Juice Versus Tuberculosis

Here in Thailand I have experienced the best hospital I could ever have imagined. Not only do you receive top rate medical service but it also happens with a smile!

In Thailand the hospital is there to accommodate everyone from internal needs to mere flu bugs, not like in Canada where we have the tiered system of pharmacies, family doctors, clinics, and then the big bad emergency room. Because of everyone going to one place for all their sickly needs there is a demand for a high level of organization to see that everyone is checked through in an orderly manor. Furthermore, with the hospital being a privatized enterprise such as everything is here in Thailand, streamlined service makes the baht.

In Canada my experiences with hospitals have generally been of the not so positive type. I have personally sat in “emergency rooms” bleeding until I am weak and passing out but heaven forbid I get bumped in line in front of the kid who scraped their knee and has a loud mother angry at the nurses for allowing emergency needs to prioritize above here little treasure. I have yet to sit in an “emergency room” for under three-and-a-half-hours despite the varying levels of emergencies I have personally undergone or been present for. Furthermore, the level of attention often given is that of the minimum required in order to hasten the progress of the sick line. Although my impressions have been tainted because for many years I have not received the professional conduct of a family physician but merely that of the disgruntled inner-city orderly’s and walk-in clinics. However, the fact remains that to see a medical professional in Canada one often needs to step in line for hours, weeks, or even months. Don’t get me wrong, I am very thankful for the healthcare system of Canada but I do avoid going to a hospital at any cost due to the great inconvenience that entails. So it goes.

But…Thailand has something else in store. Phayatai hospital is bar none the nicest hospital conceivable. It is like someone built a luxury hospital complete with staff and mints on the pillow but due to some mix-up; the blue-prints were fudged, or some political event occurred, and it became a hospital. As soon as you enter there are several people waiting to assist you in any language you care to spit out. Attractive nurses ply you with welcome beverages from a cart of juices and ensure you are comfortable whilst they fill out all the paperwork for you with only the occasional question followed by a “So sorry to inconvenience you.” You may have to wait, but only until you chair has slightly been warmed and you are whisked away into a doctor’s office. The doctor’s are all very well-kept individuals with discreet and humble manors. They take all the time required and are sure to follow up any and all inquiries you may have. Indeed, it makes one feel very catered to up to the point of being pampered.

The tests take no time at all. Have you ever had liquid testing performed in the name of medical science of personal health? In Canada it always seems to take two weeks to get the results of anything back from the lab. In Thailand, however, it takes a mere 45 min. (actually it only takes 30 min. but they tell you 45 min. so you are not impatient. Isn’t that accommodating and convenient?) Once again, only enough time to warm ones chair.

The doctors make no assumptions. They patiently tell you what each count shows in your tests and tell you what it leads them to believe complete with logical conclusions and attenuating theories that may be attached. They are so thorough that it makes one feel dignified by the lofty way in which they are being treated. No nutshells, round-abouts, or dummying down; just the truth with respect. I like that.

I do not hesitate to go the hospital. Today I found out I may have Tuberculosis, but the news was delivered to me with such eloquence that I simply sat there, sipped my juice, and said “I see. What do I need to do now?” To which the doctor replied with the simple answer I requested. This is a great step up from the inner city emergency clinic doctors in Winnipeg who don’t even look at me before they assume that I am wasting their time by irresponsibly getting ill and then having the audacity of visiting their office.

I believe in the healthcare system of Canada. It is a brilliant scheme of taking care of everyone that is paralleled in few places in this world. I understand that the level of expertise I receive at Phayatai hospital are likely due to the fact that they are a top-end private enterprise (which is still incredibly cheap I might add). But it does feel nice to have a smiling nurse serve me juice instead of a snarling person asking me ‘hat the hell I thought I was doing when I hurt myself in the first place’. Although, I am also looking forward to being able to see my regular family doctor at home. He doesn’t always smile, but he knows me, keeps me healthy, and my government pays him to do just that.

p.s. I hope I don’t have tuberculosis. I mean, juice and swift service are nice but I trust the medicine in Canada more,and I don’t want to go like Doc Holiday, coughing and cursing the fact I didn’t die with my boots on.

Get Yo' Camel to Push Da' Kar

Whilst in Pushkar we went on a camel trek through the desert. When traveling in India one has to take advantage of all the opportunities available.

Pushkar was a delightful little city built around a lake that is considered holy, second only to the Ganges river itself. The lake is surrounded by ghats with steps leading down to the water front where people bathe. In fact, Cheryl was even given a holy welcome to the city upon arrival as one of the local sacred cows gave her a swift knock to the butt with it’s stubby horns. I guess even Hindu cows lose their cool sometimes.

The city itself is very small and can easily be walked around. The street surrounding the lake is a market with everything from apparel, to leather-bound books, to food items and knick knacks. The market was very intriguing and Cheryl and I spent quite a lot of time wandering and buying items for far, far less than we would ever have paid back at home.

During one of our wanderings we came across a stand advertising camel treks in the desert. We signed up for a four hour trek and awaited departure. We started our journey walking with our guide to what appeared to be fair grounds and camel track which are used for the annual camel fair in town. There we met our second guide and camel handler. The camels were very tall, with eloquent smelling breath but they did have their own grace to them. At the word of the guide I climbed on top of one seated on the ground and held on as it stiltedly ascended to its full height (roughly 9 feet or so counting its head).

Our ride started with an exit out of town. I soon noticed that my camel was protesting an awful lot to which my guide told me that he had purchased the camel only the day before and was still teaching him to ride. Of course this didn’t make me feel that easy especially with the rather vocal taunts that my camel was constantly challenging the guide with, but mai pen rai (or as people in India do, they simply bob their head from side to side meaning either “yes”, “no”, or “whatever, I simply don’t care”).

The ride was actually much smoother than I had previously anticipated. The pace of a camel is not swift but still carries a decent momentum. The movement is languid and constant. In fact, the gentle movement is almost like that of a consistent swell in the ocean, neither impatient nor unpleasant.

Soon we were out of the city and into the desert. The weather was calm and the sun seemed lazy in the sky as it began considering its descent over the far hills. Cheryl looked so in place as she was wearing a scarf around her head recently purchased in the market by the lake. Cheryl of Arabia was away on her camel! Although Cheryl did lose her persona of the desert just a little bit when her camel rode her straight into a fourteen foot cactus bush (she was a little prickly about that one).

We rode some time before the sun finally set. The image of the sun was beautiful. I kept reminding myself that I was watching the sun set in India from the back of a camel. Some things just seem so unreal sometimes that they become surreal. Although the constant “aarrrummmmp!!” sounds of protest coming from my camel usually did the trick of keeping me conscious of the immediate fact of where I was. Although I would talk back too if my handler looked so serious as this fellow.

Our guides brought us to their home where we gave the camels some time to rest and eat whilst we did likewise. We sat with the farming family and had chai tea. They tried to convince us to partake of further services such as dinner and staying the night but we stuck to what we had signed up for and were soon on our way back to town.

The stars in the desert were awe-inspiring on the way back. I never thought I would have the opportunity to stargaze in the desert whilst riding a camel. I am glad that we took the opportunity to do the fun things that we did. I would say the camel ride was the icing on the cake of India but I would say it was just one layer of the many that made the whole desert so delicious.

I Guess We Are All After Our Own Salvation. So it Goes.

My perceptions open with every new place I visit that is different than where I am from. New experiences will always serve as the catalyst from which people will learn more than they have previously known.

Thailand was an eye opener for me. I have traveled across parts of Canada many times and even made a few forays into the United States of God bless America, but have never before ventured overseas. Thailand showed me a state where there is no middle class, God works through the peoples perceptions of Buddha, and noone tells the common lie of caring for others before themselves; they simply exist with no excuses, reservations, or thin apologies…how refreshing and sincere. Of course there are other considerations to make but nutshells are nice so let’s leave it at that.

Ah, and then there is India, a land that some God a long time ago may have blessed, but since, India has risen and fallen more than a handful of times and has seen more than its share of interim gods since. The people are much like all other people of planet earth; they go about their daily bread by whatever means possible, kiss their families before they sleep at night, and try to take time to develop a personal ego. So it goes.

We all go about our lives in the way we see fit. Most of us search for and find some way to achieve our daily bread. Most of us have those we love. Most of us choose to see ourselves in a certain light in order to like ourselves and it is this light through which we subjectively view our world. India is no different, either is Thailand, either is Canada. So it goes. God bless us all.

Skipping country from Canada to Thailand was one step away from my subjective origins. Then I quietly became acclimatized whilst observing and accepting what I saw. But then to take off on the second degree of separation to India proved a further widening experience. I found people in yet another scenario of many poor versus few rich with little middle class to buffer the social and economic relations between. But these people choose to take their approaches to life very differently than others I have previously seen. They did not say “mai pen rai” when they were wronged due to being in the outer circle of the people in their society. They too cut in front of strangers in line but in India they get angry. Indeed, they do not forget their anger either, they boil and rant to their wives, verbally strike out at others and justify it to themselves until they are egoistically satiated. Very interesting. It was like watching a dog bark at a mirror at times; the reflection won’t change so why not just stop barking? The Thai’s seem to have figured that out, so why is it different in India?

This is the point when I have to back up and review life in North America, where ego is a challenge to others, road rage is a syndrome, and the individual reigns supreme. Where a grudge is fodder for a later psychological battle on a Freudian sofa. Same stink, different pile. So it goes.

Further observation showed me that people in India are all in fierce competition with each other to elicit the next dollar from each spender that exists. The markets are vicious with voracious proprietors trying to coax every and any rupee to enter the web that is their wallet. Anyone will tell you just about anything in order to sell you whatever item, idea, or service they are attempting to peddle to you. If they have nothing to sell you then they will at least try to convince the nearest proprietor that they have led you to them in order to gain a commission on anything you might spend there. The extent of the web is impressive and the lines are sticky. There were many a time that Cheryl and I would feel we were a flies being tempted by spiders (“Come into my parlor” said the spider to the fly).

“Where are you going?…They are closed for the day, you should come to my house and meet my family (who will try to sell you more things you don’t need)…I am telling you honestly…That is a good price…No, he is my brother, I told you I am telling you honestly…I sell this at three times the price to everyone else…It is good luck to buy this in India…That is not the train to Varanasi…etc.etc.”

Indeed the lies flow in India like slick oil from a freshly tapped source and when it rains it pours, but the ground that spews oil never makes an apology for the mess it makes. However, is this so different from the spewing oil we peddle in all other corners of this fine planet Earth? All people form their morals and values based upon life experiences. We do this until we are convinced that the previous perceived greys are now solid blacks and whites. We do this to such an extent that we even allow ourselves condescending anger towards all others that don’t see the lines we have clearly drawn for ourselves. This can take many forms from culture shock, to bemusement at what we see, to even outright ignorance and bigotry. At times I found myself quite confused by what I would observe in India such as 10 white lies in a breath, or two men yelling at each other over something one of them thought to do before the other one, but to judge it leads to subjective ignorance. This is true here, there, and the other place. So it goes.

Travel is a means to a greater end of the mind. We all form ourselves as we grow but travel forces an outside influence. This is a positive thing. The human mind is not a biosphere that survives well with the windows closed. It needs stimuli other than that from the inner ego otherwise it grows stagnant, dormant, and in the worst circumstances it overrates itself into inflated self-importance. Travel is a means of outside stimuli providing for wider understandings, intellectual and spiritual growth, and if one is lucky, might even lead to humility. No wonder Jesus chose to constantly walk the Earth instead of simply standing still. So it goes.

Thailand and India can be wondrous places or they can make one uncomfortable and angry. But if one keeps their mind open to the wider picture outside of themselves, they just might find something amazing about the outside and inside of their world. So it goes.

Happy travels of the mind.

Editors Note: So it goes…read more Kurt Vonegutt everyone!

Sunrise on the Ganges

Whilst in Varanasi Cheryl and I took a sunrise tour of the Ganges river where we ewre witness to an amazing Hindu ritual of bathing in the Ganges. We awoke at 5 am and made our way down to the shore of the Ganges. The shore consisted of steps leading to the water for this particular stretch of shore is lined with ghats; religious temple-like structures from which people bath to wash their spirits and bodies clean.

We loaded the boat and took off at a slow rowers pace. The morning was languid in speed and feeling. It felt as if we were slowly moving through a dream as we glided along the spiritual river said to be the life blood of India. As the began to rise we witnessed a particularly boisterous group of young men charge into the water and swim out to the centre. The rest of the people along the steps began their descent in to the water. Many were muttering prayers, or singing softly as they ritualistically bathed, washed, drank, and prayed within the water. Some began to do laundry and beat their clothes upon rocks. The whole experience seemed to move together in a pious and sincere manner.

We were fortunate enough to witness a funeral pyre as well. Varanasi is said to be a place where a Hindu may pass away and become free of the cycle of life in reincarnation. Therefore, many people make a final pilgrimage there to die and be released. Part of that release is in the form of being cremated at one of the many ghats along the Ganges river, and to then be added to the Ganges.

The next day Cheryl and I also witnessed a funeral procession leading down to the Ganges. The body was carried by four men. There were many following behind. Leading the procession were a handful of drummers leading with a festive beat such as a celebration. The whole tableau appeared to be a happy send off for the departed. It was very warm and heartening to witness.

To see all of these aspects of life, death, and spiritual cleansing all within 24 hours of each other was incredible. Varanasi is considered the most holy city in India. It is definitely a place to behold for it is truly observed as the life line of India.

Editors note:
*The first picture is masterfully snapped by Cheryl realizing its symbolic importance of what we witnessed that morning.
*The second picture is of our boatman steering us along the Ganges (c/o Jay)
*The third picture is of many people bathing along the steps of one of the many ghats along the river.
*The fourth picture is a man performing a ritual with fire for the morning sun.
*The final picture is a funeral pyre sending the person's spirit to the next life (assumed).

Thus far a-okay

Our adventures thus far have been awe-inspiring. We have traveled many miles by train, taxi, tuk tuk, bus, and camel. We have seen cities, countyside, desert, gods, funerals, markets, the Ganges river, the Taj Mahal, sunrises, and sunsets. India is truly a wonder to behold.

Cheryl and I have been fervently enjoying our time here. Of course there are the usual setbacks of traveling. I have to admit that one of my greatest reservations is the tendency for the citizens of the world to lie to one another but mai pen rai, so it goes.

The train rides have been fun. I have personally enjoyed rising early in the morning to write on my palm pilot. Unfortunately, it lost its memory the other day with a mini novel of experiences recorded within it. That was a huge setback for me, but once again, so it goes.

Cheryl and I have so far visited Kolkatta, Varanasi, Agra, and now Pushkar. Tonight we will head out to Udaipur. All of these places are nothing like anywhere I have ever seen. Stay tuned for more…

Arrival in Kolkata - Now I understand Why there are so Many Words for "Crazy"

Cheryl and I landed at the airport and everything seemed as it normally would be at an airport. Granted, it was smaller than we had anticipated and there was an old cat that lived there, but otherwise, normal. Outside we were greeted by the sight of tiny little picturesque vintage taxi cabs that looked like windup toys at Christian Anderson's store. The drivers were running about attempting to convince everyone that their cab was the best, the cheapest, and that they knew exactly where people needed to go.

Cheryl and I knew the cab driver we were talking to was charging a bit much but we were swiftly becoming anxious to get into town so we took his offer, secured ourselves into the taxi, and then we were away for the ride of our life.

When we arrived in Thailand I thought people were crazy way they drove. Then our friends that have visited India told us that the driving in Thailand was nothing compared to the driving of India. Man oh man were they not kidding. Riding in a taxi cab in Kolkata was a crazy maelstrom of horror and delight. It was, by far, the most interesting driving experience I have ever been in in my life (and that's saying a lot because I have totaled a motorcycle before). The cars weave in and out of each other taking every pull-position they can until there is not an inch unoccupied. It made me think of that experiment where you fill a cup with rocks and ask "Is it full?", and then proceed to show it isn't by pouring in fine sand, and finally, water. The streets of Kolkata were just that efficiently filled with traffic. where there wasn't a car there was a cart, where there wasn't a cart there a tuk tuk, and where there was one more foot of space, somehow there was a wedged a cow! "Oh, haha" you say? You think I am exaggerating? I see you have not been to India my friend.

Our cab driver proceeded to pummel his way through traffic with his horn as a constant reminder that he was playing his own lead role in the cacophonic symphony of C-broken-and refuses to be diminished. Indeed, every car on the road sounded like it's horn was stuck in the on position. If ever there was a raging herd of wild cabs, this was it.

After three near misses of hitting other vehicles (not too close, merely 1-3 cms) our driver finally managed to bottleneck himself into a position and slam into the side of another cab. Cheryl and I silently watched to see what would happen. Will they quietly get our, observe the accident, and exchange insurance information? No. The other driver leaned out and hollered, to which our driver hollered back. I don't speak Hindi, but I am good at listening to voice tones. I believe our driver's tone was around the lines of "Aww come on you big baby, if it's not your fault then it's only a scratch anyhow. Go home to your Momma!" To which the other driver seemed to think that was a good idea and then decided to avoid our particular cab for the remainder of the roller coaster ride.

Once out of the cab we then had the challenge of crossing eh street. One gentleman helped lead us across the street by no easy means. The process involved simply placing one's self in front of a vehi8cle and then praying to the Gods the driver will choose to stop. I followed none too tentatively, for to do so with reservation would mean imminent danger, as opposed to the negligible danger of simply getting 'nudged' by traffic. It appears the only way to cross a busy street in India is to do so with reckless abandon ala-Gonzo-Muppet-Movie style; just fling yourself in and hope your maker is looking in your defense at the time.

Editors note: The picture of the taxi cab is cut from a shot by Jay Ewert. The second picture is a great over-the-roof-of-the-taxi-cab-in-the-streets-of-Kolkata shot by Cheryl Bates.