I woke to a lovely cool sunny mountain morning, and set off towards Pune, which is only 130 km away. As I had arrived in the mountains at night, I was treated to new and wonderful views of the Western Ghat range: View image, View image. And here is one of the typical Mumbai families in the foreground: View image. The light and temperature was like riding on a spring day through the English countryside. Strawberries were growing in fields along the road, and for breakfast, I had a strawberry lassi (yoghurt smoothie) but avoided the "Strawberry Pizza" which was on the menu.

On one impressive ridge, I came across a gaggle of American and British paragliders using the ideal conditions to make a killing giving tandem rides to rich Indians from Mumbai. At ten minutes and $35 each, that is one of the fastest ways to make money I've seen in this country. As a semi-retired hang glider pilot without his kite, I must admit, I was jealous of the fantastic flying site and perfect weather conditions. View image , View image

As I descended the other side of the mountains, the temperature rose again, until I was hot in a t-shirt, at any speed. In one little town I came across this lovely example of Indian signage: View image (especially like the phonetic spelling of "German" at the top).

The next part of the trip was on my first ever four-lane freeway, which certainly made things much easier and safer, if perhaps less interesting. However, I was grateful for the rare uninterrupted forward movement. Then I hit roadworks and crazy traffic, and then the pre-roadworks road which was abysmal -- full of dangerous potholes AND crazy traffic. By the time I reached Pune, my nerves were shot, and I was grateful just to be alive.
Pune is not a big city, by Indian standards, but after nearly an hour of urban honking and dodging, I still didn't know if I had passed the city center or not. I stopped and showed some rickshaw drivers my map, and they said I had another 13 km to go!!!! This city is enormous...!

It was mid-afternoon by the time I reached the German Bakery, which is the central meeting point for all westerners in Pune. These were the first non-Indians I had seen in two days. I ordered an omlette and some real coffee and sat down in a daze, seeing the westerners, but feeling alone and tired.

The German Bakery is just across the street from the gates to OSHO, the famous Bhagwan Rashneesh ashram I had come to Pune to have a look at. Rashneesh had to flee a very succesful Guru business in the US after scandals about tax evasion, rampant orgies, and something about trying to poison local politicians in Oregon. He renamed himself Osho, and set up an ashram here in Pune, before dying, several years later.
Although Osho is gone, a very impressive ashram remains, which still attracts people from all over the world, who come for meditation, but also to attend (rather expensive) courses in all sorts of disciplines, at the Osho "Multiversity".

My hopes of visiting the ashram to see for myself were complicated by renovations being done to the visitor center. To see inside, I would have to pay $30 registration, buy marroon colored robes, and undergo an AIDS test, even if only for one day. I thought this sounded ridiculous -- or possibly exciting, if it meant that sex was part of every visit... So I spent the afternoon talking to a number of people at the bakery, especially those wearing the whacky marroon robes.

Some were enjoying their experience at the ashram, many seemed a bit confused, but most had issues with the controlling and commercial interests of the organizers. "Osho is a resort, not an ashram," is something I heard from several insiders. Many had been told off sternly, or even thrown out, for silly little faux-pas, like coughing twice during a video of Osho speaking. All agreed that the reputation for free sex and organized orgies was a rather misleading, if perhaps very clever, marketing ploy to attract westerners. I was still interested in having a look, but also realized it would be expensive and slow me down on my trip to Pushkar for the camel fair. But I had all night to decide for the next day.

For dinner I ended up eating alone at a Non-Veg (for beer) restaurant called "Gurdjieff", which was dedicated to the spiritual leader whose teachings my parents had followed before discovering Subud. It would have been fine, if it was not for the festival of Diwali, which began that night, and is one of the biggest Hindu festivals and an excuse for lots of BIG fireworks. Local kids and families were continually setting off DYNAMITE sticks right next to where I was sitting. The earth shook and my ears rang. They were having a great time. It was like trying to eat in the middle of a raging war zone. My nerves had barely recovered from the bone-shuddering ride today, and this was just too much. For the first time (but I'm sure not the last) I decided that I might actually HATE India!

Later that night I got stoned with two friendly French girls and an Israeli (and discovered that I was really good at balancing an Osho book and not one, but TWO, thick Lonely Planet India guidebooks on my head!) View image, and decided I didn't feel like getting up early for Osho, having needles stuck in my arm, and being told what to do all day. I looked forward to waking up and getting out of the city, and back on the road to Pushkar.