PreGrad ASIA-M.E.-AFRICA

Rishikesh is in Uttranchal province five hours North from Delhi and sits on the Ganges River and 300km South of the grand Himalayas. Just ask any Israeli, hippie, or any yoga guru, and they should be able to tell you something about this place. For me, it was a relaxing retreat from the confines of Delhi.

Adam and I took the 7 am train from Delhi and arrived in Haridwar at 11:30. The train was surpirsingly quick and clean, but I intentionally slept through the meal! From Haridwar, we took an auto rickshaw 18km to Rishikesh. The journey cost 200 rupes, around 4 dollars. After dropping us off, we set off on foot looking for the hotel that we booked. Tapovan Resort, hmmm. I’m thinking four star with swimming pool. Not in this town. It was the best place around, but Indian standards are a bit lower. Although you get what you pay for (1600 rupes = 32 dollars). I guess looking back, we were looking for something more because we paid a shit load for the hotel through the travel agent. This might be a clean business back at home, but here in India it’s take or be taken.

So this place is like something out of “some” of our parent’s travel diaries from the early 70’s. Hippie looking westerners in the lotus positions smoking dubies and repeating mantras. Every building is an ashram and every push-stand is selling sandlewood holy beads. However, the air was crisp and the scenary beautifull. And one more thing… the second language in this town is not English, but Hebrew. The Israelis are all post army and looking for cheap eats and groovy experiances. Spending any more than $3 a night seemed absurd to them. I guess that’s the kind of budget you need to be on to survive for six months without working!

The two days were spent doing yoga, reading by the Ganges, and speaking with the locals. I actually aranged something pretty cool for the morning. A taxi picked us ( and an Israeli couple) up at 5:30 am and drove us to a temple on the highest peak in the valley to watch the sun rise behind the white tips of the Himalayas (300km away). Two hours later, I got Adam to take a yoga class with me taught by an Indian living in the local ashram. Adam quite somewhere between sun and warrior position (but wanted to go again).

Last but not least, for all the jewish mothers out there. Adam and I attended Friday night services at the Jewish Chabad house (a sect of the faith that encourages people to come back into the faith). I could not believe that such a place existed. Orthodox Jews in a Hindu holy city? Black hats next to Saree wearing devotees? Nevertheless, the home was filled to the brim with Israelis looking for a little taste of home. It was my first experiance making the blessing over a chipati instead of challah.

I’m sorry for the lapse in time since my last entry. Adam and I have found it difficult to find down time to write. In any case, we arrived in India a week ago and have since traveled a good deal.

Our first day and a half were spent at Ret. Lt. Cl. Surie’s residence in Defense Colony in South Delhi. They were gracious enough to take us in and give us a room to stay in and use as a base when traveling to and from Delhi. The only minor downside (quite minor) is that he still is in army mode, asking us routinely where we are going, what time we are coming in, and with whom we have spoken with. His wife, Promila, is a total sweathart. We are provided with Chai every morning.

Delhi is the kind of city that you really cannot imagine until you come yourself. It is beyond crowded in many areas, and there seems to be no concievable vehicle traffic structure (yet, I have seen not one accident!) The sky is polluted no doubt, and enclaves of green are behind walls. There are cows and dogs in the street and littering is prolific. This of course is the capital city, and thus, one must see through the chaos and eventually find the good qualities of this several thousand year old settlement (the site on which Delhi stands has had at least one dozen fallen cities beneath its streets).

Old Delhi, for example, is just that: majestic and stunning. This section of town is in the NE Delhi itself. What draws tourists is the large Red Fort that protrudes from the landscape. I cannot seem to remember all the names of Moguls, Sultans, Kings, and other rulling figures, but this fort is massive and has wonderful Islamic-type architecture. When driving down the highway, there are countless other centuries old reminders of past glory days. At the end of the trip, we will also make our way to the lotus shaped Bahai temple that has become another symbol of Delhi architecture.

Anyway, by the time we took our rickshaw rides, got scamed by friendly tour guides, and coughed up a lung from the thick diesel fumes, we were ready for the peace and quite. What better place than the hippie heaven city of Rishikesh, home to the Yogis.

Where is Muscat you ask?

For all you world travelers out there, you should know that Muscat is the capital city of the Sultunate of Oman. This country borders Saudi, UAE and Yemen. Its quite a bit larger than Michigan, but only has three million people. Adam and I were soon to find out the mystery behind this quite country.

My friend, Sultan Altooqi Hamood, picked us up from the airport and loaded our belongings into his land cruiser. The flight only lasted 50 minutes and the views were unremarkable besides the crisscrossing ashphalt roads extending from one horizon to the other. A relief came about us when we saw no building taller than five stories looking down from the plane. Oman was going to be a relief from the high energy of Dubai.

Hamood and I met three years ago when I was studing French in Paris. I never thought that I would get a chance to meet up with him again. All until I realized (like many of you right now who are looking at your atlas) that Muscat and Dubai were just a quick flight away from each other.

Our first encounter with an Omani was at the mall for lunch. Mckie D’s, Dominos, Baskin Robins, Chinease carry out, Indian Express…. etc. I could have been in an average mall back in the states. The crown was mixed between traditionally dressed people and men with their white gowns and embriodered caps. Additionally, everyone spoke English to one another. I was confused. Oman seemed to be the most Americanized place outside America besides Israel? How ironic that the two countries have limited ties? We got to the Dream Resort Hotel and washed up before setting off to the riding stables.

Hamood is one of the top horse jumpers in the world. He is the director of the Sultans horse and camel stables and trains a team of riders for compitition. Before heading off to dinner that night, we accompanied him to one of his lessons. It was there that we met Ziana and Amanda, his two riders. The evenings affair was fish for dinner, with a tour of the downtown area, and Ziana came for both. She is a modern Omani Muslim girl who shed light on many of our questions regarding the policies of the country and religion. We were very interested in the multiple wife option! ; But not so into the marrying cousin option which is prevelent to making the family core stronger *This is often arranged. Adam and I spoke openly to Ziana and Hamood about being Jewish, though, it was recommended that the conversation only be kept to the two of them. This was uncomfortable for the four days we spent in the gulf.

The next day was relaxing. Hamood took the two of us on a mountain overpass to see two secluded beaches. We picked up some fruit and sandwiches from a grocery store that many of us would frequent in the Western world. The only difference again was the variety of people shopping. For example, I saw and American family wearing baggy jeans and “big dog” tee-shirts next to a Saudi wearing all white with a red Kafiya, next to an Indian Sihk with a large blue turban. America take note: this is multiculturism! By the way, there are over 90 varieties of dates in Oman, 6 of which are Hamood’s favorites.

*more info on Oman.

The Sultan makes the rules. His cabinat is made up of 22 ministers, 7 are woman (unheard of in the Middle East) As a result of his benevolence, the country has prospered over the last 30 years. For four months out of the year, he travels throughout the country living in a tent listening to the local people’s wishes. Over half the population lives in the capital, the rest being scattered throughout the desert lands. Oman is becoming the vacation destination for Dubai-ens who are sick of the “Manhatten” lifestyle. Oman is the perfect vacation spot for people interested in the Middle East, but who are scared of terrorism (*note: the recent bombing in Amman, Jordan)

Hamood’s family invited us for dinner that evening and we continued to speak from 6pm until 1 am (Without any libations!!). The hospitality was amazing. But how could Adam and I end the night without some music and belly dancing. Hamood was tired, but he recommended that we check out the three discoteques at the hotel. One was Omani men watching Moroccan Singers/bellydancers. The second was filled with Indians watching a traveling troupe from Mumbai stut their stuff to Bollywood hits. The last was a group from Zanzibar playing to a crowd of exOmni Africans and others. Adam and I could not get enough. To show our appreciation, we bought neclaces that act as tips. I had to get up early to watch the fisherman bringing in their morning catch, so we booked it early. The lights went out at 3.

If you need a connection to Oman, you now know where to turn. Check it out.

Quite honestly, I have never in my life seen a city like this. Even Las Vegas looks tame compared to the scale of development talking place in Dubai. It seems like skyscrapers are going up just about everywhere. Between the Palms project, the World, the tallest building in the world, the only 7 star hotel, crazy shopping, sunrise nights, and fast cars, this city has become a dreamers dream. But I must say, one night and two days was plenty.

We started our afternoon off by hiring a taxi to take us on a quick tour of the city. Mohammed was from Lahore, Pakistan and he was super nice. He drove us through some astonishing developments of twenty story buildings where just a year earlier only sand dunes reached any height at all. We were dropped off at the Jumeriah Beach Hotel for lunch. Although the meal was expensive, it gave us the opportunity to sneak into the private beach area to relax and swim beside the Burj al Arab (what some consider to be the top hotel in the world, i.e. $2-10,000 per night!) Next stop were the malls.

Now, Dubai is known really for two things, liesure activities and shopping. People say that you must visit the malls to really understand the culture. There are at least several malls around town. Each larger than the other. And I mean Large! They have everything that one would or could want. The Emirates Mall even had a rollercoaster running through it. Whats really bizarre is the intermingling between several dozen cultures at once. You have men from Saudi in their red kafiyas, Omanis in their brimless caps, Malaysians in silk headress, Sudanese with long dark faces, Americans with baggy pants, woman in long black burkas, Asian business people, and European expats. And yet, no one stared at us. It was just another night at the mall in a truly international city.

That evening, Adam and I traveled through ‘”Indian City””. This was an area near our hotel where the majority of Indian expats lived. Adam was looking to purchase gold. Everything in Dubai is highly regulated, including the sale of gold. There is rarely any need to bargain. The gold standard is 22kt. All they do is weigh the piece and multiply it by the daily gold value. Unfortunately, nothing caught his eye. But the reflection of gold bangels through the shop windows for blocks on end was mezmorizing.

That evening, we tried making it into a hot Lebanese Bar in the Dubai Marine. The lady who recommended it to us commented on this place being plastic surgury heaven in reference to the numerous beautiful Lebanese woman who had a little help with their features. Not all was lost! we ran into two kids who where from Abu Dhabi. As it turned out, they spoke Swahili but were completely Americanized. You would not believe the Westernization of people out here. I swear you would think you were in California if it were not for the arabic writing.

Welcome all to my cool new travel blog,

And thank you everyone who sent birthday wishes my way. It was great to know that I am a quarter of a century old (i.e. Jordan!).

Adam and I are at some seedy hotel in Bur Dubai writing emails and catching up on old news. This is my third day on the road. He and I arrived in Dubai at 4:50 am this morning and we were lucky enough to get our room early. Granted, it is the true definition of a “boutique hotel” meaning it only has three rooms. So, its not like the normal rules apply anyway. It’s called XVA gallery. In essence it is an art gallery in a refurbished 18th century Arab styled stucco house that also has a few rooms on the upper floor. Compared to the glass and steal skyscrapers up and down the highway, it’s a real peace of mind.

I’m sorry I have been out of touch to all who missed me the last few days. I was literally taking my life apart in Bloomfield so that the transition to New York come January would be easier. Yes, I am moving for everyone who does not know of my plans. Back to school. Masters of Real Estate to be exact. *please no comments about pursuing a carreer in the environment!

I arrived in Istanbul in the afternoon last Wednesday. It was a good and bad trip over the Atlantic. On one hand, I was suddenly upgraded to first class upon boarding due to an overbooking, and on the other, my baggage never made it on. I was in Istanbul for two days before everything arrived. Albeit the frustration, I took Adam and my mother to some of my favorite places in the city. Yesterday, we got worked on at the Chamerlitas Hamam for a good hour. Adam still has bruises from the hairy 200 pound Turk walking on his back while he lay stomach down on the marble floor.

For everyone who is thinking this to themselves, here is the answer: Yes there is a great Mavi store in Taksim off the Istiklal Caddesi (street). Mark, I did not buy jeans!

Before leaving the city, I helped set my mother up on a trip to Cappadocia in central Turkey. She boarded the bus with none other than a kid from Farmington Hills, MI which is a few miles from my home in Detroit. Small world.

As many of you know, I ‘m heading back to school this Winter. Yes it’s true. NYU’s Master’s in Real Estate is calling me. However, I am not about to jump right in without a little adventure. So, I’m heading out of the country for two months. I’ll be starting off in Istanbul for a quick kabob with my brother Adam and My mom (who’ll be make a quick run in before starting her own travels). From there to Dubai and Muscat, Oman. Don’t ask, just read. I’ll keep you all posted on my adventures. Move in date for New York is Jan 15th 2006