Safety and the self

Hardly a day passes without me thinking how I can utilise my India-trip to help make the world a better place. I mean, having grown up in a country without class distinctions and poverty, the trip changed my perception of life in many ways. Studying abroad, in both England and Australia, made me realize that Norwegians have too much materialistic items in their homes. Don’t get me wrong, who am I to judge what people chooses to surround themselves with, but it amazes me that no one seems to think about what happens to the old TV e.g. when you chuck it out, and ultimately what happens to the environment. This lack of thinking I find astonishing. Though if you were one of the capitalists who just kept on buying without thinking of the consequences, it seems, you weren’t alone. Just take a look at the recent financial crisis.

Part of me wonders whether it is a major disadvantage having grown up in the West, feeling safe and without worries (well, the truth is we waste energy worrying about issues which are out of our control).

I thought living in the dodgier parts of London had toughened me up. Then I got to Qatar and travelled around Doha on my own, poorly prepared (I blame that on the recovery from a concussion), on my own, and just didn’t feel safe nor comfortable, so I decided to spend ten hours at Doha Aiport instead of exploring Doha.
Then, I got annoyed with myself. I see myself as tolerant and openminded, so why did I cope so badly with being in a muslim country where women were hardly visible whatsoever?
More so, when I was left alone at the end of my India-trip, in Mumbai, I craved going home. That was a first for me, I have never been the one to be dying to go home, quite the contrary. Lets say when your friend keeps asking whether your driver is ok, when a shop assistant tells you about rapes on Western women (why did he raise the topic I wonder?) and when you discover someone has tried to break into your room, then, you regret being on your own in a country which is so different from your own, and you just want to go back to feeling safe in the Western world which you are accustomed to.

Now, part of me is dying to return to India, but there is a part of me who doesn’t want to go on my own. She doesn’t think it is wise even, and knows she is right. Then there is the other part, who look at the Western women who travel independently outside the Western world, and she doesn’t know whether these women are strong or stupid. Though she remains impressed as she know she is not one of them, not now, anyhow. Who knows what the future brings? This part also wants to challenge Journazza to go on her own, but in the end some parts of a human being should perhaps never be challenged. But, it doesn’t leave her pondering whether having been brought up in such a safe environment has made her a coward, who is afraid of taking risks, and she also thinks this is transferable to other parts of the society.

My Indian experience

I’m striving to sum up a nearly three week holidays to India. Tons of impressions have left me searching for the right words. I can’t remember any holiday or any country having made such an impact on me before. I returned to Europe with an immense sense of gratitude including a long-lasting calmness. My friend who claimed India changes first time visitors forever was right. At least for me. Equally I can see why some say, either you love India, or you hate it. I totally loved it. I also think I was incredibly lucky to have travel companions with local connections, because most of all I was impressed by the people and the hospitality. We were so incredibly well taken care of! In fact, so well that often we didn’t get a say in matters. You learn to enjoy what’s thrown at you.

So, let me try and grab some of the impressions and visualise them to you! The first one was undoubtedly the arrival at Mumbai Airport. As I saw the sign ”Welcome to Mumbai”, I noticed an intense smell of sweat. That was to be the start of many scents to come… The smells and the sounds, make up a vital part of the Indian experience. And India really is an experience. However, someone told me you get used to the smells, all the dirtiness and pollution after a while, and I dare say that person probably was right.. What I can’t get out of my head is the lack of hygiene! It was incredible. Indian toilets are an essay in itself, but lets keep this brief. The “squatting” toilets consist of a hole in the ground, no toilet paper and either a shower item next to it, or a can of water. I have heard Asians claims this is more hygienic, but does it have to be smelly? And how can it be when there’s no soap?! Why is there no soap? Even where there were Western toilets, we were clinging to the toilet roll which was a constant companion together with the hand disinfectant. On the road you can add flies, and let me stop there and conclude that most of them were pretty disgusting, but when you don’t have a choice you taketh what you get.

Right, I’ll get back to the impressions. So there I was. At Mumbai airport with all my luggage and walking through the customs where I noticed an ATM, but in my naivety and invisible blondness, I thought there would be another one outside. Wrong. So I got outside, only to notice the driver wasn’t there. Instead there were lots of men hanging at the other side of the rack, trying to get customers for their cabs or presumably waiting for someone to arrive. I told myself to remain calm and called the driver. What I didn’t know was that he didn’t speak English.. Lets just say that it was a pretty interesting conversation which was the starting point of my pidgin English. Somehow I had a feeling that the driver told me he was 20min late. Though I seriously wondered how as he had only spoken some English words and they definitely didn’t contain the words above! So, it was also the start of a telepathic connection with the driver. Ask Anni if you don’t believe me. It sure was fun.

Whilst I was waiting for the driver, I discovered mosquitoes and started swearing when I realized the repellent was…somewhere out of reach. Then the driver came with a sign. I’m officially Liz Kolstad now.. Pretty soon we passed streets, with stalls, shelters and houses. I was happy we didn’t book ourselves a budget hotel in the suburbia of Mumbai. There is a particular image that has stuck to my mind: eight adults spread out on blankets, sleeping soundly on a pavement next to a busy road. Another is of the mother with her three children sleeping on a blanket in Mumbai, who we passed on our way home from the funky Not just Jazz by the bay (where no one sang during karaoke..). Thank heaven to the person who recommended the book ”The Fine Balance” to me. It somewhat prepared me for the poverty that was to come.

Trains
Whilst I was expecting heaps of people everywhere, I was somewhat let down. Well, I realized the best place to experience crowds, queues and chaos was at the train stations. Even better, you enter the most disgusting train station you’ve ever been to, and you realize your train is 1hr and 35min delayed. You wonder where you can go in the meantime and you already know the answer. Nowhere. So, you make the best of it, and hope time will pass quickly. In the meantime you watch the stray dogs, ignore the beggars with either one leg or one arm if not both, ignore the flies and hope you won’t catch malaria, you watch the sewage in-between the racks and you watch the boy picking up bottles and hope to God they’re not being filled with water again (although you for sure know that’s what’ll happen). You watch the monkeys jumping around the station ceiling just as if it was a tree, over the stray dogs which by now have started fighting and who are now on top of some boxes which may contain food. You watch the people crossing the tracks, walking into the train and out on the platform on the other. You watch the train and realize someone’s using the toilet, and at the same time people are throwing garbage at the tracks and feeding the monkeys. Then you watch the monkeys entering the train and you’re filled with disgust. You hope your train is coming soon and realize it’s now an additional 40min. So, you try to be mindful and ignore the chaos at the station. You are positively surprised by the public toilet, apart from one of the toilets which is cracked, so whilst you’re squatting you see a huge beadle. You hope it isn’t a mouse and get the heck out of there. Then you start praying for the train to arrive whilst you keep reminding yourself that this is only one day in your life and that it’ll be an experience instead of a daily event. When the train is another 40 min delayed, and your travel companion who is getting worried about catching her plane from Jaipur, says that the train you’re waiting for is usually 5-6 hrs delayed on a daily basis, you pray even harder. Since the effect of your Imodium pills are wearing off from three days before, you’re praying for the train to arrive so you won’t have to travel 4-5 hrs by car, because you just can’t take another Imodium unless you really, really, have to. And even then you can’t stand two days of not eating properly. When two of your fellow travel companions get slightly hysterical you try to find the station master as well, only to discover he is nowhere in sight. You watch the porters to check if there is a remote chance of your train making it on time this time, but in vain. After four hours, and some frustration, the solution is calling the driver from yesterday, and drive the 4-5 hours from Agra to Jaipur. You pray that your stomach will not go into complete turmoil, but the almighty is not listening. Then you pray for the driver to slow down and drive carefully..

Incredible India
So why do I love India? I totally love the food despite the spiciness and lack of hygiene. I love the fact that you cannot expect anything, and most of all I love the experiences.
The newspapers are totally fab, they’re just as dramatic as the Bollywood movies, and the matrimonial ads on Sundays a great read. There’s the fabulous rhythm of the Hindi pop or Bollywood music. Not to forget the honking from the cars all the time. And then there is the no-honking day. Though your driver is still honking! Some situations are so unreal that you just can’t help laughing.

There is so much to watch that your eyes are nearly leaving your body and you don’t know what it means to think anymore. You just don’t have time for it anymore. There is too much to watch; all the beautiful and colourful saris; the local salesmen who touch the food with their bare hands..; men in pink, red and yellow turbans in Rajasthan; the overloaded trucks and the colourful water tanks which look like they’re from the 50s; the beautiful Jain temple in Ranakpur; the holy cow standing in the middle of the street; the elephant running past you in Udaipur, or the camels passing you in Rajasthan. Anything goes, and whilst in India you’ll never cease to be amazed if you keep your mind open and do not have any expectations.

Beautiful carvings

There’s the majestic Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur with audio guides and humorous commentary. There’s the beautiful Taj Mahal, which was a bit of a disappointment, but which still is beautiful. There is Delhi that seems very Western because of its pavements, British style buildings, English signs, menus, and presumably wealth. There’s the smiling Sikh driver in Delhi. Amber Fort and the buzzing bazaar in Jaipur. The sounds of the mosque from the rooftop of your hotel in Jodhpur. There’s the stunning interior of the Rajasthani havelis with lots of mirror items. The sight of people sleeping inside cars, rickshaws, on top of the cars. The total lack of logic. The Mani Bhavan, Gandhi research centre in Mumbai, with an incredible energy. There’s the constant –what country- question and the blank stare when Annika and Phillip respond Germany…. And needless to say, when Iliyana says Bulgaria, and me Norway.

Then there’s the three-day wedding in Aurangabad with the Henna session, the World Heritage Caves in Ellora with amazing Jain, Hindu and Buddhist temple carvings, and the sangeet session where you dance just like in the Bollywood films. There’s the complete calmness at the bride’s house and the lack of a tight schedule is just great. You soon learn not to ask when the ceremonies commence.

There are of course lots more to be said about India, but I’ll leave that for another day.. Expect the unexpected and embracing the uncertainty of life are some of the major gifts India gave me.
Have a fab day.

Exhibition of the Year

The British Museum has done it again, though this is the most striking exhibition I have been to in a long time. It is no wonder the first available tickets for The First Emperor China’s Terracotta Army is in March, though again that is London for you. 500 tickets can be purchased on the day, however it is advisable to be early! I arrived at 940 and got in no earlier than 1210.

First of all the First Emperor exhibition took place in the round library which is at the centre of the museum. The walls are filled with moving images of the Terracotta soldiers and also visualises the beginning of the Chinese empire and the intelligence of the first emperor Qin in the most fabulous way.

Just like the major exhibitions at the Royal Academy of Arts, the visitor has to queue throughout the exhibition. I am not the most patient person, but I found that the displayed items made me in awe of history. Not only did I learn something about Chinese history and how the empire came about, and its strategies, crafts and arms, but also about their everyday life. Some of the items of display were from 200-300 BC, but looked as if they were no more than a couple of 100 years old.

What was perhaps the most striking was the Terracotta soldiers which are on loan from China – the magnificent details and expressions of the soldiers, horses, musicians and birds are nothing but amazingly beautiful! You know you’re onto something good when you forget about time and space.

So now I am waiting for the scientists to find a way to uncover the secret of the tomb as Chinese archeologists have decided not to open it, and is currently uncovering amazing treasures far from the centre of the tomb. It is said that the emperor created a miniature of China under the tomb. Picture that!

Gangs, shootings and South London

I was pleased when I read that Tony Blair and Home Secretary John Reid has discussed how the UK will handle the crimes performed by gangs. It’s about time that something is done to tackle the gang mentality in South London and other places.

Once upon a time I thought I would never get used to certain things. One of them being murders in my neighbourhood. That was before I moved to New Cross . I lived in a flat on New Cross Road, one of the noisiest streets in the UK, for a year when I did my MA at Goldsmiths in 2004-2005. It was here, that I was going to get a new perspective and new habits.

During that year, I got really sceptical, and started taking some (though not all!) security measures. I never brought anything with me when I went for a walk in the area during daytime (that includes a wallet and most keys). If I had my phone with me, I hid it. At night, I rarely took my visa card with me anywhere, and made sure I took the safest routes, mainly the 200m from public transport. I should probably mention that the area has a rough look, though after a while you get used to it and being asked whether you want to buy drugs. Police often patrol the area, especially on Saturdays when the queues and fights in front of the Venue, a club, takes place. The students quickly avoid walking past the Venue when it’s open. I heard stories about random crimes in the area from friends, and I also got used to hearing about gang shootings taking place outside the university’s accommodation and neighbourhood (Peckham, Lewisham e.g.).

One morning, the whole street was blocked off (A3), blocking the main road from the South East England to London. A youth tried to escape from another gang and crashed into a car in front of my street. He survived, but my point is, and what amazed me, is how quickly you get used to hearing about crimes. Including reading posters asking for information regarding crimes.

I could write much longer about all the incidents and what I know about the gang mentality in the South Eastern parts of London, though it’s time someone takes it seriously and deals with the problem before it’s too late. Having said that, I was impressed with the Metropolitan Police, but can the police do it all alone? I doubt it.

For me, it was a joy to return to Norway, in terms of security. Being able to wander around late at night (and during the day) without having to constantly be alert is such a great liberty – and one that most Norwegians take for granted. Hopefully more people will be able to take it for granted in the future. And these proposed measures by Mr Reid is a step in the right direction. It might be the case that altering the legislation won’t be the solution, however focusing on the issue is a start to finding the right solution.

Fischli and Weiss

During my recent visit in London, a friend took us to a terrific new media exhibition at Tate Modern: Fischli & Weiss, Flowers and Reflections. I must admit whilst entering the first room, I got a tad sceptical as I didn’t see anything but black coal shaped in various shapes (how original). However, the photographs and the
figures were great. I can’t remember laughing as much in an exhibition before. At the same time Fischli and Weiss makes you think about ordinary situations, e.g. what image appears in your mind when you hear the word landscape or journey? I never really thought about it, but Fischli and Weiss started interesting reflections.

The questions they pose were particularly interesting: examples Bizarre ideas pops into our minds at the weirdest times, and Fischli and Weiss did a good job at gathering some of the most ‘common’ questions which take place in our everyday life. Amusing and entertaining and thoughtprovoking at the same time!