Vincent Zandri's Blog - Posts Tagged "chase-baker"
Border Crossings: Northern India
The following post if now appearing in slightly different form at The Vincent Zandri Vox: http://vincentzandri.blogspot.in/2014...
The sweat that soaks my khaki shirt has nothing to do with the relentless heat that covers this land like a heavy, hot water-soaked, wool blanket. I'm at the border between Nepal and India. It's six in the morning. Skies ominously overcast with gray/black clouds that threaten monsoon season rain. It's been raining heavily on and off all night and the narrow road that accesses both countries is nothing more than a thick layer of gooey brown mud that, taken along with the ramshackle single and two-story wood, concrete and brick buildings that flank it, looks more like the setting for a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western.
My guide and I are stopped by a soldier dressed in olive green who bears a World War II era bolt-action rifle over his shoulder and a thick black leather belt around his waist. He tosses our backpacks onto a wood table and begins inspecting them inside and out. India's mega Hindu population gets along swimmingly with its smaller, but major Muslim population. However, no one gets along with the radical Islam component that has snaked its way into the country via Pakistan and other ports of entry. That said, the bags are checked thoroughly.
After looking us over ...up, down, and up again...the solider gives us the go ahead to proceed across the border. I've already made it through Nepal customs and received my stamp. But it wasn't Nepal I was worried about. What's in the back of my mind is all the trouble I got into recently at the American India Embassy back in the States. The short of it is that the embassy wouldn't issue my journalist's visa unless I met with them in person in Manhattan and attended one of their "press lectures" regarding the benefits of the "New Era India." An invitation I blew off entirely. I didn't come here for politics, but something else instead. Originally that reason was to research a new Chase Baker novel, and to write a couple of travel pieces while also writing for the Vox. But now, having spent a little more than a week in this part of the world that will slam you with a million different sensory alerts at once (from the persistent smells of curries to cow shit, from huge, colorfully decorated trucks speeding directly for you, to millions of people who peer at you with their dark, penetrating eyes as if you are the very first westerner they've ever seen), I'm not entirely sure I can put my reasons for being here into mere words.
Trudging through the mud past the many overloaded cars, 4X4s, and trucks queued up before the wood-pole gate, my guide points out the immigration office and, heart in my throat, I immediately go for it.
It's not much of an office. A couple of rooms in a very old building the interior of which is shaded by old wood shutters left over from the filming of Gunga Din. There's a counter on one side, and a wood table on the other. An overhead ceiling fan blows the hot humid air around somehow pleasantly, while behind the counter, a pot of tea boils atop a hot plate set upon an old wood desk that also supports a computer and a Royal typewriter from the 1950s.
There's a middle aged man manning the counter. He wears loose slacks and an even looser button down shirt. He collects my passport, along with those of a half dozen other people waiting to cross over the border. College kids mostly who look like they haven't slept or bathed in weeks. It makes me smile inside to know that I must appear as a much older version of their wanderlust-filled selves.
After filling out the immigration form, I hand the passport back to the counter man. He in turn hands it over to a second, smaller man, who takes it with him to the computer. As he runs the passport over a scanner I see my face pop up on the computer screen. This is it, I think. The moment where they'll ask me to accompany them into the back room where they'll spend hours lobbing questions about my intentions for visiting India. "Why did you not attend the lecture in New York?" the men will shout while blinding me with a single bright white light. Eventually, the tall one will turn to the smaller one. "See if you can get him to talk," he'll say. Then, as the tall man leaves the room, locking the door behind him, the smaller man remove his shirt, bearing a chest filled with scars from knife fights too numerous to count. He go behind a desk and pull something from out of a drawer. A pair of brass knuckles maybe. As he slips them onto his right hand, he'll smile at me, bearing a gold tooth. "So what's the weather like in New York this time of year?" he'll say.
But within a few minutes, something far different occurs.
The little man behind the desk takes hold of his stamp, and positioning it above the page that contains my visa, brings the inky business end down hard onto the page. The little man hands the big man the passport. And the big man, in turn, hands it to me. He smiles politely but genuinely.
"Welcome to India," he says. "I hope you enjoy your stay."
WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM
Check out the first Chase Baker adventure novel, THE SHROUD KEY, and look for CHASE BAKER AND THE GOLDEN CONDOR coming early this Fall.
The Shroud Key
The sweat that soaks my khaki shirt has nothing to do with the relentless heat that covers this land like a heavy, hot water-soaked, wool blanket. I'm at the border between Nepal and India. It's six in the morning. Skies ominously overcast with gray/black clouds that threaten monsoon season rain. It's been raining heavily on and off all night and the narrow road that accesses both countries is nothing more than a thick layer of gooey brown mud that, taken along with the ramshackle single and two-story wood, concrete and brick buildings that flank it, looks more like the setting for a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western.
My guide and I are stopped by a soldier dressed in olive green who bears a World War II era bolt-action rifle over his shoulder and a thick black leather belt around his waist. He tosses our backpacks onto a wood table and begins inspecting them inside and out. India's mega Hindu population gets along swimmingly with its smaller, but major Muslim population. However, no one gets along with the radical Islam component that has snaked its way into the country via Pakistan and other ports of entry. That said, the bags are checked thoroughly.
After looking us over ...up, down, and up again...the solider gives us the go ahead to proceed across the border. I've already made it through Nepal customs and received my stamp. But it wasn't Nepal I was worried about. What's in the back of my mind is all the trouble I got into recently at the American India Embassy back in the States. The short of it is that the embassy wouldn't issue my journalist's visa unless I met with them in person in Manhattan and attended one of their "press lectures" regarding the benefits of the "New Era India." An invitation I blew off entirely. I didn't come here for politics, but something else instead. Originally that reason was to research a new Chase Baker novel, and to write a couple of travel pieces while also writing for the Vox. But now, having spent a little more than a week in this part of the world that will slam you with a million different sensory alerts at once (from the persistent smells of curries to cow shit, from huge, colorfully decorated trucks speeding directly for you, to millions of people who peer at you with their dark, penetrating eyes as if you are the very first westerner they've ever seen), I'm not entirely sure I can put my reasons for being here into mere words.
Trudging through the mud past the many overloaded cars, 4X4s, and trucks queued up before the wood-pole gate, my guide points out the immigration office and, heart in my throat, I immediately go for it.
It's not much of an office. A couple of rooms in a very old building the interior of which is shaded by old wood shutters left over from the filming of Gunga Din. There's a counter on one side, and a wood table on the other. An overhead ceiling fan blows the hot humid air around somehow pleasantly, while behind the counter, a pot of tea boils atop a hot plate set upon an old wood desk that also supports a computer and a Royal typewriter from the 1950s.
There's a middle aged man manning the counter. He wears loose slacks and an even looser button down shirt. He collects my passport, along with those of a half dozen other people waiting to cross over the border. College kids mostly who look like they haven't slept or bathed in weeks. It makes me smile inside to know that I must appear as a much older version of their wanderlust-filled selves.
After filling out the immigration form, I hand the passport back to the counter man. He in turn hands it over to a second, smaller man, who takes it with him to the computer. As he runs the passport over a scanner I see my face pop up on the computer screen. This is it, I think. The moment where they'll ask me to accompany them into the back room where they'll spend hours lobbing questions about my intentions for visiting India. "Why did you not attend the lecture in New York?" the men will shout while blinding me with a single bright white light. Eventually, the tall one will turn to the smaller one. "See if you can get him to talk," he'll say. Then, as the tall man leaves the room, locking the door behind him, the smaller man remove his shirt, bearing a chest filled with scars from knife fights too numerous to count. He go behind a desk and pull something from out of a drawer. A pair of brass knuckles maybe. As he slips them onto his right hand, he'll smile at me, bearing a gold tooth. "So what's the weather like in New York this time of year?" he'll say.
But within a few minutes, something far different occurs.
The little man behind the desk takes hold of his stamp, and positioning it above the page that contains my visa, brings the inky business end down hard onto the page. The little man hands the big man the passport. And the big man, in turn, hands it to me. He smiles politely but genuinely.
"Welcome to India," he says. "I hope you enjoy your stay."
WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM
Check out the first Chase Baker adventure novel, THE SHROUD KEY, and look for CHASE BAKER AND THE GOLDEN CONDOR coming early this Fall.
The Shroud Key
The End of the Road ...
The following post is now appearing at The Vincent Zandri Vox: http://vincentzandri.blogspot.com/201...
...or is it just the start?
A month on the global road:
--16,860 miles traveled by air, including a perfect circle around the globe, heading on an east-bound course the entire way (NYC to NYC)
--Seven flights
--Six countries, three continents
--At least four different time zones (I've lost count)
--Temperatures ranging from 45F to 115F
--Modes of transportation: Airliner, boat, rickshaw, tuck tuck, tram, train, 4x4, car, van, elephant
--Food: vegetarian, seafood, mutton, beef
--Average amount of sleep per night: 4-5 hours
--Number of currencies: Four
--Terrorist attacks while en route to Dehli: two (both by Maoist Rebels aimed at the railroads. Total dead and injured: 100+)
--Top memories: The burning of the dead in Lumbini. The cleansing of the body in Varanasi, the giant orange swastika a holy backdrop. Monsoon rain and winds pummeling our little boat on the upper Ganges, and a human skull lying jaw up on the banks where we anchored and held onto our ratted rooftop tarp for dear life. Swimming downstream in the Ganges, nearly drowning when we hit a stretch of water so deep, the clear-over-gravel-color river turned to blue. The overnight train to Agra, sleeping beside dozens of Indians, young and old. The woman who rushed the train on a stop from Occha to Agra, slipping between the car and the platform, her right leg cut off just below the knee as the train pulled out of the station. Touching, for the first time, an elephant's ear, its smooth almost silky texture taking me by complete surprise. The nervousness of a rhino cooling itself with mud only a few feet away from where I stood in the back of the 4x4 ...
Next stop...who knows.
WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM
The RemainsVincent Zandri
...or is it just the start?
A month on the global road:
--16,860 miles traveled by air, including a perfect circle around the globe, heading on an east-bound course the entire way (NYC to NYC)
--Seven flights
--Six countries, three continents
--At least four different time zones (I've lost count)
--Temperatures ranging from 45F to 115F
--Modes of transportation: Airliner, boat, rickshaw, tuck tuck, tram, train, 4x4, car, van, elephant
--Food: vegetarian, seafood, mutton, beef
--Average amount of sleep per night: 4-5 hours
--Number of currencies: Four
--Terrorist attacks while en route to Dehli: two (both by Maoist Rebels aimed at the railroads. Total dead and injured: 100+)
--Top memories: The burning of the dead in Lumbini. The cleansing of the body in Varanasi, the giant orange swastika a holy backdrop. Monsoon rain and winds pummeling our little boat on the upper Ganges, and a human skull lying jaw up on the banks where we anchored and held onto our ratted rooftop tarp for dear life. Swimming downstream in the Ganges, nearly drowning when we hit a stretch of water so deep, the clear-over-gravel-color river turned to blue. The overnight train to Agra, sleeping beside dozens of Indians, young and old. The woman who rushed the train on a stop from Occha to Agra, slipping between the car and the platform, her right leg cut off just below the knee as the train pulled out of the station. Touching, for the first time, an elephant's ear, its smooth almost silky texture taking me by complete surprise. The nervousness of a rhino cooling itself with mud only a few feet away from where I stood in the back of the 4x4 ...
Next stop...who knows.
WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM
The RemainsVincent Zandri
On-Site Research Resulted in 'Chase Baker and the Seventh Seal'
The following essay is now appearing at The Vincent Zandri Vox: http://vincentzandri.blogspot.com/201...
Today is Release Day for the 9th novel in the Chase Baker action/adventure series,
CHASE BAKER AND THE SEVENTH SEAL.
I traveled to the Middle East in May of this year and "Seal" is the book that resulted from it. Judging from the reactions of my beta readers, it just might be the best Chase yet. In fact, for those authors who feel as though they can get away with Googling all their information about a specific locale somewhere outside their writing room, I'd like to submit this: You can't possibly get an idea of the true smell, taste, or feel of a place unless you immerse yourself in it for a while.
In Jerusalem, I climbed the stone walls in the Old City, explored the tunnels under the Wailing Wall, bribed a teenage kid to take up through the Muslim cemetery to the top of Golgotha where Christ and two thieves were crucified for all of Jerusalem to see and be fearful of. The top of the skull-like hill is exactly 777 meters above sea level and it's the highest natural point in the city (the Bible speaks of 7 codices and when the seal on the 7th one is breached, the end of times will be upon us). It's located right outside the Damascus Gate on what was the Damascus Road back in the 1st century AD. There's a garden nearby and a tomb which has only been used once in its two centuries of existence. One of the two resting places was hastily chiseled out to accommodate a man who measured 5'11", the exact height, it turns out, of the man whose likeness appears on the Shroud of Turin. Coincidence? Or fact.
Or perhaps you believe in tradition...that Jesus was crucified on the spot in which The Church of the Holy Sepulcher now resides. I spent a lot of time there as well.
But you be the judge. Read the book...
Chase Baker and the Seventh Seal is one of those novels that will elevate your heart rate and make you think...
Chase Baker and the Seventh Seal
Here's the deal: It's offered up here for just 24 hours only at a 1.99 so that we can sell as many as possible on opening day and propel this one right up the charts.
Lock n' load
WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM
Vincent Zandri
Today is Release Day for the 9th novel in the Chase Baker action/adventure series,
CHASE BAKER AND THE SEVENTH SEAL.
I traveled to the Middle East in May of this year and "Seal" is the book that resulted from it. Judging from the reactions of my beta readers, it just might be the best Chase yet. In fact, for those authors who feel as though they can get away with Googling all their information about a specific locale somewhere outside their writing room, I'd like to submit this: You can't possibly get an idea of the true smell, taste, or feel of a place unless you immerse yourself in it for a while.
In Jerusalem, I climbed the stone walls in the Old City, explored the tunnels under the Wailing Wall, bribed a teenage kid to take up through the Muslim cemetery to the top of Golgotha where Christ and two thieves were crucified for all of Jerusalem to see and be fearful of. The top of the skull-like hill is exactly 777 meters above sea level and it's the highest natural point in the city (the Bible speaks of 7 codices and when the seal on the 7th one is breached, the end of times will be upon us). It's located right outside the Damascus Gate on what was the Damascus Road back in the 1st century AD. There's a garden nearby and a tomb which has only been used once in its two centuries of existence. One of the two resting places was hastily chiseled out to accommodate a man who measured 5'11", the exact height, it turns out, of the man whose likeness appears on the Shroud of Turin. Coincidence? Or fact.
Or perhaps you believe in tradition...that Jesus was crucified on the spot in which The Church of the Holy Sepulcher now resides. I spent a lot of time there as well.
But you be the judge. Read the book...
Chase Baker and the Seventh Seal is one of those novels that will elevate your heart rate and make you think...
Chase Baker and the Seventh Seal
Here's the deal: It's offered up here for just 24 hours only at a 1.99 so that we can sell as many as possible on opening day and propel this one right up the charts.
Lock n' load
WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM
Vincent Zandri
