I'm so tired

I had to get up early to catch my plane and, as I always do, got there earlier than necessary. Once in Bangkok, I didn't immediately check into the guest house cause I wanted a single room. Since none were available and I've been a regular at Merry V Guesthouse, they gave me a room with a big bed for the price of a single room with a small bed. The only draw back is the room is four flights up, on the top floor. Being on the highest floor also means it's much warmer up there. It's a good thing Bangkok is cooler right now than it was even last week.

I wanted to buy three things today: a hammock, new shorts, and lip balm. I actually couldn't remember what the third thing was so I substituted. I haven't bought anything yet. Mondays are relatively quiet in Bangkok. If Porn had not told me most of the street vendors take Mondays off I would've been a little freaked out by the emptiness of Kao San Road.

I started to read a book called And Then They Killed My Father. It's written by a Cambodian woman who was a little girl when the Khymer Rouge, under Pol Pot, killed at estimated two million Cambodians, about a quarter of the population at the time. After two chapters I've determined she's no Shakespear, but it's a story that has to be told.

I don't know if it was my mind playing tricks on me but when I drove up to the killing fields outside of Phnom Penh I felt a chill in the air. Strange considering it was well over eighty degrees that day. As I stood there over looking the mass graves all I could think about was how America once said it would never allow someting like this to happen again. I don't know if my facts are straight but I think FDR said that after WWII. Well guess who supported the Khymer Rouge. The good old U.S.A.

Back to Koh Pha Ngan

So I may have been a little harsh on my comments about Cambodia. It's a little rough around the edges and right now I need some place easy. I was also quite lonely at the time of the last entry, missing the company of the people I met in Laos. I'm a moody bastard when I get lonely.

Besides Angkor Wat and the other surrounding temples and the horrible history of the Khymer Rouge, I haven't found much to keep my interests here. This is why I'm yet again shelling out more money than I should to return to Thailand to meet up with Gareth, Steve, Hans and Sara for the upcoming full moon party on Koh Pha Ngan. These four people along with Nicole, Nir and Pete were the group I was with for most of the time in Laos.

I think if I had seen Cambodia earlier on in the trip (before India) I might appreciate it a bit more. People do seem to like it here. It is a bit unrefined and I guess would seem like an adventure, but it lacks the excitement of being in a crazy place (like India). I know I shouldn't compare countries. When I come back to south east asia, I'll check out the southern part of Cambodia. It might be nicer down there.

Here's a little info on my mates.

Gareth and Steve are English, Hans and Sara (father and daughter) are Dutch, Nicole is Swiss, Nir is the coolest Israeli you'll ever meet, and Pete is the friendly Kiwi.

And the award goes to...

After further thought I'll try not to rag on Cambodia so much, although I still do think it's the asshole of South East Asia. I think I'm mostly missing the company of the people I was with in Laos. It wouldn't have been half as fun there without them. I also am itching to get to the islands in Thailand to meet up with a few of them.

I'm currently in Battambang. I won't go into it too much but this town is a dump. True I haven't seen too much of it yet, but from what I've seen it's a dump. Fuck it who am I kidding. Release the hounds.

For being as poor of a country as Cambodia is one would figure it'd be budget travelling paradise. As far as accomodation goes there is no such thing as value for money. It's down right (relatively) expensive here. The food is a hodge podge of Vietnamese and Thai with half the flavor. There is a direct correllation on food of the country and whether or not I like the place so maybe that explains my negative feelings.

If Angkor Wat wasn't so close to Siem Reap that town would be a shithole too. There's something inherently wrong when I'm ok with going to sleep before ten, which is what happened every night in Siem Reap. The temples were amazing, Siem Reap not so.

I'm a heartbeat away from booking a bus out of Battambang even though I just arrived. The shit towns in India were more exciting than this. There I go again with India.

Ok as I was saying before I'm itching to get back to Thailand. I'm considering going to the Thai embassy in Phnom Penh to get a two month visa just so I can leave Cambodia sooner than planned and not have to worry about doing a visa run in Thailand. I think I'm finally getting a little tired of all the travelling. I just want to be in one place for a while chilling with familiar people. Koh Pha Ngan sounds lovely for this.

It's only nine more days until I planned on going back to Thailand. Can I find something to occupy my time until then?

Happy Birthday To Me

My birthday came and went like any other day. I'm twenty nine now. Wooo! I spent my birthday in a van (by the river) from Chiang Mai to Chiang Khong. Chiang Khong is the Thai border town opposite the Laotian border town of Huay Xia. The Mekong is the natural border that separates the two towns.

I was hanging out with Harold and Amelie from Paris and having beers. Other than that it wasn't much of a birthday celebration. The twenty eight other ones made up for it.

I have to go. I think the sip of water I took wasn't such a good idea. The toilet is soooo far away.

Bonehead

I thought I would be in Cambodia right now. I flew from Ha Noi to Bangkok and landed on time. Then I went to change my ticket from Bali to Hong Kong then to San Francisco. The date of my return is now February 18. Once that was settled I went to the desk check in.

The guy there told me there were no Air Asia flights flying out anytime soon and directed me to the ticketing both. The ladt boy there told me my flight was at seven that morning. Grrrr. What a waste of money. It wasn't that much because Air Asia is a no frills budget airline, but still, I should not be throwing money away like that.

After a bit of sulking I went to catch the airport bus into town. There are worse places to be stuck than Bangkok. I met a English guy named mick on the bus and we ended up getting drunk in my local bar on Koh San Rd. I still don't know the name of it. I saw Porn briefly, but she left before I came stumbling out at midnight.

I was hung over the next day. Two out of the three times I've been in Bangkok, I've been hung over the second day there.

Later that night I decided to book a plane ticket to Chiang Mai. I would've taken the train, but all the sleepers are sold out through the weekend. The woman at the travel agency suggested a bus, but it shows up at some godawful time in the morning (4am).

Now I'm in Chiang Mai with no guide book. I've lost my edge. I just got talked into taking a room for the equivalent of ten U.S. dollars. If I had walked one hundred meters down the road I would've found a room for someting closer to $4.

I will write a postcard to my friends and family in free verse

Having just reread Lonely Planet's review of Sapa, I'mbeginning to lose a bit of faith in it. I know guidebooks are not always the most accurate and I shouldtake the information inside with a grain of salt, butwhoever wrote the Sapa section is an idiot.In one sentence he/she says, "the Montagnards(mountain people)...are reaping the financial rewardsof the tourism influx." A few paragraphs later,"mostly they're very poor." So which is it?

I've had the good fortune of meeting and talking topeople from the two majority ethnic groups in theregion, the H'Mong and Dzao. All are very intelligent, and most of the ones my age have gone to school. Although the Montagnards learn their native language they also learn Vietnamese in school and use it as the common language. Most know english andfrench as well. I met a twenty seven year old woman who finished high school, rare for a mountain woman.

I fear for the heritage of these people becausetourism brings a lot of ugliness with it. Pollution aside, I hope the younger ones don't forget abouttheir traditions and customs to be a part of themodern world.

One Dzao girl I met is no longer wearing traditionalclothes, dressing in western fashion. Her friend whoI was talking to told me she wants to live outside ofthe village. I heard another jokingly say she didn'tcare if a westerner was nice or not as long as heagreed to marry her.

Today I spoke with Qui, the high school graduate. She was telling me she had a lot of "friends" who are willing to help her come to the US. They areVietnamese-Americans who may or may not have good intentions. Even if they do I warned her about how difficult life can be in the states, especially for someone who seems very innocent to me. What do I know about her innocence? She could beputting one over on me and using the same sob story onanyone willing to listen. Still, I feel like I wantto help her.

Travelling alone for eight months now I've learned tobe very wary of people, but something about being inViet Nam is dulling this abilty. I know it's because these are my people and I want to believe they are all kind and good, but they aren't.

Pale skin makes you happier, healthier, and more attractive

The Vietnamese tend to like pale skin more than dark skin. I've spent the last three days out in the sun. I'm getting Hawaii dark again. I could strive to have pale skin, but what's the fun in that.

I was in Ha Long bay the past three days. The water seems to be extremely salty. I had no problems swimming/floating on my back.

I'm back in Hanoi for another four hours, then I'm heading to the mountains for the next three days. A girl in Hue told me I looked like a person from one of the hill tribes here (probably cause of my skin tone).

One of these things is not like the other

I'm slowly getting used to being alone again and really feeling like a foreigner in a foreign country. My family in Sai Gon made it easier for me while I was there. I can't remember if I mentioned it before, but there are distinct Vietnamese accents I didn't know existed. The accent where my mom grew up sounds like Vietnamese with a southern drawl. The Vietnamese in Hue is a bitch. They accent words completly differently than what I'm used to. For instance if the sound of the word starts low pitched then goes high they startlow and go lower. This probably makes no sense so I'll move on.

I don't like the traveler hotspots in Viet Nam. The food sucks since it's catered to western tastes. I had the worst bowl of pho from a place Lonely Planet highly recommended. I should've known better than to go into a place where no Vietnamese were eating. On top of that the cyclo drivers are assholes. It seems like they're all pimping for "massage" parlors. On the flip side I'm not comfortable in completely Vietnamese areas because my Vietnamese is still not that great.

This is how things end

A few days ago I thought I had made up my mind about when or if I was returning. I was sure I would stay away and teach english or find some other way to support myself overseas. When it came time for an answer I wasn't sure and decided to give myself a few hours to think about it. After my deadline I still wasn't sure and decided this should not be a rash decision. My answer on whether or not to take the TEFL training course is 'no' for now.

My parents left the other day to return top the states. I left Sai Gon (Ho Chi Minh City) two nights ago. The train ride was supposed to take about ninteen hours. We stopped well inland because of a typhoon and waited. I didn't arrive in Hue until today at two, about forty six hours after I left Sai Gon.

My farewell to my family was bitter sweet because just before I left they pulled some wierd family shit on me. In Vietnamese culture the oldest male has a duty to stay close to (or live with) the parents and care for them. SInce I am not doing this I'm breaking my parents heart (according to my family here). They pretty much were laying all kinds of guilt trips on me just hours before I left. It left a bad taste in my mouth and was not the farewell I wanted.

In those few hours I began to understand my parents even more, because I see their attitudes and ways of dealing with things are more deep rooted in Vietnamese culture than I ever imagined. I felt like a teenager again who is a disappointment to the family for not following the path that they chose for me. As I stepped on the train I breathed a sigh of relief because I was finally away from them.

I don't know if I can face them and their disappointment again. I thought I would teach english in Vietnam, more specifically in Sai Gon, but I don't think I can live there and deal with their constant pressure to do my duty. My uncle tried to make me promise after my visa expired I would return home to my parents. The answer every time he asked was "no." Even when I called him today to let him know where I was and that I was all right he asked me again. I like him a lot, but can't give him or the family the answer they want.

Anyways, I'm away from all that now and will continue journeying.

When did Joes become Cobra?

I'm reading a Noam Chomsky book called Hegemony or Survival: America's Quest for Global Dominance. It details basically how the US has fucked other nations for the past fifty years. Virtually every president since WWII has green lighted terrorist activities in other nations under the guise of national security. There was even one point during the Cuban missle crisis where the US government was thinking about sinking a ship or shooting down a drone airplane (said to have carried college students on holiday) in order to sway the US public opinion in favor of invading Cuba.

I'm only a hundred pages into the book right now, but every page is full of insights. Chomsky says the US goes to war with countries that: 1. Can't defend themselves 2. Has a much needed resource and 3. Can be demonized as a threat to US national security. For Iraq one and two were not a problem. The third point took a bit of work, but the US propaganda machine took care of that in no time.

The US government can do anything to any country anytime it feels like it. No one can stop them. They disregard the UN and world court orders because they can. The US is the playground bully pushing aside any opposition and taking whatever they want in the world.

Having been outside of "normal" life for a while now, I've had the luxury to think about the bigger picture. I've reflected on my life as an American and how brainwashed and complacent we've become (I'm seeing this in other nations as well). At an early age we're already in the grip of the machine. I still love cartoon and watch Cartoon Network when I can. The advertising on that channel is fierce and nearly gives me seizures. Kids are already taught to want even need things in order to be happy. This carries on through to adulthood and is one way of pacifying people.

In school you are taught to do well in order to get good grades to get into a good university. Why? Is it to become educated? A thinker? An artist? I think that most of the time it is to find a job and make a shitload of money in order can buy all the crap people think they need. This is what helps alienate the US from what is really going on in the rest of the world. I know. I used to be there.

I didn't really know or care about the rest of the world, I was dealing with my own crisis. I had a routine. I went to work in order to pay my various bills, buy food, and hopefully have a little left over so I could go out and forget about life. And of course buy whatever crap I thought would make me feel better, for a little while.

I feel like countries all over the world are becoming more like the US in this sense, where things are more important than anything else. I think things are coming to a head for me because here in Vietnam communism rules by being capitalistic. "Communism refers to a theoretical system of social organization and a political movement based on common ownership of the means of production. As a political movement, communism seeks to overthrow capitalism through a workers' revolution and establish a classless society."

The family

Vietnam hasn't been as stressful as I've feared. My parents haven't been trying to find me a wife. Although my cousins and aunts have talked about trying to hook me up no one has actually done anyting. Yesterday while getting new glasses the girl helping me pick out a frame asked me to father her child, which made me blush. If I had the moral standards of a prostitute I would've taken her up on the offer because she is quite attractive. Today while visiting the Cu Chi tunnels I got separated from the family. One girl told me if I didn't find the family I could come home with her. I should probably just open a sperm bank.

Now that I've been on Vietnam for over a week and had time to digest the onslaught of family, I think I've basically figured out who to trust and who not to trust. It's as simple as this. The ones who ask me for money or expect me to pay are not to be trusted. One of my cousins acted very kind and seemed like a generally good guy until he got me alone and asked for money to buy a computer for his son. This was after my parents gave him money, asked them for more, then got shut down. His brother is as much of a prick as he is, but that's far too long and compicated of a story to tell right now. I can only hope their younger siblings, don't turn out like them. There is plenty of gold digging between my parents siblings, but also a lot of kindness.

My father's half brother and kids are some of the poorest people in the family. Six people live in a two room place with a polished cement floor which is also where they sleep. My uncle stepped on a mine, blew off his right leg and most of the fingers on his right hand. His son, Phuc, contracted son kind of illness (polio?) when he was ten months old so his legs are in braces. Phuc has never run and played like other kids in his life. His younger brother died of a heart condition a few years ago. Still, they are the sweetest people I've ever met. Of the family I've met, I know for certain they are genuinely happy for us to be here. I'm sure there are others, and perhaps it's because I met them first, but I felt connected to them the moment I met them. Phuc's older sister Cua is the kindest and sweetest woman you'll ever meet.

This part of the family are not speaking to my father's younger half sister and her family. Phuc won't tell me why, and my dad doesn't know why. Because of this we spend one day with Chu Thang (Uncle Thang) his family and Co Hai (Auntie two) and the other with Co Nam (Auntie five).

Co Nam and her kids are strong willed. Of the four surviving kids, who are all older than me, there are three females and a male. I would take any of these women (Ngoc, Yum, and Thuy) into a barfight with me. I heard Yum used to beat the shit out of Ngoc's husband when he got out of line and Thuy, well I'm glad I'm on her good side. She's intimidating. Vu the male is a nice guy and raising two sons on his own. By on his own I mean he's not married, but his mother, father, and sisters, and neice help care for the kids.

My mother had eight siblings. I've met four. The others, I think, are dead or my mom has a beef with them. Yi Ba (auntie three) is the aunt that every kid should have. I love her. She's the best. I wasn't so sure about her son, but he turned out to be an all right guy. Her daughters are nice, one of them is sick with some kind of intestinal worm. Apparently she's lost a lot of weight.

Cau Sao (Uncle six) is the blacksheep. He has eleven kids from four or five different women. He and Yi Ba don't speak. I've mentioned his sons already. Yi Bay (Auntie seven) is looking for a handout. I didn't feel comfortable with her kids at all. The boy (Thong, thirteen) a few times wanted me to promise to buy him things. The girl (Phuong, twenty one) seemed ok, but caused me a bit of a headache and a bit of cash last night. It's something I'll try to piy behind me, but it causeed my mom to lose a lot of sleep last night.

Cau Ut (youngest uncle) seems to be the most sucessful financially. He, his wife and sons are well educated and nice enough. The raise livestock, have a rice paddy, and all kinds of fruit trees. They basically grow and make their own food and cook over a fire pit and make rice wine, which I think is pretty cool.

That's a quick rundown of my aunts uncles and first cousins. I'm sure I've missed someone.

Dude WTF?!?

I've just experience a problem JP has had on his website. Fucking spam in my comments!

Just words

Since arriving in Thailand I've been a bit lazy about documenting this part of my trip with pictures, so I have only words.

Germans could possibly be my second favorite people behind the Spanish. I'm not saying this because my brother in law Norbert is German, but because since being in Thailand I've spent many nights (at the bar) in the company of frauliens. The first being Andrea and last night Sylvia and I had a great time listening to a Thai singer, which leads me to my next point.

Thailand has many talented musicains playing in local bars. I think the name of my favorite place at the end of Khao San, on the far side from the police station, is a place called Sabhai Sabhai (again I could be wrong about the name). THe first night we had the sing along and last night the girl, Rose, was doing her singer/songwriter thing. She covered Thai tunes as well as Cranberries and a song that reminds me of someone from my university days, Sarah MacLachlan's Angel. It makes me feel like setting up a little studio to record Thai bands. They have just as much musical skill as anyone in the world.

I've befriended quite a few Thais in my short time here. It's funny how her name is on the sexual side in english terms, but Porn (Pahn) and I have spent some good times together. She is a mid thirties Thai woman who I proposed to last night after seing Rose perform and putting on a good beer buzz. I got her email and digits tonight. Usually after a few drinks I'm helping her sell t-shirts. Since my features are very similar to Thai, people are quite amazed when I speak with an American accent. I think I pulled in about one thousand baht in sales tonight. In return I got a t-shirt which I think Josh Lee will like. Khe and the others around that area now know me as the American with Vietnamese origins. We shared some beers tonight just cause.

I quite like Thailand and have considered staying here a bit longer to possibly teach english. Life here is laid back, people are friendly and even after midnight I can have my fill of barbecue skewers, spring rolls, and fresh mango shakes.

Tomorrow I fly to Vietnam to rendezvous with my parents and meet the family I've never met. My oldest sister asked me to keep my parents calm, but who will keep me calm? I have been quite anxious and even afraid of this part of my journey. My parents have never told me much about the family there and I've never asked. My dad told me to contact Chu Thang. I asked him who that was and he said his younger brother. This is how ignorant I am about my family there.

My parents are staying only two weeks, but I'll try to convince my dad to stay longer. My mom works for a shitty company that will not let her have a month off, even though unpaid. I wonder if she is using that as an excuse to leave sooner. I feel quite a bit of pity for my mom, but the feelings are too personal to reveal right now.

I've had quite a lot of advice from friends during my travels to mend the gap I have between father and son while I see where my parents grew up. There are a lot of emotional issues I have with both my parents, so I hope it will be worked out there. All this time I've told myslef not to place such importance on being in Vietnam with my parents, but in order to quiet the demons inside me I feel I must break through to them as a grown man not as their baby boy. This seems like the time to do it.

On a side note in Vietnamese my given name is Nam and my middle is Viet. In Vietnam I would be known as Tran Viet Nam, but of course in the states because my parents put my name down in that order I became known as Viet. My parents would address me as Nam (or my nickname which now moves on to another generation because my nephews call me that) and even my childhood neighbors would call me Nam. Well it's too late for me to ask everyone to address me as name and I like Viet as a name.

Here comes the rain again

I watched Koh San flood a little bit. The street running parallel to it was bad. Some of the shopkeepers were sweeping water out of their stores. During the heaviest part of the storm I was loitering outside of a bar showing T2. I had to wade through ankle deep water to get to my guest house. This is again one of those times when I thank India for preparing me.

I ran into Tina and her friend who were on KoPha Ngan. I had a Thai massage for an hour, then ran into the Belgian girl Ann. I hope the street vendors open up again. Can't let a little rain shut down their business.

Paradise

I was on Ko Pha Ngan for eleven days and spent most of my time on the northern beach of Hat Thong Nai Pan Noi. For most of those eleven days I did absolutely nothing. Before getting to Ko Pha Ngan I planned to stay in a few places around the island, see some waterfalls, and maybe do a trek. Some days I didn't get much farther than 10 meters from my bungalow. This all sounds very lazy, but I didn't need to go much farther than this.

My bungalow was situated at the far end of the beach from the road. It's only a five minute (I'm not sure cause I rarely wore my watch after the first few days) walk from one end to the other. Walking towards the bungalow on the soft sandy beach, I had views of coconut palms on my left leading up to the hills behind the bungalows and the greenish colored sea on my right, usually calm because it's protected by a bay.

Most days it was sunny when I woke up, so the morning choice was swim now or after breakfast. The decisions I had to make! Sometimes I decided to order breakfast, go for a swim, and while floating around in the clean perfectly temperatured water, Yi would whistle for me to come in and have my breakfast of rice soup. I'd usually sit at I -Sea bar and have a bit of a conversation with Strewyn or Karl, the expats working there.

One of the other regulars or travelers would be there and we'd make some small talk that usually come around to "what are you doing today?"

I'd think about it for a second and say, "I'm going to go into the water, sit back here, and repeat." I did that until the sun went down, not because it was too cold to swim, but because I wanted to rinse the salt water off of me. Also at nightfall I'd put on trousers because of the mosquitoes and finally put on a shirt for the same reason.

The days were not all that different, but there were events to help seperate them from one amalgamated clump of memory. We went to the "big" beach, Hat Thong Nai Pan Yai, across the bay for the islands beach football (soccer) tournament. On the day the championship game was played they had free food and beer. Sometimes I would walk to the main road and have a fresh mango shake and lunch from the little restaurant there. At night we would usually start at I-Sea and work our way down the beach to Flip Flop for a drink and some pool then into "town" which meant the one road leading in and out of Thong Nai Pan. If we didn't already have dinner at the guesthouse or Flip Flop, then we'd go to Bamboo. Depending on what night it was we'd go to Hideaway or Jungle Bar for the weekly party. If it was an off night the Premier League football would be on somewhere. As the night winds down Mr. Handsomes burgers would be the thing to cap it all off before starting over again the next day.

...

Two nights ago I left paradise. I was still on Ko Pha Ngan, but I stayed in the main town of Thong Sala where roughly half the population of 15,000 live. I was surprised by how busy it felt there, and how noisy it seemed. In Thong Nai Pan I had to deal with water gently crashing on the beach, frogs croaking, and insects in the trees. I'd rather deal with these noises than motor bikes and screaming babies. I wanted to make a tactical retreat back to TNP. Earlier the day I left I joked with Brian about finally communicating with someone from the outside world. It would be a phone call to my parents telling them to enjoy their time in Vietnam, I wouldn't be seing them there.

That's what that place did to me. It pulled me in and it was hard to find a way back out. It was like the sirens drawing my in. I was surprised by how quickly I got used to the slow life on Thong Nai Pan. Nothing outside of that beach mattered. I could've and should've made phone calls or emails, but I just couldn't be bothered. If I didn't have the rendezvous with my parents I don't think I would've left except to make a visa run.

Red Bull and cigarettes. Beer too.

My tolerance for alcohol has gone up again. This doesn't mean I can drink more; I just don't get red in the face and pass out, as easily. The alcohol tolerance started out because I was with Manu and Carlos who, like all Spanish, know how to party. After they left Kathmandu I took a bit of a break. Then I landed in Bangkok.

From the airport I shared a taxi with three others - an Israeli guy, German girl, and a Belgian girl. I'm horrible with Israeli names so I don't remember the guy's name and he ended up staying at some other guest house. Andrea (German) and I hung out together quite a bit. She reminds me of one one of my most favorite peeps, Kirsten J. Fisher. Since Oktoberfest is starting up we decided to have a few drinks on Kho San. I used to do little but a little wouldn't do it so a little got more and more.

We started out slow sharing a large beer (650ml) over some spring rolls and papaya salad. The order of events after that are blurry because of the events of last night. Before I get to that, I remember walking up and down Kho San quite a few times and exploring some of the side streets. We stopped off in at least two more places and ended the night at a bar on the east end of Kho San with live acoustic music. The three guys playing and singing were quite talented and had the whole place singing along. We got back to the guest house after one and I fell asleep with the iPod on shuffle. I now know it has at least nine straight hours of battery life when fully charged.

The morning after wasn't too bad. Since we stuck to beer I didn't have a hang over. Andrea and I spent most of the day figuring out our travel arrangments. Andrea doesn't have a lot of time in Thailand so she had to take a train leaving last night.

I don't usually drink alone but I was bored and went back to the same bar. The music last night wasn't as good as the previuos night. I think the transgender waitress was hitting on me, especially since I told her Andrea already left and wasn't my girlfriend. It was buy two beers get the third for free but I don't think I got that deal. Grrr.

I walked back to the guesthouse and ran into Ann (Belgian) who was lost and stumbling about. She had had quite a bit to drink and couldn't find the guesthouse. We were standing two buildings away from it.

I guided back, bought her a water, then walked her up to her room. We had a bit of a discussion about which floor she was on. The drunk girl was wrong. I told her to drink water before she passed out. She didn't listen. An hour or so later I went to make sure her door was locked. It wasn't and the water was unopened. I locked and shut before going back out.

When I first put Ann in bed I walked out to the all night internet shop to email pictures to a woman I sat next to on the flight from Delhi. On my way there I was asked if I wanted to buy a rain coat. Interesting question, but I had to answer no. The two who solicited me were a brother and sister from Israel Ohad and Noa. They are a friendly pair so I felt obligated to help them sell the rain coat. This was to be the beginning of a long night.

Shortly after I sat down we were joined by two guys from Switzerland, Julien and Xavier. Ohad went to get his guitar and we made up the raincoat song:

Cheap cheap don't you want a rain coat
Green green beautiful rain coat

I pulled myself away from the group for fifteen minutes to email the pictures and when I got back Han, a Korean guy, joined the group followed by a Canadian girl and her Finnish boyfriend. Julien ran off and brought back beers for everyone and Noa suggested we had enough of a global representation to start a new U.N. We got kicked out of our spot some time around one or two in the morning. That's when I checked up on Ann and decided I smelled really bad and needed a shower.

The party moved around the corner and more people came and went. Somebody bought a bottle of whisky and we were all sipping from it. Songs were sung in various languages including Hebrew, Arabic, and Korean. All the while we were smoking like chimneys. At three thirty I opened my eyes and found everyone straing at me. Noa told me I fell asleep. That and Juliens downward turn towards sloppy drunk made everyone decide it was time for bed.

Bangkok isn't as bad as I thought it would be.

Good grief

Charlie Brown inspired moment.

Kathmandu is boring the pants off of me. I'm glad I'm off tomorrow to India. I got in touch with Saurabh from Delhi who I met in Leh. Should make my day in Delhi more bearable. Then I fly to Thailand and the islands!

For a bit of down home flavor I'm reading Cannery Row after having finished Midnight's Children. It's wierd reading the old American dialog. The slang is entertaining.

Chitwan

I came back to Kathmandu only to leave three days later for Chitwan National Park. The two major cities in Nepal, Kathmandu and Pokhara, don't offer much. They are a haven for travellers and cater to travellers meaning the food sucks and there are tons of shops selling the same things. Chitwan was not too exciting, but it got me out of Kathmandu.

Manu and I left Carlos behind cause he was getting all spiritual and stuff by doing yoga and reiki. We'll not speak of this anymore.

Upon arriving at the lodge in CHitwan, we were greeted by a guy bearing an uncanny resemblance to Jeff Goldblum and he will be known as such for the rest of this entry. Jeff booked us our bus tickets out and sold us on doing a canoe ride with a four hour jungle walk and an elephant ride. The first day was for exploration and we quickly discovered the only two roads in Chitwan help nothing remarkable so we drank, smoked, and napped. Then the rain started.

The monsoon doesn't seem to be over in this part of Nepal. The rain came down hard for probably twenty minutes then not so hard for another forty minutes. The storm passed us but as night fell the lightning surrounded us. There were flashes all night, some so bright I had to close my eyes. Nature put on a show for us that night. It was clody so no stars were visible, but as Manu and I walked back to our, tiny specks of light could be seen flying around. Fireflies! Their presence made the absence of stars a moot point.

The next morning we woke up and found out we were doing the jungle walk with three older Spainiards staying at the lodge. We checked in with the cops/military in the area and I was again mistaken for Nepali when they asked where the fifth tourist was. As we walked to the canoe something that may have been a crocodile was spotted. Manu insists it was a log.

The canoe trip was ok. We saw a few species of birds, but nothing else. The jungle walk on the other hand was shitty. After instructions about what to do if animals charge us we entered the jungle. We didn't see anything. The only thing we encountered were leeches. The jungle leeches were bigger than the leeches on the trek. I managed to get two crawl in my shirt and find a nice suckling place in my right armpit and one on my lower back. The reaction the leeches got from the older Spainiards made any chance of sneaking up on a rhino impossible. One of the two women screamed at the top of her lungs and the other two ran in place like the flash dance chick.

Neither Manu or I were too thrilled with our company. Besides their reaction to the leeches they were slow. I don't know how much area the walk was supposed to cover, but we probably only walked two kilometers. My mind is now in the metric. Sorry American friends.

The walk ended and we rented bikes to try to find a traditional village three kilometers away from Chitwan. It was noon so I suggested we wait until later in the day to go because of the heat and humidity. It was (ready?) around forty degrees with probably one hundred percent humidity. We decided to take a siesta.

While I slept another storm rolled in. When I woke up, two hours later, the rain which had stopped for an hour, started up again. We returned the bikes without having ridden around much. That night no lightning, stars, or fireflies.

The next morning we rode on square plaform on top of an elephant. My ribs and arms are still bruised. The first hour of the ride was uneventful. THings got a bit uncomfortable when the driver started to beat the elephant on her head when she decided to stray from the path. His tool was a metal bar with cloth taped around it to make the beating gentler. I wanted to grab it from him a few times and beat him with it.

I don't know if the elephant was pissed from the beatings or if she's just a bitch but she didn't get along with any of the other elephants. While in the jungle she charged and one of them and we were taken for a ride, but nothing happened except them making a lot of noise. Another almost elephant fight ensued when we were crossing the river. Again nothing happened.

Upon crossing the river she started running again which made the driver yank on her ear with the hook end of his beating tool. She stopped, but there was blood on her ear, then we saw what she was running at, a rhino.

The rhino sat there watching us taking numerous snap shots and kept an eye on the elephant in case she decided to get fiesty again. She didn't and we left the rhino to its meal. Not five minutes later we ran into two more rhinos. We snuck up, as only an elephant can sneak up, on the rhinos in some trees. She was a little startled and picked up some of the brush with her trunk and swung it in front of her. Manu and I talked the previous night about who would win in a fight between an elephant and rhino. We didn't really want to find out while riding on top of the elephant. Fortunately the rhinos wanted nothing to do with the elephant and walked away.
Nothing much happened after.

The last night in Chitwan was clear so the stars were out in numbers. We could see the Milky Way faintly and the fireflies came back. We got back to Kathmandu and found Carlos who met a psychic and ran into this English woman named Deborah. We met her while on the trek, and aside from talking too much she's a really cool person. She insists on me coming to Sydney and stay with her as long as I want. Tempting offer.

Last night was the last night in Nepal for Manu and Carlos. We celebrated by drinking beer before dinner, two bottles of wine with dinner, and six gin and tonics at three different bars. Carlos slept in my room because Manu and Deborah were using the room he shared with Manu. I slept for maybe four hours and am a bit hung over.

I said goodbye to Manu and Carlso today. I have two more laces to stay in Madrid when I go back there. I hung out with them for over three weeks making them the longest travelling mates in my six months of travels.

Here comes a new challenger

During one of the last days of my trek I was thinking about Street Fighter for some reason. My backpack wasn't meant to do things like the 40km walk in Spain and a twelve day trek in the Himalayas. I think most backpack frames are made of some kind of sturdy light weight material not lead. Any how, when my mind went to the safe and warm fuzzy place I thought how I've visited some of the countries that the characters in Street Fighter hail from and it helped me forget about the pain in my feet, legs, and back.

I don't remember if I mentioned this in a previous entry, but I feel like Nepal is too easy compared to India. I miss India and the way it kept me on my toes and alert. Devan and Bim have been completely taking care of me since I got here and I've gone all soft. I almost feel like leaving Nepal sooner and spending another week in India. That probably won't happen, but who knows.

Briefly about the trek. It was difficult, especially with aforementioned backpack. Our pace was fast on most days and it felt like we were going straight up and down the foothills of the mountain, which is not necessarily untrue. At least three times we faced a steep descent followed by a hellish ascent of at least thirty minutes. I also had at least twenty leeches on my feet and ankles. I'll try to relay the leech story some other time.

The thing that kept us going (I was trekking with two Spanish guys and our guides) was almost every morning and a few other hours of the day the clouds went away and we had a clear view of the Annapurna mountain range. I can't imagine doing that trek without any views. I would've felt like I suffered for no reason.

It feels strange to be back in a city after a week and a half in the mountains.

Same same but different

I'm reading Midnight's Children right now and Rushdie mentions something about how time is a made up concept because India decides to be thrity mintues ahead on G.M.T. He mentions this is to separate it from Pakistan. Nepal is an extra fifteen minutes ahead of G.M.T. to separtate themselves from India. In that case it's 4:20 all the time.

I'm heading to Pokhara tomorrow to start my twelve day trek to the Annapurna base camp. Deven and his cousin Bim (sp?) thought I should go for a lower altitude trek instead going right for the Everest base camp. I'll save that for next time. I'm a little concerned about my shoes because they aren't waterproof and it's still raining on and off here. Also my pack isn't really made for trekking, but I'm going to take very bare essentials so it shouldn't be too heavy. Physically I feel good but I had some problems with my IT band in my right knee again recently. If that bothers me on the trek walking on a downward slope is going to be a problem. I was planning on going alone but now I'm glad Bim is guiding me because if something happens he'll bail me out.

Last night Deven invited me to his house for dinner. It was also a birthday of a young relative of his. I didn't get their exact relationship, but the boy turned ten. Instead of ten cnadles on his cake he had nine, because he's saying goodbye to his ninth year. Interesting. After blowing out his candles the boy (I don't remember his name) cut a small piece of cake off and gave a bite first to his mother, then father, and finished the piece himself.

Next the ceremony of the presents. Each person in turn stuck a bit of red stuff (crushed flowers or something) to his forehead near the hairline and threw whatever didn't stick on top of his head, then ripped a petal off a flower and handed him his gift. I asked Deven if I could do the same and felt a little nervous when I was pushing the red stuff on the already huge glob of his forehead. The glob didn't fall off and I handed him some money. Later on I felt bad for only giving 10 rupees because it's not much. I'm still thinking in terms of Indian rupees.

I'm blending in here more than I did in india. Everyone thinks I'm Nepalese. This is usually fine by me because no one bothers me on the street. When I walk into a shop the people start speaking to me in Nepali and I have to tell them I'm from the states. Everyone at Deven's last night thought I was from Nepal. I'm sure I'll get the same in south east asia.

I'll probably be out of touch until the 18th.

Kathmandoodle doooooo

I left India with about twelve hours of validity left on my visa. I spent my last days in India in the most horrible place called Ladakh. I'll never go back there in two years. Since I haven't relayed that adventure I'll do so now before I express the complete state of anand (bliss in Hindi?) I'm in because I'm in Kathmandu.

After leaving Jaisalmer I did a whirlwind tour of Bikaner (which was unimpressive), Amritsar (it was hot, but the Golden Temple was very interesting), McCleod Ganj (where his holiness the 14th Dalai Lama resides along with the exiled Tibetan government), then onto Manali, and finally Leh. In that time period I met an Italian guy named Andrea, a Slovakian named Andrej.

Real quick tangent. When he asked me what I thought of Bratislava I said I was presently surprised by how much I liked it. I didn't tell him e the whole reason why I liked it. During our train ride he asked what I thought of the women. The damn burst and out came the truth. As previously stated, the Slovakian women are the most beautiful on earth. Andrej and I laughed and he said, "Yes. We are very proud of this."

Andrej was suffering from stomach problems when I left. His journey took him through Iran and Pakistan before getting to India. I have to admit I was jealous of this because as an American I don't think I could go through the middle east safely.

Anywho I left for Manali and encountered a group of some of my most favorite people - the Spanish - on the bus. One guy is American and Irish - Ian - but grew up in Spain. The next morning we went our separate ways as I headed to old Manali (should've gone to Vaishisht) and planned my journey up to Leh.

The bus ride up takes two days on rough road that are constantly being worked on by guys stained in tar. Over the course around twenty eight hours we covered 295 miles. We camped one night at an elevation of 5000 meters, drove on the second highest pass in the world, and everyone on the bus suffered altitude sickness. Some felt nauseous, and everyone felt lethargic. Once we reached Leh i wish I never arrived. I'm sure this is the same way I'll feel when I do it again two years from now. Really everyone, stay away!

I hung out with an Irish guy - Tomas - doing his PhD in genetics and his friend from Delhi - Sarev- who is getting his masters in neuroscience. Sarev gave me hope that less than ninty percent of Indian males are assholes. Funny thing during my bus ride my view of Israelis stayed the same. I sat next to a cool Israeli guy, but the others on the bus were a bit unfriendly. I sat with them for a meal and on another occassion Tomas and Sarev did, and they spoke Hebrew the whole time. Rude don't you think? Anyhow I did meet a few other decent Israelis so the jury is still out on that one.

I watched the sunset on thje Himalayas from two different spots and ran into Ian and a few other Americans (Emmy and Naomi) at both sights. I was supposed to take a jeep down one night, but it got canceled on me the first night. I was a bit stressed out by this because of my visa situation and almost walked something like 6km close to midnight. After about 1km I turned back. I was pissed to have to spend another day in Leh, but oh well. I did get to see Ian and the girls again and hang out with Sarev's friend.

At 2am I got picked up by a jeep to head down to Manali. Four Israelis were in the jeep (and a Swiss woman and the two drivers). This could've been a problem, except they were some of the nicest people I've met. Steroetypes are bad. I should keep this in mind. The journey back down took nineteen hours, and was once again full of me being snap happy. Hey, the light was different this time. Nineteen hours could've been hellish as the iPod was acting up again (I think it suffered from altitude sickness), but the bhang cookies I saved from Jaisalmer helped mellow me out. I had two on the way up as well :-). We arrived in Manali after dark and I took a room near the bus station to prepare for the trip to Dehli.

I wandered around central Manali until about 15:00 then went to catch my bus. The further down the mountain we went the hotter it got. I noticed ceiling fans blazing and less woolen clothing, and knew the heat and humidity were coming to get me. After our dinner break I popped a special pill Emmy gave me. It was just something to help me sleep on the hot and uncomfortable ride. i probably drooled on the guy sitting next to be. I think I remember getting off the bus at a rest stop at two in the morning, but I might have been dreaming. The pill worked great and I still have three left :-).

We arrived in Delhi the next morning and, being well rested, I was ready to duke it out with some rickshaw drivers. Unfortunately I think I still got screwed, but I split the fair with a Japanese guy. I didn't see much of Delhi, but it was in the upper thirties (celsius) so I didn't really care. I sorted things out with my flights and wandered around Paraganj. Later that night I would have my last and the second worst Indian meal since coming here (the worst was in Bikaner). I ordered a tandoori chicken that didn't have that pinkish red glaze to it. When I asked about this the guy told me they don't add color of spices to the chicken because they cater to European tastes. Bland and boring? Bah!

Today I took a private car to the airport. I remembered Sarev and a Belgium woman saying the south burbs of Delhi are nice. I could kind of see that. I got to the airport really early and caught the flight out without a hitch.

I can't explain how happy I am to be in Nepal. There are moments where I feel like I'll burst out of my skin. I feel reenergized. I finally met Deven, a Nepalese guy I've been emailing for a few weeks. I was introduced to him by Karla and Maria from Canada. He met me at the airport and arranged a place for me to stay, although it's a bit more than I want to pay. I'll move out tomorrow. And I got an email from a guy I met in Slovenia. He's stayiong just down the street from me. Deven and his cousin are helping me set up a trek. I'm going to be surrounded by mountains for almost two weeks while on the trek.

I'm kind of happy right now. :-)

Ladakh Sucks

This is a lie, but it's what I'll tell people if they ask me. It's just my luck that I would find the coolest place in India then have to rush out of here because my visa expires on the third. Actually this place doesn't feel like India at all. Maybe that's why it's so appealing. I'm already thinking about coming back here either next year or the year after and spending the whole season here - which lasts from July until about mid September.

Leh sits at 3500 meters in elevation and the ride here took us up as high as 5600 meters. The road we took was the second highest motorable road in the world. I'm sure everyone on the bus was feeling the effects of altitude sickness. We camped for the night in what some believed to be below freezing temperatures. It was cold, but I don't think it was that cold. Two guys on the bus are convinced someone died of hypothermia and were replaced so none of us noticed the missing body. Hmmm. There were a few new faces on the bus...

It's a shame I'm only able to spend three days here because it took two days to get up here and will take about 19 hours to get back down to Manali, then another 16 hours to Dehli to catch my flight to Kathmandu. I've decided to fly because of the japanese encephalitis outbreak in Gorakhpur where I would have to go to get a bus to Nepal. I've been vaccinated for j.e., but I've been told that the vaccine isn't 100%, and I went off schedule on the three shot series whcih makes it a bit more risky.

This is sobering

I just read this article off Google news.

http://www.ndtv.com/template/template.asp?template=Health&slug=Encephalitis+death+toll+rises+to+100&id=77660&callid=1&category=National

I have to go to Gorakhpur to get to Nepal. Let me put this another way. I'm taking a train from Dehli to Gorakhpur, then walking 500m to the bus stand and possibly waiting an hour for the bus to the border! It just so happens Japanese encephalitis was the one vaccination I went off the schedule on, which the nurse told me did not guarantee the success of the vaccination. This is making me think I might fly into Nepal instead.

I then read this article which says basically children are more succeptible, it's more informative and better written.

http://www.earthtimes.org/articles/show/3839.html

I need to get out of India

I have 13 days left on my visa and haven't seen the Himalayas yet. 13 days sounds like a long time, but it's not. After I post this I'll look up the penalty for overstaying my visa then weigh the consequeces. I was planning on taking a slow and rough journey through Kashmir to get to Leh. That road hugs the line of control between Pakistan and India so mortar shells could be flying. Unfortunately, I won't get to find out. I'll be heading to Dharamsala to high five the Dalai Lama, then head to Mandi for a second before going to a village (Malana) in the Parvati Valley where I'm not allowed to touch anything or anyone. If I do I pay a fine and they have to sacrafice a goat, which I would have to pay for as well. I'm not kidding.

After I posted statistics about Indian men I ran into a real life example during my not so fun journey from Bikaner to Amritsar. I was at the train station in Jalandhar on very little sleep over the two previous nights. One night I was at the very back of the bus (heading to Bikaner) where the seats don't push back and some asshole decided we would sit six in a space for five. The second night the train arrived late (2am) and I slept until around seven when it got too warm to keep sleeping. This was sort of my fault because I bought the train ticket after arriving in Bikaner (on no sleep) and thought Rs 1600 (about $40) was too much to pay, so I paid Rs 250 (about $5) for a non- AC train car. I should've gone with a little less cash and a lot more comfort (and sleep).

I was going to mention the two examples. The guy at the train station started to talk to me. After a while he tells me he's very happy to be talking to me because he has to take an english proficiency test in order to study over seas, his choice being Australia. He's a good guy, intelligent and just curious about my thoughts of India, the U.S., and George Bush. He hit the right button because I'll tell anyone who wants to listen how much I hate Bush and why he's the ultimate asshole. We talked until our respective trains arrived and I wished him luck on his test and getting into university in Australia.

The second guy I met was on the train to Amritsar. I don't know how the conversation led to him asking me this, but the question was why do you dress this way? I didn't understand what he meant so he goes on about how I don't dress nice enough (for who? him?!?) and I could easily afford to dress better.

Let me describe this asshole for you. He's about a five foot six inch pudgy fuck with too much product in his hair which he keeps slicked back. He's got regular slacks and a button down shirt that's not impressing me, and sunglasses on top of his head. As I'm about to answer him his phone rings and he holds up a finger. I thought about snapping the finger backwards.

After he's done with his call he doesn't let me answer and moves on to a different subject. Women. He asks if I'm married or have a girlfriend. I tell him no and he asks me if I'm saying that because I don't want to tell him her name. I'm about to throw f-bombs all over him. Then he asks if I've ever been in love and I say yes. He asks why didn't I marry her. I didn't want to get married. He says so you just used her and dropped her? I can't fucking believe the never of this guy. Voices are getting raised and I'm drawing stares from people on the train. He goes on about how it's my duty to keep the woman I'm in love with and marry her.

Somewhere in that mess of a conversation we agree to disagree. He tells me he's training to be a flight attendant and wants to work on his english. I told him he needs some more work (and wanted to say most male flight attendants are homosexual).

There. Half of the Indian males I had a conversation with were assholes.

There. I said it.

When I was in Hampi I discovered that a lot of people there hate Israelis. Note they hate Israelis, not Jews. This is because Israelis come here because it's close and cheap and they can drink and do drugs all they like, which I guess is not allowed in Israel. It shouldn't be a big deal for them to have a good time, but then they get out of hand. I've heard stories of Israelis not paying for meals or rooms and just leaving. They also treat the locals like they are beneath them. These are the same people once persecuted by the Nazis, curious. I don't think the Israeli people visiting India are much acting like the chosen people.

After I left Hampi and went to north India where all the tourists are, I finally saw first hand how Israelis act towards locals. The stories I heard are true. I've witnessed both men and women act like complete assholes and treat every local they encountered like a sub-human. The fucked up thing is the people of India know Israelis count for a lot of their tourism so they try to make the Israelis feel more comfortable by doing things like having Israeli food on the menu.

A guy I ran into was a total dick to me because he mistook me for being Indian. I have met Israelis who are good people. One of them felt like she had to apologize when she told people she's from Israel. I know how she feels. The other was kind of a drugged out rasta dude. He was way out there, but he was nice and cool to everyone.

That was my main observation. the other ones I want to make are:

I believe half of the men in India are assholes and I'm not the only one. A question a French guy asked me was if I was able to meet and have a good talk with any locals. I can count on my hands how many friendly people I've met here who haven't tried to screw me. At least I'm not a woman. Someone in Mamallapuram pointed out to me that women (travellers) are seena s money bags or whores and have to dispell this quickly. Men as just seen as money bags, maybe whores by some.

99% of rickshaw drivers are definately assholes, but everyone knows by now I'm a bit biased.

I've got a fever of a hundred and three

I ate something bad and have been bed ridden for the past two days. I think it may have been the samosas I bought from a street vendor listed in Lonely Planet. I don't quite trust the doctors diagnosis because he didn't bother to do the routine things like check my blood pressure and listen to my breathing. It less than two minutes he told me it was travellers diarrhoea and prescribed me some drugs that are making me loopy, but no longer feverish. My fever was almost 104 degrees. After his diagnosis I had to give him some baksheesh ( bribe or offering). At that point I didn't care, I needed to stop feeling horrible. In the haze of my fever I nearly wrote my last will and testament. Because of my illness I will probably skip out on the camel safari I had planned.

The past two days have been pretty hellish as Jaisalmer is fucking hot. Fortunately it's dry desert heat, but I have been dehydrated as well. I was extremely weak and stopped sweating until just a few hours ago when I took an electrolyte drink to help me retain water. I'm supposed to stay here for a few more days to make sure it's nothing too serious. My self diagnosis told me it was either typhoid, heat stroke, or again possibly malaria. I ruled out typhoid because I remembered the vaccination I took in pill form. Malaraia as I stated previously has all kinds of symptoms. Heat stroke seemed likely because I was walking for five hours during the hottest part of the day a couple days ago and according to LPs health section I had a lot of the symptoms, one being aggressiveness. I nearly picked a fight with a local because he snapped his fingers at me to move my bag, sat too close to me, and started to sing (every male here is a contestant for Indian Idol).

So my plans are still to go up to Ladakh to see the Himalayas before the roads close due to snow. The later I go the less touristy it will be. Afterwards I still plan on going to Nepal to meet up with a friend of two Canadian girls I met in Goa. I will probably only have a short time in Thailand before I meet up with the folks in Vietnam, but that's fine since I have a lot of time in southeast asia. I do have to be in Thailand on 8 October to celebrate the birthday of a woman I met in Mamallapuram.

Ouch! Stomach cramps.

Rajasthan

I've got a wicked headache right now. I've been in Rajasthan for over a week now. My first stop was in Pushkar. I didn't like the laid back lifestyle at first, but then it grew on me. My next stop was Udaipur, the most romantic city in India. I thought it was crap and people all around me were getting sick (stomach) from something so I decided to get out of there. I'm in Jaisalmer now and may be setting out for a camel safari the day after tomorrow.

I need to go lay down.

Goodbyes and monkeys

I said a very quick goodbye to Mark and Lucy. I felt like I got kicked in the gut when they drove away in the rickshaw. It's the same feeling I had when Iain, Adrian, and I parted ways as well as with Gerald and Hermance.

It doesn't take long for me to get used to having people around me, especially when travelling with them. If they are like minded people, it's a quick and strong connection because we spend most of the day together. Because of the amount of time spent together, we get to know each other fairly quickly and they become my surrogate family for the time we are together.

. . .

I'm in Agra now and saw the Taj Mahal this morning as I arrived on the train. The hotel I'm staying at has a perfect view of the Taj from it's roof top. While I was sitting up there listening to Weezer (Holiday) and doing a little bit of writing, a good sized monkey appeared just three feet away from me. I was a bit startled cause it knocked over a chair. We stared at each other for a moment and I looked away feigning boredom. What I really thought was if it lost the stare down it would get pissed and chew off my face. It just ate the mango peels someone left out and went down the side of the building.

Speaking of monkeys there is only one black faced monkey with a long prehenstile tail living in Varanasi. This monkey rules the neighborhood and strikes fear in the hearts of all the other monkeys. When it leaps from building to building it's one of the most graceful things I've ever seen. The neighborhood people scream and shout out of love and hate for it when it appears in the morning and evening.

The black faced monkey is a smart one as well. One of the guys in the neighborhood attacked it with a stick. The monkey followed the guy back to his room and waited for him to come out. A small monkey is intimidating enough, but the black faced one looks like it's the size of a small child.

I can't think of a title

The bus ride from Chennai was trying, but nowhere near the hell of the bus leaving Goa. I arrived in bangalore early in the morning, and woke up to a street lined with healthy green trees. I wasn't sure I was in India, until we turned the corner and there were cows and other sorts of livestock roaming the streets. Bangalore is one of the IT capitals in India being ultra modern and classic India without the feeling of hopelessness I had in Mumbai. Bangalore could pass for any "western" city with all the positives and negatives.

After not being able to find a place within my budget, I booked a train to Hospet later that night. I bummed around Bangalore and saw the Fantastic Four movie. It was crap. Don't go to see it. I bargained with three rickshaw drivers before I found a resonable offer and got back to the train station. The train was my first air conditioned train. I wanted a regular sleeper, but would have been wait listed so I decided to just pay the extra money. I expected something grand. My bedding was damp and little cockroaches were running around in the coach. Bollocks.

The next morning I talked to the big white guy who was in the berth behind mine. Both Mark and his wife Lucy are of British descent, and both live in Hong Kong. Lucy was born there and Mark has lived there for eleven years. You can see the gears grind to a halt when people ask us where we are from.

Mark suggested I should take an autorickshaw with them to Hampi and split the cost. We've now been hanging out for over a week. I ran into them at a perfect time because I was sick of making decisions and being hassled. Mark is good at making things happen and because he's 6'3" and according to him, funny looking, people don't even look at me. They can't even see me sometimes.

Hampi was amazing, but raining most of the time we were there. I can see myself going back and spending a month wandering around. We got a place across the river from the bazaar. There were at most five other travelers on that side of the river, so it was nice and peaceful. The countless boulders and green rice paddies were what we woke up to everyday. Although the mosquitoes were killers at night because of all the stagnant water from the paddies. I had to trade my Tevas in for shoes at night and the only exposed part of my body was my head. The mosquitoes were biting Mark through his pants! We were eaten alive.

Mark, Lucy and I enjoyed the slow pace of life in Hampi for five days before making the long haul trip to Varanasi. We spent three nights on two different trains to get here. I'm slowly reaclimating to the heat and the pollution. Tomorrow I'm heading to Agra to see the Taj Mahal and they are going to Kolkatta. I'm trying to sort out when I'm heading to Nepal, Bangkok, and Vietnam. The dates on all the flights are open. The only thing I have to do is meet the folks in Vietnam on October 15.

Bait and switch

Places all around India love the old bait and switch. The sign says internet is Rs 10 for an hour, but upon going to pay "That price is for members only." I'm not going to argue too much about it, but it's the principle of it that gets me. Fine. I'll pay the Rs 20 instead and bitch about it while I'm doing it, what I won't do is pay Rs 30 cause homeboy says I've been on the computer for longer. I got shafted once and ever since then I use the stopwatch function on my watch and point out to them the time ticking away.

Now that I'm in the mood I want to talk about my favorite people in India, rickshaw drivers, taxi drivers, and touts. They can all go to hell. In the case of the drivers it's like saying, "I don't like people from the south." Not all people from the south are bad, but a lot are. Not all drivers are assholes, but most are. Therefore drivers are assholes. It's inherent to their job, kind of like SF cops are assholes. It's a prerequisite for their profession. If the drivers were to die and are hindu, then they would should probably be reincarnated as a leech or some kinfd of parasite.

Drivers lie. This is also part of their job. Upon arriving in Chennai a rickshaw driver offers to take me to the town center for Rs 120. Fuck that! It should be Rs 50 at most. I tell him Rs 40 to start the bargaining, but he's being a dick so I walk away. Another approaches me for the same price and doesn't want to talk about lowering the price. He also tells me we're 15km away. I ask when they put another 7km between the station and the city. Of course he doesn't understand, or pretends not to.

I decided to take a bus and ask the info desk which one takes me there. For Rs 5 the bus takes me within ten minutes walk of the place I'm staying. Driver #2 walks me to the bus telling me the whole time about how it's the wrong bus, even though he doesn't know where I'm going. He's at the window of my bus seat still trying to get me to come with him, then he tells me the bus is a two hour wait. Then another bus pulls up that's leaving right away. Bye bye asshole.

Touts are people who try to lure you into any place of business for a comission to be added on to the price of whatever you are buying. In my case last night, a bus ticket out of this pit of despair. I had already talked to three different private operators and two of them were willing to give me a lower price than we had started. I told them I would come back after I ate because I was too hungry to deal with the matter. As I walked back some dude with a chip in his two front teeth kept walking with me and pointing me to other private operators. He didn't speak english and I don't speak tami so telling him to fuck off didn't work so well.

I went back to the guys I made a verbal agreement with and with the tout in tow. I put my hand in his face and waved good bye, but he didn't understand what I was getting at. Things escalated a bit when the tour operators told him I talked them earlier so he wasn't getting a comission. He got pissed off and I was asked to come back today. In hindsight I should have gone with someone else.

Fending off all the drivers and touts gets exausting, especially in a city full of them. I have felt like resorting to a more hands on approach many times, but I'm not sure how the law here works and an Indian prison is the last place I want to be.

. . .

I hate the cities here. When people squat down I think the worst, usually it's worse. I took a wrong turn yesterday and went through one of the filthiest areas I've ever seen. The air wasn't as bad as Mumbai, but it was close. It was thick with exhaust and the smell of grease. There aren't any emissions laws here so almost every vehicle is adding to the problem. Maybe that's another reason I stay away from rickshaws.

I can't believe the government allows this to happen. I know this happens in the U.S., but it never bothered me before because I never saw the problems concentrated like they are here. I see the beauty of this country in it's people, not in the cities. I don't know how these places function. Where are the social programs to help the people? Where is the infrastructure to help clean up the cities?

I bought a ticket for Nepal. Less than a month to go in India.

Mamallapuram

I left a small fishing village called Mamallapuram yesterday where some of the most talented rock carvers in the world live. As I was yelling at a tout trying to lead me to a room, I noticed two girls speaking American english out in front of a shop. They told me they both volunteer in a smaller fishing village 20km away. Then the shop owner showed up, a 24 year old guy named Mani who is a genius when it comes to stone carvings and sculptures. He's been doing it for twelve years!

Every time I went to visit him he wanted me to sit down, talk, and have tea. I was cautious at first, but he's a totally genuine guy and even teaches people to make pennants and other simple things. I hung out there for hours, and watching him turn a piece of stone into a statue is amazing. I also met a couple (David and Stephanie) from Hawaii. When I asked them where people from India think they are from, they both answered Japan without missing a beat. We went to hang out with the locals one night after the bar closed to have a bonfire on the beach. It was more like just a fire. The party broke up when a couple of guys started to fight over one of the (white) girls. Up until that point things were cool.

The whole Japanese thing has been bothering me a bit. I've been thinking about why, and here is the answer I came up with. First it's usually somebody I don't want to talk to, but more importantly it's cause I'm not Japanese nor do I look anything like any other Japanese person I've ever met. It's the same way I felt when I was younger and some ignorant ass thought I was Chinese. Every time someone yells "hey konichi-ba" I feel like telling them to fuck off. Most of the time I just shake my head and say I'm not Japanese, then usually they start following me and sputing off as many Asian countries they can name (usually repeating a few) without ever saying Vietnam, but then I'm American so they're way off.

This way supposed to turn into another bitch session about how I think the Indian government and the British are responsible for all that's wrong with India, but I don't feel like doing that right now. Maybe next time.

Happy Bastille Day

The French consulate in Pondicherry are celebrating by putting on fireworks display tonight. I think all the French travelling in India (except for Gerald and Hermos) are here.

Mmmmm...dosai

I'm feeling a lot better today than I did yesterday. I'm in a town called Pondicherry, a former French colony relinquished about 50 years ago. I mostly rested yesterday, and worried about the possibilities of having contracted malaria. I was sweating profusly and remembered, through my internet research, sweating was one of the second stage symptoms of malaria. The research also said self diagnosis was not a good idea. Why? Because malaria has all kinds of symptoms that are similar to the common cold, flu, and maybe food poisoning.

I later deduced the reason I was sweating was because Pondy is notoriously humid. It's that type of humidity where no matter what you do you sweat. I turned off the fan in my room for just a few minutes and little beads were dripping from my forhead.

The good thing about Pondicherry is it's right on the Bay of Bengal and there are two nice beaches about five kilometers from the town center. This would be great for me if I wasn't fight my malaria cold. The other thing keeping me away from the beach is the minor sunburn I got on my shoulders from walking to the eastern tip of Rameswaram. Yes I used sunscreen, but I don't think I reapplied often enough in the five hours (from 11 until 4). Yes it was stupid of me to go shirtless the whole time, but I wanted to get rid of the minor farmer tan I had going. Instead I got a nice backpack tan (the type of tan one gets while walking in the sun for five hours shirtless, yet wearing a backpack). I had my trucker hat on so my nose and face are ok.

In the last entry I meant to state some positive things about India because most of the time I ragging on it. Here is one of the best things about India. The food.

I've eaten nothing but Indian food while being here. There was one day a few weeks ago I would've killed for something different. Well that's the thing. You can't typify "Indian food." It's different depending on where you are in India. I think the main division is between the north and the south, but withing each region the dishes are prepared with different spices so alu gobi in one place is different from alu gobi in another.

My breakfast usually consists of idly - a spongy, round, fermented rice cake - and a masala dosai (thin lentil flour pancake, kind of like a crepe stuffed with onions and potatoes) follwed by tea (chai). For luch I usually have what they call "meals." I think the true name for it is thali. You get between three to ten different little bowls of stuff usually served on a banana leaf. It's all you can eat. They give you pappadum and rice (I got chapatti at one place) and you just start mixing everything together and chow down.

India is a country that will be reckoned with one day. There is so much potential here. The people are bright and intelligent. I'm sorry, I can't go much farther with this right now. I'm thinking about food.

I will come back to India again, because there is no way I'll be able to see the whole country in the time I have.

Kanyakumari, Rameswaram, and Malaria?

I didn't think I would sleep on the train but I had to. Even though the train was hot, the lights were on, and my "seat" was the wooden bench of unreserved second class, my body made me sleep. An old man tried to claim some space on the bench between me and another guy. In a past life I would've given him the space and left myself uncomfortable. Not now.

The old man kept sliding back so I had to put up my elbow. It was pressing into his kidney area. It was already warm on the train and physical contact with him made it warmer, but I wsn't about to give up a space I had claimed fairly. After half an hour or so, he got the picture. Good, cause I was starting to nod off.

Around two or three in the morning the train emptied significantly. I moved to an empty bench and laid down and slept until I was woken up at the next stop, by someone shaking me by my ankle. It was quite reminiscent of the train to Poland, where I snapped awake, bewildered, only to have to prove I paid for the train. The conductor was cool and told me we had a few more hours and should get some sleep.

The next time I opened my eyes the sun was just beginning to come out over the mountains. I'm really surprised by how many mountain ranges I've seen. They would be nice to hike if it wasn't in the 90s.

At Kanyakumari I left the train station and had to deal with the drivers who wanted to take me wherever I was going. I knew I wasn't far and I told them all I would walk. It's amazing how taking a few steps can lower the cost of a ride down to five rupees.

I settled into a place with a sixth floor terrace where I could watch the sunrise at the southern most point in India. Three bodies of water - Indian Ocean, Bay of Bengal, and the Arabian sea - meet here. I checked out some temples, another Gandhi memorial where his ashes were stored before they were tossed into the sea, and learned about a monk named Vivekanada, who wandered around India on a pilgrimage. This is when I realized I've been following a similar path to his and have been on a personal pilgrimage. I took a ferry out to the islands where it is said Vivekanada swam to and had a moment of enlightenment. The there's a temple and memorial on one island and a huge statue of Vivekanada on the other.

While queueing for the ticket to the memorial I felt someone behind me trying to edge his way in front of me. It's a bit more difficult to do so in this queue because there are are parallel metal bars directing people to the ticket window, and I had my elbows sticking out behind me which he ket running into. The guy in front of me got done paying and asshole behind me reaches over me to hand money to the ticket window. What would Viet do? I had to push him arm back to where it came from and claim my spot.

People here will walk all over you here if you let them. I was talking to my sister the other night and told her one thing India has done for me is it's made me a bit more scrappy. I'm actually quite glad for this. Thank you people of India.

I met a nice Indian family who are living in Orange County. I ran into them a few days later on the beach in Rameswaram. After leaving the very south of India I headed to the island of Rameswaram. The nine hour trip took closer to twelve on the most horrible pot holed roads imaginable. I'm surprised we didn't break an axel.

As we crossed the bridge onto the island the bus finally died. No! We were only 20 minutes away. After about fifteen minutes of work they were able to get the bus started again, and I checked into my room at around nine. There wasn't much to do on the island until I found the beach.

When I first saw the blue water crashing on the beach, I started shed some tears I was so happy. I felt the way DiCaprio felt in The Beach (movie) when they finally found what they were looking for (the book is still much better). The city bus dropped us off at a little village and I walked for an hour along the beach before turning back for fear of walking in the dark. I just wanted to get a little feel of how far it was to the eastern tip of the island.

When I got back to the bus stand the cops from the police check point there came out to say hi. I told them they had a tough job sitting on a beach all day and watching the waves roll in. I wondered why no one swam and they told me the currents there were too dangerous. Damn. The perfect beach was spoiled.

The next day I went back to the beach after breakfast. I was determined to get to the eastern tip of the island. I could've paid some guys at the village to take me there, but their asking price was too steep. I had four liters of water and some biscuits for lunch and set off.

An hour into the walk and I was back at the same place as the previous day. This was the beginnings of ruined buildings from a cyclone that hit Rameswaram in 1964. There was a smell of rotting flesh and I saw a colorless porpoise or dolphin washed up on the beach. It was surprising that the crows or other animals hadn't picked at the carcass yet.

I walked near some small villages where some of the locals kids came out to say hi and ask for a pen. LP says not to encourage this behavior and I tend to agree with them. I spoke to them all for a short time and set off again.

I thought it would only take me an hour and a half to walk to the eastern tip, but the sand was slowing me down and I started to get blisters on the balls of both big toes. I had to press on I knew I was close. Fifteen minutes later I passed a Navy checkpoint and a local family walking the other way. Another fifteen minutes and all I saw was a solitary figure looking for sea shells. I avoided hinm cause I didn't want to talk and could see the eastern tip.

At this point it was a short walk to the north side of the island. I was shocked by how calm and shallow the water was on the north side. It's perfectly safe to swim over here with a nice lagoon. I kept walking and reached the eastern tip a little over two hours after I started walking. I was alone and loved it.

I could see Adam's bridge which is series of reefs, islets, and sandbanks that almost connect Rameswaram to Sri Lanka. I took a dip in the safe side of the island where the water temperature was perfect. I wished I could stay in that spot for a few days, but I had to walk back.

The walk back was uneventful after having experienced a few moments in paradise. I got another blister, this one on the side of my big toe during the walk back, but it was worth it.

Quickly what happened today. I'm feeling sick. I was worried it might be malaria, because of the slight fever, and I've been eaten alive by mossies the last few days. I went to a hospital here and paid less that a dollar for seeing a doctor and less than two dollars for medicine. And the nurse there was the first person here to say I looked Filipino instead of Japanese. Still wrong, but I know where she's coming from.

A Minor Setback

I was supposed to be on my way to Kanyakumari, the most southern town in India. The bus was supposed to pick me up from my place at 9:30. I know the private buses aren't always on time, but it was an hour late so I asked the guy at my guest house about it. He called the main office and told me there were no seats left. I told him I had a ticket so he ran to the main office and came back with my money. That's not what I wanted. I fucking wanted to be on the fucking bus. So now I have to wait until 1:45am to catch a train. And now that I'm solo again, I feel I have to stay awake in the unreserved second class train so as not to have anything stolen. Therefore I will stay up until at least 7am before I can get any rest,

So here is todays edition of what's fucked up about India:

I couldn't even give the guy who sold me the ticket any shit because he went home for the night. Instead I laid into the guy there and felt bad for it. I don't think he understood half the shit I was saying though.

There is no queue here, no matter what people say. Assholes continually try to cut in front of you for everything. I am however learning to use my 30lbs. backpack as a weapon. Dropping it on someones sandaled foot or into the side of their knee gets their attention quite well. I saw a kiwi girl smack a guy upside the head with hers as she got off the train (he was trying to push his way on as she was getting off). I had to laugh when it happened. I may end up in an India jail soon for assault with a dangerous weapon.

I woke up this morning (at 4:30) and there were a shitload of tiny little ants crawling all over my bed and biting me. I originally thought I had a nice room.

OK. Any one reading this knows I have a beef with India, but it is a great place and I would come back again, once I leave that is. Some people are really nice and some people just plain need to stop breathing, but you get that in a country with a billion people in it. Then again you get that in every country.

All I can do now is hopefully get a seat on the train and stay up for the next seven hours.

What!

I would like to be more trusting of people, but when I'm solo like this I just can't. Yeasterday, I was approached by five different people who wanted to take me to silk facories, scented oil factories, music festivals, incense rolling competitions, and other various things. I was approached again today and told about an incense rolling competition. I told the guy someone told me it was yesterday. He told me no it was today and just up this way.

The other thing that bothers me a bit is everyone starts to walk with me to engage in conversation. When this happens I tend to shuffle around, just in case someone is behind me trying to fuck with my bag. No one has been there, yet. They usually walk with me for a while and ask questions I'd rather not answer like: where are you staying, how much is it for a room there, how long are you going to be here, and some other shit. I want to tell them to get the fuck away from me. I just want to walk around and be left alone. I'm not taking as many pictures as I'd like to because that seems to send up a flag for people to bother me.

Usually people seem harmless enough, but I just feel constantly on guard. I sometimes think about an old Chris Rock standup routine where he says "...women see me and they dial 9-1- just waiting for something to happen."

I'm waiting.

If I had a loving and hating section like JP does on his website, India would be on both lists every day.

Always in the matrix

Internet places in India are interesting. Fortunately, since India is becoming a powerhouse in the IT industry internet hubs are everywhere. The only thing is you never know when the power might cut out or how fast the connection may be. Some days in the same place it might be lightning fast and others dial up slow.

The locals who spend time in these places are unique as well. I saw the same girl (who saw me in the same clothes) two consecutive days just chatiing online. Others I've seen surfing for porn (in public). Some places have put up signs saying porn watching is not allowed, but when they give someone a little cubical for privacy? I don't want to think about it.

Off on a little tangent here. Two guys who were "working" at one of these internet places both had no qualms about sticking their finger up their nose digging for treasure, while they were talking to me. Then after they found it just flicked it away. One guy sat down at my computer shortly after he was done in order to enter the password for me. I disinfected my hands with hand sanitiser as soon as I could. Incidentally he was the guy I caught watching porn.

I've spent most of the day today in a nice little internet place in Mangalore uploading photos. The younger guys like to come in here and play shooters or strategy games over the network. Most speak english so it's funny to hear them talk shit to each other while shooting each other. I don't know why, but it's amusing to me to hear them call each other bitch, asshole, and say "shit, shit man" in their accent. By the way most don't speak Hindi here. The major languages here are Kannada, Urdu, and Telugu. I can't tell the difference, but one thing I do notice is the pitch of one of the languages is very high.

So anyways new photos up now, but I'll work on the captions slowly. Sorry.

Monsoon

I randomly approached someone with a Lonely Planet because it is the badge of a traveller, and so far the people who want to talk have been cool. If they didn't I would leave them alone. The guy is called Ferris (like Beuhler?) and he's half Palestinian and half German. A crazy little thing we found out while hanging out yesterday was he was an exchange student at Grand Haven High, which is about an hour from Grand Rapids, where I grew up. He also knew Grand Valley State University, where I went to college. It's crazy what a small world it can be.

I thought I had witnessed monsoon rain. Yesterday while walking around Panjim, nature decided to show me what real monsoon rain looks like. Ferris hadn't seen the big market yet so we went to check that out. It was raining pretty good, so water was gushing out of the market. We headed in anyways.

It's basically an open air market that's been covered up to protect it from the rain. Water was still getting in, so the paths I walked the previous day were flooded. We were ankle deep in water, some areas were worse.

As Ferris and I made it out to the open street, the rain decided the open act was over and it was time for monsoon to come out. Eight inches of rain fell from the sky in less than an hour while we watched the street we were on flood. Locals with long sticks were trying to clear debris from the drainage pipes. It didn't look like they were clearing it fast enough. Either that or pipes were just too clogged. We had no choice but to do what the locals were doing, wade into the water to get to a non-flooded street. I don't want to think about what was living in the water we walked through.

We had to be careful stepping off the curbs because of the gaps between the high curb and street that is meant to drain the water. Since the water wasn't draining, the gap filled with water and you couldn't tell where the gap ended and street began.

After maybe an hour the rain turned into a light drizzle. We continued to wander a bit more, and headed to a restaurant near the guesthouse where I stayed. As we were walking, it sudenly felt like someone was pouring buckets of water on our umbrellas. The monsoon rain decided to come out and play again.

We found some shelter under an awning, and waited. Again we witnessed the water level of this street rise. It was at least six inches of rain in half an hour. I thought about the other street and what might be happening over there. They might be knee deep in water at that point if they didn't manage to clear the drains.

Once again the rain subsided, and we waded our way back to Ferris' room so he could change his pants. We had dinner at the restaurant attached to the place he was staying, and around seven last night I set off to catch my bus to Mangalore.

Just as I headed back to grab my bags the rain started up again. By the time I set off for the bus it was pretty dark out, and the rainjust kept coming. I wasn't quite sure where the bus left from, but I had a general idea of the area.

I had to wade through anle deep water again, and work my way through traffic to find it. It's a harrowing experience to be walking inbetween cars, motorcycles, buses, and autorickshaws in the rain and darkness. Somehow, I made it across the street. Then I found out I had to cross the street once more.

When I found the bus, I happily got on and out of the rain. What I found on the bus was not better. I had booked a sleeper, not knowing exactly what that meant. THey basically built little bunks into the bus, not bad unless you wnat to sit and read. Also as I was getting on, the guys told me I would be sharing the bed, not the bunk, but the bed.

I took that information in stride, and wondered why the fuck they booked it that way for me. If anyone books with Paulo travels, make sure to get as much info from them as possible.

I changed my pants, and took everything out of my day pack. Everything was wet. My bed mate wasn't at this stop so I laid everything out so it could hopefully dry out a bit. In the meantime, the non AC sleeper was getting on my nerves. The road was insanely bumpy, I could smell fumes from the engine, and it was uncomfortably hot and damp. Some of the other beds were just straight up wet.

As I was close to losing it, I had to concentrate, I won't use meditate because I'm not sure that's what I did. I had to focus on the good things in my life. I thought first about my nephews. My sister told me their cousin from Germany was visiting them and Stefan was telling her a story about me. We were playing Spider-Man once, and I told him when I was around his age, I tried to get a spider to bite me so I could become Spider-Man.

I could just imagine him telling the story in his coy manner, his smile, and just the sound of his voice. I thought about Alex, Jacen, Chris and Steven and the rest of my family and my friends because they are the only thing that could help me get through that hell.

I'm in Mangalore now. I'm ok. It's raining and I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing here. I should just bite the bullet and head back north, but I'm hoping to find something in Hampi.

Go Go Goa

Well nothing is really happening in Goa right now, except the monsoon. I don't know if I've ever seen rain coming down that hard before, literally sheets of water for five to ten minutes. Still it's nice to be here because of very few tourists.

I went to Old Goa, which was once a city that rivaled Lisbon in beauty. Goa was once a colony of Portugal and is still today primarily Catholic because of that. I met some fellow travellers (James - England, Maria - Nova Scotia, Karla - Nova Scotia) in Old Goa and went to mass with them at one of the churches. By this time we were back in Panjim, the capital of Goa. Mass was in one of the 18 official languages of India, so I couldn't follow it. Instead I thought about basketball. I felt bad about it, and I think God decided to punish the Pistons because yet again Robert Horry hit a three near the end of overtime to beat Detroit and give the Spurs a 3-2 lead in the finals.

After mass we went to a Bollywood movie. It was typical Bollywood - singing, dancing, attractive guy and girl, and some over the top story. The movie was nearly three hours long and a kid, maybe three years old, sitting behind us took turns kicking my chair and Maria's chair. It was stil a lot of fun, even though most of it was in Hindi.

The movies experience here is interesting. First of all like in Euope you buy an assigned seat, which I think is pretty cool, that way if you're there first you get a good seat no matter what. Second just before the beginning of every feature you rise for the national anthem. Last, there is an intermission during every movie. I think it's about five minutes. I've gone to the movies three times now, and paid about under $7 US dollars for first run movies.

I don't want to get into it at the moment, but my last day in Mumbai was a tough one. The city was getting to me, and I nearly brokedown in tears. I'm glad to be away from there. I'm going to try to meet Maria and Karla somewhere in Goa, and maybe try to convince them to come to Hampi.

They were just in Nepal, and said things were relatively safe there. I've heard this from a lot of people, so 'm going to head to Nepal and hopefully do the Everest basecamp trek.

More about Mumbai

First of all, I just saw Batman Begins at the Eros theater in Mumbai. This is the best batman movie ever made! Go see this movie after you're done reading this post.

So to explain more about the time in India, it's 5 1/2 hours ahead of GMT, 10 1/2 hours ahead of the east coast, and 13 1/2 hours ahead of the west coast. Why? I haven't asked yet.

Now on to first impressions of mumbai. Fuck I just typed it and will have to retype.

The air not only has a smell, but a taste as well. It is somewhat metallic.

The other thing you notice is the poverty. People are everywhere. A bed is any flat surface. Little kids barely dressed, sometimes naked, was amongst heaps of rubbish. The disparity between the modern world and the slums sends my head spinning. I've seen the homeless in San Francisco, but this isn't like that. This is poverty. There are so many images burned into my mind. I saw a leper last night. Fortunately it was too dark for me to see him. Two kids, maybe in their teens were drinking water from the gutter. There was a little girl no more than 4 begging for money. She ws hopping in front of Niki holding out her hand while he was tryiong to side step her.

The sound of engines and horns fill the air. Sometime to the point where thats all you can hear. People are always all around you and the humidity makes eveything a little less bearable. It's opressive and pushes down on you.

Today was better. It didn't feel so hot, and there was a breeze that circulated the air. Niki and I have walked most of the two sections of Mumbai (Colabda and Fort) covered in the Lonely Planet. We've gotten to know the city a bit better and even have a local restaurant where we've had lunch twice now. An order of two samosas and a coke costs 23 rupees (just over 50 cents). So far the stomach is ok. Last night I wrote in my journal, "I'm still not sure if I can handle this place." Today, I think I'll be ok.