Shillong

When does the rain start? *the skies break and a torrent of falling water is unleashed* Hmm, about march.

Inside Shillong at least I can get a Hotel, though certain clues lead me to believe the form-Cs are precious items. But it's Sunday, and the wonderful gift of Christianity is that most of the businesses are closed. Eventually after scouring the entire 'police bazaa' area of the city until after dark I find one. Down one road a large well lit internet cafe, open late on a Sunday. That's Hinduism for you, as indicated by the Shiva calendar on the wall, thank some deity for India's multiculturalism (Shillong has many Christians and Muslims). Though sadly all does not seem to be well. The greeting I receive as a foreigner isn't universally friendly. I witness two confrontations which are defused before becoming fights in my first day in the market. There is some tension here.

How not to encourage tourism.

Welcome to Guwahati. "No Room". "No Room". "Which country". "England". "Hotel full". I would have thought that tourism was to be encouraged in India, this is the principle of the most recent VISA change. VISA on arrival was supposed to make tourism easier. Why did it occur to nobody that in some cities almost all hotels will not accept foreigners, due to my favourite rant, the 'form-C problem'. How can it pass the attention of tourism officials, which is a post that exists in some of these impossible to visit cities, that it is so. The answer is perhaps a lack of understanding that in the well developed tourist locations of India, foreigners often pay far less than the expensive hotels which have form-C available. But a tourist department is a government department. Government departments have entrance exams and paperwork. To actually do something would be going too far.

For a recap, form-C simply contains some details of the foreigner and has to be submitted to the local police. At the very least hotels don't have this form in stock, or can't be bothered to make the trip to the police station. The suggested complication is that the police simply wouldn't accept it anyway without the right 'fee'/ family relation. The solution: allow any hotel in the country to complete the form online. This would instantly give the government required information. Camera phones might now be good enough to take a snap of the passport and visitor. But that would be logical. India loves paperwork. Stamp.

A photograph from the working world

Another photo from the pub. It doesn't matter which, they're all chains with generic menus. I can feel the warm stuffy atmosphere from the photo. I can walk around the photo up to the bar and see the one or two average real ales on tap. It's bright and well lit from everywhere. Back at the table I can feel my head starting to sink, tired always. There's nothing to talk about so the conversation always gets back to work. There's nothing.

Never ever go back.

Relative wealth

You might expect me to say how rich and privileged I feel amid the scenes of poverty, I don't. Something feels a bit odd here; each day I am spending four times what a typical salaried Indian might earn, but I can't afford to eat where the middle class eat. I can't afford to stay in the hotels the middle class choose. I can't afford to buy the cameras the middle class buy. In the big electronics stores I'm looking at the budget models. This is clearly an exaggerated comparison, I have to eat out for every meal, I live in a hotel it's not a luxury, and I don't invest such a fraction of my wealth in purchases. But the contrast feels very real, I can walk into a shop and buy a camera worth five months wages for a junior shop assistant, or perhaps 2 months at the shop I am in, and feel I'm spending an obscene amount of money. But the next minute at a tourist spot which is visited by Indian tourists I will have one of the cheapest cameras on display. It's not even an SLR. The government employees I met in Andhra Pradesh on very moderate salaries (government standard level Rs10,000 per month, 100 GBP per month) saved to buy SLR cameras.

I'm trying to connect this to the UK in my mind, why is the apparent difference so great. It's hard to match up the figures due to inflation and multiple sources, so ignore anything but rough orders of magnitude. Thinking only of relative pay, as adjusted purchasing power and internationally priced goods are an unthinkable headache. The minimum wage at 40 hours per week would yield around 12,500GBP. From fairly recent data, 90% of the UK population might earn below 50,500GBP before tax. After taxation is applied with the almost progressive increases in tax-free allowance under the conned libs, the 4 fold difference reduces to perhaps 3 fold. If 99% earn under 160,000GBP before tax, after applying taxes (assuming they are paid...) the difference is still only around 8-fold. Of course there is currently a significant problem with unemployment, and the top 1% are ignored, but this ratio, lets call it a 3 to 10 fold difference, is a benchmark.

What about India. The bottom 25% of all people live on under 100GBP per year, but this isn't even a salary. The average living is around 800GBP per year. This means that even someone on a standard income is 8 fold ahead of the poorest 25%. A foreign educated university lecturer, mid level government employee, call center worker (here it pays) or skilled professional (electronics) could be making 3,600GBP per year, 36 times the poorest 25%. A high value electronic engineer or someone with a good position, the figure reaches up to 60-100 times the poorest. The minimum salary for a foreigner on a working VISA is 150 times the earnings of the poorest 25%. According to the government, the top 1% here are earning 20,000GBP per year, or 200 times the income of the poorest. This comparison isn't exact, there are far too many non-comparable numbers. The unemployed of India have been compared against the employed of Europe as a baseline. But approximately, the 10 fold income gap of the UK here becomes a 30-200 fold gap. Even using the 800GBP salary as a baseline for India over 1% of people earn 25 times this.

Apparently there is a measure called the 'Gini coefficient' which measures income inequality. By this measure India is more equal than the UK... it doesn't have my trust. I know I'm just another clueless tourist harping on about poverty, I'm just playing poor. Travelling for two years without working is a luxury some people I have met can't quite comprehend. But looking at the income inequality... it doesn't feel right. I'm not going to jump to a socialist conclusion, India's population is still growing fast... I'm not going to touch that one.

Light reading

The copies of the books that I am reading are between 35 and 60 years old. It pains me to take them thinking that by my selection I am effectively withdrawing these from circulation. Antiques wont survive backpacking. The selection is a very important part of the process, these were tucked away amongst a blanket of erotic novels and books on business and computing. The Kolkata market bookstores proudly boast that they stock both 'new and old Mills and Boon'. As I look at the books I feel a guilt; I might as well be holding a match to them. Books are still expensive for many people, and I'm taking away the chance for someone who noted Gandhi's preferences to also read Tolstoy. Or perhaps I have made someone's day by uncovering bedroom adventures IV.

Wallahs

You want to buy clarinet? I have good clarinet.

Mumbai

Holi was on the whole playful and high spirited, and people respected my total lack of interest in being covered in staining coloured powder again this year. Oh Mumbai you were doing so well until the moment I saw a man hit his wife in the street and she fell down with a slight roll which protected her head. You just had to keep the domestic violence under wraps for 14 hours, while the other westerners go and look at slums as if India's national treasure.

Read about my lunch

Posts about food get the most hits. As this is clearly all anyone cares to read about on the internet, I submit. Here is my review of the restaurants of Om Beach, Gokarna (or 'the world as I know it'). This review is of course utterly pointless. It's likely that few people will read this; it's unlikely that anyone that does read it will also come to India; India isn't exactly accessible for a weekend break; even if it was, you certainly wouldn't come here for the food, and the season is just about over. But, hypothetically, if you happened to walk down the beach right now you might find the following.

As I am now a restaurant critic I have dispensed with any need to be fair, partial, refrain from using this as a tool to favour restaurants I like, or even to have eaten in the restaurants I review.

Namaste cafe.
A big but disappointing restaurant at the start of the beach.

Dolphin Bay.
The friendliest most amusing rats-nest on Om Beach, staffed and inhabited by resident jokers. Where as most dishes are pretty average, there are a few specialities hidden in the menu. Worth a try are the pizzas, small but topped with a thick layer of rich cheese. Try the olive cheese pizza, or the veg-olive pizza if you are into pieces of carrot on your pizza. Other noteworthy items are the large selection of deserts; the signature desert being the 'dolphin cake', a chilled chocolate, custard biscuit slice, best eaten with ice cream.

But saving the best for last, the Dolphin has perhaps the best lemonana on Om Beach. Billed as a 'lemon-mint juice', think instead of a virgin mojito slushy prepared with lots of mint, and a good dose of sugar. Apparently this name comes from Hebrew, 'nana' meaning mint. Just subtly add a dash of rum to create the perfect drink, mouth tingling and refreshing. Do not add whiskey. Whiskey is not 'same same' as rum. Whiskey does not complement the flavour, and if a shop or restaurant should offer whiskey when you ask for rum don't trust them to open a tin of beans. If you don't want ice in your lemonana, go home. As a friend pointed out, India is the country where no distinction is made between lemons and limes. For that matter, I'm not entirely sure which fruit the kitchen angels press to make this wonderful drink, but keep going!

Om Shanti.
Unremarkable, as far as I remember.

Om Rock.
Perhaps I will call them unremarkable for not having been specifically recommended.

Om Sri Ganesh (more commonly known as 'the one with the bridge')
Some of the best food on the beach, both in presentation and flavour, but at a cost to both your time and your pocket. As far as I am aware all dishes are well received, with recommendations for the Israeli food, North Indian food, grilled paneer and the sizzler (food served on a burning cabbage leaf, for people who like the smell of burning cabbage). The lemonana is more on the order of a frozen lemon juice, but still very refreshing.

Sagar.
I'll call it unremarkable for the totally unfair reason of my not having eaten there.

Sangam.
I have heard some credit is given to both the pizza and the salads, but the speciality is definitely local food. 'Indian food' does not mean local food, and when most of the oblivious tourists order 'Indian food' they are eating styles far less local than they imagine. The paneer and gravy dishes which spring to mind all originate in the northern Indian states, and two thousand kilometers distant is not exactly local. The recommended dishes here are the Thali, which allows you to taste several local curries, and the curries themselves. A simple veg curry includes plenty of coconut and a little green chilli, typical of the food of Kerala and seemingly also coastal Karnataka (The chef is a Karnataka man). There is also one of the best veg birianis on the beach, with a fresh and light taste, cashews, raisins (without becoming sweet) and a separate rich masala sauce. The shakes are also worth a mention, for example the kitkat nutella coffee. (In a competition to have the most outlandish shakes with Nirvana perhaps)

Manikarana/ Manikara/ Manikarna (as labelled by adjacent signs)
Run by the owners wife, a known dodgy dealer. As is sometimes the case all of the curries have a strangely similar flavour, but a search of any menu will turn up an oddity. You can get a whole plate of macaroni pasta, lightly fried with crispy garlic, and topped with cheese, for just Rs60.

Moksha.
for some reason never mentioned directly, I'm sure it's perfectly OK. I ate there last year and didn't die. Under the logic of alternative medicine this also makes it the preventative treatment for all the diseases I didn't get.

Ganesh (the second).
For a while attempted to attract tourists with enticing naked lights. Probably cooks something well.

Nirvana.
Big and developed, almost professionally run. This leads to good service and a generally capable kitchen. They have a pizza oven and the result is definitely passable, with a flavour which goes beyond reliance on a thick layer of cheese. A competitor to the title of 'the place for shakes'.

Jungle cafe.
A long sandy path leads away behind the beach and this spot has a nice forest atmosphere. At least a few good curries and a noteworthy masala chai spiced with cinnamon.

Rasta cafe.
An offensively shanti service, don't bother.

Dragon cafe.
An outdoors grill in peak season, otherwise probably unremarkable.

Sunset point cafe.
Specialises in fish. Didn't have any fish. (relevant to those that eat such things).

Dolphin Shanti.
On the rocks right at the end of the beach Dolphin Shanti comes with a view over the whole bay, it's a peaceful spot away from the people traffic. Despite a limited kitchen they will endeavour to cook most things; don't expect miracles, but simple well cooked curries, sizzlers and other dishes are possible. The pasta might be bettered by some students, but the full plateful serving is definitely appreciated by the same gap-yearing students. The finger chips (UK:chips USA:fries) are some of the best on the beach, fluffy, crispy and well salted. This mix of location and passable food seems to disproportionately attract the English and Germans.

Rudraksha

There are many bead-sellers who trudge every day from person to person on the sand of Gokarna's beaches. They lurk near each tourist in turn, waiting for some minutes, standing or crouching with an arm raised and a thick blanket of necklaces hanging down. Occasionally there is a conversation, polite trivia beyond the words 'would you like some beads, just looking, looking free'. Other times the beads are held up in silence. The flies rasp their front legs at the smell of interest, and the negotiations begin. The starting demand for the necklaces is high, up from the 'one hundred rupees only' of last year. This time any necklace desired costs two hundred, five hundred or seven hundred Rupees. Tourists fall for it, if the initial demand is seven hundred, then a negotiated price of two hundred must be a good deal. Other times less savvy tourists have paid more for a single necklace, or have been taken advantage of with a bulk discount. A popular style, and something vaguely topical for India, are the Rudraksha beads. These are the rough, ridged seeds of a large tree, which have a traditional use as prayer beads in Hinduism. There are many other types though, "any colour you like", as is said. But the 'real gold' turns green, the 'real silver' turns brown, and the 'real gems' are just glass. The necklaces and bracelets bought for hundreds of Rupees on the beach sell for between thirty and eighty Rupees at the main town, just a few kilometers away.

The question often asked by incredulous tourists during negotiations is this: 'tell me the real price'. Most Israelis on the other hand know to start with a counter offer of ten Rupees. So what is the real price? A bead seller certainly isn't the right person to ask this question. If a competitive market can answer the question, then the price in town is the real price of beads. If it's understood that walking in the hot sun is added labour, they provide a service in convenience of sale, or inconvenience of disturbance if you're not into dressing like a hippie. But the real issue is with the variable price. Bartering fails in this case for two reasons, one party doesn't know the monetary value of what is on offer, and that no skill related to the production of the beads is a factor in the price (though the bead sellers do produce their own necklaces. They buy beads in bulk from the northern states for prices per kilo and thread them.) This is where the practise fails an intuitive sense of fairness, the money earned does not correspond to value added or work done. That someone can run a business which is not based on adding value but selling things to people who don't know the true value. The skill they sell is manipulation and deception. In my mind haggling can't die a death soon enough.

Etc

The most commonly sold goods in India are et cetera. Every shop sign-board is remarkably standardised, and is sure to point out both that the shop is a specialist (generally shorted to spl.) in some form of goods, and that these include et cetera (etc.). Krishna (as named half the businesses in India) Metal Stores would not be complete without noting that it was a specialist in: sheet metal, pipes, wire, parts, and etc.

Do you have a light

Indian tourists who smoke always seem to be losing their lighters in the vicinity of Western tourists. It's almost daily that the question is asked of a group of Westerners 'sorry do you have a light'. The only variation seems to be in the speed at which they scuttle away afterwards. This isn't the poorer 'people from the villages' who use this embarrassingly standardised cause for interaction, though they are more likely to ask for a cigarette, it's the city dwellers as well. Once or twice the request for a lighter will be followed with the usual country enquiry. I'm not going to say I've never acted under pretense, but the lack of creativity is quite staggering. Perhaps this introduction is learned by rote, right after the repetitions of "What is your good name".

Skilled kitchens

Indian tourist kitchens produce a staggering number of dishes covering food styles from around the world. The feat of preparing all of these in a small kitchen with limited resources is impressive. Even the hygiene is better than some would expect; the kitchen knives are washed twice a year, whether they need it or not. Enter the world of garlic flavoured ice cream.

Shiny new bikes

Shiny new motorbikes, with various bits of plastic film still attached. It looks like the Gokarna police have had a good season.

It's only reactionary

Perhaps the man who believes his god is protecting him feels far more secure than I ever will. It would be a cold hard world if we followed my alternative to what feels like the standard 'each man has his own culture'.

Respect other cultures

The culture is not people
The culture is more powerful than people
The people were born into the culture

The people will defend the culture
But the people did not choose the culture

An irritating Scotsman, as he identified himself, once accused 'You British' of repression, and proudly declared his support for independence. I didn't have any reply ready at the time, but it led to much consideration of the true problems of his argument. It is this: that we didn't choose our culture. A baby born has no choice in it's parents, or their environment. We defend it, we are part of it, what is familiar is 'right', and most would choose it again unless faced with something really more attractive. But it isn't the same as culture being 'of' the people. Culture is not the people, the people live in a culture. Culture is an inherited title, persisting where we have otherwise accepted the flaws of hereditary privileges. A culture is a meme, an evolving concept which is transmitted between the generations outside of genetic or epigenetic information. Or perhaps 'culture' is the composite of the vast number of separate memes of the individual groups of members (Forget the misuse of 'meme' by the interwebs). Parents pass on the culture to their children, and they actively choose to do this. Isn't it right that parents should be allowed to raise their children as they see fit. But are children property of the parents, do they exist to fulfill the rights of the parents? If the same parents had been born themselves to a different culture they would defend the right to pass this on. I don't feel any compulsion to respect a historical re-enactment, or a particular artistic movement, and nor do I a culture. Respect people, respect the human being, though they may have become a permanent part of any culture. They are a human within a culture. But what if we are faced with something more attractive. What if the west is the best. The Islamic preachers defending their culture can see the threat; they will lose the young. It's fear of destruction that leads to the extreme reactions. People should have a right to belong to the best culture, let the others be consigned to books, let the second enlightenment begin.

Shivratri

A giant wagon, four stories tall and carrying about twenty people, is hauled down the road. The wagon is believed to be hundreds of years old and makes only this one auspicious excursion each year. It's upper structure is covered in flags, serving as a giant pincushion; the lower parts are decorated with limes, chillies, coconuts and various leaves. There are crowds of people filling the street who pelt the wagon with bananas, trying to get them into the door and fulfil their wishes, or relieve caste tension against the Brahmin (lightest skin) priests, I'm not sure which. Half-way a wheel on the wagon breaks, and the festival can't be completed. It's a terrible omen for the people who believe in this.

Party lights

It looks surreal, many points of red and green light moving over the piles of rubbish beside the lodges. The water bottles, some plastic wrappers, and as always in India, a discarded shoe. I'm guessing someone had a truckload of these disco lights to offload at the Shivratri festival. In another lodge the party lights wander over the large shrine to various gods and elder or deceased family members. It could be the same on every touristed beach in the world, but my world is only what I have seen.

Not for eating

"Those are some good throwing bananas". Not so great for eating, but for pelting at the giant wagon during the Hindu festival of Shivratri, they are quite perfect.