tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42080990158768479182024-02-18T23:54:26.707-08:00Online Travel GuidesInformation and guide you to a vacation trip. And a great place to guide you to your holiday vacation fun.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comBlogger94125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-539961637720653212013-09-07T04:06:00.001-07:002013-09-07T04:06:36.280-07:00PARTNERS LINK'S POSTPARTNERS LINK'S POST
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<a href="http://www.waterburypersonalinjuryattorney.info/">waterburypersonalinjuryattorney.info</a><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-26765223291558029742012-07-12T00:11:00.000-07:002012-07-12T00:11:50.247-07:00On Buying Car Rental Insurance<div style="text-align: justify;">I was talking to a friend of mine who is the manager of car rental franchise in Mexico. I happen to know her for many years and I was surprised to hear that every time she travels to the US or, anywhere for that matter, and rents a car she always buys all the insurance being offered. Why do you that? I asked. And her response was: "I don't want any problems whatsoever and paying a few extra dollars is worth it in this case because it gives me peace of mind and lets me enjoy and concentrate on the reason for my trip", which in her case is shopping and as we all know that is a very involved affair that needs all your concentration and bargain-hunting abilities.<br />
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Now, my friend has been in the <a href="http://paloxpalo.blogspot.com/">car rental</a> business for many years, longer than I know her, and I don't think that she has ever worked anywhere else but the car rental industry, so she knows the business inside out, and she is savvy about spending her money, so it seems to me as solid and powerful an argument for buying car insurance from the rental company as you are going to find.<br />
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Of course, there are many ways to be protected, if not from accidents to happen, at least from the expense involved... you can use your own policy which is likely to cover, at least in part, the cost you may have to incur, and at times it does not include all, or you can buy special insurance before your trip, or you can rely on the insurance that may come with the use of a credit card, and so on. However, if you just want to the least amount of problems than buying the coverage at the rental counter is the way to go. With any insurance policy you will be required to fill out forms and possibly follow up with calls, etc. Good luck trying to make effective the coverage offered by the credit card as it may take some doing. With the coverage purchased at the counter you may have to complete an accident report and, in all likelihood, you'll never hear anything else about it. That has been what I have seen, in most cases anyway. You simply walk away.<br />
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Now if you are renting in a foreign country, then the choice becomes clearer because if you do not purchase the coverage and are involved in accident - something much more likely to happen since you are in unfamiliar territory - you will be required to pay for any damage immediately, regardless of any insurance coverage you may have. The car rental company is not likely to let you walk away with a promise of payment from your insurance, and this can lead to a most uncomfortable situation, as you can imagine.</div><a name='more'></a><br />
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There is another factor seldom considered, which is loss of revenue, defined as the revenue lost while the car is unavailable for rental. I see this more clearly in the following example. I am ABC Car Rental and I have a fleet of ONE car which is rented to you. You are involved in an accident which requires the car to be repaired and be out of service for a month. You will cover all the repairs, you say, so I shouldn't worry. But I do worry because I am not able to rent the car for a month and where will I get the revenue to pay the rent, and other expenses. That is loss of revenue. I am not sure whether all insurance companies cover this risk or not, but for sure credit card coverage does not.<br />
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If you happen to incur an accident you will have to file an insurance claim with your insurance company which may cause your premiums to rise and thus wipe out any savings realized by not purchasing coverage at the rental counter.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-66641390799886618142012-07-12T00:09:00.000-07:002012-07-12T00:09:22.728-07:00Vacation Planning Should Include Car Rentals<div style="text-align: justify;">Going on vacation is always a great deal of fun for everyone. Plans have to be made and suitcases have to be packed. You must then figure out what transportation will work for you as you travel to your favorite destination. Some people choose to fly there while others take a bus or train. Other vacationers drive, especially if they want to take in the scenery along the way. To make your trip more carefree, you may wish to rent a car for your journey ahead.<br />
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Choosing to rent a vehicle will not only reduce your stress levels, but you can confidently know that you are getting a vehicle that has been well maintained and is running properly, giving you peace of mind while you are traveling to your destination. Worrying about the vehicle while on a long trip should never be part of the vacationing experience for anyone. You can also purchase extra insurance offered by the rental company to ensure that you are protected in case you become involved in any accidents that most always are unplanned and unforeseen.<br />
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Car rental companies are experts in helping you with your vehicle vacationing needs. They have many makes and models as well as sizes and options available. If you gas budget is limited, no problem. You should also be aware that rental companies have very different prices for the same models and anyone is encouraged to price shop before they rent to get the best deal for their needs.<br />
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The number of people in your traveling adventure will usually determine the size and model of rental vehicle. One two or three people can comfortably travel in a compact and enjoy the benefits of saving gas during the trip. If more people are joining you, you will seriously want to step up to a larger SUV or van that can comfortably transport all your passengers and their luggage with room to spare and make sure to trip gets off to a great start.</div><a name='more'></a><br />
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Car rental businesses do provide more luxurious vehicles. If you are a traveler who wants to travel in style, it is possible to rent a car that suits your taste. These types of vehicles, of course, are more expensive than a regular vehicle. For those who wish to travel in luxury, though, they are well worth the extra money. A luxury vehicle comes equipped with all the bells and whistles that one would expect such as satellite radio, surround sound, and Bluetooth connectivity.<br />
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You will agree that you are the smartest person you know and you can showcase your smarts by renting a vehicle for your next vacation. This is just what smart people do when they need to travel so embrace your new title.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-58510742491409256142012-07-11T03:57:00.002-07:002012-07-11T03:57:08.862-07:00Treat Yourself To A Luxury Ski Vacation<div style="text-align: justify;">I think that an annual vacation is something that most of us spend a lot of time looking forward to. There may be a number of reasons why you're looking to get away from the daily routine, including taking the opportunity to escape from stresses that `re associated with working life.<br />
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In truth, many people would probably like to get away for vacations on a more regular basis. Instead, what tends to happen is that many of us plan a single, lavish trip away. This may well be due to the fact that regular commitments mean that there's something of a limit on the amount of time that we have available for leisure opportunities.<br />
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When you think about these issues and your own approach, you may well realise that it's important to ensure that you plan trips that will be truly memorable. You don't want to travel to somewhere that will ultimately prove to be disappointing. So how can you go about making travel plans that will meet your requirements and that are able to match your aspirations?<br />
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Ski vacations have held a place in the mind as offering luxury travel options for a long time. They enable you to combine sporting activities, with entertainment and opportunities for relaxation. There are numerous ski resorts, located throughout the world. As might be expected, many people tend to head for the leading European resorts.<br />
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If you're thinking along similar lines, then you may well be thinking about a trip to France, Switzerland, Italy or Austria. Each of these locations boasts a range of wonderful options, enabling you to create a vacation experience that you'll be able to remember for years to come. You'll find that there are no limits to the type of experience that you'll be able to enjoy.</div><a name='more'></a><br />
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But how should you start to go about making a booking? It's likely that you'll want to carry out some initial research, to ensure that you'll be visiting a location that will really meet your needs. It's now possible to use the Internet for this purpose, enabling you to find out all about what individual resorts have to offer. This is, of course, only part of the story.<br />
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It's also clear that you'll want to get the best in terms of accommodation. Opting for an exclusive ski chalet can be a good choice, particularly if you've decided that you want a vacation that will really stand out from the crowd. You needn't, however, worry about many of the more boring aspects of life. You'll find that luxury chalets include a vast range of services.<br />
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Don't make the mistake of booking a vacation that will only lead to disappointment. Instead, there's a lot of sense to be found in aiming for the very best that can be found.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-69477144037385708572012-07-11T03:56:00.000-07:002012-07-11T03:56:03.570-07:00Ski the Slopes In Queenstown, New Zealand<div style="text-align: justify;">Queenstown, New Zealand, is the Southern Hemisphere's premier four season lake and alpine resort. Surrounded by majestic mountains and nestled on the shores of crystal clear Lake Wakatipu, Queenstown's stunning scenery is inspiring and revitalising.<br />
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With such a huge range of activities in Queenstown, no two days will ever be the same. You can choose activities such as skydiving, bungy jumping, white water rafting, helicopter flights, taking a wild ride on a jetboat or relax and try some of the best wines in the world.<br />
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Take a day trip to the beautiful Milford Sound which is absolutely breathtaking, or go by 4WD and explore the "Lord of the Rings" country. Whatever your appetite for adventure or exploration, Queenstown has something for everyone.<br />
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The winter months is when Queenstown really shines. It's a beautiful town nestled in the southern alps of New Zealand and is a mecca for international tourists all year long. Because of its popularity as a great destination, accommodation is booked up quickly, so looking for a great deal during the ski season means that you will have to book months in advance. There are always plenty of different options to choose from as far as your accommodation is concerned, so take the opportunity to compare prices and get the best deal.<br />
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One of the major winter attractions is skiing and Queenstown has some of the best skiing to be found anywhere. Tourism is quieter during winter as the main focus is on skiing and Queenstown is within easy reach of Coronet Peak ski resort (20 minutes away) and The Remarkables ski resort (40 minutes away). The skiing at Queenstown is great for all skiiers as the weather seems to be much more stable, giving skiiers every opportunity to get out on the slopes. Added to this is the fact that these two ski resorts rarely close, because the weather is so favourable. The scenery from the top of Coronet Peak will take your breath away so be sure to visit even if you don't ski.</div><a name='more'></a><br />
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After a full day on the slopes it's great to relax and enjoy a hearty meal and Queenstown has a wide variety of restaurants and cafes to choose from. Even if you're not a skiier and just want to admire the beautiful scenery, there are many places to go such as Arrowtown, which is only 20 minutes drive from Queenstown. Arrowtown is a former gold mining town and has a rich history which will make it a delight to explore either walking or biking as it is regarded as one of the best areas in Wakatipu to do so.<br />
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Take a trip on the lake in a 100 year old coal fired steamship called the TSS Earnslaw or maybe you'd just like to sit in front of a roaring fire and enjoy the company around you, or explore this quaint little town, whatever you find to do in this amazing place, Queenstown is a beautiful town and I can almost guarantee that you will find it hard to leave.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-81263033914605258982012-06-23T03:14:00.001-07:002012-07-11T04:41:31.368-07:00Dr. Barnes in Philadelphia<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkx6lpWifspTtfjk-yIAVPmN9Ji1S2ylhSV-3d0ZUdIKutA8ajy97IkPIvwe2pX10BfYOaAtJ9DDtDj-3Yyqo3FDseWqtizzrdfbckYOZHzQ3CBPzCMs5kPOK7354BLwtwD3HH0BJcliqh/s1600/DSC_0882BarnesMainRoomEastWallRenoirCezanneEEE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkx6lpWifspTtfjk-yIAVPmN9Ji1S2ylhSV-3d0ZUdIKutA8ajy97IkPIvwe2pX10BfYOaAtJ9DDtDj-3Yyqo3FDseWqtizzrdfbckYOZHzQ3CBPzCMs5kPOK7354BLwtwD3HH0BJcliqh/s320/DSC_0882BarnesMainRoomEastWallRenoirCezanneEEE.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of Dr. Barnes' "ensembles" contrasts a cozy family portrait by Renoir with a painting by Cézanne of nudes in a hostile landscape</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">With jubilation and some residual sour faces from the bruising legal brawl that preceded the occasion, the Barnes Foundation opened its Center City Philadelphia campus on May 19, 2012. A hundred years ago, Dr. Albert C. Barnes began buying Impressionist, post-Impressionist and early 20th-century art, assembling one of the world's great collections, larded with old masters such as El Greco, Hals and Goya and African and Native American work that intrigued him. He was also interested in Pennsylvania German folk art and furniture and in centuries-old metalworking. He liked the inventive shapes of hinges, locks and keys and ornamental metalwork.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_UoAb7Uu-vgIpm7MHDz3koiZAHv28FwU_jlKhruZffPkbo0gXmZkuFasOCRNJ8Ybk6WRfTLfn6P6uXgRR-DgYDSt1VOEeyVUAvB_BFwF7dOGH2HM77SvUMfYWKTeWX2eKyNXym45pyhOG/s1600/DSC_1005BarnesPortraitDeChiricoEEE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_UoAb7Uu-vgIpm7MHDz3koiZAHv28FwU_jlKhruZffPkbo0gXmZkuFasOCRNJ8Ybk6WRfTLfn6P6uXgRR-DgYDSt1VOEeyVUAvB_BFwF7dOGH2HM77SvUMfYWKTeWX2eKyNXym45pyhOG/s320/DSC_1005BarnesPortraitDeChiricoEEE.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Albert C. Barnes as painted by Giorgio de Chirico</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">The doctor, who was born in 1872 in what might politely be called a "working class" neighborhood of Philadelphia and whose father was a butcher before he lost his right arm in the Civil War, made a fortune with his invention of the antiseptic Argyrol. Barnes used his money to buy art, which he installed in a building that he commissioned in Merion, a suburb of Philadelphia. From behind that barred door, he spurned the art critics, socialites and celebrities who had spurned him. He turned down their pleas to see his collection, admitting factory workers, young artists and others who gratefully feasted on the wonders that Dr. Barnes had amassed and carefully arranged.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Under the tutelage of the educator John Dewey, who became a friend, Barnes developed his own methods of education. There would be no mind-numbing curatorial explanations in his galleries. He wanted his visitors to look, not to read. Barnes stipulated in his will that his collection was to remain exactly as it was at the time of his death and that of his wife, Laura. Nothing was to be loaned or moved.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Dr. Barnes was killed in an automobile accident on July 24, 1951. Laura died in April 1966. For the ensuing 40 or so years, the Barnes collection remained sequestered in Merion with comparatively few visitors and insufficient funds to maintain the building and the grounds of the doctor's estate. But the legal wrangling necessary to break Barnes' will and move the collection to Center City Philadelphia was intense.</div><a name='more'></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKoO2RivwMpKlk1bbrnrg4_Qb-e1A_C3cXlDA17iwThybYnMm-C9b_AyoKJc8qX5N9lHa20yk1H_LvU_jg-AxbT_SINaatWE8sDQLrkSDIFr9l7bqDJJ93ijQ6B2F5xXTk88ctOPDKpvJ0/s1600/DSC_0948BarnesExteriorEEE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKoO2RivwMpKlk1bbrnrg4_Qb-e1A_C3cXlDA17iwThybYnMm-C9b_AyoKJc8qX5N9lHa20yk1H_LvU_jg-AxbT_SINaatWE8sDQLrkSDIFr9l7bqDJJ93ijQ6B2F5xXTk88ctOPDKpvJ0/s320/DSC_0948BarnesExteriorEEE.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Barnes Foundation building</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">It happened and it's over and undoubtedly a lot of people are and will be grateful. The collection is dazzling and the building that houses it, designed by Tod Williams and Billie Tsien, does it justice. Within an understated, 93,000-square-foot building, the architects recreated the rooms that once housed the collection in Merion. They preserved the exact proportions and detailing, including the orientation of the windows, the placement of the objects in each room, the colors of the walls and trim. Their changes were subtle to enhance the luminosity of the galleries.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Each gallery has been outfitted with benches where visitors can sit comfortably and meditate on the art. That's what the doctor wanted — an educational and emotional experience based on observing shape, color, line, spatial arrangement and content transcending the work of any one artist or period — each piece reflecting the others on that wall and in that room in what Dr. Barnes called "ensembles."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The guiding hand remains Dr. Barnes' own. He saw the connections in the art that he owned. It soon becomes apparent that the reason he wanted nothing moved was that the galleries themselves were his art.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The new Barnes Foundation building is on Benjamin Franklin Parkway, right next to the Rodin Museum, which has the largest collection of Rodin's work outside of Paris, and down the hill from the Philadelphia Museum of Art, making Philadelphia a must-see destination for any art lover.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Admission to the Barnes Foundation collection is still by timed ticket, but tickets are easy to come by now. No one will be turned away.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Terese</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-81640804648783967902012-05-07T01:50:00.001-07:002012-07-11T04:00:05.763-07:00What to Expect in Kerala Tour<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T-Hrvy9vkME/T6ePUeZD1YI/AAAAAAAAAvM/3689v7-0NQw/s1600/kerala.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5739713832025314690" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T-Hrvy9vkME/T6ePUeZD1YI/AAAAAAAAAvM/3689v7-0NQw/s400/kerala.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 272px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Kerala is one of the best travel locations to visit. This place has a wide range of scenic beauties to offer. This article will discuss about all these locations that it offers. This article will help you explain what to expect in God’s Own Country, Kerala. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Beaches- Kerala is well known for its long beaches. This is a state which is located at the cost and thus, sea food is also a delicacy here. There are many beaches in this state and each has its own specialty. It creates lagoons and many other natural formations made by the sea. People love to enjoy this Kerala beach location with family and friends. Contrary to the Goa beaches, this is a calmer place. Some of the well known beaches are Alappuzha beach, Bekal beach, Fort Kochi beach and many more among the long list. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Hill stations- contrary to the beaches, there are hill stations too. Hill stations provide a great place for honeymoons and summer travel holiday spots. To name a few hill stations, there is the Chembra Park, Chithirapuram, Idukki, etc. Out of these, the best and the well known hill station is Munnar which is a tourist attraction to people all over the world.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Backwaters- Kerala Bacwaters tour are the main tourist attraction to all. Beaches can be found everywhere but the backwaters can be found only in Kerala. The main formation of the backwaters comes from the 44 rivers which<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> flow through Kerala. There are various destinations for the backwaters and mentioning one will not justify the others. Thus, choosing the locations on the basis of your needs and penchants will be the best option. Travelling and even staying on a boathouse is a must do when you visit the state. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Forests and national parks- Kerala is also a home for forests and wildlife. There are national parks as well as sanctuaries that protect the flora and fauna of the land. There is the Eravikulam National Park which homes the much endangered Nilgiri Tahr tree. The UNESCO is also considering the decision of making this national park a world heritage site. Kerala also has the Idukki, Chinnar, and Periyar wild life sanctuaries along with a few bird sanctuaries like Kumarakom, Thattekkad, and a few others. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Kerala is home to all these diverse places in it. In short, Kerala is a smaller version of India hosting all the elements which makes a complete India, albeit a few like snow-capped mountains. The state is also culturally and traditionally rich as it hosts some world famous temples and traditions. With this, it is the home to the spice markets which was the main attraction for the British and other foreign countries to step in and invade India. Even today, these species are grown in the kitchen gardens as a common plant and herb. It also hosts markets for the medicinal herbs, oils and powders while travelers visit the state to get treated for all their illnesses. Thus, one can expect a lot and even get it from Kerala. </span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-23132536535034040492012-04-08T07:57:00.001-07:002012-07-11T04:42:06.473-07:00Titanic Trail in Manhattan<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729051458858195170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ00q3cGEiIPmSAQD9ccERtkbXg1M7aQ6bJml0oWOxwcPFMTNBfnGKM4Muab2edIUhhxUFIG8vq0HzEGOYPTZgE1tsbThDC0KVQV1qOUNFzeo4I_zEDLoSJjs4ykWE6G4K-IWpxcfn1XEQ/s400/DSC_8545Pier54CunardWhiteStarEEE.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 266px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 400px;" /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">In the run-up to April 15, 2012 — the 100th anniversary of the Titanic sinking — museum </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">exhibits, lectures, concerts and even entire museums are memorializing the collision between the opulent ocean liner and an iceberg that killed more than 1, 500 people. But Manhattan tells </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">the Titanic story with more than just ephemera.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div>The Titanic was headed for Manhattan when she went down at 2:20 a.m. on April 15, 1912 off the coast of Newfoundland. The Carpathia brought the survivors to Manhattan. Many of the people on board were New Yorkers or were bound for New York City to make it their new home. Manhattan, therefore, has more authentic sites connected with the Titanic than anywhere else except for Belfast, where she was built. Unlike a museum visit, the Titanic Trail in Manhattan takes travelers to fascinating places in the city — a shrine for America’s first native-born saint, the South Street Seaport, an old-fashioned hotel where the bellmen wear 1930s regalia, lower Broadway with its famous statue of a charging bull and thd gorgeous Hudson River Park with its gardens, fountains and five-mile promenade along the river.</div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The 100th anniversary of the Titanic sinking will come and go. In Manhattan, the Titanic is part of the city's fabric — Pier 54 at 13th Street, where the words "Cunard White Star Line" are still visible in faded paint on the rusted ironwork, 9 Broadway, where the White Star office was located at that time, the American Seamen's Friend Society Sailors' Home and Institute, now The Jane, a hotel at 113 Jane St., where the surviving crew members of the Titanic were housed, and more. Long after the centennial, in Manhattan the Titanic and its story will live on.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-85860978229092704252012-03-29T00:13:00.001-07:002012-07-11T04:12:10.477-07:00Taj Mahal Tours- How to Select a Tour?<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2av9Y5huLzY/T3QMY9q35sI/AAAAAAAAAlg/-v63bSCiIME/s1600/Taj%2BMahal.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725214649305523906" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2av9Y5huLzY/T3QMY9q35sI/AAAAAAAAAlg/-v63bSCiIME/s400/Taj%2BMahal.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Taj Mahal is one of the <st1:place st="on">Seven Wonders of the World</st1:place>. This wonder is located in the heart of <st1:country-region st="on">India</st1:country-region> and is a tourist attraction to foreigners all over the world. The state revenue comprises of a major contribution from the tourism industry of the city of <st1:city st="on">Agra</st1:city>. There are various Taj Mahal tours made for the foreigners as well as the Indian residents. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The Taj Mahal is a symbol of love built by Shah Jahan to his wife Mumtaz. This piece of art took 22 years to be completed. An interesting fact is that the Emperor wanted to build the same monument in black marble for his tomb but this dream did not fulfill as he was imprisoned by his youngest son, Aurangzeb. Talking about the architecture, the colored stones used in the designing of the monument each were bought from a different country. These stones came from places like <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Sri Lanka</st1:place></st1:country-region>. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The Taj Mahal tour packages will vary depending on the location you are coming from and the time that you want to spend there. For example, if you are from <st1:city st="on">Agra</st1:city> and a local resident, the amount will be very small as the India travel agent is providing commute for a small distance and this will be a one day trip. The entire package will include travel from a particular place as decided by the agent and the sight seeing of the wonder. Taj Mahal and return to the agreed spot. This is a one day trip for the local people. </div><a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The other package will be mainly for tourists outside the state of Uttar Pradesh. The package will determine the items which will be included in the tour. For example, it will mention what all are included in the package like the travel, room and hotel service, food, entry fee and such other services. This should be looked into before you book the package. Sometimes, the train, bus or air fare will be included in the package if you are an outstation tourist. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">By default, all the tours will include a tour guide who will explain all the history and details about the historic wonder. But it is always beneficial to know about the monument before you visit it in person. You can ask more questions to the tour guide if you know a bit about the place. There are tour organizers in many cities around the world. If you are a foreigner, then you can check the local yellow pages to find a travel agent providing the Taj Mahal tours. The prices that each of these agents will differ on the basis of the services and features that they are offering. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If you want to reduce the price of the entire package and get more benefits from it, you can opt to visit other monuments and famous tourist attractions in the country. There are various other well known attractions like the Red Fort, Chandini Chowk which is a market place for all kinds of local <st1:city rt="on"><st1:place st="on">Delhi</st1:place></st1:city> items and such other places. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-70452937586507620782012-03-11T09:01:00.001-07:002012-07-11T04:42:30.777-07:00Philadelphia Flowers<div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZ23BbqgSyyitHXGQbAEMta-V1wvyzHfQ4RVTiM7HHRfVZVIP-WdKicOYQVMl08ODMQIswOyMp5IZT3b2enuW49J7PxWM_-LwbdgMEd0V2-jCXbas78HxgHDnvaFmn5QwWtEsP2PV3K5y/s1600/DSC_7236PhilaMuseumArtVanGoghSunflowers1888EEE.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718678576077415138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZ23BbqgSyyitHXGQbAEMta-V1wvyzHfQ4RVTiM7HHRfVZVIP-WdKicOYQVMl08ODMQIswOyMp5IZT3b2enuW49J7PxWM_-LwbdgMEd0V2-jCXbas78HxgHDnvaFmn5QwWtEsP2PV3K5y/s320/DSC_7236PhilaMuseumArtVanGoghSunflowers1888EEE.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 213px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 320px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimK0zOn5u62hKm6PFNOmY_nAc2GahTOMukzTZv1Fop6VXE6o_0KzE9tR5pkqpiuFByPOWvfQngKuZTNOk4s5FS-GMEba6ZyZdSzLWg3zPV1Q0VMhpC3lotEEo71fULxpbsLFDhzdNbUq6X/s1600/DSC_7396PhiladelphiaArtMuseumFromTrainCUEEE.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUaexhe8ItgXyQeOA6zoNLCmzjyIrAHWB-9tXE6zwhgK3X78-SC2dG93hz6dn2b0LW4DcPHQf_vZhn_yD1u5xZL4feYW69L6hD8HJFi-Y4pZiELMRR5tHO8SIaN8WaW2V3Vt-WndaLa1NB/s1600/DSC_7266PhilaMuseumArtVanGoghWheatfieldEEE.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>Philadelphia's famed flower show, which has been presented with few interruptions since 1829, closes today (March 11) but other flowers are still blooming in Philadelphia. A captivating exhibit called "Van Gogh Up Close" continues at the Philadelphia Museum of Art through May 6. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Van Gogh loved flowers and painted them over and over -- in vases and in fields and gardens where he marveled at their colors as they played </div><div style="text-align: justify;">against an abundance of greens that evoked every nuance of his palette. Van Gogh's passion is </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718676730189205986" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimK0zOn5u62hKm6PFNOmY_nAc2GahTOMukzTZv1Fop6VXE6o_0KzE9tR5pkqpiuFByPOWvfQngKuZTNOk4s5FS-GMEba6ZyZdSzLWg3zPV1Q0VMhpC3lotEEo71fULxpbsLFDhzdNbUq6X/s320/DSC_7396PhiladelphiaArtMuseumFromTrainCUEEE.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 210px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 320px;" /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">readily felt in his flurries of brush strokes, stipples and thickly applied paint. As he experimented and grew more sure of himself, his paintings become luminous with deftly applied layers of color that feed off each other -- orange and yellow and lavender and blue violet. Van Gogh's love of nature is a balm in our technologically saturated times. People are flocking to see his paintings. They look at them in reverential silence.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-39858837624290014242012-02-24T22:21:00.001-08:002012-07-11T04:20:06.960-07:00Beauty and Adventure Attraction of LadakhThe high mountain passes of Ladakh make it is a thrilling place to visit. The geography and culture of Ladakh are amazing. The Tibetan-Buddhist culture draws a lot of tourist attention. It is also one of the most preferred destinations for adventure tourism in <st1:country-region st="on" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 100%; text-align: justify;"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 100%; text-align: justify;">. The Ladakh region is situated between the two great mountain ranges in north and south, which make it a perfect place for adventurous activities like trekking, mountain climbing, mountain biking, etc.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Some of the exhilarating trekking trails, which can be covered in Ladakh during </span><b style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Ladakh tours,</span> </b><span style="font-size: 100%;">are:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><b style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Himalaya Mountain Biking Tour:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nki-8NBeH1w/T0iRzGnZEZI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/z8PHaNz7igI/s1600/Bike%2BTours.jpg" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712976434454663570" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nki-8NBeH1w/T0iRzGnZEZI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/z8PHaNz7igI/s400/Bike%2BTours.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">E<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 100%;">njoy the pleasing experience of going through the high passes of the mountains on bikes (bicycles). Enjoy the ride as no city pollution or traffic will be there to hinder your trip. It will be both fun and challenging to cross two of the highest mountain passes of the world. While going through these rough terrains, enjoy the spectacular view of snow-capped peaks and landscapes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><b style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Trekking in Ladakh</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rIqimvLKVek/T0iO7qWuUfI/AAAAAAAAAks/kPbO464R6Ps/s1600/trekking-in-leh-ladakh.jpg" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712973282952499698" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rIqimvLKVek/T0iO7qWuUfI/AAAAAAAAAks/kPbO464R6Ps/s400/trekking-in-leh-ladakh.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">With two neighboring mountain ranges, trekking is one of the most famous tourist activities in the region. During your <st1:place st="on">Himalaya</st1:place> tours you have to make plan as per sightseeing and places to visit in ladakh region. Trekking is a great way to see the wonders of Nature from a closer distance. With proper preparation and a clear weather, you can enjoy trekking with ease.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><b style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Sightseeing in Ladakh:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 100%;">Although Ladakh is mostly famous for adventurous tourism, it still has many places to see and visit. The Buddhist Culture has a major influence in the region. There are few monasteries in the region which are centuries old.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><b style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Hemis Monastery and Hemis Festival:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bTzGEywavJM/T0iPMe7OtbI/AAAAAAAAAk4/yybjNn-zvD4/s1600/800px-Hemis_Gompa%252C_India_2006.jpg" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712973571942167986" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bTzGEywavJM/T0iPMe7OtbI/AAAAAAAAAk4/yybjNn-zvD4/s400/800px-Hemis_Gompa%252C_India_2006.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It is a well-known Tibetan-Buddhist monastery located in Hemis, Ladakh. It is said to be made before the 11th century. Every 12 years, a great festival is celebrated in the memory of the Lord Padmasambhava (Guru Rimpoche). The main attraction of the festival is the mystic mask dances. It is a great place to visit for spiritual enlightenment.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><st1:placename st="on" style="font-size: 100%;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;">Padum</span></b></st1:placename><b style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <st1:placetype st="on">Valley</st1:placetype></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zXPAc3p74R0/T0iPWePkcfI/AAAAAAAAAlE/aHXbTuCdjN0/s1600/800px-Zanskar_padum_Padum.jpg" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712973743557734898" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zXPAc3p74R0/T0iPWePkcfI/AAAAAAAAAlE/aHXbTuCdjN0/s400/800px-Zanskar_padum_Padum.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 260px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 100%;">It is the main administrative center of the Zanskar sector of Kargil district. There are some Buddhist monasteries located near Padum. It was also the capital of the ancient </span><st1:place st="on" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 100%;"><st1:placetype st="on">Kingdom</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename st="on">Zanskar</st1:placename></st1:place><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 100%;">. It has become a major trekking base lately.</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 100%;"> </span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-27489778286696865252012-02-17T22:58:00.001-08:002012-07-11T04:12:52.449-07:00Famous Tourist Hotspots of South India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;">South India is a place full of amazing things. The state of Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, Kerala and Tamil Nadu along with the union territories of Lakshadweep and Pondicherry holds many tourist attractions. Each state has plenty of natural and man-made wonders. Natural wonders include backwaters, beaches, forests and wildlife while temples, monuments, ruins of ancient buildings and the hill stations are the man-made wonders. All these places are a must visit during your <b>South India Tours</b>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.ercotravels.com/south-india-tour.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="blank" title="South India Tours"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g6OA8JuvI8k/Tz9IB8Jns6I/AAAAAAAAAkg/36x7Dkb_3Lg/s400/kerala-tours.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Kerala is listed in the list of ten paradises of the world and is also called the God’s Own Country. Kerala Backwaters are famous throughout India and the world. Other major tourist attractions are the beaches, lake resorts, Ayurveda spas, temples, hill stations and wildlife sanctuary.<br />
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Tamil Nadu’s tourism industry is based on tours of Hindu temples. There are 34000 temples in Tamil Nadu. It also has many UNESCO world heritage sites. Other places of tourist interest are backwaters, Wildlife sanctuaries, Water fall, Hill stations and beaches. It is also famous for many colorful festivals like Pongal, Mattu Pongal, Karthikai Deepam, etc.<br />
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Karnataka is a land full of monuments. It has 507 (the second largest number among the Indian states) centrally protected monuments in India. The main tourist attraction is the ancient sculptured temples and monuments. The beaches, forests, hill stations, National parks and wildlife sanctuaries, Dams, Waterfalls and caves are piety interesting. Adventurous activities like rock climbing, mountain biking, rafting, river crossing, caving, etc. is also becoming more popular among tourists.<br />
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Andhra Pradesh has a very rich cultural heritage and history. One can find many temples of Hindu God all around Andhra Pradesh. It is best known for its pilgrimage sites. The Hyderabad city is famous for its rich history, culture and architecture. Food is one of its main specialties because Hyderabad is considered to be the meeting point for North and South India. Take a tour to south India to find an amazing and unique flavor of India.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Travel agents for <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> are arranged all necessary things for your planned tours according to your budget.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-81774556404185984102012-01-30T22:09:00.001-08:002012-07-11T04:05:11.664-07:00Why India is called Incredible India!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fsxuv0lXK54/TyeF51Mj1tI/AAAAAAAAAkU/-WqC0f1ZKDY/s1600/Incredible%2BIndia.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703674681666819794" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fsxuv0lXK54/TyeF51Mj1tI/AAAAAAAAAkU/-WqC0f1ZKDY/s400/Incredible%2BIndia.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Out of the many countless reasons, here are some of the top reasons why <st1:country-region st="on">India</st1:country-region> is called Incredible India and why you should visit <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> on your next vacation tour.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><st1:country-region st="on">India</st1:country-region> is a big country - Being the 7<sup>th</sup> largest country by area in the world, <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">India</st1:country-region></st1:place> has very diverse natural features. Mountains covered with snow, hot and dry deserts, beautiful beaches and islands, rocky mountain range and dense forests, you can find all of them in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Colorful Heritage and Culture - The heritage of <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> is as vast as the size of the country. One of the oldest civilizations in the world, its heritage is rich in customs and traditions. So many different cultures have co-existed in the past and have blended together to form the present Indian society.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Great Architectural Wonders - The old rulers and emperors of <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> were great admirers of art and craftsmanship. The architectural marvels built by them are the proof of it. <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Temples</st1:place></st1:city>, mosques, tombs, palaces and forts built by these kings are so mesmerizing you will not get enough of them. </div><a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Hospitality - With the motto ‘Atithi devo bhavah’ meaning guest is God, you will find the hospitality of <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> pleasing. Traditional rituals for greeting the guests at the time of arrival and departure have become a part of Indian customs.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Food and Cuisine - The food is an important part of any culture. For many visiting tourists Indian food has always been on the top of the list of things to try. The Indian food is full of variety and the taste is simply unforgettable.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Festivals - Visit <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> during any festive season and you will find how colorful and vibrant life can be. With so many festivals celebrated throughout the year, life itself becomes a part of this celebration.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Wildlife - Visit the national parks and wildlife sanctuaries to get a chance to see the Mother Nature at her best. Variety of wildlife species, plants and tress can be seen in these parks and will take your breath away because of there sheer beauty.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">India Tour Operators present informative clause according to Incredible India gives you just an idea about great <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>. You can choose India tours plan and enjoy your vacation in more convenient and enjoyable way.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-16056072171202222612012-01-09T04:00:00.001-08:002012-07-11T04:20:55.150-07:00India Tourism Industry Growth Rate 2011-12<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VpPfDI0u_7I/TwrWv3IEMUI/AAAAAAAAAjM/QP0FViqncjI/s1600/india-tourism.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VpPfDI0u_7I/TwrWv3IEMUI/AAAAAAAAAjM/QP0FViqncjI/s400/india-tourism.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">The Indian tourism industry showed a tremendous growth of 8.9 percent which is almost double as what was expected to be around 4-5 percent in 2011 by the United Nations World Trade Organization (UNWTO). India also did well as compared to the other Asian countries as more than 6.29 million tourists visited India last in 2011. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The growth is the sign that India is regaining its position as the most favored Asian tourist destination. The growth percentage of 8.9 was lower than 2010’s growth rate of 11.8 but still the total number of tourist of 6.29 million was greater then last year’s 5.78 million. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The global slowdown and the travel advisories issued at the end of the year were some accountable factors but still not strong enough to hinder the growth of the Indian tourism industry. In fact, the last month of the year, December proved to be a great month for the tourism in India as roughly 715,000 foreign tourists visited India in December of 2011 as compared to 680,000 tourists visited in the same month of 2010. The growth percentage in December was about 5.2 percent comparing to 4.7 per cent in November.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The growth is expected to increase steadily in 2012. The coming months of 2012 are going to be very busy for various <b>Travel Agency in India</b> as more and more international tourists will be coming in to see the colorful India.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-38788210843505373492011-12-12T21:34:00.001-08:002012-07-11T03:49:43.334-07:00Sand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;">My ass was sore for a week. For days after I could hardly move it. Overnight train rides were spent on my stomach, meals were taken over the backs of chairs, and I was more comfortable than ever about squatting over toilets. It was probably how long the damn thing took. I don’t care who you are: three hours on the back of a camel will do strange things to your body—the nearly constant state of gyration, made all the worse by an irrational fear of being slumped off at any moment.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Tyra and I saw brochures for the outing at our hostel in western Gansu Province. The literature was picketed with phrases like “relive the mystery of the Silk Road” and “experience one thousand and one Arabian nights!” The translations weren’t nearly as polished, but what really sold us were the tiny snapshots superimposed over the text—smiling tourists posing on camel-back, peeking out from inside a tent, and climbing up sandbanks. Almost two full days in the beautiful Mingsha Sand Dunes, the advertisement continued, complete with an overnight stay in the desert followed by a breathtaking morning sunrise.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My eyes widened to the size of saucers. “A camel,” I said to Tyra, beaming. “How many people can say they’ve done that?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There were seven of us on the trip—two other couples, one Chinese and one American—neither of which could communicate with the other—and a lone female traveler from Shanghai, a spunky twenty-six year old intent on seeing more of her own country. She was seated third in the pecking order of the camel caravan behind Tyra and I, with the final two couples to follow, and an 8th camel charged with carrying the camping tents and cooking supplies bringing up the rear.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Each camel was tied to the one in front of it with a thick rope, a wad of knotted string protruding through its nostril and capped with a stopper to hold it in place. Any hold-up in the journey meant that each subsequent camel in line was turned sideways, its head precariously hooked to the one behind, which forced the camels to quickly learn to cooperate and move in tandem. At the head of the caravan was an older Chinese gentleman of Tibetan or Uighur descent whose inhabitants were not uncommon in the Far West. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The older gentleman acted as the foreman, and walked the end of the rope out in front of the line of camels. For a man of fifty or sixty (I have always been mercilessly poor at predicting age), he was rugged and fit, certainly aided by a profession that involved trekking ten or twelve miles into the desert every day. It didn’t help that it was the middle of July and the desert was sweltering. The foreman was wearing a long-sleeve shirt, gloves, and a hat, certainly to protect himself from the sun, whereas I had rolled up the sleeves of my thin T-shirt to my shoulders and was tugging helplessly at the hem of my jeans. Tyra was wearing black leggings and a button-down shirt and looked equally flustered.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">For all of my ballyhooing about the camel ride, it didn’t take long before I began to tire of it. Out in the dunes, everything begins to look the same. On all sides there were white clouds, blue skies, and towering piles of sand that seemed to reach the stratosphere. The size and scale of it was dizzying. The closest I had ever come to sand was the gravely Coney Island coast, which, even in memory, bore almost no resemblance to the shimmering mounds that swelled and swooped around me, consuming nearly every square inch in sight.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_wPcxYXVouQvY7krQ6Q-mkBajEfSMEdngHZXdpuZ-Nt4KTE2-ShjWxsVX6nEDrJcUssCg9dz45LbkbC0-da4SUDXZy3n41RRegqKhNnl4FYCOPSqWU5c5qkYY_TyvcoIOT2oisezZ3wo/s1600/IMG_7802_1.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_wPcxYXVouQvY7krQ6Q-mkBajEfSMEdngHZXdpuZ-Nt4KTE2-ShjWxsVX6nEDrJcUssCg9dz45LbkbC0-da4SUDXZy3n41RRegqKhNnl4FYCOPSqWU5c5qkYY_TyvcoIOT2oisezZ3wo/s400/IMG_7802_1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">I could tell Tyra was exhausted—as far as I remember, she nary said a word the entire time we spent bobbing up and down like inflatable buoys. Still, it was easy enough to stay amused by the feisty back-and-forth between the foreman and the young unmarried Chinese woman. It was as if she wanted to know everything about his life story—when he got started raising camels, how much he made per year, and what his family was like. It appeared that the Chinese fascination for “otherness” extended well beyond the American foreigner—it was true of its own marginalized citizenry as well.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The foreman acquiesced to her every nagging inquiry. The camels were not his, he explained, but he was able to rent them from a friend to do his treks. His expertise was in leading trips out to the desert and the care with which he took to make his foreign guests comfortable. He had been doing it for over thirty years, and in the winters when it got too cold to camp in the desert overnight, he helped to raise his grandchildren at home, of which he had over a dozen.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The woman seemed particularly intrigued. “How do you make your foreign guests comfortable if you can’t speak any English,” she asked with a smirk. Conversation up to that point had been entirely in Chinese. The foreman remained unfazed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Once a foreigner asked me where he could go to the bathroom,” he recalled, repeating the word “bathroom” in English. He hadn’t understood what the word meant and asked the tourist to repeat the question. “Toilet,” the Australian pleaded, looking close to desperation. “Where can I find the toilet?” The foreman smiled. He pointed to a shrub in the distance and, in his most exaggerated English, shouted, “there is toilet.” The whole caravan chuckled in unison. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“So besides speaking English,” the woman asked snidely, “what else can you do?” The foreman thought for a moment.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I can sing,” he exclaimed, and almost immediately launched into an enthusiastic rendition of a popular Chinese folk song. The woman clapped her hands and looked pleased. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">“What about you?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I don’t sing,” the woman said doggedly, waving a hand in front of her face. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Well I’m not going to sing alone,” the foreman averred. “You there,” he said looking up at me, the first one in line. “How about it?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Me,” I asked defensively, wishing to distance myself from the banter. “I can’t sing either.” The foreman shook his head.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Oh I’m sure you can sing,” he said eagerly. “All you Americans must be able to sing something. What about your national anthem?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There were few things I detested more than my own singing voice. Karaoke with friends in an enclosed room was one thing, but the desert was suspiciously quiet and sound tends to carry for a long time across an open space. I spun around to look at Tyra. She was applying a new layer of sunscreen; the others on the tour looked even more disinterested.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“No, I’d really rather not,” I said. I thought it was an adequate enough rejection, but the foreman pressed harder.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“You need to sing.” He paused. “Or else I’m turning all of us around.” He was staring me dead in the eyes.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I don’t want to sing,” I blurted out, half-shouting. The foreman’s pace slowed to a halt. The only sound was the lithe crunch of sand beneath my camel’s hooves. For what felt like minutes, no one said anything, and then, at last, the woman from Shanghai piped up.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“What else can you do?” she asked him.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I can also cook,” the foreman said, as he gradually took the reigns in his hand and resumed course.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">At some point along the way I managed to fall asleep. How one falls asleep riding on the back of a moving camel sounds hyperbolic, but there was something otherworldly about the experience. I could almost picture myself a wealthy Chinese merchant, a team of vassals at my beck-and-call, lazily slouching along the Silk Road. For the moment, neither time nor bodily desires seemed of the least concern.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">By the time we stopped it was almost dark. The foreman helped let us down, and began unpacking the tents and cooking equipment. He tied the first camel to the last, rigging them in a closed loop, and instructed each one to kneel on the ground one-by-one. He announced that we would have dinner there at the base in an hour, but that in the meantime, we should enjoy the sunset on the lookout of a tall sandy peak he pointed to not far in the distance.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It was as if the sand rekindled some deep child-like exuberance in me. From the moment I stepped off the camel I caught myself running across the plains, rolling down hills and scrambling up embankments. I was six years old again playing in a giant, ever-expansive sandbox. Tyra, sensing my mood, began stalking me like a lion, and the two of us got down on all fours, pouncing and shuffling barefoot in our imagined African Sahara. When she got close enough to touch, I wrestled her to the ground, dusting her clothes and mine with sand. Her skin, white and smooth, contrasted perfectly with its tawny coarseness.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">We galloped our way up the sandy peak to the lookout. At one point, we tried to race headlong up the nearly vertical shaft, but with each beleaguered step, we slipped increasingly more deeply into sand. Ours was a cacophony of laughter and high-pitched shrieks. When we reached the top, the lone Chinese woman offered to take our picture. Tyra and I sat with our backs to the sunset in the distance, her head nestled firmly in the crook of my neck.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">We had dinner on two squat collapsible tables back at base. In front of us, the foreman had constructed a small fire out of packed twigs and brush. He brought out seven metal containers and placed them on the tables. Under each lid was a brick of instant noodles mixed with the once hot water transported from the town. On all accounts, it was a letdown. My body was starving, and after a full day out in the desert sun, the last thing I wanted to eat was lukewarm noodles. The foreman, sensing the collective disappointment, explained:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“The government doesn’t give me enough money to provide any food for the trip,” he said, in his accented Mandarin. “But since I expect tourists not to bring enough, I buy this out of my own pocket.” The foreman looked around the circle but still strained to make eye contact with me. It was easy enough not to trust him—that perhaps he just skimmed the extra money off the top to pay for cigarettes and liquor and gambling. But the narrative didn’t seem to fit. I added a flimsy packaged sausage to the water—something I almost never eat—and slurped up my noodles in silence.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Nearby, the camels snorted and shifted positions. They slept a stone’s throw away from where the foreman had set-up our sleeping tents. All roped together in a circle, they looked like this single living entity, the silhouette of their humps rising and falling with their breath. No respite from the cold night air, nor any food or water of their own, they still seemed perfectly, dispassionately, content.</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEnX_UHXU-DrcKefOM-OSw1r5bNdXxTDIfWwMTzhO9GZeRkoeBGWQ4bMeMcMFMklmbanlnJPvIkgC4GEeiVLJg6SMkh6_X7uoGmRdXfJHzawivjiuV94Y7LxnbsynxKeXGjHi4bK5M3mU/s1600/IMG_7887_1.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEnX_UHXU-DrcKefOM-OSw1r5bNdXxTDIfWwMTzhO9GZeRkoeBGWQ4bMeMcMFMklmbanlnJPvIkgC4GEeiVLJg6SMkh6_X7uoGmRdXfJHzawivjiuV94Y7LxnbsynxKeXGjHi4bK5M3mU/s400/IMG_7887_1.jpg" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">Pretty soon everyone began preparing for sleep. Tyra and I and the other two couples each had a tent to share, and the unmarried woman had one to herself. The foreman slept outside beneath the stars—“how he liked it”—though I suspect it was more that he could afford to rent one fewer tent, further defraying his overhead. The tents were roomy but provisions were scarce. Other than a thin mat, the only covering we had was the tattered fleece blanket we had previously used as a make-shift saddle on the camels.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was unfolding the mat when Tyra grabbed my arm to stop me. She had changed into a long black dress that cut a V beneath her neck and rested just above her ankles. Her lips were a searing, plump, red, and she had a ferocious, naughty glint in her eye. She pointed at me, then at herself, and finally at the mesh flap of the tent leading outside. In her hand was the clear Ziploc of condoms we had been steadily exorcising throughout the trip. I nodded greedily and she laughed, stashing the bag in her purse.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">We made our move after the last of the tents went dark. Tyra brought the tiny flashlight we had used to examine cave paintings all morning, along with her purse and the quick-dry travel towel we had been sharing, and we slogged up the little ridge. Our tiny encampment was positioned in a man-made hovel at the bottom of a hill. There was higher ground to every side of us like the raised crust around a dessert’s center. This sand hardly gave at all—each step had to be calculated, like we were snowshoeing up a steep cliff.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When we reached the top, Tyra pointed at the sky. I’d never seen stars like the ones that night. Zealous and bright, the constellations shined like dazzling stadium lights in the distance. Further from the ridge’s lip, the view was the same: hundreds of flecked sand dunes, the moonlight shimmering off their glittery surfaces like a theater packed with flashbulbs—an entire inter-stellar audience waiting for the curtain to be drawn and the show to begin. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">All at once, a wave of fear came over me. Not two hours earlier, the sand was near scalding to the touch, but now the cold was sending chills up my feet. I was shaking—those innumerable stars, like thousands of piercing stares, felt almost too much to bear.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">At the same time, I realized that there were not many other chances I would get. Tyra rolled out the towel and laid it gently over the sand, and I held her tightly, easing her body to the ground. My body glided between her legs and she wrapped them flush against my thighs, bringing me closer still. My lips coursed over her lips and tongue, following the ridge-lines of her mouth. I wrung my shirt over my head and hooked her arms through the thin straps of her dress. She undid the buckle to my belt and I carefully folded the tapered ends of her dress above her waist.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">A part of me ached desperately to take her then, to leave the two of us drenched and smoldering beneath the moon’s glow. But a different part yearned for something else, though it was impossible to communicate. In a parallel world, there would be no cosmic witnesses, no dull hum across the floating expanse—the shared moment existing for the two of us and us alone.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The words began to form in my mouth again. “I don’t—,” I muttered under my breath, but just then something stirred inside me. A blast of wind rolled over the dune, fanning out the sand beneath Tyra, and I slid inside her. There was something screaming inside me that needed to be released, a fire burning in the pit of my stomach. I grabbed her arms and held them firmly to the ground. Her body shook as the sand pulsed and swayed, each thrust sending the earth’s force resisting back against us and into the wind.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Beads of sweat trickled down the nape of my neck, but they didn’t last. As suddenly as it came on, the fire went out. And when it was over, we were both still breathing heavy, Tyra on her back, and me crouched in front of her, the jeans still looped around my ankles. The sand had coursed through her hair and mine, matting it at obtuse angles. She propped herself up with both arms and exhaled deeply into the sky. Her eyes, hazel-green, scanning the clouds like a beacon in the desert.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">We ambled back down the sloped ridge, Tyra leading the way with her flashlight. As quietly as I could, I unzipped the mesh shell of the tent and we stepped inside. The temperature had dropped precipitously. On the thin mat, we huddled close together—her back curving to form a tight seal against my chest, and my arms clasped firmly against hers. We pulled the blanket up and let it hang loose around our necks. For some time, everything around us was still. I had nearly fallen asleep when Tyra stirred and reached for the flashlight. Rolling to my right, I took her hand in mine and whispered softly: <i>thank you for being so wonderful</i>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">She squeezed my hand and switched off the light. Silence filled the void like a vacuum. What else was there left to say?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<i>This is the first of many semi-fictionalized short stories based on my two years abroad to be written and anthologized in a future book-length project by Wilder Voice Press. More details forthcoming soon! </i></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-53442412261811759562011-11-14T22:39:00.001-08:002012-07-11T04:00:15.554-07:00The Top Must-See Historical Tourist Attractions for India Tours<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bohj_7r1f4Y/TsIKjU4XSlI/AAAAAAAAAbA/4XQdDPIGmvw/s1600/Agra%2BFort.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675110082457061970" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bohj_7r1f4Y/TsIKjU4XSlI/AAAAAAAAAbA/4XQdDPIGmvw/s400/Agra%2BFort.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">India itself is rich in history as well as historical places which are the top tourist attractions in the country. From North to South, East to West, you will find attractive tourist destinations in India. So, never miss these must-see historical places when you visit India to see the luxury as well as the rich culture and history of India. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">India is a huge land and there are numerous spots you can visit. From East to West, North to South, there are several attractions which you can see, with each more attractive than the other. Out of those thousands, here is a list of the must-see tourist attractions in case you have <a href="http://www.ercotravels.com/india-tour-packages/index.html">India tour packages</a>. Whether you are just on a short tour or a long visit, you must see these historical places in India since they are not worth a miss.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Brief Introduction to Indian History</span></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">India is the great grandmother of tradition, the grandmother of legend, the mother of history, the birth place of human speech, and the structure of human race. The history of India can be nearly divided into the 6 periods: post-independence, the struggle for independence, colonial period as part of The Raj, the years of the Company, Medieval India and Ancient India.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Must-See Historical Places of India</span></div><br />
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</div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hLMQhLkSr2U/TsIMuErL2CI/AAAAAAAAAbY/fkvqyqN8jrk/s1600/2386DelhiIndiaGate.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675112466108635170" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hLMQhLkSr2U/TsIMuErL2CI/AAAAAAAAAbY/fkvqyqN8jrk/s400/2386DelhiIndiaGate.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 325px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">India Gate – Situated in Rajpath, New Delhi, India Gate is a leading tourist attraction for India tours, and must be included at the top of your list. Also known as the India War Memorial, this monument was constructed in honor of the memory of about 90,000 fallen soldiers who sacrificed their lives for freedom at the time of World War I. This is also a memorial to the second war in Afghanistan in 1919. The gate consisted almost entirely of sandstone, is roughly 42 meters in height and was first built by the Duke of Connaught in 1921.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ys2ErhiJ-pU/TsINl4YvvkI/AAAAAAAAAbk/PybwjoNtHHE/s1600/Bodh-Gaya.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675113424882744898" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ys2ErhiJ-pU/TsINl4YvvkI/AAAA@AAAAbk/PybwjoNtHHE/s400/Bodh-Gaya.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Bodhgaya – This is a spiritual sanctuary for religious Buddhists and attracts thousands of the devoted to the sacred monument every year. Situated just outside of Niranjana, this tourist site is known to be one of the holiest of pilgrimage sites, as history claims that this place is where Buddha achieved his enlightenment. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4dZvJGcu3gc/TsIS_XFYjwI/AAAAAAAAAbw/ePQZoeVlyG4/s1600/khimsar-fort-b1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675119360177901314" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4dZvJGcu3gc/TsIS_XFYjwI/AAAAAAAAAbw/ePQZoeVlyG4/s400/khimsar-fort-b1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Khimsar Fort – Originally built in 1523 AD by well-known architect Rao Karamsiji, Khimsar Fort should also be included in your list of the must-see tourist attractions when you have <a href="http://www.ercotravels.com/">India travel</a>. Located on the Great Thar Desert, and having the 20th descendent as the occupant, it is more like a palace instead of a hotel. Khimsar Fort is ranked as the most desirable Royal Retreat that you can stay at while having a visit in India. The hotel features 50 ultra luxurious rooms, equipped with all of the facilities, from air conditioning to hot and cold water as well as a 24-hour room service.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Konark Sun Temple in India Tours</span></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Located in Orissa just outside of the city of Puri, Konark Sun Temple is known to be a “medieval masterpiece” that symbolizes the wealthy architectural heritage of the culture of India from this time period. Created mostly from intricately hand sculpted segments and pieces, the temple was built complete with 24 wheels (each having around 10 feet in diameter), and complete of elaborate details like the spokes. The temple’s entrance is guarded by two fearsome lions, there are 7 horses which pull the chariot, and rearing elephants welcome travelers and tourists to the primary steps that lead to this temple.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-22364869482645431442011-10-20T23:28:00.001-07:002012-07-11T04:04:19.219-07:00Ideal and Exciting Tourist Destination in India<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zyPLrwmUQJQ/TqEawyWkJ0I/AAAAAAAAATE/m_6qwYYBADE/s1600/India-travel-snap.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665839231661254466" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zyPLrwmUQJQ/TqEawyWkJ0I/AAAAAAAAATE/m_6qwYYBADE/s320/India-travel-snap.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 115px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 475px;" /></a><br />
India is one of the most wonderful and exciting travel destinations around the world. It is considered as a naturally gifted place with the broad range of tourist destinations. In India, every state has overabundance of holiday hotspots wherein you can savor the pleasure of life without worrying about the everyday turmoil of working life. India has a wealthy cultural history, numerous architectural marvels and vast diversity. India Tour Operators provide a pleasing experience having the superb blend of tradition, culture natural beauty, spiritual and stunning modernization. So, visit this magical land of India and explore amazing destinations along with your family, special someone and friends.<br />
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Experiencing Endless Pleasure in India<br />
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India is most visited by people because of its wonderful destinations and it stands out among all Asian countries because of the earthy charm, geographical diversities and rich history. With its numerous diversities and variations, there are many places in India where you can explore and enjoy. If you are one of the tourists, you can definitely explore the beautiful palaces, mighty forts, picturesque valleys, cool hill stations, captivating beaches, breathtaking backwaters, golden desert, modern amusement, amazing fauna and flora, and solemn religious places.<br />
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India is a perfect place for people who love to study the different aspects of life, ancient civilization, mysticism, unique culture, mouth-watering foods, spiritual characteristics and a lot more. India travels are truly a superb experience when traveling and exploring such ancient land, which is beyond your widest imagination. India has a number of things to offer for every visitors and tourists. This place is a famous destination for professionals, vacationers, retirees, adventure enthusiast, honeymooners and various types of globetrotters.<br />
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Basically, vacationers love to flock on such a mesmerizing place and explore the distinctive tourism of Indian treasure. In India, there are varieties of India tours packages like South tours, North tours, Rajasthan tour, north-east tours, golden triangle tours, Ladakh and Kashmir tour, Kerale tour, medical tour, Taj Mahal tour, Uttarkhand tour, Ayurveda tour and other customized tour packages having the affordable price. These are the descriptions of several and often visited destinations for India tourism.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rajasthan: City of Culture and Tradition</span><br />
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Rajasthan is considered the most visited tourist destinations within India. It is well known for its grandeur and solemnity all over the globe. There are numerous tourism spots where you can visit the Jaipur like the Nahargarh Fort, Hawa Mahal, Birla Temple, Jantar Mantar, City Palace and many more. Tourists can also visit and explore the other famous spots in this state like Junagarh fort, Mehrangarh fort, sonar Quila, Sheesh Mahal, Lake Palace, Mandawa fort, Luni fort, Manadawa Haveli and many others. Rajasthan Tours is always high charming for traveler in india.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Kerala: God’s Own Country</span></div><div><b><br />
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This is known as God’s country. Moreover, innumerable people consider it as one of the “top ten” destinations in the world. It is because of the captivating backwaters, rejuvenating Ayurveda serene beaches and enticing surroundings. Thus, it provides amazing India destinations and natural experience that no other Indian state can provide.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Goa: The Beauty of Beaches</span></div><div><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wUNRTbpxP-k/TqEf1tdanPI/AAAAAAAAATo/fslmrCCM2y8/s1600/Baga%2BBeach.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665844813805296882" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wUNRTbpxP-k/TqEf1tdanPI/AAAAAAAAATo/fslmrCCM2y8/s320/Baga%2BBeach.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 282px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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Goa is the other popular destination of India tourism famous for the breathtaking beaches. Thus, it has beautiful “palm sized” beaches where people can rejuvenate, relax one’s soul and people can easily indulge in the different kinds of water sports. This is really great for honeymooners and couples and for those people who wanted to experience an explicit sheer of joy. Goa has several popular beaches such are Baga Beach, Anjuna Beach, Colva Beach, Miramar Beach and many more.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-73683562159943559742011-10-17T09:11:00.001-07:002012-07-11T03:50:07.411-07:00Green Onion and Frozen Pizza<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;">Each dish starts out the same. A few cloves of garlic minced into thin ovals, limbs of ginger pureed into a thick pulp, and finely chopped stalks of green onion, sliced so that the flimsy green leaves coil out from the white stalk. Each is used in equal quantity at the base of the wok, to which is added a few hearty shakes of salt and black pepper, a dash of Asian five spice, and a dollop of spicy chili peppers.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">We've been trying to cook together at least once a week, me and Yao Jie, this year's Shansi Visiting Scholar from China. We improvise a little with the ingredients, substituting what we can't get in America with its closest equivalents. The contents of each individual dish don't seem to matter much—strips of eggplant and squash, scrambled eggs and sweet onion, cubed pork and diced potatoes—the preparation is amazingly, eerily, consistent.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1MvmMt1FQNsAxGFL239KqGDJR7QWzcuDtLI0wtoTmhs4L678iDSnzlCcl0mIaOIcQTp4S_t5C3xdJ4YXltbObkVuPe5VrqTtLYhuJ0goG5lvZ5YRFSzOX-gYkVFLQ64vA7nbj8I9G030/s1600/SL373829_1.jpg"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.bom/-CtqyiEOiORA/TpxOipW_KaI/AAAAAAAAAzg/ysVbh18eMp8/s400/SL373829_1.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sunday dinner at Shansi House (photo courtesy of Yao Jie).</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In a bizarre twist of fate, Yao Jie also hails from Shanxi, the province home to my beloved Taigu, and is enamored by the same iconic Northern Chinese fare. When I lived in Taigu, I never thought I would miss it. So soon had the foreigners tired of the same five or six <i>lei</i> (types) of food that we eagerly sought out non-Chinese dishes at almost every opportunity. But amazingly, that plaintive disdain has quickly morphed into something more like desire. Food has become a metaphor for my unbridled nostalgia for China. The smells and tastes touch my taste buds in dreams, tantalizing me with the utterly fantastic notion of their feasibility, where the closest we get is the once-a-week meals we bastardize using ingredients from Stevenson and IGA.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am constantly awed by her fascination about Oberlin. There is a certain wide-eyed focus to her gaze, a quiet calculation and analysis of the new world surrounding her, not too dissimilar, in fact, from my own. It’s been interesting, too, hearing what kinds of questions she has, and how even the most ordinary things require a lengthy explanation: “What function do the blue boxes on street corners serve?” “How do you choose the best cell phone service provider?” “What is the meaning of the sign in the Walmart parking lot that reads ‘Reserved Parking: Horse and Buggy Only?’” <br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I had nearly forgotten how much these small, seemingly insignificant queries dictated my own attitudes toward my first month in rural China. How even the most ordinary things were no longer easy—crossing the street, mailing a postcard—and how it forced me to pay special attention to the little details in my every day life. But pretty soon, everyone learns to adapt. Back in America, you get used to the wide sidewalks, the lack of honking, the monolingual road signs, the orderly grocery check-out counters. By now the joy of those small accomplishments has already fallen away, replaced by preoccupation with bigger, more pressing goals. But to the outside, it’s imperceptible: no one here, perhaps save for Yao Jie herself, understands that loss in quite the same way.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeWFgZnniRo1J5_Rrhlidcy90GPeiTgN7U_vr92zP5X2XwXvTkn3ZWmxi7ILTbh3A2C2E2BUdNoBUzsbJ2Agq9_nrT9zIJddujUIVZHRco40hkdP5P-xeNIOZvgXpZKlQUtkkEkk5Uh2A/s1600/6186850081_dfb1c37ddb_b_1.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeWFgZnniRo1J5_Rrhlidcy90GPeiTgN7U_vr92zP5X2XwXvTkn3ZWmxi7ILTbh3A2C2E2BUdNoBUzsbJ2Agq9_nrT9zIJddujUIVZHRco40hkdP5P-xeNIOZvgXpZKlQUtkkEkk5Uh2A/s400/6186850081_dfb1c37ddb_b_1.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yao Jie demonstrating Chinese paper cutting at this year's Culture Festival in Tappan Square (photo courtesy of Dale Preston).</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I like to think I won’t have culture shock when I eventually return to visit Taigu, but I know that that won’t be the case. My reality is entrenched in my surroundings. I may no longer be shocked or amused by America, but I still yearn futilely for pieces of my past life. In one way, I’m paying it forward, helping to indoctrinate Yao Jie with the same welcoming and patience as those friends I made in Taigu provided for me, but in another, we’re both new to America, struggling with acclimating to this strange, different culture. At our last dinner Yao Jie refused cold water, opting instead to drink the boiled noodle water customarily paired with noodle-based dishes in the north. I paused for a second before I too dipped the ladle into the scalding pot and helped myself to a bowl.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I rarely cooked in China because from a pragmatist's point of view there was no ostensible need—restaurant food was laughably cheap and was much more efficient than cooking at home. Cooking always required what felt like a full day's preparation—shopping at the local supermarket in town for things like meat and tofu, the little mom-and-pop granary for rice and flour, and the farmer's market for things like eggs and vegetables. There was a two-three hour stretch of time at night devoted to the actual cooking—six pairs of hands in a crowded kitchenette taking turns by the electric hot plates, sharing cutting boards, and alternately washing and plating dishes. Then, the hour or two dedicated to eating, and finally the clean-up—scraping pans, storing leftovers, and wiping down tables.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Here there is almost none of that camaraderie. Most of my meals are cooked for one, and yet still, I find solace in that solitary act—returning home at noon, turning on the electric stove, letting the <i>chop</i> and <i>sizzle</i> of the saucepan add layers to Ira Glass's inflection. Then at night, the neat simplicity of reheated leftovers for dinner. It's not the co-op at Oberlin and it certainly isn't a Thursday night banquet in Taigu, but it suffices.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Two weeks ago I received an unlikely gift. Hand-delivered by Alexandra’s sister over seven thousand miles to Oberlin—what in Taigu could almost pass as a food staple unto itself—a package of <i>Taigu bing</i>. These particular <i>bing</i>—Chinese for “cookie,” “biscuit” or almost any breaded ration—came in a red plastic bag, the words “red date” emblazoned across the bottom to indicate the flavor. They are particular to Taigu and absolutely ubiquitous—rare is it to pass a store that doesn't carry them in large plastic crates, the stylized gold characters practically dancing across the label. But to receive them here, at a fancy restaurant in Oberlin, felt like something outer-worldly—my brain just couldn't process it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have been holding out on eating the last one, perhaps so long that it will end up spoiling in spite of my efforts, but I can't quite seem to let it go. This, a food staple that I bought with such utter regularity as to never question whether or not I'd have enough, a breakfast item I paired with a bowl of yogurt and a sliced banana each morning. For want of the more conventional Western pastries I once craved, these fluffy, sesame seed-studded cookies were all we had. And now, a single, solitary mouthful is all that remains. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It's a feeling that I find hard to explain. It's like being the sole proprietor of a contraband food ration in the army. Or, perhaps, like a foreign teacher laying claim to the only personal pizza in a rural Chinese town of 80,000. The pie that Gerald took back with him after each trip to Pizza Hut in the nearest big city of Taiyuan, an over four-hour journey in all. At each unveiling, there stood a small group swarming hungrily around the microwave or, more accurately, Gerald holed up in his own room alone, careful not to draw attention to the prodigious gift, like an archaeologist protecting a new discovery. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I can imagine him there, and then again after having returned back to the states—frozen pizza stocked in nearly every grocery store, Domino's delivery never more than 30 minutes away. But staring into that microwave, there was that one extraordinary moment—the collective hopes and dreams of seven foreigners pinned to that gleaming vessel of tomato and cheese, a time when any one of us would have traded the world for a bite. And now, as if in some distant universe, Gerald heats up a slice of pizza in his microwave back home in America, thinking to himself: <i>remember when this used to be valuable</i>.</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-6865675227930993252011-09-27T22:31:00.001-07:002012-07-11T04:21:16.577-07:00Shop Till You Drop in Rajasthan<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rhjErdvjacw/ToK4-PmBhJI/AAAAAAAAAQM/Yy2pf8yQqWo/s1600/Rajastan%2BBazaar.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657287461408179346" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rhjErdvjacw/ToK4-PmBhJI/AAAAAAAAAQM/Yy2pf8yQqWo/s320/Rajastan%2BBazaar.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Rural Hubs, Main Markets of Rajasthan, Old Bazaars of Rajasthan are all well known as shopping arcades of the state. Shopping in Rajasthan is a delightful activity where the visitors make a point to fill their shopping bagswith the best items and souvenirs from the state. Abound in many attractions; Rajasthan shopping tours are gaining much popularity day by day. No tour to Rajasthan is complete without going on a shopping expedition with your family or friends on Rajasthan tours.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">In a state full of tourist attractions abound in historical ruins and impeccable specimens of architecture, your holidays are made most memorable. Experiencing the sensational tourist sites of Rajasthan is extremely exciting. Equally thrilling is going on a shopping expedition. The charisma of Rajasthani market is awesome, the experience is amazing. A land where people always display a perfect harmony of colors and emotions, there even markets are too flashy for the visitors. With a pinch of red here, blue there, green hither and yellow thither. The visitors are just spellbound to see such a wide range of articles and good sold here.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Tourists can go for buying blue pottery, perfumes, Jaipuri light weight quilts, traditional paintings, sweets, carved white marble and metal ware. During shopping tours in Rajasthan you can also go for block printed garments, lac jewelry, precious stones jewelry, bandhani work, tie and dye fabrics.</span><br />
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</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mZBDI6qSoSc/ToK5Gk7XzQI/AAAAAAAAAQU/UIVOMFpw92g/s1600/jaipur%2BBazzar.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657287604573818114" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mZBDI6qSoSc/ToK5Gk7XzQI/AAAAAAAAAQU/UIVOMFpw92g/s320/jaipur%2BBazzar.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 137px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; width: 320px;" /></a></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">One exciting feature of Rajasthani shopping is that the visitors get a golden chance of haggling over the price with the shopkeepers who try to quote the dearest price and customers bargain to the lowest possible to strike the best deal. But bargaining with the shopkeepers is surely time taking activity filled with much fun and excitement.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Rajasthan shopping is also known for the famous jewelry industry. It happens to be the largest hand cut gems’ center. Coming to Jaipur you can explore how a lifeless metal or a stone is blown life into and made an exquisite piece of art. Markets of Rajasthan also display a unique art of Meenakari that is known for enameling of gold or silver.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yEdRlqXvH-4/ToK5uESV79I/AAAAAAAAAQc/jrHurBetEt0/s1600/Rajastahni%2BJewelery.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657288283006562258" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yEdRlqXvH-4/ToK5uESV79I/AAAAAAAAAQc/jrHurBetEt0/s320/Rajastahni%2BJewelery.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 234px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; width: 320px;" /></a></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Where on earth will you find such an immaculate collection of souvenirs except Rajasthan? It has been now quite a while that Rajasthani artisans have been blending vegetable dyes and colors made of minerals very skillfully. Arriving to Jodhpur you can see most intricate way of dying a fabric. This is tie and dye or locally called bandhani. And if you move to Sanganer, you can have a vivid fabric of block prints that are famous as Sanganeri prints.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Moving into the interiors of Rajasthan, there are tribes to welcome you with an extraordinary display of embroidery work. These pieces are excellently done and are a must buy here. These are some of the most famous shopping destinations in Rajasthan India. If you plan your holidays during some traditional fairs and festivals, then you get to have a wide variety of bangles, fabrics, trinkets, terracotta utensils, camel saddles, and puppets which is a delightful sight.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-28449521571243522732011-09-18T09:37:00.001-07:002012-07-11T03:51:01.600-07:00Mudd and The Towering Inferno of Flames<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;">I hate how much I missed Mudd. How as a student I could go there after a long day of classes and meetings and be comforted by the feeling that everyone there was in it together, working for this one collective goal. In a lot of ways, I liked being there more than my own house. My favorite place was this spiritually dead room, a window-less cube full of computer monitors and desk chairs. No color, no human interaction, hardly a sound. I couldn’t conceive of a better place to study. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now that I’m here again it’s like an addict falling off the wagon: the brilliant glow of the fluorescent lights drawing me in, the smell of charcoal and pine outside filling my lungs like the flame of a kerosene lamp. And then there are the stars, lucid and unfettered, burning up in the sky. I could go to Mudd at my absolute lowest, and still feel better knowing that someone in there knew my name. Now, the same sentiment holds true, even if it's done in obscurity.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">But if Mudd itself is full of the peculiar liveliness used to comfort individuals, then leaving at night, once the study carrels have emptied and the computer screens are left glowering at vacant seats, has a certain loneliness to it. Walking out into the stark night air—jacket zipped, bag thrown over my shoulder—I am immediately reminded of that senior year. It is a sensation so vivid it shocks me to realize it’s only a memory. Every detail, from the smoke-laced outlines at thd side of the ramp down to the cold rush in my hands as I stoop to unlock my bike, is the same.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">*</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I saw her for the first time last week. It was midday, almost lunch, and there she was sitting at a bench with friends, speaking in loud gestures, the rise and fall of her hands like she were conducting a symphony. Before that moment, I never experienced what it felt like to have to avoid someone—how it was suddenly inappropriate now to make conversation with a person who, not long ago, had occupied an enormous part of my life. We dated prior to me leaving to go to China, and in the ensuing aftermath that followed, haven't so much as exchanged a word since.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Her friends stood up to leave and, against my better social etiquette, I walked up to her, not knowing what to say but knowing that I had to say something. It was short-lived, a string of empty pleasantries, and pretty soon the conversation was over, and I was walking not towards her but away. The whole episode felt so unsettling, how the underlying force of our convictions were laid dormant. Why is it that love always feels most alive when it's past its end, fraught with the sudden, crippling onset of its nonexistence? The passion that comes with all rejection—a sudden departure, a loss of life. Like how in some cultures even mourning can't be done quietly—a funeral pyre set in a torrential blaze, fiery and vivid and raw.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I hate when things fall apart. Even worse, when they fall apart and you don't understand why. I emailed my dad about it. He told me that sooner or later, you learn to let go. <i>Sooner or later,</i> he wrote, <i>you learn that there's not always closure that is satisfactory. Sometimes things kind of sour and rot and smell bad. Sometimes you just have to walk away.</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">*</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I saw her again yesterday, this time at Mudd. She used to tolerate my time at the library, but joked that I spent more time there than I did with her. This time, I managed not to talk to her. We were now just two people in the world, our lives detached from one another's, and I realized that it didn't have to be this long, drawn-out sadness. I remembered what my dad had written: <i>If she deigns to see you, by all means, but be aware that it may actually be re-traumatizing yourself. Try not to be attached to the outcome. Give it your best. And if it doesn't work out, then let it out talking to me, or chopping wood, or sparring. But don't go back to the well again and again to be re-wounded.</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Two years ago she left a note by my bike. Tucked into the metal crux of the handlebars, a slip of notebook paper, folded and creased, that read, simply: “Saw your bike and thought of you. Don’t stay out studying too late. Miss you. Love, C.” That should have been my cue to go and see her that night, but knowing me I probably didn’t. Here’s what happened: I pocketed the note, rode my bike south and west (the opposite direction of her dorm), walked upstairs to my warm, dimly-lit room, and, with the smell of sandalwood and marijuana piping in from the screened-in balcony, I went to sleep.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Weeks and months passed, but every day since then I kept checking my bike. Edging down the library ramp, hands bristling from the cold, it was the same routine—first the handlebars, then the front wheel spokes, even the narrow slit underneath the seat. Each time I left the library—fingers clutching the bike keys—hoping in vain for some trace of her. The fruitless game I played. I still do.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">*</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>This is a piece of creative non-fiction, part of a new experimental direction I'm taking with my blog about short semi-fictionalized vignettes from my daily life, lightly polished and greatly embellished for online consumption.</i></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-34753077599250135602011-09-04T16:00:00.001-07:002012-07-11T03:52:44.546-07:00Our Need to Rebuild Is the Reason Everything Falls Apart<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;">It's my third night at the Feve in a row. I've been here just over a week and I'm batting well over .500. Or, to put it another way: I've been to the Feve more nights than I haven't. It doesn't hurt that there's only one real bar in town, but it still doesn't bode well for my steadfast conviction that China had made me an alcoholic and not the other way around.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Every night at the Feve starts out about the same: a handful of fresh acquaintances, stools nestled around a large wooden table, and a pitcher of beer so black you couldn't run a light through it. Small talk and, if the situation required, a small order of tots to follow. Then, the inevitable parting of ways, the block-and-a-half shuffle home, and Kent State's NPR-affiliate to lull me to bed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizxGTB6rd3MB3YSA3wNm3VmgRCb31-6quaRJ81EvLvs2Kl7NZgxhPKy_vIJKB1c1n4HCvmqbucZJXTkchJgYgH-cgXUepxmTMYjXzFjMuXb2CPp2fN4uacYFC-Zfq_ADz73LWCNfY7X9A/s1600/feve.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizxGTB6rd3MB3YSA3wNm3VmgRCb31-6quaRJ81EvLvs2Kl7NZgxhPKy_vIJKB1c1n4HCvmqbucZJXTkchJgYgH-cgXUepxmTMYjXzFjMuXb2CPp2fN4uacYFC-Zfq_ADz73LWCNfY7X9A/s400/feve.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;">East meets Feve. From left to right: Gerald, David, and myself (photo courtesy of Gerald Lee).</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was talking about the situation with my friend Martha online. She asked me how in just a few days I had already connected with enough people to merit that many trips to the Feve. I told her that it wasn't a coincidence—that meeting every new contact took a great deal of effort on my part. After all, I had to practically construct my entire social life from the ground up. “I feel like I have to go to every social obligation I'm invited to,” I told her, “so I have a chance of building up a base.” “Wow,” she replied without the slightest hint of surprise, “you really network fast.”<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I wanted to explain that it didn't matter if I was good or bad at networking or whether or not I even liked to do it. It just wasn't an option for me—I'm an extroverted person and when I'm not around other people for too long I start to lose it. “I can't help it,” I said, “it gets lonely up in this ivory tower.” I paused. I knew I had used the wrong analogy and was sure she would call me on it. “Well this ivory tower seems to have a lot of other towers in its neighborhood,” she quipped, not missing a beat. “It's an ivory tower colony,” I joked, “with no zoning restrictions.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My own ivory tower is located on the southeastern fringes of campus. It's not to say that I don't feel disconnected from the concerns of non-campus life, but it's so easy to get caught up in my own tailspin—work, school, friendships to maintain. Some of the isolation is self-imposed but most is a product of circumstance. There are “young professionals” (what we call ourselves) in other departments in the college—ResEd, Athletics, Admissions, the MRC—but there's little opportunity for contact, and I certainly never had my radar out for them when I was still a student.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
$0A</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Being older than almost everyone doesn't help either. That, and having to strike a balance between my so-called grown-up friends and my student friends. Then again, the distinction may be a moot point. On my fourth day here I went to a karaoke cook-out event for incoming international students and the staff from the MRC was up there right alongside the new first-years singing “Bad Romance” and doing the Cha Cha Slide. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It felt like looking at Oberlin through the eyes of a stranger. All of the buildings had a foreign newness to them, and I had been exploring them slowly, so as not to embarrass my former self. The people had changed too. No longer could I simply expect to have friends based on geography and shared experience. It made me realize how lucky I had been in Taigu. Oberlin felt, for perhaps the first time in my life, like most of the rest of the world. I wouldn't be able just to fall into friendships here; I'd really have to work for them.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYSewlNxrxgPGTPMlh959NSCJdwIFOLWg02vW1tJEodJZvt3xYLkJwV1PWhY0vg8cVYkG-edoM_djViRTXrC0ArVEVXVmF2EeNHPnogpOS2FPo6HhVDZK-Q8Z9gRs_0ZzJliQhFSvipM/s1600/IMG_1179_1.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYSewlNxrxgPGTPMlh959NSCJdwIFOLWg02vW1tJEodJZvt3xYLkJwV1PWhY0vg8cVYkG-edoM_djViRTXrC0ArVEVXVmF2EeNHPnogpOS2FPo6HhVDZK-Q8Z9gRs_0ZzJliQhFSvipM/s400/IMG_1179_1.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;">Peters Hall, with newly renovated $1.4 million slate-and-copper roof.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The fall from celebrity to dime-a-dozen has played out like your classic fall from grace, marred by all the telltale signs of recovery and addiction. I realized that I had invariably switched roles overnight—instead of being the person whose door everyone else was trying to knock down, I had become the archetypal “rando” who shows up unannounced and bearing gifts at four in the afternoon, appealing for nothing more than genuine friendship.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The night I went to the Feve with Jerry and Dave—two of the six foreigners I had lived with in China—a new art installation was up on the second floor. They had always been characteristically <i>out there</i>, even when I was a student, but this one seemed odder than most. Next to a collection of multi-colored lighters forming the outline of the African continent there hung a simple blue-and-white ceramic tile, on which, in all lower-case, was scribbled the line, <i>our need to rebuild is the reason everything falls apart.</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I wondered, <i>if we stopped trying so hard to create anew, maybe all that should be lasting in our lives would cease to come undone?</i> The network I had gone to great lengths to craft in my four years couldn't have felt more achingly distant. Looking around the bar that night, some faces looked familiar and others I just convinced myself were. Either way, it didn't stop me from trying to make conversation. I seem to be doing that a lot lately—giving my phone number out to almost anyone who seems interesting, hoping only that they might call me back.</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-84002824794169628862011-09-01T08:27:00.001-07:002012-07-11T03:52:59.162-07:00Acceptance<div dir="ltr" style-"text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;">Yesterday was freshmen move-in day. North Professor Street, which until yesterday had still been razed and largely unpaved, was now home to double-parked cars heaped along the two-way road and spilling over into Stevenson parking lot. There were parents with U-Hauls and cargo carriers lugging boxes into dorms, stacks of cardboard piled out in dumpsters for pick-up, and the dozen or so restaurants along Main Street each with a line wrapped around the block during lunchtime. Compared with only a few days ago, it felt like this great accession, a veritable explosion of people arriving all at once.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I finally understood why townies tend to spurn the college, and why students who choose to stay in Oberlin for the summer lament the start of the school year. Oberlin is so refreshingly peaceful with most of its student body away that the transition back to hectic, pedestrian calamity doesn't come without its share of misgivings. Of course, the summer state of utopia wouldn't be sustainable even if the college shut down tomorrow, but it certainly is a romantic notion—to have this sleepy little town all to yourself.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">As part of my new job, I was put in charge of working the Resource Fair, a gathering of outreach groups, local businesses and campus organizations that jostle for real estate in the collective mind space of the incoming class. Shansi pulled all the stops—free pens, pencils, books, water bottles, and tote bags—and for three hours, I had my fill of people watching. It was interesting to see the first-years in action—some still stooped behind their parents, others with the leadership reigns clumsily in hand, and still more boundless and free, eager to shirk, at long last, the final remaining vestige of their pre-college lives.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That night there was a buffet dinner in Wilder Bowl for new students and their families. Naturally, I made an appearance, a large take-away Tupperware container at the ready. The green was alive—the tension so thick one could hammer it out with an icepick. Everyone seemed to be <i>waiting</i>, preparing for this one collective exhale, for the moment when all the goodbyes had been said, all the first introductions made, all the wild-eyed probing and propositioning underway, and when all the strange, horrible, shocking, unbelievable theories about college life could finally be put to the test.<br />
<a name='more'></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I told myself that if I tried hard enough I could fit in here. After all, aside from a BA, what truly separated me from this sea of unknowns—a girl with a shaved head, a guy with biker shorts and a denim jacket, two girls in sun dresses and wedges, a pony-tailed boy with purple nail polish and a “Steak 'n Shake” hat? Sometimes I don't feel my own age, and at other times, it forces itself on me like a creep at a dive bar. Some people looked too old, and others, just about what you'd expect. But for all of them, it was too early to tell: in what ways Oberlin would come to mold their self-image at the end of four years.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That sea of unknowns followed me into the inaugural orientation concert at Finney Chapel. The room was packed, with overflow seating available down the street in Warner Concert Hall. Both President Krislov and Dean Stull made long, meandering speeches, and everything in me wanted to believe that they were talking to me when they spoke—of the limitless opportunities, the expectations of greatness, the proud tradition we would serve to uphold. But they weren't. Like a scorned older child I had been cast aside, neglected at the unwelcome arrival of a new sibling. Now I had only the legacies of other alumni to aspire, their influence so great as to cast a shadow over my very existence.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It was the most engrossing concert I had attended in recent memory. It's not to say that the performances weren't great, but I think it speaks more to the time I had gone without hearing live music, without the sensation of feeling it in every part of my body—back arched, spine tingling. In two hours, I hardly so much as shifted my weight. I found myself immeasurably drawn to each musician on stage—to the way their hands moved, the arch of their fingers, the gape of their mouth. Insisting on going alone, of doing this simply and irrefutably for me, I reveled in music as the great equalizer, in the feeling that we were all one collective audience in the face of its grandeur.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Pretty soon parents and their kids began filing out. On the walk back home, I remembered where I was six years ago, rounding the end of my first day as an Oberlin student. My parents dropped me off at my dorm after the concert and it would be the last time they would know me as a son, a boy on his path to adulthood. It was the first time I ever saw my dad cry, and although I didn't cry then, I felt it now, the tears welling in my eyes like storm water. Suddenly I was that parent, knowing that his time had passed, letting go of what had come before to allow for all the greatness to follow.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Before the concert, I was sitting in the Japanese garden outside of Finney Chapel, where the class of 1996 had dedicated a memorial to those Oberlin students who had given their lives during WWII. Among a long row of plaques listing names and graduation years followed by the letters USAAF and AUS, I saw one, on the far right, with the postscript “AMT '40, Navy, Japan.” And I thought to myself, <i>if in the annals of history, Oberlin could come to accept him, then they'll find a way to accept me too</i>. I didn't need to be someone I wasn't to fit in. Maybe being exactly who I am would have to suffice.</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-7812237303888499592011-08-27T18:45:00.000-07:002012-07-11T03:53:09.255-07:00Uprooting, Replanting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;">At the front door, just before turning to leave, she handed me the keys to the house. There were two sets—one for the back door and my apartment on the third floor, and another for the company van, a light blue Toyota that we drove back from the airport. The drive from Cleveland wasn't what got to me—stretches of anonymous highway interspersed with small-talk: in-laws, grandkids, vacation, exes. No, it wasn't until we rounded Lorain Road, past Deichlers and the IGA, that things really started to coalesce—that the fuzzy picture of “Oberlin” that I had in my mind was beginning to look more and more like something real than imagined, to come into focus right before my eyes. We took a left at the art museum and slipped past the Oberlin Inn, and before I knew it, we were pulling into the parking lot outside Shansi House. No doubt about it, I was back in Oberlin.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It was an eerily similar feeling to when I first arrived in Taigu two years ago. It felt like waking up from a coma; there was this immediate shock, an overwhelming sense of both dread and astonishment for all that was yet to come. A part of me had gotten used to the way things were, and another, anxious for something different, on this, the start of <i>yet another</i> new life. Standing at the front door, luggage in hand, I wondered, <i>how many more of these can I really bear?</i> I'm not built for change, and yet, the last two years have seen little but it. It's as if change has wormed its way into the fiber of my DNA. It was never an innate trait, nor one that had lain dormant like a cancer, but one that was transplanted, grafted from a more able body onto mine, in the hopes that in time it too might sprout buds and flourish into something large and outstanding and worthwhile.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The first thing I noticed about the new house was the space. More rooms than I could thoroughly explore in a single sitting. There was a living room, dining room, kitchen, two bathrooms, foyer, two office spaces, a library—and that was just the ground level. The second floor had six bedrooms, a private residence attached to the back, two bathrooms, a shared kitchen, and a living room. And then there was my room—bathroom, kitchen, split living room/study, bedroom, big bay windows, and more closets than I could possibly fill spanning the entire third floor. Perhaps many American homes are this big, but I have never lived anywhere even <i>approaching</i> this size. That's what was so ironic—in Taigu I could be forgiven for experiencing culture shock at my new surroundings, but if this truly <i>was</i> my culture, why did everything that should be familiar feel so unimaginably foreign?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3cGUyEayHvGfecnFaYHozONJ2yRyzAV67MAKtVvBikMJuYa2a1YdZg-aNkn2uyv-VrKroEuzKBuRHQHqI-0VFb9yBGMXqyUq9cTU2bDBAf-N_PJ1SvpiUucti4e0nnGXXvm8unwDPGU/s1600/IMG_1113_1.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3cGUyEayHvGfecnFaYHozONJ2yRyzAV67MAKtVvBikMJuYa2a1YdZg-aNkn2uyv-VrKroEuzKBuRHQHqI-0VFb9yBGMXqyUq9cTU2bDBAf-N_PJ1SvpiUucti4e0nnGXXvm8unwDPGU/s400/IMG_1113_1.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Wide, open space. My living room/study at Shansi House.</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Last week I went to Target and all I could think about was the space: how there were whole sections where mobs of people weren't clambering at clothes racks and stripping shelves bare. Standing in the middle of a wide aisle, I had only the gentle push of the shopping carts and the Top 40 radio to occupy my thoughts. Coming from China where people habitually live on top of each other, and even my mom's one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn where the four of us had to temporarily co-habit, the seemingly endless stretches of open space in Ohio have been the biggest readjustment to life here. It's like going from one extreme to the other, with nothing in-between. The same can be said of my Shansi experience, with my Taigu life and my Oberlin life each comprising polar halves. Trying to bridge them together in a cohesive manner is like trying to knit a scarf by starting with each set of tassels, and hoping to eventually meet both ends in the middle.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I went to visit Karl at the office, he told me that being the Returned Fellow is like waking up from a dream, where it's hard to reconcile which part of your life was real and which was imagined—they are so disparate that it seems impossible for them to coexist. Upon first entering my new apartment, there was a 1973 hardcover-bound Time-Life book on the desk entitled <i>The Amazon: The World's Wild Places,</i> that got me half-thinking about embarking on my next great “adventure,” as if my two years of it had scarcely ever happened to begin with. After so long on “the road,” it's weird to be settling down. But even now I know that this is temporary. Perhaps, when it comes down to it, that's all life really is: one never-ending standing-only ticket on “the road,” with no end in sight. Besides, even if I really wanted it, does such a thing as “settling down” even exist?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJT4QVMnb-AJ4Gzq66nul-gwpUOm4sI1hcmWRKc3om1dCNo1vTP36eMKaRVHRcyBAVADH48xgHmTbztgBWoea2K3KHi-eHf-pShdfIT4CG9XlUqGFogdSML5mSdO2qC1Z591qju-VawY/s1600/IMG_1138_1.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJT4QVMnb-AJ4Gzq66nul-gwpUOm4sI1hcmWRKc3om1dCNo1vTP36eMKaRVHRcyBAVADH48xgHmTbztgBWoea2K3KHi-eHf-pShdfIT4CG9XlUqGFogdSML5mSdO2qC1Z591qju-VawY/s400/IMG_1138_1.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Everything in its rightful place—coconut milk pencil holder, desk lamp, book on the Amazonian wilds.</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now that I'm in Oberlin, old friends and professors greet me with a hearty “welcome back,” as if I had meant to <i>be back</i> all along. I don't flout their politeness at all, but even <i>being back</i> connotes a return to some semblance of life as I knew it before, and even that is a misnomer. This life, like others that have come before it, will be very different from any life that I have experienced—everything will be changed, from my position at the school and my daily routine to my place of residence. Even despite being the only current inhabitant, this place can scarcely be called my own. All around me are the remnants of other people's lives—people who, like me, have come for a year and gone, leaving only discarded fragments of their identities behind: scribbled reminder notes, FedEx boxes, toiletries, reading materials, stationery, souvenirs, appliances. Theirs is my life to make sense of now—the same fate I left to my own contemporaries upon leaving Taigu.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“You feel like people are saying the same things as before but wearing different faces,” Karl said, as I was leaving the office. And then, just as I turned to leave, he added: “it can sometimes make you feel like you're going crazy.” I began to see it everywhere—the guys chain smoking by the library, the couple holding hands at Gibson's, the girl biking barefoot through campus, the family squatting down in Tappan Square for a picnic—weren't they all people I had known before? There are different faces with the same voices, but there are familiar faces too. On a trip to Yesterday's, I saw Marc, an acquaintance that I made when I was still a student, who is from the town and still lives and works here. I didn't buy any ice cream from him but we exchanged numbers and promised to meet up again. It was encouraging to know: in spite of it all, some things still manage to stay the same.</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-24499524963755051252011-08-20T01:52:00.001-07:002012-07-11T04:14:40.557-07:00New Trends introduced by India Tour Operators<div style="text-align: justify;">In India planning a tour is a great idea indeed. Vacationing in India becomes special for the visitors because they have plethora of activities to do and enjoy. There is no dearth of any opportunity of entertainment in India. There are several places of recreation and rejuvenation in India. For long it was considered that India only has Taj Mahal. No doubt it is the landmark of India, but now new trends have been introduced and the tour operators have completely understood the relevance of other tourist attractions of India. <b>Enquiry Now</b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #204063; font-family: helvetica,arial,verdana,'trebuchet ms',sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #204063; font-family: helvetica,arial,verdana,'trebuchet ms',sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5C8MVtY7ATs/Tk97tE7wPaI/AAAAAAAAALU/y4zAAubWJyU/s1600/Taj%2BMahal.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642864872467217826" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5C8MVtY7ATs/Tk97tE7wPaI/AAAAAAAAALU/y4zAAubWJyU/s320/Taj%2BMahal.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 256px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></span></div><div>Now with the Taj Mahal Tour, the tourists have bright chance of enjoying many other tourist spots of India. India Tour Operators understand the need of comfortable stay of the travelers and ensure that travelers stay peacefully and thoroughly enjoy their vacations.<br />
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</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4208099015876847918.post-62978724597116060132011-08-16T20:13:00.000-07:002012-07-11T03:53:09.255-07:00We Sip Champagne When We're Thirsty<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;">Whether it was the worrying or late-stage jet lag that was keeping me up at night, no one could say for sure, but the worrying certainly didn't help. Past a certain age, birthdays become more of a burden than they do a reward; less an expression of one's individual character than they are a declaration of his social worth. It's not to say that I've crossed that threshold yet, just merely that it seems closer now than it had before the big 2-4 yesterday.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sam and his girlfriend Brittany treated me for lunch at the Shake Shack near Times Square. It was my first time, and the <i>excess</i> of it all was what really stuck with me—mouths gorging on cheese fries, burgers oozing with mayonnaise and ketchup, Day-Glo Creamsicle floats and frozen custards. Just peering expectantly into the gray-swirled concretes studded with chocolate chips and fudge chunks was enough to make my heart stop. The burger was definitely good, but you don't need to take my word for it. The lines are so routinely out-the-door that even their promotional T-shirts picture their original Madison Square Park location with a line of people wrapping around the front.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But exactly <i>how</i> good? Consider that the cost of a single ShackBurger nets almost four Tuesday promotional $1.29 Whoppers at the Burger King a block from my house—where I ate my day-after-birthday lunch—and I'll reconsider whether or not I want to wait in line again for 40 minutes. We wandered our way through the Meatpacking District after lunch and darted into Chelsea Market to escape the rain—a hulking steel building outfitted with giant whirring ceiling fans and over-sized cargo elevators built in the late 1890s. The sheer depth to the stores there was remarkable—enough bakeries to fill a small New England township and a specialty produce shop that even sold tamarind rinds and dragon fruit. We bought zucchini and squash to barbecue for dinner.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I had my birthday dinner, not with my own family, but with Sam's. It wasn't so much the circumstances—Hannah was bussing back home from Maryland and my mom had called to say that she was out and wouldn't be home until late—we just weren't that kind of family. Besides, it was something of an accident—the three of us were playing Halo with Sam's kid brother in the living room and lost track of time. Dinner was fancy by my standards—pasta salad, poached salmon, <i>bruschetta</i>—the first real home-cooked meal I'd had since being back. It would have been any ordinary dinner had Sam not mentioned to his mom that we were going out, and before anyone had time to object, Mrs. Graves was out with a kazoo humming the four chords that no birthday celebration should be complete without.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We took the 4 train from Union Square to the Upper East Side. It had been over two years since I'd made it up to that neighborhood, and it felt like I couldn't pass a single building without staring hard at it, the way a dog might eye an errant stain of piss. Inside, the bar could have passed for any house party at college. Ex-frat boys, still wearing Greek letter T-shirts and plaid shorts, playing beer pong on two long tables by the back wall. Girls in tube tops and mini-skirts surreptitiously looking on. Dirty messages scribbled in the bathroom stalls. Blink-182 and Yellowcard blaring over the stereo sound system. A Jets game on one set of TV screens and a Yankees game on the other.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The seven of us were sequestered at the first table by the entrance. When we arrived, another group was in the process of wrapping up a birthday of their own—streamers hanging from the lamp shades, printed napkins in colorful hues, even a half-eaten cake sitting in the center of the table, the letters “PY” and “THDAY” left untouched. To the casual observer, the whole scene would have hardly garnered a second look. Even I, had I tried hard enough, could have believed that the whole production—paper plates and tiny serving forks, fragments of tinsel and wrapping paper—something I never would have asked for but at the same time would not have refused, could all have been for me. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">About an hour in, the table next to us cleared out and another party was getting seated. Brushing aside stray cake crumbs, a short, trim man with a mustache inquired about an umbrella that had been left at their table. It was one of those long retractable ones, the kind kids use to propel at each other on rainy days. “Is this yours,” the man asked us, knowing full well that it warn't and that he was now reluctantly charged with its fate. He turned to me, sitting closest to him. “Well, how would you like a <i>free</i> umbrella,” he asked with a smile. I thought to myself—<i>it wasn't that outlandish of a request</i>. “Sure,” I told him, really meaning it. He handed it over, careful to spare the drinks, and with a sense of irony he couldn't possibly have imagined, added, “Here you go, buddy. Happy birthday.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">*</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Just to allay any worries, my birthday was lovely, and I want to thank everyone who came out with me to celebrate on Monday. Again, these vignettes are semi-fictionalized, and, like much of my writing, tend to ere on the darker side.</i></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06244880228466149678noreply@blogger.com