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Author Topic: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)  (Read 62179 times)

Kagus

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #30 on: February 06, 2008, 11:46:00 am »

Sorry for the lack of updates, but it honestly hasn't been much of a loss.  Over the past few days, I've basically just been coughing and playing DF.

Today, however, we did stuff.  First off, we went down to the Satyam Hotel for some "meals" (dal, curry, chutney, deep-fried chilli pepper, apple dessert-thing, curd, dry somethingsomething mix, bucket of sambar, and as much rice as you can eat for one dollar), and a little later on we were picked up by Pradeep again to go and visit the Hussain Sagar lake park.  

This place is essentially a mini theme-park situated on the bank of a massive man-made lake, in the middle of which sits the second-largest Buddha statue in the world.  We snagged a boat ride which takes you out to the little island so you can look at the engravings around the base of the statue, get a good look at the features, and read the info plaque which states that the entire statue was carved from a single hunk of granite, and had to be transported on a wagon that had 750+ wheels.  I forget how many tons the statue was supposed to weigh...  It said what it was on the sign.

Also, while we were out there, Pradeep told us that the first time they were trying to put the statue out there, they had a problem building the island and it sank underneath the Buddha statue, dropping it to the bottom.  Hell of a cleanup job they had...

Before we set off on the boat trip, a woman came up to my mom and asked her to hold her kid for a photo with them.  People here really find Westerners interesting...

Once we got back, there was a little stand setup where you could get henna hand-drawings.  If you've ever seen these things, you'll know that they seem so ridiculously intricate that they'd take hours to put on.

The woman doing it was insanely fast, however.  She had the back of the hand done in just a few minutes, and it was very entertaining to watch her fingers fly along, laying out complex designs with a little squeeze-tube of henna paste.

We also picked up our first street food.  Starting simple, my dad picked up one of the lighter and easier snacks around here (far fewer guys selling this than there were selling popcorn, however):  Peanuts, puffed rice, peas, onions and fresh-squeezed lime, all with a healthy dose of chilli powder over it.  Stuff was good.

Farther down the road, we picked up some more (this is a little out of synch, I'm writing stuff as I remember it.  We picked up the peanut mix on the way into the park, and this new stuff on the way out) street food from a "chaat" stand ("snack").  What we got was first a leaf-bowl filled with some sort of spicy potato stew/paste/something, topped with onions and cilantro (I have no clue what else he put in there, and I only know it had potatos because Pradeep said so).  Again, very tasty.

Next (on the other side of the cart), we got some little...  I'm not sure what they were made out of, but they were something shaped into little bulbs, fried, and then had a hole cut in the top.  This is then filled with a soup of sorts, and is meant to be eaten all at once.   Naturally, this causes a person to toss it into the mouth, invariably sending some drops of liquid down the ol' windpipe and triggering a bout of hacking.  Although I didn't have one (too full from lunch, which I'll talk about in my next out-of-synch section), I have been assured that it tastes wonderful.

Now, about lunch (I've been reading too muhc about the void thread.  I'm suffering a time paradox).  Apparently, the company likes to greet new members by going out and having a party so they can bond (?).  The original plan was to go out to a rides park and mess around there, but a couple high-standing members of the company weren't in the country, so they decided to wait until then.  Instead, the whole company (except Satya, who stayed back at his reception desk to hold down the fort until we got back and he could go eat) went out to a little restaurant down the way (literally, down the way.  A block or two down the street) to get stuffed with repeated fillings of rice, curry, curd, spicy-sauce-type-thing-with-eggs-in-it and salty-chunky-almost-plumlike sauce.  Not to mention the special (this day only) of getting sweets before eating the main course.  I have no idea what it was, but it looked and tasted almost like it was crystallized cane sugar in syrup.  Not that bad, actually, but it messed up the rice that wandered over the syrup.

And then, for dessert (again?), pre-packaged ice cream cones.  I would like to add that pre-packaged ice cream cones, regardless of how many tasty chocolate chunks there are in it, do not sit well on top of biryani, curry, curd and plum(ish)paste.

After leaving the first park (here we go again...  I really should sort this stuff), we headed over to the second one, which was a little ways away.  This place was called "India Gardens", and looked almost like an Indian disneyland.

Now, in the past who knows how many years, India has had at least two terrorist bombings.  They're very worried about this, and have seriously amped up security measures.  This means metal detection and patting-down of everyone entering public places.  For instance, a park.

Now, since it is obviously quite rude for a lady to be patted down (especially by a man), there is a seperate line for people of the female persuasion, where they can be patted down by female guards behind a screen.  When we (Pradeep, my dad and me.  My mom got sent off to the ladies line) got up to the guard, he mumbled something (why.  why does everyone have to mumble here?) and pointed me down the wall towards the other gates.  I started off, thinking it must be something about teenagers (always the troublemakers) to require an extra line.

This, of course, was not the case.  The guard had mistaken me for a woman.


This, when it was found out, caused an uproar of laughter from the men behind us in line.  When I went back to the gate (yes, I had started off towards the fictional teenager gate.  At least I realized the misunderstanding the same time they did, and turned around just as it was being explained to the guard), the guard apologized profusely and ushered me through the gate, looking rather embarrassed.  That didn't stop the rest of the line from laughing, though.

So, we went around in the great India Gardens, observing the artistic waterfall, the bonsai tree garden (rather amazing, really), the cricket batting range (not sure what it's called.  It's got one of those ballthrowing machines like we have in the baseball batting ranges, except you use a cricket bat), and the rides which had wither turned off for the night, or had been off for quite some time.

We also ran into some woman who greeted us by saying "welcome to India sir!" (addressing my father, of course), and then going on with "Where are you from, my name is ???????, what is your good name, how do you like India, here is a gift from India (roots around in her plastic bag for a while, then comes up with a plastic Ganesh statue/wallhanging/thingy), could I have your autograph, yes just your signature don't need it personalized, and your phone number, and your email address, I'll write to you sometime, goodbye sir, have a good time.

Yeeeaaah....  So, with us being slightly less than trusting sorts (at least not for this plastic junk doodad), he altered his signature, gave her an auxiliary email address which he can completely cut off at any time, and neglected to put down a phone number.  A fair trade.

Coming back from that park, we headed back over to the area around the first one, which just happened to have a laser show going on next door (outside the park.  Next to the parking lot we had to walk from to get into the park, actually).

And, this being another public place with large groups of people,  it had another security system set up.  And, this being another Indian security officer unaccustomed to westerner men with long hair, I was once again directed towards the ladies line.  At least he figured out the mistake before I got around to tellking him to try again.

And then the guy working the ticket stand said "nice hair" with a smirk (I'm sure he was smirking) as I passed through.  Or tried to, at least, because the push-bars chose that exact time to lock up and keep me from passing through until a few tries later.  At least I haven't made a fool of myself today or anything.

The laser show (even though we'd arrived a few minutes after it started) was quite entertaining.  Got to see a little movie about the founding and naming of Hyderabad, and then some dude was singing a ridiculous song about how he loved Hyderabad, wherein most of the lyrics were either food items or related to the movie industry (Bollywood apparently isn't that far from here).

Also, it's not every day you see a big rat carrying a slightly-chewed corn cob down the sidewalk.  This place never fails to be interesting.

That's most of the entertaining stuff I remember, I might think of something else later, but I'll save that until after the pictures have been offloaded to this machine so I can post a few.

Mulch Diggums

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #31 on: February 07, 2008, 01:52:00 am »

quote:
Originally posted by Kagus:
<STRONG>
This, of course, was not the case.  The guard had mistaken me for a woman.
This, when it was found out, caused an uproar of laughter from the men behind us in line.  
</STRONG>

Ahahahahahahah hahahahahahhahaha.. oh god its funny
Logged
ooooo! Swamp wiskey! Yeah!!

Kagus

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #32 on: February 08, 2008, 11:11:00 am »

Anoth- hang on...   *smack* HAH!  Die, you little fiend!  Damn mosquitoes...


Anyways, another interesting day today.  Breakfast was sambar idly (idly in sambar, so rice cakes in soup), however, for lunch my dad picked up some bagged curries (there are stands with that sort of thing all over the place), and we cooked up some rice and ate them here.  With our limited knowledge of sauce names, and the vendor's limited knowledge of English, we didn't exactly end up with the best assortment, but they were tasty enough and we could use whatever bad manners we wanted to while eating them.

Sometime in the evening my mom, who is convinced all this Indian food is going to enlarge her somehow unless she walks every day (even though it's been showing the opposite effect on my dad, who sits in an office all day), suggested we all go for a walk.  This would then carry on down towards the tailor, where she has been requesting custom-made Indian dresses (ridiculously cheap).

On the way, we stop by the park to see if Didya is home from school and playing there.  By "we", I mean my dad wandered in to see, one of them saw us, and then the floodgates were loosed as a crowd of girls ran over and started huddling around and grabbing onto various arms to pull us around to places.  This group just happened to include Didya and her sister, Didde (Ditty?  I'm not sure.  And it doesn't help to ask how to spell it, because understanding the accent of one kid is hard enough, but when you've got ten of them chipping in at different times, it's completely impossible).

One thing led to another, and we were eventually given a short Telugu lesson, and then a tour of the park leading from one sitting area to another sitting area (where all the old men gather and talk about stuff, apparently.) which was on a section of grass the kids are apparently not allowed on, to the playground proper.  Here, we were shown all the rides and how to use them (several demonstrations were provided, and of course we had to look at all of them at the same time), and I got asked whether I had any siblings, whether I had any uncles, and then Didya proceeded to give translations for my different relative types (most of which I have forgotten by now).

My mom got pulled off to talk with one of the schoolteachers, who happened to be at the park, while we were shown all the daredevil stunts Didde could pull off on the various rides.

Later, what was once simple disorder disintegrated into utter chaos.  More kids started to come to the park, and the cluster eventually moved from my mom, who had apparently lost her interest value from talking so long with the teacher, to my dad, who seems to fit in well with kids, to me.  The boy (that issue had to be clarified a couple times.  This is getting slightly worrying) with long hair.

So, now I've got a group of kids all telling me all these different things, and I'm picking up on maybe one or two of them.  I've got Didde asking me to carry her (repeatedly.  Apparently, the once wasn't enough), I've got Didya asking me to show her my hands and begins to examine the lines, which promptly attracts every other girl on the playground, as the all inspect my hands carefully and discuss the potential meanings.  Luckily, I apparently have good hands.  It was agreed upon by a majority.

I've got Didya showing me a school handshake, I've got Didde asking (telling) me to go on the slide with her, I've got all the kids asking me about what grade I'm in, what college am I going to, do they have wine in Norway (the school I'm going to is in Norway.  But still, huh?), do I like the food here, do I know about Washington and California, and an assortment of other questions.

And then they all tried to get my name right.  Not my last name, mind you, which is a struggle for just about anyone of non-Scandinavian upbringing, but my first name.  Four letters, one syllable.  Specifically picked so that people of just about any foreign country we go to will be able to say my name, as my parents were saddled with other Scandi-based names which cause quite a bit of tongue trouble for most people.

So, they decide to give me a new name.  This sparks a very intent discussion, as it is important I get a fitting name.  The girls don't agree with the boys, and the boys don't agree with the girls, and it goes back and forth until finally one pops out that I think I might someday be able to pronounce.  "Sriram".   (SHRI-rahm)

So, okay, they agree on that.  Now they all have to introduce themselves to me again to make sure I've got it, and I think they're becoming more and more convinced that it is, in fact, a pretty good choice.

Plenty of stuff later, after I point out where we're staying (takes me a couple tries...  At least they know where I live), after the cell phones come out and plenty of questions are asked about those ("is that AirTel?", followed by several different kids asking me if I had one, which is yeas and no.  I've got one, but I left it at the apartment), after the kids try and teach me a few of their school games (I was completely hopeless), a conversation about how tall I was (with some antics from those of the male persuasion, as they leaned back and shaded their eyes to look up at my head, whistling at the high altitude), and some other things which escape me at the moment, Didde came back from whatever was going on, and disagreed wholeheartedly with my new name.  

She said that her pet-name was Pandu, so I could be called Pandu.  Same goes for both of my parents.

And then, later on, once her big sis found out about that, she contested that naming, and promptly took the name my dad had been given by some of the others (Krishna), and supplied me with that one.  She then gave my dad the name "Rama", instead.    

So, I am now Sriram Pandu Krishna, and I have no idea how to introduce myself anymore.  


Another one of the things that took up some time was saying goodbye.  I was supplied with a staggering variety of ways to say goodbye and hello, which everyone then had to test out on me.  Several times.

The kids were getting quite a kick from shaking my hand, saying goodbye, saying hello, saying good night, getting their hand edged out of the way by someone else grabbing my hand, and then grabbing for my proferred limb once more to start the process over again.

I'm having trouble even beginning to describe all the things that went on, and a lot has been left out, but apparently that's not that much of an issue.

Apparently, we have agreed to go down to the park every day, some time after 5:30.  I'm going to have to get used to the accents of an entire mob of kids rather quickly, as it will inevitably grow in size once my assured presence at the park becomes known.

But not tomorrow, because tomorrow Pradeep is picking us up (at 7:00.  Uggh...) and is going to drive us down to Ramoji Film City (not Bollywood, I was confused by my limited knowledge of how many world's largest film studios there are in India).  

Looks like things just a bit more interesting.

Markham

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #33 on: February 08, 2008, 10:46:00 pm »

I spend a while in Bangalore and New Delhi.  We had a gecko in one of our apartments.  He ate the cockroaches.  We called him Iguanadon.

Kagus

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #34 on: February 09, 2008, 11:41:00 am »

Neat!  We've got a couple pictures of this dude, thanks to my dad being up at some horrible hour of the night, but that's just about all we see of him.  He hasn't come out of his hiding place behind the kitchen door paneling during our times of activity.

I'm going to have to beg a little more time on the pictures, as the offloading of the camera apparently hasn't been a high priority.


Onwards towards today's update, and what an update it is!

So I'm in bed, blissfully trying to stay asleep long enough for it to matter, when I'm called out of my bed at 6:30 to get ready for a trip to Ramoji Film City.  After remembering to put on pants and actually zip up the fly, a couple attempts at finding my socks, and several brain-stopping ventures into thinking about what else I'd need for the trip, I was ready and Pradeep arrived to pick us up.

Now, driving in India already requires a good sense of humor and a sturdy gut (and head, if you're sitting in the back seat as I was), but tack onto that the fact that you're up about four hours earlier than you'd rather be (I normally sleep 10-12 hours.  Sucks to be homeschooled, eh?), adn you're in for a none-too-pleasant case of nausea.

The drive was long, mildly unpleasant, rather bumpy, and relatively uneventful except for the odd goat flock we'd come across as we started to enter the more rural areas (I like goats for some reason.  [PREFSTRING:beards]?).

Finally, we come to the gates of Ramoji Film City, which would be more impressive if it weren't for the work crew that was currently repainting one of the "Ramoji" signs next to the gate.  Entering, we found a rather deserted place, with a parking attendent informing us that we had arrived an hour before opening times.

My still slightly groggy head immediately though "one more hour of sleep", but things turned out quite nicely.

We headed  back out and up the road for a little ways, before stopping at this...  "Quaint" would probably be a good word for it...  Little cafe on the side of the road, where we could sit down and have some breakfast.

Now, both "quaint" and "cafe" are slightly inadequate to describe this place.  It's a tiny little shack that would be just a hole in the wall, except there aren't many walls out here and they're all occupied.

And, we'd arrived before their open time.  Not an hour, but a few minutes.

Once the shop was officially open, we (Pradeep) ordered some idly for us all.  Normally, I would have disagreed, as idly isn't that great compared to the other breakfast foods, but my mind soon changed when the rice/lentil patties arrived and I started to dig in.

Idly is supposedly very good for digestion and is easy on the stomach, and it certainly seemed that way.  The nausea I had from the trip over went away shortly after eating, and I was starting to feel slightly human again.  Eighty cents well spent (for all four of us).

And, after the sitting around chatting while the place was opening, and after we were done eating, we had spent just enough time for the grand Ramoji Film City to be open, so we pulled into a space and sidled over to the tickets area, where we got slapped with some green stickers that showed which tour package we had bought.

We were inside the gates (after only a slight hiccup when I forgot to take my ticket back from the guy manning the push bars.  That's the second time I've done that.  At least he didn't think I was a woman), but not quite in yet.  Before us lay a bus stop, with one tiny little stand set up where you could buy binoculars and cowboy hats (everybody loves cowboys, even Indians).

After an only mildly disturbing ride (first time on a bus in India.  The drivers get power mad from driving a vehicle that big), we were inside the big deal itself.  World's largest film studio, according to the Guinness book of world records.

Now it was time to find something to do.  Opening up our handy little guide booklets, we learned absolutely nothing of value and recieved no indicator as to what we should do.

Armed with this knowledge, we followed Pradeep to a massive medieval-style gate and waited for the opening ceremony that would come at 9:00/:30.

After sitting around for a while and watching the stilt-walkers parade around in their baggy pants, incapable of stopping their ceaseless march for fear of toppling over (easier to balance while moving, because you are allowed one direction you can lean towards), the mighty drawbridges dropped down to reveal a group of dancers moving in the traditional dance (and traditional garb, which includes large paper horns and kilts for the guys), as they led the gathered crowd up towards the center of this little town/castle/temple/hell, I don't know what it was, it looked cool.  

Not traditional Indian dancing, mind you.  These were Nepalese dancers, and I'm pretty sure that was a Nepalese dance.  They're into horns up there.
While the crowd is sitting in this central area, there are announcements regarding the general directions of important areas inside the gates, which was coordinated with pointing from the dancers.

After having a king and queen-type pop out of a walkway for a bit (they went largely unnoticed), there was a group of hip-hop (or pop, not sure.  Hip-hop-pop?) dancers came out, and did their thing to two different dance tunes.  It's really rather unexpected how popular rap is here in India, but it's apparently quite the thing.  Even Pradeep's got a CD of rap that he was playing on the trip over to the Film City.

The hippity-hoppers in turn pointed to our right, in which direction lay western-town.  A modified version of the theme to "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" started up, and there stepped out from between the dusty buildings a crowd of Indian cowboys and cowgirls, all twirling revolvers incessantly.

The whole effect instantly brought to my mind the words "Curry Western".  Cowboys and Indians really don't mix that well after all...

They seem to like it though, so it's alright.

We wandered around the area for a bit, looking at cheap souvenir stores (with obscure anime backpacks in them, for some reason...) and taking pictures of the architecture and the various photo cutouts provided (Brahma, the multiheaded god and Mona Lisa, the famous painting) and also the big statue of a squat, fat, frowning somebody-or-other who's holding his massive braid of hair in one hand and his extended left buttock in the other.  Yes, you'll get to see this ugly little bugger, no way I'm talking up something like that without some snaps to back it up.

We also saw some monkeys climbing around on the walls, the first ones we've seen since entering India (monkeys, not walls), but I don't think we got any pictures of them.

After leaving this charming little area in search of high adventure, we headed off to the tour bus stands to grab a seat on one of the red vehicular modes of transport.  Since the group in our little bus spanned three languages, our tour guide had the unenviable task of explaining each and every monument each time, as our bus driver (again, of the psychotic variety) barreled around turns, honking madly at...  Well, I'm not sure.  He might have seen a monkey or something in one of the trees.

We were led around the various film plots, observing the remarkably shabby quality of most of the buildings which were in contrast to the exceptionally maintained gardens next to them, with our guide reciting information in Telugu, Hindi, and I'm assuming English, although I never heard any.

Eventually, we got stopped by a film crew who told us to go around on a detour. The bus driver took quite a bit of convincing before he finally turned his saddened eyes away from the straight stretch of road which was such perfect speeding territory, and manuevering the bus up into some other little buildings including a mini Taj Mahal (we had passed by it earlier, but on the street below.  Now we got a close look at it).  We were again stopped in this little detour by said film crew, because this little curving road only re-entered the main road after a few dozen feet, so we were still far from bypassing the filming which so desperately needed to get some shots of the one road the tour buses use.  With the world's largest film studio, you'd think they could find another passable street to film on...  But, one should never question creative genius.  Especially if it's two guys wearing straw cowboy hats (Hyderabad's most famous directing team.  They're twins, so they naturally had to dress alike).

We finally got permission from the two highly respected film makers to drive through their set, and we carried on our merry way, our driver eager to make up for lost time.  But not before getting a picture of one of them, sitting and looking very gruff in his hat.

We passed by plenty of more unremarkable landmarks and went through one ridiculous little cave which was supposed to be something more than the fifty feet of plastic with displays of more plastic artifacts, but wasn't really.  The only entertainment we got from that was seeing someone up ahead of us get scared witless by some guy who'd been hiding behind a pillar in his hooded jacket.  While we were walking by, we could see him settling into his jacket once again, waiting for his next victim to pass by...

Not much happened on the tour ride.  After being let off on the last stop for that bus, we ran into a family that was taking pictures off of a rather nice area that provided a view of several of the gardens and decorative architecture below, along with a clear shot at the Hollywood sign that was up on one of the hills (Ain't kidding.  They really had a Hollywood sign up there for some reason), and we offered to take a pitcure of them.  This took a little help from Pradeep, as the woman taking the photo didn't speak much English.

So, after we take a nice pisture of the whole family, they ask for another one.  With us in it this time.  We oblige, and take up position next to them while they hand off the camera to someone else to take the picture.

We're about to leave, but then someone else wants to have their picture with us.  Again, we smile for the camera alongside our new fans for a picture that may or may not end up posted on someone's MySpace profile.

We make our way around for a bit, eventually coming to a big fountain that once agian proudly displays "Ramoji" on the side, in golden letters.  Going up the plaza area above it, we encounter some guys who are sitting on another fountain and having their picture taken.  Yes, they ask us to have a picture with them.  Yes, we go over and sit down next to them.

We smile, the picture's taken, and we're just shaking hands with everyone when somone else asks for a picture.  Okay, we say, and sit down again.  A larger group of men appears from nowhere and sits down.  A couple guys from the first group, not wanting to be left out, sit down as well.

Once again, our photo is taken with a group of people who must think all westerners are celebrities.  Once again, we have to shake each and every one of their hands and pretend we have the faintest idea of how to pronounce their names.  And then, whoah, déjà vu, someone asks to have their picture taken with us.

At this rate we'll end up sitting at this damned fountain all day.

Before I could think more on the subject, a massive horde of Indians appears out of thin air (seriously, I have no idea where they all came from) and sits down on the fountain until it's packed full and they have to stand at the sides.

*Click*, "thank you" x23, "goodbye" x19, "my name is ?????????" x4, so on and so forth...

We finally make it out of there, and you know it's getting kind of late here and I don't know if I can finish this tonight.  I'll pick my brains when I get an open spot tomorrow, but I'll have to cut it short at this brilliantly exciting juncture.  It was quite an interesting and entertaining day actually, and I've even got a new Indian food to chalk up on m list. "Samosa".  It's a snack food, and is basically a deep-fried bulb of breadskin filled with curry and "chunks".  That thing was too damned tasty.

Kagus

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #35 on: February 10, 2008, 07:41:00 am »

Okay, now to continue.  Not that I feel any more energy to write this, but at least now I've got some time left.


We finally managed to run out of adoring fans who insisted on taking photos, and we entered into the more entertainment-oriented section of the film city, which had a few different attractions in it.  We were informed by one of the guides where we were going to go next.  This was not a suggestion, it was a statement, and he made his point clear by shuffling us off towards the first of three attraction buildings in line.

Inside here was the "action" studio, where we would be shown, step by step, the making of a short movie wnd its completion through "movie magic".  First though, we had to stand in a little room (slightly packed) with a projector on the wall.  We were shown a little introductory film with footage of the film city's founder, Ramoji Rao, telling us how powerfully he felt about making movies.  A little cheesy, but so what?  Aren't all audience-directed things involving producers or other high officials at least somewhat cheesy?

Once that was finished, someone else picked up the loudspeaker and started asking for volunteers.  He needed a star (female), and then two co-stars (male).  Smelling something fishy, I neglected to offer myself up.  I may not exactly be a well-known actor, but I at least have the dignity to select which films I appear in.

He found his new recruits, and packed them away into a side room.  After a bit more talking, the doors to section two were opened and we flooded through them.  We entered into a room that had a small stage set up with a green screen, a couple lights, and one camera pointed at a covered wagon set that had the green screen for a background, and two poles coming out the sides.

After finding a place to settle down (not very easy.  Far more people than there were seats, and I started getting squished by some very pushy people back behind me, enough to make my shades pop as one of the legs got squeezed through the nose-niche), we watched intently as the guy came back out on stage and informed us of how the real stars of any movie were always behind the screen.  We then got to see a little movie showing several of the different behind-the-stage people fighting with each other, using what limited power they had.

Then the guy came back out, and gave us another little speech about exactly the same thing.  They're really trying to impress upon us the importance of Larry the cameraman.

After all that was said and done, we finally got to see some action!  Well, sort of.  The volunteers appeared through a side door, and the woman was now wearing a yellow-and-black shawl.  I'm not sure if the guys had changed clothes or not.

So, here's our big action shoot.  The woman gets into the carriage, pulls out a rather pathetic looking knotted rope whip (first she was holding the wrong end and it just looked like a stick), and is told to grab the reins and pretend there's a horse in front of her.  The guys each take one of the poles extending from the sides of the carriage.

The guys push and pull the poles to give the rather poor impression that the carriage is moving, and the woman (with clockwork actions, absolutely no life) whips the reins, looks over her shoulder, and then whips the reins again.  Not sure what she was aiming for though, the "horse" wasn't even close to where she was whipping.

And, that's it.  The green screen adds a clip of "gangsters" (?) riding after her on horseback, and she's there doing her little body mantra "whip reins, look back.  Whip reins, look back.  Whip reins..." while the guys rock the carriage in perfect rhythm, never altering their beat for a second.  Very even roads they had in the Wild West days of India.

After that little display, the star and the two "co-stars" exited out the same door they entered the stage from.  Then, more doors opened, and we were ushered into section three.  This time, we didn't even find a spot on the stairs to sit on, so we just leaned into a wall for the performance.

This stage had several interesting items on it, including a couple gongs, a sheet of metal, some rock piles, and some other stuff.  This was clearly a sound effects stage.

The guy showed a short film clip that also showed four guys working the sound effects.  There was lightning, rain, and some other cheap sound effects in the little clip, and this piqued some curiosity as to what lay ahead.

Well, again, not much.  This was the young'uns section of the performance, so the guy called four kids up to the stage.  After a little confusion, he got four kids (well, five actually) to do what he needed.  Showing them where they needed to be, what their assigned sounds were and how to produce said sounds.

The carriage clip was played, and we got to see the sound effects produced in realtime.  Wow.  That invisible horse must've been one of those well-known two-legged jogger horses, as he was pulling that carriage very quickly for his steady footfalls of "clop-clop clop-clop clop-clop clop-clop" and never breaking into the four-legged running stride common among other domestic horse breeds.

And also, he must've been from that stealthy subrace of two-legged jogging horses, as his bells only rang once during a moment when he must have lost concentration.  (The kid manning the bells was pretty young, and had to be reminded to shake the bells now and then.  Didn't quite work that way).

This stealthy two-legged jogging horse was also pulling a yo-yo paradox wagon, the kind where the wheels turn back and forth and yet the wagon still manages to move forward.  You could clearly hear the wheels on the road rolling one direction, stopping for a moment, and then rolling back the way they came.  Generally in little half-second bursts.

Okay, I think you get the picture.  Moving on to section three, we got to see the combined labors of several people and some expensive electronics.

Alas, for 'twas naught but horse apples.

Exiting that building, we were shown into building No. 2, which contained India's version of the "small world" ride in Disneyland, except it was a slightly larger worls and didn't have that music putting nails in your head.  At the end, we were dropped off into that necessity of all theme parks;  a cheap plastic merchandising shop.

Building number three we had read about, the famed Ramoji Tower.  This, according to the guidebook and a sign outside, was a freefall tower.  It was recommended that all loose items be secured or left behind before going on, and the guidebook explained the feeling of anticipation just before the invigorating drop.

So, naturally, we were expecting something.

Entering into the elevator-like capsule, I noticed that it was enclosed on all sides and that there was only one opening in the little chamber walls, in which was situated a film screen.

Now I knew what this thing was.  It's one of those special effect chambers where they try to simulate an experience of some sort by spraying water at you.

I was, of course, a bit interested in seeing what special effects the world's largest film studio (according to Guinness world records) would delight its visitors with.

The film started to play, and we were soon being taken to the top of Ramoji Tower, where we could see all of Ramoji Film City in a stunning vista.  Well, it would've been stunning if the resolution had been a bit higher.  As it was, it was just kinda fuzzy.

The vaguely English narrator was softly describing some of the finer points of view, when a nearby hill erupted in a cloud of dust and dirt!  And then another!  And another!  And now there was a large crack in the earth making its way through the Film City, right towards Ramoji Tower!

This was all very shocking and exciting, of course.


And so, when the crack hit the tower, we got jiggled a bit from side to side.  When the tremors somehow managed to burst a water pipe at the top of the tower, we all got sprinkled with a few droplets (see? SEE?).  When the supports finally gave way and we started cheerfully trundling down the levels, we felt...  Well, not much of anything.  No air rushing up at us, though I suppose we were going too slowly for that.  No dropping sensation, no...  Anything, really.  We just kept going until the thing stopped and a helicopter peered in at us from the film screen and started yellmumbling some things at us before a girder fell on him and he blew up.

After that remarkably heat-free explosion, we started down again.  Amazing how a single elevator corner throwing up sparks can slow down the descent of a car filled with about thirty people to a gentle parachute drop.

Eventually, we passed by some levels were, apparently, the windows hadn't been washed for some time.  The screen went black, and soon vivid rats were running from side to side across the screen.  Oddly enough, they appeared to be running on invisible boards, as we could see them, well-lit and in profile, but couldn't see how they were making their way from one edge of the screen to the next.  Maybe they were just hoverrats.

This, of course, was the signal for the obligatory small animal compressed-air-shot-at-your-legs trap that appears in any special effect theater that wants to use all the tricks.

After some more wobbling and other tomfoolery, the elevator car finally settled back down on the ground floor, and we were let out on the other side after the emergency lighting came on.

The corridor we were led into looked like a war zone, complete with leaking ceilings, cracked floors and walls, chunks of concrete that had punched through certain areas, and a merchandising shop which somehow managed to resist the terrible calamity enough to carry on business.

The railings that formed the queues for it also seemed rather undamaged.  How astonishing.

We exited the building through a disguised side door and headed back out to find ourselves some lunch.  Pradeep was obviously impressed by the fantastic special effects, and was still slightly excited after having left the ride.  We were more impressed by the food.

After the meal, we decided to go and check out a stunt show that was supposed to be on soon.  However, the guidebook provided no indication as to where it actually was, so we instead found ourselves in the kiddy section of the park, first traveling through a haunted house (ooh, aah.  Blacklights and plastic magma with LEDs under it), and then picking up a circus(ish) show that boasted some interesting demonstrations, and some which could have used a little more practice.  There was a juggler (and accompanying dwarf clown sidekick) who first juggled standard bean bags, then rings, then soccer balls, then miniature balls that he juggled with his mouth, and then woven hats where he would constantly change out the hat on his head for the next one he caught, eventually using his short-of-stature companion as a hat stepping-stone, as the sidekick kept grabbing the hats that were juggled to him, sticking them on his head, and having it then snatched off his head to enter into the juggle queue again.

That juggler had trained up his throwing skill extensively, you could tell.

After that, we started asking around to find out where the actual stunt show was, but it had apparently ended some time before.  It was in, of all places, the Wild West town.  Even had a sign outside that proclaimed the attractions of Westerntown, with the stunt show second on the list.

I guess we just never really pay all that much attention to lists and signs...

By this time, it had started to get a bit late, so we basically just wandered around, taking pictures and chatting until closing time.  My dad bought a new shirt (why on earth he likes loud shirts with odd designs, I'll never know), and we people watched for a bit.  Soon, the dancers started up their show again, and began to lead the group of people out towards the entrance of Ramoji Film City, where we would stand in line for the buses to take us back to the parking lot.

And so, that was our day at Ramoji Film City.  It was fun, we had a good time, and we got to see what entertains Hyderabadi Indians.  All in all, even with the less-than-shiny aspects, it was well worth the trip and ticket charge.

The trip back, however, was a nightmare.  
Drive out to Film City: 50 minutes.  
Drive back from Film City: 2 hours.  In ridiculously heavy traffic, at night.  Eep.

Ah well, at least you get to watch all the nightlife as you pass by.

Anyways, picture time!  Not the best selection, but apparently we weren't taking as many pictures as I'd thought.  At least not very good ones...

Here's one side of the outer gate.  Plus an innocent bystander.

Here are the inner-inner-inner gates, in the "Eureka" area.  Out here stiltwalkers roam freely.

The dancers, after the drawbridges lowered to allow the plebians inside.

The statue of Mr. Squat, frowning above the dancers' heads.  That area was where a lot of the dancing was performed, as it was slightly higher than the crowd and worked nicely as a stage.

Good 'ol Westerntown, complete with fast-food joint.  (don't know if it was American fast food or Indian fast food, which is actually pallateable)

Part of one of the statue gardens we walked through.  There were a few other similar statues in different positions, and we even posed in the same positions for a couple pictures.  Not my kinda picture though, so don't count on seeing it.

I hope TinyPic doesn't kick this off for nudity...

Picture of one o' the monkeys.  This is, actually, one of the less-blurry pictures we have of them.  I guess we just didn't get the camera out fast enough.

And, finally, another shot of the dancers as they led us towards the bus stops that would take us out of the park.  Woo, exciting.


*Phew*, finished.  Now, after spending several hours making these two posts, I can direct my attentions toward my own entertainment.  Thanks for reading, those who did.

(It's really not as bad as it sounds, I'm just a natural-born cynical pessimist with a dry sarcastic streak)

Kagus

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #36 on: February 10, 2008, 09:43:00 am »

Uggh, scratch the "entertainment" and "time to myself" parts.

The instant after finishing the last few words and posting everything, the doorbell rang.  I opened it, expecting one of my parents, and indeed, my mom was standing outside the door.

Amidst a swarm of girls, including Diti and Divya (Didya.  Apparently, we've been having trouble hearing again).

We were invaded.  Girls everywhere, doing everything, playing with my hair, watching a picture slideshow on the computer, asking about the controls on the A/C unit's remote, eating toast with butter and jam, Dhivya crying because we were going away (in six weeks...  Something slightly crazy about that girl), Diti playing Space Cadet 3-D pinball on the computer, all of them picking up books and starting to read, etc. etc. etc...

Is that all?  NO!  A little bit before the girls all had to go, my dad came back with some guy who had apparently, after I had only exchanged a dozen or so words with a couple nights ago, had been looking for me at the park yesterday.  He didn't see me, so he came back again today, and asked my dad where I was.

It leaked, thanks to my father's limited sense of wordplay around children, that I was writing about India.  This came out "story", which of course is a doom sentecne because whenever someone hears "story", they think "novel", which means famous author and can I see what you're writing pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.

Karum is his name, and he likes practicing his English with foreign people.  Karum really likes me.  Karum is my new  friend.  Karum is going to meet me every day in the park at 5:30 and talk with me.  Karum might drop by the apartment to talk with us.  Karum loves us.  Karum hugs us.  Karum is going to teach me Telugu while I teach him English.  

Karum was kind enough to inform us of all this.


I don't think I can take six weeks of this guy...  Somebody help me...  I just want to play some DF today...

OoiTY

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #37 on: February 11, 2008, 12:37:00 am »

quote:
Karum is his name, and he likes practicing his English with foreign people. Karum really likes me. Karum is my new friend. Karum is going to meet me every day in the park at 5:30 and talk with me. Karum might drop by the apartment to talk with us. Karum loves us. Karum hugs us. Karum is going to teach me Telugu while I teach him English.

Kagus, Foreigner cancels Dwarf Fortress: Interrupted by Karum.

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Kagus

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #38 on: February 16, 2008, 12:59:00 pm »

Well, it's been a while since the last update, but I'm still here.  Luckily, Karum seems to have dropped a bit of his enthusiasm since my dad won't give him a job at the new company, and he can't use either me or my mom to convince him otherwise.  I've been able to have some time to myself and get really, really important stuff done, like messing up some modding and making exploding skeletons by accident.

For breakfast today we went down to a new place we've "dsicovered", after two guys from the office showed us.  These guys are known as Prakash and Pradesh, but there's an unfortunate thought that has entered my mind recently of Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee.  They seem to be perpetually linked via some telepathic thread, and are always in the same place.   You never see one without the other.

This is not to say that they are in any way similar.  Oh no, they're both very much their own person and personality.  Anyways, back to the food.

This place is one of those "Breakfast Served Anytime" spots.  Doesn't matter if it's noon or midnight, they'll still serve you puri, dosa, and coffee.  We've taken this spot as our new breakfast joint, since the food is a bit tastier (and spicier) than the food at the Satyam Hotel.  Sure, you may not get a seat at one of the two tables (with chairs), or even a spot at the table that doesn't have chairs, but the stainless steel plates are sturdy and the food's good.

So far, we haven't had any trouble getting good spots.  The one time when everything seemed taken up, and we braced our knees for a standing meal, one of the employees came out, gestured for us to follow him, and led us back into a room with a few sticks of incense burning in the switchpanel (...yeeeah...) and four more tables, all empty.  We seated ourselves at the one closest the door, and entertained ourselves with the stream of patrons and employees popping past the doorway to get a look at the foreigners.  The guy who showed us in even brought his young kid in so he could take a gander at the weirdos.

At one point before we got our food, a cop came in and sat at one of the "back room" tables.  That's what made me think that this was more than just an unknown area, but a V.I.P. seating area.  I guess we qualified somehow.

After some time, my dad brought back the dishes my mom and I had ordered.  A few seconds later Satya comes in, carrying my dad's dosa and setting it gently on the table, before folding in the ends (apparently that's how you're supposed to eat them) for him.   That was the last we saw of him.

That guy is sometimes obsessively helpful...  


Some time around midday, Pradeep came by in a borrowed car with a borrowed chauffeur driving it.   Today was shopping day since there were numerous things we needed to get that couldn't be picked up withing walking distance (of course, "walking distance" in India means one block.  Any more than that and you drive or hire a rickshaw).  Since we are completely helpless without someone who knows both the language and the city, Pradeep was required to tag along as well.  Way to spend your saturday, eh?

My mom needed (this was a fact insisted upon by the girls) bangles and earrings, so first stop was a jewelry store.  This was where we spent the largest amount of money, with almost two thousand bucks laid down for six bangles.  This may seem expensive, but there's an extra point to consider;  this is 22 carat gold, something you can't even get in the states.

And, yet again I am reminded of how this place is full of difference and similarity at the same time, a place that has changed so much and remained exactly the same through all of it.  At the jewelry store, the manager was called down to talk with us about the price of the golden ornaments.  And so there we sat, looking at this manager of an established jewelry store, haggling like any of the street vendors outside. We would've payed a lot more if we hadn't called for him.

Later on, we went to the slightly less expensive side of town.  Namely, crowded streets full of people walking around, with rickshaws and motorcycles insistently trying to drive down the shopper-clogged street, even though they could've walked faster.  Or at least go one street over, which was completely clear of pedestrians.

It was here that we bought lots of dresses (mostly as gifts for friends or relatives), a doormat (little under one dollar), and our first-ever glasses of sugarcane juice.

Getting this is a rather interesting process.  A guy takes a knife and cuts off a few bits from the end of a sugarcane, sharpening it to a point.  This is then stuck into the whirring and spinning machine, which spits out one mildly flat sugarcane on the other side.  This is then passed back around to the guy at the feeder end, who folds the sugarcane in two (read:  smacks it against a rusty steel girder/pilar nearby so it bends in the middle) and feeds it through again.  A couple steps involve shoving a couple limes in there as well, and at one point a few slivers of ginger.

This is repeated until you've got a bucket full of frothy green liquid, and a pile of utterly demolished pulp which may or may not have once been a sugarcane.  Funny thing was, the guy at the feeder side of the machine (and thus the one who ended up with the pulp aftwerwards) only looked up to see the customers once he was handed the pulp from the exit-side.

I haven't stunned many people with my appearance in my lifetime, but this was one of them.  The guy just stood there dumbly for a while before remembering that he was holding onto a pile of sugarcane pul and started making jerky, almost subconscious movements towards dealing with his assigned task.  Had a hard time taking his eyes off us, though.  He did recover eventually, and was able to just look at us from time to time while focusing mainly on his work.

The first few sips of the sugarcane juice were wonderful, limey and nicely sweet.  However, the sweetness began to build up, and it got to be a bit much.  Certainly worth the experience (and the twelve cents for a cup), but I don't think I'm getting it again.  It's just too sweet for my tastes.

After some more time spent wandering around, watching people cluster together and discuss my gender (I swear that's what they were doing.  They were discussing the various points of my build and clothing to determine whether I was a man or a woman.  Apparently, the stubble argument didn't win the case immediately), and passing through a crowd of very pushy belt-merchants, we piled back into the car and headed off to go buy something else.

Something else happened to be cane furniture, since the only seating arrangements we currently have are a few plastic chairs, one sofa (seats three people uncomfortably), and a rather precarious office chair which I have spent the past week or so trying to find a comfortable position in.  We ordered a couple cane chairs from the very enthusiastic man in charge of selling the stuff (I have no clue what else to call him).  Everything on display is "example furniture", and cannot be bought.  You have to order what you want so they can custom-make it for you.

Once we'd gotten back and offloaded the dresses and such, my dad decided that he needed to go and get some snack-stuff from nearby.  Pradeep followed along, since he was the only one of the small group who could speak Telugu.

I outlined the basic stuff you get at a "chaat" stand a few posts ago, and that's what we were getting this time.  Except now, we were getting it to go so we could eat it back at the apartment.

Pradeep was asking us how many of the panipuri we would have.  My dad asked him how many people normally eat.  Pradeep said twenty, but a large, hungry man would see nothing wrong about eating thirty.

These people must have stomachs the size of tree trunks...  We ordered twenty-one for the three of us, plus two tubs of the other stew-stuff.  Spent less than a dollar on all of it.

We then picked up some coconuts from one of the coconut milk stands around here, where they'll hack away at a coconut and stick a straw in it for you.  Twenty cents for your very own coconut.

Unfortunately, the coconut was very young, so the milk hadn't picked up that slight sweetness it gets later on and was actually almost bitter in taste.  We've only opened the first of three, so I'm hoping the others wil taste better.  I mean, that's like, sixty cents down the drain!  What a rip-off.

I can however say that the panipuri and the other stuff which Pradeep for some odd reason called "cutlet" was exceptionally tasty, and managed to stuff all three of us to the brim.  I do declare, again, that one would be quite happy to venture through India on one's stomach.

Eep.  It's 11:27 PM here, and staying up late isn't a high priority to me right now.  G'night all, more updates coming when I do something worth writing about.  

And actually remember to write about it.

Kagus

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #39 on: February 23, 2008, 02:01:00 pm »

To late (early) to post now.  Gonna sleep, and then I'll write something up.


This post is pointless except to bump the thread and make it easier for me to find when I'm ready to write something.  Nyah.

Greiger

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #40 on: February 23, 2008, 05:28:00 pm »

Awesome thread.  India is one of the places I would visit if I ever became stinking rich.(HA!) The other two are Japan and wherever all those pro gamers are in Korea.

(Yer steering clear of the elephants right?  They don't have a very high base damage but there big suckers.)

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penguinofhonor

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #41 on: February 23, 2008, 06:17:00 pm »

.
« Last Edit: October 20, 2015, 10:02:17 pm by penguinofhonor »
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Kagus

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #42 on: February 24, 2008, 06:42:00 am »

Yesterday was Salar Jung, Charminar, and Rajasthan day.


First stop, the Salar Jung museum.

Since I had no idea (and still have no idea) who the Salar Jung line was, I'm unsure of what they were lords of.  Whatever the case, they were obviously extravagantly rich, and had a fondness for exotic furniture and art.

This was, essentialy, a museum.  First we went through areas showing portraits of the various rulers of the line, and some treasured artifacts pertaining to each one, including an incredibly detailed (and slightly short) four-poster bed, with intricate wood carvings all over it.  

Moving on, we saw exhibits of numerous statues and decoratively carved chairs (I have no idea how comfortable sitting in them would be...  Having an exquisitely detailed monkey carrying a coconut pressing into your back doesn't seem too cushy to me) and tables, as well as several tea sets.  

There was a weaponry exhibit as well, showcasing destructive implements from all over India (as well as a few from Europe and Persia) with strangely short hilts, as well as some laughably small shields.

This was my element, of course, and I became a sort of tour guide, pointing our and explaining the various weapon types and what their functions were.  They had a few katars (including an assassin's weapon, which imitates a wild tiger attack with four curved claws) and bladed wristshields, a few arquebuses from the later eras (sporting the ridiculously long barrels common to inaccurate firearms), and even some early revolvers and close-range pistols.  The real purpose of such firearms still bemuses me, as having a bullet less than half the width of a pencil shot at you by someone who basically has to shove the barrel into the skin in order for it to hit anything seems a little less effective than a good knife.  Speaking of which, they had several good knives in one of the other windows.

Still, seeing a pistol with a bayonet is quite entertaining.


Later, we moved into the eastern block.  No, not Slavic countries, the China and Japan exhibits.

I think whoever was filing this stuff got a bit mixed up, as there was a japanese miniature tower in the China exhibit, and an african fertility woodcarving in the Japan exhibit, which sported the obligatory male (very male) figure performing autofellatio.

Still, we got to see a few interesting items, including a few statues of what the Chinese apparently thought should be called "dogs", even though they looked more like giant mutant frogs with lion manes, skin problems, bulging eyes, large fangs, and brain damage.  

Then, on to the western block, where everything got boring.  French exhibit first in line, with the obligatory Napoleon-devoted pieces, including a table showing him and all his generals.  

Elsewhere in the exhibit we had some more very French items.  They're the kind of things which are tasteless, but look like they're supposed to be artistic.  This allows any French person to ask you if you like the item, and have both answers screwed.  If you say you like it, it's a hideous infected scar on the name of france.  If you don't like it, you are scoffed at for lacking the inherent artistic affinity to truly absord the item for its staggeringly amazing mastery of design.  Something only the French are proven, by the likes of you, to have.  

And then we moved on to the European paintings gallery, which had all the posturing, mournful gazing, and people attempting to cover their entire bodies with one transparent bedsheet common in the works of classical artists.  At least there were a couple paintings of naked women.  As well as a replica of the Mona Lisa, in the original size.

Moving on to pottery exhibits, european-inspired sculpture exhibits, and a clock exhibit.  That's all that comes to mind right now.


And so we exited the museum, passed the stray dog that had changed the position he was sleeping in only slightly since we entered, and got back into the chauffered truck to head on to the real attraction for the day;

CHARMINAR


Charminar was a giant place of worship built by someone with an unpronouncable name to commemorate god answering his pleas and curing a plague.  He built it as a place of spiritual enlightenment for all worshipers of all faiths, such as Hindus and Muslims.

It was later turned into a liquor and opium storage facility by imperial british forces.


Charminar, like a few other popular spots in India, is "good from far, but far from good".  The central building in that picture is charminar, and it really is kinda small.

But, the workmanship still looked nice, and we found that the main area was upstairs, so we started to climb the staircase.  One of four staircases, two of which were blocked off, one of which was devoted to downwards traffic.

You'd better not have claustrophobia if you intend to see the top of Charminar.  Climbing up several flight's worth of stairs in a circular ctairway, with headroom ranging anywhere from six and a half to five feet, and the individual stair height matching the odd fluctuation, with people (in the standard Indian fashion) standing on the step directly below the one you're standing on and wondering why you're not moving, even though you've got your face pressed into the back of the person in front of you (or the backside, if you're particularly unlucky with wildly changing stair height).

Once we got to the top, it was actually quite nice.  There was a cool breeze that negated the strong heat, and the views were very extensive.  Even if you could only see a row of shops extending into the distance, like some weird vanishing point line drawn entirely using bangles merchants.

There was a beehive that was apparently built on the side of the building, as a massive swarm of bees was buzzing around angrily outside one of the windows.  We, of course, had to take a picture.  Screw India, we're taking pictures of bees.

So, we wandered around, looking out of the various archways, wondering if anyone had fallen over the two-foot-high wall around the walking area, and looking out at the "100% Pure Buffalo Milk!" billboard, which sported the highly unintended Engrish version of "cow".  This was not a novelty drink, this was a mistranslation.  In letters much taller than the protective barricade that was supposed to keep us safe from falling out.

We, of course, ended up as photo opportunities again, as people either outright asked us to join them in a group photo, or simply took out their cameras and took pictures of us.  We took pictures of the ones taking pictures of us, just to even the score a little bit.

Once we left Charminar (after going down the staircase, bent almost double to prevent banging my head into the ceiling), we headed off to do some glorious shopping.  Whee, shopping.  

On the way, a beggarwoman came up and started her routine on me.  I had been entrusted with carrying some cash (because I happened to have pockets), so I reached in and grabbed a coin (didn't look at it to see if it was a 1, 2, or 5 rupee piece), and handed it to her.  

Standard begger reaction:  Takes the coin, whatever it might be, and then starts to sing your praises, bowing enthusiastically.

This woman's reaction:  Looks at the coin in her hand for a moment, and then grabs at my arm again!  Bloody ungrateful...

I ignored her for a bit, and she eventually got distracted by something else.  We started off towards the shops, when a kid came over and said hi to us.  He asked where we were from, and then from which part of the U.S. we were from.  Apparently, he knew California, but not Nevada.  So, we ended up being from California.

He then asked, of all things, if we spoke Spanish.  Something incomprehensible was mumbled as a reply to him, but it was recieved as a positive.  He then greeted us and asked how we were doing in quite passable Spanish.

He also spoke some French, a bit of German, and an actually understandable level of English.  Quite impressive, to say the least.

At some point, the beggarwoman appeared and started asking my dad for money.  So, he gave her a coin.  She complained about that, too!  And she was really, really persistent, too.   She followed us around, constantly repeating "ten rupees, ten rupees, that's all I need for *<unintelligible>*, just ten rupees...", and then another one came up and started saying exactly the same thing.

Now, they both could've been asking other people for fresh money in that time, but they insisted on following us around, asking for just that little bit extra.


We finally managed to shake them off after popping into one of the innumerable bangle stores (they really are lined up.  I have no idea how they can manage to pack so many in with the inevitable competition of having them so close together).  The kid (who now had his little brother (possibly) beside him), was still following us around, asking us questions from time to time, but mainly just being entertained by looking at us.

The remainder of this thrilling expedition was essentially my mom having a heyday, stopping at every damned cloth store on the street, and us menfolk trailing behind and waiting outside so we can look at the interesting people.  My back hurt, my feet were sore, and the mystery of how women gain strength from shopping was still obscured to me.  The kids still followed us around, occasionally making comments or asking questions.  For instance, they asked if they could have one of my hairs.  I obliged.

At one point, I was utterly befuddled as the older kid came up beside me, pointed at me, and then said "faggy".

I'm walking along, trying to figure out how the hell this fits in, and he points again and repeats himself.  "Faggy".

I see that he's pointing at my shirt, and I look down to find out on earth he's talking about.  He points again, repeats again, and finally I get it.


I'm wearing a shirt a couple of my relatives picked up after/during a vacation, and decided to give to me.  It's a green shirt, with a flaming Ying-Yang symbol on it that has the name of the tropical island nation they went to for their vacation underneath it.

Fiji.

Now how's that for a language barrier?


After a few attempts at correcting him, I think he's got the pronounciation down alright.  Although it's a slim chance another westerner wearing a shirt that says "Fiji" will come walking through his area, I figured it would probably be best if he didn't call any more westerners 'homosexuals' than he intended to.  His brother offered up the Telugu name for Fiji, which I have completely and utterly forgotten.  

We continue onwards, stopping and shopping, until it starts to get dark.  As we're leaving, we feel it would be nice to give these guys something, since they could have been hawking their necklaces in the time they spent following us around, and they were even trying to sell us some.

However, they won't take the rupees offered to them as tourguide fees, and insist on selling us some of their wares.  Since we don't actually need/want anything they have, we decide to just buy something so they get their money.  And then they inform us of the prices.

These lads will go far in the business.  Very far indeed.

Not only were they able to tell us with straight faces that a single stone (plastic) neckalace costed five hundred rupees, they were very hard bargainers and were exceptionally quick on their feet to come up with various stories that either enhanced the value of the trinkets, or explained away why they were lowering their prices (even lowering them below what they said they were getting them for, as was the effect of a slight math-related brain fart).

This charade continued all the way back towards the central area (containing Charminar), where we were to hop back into the truck and drive to dinner, them passing off their ridiculously exorbitant prices as excellent deals, and my dad haggling with them and pointing out their slight pricing inconsistencies (such as, one of them giving the price for two necklaces as 250 rupees.  However, the other one didn't hear this, and promptly offered the price for two necklaces as 400 rupees).

We eventually paid them the still-ridiculous fee of two hundred rupees for a pack of bangles, which they grudgingly accepted.  These guys were really, really good.  We figured the entertainment garnered from these two scamps was worth the five bucks we paid for the necklaces, which were probably bought for a few fractions of a penny.

They disappeared for a few moments, and then started showing their things to my mom.  My dad, amused by this turn of events, told them that they said they'd leave us alone if he bought something from him.

They replied that he had indeed purchased some things from them, and so they were leaving him alone.  She, on the other hand, was a new customer who hadn't bought anything!


We told them to clear off, and the grinning imps obliged.  Kids these days, I tell ya...

It was only later that we found out that they don't actually get the money.  They're hired by one distributor who gives them the goods to sell, and then pays them twenty rupees a day, regardless of how well they did in selling the things.  I hope that they played another act for the distributor, and got to keep some of the money we had paid them for their antics.

And then, on to dinner.

We had been told that we would be having the food they eat in the desert-dominated province of Rajasthan.  Camel dung was the only thing that came to mind.

Turns out, it wasn't a restaurant, it was a theme park.  Mini-Rajasthan.  There was a guy in front of the entrance who popped a kumkum (head dot) on each of us, and then we bought tickets in order to enter the delightful kingdom of Mini-Rajasthan.  At least the meal was included.

So we start wading through an endless tide of schoolchildren who are in the process of leaving the park, and head on in.  We come across a drummer sitting on the table upon which his drums are placed, and take it as a photo opportunity.  My dad sits on the table, is handed the sticks, has the drummer's turban placed upon his head (the automatic response of any employee of Mini-Rajasthan), and then strikes his best "I'm an insane psycopath, warn your children about me" look.  A couple pictures are taken, and the drummer gets his headcloth back.

First we head over to a little sandy area (for a desert-themed park, there's a surprisingly small amount of sand) and sit down on the magnificently comfortable concrete-made-to-look-like-wood benches, which were first designed by chiropractors in order to judge how messed up a person's spine can be before finally crippling them.  

It was here that a few employees clambered up onto the roofs of a few concrete huts, and picked up their assigned prop.  One guy got a rifle, the next guy got a stick, third one got a stick and an empty beer bottle.

Apparently, there was to be a demonstration of a very popular Indian movie, as performed by a few actors (and one actress).  The players moved onto their stage (sand), and the soundtrack started to play.

The actors were just supposed to go through the motions, and maybe try to lip-synch to the soundtrack of the movie when they got some free time.  So, we got to see a guy dressed in a military outfit doing his best brooding-and-important look and pacing back and forth in front of the woman, who looked utterly out of place in traditionally colorful clothes.

We watched things a little half-heartedly, partly because we don't speak the language the film was in, but also because Indian films are...  Well...  A genre unto themselves, shall we say.  "Feature-length soaps" comes pretty close.

But then, things got interesting.  

Electronics are not known for their stability here, and audio players are not exception.  At some point during the performance, the sound hitched, stuttered, and finally went dead.  Some of the actors stopped where they were, waiting to resume the flow, some stared up at the building that hosted the soundtrack, and some just stretched their legs a bit.

After a short while, the sound came back on again, and the actors moved back to where they had left off.  But then the sound cut off again.  Then it stuttered a bit more, tried to give a coherent stretch of sound, and then failed again, stopping completely.

This called for drastic measures, and so someone was sent to clean the damn thing.  Well, you obviously can't get the floor wet, so somebody opened up a window, leaned out, and started to clean some object with a damp rag.  Then he dropped it.

First there was the clattering of metal on concrete as the guy dropped it onto the secondary roof below him, and then there was the almost cartoonish way he looked down to see what had just happened, peering over the edge with a look of utter disbelief.  He then nonchalantly popped back in and walked off to do something else. This was actually getting to be entertaining.

So, someone either found a replacement, or they picked the thing up from the ground below (or it was never related to the audio set at all, and he was just cleaning a cup, which is what it sounded like.  All the cups here are made of stainless steel) because the guy was soon back at the window, cleaning something else.  Soon after, the soundtrack continued, and the actors tried to carry on their show with a shred of dignity.

Which wasn't easy when the cowboy popped up above a far-off wall and shot down one of the guards sitting on a hut roof, for no apparent reason.  He didn't shoot anybody else, and nobody seemed particularly fazed by the event.  Not even the shot guard, who simply put down the gun he'd been holding and continued to sit on the roof.

Well, at least it was entertaining, if only unintentionally.

After this, food.  We were ready for it.  So, we set off towards our restaurant.

The place was set up to resemble a desert tent, with cushion strips for seating and small stool-like tables set up in rings.  This was, of course, a concrete tent, but we didn't really care.  So long as they had food and water (we had been given "welcome drinks" near the entrance, which were absolutely loaded with salt and also brought to mind the camel dung jokingly mentioned before).

First, a waiter came around with our plates, three bowls and a spoon on each.  Then someone else came by, and gave us a handful each of three different dry thingies.  I tried one type, and it was incredibly salty.  I tried the second type, and it was incredibly salty.  I tried the third type, and it was incredibly salty and dry.

Okay, I thought, this is weird food to have in a desert.  You'd think they'd focus on a little less thirst-inducing stuff, considering the lack of water deserts generally have.

And then a guy came by to fill the three bowls with different types of...  Things.  I'm not entirely sure what to call them, but they were curry/dal/chutney/sauce things.  Okay, things are starting to look a bit more familiar.  I still haven't gotten a drink of water yet, but that's coming.

Then another waiter comes by, sniffling slightly, and scoops up a portion of what he simply refers to as "sweet".  It's something that could be mistaken for rice if you're looking for rice, but upon closer inspection seems a bit more like some really large-grained sand.  I tried some.  It was dry and sweet.

So far, we've covered all the thirst-causing food types.  Salty, dry, and sweet.  I still haven't gotten any water yet.

Throughout the rest of the meal (thankfully, my water glass was filled soon after the sweetsand), we would try to figure out what (and how) to eat, when someone would come by and slap something more on top of the rest of the food.  There was soon so much food on each individual plate, that a single plate could have covered lunch and dinner for the three of us, if not breakfast as well.  And we each got one.

Everything was either A) Salty, B) Sweet, C) Dry, or D) pickled.  At least now the water-waiter was coming by regularly, and far faster than a cup could be drained.  I found myself guzzling water, and realized that this would prevent even more food on my laden plate from being eaten and so I gave up and decided that I might as well have a small taste of everything on my plate, even if I couldn't finish any of it.  That's accomplishing something, at least.

So, between the chapathi-roti, the dal, the curry, the chutney, the pickled dishes, the sweetsand, the sweet patty, the sweet lump of something covered in curd (dessert, served along with everything else), the glass of buttermilk (ecch.  At least I tried it), the salty-spicy soup served in its own bowl, the dry lumps they kept putting into my dal, the lentil-based green stew/paste they slapped in the middle of my plate, and then flavored with spoonfulls of ghee and sugar (ain't kidding.  Little green mountain got covered in snow), I was defeated.  I could hold no more.  That didn't stop them trying to put more stuff on my plate, though.  After we were through eating, photo-op time.  

We asked one of the waiters to take our picture.  We were supplied with obligatory turbans by the waiters, and then had our picture taken.  Unfortunately, the kumkum (which had salt crystals put in it.  Salt in the food, salt in the drink, salt on our foreheads.  You cannot escape the salt) looked like a giant zit, which didn't exactly help out my own "I'm mentally unstable" smile, although it did draw some attention away from it.

All in all, it wasn't that great.  The part of the meal I liked most was the water.

So we went back outside, put our shoes back on (had to take 'em off for the restaurant), and wandered off.  There was a little dance area right outside the restaurant with a couple guys, one playing the drum and one singing (sometimes).  We sat down in a grassy area nearby, on one of the cots laid out as benches (actually very comfortable), and watched.

After a time, the music picked up, and the singing guy got up and went over to a few of the cot-benches around the dance floor, and tried to get some people to join him on the dance floor.  His hand then exerted a mysterious power over the people sitting on the benches, as he was able to push them back and away from him without even coming close to touching them.  Then I realized they just didn't want to make fools out of themselves by getting up and dancing along feebly to the wild and impossible-to-copy movements of the professional dancer.  Apparently, we did.

Now, by "we", I do not mean either my mother or Pradeep.  I mean my father (who will do anything of the sort at any opportunity, as parents are known to do), and me.  Why I do this, I am unsure.  I think it is mainly because putting up with an audience watching me try and pass off stumbling and losing my balance as just an impromptu dance move is less of a pain than putting up with my parents commenting on my not getting up there and dancing, later on.

Whatever the case, I managed to miss every move the guy was shwoing us how to do, stumble a bit on just about every movement that involved a turn of some sort, and have some pictures taken by my eternally-sweet and caring mother while I was at it, thus preserving yet another happy memory for years to come.


Excuse me my ramblings.


Anyways, a word of advice:  Never ever ever dance wildly after just consuming several glasses of water, a few sips of buttermilk and some spoonfulls of sour curd.  Uck.  I was burping for the rest of the night.

Then we went on to see some traditional dancing (thankfully, not performed by us).  A young woman came out (how the hell these dancers manage to keep a roll of fat on their belly, I'll never know), and did her routine to the music, spinning and gyrating in the intricate dance.

Well, this didn't last as long as one might have expected.  The soundset this was playing on was apparently the little brother of the one used in the performance earlier, and it soon conked out completely.  The woman stopped, looked around, and then went backstage to see what was happening.  End of dance one.

Once they got the system working again, she was sent back out to do the second dance.  Dance two was set to a slightly more "hip" beat, and the woman reflected this by moving her hips suggestively.  She even lip-synched (somewhat) to the music, and followed along with the obviously sex-related (aren't they all?) song with all the thrusts and gyrations required.  Most of this ended up being directed towards four or five guys who wre seated to the right of us, who would whistle from time to time like the occasional flashes of..  absolutely nothing...  were driving them wild.  One guy even got signalled down by the girl, who danced at the edge of the stage with him for a bit, before he took out a bill, swung it around her head a few times, and then gave it to her.  By putting it in her hand, of course.  I mean, how else would you give a dancer money?

So, after that, the rest of the dance was directed solely at that part of the audience.  Not so much as a glance at the other patrons.

After that was over, we headed over to see some other dancing-ish commotion, whereupon my dad got pulled into yet another public display, this time banging sticks together as part of the dance.  Took him a few tries, but he eventually got the pattern the guy who pulled him in was doing.  You see, you can't just smack your own sticks to the beat.  No, that would be too easy.  You've got to hit someone else's sticks as well, which is slightly more difficult since you can't always tell where they're going to swing that stick, or which stick it's going to be.

When the guy came back, he tried to get someone else to join in.  Both my mother and I begged out, referencing our stomachs which were full of food (and mine, which had already gotten quite jostled earlier).  He decided to start prodding my stomach to test the validity of this statement, and derided us for making up silly excuses for not dancing.


As we made our way back out of the park (it was now fully dark outside, and had been so for some time), we passed by a hookah lounge, and the one hookah had a coal in it that smelled overpoweringly like strawberry ice cream. We also saw some kids being paraded around on the back of a camel farther off.  Now that actually looked halfways interesting, and we didn't have anything to do with it.  Oh well. So ends our day at Mini-Rajasthan.


Today we find that a small black goat has been tied up to the fence down below the apartment building by the watchman's family (the purpose of this goat is most likely food-related, but we don't really know), and it has been bleating incessantly for most of the morning.  Still though, goats are cool.

We also got an interesting image as toes proceeded across one of our windows.  Aparently, something on one of the apartment windows needed to be repainted, so the painter was working off a rope tied to the roof.  Still, very strange to be sitting at the table and see a foot suddenly appear on the outside of the window, considering the things are so dirty we can't usually see a foot beyond the glass (ha ha).

And, that's pretty much it.  I've spent most of the time spent awake and not eating writing this, and I think the goat's still alive, even though it stopped bleating a while back.  G'day, all.

Romantic Warrior

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #43 on: February 24, 2008, 03:09:00 pm »

quote:
Originally posted by Kagus:
<STRONG>Namely, the traffic.  Oh Armok, the traffic...
</STRONG>

You might like "All the Trouble in the World" by P.J. O'Rourke. He describes third world traffic with some detail. Egypt is described exactly the way you described India, but with highways and high speeds.   ;)

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Kagus

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Re: India Fortress (Adventure Mode)
« Reply #44 on: February 24, 2008, 10:47:00 pm »

Uggh.  I hate being sick.


This morning has not been a pleasant one.  I so far have diarrhea, constant nausea, with some vomiting thrown in for good measure.  I'm having a very hard time with the thought of eating breakfast, and I'm hoping I'll somehow manage to get (and keep) something down.

I don't even have anything to puke up anymore.  My stomach didn't have anything to do away with, since it had long since finished digesting yesterday's meal (lunch).  Now I'm even devoid of stomach fluid, as that was the only thing it could find that could be sent flying joyfully up my gullet.

I'm sure this is all exactly what you wanted to hear, but I'm giving an explanation as to why I may not be updating this thread as diligently as before(...).


Also, the goat's gone.

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