I’ve been to many places with majestic landscapes, temples, monuments and the like. Taj Mahal springs to mind. Do I remember much about it? Not really. We spent a day there with a knowledgeable guide. At least I think he knew what he was talking about. I know that he was well informed because at no time did I hear him say, “I don’t know”. He had an answer for everything.
I remember he told us that the gold inlay originally covering the walls of the palace (shrine?) was removed, probably by the British during their reign. This was all part of their world wide campaign to pillage any people and any country that had something they wanted. They did this for hundreds of years. There’s much evidence to indicate that my ancestors participated in this. There were Fremlin’s in India in the 1800’s, perhaps earlier. The Victoria and Albert Museum has some items there that were brought back by a Fremlin. We know they did the same in Canada. A lot of big majestic trees were cut down and sold around the world by my ancestors, including my father.
On our way to Taj Mahal, I remember driving through the surrounding peasant villages over badly maintained roads. They were congested with large families barreling down the street, all piled onto one small scooter. I counted 8 people on a little 200 cc Suzuki motorcycle on their way to who knows were. The hawkers were another image that stayed with me. Much more memorable than the hundreds of huge empty rooms at the Taj. The famous fountains with the cascading waterfalls and water shooting up into the air, images made famous by travel brochures, were dry. Not a drop of water in them. That I also remember.
The two lane highway from Delhi to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, was littered by wrecked vehicles, many of them trucks. Some were pushed to the side of the road. Others were simply left straddling the lane. The disregard for rules of the road like speed and passing lanes explained the wreckage. The funny thing is, I didn’t feel threatened. Our driver controlled the car with conviction and that was good enough for me. He had to dodge a few errant vehicles from time to time but there wasn’t ever a close call that I could see.
I also remember the garden or yard leading into the Taj was also lined with monkeys, many sitting in the sun playing with their not very private parts, much to the amusement of me and a very few other tourists. Most people were averting their eyes embarrassed to see an animal doing something in public that they do themselves in private many times a day. I didn’t have that kind of control and watched them with great delight. This is a sight one does not see everyday and I wanted to drink it in. Maybe it would be my last thought before I died. I, and I alone will know when the time comes. I wouldn’t have wanted to deny myself one last laugh.
This begs the question, why would I fly to the other side of the planet to visit a famous building only to forget most of what it was like? I think one reason is, I never want to forget that I am nothing more than a tiny grain of sand on an enormous beach. My species seems to think we’re are God and are here to satisfy our every need today, now, regardless of the consequences. I get that. Our ego demands it. That will always be. I decided decades ago that I don’t want to be a slave to my ego. I feel more alive knowing the world is bigger than me, that there are billions of people living in conditions and in locations that I can never begin to fathom. They eat food that would never cross my palate. They drink awful water. They watch their kids go to bed hungry. That is and always will be.
These are some of the thoughts I have as I sit in the Seoul int’l airport and watch the world walk by. They’re mostly Koreans and are no different than the Koreans I share the sidewalk with in my neighbourhood in Toronto. The only difference is, they’re living in Korea.
I’m waiting for a flight to Hanoi, as exotic a location as I can imagine. Even the name of the city excites me. It conjures up images of war and napalm and dead villagers and Hanoi Hilton and on and on. This is the home of the Viet Cong and their great leader, Ho Chi Minh and his sinister army that fought so bravely, and won against an imperial army a hundred times larger than them, the Americans. These are a people to be admired. They’re a people with more fortitude and purpose than any Canadian. What does any Canadian know about fighting an oppressor to the end and then, only a few decades later, welcoming them to return in peace, as friends? What kind of people can do that? I don’t know them at all but they must be a great people.
I’ll be able to anticipate much of what will happen to me when I arrive. I don’t have to actually be there to know my senses will be under attack as soon as I step onto a street. I will have to come to terms with more of everything.…the volume, the pollution, the congestion, the filth, the smells. I will feel out of place, not something I’m used to and not something I enjoy. It reminds me that the refugees who arrive in Toronto each day feel this way most likely every day for the rest of their lives. I’ll be a visible minority with absolutely no Vietnamese words at my disposal. I’ll have to rely on others to communicate what I want, not something I”m used to or enjoy. In fact, I truly hate having to rely on anyone for anything. As Joni Mitchell writes, “I spent last night in a good hotel”. I’ll be able to sing that tomorrow, with feeling. Her song deftly pointed out that the musician she was enjoying did not. Most of the Vietnamese I see walking down the street, the hawkers, the street merchants and so on will most certainly not be staying in a good hotel. I can only imagine the quality of their digs.
Asiatic Air is a prominent airline flying out of Seoul. I don’t know yet how big it is in other countries but it’s big here. They’re a bit behind the times in that they’re still serving meals for free. Rice and chicken. Rice and beef. Good but basic. The attendants speak good English. The Americans have had a military presence here for decades and with that comes the one activity Americans do best. Actually there are two activities they do well….shop and eat. Therefore, the service industry for the most part speaks English. The pilots announce in Korean and English which is very much appreciated. There aren’t many westerners on this flight.
The Toronto convenience store industry in the 1970’s and 80’s was dominated by Korean immigrants. They had a reputation of being short tempered. I have no idea where that came from. I never met any who were like that. Certainly the people we’ve met here are much more polite than any American and probably more polite than most Canadians. There’s lots of bowing. Since it’s the service industry people who are doing the bowing, I don’t know if they bow to solicit bigger tips or because they actually mean it. That’s a cynical view I know but I can’t help it.