Shout Out #34
Trip Start
Jun 05, 2006
1
37
41
Trip End
Ongoing
Kalimpong,
West Bengal,
India
Monday, May 12, 2008
The Foreigner's Registration Office was easy. The building was right in town and the guy behind the counter didn't have much else to do. He handed over the paperwork and waited for me to fill it out. Once stamped, he told me to come back after getting the District Magistrate's endorsement as well. The best I could discern was that the DM was somewhere in the direction of the Tibetan Refugee Self Help Center but down different roads and closer to the town.
Just down the road, still in the general neighborhood of the registration office, I knew I had no idea where I was going. Darjeeling's layout never really became familiar. Just as the bewildered look appeared on my face, Lindsay the Missionary also appeared. Thinking I'd been saved because she had pointed me in the right direction when I was searching for a room I asked if she could give me direction. She struggled to offer advice now that I no longer needed shelter.
Two merchants in a nearby store both scratched their heads. They had a hunch about the Magistrate's locale but weren't sure they could give me trustworthy advice. Instead, they pointed across the street and suggested I walk outside and catch a taxi. They were of the opinion that the destination wasn't just an excuse.
'I'd rather walk. It's not that far is it?'
They pointed up the street, told me to walk down some stairs to the lower road, then make a right. Making the right turn on the lower road didn't clear things up though. I basically walked, made some random turns, and somehow ended up in a back office of a building full of military/police folks. It was the District Magistrate's counter. I got my second stamp and left without delay.
Assuming I now knew something about my whereabouts I continued along the road that'd delivered me to the doors of the magistrate hoping to find the path to the Tibetan Refugee Self Help Center. The road went past the Happy Valley Tea Plantation, a stop Mayuko (and Andreas) had enjoyed on one of their journeys. I decided to see what I could. A winding dirt road led down a hillside chock-full of tightly groomed tea shrubs. Near the bottom of the hill a woman came out of a gatehouse to say that the factory wasn't open. As we spoke, the girl behind me in the magistrate's line showed up. We could walk around but we couldn't see the inner workings of the Happy Valley. On the way back we were highly encouraged to stop by the gatehouse for tea samples. The girl and I had some small talk while looking around the fields. At a crossroads I took my leave. Rather than returning by the same road I opted to work my way through a community set into the hill. It was a new sight and it was in the direction of the Self Help Center.
The voyage through the community was the best part of the walk. A series of corrugated metal shacks randomly terraced up the hill. They were almost stacked one on top of the next. Some had nice doorways or little courtyards and some were rougher around the edges. Laundry hung under the eaves of many homes. Some families had drums set to catch rainwater off the roof. The community had two public restroom facilities- one for each sex- and a centrally located trash chute. Several steep stairways and paths wound between the homes up to one of the main roads leading to Darjeeling.
The zoo was right above me and the refugee center was much farther off. Opting to shorten the walk, I went to the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute ironically confined to a zoo. Highlighting the adventures of Tenzing Norgay and Sir Edmund Hillary among many other iconic mountaineers, I took one particular message from the display. They all set their sights on the tallest peaks and learned the best lessons during the approach. I may never see the refugees again but all the side roads took me where I needed to go.
On the return walk to town I noticed the statue of a historically well-known explorer/philosopher from the area. Andreas had mentioned his resemblance to Charlie Sheen and it made me laugh when I saw what he was talking about. Back in town I crossed paths again with the girl from the Happy Valley and the District Magistrate's office. We both had food in mind so we introduced ourselves and went to lunch. Valentina spent much time in India volunteering with organizations focused on helping children in some way. Her favorite was a group that used art programs as a way to get children interested in school.
"Reality is a question of perspective; the further you get from the past, the more concrete and plausible it seems- but as you approach the present, it inevitably seems more and more incredible. Suppose yourself in a large cinema, sitting at first in the back row, and gradually moving up, row by row, until your nose is almost pressed against the screen. Gradually the stars' faces dissolve into dancing grain; tiny details assume grotesque proportions; the illusion dissolves- or rather, it becomes clear that the illusion itself is reality." -Salman Rushdie
Not long after my in-depth contemplation about pop culture and beauty, I went to the cinema for a dose of American film at it's finest. Spiderman 3 was playing...fresh out of the box. I'm not sure where I got the idea that it would be a fun thing to do. Amerivcan culture wasn't too appealing to me at the time. Visiting the cinema must have been something about getting a taste of home though.
In the aftermath of the pop culture mind-melt I became excessively critical of certain character traits. If the evolutionary process involves an embracement of a lower phase in order to transform beyond it, I was struggling to evolve. Stuck in a post-modern attack mode I stood on a perch and fired shots at everything in sight, conveniently forgetting that my perch rested on all I was trying to destroy. To transcend is to purify and absorb a lower order. For example, a sound is identified and labeled as a letter in the alphabet. As a representation of sound, the letter is pure and can be joined with other letters to make a word. A correctly spelled word is pure so it can be absorbed within a sentence. When a sentence is fragmented the flaw must be accepted and corrected before advancing to the next phase. Only completed sentences create paragraphs. Ignoring the flaws or being offended by their presence stops the growth process. I was taking offense at all things pop culture.
Attack #1- 'Permissions'. Once I'd bought my ticket I came to a security gate. Cameras and outside food were strictly prohibited. My bag contained both and I was annoyed by the whole process- going through a line, having someone dig through my stuff, and being given the options of checking my things with security or leaving. I chose to check my bag and be annoyed by it. I had no desire to film the movie or buy snacks at the theatre. The fact that as a society we agree to ask and give permission for matters of personal responsibility didn't suit me at all. "C'mon man, can't you see my hair blowing in the wind?! I don't need your rules to make me act right. Handle your own affairs and I'll handle mine."
Attack #2 and Attack #3- 'Hand-holding' and 'Doing as You're told'. This was a two-for-one affair. At the theatre door an attendant looked at my ticket and a.) walked me across a vacant theatre to show me my assigned seat, and b.) walked me across a vacant theatre to show me my assigned seat located right next to the other three people who thought Spiderman 3 was worth paying for. I pointed to an unassigned seat and said, "I'll just sit here instead." He shrugged and went back to his place at the door.
Attack #4- 'Spoon-fed Bullshit'. The movie wasn't thrilling. Beyond the standard Hollywood action-movie formula, the additional clips of American flags blowing through unnecessary shots multiplied the spoon-fed factor. It continued when they cued the music for the 'Intermission- snack bar is open' phase....'Sha-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la- ka-la-ka-boom boom' came on. 'Sha-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-boom boom' is a song that's plagued most of my urban stops in India. Shitty pop music is everywhere and every country had its song. The 'Sha-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-la-ka-boom boom' song triggered a deeply rooted anger. During the monotonous onslaught a Saul Williams quote came to mind. "Radio programming is just that - a brainwashin' gleamed of purpose". My anger was clear proof of that phrase. Some people become programmed into needing the monotony. My program was angry repulsion. In either case it's a mindless pre-determined response. Reaction versus spontaneous choice. All of my attacks that night- permission, hand-holding, doing as you're told, and spoon-fed bullshit- were negative reactions to legitimately negative societal habits. My journal entry spells it out- "I cringed and wanted to unplug the speakers but realized how much my anger over shitty pop and the hollow culture spreading across the globe is only holding me back. My anger is so deep on this one...tied to expectations of others waking up and seeing through the pictures on the screen. I myself need to wake up." My anger over other people sleepwalking was my own sleepwalk.
My final discomfort with the movie was due to the amount of violence it depicted on the screen. A year away from TV and movies had a much greater impact than I would've guessed. Aside from a few small street scuffles I'd seen along the way, I'd gone a year without seeing someone get punched. The violence in Spiderman 3 is minimal in comparison to many of the films I've watched but I was no longer used to seeing someone get punched in the face, thrown from a moving vehicle, or blown up. (Cue the American flag). Motion pictures are an extremely influential communication medium. There's a reason advertisers spend millions of dollars on Super Bowl commercials. I realized how effectively human behavior is influenced by media.
I met with Mayuko (and Andreas) a couple more times before they left town. We were all able to learn a little more about one another over a few dinners. Andreas is 30 and spent most of the last 10 years outside his home country. He'd traveled through Asia pretty extensively and lived in Bali and Japan in spells. Our discussions touched on any number of subjects- Hunter S. Thompson, Vegas, gambling, cows, raw food diets, being lab rats for money (2 of the 3 raw foodists I know have donated their bodies to science), grandparents raising children, and string theory to name a few. He had some great travel stories and many similar thoughts as me, especially the atypical ones not too many people agree with me about.
Mayuko could've said anything and I would've been captivated. My jaw dropped when she spoke of being a dancer, liking jazz, and playing piano. It dropped even lower given the way she spoke about those interests. Ballet was the first form of dancing she learned, then jazz, and then flamenco. Flamenco was a struggle for her because it's about being low and grounded. Ballet is about being up, lifting her head, and having lightness. She was a woman with her feet on the ground and her head in the clouds.
They had left town a day before me and we planned to meet in Kalimpong. Tata SUVs are the best public transport in the hilly northern regions. Mine was the passenger's side window seat directly behind the passenger. A few minutes after sitting on the empty bench seat a man crawled in and sat next to me, close enough to almost say he was sitting on my lap. And there we stayed, two strangers snuggled together in an empty truck. It took some time for me to somewhat understand. Then I remembered the usher in the movie theatre and it clicked. All the Tata operators cram 4 people onto the bench seat. I always thought it was a business thing- more people per run equals more money. What I didn't understand is that the 3-seat bench in America is actually a 4-seat bench in India. It is not a scheme to fit one extra person in the space. The space is actually considered room enough for 4. My buddy was simply sitting in his seat. He also didn't sit farther away until the other people came because it didn't bother him to sit that close. It was natural. I'm from a country where an SUV comfortably seats a young couple with an infant. He's from a country where that same SUV comfortably fits 12 or 14 people. He only took the space he needed for comfort.
The close proximity also allowed him to read Civil Society over my shoulder. When the truck loaded up and took off I started to put the magazine away. He asked to read more of it. He flipped through the pages for awhile then handed it back to me. I told him he could keep it but he initially refused. I could tell he wanted it and a few seconds later he asked if I was done with it.
"Sure, I'm done. Have it."
He smiled and we had the usual talk about where we're from. He lives in Kalimpong but works in Darjeeling. Each month he gets to go home for a couple days. Once we'd become acquainted he started pointing out the things we drove past- "forest, tea plants, tea workers, tea gardens, over there is Sikkim, the Tistra river, the Tistra bridge." He got two plums from the two Nepalese women sitting next to us and handed them to me.
"It's their pleasure to share with you", he told me. He then told me how to eat them. "You have to spit out the middle part."
As nice and as thin as he was, I hopped over the seat when some passengers cleared from the back. He reached over and handed me the magazine and a pen. "Will you sign your name on one of the pages? It's for the memories." Heart is one thing India has in abundance. His gracious acceptance of my gift was an even greater gift in return.
The truck dropped us off in the center of Kalimpong. We shook hands and he went to be with his family. I went on a long walk in search of my next room (and Mayuko (and Andreas)).
Comments
He does
look like Charlie Sheen!!