Dirty Men and the Brother's Who Hate Them

Well, I’ll start this update the way I ended the last one… talking about cheesecake. I found some cheesecake. Not just cheesecake. GOOD cheesecake. Of the lemony variety. I swear it even had cream cheese in it, but the owner of the café insists that they use curd and hang it in some weird way for the desired effect. Anyway the search is over. I’ve found it. It’s at a tiny café in Khan Market in Delhi. I don’t remember the name. But you’ll find it if you really want to. And if you ever travel as long as I’ve just traveled and find yourself in Delhi, trust me you’ll want it bad enough to find it. I’m not going to say it’s the best cheesecake that I’ve ever had. Just the cheesecake with the best timing. If there was a heaven on earth it would have been Hazelnut cheesecake. Anyway, it was creamy, not even the slightest bit gelatinous like all the other cheesecake imposters that I’ve had in the last year. So now you know, between me and you… Khan Market.

So we didn’t really do all that much in Nepal in the end. I left you in Kathmandu, where we stayed for what seemed like an eternity trying to figure out a plan for Kim, and basically being too lazy to do anything or leave. We had some good pizza and ice cream (thanks Jodi!). Found an organic restaurant called Organic that did nice organic vegetable burgers. Used the internet. A lot. Decided that Kim was going to Taiwan to teach English and bought some plane tickets. And pretty much ignored everything else that’s of interest around Kathmandu except for the big giant stupa on the hill, which was pretty nice but filled with too many tacky souvenir sellers once you reach the top, which I think should be free of any commerce and just a peaceful place to sit and admire the view. Oh well, not the first time I’ve seen a nice place shat upon. Did I mention the KFC near the sphinx in Cairo? I think I did.

With Kim’s bank account running on empty we headed back towards India so she could catch a flight to Taipei. On the way out we stopped at Lumbini which is right near the border, and the birthplace of Buddha. It was more than a little hot, and slightly out of the way requiring us to stay overnight, but I’m really glad we made the effort. It’s a really nice and peaceful place set on many acres of nice land. It doesn’t see a ton of tourists so feels a little like you’re out in the middle of nowhere. There’s a pond which is supposed to be where his mother went to wash directly after the birth, and Ashokan Pillar that designates this as the spot, and a temple standing over the exact location, which unfortunately is a new temple that replaced the old one which was knocked down in the name of excavation about 10 years ago. Ashoka was a famous Emperor in India who left many pillars everywhere that he went. I’d heard a lot about them, and it was nice to see one in person, but it was hardly breathtaking and more than a little boring. The temple was also torn down in search of a rock that he had supposedly placed on the exact spot of birth. They found the rock, but even then I would say it’s all speculation since he didn’t visit this spot until about 300 years after Buddha died.

Since we were now experts in the life of Buddha we decided to also stop at his place of death, a couple hours back on the Indian side of the border. Kushinagar is yet another nice place, but is much larger than Lumbini and is actually a functioning town that sees a lot of visitors. We stayed at the large and slightly tacky Chinese/Vietnamese temple. I hate to admit giving up the chance to stay at the Tibetan Temple, which was a far more interesting place to sit, but we opted for the nicer and cooler rooms at the other place which also had a bucket so we could do laundry. By the way I haven’t seen a washing machine in over a year. That is one luxury that I definitely miss. But I’m pretty used to hand-washing now, it’s not as much of a pain as it was in the beginning. Anyhoo, the main temple in town is built over his place of death, and houses a very large statue of him lying in the ‘freed’ position. It’s quite beautiful. As is the lawn which we sat on for a couple hours and talked to locals and other Indian tourists and fended off a big monkey that was making a beeline for Kim’s bag.

While eating in a restaurant one night we saw that the owner and her kids were tending a newborn baby so we went to say hi. It turns out they had just adopted the baby that day. It was only 4 or 5 days old and had been thrown (literally) in a field behind one of the temples. Luckily someone spotted it before dogs and starvation got to it, and this kind-hearted woman took it into her family without even a second thought. Or informing her husband who was out of town on business. Surprise!

A long train ride later we arrived in Delhi. We spent Kim’s last few days here eating good food, watching movies and wandering around Old Delhi, where Kim was molested by a disgusting man who shoved his hand between her legs. Unfortunately this isn’t uncommon here. Some of our movies and a few oblivious and sluttily dressed tourists have left some Indian men with the impression that western girls are easy. I’ve heard lot’s of stories about this from most of the girls that I know that have visited India, but it hits you a little differently when you see it yourself and when it involves your sister. He actually had the nerve to do it when she was with me and another guy! Kim smacked him and yelled a bit and we all stared him down, but unfortunately it all happened a little to quickly and then he was gone. I’ve dreamt most nights since that we beat him until he bled. I’m not a violent person, but I know it’s in there somewhere. I find it amazing how willing people are to turn a blind eye to this kind of thing. In theory it’s a punishable offense. According to signs on the trains it’s illegal to even stare too long at a girl. Yet I know at least 10 people that have had similar incidences, and not once did anyone help or stand up for them. That said, I stood there speechless as well. Should’ve cut his dick off.

In lighter news, one of the bigger stories here in Delhi at the moment is about 3 doctors that are accused of performing amputations on healthy limbs to turn people into more successful beggars. It’s not a new concept by any means, but it’s often denied or overlooked. But there is supposed evidence against these guys, which is awesome. It’s widely believed that many beggars work for others, a ‘pimp’ if you will, who will do almost anything to bring in more money. Sometimes it’s even their parents. Nobody knows how many people are actually working for others, or if they’re just hard on luck and fending for themselves. But the prospect of giving money that will end up in the hands of the terrible people who ARE committing these kinds of crimes sickens me to the core. I’m not a stingy person but I find it really hard to give here in India. I’ve actually seen kids on a couple of occasions begging and then taking the money across the street to an adult they’re working for/with. I can’t decide who needs help and who I just want to slap. I think buying food is a good option maybe… a nice hot samosa perhaps. But even then I tried to give some bread that I had with me to and 80 year old homeless woman on a train a few weeks ago, and not only did she refuse but gave me an incredibly nasty look that all but told me to fuck off.

Oh yeah, speaking of shat upon monuments, I gave the Jama Masjid here in Delhi a small beating in one of my previous emails, but I visited it again the other day, and I have to say it wasn’t as bad as I remember. It’s still not nearly as nice atmosphere as the Badshahi Mosque in Lahore, but it wasn’t as filled with the tourist hunters as it was on my previous visit. We sat inside against a wall for quite awhile and were only bothered by 1 family who were tourists from another state and just wanted to say hi, and then 1 more man who would not accept that I didn’t speak Urdu, and kept talking rapidly for many minutes. I would shake my head and he would just keep going. I didn’t understand all that he said, but some of it was definitely telling me how to live more like the Prophet Muhammed lived, which mostly involved adjusting my facial hair to a more suitable style. Long beard with short neat moustache. I told him I would work on it. Or not. Then he made me repeat the Islamic declaration of faith, which I’m pretty sure makes me a Muslim now. Sorry Mom.

So now Kim’s gone, and our friend Michael went yesterday as well, and I’m all alone yet again! And in Delhi, which is like a vortex for me… I never seem to be able to get out of here. I can sit here in indecision for weeks. Where to go? What to do? Somewhere cooler would be nice… it’s fairly warm here… maybe a few more cheesecakes will help with the decision making…

Much love!!! I hope you’re all well! And for my Lebanese friends I’m thinking of you!