Persona Non Grata

That would be me. As of today, I have been without a passport for 5 days.

I have also been without money, credit cards, exit permit, my outbound ticket for Cairo, camera, memory cards, my journal and a plethora of small things but needed things.

Yup. I've been robbed. While trying to stow away my backpack on the train heading out to Aurangabad. Needless to say, we never made it to the caves.

The downside of all that is apparent. Along with the tremendous hassle of all the things that one has to do to get some of those things replaced such as the passport and the ticket or cancelling the cards. Along with the heartbreak of losing all pictures that had, in a small way, captured bits and pieces of my trip to remind me and trigger my experiences, trials/tribulations, and joy. (Sorry all - there will be no picture-viewing parties when I get home!)

The upside of that is that I got to visit a U.S. Consulate General in another country. Pretty interesting. The one is Mumbai appears much smaller than the one we walked by in Chennai. Despite this, it seems to be more tightly guarded. As with the one in Chennai, there is a wall that surrounds the compound with spikes along the top. There are also more guards with big rifles. They do not let anyone pause in the immediate front of it nor in the area across the street. They will emphatically motion you to move on. They check for traces of explosives on anything going into the compound by swiping the items at random/specific places for chemical analysis as well as running a detailed visual scrutiny. To enter, you have to go through a series a guarded locked doors, revolving bars doors, bullet-proofed doors, electronic scanners all the while carrying an endorsed visitor invitation note. Throughout all of this there are video cameras watching your every move.

The whole process of trying to get a new passport was rather painless but that was because I had documentation of my original passport (thank you a thousand thank yous to B and Mo!!!). Hopefully, I will get it from the States by tomorrow (Friday). If not, then I'll have to wait through the weekend until Monday.

In the meantime, I have succeeded in getting the approval to get a ticket re-issued for my next leg of the trip - Egypt. The only problem is to work out when I can leave. This is because I also need to get approval for an exit permit from the Foreigner's Regional Registration Office.

So. If my passport comes in tomorrow and I am successful in running around like mad and having people at Etihad Airlines and FRRO work with me, I may be able to head out of India by Saturday. If not, my going-on won't happen until Tuesday.

The next question is - Do I go on or do I go home?

Do I travel on the mercy and kindness of generous friends and family through wired money? Do I visit two of the most visually stunning countries without a camera? Do I forego some of the things that I have planned because of this huge detour? Frankly, I'm not sure. Admittedly, much of the wind has been let out of my sails.

My travel companion, for a multitude of reasons of which I wholeheartedly agree with, has decided to not continue on with me to Egypt. I bid her good-bye last night. She will continue on with her travel plans that she had established after Egypt. I do wish her better travels and pleasure (as well as rest and recuperation) with her next destinations. And I thank her a thousand times for all her help and support through these past days. What an ending to India, huh, K??

So.

Mumbai Redeemed

Okay...so I don't dread Mumbai as a city anymore. During our stopover here from Jaipur before heading out to Aurangabad, we have discovered that there are some very nice spots in Mumbai that make the city more pleasant. For future travelers to Mumbai, I would recommend that you stay in the Fort area or the posher area of Colaba. For those that have never been to an extremely densely populated metropolitan city, I would recommend arriving on a Sunday and taking advantage of the emptiness in this southern part of the city before being bombarded by the hordes of people and vehicles during the rest of the week.

Mickey D's...Where's the Beef?

It has been on our minds as to where, if any, are there McDonald's in India. (We had heard rumors that there was one spied but that was unconfirmed.) You see, it's our perception that McDonald's, like Coca-Cola Co. and PepsiCo, has infiltrated the world but we hadn't seen any on our trip yet. We have walked by Domino's, Pizza Hut and a Subway or two but no McDonald's. Could they really not have chosen to dominate and drive the fast food market here in India? (Yeah, yeah...we could have just looked it up on the web. By the way...here's the link to Mickey's in India: http://www.mcdonaldsindia.com/)

No. They are here. We can attest to it.

Our first sighting of a McDonald's occurred in Jaipur. Questions ran rampant in our overwhelmed brains - Could they really have beef burgers??! If not, how has their menu been altered? Does their fries taste the same? What?!

It was too much - we had to peek at their menu and try it.

Yes, their menu is very different. It's more limited. To see what they have, check out this link: http://mcdonalds.net.in/mcd/corp/OurFood/index.php .

We can say that the food taste the same. I can personally vouch for the Filet-O-Fish Value Meal (although it's called the Combo Meal here). K had the Maharaja Mac - yup, the veg replacement for the Big Mac. It's an interesting burger. Another interesting thing of note is that they served us the food as it became available. I thought that it was perhaps just because it was so slow (we were there in the morning).

We found another Mickey's in Mumbai. We got there shortly after it opened at around 9:10 a.m. It was a very posh-looking place with faux dark wood paneling with a huge outdoors seating area. We placed our order and sat down to enjoy the air-conditioning. The food again was brought out to us since it wasn't ready immediately upon our placing the order. They'd rather you not wait for it if it's going to take some time. (There's also a guy who gets kind of snippy if you self-serve dumping your tray into the garbage. And for those who aren't interested in dealing with the traffic, the heat, the walk - whatever - they can get McDelivery. Yes. You read that right.)

By 9:30 a.m. the place was packed. And it continued to be packed the entire day. To expedite the ordering queue, there's an employee that takes your order via paper which gets handed to you so that you can hand it to the cashier.

Another interesting facet of McDonald's in Mumbai is the patrons themselves. In the States, it's patronized by everyone. Here, the patrons appear to be mostly the well-to-do/well-dressed/trendy folks. It's not that the prices are that expensive compared to what we pay in the States (it's cheaper here, of course) but relative to what most people earn, it's rather costly. The Combo Meals run from about Rs. 85 to 105. That translates to just under $2 to $2.40. A large soda costs Rs. 42 (just under $1). And if what we read about the average earnings of Indians is correct, this would make sense.

(BTW, Pizza Hut food also tastes the same...)

Continuing Path of Travel Within India

From Agra, we traveled to Jaipur in the state of Rajasthan. It wasn't at all what I thought it would be like. I think that other famously-known cities such as Jodhpur and Udaipur would have been more like what I had pictured.

From Jaipur we had to return to Mumbai in order to catch a train back out in the evening to Aurangabad, the city that we had planned to use as base to do day trips for visits to Ellora and Ajanta - both famous rock-hewn Buddhist cave sites (Ellora also has Hindu and Jain carvings). We were both very excited about seeing the caves but really dreading having to come back to Mumbai - even if it was for the day.

After the caves/Aurangabad, we were to come back to Mumbai to spend the night (joy joy) before leaving for Cairo on the 30th.

However, things have changed. More on that in later posts...

O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?

Today I was able to strike another "life hope" off my list by visiting the Taj Mahal. It is as beautiful as all pictures depict it to be and more. The extraordinary, overwhelming love Shah Jahan felt for his beloved Mumtaz is definitely palpable through the scope, detail of craftmanship, and sheer beauty of the entire complex. It is easy to see why the romantically melancholic picture of the late Princess Diana sitting on one of the marble benches, gazing wistfully at the Taj, has struck a chord in many people, evoking deep emotions and remaining in their memories as one of the most appealing photograph ever viewed. In fact, it would be safe to state that that picture has created another tourist attraction feature at the Taj. I have witnessed many women stare at the aforementioned marble bench in awe while asking, "Is this where she sat?" I have even seen one Aussie lass rub her bum on said bench.

Silly as this might seem, it is quite understandable for how many of us - not just women - hope ardently to find that one true beloved that affords us safe harbor from all trials and tribulations of the world? To have someone understand and hold carefully in their hands our fears, dreams, and hopes? To be connected to another in such fashion where hand-holding in the late years of our lives is still as important as that first time?

To have the love of some other that is so deep, true and steadfast - almost limitless - that construction of such a seemingly everlasting monument is needed as a small token of homage? Amazing...

Update

From Chennai:
K and I traveled by train to Kolkata. That was a 31-hour long ride. Fortunately, it didn't go so bad as we took the advice of the NY/LA pseudo-expat and splurged for the air-conditioned train (3rd class). In the south, it was easy to take the much less expensive non-A/C sleeper class because people were basically friendly and respectful. Not so much in the North. It is definitely better to take the 3rd A/C train but there still moments when it's touch-and-go as to whether or not you'll get into a disagreement about seating arrangements, volume control, lights on/off, luggage storage, etc. I later experienced this on our train ride from Kolkata to New Jalpaiguri.

After getting into Kolkata in the morning we spent most of the day waiting to board another train that evening to get to New Jalpaiguri - the closest train stop to Darjeeling. It was a very tiring and hot wait. For the help that we've received on our travels we were able to return the favor for a Korean traveler touring around India on her own. She had just arrived in India that day and had no idea of where to go in Kolkata or any information on her proposed next destination. To this end we were able to provide her with those pages in our Lonely Planet guide.

Upon boarding the train, K and I tried to stow our huge packs as much out of the way as possible. However, a fellow passenger insisted on needing to store his luggage directly under his seat circumvented this hope. Oh well. I guess he preferred to have Ganesh' brain (the top of my pack) stick out and in his way. Anyhow, thank goodness for the help and kindness of another passenger who argued/translated for me and got everything smoothed out for the most part. She and her family ended up taking K and I under their wings, bought us snacks and drinks (I think they really pitied us because of our packs and lack of eating.) Her four-year-old son is beautiful, very smart and hysterically funny/fun to play with. On this train we also ended up talking at some length with the coach of the Indian Services (military) bodybuilding team. They were going to Darjeeling to compete in the "IBBF 45th Senior National Mr. India Bodybuilding Championships and Selection of India Bodybuilding Team for Asian Games."

From Darjeeling, we caught a shared taxi for a 3-hour ride up and up into the Himalayan mountains to Darjeeling (elevation of 2176 m, I believe). The route up was rather winding (as expected). However, it didn't sit well for one Indian matron sitting across from K (we were stuck facing each other on bench seats in the back of the SUV...the place in the back where people usually put cargo). I nervously watched her close her eyes against the tortuous whipping back and forth of the SUV (as well, I imagine, against the nausea and pain of motion sickness) and listened with great distress to her loudly belch. I was so afraid of her being sick on us for it would have caused my travel companion to get sick and, more than likely, also make me sick. Can you just imagine? The back full of sick passengers covered in vomit? Hm...yeah.

So. All-in-all a grueling bit of traveling we did (did I not swear this off already from my experience in Morocco?! but quite worth it after getting to Darjeeling and settling in). It was quite chilly but so extremely beautiful! Ironic that it's called a "hill station" when it's up at an elevation of 2176 m! Additionally, for us Darjeeling was quite a nice change of pace - it's much slower, kinder and gentler on tourists. Plus the Tibetan food! YUM! Momos, gyanthuk, thukpa, thenthuk, shabaly...ummm...but my mouth is watering just at that thought!

We spent 4 days/3 nights there. The highlight of my stay there was a sunrise trip to Tiger Hill. It was quite inspiring to see the the circular edge of the red sun peak through the clouds. But the star of the entire show was the gradual illumination of the mountain peaks opposite of the sunrise. The tallest of them all is Kangchendzoga which is reported to be the world's third highest peak weighing in at 8,585 m (28,169 ft). The name itself means 'House of Five Treasures’ represented by its five soaring summits. All the peaks were still covered in gloriously brilliant white of snow. As the clouds gradually withdrew downwards, the entire top of the mountain range shimmered with the morning light. Simply exhilarating! We were also able to see the very top peaks of Three Sisters as well as Everest in the distance.

Continuing onward, we caught a shared taxi back down to New Jalpaiguri to catch a train for New Delhi (22.5 hours), also 3rd A/C. From New Delhi we caught another train a few hours later to Agra to see the Taj Mahal and other goodies.

Let me tell you a bit about this last train ride. It has been our shortest train ride to date. And yet the most unbelievable amd the most unforgettable. Unless we caught the whole thing on video, I don't think you all would get the full impact of the situation. But let me try to describe it to you.

We have seen with other train boardings scores of people dashing off down the platform for some destination unknown to K and I. Today we found out why. Most trains have some cars for 1st A/C, 2nd A/C and 3rd A/C sleepers and/or chairs. The bulk of the cars are the non-A/C sleeper class.

Then they have the 2nd class. The few cars (usually 4, I'm told...2 at the beginning of the train and 2 at the end) are what the people are running for. The reason why they run is because they are trying to be the ones to get onto the cars - not to get a seat but just to get on. At the entrances to the cars there is quite a bit of hysterical shouting and screaming accompanied by violent pushing and shoving. This is because those on-board are desperately trying to shove their way off the train while those on the platform are desperately trying to shove their way on the train. I really wish I had a video to illustrate this utter complete madness.

So how did K and I discover this? Well, since we were interested in getting straight away to Agra from New Delhi and did not wish to arrive after dark, we chanced the purchase of a second class ticket. We had no clue what was in store for us.

Let me share with you the experience.

In shock we braced ourselves to push our way onto the very last car as it appeared to provide the best opportunity for us to just get on. Luckily we were able to make it on. However, almost immediately our packs (still on our backs) were being pushed, shoved, slapped, and beaten by crazed women with children trying to get off and get onto the car. Incredibly loud screeches and screaming in Hindu streamed from their mouths. (I'm sure we were being cursed to all sorts of hells and back!) Despite understanding their predicaments there was nothing that we could do. We were already pushed completely flat against the wall of the car. Various shapes and sizes of luggage were at our feet impeding us from shuffling anywhere not to mention other passengers (one of whom K knocked off balance with her pack when she tried to turn around to move)! Never have I experienced such crazed madness. One man helped us to remove our packs and arrange it slightly out of the way (although not by much). And then, with laughter tinged with a slight edge of hysteria and despair, we were finally on our way.

After a short while, however, K began to feel faint and not well at all. Luckily, at that time we had pulled into a train stop. The man who helped us with removal and storage of our packs, Kamal, got the attention of a train worker in the next car. He was able to get us moved into it. Frantically, with the help of another passenger, Kamal and I moved all our bags into that car while K tried to stay conscious as she made her way there as well.

Although it was at the expense of K getting ill (from which she recuperated mostly), this car that we moved into provided us with much space and much less number of bodies to be smothered with (there was only the flagger and his companion). It is here that we finally finished out our journey to Agra in peace.

Torn

During vehicular rides (taxis, buses, autorickshaws) I often find myself torn between squeezing my eyes completely shut in order to not witness just how close we are to mowing down a pedestrian or a dog or careening into a scooter/motorcycle or another taxi/bus/autorickshaw and keeping them wide open in order to burn into my memory the crazy activities of the streets, the majesty of India's nature and lands, the reality of the Indian life.

A miracle how I have yet to witness an accident.

Mistaken Identities

While here in India, I have been mistaken for being:
* Malaysian
* Canadian
* British (because of my "clear pronunciation of english")
* Japanese (yeah, yeah...)
* Korean
* Tibetan
* from the Northeastern States of India like Nagaland despite being pretty fair

Strangely, there have been a couple of times when, after declaring that I'm from the States, the inquistor was taken by surprise by my answer. Puzzled, they comment that I seem to "look Chinese or Korean or something like that." I don't think they realize just what a melting pot of ethnicities the States are becoming.

There has only been one time that someone has accurately guessed that I'm Chinese.

Favorites of India

Fav advert:
(billboard) "Toneform bras and panties...For the perfect form for all your melodious moods."

Fav bus ride:
Traveling from Kanyakulam to Ernakulam after our stay at the ashram. "Why" you ask? Because during it, K and I experienced the closest near miss in any moving vehicle ever! Yikes!!

Fav nature scene:
As the sun rose, its light hitting upon and lighting up the snow-capped Kangchendzonga and the surrounding mountain peaks. Absolutely breathtaking!!!

Fav city:
Darjeeling - mountains, baby!! Plus it was very cool to visibly see the different ethnicities coexisting in the area.

Fav vegetarian dish:
Aloo gobi from Stuff Makers (Hotel Kamal, Agra)

Fav roti:
Cheese garlic naan (from Hanuman Restaurant in Anjuna Beach)

Fav quote:
"Very bad pu**y?" Oh, those crazy Frenchmen!!!

Fav moment:
Cheering for the Indian Services bodybuilding team during the participating bodybuilders parade through Darjeeling. (We met some of them and their coach on the train ride from Kolkata to New Jalpaiguri on the way to Darjeeling.) You should have seen the locals watching us in puzzlement/amusement!

Fav drink:
Maaza (distributed by Coca-Cola Company)

Fav tourist visit:
The lighting of the Maharaja's Palace in Mysore. Nothing like it I have seen thus far in my life...

Fav train ride:
Traveling from Mysore to Bangalore. It was quite amusing watching a group of monks (two of which were dressed hip-hop style) play cards, drink chai, sprawl/curl up completely passed out in sleep.

Fav autorickshaw ride:
In Chennai, leaving our lodging for the Chennai Central Train Station. There have been some autorickshaws and scooters whose horn sound have cracked us up because they have sounded similar to a duck quack or a screeching cat. This one takes the cake because when the driver went to use his "horn", he simply squeezed a rubber ball attached to a horn. I don't know if the drivers of the other vehicles ever really noticed...

Fav spelling of our names:
Crktella and Keny

To Actually See The Reality

I am sure many of you have seen the commercials from charitable organizations fundraising depicting heartrending visuals of extreme poverty and deplorable living conditions. Well, I actually walked along one of the streets here in Chennai and got a chance to see it up close and in person.

I have mentioned that I was strongly struck by the extreme levels of poverty I witnessed in Mumbai. Although it was shocking it really didn’t hit home as I pretty much flew by it in a autorickshaw. Even seeing some of the horrible conditions in the streets of Mumbai didn’t really percolate through me as I have seen similar situations at similar levels in other countries.

But walking along this one street today really shook me – truly slapped me upside the head as to just how lucky I am to have a living situation that is rather posh in comparison to that which I saw today. In a major city. Along a major road (or so it seems according to the map provided to us by the government for tourists traveling in India). Propping each other up was small shack after another. Each one was put together with whatever materials are available, it seems. No electricity. No running water. Cooking is done with fire in the street in front of the home. The river running behind this string of shacks appears to serve as the dumping grounds for their garbage and sewage.

And these people are the lucky ones. At least they have a shack to go into and live. There were many more that I witnessed on the way to lunch that had no building whatsoever to call home. Their personal belongings are covered by sun-bleached tarps, plastic sheets or cloth while they sleep on the sidewalks. The lucky ones of this group of people have trees to offer shade and protection against rain. Those not so lucky must wander to other locations to stay cool.

Tonight walking here to this inet place, I saw these families come together around the cooking fire to eat dinner, talk and share each other’s day.

It is truly heartbreaking to see this…

Devastating.

Yeah... About that...

Can I just state for the record here that I really, really, really hate shopping? I know…I’m a girl and by default I should have some genetic make-up within me that strongly encourages and even cause me to desire and enjoy shopping. Yeah…about that…NOT SO MUCH!

Right now we are in Chennai (formerly known as Madras), the capital of the state of Tamil Nadu. It’s a pretty large city. We were dreading coming here because of how we feel about Mumbai. Fortunately for us Chennai is nowhere near the scale of madness that Mumbai is.

We are here because of two reasons: 1) to visit Mamallapuram which is another World Heritage site that reportedly has an amazing temple and stone carvings to view, and 2) to go shopping.

So if I hate shopping so much why would I do it? Well, I put the blame squarely on this woman we met on the ferry ride from Ernakulam to Fort Cochin. She is from New York/Los Angeles but has been living in Jaipur (Rajasthan state) for the last year and a half (her boyfriend is Indian). She informed us that northern India is very much different from southern India.

How so? we asked. Her answer: the people are less friendly/more rude, more possessive of what are “theirs”, and more in-your-face towards foreigners. She has found that to negate as much of this as possible it’s better to blend in through dressing as much Indian-style as possible.

Despite trying to be as much as conscientious travelers possible, we still draw attention. Therefore, hearing this pseudo-expat describe her experience we decided to take her suggestion to do even more to try and repel attention and blend in. Also, we really didn't want to draw increase hassles. I ended up purchasing some kurtas and skirts. I also purchase a couple of saris, one of which I had the head saleslady show me how to put together. When I stepped out to display my new outfit everyone in the store was greatly amused. I feared that some of the men sewing in the back was going to fall out of their chairs trying to catch a glimpse/laughing! K, really not at all amused by the tiny blouses that one must wear as part of the sari, opted to go the route of kurtas with skirts and a salwar kameez (a knee-length tunic over pants topped off by a very long scarf). I purchased one also but the sleeves do not fit right after being attached – part of the yesterday’s ordeal that made me lose it in the middle of a confusing and maze-like shopping mall.

Today we ran a trial run with our new outfits trekking out to “Gallopin’ Gooseberry” – An American-Italian eatery. What do you know? They really did cut down on the questions, stares, inquiries of national origin, hassles from touts/taxi drivers/shopkeeps, and stares.

My First Stay In An Ashram

It was really quite interesting to stay in an ashram and see how things operate. We stayed at Matha Amrithanandamayi Mission. The mission is headed up by one of India’s few female gurus, Amrithanandamayi, who is better known as Amma (Mother) – aka “The Hugging Mother.” She is known as such because her the darshan (blessing) that she practices is to hug people.

I found out about this from an Italian traveler with whom I shared the taxi ride from the Mumbai airport to my hotel. Then while perusing the ever-handy, much loved & hated LP guide for India (which is a brick, by the way), we saw that her ashram could be incorporated into a tour of the backwaters of Kerala state – something that has been recommended to us as something to do while in India. Hoping to see Amma and get a hug from her we decided to interrupt our backwaters tour and spend the night at her ashram.

Our lodging was in a high-rise building twelve-stories tall. It was quite strange to be spending the night at an ashram in such a modern piece of architecture (but the views of the river and the ocean and the miles of palm tree jungles were spectacular! We even got to watch a fireworks show taking place miles away!) The ashram is quite large and well developed. We were told that when Amma is in residence that as many as 3000 people are housed on the ashram. (Unfortunately for me Amma was not in residence but was touring northern India. Consequently, the ashram was very quiet.) There are also about 150 Renunciates – Westerners that have renounced the world to become a permanent part of the ashram.

Although Amma and her organization has provided much in the way of humanitarian works and funding, it was a bit disconcerting and, frankly, downright eerie to see how devoted her followers are to Amma. It’s seems as if many worshipped her in place of an intangible, ethereal god/goddess – something that is really bothersome to me. It’s not as if she demands such devotion (although I do not know this for certain); it’s just that her devotees are so enamored of her that they turn so much of themselves over to her.

Anyhow, while here I realized that I actually had heard of her from some brief viewing of a television program on her and that there is an American ashram in San Ramon. Strange…

I would still like very much to meet her and receive a hug. I’ll take any kind of positive blessings available in this world that I can.

Witnessing A "Story-Play"

From Mysore we traveled to Kochi. It’s a city that has several districts. Although our lodging is in Ernakulam, we toured around the more picturesque Fort Cochin. It’s very quiet and mellow. Ernakulam itself has a very upscale, metropolitan feel within its city center but the outlying areas are quieter and almost rural-like. To get to Fort Cochin, a ferry must be used to cross the bay. It’s quite cheap; one-way cost Rs. 3. (The exchange rate is about Rs. 44 to $1.)

In Fort Cochin we attended a theatrical show – a performance of the art form of kathakali. (The literal translation is “story-play.” These are usually dramatised interpretations of Hindu epics.) Before the actual performance the audience was treated to the privilege of watching the performers put their face make-up on. It’s rather elaborate. Each performer puts on much of his make-up on but not all. To complete the face make-up another member adheres with rice paste pieces of paper that emphasizes the character that the performer is acting out.

The performers do not sing or speak. In order to act out the play, they must use grand gestures (mudras) and convey the action and emotions with their face. Some of the performers have very tight control over their facial muscles. They are quite talented and skilled in their facial movements. There are musicians that play. One plays small symbols; one drums with these long, curved sticks; and another also drums but with his hands (his fingertips are covered with what I believe are pieces of wood). The one who plays the symbols also plays a box-like accordion and sings as well.

There are no stage sets so much is also left up to the imagination of the audience. Very surreal.

To Live In The Shadows Of Ancient Temples

Wow.

This was the word that kept slipping out of my mouth and circling my mind when walking around Hampy.

The first reason is because of all the granite hills that makes up the environment here. There are so many slabs and boulders and piles of rocks. Interspersed between these granite hills are valleys of deep, dark, lush green. The foliage is from the rice and banana fields as well as other vegetation they are growing here.

The second reason is because of the incredible array of temples and ruins that exist in the area. The village of Hampy surrounds the tallest of them all, the Virupaksha Temple. It's in the traditional Jain-style. It is still very much intact and used. There are some temples that have been excavated and restored. They are in astonishly good condition. They range in date from the mid-1300s to early 1600s. I really wish that I had the ability to upload pictures onto this blog now so that I may share with you how they look!

There is still pockets of archaeological digging going on. All is done by manual labor. The dirt is moved one basketful by one basketful on the tops of the heads of Indian women while many of the men are digging or moving freshly excavated ornate slabs into place.

While this all goes on, there are playfully energetic monkeys that chase each other around. Some, not so energetic, sit contemplatively, watching the activity around them in stoic quiet.

Astounding.

Bus Ride Straight From Hell

Just a quick comment on our bus journey from Anjuna Beach to Hampi (pronounced "humpy") via Mapusa -

IT WAS PURE HELL!!!!

I'm not sure if something shady was being pulled on the riders or if what we were told were the truth...

Here's the story:

K and I (along with other passengers) were supposed to catch a sleeper bus labelled "Island" from Mapusa at 6:30 p.m. to take us to Hampi (with an estimated arrival time of 6:00 a.m.). We waited and waited around until a "pick-up" bus (small, barebones-style, somewhat uncomfortable local one) came to take us to the actual bus which was claimed to have broken down. I was told that we were going to catch the sleeper in Panjim, about half an hour away. K heard the bus workers tell a woman a different location to which she exclaimed in protest that it was two hours away. Not really knowing what was going on, truth-wise, we all piled in and drove to Panjim. There, instead of transfering to the sleeper bus, we simply picked up a couple more passengers and then proceeded to drive to a city called Caracona which is located not too far from the border between the states of Goa and Karnataka. At this stop, we were supposed to pick up a large group of people, some who did not have seats. A few people ended up snagging a ride on another large bus also going to Hampi (I'm not sure how they managed that). A family with two small children decided to just wait and catch the bus the following day. The rest of us crammed ourselves in with most of the luggage and headed off. By this time it was roughly 11:30 p.m. I was truly not happy and got a bit loud with the bus staff along with some of the riders that were with us from the start.

Anyhow, we finally started for the border (yes! the border) where the sleeper bus was now supposed to pick us up. Luckily the border was just under an hour away. However, we ended up waiting for yet another hour before we could board the sleeper. It was then about 1:30 a.m.

The sleeper wasn't too bad, fairly comfortable but not comfortable enough to handle the potholes in the road. I think I was pretty much the only one who yelped the first time we went over one at good speed. My prone body felt completely airborne. Consequently, the landing was a bit rough. By the time we reached Hampi, most of the bus was also yelping whenever we went over bumps and potholes. It truly is not fun to be horizontal when that happens.

Living It Up Hippie-Raver Style

GO-UH!!!

Okay...actually it's Goa. Although Panjim is in the state of Goa, you don't really get the sense of what Goa's supposedly reputed for from either Panjim or Mapusa (pronounced "map-sa" - another small transport hub town inland from the beaches). However, if you wander off into some of the beaches you do get a taste. For those of you unfamiliar, like myself, as to what Goa is "known" for: Goa is reputed to be the party central in India. I think that it was once on par with some of the party spots of the world like Ibiza (although not nearly as glamorous) and Prague (Czech Republic). As I understand it, there used to be many dance parties/raves on the beach up and down the Goan coast. Trance and chillout music has deeply taken hold here (YES!!! Can you just picture my delight right about now?!?! YAY!!! :-D ) However, it seems that the government has taken a strong position in trying to do away with that element of Goa and all the social problems and stigma that goes with it. Consequently, upon K and my arrival and subsequent stay, it was rather quiet. Not that that wasn't welcomed by the two of us. In fact, given the resort-like feel to the place, we relished in it! (We ended up spending much time in Anjuna Beach.)

Trance and chillout blaring out of autorickshaws (aka "tuk-tuks"), restaurants and bars notwithstanding, there is still a deeply embedded hippie feel to many of the expat residents. There is a fairly high number of them - from all over the world with many more coming to visit and hang out. Although trance and chillout music is tremendously enjoyed by the locals (so much so there is a style of trance called Goan trance here), they do not really follow the hippie trend.

Anyhow here in Anjuna Beach, we've enjoyed:
* 2 incredibly amazing sunsets,
* chilling out Goan style,
* the best cheese garlic naan either one of us has ever tasted,
* meeting some really fun Goans and foreign travelers,
* a nice evening in a Mediterranean/Island style restaurant lounging on floor pillows,
* relaxing on the beach under a beautifully starlit sky,
* an enormous flea markets with hippies, various Indian ethnic groups and some Nepalese vendors selling a huge variety of things,
* as well as strolling down the small streets and dirt roads alongside cows.
There is a drink that is made by the Coca-Cola Company here called "Maaza" that has got to be the best drink has down we have either tasted. It's like a mango/cream/mix fruit drink. No carbonation, non-alcoholic. Anyhow, K and I (me more so than her) have enjoyed many while enjoying the cool sea breeze blowing in from the Arabian Sea many an afternoon and evening.

The one thing that broke through our idyllic time here in Anjuna Beach is experiencing first hand police corruption and extortion. Nothing happened to K and I; the experience happened to two persons that we met and was something that we were slightly a part of but mostly witnessed. It was at first a bit intimidating but after a while it was just plain infuriating and greatly annoying. The worst part of it how impotent and helpless it makes you feel. For there really is nothing that you can do; any argument or resistance will simply make things/the situation worse. It's also upsetting because these of the people we are supposed to turn to if anything out of the ordinary or unsafe were to happen. How do you trust that you'll receive help and not ambivalance, not to mention further harassment? Arrgghh!

Barring that blip and two nights stay in a really decrepit hotel (don't ever stay at Sai Prasad; our current recommendation is Mary's Holiday Guest House), our time in Anjuna Beach (February 27 - March 1) was pretty darn cool.

Carnival in Panjim

Panjim, aka Panjini City, is located in Goa state. It was an overnight trip. Luckily it was on an air-conditioned bus. The only problem to that was that they froze us out! I found out that the type of bus that we took is called a semi-sleeper. At first I was very pleasantly surprised at how plush the seats were...so much more comfortable than anything I had had in Morocco. Little did I know that semi-sleepers are really hard on the bum! During the night I had to switch from cheek to cheek to tailbone on a rotational basis in order to alleviate the pain. Not fun!

The carnival in Panjim, which took place on February 26 (Saturday), pretty much consisted of a parade. If any of you have attended a carnival elsewhere in the world like Brazil or New Orleans, it's not anything like that. It was very mellow and family-oriented. The floats ranged from very rough, hand-made affairs to fancier, more polished ones. There were a handful of commercially-sponsored floats. Most, however, of floats by charities and groups promoting conscious awareness: HIV prevention, decreasing/eliminating slash and burn of Goa's hills, prevention of child sexual molestation, vaccination of chickens and prevention of Avian flu, etc. It was very cool.

After the parade, the "party" broke up with families and friends going off to dinner or catching some snacks before heading home. Very mellow.