Hampi and Mysore, India (Apr. 24-May 1)
After settling in at the White Elephant, a bunch of us from the hostel decided to drive out to the lake to go swimming. We found a secluded place where we could wear our bathing suits and jumped in the rocky water to cool off. When we were about to get out, a bunch of local boys walked down to the river and just started staring at us. Maybe it was my fault for wearing a bathing suit, but I mean sometimes you just want to swim like a normal person. Half the time the men there swim almost naked so it just seems so unfair. It is their city so they obviously have the right to be there, but it really makes you feel cheap and dirty the way they stare at you.
I put on my cover-up and this girl Nikki and I stopped by a place for dessert before I went back to get changed. Other than a few tourists, Hampi was dead quiet so I really thought I would be fine wearing my cover-up. As we left the restaurant and were walking the five minutes back to White Elephant, a guy came up behind me, stroked my back, and whispered in my ear, "you have a nice body." I think I almost threw up. I definitely learned my lesson. I went back to my hotel to cover up.
I have never thought of myself as a feminist before, but in a world where parents continue having children until they have a blessed boy, it is hard not to think about what it means to be a woman. I find myself jealous sometimes of the guys who can go out and easily make friends with the locals while I have to walk on eggshells and fend off the constant advances to do the same. I try to take it as an opportunity, an additional challenge to take on in this craziness I have thrown myself into, but it doesn't keep it from being frustrating. It really makes you appreciate what you have at home.
After all of the warnings I got about the heat in the south, who would have thought that Hampi would be the place I would finally get a decent night's sleep. It was my coldest night in weeks and I woke up feeling like a million dollars.
I decided I wanted to rent a motorbike, so my Guesthouse owner, Moin, took me out for 20 minutes and taught me how to ride. They are pretty easy, but it is a little trickier with someone on the back, so I drove around for 15 minutes before I took Nikki to the monkey temple.
I managed to get both of us to the monkey temple without driving into a ditch, which was a definite plus. We energized ourselves with some fresh coconut water and then made the hike up the mountain to the temple. We were both soaked in sweat by the time we reached the top, but I was proud we even did it in mid-day Hampi weather.
Nikki tried to take a shower and found a snake in her bathroom. I ran in to check it out and the guys just pushed it out the window with the end of a broom. Not the most thorough tackling of that problem, but probably better than the time I complained abouI t a sticky spot on the floor and the guy poured bottled water on it and swished it around with his foot. Definitely, problem solved.
Night 2 in Hampi was not so sweet. It wasn't just the heat, there was this bird living outside my door whose singing literally sounds like a screaming baby. At one point in the early hours of the morning I stormed out my door to try and find the source. I felt like Rachel from friends in the scene with the roosters. I swear if I had the means, that bird would have been the lunch special.
Nikki left early in the morning and I met up with my friend Greg to go cruising on the bikes and rock climbing. I definitely think it was wise that we decided to go together since neither of us had ever done it before and it was actually quite difficult.
I put on my cover-up and this girl Nikki and I stopped by a place for dessert before I went back to get changed. Other than a few tourists, Hampi was dead quiet so I really thought I would be fine wearing my cover-up. As we left the restaurant and were walking the five minutes back to White Elephant, a guy came up behind me, stroked my back, and whispered in my ear, "you have a nice body." I think I almost threw up. I definitely learned my lesson. I went back to my hotel to cover up.
I have never thought of myself as a feminist before, but in a world where parents continue having children until they have a blessed boy, it is hard not to think about what it means to be a woman. I find myself jealous sometimes of the guys who can go out and easily make friends with the locals while I have to walk on eggshells and fend off the constant advances to do the same. I try to take it as an opportunity, an additional challenge to take on in this craziness I have thrown myself into, but it doesn't keep it from being frustrating. It really makes you appreciate what you have at home.
After all of the warnings I got about the heat in the south, who would have thought that Hampi would be the place I would finally get a decent night's sleep. It was my coldest night in weeks and I woke up feeling like a million dollars.
I decided I wanted to rent a motorbike, so my Guesthouse owner, Moin, took me out for 20 minutes and taught me how to ride. They are pretty easy, but it is a little trickier with someone on the back, so I drove around for 15 minutes before I took Nikki to the monkey temple.
I managed to get both of us to the monkey temple without driving into a ditch, which was a definite plus. We energized ourselves with some fresh coconut water and then made the hike up the mountain to the temple. We were both soaked in sweat by the time we reached the top, but I was proud we even did it in mid-day Hampi weather.
Night 2 in Hampi was not so sweet. It wasn't just the heat, there was this bird living outside my door whose singing literally sounds like a screaming baby. At one point in the early hours of the morning I stormed out my door to try and find the source. I felt like Rachel from friends in the scene with the roosters. I swear if I had the means, that bird would have been the lunch special.
Nikki left early in the morning and I met up with my friend Greg to go cruising on the bikes and rock climbing. I definitely think it was wise that we decided to go together since neither of us had ever done it before and it was actually quite difficult.
We only lasted a couple of hours in the hot sun before we had to go back to the White Elephant to relax in the shade for a while. I was feeling a bit sick from the sun, but I didn't want to waste any time with that bike, so we headed back out. We just went cruising around Hampi, feeling the wind in our hair and taking in the epically beautiful and almost unreal landscape of Hampi. The massive rocks are standing on end and piled in such unbelievable ways that it seems like they should fall at any moment. It doesn't seem right that all that was made from some simple sand and wind rather than built my some all-powerful gods. I just kept looking around and wondering how I got so lucky to be able to be there, having that perfect moment.
We decided to drive out on a random dirt road between two fields, and when it ended we got out to explore. There were rice paddies all around us, completely enclosed by the towering rock piles. A few paddies away was a random pile of rocks in the middle of the field that we decided to walk to. We didn't get very far before our path was obstructed by a big swampy river. It's not that turning back didn't cross my mind, but we both seemed to decide at once that this was an overcomeable obstacle, so we pulled up our pants and waded through the knee-deep swamp water. Another few minutes of wandering barefoot through the rice paddies and another river crossing later, and we made it to the rock pile. It was so peaceful and quiet there that we just sat there under a rock for about an hour and enjoyed the view.
We got back to the White Elephant, exhausted from being out in the sun all day. It was quite dinner yet, so we decided to sit down for some beers first.
Flash Forward: Two strong Kingfishers on an empty stomach later, and I found myself on a nine hour bus ride to Mysore to attend an Indian wedding. So much for Hampi being my only detour.
Despite hijacking the back seats for a bed, I didn't get much sleep before we arrived in Mysore. We only had a few hours until the wedding, so we went out to find some appropriate outfits. Greg found an outfit in about 3.5 seconds, but it took me a few stores before I found the most beautiful sari I have ever seen. It was turquoise shaffon with sequined peacocks along the edges. I felt like princess Jasmine.
Moin brought Monica and I to his aunt's room so she could tie our saris for us, and we all headed to the wedding looking like legit Indians.
As soon as we arrived, they sent Monica and I inside to sit and whisked Greg away for some man time with chai and cigarettes. The bride was set up on the stage surrounded by an elaborate flowered background and seated on what looked like a golden throne. She was dressed in glittering red, green, and gold, with a sheer red veil lined in gold tassels. She looked absolutely miserable and remained looking that way for the majority of the day. She spent most of the time seated in her throne on the stage while people went up in groups to take pictures with her. It reminded me a bit of Santa Claus at the mall.
After about 20 minutes, Moin brought us all downstairs for food. They sat us each down in front of a plate and started piling them with food: roti, ice-cream, chicken curry, mutton biryani, spiced chicken, and vegetable daal. Every time you finished two bites they would pile on four more. My ice-cream looked like it was melting so I ate that, and before I could object they had delivered me a second one. It was legitimately the best ice-cream I have had, maybe ever, though. It was served with this sweet pineapple jam. After about 10 minutes of this free-for-all, everyone stood up and they started clearing everything up. I still had a bunch of food left on my plate, but I could tell by the hasty clearing that I would have no chance to finish it. I sensed it was time to leave the table.
Back upstairs, everyone wanted to talk to us, but very few could speak english. One little boy spoke pretty well so he started asking me question after question and translating my answers for the rest of the group, who watched eagerly.
After half-a-million questions, Moin brough us over to meet his immediate family. Moin's family tree was extremely confusing so I couldn't really figure out how everyone was related. One woman, who I thought was his mother but now am unsure, had this amazing grace and confidence to her that seems to draw you in. She wore entirely white lace and gold in the most elegant Indian punjabi dress I have ever seen. However, the person who stood out most to me was her daughter.
She seemed to be going through that dorky highschool phase where you wouldn't be caught dead in a dress, so was wearing jeans under her long smock top. I was introduced to her when she was called to get her picture taken with the bride and her mother said, with a laugh, that she was dreading it. I asked what could be so bad about it. She explained that these weddings were like a test for the young girls to show how well they were being brought up. The relatives would scrutinize her every movements as she greeted them and then relay their judgements to her mother later on. When she got back from her exam, we started talking and I soon realized what an intelligent, mature, and confident young woman she was: rare for a 16-year-old girl anywhere in the world let alone India. I felt an immediate bond with her like she was my long-lost Indian sister.
I commented to her on how miserable the bride look and she responded, "well, her life is over. The woman's life is turned completely upside-down: she quits her job and moves in with his family, while nothing for the man changes. Men are treated like gods." I couldn't help but think that part of her sadness was due to the lame musicless and danceless party that was condemning her to that fate, but I kept my mouth shut on that point. It does seem crazy to see that this level of inequality between the sexes still exists in the world. You look at it and wonder why they would ever put up with it.
She told me her parents are letting her go to school in the US and she wants to go to Harvard Medical School. I think once they let that girl see what is out there, she won't be coming back. Even then she seemed so strong willed, I couldn't picture her delicately giving up all of her freedoms to become a housewife. I don't even understand how a world like this could have raised a girl like her.
Our conversation was cut-short because Monica had to go back to catch her bus. Greg and I decided that we wanted to head back that night also so we caught the late bus out. I did not think it was possible for anyone to have a music taste that so closely mashed my random mash-up, but complete with the plethora of 90s hits, I think Greg's was about as close as it gets. We fell asleep listening to Mumford and Sons.
We arrived back in Hampi, completely exhausted after 2 full nights on a bus. I decided to take a nap for a few hours and woke up at 10:45am in a puddle of drool after a dream where I was balling my eyes out. I stumbled out into the restaurant in a daze and spent about an hour staring at the creepy wall paintings. When Greg showed up, we headed across the river to see the ruins.
Past the temple, we just wandered down the empty streets, unsure where we were actually going. The buildings along the one side were all hagard and falling apart, while the other side looked like a Greek-style market with a roof and stone pillars. I had heard rumours that they were blowing things up with dynamite, but it was hard to tell what had been blown up and what had just fallen into disrepair. There are so many rumours surrounding what is going on there, it is hard to know what to believe. One says that the Indian government is kicking out the squatters because the World Heritage Fund threatened to pull their funding if they don't protect the ruins. Another says that they are removing all of the squatters in order to build a major resort. Either way, it was definitely strange to see such a welcoming, covered space with no one squatting.
We passed the market and climbed the hill to a small temple at the top. The man carving stone sculptures at the top directed us to keep following the path. After a few minutes of walking, we reached the crown of the hill and our view opened up to something spectacular. There was this massive temple complex below with roofs that looked like the monkey temple from the Jungle Book. It wasn't necessarily that it was the most beautiful temple I had ever seen, it was the fact that we were the only people as far as the eye could see. It was like we were archelologists that had stumbled upon these ruins that no one had seen for hundreds of years. All you could hear was the wind blowing through the complex and the birds chirping in the trees. We stayed there for about an hour and the only other people we saw was a group of three women in saris who passed through. After wandering around a while, we just lay out on one of the stone platforms and closed our eyes.
We left the temple to climb the neighbouring hill in order to make it to the top for sunset. It was a serious climb and after being in the heat all day I was seriously questioning why I was doing that to myself, but the view was worth it.
We were sitting beside the hilltop temple, when all of these Indian police men came wandering out of nowhere. More and more of them kept popping up in every doorway and corner of the rooftop. They looked like they were urgently looking for someone, but seemed to slow to be on the chase. Eventually, they seemed to decide on the back stairs and they all made their way down. We found out later that they were just touring the place. Not sure why they needed those massive guns.
We noticed that they had been on the roof, so we went to try and find our way up. A familiar looking guy that was already up there guided through the maze of temple rooms to the stairs. I couldn't figure out where I knew him from, but I assumed that I had met him on the ferry or something in Hampi. His name was Sebastien and he was a Hungarian that was living in the UK as a yoga instructor/post-man. He told us stories about his life as an officer in Hungary as we watched the misty sun set over the never-ending stretch of palm trees broken up by the grey rocks piles and towering temples peaking out of the green. Just as the sun was about to disappear for good, Sebastien exclaimed, "OH, I know where I know you from. We met on the sand dunes in Jaisalmer." He had been in the group of people Aladin and I went to talk to when we were watching the sunset on my camel safari. It is amazing and sad how quickly you forget people when you are meeting so many.
As we started climbing back down the hill, Greg and I realized we had missed the last ferry going back to our guesthouse's side of the river. I vaguely remembered one guy saying something about a late night boat if we called the phone number on the bottom of the ticket. We managed to dig out an old ticket and everything was in Hindi, but there was something that looked like a phone number written in the bottom corner. We waited 15 minutes and he came to pick us up in his little reed boat. I soaked my butt when I sat down, but for 50 rupees that was a heck of a lot better than swimming.
I spent the next day just relaxing and doing laundry and in the evening, Moin took Greg and I out to his special sunset spot. He had been telling us about it, but I didn't really understand until I got there. It really was one of the most magical places I have ever been. Right at sunset, all of these white birds came flying across the glistening lake and landed on a nearby tree. As the sun went down, I could hear them all singing and chattering in the distance. The lake was smooth as glass, other than the occasional blips of a fish surfacing, and it perfectly reflected the smooth and misty pink and purple sunset. The trees created a black silouette against the bright sky and left their shadows on the glistening water. Every so often, a bird would fly through the silence, its reflection chasing it down the length of the river. As darkness encroached, the birds went silent and the stars started to appear, one by one, peaking through the clouds. I never wanted to leave.
I feel like I spent half of my travel time wondering why I am paying so much money to torture myself and the other half wondering how I got so lucky to have these amazing experiences. India certainly keeps you on your toes.
For my last night in Hampi, Greg brought over a guy named Allister from his hostel and we all sat down with Moin for some beers. At one point, Allister started talking about how crazy it would be if animals drank in bars, then said that they would probably start excluding some animals in a sort of species-racism. It lead into an elaborate story about penguins picketing against species-ism. It was at that point that I knew we would be friends. The beers led into rum, which led into an intense philosophical discussion that I seem to enjoy having when I am barely coherent.
Morning came too soon and, of course, I was late for my bus. I grabbed my bag and ran down to the boat. I gave them 100 rupees to go right away and similarly over-paid my tuk tuk driver with the qualification that he get me there as fast as possible. Nothing talks like money in India. As I watched the time slip by, and as often happens with unbelievers, I found myself praying to whatever god would listen that the train would be late. All I am asking is that India be reliably Indian, I wished with everything I had. I was almost 10 minutes late by the time I desperately ran into the train station. A man was standing there, and noticing my frantic state, said that the train was late and would arrive at 10:52. Thank god...or Shiva maybe.
As I sat there waiting for the train, a man walked over and said "Can I be your boyfriend?" "No." "Oh ok," he said and walked away...this is happening.
We decided to drive out on a random dirt road between two fields, and when it ended we got out to explore. There were rice paddies all around us, completely enclosed by the towering rock piles. A few paddies away was a random pile of rocks in the middle of the field that we decided to walk to. We didn't get very far before our path was obstructed by a big swampy river. It's not that turning back didn't cross my mind, but we both seemed to decide at once that this was an overcomeable obstacle, so we pulled up our pants and waded through the knee-deep swamp water. Another few minutes of wandering barefoot through the rice paddies and another river crossing later, and we made it to the rock pile. It was so peaceful and quiet there that we just sat there under a rock for about an hour and enjoyed the view.
We got back to the White Elephant, exhausted from being out in the sun all day. It was quite dinner yet, so we decided to sit down for some beers first.
Flash Forward: Two strong Kingfishers on an empty stomach later, and I found myself on a nine hour bus ride to Mysore to attend an Indian wedding. So much for Hampi being my only detour.
Despite hijacking the back seats for a bed, I didn't get much sleep before we arrived in Mysore. We only had a few hours until the wedding, so we went out to find some appropriate outfits. Greg found an outfit in about 3.5 seconds, but it took me a few stores before I found the most beautiful sari I have ever seen. It was turquoise shaffon with sequined peacocks along the edges. I felt like princess Jasmine.
Moin brought Monica and I to his aunt's room so she could tie our saris for us, and we all headed to the wedding looking like legit Indians.
As soon as we arrived, they sent Monica and I inside to sit and whisked Greg away for some man time with chai and cigarettes. The bride was set up on the stage surrounded by an elaborate flowered background and seated on what looked like a golden throne. She was dressed in glittering red, green, and gold, with a sheer red veil lined in gold tassels. She looked absolutely miserable and remained looking that way for the majority of the day. She spent most of the time seated in her throne on the stage while people went up in groups to take pictures with her. It reminded me a bit of Santa Claus at the mall.
After about 20 minutes, Moin brought us all downstairs for food. They sat us each down in front of a plate and started piling them with food: roti, ice-cream, chicken curry, mutton biryani, spiced chicken, and vegetable daal. Every time you finished two bites they would pile on four more. My ice-cream looked like it was melting so I ate that, and before I could object they had delivered me a second one. It was legitimately the best ice-cream I have had, maybe ever, though. It was served with this sweet pineapple jam. After about 10 minutes of this free-for-all, everyone stood up and they started clearing everything up. I still had a bunch of food left on my plate, but I could tell by the hasty clearing that I would have no chance to finish it. I sensed it was time to leave the table.
Back upstairs, everyone wanted to talk to us, but very few could speak english. One little boy spoke pretty well so he started asking me question after question and translating my answers for the rest of the group, who watched eagerly.
After half-a-million questions, Moin brough us over to meet his immediate family. Moin's family tree was extremely confusing so I couldn't really figure out how everyone was related. One woman, who I thought was his mother but now am unsure, had this amazing grace and confidence to her that seems to draw you in. She wore entirely white lace and gold in the most elegant Indian punjabi dress I have ever seen. However, the person who stood out most to me was her daughter.
She seemed to be going through that dorky highschool phase where you wouldn't be caught dead in a dress, so was wearing jeans under her long smock top. I was introduced to her when she was called to get her picture taken with the bride and her mother said, with a laugh, that she was dreading it. I asked what could be so bad about it. She explained that these weddings were like a test for the young girls to show how well they were being brought up. The relatives would scrutinize her every movements as she greeted them and then relay their judgements to her mother later on. When she got back from her exam, we started talking and I soon realized what an intelligent, mature, and confident young woman she was: rare for a 16-year-old girl anywhere in the world let alone India. I felt an immediate bond with her like she was my long-lost Indian sister.
I commented to her on how miserable the bride look and she responded, "well, her life is over. The woman's life is turned completely upside-down: she quits her job and moves in with his family, while nothing for the man changes. Men are treated like gods." I couldn't help but think that part of her sadness was due to the lame musicless and danceless party that was condemning her to that fate, but I kept my mouth shut on that point. It does seem crazy to see that this level of inequality between the sexes still exists in the world. You look at it and wonder why they would ever put up with it.
She told me her parents are letting her go to school in the US and she wants to go to Harvard Medical School. I think once they let that girl see what is out there, she won't be coming back. Even then she seemed so strong willed, I couldn't picture her delicately giving up all of her freedoms to become a housewife. I don't even understand how a world like this could have raised a girl like her.
Our conversation was cut-short because Monica had to go back to catch her bus. Greg and I decided that we wanted to head back that night also so we caught the late bus out. I did not think it was possible for anyone to have a music taste that so closely mashed my random mash-up, but complete with the plethora of 90s hits, I think Greg's was about as close as it gets. We fell asleep listening to Mumford and Sons.
We arrived back in Hampi, completely exhausted after 2 full nights on a bus. I decided to take a nap for a few hours and woke up at 10:45am in a puddle of drool after a dream where I was balling my eyes out. I stumbled out into the restaurant in a daze and spent about an hour staring at the creepy wall paintings. When Greg showed up, we headed across the river to see the ruins.
Past the temple, we just wandered down the empty streets, unsure where we were actually going. The buildings along the one side were all hagard and falling apart, while the other side looked like a Greek-style market with a roof and stone pillars. I had heard rumours that they were blowing things up with dynamite, but it was hard to tell what had been blown up and what had just fallen into disrepair. There are so many rumours surrounding what is going on there, it is hard to know what to believe. One says that the Indian government is kicking out the squatters because the World Heritage Fund threatened to pull their funding if they don't protect the ruins. Another says that they are removing all of the squatters in order to build a major resort. Either way, it was definitely strange to see such a welcoming, covered space with no one squatting.
We passed the market and climbed the hill to a small temple at the top. The man carving stone sculptures at the top directed us to keep following the path. After a few minutes of walking, we reached the crown of the hill and our view opened up to something spectacular. There was this massive temple complex below with roofs that looked like the monkey temple from the Jungle Book. It wasn't necessarily that it was the most beautiful temple I had ever seen, it was the fact that we were the only people as far as the eye could see. It was like we were archelologists that had stumbled upon these ruins that no one had seen for hundreds of years. All you could hear was the wind blowing through the complex and the birds chirping in the trees. We stayed there for about an hour and the only other people we saw was a group of three women in saris who passed through. After wandering around a while, we just lay out on one of the stone platforms and closed our eyes.
We left the temple to climb the neighbouring hill in order to make it to the top for sunset. It was a serious climb and after being in the heat all day I was seriously questioning why I was doing that to myself, but the view was worth it.
We were sitting beside the hilltop temple, when all of these Indian police men came wandering out of nowhere. More and more of them kept popping up in every doorway and corner of the rooftop. They looked like they were urgently looking for someone, but seemed to slow to be on the chase. Eventually, they seemed to decide on the back stairs and they all made their way down. We found out later that they were just touring the place. Not sure why they needed those massive guns.
We noticed that they had been on the roof, so we went to try and find our way up. A familiar looking guy that was already up there guided through the maze of temple rooms to the stairs. I couldn't figure out where I knew him from, but I assumed that I had met him on the ferry or something in Hampi. His name was Sebastien and he was a Hungarian that was living in the UK as a yoga instructor/post-man. He told us stories about his life as an officer in Hungary as we watched the misty sun set over the never-ending stretch of palm trees broken up by the grey rocks piles and towering temples peaking out of the green. Just as the sun was about to disappear for good, Sebastien exclaimed, "OH, I know where I know you from. We met on the sand dunes in Jaisalmer." He had been in the group of people Aladin and I went to talk to when we were watching the sunset on my camel safari. It is amazing and sad how quickly you forget people when you are meeting so many.
As we started climbing back down the hill, Greg and I realized we had missed the last ferry going back to our guesthouse's side of the river. I vaguely remembered one guy saying something about a late night boat if we called the phone number on the bottom of the ticket. We managed to dig out an old ticket and everything was in Hindi, but there was something that looked like a phone number written in the bottom corner. We waited 15 minutes and he came to pick us up in his little reed boat. I soaked my butt when I sat down, but for 50 rupees that was a heck of a lot better than swimming.
I spent the next day just relaxing and doing laundry and in the evening, Moin took Greg and I out to his special sunset spot. He had been telling us about it, but I didn't really understand until I got there. It really was one of the most magical places I have ever been. Right at sunset, all of these white birds came flying across the glistening lake and landed on a nearby tree. As the sun went down, I could hear them all singing and chattering in the distance. The lake was smooth as glass, other than the occasional blips of a fish surfacing, and it perfectly reflected the smooth and misty pink and purple sunset. The trees created a black silouette against the bright sky and left their shadows on the glistening water. Every so often, a bird would fly through the silence, its reflection chasing it down the length of the river. As darkness encroached, the birds went silent and the stars started to appear, one by one, peaking through the clouds. I never wanted to leave.
I feel like I spent half of my travel time wondering why I am paying so much money to torture myself and the other half wondering how I got so lucky to have these amazing experiences. India certainly keeps you on your toes.
For my last night in Hampi, Greg brought over a guy named Allister from his hostel and we all sat down with Moin for some beers. At one point, Allister started talking about how crazy it would be if animals drank in bars, then said that they would probably start excluding some animals in a sort of species-racism. It lead into an elaborate story about penguins picketing against species-ism. It was at that point that I knew we would be friends. The beers led into rum, which led into an intense philosophical discussion that I seem to enjoy having when I am barely coherent.
Morning came too soon and, of course, I was late for my bus. I grabbed my bag and ran down to the boat. I gave them 100 rupees to go right away and similarly over-paid my tuk tuk driver with the qualification that he get me there as fast as possible. Nothing talks like money in India. As I watched the time slip by, and as often happens with unbelievers, I found myself praying to whatever god would listen that the train would be late. All I am asking is that India be reliably Indian, I wished with everything I had. I was almost 10 minutes late by the time I desperately ran into the train station. A man was standing there, and noticing my frantic state, said that the train was late and would arrive at 10:52. Thank god...or Shiva maybe.
As I sat there waiting for the train, a man walked over and said "Can I be your boyfriend?" "No." "Oh ok," he said and walked away...this is happening.
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