Hey guys,
It’s been 3 weeks to the day since we’ve arrived in India and it’s been a hell of a ride. The country, culture, infrastructure- everything, is kept together by a lattice of paradoxes that confound, amaze and, occasionally, overwhelm. I’d love to wrap our experiences up into a few neat sentences, slap a bow on it, and present it to you, but that’s just not India. I’ll keep this post in tune with our experiences; I’ll avoid attempting to make things faster by paraphrasing or getting fancy with witticisms, I’ll just write the stories we’ve had.
At Midnight on October 29 we arrived at Hyderabad Airport in the region of Andhra Pradesh where, to the complete amazement of customs, we had no plans for a place to stay, no plans as to what we were doing or how we were getting there. After 45 minutes, we convinced the very concerned, very matronly, customs official that we in fact would not die and she gave us a stamp and wished us luck.
For good and for bad, there’s not much to Hyderabad. It was a great jumping off point because there weren’t many tourists, and thus few touts and hawkers, but as Lonely Planet (AKA, The Bible) aptly puts it, “No travelers, Andhra Pradesh is not flirtatious.” So, after storing our snowboards, skis, extra baggage, and grabbing a couple of very tasty meals, we caught the first train to Bombay and didn’t look back.
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| Bombay/ Mumbai |
Bombay, unlike Hyderabad, is flirtatious. It’s that girl at the party that talks to all the boys, but leaves each one wondering whether or not she was cute, or whether they were just, you know, a little intoxicated. It has 16 million people, more skyscappers than LA or New York, smog, good food, and lot’s and lot’s of taxis. It has world class attractions, McDonalds and amputee beggars. It’s familiar and strange; modern enough to make you drop your guard, but Indian enough to shock to shock you and remind you of where you are; It’s the archetypal Indian city on steroids.
As we were checking into our hostel the manager handed me a phone and told me I had a call. 45 seconds later I turned to Mike and informed that, yes, we were going to act in a Ballywood movie the next night. Flabbergasted and still delirious from the 17 hour train ride the night before, we spent the rest of the day laughing about our impending acting carrier and wondering what the hell we had gotten ourselves into.
The next night, two German girls, two Australian girls, and ourselves we picked up by Indian guides sent from the studio. The guides were more like handlers, or shepards, and they didn’t talk much except to tell us when to push in and out of the overstuffed, overheated metro cars. During the 45 minute ride, the girls and ourselves cracked jokes and bonded over the mutually awkward situation of being the only non-Indians in a train that was packed more full clown car at Circus Circus.
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| The Girls Post- Makup |
Once we got to the set we were given dinner and thrown into hair and makeup. The girls were put in get-ups that were oddly reminiscent of1970s Bond Girls and Mike and I were given copious amounts of hair gel and supplied ridiculous leather or denim jackets with “nut-hugger” pants. They couldn’t find shoes big enough for me, so I was instructed to keep my feet under the table at all times.
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| Our Ballywood Get-Ups |
After we were camera ready, we took our places at dinner tables around a glamorous mirrored cat-walk. For the most part, we were separated and paired up with random Indians or Iranians that constituted the regular Ballywood extras. Mike and Anita, one of the Germans, were seated on the opposite side of the catwalk from myself and Mike decided it was a good idea to wait for me to look in his general direction and then start to do a smug Indian style head bobble in an attempt to make me laugh (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cw88JamMxFw&feature=related or http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BrmDo52NnTY&feature=related). It worked most of the night.
The movie itself was no less surreal than the rest of the night. The set was like a parallel, very disorganized, universe of Hollywood. Over three hours we shot 1 scene that amounted to, maybe, 45 seconds of footage. We stood up, clapped and looked white during a runway show that involved handicapped - both mentally and physically- kids walking down a catwalk led by some famous, cute Ballywood star we don't know. The kids had the time of their life, but they managed to ruin almost every shot by either running ahead or falling down because their crutches couldn't get traction on the mirrored stage. Takes were alternatively gut-wrenching and hilarious; a thoroughly Indian experience.
The rest of our Bombay stay was spent seeing the sights in and around Bombay with various travel buddies. When we teamed up with the Germans to see Elephanta Island, 2,000 year old cave temples that carved out of rock mountains, a monkey accosted Mike and took his water . We also took a day trip to Aurangabad where we saw to the dozens of stunning caves at Ellora before catching our one and only case of “Indian Rage” with jackass cab drivers. However, all agitation aside, I thought Ellora was amazing, probably cooler than the Taj Mahal. We wrapped up Bombay with Dwali, the festival of lights, India’s most important holiday. The night started out Chowpatty beach where a very outgoing young Indian named Yosh taught us how to pose for pictures and light off Indian fireworks.
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| Yosh teaching me the "Stylin' Pose" |
After Bombay we went up to the “Venice of India”, Udapuir. I’d hesitate to relate anything in India to Venice, but Udaipur had an unmistakable charm. The city was full of rooftop cafes, winding streets and beautiful lake palaces. Compared to Bombay and Hyderabad, it was an oasis of calm. With our new friend Louise, we went on a sunset boat ride to see the various water palaces that were immortalized in James Bond’s Octopussy. We also met up with the Aussie’s again to play pool and watch Bond flicks on the roof. After three days, however, I got sick for 5 and the rest of Udaipur became a blur of movie watching and chicken soup.
Once I recovered, we went up to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. It was easily one of the most amazing things either of us had ever seen, but Mike and I were in concurrence that the 7th wonder of the world had been hyped to the extent that it merely managed to live up to its’ reputation. We whiled away the rest of Agra with a few games of what has become one of our favorite past times: chess.
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| Udaipur |
After the Taj we headed up to Delhi for a couple days. In most regards, Delhi was more organized, tamer version of Bombay. We made some friends and watched a Social Network before catching a train to Amristar, the home of the Sikh Golden Temple.
Amristar was amazing. The Sikhs exude an ora of peace, wisedom and general coolness that is hard to match. Essentially they take the good parts of all religions, combine them into one and say that all gods are united in one whole. Thus, they are accepting of all religions and eager to learn more about you, but unwilling to cheat you. It’s a win win.
In Amristar we stayed in the pilgrims hostel at the temple. I’m not a very religious man, but being in the midst of hundreds of thousands of people on pilgrimage is something truly powerful. There is an overwhelming feeling of peace and respect that I can’t full express. I wandered around the temple for the book transferring ceremony at night and then Mike and I went back in the morning before eating with the pilgrims at the cafeteria which serves surprisingly delicious free food to 80,000 pilgrims a day. Everyone was eager to meet us, teach us the custums and learn our story.
We made a night trip out of Amristar to go see flares of nationalism at India Pakistan Border Closing ceremony. Entering the masses of Indian patriots in grand stands, we were surrounded by Indians dancing, cheering and shouting insults across the border to their Pakistani counterparts. It was mixture of a college football game and a bizarre Zoolander style walk off. Each side had 8 army men who took turns preforming marchs that looked straight out of Monty Python’s Ministry of Funny Walks. They would do one really high kick that almost hit their forhead and then speed-strut, their arms flailing mechanically at both sides, towards the other boarder. Once they reached the boarder a mustachioed cheerleader, oddly reminiscent of Oski or the cheer squad from Cal, would lead the crowd with chants and insults. In the middle there were Indians having a girls only dance party- essentially a “fun off”, in which each side tries to show they can have more fun than the other. This whole ritual went on for over an hour until both sides lowered their national flags in unison and a surprising calm swept over the stadium as everyone filed out. It was a truly bizarre experience.
After Amristar, we went up to where we are now, McCleod Gange. As Mike said, “McCleod Gange is the most peacefull place ever”. It’s full of Tibetan monks in Red Robes, the Dalai Lama lives here, and there is no haggling over prices. It’s a nice bit of respite from the sometimes overwhelming hustle and bustle of India proper. So far we’ve been getting gifts, catching up on internet, making our first American travel buddies and watching parts of bootleg Harry Potter 7 copies. It’s definitely been a great stop, but we’re heading out to Manala tomorrow. The hope is to rent some ski gear for 500 rupees (ironically the exact amount we made working for Ballywood) and then go hiking in search of snow. We’ll probably spend a day or two in the ski town before heading off to India’s holliest city, Varanassi. After that we’ll head back to Hyderabad, where Mike will fly home and I’ll fly up to the Kashmir. My plan is then to scope out the volunteer possibilities at the Kashmir and hopefully get a gig for the next month and a half. However, there are no guarantees in India, so I could be coming home anytime from early December through late January. I’ll do my best to keep you all posted with more regular blog posts.
