Waterfalls, EMTing and Tailors
So today was just completely wonderful. I’m still just giddy from it. I got up at 6:30 after maybe five, five and half hours of sleep to get ready for the 7:00 car ride to Lanavella. We had made plans yesterday for 9 of us to go out there and it had fallen to me to organize and set this up which was unfortunate as I had yoga at the time I was talking to the guy and was right in the middle of yoga when he was supposed to call me back. As it happens he didn’t call me back and so my yoga was not interrupted and when I called him back he said he was going to send over one car (I had said we would likely need two since there were nine of us but he with the proper Indian concept of personal space thought we only needed one). So this morning the one car shows up and half the people aren’t ready to go even though it showed up late (IST: Indian Standard Time) and its decided that we should grab a second car. Everyone else is expecting the driver to call up his boss and get a second car which he does eventually, though when I found out he hadn’t yet I tried calling up his boss (vs. just standing there which seemed to be the MO for some of the others, OK that’s mean I don’t know exactly what was going on but that’s what it seemed like).
So fortunately I take off in the first car with a group of five, including myself, and we head off to Lanavella. When we leave which is somewhere around 7:30 I’m guessing some of the others are still not ready to go (slow risers apparently). The driver speaks almost no English but is very good natured and laughs at the lack of communication (I think that’s what he was laughing at, it seemed that way anyways, I could be wrong though because you know, there was a lack of communication and all). So it was about a two and a half hour drive in which we chatted and slept and what not. I found out Elli (the British girl who is staying at the same guest house but is not involved with the program, she’s wicked foxy and did I mention British?) is A) only 18; this was totally mind blowing as I thought she was more like 23, and B) she has a boyfriend (so sad…well not really) who is going to work for Rolls Royce (I think as a mechanic or something?). This is apparently is pretty freaking awesome job as the pay is wonderful, and they also give you a Bentley as part of the hiring package.
So last week’s group was telling us how their driver was a wonderful tour guide who spoke perfect English, and how the weather was bright and clear and shiny (oh and it was, I saw the pictures). Our trip was almost the exact opposite of this but actually the weather wasn’t all that bad. It was really misty and cloudy with periodic showers but the rain was generally timed well so it wasn’t hitting at unpleasant times. The driver was basically like “We’re here, uh… now what?” To which I responded “Um…yeah I don’t know.” At a place we had to pay a toll though there was a guy who spoke English and he suggested some sightseeing places which our driver took us to. I’d like to point out here that Indians who speak decent English are very nice about helping you out. Like Thursday we were in a rickshaw at a red light trying to explain to our driver where we wanted to go with no success whatsoever when this guy in the rickshaw next to us peeks his head over and translates for us. What a guy!
So the first place we headed to was this dam. It’s a little walk up, mostly with stairs and through only one river and then you can play on these steps they’ve built that dam spills water out onto. I’ve got some pictures that I’ll post once I’m in Switzerland (I’ll try to do it before I go to Paris, though if I don’t manage it’ll be a few days. You’ll live, I promise). So we played on that and I goofed off in the water because I’d brought a change of clothes and a towel in my backpack. I went swimming with the fishies and was generally soaked with mountain stream water. We’ll see what horrible things I contract. The far side of the reservoir was invisible in the shifting mists and everything was in general quite beautiful.
After that we hiked up a little ways and (and I had a little mishap where once again my shoe was ripped off my feet, this time about to be sucked over a water wall when I laid out and dove for it, rescuing it and saving my feet from shards of glass; tragically for all this areas beauty there is a lot of garbage around) got to this waterfall. This is where I got loads of climbing out of my system. I LOVE climbing. Scrambling over rock faces is a real delight. As I discovered on the Grand Canyon, I also really love climbing up waterfalls. There is something about the constant pounding of the water on your body that is just exhilarating. So I scrambled up (and was labeled monkey by friends but it came in handy later on as you will see) and I was helping some of the other people climb up too. There was a family there and they were climbing about too and we took some photos with them because well I mean I pretty much a big deal over here and everyone wants to be in a picture with me (it happened a number of times today and has occurred before on the trip). For some reason Indian people love taking random pictures with random white people, more than once I’ve been just walking down the street and some guy will be like “Hey boss! One picture, ok?” I always oblige because it’s no skin off my teeth and well I try to please my adoring fans. I’m just that nice.
Me and a couple of the girls went higher while Mike (he’s a first year med student, I didn’t like him so much, not bad but not that great either, at the beginning of the trip, but once I actually got to know him he’s great) and Elli waited at the bottom. I guess they didn’t want to climb up, but it was nice too because it meant I could leave my back pack down there. Part of it was an attire issue I think, but it may have also been a heights thing, I didn’t ask though. So we went up a few terraces of the waterfall (it goes down a series of inclines and short 3-5 foot drops) before we got to the main event. The highest we went was the base of this I’m guessing 50 foot waterfall. Jenny took a great picture of me standing in front of it that I will try to get though I think she is on facebook and will post it.
Off to the right of the waterfall there was a tree with long hanging aerial roots, the kind that just sort of drip down over the rock and are utter perfect for scaling. Which of course I did, because why else would such a perfect plant exist if not to climb on? I climbed up it a bit and could have gone further but I was leaving both the people who came up with me and the people at the bottom waiting so I decided to head back down. My little jungle run was full of spiders and I probably contracted malaria again from the mosquitoes though I haven’t noticed any new bites. I did see a really cool crab about the size of my palm scrambling about in the roots which was really neat. Freshwater mountain crabs, think about how long ago that thing had to be separated from its ocean going relatives and yet it is clearly still a crab likely filling a similar niche in this totally different environment. Forget Jesus, nature is fucking metal.
Speaking of Jesus, in the car we hired there was a little porcelain bust of him glued (or otherwise affixed) to the dash board, along with a cross hanging from the rearview mirror. Despite these clues our driver was in fact not Christian. We were talking about religion, and I can’t for the life of me remember why when I asked gesturing to the Jesus, “You Christian?”
”No Mohammed. Youere Christian?” Youere is my attempt at capturing the not-quite-contraction-but-definitely-not-fully-seperated thing thay say
”No”
”Hindu?” He says this with a laugh.
”No uh…well..uh…” I’m weighing in my mind whether its even worth trying to explain to him as he almost certainly will not get it. I end up saying “I’m Unitarian Universalist which is basically faux religion.” Which of course he doesn’t understand. Elli commented on this that at the school she teaches at (that’s what she’s over here doing, teaching English at a private school before she starts college) the children always ask her if she’s Christian. When she says she doesn’t have religion they get all confused and weirded out. “It’s like totally foreign to them; I might as well be saying I don’t have a head.”
So anyways I started climbing back down and I was helping my peoples move down smoothly when there was a hold up. I was off in lala land in my head just taking in the utterly gorgeous scenery when I moved down to see what all the hubbub was about. One of the girls said that I should help this other (Indian) women down because this guy went over the falls (the little ones) head first and she was freaking out. She found her own way and I couldn’t help but I moved down a different route with celerity and poise and looked at the guy. He was bleeding bad, from two gashes on his head. They had him sitting up on the rocks next to the waterfall. I was going to call Mike to come up (this was beneath the second terrace which was semi visible from the base though partially shielded) since I figured he had the most experience out of any of us being a first year med student. I scrambled down the rock face and got some latex gloves out of my back pack (I was considering taking them out of my backpack this morning when I did the “Meh you never know when they might come in handy and they don’t take up space” in my head thing). Mike handed me a first aid kit which I guessed meant he wasn’t planning going up. He also gave me his bandanna to use as well.
I scrambled one more up the rock face this time with only one hand, which I will say makes scaling a slick boulder significantly more difficult. Once I got to the guy I opened up the first aid kit and unfortunately there wasn’t any gauze but there were some benzochlorine wipes that I took out and gave to (I guess his friend/relative/random guy) a man looking after him, who asked me “What do you want me to do?” At this point I’m thinking, “When the fuck did I become in charge of this situation?” What I say is a more diplomatic and I think ultimately more productive, “This is sterile clean up the wound wipe away the blood.” One of the girls comes down and I give her some gloves and we clean him up a little bit with the wipes before they tie the bandanna around his head and we walk him down. The guy seemed to be with it, but in retrospect (I thought of this after we had parted ways and we were walking down the river) I probably should have done the “follow my finger” thing to help check for a concussion (I had no flashlight so that was obviously not an option). I wanted to type torch just there, and yesterday I said “A cow is cheaper than a car, it runs on grass which is free, rather than petrol which is very expensive. Dear god, I really have been in India for a long time. I just said petrol instead of gas.” Too true, too true.
Right. Off that side track and back to the injury. So we walked him down and across the river and mike came over and we were looking at his wound in a little better conditions and Mike asked if I thought we should put some Neosporin on it. “There’s Neosporin in there? I only found the band aids and the sterile wipes.” Yeah that seems like a good idea, the place pretty dirty, I mean it was basically a mountain jungle.
So he put on a glove and we daubed his wounds with the stuff before recovering with the bandanna. I tried to impress upon them the need to go see a doctor, “Doctor. Right away, ha? Go see a Doctor, right away, ok?” (Ha is yes in Hindi). The guy seemed to be pretty with it and the people around him obviously were, and they were like “Ok, ok.” And also were extremely thankful for our help which was nice. This didn’t stop them from asking the ubiquitous “where are you from?” and “how long are you in India for?” (which can be interpreted as both how long have you been and how long are you planning on staying) questions. They also said to say good bye to your girl friend as the women folk had already started heading down. “Uh…yeah”
When we regrouped we noted that it seemed rather than taking him to a doctor right away they had gone further up the mountain. Maybe to do more sight seeing with a centimeter wide gash two thirds the length of my hand along his head perhaps? Hopefully they were just taking an alternate route and are not exceedingly negligent. As we were walking down Mike said “That was pretty quick thinking up there” which I pooh-poohed with a hand wave and while I was pointing out that it was his first aid kit and what not I was totally beaming and grinning inside.
After that we headed off in search of lunch. We stopped at Hotel Dreamland which advertised a restaurant. One look at the interior though and it was “Thank, but no” And we hightailed it out of there. Someone (I think Jenny) dug out her rough guide which recommended Hotel Lanavella Restaurant and Shinvey (or something along those lines) Garden restaurants both conveniently located (only a floor apart) in the Lanavella Hotel on main(ish) street. We decided we wanted meat so we went up to the first floor (ground 1,2,3) to Hotel Lanevalla Restaurant. Now this was a classy place where eating the food would not kill you (Mike and I had been joking about how eating the charred sweet corn which incidently they have stands selling everywhere included in the middle of the river on would leave you expelling corn chowda’ [Boston Style] out the butt. Classy guys Mike and I.) . We got soup, hot tea (both of which hit the spot since we were sitting there wet in an air conditioned restaurant) and various delicious kabobs. The kabobs were served on a bed of cabbage so we’ll see if I’m walking tomorrow (raw vegetables here as I found out my first week when I slipped up and forgot are something of a no-no here).
After lunch we stopped at this strip of Chikki Stores. That one sentence actually warrants two anecdotal explanations. First Chikki is sort of like peanut brittle, if peanut brittle could be made from anything ranging from earthnuts (peanuts) to sesame to chocolate to mango. It’s absolutely delicious, and the Super Chikki (one of the stores) let us stuff our faces on free samples which was good business because we bought a bunch. The other anecdote that warrants is the pack like nature of stores in India. I have noticed here that stores often congregate together. Now I’m not talking like gas stations being on the same street, I’m talking block after city block of small hardware (plumbing and the like) stalls. Or an entire mile of little shops all selling marble (a few said they had other kinds of stone too but 98 percent, a number reached through detailed survey rest assured, were advertised as marble stores. I imagine they did in fact carry other kinds of stone no matter what their signs said). I don’t understand it, it seems like the competition would bog them down but I guess in a country of a billion people (and 1/3 the size of the U.S.; it boggles my mind that there is any countryside here but crowded does not even begin to describe the conditions most of the country lives under) they manage.
After picking up some Chikki (and getting a box for our driver, because he was a sweet heart) we headed off towards some caves. You might have noted that I still haven’t mentioned the other group of people (but let’s be realistic here, in all likelihood you probably hadn’t) who were supposed to be coming. That’s because we hadn’t heard from them either and for all we knew they were dead. So we got to the caves and started hiking up this trail, which put us up on a mountainside overlooking the valley. At this point a lot of the fog had cleared out of the valley (though it still clung to the mountains only expanding out little world from a few dozen feet to a few miles) so we managed to see just absolutely gorgeous scenery while we were heading up. We also saw a little over a dozen red men. Now I don’t mean Native Americans or Communists here, I mean guys covered in red powder. In temples here there is this red powder (there’s a yellow one too that is sometimes used, the significance of which is completely beyond me) that you sprinkle on offerings and is used to put a red mark on your forehead (I’ve got one in some pictures), or in this case cover your entire body with it. They were very friendly and some were washing off in the waterfall (there was a waterfall coming down from the Buddhists caves we were going up too) while the others ran down and all were screaming and yelling and having a grand old time. Then they started throwing red powder at each other and one of them ran at me from the corner of my eye which freaked me for a second because I thought I was going to get covered in the stuff (which wouldn’t have been so bad but my thought process at the time was clowded by the bright red something rushing into my field of vision). He stopped though and just started to put a mark on my forehead so I made like I was in temple and pulled my goldie locks back out of the way. They repeated this with all my traveling companions and then through some red powder in Mike’s and my bangs. I have no idea what they were doing or what religious event this was, but while being here I’ve really perfected the “Huh, that’s different” go with the flow attitude.
We went up to the top and I saw these little pictures being sold in shops along the side of the road. These looked like pictures of a Hindu god, which was weird because I thought these were Buddhist caves. Additionally all the offerings being sold were akin to the ones at Mahalaxshmi which is definitely Hindu. Well no one spoke enough English to reconcile this cognitive dissonance so we pressed onward. We (being foreigners) had to pay Rs. 100 or US 2 (about Rs. 80) vs the Rs. 5 for locals to get in. The caves however were gorgeous and really freaking old. One of the most impressive things (and the sign mentioned this) was that the place had it’s originally woodwork from 2500 years ago. Hoy this was managed in a soaking went tropical environment is absolutely beyond me. Then we went into the temple and I got re-marked on the forhead by the priest and they gave me a half of a little coconut stuffed with flowers (I’m guessing this is because I put money in the offering dish, which I do at every temple and mosque I go into, because they only gave sugar to one of the girls who put in only coins but sometimes it seems random too so I don’t know). Incidentally the forehead marking thing is a Hindu practice, but I didn’t make note of it at the time. We walked back down and tried a different shop keeper ad after much arm waving and confusion I discovered that the temple is Hindu while the caves are Buddhist. Case closed.
The drive back was uneventful, and I asked our driver to drop me (and Mike came along too to see the place) in Santa Cruz so I could go to a tailor (more on that soon!). Whatever happened to the other car? Well apparently they got screwed with a crappy driver who only took them to the dam and then went back. I’m not sure exactly what happened with the money (I will find out tonight when I meet the girl who I gave it to) but we decided (I think the other car suggested it but I was thinking it from the beginning so I seconded it) that we basically pool our money and just split it nine ways so that their car wasn’t further jacked over by only having four people in it. Which meant that we were going to need to give them a little bit of money when we got back, except we were going to tip our driver while they presumably weren’t. I don’t know, I gave someone Rs. 1000 and said to give me back money when it was dealt with. All in all I had a fantastic time in Lanavalla, and its definitely one of the places I’ve added to my ever growing list of places I want to take my parents when we visit here together (oh and mark my words it WILL happen; there are just too many places I’ve been that I think they would really enjoy).
So Mike and I stopped in Santa Cruz to go check out this place Bhagwan Collections. Some guys went there last month to get suits made and recommended it as a good place. I had mentioned this last week to Mike and he said he was interested in going but ended up jumping the gun and going to a tailor he found in Ville Parle. For shame though, that tailor was cheaper granted (about half cost), but Bhagwan Collections is in fact simply incredible. I initially wanted to check it out and then go see the place in Ville Parle but as soon as we stepped in Mike said, don’t bother. I can regale you with the details which I’m sure you will find excessively boring but needless to say I can see why girls love shopping for clothes.
Getting a suit tailored is SO FREAKING COOL. I got to go through loads of different fabrics and in the end I chose a 150s (which indicates the fineness of the thread, and I believe this is a relatively high number, most of the other fabrics I saw had lower with only one being above that having a 180s and being more than double the cost) Hugo Boss Wool Cashmere blend, but I looked through a bunch of different import and Indian made fabrics ranging from Armani and Dior to Reynolds. It’s black on black (the stripes have different sheens so they look different, I’m not just saying solid black in a fancy way) and I’m also getting four shirts tailored for me. The shirts are actually about as expensive as many of the packaged shirts I’ve seen for sale in some of the stores in Bandra, but these ones I get to pick out the fabric once again and they will be fitted to me perfectly. The fabrics are pretty cool looking, and I think they’ll look nice. I got to match them up to the fabric of my suit and when I went and picked out a couple of ties (ready made, though I could probably get some custom done, but they’re silk, nice, and under US 10 each) I got to bring those over and compare them to the fabrics as well. The sales guy was super helpful, spoke decent English, and was a charming little old man who said things like “By Friday hmmm, let me check with my tailor, it would be bad if I said it could be done by then and then you were left in a bad spot.” And he just smiled when I squealed shaking my arms in front of me while squeaking out how excited I was. I don’t even have to pay extra though to get it done so quickly, they were just saying I’d need to come in for a fitting on Monday (they seemed to think this was some major inconvenience but I assured them it was fine). Even my tailor was wonderful, just a little bit effeminate looking, but sassy and kind of cranky seeming. It was WONDERFUL beyond description. I already have a brown suit that I inherited from my Grandfather. Its nice, functional, and has done a good job of snazzing me up in the past while it even fits reasonably well too which is fortunate. The suit is cut in the blocky straight down American style and has pleated pants, whereas the new one I’m getting will be in the more slim bodied European style with flat front pants and of course it will fit me perfectly since that’s who it is made for.
When I was relating this to Mike he was very sad for himself but very happy for me, and was all smile while he was proclaiming how jealous he was. He got a card though, knows where it is, and is going tomorrow to take advantage of the final day of their 10% off fabric sale. Speaking of prices, it was a bit expensive and along with this trip it has taken out most of my savings (not stocks though which I consider as basically inviolate and never withdraw from, always just reinvesting my money back in), but by bit expensive I mean by my standards. A guy from last month was saying how he’d gotten a suit like this back in the US, and it had cost him US 3000. My total, being a three piece (because I love vests) tailored suit made from imported British (Hugo Boss no less) 150s Wool Cashmere blend, four tailored shirts (I’m not sure where their fabric is from but I’m guessing India), and two silk ties comes out to almost US 410.
I am going to look damn sexy, that’s all I have to say.
So fortunately I take off in the first car with a group of five, including myself, and we head off to Lanavella. When we leave which is somewhere around 7:30 I’m guessing some of the others are still not ready to go (slow risers apparently). The driver speaks almost no English but is very good natured and laughs at the lack of communication (I think that’s what he was laughing at, it seemed that way anyways, I could be wrong though because you know, there was a lack of communication and all). So it was about a two and a half hour drive in which we chatted and slept and what not. I found out Elli (the British girl who is staying at the same guest house but is not involved with the program, she’s wicked foxy and did I mention British?) is A) only 18; this was totally mind blowing as I thought she was more like 23, and B) she has a boyfriend (so sad…well not really) who is going to work for Rolls Royce (I think as a mechanic or something?). This is apparently is pretty freaking awesome job as the pay is wonderful, and they also give you a Bentley as part of the hiring package.
So last week’s group was telling us how their driver was a wonderful tour guide who spoke perfect English, and how the weather was bright and clear and shiny (oh and it was, I saw the pictures). Our trip was almost the exact opposite of this but actually the weather wasn’t all that bad. It was really misty and cloudy with periodic showers but the rain was generally timed well so it wasn’t hitting at unpleasant times. The driver was basically like “We’re here, uh… now what?” To which I responded “Um…yeah I don’t know.” At a place we had to pay a toll though there was a guy who spoke English and he suggested some sightseeing places which our driver took us to. I’d like to point out here that Indians who speak decent English are very nice about helping you out. Like Thursday we were in a rickshaw at a red light trying to explain to our driver where we wanted to go with no success whatsoever when this guy in the rickshaw next to us peeks his head over and translates for us. What a guy!
So the first place we headed to was this dam. It’s a little walk up, mostly with stairs and through only one river and then you can play on these steps they’ve built that dam spills water out onto. I’ve got some pictures that I’ll post once I’m in Switzerland (I’ll try to do it before I go to Paris, though if I don’t manage it’ll be a few days. You’ll live, I promise). So we played on that and I goofed off in the water because I’d brought a change of clothes and a towel in my backpack. I went swimming with the fishies and was generally soaked with mountain stream water. We’ll see what horrible things I contract. The far side of the reservoir was invisible in the shifting mists and everything was in general quite beautiful.
After that we hiked up a little ways and (and I had a little mishap where once again my shoe was ripped off my feet, this time about to be sucked over a water wall when I laid out and dove for it, rescuing it and saving my feet from shards of glass; tragically for all this areas beauty there is a lot of garbage around) got to this waterfall. This is where I got loads of climbing out of my system. I LOVE climbing. Scrambling over rock faces is a real delight. As I discovered on the Grand Canyon, I also really love climbing up waterfalls. There is something about the constant pounding of the water on your body that is just exhilarating. So I scrambled up (and was labeled monkey by friends but it came in handy later on as you will see) and I was helping some of the other people climb up too. There was a family there and they were climbing about too and we took some photos with them because well I mean I pretty much a big deal over here and everyone wants to be in a picture with me (it happened a number of times today and has occurred before on the trip). For some reason Indian people love taking random pictures with random white people, more than once I’ve been just walking down the street and some guy will be like “Hey boss! One picture, ok?” I always oblige because it’s no skin off my teeth and well I try to please my adoring fans. I’m just that nice.
Me and a couple of the girls went higher while Mike (he’s a first year med student, I didn’t like him so much, not bad but not that great either, at the beginning of the trip, but once I actually got to know him he’s great) and Elli waited at the bottom. I guess they didn’t want to climb up, but it was nice too because it meant I could leave my back pack down there. Part of it was an attire issue I think, but it may have also been a heights thing, I didn’t ask though. So we went up a few terraces of the waterfall (it goes down a series of inclines and short 3-5 foot drops) before we got to the main event. The highest we went was the base of this I’m guessing 50 foot waterfall. Jenny took a great picture of me standing in front of it that I will try to get though I think she is on facebook and will post it.
Off to the right of the waterfall there was a tree with long hanging aerial roots, the kind that just sort of drip down over the rock and are utter perfect for scaling. Which of course I did, because why else would such a perfect plant exist if not to climb on? I climbed up it a bit and could have gone further but I was leaving both the people who came up with me and the people at the bottom waiting so I decided to head back down. My little jungle run was full of spiders and I probably contracted malaria again from the mosquitoes though I haven’t noticed any new bites. I did see a really cool crab about the size of my palm scrambling about in the roots which was really neat. Freshwater mountain crabs, think about how long ago that thing had to be separated from its ocean going relatives and yet it is clearly still a crab likely filling a similar niche in this totally different environment. Forget Jesus, nature is fucking metal.
Speaking of Jesus, in the car we hired there was a little porcelain bust of him glued (or otherwise affixed) to the dash board, along with a cross hanging from the rearview mirror. Despite these clues our driver was in fact not Christian. We were talking about religion, and I can’t for the life of me remember why when I asked gesturing to the Jesus, “You Christian?”
”No Mohammed. Youere Christian?” Youere is my attempt at capturing the not-quite-contraction-but-definitely-not-fully-seperated thing thay say
”No”
”Hindu?” He says this with a laugh.
”No uh…well..uh…” I’m weighing in my mind whether its even worth trying to explain to him as he almost certainly will not get it. I end up saying “I’m Unitarian Universalist which is basically faux religion.” Which of course he doesn’t understand. Elli commented on this that at the school she teaches at (that’s what she’s over here doing, teaching English at a private school before she starts college) the children always ask her if she’s Christian. When she says she doesn’t have religion they get all confused and weirded out. “It’s like totally foreign to them; I might as well be saying I don’t have a head.”
So anyways I started climbing back down and I was helping my peoples move down smoothly when there was a hold up. I was off in lala land in my head just taking in the utterly gorgeous scenery when I moved down to see what all the hubbub was about. One of the girls said that I should help this other (Indian) women down because this guy went over the falls (the little ones) head first and she was freaking out. She found her own way and I couldn’t help but I moved down a different route with celerity and poise and looked at the guy. He was bleeding bad, from two gashes on his head. They had him sitting up on the rocks next to the waterfall. I was going to call Mike to come up (this was beneath the second terrace which was semi visible from the base though partially shielded) since I figured he had the most experience out of any of us being a first year med student. I scrambled down the rock face and got some latex gloves out of my back pack (I was considering taking them out of my backpack this morning when I did the “Meh you never know when they might come in handy and they don’t take up space” in my head thing). Mike handed me a first aid kit which I guessed meant he wasn’t planning going up. He also gave me his bandanna to use as well.
I scrambled one more up the rock face this time with only one hand, which I will say makes scaling a slick boulder significantly more difficult. Once I got to the guy I opened up the first aid kit and unfortunately there wasn’t any gauze but there were some benzochlorine wipes that I took out and gave to (I guess his friend/relative/random guy) a man looking after him, who asked me “What do you want me to do?” At this point I’m thinking, “When the fuck did I become in charge of this situation?” What I say is a more diplomatic and I think ultimately more productive, “This is sterile clean up the wound wipe away the blood.” One of the girls comes down and I give her some gloves and we clean him up a little bit with the wipes before they tie the bandanna around his head and we walk him down. The guy seemed to be with it, but in retrospect (I thought of this after we had parted ways and we were walking down the river) I probably should have done the “follow my finger” thing to help check for a concussion (I had no flashlight so that was obviously not an option). I wanted to type torch just there, and yesterday I said “A cow is cheaper than a car, it runs on grass which is free, rather than petrol which is very expensive. Dear god, I really have been in India for a long time. I just said petrol instead of gas.” Too true, too true.
Right. Off that side track and back to the injury. So we walked him down and across the river and mike came over and we were looking at his wound in a little better conditions and Mike asked if I thought we should put some Neosporin on it. “There’s Neosporin in there? I only found the band aids and the sterile wipes.” Yeah that seems like a good idea, the place pretty dirty, I mean it was basically a mountain jungle.
So he put on a glove and we daubed his wounds with the stuff before recovering with the bandanna. I tried to impress upon them the need to go see a doctor, “Doctor. Right away, ha? Go see a Doctor, right away, ok?” (Ha is yes in Hindi). The guy seemed to be pretty with it and the people around him obviously were, and they were like “Ok, ok.” And also were extremely thankful for our help which was nice. This didn’t stop them from asking the ubiquitous “where are you from?” and “how long are you in India for?” (which can be interpreted as both how long have you been and how long are you planning on staying) questions. They also said to say good bye to your girl friend as the women folk had already started heading down. “Uh…yeah”
When we regrouped we noted that it seemed rather than taking him to a doctor right away they had gone further up the mountain. Maybe to do more sight seeing with a centimeter wide gash two thirds the length of my hand along his head perhaps? Hopefully they were just taking an alternate route and are not exceedingly negligent. As we were walking down Mike said “That was pretty quick thinking up there” which I pooh-poohed with a hand wave and while I was pointing out that it was his first aid kit and what not I was totally beaming and grinning inside.
After that we headed off in search of lunch. We stopped at Hotel Dreamland which advertised a restaurant. One look at the interior though and it was “Thank, but no” And we hightailed it out of there. Someone (I think Jenny) dug out her rough guide which recommended Hotel Lanavella Restaurant and Shinvey (or something along those lines) Garden restaurants both conveniently located (only a floor apart) in the Lanavella Hotel on main(ish) street. We decided we wanted meat so we went up to the first floor (ground 1,2,3) to Hotel Lanevalla Restaurant. Now this was a classy place where eating the food would not kill you (Mike and I had been joking about how eating the charred sweet corn which incidently they have stands selling everywhere included in the middle of the river on would leave you expelling corn chowda’ [Boston Style] out the butt. Classy guys Mike and I.) . We got soup, hot tea (both of which hit the spot since we were sitting there wet in an air conditioned restaurant) and various delicious kabobs. The kabobs were served on a bed of cabbage so we’ll see if I’m walking tomorrow (raw vegetables here as I found out my first week when I slipped up and forgot are something of a no-no here).
After lunch we stopped at this strip of Chikki Stores. That one sentence actually warrants two anecdotal explanations. First Chikki is sort of like peanut brittle, if peanut brittle could be made from anything ranging from earthnuts (peanuts) to sesame to chocolate to mango. It’s absolutely delicious, and the Super Chikki (one of the stores) let us stuff our faces on free samples which was good business because we bought a bunch. The other anecdote that warrants is the pack like nature of stores in India. I have noticed here that stores often congregate together. Now I’m not talking like gas stations being on the same street, I’m talking block after city block of small hardware (plumbing and the like) stalls. Or an entire mile of little shops all selling marble (a few said they had other kinds of stone too but 98 percent, a number reached through detailed survey rest assured, were advertised as marble stores. I imagine they did in fact carry other kinds of stone no matter what their signs said). I don’t understand it, it seems like the competition would bog them down but I guess in a country of a billion people (and 1/3 the size of the U.S.; it boggles my mind that there is any countryside here but crowded does not even begin to describe the conditions most of the country lives under) they manage.
After picking up some Chikki (and getting a box for our driver, because he was a sweet heart) we headed off towards some caves. You might have noted that I still haven’t mentioned the other group of people (but let’s be realistic here, in all likelihood you probably hadn’t) who were supposed to be coming. That’s because we hadn’t heard from them either and for all we knew they were dead. So we got to the caves and started hiking up this trail, which put us up on a mountainside overlooking the valley. At this point a lot of the fog had cleared out of the valley (though it still clung to the mountains only expanding out little world from a few dozen feet to a few miles) so we managed to see just absolutely gorgeous scenery while we were heading up. We also saw a little over a dozen red men. Now I don’t mean Native Americans or Communists here, I mean guys covered in red powder. In temples here there is this red powder (there’s a yellow one too that is sometimes used, the significance of which is completely beyond me) that you sprinkle on offerings and is used to put a red mark on your forehead (I’ve got one in some pictures), or in this case cover your entire body with it. They were very friendly and some were washing off in the waterfall (there was a waterfall coming down from the Buddhists caves we were going up too) while the others ran down and all were screaming and yelling and having a grand old time. Then they started throwing red powder at each other and one of them ran at me from the corner of my eye which freaked me for a second because I thought I was going to get covered in the stuff (which wouldn’t have been so bad but my thought process at the time was clowded by the bright red something rushing into my field of vision). He stopped though and just started to put a mark on my forehead so I made like I was in temple and pulled my goldie locks back out of the way. They repeated this with all my traveling companions and then through some red powder in Mike’s and my bangs. I have no idea what they were doing or what religious event this was, but while being here I’ve really perfected the “Huh, that’s different” go with the flow attitude.
We went up to the top and I saw these little pictures being sold in shops along the side of the road. These looked like pictures of a Hindu god, which was weird because I thought these were Buddhist caves. Additionally all the offerings being sold were akin to the ones at Mahalaxshmi which is definitely Hindu. Well no one spoke enough English to reconcile this cognitive dissonance so we pressed onward. We (being foreigners) had to pay Rs. 100 or US 2 (about Rs. 80) vs the Rs. 5 for locals to get in. The caves however were gorgeous and really freaking old. One of the most impressive things (and the sign mentioned this) was that the place had it’s originally woodwork from 2500 years ago. Hoy this was managed in a soaking went tropical environment is absolutely beyond me. Then we went into the temple and I got re-marked on the forhead by the priest and they gave me a half of a little coconut stuffed with flowers (I’m guessing this is because I put money in the offering dish, which I do at every temple and mosque I go into, because they only gave sugar to one of the girls who put in only coins but sometimes it seems random too so I don’t know). Incidentally the forehead marking thing is a Hindu practice, but I didn’t make note of it at the time. We walked back down and tried a different shop keeper ad after much arm waving and confusion I discovered that the temple is Hindu while the caves are Buddhist. Case closed.
The drive back was uneventful, and I asked our driver to drop me (and Mike came along too to see the place) in Santa Cruz so I could go to a tailor (more on that soon!). Whatever happened to the other car? Well apparently they got screwed with a crappy driver who only took them to the dam and then went back. I’m not sure exactly what happened with the money (I will find out tonight when I meet the girl who I gave it to) but we decided (I think the other car suggested it but I was thinking it from the beginning so I seconded it) that we basically pool our money and just split it nine ways so that their car wasn’t further jacked over by only having four people in it. Which meant that we were going to need to give them a little bit of money when we got back, except we were going to tip our driver while they presumably weren’t. I don’t know, I gave someone Rs. 1000 and said to give me back money when it was dealt with. All in all I had a fantastic time in Lanavalla, and its definitely one of the places I’ve added to my ever growing list of places I want to take my parents when we visit here together (oh and mark my words it WILL happen; there are just too many places I’ve been that I think they would really enjoy).
So Mike and I stopped in Santa Cruz to go check out this place Bhagwan Collections. Some guys went there last month to get suits made and recommended it as a good place. I had mentioned this last week to Mike and he said he was interested in going but ended up jumping the gun and going to a tailor he found in Ville Parle. For shame though, that tailor was cheaper granted (about half cost), but Bhagwan Collections is in fact simply incredible. I initially wanted to check it out and then go see the place in Ville Parle but as soon as we stepped in Mike said, don’t bother. I can regale you with the details which I’m sure you will find excessively boring but needless to say I can see why girls love shopping for clothes.
Getting a suit tailored is SO FREAKING COOL. I got to go through loads of different fabrics and in the end I chose a 150s (which indicates the fineness of the thread, and I believe this is a relatively high number, most of the other fabrics I saw had lower with only one being above that having a 180s and being more than double the cost) Hugo Boss Wool Cashmere blend, but I looked through a bunch of different import and Indian made fabrics ranging from Armani and Dior to Reynolds. It’s black on black (the stripes have different sheens so they look different, I’m not just saying solid black in a fancy way) and I’m also getting four shirts tailored for me. The shirts are actually about as expensive as many of the packaged shirts I’ve seen for sale in some of the stores in Bandra, but these ones I get to pick out the fabric once again and they will be fitted to me perfectly. The fabrics are pretty cool looking, and I think they’ll look nice. I got to match them up to the fabric of my suit and when I went and picked out a couple of ties (ready made, though I could probably get some custom done, but they’re silk, nice, and under US 10 each) I got to bring those over and compare them to the fabrics as well. The sales guy was super helpful, spoke decent English, and was a charming little old man who said things like “By Friday hmmm, let me check with my tailor, it would be bad if I said it could be done by then and then you were left in a bad spot.” And he just smiled when I squealed shaking my arms in front of me while squeaking out how excited I was. I don’t even have to pay extra though to get it done so quickly, they were just saying I’d need to come in for a fitting on Monday (they seemed to think this was some major inconvenience but I assured them it was fine). Even my tailor was wonderful, just a little bit effeminate looking, but sassy and kind of cranky seeming. It was WONDERFUL beyond description. I already have a brown suit that I inherited from my Grandfather. Its nice, functional, and has done a good job of snazzing me up in the past while it even fits reasonably well too which is fortunate. The suit is cut in the blocky straight down American style and has pleated pants, whereas the new one I’m getting will be in the more slim bodied European style with flat front pants and of course it will fit me perfectly since that’s who it is made for.
When I was relating this to Mike he was very sad for himself but very happy for me, and was all smile while he was proclaiming how jealous he was. He got a card though, knows where it is, and is going tomorrow to take advantage of the final day of their 10% off fabric sale. Speaking of prices, it was a bit expensive and along with this trip it has taken out most of my savings (not stocks though which I consider as basically inviolate and never withdraw from, always just reinvesting my money back in), but by bit expensive I mean by my standards. A guy from last month was saying how he’d gotten a suit like this back in the US, and it had cost him US 3000. My total, being a three piece (because I love vests) tailored suit made from imported British (Hugo Boss no less) 150s Wool Cashmere blend, four tailored shirts (I’m not sure where their fabric is from but I’m guessing India), and two silk ties comes out to almost US 410.
I am going to look damn sexy, that’s all I have to say.