Just a Little Fellow, In a Wide World

I've been in Delhi for about a week now. Let's see, arrived on the 22nd it's now the 30th, so make the three a two, and the zero a ten, and you've got, yep, eight days. About a week.

You may recall a long while back that I was trying to stretch regularly; make it part of my morning ritual. Well, the reason you haven't heard about it in so long is because of the epic fail on my part to stay on that particular band wagon. I've started it up again though, so stay tuned. One day you may get a selfie of me with my head between my knees.

Won't that be nice.

I haven't been out and about all that much. Were I to show you pictures of the bulk of my time the first few days you would see action shots of me blogging, or skyping, or reading a book. Mind you, were you to see pictures of all of that that would mean Neha, the lady from whom I am renting a room, has got cameras hidden around the place and you've been wandering parts of the internet best left alone.

She doesn't seem the type.

Neither do you.

But, no, that is not a tattoo.

So I haven't been out much, and when out, I haven't been super camera happy. Honestly just trying to get my bearings, experience the place, and try not to get run over in the process.

That said, when putting together some pictures for this initial blog entry on Delhi I couldn't help but laugh, because they are just so juxtaposed with one another. I've heard the word chaos used to describe this city, and I'd have to agree. That said, chaos is pretty beautiful.

Christmas Day after skyping with Noah, Jake, and my mom, I headed out to the DLF mall CityWalk, in hopes of seeing the third installment of The Hobbit. I ended up seeing it the next day. Totally awesome.

DLF is actually one of a few malls all strung together. Getting in to CityWalk was nearly as complicated as getting through customs. No questions. More scans and pat-downs. Nicely though they have his and her pat-down lines. Oh, and of course x-ray machines that all bags go through, guys with mirrors on the end of sticks sweeping under cars coming in to the parking lot. So security is serious.

I'd noted the same thing when getting a local SIM card. No, no pat-down or x-ray, but my passport was required, as was a new photo which they took on the spot and then printed up. And they needed to know my father's first name, which at least gets used as a validation questions when you call to activate, I found out the other day.

So yes, security is something taken seriously here. I mean, I perhaps could have guessed that by the guy outside the jewelry shop next door to where I am staying having a double-barrel shotgun. But who knows, maybe there is concern about stampeding elephants or something.

Something else they take somewhat seriously is Christmas. Betwen all the people with Santa hats I saw along the way, and the number of bakeries telling me to order my custom Christmas cake today, it was hard to miss. Had I missed that though, the following upon entering the mall would have made it pretty clear.

Nothing says Christmas like Santa speeding through an astroid field in a flying saucer, and then out into the stars.

It certainly explains how he gets it all done. Access to alien technology. Just like the US military.

Am I right? Right.

This was my Christmas wish.

No, I did not buy a baby grand piano for Christmas. I don't care what the rupee is at, I do not have that sort of money, nor the room in my bag. A few days before Christmas my friend Maureen posted a "This Christmas I wish for..." thingy on FB with the expectation that people fill in the blank. Well, people did. Her cousin Nikki beat me to the utter destruction of cancer, so that left me deciding to be a wee bit selfish and wish for someone in Delhi to let me play their piano.

Enter Furtado Music in CityWalk mall. Or rather, enter me entering Furtado Music in CityWalk mall on Christmas Day. And yes, I told them my Christmas wish. And they, being the lovely people they are said "Go for it", and then after about 30 minutes of playing when I decided I had made them suffer enough for their kindness, basically then told me "any time".

So I've got a piano to play while in Delhi. Actually, I have a small room of pianos to play while in Delhi. Sometimes it's as easy as asking. Sometimes.

When you turn around and offer to take a picture of two friends, one from Delhi the other from Myanmar, who are trying for the selfie, you don't actually expect to be invited to join them. But invited I was.

And then out into the night of festive lights.

And that was Christmas.

The following are a few shots from around my neighbourhood, which is Malyiva Nagar.

These couple are from just outside the metro station, which is about a 10 minute walk from where I live.

This is part of that 10 minute walk.

Almost as much fun as trying to share the street with them, is riding in an autorickshaw.

Delhi is a city made up of several cities (seven or twelve depending on how you want to count) that have sprawled together over the years. And when I say years, I mean thousands of years, as Delhi is right up there with Jerusalem vying for oldest city in the world. Lots of it appear to be very pedestrian friendly, not necessarily from the "you won't get run over" perspective, but more from the "lots of interesting stuff to look at as you walk along, just don't get run over" perspective. But there is also lots of "nothing to see here" space, devoted to cars. The metro does an excellent job of connecting all of these places together. The autorickshaws do too.

By the way, I'm good with having to make sure I'm not run over. Having to be an active participant in my own safety sits quite well with me. Pedestrians in Toronto seem to have gotten to the point where they feel they should be able to walk out into the street blindfolded and be able to get across without any misfortune. Delhi, and many other places I've been on this trip, don't see it that way. No, no one is out to crush you, but they do expect you to be paying attention. It's a dialogue, between the person walking, and the person driving. It just so happens that the person driving is talking alot faster and using bigger words.

Anyway, I like it.

I don't understand cricket, and watching people play it in the park does not make it any clearer whatsoever. Perhaps a project for me should be getting someone to explain it.

Walking along to the CityWalk mall there is the Satpula Lake District complex.

At first I thought it was the remnants of an old fort or something. Turns out it is the remains of a weir, or damn, built in the mid-14th century as part of the wall for what was the fourth medieval city of Delhi, Jahanpanah, and was used to support irrigation. Thank you Wikipedia.

This is a view of the "lake district".

Apparently alot can happen in 700 years.

Back at home in the evenings I find myself reading my book (finally got Book Five of Game of Thrones) or figuring out what I want to do the next day. And I keep hearing fireworks, but when I step out on my balcony I can't see them. Fine.

Earlier this week though I also heard music. So I decided to head out and follow it.And that's when I came across this really big white and red checkered tent, inside of which was, I am told, a celebration for the god Washib. Or at least, that is what it sounded like over the din. It was very loud, the person I was asking did not speak English, and my hearing doesn't appear to be that good to begin with. Thing is, I couldn't find such a god in the various lists online. So maybe I got the name wrong, or maybe not. With some estimates putting the number of Hindu deities at over 330 million, that would be understandable. By the way, apparently that is a misconception. These countless number of deities are actually the manifestation of a single divine being. Again though, time for me to shut up about things I know next to nothing about. All I'm trying to say is that this celebration was related to a god, and I couldn't find the name of that god to validate my hearing or spelling, and to understand what they are making manifest.

This though, based upon the eight arms and assorted weapons, I'm pretty sure is Durga.

And this is the tent. Durga is on the right, and my assumption is that the prime focus is on who's in the middle. Shortly after my arrival a big banner was covering that area though, so I didn't get a closeup.

And here's who is on the left.

Wonderful, friendly people, who welcomed me in. Fantastic music, though very loud. Loud can be good though, and certainly contributed to everything else going on. And I wouldn't call it overwhelming, but it definitely was stimulating.

The flip side of which would be Mahatma Gandhi Memorial Park in Old Delhi, which I came across by accident as I did a short wander through Old Delhi on Sunday.

My plan had been to go to New Delhi, the one that got built by the Brits when they announced Delhi was once again the captial of India, in 1911, and wander around for a bit. Hop on the metro, go a few stops. Easy. But instead I decided to not hop off the metro New Delhi station, but instead get off at Chandni Chowk, the heart of Old Delhi, and start walking from there. I can't say I saw alot, or wandered much. Part of it was just getting some basic navigation and layout into my head for future trips. So it ended up being more of a beeline down through Old Delhi, over to Connaught Place, which is kinda the top of New Delhi, and then over to India Gate, and along the park to the parliament buildings and picking up the metro home.

I'm sure that made sense to everyone and you've all got my route clear in your heads now. Suffice it to say that it was alot of walking, some of which would have been better served by an autorickshaw, and it was barely a taste of these areas of the city. But that's okay, as I've plenty of time to be spending here.

So that's some of the old, and this is some of the new.

Now if only I had something borrowed and something blue.

You'd think maybe the sky. But no.

This is India Gate, and while it, the colonade, and the parliament that the colonade ends at are pretty spectacular, I'm sure they're evening better on a clear day.

Apparently the winter months are the worst for visible smog, and we're right in the middle of those now. The rest of the year I am assured is quite clear, visibility wise at least.

That said, I'm hoping for some clear days, as I'm sure what the architect Lutyen's had in mind when he laid all of this out must be pretty amazing when you can actually see it all.

So it's a beginning. We'll have to see what happens next.

Along with Game of Thrones I actually bought a travel book on Delhi. First travel book purchased so far for this trip. I didn't feel I needed them other places, but having done some looking online, Delhi really seemed to warrant the investment. So we'll have to see where the book gets us.

I'll finish off right now by admitting to a bit of apprehension about wandering about this city. What you read online, what you hear from people - it can make you nervous. Like the smog I think, preconceived notions of a place distort the actual reality and truth of a place that one gains from actually experiencing it. You're not blind, but you're not seeing clearly either. I'm not saying I now "see" Delhi. But being here is starting to clear it up for me a bit, and my hope is that as I continue to be here I get to know it better through it's places and it's people, and that the smog will continue to lift, both figuratively and literally.

As-salamu Alaykum

Alrighty.

So I think this should just about put a bow on Morocco, and more specifically Marrakech. These are a bunch of shots taken over the entire period I was there. Not before. Not after. Just during.

Amazing how that works out.

While not random, there isn't much method to my madness, though there is a basic method. Home and Neighbourhood. Square, Medina and Souks. People. Night. I could mark the transitions but you all seem like clever folk, so I'll leave you to sort it out.

So imagine yourself at my place, sitting on the couch and looking through a book of photos, or perhaps flipping through them on the TV. I'm puttering away in the kitchen, at least opening a bottle of wine, but then putting together some nibblies as we're gonna hang out for awhile. You're pretty much alone, shouting out a comment now and again, but not too loudly as, well, the kitchen is right there and the place is open concept, so whatever. And every so often I turn around, see what you're looking at, and toss in a related comment or story, or perhaps just a random bit from some other point on the trip that I remembered as the knife plunges into my thumb instead of the cucumber I was cutting.

That's the medina wall across from where I was living - Al Qaria Assiyahia. It took me forever how to say that right. It's kinda like telling someone named Carrie that you'll see them later, but not quite.

That's next door. We share a wall, a really big wall, but their door is way nicer.

Yes, not only do I like taking pictures of doors, I now seem to suffer from door envy.

This is the view from in front of my place looking to the left when you're facing the street, which is important, because if you don't do that you're likely to get squashed by a truck overloaded with stuff.

And yes, those are the moutains.

That's the water during the rainy days.

And this is it normally.

My place actually leaked. Don't know if I mentioned that before, but it did. Big window in the roof, rain came in. They took care of it kinda, but it still needs to be properly fixed up.

This is my door.

And this is where I was living.

Four floors plus terrace, three bedrooms, 3 1/2 bathrooms, totally more than I needed, but I'd already paid for it before Noah and Jake headed home, as there had originally been a very different plan for the holidays, but the Airbnb long-term policy truly sucks, and I couldn't get out of it without losing the first months rent. And since I was only there for a month and like, 5 days, it really would have been a waste. So I had a leaky little palace to myself, which, after all the time in hostels and such, was amazing. I love people, but I also love being away from people when I want to be. So this worked out nicely.

Except...

It leaked, a kitchen faucet came off in my hand, and water started jetting out of the wall until I could force it back in. The wiring on the lights blew. The satellite TV kept deciding it no longer had a signal. There were heaters in some rooms that were entirely insufficient for the size of room and how cold it got. The bathrooms, while stylish were poor on function. The washing machine was on the roof and blew the fuse anytime it rained, which, as you have heard, it did, a few times. The first time I didn't know what was up, and while it wasn't working, it hadn't tripped the breaker either. You know how the inside drum of a front-loading washer is stainless steel? You know steel is an excellent conductor of electricity? You know how you put your hands on the drum sometimes when you're putting clothes in? Ya, that was me, and I felt a little like Tom Hanks, minus having to pay the fix-it man or deal with Shelley Long.

All in all, little problems. No biggie.

This is where I bought veggies all the time. Nice guy with a bit of carpet set up in the Berber market near Bab KeChich, the medina gate nearest where I was living.

And no, I'm not making you tagine for dinner tonight. We'll do it another time. I've had a hankering for Italian, so hopefully that's okay with you.

This is the mosque right outside my door.

Qaria Assiyahia is a walled community. I think I've mentioned how much everyone seems to love their walls in Morocco. Well, this community has a few convenience shops, cafes, a tour agency, pharmacy, and yes, a mosque.

Oh, and that? That's the start of my walk inside the medina to get to work.

So I won't begin to say I know my way around Marrakech, but I do have my routes and my places, and I move through and around them pretty well, and they cover a good distance. So I'm learning, and when I go back I'll learn a bit more.

This is Jemaa El Fna, star of Dharma and Greg, the main square.

If the medina is the heart of Marrakech, then this is the heart of the medina.

Oh, and let's be clear. There is a "new" Marrakech outside the medina walls, and life outside the medina looks to be somewhat different from life inside. Shopping centres, movie theatres, whatever you'd expect in a city. I know I've said that before, but it's worth mentioning again, because I don't think you were listening last time, and I had been talking for so long that I probably sounded like a Peanut parent.

So yes, the square.

I wandered around the square alot. It's inevitable. Everyone wants to go there if they're visiting, and it was also the quickest way for me to get from home to the hostel, or home to the office, or the office to the hostel. What was the bridge again?

Everytime I wandered I realized how inadequate any photo I could take would be at capturing the energy of the place. I thought perhaps a recording would do. The cacophony that is Jemaa El Fna is astounding, and a much larger assault on your senses then what you get visually. Sadly the audio recordings I made totally suck, and don't capture squat.

So you're stuck with the visuals.

Yes, boxing. I was offered the opportunity to pay to have a kid punch me in the face repeatedly. For some reason I declined.

The number of Jian-G jokes (this one sounds like a Robin Williams movie) that come to mind right now is way too many for my own good.

Too soon? Inappropriate? Insensitive?  Probably.

Too easy? Absolutely. Do it yourself.

What you didn't see were the monkeys in dresses and the snake charmers. Sorry, I just don't go in for that sort of thing. You just know the animals aren't treated well, and, while I can't blame someone for trying to make a living, the guys really can get aggressive about it all with the tourists, and I didn't feel like haggling to take a picture of someone's monkey.

The man in blue, as he is a blue man from Merzouga, is Hussein. The man to his right, who I realize is also in blue, is Abdul.

Abdul is apparently a night watchman in Qaria Assiyahia, though I never once saw him there. Hussein is his friend from Merzouga who I was invited to go have tea with.  I was promised no sales pitch. From both of them even. One pot of tea later I was proven wrong as the carpets started flying onto the floor. Whatever. Still a friendly and enjoyable time.

That's Colin and Mathilde, which I previously spelled without the "h" and am now apologizing for. Hoping to meet up with them here in India too, and failing that, perhaps Bali.

They're travelling for a year as well, started about the same time as Noah, Jake and I did, and apparently have the same strategy of going around in a manner that avoids extreme hot or cold. Good plan.

This is Joanna. She's from Sahara Group Two.

At 7:30am on my last day in Morocco I was headed to the office, and who did I bump into just arriving in town and trying to find their hostel, but Joanna. I love how that stuff works out. I mean, when you think of all the little things that need to fall together to run into someone in the street, it really is quite amazing. And wonderful.

And actually, it happened alot. It probably happens more than it statistically should. I suck at math though, so perhaps I'm wrong and it's more like the thing where if you're in a room with twenty or so people then the likelihood that two people there share a birthday is greater than 50% or something like that. And I know it's "something" like that, but I'm not going to look it up, you know what I mean.

Anyway, like I was saying, it happens alot. For example, each day I did an excursion, the next day I ran into one of the couples from the previous day's excursion. Yes, sure, that's only three times. But it's also 100% and required all of the little things to fall into place as well.

Kinda like when Hussein and I bumped into each other and went and watched part of the soccer game at Cafe Montreal. Sure, I expect this thing from Toronto. I've lived there my whole life and know lots of people there. But when you've been somewhere for only six weeks and you know a hand-full of individuals, then you'd figure it'd happen less.

Nope.

Abdellah, Mbark, Ali.

My bosses, and my friends.

It's these guys, along with a couple of others you'll see shortly, that really made my time in Marrakech so amazing. You've already heard the story about the work, and seen the places they sent me. But it was the time after the Sahara trip, my last two weeks that really did it. Working in the office meant having breakfast and lunch with at least Mbark, and often Ali and Abdellah too. Meals meant talking, and talking meant interesting discussions, which meant getting to know each other, meant getting to become friends. And like turning yourself around in the hokey pokey, friendship is what it's all about.

This is Mohammed, myself, and Ali. Mohammed is the forth of the Tafraout/
Marrakech Travel Services quartet. I think he's the baritone. I only met and saw him the last couple of days, but again, I am ever so thankful for having been able to do so.

This is the going away gift they gave me. Yes, I got a gift. I got to travel around Morocco for free, and then be fed for two weeks, all in the name of getting to take pictures, write a little, and lay out some brochures (what I like to think of as playtime for me), and then they gave me a gift? Pretty much as speechless as when Abdellah offered me the opportunity to begin with.

Oh, you want to know what it is? Eventually.

This is Abdul.

Abdul works in a shop that I would pass by on my way to/from the hostel to/from the square (Jemaa). We said good morning to each other one day and that started a conversation that lasted my entire time in Marrakech, and will continue while I'm away, and when I go back (Insha'Allah), and so on and so on. A very kind person.

I like kind people.

The fact that my one picture with Hussein is a bit fuzzy ticks me off.

Hussein runs Waka Waka, and is absolutely fantastic individual. We spent loads of time together at the hostel, and in the last couple of weeks were able to hang out a bit outside of it. I never got those stinkin' papers. But we don't need no stinkin' papers!

Those six men. That's what makes Marrakech so amazing for me and why I will go back.

Okay, back to the kitchen. You just keep looking.

I just loved the broom.

That's the minaret of La Koutoubia mosque, the largest in Marrakech, and just off of Jemaa El Fna.

These are some of it's gardens.

Those are from Hussein's carpet store. The Hussein from Merzouga, not the one from Waka Waka.

That's some of the best bean soup stuff I have ever eaten, and it was at this little cart, near the above carpet store, in the medina close to where I lived.

Tea is everywhere. Berber whiskey everyone will say, often like it's the first time you would have heard it. Which I guess, the first time, was true. Usually you get tea with mint, which has alot of sugar in it as well. There are several other kinds of tea. This one is a spicy tea, and I had it with this dessert stuff that is pretty much the dough of my mom's ginger cookies.

And here's a last few at night time, in case the dark sky didn't give it away.

The square, which is not a square at all incidently, is completely different at night. Still a touch insane, but insane with a totally different group of story-tellers, musicians, and foodstalls.

Some mental snapshots to finish up.

 - Surprised when a woman in a partial burka started breastfeeding her child on the train to Rabat.
 - Train ride back from Rabat where a young man prays, an elderly woman talks on her cell phone, and her husband offers everyone cookies and flips through the book I am reading (Red Rabbit) even though he doesn't speak english
 -  A man in line behind me at the Indian embassy giving me his number so he can hook me up with his family in Delhi, as it's his home town and he's excited that I am going there
 - Listening to a young man talk about his PhD in linguistics, English, and the science of language as we sit together waiting for different trains
 - Listening to Noah talk about his job interview
 - Seeing lines for two lanes of traffic painted on the road, but trying to somehow make it across the four muddled lanes that there are as scooters buzz past all around on all sides. Laughing about it with another guy also trying to cross.
 - A guy swearing in a cafe when something freaky happens in the movie Panic Room, which is on the TV. First swearing I've heard in a long time. We all laugh at his  Holy f-bomb.
 - Listening to my Dad complain about his students.
 - Mbark telling me the story of a woman who was told she could buy a canon that sits outside the post office in the square for 10,000 euro. Having paid, she shows up a few weeks later with people and a truck to collect said canon and is nearly arrested for theft.
 - Marvin Gaye YouTube mix on a Friday night at Waka Waka
 - Discovering what noises Jake and I can make when we really put our throats into it.
 - Being greeted traditionally with a kiss on both cheeks by a man MBark had just introduced me to as we sat down for breakfast.
 - The elderly man outside my home who said hello every time we saw each other
-  The elderly woman outside the office who kissed her hand and waved every day we saw each other
 - Daniel reciting from the Book of Daniel
 - Tree-trimming at my mom's
 - Adel holding his hand up to his mouth like a microphone so that I understood his name properly
 - Walking home at night and having everyone make sure I knew that the square was in the opposite direction as I couldn't possibly be going the right way and they didn't want me to get lost
 - Seeing a guy pushing a melon cart and immediately wishing Nate were there
 - The man sitting beside me at the bean soup stall making sure I got enough tea
 - Hearing the words "You are our brother"

People. Strangers. Friends. Family. Connections. Each and every one of them in some small way saying...

I am with you. I am with you.

Wa alaykumu s-salam.

Shokran.