Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts

Two German girls versus Indian men

2 countries, now in bookstores near you

These are actual events which happened when two German girls, Ollie and Sophie, had come down to India for a month long stay. They stayed at my place for a weekend, which is when they shared these stories about the creepy Indian men. I'm deliberately leaving out the locations so as to not sound prejudiced towards any geography.


Prologue: Mr.Beard and his elbow

Upon entry into this country of mystique and adventures, our heroines retire at a hostel. Not being one to be un-savvy in the form of internet communication, Ollie borrows the hostel owner's laptop and begins to google about the Kamasutra.
Along comes Mr.Beard. Mr.Beard had a beard. He also had two arms, each equipped with one elbow. Mr.Beard and his arms settle right next to Ollie for no specific reason what so ever. Ollie smiled at him since she was polite.
Mr.Beard, whips out his elbow and begins rubbing it against Ollies arm to generate static electricity through friction. He realized that his other arm was free and felt sad for the lonely little hand. So he decided to transfer the gained static electricity to his crotch by completing the circuit. Ollie was confused with the experiment and asked Mr.Beard to explain it to her, since she's a girl and doesn't understand science. Mr.Beard was generating far too much electricity to explain to laymen about his experiment and continued in the name of progress and science.
Ollie, being polite, didn't want to hurt Mr.Beard's feelings and ever so politely told him that she's leaving. Mr.Beard, being the politer one, stopped his experiment and offered to leave himself to conduct further experiments with his lightning rod. Ollie was amused.
Mr.Beard later popped out of a cupboard under the stairs fanning himself and being fully contempt.


The lifeguard who wanted chaat

Ollie and Sophie check into another sea side location. They meet a friendly lifeguard. A life guard usually runs in slow motion and saves people from drowning. It was night and the life guard didn't have anyone to save as everyone had already drowned. Instead the life guard was talking to Ollie and Sophie. He seemed like a really nice guy, and all the married women know that when he seems like a nice guy, he really isn't.
Ollie and Sophie didn't know any Hindi, so they were confused when the lifeguard switched to Hindi and asked them if they'd like to eat chaat. Ollie and Sophie knew what chaat was and they'd read from their guides to India that it must be tried. Their excitement and anticipation was met with even more Hindi and even more mentions of 'chaat'.
It then occurred to our travelers that it's too late in the night for any establishment to be selling chaat. When asking the lifeguard about where they would get the chaat, he mistook the question as to how. How what? Well, how to 'chaat'.
He demonstrated by miming eating an ice cream cone. Little did they know that chaat wasn't being used as a noun, but as a verb. Getting the gist of the situation and the lifeguard's request, Ollie and Sophie leave the vicinity to go back to their rooms having not eaten chaat.


Intermission

When Ollie had met one of my friends, she'd asked the cliched question of how she finds India. Ollie replied with "How is India for a woman?". I knew where this was going and changed the flow. She later told me at some point "I used to complain about Germany, but now after coming to India, Germany's not so bad".


A travel companion

Ollie took the bus and was feeling rather lonely sitting in the back seat. The dilemma was that no one who has any idea of how buses function in India would sit in the back seats. But Ollie had a huge backpack which she couldn't leave anywhere else.
Enter the Hero, to save Ollie from her loneliness. The Hero had good English, much like Ollie and hence could communicate well with her. Ollie was happy to finally have someone to talk to and not just stare at her.
Hero asked her where she was from and she told him that she was from Germany. Hero asked her where she was off to and she told him that she was traveling to Cochin. Hero asked her how long she was in India and she told him that she'll be around for a total of one month. Hero asked her whether she would like to fuck him and she told him that he should go sit somewhere else.
It's still not sure if it was Ollie's politeness or the fact that she actually looked like she can take him on, but Hero left so as to provide another lonely traveler with his company. Ollie spent the rest of the journey to Cochin without fretting the fact that no one was sitting next to her.


Temple run (Best story)

Sophie traveled to a small town and went to check out the local temple. She met many other travelers in the town where she stayed who warned her about the guy who stares at women in the temple. Having dealt with several of them before, Sophie confidently marches into the temple.
In the corner, sat the man in question. Much like what they'd already told her, he was staring at her intently. Much like they hadn't told her, he was masturbating, also intently.
Having seen such a scene for the first time, Sophie had no idea as to how she should react. So she picked up the nearest stones and began to pelt the intent little man. When that didn't help to shoo him away, she decided to approach a person of authority, a tactic which has thus far proven spectacularly ineffective in India.
She was trying to communicate to the temple poojari of the incident and he either pretended to not comprehend or didn't. Then Sophie, who's English isn't bad at all, happens to mention the word 'penis'. The poojari immediately blows up in a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. He frantically motions Sophie to make herself scarce so that he can get back to doing poojari things, evidently activities not dealing with the male genitalia.
To this day, Temple Boy lurks the darker corners of the religious establishment, as though forming a metaphor, ready to pounce on the next hapless non-penis bearer.


Telecommunications

Ollie's last few days in India and she needs to recharge her mobile with some talktime. She finds her way into a local recharge shop which was a bit too crowded, like any place in India. While the people were staring at Ollie, like they always do, there was one younger guy among them who was exceptionally well at staring. After having left the shop, the teenager started following her.
Having been followed and stared at for all the trip, Ollie didn't pay any attention tot he kid till he appears right in front of her and asks "I want you number." Ollie, still being the polite person she is, tells him her and asks for his in order to start a civil conversation. Number boy would have none of it.
After repeated demands for her phone number, he switches tactics and starts off with "Pleeeease give me your number" to which the polite Ollie replies that she can't give her number to someone who is a stranger. Several pleas later, she bids him a courteous goodbye and leaves.
Later, she runs into him again at the mall where he triumphantly announces that he has her number. Though taken aback slightly, Ollie still is still cordial with the boy and tells him that it is rather creepy, a word completely lost on the youth.
At the end of the day, she receives several missed calls and messages that just say "hi". And then she left India that night.
Rather anti-climatic when one thinks about it.


Epilogue: Back in Germany

Once back in Germany, Ollie messages me on FB saying that she'd met a group of (probably) drunken idiots who invite her for some mating rituals of their own and her statement verbatim is "...and that reminded me of you.".
Yes, she looks back fondly at the her trip and remembers the desperate men and their pathetic attempts to make contact in the only form that they know. Thanks to their actions, my memory has taken a much less precedence.
Thank you conservative patriarchal society! I hope a meteor collides with us.

PS: I go forth to dedicating this post to a recent reader I'd met who'd gotten me a couple of opportunities in the real world(and not the blogosphere). Knowing that someone actually reads your blog on date makes you want to update it on time, every time.

Cambodian vacation : Getting there...


"Dude, next week I'm gonna go via KL to.............CAMBODIA!"
"Cambodia? WTF is in Cambodia"
...was the response I kept getting from anyone and everyone I tried to brag to. I was
expecting something like "WAAAW! U so ozzum dood" or "ZOMGKEWLOL!" or something. I guess Cambodia wasn't that impressive as 'YOU ASS OF AY' or 'FUCKIN GOA MAN'.
Why I chose Cambodia? It's a lil bit of a plan by the now AWOL Rindo, a German guy I met on the plane called Peter and the Cambodian currency(1 INR = 80+ Cambodian Riel WOHOOOO!).
The elaborate travel plan consisted of
TO : Blore ––bus––> Chn ––fly––> KL ––fly––> Phnom Pehn, le capitale  le Cambodia
7 days and 7 nights later
FRO: Phnom Pehn ––fly––> KL ––fly––> Blore ––sulk––> Boring life
'Cause it's cheap and 'cause…

So by using my long running sick Grandfather excuse in my office, I got my 1 week of leave. Don't blame me, had I asked for 1 week to chill out, it'd just be really irresponsible with my work and blah blah blah blah.
I was kinda jobless in office so had time to make this shitty thing
Meanwhile in China, a rather skinny strappy hyper lass was also preparing to land in Phnom Pehn. Here's a picture that's worth a word or two.
:P
But enough about her.
Back to moi.
I return to Chennai and find all my friends there less than joyous to greet me since I betrayed Chennai when I moved to Bangalore. After being rejected, dejected, suicidal, reminded by my brain of Justin Bieber and other worse things in life, I hop over to the airport.
Chennai Airport - One does not simply walk there
From previous experience, all the middle class middle aged men with mid life crisis and a full sleeve shirt from Chennai, worked there. Interesting questions I encountered there:-
(Q)You have not added check in baggage option for your ticket, do you have check in baggage?
ZOMG! Your paradox blow my minds
(Q)You're going to Cambodia for pleasure? What kinds of pleasure?
You know, martinis, sex, nuclear missiles, tuxedos and other James Bond stuff
(Q)Why sucha big big bag?
I'm trying to compensate.
(Q)Cambodia? Is that in Gelf?
Yup, right next to France.
In case you were actually wondering...



After getting stuck for not having the proper Govt approved seal or something, I had time to explore the new Chennai Airport and it's BIG! The decor isn't great with the scaffolding and construction workers but skipping through that, I take my window seat. Here's some of what I saw...
Chennai at night

Twilight - The non gay non vampire kind

The Russian couple next to me was friendly but just wouldn't shut the hell up. Also they spoke what they thought was English and I nodded my head slowly just in case. I was way too distracted by the hot wife, who apparently has a thing for big fat bald bearded hairy men who wear bright blue sleeveless and a Patiala.
The Russian guy I saw
It's kinda inaccurate - He didn't have a collar

The captain announced that they were descending towards KL and suddenly a bunch of my country men jump up and proceed towards the exit so as to get of the aircraft first. I'm not kidding; they even dragged their elderly relatives to stand in line. The air hostesses had a tough time explaining to them that they were being retards and they should return to their seats, which they did after much complaining and promise of future pain inflicted upon the wrong doers by their God(s). All the while the Russian couple kept looking at me and I tried my best to momentarily not exist, but with minimal success.
Landing in KL, Mr. Huang at immigration had troubles communicating with me. Most of what he said was rost in transration. 5 minutes of him shouting, other passengers shouting and me nodding slowly(just in case) I enter KLIA(That's Kuala Lumpur International Airport to you foreigners) where photography is not allowed and hence nos photos.

IDIOT TRAVELLER MISTAKE #1
Having a lot of money at the start of the trip, I spend a lot on junk food and junk souvenirs including a huge toblerone bar. This will screw me over later on.
Food of the Gods
After walking around the airport with my 10 ton back pack, I finally decide to start Relak Singh. Almost every person in the airport (minus married peoples) were sleeping on the ground. While carefully considering the physical strain of my bag against the sanitary condition of the floor, I see a Gentleman walk in with a stroller laptop bag, a tie, jacket, a coat and matching pair of leather shoes. He walked to a side, puffed out his chest, looked around, then proceeded to unbutton his coat and jacket, unleash his bountiful guts, remove his shoes, lie down with his head on one hand and the other hand between his thighs.
Having found a role model, I too went flat on the (hopefully) clean floor.


Little rest, some queues and lotta hobbibru engrish later, I was on the plane to Phnom Pehn, the capital of Cambodia. Unfortunately, they were playing "Moves like Jagger" by Maroon 5 again and again and again. The endless repetition was slowly breaking my will to live when I saw this outside the window.




After receiving all the stupid documents of immigration and given the stern warning not to fill them up till we land, we landed.
I was the only non-white tourist at the airport for some reason and was thus treated with much hostility for some reason.
There was even a guy at the airport who walked over to me while filling the form..
Guy : You fill form!
Me : Oooo...kaaay. I'm doing that.
Guy : You use pen!
Me : Ok!
Guy : You fill form with pen only!
Me : Ok?
Guy : Hmmm. You fill form. Pen.
I still don't know if he was the retarded younger brother of some one working there and they just let him run around and have fun in the airport. Visa costs 20$ as written there, which seemed pretty organized as opposed to everyone online warning about them asking 25$.
So I get out the airport for my waiting taxi, buy a Cambodian SIM and run off to the hostel.

Coming up - Phnom Pehn and the depressing past

A teaching experience to remember


When I first saw the mail about the company sponsored program asking for volunteers to teach 5-7th standard Kannada medium school kids English, my reaction was the same as any other average person. I thought "Hm! That's nice." and was about to hit the delete button when suddenly my brain flashbacked to a phone conversation I had with my Mom.

Flashback:-
Mom : So if you don't want to do an (over hyped and stereotyped) MBA, what is your plan (to conform with what, we 'adults', view as society)?
Me : I dunno. maybe I'll travel the country side and teach poor village kids English and teach their parents about planned parenthood or something, thus solving the problem of over population and education on a very small scale in this country.
Mom : Yeah, well, let's put that in the list of dreams (and list of things which I can't mention to my stick-up-the-ass accquiantances about what my son does).

So I asked myself - "What would Che(Guevara) do?"
Che would probably make sure these kids get their education and then pick up a gun, shoot the nearest fattest capitalist and piss all over his dead body.

And so, I volunteered, with absolutely no previous experience or clue on what I was going to do. A few meetings, purchases and vague strategies later, we were on our way to the school located few kms away from Mysore road along Kengeri(the very outskirts of Bangalore). I was as prepared with kids or teaching English as I was with urban warfare in Afghanistan.

When we reached the site, we were welcomed by a small 1 storey school and ground, a lot of strange looks from the people in the vicinity and a lot of smiles of curiosity and anticipation from the kids. As clichéd as that sounds, their excitement reminded me of my days in school when we had someone else to take class, other than the plump middle aged lady teachers we see(and get bored of) everyday.
Our class - 5th and 6th combined. Have you paid this much attention in school?

Our group was divided into teaching two classes - 5th and 6th combined and 7th standard class. I was taking the 5th and 6th along with Priyanka miss, Reanna miss(who were both fluent in Kannada) and Nijay uncle(who, like me, just knew how to say "Swalpa adjust maadi").
Priyanka miss being da boss while Reanna miss watches on


Initially we were just shuffling around thinking of what to do or where to start from. At least I was, but I covered up my confusion by pretending to take photos. Then Priyanka and Reanna took over and we just followed suit.

To be honest, there were the obvious communication gaps and bungling around but MAN! The energy from the kids was tremendous. I mean, when they were confident that they were right, they'd just shout out at the top of their lungs. These kids really wanted to learn English. With their boost and the Kannada speaking Madams' leadership, Nijay and I entered the fray.
The arms folded courtesy while answering

Indu and Krishna from the other(7th Stdi) class which apparently made more noise


We went from introductions to a huge alphabet book with pictures. The kids knew their English enough to spell most given words and recite the alphabets. Since this was a Kannada medium school, they were taught to pass the English exam somehow(read : by hearting - This is India after all). There were a few who needed extra help(Enter the Priyanka miss) like a drop out of 2 years.

Nijay and I did most of a placard game, where we asked individual kids by using a placard to indentify the alphabet, or the image on the placard and say at least two other words they knew starting with that alphabet. A simple chocolate prize was a good enough incentive to play well. And you complain about peanuts huh?
Again the energy of the kids was astounding. They were shouting out the answers, standing up to raise their hands the highest were giving answers which might not hit us normally. Priyanka again had to play strict disciplinarian to keep order in the class when the rest of us were just doing the best we can. The school teachers helped the kids form words and then disappeared like Batman soon afterwards. Kinda like "You're not making my kids look stupid in english IT company man! NO WAI! Now I need to go check up on Harvey Dent"
The pencil is mightier than...not having a pencil?


All writing and no coloring makes Jack a dull boy


Look! I finished first!


We ended with making the kids write down the alphabets within a ruled note book. Remember those? the RULED note book with lines to make sure you got your alphabet's proportions right? Most of the kids finished up their work in great time and did the activities like dotted lines, colouring etc. Just to make things not too boring.

We finished up with giving them writing exercise and a prospect of future classes. Since it is customary for such young school kids, we signed their class work. I personalised mine with a smiley face on each page. Not the colon and bracket abomination of today, the thing which few of our teachers used to give us when we really deserved it.
This picture is worth a 1024 words


Finishing up, remaining chocolates given to smaller kids, tried their food, took group photos and returned back to the company as IT professionals(including ranting about our idiot bosses).
Da group(from left) : Nijay, Reanna, Arjun, Krishna, Indu, Priyanka and yours truly


If I die now, I'd die as a man who didn't have a completely useless life.




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