Some Photos for Your Viewing Pleasure

 I've been terrible about writing.  I know.  So with less than a week left in India, I decided to put up some pics from my travelling time for you to enjoy.  You're welcome.  So very welcome.

Just hanging out with some monkeys in Jaipur...

This is what my train compartments generally looked like...

And here's the other half!

Taj Mahal

Varanasi

Last Day of Sola Travel

5/16/12

Oh, another terribly long day on a train.  I haven’t even taken out my sunglasses today, and it is now 7pm.  I got on this train 24 hours ago.  And I started in a sleeper train, perched high above a curious family, sneezing my way up to the 3AC Class.  I am so so so glad I did.  I took a Benadryl Allergy and slept until 9 this morning, cozily snuggling my small backpack.  I am sharing my berth with a nice Japanese guy who was so badly ripped off repeatedly at the beginning of his trip that he now has 500 Rupees ($10) per day left.  I finished another book, and have no idea how I have been killing the past four hours.  I keep going into the bathroom/door area, where I can watch the world go by as the wind whips at my face.  Why are the doors open back there?  I have no clue. 

I’ll be in Kolkata today, where the rest of my class should be waiting, assuming the Air India strikes that began a few days after my arrival in India have not prevented it.  I keep buying chai on the train, as it is delicious, warm, and filing even in 2 ounce servings.  The train also makes for interesting bathroom excursions, as it is a hole that opens right onto the tracks, flogged by textured foot size grips to keep your balance, along with a low bar to help you from falling if the train turns or stops suddenly. 

I (apparently) used to be an Asian male AKA Varanasi & Traveling Woes

5/15/12

I went to the train station in Agra just to find out that my train was running about 45 minutes late.  I went outside to wait, having no desire to wait on the platform that reeked of urine.  Many eyes followed me out, and I spotted three people speaking English.  I sat with them, happy to share the attention.  The two women were from Spain, so we spoke a little Spanish, and the guy was an American man from Florida.  As it turned out, he was on my train.  After chatting with the Spanish women, we went to our platform just to find that the train had ended up coming early, without warning we somehow missed it.  After speaking to a number of station employees, we figured out that there was another train leaving from another Agra station, so we shared a tuc tuc there.  The station master said the train left from platform number 5.  Fabian (the American guy) and I got on the train.  We were an hour into the ride when the same station master came aboard and said we got on the train at platform number 4—not 5.  We were heading to Mumbai.  We paid him and got off at the next station.  There we got back on another train heading towards Agra, but were only able to book General Class tickets.  I struggle to find the words to explain this next train trip.  Crowded does not begin to explain how many people were crammed into our car.  There were literally hundreds of people stacked on top of one another, sleeping with seemingly disconnected joints, leaning on strangers.  I saw a small hole, where I managed to fit my backpack vertically, giving myself a seat.  Two people were leaning on my legs, another on my back, and the woman at my elbow kept smiling at me as she continuously dozed off, her head resting on my shoulder or elbow.  Fabian was not so lucky and did not get a seat—instead he spent the next hour and a half standing with his heavy backpack, pressed between other men who had been unlucky enough not to have a seat.  Maybe it was the late hour, or the fact that we had somehow made zero headway in our attempt to get to Varanasi, but I laughed to the point of tears several times during this trip.  How was this suddenly my life?

Back in Agra, we had a few hours to wait.  Neither Fabian nor I wanted to risk missing yet another train, so we sat by the platform, brushing out teeth and spitting it into the track or a trashcan.  We downed several cups of chai as the sun came up.  The next train met us with more bad luck—still no availability for anything but general class tickets, but we snuck onto the slightly nicer car, still without AC and without bunks.  I spent most of the six hour ride with a child on my lap (though not the same child the whole time), alternately resting my head on Fabian’s shoulder, or the shoulder of the man to my right who provided a slightly elevated cranial platform.  I also went through an entire toilet paper roll blowing my nose—I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to India.  After a train swap in Lucknow, we managed to get onto a 3AC car, though they only had one bunk left, which Fabian and I had to share.  Even sharing that cramped space, I’ve never had such a great couple of hours of sleep in my life.  We arrived in Varanasi at around 8pm, having travelled for 22 hours when the whole trip should have taken twelve.  Upon our arrival, we searched and searched for some allergy medicine for me, but to no avail, and after getting into a tuc tuc, a street child hit me twice when I refused to give her any money.  Our tuc tuc broke down on the way to the hotel, and we ended up having to walk for twenty minutes up a bunch of stairs with our heavy bags.  I slept like a baby that night. 

Varanasi was…I don’t know.  Maybe my least favorite place?  The hotel I was in was beautiful, and had a great wrap-around porch that was caged in to keep out the monkeys.  It looked out on the Ganges, and gave a phenomenal view of all of the many daily activities that revolve around that filthy, holy river.  The problem was that there were just people trying to aggressively and unabashedly rip you off literally everywhere you turned.  It was disconcerting for such a holy place.  I took a lovely boat ride down the river with Fabian though, with a wiry old man rowing us past people bathing, swimming, burning bodies, and washing clothes.  I had imagined the cremation place to be bigger, but it was truly an incredible sight to see.  There were stacks and stacks of wood for the pyres—some costing more than others.  It is considered to be excellent luck to die in Varanasi, as Hindus believe that dying there means being liberated from the reincarnation process. 

I was asked during lunch if I wanted my charts read, and how much I knew about my chakra.  Very little, I admitted, and agreed to let the student read my charts for free.  (How can you turn down a free reading?)  I was told several things—but most importantly that my lower back probably hurts because of my blocked second to last chakra, that I’m emotionally closed off thanks to the blockage of my fourth (of seven) chakra, and that I was an Asian boy in my previous life.  So, there’s that. 

Agra

5/12/12

I arrived late in Agra after the excruciatingly long trip during which I basically wallowed in self-pity.  I had a nice long sleep, then woke up to find the shower head broken and only a single bucket—without the smaller basin necessary to bucket bathe.  I crouched under the faucet and bathed as best I could, not wanting to go through the hassle of asking the front desk and eager to begin exploring Agra.  Sure, I missed seeing the Taj Mahal at sunrise, but sleep was my top priority.  I walked for 45 minutes along the road to Agra Fort, ignoring the constant stream of tuc tuc drivers asking if I needed a ride, happy to stretch my legs a bit.  Once in Agra Fort, I bought a $2 audio tour so I could wander through alone with big headphones.  The huge red sandstone fort was beautiful, ornate, and provided a great view of the Taj Mahal.  There is a ton of photo documentation, don’t worry dad. 

I then went outside to get a tuc tuc to Mehtab Bagh—a park directly across the river from the Taj Mahal.  I figured I could find cheaper tuc tucs away from Agra Fort, so I began to walk.  Two men on a horse-pulled cart pulled up next to me, asking (or motioning) where I wanted to go.  They said to hop on, that they’d give me a ride for free.  I sat cross-legged between them, reigns in hand, while traffic whirled by.  We got a lot of calls and comments, but I can only guess what they were saying…I jumped off after a while, got into a tuc tuc and went to Mehtab Bagh, where I walked barefoot through the pristine park and read under a tree just 100 yards from the Taj Mahal. 

After a disappointing lunch and my craziest tuc tuc ride to date, I decided to treat myself to while waiting for the heat to die down.  (You have to be barefoot or in disposable shoe covers at the Taj Mahal, so I figured waiting until the evening would be less painful for the soles of my feet.)  I went to the nicest hotel in Agra, and was floored by the swimming pool, decorative pools, absurd bush sculptures (think Edward Scissorhands), and sculpture variety.  I had two delightful mojitos before meandering back to the Taj Mahal. 

Maybe it was those two mojitos, or perhaps the joy of not traveling for a day, or the glory of the Taj Mahal, but I found myself happily taking pictures with families and taking photos of strangers.  The Taj Mahal was beautiful and worthwhile—I had thought it would be one of those travel obligations that would be fine but rather cramped.  It—not surprisingly—far exceeded my expectations.  I don’t know what to write about it.  It was incredible and I left knowing I had seen something great.  An old British man I chatted with asked me if anyone had ever made anything half as beautiful for me.  No, I told him, but some day someone will. 

5/11/12 Eff You, May 11th.

5/11/12

Eff you, May 11th.  Seriously.  I left Jaiselmer on 5/10 at 5:30pm.  I arrived in Jaipur this morning at 5am.  I missed my stop (there is no warning/call/anything) but got off at the next station also in Jaipur.  I was bombarded.  No, I don't want to haggle at 5 in the morning.  No, I don't want all of the men in this boys' club called India to stare at me as I haul my big ass bag, back pain and all, through the crowd of eager, pushy tuc-tuc drivers. 

I got in a tuc-tuc, went to a coffee shop.  It was closed.  I had breakfast at a hotel instead.  Then back to the main station to drop off my bag in the "Cloak Room" (Lady in White, anyone?), got in the line of foreigners to buy a ticket from Agera to Varanasi.  Long wait, lots of people cutting in line every second.  I've slept on trains the past two nights.  Eff you all.

I took a load off in the visitor section of the train station, charged my phone, escaped the throngs of people.  I told the guy there I'm just killing time until I go get a bus to Agra in a couple of hours.  Suddenly, a cop showed up, saying a train is leaving for Agra in 30 minutes.  I'd be there by 3pm.  Awesome.  He dragged me to the front of a line, where I bought a general, no AC ticket, and sweated it out for four hours, only to realize literally after all that time that the train has gone to Delhi--not Agra.  Seriously?  Fast forward to a HUGE EFFING HASSLE at the train station where no one spoke any English.  I bribed some dude really way too much to get me a ticket to Agra on another train from another station--this alone was a 2 hour process. 

So, yay.  I'm on a train to Agra, finally.  Four hours.  OK, not bad.  Expensive bribe, but I get to see the Taj Mahal at sunrise and get to sleep an entire night! in an actual bed.  (Another night train tomorrow.)  Oh, but what's that?  We're experiencing technical difficulties?  We're running 2 hours behind?  Ten loud old men wanted to just hang out in my little cabin?  There's a mouse scurrying about maybe finding its way into my backpack?  People are loudly snoring all around me? 

So just eff this day.  It has been an enormous waste of my time, energy, money, and sanity.  And I haven't eaten since breakfast and ran out of water.  UGH.

5/10/12 Homework & Strange Strangers

5/10/12
I should have done my homework.  I should have, but I didn't.  I stayed in Pushkar an extra day because the bus connecting to the train to Jaiselmer left in the middle of the afternoon and I thought (correctly) that Pushkar deserved an extra day of my life.  So this meant arriving in Jaiselmer a day later than expected, though I already had a train ticket to Jaipur from there--a 12 hour ride.  I arrived in Jaiselmer in the morning, at around 5am.  I was picked up by my hotel by a Tuc-Tuc driver with a sign with my name on it (oh, thank you again, India!), and was brought to the hotel.  After sleeping for a few hours in a real bed, I went to formally check in.  The hotel owner then told me there was no next day train back to Jaipur (and so on to Agra).  He said I could either stay another four days or leave that evening as scheduled.  I didn't have another four days.  One I could do if I squeezed out another stop.  We agreed finally that though it would make for an absurdly short stay in Jaiselmer, my best option was to leave on the 5pm train.  It turns out 12 hours somewhere, particularly if a four hour nap has already been had does not give much time to do very much.  Who knew?

So I set out for the fort, admitting to myself that a camel trek was our of the question.  I had lunch at a disappointing little place run by a woman who kept yelling at her sad-eyed son but putting on a big smile for me.  I went by the beautiful Jain temples, which were closed, but admired the amazing detail and intricate design from the outside.  A man at a nearby shop stopped to explain more about the temples, how they came to be in the fort, and about the Jain tradition of massage.  Basically, I got a free massage out of the deal, but then stopped the man when he asked me if he could massage my front and legs.  Ummm, no.  I promptly left to continue my walk, then stopped for a cold soda.  TRhe waiter proceeded to tell me that he is Muslim and has his first wife through an arranged marriage already.  He is open to another wife, but only if it is through a love marriage, he told me, giving me a smile.  Umm, check please.  I paid, and left, wishing him the best of luck with his love marriage.  An older gentleman invited me in for chai in his friend's shop--a barbershop, I soon found out.  The tea was hot, but refreshing in the air conditioned barbershop.  The old man followed me out when I left after the tea and some polite conversation.  "You play now, but one day come back for Om (his friend barber).  He is what you need.  I know it."  I smiled, shook his hand again and left, heading back to my hotel to shower before my second night train in a row. 

What a weird, short trip to the desert.  I bent down to pick something up in my room and my back spasmed.  That god damned massage killed me--how terribly ironic.  I went down to the main office slowly, stiffly.  I told the owner what had happened to my back.  He gave me some sort of cream, then asked if I wanted his help to apply it.  I agreed--this guy had been completely nice and non-creepy this entire time.  I popped some ibuprofen after my short massage, then got on the night train, to sleep another night on the hard berth. 

The family in my compartment consisted of a 6 year old girl, a 9 year old boy, and two parents in their early 30s.  Each time I climbed down from my upper bunk the girl touched my head, smiling.  The parents and girl took turns giving the boy math problems in English.  177 plus 94?  The family was very sweet and when I got off at a stop to buy water and cookies (a wholesome dinner), I shared my cookies with the kids.  I was deep into a This American Life podcast an hour later when I felt a tug at my sleeve.  "Would you like some curry?" the boy asked, grinning.  It was delicious.

5/9/12 The Kindness of Strangers

I moved from that closed restaurant to an open one for a late lunch.  I had delicious vegetarian curry and a mango lassi for lunch.  I sat reading "A Fine Balance"--a fantastic novel I actually read in Peace Corps but decided to re-read in India, as it is based here in the 1970s.  It tells the story of intersecting lives, and sucked me in completely--even the second time.  The waiter told me the restaurant was closing until dinner but invited me to a beautiful courtyard/garden area in the back where I sat and read until the rain started.  I moved into a small covered room with a tin roof under a tree with four peacocks perched loudly.  There I read as the thunderstorm rolled in, and while the storm raged around me.  It let up briefly and I thought the storm would clearn.  No such luck--another surge whipped leaves and branches into my little haven.  Finally I went through the courtyard and back into the restaurant, which had lost electricity thanks to the storm.  It was getting dark and I was eager to cross town for my hotel.  I was 20 Rupees short for my bill at the restaurant and offered to go to the ATM and come back.  They insisted tomorrow would be fine.  I walked through town, the bottom of my long white skirt in hand.  A man with a motorcycle offered to give me a ride.  I told him I had no money, but he just smiled, and said, "No money, madam."  I got on side-saddle, gripping his waist.  We only made it a few blocks before he told me the water was too deep to continue on the motorcycle.  I thanked him and dismounted, determined to walk through the water that was already halfway to my knee. 

I didn't make it far.  The street was disgusting, with the trash and animal feces floating to the top of the flooded street.  As I trudged through, all I could think of was another time I felt determined to cross (what I imagined to be) difficult terrain.  When I was about 10 years old, our horse cut his face all along his snout (?).  I was sent to my great aunt's house for help, as there was no electricity.  I trudged through what I'm sure looking back was just a few inches of snow with a flashlight, feeling that I must get to my aunt's house for help. 

In this present day scenario, however, I ended up sitting with two young men in the doorway of a music shop until the one said he had to close.  The other offered me a ride on his motorcycle, insisting I wait on the small ledge for him to come around.  He roared through the water and into the elevated unflooded street.  I had given up side saddle, and just tucked  skirt as well as I could between us.  He took me all the way to the door of my hotel and I shook his hand, thanking him repeatedly for his kindness.  He just smiled.  The hotel was dark when I returned and I finished my book by candlelight in my room, tears streaming down my face from thinking of the tragedy that met the book's characters.  The electricity came back on, and I switched on the TV, deciding to watch Con-Air until I fell asleep.

5/8/12 Pushkar

5/8/12

Today I'm in Pushkar for the day.  I arrived yesterday evening, got off of the bus, and wandered through town with my large backpack in tow, asking "Sun-N-Moon?" about every two blocks to find my hotel.  The hotel is beautiful and quiet with the ten or so rooms opening out onto a courtyard.  The electricity went out just after I arrived, and I chatted with the Indian family who runs the hotel and some British kids on their gap year before calling it an early night. 

Today I went to inquire about a train ticket to Jaiselmer, but was told I could not go until tomorrow, which is fine.  Pushkar is so much calmer than Jaipur or super ridiculously busy Delhi, and a welcome break.  Right now I'm sitting on the other side of town from my hotel, listening to the noises that float in with the cool breeze from the other side of the holy lake, which was said to have been created when Brahma dropped a lotus flower.  The lake is surrounded by cement steps that feed into it or the bathing ghats where pilgrims bathe.  There are hundreds of temples in Pushkar, as it is a major Hindu pilgrimage town, though many are quite new.  The only other person in this abandoned restaurant is a man snoring lightly during his nap.  I'm debating where to have lunch, but regardless of where I go, it will be vegetarian and contain no eggs, as is the rule in Pushkar.  I was told yesterday that if I want a beer, I must tell the woman who runs the hotel in the morning, and can get it in the evening for double the price of the same Indian beer in other towns.  So thank you, Pushkar, for continuing my unintentional cleanse...

Slight Showers and Being a Tourist 5/7/12

I've just boarded a bus to Pushkar and the rain has begun.  I missed it by two minutes, though the clouds have hung low since yesterday evening.  The parched land I saw yesterday surrounding Jaipur desperately needs it.  I took a Tuc-Tuc (motorcycle rickshaw) all over Jaipur yesterday, took a bunch of photos (don't worry, Dad), and some video  I began at the City Palace--a huge complex of buildings and gardens in Old City (or Pink City, as all the building were once painted pink to welcome Prince Albert).  The architecture is a mix of Mughal and Rajasthani, built up over the centuries.  Inside I took an audio tour, wandering through the intricate buildings to see old wedding gowns, polo outfits, and a wide array of weaponry.  Strangely ,the weapons impressed me the most.  Daggers, swords, armor, shields, and guns were displayed with an absurd amount of ivory, gold and jeweled handles within what was previously an old ladies' dance hall.  In contrast with the violence of the weapons, the ceilings were intricately painted with gold details supporting large chandeliers.  Jantar Mantar was just across the street, and consisted of a large courtyard filled with large sculptures used to measure the time within two seconds, and the positions of the stars.  It felt like a huge adult playground, though the guards and chains preventing climbing and exploring foiled my playtime plan...

Later, leaving the city, Waseem (my Tuc-Tuc driver) took me to the Amber Fort, which was where Jaipur was located until the city's population outgrew its water source.  Amber Fort was built in the late 1500s, and was a maze of passageways and halls, each unlabeled.  As I didn't take an audio tour nor accepted a guide--as I kind of prefer to wander blindly--I know relatively little about Amber Fort.  I basically got lost a bunch there, taking photos.  As I wandered through the labyrinth, I saw only four other foreigners.  One was a German who was absolutely Tomas Conkwright's doppelganger.  As we chatted, a family approached to ask if we would tak ea photo with their children.  We obliged.  Tomas 2 said to me, "People don't realize that Amber Fort isn't the real attraction--we are."  I feel this way at nearly every place I go.  Look!!  A tall white girl!  In the wild!

Moving along, I walked back down to meet Waseem, who was kind, comfortable, and just chatty enough.  We saw some elephants with their faces and trunks painted.  The elephant master (trainer?) grabbged my arm to pull me around to his side for a photo op (so don't worry--there's plenty of photo documentation...).  We moved along past the water palace, now closed, and on towards the monkey temple.  My 16-year-old guide (Ram) seemed more concerned with my single, childlless status than anyone else to date, which is saying a lot.  I bought peanuts for the monkeys and gave them and my camera to Ram..."For protection," he said.  "I will protect you from the monkeys," he assured me.  As we raced up the hill, past a slew of untimid monkeys, Ram and I chatted .  Ram handed me a few peanuts out at a time to be sure I wouldn't be swarmed.  I found the temple itself not very exciting, though it offered a beautiful view of Jaipur and the dark clouds rolling in.  On the race back down the rocky path, I fed more monkeys as Ram acted as photographer.  I was made so much more uncomfortable by the little monkeys than I had expected.  Their little hands seemed creepy and I found myself flinching at the thought of monkey teeth sinking into flesh.  I cannot stop thinking about that monkey that was treated as though it was part of the family (given booze and antidepressants like a good American) until the day it just snapped and ripped off the human mother's face.  I'm happy to say I came out unscathed--face and all! 

On a train 5/5/12

I'm on a train.  Have I mentioend how much I adore trains?  They're basically magical machines that give you a quick glimpse at the world as you go fliying past.  And as if just being on any ol' train isn't enough, I'm on one in India, in an airconditioned car nowehre near as chuci as the one in Darjeeling Limited, but with four Indian men and one woman who don't seem to speak much English.  One of the men is actually about 22 years old and his ring tones are absurd ballads from the US.  I have cracked up each time his phone has rung.  The lack of English is totally fine--I'll happily take a break from people asking me my name, age, sibling count, and if its ok to take my photo. 

I got to the station early on what may have been the bumpiest ride of my life in the back of a motorcycle rickshaw (aka Tuc-tuc).  As I sat in the shade at the station with my huge travel backpack behind me, my feet draped over (and through the strap of) a smaller pack, I read, trying to ignore the masses of people staring at me as I did so.  I was doing a pretty good job ignoring them until one kid who was maybe about 20 years old or so approached me, stapled pack of papers in hand.  Yes, I said, that is an English test.  Yes, he smiled, shoving the papers on top of my book.  The joys of no one understanding what I'm saying means I can say whatever I want.  I gave him a lecture about how he won't learn it if I do it and handed the stack of papers back to him.  We went back and forth like this until I as able to convey to him that if he filled out the test, I'd check it for him.  OK, OK, he smiled.  My reading went on basically uninterrupted for another 15 minutes.  The kid came back, beaming, and gave me the stack again.  I began looking it over, reading the questions out loud as I went.  Thirty seconds passed. I looked up, literally 15 teenage boy/young men surrounded me, with one girl at my side.  A few minutes later, the group had grown to 25.  All I could think was, I wish my English classes in Paraguay had been met with this kind of enthusiasm...

Shopping Hell

So, I've written parts of a number of blogs, so I'll just include bits of them here. 

5/4/12
I just went to my idea of shopping Hell.  But it was kind of pleasant...and superbly stressful.  I am on this tour because why the hell not?  The Couchsurfer I'm staying with recommended I use this tour guide (Mehar) who is super pleasant, sweet and great.  He actually picked me up from the airport with a sign with my name on it, though he and his 15 year old sister were super late doing so.  Then, since his sister is straight from the countryside, she was quite confused by moving sidewalks, and I had to hold her hand as we walked onto of off of them.  I've gotten to know Mehar's brother and sister over the past few days--and am in fact shiring a sleeping mat with his sister who almost took one of my malaria pills this morning.  (The sleeping mat is basically a thin futon cushion.)  Anyway, Mehar set up an all day tour for me for $20 to explore all over Delhi.  The problem is my driver speaks very little English--as does his budddy who is accompanying us and basically just smiling at me since he seems to know zero English.  So we went to several places--great places really--the Lotus Temple that looks like Sydney's Opera House, Hucumayta's Tomb, India Gate (where a man followed me around the ENTIRE time asking to pay him to take my photo), and now I'm at this super touristy restaurant I was basically forced into where three other tables are full.  Yes, I'm alone.  The other tables consist of two Japanese teenagers, a German couple with a guide, and an Indian family.  I'm curious as to why Coca-Cola makes a cola that tastes like it is basically Shasta cola but is named Thums Up (yes, thumbs without a "b").  Coca-Cola, are you aware of this?  I've seen you elsewhere in Delhi, but you insist on also selling this other gross version.  What's up with that?  Who put some Cola in a bottle with a crappy logo and couldn't spell "thumb"?  I'm confused. 

So I didn't finish that blog, but other higlights of that day/days before:
* A 12 year old girl was so sweetly excited to speak to me in English at Lotus Temple.  She followed me around and absolutely asked me every question she could think of.  I found it so endearing. 
* I have watched my host uncle play the Tumbas (like bongo drums) and his friend play this accordion (a little piano with an accordian-type back) just for me, which has been awkward but pleasant. 
* I keep wanting to photo bomb other peoples' photos (which just means making silly faces in the background of strangers' photos), since A) I'm by myself, and B) people keep taking my photo anyway.
* The first American I met was this kid who was maybe 20 and told me he had spent the past 5 weeks in an Ashram.  All I could think of was how he was the last person to ever become Enlightened. 

Patience, Patience

After living in Paraguay for over two years, I got really good at waiting.  I'd wait for buses, wait in long lines for the ATM, wait for meetings to start an hour late, whatever.  Since returning back to the States, I have found that that has changed a bit.  In the first weeks of being in the US, I found myself annoyed at other drivers zipping around, dodging traffic, and honking if someone wasn't right off the line at a red light.  But after nearly no time I found my foot getting a bit heavier, found myself speeding through traffic, shooting down the highway with the rest of them.  In Philly, without a car, I've gotten annoyed by broken down trolleys, delivery men who stop in the midst of the tracks, hence blocking my way to go home, work, school, wherever.  This may be heightened by my constant tardiness, which Latin America only encouraged and worsened. 

But now I find myself without nearly any patience at a time when i most need it.  Yesterday I was supposed to leave on a flight to India at 3pm.  All went fine with boarding, and we even took off more or less on time.  But then, an hour and a half over the Atlantic, there was an announcement first in Hindi and then in English explaining that we would be turning around and heading back to JFK thanks to some technical difficulties.  My first reaction was that I had really never expected to die in a plane crash, but I guess we've all gotta go somehow and sometime.  We made it back to JFK without any issue, but then sat on the tarmac for 5 hours, waiting for the air traffic controllers to give us the go ahead (the technical difficulty was fixed within an hour).  Finally there was an announcement only in Hindi, and then the rumors flew in English, saying that we were going to finally get off the airplane and head to hotels for the night.  We filed off, waiting 30 minutes for the second bus to take the several hundred people on the plane back to the terminal.  Back in the physical airport, no one met us to give further instruction, so we just wandered around to various parts of the terminal, trying to find someone to instruct us at 11pm once all Air India employees had headed home for the night.  I wish I had the patience I had last year and have since lost.  I'm currently in the Business area of some hotel waiting to get in a shuttle to the airport, just to leave a full 24 hours after I began. 

So obviously this has been a huge headache, and I'm surrounded by grumpy and confused people.  I love the rumors so far--one was that we were waiting for someone to sign a paper in Delhi, and that was the reason we waited so long.  The people at the hotel said that they had been waiting for us since 4pm, so there was no reason for us to just sit on that plane for so long.  Oh well.  Here I go again, and hope that round 2 has better luck....

My trip to India becomes more and more real as the hours tick by. The past two days I've woken up before my alarm, completely unable to sleep, and all day today I've felt just on the verge of throwing up. Yeah, it's awesome. I don't feel too stressed--at least not a fraction of how stressed I feel is appropriate for this upcoming trip--but my body is saying otherwise. I don't think I've felt this way since last April when I was in the last few days in Paraguay and was pretty freaked at the idea of returning stateside after two years.

 On a totally different note, I randomly received a letter today in the mail from some church in Tulsa, Oklahoma. It was just addressed to the "Current Resident" at my address. It is essentially religious chain mail. Included is this random "prayer rug", which has an image of Jesus with his eyes closed (though I don't know of anyone who could actually kneel on it), a "Sign from the Lord about your future", which one should apparently only read if she has already prayed on the prayer rug, filled out the "prayer request form", and written a check to the 61-year-old ministry. There is the image of a woman with the caption "Blessed with $46,000 After Using Prayer Rug", and then her narrative which explains that her husband listed 7 things he wanted God to do for him, and then he got $10,700 somehow. There is then a page where you check boxes for what you prayed for--these vary from "my soul" to "a money blessing" to "a new car" to (my favorite) "less confusion in my home". If you know me at all, you should know that I suspect someone is pulling a prank on me. A prank I deeply appreciated.

I leave for India in 3 days. I have never been so ill-prepared for anything in all my life but what I lack in preparation, I make up for in enthusiasm. That may actually be my mantra in life. I'll be staying with an Indian Social Worker and her family in Dehli for a few days to begin my trip. She is a couchsurfer, who works with poor kids in the ghetto, so I'll be joining her for a few days to just jump right into the mix, then I'll figure out where to go from there. I know my parents probably aren't stoked about this traveling by the seat of my pants idea, but I'll be safe and smart about where I go and what I do. I'll try to be good about blogging, as I'm traveling alone for 3 weeks and should have plenty of time for uncertainty, uncomfortable situations, and self-reflection. After the 3 weeks of travel, I'll meet up with the other 12 or so people from Penn to take a class called Postcolonial Social Work Practice: International Social Welfare in India. I have so much to do before I go, but can't seem to focus on ANYTHING! EEK!