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India is a very hard place to travel for many reasons, and I will only name a few. First, communication errors: things always turn out to be much different than what we think they are going to be. Second, indians will say anything to make you happy. We got real angry because of this one. And third, the roads: getting a driver to drive you around is easier than most things, but the roads are horrible, so you’re very likely to get sick. All three of these things mix into the beginning of this post. After a short but bumpy ride to our ‘camel safari,’ we all felt pretty sick and tired, so when we saw what the ‘camel safari’ really was, we were extremely disappointed. We were expecting a 2-day camel trek, but it turned out that it was just a huge camp, with like 100 huge tents. So we asked the manager what the ‘camel safari’ was, and he told us that the 2 night stay includes a 1 hour camel ride only for the first day, and nothing for the second day. We had already payed for it, so we couldn’t leave. We just stayed in the car and after about 1 hour of dad talking to the hotel workers and the travel agent on the phone, we established a deal: free breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and three 2 hour camel rides (not including stopping at the sand dunes).

We had about an hour to get ready and relax before the first camel ride. When the camels arrived, we all got to pick which one we would ride. Dax and I got to ride our own camels, while Kieran rode with Mom and Asher rode with Dad. I chose a camel named Babalu. I rode him each time we went because I liked him so much. It was really fun getting up and down, like an amusement park ride. Unfortunately, we only got to ride, not steer. Instead, a man was carrying a rope so he could steer us to the right place. We rode for about 30 minutes to the dunes where we stopped for two hours to play and watch the sunset. We all stopped at the biggest dune we could find, so we could roll, jump, sumersault, and run down. It was really fun. Dax and I had long jumping competitions, while Kieran and Asher would jump and roll. Mom even tried rolling in her churidar. It was pretty funny. Every once in a while you would roll over these huge dung beetles. Kieran and Asher dug holes for them and started treating them like pets. I also liked to dig really big tunnels in the sand, then walk on them and have one of my legs go two feet under the sand. I even got stuck once.

When the sun was about one hour from going down, Dad had this idea of spinning me and Dax around in circles and then throwing us down the sand dune. It sounded like fun so I tried it. PLOP, big mistake. I landed flat on my back and totally got the wind knocked out of me. So I just laid there, gasping for air. I could hardly breathe for a while, so my dad bought me a 20 rupee 200 mil. bottle of Sprite, from a man walking the dunes selling soda. It felt like I tweaked my back, because every time I took a step it hurt. So I had to take a few steps, lay down, take a few steps, and lay down to get back to Babalu and the rest of the camels from where we would watch the sunset. It was amazing. The sun went down so fast. You saw it one second, it was gone the next. After the sunset, we all got back on our camels and headed back before it got too dark to see. When we got back, we went to the place where we would eat dinner. It was an open roofed, concrete walled room, with a empty space in the middle where singers and dancers were performing. It was lined with like 100 chairs, even though there were only 12 people staying there. The food was so so as well as the performance. After dinner we went to the tents and talked with our travel companion, Heather. Dax and I also had a rock throwing competition and then went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning feeling a lot better, but not ready for yet another breakfast of eggs, bread, butter, and jam. I was so sick of this breakfast, because every hotel in India serves it and only it. After we our usual bland meal, we went on our second camel ride. Everybody had the same camels they had had the day before except mom and dad, who switched with each other so Asher could be with mom, and Kieran could be with dad. But this time we went to a town that was 45 minutes away. We thought that it was going to be a very cultural town but it turned out to be a tourist adapted town. All the children would come up to you saying “100, 100, please, 100″, so probably one tourist actually gave one 100 rupees, which made them think that all tourists would. So we decided to leave the town ASAP, and go back to a place where we could have fun, the sand dunes! We had less time to play this time though, because we didn’t want to get stuck in the hot part of the day. Dax, Kieran, Asher, and I all did some more jumping and rolling and had a sand fight. I got demolished by Dax, because he had Kieran and I was alone. Soon enough dad called us back to the camels so we could go back to the camp and have lunch. Lunch was the same thing as dinner the day before, so once again it was so so.

I wanted to finish as fast as I could because Kieran, Dad and I were going on a rock hunt. We only had to go 50 meters away from camp to find rocks, but we found nothing. We tried another site, and found loads of fossils. We only got to keep one big rock, so we chose one that was packed with fossils. We came back in time for the next camel ride, but mom was feeling sick and we were all tired, so only Heather went. She liked it a lot because they let her gallop and steer. Those of us who stayed home just laid back until dinner. Mom slept, Dax read, Dad worked on the computer, I wrote my tiger post, and Kieran and Asher played with ants. Dinner was ready, and can you guess what is was? Correct! The same thing we had for lunch and dinner the day before! Luckily, we skipped the dancing by staying in, because they dance before dinner and during dinner. But at parts the dancing was ok because they made all the tourists dance with them. Other than that it was pretty lame. The next day we had the same breakfast and set off to travel around some more of India.

McKane and His camel friend, Babalu, are finished with you! This post is done son!

Technorati Tags: Camel riding, Family travel, India, Jaisalmer, Rajasthan, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW

In our short time in Jojawar we were able to peel another layer off the onion which is India. Most of the people we have spent time with here have been from the lower castes and working hard to rise from the depths of the feudal system. (Padma is the one exception.) In Jojawar we were able to spend some time with one of the old elite. Before I get into our brush with small town nobility, let me lay out the situation a little more. Jojawar is a small town most Indians have never heard of, our driver being one. In order to get there we had to venture off the mediocre, mostly 2-lane roads to a bad 1-lane road) and drive over a small set of mountains. We passed a few villages on the way and then pulled into one of the thousands of small towns in India–the difference between a village and small town being there is an intersection in a small town going in all 4 directions. This town was like many others we had seen. The same dogs were sleeping in the road, the same cows were munching on garbage, and people wearing technicolor turbans and saris stopped what they were doing and watched us pass. The town was just like many others we passed until we pulled up to a wonderful palace. As we crossed the cattle guard that separated it from the road (you’ve got to work hard to keep the cows out here), we entered another world free from the filth and intensity which has become so familiar in our subcontinental travels. The separation was reinforced by the two staff members who banged on large drums to announce our arrival. There to greet us was a delightful gentleman of about 60. After a few pleasantries, he explained that the palace was once his family’s home and he had converted it into a hotel only 5 years earlier. We chatted breifly and he jumped into a jeep to guide some other tourists around the different villages in the area.

We settled into our rooms and I wandered off to search the town for internet (failed) and some interesting pictures of rural Indian life. I was surprised at the reaction I recieved. In some of the larger cities, people shun the camera, but here people in shops called me over to take their pictures. I would do so and then show them the result on the LCD screen. They loved it and asked me to take more. By doing so I got some great shots of a tailor, a barber, a card game, and a cricket game. It was a perfect way to meet some of the local people. For the most part they were a poor but happy group. When I had walked all four streets, I headed back to the hotel to show Anne some of the pictures and the whole family decided to go on a walk through the town. This ended up causing quite a commotion. About 20 of the local kids started following us everywhere. Asher was like a rag doll getting grabbed from all angles, so we loaded her up on shoulders and headed through the town. Some of my new photo buddies waved and called us over to join them in their various activities. We lingered for a few minutes, but it was getting late and we had dinner waiting back at the palace.

Before our walk, the hotel/palace people had asked us if we wanted to eat inside or outside. We opted for outside, not knowing that there was no outside portion of the restaraunt. Instead they set up a table in the middle of the courtyard and let us eat under the stars. It was a nice meal. The stars were bright and the Aquafina was pouring freely. After dinner we discussed our plans for the morning. Four of us decided to go on a jeep safari out to some of the local villages where people bred goats and camels. The other two decided to get an extra couple hours of sleep.

In the morning it was chilly and a light haze blanketed the desert. We walked down to the circa 1940’s jeep and met our tour guide for the morning, the owner. Anne, Kieran and McKane jumped in the back. The boys quickly fell asleep while Anne bundled up and tried to fight off the cold. I jumped in the passenger seat and we left the cozy shelter of the palace. After a few minutes, we pulled up next to a young man standing on one the dirty streets. Our host barked some orders at him, and he came over and turned the windshield down. To our suprise he then jumped into the back of the jeep with Anne and the kids. We strarted to drive through fields of wheat, coriander, and mustard. As we drove, I grilled the owner with questions. He gave me a number of interesting facts about the crops and the area around Jojawar, but primarily he gave me insight into something I just can’t understand. Traditional feudalism ceased to be a part of our society long ago, but to this man it had only ceased in name in the 70’s and in practice was not yet dead. He told me about a Muslim man in the village who had 24 kids by one wife.18 are still living. When I asked if the kids were able to get some schooling and attain a better job than their father, he explained that they hadn’t, that the man was some form of laborer, and that the kids had all followed him. He explained that the women we passed covered their faces out of deference for him and his family and their imperial role in the region. His family was responsible for gathering the “taxes” for the surrounding 100+ villages (over 10,000 people) which they would then submit to the Maharaja in Jodhpur. His family and the other Maharajas had originally moved to Rajasthan when the Mogul emperors ruled Delhi.

A little bored with the history, I pressed him more about the people. What was their schooling like, what was their ability to move up in profession? The picture he painted was a mixed bag. The people in the area are poor but there are a number of schools for the children to attend. The children’s parents lead their goats or camels 700 miles away every year into central India, but the children stay behind with their grandparents, allowing them to stay in school. When I pressed about their ability to move up the social ladder, he explained how “satisfied” they are and wondered why they would want to move up. “How could we say people still are in poverty if they all have color TV’s?” he mused. “They may look poor, but many of them are rich. (Yes, he actually said ‘rich.’) They have cell phones. These people are very happy, very satisfied.” All the while I couldn’t help wondering if they wouldn’t mind a little more comfort than their one-room, thatched-roofed houses, shabby clothing, communal wells, and lack of electricity provide. I stopped grilling him and we pulled into the camel village. Unfortunately the few camels that were not away on migration were taken to graze in the mountains at 4 am. We did meet with one of the camel drivers, and at the request of the palace owner, he let us tour his one room house. It was about 12′ by 5′ and surprisingly tidy. The camel driver had the only camel left in town in the front yard. His wife was grinding seeds and was properly veiled, out of respect. Inside his home, he had two pictures of his daughter who is now married and living with her husband’s family, and a very nice calendar from 2004 on the wall. No TV, no cell phone. He smiled while we looked around at this house and then bobbled his head at us as we left.

We continued on to a goat farming village. The goat village had a few more people in it and a lot of goats. Kieran and McKane enjoyed watching them, even though they were all cooped up in one big pen. Outside the pen there were a couple of women and one man who all spent time talking with our tour guide. After a short visit we piled back in the jeep and headed off to the mountains to feed some monkeys. Unfortunately the monkeys were not in their usual place and we needed to head back to the palace. As the jeep started picking up speed, it became clear that the windsheild was going to have to come up. Our driver yelled out something and the man got out of the back of the jeep and raised the windsheild. He nodded at the Maharaja, I mean owner, and hopped back into the rear.
As we drove home there wasn’t much left to talk about. I sat and enjoyed the mustard fields and pondered how satisfied all the people in the villages and the man in the back looked. To be fair to our driver, they did look content. Their demeanor was subdued, their bodies skinny and sun dried, but in general they seemed satisfied. Perhaps a general milieu of contentment is all an aristocrat could ever see or hope for from his vassals. And if the vassals don’t know any better, they probably can’t expect much more for themselves or their children. What century is this again?

Technorati Tags: Aristocracy, Jojowar, Kings, Rajas, Rising Star Outreach, Safari

This is a post for all of you who keep asking, “Is it really going that well out there?” and accuse us of painting too rosy a picture of our life on the road…

If ever you want to travel the western Indian state of Rajasthan, each and every guide book and travel agent will tell you hiring a driver is the way to go. In a country where death lurks around every bend in the road, trains are painfully slow, and busses are downright disgusting, this is sage advice.

Our agent in Delhi arranged for a driver for our 10-day excursion into the land of the Rajputs and even found us a travel companion. 20-year-old Heather, whose family has just moved to Delhi, is visiting them from Utah for a few months and was eager to go on a whirlwind tour of her own. Since travel can be treacherous here for single women, the agent asked if we’d be willing to let her accompany us. Sure, we thought. The more the merrier and someone to shoot our pyramid photos at the Taj, where tripods are forbidden!

So after our Delhi drive-by and delousing, we boarded our Rajasthani cruise ship, a not so luxurious Toyota Qualis captained by our driver, let’s call him Kevin. After our unnerving taxi rides in Chennai, we were concerned when we noticed Kevin’s belt buckle proclaimed him “Hell on Wheels,” but we soon learned his manner and thankfully his driving are anything but rowdy. A paragon of professionalism, he doesn’t speak unless spoken to and always gets us to our destination in one piece without breaking any posted traffic regulations or rules of basic survival.

Even so, I have become a hostage to the Toyota. With the exception of the road between Jaipur and Pushkar, the roads have been rough (potholes, triple speedbumps…let’s call them speedstops, unsealed surfaces, and “diversions”) and the drives painfully long. Three of our numbers suffer from periodic bouts of motion sickness and must be given priority in the seating hierarchy. Four of our members share common parents and find it important when in confined spaces to argue incessantly with each other and make those parents temporarily regret conceiving them. One, whose gender I share, needs to make hourly toilet stops and often refuses to go once a stop is made. All under the age of 15 require my attention, my lap, and/or the limits of my sanity at some point during each trip.

After five days of Tom sitting alone in the front seat where his legs mostly fit and his stomach mostly settles, far far away from the nonstop action in the back two rows, I demanded he allow his fair-haired daughter to share his hallowed space. If not, I pronounced, I would have to leave her at the nearest village or fly home. My wishes were respected and things have quieted down a bit, but the roads remain too bumpy to read or write and the sun too hot to sleep. The scenery is fascinating, but hard to appreciate when bouncing violently…have I mentioned the roads are bumpy?

If we were controlling our own itinerary, we’d put on the brakes for a few days and chill out in a marvelous little town like Udaipur (BEAUTIFUL!), but the agent in Delhi, a train to Mumbai and a flight to South Africa on the 27th pull us ever onward through the Rajasthani desert.

Today I escape my sport utility prison and trade it for a vehicle that has only one seat—a large hairy hump. Let’s hope my ride through the sand dunes is a little quieter and a tad smoother. After all, camels are known for their gentle nature and graceful gait…right?

Last week we went to Ranthambhore for our tiger safari, pfffhh, more like bird safari. We actually didn’t see any tigers, only birds and deer. We arrived in Ranthambhore after a hard day of driving from Agra. What was supposed to be a 5 hour drive somehow turned into an 8-hour journey on horrible roads. When we arrived we were all relieved that the hotel wasn’t half bad. Our 6 stayed in a big family room that had a living room and 3 doors, one that led outside, and 2 which led to bedrooms.Our travel partner, Heather stayed in her own, private room. When we all got settled we went to the hotel’s restaurant and had dinner. The food wasn’t great but the TV was.There were 2 TV’s in the kids’ room and one in the parent’s room. All the kids sat together and watched fake wrestling on 10 Sports. It’s so funny, especially since Indians think that wrestling is the US’s main sport. After 2 Episodes of WWE, we all went to sleep expecting to see a tiger the next day.

We had to wake up before it was light to start the safari, but because they didn’t have enough seats on the canters, we had to split up into different vehicles. Kieran, Dax, Dad, and I all went in one, while Mom and Asher went in another, and Heather went alone. Our canter was mostly full, but we still had to pick some people up. We had to drive a few miles out of the way to get to the first hotel. The old Irish people in the back got real mad because after the really long drive out there, the people who were to be picked up weren’t ready yet. One lady in the back kept saying, “This is a waste of time!” and “How are they still not ready!?” (In the end, though, she and the new arrivals were talking like best friends.) After that we had to go to another hotel that was just as far out of the way, and of course the old lady in the back got really frustrated (again).

When the canter was full we went to the gate of the tiger sanctuary where our guide had to fill out some forms. In that time we were infiltrated by salespeople selling tiger sanctuary merchandise. This is where we found out how mean the old lady’s husband was. He got so annoyed by the salespeople that he bought one of the 1500 rupee coats (about $37 dollars–that’s a lot of money in India) and yelled at them, “Now go feed your d*** family!” I wanted to buy a hat for 50 cents but they wouldn’t go any lower $1.75, so I didn’t buy it. I was still trying to get the salesman down lower when we started to drive into the park. We drove about a kilometer to where we picked up some trackers, but they weren’t much use because it had rained the day earlier so the paw prints were all washed away. We drove around an area of about 30 kilometers, of the 1600 square kilometer park.

Our chances of seeing a tiger were slim for the reasons above and a few more: there are only like 35 tigers in the whole park and it wasn’t their liveliest season. Our guide said that our chances of spotting one were about 30%, and because Indians always want to make you happy, our chances were probably only 1 in 10. We drove around one place where the leopards usually were, but of course, they weren’t there. The first animal we saw was a small owlet. Somehow our guide saw him in a tree that was the same color as him.

Then we saw some monkeys, but no one cared because they just walk around the town. We then looked at a blue deer. After that we saw some spotted deer. They’re the most common animal in the park, so we didn’t stop for them either. But we did stop for nothing. The canter ahead of us said someone saw a ‘glimpse’ of a tiger, so we stopped for like 30 minutes and to stare at the trees.

When our guide gave up we drove to a cliff overlooking a lake. There we saw a really cool big owl and some peacocks. When our guide pointed them out to us, the rude Irish guy in the back said, “If I wanted to see birds, I would go to the bird sanctuary!” Then when our guide told us we stopped because this was where one of the tigers liked to drink and swim and maybe the tiger would come drink, the Irish guy said ,”Psssst, wishful thinking”. Then he told us about the tiger, the Queen of the Lake, and how she kills crocodiles to protect her cubs.

When it was obvious she wasn’t coming, we set off to look in other places. We didn’t really see anything until we stopped for a bathroom break. But there was a flaw in the bathroom break: there were no toilets. So our guide just said, “Ladies to the right, and men to the left”. While the ones who were brave enough to go out in the open were doing their thing, I stayed and fed birds out of my hand.

Then we drove around for a bit more, but I don’t know what happened because I fell asleep. When I woke up, the canter was stopped to watch monkeys. It was fun until one peed on me from the tree above.

When that happened we stopped watching and drove to the meeting place of all the guides. There we learned that only one canter had seen a tiger. From there we left to the front gate and then the long drive to the other hotels and finally to ours.

We were the last ones back to the hotel of our group of 7. In the restaurant we met up with Mom, Asher, and Heather, who also didn’t see a tiger. And so is life. You may see a tiger, you may not, I may be McKane, I may not. I may be done with this post, I may not. Wait, you know what, I am done with this post.

Sometimes 1 photo can tell the whole story. This post needs 2 photos to get the point across.

without photoshop

with photoshop

If it’s not clear enough, here are 2 more pictures:

without photoshop

with photoshop

Three thirty in the morning. Far too early for anyone to be up, yet there we were taking our bags down to the taxi and bidding farewell to a few of the RSO children and staff. We made our way to the airport and prepared for our flight to Delhi. After buying the little kids some cookies from an overpriced Australian cookie stall in the airport we were on our way. For the first time in my life I took a bus across the tarmac to the airplane. The bus was full, bouncy, and the Hare Krishna sitting next to me smelled like he suffered from incontinence. Of course I didn’t notice it much. I was half asleep. We entered the Air Deccan plane to find to our surprise that the seats were unassigned. We managed to get a few seats close to each other and dodged the bullet of sitting next to any, let’s say, ‘intimidating’ Indian men. When we did sit down, my mom noticed that the seats were leaning at an acute angle; in other words, they pushed our noses toward our knees rather than our heads toward the row behind us. This also was quite odd, but we’ve learned to expect oddness and outright contradiction in this country. I looked around and saw that a majority of the passengers were having trouble buckling the airline seat belt. And I always thought those movies where the lady shows you how to buckle were useless…guess I was wrong. I slept for most of the flight by putting down the food tray and laying my head on it (which the flight attendants didn’t think was a problem during take off).

We got off the plane and on to another bus. After a relatively painless bus ride and baggage claim we exited the airport and looked for Praveen, the travel agent with whom we booked our tour de India, who was supposed to be picking us up. We found him and received a warm welcome to India, complete with flower necklaces that made me feel, somewhat demasculinized. We got in Praveen’s spacious car and he gave us the schedule for the day. First we hit the hotel and checked in. Everyone was starving so we decided to make a quick run to the local McDonald’s before we went sightseeing. The McDonald’s menu was very different from that in America, mainly because of the whole no beef part. This disappointed McKane greatly, as he was looking forward to a double cheeseburger. He refused to eat anything for a while, but after some coaxing he got a chicken burger. After being stared at in McDonald’s for a good thirty minutes, we headed off to the first site of the day, the Lotus Temple, a site Kieran had chosen out of the DK India guidebook. This is one of the main temples of the Bahai religion. After Kieran and Asher broke the ‘No Talking Rule’ inside the temple, we quickly made our way out.

Following this Praveen took us for a bike rickshaw ride through the winding, frantic streets of Old Delhi. The ride was bumpy, and I had absolutely no room since the entirety of the rickshaw was being taken up by a person who will remain unnamed at this time. When we arrived at the Jami Masjid mosque, we were swarmed by salespeople, as we would soon learn was par for the course in India.

After taking a picture with two nice Pakistani tourists, we went into the mosque. Here I learned a valuable lesson: if you are heading to a mosque, wear long pants, or else you’ll have to wear a traditional Indian dress. Yes, it is a male dress. We went into the mosque and to the delight of the younger kids there was a horde of pigeons eating bird feed off the ground. They charged them and the swarm erupted into the sky turning the area around us black for a moment. They did this repeatedly until we exited the mosque.

Ecstatic about getting my dress off, I headed out with the others on the bikes to the Red Fort. We first made a run through the marketplace a.k.a. packed streets with stalls catering to tourists. We finally made it to the fort and after almost falling off the rickshaw repeatedly, I was glad to be through with the bikes. Yet the car was no better. As we moved through traffic, we were constantly harassed by beggars. They were innumerable. At every turn some woman would spring up with a hired child and pound on the window.

The sheer amount of poverty in the city is incredible. After cutting in and out of traffic we made our way to a popular dinner spot for ex-pats in the embassy area. Here we had a not so good Chinese meal with Praveen. Afterwards we shopped around a little and bought some cakes and cereal for our breakfast. We made our way back to the hotel and got ready for bed. There was a bump in the road when we discovered Mom, McKane, and I had lice. We spent the rest of the night plucking lice and nits from our hair and trying to find out what bug or small animal had decided to relieve itself under the pillow on our bed. Maybe it was the Indian Easter bunny.

Many of you at home have asked us to describe our “normal” day on the road. This is an impossible task, because there is no normal day. There isn’t even a normal week. We piece together different forms of travel for different parts of the trip. I will elaborate later, but by means of travel, I do not mean mode of transportation–I mean the whole shebang, the complete travel experience. At times this creates problems as we have to adjust from one routine to establish another, but on a whole it keeps the entire trip free and new. To understand what I mean, here is our list of different approaches to travel.

Phase 1 American tourists on a self-guided rapid exploration – New Zealand and the first week of Australia.
During this time we were our own travel agents. Since we were in a hurry to see things, we were in constant motion touring these two countries in a camper van and a minivan respectively. It was a great way to jam a lot of cities, sites, and activities into a small amount of time, but at the end of it we were more tired than when we began.

Phase 2 Australians on Holiday – Next 3 weeks of Australia – We spent a 3 lovely weeks in Caloundra just hanging out by the beach, much like an average Australian family on holiday. We factored in some activities but most of our time was focused on relaxing, doing school work, and meeting people.

Phase 3 Backpackers – 3 months in China and Southeast Asia – When we all went to REI and picked out our backpacks, this is the kind of travel we had in mind. We moved from place to place but at a slower pace than in Phase 1. When things felt right in a city, we stayed longer then we planned, e.g., Beijing, Hanoi, Saigon. When things didn’t go well we just packed up and left, e.g, Xian, Mui Ne. One of the highlights of this form of travel is the many new friends we made along the way. The low point however is the number of days we had to sleep in our mummy sacks for fear of catching something from hotel bedding. There is a way of avoiding this, which we use whenever the budget allows: bumping up to Flashpacker level. Flashpackers travel independently and spend just enough money to avoid bugs and have their own bathroom. Whenever things get too rough on the accommodation front, we throw in a stay at a Sheraton using our Preferred Guest points. A little luxury never hurt anyone.

Phase 4 Volunteers – 3 1/2 weeks in Chennai, India – 3 1/2 weeks teaching, playing and living with kids. Our rambling ways were put on pause as we lived in the volunteer home/preschool. Trying to overcome the massive culture shock India imposes on Westerners, we stayed close to home and tried to acclimatize ourselves gradually. We were so glued to the home that we didn’t even have time to go and explore Chennai or Mamallapuram (the Unesco World Heritage site 50k down the road). Oh well…next time.

Phase 5 American tourists on a travel agent-guided exploration – This is the phase we are in right now. In general we avoid travel agents and prefer to set our own itinerary and make our own arrangements. India is so overwhelming in its size and cultural differences that Anne decided she would turn the details of our non-volunteering phase over to an agent in Delhi who came highly recommended. She gave him a list of cities we wanted to visit and things we wanted to do, and he magically turned them into an itinerary complete with hotels, a few activities, three flights, a train ride, and some drivers. Doing so came at a price, and much like when building a house, the specified budget fell by the wayside. (Fortunately we were under budget throughout Asia, because we’re making up for it now.) With the arrangements worked out and a driver to whisk us from place to place, our pace has picked up significantly. We are seeing one city a day and covering a lot of ground. As a result we’re exhausted and will probably put the brakes on in South Africa.

I personally like the backpacker form of travel the best. I don’t mind the smells or the bugs, and I think the pace gives you more insight into a place and its people. The rapid exploration phases check more things off the list and generate many more pictures per day, but the speed wears the family out and tensions build as we focus more on getting to the next place than enjoying where we are. It also costs much more per day because as we’ve learned: motion=money.

I polled the rest of the family and here is what they like best:

Anne – Backpacker…ok Flashpacker (she has a thing about cockroaches)
Dax – Holiday
McKane – Volunteering
Kieran – Self-guided exploration
Asher – Self-guided exploration

I guess with that tally we will keep mixing it up. We still have a number of phases left, and I can’t say with any certainty which of the upcoming countries will fit in each category. I assume we will go back to being backpackers in South America, take a bit of a holiday in South Africa, and have spurts of rapid exploration in Eastern Europe. No matter how it turns out, it’s been a great benefit of this trip to learn we can do it all. Previously we were very good at rapid exploration. Our standard two week vacations (17 days with weekends and holidays) were always a rush to see as much as possible. We would throw in a couple of beach days to try and relax, but many times those days became the casualties of some other interesting temple, museum, or architectural wonder we needed to hurry and get to. It’s hard to imagine how we’ll ever travel in two-week windows again, but there’s a good chance we’ll bust out of our traditional mode and take more time to smell the roses…or the incense.

McKane decided to make his final post from Chennai a movie telling people about Rising Star Outreach and encouraging them to help. He wrote, shot, and edited the following movie. He woke up early, filmed most of the day’s activities, and kept the camera rolling until the kids went to sleep at night. He missed a few things like snacktime and afternoon school largely because he was so busy playing with the kids he forgot to film. Otherwise, it is a good depiction of an average day for the children of RSO’s preschool/kindergarten. If we had thought about it, a similar movie about a day in the lives of the kids who are on the waiting list to get into the school would have been a compelling contrast. Maybe next time.

The video is now up but India is my least favorite place to find good Internet. (Tom)