Little India

I woke up today feeling like complete shit. Tired, dehydrated, bad sinus headache from some smoky rooms last night, etc. But today, I had a mission. I wanted to go downtown and check out "Little India", the Indian neighborhood of Singapore.

My stomach (and the rest of my GI tract) are completely wasted. This is probably the prime reason I don't drink that much any more; my body just reacts very violently to the liquor. I ate a very small amount this morning and drank a lot of water but overall I feel like I should just sleep the entire day. I am not gifted with the ability to sleep like that, however. No matter what I did, or what I put my body through, I get up because I absolutely cannot sleep any more. I just feel really really bad.

Anyway, I do what I must in the morning (call mom on her birthday, book a trip to Taipei) and catch a cab down there. It is raining all day today, which is fine with me. I wear pants and it is warm enough that the rain feels really good; it doesn't really bother me. I get down there around perhaps 2 (I told you I feel like shit; I can't move quickly).

Oh man. I was dying to find some soul in Singapore and I found it. This place was packed, just shop after shop after shop and about a *lot* of Indian (I am assuming) people milling around.

The street signs are either in straight Hindi or both Hindi and English. Lots of shops selling all manner of things; most very eclectic. Lots of jewelery shops; I have never seen so much gold (I think it was gold) in one place. There must have been 20 jewelery shops alone. And this is just along the main drag.

I work a square wave path; working along one side of down the main street. The side streets I found to be really neat; I spend a bit of time on them just checking things out.

At this point I am getting seriously hungry; the hangover mixed with hunger just makes me feel weak and little dizzy. So I find a small shop on a side street that has probably never served a white person before (or it is like an annual thing). They speak more English than I speak Hindi (or whatever they speak. 400+ languages, in India alone, is a lot to choose from).

I order the usual thing, mutton (which tastes like what we would call vindaloo) with curry rice (I think it is called bismati rice).

I get ready to eat, and notice I don't have a fork or a spoon. Then I notice something else.

Everyone in the restaurant is eating with their hands. No kidding. Nobody is using any utensils. I am gearing myself up to try to eat with my fingers but thankfully the host provides me with probably the only fork and spoon they have at the place. I would have eaten with my fingers if it came to that without complaint but I really appreciated that gesture.

This time it is for real. This isn't white boy friendly crap they serve at the Indian restaurants in the US. This is spicy as hell and it tastes amazing. Vindaloo tends to be spicy anyway, but even their curry rice is hot as you can get it.

The host offers to put some sauce on it but I am weary of sauces. They can make the entire meal taste to uniform, and they can be **super** hot. So I try a little on part of the meal. It has flavor; these guys are real artists, but it is hot enough that I don't feel comfortable eating it on an already upset stomach.

I went up to pay the bill, and they charged me 6 dollars. I figure this is twice what a local would pay and I am glad to pay it. Say what you will, I am like fucking Donald Trump to these guys and they deserve to get paid for that amazing meal. I am standing next to another guy in line, and he doesn't realize it. Then he looks over and I get a true, wide eyed, "holy shit" expression on his face. He didn't expect to see a pale one in that restaurant, that is for sure.

Overall, I feel the meal is a risk that I am willing to take. I doubt the food is as clean as my body is used to, but this is the way the world lives and I can adapt. I might get some issues later due to either the meat or the intense spice, but it was worth it. Hell, it was worth it for the look alone.

Anyway, I wonder down and through a bunch of shops for a while. It is wall-to-wall people; just tons of them (and most surprised to see me).

I check out an open area where people are drinking some beers and watching bollywood flicks on one TV and WWF Smackdown on another. This is getting way cooler. I watch some WWF; and I notice how goddamn big those dudes are. The people watching this are all very dark-skinned with slight frames. Those guys must really look alien to them; it was kind of an ah moment. Bringing me perhaps a millimeter closer to understanding perhaps in the smallest way a tiny bit of their perception of me and the US culture.

I find a long line of people waiting for something that I can't fathom. I wander around the building, and I find this guy just sitting there in a yoga pose chillin' with a couple empty bottles of beer next to him. His pose seems so natural and comfortable; I ask him if it is alright if I take his picture. He says sure so I do.

He understands English (and speaks it amazingly well) so I sit down next to him and talk. He tells me about the places in the US he has been, and explains the line (lottery. They guys are throwing away their extremely hard earned money for lotto). We talk a little bit, about the theory of life and such. We concur that you need to really ride the unexpected things and not worry about controlling too much. I use a river analogy; he uses the wind. Intellectually we stand united. I shake his hand and I am off.

I wander through the red-light district. There are all manner of hookers even at 3 on a Sunday. I try not to make eye contact. It helped that I wasn't attracted to any of the women that I saw. It doesn't bother me at all to tell a vendor I don't care but for some reason to look into a woman's eyes and tell her you aren't interested really messes me up. This goes for hookers or for anything where I know where there is some of her in the question. I actually get pissed at myself when I don't dance with a woman at Salsa because I don't want to, especially if I see disappointment in their eyes.

I make it quickly through, walking in the street and in the rain in some places because having them ask me if I want to them makes me so uncomfortable. I get through and then look back, catching the eye of one of them. Her face is not smiling and her eyes are large, dark, and unreadable. Then my mind starts to really go.

This woman has probably given up on most of her dreams and lives with constant danger and derision. I doubt she has much self respect; but I do not doubt that she desperately wants a better life. I could take her to America where she could start a far different life.

I just really wonder what I represent in her eyes; I would imagine that sex is the furthest thing from her mind. Most of us think about different choices we could make at least a little every day. I have a few regrets and I believe I saw a few more in her eyes.

I finally come to a large place called the Mushara center or something like that. It is probably 4 stories high, as Indian as you can get, and would remind you of Target, Safeway, and Sears all on different floors.

This place is large, tight, and packed with people. I can't imagine what would happen in a fire. The aisles are narrow and very high. I literally got lost and couldn't find an exit for quite a while. I don't get claustrophobic easily (thanks to Jiu-Jitsu. Nothing will make you panic like someone who weighs 130%-150% your own weight actively trying to crush you), but this is a place I might get it. Anyway, I spend perhaps 5-10 minutes just checking things out; then I get the hell out.

I walk for a long time now. I am out of little India (or rather on the edge where it is more Chindia). I wanted to go down to Arab St. and buy some silks for my mom and my sister, but I got turned around and a bit lost. Then I stumbled onto an open market with a sports even in an adjacent field.

I have many pictures of the event so I am not going to describe it very much. The people did something very touching. When they saw my interest in the event, the opened up a spot for me right up on the front line. These guys were pushing and crowding each other just to watch the event; yet but they were gracious enough to let the tall (to them, I am not that tall) white guy go right to the front and take lots of pictures of the action.

These guys were real athletes. It was raining, muddy, and dangerous. They played bare feet and really hit each other hard when they hit. I saw a guy take a serious hit that looked like it damaged his hamstring. The doctors and a nurse by the side of the field came out and took care of him but he could not return to the game. I have nothing but respect for the players of this type of event; clearly they did if for the love of the game.

I couldn't stop thinking about how he was going to provide for his family if he really got injured; but I think too much. He wasn't worried at all and I bet they have a significant social network built up to deal with loss of work and injury.

I would like to say this is the highlight, but I think everything was so amazing that I don't really know. I do have some final thoughts about this.

I need more of this. I need to check out the third world. I enjoyed Batam and this more than anything else this trip; so that pretty much settles it.

Every experience you have in places like this brings out really big questions that you can't answer. I really would like to understand the world's perception of the US and I would like to develop a perception of a lot of the world. I am part of the top 1% in terms of wealth and a few other things. It is time to learn to relate to the rest of the world.

These people don't live or think like I do; but I find so much soul and pure life when I am around them that I just really find it touching (although I am a sensitive weenie anyway). I never take the main road anywhere, always an alley. Perhaps it is coming time to look for bigger and more realistic alleys than the ones around 16nth and Pearl St. in Boulder.

I am sure there are more thoughts, but there are two other posts I wish to make today, so I leave you with that. Traveling is beginning to really kindle a wonderment in my eyes that I don't know I have ever felt before.

Chris