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My bus from McLeod Ganj stopped at about 2am I presumed for another cup of chai, sweeter than Coke and as milky as hot chocolate. I jumped down from my ‘luxurious’ double sleeper and found the driver drenched in petroleum, squeezing a sodden rag into the fuel tank. It appears our bus had run out of petrol and some local trucks had been flagged down. We soon pulled away to find a gas station about 200 yards down the road. They filled the tank with 210 Litres of Petroleum (or maybe deisel) which cost $215. There has been much news about the price of gas in India, as the government has been subsidising it for years, to keep its poorer economy ticking along. Hopefully Air France will manage to keep their tank full for the flight to Paris this evening.

I have also, presonally, run out of fuel. I am going to have to drag myself out of my air-conditioned hotel to take some last photos. By the time I return home, I will have slept 3 of the last seven days in an actual bed. My ability to avoid missing Amanda, Stella, Louise and Brooklyn has finally collapsed now that I am in ‘middle earth’ Delhi. After 4 weeks of sobriety and more walking and carrying than I do in a year, I am ready for some good old fashioned lounging in my local bar. It has been a testament of character for all those people who have endured me the past 4 weeks. I especially need to thank Scott, who on my last day kept a positive attitude as I interrogated his NGO, and after dinner I insulted his Tibetan friend. Hopefully he will come out to NY and we can repay some of his hospitality. He has made it possible for me to meet new people in McLeod and not wander the streets chatting with old friends and living in old dreams. As a sign of how few Tibetans I now know in McLeod (the almighty US Visa being Wonka’s Golden Ticket), Scott was the only person who came to see me off and tied a white Khata round my neck.

I think if Chris had been there we would have been quite the band of merry men!

Yesterday we discussed whether just thinking about the issue of Tibet was enough. The people at the Centre for Non-Violence (Scott - do you know the website address?) were convinced that thought is a positive step towards the freedom of Tibet. I argued that much thinking had already been done, and that after nearly 60 years since the Chinese invasion, and nearly 50 years since H.H the Dalai Lama fled, thought is just not enough anymore. I would have to argue though, that the international coverage, and the international attention and ‘thought’ about the issue has been a big step since March 10 this year. Now we all have to turn thought into action. Here is the recent BBC News article on Tibet.

In 2002 when I moved here for 10 months to work at the Tibetan Government in Exiles photographic archive, I made many long time friends. Unfortunately by the end of 2004 two of them had passed away. The first being Robert King (aka Bingo). He was an amazing guy who had lived in India for 10 years and was running a large British house in the hills above McLeod Ganj, called Eagles Nest (an amazing place). He was a stand up guy who unfortunately would partake in a few too many Gin’s every evening. I believe he died of a brain hemorrhage, and was cremated out here against his mothers wish.

The second was Patrick Sullivan. He was from New York and was an actor for a while (claiming to star in Close Encounters of the Third kind). He also lived out here, and began to help the street children. He adopted this small boy called Sunny, who claimed to live in the woods with the Langur monkeys. He was trying to set up a children’s school to help all of the street kids and was sending Sunny to a private school in Dalhousie. Sunny found it hard to lose the street kid attitude and certainly was not stopped by his father, who also enjoyed a few extra pegs of Bagpiper Whiskey. About six months after I had left, he slipped and fell in his shower. None of his family back in USA wanted to help, and Sunny watched his father pass away in 3 days.

It was nice seeing him again, and seeing how he had matured. Last time I was here, he was in jail for an accusation of theft. He was released after 6 months and was never found guilty. That incident and all of his prior troubles have left him unemployable in McLeod Ganj, and he was desperate for some money to get to Manali. As little as I believe him, and as much as I think he will misuse any money I hand over, I did feel the need to slip him 500 rupees before I left. You can see the sparkle of mischief in his eyes!!

This is a video of some school children singing below the Dhauladar ranges. It was the first perfectly clear sky, and chance to get the full sunset on the mountains. They are unfortunately part of a group called Sahaja Yoga that appear to have a bunch of claims against them. Who knows what’s true, all I know is that it was pretty nice coming across some entertainment to go with the spectacular view.

I was walking through the quiet back streets of Varanasi this morning, looking for some last shots before I board the train, and a small, famished street dogs was scratching at the dirt for food. It was covered in flies and had several infested wounds on its rear. Its tail was between its legs, shaking uncontrollably, with each rib exposed through its limp fur. I bought some street bread and fed the poor animal. Right there in the middle of the street with all the cars and people going to work I couldn’t stop myself from crying (I know, I’m one step away from wearing hippy clothes and hugging trees). I don’t know if it was a result of missing my own dogs, of finally being aware of such poverty and disease, or was just simply angry at myself for being so callous towards it all for the past 3 weeks. If this blog can do any good at all, then it could help with the vaccination and sterilizations of dogs out here. Here and here are websites that accept a paypal donation (second one seems best for all animals). $5 will help one dog. Here is another group for the welfare of stray dogs. I know and believe that every person who reads this could donate at least $10. I will spare you the gruesome photos, as this isn’t PETA, but believe me it is truly a terrible sight most of the time.

Normally I am not a big fan of Indian art, a quick trip to the National Museum in Delhi will explain better than I could. Indian painters seem to have got stuck in early cubism, but have never really worked the palette out. Raja Ravi Varma is a painter I like though as I just read an article on him in the “Indian Outlook” magazine. I caught it while sitting in the “Open Palm” restaurant eating a tuna fish sandwich with cucumber and pickle and drinking a raspberry ice tea (I was feeling particularly American at the time!) He is thought to be an influential artist in the modern depictions of many of India’s Gods. He became greatly known throughout India through his use of Lithography to reproduce his famous works. Here is one of his famous paintings of the goddess Lakshmi.

I also bought a few books today near the river, having a good art book selection, I asked the clerk who he thought the most famous Indian photographer was. He answered immediately, “Raghu Rai.” His assistant pulled down a book for me to leaf through. I was quick and careful, as the book cost 5950 Rupees ($150). He stood out as someone I should have heard of, especially as he is a Magnum photographer. This incredibly disturbing image from the Bhopal disaster is one that I remember having seen before.

I actually woke up at 5:15 this morning to get a boat out onto the holy river (I have normally been waking at 6:15, so it wasn’t extravagantly early). The weather is absolutely perfect at that time to be out on the water, and the light was perfect for photographs (although a wide angle, medium format camera was not ideal, a Canon IDs with a 70-200mm 2.8IS Lens would have been better). I paid my boat-wallah 250 rupees for 2 hours to paddle from Assi Ghat to Dashashwamedha ghat (where the ceremony is every night) and back. It took under a minute to hear the price drop from 600 to 250, as other boatmen were beginning to crowd around me, just as the group of small children has right now (not many people in the US would be so interested in my fumbling fingers). To call my boat wallah a tour guide would be pushing it, as all he really did was read the signs on the side of each ghat, much as grandpa in “City Slickers” would. Varanasi is one of the most beautiful places in India, and at 6am on a rowing boat, floating down the Ganges, the experience is hard to beat.

Of course all moments of tranquility must come to an end. This happened when we neared the main ghat (as seen below) and again when I was swarmed by more ‘tour guides’ at the burning Ghat. As with most spiritual places in the world, the religious is always closely tied to the sacreligious when financial gains are at stake.

I visited the burning Ghats today and saw several funerals taking place. The added heat of several cremations burning up to 250 KG of wood per body, was not really appreciated. Of course I was grabbed by a ‘guide’ who wanted to talk to me through the entire affair, hassle me for money for his poor persons cremation ‘charity’ and then call me a “mean man,” when I only gave him 5 rupees. I don’t have any pictures as you are not allowed, and frankly who wants to see anymore images of burning human flesh?

I have discovered some interesting facts about the Great Mother Ganga. Apparently, and to no surprise of those who have been here, the river is greatly polluted to the point of serious government concern (which in India really means something). The water is septic and contains 1,500,000 faecal coliform bacteria per 100ml. That is 3,000 times the suggested limit for bathing!!! 60,000 people bathe in it per day and there are over 30 large sewers dumping directly into it. They have begun to battle the pollution by creating some sewage treatment plants and some electric crematoriums. However these are apparently to blame for all of the blackouts that happen here. Somewhat reminiscent of the prison lights flickering during an execution.

Of course, everyone reads the news paper differently. My friend Hunty would always read the Times of India backwards, starting at sports. I tend to skip through most of the national politics to the international section. Now that I am in a hotel with air conditioning and a TV, I have been jumping between CNN and BBC. Three stories caught my attention today and are influenced by the jobs I have had and where I am from.

My Wireimage and Tibetan interest led me to Sharon Stone’s comments this week at Amfar in Cannes. It seems that she thinks that due to the Chinese human rights violation in Tibet, she thinks that the eathquake in Chengdu is due to bad karma. I especially liked how she called H.H. the Dalai Lama a “very good friend.” The full story can be read here. To simplify how people feel about the situation in Tibet she is quoted as saying “I’m not happy about the way the Chinese are treating the Tibetans because I don’t think anyone should be unkind to anyone else.” If only a little kindness could solve all the worlds problems!

To show some interests a little closer to home and also with a more serious Getty slant, I have been following the Gujjar protests that now have seeped into New Delhi. I have missed any travel through the affected region, and hopefully will continue to do so. Interestingly, the Gujjars actually want to have their caste lowered so that they can have access to more government jobs. It seems that the Indian government offers certain amounts of these jobs to lower castes, and the Gujjars current status excludes them from those possibilities. The Times of India article adds some more details here.

Finally, as I have met a few Koreans this trip, and also know a few back in New York, I followed the US beef story in Korea. South Korea had banned US beef 5 years ago due to the export of some beef infected with ‘mad cow.’ The South Korean government has lifted the ban even though continued protests have been held. The BBC tells more here. What I enjoyed the most about this story, is that although the government has confirmed a lift of the ban sue to the safety of the meat, the Koreans continue protesting due to the safety of street food. The report on CCN said that in fact the peoples main concern was with the parts of the animal that Americans don’t eat that carry more of the disease. If Koreans would just stop eating the intestines, then a large part of the risk would disappear. As a solution to this, many road side vendors have turned to pig intestines instead. Having seen how many pigs in Asia sit at the base of toilets to eat human excrement, I can’t imagine that their intestines are much cleaner than a cows (especially as they never proven there to be any link between BSE and CJD).

I have no idea what it specifically meant, or to which God. I would guess that it had something to do with blessing or getting blessed by the Ganges? As this wiki article says, a Puja is to gain respect from a God or Gods, so maybe it is directed towards the river? The strings you see are attached to the bells you hear, and the people are facing out towards the river with a crowd of over 1000 people behind them. Sorry for the brief video, but it is a miracle that it happened at all! I will try and post more as the time allows (the power has cut out 4 times, oops make that 5 since I started tonight) Or 6 times!!! I am posting now……

Being in McLeod is really not very similar to being in the rest of India. The mountain air, the climate, the huge number of Tibetans and the even greater number of tourists and western food joints. Having finally left after nearly two weeks there, I have found the usual oddities of being at sea level in India.

Leaving McLeod is always fairly easy, and something that reminds me of my time there in 2002. I took that Delhi bus out of town maybe a dozen times, the last one being the most momentous, as all my Tibetan friends and locals had adorned me with the ceremonial Khata’s. This trip out was not so popular, as I am returning in a few days, but the drive down to Delhi is certainly in the top few. I was in a tiny sleeper that was the width of my narrow shoulders and just a little shy of my length. The most amazing accomplishment was the destruction of three inner tubes, delaying the journey by at least three hours. I luckily slept through the last one!

Once in Delhi I was begrudgingly giving my passport information and the websites I have visited to the Internet wallah, when I turned to get my bag and heard a blood curdling scream. I turned around to see the poor guy gnashing his teeth and spasming in a stiff grip against his wooden bench. His eyes were rolling around and his breathing was rapid. It was close to a trance like state, and I am sure the locals would blame some demon, however the situation became more serious when blood began to spurt from his mouth. Of course the usual crowd of a dozen people had formed at this point, and a few half trained hippy medics began to push forward. It was quickly decided to sit him upright and leave him until he came around and could move to a more comfortable spot. Of course once the hippy had resumed her skype chatting, the hotel staff grabbed the guy and dragged him to the couch. This poor man looked absolutely distraught and unable to focus on anything. It was across between embarrassment, fear and complete confusion. Once I had decided that my complete lack of participation was no longer needed, I grabbed my bags and left for New Delhi Railway Station.

Of course, as is only possible in this part of the world, I boarded the train and found a grinning local sitting in my seat with an officially issued ticket. Having booked the ticket only that morning I was dubious of its validity, even though I had bought it through the official tourist quota. However, lesson number one in public transport in India, is to never show any weakness, and certainly to never back down. The German couple opposite began to look a little nervous as this big chap grabs my ticket and inspects that authenticity. He runs off to make some more inquiries, and comes back with an even bigger grin than my seat partner. “You have been upgraded to first class Mr. Ben.” My German friends looked disappointed, possibly for the civilian class they were stuck in, but more likely due to the peaceful departure of their English/American ally.

There are many other differences that you face when leaving the mountains and hitting the mainland. It seems that even in Varanasi, they haven’t seen many foreigners. Either we are a complete oddity, they don’t expect us to be here in 42 degrees heat, or they just love staring at us, wagging their heads and grinning with their paan stained teeth. We are always the best way to practice English. “What country you from?” “How long India?” “Where after?” “You like rickshaw to temple?” “Want smoke good stuff” and so on. The attention is sometimes welcome, and even endearing, but when I am trying to walk from one burning Ghat to the next, with no shade, the pause to chat is not welcome. The worst moment that I had to tutor a budding student was outside Qtab Minar, where I had been stung by one of those large, bright yellow, gangly legged wasp-type-creatures. I ran outside the grounds, to try and find some tourists (who also like to be known as travelers out here) who may have some sting cream. I ran over to the soda-wallah just as he was filling his ice tank. He graciously offered me a lump, which I grabbed and tried to freeze my leg with. These young boys ambled over holding hands and asked me, “How are you? What is your good name?” Needless to say, I was not amused and didn’t try to correct their grammar. I may have even taught them a few new words to throw into the mix!

So I was planning on spending a little time on the trains shooting pictures (and going somewhere obviously). However, I was not really planning (within 5 days) on riding a 16 hour bus to Delhi, a 14 hour train to Varanasi and then a 20 hour train to Chakki Bank which is right next to Pathankot, with a 4 hour taxi from there! I did splash out a whole 2500 rupees for the entire train trip, and will extravagantly be spending that time in air conditioning (2AC). The New Delhi railway station has an entire office dedicated to issuing last minute tickets to foreigners. Possibly one of the few situations in Asia where the tourist is given a helping hand with tickets. Normally there is a considerable price jump from an Indian entry fee and a tourist one. The Taj Mahal jumps from 25 rupees for a local, to 750 rupees for a foreigner. I even remember that there was something called a ‘tourist tax’ in all of the hotels in China.

The worst train trip I have ever made in India was from Bodhgaya to Delhi during the 2003 Kalachakra. The train arrived an entire 24 hours late, making the total travel time nearly 72 hours. I have also taken a train across the States from Los Angeles to Jacksonville, and as I remember, that was nearly the same time (A totally different quality of train though!). Having watched The Darjeeling Limited several times, it is hard to think that I will capture the same kind of beauty as Wes Anderson did. Although I am not sure I am really after photos that look like that movie.

The final day of the Olympics was today and it was held at the stadium in upper TCV. The weather held out all day, and even caused a little sunburn, but all said and done, we had some winners today. First place received 1 Lakh rupees, second place won 50,000 rupees and third place won 25,000 rupees, in both mens and womens. It was a pretty close fight for ranking in the top 3, although there were certain athletes who seemed to be competing just for the fun of it. I was surprised with such a large cash prize, that there were not more participants. Here are the Gold, Silver and Bronze medalists.

My old friend Lobsang Wangyal has funded the entire event himself. He has received some donations, but is in desperate need for more. Please visit here for any small or large contribution you can make.

Men’s Champions: Dorji Tsering, First place, Dawa Dakpa, Second place, Tenzin Choephel, Third place

Women’s Champions: Tsering Lhamo, First place, Dhartso Kyi, Second place, and Dolkar Tso, Third place

More pictures of athletes competing in each event on page 2

And some atmosphere stuff from Olympics on Page 3 (Miss Tibet too!)

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I can’t say that I am completely happy about the bus ride that is looming on Monday. There were no train seats available from Pathankot to Varanasi, or any train seats available from Pathankot to Delhi. So the overnight sleeper bus it must be for 650 rupees. At least they had the single sleeper still available.

Here was the view from my sleeper section on the trip out.

I just had an excellent dinner with my good friend Asif at his new home. His wife is an excellent cook, and very friendly. She is also a little more forgiving on the ways of the Koran. Although she stared in disbelief when I mentioned that I did not believe in God, and giggled a lot when I told her that I believed that humans had evolved from monkeys. She wanted to see my tail. More on this dinner and afternoon to come…