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I will try to tell the story of how people I have never heard of, who live in a place I have never heard of, and speak a language I have never heard of – have used a photograph I took for the cover art of their musical album.

At the end of 2001 I went to India and spent about six months backpacking. One photo I took was of a street beggar. I shot it in a small village called Hampi in the state of Karnataka in the southern part of the Indian subcontinent. I actually took half a dozen shots of the same man, and what I particularly liked about this one is the enigmatic face, glistening with sweat. I felt it conveyed the true meaning of being that person.

Back then I wasn’t blogging yet, but I did manage to develop, print, scan and email that photo to folks at home. Fast forward to 2007 when I started blogging and one of the first things I did was retroactively post my travelling correspondence, including this one.

Now we get to two days ago, when I noticed quite a bit of traffic coming to my website from this forum post. I could not understand what language the site was using, but from the bits in English I could decipher the post was discussing the similarity between the cover art of an album and that of Assassin’s Creed, a video game – both featured a hooded man. A user by the name of Angaiha was able to track down the source for the man in the cover art: Yes, it was my photograph.

Upon further investigation it turns out that the cover art was for a choir named Synod Choir for their video CD titled Pathian Hmel which apparently will set you back a hundred Indian Rupees (a little more than two bucks). Oh, yes, it turns out that this musical ensemble comes from the Indian state of Mizoram which I have never heard of, inhabited by Mizo people who speak (and sing) in Mizo language and look nothing like the Indian people I have met travelling.

How do I know what Mizo people look like? Glad you asked, as it gives me the chance to direct your attention to the album’s eponymous song:

It should be mentioned that everything I post on this blog falls under a Creative Commons license which allows for certain uses of it, but using any of the content for commercial purposes goes beyond that scope. Basically, there are legal ramification for the unauthorized usage of my photo, but I will not get into that at this time.

I said it before: you can literally drop me off anywhere on the globe and all I need is the relevant Lonely Planet guide book to make sure I have a peaceful, hassle-free, insightful journey. I learned this while travelling in South Asia back in 2001-2002, and that’s why upon returning to Israel I also purchased the Lonely Planet guide for Israel, as I knew it would be interesting to read about my own country from the point of view of a backpacking foreigner. Following is one ‘boxed’ nugget for your enjoyment written ten years ago:

Sorry For What?

Two recent immigrants, one from Russia and one from America, and a native Israeli are at the supermarket where they come across a sign reading ‘We’re sorry, but due to shortages we have no meat’. The Russian turns to the other two and says, ‘What is meat?’. The American shrugs, ‘What do they mean by shortages?’. The Israeli shakes his head and looks perplexed, ‘What do they mean by this sorry?’.
The Israelis tell this joke about themselves, and any visitor who’s been in the country for more than five minutes will nod despairingly at the punch line. The Israelis, as they’ll readily agree, are not hot on the niceties of social intercourse. No official or sales assistant will acknowledge your presence until addressed directly. Dining out, staff will frisbee a menu at the table, then indicate they’re ready to take the order with a disinterested, ‘Yeah?’. Likely looking places to ask for directions or timetables ward off all potential enquiries with prominently displayed ‘No information’ notices.
For those who perceive the difference, it’s not, explains writer Stephen Brook, that the Israelis are bad mannered, but rather that they have no manners at all. Faces with a waiter who shrugs aside your complaints of cold food with ‘People don’t like it if it’s too hot’, anyone might feel that such subtleties are irrelevant; but one thing to remember is never lose your temper and start shouting, because there’s nothing Israelis love more than a good row.

You can literally drop me off anywhere on the globe and all I need is the relevant Lonely Planet guide book to make sure I have a peaceful, hassle-free, insightful journey. I learned this while travelling in South Asia back in 2001-2002, and that’s why upon returning to Israel I also purchased the Lonely Planet guide for Israel, as I knew it would be interesting to read about my own country from the point of view of a backpacking foreigner. Following is one ‘boxed’ nugget for your enjoyment written ten years ago:

Boys, Girls & Guns

Israel is still technically at war with more than a few of its fellow Middle Eastern countries. This, in addition to being enmeshed in battling Palestinian terrorist groups and struggling to contain the sporadically violent extremist factions within its own society, means that wherever you go you’ll see armed soldiers. Bus stations, in particular, are filled with soldiers in olive green uniforms either arriving home on leave or heading off back to base. Having an occasion to ask, “Excuse me, could you move your gun so I can sit down there”, is an accepted part of bus travel.
What takes more getting used to is the prepubescent appearance of some of the soldiers. Unlike most standing armies, the Israeli Defense Force (IDF) is a citizens’ army made up of draftees – both men and women – plucked from civilian life at age 18, fresh from high school. With the conscripts out of adolescence, it’s an army were fatigues are supplemented by RayBans, and M16 rifles double as crucial fashion accessories. Nor is it always necessary to wear a uniform to carry a gun. Any soldier who loses their weapon (though rarely are women assigned to the weapon-carrying infantry units) is liable to seven years imprisonment, therefore off-duty, jeans and T-Shirt clad soldiers sometimes haul their rifles around if there’s no secure place to leave them. We once spotted two young men attempting to groove on a Jerusalem dance floor encumbered with machine guns slung across their backs – although we suspect this may have had a lot more to do with narcissism then security.
The initial spell of compulsory service in the IDF stretches for 3 years in the case of men and 18 months in the case of women. Once this has been completed, every male is assigned to a reserve unit to which they are recalled for about 30 days service each year, until the age of 35. Single women are also liable to reserve service up until the age of 34, but in practice they’re exempted once they’re about 25 years old. Presumably once a person hits their mid-30s they’re assumed to have finally grown out of teenage things such as guns.

Update: Ido Kenan from room404.net just sent some visual proof:

Credit: Ido Kenan – room404.net – cc-by-sa

[09/03/2002 19:36 Kathmandu, Nepal]

The Indian people don't lie. It's just that when they don't have the answer, they'll give _an_ answer. It won't be the right one, but they feel they were nice to a stranger.
This is why the "Law of Four" was invented. If you need correct directions to go to a certain place, you always ask 4 people.
The correct way is usually what the majority of the 4 said.

I broke the law of four and regretted it!
I thought that it was enough to ask the train station enquiry clerk for the correct platform when I went from Delhi to Agra.
3 hours after riding the train, I asked the guy next to me when will we reach Agra.
His response?
He laughed and said: "Agra? This train is going to Punjab".
Not only did I take the train in the opposite direction, it was to the state where all the Hindu-Muslim riots happened.
6 Hours after departing from Delhi, I was in the same place, taking a taxi to Agra…

Never Break The "Law of Four"

—-

Hi everybody! Long time no update!

Been having too much fun I guess…
Anyway, I am in Kathmandu now and it is a _whole_ other country.
The people are so pretty, the streets are so clean and it is such a relief from the Indian atmosphere.

I plan to do some trekking here and some white-water rafting.

There were so many rumors in India about the situation in Nepal, including the one that the Israeli Ambassador fled to New-Delhi (did you hear that one?).

Of course everything turned out to be totally incorrect. Everything here is fine – which is not something I can say about our little country.

US$550 for a plane ticket to the East! Think about it…

—-

Some pictures, all from India, to remind you of how I look:

The first picture is from Kodaikanal. It is a hill-station (that is, a town up up in the hills)
where the Brits used to go on their vacation (ruling the country is a difficult job). It is a beautiful place, and since I was with beautiful people, it is (up 'til now) the most memorable I have ever been to on this trip.
In the picture you can see all the beautiful people I was with: Oren, Ziv and Ya'arit. We are playing cards at sunset (a game called "Asshole", I'll teach you when I get back home…).
And the rock we are sitting on is called The Dolphin Nose, a half a day trekking distance from Kodai.
It is so worth it, just for the magnificent view!

—-

The second picture is from Chennai (Madras) in the state of Tamil Nadu (South-East part of the sub-continent). You can see us (the ol' gang), drinking the best Ice-Coffee in the world.
It's called Iced-Eskimo, and it is only served (with or without ice-cream) in Cafe Coffee Day, an Indian coffee shop which is actually a gate to the western world.

Chennai is a city that most Israeli travelers skip (for no good reason). Whoever told me that Delhi is the place for western food and shopping (I know your name and address), whoever that was, obviously never been to Chennai.

—-

The third picture is from the train I took from Chennai to Jaipur.
It's a 40 (forty) hours ride from the South-East to the North-West state of Rajasthan.
Being that long a ride, me and Ziv took the 3rd A/C Class so it was fine.
You even get bed sheets and bad food.

—-

One last thing before we depart again:
The Indian post office has very strange working hours. Just from 10:00 to 16:00.
This is just to serve a specific purpose.

I arrived to the post office in Varanasi to send a parcel at 15:30.
Of course you need to pack each parcel with cloth, but no worries, there is a nice guy that will do it for you for just 100 Rupees.
Then, I reached the counter at 16:00.
But no worries, the clerk is still there, only he will not talk to you, just to a guy that "fixes"
everything.
He showed me a piece of paper that the post office
clerk wrote.
It read: 1,460 for sending parcel – 350 for Bakshish.

Yes, this is how the Indian post works. After working hours you need to bribe the clerk. So of course I did my "I am shocked" look, and told the "fixer" I would only pay 100 Rupees bakshish.
The clerk of course did his daily show, where he takes the parcel shoves it back to me and says "Come back tomorrow 10:00".
So now was my part, where I said, "Okay 200".
So get this: this clerk made 600 Rupees (for 3 parcels) in 10 minutes. That's a 4 days pay.

When I kindly thanked the clerk and turned away, the "Macher/fixer" guy told me that his service is 50 Rupees. When I told him that he should get the pay from the clerk he told me that the he can't because the clerk shares the money with all the other postal workers, including the manager.

India! What a country! What a culture!

—-

That's it for now, although you can see some more
pictures at:
[…]

Lots of love from the only land that does not have a rectangular flag,
Shahar.