5 Strange World Traditions

A temple in Ubud on Bali — just don't go in if you're on your period!

The more you travel, the more weird traditions you’ll encounter — and that’s some kind of wonderful.

Part of the wonderment of travel is experiencing cultures that are vastly different from your own. It expands your mind; it helps you understand how we’re indelibly shaped by our environments.

It’s easy to fall into the trap of feeling superior, that places that don’t follow our conventions are somehow more barbaric.

““I didn’t fly halfway around the world to not go into any temples just because it’s that time of the month,” she exclaimed.”

But that’s what makes world travel so fun. Get out of your comfort zone. See things from another point of view. Travel truly changes you.
Here’s a sampling of some of the strangest customs I’ve experienced on my travels.

On Bali, menstruating women cannot enter Hindu temples.

The idea is that women on their periods are somehow “unclean.” But my friend Christina was having none of it.

“I didn’t fly halfway around the world to not go into any temples just because it's that time of the month,” she exclaimed.

“Hey,” I responded, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

In Thailand, there’s no concept of the closet for gays.

As hard as this is to believe, this is what I was told by my friend Deb, who was living in Bangkok at the time.

Apparently being gay isn’t something you have to hide in Thailand. Which I suppose means there’s no repression, and you just tell everyone around you when you first realize you have feelings for the same sex.

Honestly, this one still astounds me, and I’m not sure I fully believe it. I feel like it would make Thailand the only country on Earth where it was totally OK to be gay.

In Morocco, men hold hands and kiss hello.

There’s nothing gay about it. But Muslim men are quite physical with each other. It’s not unusual to see two grown men walking arm in arm down the street or even holding hands.

And when they greet each other, they kiss on the cheek. The man who drove us to the Sahara used me to demonstrate the traditional greeting. He kissed me once. Twice. Thrice. Four times! It seemed a bit excessive. I mean, who’s got time for that?

In Sevilla, Spain, you toss your napkins right on the floor.

You stop at a tapas bar for some delicious nibblies, and when you’re done, you nonchalantly throw your soiled napkin onto the ground.

“It took me a while to get used to this,” my friend Jo said. “But honestly — they’d rather you do that than leave them on the bar.”

In Peru, you pour out booze as an offering to Mother Earth.

The Andean people worship the Earth as Pachamama, and whenever they have an alcoholic drink, they pour a bit out to honor her.

“What about if you’re in someone’s home?” I asked my guide one evening at our campsite on the Inca Trail.

“Yes,” he told me.

“What about if you’re at a restaurant?” I asked.

He nodded again. “Yes.”

“It’s kind of like pouring one for your homies,” I said. But he didn’t understand. –Wally

Chancay Burial Dolls

These Chancay burial dolls from Cusco, Peru, which Wally named Claudia and Lucha, have dollies of their own

A pre-Incan people had these dolls to accompany them to the afterlife.

Wally purchased these folk art Chancay burial dolls in 2006 on a trip to Cusco, Peru. The dolls are modern-day reproductions modeled after ancient cloth figures found in the graves of elite Chancay people, whose culture flourished in the arid coastal valley of Peru during 1000-1460 CE. The Chancay culture is believed to have been conquered and incorporated into the Inca Empire in the mid to late 13th century. 

Their exact purpose has been a subject of debate, but I'd like to believe that these were similar to the figurines placed in ancient Egyptian tombs with the intent to follow their loved ones into the next life. 

“ I’d like to believe that these were similar to the figurines placed in ancient Egyptian tombs with the intent to follow their loved ones into the next life. ”

Indigenous Peruvian artisans recreate these dolls in a traditional style, incorporating remnants of ancient textile fragments recovered from pre-Colombian burial sites. –Duke

India’s Public Urination Problem

India's more recent campaign to shame men who urinate in public

Ho ho shame shame! With Indian men seemingly peeing everywhere but in a toilet, the country has come up with an unusual campaign to shame offenders.

The billboard certainly caught our eye. It featured a young girl, hand raised to her mouth, with the slogan, “Papa!! Ho Ho Shame Shame! You are urinating in public?”

Using the concept that there is no better deterrence than shaming from your peers to encourage others to change their behavior, India has created a campaign with the objective of preventing public urination.

“Toilets first and temples later.”

— Prime Minister Narendra Modi

In smaller type at the bottom of the sign were instructions on where to upload images of offenders.

This wasn't something we observed occasionally while traveling in India. It was something we observed continually. Indian men who felt the urge urinated anywhere, without reservation, backs turned to the world, disregarding the consequences of their actions. We heard that the soil as well as the water have become subject to bacterial contamination.

The problem is also due to the lack of access to toilets in both urban and rural areas. Considering the abundance of Hindu shrines, current Prime Minister Narendra Modi was prompted to declare, "Toilets first and temples later." –Duke

What Is a Djinn?

We bought this Quranic teaching tablet depicting what we imagine is a djinni from Ensemble Artisinal, an artists' co-op, in Marrakesh for about $35.

Djinns, jinn, genies: Why we believe in these creatures from Arabic folklore.

I’m not typically someone who believes in the supernatural. I want to believe in ghosts, angels and the like. I just don’t think the evidence is there.

That being said, after our trip to Morocco, I do believe in djinn (also known as jinn or genies — djinni, jinni, genie in the singular). These magical creatures, created by Allah from “smokeless fire,” are talented shapeshifters, like Robin Williams’ genie in Aladdin. Supposedly some djinn are good — but most tend to be tricksters if not downright devious. They even get some shoutouts in the Quran.

“I ignored him and kept jabbing the blade into the ground.”

I learned about the prevalence of belief in djinn in present-day Morocco in Tahir Shah's excellent book, The Caliph's House, about renovating a house in Casablanca (inevitably drawing connections to that other famous tome — “It’s A Year in Provence for Morocco!”). The triad of servants who tremble in fear at the property’s local djinni are quite hilarious.

But we learned the hard way that there’s nothing funny about djinn.

The Cursèd Dagger

Sure, we joke about it now. But at the time, we were fully convinced there was a djinni responsible for the bizarre situation that took place as we tried to leave the country.

It was the first thing we purchased in the Marrakech souk, and I was quite excited about the find: a ceremonial dagger with a hilt made from the bone of a camel.

When it came time to pack up for our trip home, Duke held up the dagger in our room in the riad and said, “We’ll have to make sure this goes into the checked luggage.” Which is exactly where he put it.

The next morning at the airport, after we had checked our bags and were going through the X-ray machines, the attendant asked us to open our bag. Sitting right there on top was…the dagger.

We were told we could just go back and put the dagger into our checked luggage. Having seen the suitcase pass into the depths of the airport on a conveyor belt, I was skeptical.

“Let’s just prep another bag to check,” I told Duke. And of course we put the dagger in that bag (both Duke and I distinctly remember doing so), then waited in line back at check-in.

We found out it would cost us $75 or so to check another bag, so we decided to forgo that. Back in the room with the X-ray machines, I opened the bag…but couldn’t find the dagger anywhere inside.

Finally, in desperation, I opened our carry-on. Sure enough, right on top, sat the dagger. I could almost imagine a devious smile upon its surface.

And then, something came over me. I grabbed the dagger and started stabbing the floor.

“What are you doing?!” Duke shouted, horrified.

I ignored him and kept jabbing the blade into the ground.

“Wally! Stop it!” Duke implored.

“I just want the blade to break so I can at least keep the handle,” I explained, continuing my frenzy.

“You’ve got a knife out in a crowded airport!” Duke pointed out sensibly. “Do you want to get arrested?”

And then the spell broke. My head cleared, and I looked down at the dagger clutched in my hand.

“Oh my God,” I said, shuddering. “Let’s get rid of this.”

I marched over to a trashcan and tossed the cursèd thing inside.

“There was a djinni in there!” I whispered. “It didn’t want the blade to leave Morocco.”

Duke, wide-eyed and relieved, nodded in agreement.

So, no, we don’t believe in ghosts. But we do believe in djinn. –Wally

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How to Protect Yourself From Jinn and Black Magic

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The Best Place to Make Out in Public in Delhi

These elephants greet you upon entering the Garden of Five Senses in Delhi

Not a typical tourist stop, the Garden of Five Senses is a whimsical sculpture park worth visiting. It's also popular with local couples escaping societal judgment against PDA.

Congestion does not begin to describe traffic in Delhi. It follows its own logic, and yet somehow, miraculously, it works — blowing horns and all. A red light means you might want to consider stopping. Or not.

Driver: Obama came for visit. Business relationship is very good. China is very jealous.

“This was clearly a spot favored by amorous young couples.”

Wally noticed a sign for the Garden of Five Senses and we asked our driver to take us there. He referred to it as Honeymoon Park. He thought we were crazy to want to go there.

Young couples were aggressively pushing past us to purchase tickets to gain admission. In addition to admission fees for sites in India, many have an additional photography fee that you have to pay if you want to take pictures inside the site. We were not permitted to enter the park without a photography permit.

This was clearly a spot favored by amorous young couples to spend time away from the public eye, tucked into the privacy of shadowed archways or behind a curved wall, locked in an embrace and kissing. I felt that we had entered a subworld, as Indian society is generally conservative, especially in regards to public displays of affection. Ironically, there's a sign on the ticket kiosk exclaiming in capital letters, PLEASE MAINTAIN DECENCY.

Duke in the Garden of Five Senses. Note the couple(s) hidden in the nook below

A random highlight was a colorfully decorated camel, which is apparently available for rides.

Overall, the park is fun to explore, with a variety of styles of statues. You feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland, never knowing what lies ahead.

Children of the Street

Back in the car, two children performed on a narrow packed dirt median while our car was paused at a light. The young boy beat a tabla drum, while the young girl proceeded to execute three perfect back flips. Wally rolled down the window and gave her 4 rupees, which she took and ran ahead.

Our driver smiled and looked at Wally in the rearview mirror. He explained that the government pays for two children to go to school, but since families often end up having more than two children, the others are forced to beg for money. –Duke

“You feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland, never knowing what lies ahead.”

3 Tips for Hiring a Driver in India

In Baroda, as in all of India, you'll be sharing the road with cows

Commissions and conversations: what to expect from your hired drivers.

The next morning we enjoyed parantha and pao bhurji for breakfast. Our friend George later explained that pao means bun.

We followed the same routine as the day before and stopped by the tourist office above Amici Cafe, except that instead requesting a return to our hotel, we required transportation to the airport.

“As shocking as this might be, we decided to skip the Taj Mahal.”

We packed up our luggage and put it in the back. Our driver asked us where we wanted to go. We told him Qutb Minar and Hauz Khas Village. He asked why we wanted to go to Hauz Khas, telling us, “It's very expensive, no negotiation, fixed prices.” We told him that we were looking for handicrafts, preferably old and/or painted wood, and he assured us that he had a special place to take us to should we like.

You'll be taken to shops where they'll expect you to buy something — and will be upset if you don't.

We've come to accept that a hired driver is likely to take you to patronize businesses where they make a commission. The shop usually pays the guide if the tourist makes a purchase. In our case, we were a hard sell, and our driver was clearly expecting us to make more purchases. He would click his tongue when we left a shop he took us to empty-handed.

Sometimes it's easier to lie.

We were asked by both of our drivers how long we were going to be in India and if we had plans to see the Taj Mahal? As shocking as this might be, we decided to skip the Taj Mahal. We know it's the pride of India and all that — but we had other things we wanted to see on this trip. 

Almost everyone we met asked us if we were visiting the Taj, and we found it easier to lie and just say yes rather than face their indignation.

Don't let them tell you where to go.

We agreed to skip Hauz Khas (a decision we would live to regret), and our driver took us to a shop located beneath a flyover. According to the gentleman who greeted us, we were the first customers, and as such, he would offer us a very fair price. We politely told him that we were just looking and attempted to wander through unmolested. But this proved to be impossible as we were the sole customers.

We attempted to have a genuine conversation with our salesman, and he told us a story about a rabbit as big as a donkey.

The shop had many beautiful things, but most of them were at a price well above what we had been looking to spend. We did end up purchasing a figurine of Krishna and his consort Rada, though.

Tomb of Safdarjung in Delhi

The empty pool at Safdarjung's Tomb in Delhi, India reveals its neglected state

Safdarjung's Tomb is a less-busy attraction that's worth exploring.

We enjoyed this historical site immensely as it was less-visited than the other destinations we had been to. Built in 1754, the red and buff-colored sandstone mausoleum of Safdarjung's Tomb is the last grand tomb of late Mughal architecture. The majestic double-storied entrance gate, with its vaulted archway, created the perfect frame for the main tomb inside.

While previous, wealthier Mughal nobility used marble for their monuments, Safdarjung's son Shuja-ud-Daula plundered what he could from other nearby tombs, and the marble applied to the surface of the onion-shaped dome looks like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle with patches of pink sandstone showing through.

“The onion-shaped dome looks like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle with patches of pink sandstone showing through.”

At the center of the tomb is a large chamber with arched doorways which contains the white marble cenotaph of Safdarjung. It's eerie. 

A young boy plays with a wheel while a man uses his wheels to carry materials for restoration at the Tomb of Safdarjung

We wandered around and watched a young boy playing with a wheel he had found, treating it like the best toy ever. –Duke

Delhi's Shopping Extravaganza: Dilli Haat

A stray dog sleeps atop a table in the Garden of Five Senses

How bazaar! Crafts galore at Delhi's large outdoor market.

We met our driver for the day in the parking lot and set out for the open-air craft bazaar known as Dilli Haat. Beggars used paused vehicles as an opportunity to solicit money. Under the flyover, hijras, India's transgendered male-to-females, walked amongst cars, extending outreached hands.

Three women traversed the sidewalk on Lodhi Road. One of them carried a long bamboo rod with a wire hook secured to one end. I asked our driver if they were pruning the trees. He laughed and told me that they were extracting dead branches to use in cooking fires.

“We found the best deals and merchandise in the actual store at one end of the bazaar — no bargaining required. ”

By the time we arrived at Dilli Haat, Wally and I were both quite hungry and made our way to the food kiosks.

Bobble Heads

As compared to Western traditions, the Indian head wobble lies somewhere between a nod and a shake. They move their heads from side to side like an erratic metronome. Meanings are unclear and include “yes," “good,” “maybe” or “OK." So, basically anything.

There was a woman dressed in a brightly colored sari with a traditional golden nath (nose ring) who appeared to be waiting in line. As I wanted to be polite, I made a gesture to indicate that I wasn't attempting to cut in line. She smiled and wobbled her head, which I took as an indicator that it was OK for me to move ahead.

Not knowing what to order, we observed the locals and followed their lead. We ordered two dosa — savory, thin, crisp Indian crepes — donut-shaped vadas and veggie samosas. In India it is customary to eat with your right hand. The left hand is considered to be unclean as it's associated with going to the bathroom. This was a bit of a challenge to me, as I am left-handed. But I persevered.

We wandered the stalls but found the best deals and merchandise in the actual store at one end of the bazaar — no bargaining required. The vendors here weren't as concerned with making sales and wouldn't come down much in price (unlike our experience in Morocco).

Returning to the parking lot to meet our driver, we walked past an area about the size of a football field that had the remains of large swaths of gauzy white netting. A cluster of oversized burnished gold vessels lay on the grass at what was most likely the entrance to the affair. We asked our driver what it was and he replied, “a wedding — very expensive.”

As we drove away, I noticed large area rugs, which had probably been used for the wedding, now washed and laid out in a cul-de-sac, drying in the midday sun. –Duke

Tips for Exploring Delhi’s Red Fort

A crowded arcade at Delhi’s Red Fort

How to avoid a long line and hit the various sections of the expansive Red Fort (Lal Qila).

With all the crowds around the entrances of India’s major monuments, tourists can get confused about where to go — and the long lines can be daunting. But here’s a tip: Many attractions have two entrances — one for locals, which inevitably has a long line (and a reduced fee) and one for foreign tourists. 

We entered the fortress through the Lahori Gate and passed through the enclosed Chhatta Chowk shopping arcade, which was known as the Meena Bazaar during the reign of Emperor Shah Jahan. As women of nobility rarely ventured outside, the emperor wanted to create an enclosed market where they could shop, like the ones he had seen in Persia. The high-vaulted ceilings are covered in stucco with an intricately carved geometric honeycomb design.

“Here’s a tip: Many attractions have two entrances — one for locals and one for foreign tourists. ”

The Red Fort was the main residence of Shah Jahan and was designed to impress visitors with its size and grandeur. In truth, many of the pavilions inside the fort were demolished after the British took control and replaced with military barracks, which were occupied until independence in August 1947 and subsequently inhabited by the Indian Army until 2002. Many of the remaining pavilions are in poor condition and due to a lack of conservation work, the Archaeological Survey of India has cordoned off many sections.

The long, narrow water channels, which intersect the complex, were dry and neglected, and large slabs of red sandstone lay tossed aside like hunks of discarded gingerbread.

We passed the exquisitely inlaid Diwan-I-Khas, where Shah Jahan would receive private guests. Unfortunately, it was closed off to the general public.

Every guidebook will tell you that the Red Fort is a must-see. But honestly, it wasn't our favorite spot in Delhi. Go in with lower expectations, knowing it's mostly run-down, with some nice colonnaded arcades. –Duke

Old Delhi Spice Market

The Khari Baoli Spice Market also has plenty of nuts and dried fruits

The fragrant wonderland of the Khari Baoli Spice Market.

Leaving the mosque, we got back onto the bicycle rickshaw, and Mohammed took us to the Khari Baoli Spice Market. He led us into one of the stalls he was probably familiar with (and might get a commission for bringing in customers).

When the shopkeeper appeared, he gave us each a small piece of cinnamon bark to chew on. It tasted slightly sweet but also spicy, like a stick of Big Red chewing gum, only with a distinctly more fibrous bite.

“We met a Hindu who said the trouble between the two religions all comes down to the fact that Muslims want to eat their sacred cows.”

He showed us a variety of unprocessed spices: clove, cardamom pods, coriander seeds, star anise and dried mango, which would later be ground into a powder called amchur, which adds a tart and sour note to Indian cuisine.

He also had peppers: black, white and Szechuan.

He had nutmeg and mace, which he explained come from the same tree. Nutmeg is the seed inside the fruit of the Myristica fragrans, an evergreen tree indigenous to the spice islands of Indonesia. Mace is the thin, lacy, garnet-colored membrane that envelops the nutmeg kernel and has a milder, slightly peppery flavor.

The spice vendor concluded his presentation and produced a variety of cellophane-wrapped curry blends. We purchased some garam masala, thanked him and continued on our journey.

Wally and Duke precariously perched on the back of Mohammed's bicycle rickshaw, ready to explore Old Delhi

We Learn the Differences Between Hinduism and Islam

As we were walking back to the rickshaw, Mohammed nonchalantly mentioned to us that he believes the fundamental difference between Hindus and Muslims is that Hinduism has many gods, Islam only one god, Allah.

Later, we met a Hindu who said the trouble between the two religions all comes down to the fact that Muslims want to eat their sacred cows.

We perched atop the rickshaw's thin wooden board, which acted as a seat, and passed through narrow alleys amidst a jumble of old and crumbling structures with a tangled mess of wires dangled overhead.

Wally snapped a quick pic as we wobbled along on the bicycle rickshaw through the narrow lanes of Old Delhi. Everywhere overhead were jumbles of wires like these

We saw tethered goats and even some street dogs wearing hand-me-down sweater vests and men getting roadside haircuts.

Art for Our Sake

Our next stop was a shop that specialized in silk saris and pashminas. I noticed some miniature paintings they had in a case in front of the folded pashminas and asked if they had any depicting the goddess Durga. I was met with slightly bemused smiles and head wobbles, which I took to mean “yes,” as one of the women proceeded to lay an assortment on the counter like she was dealing a deck of playing cards.

While none of them depicted Durga, we did find one of the elephant-headed god Ganesha holding an umbrella that we quite liked, as well as one depicting Krishna with gopis (milkmaids). We purchased them, but, much to the shopkeeper’s dismay, no pashminas. –Duke