slightly irritated so the words are harsh
Tuesday, October 30th, 2007OK, so this will be short. I have been permanently tarnished. Some butterscotch eaten, fleece wearing, football loving dumbass baggage handler stole my camera in Joberg. For the entire time in Indian, for every second of every day, we were on guard. We worked hard to not be the victim, and then what happens. We get back to South Africa, we begin to board the plane to Maseru, where you have to skycheck all of your bags and what happens, and my camera and my headlight get stolen. The first time I let my bag out of sight, when I thought it was safe, all of my pictures get stolen. All the camels, forts, Taj, trains, cows, all gone…sons of pregnant cows I am pissed. Add in the fact that the plane could not land in Maseru, so we spent entirely too much money staying in Joberg it’s been a rocky return to Africa.
Ok so I have managed to cool down, and ready to give a few more highlights. More like observations and emotionally interludes of perplexed mental abstracts of me saying internally “what the fuck!” For instance, Devi was an inspiration to the people of India. She created what I called the ‘invisible man effect’. In this, I mean that if I walked in Devi’s wake, I was unseen, 100% invisible. I could have stripped naked and, and lit my pubic hair on fire, and no one would have noticed a naked white guy screaming in agony. I have also mentioned that the Lesotho cows are the rock stars of the livestock world; well the cows of India are the Rock Gods of the livestock world. With the exception of the cow that attacked Devi (the bruise is about the size of a kiwi that has been run over by a studded tire from a 04 matrix), the cows in India have a presence to them. They walk with a “I am cow, you shall bow, and say Oh man wow, or else you’ll feel the horns of plow with echoing sounds of pow! Cows are seriously part of every normal day life, they sip tea in the coffee shops, sell photos of their kin chewing what amounts to Christmas decorations, charge toll on narrow streets, and shit everywhere with a mere shrug. Devi and I are writing a coffee table book on cows of the world; we are accepting contributions and will be giving the finished book to all family members for Christmas 2008. So keep space free because we will be terribly upset if it’s not front and center. What would any adventure be with out the obligatory run from the law? We were driving from Jaisamler to Jodhpur when we came onto a police roadblock, with real cops, real army men, real machine guns, and real attitude. It appeared to be a tourist tax collecting station, of which we had seen before and paid with out questions. This time however, our driver only slowed, and barely opened his window. The cops approached and suddenly if not a little erratically our driver hit the gas, swerved a little into the gravel as not to kill any cops with guns and sped of with the law chasing us on foot. I felt like asking “what the hell?” but a realized my voice would crack like the days of puberty, I turned to see three shades of brown, but only saw palely white girl wild-eyed saying “what the hell”right back to me. So we continued to speed with nervous glances over our shoulders every few seconds to see if the cops with guns were giving chase, alas no.
Ok in the office and gotta fly.
should wirte again in three weeks