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Eat fresh Lobster with good friends at their family house in Eastham, Massachusetts.

Drink large amounts of various beverages (very quickly!)

Play with incredibly large insects that want to buzz around your head while you sleep

Take silly pictures of the stars at 3am after plenty of Pappy Van Winkle 15 year.

Go to the beach with the dogs and watch them eat sand and sea water.

Keep the largest and friendliest dog in the whole world from trying to scratch his way to freedom and ruin the house.

It was exactly one month ago today that I returned from India. It has been a crazy month of working and partying that has gone through many hairstyle and job applications. I remembered that it was a month today while showering, so I busted out the Fa Vanilla Honey Creme Bodywash that I bought my first day in Delhi. I had forgotten to pack my Whole Foods shower gel so I had to improvise with something bought there. It is a soap free moisturizing body wash which smelled as manly as possible as the pharmacy in Pahar Ganj didn’t seem to carry anything but womens soaps and variations of “fair and lovely” (a terrible product that is meant to make you pailer skinned and therefore more beautiful - the opposite of our goal in the west).

Buying a new scented product whilst on vacation is a good thing to do for your return home. It is a trick that I have known from previous trips, having bought a new aftershave in Duty Free on my 2006 trip with Amanda, and also having forgotten to pack shampoo on my first trip to Asia in 1998. They say that the sense of smell has the strongest memories attached to it, and today in the shower was no different. Amanda always says “ooh India” when I wear the Issey Miyake Bleue, although it probably often sounds more like “eeerrrgh, India.”

Here is an unbelievable advertisement that is telling the average Indian that the lighter the skin, the greater their success in life. I love how the commercial has the mix of Hindi and English. The use of English is still widely associated with wealth and class in India. However this product still needs to sell to the normal Indian who at most only speaks a little English.

And not just limited to women. Here is the mens version with added motorbikes and a red carpet.

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 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).

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.