Opportunity Knocks

“Was it a credible future? Was it an incredible past? Whatever the answer, it was an immense escape from the actual.” -Henry James, The Alter of the Dead

Hello Friends. Happy Holi. I’ll get to it, don’t worry; you look older when you worry.

Keap and I had a nice pretend life in Goa. Eventually I decided it was highly impractical to cart a puppy around India, and had to leave her with a shelter there. It was terribly hard for me to drop her off. I cried in public. Twice. Before this, I posted a bulletin on an online Goan community board, and then I went to Mumbai immediately to put some distance between me and the situation/unstable emotional territory I’d wandered into. Another bus ride, another early arrival, another opportunity to be cheated out of a bunch of rupees by the rickshaw driver. I checked into the Salvation Army hostel, the first hostel in India I’ve stayed in yet. There, I met a mah fellow American Amme, who I found out was headed in the same direction as me. We decide to head to the train station to get tickets to Udaipur. They’re all sold out, but she gets on the waiting list while I opt for the considerably cheaper bus option.

I would have liked to spend more time in Bombay, maybe be an extra in Bollywood, but my timing was such that I could only stay two days max because I wanted to be in Udaipur for the big Holi celebration. So not too much to speak of in Mumbai except that I received a reply to the puppy posting, which told me the shelter I’d left her at practiced euthanasia because they had so many dogs coming through, up to 30 a day. Obviously, I panicked. I wrote the shelter and told them if it came down to her not getting adopted and having to be put down, I’d come back and take her. I was worried I was already too late. Bad day. I got an email back from the main office in the UK from a guy who promised me he’d call them at first light and see if she was ok.

I had a bus to catch. Amme was getting nervous about being able to board the train, so she came with me to take her chances on getting a bus ticket. We were told it was a 16 hour journey from one source and 27 from another. And we have seats, not a sleeper. It was a wonderful and much less stressful turn of events to ride with a buddy. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it “fun filled”, but it went by pretty quickly and it was really super to laugh with another American. It was a government bus, which meant we were the only westerners aboard and they set us up in the front seats in a kind of glass enclosure. It was a lot like being in the zoo. A bunch of strange looks and mysterious conversation you know is about you and probably something to the effect of, “look honey, they scratch themselves just like we do!”.

In Udaipur, I got another email telling me Keap was not only fine, but “very cute” and will most likely be adopted. If for some reason she is not, they have agreed to hold on to her for me until the end of April. So that’s just great. Amme and I set up at a hostel in Udaipur where we met a guy Gary from London and Jason from CA. It’s really nice to have friends around, but at the same time a strange feeling because I’ve been on my own for so long and only in the last week or two have had constant human contact. I almost feel less like I’m in India, but I don’t so much mind the break.

Then Holi begins. Holi is the India-wide hindu celebration of the beginning of spring. I’ve been looking forward to it since I arrived and planned very carefully exactly where I wanted to be when it happened. I didn’t know too much about it except that it involved throwing bright and various colors all over other people in the streets and is celebrated virtually all over India. Despite my brewing excitement, I was warned a number of times by locals to stay indoors on the big day to avoid certain dangers inherent to big drunken public holidays. But I was not to be deterred, this was what I’d been waiting for. Besides, I wasn’t going out alone, I was traveling in a pack with Amme and 4 guys from the hostel, so I didn’t anticipate anything I couldn’t handle. The night before the paint, there was a big party in the center of town, at the main temple. That day there’d been bundles of hay all over the roads and I’ve never sneezed so much in my life. That night, they set fire to the bundles and bonfires seemed to lurk in turned corners where you least expected them. There was a massive bonfire set up in the middle of town, but not yet ablaze. When we showed up, people were crowded around the hay and a stage upon which were two types of dancers: western and tranny. In India, though it is the norm for grown men to hold hands in public out of friendship, it is not acceptable to be gay…unless you are also a transvestite. Then no one bats an eye. So onstage were two lovely ladies accompanied by a few poor tourists who seemed to be there of their own accord. One of them looked like Gandolf. Hat and beard and everything. Amazing.

Eventually the time came to light the bonfire. There were a lot of people packed into the space, so the cops came around with sticks waving and warned everyone to move back. Then they laid out a perimeter of firecrackers around the hay and down the street. I was standing in the front, about 2 meters from the firecrackers, unafraid. I couldn’t see when they set off the train, but I heard it loud and clear, and this was confirmed by the large amounts of people and mayhem running out of the streets into the center. Of course when the fireworks started getting closer, I panicked like everyone else and tried to push back, back in the crowd, screaming and yipping like a little girl as the explosions nipped my ankles. But this was not enough. Once that danger had passed, I had to go around to see the point where the fireworks met the hay. I should also add that there were further fireworks taped to the hay pile. I had my camera out to take a picture, but the moment I aimed, there was a huge explosion and I jumped back once again. The setting was accidentally on video, so I captured that moment pretty effectively. I should post it in the next few days, with any luck.

Next day, we gather our forces and ammunition, don our white clothing and head out into the streets. All is full of “Happy Holi!”, and color color color. The nice people walk up to you, dip their hand into their paint dust and smudge it nicely on your face, and maybe give you a little hug. The mean people and children throw it in your eyes and up your nose and down your shirt and the really mean ones try to nonchelantly grab you as they hug. Then you yell and a policeman comes with a giant stick and chases and beats the offender. Unfortunately, they beat a few people who weren’t causing trouble as well, but at least I felt like they were looking out for us. Basically, the danger people had warned me about boiled down to the attempts of groping by drunken men to whom women, especially western, are taboo. And while this was very disrespectful and terribly annoying, I never felt myself in any mortal danger, and overall enjoyed myself. By the end of the day, I was absolutely covered in paint. It still stains some parts of my body, and I think it might be a few days to really get it all off.

I was all set to leave Udaipur for my next destination and say a sad goodbye to Amme, but because I’m such a good time, she decided to go where I was going.  Yay!  So we head to a charming little place called Bundi.  My plan was to first visit the biggest fort in Rajastan in a town called Chittor that was on the way.  Our bus from Udaipur arrived early in the morning and the bus to Bundi left later that night, so we had plenty of time to see the fort.

However, as we tried to leave the bus station, we were met by armed police officers who denied us entry to the road.  It was strange, and we couldn’t understand why, but ok, we’ll take another exit.  On the other side of the station, we tried to hail a rickshaw, but the driver informed us that both the road and fort were closed.  We misunderstood him to explain that the closure was a result of a hindu/muslim holiday.  Of course, this makes no sense and does not explain the presence of the entire police force, and we finally find out that in actuality the fort and road are closed due to hindu/muslim fighting that broke out the day before, leaving over 30 shops on fire.  Today, there was a curfew and nothing was open.  And there were no buses out until the evening, so we had some time to kill.  We found one restaurant that was open and set ourselves up there, ordering a ton of food, watching Battlestar Galactica on Amme’s iPod and playing card games on a deck we made ourselves out of index cards.  So there, ill fated fort expedition.  So there.

Bundi is small and covered in pale blue.  It’s a beautiful, quiet little town where the people are friendly and the mattress squishy.  There’s a massive palace and fort complex on the hill overlooking the city, and we took a small part of today climbing  up there to see what we could.  The palace was impressive, but we were mostly concerned with the monkeys, which had virtually overrun the entire complex.  The guidebook warned to bring a stick, but we had no idea what we were in for.  They were everywhere, that house was theirs.  They growled and shook their ears at us.  We threw rocks and hissed at them, but eventually made a run for it.

“She stayed long enough only to miss things, not half long enough to deserve them.”

-Henry James, What Maisie Knew

Ah. All anyone ever needs to unlock their full intuitive potential in this lifetime is a little meditation and a little Henry James. You know, I didn’t write for a while because nothing too exciting was going on, and then I became too busy to write at all and before I knew it, what has it been, two weeks? It’s a good sign, believe me. India is opening her arms to me and it’s a nice warm hug…today…

Kochi held up its end of the bargain in being island-like and relaxing and I held up mine in renting a bicycle and gorging myself on Indian sweets. Aside from being severely overcharged for a load of laundry, my time there was positive. I rode all around the area in which I was staying and then up to an area called Jew Town, where the streets are filled with the smell of spices and incense and the architecture is pure Dutch Colonial goodness. After this comes Hampi, arguably my favorite place in India so far. I’ve never seen anything like it, there are boulders everywhere; mountains old and crumbly, now just piles as far as the eye can see like crumbs under the table where God was eating a giant peanut butter cookie. Throughout the last couple of thousand years, people have used the rocks to chisel temples everywhere. The landscape is practically littered with them-some glorious testaments to man’s ability to work and some of man’s ability to realize “There’s no way I’m going to move another boulder for King fancy pants. No way.” I spent a whopping 3 nights here meandering around, mostly captivated by the natural landscape. I’ve got a question: can someone please explain boulders to me? I know as mountains grow old, they crack and deteriorate, but what is it with these groups of just 2 or 3 giant boulders in the middle of a flat plain? How did they get there? This I do not understand. Look at the pictures to see what I’m talking about, it makes absolutely no sense to me. Aside from rocks, Hampi was green and lush and hosts a river to boot. To cross this river, you have to catch a ferry. To catch this ferry you have to hike up your skirt and go into the river. Go figure. My last day there I decide I’ll check out this “Monkey Temple” everyone keeps taking about. I cycle out there, which is hot enough, but when I arrive I am informed that the temple is on the hill, and only accessible through the 600 step pathway. It is the dead of the afternoon heat, I am wearing a long skirt, there is no shade…ah, why not? The temple was unimpressive and the monkeys were scarce, but the view was incredible, so no regrets there. I bought another overnight bus ticket onward to my next destination. I thought this time would be better because it was a “sleeper bus” with bedesque structures. I get on and all situated in my compartment when two guys–one Indian, one traveler–stick their heads in.

“Just one?” Asks the man who runs the bus.
“Yes”.

“Ok. You take one more, no problem.”

Ehh, the compartments might qualify as the size of a small twin bed. It’s not a huge problem, but I wouldn’t call it no problem at all. I look at the other guy who is to be my “roommate” and this is an awkward moment where I

1) Don’t want to seem rude or to imply that he is in any manner indecent

2) Know we have both been sold the ticket and thus have an equal claim of the seat and

3) Don’t want to say “no” only to have no choice and then have to spend the entire time with a person who knows how little I appreciate their presence.

We just stare. For some reason, they go away, and I intuit the other traveler is sitting with someone else in the bunk below mine. I believe I have won, though I am not cerain how or what. Then the bus conductor comes back. He leans in an lowers his voice and offers me the chance to make him a bribe to get the bunk all to myself. His generous offer is too much and I decline.

“Then you will have other person!” he says

“Fine!” I say, “but it has to be a woman.”

“No woman!” he returns. “Indian people coming! It will be man! Indian man!”

“Are you threatening me with an Indian man?”

It’s a ridiculous idea and I pretend that it doesn’t make any difference to me, but we both know it does, a little. He goes. The other traveler poke his head up again and asks if the guy just asked me for a bribe too. Then he says he’ll sit down there, but if more people do get on the bus, he’ll move up, so I feel a little better. Besides, I imagine the conductor was bluffing. It is obviously a tourist oriented sleeper bus, and I can’t imagine them picking up more people. Buuuuut they do.

Welcome. Welcome to an 8 hour overnight journey with a Russian stranger in a twin sized bed in the bus that never missed a pothole. Welcome to the longest awkward moment of my life.

We’re not going to the same place, so I get off the bus in the morning and bid him adieu. Most of the people on the bus are headed to Goa, but I’m aiming for a place called Gokarna, literally, “cow’s ear”. It’s earlier than the sun, and there are only a few other people now standing on the platform of an abandoned bus stop in the middle of nowhere. There’s a group of Israeli’s traveling together, myself, and two other independents, an Irishman and a Canadian guy with positively the coolest game I’ve ever heard of. He had it on his GPS system/tracker/thingy. Other people who have similar devices can hide treasure all over the world, and anyone with this thing can go and look for it. Mom, Dad: This is what I want for my birthday. The three of us decide to form a merry little band and head down to find a beach and somewhere to sleep. We find it and spend the next three days lounging around the beach, playing guitar, and sipping lassis. All very calming minus the one day we tried to find our way into town over the mountains and ended up missing the track and doing quadruple the distance via climbing up and over jagged rocks and through many thorns. As great as the beach was and as good of a time as I was having, that little voice was nagging me, reminding me my time here is half over, and maybe I’ll find something better even if I keep moving. The boys were more susceptible and stayed behind. I took a tuk tuk and a number of buses and walked down a long dirt road and found myself at a train station in the middle of absolutely nowhere with no train coming for the next 5 hours. I decide to stick it out and wait rather than turn back.

Have I mentioned anything about the Indian dogs? They pretty much run wild around here. They’re everywhere you turn, and not really concerned with humans, but usually in towns because that’s where the food is. They all sort of look the same: thin, bleak-eyed, short haired, kind of mangy looking. It is exceedingly rare here for people to keep pets. Having a dog as a pet is virtually unheard of. I don’t pay them a lot of mind, I just sort of got used to them as I did the cows.

At the train station, I see a puppy. Cute one. Being the ONLY customer at the station, I’ve been bothering the station manager all morning with mundane questions about routes and times and lunch. Still, I think he was at least a little surprised/annoyed when I walked over with a puppy in my arms and asked if I could take it on the train. At the time, I wasn’t all that sure of what I wanted to do with it, just that it had spent the afternoon sleeping on my lap and was small. At least half of me was dedicated to keeping it and bringing it back with me to the US. The other half was allergic. In a spectacularly serendipitous turn of events, another traveler eventually showed up who had also found a dog, but she’d had hers for 3 months and had gone the length of getting it vaccinated and all the paperwork and everything, so she had both supplies and advice. I intended to go to Mumbai that night, but now with the dog in tow, I turned my sights for a region of Goa where the girl gave me the address of the Animal Rescue Center there that could help me and answer my questions. So right now I have a puppy. Her name is Keap and at present she’s asleep in my lap. Last night she slept curled up in my armpit. It was really cute up to the point where she wet the bed and then it was still cute but kinda gross. Again today I took a series of buses, no questions asked. Just hand people the address of the place and they tell me what bus to get on. When the bus lets me off, I am once again in the middle of absolutely nowhere. The bus driver gives me a weird “you’re pretty far from home, aren’t you” look and points me down a dirt road. I walk with my big 20k bag on my back, my smaller 10k on my front, and a little dog in a box. When I finally reach the place, it is closed and isn’t open till monday. A really friendly Swedish girl offers us a ride into town on her scooter, so we’re all set up there for now. Got my own scooter and everything. I made a caller out of some nylon rope I carry around, and I bought a little shoulder bag to carry Keap in, because all the cool kids ride around on motorbikes with dogs in their bags. Monday I’ll have more information and maybe even a decision, but until then I’m pretending I live here and this is my life and my dog. And for now it is.

"However, if we aren't learning something from a new experience, it's usually because we aren't paying attention."-Tom Robbins, Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas Ah, Puri. I guess there's good and bad in everything--I didn't get on the train because it ... [Continue reading this entry]