This is mostly just an account of the past few days of travel. It's huge and messy, but contains many thoughts and activities.
Bangalore, India. We took an early morning train. We got there, shopped, went to see Srini's family, and then his in-laws, had close to 6 cups of Indian coffee. Spent the day doing a collection of not much. We went out to dinner at a place called Ninteen Twelve. It's a restaurant/bar/dance club. There was no cover, the bar was classy, (the food was decent; I'm in India, we can't expect much of "American" food) and the music was great. All American 80s. The staircase, which was grand and curving, had Salvador Dali clocks draped over its steps. The entrance featured Andy Warholesque portraits of celebrities like Albert Einstein, Barbara Streisand, Marilyn Monroe, and Audrey Hepburn. Did I mention that their DJ played the best of the 80s? We finally retired to a house of a friend of Srini's. The weather was much cooler than Chennai and left me feeling chilly most of the time. Only when the sun was on me at noon was I hot. Thus, at night, when I took my bucket shower, it was the coldest shower I've taken. I had to force myself to breathe and I was almost doing some version of Lamaze. It was about as painful as waxing my legs, but not just my legs.
Our next day was a day of tourism. We got up early for a bus tour to Mysore. We were on a strict schedule of 20 minutes per stop. 20 minutes for the road side shop (overpriced), 20 minutes for breakfast, 20 minutes for the palace, 20 minutes for the two temples. We deviated from our 20 minute routine for a larger palace, for which we were given an hour, and for a fountain garden, for which we were given 2 hours. 20 mins for the Catholic Church. I forgot, 20 mins for lunch, 20 minutes for dinner. This means that our driver was ridiculous. He was all over the road, swerving, veering and generally making us all a little queasy. At one point, he slammed on the breaks and started steering the bus to the side. I look out the window, wondering what child or cow was have almost hit. I instead see a lane divider. Out of it came a sign reading: drive slowly, take caution. Yeah. The trip sucked, basically. The palace was beautiful and the gardens were nice, but the rest of it... I could have done without. Especially because we were on a tourist circuit, if you will, which means that beggars single out these places and wait for us. When I say us, I really mean white foreigners. They leave Indians alone but swarm to us. What is even creepier is the way that there are begging cultures at each stop. One place, Gina and I were called Aunty, something that was unique to that temple. At another, the children had been trained to know the capitals of the countries of their white tourists. If we weren't impressed that they knew that Washington DC was the capital of the US, they would offer that we could quiz them about European capitals. Only in that spot. This was all very unusual. Oh, and the bathrooms. Let's not forget that outside of a door and 3 walls, that a hole in the ground is all there is to these bathrooms. No sinks, no toilet paper, no soap. Oh, no, I'm sorry. That makes them sound like sterile holes. These are spider sanctuaries: quality and quantity unimaginable! Only for a small fee one can see the spiders of India; it's like a complete tour of the country in one stall! I'm serious about the small fee. That night, we stayed in a friend of a friend of a friend's apartment. Great. We got in late to found out that they were throwing a party. Great. So, we throw down our stuff in the one room that we're given. One bed. Great. The host insists that we all have drinks; Kevin takes one and Gina and I are able to avoid it. The host then insists that we sit and have food and that Gina sing and we stayed up with them drunk for 2 hours. I don't know why I was so tolerant of that, probably exhaustion, but I'm frustrated still. The whole time these adults were keeping us up, they kept priding themselves in their Indian hospitality. AH!
So, day three. We do the usual, food, etc. Our friend, tour guide, travel companion borrows his friend's car and crashes it into a telephone pole. There are stick drivers that shake me around a bit but he was one of the stick drivers that are so stingy with the clutch that I build tension and get anxious about how they are always about to stall. We spent day 3 at a state wildlife park. It was different from parks in the US in two ways: 1. We are allowed to touch the animals fairly often. Especially with elephants, who will lean over their pens and play with us with their trunks. We can feed them, touch them. Tickle their ears. I love the elephants. 2. People can abuse animals and no one says anything. This means banging on their cages, feeding them sugary sweets, throwing things, etc. After that, we went on a "safari." We really went on a wooden-rollercoaster ride through the animals's massive cages in a smaller cage that was designed to look like a bus. We also rode an elephant. I'm not sure that I would mention it if it weren't for the fact that Gina and Kevin's ride was a little bit challenging. The carrier seat that is strapped on the elephant's back started to slide off sideways. So, the young, tiny mahout scrambled over the side of the elephant, pulling the rail of the seat, pushing with his feet. That, of course, didn't work. Three or four other, larger mahouts ran over, and helped to establish some sort of a balance. The issue was resolved when Gina, Kevin, and co. transfered to another elephant. It reminded me of a time when I went horseback riding and my horse got hungry going downhill. Of course, the saddle was loose and it went sliding down its neck, head, and the hill, my young self in tow. The elephants also remind me of Shakespeare's Sonnet 130.
As we were leaving the park, I realized one more thing about beggars and tourists. When children beg in tourist traps, they are often just playing. It's just what they do for fun. The children (another swarm) that followed the white kids to the car were doing just this. They hit us (Gina and I were hit repeatedly in the butt) and laughed and joked with eachother. I was ready to scream. Enough of that.
We went shopping that night and although there is not much worth commenting on there, I did hear something from Gina that I cannot get over: Vanity over Sanity.
That night, we make our way to the train station. We're late, Aruvan wants to come in with us, we are lost, we wait for him to park, by the time he gets in, Kevin, Gina, and I are in a run toward the platforms because our train is due to leave in less than a minute and it is the 5th platform from us. We run up the steps, luggage bouncing the whole way. I'm carrying two empty water bottles because India doesn't believe in trash cans and I don't believe in littering. Plus, I have my purse hanging from my elbow. Gina and Kevin and fighting with their rolling suitcases, purses, and cameras up the stairs. I look up after 10 of the 15 stairs that we're climbing, and I lose my balance. I crash, hard, on my hands. No, I crashed hard on two one-liter plastic water bottles. They crunch, and EVE-RY-ONE in the station freezes to look at me. I had just created the loudest, angriest sound that they've heard all day. I also yelped to go with the crunch because I banged up my hands and skinned my knee. Kevin and Gina, 10 seconds until departure, panic and are afraid that I need to get to a hospital after hearing that. I brush off (2 seconds) and we keep running, over the trains, down 15 more steps, dash down the hall and through the corridor. I'm wheezing, feel awful, have my bag cutting into my shoulder, and as I turn onto our platform, 5, I see the last 6 cars rolling past. I start to run after them, ready to jump, but stop once I realize that I don't have the tickets and I would be the only one who could make it. Heads down, cussing, we head back to the ticket counter. We cancel our tickets, get only a 50% refund and book tickets for the train that leaves at midnight. Two hours. The only problem is that we're only guaranteed two seats. The third person needs to go to the general seating and wait to see if anything opens up. Gina, feeling unnecessarily guilty, insisted that she go, sweet girl that she is. She left the two tickets to Kevin and I and took off towards the back of the train, where general seating is. We sit there, realizing slowly that we have no way to contact her. In a show of defeat, we go to sleep, unsettled and uneasy. The next morning, we of course find Gina without a problem. She found a bunk and slept soundly.
Today, after getting back from our train adventure, we get ready for a party to "celebrate the fourth." Well, there wasn't much of that, and there was mostly a lot of Indian food. We were in a lovely beach house, which left me feeling ridiculously spoiled. I'm kind of pensive today, for whatever reason, and am going to limit my description of the day to this. There isn't much else left to say. I hope that you all enjoy the fourth and that you think of me if you 1. eat barbeque chicken (I really want some right now) and 2. if you go to see fireworks (I really want some right now). SO, enjoy your holiday and this has been my nugget of thought for today:
"Say: The liberty that profiteth you is to be found nowhere except in complete servitude unto God, the Eternal Truth. Whoso hath tasted of its sweetness will refuse to barter it for all the dominion of the earth and heaven." -Baha'u'llah. The Kitab-i-Aqdas, par. 125
This is kind of a follow up thought to the one that Mendon presented to me earlier about the war in Iraq. It left me asking questions like "what is justice?" and "what is liberty?" and "how do we recognize them?"
