Traveling Through India, Kashmir, Nepal in 1971
Part I
Why I left Germany
Do you have enough of the current political climate (mind you, it’ll get worse)? I read that a number of people consider moving to a different country. Would you do this? Pack up your bags, go somewhere nice??
It certainly helps to be young, without obligations; no house, no kids, no significant possessions. That’s the situation I found myself in when the retaliation against young protesters in Munich and other German cities became unbearable. If you have a sense for Germany’s history in the late 60s/early 70s you may think that I exaggerate. Nothing happened that comes anywhere close to the broad assault on democratic values which we currently experience in the United States. And yet, it’s all relative. If you didn’t mind the Vietnam War, if you were content with the way your parents refused to deal with their recent past, if (as a student) you accepted the autocratic rule of your professors, the world was fine. However, make some noise and protest, it could cost you your life. Remember May 4, 1970, Kent State? Well, two people I knew, not close friends but people I had met and talked to numerous times, were shot and killed by the police.
But that happened in 1971, when I had already left Germany. Several events poisoned life in Germany for me: a few times the police and German secret service stormed the flat where I lived in Munich. Five of us shared a spacious, beautiful apartment, and one of my housemates was Fritz Teufel who had lived in Berlin earlier, a notorious troublemaker according to the authorities. When the cops woke us up at 5 am and turned everything upside down, they were looking for guns and bombs and who knows what. Luckily they were somewhat stupid; one time, we had left a water pipe filled with hash in the middle of the living room. The guys didn’t see it. I’m not kidding.
Another deeply disturbing event happened after we saw a pre-screening of Easy Rider. In case you’ve never seen it: it’s a road movie of two hippie bikers (Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper) who travel from Los Angeles to New Orleans. Both get shot by rednecks in a pick-up truck. Wim Wenders was a student at the University of Television and Film Munich, and he and some of his friends lived in the flat below ours. He invited us to the screening, and we were a group of ten or so, walking back after the film. A motley crew with long, flowing hair, whether male or female; colorful, unconventional clothes; some of us singing, one was playing a flute, another one a tambourine. Suddenly Stefan who was visiting from Hamburg felt his temple – something had grazed it – and there was blood on his fingers. At the same time a car that was parked on the other side of the street took off quickly. We rushed our friend to the ER, and the doctor confirmed that Stefan had been struck by a shotgun. After just watching Easy Rider, this was unsettling.
You’d think a cosmopolitan city such as Munich would have a tolerant flair, but that was true only for certain sections of the city. Around the university – yes. The district of Schwabing has a long history of bohemian culture, open and lenient as far as anything out of the ordinary is concerned. In other neighborhoods, a man with long hair as well as anybody with him would not be served in a restaurant but asked to leave. If you didn’t comply with the order, the management would call the police who quickly arrived – with dogs. To chase you out.
That was the climate I found myself in when I decided I had enough. Driving to India wasn’t so much a “GOING SOMEWHERE” but more a “GETTING AWAY FROM Germany” kind of thing. It sounded adventurous, but I never was searching for a Guru or spiritual enlightenment. And I certainly didn’t anticipate the steep learning curve the trip forced on me: who I am, the meaning of life, what is important; it felt like being in a pressure cooker. It took over a year before I returned to Germany, mainly because I had run out of funds (even when you live on less than $5/day they run out eventually), and there was no way to legally work in India with a tourist visa. The trip changed me forever.
I want to dwell on this learning experience for a little because it was so useful. It changed so many semi-conscious habits and conditions, certainly not without pain! Just one example: I had no idea how many “I like this” and “I don’t like that” items I carried around, and I had no idea how many of these seemed to be essential to my personality. Give one of them up? “But it’s ME! I won’t recognize myself without it!” My sister, for example, hates bats. Even a mention of bats gives her the creeps. When I gently suggested she should reconsider: “This is who I am. I can’t change that.” During my time in India I ran up against hundreds of things like that. Something I had been used to all my life but had no idea how much I depended on it, wasn’t there any more. A shower, every few days at least. Running water, period! An ice-cold glass of milk, or soda, or ice-cold anything! Electricity! And then there were the countless things I was NOT used to, unbearable stuff: all sorts of insects, of course. I had never seen a cockroach in my life, and here I met some that were almost two inches long. In Mumbai (Bombay, then) people were sleeping in the streets, and sometimes rats were running across their bodies. Being somewhat of an introvert, I found it particularly difficult that people didn’t keep their distance: friendly and curious, they were right in my face – “What is the purpose of your visit to this country?” I bet the India of today is totally different, but my point is: being forced to transform half-conscious habits and expectations more or less overnight is difficult, even painful. But the only alternative would have been to go back to Germany, and that simply wasn’t an option. And I learned so much about myself: by becoming aware of the many likes and dislikes that had lurked somewhere in my mind I had gained a certain amount of control over them. I’m not saying that I got rid of all of them; new ones easily pop up, like mushrooms in the fall after a nice rain. However, the basic fact is that difficult situations which move you out of your comfort zone can be great teachers.
Sorry, I didn’t make it to my adventures while traveling through India, and I couldn’t find any photographs to illustrate this piece. Which is a little painful, almost like a denied habit. I love images and colors; they’ll be back next week.
I have some earlier posts about the overland journey from Germany to India, and if you are a relatively new subscriber and are interested, here are the links:
Driving From Germany to India in 1970, Part I
Driving From Germany to India in 1970, Part II
Driving From Germany to India in 1970, Part III
And much earlier, I wrote about some more dangerous travel adventures:
What you describe may come here, to this country in 3,4,5 years? This is entirely possibly as we have seen enough people who actually believe this was our best choice for leader. It would be a terribly sad thing to leave one's country by practically force, no choice. We do seriously consider leaving the USA.
I can only imagine the perils of your journey!