Posted by
thomenda7xx on Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Over a year ago I stated that I would not rant about the aspects of our society that I deem to be horrible and tragic and focus this minute particle of the world wide web on health and fitness and the beauty of stand up paddling. However, this whole story about the bullying going on within the Miami Dolphins locker room has put me in a mood. Being that this story is related to sports and overall health and wellness, I figured I would exorcise some of what has been bothering me since the news first broke.
I was bullied. For almost two years in 6th and 7th grade I lived in fear of a classmate who thought nothing of punching me in the arm or chest without any provocation. I was nowhere near being considered a "big kid." I always lined up near the front of the line when our class was told to arrange ourselves from shortest to tallest. Also, I was a quiet Christian kid who enjoyed going to church and Sunday school (on most mornings) and I was pretty obedient. My momma raised me well and she took particular care to teach me to treat others kindly. I know, I know things changed when I turned 16 but before that I was an angel...Needless to say, I was easy prey for anyone with a mean streak. What made things worse was the fact that not only was I fairly well behaved and polite but I was the new kid in Mrs. Hatfield's 6th grade class. Being the new guy is awful...
Fall at a new school wasn't so bad. I got along well with everyone in the class, even the bully for most of the time. I joined the soccer team late and soon enough some of my athletic prowess was noticed by the coaches and I took over a starting position. I think this is when some of the bullying started. To sum things up, it continued into basketball season when I purposely asked to be on the "B" team as the competition for starting point guard for the "A" team was between myself and the bully. When I presented my request to make the "B" team Coach Hatfield understood the reason why and did not press the matter but he told me there would come a time when I would have to stand up for myself and it wasn't right for me to not try to reach my full potential. I wasn't ready to stand up for myself. He must have seen the panic flood my face and body because he granted my request. I played on the "B" team that season and watched the "A" team point guard flounder on the court. Despite his lack of ball-handling skills he could throw a punch to my arm that would send pain throughout my whole upper body.
On bathroom breaks it would not be unusual for me to be pushed in a corner and punched by the bully and maybe another one of his friends. There I would cower and take a beating until either more people would come in the bathroom or one of the pugilists would need to pee. This went on for some time, but I was too scared to tell anyone about it.
Also, I didn't fight back because I was scared of the pain that might ensue. Being punched in the arm hurt; in 6th and 7th grade I couldn't imagine how much a punch to the face would hurt. I didn't want to put myself in the position to experience such. (Oh how I wish I had kept that way of thinking in my 20s!)
The bullying stuck with me throughout the middle school years and summer breaks were my only reprieve. The bullying would have continued in 8th grade but my parents finally convinced me to stand up for myself. The climax to my fear happened at dinner on my 13th birthday. My parents took me to Baltimore for the weekend to explore my birth city and have a special birthday. However, I was so scared of showing up to school on Monday that I broke down in tears at dinner at the Rusty Scupper and told my parents all that had been going on for the past 2 years. I think the waitress gave me free ice cream and a lot of napkins that night! My poor parents! They were upset that I had been beaten on for an extended period of time without their knowledge, that I was turning out to be much more of a pansy than they expected, and that they knew this was a situation that I needed to take care of myself. They backed me up and they told me God would be there for me as well. I believed them and I was soon to experience evidence that there indeed was a God that was watching down over His children. I have to give a lot of credit to my parents for staying out of it and giving me the opportunity to take care of the situation myself.
To sum things up, Monday came around and I stood up for myself. No punches were thrown and I was never bullied again.
Which brings me to the story of Jonathan Martin's experiences as a member of the Miami Dolphins. I know what I experienced as a small kid getting bullied so I cannot imagine someone who is tough enough to play in the NFL can be a victim of bullying. If I was a big and strong kid I would have broken some necks if somebody tried to bully me or maybe not. I might have still cried at dinner....but the point is: this is some horrible stuff to come out of Miami. It blows my mind that bullying could happen among adults, much less huge adults, and have such a tremendous affect on someone's adult life. The effect that bullying had on my adolescent years was awful; this has got to be worse.
Imagine the gentleness in this man's heart to be so sensitive to what others think of him that he has to leave such a high paying job, out of fear, to seek solace at home with his parents. This story makes me so angry and upset because I know that being the victim of bullying as a middle schooler is a horrible thing that being the victim of bullying as an adult must be overwhelming. Obviously it is overwhelming. Who turns a blind eye to this type of behavior among grown men? It is so disgusting and there is no other way to put it.
Of course nobody but those involved know the whole story and us outsiders are just speculating. I am speculating but as a victim of bullying; I determine it to be my right. We all need to keep an eye out for bullying in our communities and in the lives of our loved ones. You are not being a "rat" notifying the proper authorities when it comes to bullying. Any time it can be stopped it should be stopped, immediately if not sooner.
Bullying is a shameful part of our society that goes on everyday in every community. This morning I read that bullies are often the victim of bullies, which makes sense but I never knew before. Obviously there are a chain of events that take place and spread beyond just the dynamic of the bully and the victim. Often I see ads for programs that are trying to stop bullying. This is such a great thing to see. Personally, I wish they had these hotlines to call about 30 or so years ago!! :)
I am so glad we don't have these kind of issues in the stand up paddling world despite those mean prone surfers call us sweepers!!
Posted by
thomenda7xx on Thursday, October 31, 2013
How do you choose the right paddle that fits your style of paddling?
Over the last couple of years, I have been fortunate enough to try several brands of paddles. Most are effective enough and will take care of all your needs, some are completely worthless and should be taken off the market, (one super-popular brand is downright un-usable) but there can only be one that is the best. In this paddler’s humble opinion, Ke Nalu paddles hold the crown. They are very competitively priced, super light, easy on the joints and muscles, and the Oregon based company provides enough components with varying degrees of flex, size, and weight to ensure that each and every consumer finds the perfect combination to end up the paddle that suits their style best. When it comes to choosing a paddle from Ke Nalu there are at least 3 different options for each part that makes up a complete paddle so I thought I would write about my experiences with all the components and offer up some feedback as to what might be the best fit for you! AND…read on to find a way to get a good deal on a new paddle!!
BLADES:
Everyone always wonders about blade size. As a guy I hate saying this but: size matters. I think choosing the right blade size depends a lot on technique. When determining blade size I don't go by square inches; I go by paddle width. The first paddle I bought was in my second month of racing and it was the 8.5" wide Maliko. It worked well for me and it felt great paired with a 90 Flex shaft and an Ergo T handle. As I was trying to work on my stroke technique, I did have some shoulder issues that started from using another brand and using a paddle that was way too tall in overall length did not help matters any. My stroke was all about arm strength which is not the best way to avoid pain. Shoulder pain continued throughout the middle of my first race season and as I closed in on facing a 26.5 mile race I was too broke to buy abnother paddle. I cut 8.5” blade down to 8.15" for the SEA Paddle NYC race in 2012 and found it effective for the 26.5 miles. Also, my shoulder pain went away 1 week before the SEA Paddle race! Using the 8.15" blade for races after SEA Paddle that were much shorter did not feel so good for me; I felt like I was pushing water but not moving forward fast enough. However, I was still learning the proper stroke technique and looking back now it was quite apparent that I had no idea what I was doing. I was throwing my blade in the water in whatever way felt good and moved me forward. Any paddle that didn't hurt my shoulders was a good paddle. Ke Nalu worked but as I started to improve my stroke I felt I needed to make a change.
Here, it is important to note that after changing brands to Ke Nalu my shoulder pain went away. I was able to train through pain for a big race and, eventually, feel the pain go away as I started using a brand that was constructed with shoulder pain in mind!
At the end of last year, I was all about using the strength of my arms to make me go so I wanted to try a larger blade. I bought the 9" wide Molokai blade and loved the way it felt when I planted the blade in the water. I really felt like I was doing something good planting that beast in the water and I felt my speed improve. The first race I did with a bigger blade (even though it was not a Ke Nalu because I left a paddle at the Orange Bowl in Miami) was the Cold Stroke Classic and I was very pleased with the result. But…I was still trying to push ahead by bullying my way through the stroke. The bigger blade, when used for anything 6 miles or less, worked because I was totally relying on arm strength instead of putting my core, lats, delts, and hips into the rotation. As I have been working on drills and trying to better my technique AND quicken my cadence the bigger blade no longer feels right, epsecially for starts. I am all about the 8.5” Maliko these days. It feels just right whether I am working on mad-dash sprints for starts or getting in a good rhythm for longer distances. Currently the 8.5” Maliko is my weapon of choice.
SHAFTS:
The first shaft I bought was a Flex 90 and I should have stopped right there. Having started SUP with shoulder pain I did buy a xTuf shaft to get a more flexible shaft but I found the xTuf shaft to be way too flexible, especially with the 9” Molokai blade. The response time between catch and stroke was too delayed. It felt like as I was turning my body the blade was staying behind me then shooting forward as the shaft flexed and spent too much time building up momentum before allowing me to try and push the board past where I planted the blade in the water, if that makes any sense. The feeling might be likened to: if I was throwing a pitch I would wind up and my elbow would go forward but when I would want to release the ball my hand holding the ball would not have caught up to the elbow for the release. There seemed to be too much of a delayed reaction time. This shaft has been untouched in my garage for quite some time and for many months I wondered why Ke Nalu even made this shaft. Then it hit me concerningwho the xTuf shaft is best for – the xTuf shaft is perfect for the elderly paddler with range of motion issues and/or the person rehabbing after an injury to their upper body. The xTuf shaft with an 8.5” or 8” blade would be ideal for the recreational paddler who is out there to have fun and/or someone who wants to get out on the water but must take great care of their arms and/or shoulders. The xTuf shaft is perfect for moseying, if you just want to mosey and take in the scenery, along the surface of any body of water! The forgiveness in this flexible shaft would make even the most arthritic athlete a very happy paddler!
This summer I bought a 100 Flex, which is Ke Nalu's stiffest shaft, hoping to translate stiffness into speed and found it quite agreeable…most of the time. (I also switched to a classic "T" handle.) This was the paddle I used most of this past summer and it served me quite well in the 12-6 division of the Midwest SUP Series and the series of races in the Mid Atlantic region. Again, as I was working on my technique and still doing a lot of arm paddling the 100 Flex worked. However, by the end of the race season I found the 100 Flex to be too stiff, especially with a 9” blade on the end of it. Last week I changed blades and put the 8.5” blade on the 100 Flex and still found the shaft too stiff, especially for a long-distance paddle. I also found the stiffness to do more harm than good practing sprints and buoy turns, but this was with a bigger blade. All is not lost for the 100 Flex though! I think a 100 Flex with an 8” Wiki blade would be the ideal weapon of choice for a lighter paddler (under 180) who has a fast cadence. I want to buy an 8” Wiki to put on my 100 Flex to have for shorter races 5 miles or less where I can attempt to maintain a fast cadence for as long as possible!!
What you find with Ke Nalu is that you always have a component to make another component work. This can be for the new paddler, the established recreational paddler, or the competitive racer. Throughout the evolution of your stroke you will have options to find the best fit. Right now the Flex 90 is the best shaft for my stroke.
You cannot go wrong with the 90 Flex shaft. This is the shaft that is built for everyone. This shaft feels good with any size blade, although I must say that sometimes using anything smaller than 8.5” can feel like urinating into the wind. I like sprinting with the 90 Flex; I like going 12+ miles with the 90 Flex and I like doing a combination of both distance and sprints with the 90 Flex. If you want 1 paddle and 1 paddle only I vote for the 90 Flex, the 8.5” Maliko blade, and the Classic T handle.
HANDLES:
I am rather surprised how my handle choice has evolved as my stroke has. I was all about the Ergo T to start and I like it but when I first started paddling I loved using a tight grip. The tight grip with my fingers spread over any kind of T handle did not do well for – paddling without pain. I bought an Ergo handle and found myself being able to hold on tight for longer lengths of time befor experiencing any pain. Of course you are not supposed to hold on tight, but I was new and I went with what is comfortable. These days I paddle with a more relaxed grip (which keeps the forearms from cramping on long distance adventures) and I like having more surface area on which to rest my top hand. Also, I like pushing down with my top hand and using the Classic T feels really dang good and is my #1 choice to top off any paddle I am putting to use on any kind of paddling venture. The Ergo T is not as wide a “T” and isn’t really that different than the Classic T so either makes for a great topper. The Ergo is a smoother shape that makes your paddle feel like a scepter, which is always a good thing to boost the self confidence! They all work well in terms of comfort but in the sweaty months the handles can be a little slippery. After trying all types of tape and even non-skid paint, I found surf wax solves this problem best.
EPILOGUE:
As my stroke has improved (or maybe changed is a better word) so has my preference in paddle size, shaft flexibility, and handle comfort. What is great about Ke Nalu is the fact that there system is suited to providing options for the ever-evolving paddler. The hot-glue system makes changing out a component a breeze and I have yet to have anything malfunction in a race! I like being able to make changes without the hassle of dealing with epoxy. I ding my boards enough to have my fill of mixing epoxy. For paddle research I light up the propane torch (which is not the best way to do this mind you) and make changes within seconds! I ALWAYS like to let my paddles sit overnight when changing out components. I like the glue to settle in and get used to the new surroundings and so far it has worked.
Any shoulder pain I have experienced this summer (when going back and forth between the 100 Flex and the 90 Flex) has not lasted past the next morning. Last summer when I used several brands of paddles I had shoulder pain until I became a consistent user of Ke Nalu products. I am also sure that using a much shorter paddle that is only 7.5” to 8.5” added to my overall height helps, but the point is that Ke Nalu has taken careful steps to provide shafts that take into account the pressure stand up padlding puts on the body. Their products work well for the body and I am sure if you ask anyone else who uses Ke Nalu products that they will agree with this.
And back to the filthy urinating into the wind comment…this applies to me as someone who wants to feel the power loading into my stroke from the catch, planting the paddle in the water, through the stroke until I pull the paddle out of the water. The fact that I DON’T feel that power load with a small blade is GOOD for the recreational paddler who wants to do nothing but enjoy being out on the water. I did not mean that a small blade is a bad thing!! A small balde is great for not feeling the work you are putting in when enjoying time on the water!!
My ideal paddle for now is the 8.5" Maliko blade on a 90 Flex topped off with a classic "T" handle. That being said I think the 9" Molokai blade is great to use as a training paddle for resistance so when you grab the 8.5” Maliko you will be ready to fly! The 8” blade is great for ease of stroke.
So much to choose from! It’s all so good for you! Here is my ideal quiver I am striving to complete:
Top Choice: 8.5” Maliko on 90 Flex with classic “T” handle (total length 79”)
Top Back Up: 9” Molokai on 90 Flex with classic “T” handle (total length 78.5”)
The Caddyshack Billy Baroo to Keep Around for Sprints: 8” Wiki on 100 Flex with Ergo “T” handle (total length 79”)
I buy my Ke Nalu gear from Ben Butterwei at Stand Up Paddle Annapolis who is the closest and best Ke Nalu dealer around. If you want to try a paddle before you buy one please feel free to conatct myself on the Eastern Shore or Ben if you live over on the west side of the bridge. If you just want to order one email Ben at supannapolis@gmail.com and mention that you are a reader of An Eccentric’s Take to get 15% off the total price of a new paddle along with free shipping!! This deal goes from Halloween to the Surf to Sound race at Wrightsville Beach on November 16. You can’t beat that deal! Get yourself a new paddle for one of the last races of 2013!
You will not be sorry for investing in the right components to suit your style of paddling. Ke Nalu takes into account that not every paddler is the same so they try and provide a wide range of components to fit almost any need. Ke Nalu’s customer service is top knotch and they will not hesitate to fix any problem with any of their products. They have also brought on options to make your paddle adjustable and my cousin Neil swears by the adjustable option. Plus, they have super cool t-shirts that look sexy on men and women!!
Acne or Pimples is the most common skin disease affecting young people.The fact that it mostly affects young adults and adolescents across all races makes it one of the most searched health condition online. I have however seen so many misleading write ups about acne on the internet, some of which will even worsen acne in itself. I have read articles about how fasting could help cure acne...*weird* i guess !. Some have said if you rub in Lemon Juice and take only apples for one whole week, then you would be acne free..*hillarious* you would say. I have read some of this things on blogs, and i have contacted such bloggers, to say Hey! thats a hell of wrong stuff from you. Health issues, however mild should not be joked with, and thats why i advice readers to double check whatever they read online.
WHAT CAUSES ACNE ? Having said so much, i will now describe the mechanism by which acne develops. It occurs when the follicles in the skin clogs up, the follicle is a passage for sebum; which is a oily substance secreted by skin glands. The sebum carries dead skin cells.When this clogging happens, a bacteria called Propionibacter Acnes acts on the sebum, causing infection, inflammation and swelling around the region. It usually affect the face, neck,back,chest and shoulder region.The hormone androgen which increases during adolescence is also thought to be responsible for the increase sebum production and increased tendency to have acne after puberty.
THINGS YOU SHOULD AVOID TO PREVENT ACNE
Avoid the use of greasy cosmetics, such as soaps, body creams and facials.It is adviced that you wash your face with mild soap,that does not irritate your skin and with warm water. You should also avoid scrubbing the affected skin.
Avoid trying to burst, rub or press the pimples, although there is a pschological tendency to want to do this and it may just be spontaneous atimes.But as much as possible avoid popping or squeezing, because this spreads the bacteria infection to adjoining skin, and even deeper causing worse swelling and redness.
Avoid touching your face with oily and dirty objects, this may imply cleaning your glasses especially the edges in contact with your skin and also phone edges.
Avoid tight garments that makes you sweaty and oily, loose clothing are better and ensure your scarfes, caps and headbands are clean if you must wear them.
Avoid makeups that promote acne and always wash your face free of makeups before going to bed.
Avoid excessive exposure to sun, because excessive heat will increase sebum production and tendency to have acne.
TREATMENT OF ACNE The choice of acne medication would depend on how mild or severe the acne, most people however have a mild form of acne, but many get disturbed due to the long persistence and the scars it leaves on the kin. Scarring can often be avoided by not popping or squeezing as discussed earlier. Acne drugs can be in oral form, topical or injectable. Most mild acnes would however respond to topical drugs which can be bought over the counter. Some of the drugs you can buy includes the following;
Benzoyl Peroxide : It is a topical agent that is effective in treating mild acne, it is available OTC and acts by keeping the skin less oily and also kills the bacteria causing acne.It may however cause bleeching of the skin.
Sulfur preparation: This is also effective in treating mild acne, it howver causes irritation of the skin.There are several sulfur preparations available in topical form, an example is Nixoderm.
Antibiotics: Oral aantibiotics are often prescribed to patients with severe acne,there are however some topical antibiotics that can be applied such as clindamycin gel, erythromycin, Neomycin and Sodium sulfacetamide.
Topical retinoids: Adapalene, Tazarotene and tretinoin are examples of retinoid that can be used to treat severe acne, this group of drugs should however be used cautiously in women of reproductive age and should be avoided if you are planning to get pregnant, because they are teratogenic and affects developing fetus.
Salicylic acid
Azelaic acid
If your acne is mild, then you can walk into a drug store and pick any of the OTC drugs mentioned, some brands have created a combined preparation of some of this drugs, they may come in form of gels, soaps, pads, creams and lotions.
Article was written by DR. Adeyinka Adegbosin, the curator of this blogs, readers feedback are well appreciated, do not hesitate to ask questions or leave a comment if you find this article useful.
You can invite me to write topics on various health issues for you, i will most likely oblige; send mails to chainblogs@gmail.com
Posted by
thomenda7xx on Tuesday, September 17, 2013
....Previously on the Ranting Pikey
No wait, that was James Bond. Now I remember...I had fallen asleep to the sounds of an angry Indian cab driver....
The Palaces, Old and New
From Khajuraho I was off to Orchha to see an old Mahal, to see why Taj decided it needed to be updated. No real stories to tell about this place, but it was an amazing town to spend a relaxing day wandering around, and as far as I could tell, I was the only westerner there. It's a bit of a bizarre place to be, as you have all the features of a modern developing Indian town, but sticking up out of the development are these huge beautiful old buildings, all set next to one of the cleanest bits of water I saw in my time in India.
The very beautiful, and quite intricately detailed Orchha Palace.
Not a bit of trash, or floating corpse in sight! So clean, it was cleared for use in agriculture!
There are so many ruins in this town that lots of the old temples have been taken over by squatters.
And cows.
I meant to photoshop out those power lines, but this is more representative of India.
Children thoroughly unimpressed by the ruins in the background.
Thoroughly impressed with the old palace and it's surrounding town, I headed on to the new one: the Taj Mahal. I came to the Taj prepared for disappointment. One stand alone building being placed on the list of world wonders sounded like a bit much, and while I was impressed with the previous wonder I'd seen (Petra), it had prepared me to not expect too much when witnessing the wonders of the world.
But the Taj managed to live up to it's billing. It really is a stunningly beautiful building, and there's something about it, something about the seamless curves of its roof, and the juxtaposition of the squalor and bleakness that surrounds it (at least as far as architecture), that makes it quite special. I ended up spending a few hours just sitting, people watching, and admiring the structure. I also spent a lot of time thinking about what a dick Shah Mahan was, to have the architect killed, and the artisan's hands cut off, just so there could never be another Taj Mahal built. It's a dangerous precedent to allow a building like that to enter the 'Wonders of the World', as it may encourage copy-cat behaviour! I think the designer of the new new World Trade Centre should watch his back.
Annoyingly I wasn't allowed to bring the Queen in with me, as they had an oddly specific 'No Dolls' rule. Instead I had to improvise with the mandatory Princess Diana seat photo, but I think I ended up nailing it:
The only part I didn't really enjoy was the mausoleum part of the Taj, where the fake sarcophagi of the Shah and his lover are located. For one, the room is a bit boring, and nowhere near as impressive as the exterior. But the main reason it wasn't enjoyable were the guards with whistles, blowing them non stop while you walked around the room. There's something extremely enraging about having a man look you in the eye, clearly get your attention, and then blow a whistle right into your face, instead of just talking to you. Anyway, to spite them I decided to take a photo of the supposedly unphotographable tombs.
Take that whistle man.
Sadly I wasn't in town for a full moon, as I imagine the Taj must look pretty sensational under it, but I was there for a sunset, and can debunk the whole 'The Taj changes colour as the sun sets' myth. It just doesn't.
Delhi. No Real Stories, Just Delhi.
By the time I arrived in Delhi, I'd been in India for over a month. I had become hardened to most of the inconveniences of the place, and was really enjoying myself. There were, however, new challenges. I was now completely and utterly sick of Indian street food. It's really delicious stuff, but there are very few things you could eat non stop for a month and not get sick of ( the Taco Bell Crunch Wrap supreme is the only one that comes to mind). I was also getting pretty over the whole developing world thing, and really had a hankering for the finished product. Delhi was the perfect place to seek relief from both of these inconveniences.
Firstly, there were western fast food places everywhere. I am not particularly proud of this, but I ate either McDonalds or Subway for every meal during my first three days in Delhi. You know there's something wrong with you when your body craves a Big Mac and you're neither drunk nor hungover, but that's what non-stop curry does to you. Not that McDonalds was particularly good or satisfying. Thanks to the whole 'cows are sacred' thing, my lust for red meat was not fulfilled, instead having to settle for pathetic vegetarian or chicken patty substitutes. But it was still good to renourish my body with some essential nutrients like cheese and mayonnaise.
The other creature comfort provided by Delhi, were the modern touches of a city that is leading the country into developed world status. From the brand new, clean, and orderly train system, to the paved sidewalks, and the tree lined streets, Delhi is for the most part quite a nice place to be. There are definitely still massive sections of the city which resemble the rest of the country, but the beauty of Delhi is that if you're not ready to face gritty India, you can instead choose to just spend a day in glossy India. As you can tell, Delhi was a holiday from a holiday for me, and while days spent wandering around American style malls and fast food chains are nowhere near as fun or interesting as exploring the rest of the country, these few days did me a lot of good, and I have a new found appreciation for the glossy environment of a shopping mall (especially their fixed prices).
I did manage to check out some local sights while in town. None of them were particularly interesting, but combined in one city it made for a quite interesting visual experience. Here are some highlights:
The red fort. It was a fort, that was red...
Welcome India Gate, Delhi, very similar to the one in Mumbai. They probably just made two in case something happened to one of them.
The president's house.
The Indian secret service mobiles. What they lack in top end speed, they make up for in style.
The Sydney Oper....I mean lotus temple.
If only Hare Krishna's stuck to sculptures instead of singing, I think they'd be a lot more popular.
Me being fully Sikh at the beautiful Sikh temple
Tourist central.
The Sikh temple without me hogging the focus.
My favourite sight in Delhi was Akshardham. It's a beautiful temple complex, which was only recently built (as a tourist attraction for the Commonwealth Games). The whole site features intricately carved stone statues. and the usual Hindu iconography, but also has an entire wall surrounding the central temple devoted to the elephant. The elephant wall was meant as an homage to the role of the Elephant in Indian history, but some of the pieces were quite funny in the bluntness of their propaganda. An example of this was where there were statues of elephants doing hard labour, with plaques beneath describing how elephants are so happy to help humans as it gives them a satisfaction they wouldn't get in their normal meaningless lives in the jungle. There was another which showed the elephants bowing to the Shiva, and describing how the elephants accept him as their deity. In a country where elephants aren't exactly treated too brilliantly, it did reek a bit of bullshit, and the idea of the elephants worshipping a higher power was also was a bit off (especially as it wasn't the elephant God Ganesh, you'd have thought that'd be a no brainer), but a few hundred statues of elephants is never a bad thing, so overall it was enjoyable.
Sadly there were no cameras allowed inside the temple, or electronics of any kind, so the best I could do was a photo from around the back of the complex.
Another interesting place was Ghandi's tomb. Any illusion of Ghandi being 100% adored in India were shattered by CJ, my host in Hyderabad, who described Ghandi to me as a 'fucking prick'. However, I still held him in quite high esteem, and so I checked out his place of cremation (naturally the ashes were dumped in the Ganges, although some were also chucked into other water sources, including the source of the Nile, because, well why not). It was a nice peaceful site, or at least it would've been if it weren't for it being in India. It was pretty amazing that the tomb of someone who Indians respect almost as much as Sachin Tendulkar was still a place where vendors were trying to make a few rupees taking photos of tourists and flogging guided tours. But that's just the way India is, and there isn't a word in Hindi for 'decorum'.
My favourite part of Delhi, however, were my couchsurfing hosts. As I had done in Hyderabad, I found some locals who wanted to go to the cricket with me. This time it was a couple of awesome guys called Rajeev and 'The Captain'. I stayed at Captain's place in a very modern area in south Delhi, and Rajeev was around most nights to hang out. What I enjoyed most about hanging out with these guys, and their mates (apart from the fact they were sympathetic to my woes as an Australian cricket fan), was that these were the first Indian's I'd met on this trip who I could relate to exactly the same as I could relate to my mates back in Australia. Living with locals who I truly identified with gave me great insights into a lot of aspects of Indian culture that I'd previously been unexposed to, but more than anything, it was just nice to finally find true mates in this country, making me feel like far less of an outsider, and preventing me from ever again making sweeping generalisations about the Indian population (or not, this blog would be way more boring without cliches).
One particular highlight of my time with Rajeev and the Captain, was the night we went out to a bar to see a concert. Either as a consequence of my lack of red meat, or my dip in the Ganges, or some other unknown factor, I managed to faint in the middle of the crowd during the band's second song. It had nothing to do with beer or blood sugar, as I'd only consumed two drinks and had eaten a steady diet of McDonalds and Subway the previous few days (say what you will about McDonalds, but low blood pressure/sugar is not something associated with it's food). I still maintain it had something to do with lack of red meat, but whatever caused it, it marked the first time I had ever fainted, meaning my world trip had given me yet another first!!
Holi, and the Elephant Festival without any Elephants
In another bit of dumb luck, I managed to be in India during their crazy colour throwing festival of Holi. I have no idea what the significance of the festival is, but I do know you get to throw powdered paint at people, and that is always a good thing. I had decided to head out to Jaipur for Holi, as it was also the location of an elephant festival the day before. CJ had told James and I about this festival, and we all intended to meet up again, but CJ pulled the plug the day before Holi, meaning only James and I were there. Luckily we had plenty of people to choose a third member from, as we were couchsurfing with an awesome guy called Push (short for Pushpendra), who was hosting an international Holi party at his friend's house, which had something like 25 foreigners and about 10 locals, all staying in a house with only two bedrooms and a tiny living room. Here's a photo of the room I slept in with about 18 other people:
And our backpacks. It was cosy.
Luckily the couchsurfers and locals were for the most part really cool, and everyone got along really well. I got along especially well with three travellers who were travelling around India together: Rob from England, Angharad from Wales, and Arianne from the Philippines, or as they were collectively known, Tits and Crumpets. I have no idea why they were called that, and I suspect they don't either, but James and I immediately bonded with them when James arrived with two bottles of Havana Club and we ended up making cocktails with the only available mixer: onions. While Rum and Onions (or Rumions to those in the know) may not have been the most universally popular drink that night, it did identify to James and I that these three were as big, if not bigger, alcoholics than we were, and James and I were almost immediately absorbed into the beast that was Tits and Crumpets (which was temporarily renamed Tits and Onions).
After waking up smelling of drunk onion farmers, James and I headed into town to check out the elephant festival. There were rumours that the festival had been called off, but when we arrived there were plenty of people milling around, including some guy who had brought a microphone and a few dozen loud speakers. This was a uniquely Indian touch, with most public events accompanied by a middle aged male idiot on a microphone commentating unnecessarily. You could tell he thought he was really elevating the event's professionalism and spectacle, but in reality he just filled the air with noise, and sprinkle the soundwaves with a bizarre combination of 'annoying uncle'-like instructions in an effort to control the crowd, and interesting facts and woeful efforts at humour that more often than not crossed the line of sexism and racism.
Our hopes of elephant based festiveness, however, were quickly dashed, when a film crew came up to James and I and asked if we'd like to give an interview detailing our disappointment at coming to an Elephant Festival that didn't have any Elephants. The interviewer must've realised I was taking the piss when I earnestly told the camera that this was as big of a farce as that time I went to a Ping Pong show and they didn't play one point of table tennis, so he moved on to James for the rest of his interview.
In the end we just watched a few performers play some local music, and dance around, and an extremely bizarre parade of people dressed up in outfits that maybe would've made more sense in the presence of elephants, but in the circumstances just seemed odd.
Entertaining, but it needed more elephant.
Shiva, Vishnu, the Monkey God, and the Fat Rasta God.
We got bored pretty quickly, especially considering we'd been promised Elephant Polo. But luckily this was the day before Holi, and half of our group had already gone out and purchased their dye for the following day, so we just moved the event forward 24 hours, and began a full blown colour fight between ourselves, which quickly erupted to include most of the rest of the crowd. It ended up being more fun than the actual Holi the next day, and we ended up throwing dye at each surrounded by about 50 photographers.
Angharad and Rob post pre-Holi
James and I completely forgetting about the absent elephants.
The funniest thing about the whole event was that the Elephant portion of the Elephant festival was cancelled because PETA complained, and for some unknown reason, India actually listened to them! For those who know anything about Indian social issues, economics, or their notoriously stubborn cricket administrators, India doesn't listen to ANYONE! And yet they listened to PETA? NO ONE listens to PETA! I'll never know why one of the most notoriously stubborn cultures in the world would listen to an organisation ignored by the rest of the world, but I'm guessing it had something to do with middle aged male idiots, and PETA's advertising techniques.
"Their argument is extremely persuasive. Screw the elephant festival, send them to them to dog food factory instead."
We still saw plenty of Elephants while we were in Jaipur, as they were still used to give tourist rides all over town, as well as being chained up in loads of people's back yards. In PETA's defence it is horrendous seeing big beautiful elephants with chains around their ankles, and it's probably for the best that India begins to phase out their use of them as beasts of burden, but I still wish I got to see them play polo, but sadly my chant of 'Let Them Play' wasn't adopted by the crowd at the festival.
After a second night on the Rumions (inexplicably we hadn't bought any mixer), we woke the next day to be greeted by Push and his friends with handfuls of powdered dye which were immediately thrown all over our brand new traditional white clothes.
Luckily we managed to get one quick snap before the inevitable colouring.
I have no idea what the festival of Holi signifies, but it's a great excuse to live out everyone's primary school dream and just throw colour over anything and anyone they want. The festival is a great laugh, but like so much of India, it's tinged with a dark side. First I'll cover the good part. For most Indian's the day is spent with family, feasting, and throwing colour at one another. It's a national holiday, and everyone just wanders around in a cloud of colourful dust. We ended up having a great time hanging out with our hosts and fellow couchsurfers. Push was an absolute menace when it came to Holi, and he ensured not one couchsurfer had a spec of white clothing, or skin.
After a great morning at his place, we decided we wanted to head into town and see how the locals celebrated. We commanded a local bus, a bus that was clean when we boarded but finished off looking like a gay pride float, and headed into the city. It was here the vibe of the day turned. Holi is definitely a party. People were drinking everywhere (including us), and everyone was pretty loose. One of the traditions of Holi is going up to strangers, wishing them a happy Holi, and then wiping colour from behind their ear to the bottom of their chin, then doing the same from the other ear. Unfortunately some of the Indian guys became emboldened by the occasion, and their hands would continue from the bottom of the girls chins to their breasts. We also had quite a few guys drive past on motorcycles and grab girls on the fly.
The whole scene began to take on a very tense atmosphere, and we eventually decided to grab a bus back to the safety of our accommodation. It was here that an Indian guy reached through the window of our bus and grabbed a hold of one of the breasts of a girl in our group. Unfortunately for this guy, Tits and Crumpets member Rob saw this happen, and he chased the guy at speed from the bus. I'll never forget the sheer terror of the Indian molester as he saw Rob (who was about twice his size) set off while screaming after him the things he would do when he caught him. The Indian guy ran across Jaipur's busiest intersection and almost got cleaned up by a few tuk tuk's, before he was eventually caught by Rob, who floored him with a punch to the stomach before a few local cops came up. Rob was faced with a tense moment as he thought his vigilante justice might get him into some pretty serious trouble, but the cops just began wailing on the guy with their bamboo canes, and Rob came back to the bus without so much as a goodbye from the police.
It was a pretty brutal day having so many pigs molest my couchsurfing friends, but there were plenty of good natured locals who made the day good fun. One of my highlights was when we encountered a couple of kids who were walking around spraying people with water pistols. After trying a couple of times to chase them down and cover them in dye, I assembled a couple of other couchsurfers to corner the kids. It all worked perfectly, and the look on the kids' faces when they saw they'd been cornered was priceless.
James and I and some random holding up Push
The pink (orange) walls of Jaipur, a bunch of colourful gringos, and a whole lot of attention from the locals.
The day did end on a slightly sour note when some Canadian guy accused one of the local guys of ripping him off. Apparently the Canadian guy had given the guy who owned the place about $150 in rupees, and asked him to get it changed into smaller notes. I have no idea what the Canadian guy was thinking, or why he thought he couldn't change it somewhere in town (the notes you get at ATM's are ridiculously large, the equivalent of about a $200 note in Australia when it comes to getting change) but he decided to get the house owner to change it for him. In fairness, he definitely got ripped off, as the guy had a pretty implausible story about 'giving it to a friend to get it changed for him', but you've got to be pretty naive to give that amount of money to someone you've just met. Not all lessons are free in travel, and this particular one cost $150.
The Golden Temple, and the World's Weirdest Border Security
Amritsar was a really beautiful city, and I think I was able to relax here more than anywhere else in India. I was staying at the Golden Temple, which is a temple that's golden (who says this blog isn't educational?). It's in the Sikh part of India, right next to the Pakistan border. I have a lot of time for Sikh's, and I really enjoy the way they seem to blend their religious devotion with a bit of decorum and calm.
First of all, they seem to be the most charitable religion in India. I stayed for three nights in the Golden Temple's free rooms, which they offer for anyone visiting the city. It's a quite amazing spectacle, as tens of thousands of people visit the temple every day, and at night you end up walking through a sea of worshippers all sleeping on the floor. They have a special room for foreign visitors, which was essentially a dorm room with a row of beds, complete with a big Sikh man and his sword to guard the door. The temple also has a kitchen which serves free food from breakfast time until the late evening. I'm pretty sure I'll never see as big a pile of garlic as what I saw in their huge production line that produced the meals for the free dining hall. I'll probably also never hear a clatter as loud as the metal plates being washed continually thanks to the endless stream of diners.
I've slept in far worse.
Luckily it was the dry season.
But what I really loved was that the people here seemed to have a greater sense of calm, and while there was definitely the usual Indian queueing system in place, where everyone pushed forward filling every available space before them and breathing down each other's necks, I swear it was a politer crush than I experienced elsewhere in India (although I still snapped at a guy who kept pushing me when lining up for the temple. It's all relative).
Like all Sikh temples I saw, the Golden Temple had a water element incorporated in it's design, and I spent many hours just sitting around relaxing and chatting to other travellers (both Indian and foreign). The temple is spectacular, and as much as I rate the Taj Mahal, and the temple of porn, I think this was my favourite Indian landmark.
The hour plus line.
The other local attraction is the Pakistan border, as Amritsar is just a short Tuk Tuk ride away from Pakistan. The physical border is much like most other borders between countries that have threatened each other with Nukes. It's heavily fortified, but nothing too out of the ordinary, and since I wasn't intending on crossing it, far less intimidating than Israel's borders. But the reason for going to the border is the Pakistani/Indian border closing ceremony.
Even my twisted brain can't come up with an explanation for this spectacle, but I'll do my best to describe it. First of all, thousands of people pile into the stadium which surrounds the Indian side of the border. From there you can see the Pakistani crowd in their own stadium (although they're segregated into male and female sections because how else do you prevent cooties?). Then a preppy looking Indian guy with a popped collar and a microphone comes out and starts shouting out chants to the crowd, who enthusiastically chant back, and then everyone starts cheering, and going absolutely crazy. At some point they put some music on, and a whole bunch of women and children come down and start dancing, and a couple of kids with Indian flags on huge poles ran back and forth through the dancers.
Eventually microphone guy and a few security guards push everyone back to their seats (this takes a while because it's India) and then the real spectacle begins. The border guards, dressed in turbans and clothing that would make golfers go 'Well that's just silly', stand around with their best angry faces on, before sporadically breaking out in spurts of energy where they march back and forth before power marching towards the border. Their marching technique is best described as an out of control goose-step, and it is interspersed with the occasional high kick, where the soldier's straight leg extends to such an angle that their knee brushes their nose. John Cleese would be proud of what happens when the guards get to the border gate, as the Pakistani guards (who I'm guessing were walking in an equally ridiculous manner) and the Indian guards face off and attempt to determine whose hamstring flexibility is superior, by strutting back and forth snapping high kicks off at regular intervals, all to the delirious cheers of the crowds.
Nothing says dance party like a border closing.
So angry.
The Pakistani crowd in the background.
As bizarre as the silly walk-off is, the most perplexing aspect of this spectacle is the crowd reaction. The only people I've seen this deliriously happy are Evangelical Christians speaking in tongues. People were just losing their minds over the border closing, and I was a bit worried I might've been involved in something approaching a Confederate revivalist march in the South of USA. The Pakistani side were equally boisterous, albeit with fewer people, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't a healthy source of revelry.
After my brief stay in Amritsar, I was done with my first trip to India. After a quick bus ride back to Delhi (only 22 hours), and one more night staying with The Captain, I was off to Nepal, leaving India and it's billion or so inhabitants behind. It may sound bizarre considering the way I've talked about the place in these blog posts, but I will definitely return to this crazy country one day, as I had barely seen half of what I wanted to, and in the end I learnt to relax into the culture and really enjoy myself. It's definitely not an easy place to travel around, but you're guaranteed an amazing experience when you travel here, just not necessarily a good one.
But I don't want anyone to get the idea that I didn't enjoy my time here, as it really is an incredible place. I think the best way to sum up India's appeal is the way I had it described to me by an Aussie guy I met during Holi. He was back in India for the third time, and I asked him, why come back to India and not travel somewhere else? His answer was "Because in India, you're guaranteed to see something new every day", and I think that is exactly why I liked it here. It's hard travel and you have to work for your experiences, but you will see the most amazing, dumbfounding, creative, evil, disastorous, colourful, mutated, chaotic, monumental, and idiotic things here, and while not every loves it, it's impossible for India not have an impact on you.
Posted by
thomenda7xx on Sunday, September 15, 2013
I was lucky enough to end my trip in the same location I began it, in beautiful Finland. This nice bit of symmetry occurred thanks to me choosing to start my trip by visiting my good friend Jannica, who then informed me she was engaged, and getting married 16 months later; an event she insisted I would have to make. Thanks to my money stretching much further than I thought possible, and my parents’ ability to extend me a line of credit, I was able to finish my trip off in a suit and tie, drinking champagne, and dancing the night away with a group of crazy drunken Finns.
By finishing off my trip in the same place I started, it gave me an interesting insight into just how much I’d changed and developed as a traveller over the past 16 months. I was quite pleasantly surprised to find that Finland was exactly as beautiful as I had first found it, and that the novelty of drinking giant beers with bears on their label will never wear off.
The only bear made for bears.
In fact, for the most part, I really hadn't changed that much, with one glaring exception. When I first came to Finland, I made an earnest attempt to learn as much Finnish as possible, and while my vocab didn't expand much past ‘Hello’, ‘Thank you’, and ‘I would very much like to see you naked?’, I repeated the little Finnish I did know with great enthusiasm and frequency (especially that last sentence). However, my second trip resulted in me watching as my Aussie friend and travel buddy, Gavin, made similar attempts to learn the local dialect, while I banked on being able to get by with English, and allowed every new word to pass in one ear and out the other.
Sadly the one thing that I had tired of, and essentially given up on, was the learning of unnecessary new words. I’m not saying that like some hillbilly slurring ‘E’rybody orta speak Inglish coz that’s what tha Lawd spokeded’, but in the sense that when you’re changing countries as frequently as once per week, there is no chance you’ll pick up enough of the local dialect to be able to converse meaningfully, so with the exception of learning absolutely essential or basic phrases, you will find yourself very quickly hoping the locals speak some English, and if that fails resorting to mime.
This doesn't happen immediately though. In fact it is a gradual process, as I present to you in my rigorously researched:
THE RANTING PIKEY’S GUIDE TO FOREIGN LANGUAGE APATHY:
1stCountry: You ask for the translation for every word you can think of and every object you come across. Hello, Thank you, and swear words are quickly mastered, unless you’re drunk, in which case you regularly mistake the word for having sex with someone’s mother for thank you. Any sentence longer than two words is forgotten before you’ve finished saying it the first time.
Example: ‘What’s the word for hello? What’s the word for thanks? I have a good accent? Oh shucks. I’m a language natural! I’m going to learn all the languages! Wait, what was hello again?’
2ndCountry: You’re still as keen as ever to learn the local language, and you seem to be finally developing an ear for understanding foreign tongues. As a bonus, this new language is almost the same as the first country’s, and you can double up on some words.
Example: ‘Schlagastool? Wow, that’s exactly how they say it in Examplestan!’
3rdCountry: It’s now starting to get pretty confusing. You begin to forget which word is from which country, and you begin saying Hello in country number 1’s language, Goodbye in country 2’s, and swearing in some made up language which sounds a little like German.
4th-15thCountry: You begin to realise that no matter where you are, you are never further than ten metres from someone who speaks English. Thanks to it being the language of Coca Cola, Michael Jordan, and iPads, English is now spoken at least a little by about 99% of the world. Even the 1% who don’t speak English tend to be very friendly and through various means you begin to realise that the spoken word is just one of many ways of communicating with fellow human beings.
You will also learn that speaking a little bit of a language can get you in more trouble than you’d think. Mostly this just involves locals thinking you’re fluent, before breaking into some extravagant conversation with you, but occasionally it can involve border guards in Israel extensively grilling you about why have an Australian passport but are speaking Hebrew.
Example: ‘Bonjour, como sa va?’ ‘Ahhhh. Blah blah blah sacre bleu blah blah blah baguette blah blah blah…….. ……..blah blah blah Cedric Pioline blah blah’ ‘Errr, pardon, me no hablo French’
Somewhere around 20th country:
‘Do you speak English?’ ‘Que?’ ‘DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH!!!!???’ ‘No’ ‘WHERE IS THE TRAIN STATION???’
Of course this isn’t the same for all travellers. Obviously if your first language isn’t English, you’ll have a vastly different experience. Here is how I’ve observed foreign languages are approached by different nationalities:
Swiss backpackers: 1st Country: Speak language fluently upon arrival, and expand vocab. 2nd Country: Speak language fluently upon arrival, and expand vocab. Rest of trip: Speak language fluently upon arrival, and expand vocab.
American tourists: All countries: ‘I’M FROM AMERICA, DO YOU SPEAK AMERICAN?’
Australian Bogans: Say ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ in the local tongue, then congratulate themselves for learning the entire language and now believes that so long as they precede English words with the local version of hello, the confused locals with magically be able to understand everything they’ve said.
Ironically they will also walk around uttering things like: ‘I farkin love that you can say whatever you loik about these stupid people and they don’t even know what you’re saying’, as the locals load up their meals with a double dosage of E.coli.
Italian backpackers:
Learn a very basic amount of the local language and still add their own Italian dialect to it. No one cares, as whoever is talking to them is lost in their eyes and the song of the poetry coming from their mouth.
German backpackers:
Learn quite a large amount of the local language and dialect wherever they go, including being better at speaking English than most native English speakers. Everyone hates them anyway.
English backpackers:
Professional foreign swear word memorisers, especially if it’s a racial slur which can be used in a football chant.
