock, cold, delhi, goa, gun, india, john grisham, kumbh, spice jet, varanasi | 2 Comments

The Cinderblock – part two

Posted on August 6, 2013 by erinparker75

The drivers leave, and with them all of our hope. Resigned, we settle in for what proves to be one of the longest nights of my life.

Did I mention it’s freezing? How did we end up in this concrete room in the middle of nowhere?

middle.of.nowhere

I pull out some cards and try desperately to remember the rules to Bullshit, a game I learned 7 years ago in South America. And with a name that aptly describes our situation, it seemed rather fitting. I give up after about 20 seconds. My hands were too cold.

The owner and his guys start making our dinner (in hindsight we never should have eaten that food – the kitchen…oh god, the kitchen…) and we amuse ourselves by staring at the walls, trying to sleep, and trying to figure out what was happening on the fuzzy TV.

We eat, and after they clear the plates away (the food was actually decent), the owner brings us the bill. San opens it, and there’s just one figure: 3,500.45. A thousand rupees more than what we originally agreed upon. And where did the 0.45 come from?? San’s eyes go wide, then he looks up at the owner, who is sitting in a chair opposite us, leaning against the wall. He sees San look at the bill, then up at him, then he closes his eyes. And pretends to sleep.

We call out to him multiple times, and he ignores us. Is this dude for real?! Eventually, he “wakes up” and saunters over. I guess he didn’t anticipate us putting up a fight, because he is not very pleased to be pulled from his slumber. Everyone then launches into a heated Hindi/English discussion over the justification of the price. Eventually we win (America 1, India 295), we pay the guy the original fee we agreed upon, and settle in for the night. And by settle, I mean remain seated in the chairs and look at each other.

An hour later, the owner gets up and turns off the TV. The other guys all put on their coats and start shutting the garage doors one by one. I’m fidgeting in my chair, watching them. If I didn’t know any better, it would look like they’re about to kick us out and close up shop. They get to the last door, and shut it to where it’s only halfway open. Then they start turning off the lights.

Juana and I keep looking at each other, and I’m feeling rather uneasy now about our little concrete haven. The owner walks over to those of us still awake and makes a motion with his hands that he wants to sleep.

When we make no indication that we’re leaving, he motions for us to get out. Just where the HELL does he think we’re gonna go??? Then another heated discussion ensues, about how we need to leave, but no in fact we are actually staying, but no he wants to go to bed now and can’t leave us alone lest we destroy his concrete box (blink blink), but you said we could stay until the morning, and so on.

Eventually, he pulls out his cell phone and makes a call. That’s when I think he’s calling for backup. Great. I am about to die in India and no one will ever find my body.

Juana and I start to gather our stuff like we’re just gonna head out (where?!), but the guys stop us. “We’re not leaving. He said 2,000 rupees for the night, and that’s what he’s getting. We aren’t going anywhere.” And they don’t budge. I had to admire the resolution, and I was so grateful for them at that moment. So, we stay put. And wait to see what will happen next.

Posted in India, Kumbh Mela, Travel, Varanasi | Tagged cinderblock, concrete box, india, kumbh mela, varanasi | 7 Comments

The Cinderblock – Part one

Posted on July 24, 2013 by erinparker75

You know what? I never found that phantom chanting. Eff you, Kumbh.

proof

The cars were supposed to pick us up at 6pm to take us to Varanasi, where we were catching our flight to Goa. They don’t arrive until 9:45pm. Who cares? We’re out. We gratefully toss in our packs and settle in for a good car sleep. We didn’t have a hotel room booked, but figured it would be easy enough to find one once we got there.

FOOLS

Again, India had the upper hand when it came to our well-being. I think it was around 1am when we rolled into the outskirts of Varanasi. We wanted to stay near the airport, since our flights were early. Originally we thought we would just spend the night in the airport (have done that in London twice, Panama, Spain and Ecuador…what was one more?) but the Varanasi airport closes at midnight. So that was out. That’s fine. We’ll just drive around and find a hotel, right? Nope. Of the few hotels we found (like, 1) there were no vacancies due to the Kumbh. Plus, there was generally nothing in the vicinity save a few a murdery fields and scary looking buildings which I’m sure were haunted.

Our drivers pull into a restaurant, which resembled a cinderblock with a few dirty tables, and a handful of grim looking Indian men watching a fuzzy television. Why are they still awake? Why is there a restaurant in the middle of nowhere? Who are they feeding at this hour? So many questions were going through my sleep-deprived brain.

We all go inside, and the men negotiate with hand signals a way for us to stay there for the evening. We are close enough that we can just walk to the airport in the morning, but we don’t actually want to sleep on the street if we can help it. But I’m thinking, everyone needs at least one street sleep in their lifetime, right? This might be my moment.

there was a lot of confusion in this moment

I’m watching all of this from a table, shivering and miserable. It’s so cold. Eventually, they seem to reach an agreement. We can stay in a bare cement room next door, for $140 for the night.

What….the fuck.

Then they start bringing out dirty and stained blankets for us to use, dragging them along the floor and beating the dust out of them, creating a cloudy haze that seems to hang in the air.

No. Just no.

We then ask the drivers if they will let us sleep in their cars until the morning. We were that desperate. But they said no, they had to get back for another job. At 2am? Whatever.

The boys revisited the cinderblock option, and convinced the owners to let us sit at the tables until 6AM for $40, and include food. That seemed to appease both parties. But as you can see in India, nothing ever works out like you think it will…

Posted in Allahabad, Festivals, India, Kumbh Mela, Travel | Tagged allahabad, cinderblock, india, kumbh mela, varanasi | 4 Comments

Kumbh Mela Part 3

Posted on May 15, 2013 by erinparker75

Here we go, wandering around on the main bathing day. Chad and Cerrie brought dry clothes and just changed in the boat so we didn’t have to go back to camp. Then we moseyed about the Ganga. Along with ten million other people. NBD. Keep in mind it’s also 3AM when we start. We get to watch the sunrise. This is the first (and only) sunrise I have ever hated. Stupid sun.

Then I reach my breaking point. Half the group had already gone back to camp 2 hours prior, but I had stayed, convinced I would see the Sadhus. When it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, I put on my cranky pants and declared that I was going back. Bobby and Greg wanted to stay; Chad and Cerrie wanted to come with me.

Eric Hematisfingerpoint takes India

don’t let this smirk fool you. i am NOT happy.

So we leave this guy:

in action

and these guys:

we started taking photos of them, too

…and headed back.

All I can say is, THANK GOD Chad and Cerrie came with, because they showed me this “shortcut” which is as close to heaven as I’ve ever been in this lifetime:

an ashram being built

Which technically isn’t a shortcut, but a construction site for a new ashram. We simply ignored the “Do Not Enter” signs and blasted on through, laughing and skipping merrily through the wide open spaces with joyful abandon.

joyful abandon

Meanwhile, THIS is what those other fools had to deal with:

i die

can you spot bobby? he’s the brown one

My group arrives back at camp 10 minutes after the others who left 2 hours ago. More proof I would have died on that road of death. It’s 7AM, and I feel like we’ve already put in an entire day’s worth of work.

Thus begins our day of waiting. You know why we can’t leave? Because it’s the main bathing day, and no cars are allowed to come in or go out. There is literally nothing to do. Literally! We are in the middle of nowhere. The camp offers no entertainment other than sleep. There is no town to explore.

Some of us get sick.

“it was the chai!”

Some of us break the beds.

yep. it crumpled after i sat down.

Some of us attempt sleep. And I say “attempt” because in honor of the main bathing day, the camp counselors erect a crackling loud speaker that reaches to every corner of our camp and someone with a very nasaly voice proceeds to read Hindu prayers for SIX HOURS STRAIGHT. Without pause. There was no escape. Then Lorelei had a breakdown due to not sleeping in 4 days and the incessant chanting. I laughed at first, thorougly entertained while she screamed and threw pillows in her delirium, until I realized it was real and someone needed to get her a benzo. This religious festival had us unraveling at the seams….

*Photos by Greg Bryan

Posted in Allahabad, India, Kumbh Mela | Tagged ashram, camp, ganga, ganges, india, kumbh mela, religious festival | 4 Comments

Kumbh Mela part 2

Posted on May 1, 2013 by erinparker75

It’s just….madness.

and more madness-

There’s no schedule per se – no program to follow. Just a bunch (as in, millions) of people walking around kind of aimlessly. And so we do the same. I want the Sadhus. The Sadhus are the religious renunciates who have left all material possessions behind and live in caves. They wear loin cloths or go naked. They are also impervious to the cold due to consistently exposing their bodies to the elements, and abuse their * ahem * members to such drastic degrees that they are no longer capable of getting sexually aroused. They CHOOSE this. Cray.

Anywho, they are always the main draw to the Kumbh since they make quite a spectacle of smearing their naked bodies with ash then running into the river to bathe. I wanted a piece of that.

Cerrie and Chad decide that they’re still going to bathe in the sewage water. That’s fine. We wake up at 2AM the next day/night/whatever and walk down to the river to find a boat to take us to the bathing spot. We climb precariously into the boat, taking care to not let one ounce of water touch our skin. I pretend to push Juana in the river and we both have a good laugh. But my heart drops each time the boat rocks from side to side. She ain’t a sturdy barge, that’s for sure.

Lo’s holding on to her sins. That’s why she’s smiling

just your standard temple shot.

shit’s about to go down. literally.

da boat

maybe he’s reconsidering

Once at the bathing spot, Chad takes off his sarong and sprints through the Ganga in the nude. Best. Moment. Ever… his naked body reflecting the moonlight. We are all laughing our asses off from the boat until he’s brought in by a river warden. No nakies in the river. Sad. They climb back in and I can smell the dysentery on them. It’s only a matter of time, folks.

i blurred out his bum out of respect. for chad, not you guys

sprinting Ganga style

From there, we set out to find the Sadhus. Where? We don’t know. Like I said, not much organization at this place. But I’m sure in this crowd we’ll just happen to bump into them.

I still hear the chanting. WHERE is that damn chanting? All I wanna do is sit cross legged on the floor and watch some chanting. Maybe burn some sage.

We never found the Sadhus. Henceforth, I was ready to call it a day and get the hell out of Allahabad. But no. The koomb wasn’t done with me yet…

*all photos by Greg Bryan, except the ones that aren’t*

Posted in Allahabad, India, Kumbh Mela | Tagged allahabad, ganga, ganges, india, kumbh mela, sadhus | 2 Comments