Just 3 more days and we will be in Vietnam with Val, Adam and (bonus) Sheila (Val's sister whose visit we're overlapping by 2 days)! The past week has been unbeliveable... we've been hanging out in the Himilayas which are breath-taking and awesome. Part of me really wishes we had alloted more time for the North because it is just so peaceful and beautiful up here and I could spend days just looking at the mountains and thinking to myself. The other part is super excited for Vietnam, a change of scenery and some relaxation with friends. Plus, the weather the past 2 days hasn't been all that great either so we're kind of happy not to be traveling those windy, rudamentary Himalayan roads during monsoon when there are daily landslides and mud puddles the size of backyard pools.

I realize that many of my more recent posts have been or could be taken to be negative which might give you the wrong, or at least a very one-sided view of my experience in India. Of course we've had our ups and downs along the way, but it's time to tell you about more of the ups. Here's one of my favourite stories:
It dates back to the first 10 or so days in India. We were in Goa with Anil's uncle (aka "Baba") and well, let's just say that after a few days our patience was wearing thin. It must have been our fourth day there and we were planning on leaving in one or two more days so we needed to use the internet plan the next leg of our trip and book train tickets, etc. So, we're in Panjim (capital of Goa) one day and Anil and I have studied the map of the city in our Lonely Planet which indicated where all the internet cafes in the city were so that we could take the lead instead of being lead around like sheep. We had our eyes peeled for street names, but of course there weren't any so we wound up wandering a bit looking for landmarks. Finally we see a sign for an internet cafe and we head towards it. We tell Baba that we could be there a while so he makes himself comfortable on a chair near the entrance while Anil and I head to the back to where the computers are. Anil and I are sitting back to back in this tiny and hot internet cafe, but we were so eager to be online -- connected once again! We're busy doing research into the next part of our trip and two guys dressed in plain clothes walk into the shop with extension cords and a few tools in their hands. One of them climbs up onto a chair and starts tinkering around in the electrical box at the front where Baba is sitting, asleep. All of a sudden the power on the side of the shop that my computer is on goes out. I look up from the screen to see what's going on, but none of the staff are even acknowledging the power outage. I turn around and see that Anil's computer is still on. Then the power is restored and my computer comes back on and thankfully the email I was writing appears as it was before the power went out. I continue typing. The power goes out again. Still no acknowledgement or explanation about what is happening with the power. The two "electricians" are busy with their heads in the electrical box and the lady running the shop is playing solitaire at the front desk. I look around expecting someone to appologize or at least explain, but nothing. Baba, now awake, catches me looking around and makes some hand gesture signaling his irritation. The power comes back on and then goes off again. And then comes on again. I continue writing my email. It goes off. I turn to Anil to tell him I think it's a lost cause and then that's when his uncle looses it. He's out of his chair at the front desk waving his hands in the air yelling in Hindi at the lady in charge. The woman gets up from her chair too and starts talking back to Baba. Anil and I are sitting with our heads down praying that this is not happening. That's when we hear it... the only part of the "conversation" we understand because it's in English:
Lady: "Please sir, lower your voice. This is a place of business."
Baba: "How can you call this a business when the power keeps going off and your customers can't get their work done? You call this a business?!"
Lady: "I don't call it a business... I call it an inernet cafe!"

Afterwards, we said to Baba that he must have been really mad to loose it that bad on her. He said that he was just giving her a hard time... just for jokes.

I forgot to post the link to Anil's photo album. Chronologically, this album fits in between my first and second albums. Click here to see them.

For many reasons my parents shared with me as I was growing up, I was brought up an aethiest. Christmas and Easter were family traditions rather than religious holidays. Going to church on Christmas Eve was about singing carols more than it was about the psalms or sermons or whatever the right term is and Easter was about the aluminum wraped chocolates my mum would leave on the rugs throughout the house before Arianne and I would wake up. Long story short, I do not believe in a/any God. Too often, the religions of the world separate people rather than bring them together. In many cases, religious beliefs and ideologies turn into people's realities and then prejudice and conlict ensue. Just think about how many stories on the 6 o'clock news are rooted in religion.

My experience Hare Krishna Consciousness (a worldwide religion started by an Indian) started in Bombay while visiting with Anil's paternal side of the family. We had been visiting with his maternal side for a few days already. Anil had told me that the two sides of the family were quite different, which I was assured was a good thing. Quite a few of his paternal relatives are Hare Krishna devotees whereas the rest of the family is Hindu. He and his cousin Pavitra arranged that we would go with her to the Hare Krisha temple one morning. The morning we were supposed to go was the morning after we were up all night being violently ill so quite obviously we cancelled our temple visit. The next morning we were feeling slightly better, but were still quite weak so we again declined the temple ceremonies, but told Anil's cousin that we would come with her so she could show us around at least. She reassured us that we'd only be there for 5-10 minutes. Now, for those of you out there that aren't Indian or don't have any relatives or friends that are Indian, you'll first need to be introduced to what is commonly known as IST (Indian Standard Time). IST is the time that Indians go by. It explains their formidable lateness and their typical under or overexageration of time. So, what we were promised would be 5-10 minutes turned into a 2 hour affair. I honestly didn't think I was going to make it. I could feel the colour drain from my face and my legs tempting to buckle. To bear it, I had to go into a kind of trance mode. All I could hear was Hindi music blaring through poor-quality speakers and I saw flashes of bangles and yellow gold. My nod of comprehension became automatic and I was wondering how obvious my suffering was. Clearly not obvious enough. I probably could have fainted right then and there as she was preaching about falling in love with Krishna and she would have continued on about it. Not even the most blatent social queues or body language is picked up on. So typical. After the drawn-out explanations and enough nodding to give me a kink in my neck, we were taken around the various parts of the temple including the gift shop (of course there is a gift shop... there's always a gift shop). Trying to be poilte, Anil asked about a few of the items for sale which was taken to mean that he wanted them so the next thing we know, she's at the checkout counter with all of these items in her arms. So we got out of there with two Krishna nightlights, two cloth bags, a calendar with Krisha in different scenarious and poses each month (some of you are bound to get these as re-gifts... sawee!) and enough ras malai, an Indian sweet to rot our teeth to the roots! When we finally left the temple, we got into her and her husband's car and were driving back to their house with the Hare Krishna music blaring and her chanting continuously. I looked over at Anil and we shared a look of hopelessness. Pavitra made us a delicious Hare Krishna lunch (they cannot cook with garlic or onion) which we couldn't enjoy to its fullest as we had little to no appetite. After lunch, without instigation, the preaching ensued. We listened patiently while she attempted to convert us, or so it seemed. Then after another 2 hours, we were told we should probably get some rest (you think?!) and were shown to the guest room. Needless to say, we slept well (after some whispered venting). The rest of the evening was quite nice as more relatives came over and the atmosohere loosened up a little. That evening we stayed with Anil's aunt and her husband (also Hare Krishna). We realized that there is so much talk of Hare Krishna because they have completely devoted themselves to it. In this case, they have basically stopped seeing much of their immediate family, their old friends and given up their careers, etc. all because they want to remain completely and utterly focused on Hare Krishna. It seems as though they don't/can't relate to the outside world anymore. They said that the other devotees are now their family, a concept that is still hard for me to swallow. They also told us that they are the only ones that truly worship God because everyone else worships in vain, meaning that they are not truly dedicated and aren't in love with their God(s). As an example she talked about Hindus. She argued that Hindus practice their religion very naievely because they carry out religious ceremonies and activities "just because their mother told them to" (which seems to be somewhat true based on my experience) and praise many demi Gods. You see my point about religions separating people?? I just don't get it. Anyhow, to avoid being a hypocrite and to remain unprejudice I must say "different strokes for different folks" and leave it at that. That being said, I am quite content being an aethiest.

It took me about 2 hours, but I managed to sort through and upload more pictures. You can view them by clicking here. We've taken quite a few hilarious short videos, but unfortunately I won't be able to share those with you until I have a better computer and faster internet (I'm missing my mac book these days). For now, these 109 photos will have to suffice. Enjoy!

Check out a few of our latest pictures by clicking here.

In North America there are so many stain-removing products and laundry detergents available to choose from that it makes your head spin when you walk down the household aisle in the pharmacy or grocery store. Sometimes even after pre-treating, soaking, bleaching and washing, the stain remains. It leaves me wondering why "our" fast-acting, super-duty laundry products aren't always effective?? Secondly, it fascinates me how clean clothes, especailly whites, get in rural India. Despite the fact that they're worn heavily, washed in mirky and sometimes filthy river/stream water with bar-detergent, beaten on slabs of cement or river rocks, dried on make-shift clotheslines that run alongside the train tracks and on grassy patches of land where cows are free to roam, the whites come out bright and stain-free.

Before I left Canada I had decided that while in India I would do my best to blend in and be respectful of cultural and societal norms by wearing Indian garb. Based on research I did online and others' advice, it was looking like my best option. On our second day in Delhi we went to a government emporium and I bought my very first salwar kameez. I pretty much wore it for 2 or 3 days straight; afraid that wearing any of the few Western clothes I brought would make me stick out like a sore thumb and attract negative attention. I realize now, after a bad experience, that clothes can't completely disguise my foreign-ness/whiteness. One evening we went out to dinner at around 7:30pm in Old Delhi. The sun sets around 6:45-7:00pm so by the time we got to the restaurant, it was dark. After dinner, we stepped back out into the chaos of the city -- horns, hawkers and florescent lights flooding the street. While walking down the narrow sidewalk towards a rickshaw, Anil walking slightly ahead of me, a man's hand reached out and grabbed my bum. It probably wasn't the most pleasant sensation for him as we had just come from the non-a/c restaurants that also had vynil seats so he got a handful of sweaty salwar kameez pants. That made me feel slightly better about the situation, but I felt pretty dirty after it happened. I was quite taken aback by the encounter -- I thought I blended in enough so that that kind of thing wouldn't happen and I was so frustrated that despite being sensitive to THEIR culture I was still bothered. Needless to say, it made me resent Delhi as a city and Indian men all that much more. Since, I was have been wearing a mix of Indian clothes (more modern shirts) and Western wear. Thank goodness it hasn't happened since -- salwar or no salwar.