Bruise

    Bruise sits in the Ministry of Defence, Kabul, waiting to go for coffee with his friend Patrick. Bruise and Patrick became friends when Bruise wrote a response to the American soldiers that were killed in Afghanistan. Despite the fact that Bruise is Afghani, he was deeply saddened by this constantly occurring tragedy and expressed his sympathies in an article that was published in the London Free Press, via Patrick. 
    I met Bruise at our guest house in Arambol. I actually met him through his friend Abass. I was chatting on the phone outside of our room one night when Abass said ‘hello’ and suggested that I join him and his friend for drinks. I didn’t run into Abass until the next day when I joined him and Bruise for breakfast. Both of them are from Afghanistan, Abass from the south and Bruise from the north. We chatted for awhile and made formalities.
    Later in the day I went to use the wi-fi at a place in the market but no connection was available. Instead I went to a café to write in my journal and have an avocado shake. While I was sitting on the beach enjoying my shake Bruise came walking by looking for a friend. I invited him to join me at the table, which he did. Conversation took off right away. I learned that Bruise worked for Asia Foundation in Kabul, he had lost his brother from the conflict in Afghanistan, and that he was a big fan of my favourite poet Rumi. We spoke about the war in Afghanistan and the American presence. Bruise definitely wears the weight of his country on his shoulders, you can see it in his posture. The pain of losing his brother you can see in his eyes.  I don’t think I could ever get over losing a sibling, let alone losing a sibling from a horrific circumstance like war or conflict in my homeland. I have never grown up in a conflict state and never want to. I am blessed to be from Canada and have never know the fear and terror that comes along with war. I am thankful for this and pray for all of those who have suffered from such tragedies.
    From my first impression I would never have guessed that he had as much depth to his character as I was learning from this one conversation. Bruise is a quiet and reserved man. The word that constantly came to mind is ‘unassuming’. You do not expect a lot of character, personality, or dynamism from Bruise, but he has all of these qualities in spades. Our conversation kept on for quite some time until I decided to go back to the hotel to find Rachy and see what the group was up to.
    Bruise and I definitely had an attraction. We liked to talk about politics, poetry, running on the beach, our homelands. He may love Afghanistan as much as I love Canada, however I think he is more indebted to his country than I. I asked him once “what is the one thing in life that is the most important to you?”. He responded “to do something significant for my country”. I do love Canada but I don’t feel that I have to represent it anymore than by being a respectable Canadian and upholding values of kindness, consideration, and politeness.
    Bruise speaks many different languages; Persian, Pashtu, Uzbek, English, Russian, Hindi, Urdu, and a little bit of Arabic. Very impressive. He uses many of these languages in his job, but also while traveling. It helps quite a lot in terms of traveling. Despite his strength of language Bruise is soft spoken, and quiet in demeanor. He says what he likes and what he doesn’t and there is not any ambivalence or question as to his meaning.
    He rides horses. He told me that his grandfather had horses and he would ride them all the time while growing up in the countryside of Afghanistan. He said that he would speak to the horses. Not like the horse whisperer, but just confide in them. Perhaps one of the few animate creatures he trusts with his thoughts and feelings. As I got to know Bruise I figured that he was the type of person who takes a long time to get close to. He doesn’t let just anybody in. I think horses are the privileged few who get a taste of that inner depth.  Perhaps a horse is the perfect animal to compare him to. Tame, quiet, strong, substantial endurance, strength in spades, unassuming, will mate with anything that is put in his pen, needs lots of physical activity or else gets restless.
    I mentioned that Bruise and I had an attraction, and we did have a romance. On Christmas eve we took a walk down the beach after supper. As I mentioned in earlier posts the entire length of Arambol Beach was alive and kicking on Christmas Eve. Although while walking on the beach with Bruise everything seemed to slow down and be as soft and gentle as his voice. He held my hand as we walked down the beach. He has the most beautiful hands I have ever seen. Long tapered fingers, with soft café coloured skin. Just before midnight we stopped and he kissed me. I’m not going to lie his kiss made my knees weak. At the very moment that we first kissed fireworks literally went off in the sky and the warm ocean water rushed up upon our feet. It couldn’t have been more romantic! I felt like I was in a movie as the beautiful female lead that was being romanced by a dark and handsome foreigner. At that point I didn’t know whether this movie would turn out to be a romance, horror, mystery, or documentary. Hahahha! Alas I stopped things dead in their tracks despite my interest and attraction my heart hadn’t moved forward from my last relationship.
    Time carried on and Bruise and I kept on getting to know each other while enjoying the delightful beaches of Goa. The romance did pick up again, once I was ready to say ‘goodbye’ to my old relationship and ‘hello’ to a new possibility. A possibility that was potentially one of the most romantic moments of my life.
    I feel fortunate and thankful to have met such an incredibly interesting and dynamic man.     I pray that Bruise will do something significant for his country and in honour of the brother he lost. Although I feel that he already has in terms of the work he does with Asia Foundation as well as his personal representation in his daily life. Thanks Bruise you reminded me that there is a whole world of possibilities out there ;)

Planes, trains, and auto-rickshaws; Transportation in India

    Traveling around India one gets quite familiar with the many different modes and means of transportation. In Canada I am very comfortable with the Greyhound, as I have been back and forth across most of this country using this bus system. But I have also flown across the country, numerous times. I used to take the VIA rail train to and from university back in my undergrad days. While living in British Colombia I got very comfortable taking ferries, whether passenger, or car ferries. Beyond this I have biked all over Vancouver, parts of the island, and the Bow Valley. I enjoy being a pedestrian so I am also very comfortable with walking great distances, or taking public transit. All in all I am one with any, and every, means of transportation out there. Or so I would like to think!
    Indian transportation is a whole other world of moving people. Fair enough. If you had 1.2+ billion people to shuffle around a country I am sure some amendments and alterations would have to be made. I think that is the number one rule, or fact that you constantly need to remind yourself of when travelling around India; 1.2+ billion people.
    Traffic. Everyone says “you won’t believe the traffic in India. A million cars everywhere. It doesn’t make any sense”. True, but it doesn’t have to. In Canada we have a population of 33 million people with distinct driving lanes, rules, and flows of traffic. In India if there is a small opening of space on the road you can be sure someone will try to squeeze in and occupy it. Why not? It is an open space, and everyone is trying to get somewhere. The irony comes into play when you consider how much road rage exists in North America, with a significantly lower population. Indian drivers, motorists, commuters do not get angry with the traffic. There is a grand level of acceptance that it takes time to get from A to B, and everyone else is in the same boat, attempting the same thing. India-1, Canada-0.
    In terms of roadways India has cars, auto-rickshaws, motorbikes, bicycles, trucks, and buses. Same as Canadian roadways, with exception of the auto-rickshaws. Whether you are a passenger or driver of any of these vehicles in India it is a far different experience compared to somewhere like Canada. As a passenger you fear for your life if you look out the window and watch the traffic, not to mention the pushing, shoving, and cramming to get yourself in and on a means of public transport. As a driver you feel more in control and a part of the synchronistic system of transportation moving all about you, and then you fear for your life and pray to God that you wont die tragically in an accident.
   
Learning to drive a Motorbike

    While I was staying in Goa I mentioned that we rented motorbikes to hope around to the different beaches. While Rachy was around I was the passenger, and never the driver. However once she left I had my hand at it. I had never driven a motorbike before, only cars and trucks. I am not going to lie I was nervous. I rented a motorbike through the owner of our hotel Babu. I asked him to assist me in getting familiar with the bike before I went it alone. He showed me the basics; brakes, throttle, kickstand, etc. My first try with the bike was a little shaky. I couldn’t believe how heavy the bike was, it took a some extra effort to hold it upright. I could tell that Babu was not sure that I could do this successfully. He reinforced that I go very very slowly to start off with. I took heed and did go very slowly. However I also knew that I just needed to get comfortable and then it would come to me. Which is exactly what happened. Within ten minutes I was zipping around Arambol having a ball of a time. Fantastic. I drive down the coast with the wind in my hair, wearing my cool shades, and feeling like a million bucks. I could get used to this! I made it to Morjim and back, about a half hours’ drive one way, and felt amazed at my accomplishment. Now only did I teach myself how to drive a motorbike, but I also successfully drove in Indian traffic, on Indian roadways, with other Indian people! Way to go Steph !!! Not only an accomplishment but an absolute hoot!! I LOVE motorbikes, they are so incredibly fun and exhilarating. One of my favourite pastimes for sure!!!

Trains

The Metro in New Delhi

    While staying with Rachy in Delhi the easiest, fastest, and most economical means of transportation was the metro. It was conveniently situated right in our neighbourhood of Pahar Gahng. My first trip on the metro was Friday night and we were headed to a reggae party in Haus Kaus. Luckily Rachy had been riding the metro everyday to work, and was more than somewhat familiar with it. She showed me everything. Thankfully we got on late that evening so there were not a lot of people, in fact it was dead on the trains; a decent introduction nonetheless. I learned that the metro also had a ladies’ cart, which we were expected to board. I learned about the different metro lines, all a different colour, and each with a trail of the same coloured footprints, painted on the floor of each metro station. Ideally you follow the same coloured footprints to the colour of train that you want to switch to. There are six different metro lines in Delhi, which move over 2 million people a day. A little overwhelming, but not as much as the metro in Paris which moves 4.5 million people everyday. By the end of my week in Delhi I was riding the metro like an old pro. I knew my station, how to navigate to whichever station I wanted, I knew how to transfer lines, and I also learned how to weed my way through the millions of people that move through the New Delhi metro everyday!!! Again an impressive accomplishment if I do say so myself. Once I tackled the metro in Delhi, I felt like a ‘real’ world traveler.

The Railway
    Besides the metro the trains in India are not what I thought they would be. I have always loved to take the train. When I was doing my undergrad every time I went back home to visit I would take the train from London, Ontario, to Brampton, Ontario, and have my family pick me up. The train was so comfortable, soothing, and overall relaxing after a rough week at school. I often dreamed that I had lived in India in another life and that was part of the reason I loved trains, since the railway system has been part of India since British colonization.
    However this was not my experience while in India. In fact I came to resent the train system in India. You ALWAYS have to book ahead, something I am not accustomed to being a fly by the seat of my pants traveler. When you are able to book a train they are usually crowded. Most train cars are painted an awful colour, amplified by dim fluorescent lighting. After many hours this definitely affects ones mood and mentality. During the day you usually have to share your seat and berth with those around you. During the night you pray for a top bunk and that your bags don’t get stolen while you sleep. Which means you really sleep with one eye open, and one leg hooked through your backpack. All in all the trains in India don’t have the charm that I thought they would have. I think I had romanticized them to the point of unrealistic expectation. Ultimately I was just disappointed. All that being said the trains in India are still the fastest and most economic way to get across the country. With that in mind it is possible to suck it up and deal with the trains of India.

Auto-Rikshaws





     Another means of getting around India are the auto-rikshwas, or 'autos', or 'rik's', for short. They are the Canadian version of cabs, although far cheaper and a little more exhilarating. Despite the fact that auto's are one of the cheapest means of moving about, and therefore accessible to most of the population I actually felt
like a heel riding in them. I felt his because i would constantly get this image of royals riding around in a canopied cart, with some sort of servant toting them around. When you are in the auto you sit in the back seat, driver up front, you are secluded, sheltered, and distinguished as a passenger. I mentioned this once to a friend of mine from India and he just laughed at me. In India it is a sign of class and wealth if you ride around in taxi's, not rik's. There is a definite dividing line between the two and the poor mostly take the rikshaws. Perhaps I was just living out some fantasy of having someone else drive me to my specific destinations and feeling privledged enough to do so.
I will mention that in the colder regions of India rikshaws are not as fun. Because there is only a simple canopy made out of some simple material it does not shelter from different types of weather. The first morning I arrived in Delhi I grabbed a rikshaw and froze to death in the early morning almost zero degree weather. As I viewed the other rikshaw drivers I noticed that they all had extra clothing, such as scarves, hats, gloves, even winter jackets.
Rachy and I had another similar experience when we grabbed a rikshaw late in the Delhi evening. I think we cuddled the whole way back because we were so cold. Hahahaha :)

    All in all transportation in India is as diverse and varied as the country and its people. I wasn't fortunate enough to travel by boat in India, but I think I covered all the other bases. I flew as well, but that experience was pretty much the same as any where else in the world. I am happy that I threw myself into India's many means of getting around such a huge country. I am also happy that none of my experiences were all that bad. I am sure there are absolute horror stories out there. For the most part I came out unscathed, in one piece, and a little bit tougher, and smarter. Thanks India :)