Chapter Five: India

Hello India

Since arriving in Cairo, the last time I had a shower was in Aqaba, Jordan. So after 4 days, it was splendid to have a room, if only for an hour, in which to shower. Even if it was a shared room with Tom, even if I let him shower first and even if the room was one of the grungiest rooms I'd ever seen in my life. The bath room was huge, but was wall to wall and floor to ceiling tile. Odd, I thought. And very slippery.

And as good of friends as they are and as good as the shower was, it was even better that I was saying goodbye to them for a bit. Up to now, except going to bed, or that morning in Petra, I hadn't been apart from at least one of them. I am, at heart, a solitaire. Oh, I play well with others and I love meeting people, so I'm not entirely introverted, and it's great to have friends to share experiences and costs with. But enough was enough. Even Sasha mentioned that when we got to India, we may want to get some individual time. I was past due. I needed a break.

So I went to the Cairo airport alone and boarded a plane for India. I'd be leaving 8 hours sooner and arriving 3 hours earlier than the others, but it was worth it. Besides, I can now say that I've seen Kuwait City. Sure it was in the darkness. Ok, so I never left the airport. But I was there.

Boarding my plane in Cairo

I walked up the stairs in the Cairo heat to board the A300 all smiles; with the enthusiasm of a kid on his first flight. I'd never been on an A300, so I really did feel like that boy.

I awoke from a nap as we neared the coast of India, indicated from the line of coastal lights in the morning darkness. I could make out hills and moving cars as we passed over Mumbai. We touched down and I smiled. I was in India. No matter what happened next, I had been to India!

What amazed me most was seeing the walls of the airport property and just on the other side were slums. It was as if they were using that wall as a common wall, they were so close.

I also noticed that for 0500, the people seemed awfully friendly. Smiles surrounded me. I heard a lot of English, for being in a foreign country. I'd not heard Hindi being spoken too often previously, but here it was, not as loud as Arabic or Israeli, but just as fun to listen to.

Next was my wait for the others. I found the domestic terminal and exchanged what little Egyptian pounds I had for rupees and got a bite to eat. I journaled and people-watched. I stood and paced when the tiredness became too much and listened in to the conversations around me, such as the 2 British ladies behind me, who had unexpectedly encountered each other so far from home and both en route to different places after Mumbai. And when the time came that I expected my friends to arrive, I kept my eye on those coming through security.

That time came and went. When they finally revealed the gate from which my flight would depart, I decided to head there. And when it got to within an hour of boarding, I started to work out what to do if my friends didn't show up. I could stay and try to figure out what happened. Or I could go on, where I knew a van was waiting along with a room. And just as I decided that I should go ahead and get on the flight, there they were, coming down the escalator. It was good to see them again. I felt fresh from my travels alone and was ready to rejoin our group dynamic.

The tickets said no meals, so I wasn't expecting much from our 50-minute flight from Mumbai to Goa. But the service on Kingfisher Airlines blew me away. Before push back, we were given boxes of juice. Just after take off, the flight attendants came into the aisle with meals. I thought to myself how happy I was that I didn’t have to do a service like this on such a short flight at my job!

But the best part came in my attempt to find the air show on my individual screen. On channel 33, I was greeting with a camera view of the runway as we sped down it for lift off. I almost exploded in glee. When the wheels went up, it showed the ground directly below us. When the wheels came down for landing I got to watch the runway shrink before us on my TV screen.

Landing in Goa was like landing at an airplane show. I saw harrier jets, double bladed helicopters and other military-style planes, the likes of which I'm not familiar with. I'd have taken photos, but we were warned that photography was forbidden. They like that word in the Middle East…forbidden.

We deplaned down stairs into the humid Goan afternoon and loaded onto a bus. The bus turned around, drove about 20 yards, and we unloaded. What? Did we really just get shuttled such a short distance? Well, the airport was small and there were interesting objects of art to view, and people kept employed with silly jobs, like driving a bus 20 yards from a plane to the terminal.

Our driver to the hotel led us to the van and we were off to Anjuna Beach. We branched onto a smaller road that wasn't quite wide enough for 2 cars. Maybe that's why we saw so many scooters and motor bikes. They drive like mad here. Pass a group of scooters around a curve? No problem. Pass while oncoming traffic approaches? Sure…they'll move over to allow room.

The Mandovi River near Panaji India



What I was seeing of India was lush and green. I don't know what I expected. I realized that 9 years ago, when I first gave thought to coming to India, this is what I had in mind. But then I'd heard from others and my expectations changed. Obviously, I was hearing of dirty, poor, crowded cities, like Delhi. And while it was dirty (nowhere near like Jordan or Egypt) and it was crowded and poor, it wasn't remarkably so. It wasn't too different from what I've seen in places like Puerto Rico, Nassau, China or even parts of the US. In fact, I felt much like I was on an island and not in a place like India.

Our hotel was nice, about a block from the beach, which was lined with shops and small restaurants; a tourist trap. The staff was friendly and we soon got to know them quite well. There was a large pool surrounded by lounge chairs, lush trees with birds who like to swoop down and steal unattended food. The rooms were nice, fairly large and air conditioned. We wound up extending our stay from 3 nights to 8. It was nice to put everything on the room tab, since I was still relying on Bank of Tom, and he was slow at dolling out the cash.

Cows walking through the vendor street of Anjuna Beach

The women on the beach who sell wares are very pushy. They start by friending you; asking where you're from and how you like India. Then they go in for the kill. And if you say no, they try to get you to say you'll look later, and take it as a promise, and say, "OK, you promised, you will look later…right? You promised!"

Our days were lazy, and mostly spent on my own, finally having a chance to get some space. With really cheap massages, I bought a package and wound up getting 5 massages during my stay. They usually took up my early afternoon, as I would use the cooler mornings to take a walk, either up the road through town, or down along the beach. But by noon, the humidity and heat became unbearable for me, especially in my weakened state. The others seemed to really love the heat, especially Sasha.

Spices in an outdoor market

The heat continually got to me. One of our first nights was spent at a large outdoor bazaar. There were so many things to look at. I found some nesting penguins to buy and Tom looked at jewlry. Sasha was interested in dresses and Ra pointed out that nearly every booth selling CDs was playing the same band. There was an area with live music and a fire spinning show. The others watched and I waited for them near the entrance. I was not feeling well. The heat and fatigue were bearing down on my in a bad way. I sat down to wait for the others and met a Russian couple who were visiting for a week. I watched two guys try their best to pick up two girls, who weren't so interested in being picked up. I thought they made great couples as all involved were young and attractive. When the others arrived, I looked very bad to them and they forced me to drink water. I didn’t need water as much as I needed an escape from the heat and some sleep.

We met many nice people in India, like Emma and Kelly, from London. When we found out it was Emma's birthday, we asked her what she'd like to do. Her answer was quick to come and required no thought: the Dudhsagar waterfalls! (Dudhsagar means the sea of milk and is a tiered waterfall, part of the Mandovi River.) So we were off. She'd met Kelly, another Brit, so the 6 of us had to take 2 taxis. Thank gods it was a nice day; cool, a few clouds every now and then and a slight breeze. In fact, that was the nicest day we had in India. The drive there was about 2 and half hours and quite stressful for me, seated in the front seat.

Driving scene typical of India

Most roads in India, from what I can tell, are made for 1 car. Buildings are placed feet, or sometimes only inches from the road. Often, there is a large, open concrete ditch a few feet away. And around each curve one finds pedestrians, cows or dogs, also using the road. And there is no concept of passing lanes or lines to indicate when it's safe to pass. They think nothing of passing on curves. Just give out a quick honk, edge over for a peek and go for it. When Ra asked how I was doing at one point on our drive, I told him that I was reminding myself to relax and breathe.

The land seems to all have the same color here. It's a color not too unlike the red clay back in Texas. The sand, rocks, dust and dirt are all the same color. There are hills here and there. It's very lush with palms peppered throughout. And there is always a haze. One can almost look directly at the sun at sunset without any ramifications.

Driving was like watching an episode of National Geographic. When thinking of rural India, I often think of women in colorful garb walking with large bowls balanced on their heads. I also imagine seeing people drinking from and bathing in a river. I think of children playing along the road with no shoes. And I think of lush forests with creeks flowing over rocks. On our way to the waterfalls, I got so see all of this.

People washing in a river


Driving over a bridge to cross a large river, there were workers washing and re-painting the roadway. Cars passed us and we passed cars and often quite dangerously. Scooters and bikes split lanes and pass both on our left and right. And suddenly we passed a procession of dump trucks. They seemed to stretch for miles. The back-log was so bad that at one point they were just stopped, hanging out with other drivers, knowing it would be a while before they would get moving again. There were so many dump trucks, I thought every one in the country was on this road!

Not so much the dump trucks, but other trucks here mostly look to me like carnival booths. They are neatly painted and have silver and blue linings. Often there is ornate trim painted or cut along the top edges. And almost every vehicle here has a name on the front windshield. I suspect it's for the owner to more easily find his vehicle, which looks suspiciously like so many other vehicles.A smaller pickup truck in India



When we reached our destination, we were met with pushy people trying to sell bags of bananas and nuts to feed the monkeys. I refused, but Sasha bought one. Then we loaded into a large 4-wheel drive jeep and upon approaching the park entrance to the falls, we were told to keep the fact that we had food for the monkeys a secret. It was forbidden to feed the monkeys. But they were openly selling food! It was more for the fact that the banana peels were a slipping hazard to guests as it was for not wanting to feed the monkeys, according to our guide.

Our 45-minute jeep ride took us along a jostling road, crossing a river twice, deep enough that water seeped in through the door seals and into the car. Emma was in the back and was amazed, saying it was "completely mental", in that cute British sort of way. The jungle was fascinating and after seeing so many spider webs, I hoped to see some really neat spiders when we alighted, but they would prove scarce. I did see a huge toad on a rock in the river, though.

We joined hundreds of other tourists at the end and took the trail by foot the last 20 minutes into the Indian jungle. The river babbled over boulders and we saw lizards, birds and the monkeys. They were fairly cute, definitely dirty and eager to receive their snacks. At one point, one particularly bold one grabbed the plastic bag from Sahsa's hand, spilling peanuts and bananas onto the trail. She reacted by trying to scold the monkey, who bared his teeth and hissed at her. I started to warn that it was best not to piss off the monkeys, but I didn't need to; she took the hint and let the beast alone with his spoils.


When we reached the falls, we were rewarded with a beautiful pool surrounded by boulders. The others found their way into the cold water, but it was cool and breezy out and not humid, so I remained dry. I sat on a rock in the shade and enjoyed the scene while snacking on food and dates brought by Kelly and Sasha. Emma was quite pleased, with tears of joy in her eyes. And we were all glad to have her suggestion become such a fantastic reality.

A few days later, it was my birthday, and I had a plan of action. I'd begin with a nice breakfast, then a walk. In the afternoon I would have the best massage they had to offer. That afternoon was a large bazaar down the beach a bit. After taking that in, we would have dinner at a place of my choosing.

The breakfast was chocolate banana pancakes and a banana lasse. On my walk, I ran into Rasha at another eatery and joined them before taking a walk with Ra. When I got back, I had what may have been the best massage of my life, which ended with a warm oil drip on my forehead that sent me into another dimension. After a shower, I walked along the beach to meet the others. When I reached the bazaar, I immediately found Ra, which was a miracle, as this was a huge bazaar and the others had all split up. Together, we watched the sun sink into the Arabian Sea on an outcropping of rocks into the surf. A neat band played nearby for a soundtrack to our evening. We stopped at a place advertising a lobster special for dinner, however, upon finding their prices the same as what I would find in the US, I opted for traditional Indian cuisine. We were joined by friends of Ra's and later by Emma and Kelly. We had a great view of the ocean and a nice wind kept me cool and the bugs away.
Penguin, sweating on the beach, Dec 8

Right as dinner ended, the breeze died and again I got hot and sweaty. It was a long and glorious day, so I decided to return to the hotel, check e-mail and then did some writing in my room before falling asleep. The next day we would catch a train to Hampi. It was one of the better birthdays I can remember!


Leaving Goa

We had decided to head to Hampi to visit the ruins there. With train tickets in hand, we left our little hotel way too early in the morning, which was difficult to do after the lazy routine of the week. A small taxi took us to Margao. For three weeks I'd been crammed into the back seat. My back was sore, my neck still hurt from Israel and the heat was getting to me. Seeing the small taxi waiting for us was upsetting. I worked through it, but it was a long silent ride to the train station.

We found the train station to be dirty and full of people I wouldn't want to sit or stand near. It smelled bad and there were dogs every where, which I thought was odd. Tom went off to use the restroom, and all I could think was, "there's no way in hell I'd ever use a public toilet in an Indian train station!" And his report on doing so substantiated my thinking.


The train arrived and we were at the wrong end of the platform. We fought our way through the throngs of people exiting the train and those trying to get on in order to reach the far end. Oh, and was 'everyone' going on our train? Our gross, dirty train? That smelly, ugly, metal snake? Wasn't there other trains for some of these people? No. And while it did ride smoother than ours in Cairo had, I was afraid to touch anything.

But what a spectacular ride! The landscape kept me glued to the view out the window for 7 hours. And as tired as I was, I couldn't nap for the view. It was perfectly India! Trees were everywhere, with palms towering slightly higher. In the distance were hills and small mountains. Soon we were climbing and reached the Dudhsagar falls we had visited earlier in the week. A vast valley to my left- more mountains to my right; occasionally a waterfall. Monkeys sat near the tracks, watching us. Mountains rose up with huge rocky cliff faces exposed. As we passed towns I could see people going about their daily business. Women walked with large, seemingly heavy baskets and buckets and sacks on their heads. A river we passed allowed a view of people bathing and washing clothes. Rice paddies were everywhere with laborers working in them. Trucks and rickshaws and ox bathing in brown pools of water with white birds on their backs or near their feet and children worked and played and some waved to us. I was totally captured by the beauty of it all.

View from the train

And across from me was Tom, who slept most the way, and when not sleeping, he couldn't look out much due to the motion sickness he experiences. I felt bad for him. On the other side of the car, Rasha, each buried in their electronic books. They were missing it all. The kids all in uniform going to school and the school yard full of them neatly lined up like the military. They missed the sudden outcropping of about 100 windmills in the distance. They missed the naked children gleefully playing in streams. They missed the valleys and clouds and trees and a butterfly keeping pace with our train during one of the slower parts of the trip. They missed the stop in the middle of no where and the people jumping on and running alongside the train as it moved again. They missed the man and woman who had ridden their bikes in order to work together gathering fruit or nuts from an orchard of small trees. And they missed the old men with turbans wrapped around their heads and their grey mustaches glaring out from their dark faces of leathery skin as they stood motionless to watch us pass by. They had come around the world to see India and they were missing it! Why…you can read a book at home or at the airport or by they pool. This was a gift you don't get too often, and I cherished it - maybe more than most.
Rice paddies


We reached Hampi and were met by a driver holding a small sign with my name spelled SCOET. We boarded 2 rickshaws and were taken to our pre-arranged hotel; one I had found on line back in Anjuna and called to make reservations. It was affordable and looked very nice. The ride seemed to last forever, and, oh, the honks and beeps! The attempted passing of cars would often be a fail when confronted with a single lane bridge or a rough road or oncoming traffic, which in this case, could very well be an ox cart or a heard of goats or a cow. A scooter passed with 2 men- one holding 2 tied-up pigs. Dinner? I felt badly for the pigs. We dodged cows and dogs and pedestrians, as usual. We smelled burning trash and manure; all the things we've come to know as so typical of the country of India.

Near Hampi

Soon we reached the edge of town and could see rounded boulders and hills and temples. I felt a sigh of relief to finally be there. We had to pay 10R to enter the town, which seemed to also be a national park of sorts. The streets narrowed to where one could hardly fit 2 rickshaws. The street ended and we stopped – our hotel, it would seem. But it was not the hotel I found on line, with the positive reviews and the good restaurant and that served wine and beer where Hampi is dry and does not. When the confusion settled, it was clear that I had dialed a number ending in 47 when I wanted 74. So we were at another hotel by dumb luck. It worked for us, though. I got the 1 room with a working air conditioner (at a higher rate). We had a quiet view of banana trees and some of the natural rocks along the river below. And from just outside we can see the spire of a nearby temple. It all worked out, even though we fell into it. And I reminded Ra that he had dialed the number and handed me his phone to make the reservation. So it's really unclear who got us here. But he seems to think it was me!

The Mango Tree restaurant came highly recommended. We were hungry, so that was top on our list. It seemed to be top on the list for the mosquitoes as well. Just at sunset we were seated on mats while leaning against a wall. We looked out onto the river with rounded rocks and vegetation. A line of goats were herded down below by a woman. But the food was Indian and I'm not always such a huge fan. To make matters worse, in all of Hampi, there is no meat! And, so, I had what was my worst meal thus far on this trip. I never would have said a word about it except Sasha asked. It was so funny, having the tables turned. Usually it was them unhappy with a meal. I was sure to not make a big deal of it, however. I'd eaten enough on this trip that I could afford a night of going to bed hungry.

One odd thing about this trip was the mosquitoes. For all my life they have loved me and swarmed me and let other mosquitoes know that I was nearby so that all could enjoy the blood that I carry for them. I was ready for a real battle with them on this trip, and the others had made comments of wanting to stay near me so that I could attract them all, thus keeping them mosquito-free. However, I hardly had any mosquito bites during the entire month-long journey. This meal, our first in Hampi, was the first time that they really bothered me. The restaurant lit small coils of what looked like incense but was actually repellent, and placed them near our feet under the tables. They were of little effect and the pests really seemed to like Tom. I was relieved that for the first time in my life, the tables were also turned as far as mosquitoes. So the Mango Tree became a strange place in my mind; for the mosquito issue and that I didn't like my meal.

Many locals found us fascinating

Celebrity moments

I'm the first person to admit that traveling for a month with 3 others can be trying. Why, even my family can get on my nerves after as little as 5 days. And we knew before we left that we'd all need some alone time and space. And of everyone in our party, I need space the most. I'm used to living and traveling alone. And my needs from a travel like this seem to be a bit different from Tom's or Rasha's.

I've loved getting a dose of life in India. Being here is like going back in time. It's been great seeing them plow fields with oxen and making bricks from the red mud and hacking at stone to make them squared for use in building walls and huts. I've also loved their friendliness and warm hearts, even if the peddlers are a bit pushy.

I don't know how they live here in summer. This humidity has been hard on me, and that has been quite evident in the way shirts become saturated in sweat. I probably complain my fair share about this, too, making little comments. But it's not like I'm miserable and want to leave. And I've mentioned how the others keep complaining about things. We'd meet other travelers who would be regaled about how bad our first meal in Petra was (I thought it was quite good) and how the tour guides in Cairo kept taking us to places where they got commission or that they were simply awful tour guides.


To say that in the past few days their negative comments, and sometimes even their attitude, has affected me is accurate. And in seeming to have little faith in the trustworthiness of anyone we encountered bothered me. There seemed to be a fundamental failure to fully understand another's culture within our group. When we entered Hampi and had to pay to do so, there was no trust that it wasn't a scam. It didn't help that the men collecting didn't seem to be wearing a uniform, either. While at the ATM in Anjuna, it was reported to me that the locals were trying to obtain secret ATM codes. In reality, they were simply curious at these white foreigners, who don't normally bank where we had stopped to do so and were simply interested in what we were doing there.

So I was stressed, thank you. I was really worn out from the heat of the past week. I'd not slept on the train and could have used more sleep on my first night in Hampi, but I was excited to get out and explore. I was the first out of the room and waited for the others in a swinging chair at our pre-arranged time. After a few minutes, Ra emerged and we smiled at one another. He asked how I'd slept and I thought for a second about the question. I thought of how the fan created a wind storm and that I got up in the night to move the mosquito netting cover over me to create a wind block. I thought about how there was only a bottom sheet on the bed and I had to sleep under nothing but the light blanket and wondered if it had been washed after the last person who used it. And I thought about how the air conditioner made clicking noises half the night and often I woke up thinking someone was trying to get in my room. But I always went right back to sleep and I slept pretty well. So that was my simple answer to him.

His response to my query on his sleep was, "hardly at all". The fan squeaked, a crazy lady woke him at 4 am doing dishes and there was no hot water to shower with when he got up. He then tells me that he called the other hotel and they had 3 rooms open, but it was twice as much money. He stopped at asking me if I wanted to change hotels, but did mention that check out was in 30 minutes. I was shocked that he'd done so much homework to see about moving!

Tom came out and looked tired. His complaint was that his room had no power when he got in last night, so he didn't have a fan and then went into the bit about the lack of hot water. Apparently, he'd gotten up at some point to learn about the power switch just outside his door that turned the power on to his room. This was something we all seemed to know of. So I think he was upset, and he was all for changing hotels. Sasha was ambivalent and willing to go along with a move if that's what the others wanted.

I felt a sinking feeling and knew I was going to be embarrassed by the fact that we'd fallen into this place, deciding we liked it and now would be backing out and moving on. I was settled in and didn't want to have to move again, like we had to do in Petra. And then a whirlwind of thoughts went through me. First was this; here is yet a new complaint, and instead of dealing with it or accepting it, we were going to run from it. What was the other hotel like? What horrors await them there? I thought of how we were in Hampi for only one day and had a full day of touring ahead of us. Do we delay that to check into a new hotel now? Do we wait and do it at the end of the day, when we're hot and tired from a full day of touring? Had we learned nothing from our experience in Cairo? And along with that sinking feeling, I was feeling a strange warmth rising in me; something I've not felt in a long time…rage.


Ra went to talk to the hotel people about our options and Tom started to talk to Sasha about his expectations in India and again comparing things to the States. I thought if I heard a comparison to the US one more time that I might explode. I got up and walked into the street to calm down. I found some monkeys playing on the rooftops and smiled at them. One dropped some food to the ground and he jumped across to the next building, then back to a drain pipe on the first and slid to the ground to retrieve it. This made me laugh. I wondered if I shouldn't just stay and let the others move. I'll see Hampi on my own and relax in my room and meet them at the station before going back to Margao the next morning. But I still didn't have money. I couldn't get any from the ATMs and Tom was slow to dole out what I needed. As I pondered these possibilities, I walked past Sasha. Maybe she could see through me, as she asked how I was doing. I heard a voice in my head, distant, saying to answer with an OK and just hide my true answer. But something inside me ignored the easy way out and that rage I was trying so hard to keep inside hit the boiling point. I started with a simple, "Not OK," and it went from there.

I don't remember all of what I said, it just came out without thinking. Something about sick of the complaining and what do we do the next time there isn't water or power, and we came to India… this is India… this his how it's supposed to be! It's not going to be easy and be like the US. I said something about how they are missing out on India looking for their perfect stay. Here we were in the shadows of a freaking temple, to which I pointed, and I got to watch a girl feed her left over breakfast to the cow in the road and see the monkeys play on the rooftops and I was sick of the complaining. I felt my foot stomp the ground. I felt my body shaking. I could hear the exhaustion in my own voice as it echoed in the narrow street. I noticed that a group of locals had formed to watch the performance from the crazy white American. And I saw Sasha's face as she watched this melt down and seemed to want to sink into the ground to get away from me.

My artistic shot at theQueen's Bath


When I was done, I walked into the courtyard of our hotel out of breath. I wanted to cry but there were no tears. I was still trembling and totally embarrassed that I had exploded. I was no better than the celebrities and their public breakdowns that hit the news.

I half expected Sasha to follow me and offer some comfort. She didn't. I probably scared her too much to come near me. But Ra came to me a few minutes after I went into my room. He tried to calm me down, but most of what he said was just making it worse. He offered that I could stay and it wouldn't bother him. And after we talked a bit he left me to think. I tried to play things out in my head. I could stay, but had no cash, I also knew that I wanted to be with them and would feel like I missed out on something if we were separated. So I grabbed my bags and wheeled them behind me into the street where I saw Ra. He smiled and seemed happy to see that I was going to join them, after all.

I made a few apologies, to the locals and to my traveling partners. Ra spoke to the owner about our issues and felt they would not be repeated and everyone decided to stay. Now I sort of felt like a prima donna who got his way after causing a scene. But my cheese omelet and toast was the best breakfast I'd had since we left home! And that seemed to help start the healing process.

Soon, our bags were back in our rooms and we were in 2 rickshaws, off to explore Hampi; Rasha in one, and me and Tom in the other. It may have all been in my head, but things seemed a little tense for a while. There was a huge elephant in the room after my melt down. And I thought it was quite interesting that the first thing we stopped to see on our tour of Hampi was a temple in which was the largest stone carving of Ganesha, the elephant headed deity, in India.


Hampi was great and reminded me a little of parts of Colorado, with large, rounded boulders. The temples here were not as old as some of what we saw in Jordan and Egypt. But it was impressive. My favorite part was between stops, when the open rickshaw speeding down the narrow roads allowed me the chance to cool down and for my shirt to dry off a bit from the sweat. It wasn't that hot, just humid. And much of the day, especially the evening, it was mostly cloudy. And that was our day; stop to see a sight, sweat, move to the next and cool off; repeat.

There was a lot to see; the queen's bath and palace, a large temple to water, where we lounged in the shade of a large tree and talked to our guide. In most of our stops we felt like celebrities. There were groups of locals also touring the sites, from towns where they don't often see foreigners, and maybe not as white as we were. They would stare at us, and mostly the boys would say hello as they passed. I would say hello back and it would make their day. They would smile and laugh and stare and sometimes say hello a second time. And if I showed interest in speaking to them, they would stop and all gather around and ask where I was from. Many of the groups wanted me to take their photo, which I would do and then they would gather around to see it, looking as if they had won something, and walk away quite satisfied in their encounter.Some of the locals we met under the tree


Under the tree, we encountered a large group of Indian tourists. One asked Sasha to hold a baby for a photo. They stared at us like we were rock stars, all smiles and sort of shy. They laughed at the nose ring of Ra's, since in India, only women wore them. And they loved us taking photos so they could come around and see themselves in it. They had little interest in wanting a copy, but only to know that the white people had come and taken their picture, and that they had spoken to us and we to them. I felt very special.

After touring, we had dinner on a nearby rooftop restaurant that overlooked the narrow streets and the temple a few blocks away. The food was fairly good, and again, all vegetarian. We had to be up early the next day, before the sun would be up. We went riding through the streets in the rickshaws crammed with our luggage in the cold morning wind avoiding ox carts (with no lights, no less) and other obstacles in the road so early in the day. Back to the station we went, said farewell to our guide and awaited for our train. And, as usual, found ourselves at the far end of the platform from where our car stopped.

I anticipated our train back to Goa, since I'd found it so spellbinding on the way up. Our seats were split up with 3 together and 1 solo. Ra asked who would sit alone, and I'm sure the 3 of them instantly knew it would be me, but I pointed to Ra and poked fun at the situation, saying that we would stop by to visit him throughout the trip.

I befriended a group of young men seated near me who were on their way to the beaches for a holiday. The one youngster across from me was about to enter the air force with a job that would take him from his home, so he wanted to get out one last time. He would be committed to 15 years! The others were his friends and I watched often over the course of our long journey at how comfortable the men were in this country to show affection for one another. It wasn't in a gay sort of fashion that they would lay down with one's head in another's lap, or sit 2 on one seat and start to stroke the other's hair, or sit across from a friend with his feet in his lap. In this country, there were no fears of showing a fondness for one's friend. My new travel partners on the train



I could tell they liked watching my enthusiasm of seeing their country. They would see me raise my camera for a photo and then look out to see what it was that inspired me. Often, he would inform me of things about which I was witnessing. So I started asking questions, like, what was being grown in that field (a bamboo type of plant, whose reeds were used to build shacks and poor housing), or why the tractors and trucks were decorated (often done for celebration of the harvest or for the "birthday" of the vehicle; and in fact, our rickshaw in Hampi had it's birthday and we were offered a sweet treat to help celebrate).

The boys bought food and drinks from the vendors who walk up and down the train. They forced me to sample some and even bought a tin of food and walked it to the front of the car where my 3 friends sat. I doubted that they would accept it, but they did and he returned with a victorious smile. Later, when we had stopped to allow another train to pass, I walked up to check on them. They showed me the food container and the lettering on top, that looked something like an SOS. They had thought that perhaps it was my way of sending them a message to come rescue me. I thought this was funny, until I realized that they never had come. When I asked them about this, they said, simply, that I was an adult and that they knew I could take care of things and knew how I loved meeting new people. But it still really bothered me that they had thought that I went through the effort to send a coded message on a container of food and that they chose to ignore it!

The train moved through the fields of sunflowers and sugarcane and found areas with more trees, passing the towns and villages. It moved into the hilly area with its layers of rice paddies and then into the jungle. This gave way to the mountains and the numerous tunnels, back past the waterfalls, and along the river. We passed factories and warehouses, a red dirt road lined with more dump trucks. We stopped at train stations with cows instead of people and hawkers of food and chai. Then finally back to where our train journey had begun, in Margao.

Upon our arrival, I met the others on the station platform and was able to introduce my new friends to my travel partners. Ra said it was like meeting the bizarro world-them, like from the episode of Seinfeld. And they had befriended a guy traveling alone, who hoped to share a taxi with us. Share a taxi with us? We were already cramped as a party of 4, how would we share a taxi with 5?

We were talking about a $15 taxi ride, and for that amount, I was perfectly willing to get my own taxi, all by myself if I had to, and meet them at the hotel. But they suggested that I sit in the front and the 4 of them would squeeze into the back. This they did, and I have the photo to prove it!

A cramped taxi ride to Panaji

Panaji was our destination and their new friend shared a room with Tom. He was off to a party and we had plans to attend a concert by Zakir Hussain a renowned recording artist, who Ra knew. (In fact, it was as his guest that Rasha would be attending the wedding in Mumbai later in the month.) The show was sold out, but we hot tickets from a mutual friend we ran into back in Anjuna. We started off back stage, but as show time neared, we left this area for our seats.

The show was very good, with a slow start but soon built up into more of a jazzy session of instrumentalists and a vocalist (Shankar Mahadevan) who basically, but more complicatedly, did scat to some improvisational music. I bobbed my head to the beat and enjoyed what was most likely the best solo drum session I've ever heard. The guy, A. Sivamani, made music from drums and bells, and even a trash can and the stage speaker.

After the show, Ra jumped on stage and started playing roadie, winding up cords and moving around instrument cases to be loaded. We joined him on stage and were ushered into a back room where we got to meet the band. I wished we thought to take some photos, but I'll have the memory with me for a long time. I really enjoyed that show.

The following day we ventured out to take in the local sites. Wanting to see a spice plantation, I advocated for a tour, which took us back in the direction of the falls, but not quite as far as the line of dump trucks. The tour was great and we saw many variety of spices- from cloves, to vanilla, to cashews and mangoes, to pepper and cinnamon and allspice and bananas and beautiful, large banana spiders (Finally, I got to see some great spiders!). At the end of our tour we had a buffet lunch, which was fairly lousy and really didn't seem to incorporate the spices we had just seen.

On our way back, we stopped in Old Town Goa, which seemed to consist of only a few churches, according to our cab driver. But I know I saw on a map that there was more to it. We looked into one church and then walked to another, which we entered and toured a bit. Then we got back into the cab and returned to our hotel. We freshened up and, again, at my encouragement, went to find a place specializing in Goan food for our final dinner in India.

Our hotel rooftop lounge


The next morning Tom and I looked for spices to take home while Rasha looked into buying some fabric to have an outfit made for the wedding. We had a nice long walk, where we ultimately found a large market in a huge building. It was much like other markets I've seen in other countries with fresh fruit and veggies, spices, wares, rice, legumes and seafood.

Tom wanted to find the best deal in history and assumed that the place with the throngs of people must mean that place had the best spices or deals. I felt that in a place like this, they must all be good or no one would stay in business, so while he was waiting behind a large group of locals, I just went up to the nearest shop and started to ask about his spices. I got some to take home as gifts and Tom joined in, giving up on the place he thought might be more popular.

We then made our way back and had some beer and appetizers. When Rasha joined us, they were not impressed with the menu, so we moved on and found a place so well air conditioned that I was almost too cold! Our last meal in Goa was pretty good. I had their version of a pizza. Rasha seemed very happy with their selection of some southern style Indian food.

It was sad leaving, but also exciting. I would be anxious to read Rasha's upcoming blurbs about things going on during their journey, just as they had been doing all along on our trip. Ra was my best friend and it would be a long time before I'd see him again.

I had no idea just how large India was until we were flying over her late at night. I watched the progress on the air map playing on the small TV at my seat on the A300 that took us to Hong Kong. We were flying over India for a long time. And it finally sunk in at how little of India I had seen. I thought of the times I heard of people coming to America and only seeing one city and claiming to have seen America. It's not quite a fair statement to say that I've 'seen' India. I've seen a very small part of it. A small, magical, humid, trying, beautiful and enchanting part. And as we neared the coast of America, I felt so happy to be coming home. It had been a long month, made shorter only by the fact that computers made keeping in touch with people back home easier and seemed to make the world much smaller. It used to be that such an epic trip would be unheard of until the person came back home. But blurbs every few days, or every day for parts of the trip, kept everyone back home involved in it with me. I could read their comments and answer questions immediately.

And as we prepared to land in San Francisco to end my trip around the world, I couldn't help but think of Rasha. They would be gone a long time, maybe a year, maybe 2, or maybe 6 months. But no matter the length, they surely would feel excitement at their return. I mentioned this to Tom, seated next to me, and he added that when they returned, they really wouldn't have a home to return to, since they had no place to live and their things were all in storage or being used by others. That would be true, but I think it's always good to be coming home. I see it often on my working flights when I greet passengers boarding the plane. It's often the ones with the biggest smiles who are going home.

I was going home, back to my little girl, that crazy black cat. I was going back to work, back to life as I knew it while finishing my recovery. I had endured a lot in the past month. I had gotten closer to Tom and Sasha, two people I really haven't spent a lot of time with. Ra and I have traveled together, and being best friends, we know one another fairly well. And while I was pushed to extremes and have felt exacerbated by certain things, no friendship was lost. People need different things and get that out of a shared experience. One lesson I came home with is to choose your travel partners wisely. This is in no way to say that I made a poor decision on mine. I was happy to have made this trip with my friends, glad to still be friends and happy that we all understand our differing needs. But I can see how such a trip can try a friendship, and have heard tale from others who have lost friends over trips similar to mine.

Overlooking Hampi


I had seen a lot in a month; four countries. We shared cars, busses, vans, boats and planes. We had overcome obstacles and boundaries and shared loves and dislikes. I got to know the beauty of Jordan and it's people, witness the bond of a nation who had searched for a home and found it in Israel, found the soul of our planet in the physical proof of what man can do in the pyramids of Giza, and witnessed the silent reverence of nature in the birthplace of one of the oldest cultures on Earth in India. And I, as others before me, fulfilled my dream of circumnavigating the globe and had done so in 30 days. I was a wealthy man for the experiences I've had. And I was happy to be going back to my own bed again.



To view my favorite photos from India, click here:
https://picasaweb.google.com/brogott/IndiaFavorites#

And if you would like to see the photos that didn't make my cut for favorites (not they are any less important), click here:
http://picasaweb.google.com/brogott/India#