The Rare and Radiant Doctor Rash

Once upon a Himalaya, Doctor Rash went to staya,
To bring health and healing to many a needy Indian child, woman and groom.
While she toiled, in her treating, suddenly she dreamed of eating,
As in somewhere with some heating, heating of the dining room,
'Tis unbearable', she muttered, dreaming of that dining room,
'I need warmth and more legroom.'

Ah distinctly I recall, she was barely there at all,
When I heard her in a call, state that curry would be her doom.
Eagerly I tried to calm her, putting forth a nuanced demur,
To suggest that she might well prefer - to stick to basics and consume,
All those bland and boring dishes that we generally assume,
Will keep us from a freezing bathroom.

And the rugged, shear, demanding conditions on that Himalayan landing,
Thrilled her - filled her with fantastic moments that began to bloom,
So that now, she thinks with wonder of those weeks she spent down under,
On that cold, wet, rough, harsh tundr, and each frigid uninviting room,
Where she kept the Himalayans from their fate that seems to loom,
Of almost certain hygienic doom.

I had intended to go further with that poem but it's time consuming and I don't think I'm going to make it as a poet anyway. In case you don't recognize its origin you can check it out here or here (thank you Edgar).

I am certainly not in a position to adequately summarize what Karin experienced in the Himalayas. Parts were wonderful. Parts were difficult. It's all a rich tapestry, you know. Overall she did find it to be rewarding. It is also something that she wanted to do for a long time - and she dropped everything to do it. So major kudos for that.

If any of you plan on being in San Diego over the next few weeks do let us know. We are going to be having people over at some point for a personal Himalayas and India Show & Tell event. No Indian food will be served.

Final Himalayas And India Post Expected Soon

This has been a very interesting ride for us. The Himalayas and India were fascinating. And writing about it in this forum has been rewarding in many ways. We intend to maintain all of the posts online indefinitely.

We are expecting to receive the balance of the Himalayas pictures shortly. When we do, we plan on the following:

1. A concluding post.

2. Uploading many of our pictures to a host-site so that you will be able to see much more of what we witnessed.

3. Hosting an evening that will include a slide show and personal harrowing accounts of what we experienced and how we managed to survive (intentionally over-dramatized to stimulate interest).

4. To begin planning our next adventure!


(Also, I was just looking at Google Analytics and we have our first readers from Dniprodzerzhyns’k. Welcome Dniprodzerzhyns’kians! What? You've never heard of Dniprodzerzhyns’k? Pathetic.)

Karin Finds A Good Spot To Read At The Taj Mahal

Indian Lavatorputer Room, Police Roadblock, Automobile Repair (Using A Roof)

I wish to introduce to you the office that I created for myself, out of necessity, at Amanbagh (patent pending). I have yet to name it but leading contenders are: The Indian Lavatorputer Room, the Post-Curry-CPU-o-Potty, and the Internet-Where-and-When-I-Need-It Facility. The pictured office has the following benefits: 1. Extreme multitasking, 2. Instant relief from Mahatma's Revenge while blogging, 3. No need to leave the office for any reason ever again.

And now a story that I previously neglected to include: During the drive from Jaipur to Alwar (the one during which Karin was horribly ill), we had been following a Jeepish car that had about 14 people inside and at least eight others on the roof. I had been marveling at how this mob of people was managing to stay on that tiny vehicle on a highway when we suddenly came upon a police checkpoint. The police waived the overloaded car over to the side of the road. I found myself pitying the poor driver who was obviously about to receive the fine of his life (or, more likely, pay a small bribe). The Jeep driver pulled over to the side of the road and, much to my surprise, beckoned for more people to get onto the roof. Apparently there was a bus stop next to the police roadblock and the police were just helping to get people where they wanted go - regardless of how insanely dangerous the mode of travel.

And one last story: While being driven in an Ambassador through Agra, our driver announced that he was having engine trouble. He pulled over and popped the hood. He and the guide messed around under the hood for a minute and then walked over to a stall at the side of the road. The driver then climbed up on a small platform and started ripping things off a makeshift roof that he found. He was, of course, fixing his engine. In India nothing goes to waste. Even a crumbling roof can be used to fix a car engine, for example. The picture below that of our driver creating car parts out of a roof is of the "engine" of his car. Do you see an engine there? To me it looks like someone made off with his engine and left the battery, some cooling hoses, and a water-bottle. But that, ladies and gentlemen, constitutes the entire propulsion system of this fine automobile.

D E L H I ( f i n a l e m e n t )

Delhi became our hub in the north. Karin had flown into Delhi and had returned to Delhi following her stint in the Himalayas. I had flown to Delhi from Mumbai to meet her there. Our itinerary together ended up being Delhi - Agra - Delhi - Varanasi - Delhi - Jaipur - Alwar - Delhi. That looks like a lot of Delhi but a good portion of the Delhi time was spent either traveling or relaxing. I now present to you Jaime and Karin's Daring Delhi Diary:

On February 28, we had arranged for a “half-day tour” of Delhi through the Oberoi Hotel. They had told us that we would have a guide and driver for 4 hours. We met the guide and began our trip to Old Delhi to see the Red Fort. Forts are a big draw in India. These are enormous structures that housed small cities. They were built to protect against the constantly-marauding armies that traveled through the region in the 15^th, 16^th, and 17^th centuries. They were constructed to the specifications of an emperor who would preside over the population that lived within. The Red Fort was built by the Moghuls in the 1600's. When it was originally erected, many of the structures were inlaid with gold and precious jewels. After centuries of plunder, every last bobble has been torn from every wall, floor, ceiling, and adornment. Many of the original buildings are still standing although the British Army took it over for decades and built unsightly barracks and other buildings within.

We also visited the largest mosque in India and various Ghandi (Mahatma and Indira) and Nehru memorials (there have been a lot of assassinations in India). The tour was going very well…. Then, after almost 2 hours, the guide announced that they were done. We politely reminded him that we had arranged for a 4 hour tour of Delhi. He informed us that 4 hours was based upon the time it takes when there is normal traffic in Delhi. Because it was Sunday there was no traffic at all. Our position was that we had arranged for the tour on a Sunday to avoid sitting in traffic for 2 hours. But he was adamant – and even refused our offer to pay him extra to show us the rest of Delhi. Apparently he had to be somewhere. After protesting briefly we decided to go our own way and to take it up with the hotel later on.

We had him let us off at The Imperial, a nice, centrally-located hotel. After a quick perusal of the hotel we made our way to an enormous Sikh Temple called Gurdwara Bangla Sahib. Five minutes later, we were among thousands of Sikhs. We were directed to an office where we were told to remove our shoes and to don bright orange headdresses . We then were directed to the main temple area. There was an enormous throng of people walking barefoot on wet marble. This was not pleasant for me. While interesting to see the wild rainbow of colorful turbans making its way around the compound, I could not stop thinking that I was now sharing fungal intimacies with 10,000+ people, many of whom may possibly live in less than ideal hygienic environments.

Once we were done appreciating those local customs, we made our way back to The Oberoi and complained about our guide and driver. Two minutes later, after apologies from the hotel staff, we were set up with another guide and driver for the rest of the day. We had a leisurely lunch and headed out. This time our guide was interested in showing us as much as possible until we had enough. Unfortunately we did not head out with him until almost 4:00 PM and most sites close at 5:30 PM. We rushed to the Lotus Temple, a Bahai place of worship, whose design symbolizes nine religions. The temple itself is quite nice to look at but the operation that brings thousands of people through the structure each day is really impressive.

From the temple we made our way to the Parliament Houses and the home of the President. The buildings are enormous and impressive and are overrun by monkeys. There were at least a dozen monkeys milling about when we got there. Apparently the powers that be have decided to co-exist with what are generally regarded as nuisances (the monkeys) rather than do anything drastic to be rid of them.

One amusing Delhi episode: Karin had two enormous bags from the Himalayas trip that we did not want to lug around India. We asked at the Oberoi if they would hold them for us and deliver them to us at the airport when we were leaving. The concierge suggested we use a service by the airport and gave us the details.

Thus, on our way to Varanasi, we packed the extra bags and took them to the Delhi airport. Upon arrival at the airport we went directly to the baggage check. It was in a small building to the side of a parking lot with zero security. I walked into a decrepit room with about 10 bags on shelves and no one at the wide-open door. I couldn't believe the Oberoi had suggested this. I thought to myself: A. Is someone really going to take our dirty laundry? B. If someone does take our dirty laundry, it will probably be put to very good use, and C. I am not lugging these two enormous bags around India for the next week. And so I paid the 22 Rupees (fifty cents) per bag, took the laughable receipt, tipped the guy who had shown me what to do (lest he decide to help himself to his own tip), and wished for the best.

Upon our return to pick up the bags 6 days later, almost everything was intact. In fact, we fared significantly better than I had expected. In case you are considering leaving any fine jewelry or electronics at the Delhi bag-check, I am going to go out on a limb here and suggest you find something more secure.

Fascinating Varanasi, Awful Restaurant Experience, "Dead Body Burning", No People's Court

I loved the Holy City of Varanasi. Had I been a back-packer with plenty of time I would certainly have stayed there to take in the multitude of cultures, traditions, and it's unbelievably diverse population. Varanasi is extremely important to Hindus, Buddhists, and Jainists (whose priests go naked or wear masks to avoid inhaling organisms of any kind). One million Hindus make pilgrimage to Varanasi each year. And thousands come to die in Varanasi. The River Ganges is at the center of it all.

After arriving in Varanasi on February 28, 2007, we made our way to the site of Buddha’s first sermon in Sarnath. That Buddha first taught in the area is part of the reason that it is so revered. We witnessed Buddhists from all over the world chanting in diverse languages – often right next to each other, drowning each other out. Holy Buddhist sites are tranquil. While many religions preach peace, love and friendship, many also find ways to justify aggressive war, intolerance and, on occasion, violence. I don't pretend to be an expert in theology but there do appear to be some basic differences among major religions when it comes to how quick they are to resort to aggression and war. And for my next trick, I shall cut this thought off before it gets too controversial.

Following the visit to Saranath we made our way to the Holy Ganges River. Our guide and row-boat captain was an 18 year old Varanasian by the name of Babu – a good looking and very good-natured guy. Babu rowed us up the Ganges, pointing out the various Ghats that line the waterfront for miles. It’s an amazing sight – temple after temple high above the river, each with steps leading all the way down into the water. The steps are steep and continue deep into the water so that the water remains accessible regardless of tides, monsoons, etc.

That first evening we rowed up to the area where bodies of the dead are brought down to the water, wrapped in brightly colored materials. We witnessed the bodies being dipped into the Holy Ganges prior to their burning. Once the bodies are purified in the water, they are burned on pyres that rage by the Ganges. It is an unbelievable site to see the bodies being brought down in front of the families of the deceased (photography is forbidden so my pics are from afar). As with everything in India, nothing goes to waste. For example, we saw dogs gnawing on something in the smoldering remnants of older pyres - and I don't think they were rubber chew-toys. Our guide was narrating in his broken, yet charming, English: "Dead body burning take 3 hours."

After watching this incredible scene for a while we rowed back down to the Ghats and witnessed an Aarti, which is also performed along the Ganges. An Aarti is a Hindu fire ritual signifying devotion to god. In this particular Aarti, 7 men did their fire-ceremony in unison on stages about 40 feet above the Ganges.

It was a fascinating evening and was topped off with a walk back to our car through one of the busiest and most colorful markets I have ever seen. This is a market that deserves serious attention but we took it in quickly as our guide rushed us to the waiting car.

Back at the hotel (Taj Ganges), we decided to try the Indian restaurant. We ordered the Thali - a group of dishes that enables one to taste 6 or 7 of the specialties of the region. Much to our surprise, it was terrible. After tasting each of the dishes and figuring out that we didn't like a single one, I approached the maître d' and told him that the food was inedible. He apologized profusely and disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later the chef came over to our table. He also apologized and then asked what was wrong. Talk about unpleasant confrontations! "Well you are a terrible chef. I can't believe Taj hired you. You should find another profession." That's what went through my mind. Out of my mouth came a whisper in Karin's ear: "U-n-c-o-m-f-o-r-t-a-b-l-e."

We retired early that evening as we were scheduled to be up at 5:00 AM so that we could make it to the Ganges for sunrise and the morning bathing and meditation that takes place every day. And make it, we did. We were back on the Ganges with Babu early the next morning. As we rowed by each of the Ghats, we witnessed people bathing, dunking, praying, meditating, washing, shmoozing, and drinking (Ganges water). Yes, drinking the water from the Holy (and very polluted) Ganges is a Hindu and Buddhist Mitzvah.

After about an hour on the water, the sky darkened and we found ourselves in a serious downpour. Babu handed us an umbrella but he was getting soaked. He rowed to the shore and we found some shelter by a building. When the pelting rain slowed down, we got back on the boat but the sky was continuing to darken and we knew that rain was inevitable. We started to make our way back to the starting point. It was drizzling by the time we got there and so we decided to head back to the hotel. Suddenly the skies opened up and and we were in a torrential downpour. We ran through the market, took brief shelter by some shops, and then ran some more. We made it to the car, bid Babu adieu, and headed back to Taj. And that was the end of a short but fascinating stay in Varanasi.

The drive to the airport was also interesting. As always, we were weaving in and out of traffic at high speed. Suddenly, our driver hit a motorbike. Our driver was pissed. He stopped the car and waived over the motorbike driver, who immediately pulled over. Our driver yelled at him angrily, raised his hand, and then struck the motorbike driver in the face. The motorbike driver seemed to accept the scolding. He lowered his head, uttered a few words, and then returned to his motorbike. Our driver got back into the car and said “no problem”. Rather bizarre.

And if I may take just one moment to complain... I really disliked our hotel in Varanasi. We stayed at the Taj Ganges . Terribly run. As I already mentioned, the food was abominable. And they had major wifi issues. I had their tech guy working on it for almost 3 hours the first evening but he never got it working.... which is part of the reason I am posting so late. The building itself is run-down and located far from the Ganges. If I ever go back to Varanasi I would probably stay near the Ghats anyway but I would never go near the Taj Ganges. Thanks for letting me vent.

And now for some Non-India News: Unfortunately, I will not be appearing on The People's Court. I did try to follow up with them but, due to an unforseeable turn of events, I am no longer able to participate. This is rather unfortunate because A. They were going to fly us to New York, B. I really wanted to see how they run the show, and C. I could have played a Plaintiff on The People's Court! I will be posting the story of what has happened with that lawsuit, and with The People's Court, as soon as the case is resolved.

Happy Birthday Dr. Rash!

From Intrepid Himalayan Explorer and Physician-to-Those-Not-Born-In-The-Right-Place-At-The-Right-Time, to San Diego Birthday Girl, Karin has come a long way over the past 6 weeks.

I am taking this opportunity to wish Karin a Very Happy Birthday. The plan for Karin's birthday is for her to work very hard all day. Then, when she is completely exhausted from a combination of seeing dozens of patients and dealing with whatever else is going on at work, plus severe jet lag, and lingering remnants of her India-borne illness, she will come home and she, HM, Dave and I will possibly go out for a non-Indian dinner. If that ends up being too ambitious a plan, we will have a quiet non-Indian dinner and she will go to sleep.

And by the way, I do realize that this photo of Karin with the Taj Mahal growing out of her head (or of Karin wearing a Taj Mahal hat) is not "properly" composed. It's kind of an inside joke (not anymore) stemming from an art class Karin took years ago. She was studying John Baldessari who, as a rejection of conventional photographic methodology, would purposely place his subjects with various background objects sticking out of their heads, etc. I call this one Taj Mahrash.