During the second week in Hampi, I came together with a lovely group of traveler friends. We had such a laugh together, some good conversations, and did some really fun things, like shooting a little video film, "Rocky 6", in which poor Rocky (played by bald Israeli, Omer) had to run and box and dodge all the way up the 1000 steps to the Monkey Temple, to reach the top in triumph, and shout for his beloved wife Adrian (Kate)!
When it came time to say goodbye to several vital and inspiring members of the group, Skye, Kate and Eric (I was also leaving the next day), there was so much love and excitement in the air; we all knew we had found a special connection. The subject of Burning Man festival came up, people were inspired by the descriptions given, and as we parted, there was a definite sense of possibility in the air... Perhaps there'll be a reunion with these far-flung friends, in the Nevada desert, at the End of August, at what must be the most fabulous gathering of human beings on this planet!

I set off early the next morning, soaking up the beauty of the early light on the Hampi landscape View image, before loading the the bike into the now normal, but once seemingly impossible, coracle ferry back to the south side of the river. I stopped in the nearest real town, Hospet, to get the bike "adjusted," but ended up wasting two hours, due to incompetence and the miscommunication that is part of traveling in India. It was hot and 11.30 before I got on the highway heading south. I did not know how far I would get today.

The ride was long, unspectacular and uncomfortably hot, and I was heading directly into the sun, which was glaring away, as it does. I began to wonder about selling the bike and traveling by train from now on... but then in the late afternoon, I turned off the major highway and took a country road to avoid the major Indian metropolis (and therefore hellish stress) that is Bangalore. I found myself on a perfect road: unobstructed, smooth, perfect light and temperature, wonderful vegetation and landscape, and enough villages to provide interest, and to give a wonderful sense of movement, but without getting in the way... I was very glad to have the bike, and again realized what an incredible luxury and enjoyable method of transport it is!!!

But then it got dark, and I reached the next major highway to Mysore. It was not worth stopping with only 60km to go, so I decided to push on through. It was nerve wracking and insane. Truck, bus and car headlights blinded me each time they passed, potholes appeared out of nowhere, millions of mosquitoes made my eyes their targets and places to die, at 50 miles per hour!... I arrived in Mysore alive, but badly shaken, and incredibly exhausted.

After checking into a hotel where the desk people looked at me like some kind of freak -- a day on the road in India leaves Rolf looking like a coal miner coming home from work with a black and grey face View image -- I scrubbed and scrubbed, and found myself incredibly sensitive to the cold water. I dressed and went out for a much-needed meal and a beer to unwind from the road stress.

But I was more exhausted than I even knew. Although it was a balmy warm evening, I started shivering uncontrollably. I could not eat my meal, and had to leave it and stagger back to the hotel, shivering so much, I could not even walk normally. I stopped to buy some water, and had to get the shop-owner to take the money out of my wallet, my hands were shaking uncontrollably. Back at the hotel asking for my key, this time I felt, and looked, like a drug-addict on withdrawal. I jumped into bed and put a warm blanket over me and fell asleep, hoping I would be OK. This was the first time my body had ever done this...

I was relatively normal, if tired, the next day, but felt incredibly negative about India and Indians. For the first time on this trip, I would walk around town as if I had blinkers on, and completely ignore everyone who said "Hello?", "What country?" or "Excuse me?". I had lost my sense of humor, and most of my humanity, but I just could not deal with anymore idiotic Indians and their constant hard-selling and inane conversation, and when on the bike, their incredibly dangerous stupidity and obliviousness. This unpleasant and draining vibe lasted for a couple of days, and I was seriously wondering whether I should be here, putting out all this negative energy, or if should just call it quits and go home or find a beach to chill on for a couple of months.

What kept me going was the fact that my friend Rolfe Kent is coming in three weeks to travel with me for a while, and I know that will be a completely different experience.

Not much to say about Mysore really, I saw the sights (Palace, Hill Temple, Market, etc.) but was in no state to really enjoy them. It is a pretty town, and the weather was sparkling blue and breezy, but I was lonely and short of any kind of patience or humor.

Did see this sign, though, which members of my family and few Subud friends will get a chuckle out of -- apparently this one makes a profit:View image

After a stupid and unpleasant scuffle ten days ago in Hampi with an irate internet cafe owner who thought I should pay him more than I was prepared to, I have had a sore and swollen fourth right finger ever since, where he tried to kick me and I put my hand in the way. I finally decided to get it x-rayed in Mysore (for $3!). In the waiting room, I sat opposite this hidden mother and pink child:View image
It turns out that the bone above the top knuckle is broken. The doctor suggested a plaster cast, which would immobilize my two middle fingers, but that would make it impossible to drive the bike and operate the front brake. So I declined and am using ibuprofen for the swelling, and just trying to let the bone heal without too much use.
X-RAY Photo:View image

I was ready for a change again, and set off for the mountain town of Ooty, in the state of Tamil Nadu. But first, on the way out of town, I decided my bike really needed one of the wonderful air horns that the auto-rickshaw drivers use. They make a deep fog-horn sound, which is much more fun, and better for greetings, than the high pitched urgency of the normal horn. I found the shop back in town, and then some mechanics nearby, who were willing to improvise a fixture to the bike View image, View image. It was so much fun interacting with these guys, that I left town feeling optimistic and much more positive about Indians in general, and of course, about myself. Also, it gave my already fun bike, an even more appealing and original allure: View image