It's amazing how much a 1987 Toyota Minivan with the mid-engined 4 cylinder feels like a Rickshaw when you are driving it. Even overheated and broke down while going over Vail pass at 2 am, but myself and five others successfully made it from Denver to Vegas and back using it! Awesome.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Friday, January 30, 2009
the following is what i wrote in a journal while on our trip in india. it's incomplete, fragmented, and full of bad writing.
enjoy!
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People can get used to anything.
Two days ago I was in complete culture shock. Now I’m almost used to it all.
From London:
We arrived at the Chennai airport at about 1 am local time to what the pilot described as a “hazy night.” The first thing I noticed when stepping off the airplane was the heat and humidity. We walked to the customs and of course found the only line out of 10 that was being run by an apparent trainee. After languishing in that line for an entirely too long we jumped lines and were now officially in India. We continued walking down a flight of stairs to the security checkpoint where a woman was sitting behind a scanner looking at anything and everything but the scanner. To the side of the scanner was what looked like a door frame covered in a crappy fake wood veneer with a light that would apparently randomly flash on and off saying whether or not you could continue. Regardless of what the light would show or any noise this detector would make the security guard would wave people through. I would call it lax but it doesn’t do it justice to what the lack of security was like.
Luggage claim was right next to that and in typical fashion two of our three bags were immediately found while the third took an additional 20 minutes. From there we headed straight to the door where my first shock came.
People.
Hundreds of people. And beyond that, more people. Walking, sleeping, driving. Everywhere was activity. And horns. Beeping, honking, squeaking. From all directions at once.
But the one thing I noticed the most was the smell. It smelled like the city was on fire. Smokey. Like wood and other items being burnt en masse. Hazy doesn’t describe it though. Visibility was perhaps a mile at most and combined with the smells, heat, humidity, and sounds it made for a strange combination of sensory overload.
Not knowing where or what we were going to do because of our complete and purposeful lack of planning we pushed through the crowd in search of an ATM. One thing we had learned in London was that cash is the commodity of choice and not many places take credit card.
As soon as we were through the crowd though we were descended upon by taxi drivers, rickshaw drivers, and people who seemed to work for them by getting the driver’s their fares. “No I don’t need a taxi, I’m just looking for an ATM,” was responded with “I will take you to one, then get you taxi.”
They circled us in a desperate predatory way as we walked down the sidewalk in front of the airport and no sooner would one tire of asking when another would walk up. The four of us got past them and walked into the small ATM booth and got 5000 RP (about $100). Mike stated he had read that the authorized taxi drivers were dispatched by a booth in front of the airport and suggested we head back there to get a cab and also not to get ripped off.
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Random thoughts:
All disputes must be settled by jousting.
My toe that touches my big toe is swollen and rubbing my big toe. Feels odd.
According to this Kingfisher label this beer is for export only or only for sale in Pondicherry. Thank god we are in Pondicherry.
I don’t like Kingfisher.
I wonder why my pants didn’t dry very well. Could be the saltwater.
Group decision making is annoying.
The cows here seem emaciated but can basically eat anything so it doesn’t make sense.
Dogs here are all the same size. Nico size.
I really don’t get why cows are sacred. They’re everywhere and not being used for milk or transport. Maybe back before cars, but now…..?
Riding in the front of a bus is a terrifying experience.
Hot British girls are seriously lacking.
I will probably not be in many photos since I’m taking them all.
I felt infinitely bad for some kid on a pedal rickshaw that wanted to give us a ride.
Getting food here takes forever.
I am surprised more people don’t die on the streets.
I am also surprised when an Indian is wearing western style clothing.
“American” music includes a lot of country.
This town used to be French occupied and the signs are in French occasionally.
Cute girls look hot when busting around here on a motorcycle.
Most stuff is cheap.
Eating at a fancy restaurant costs less than McDonalds.
We don’t drink Guinness, we inhale it. Or so some Brit said.
I hate wearing sandals and stepping in a steaming pile of: dog, cow, goat, human poo.
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So we came back from eating to find the lady of the house waiting for us. Apparently there was some miscommunication and we had only paid for one night. I am not sure how much I believe that since I tend to trust Grant’s negotiating skills. But we paid more.
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Last night we saw our rickshaw for the first time. It looks sweet. Some of the others are way more intricate though. And Bill Murray’s head looks a bit wonky. It’s like they spent a lot of time on some and then ran out of time on others. Thinking about it though it could be because we turned ours in late.
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I was of the opinion I should get gifts for people but the rest of the group doesn’t agree with gifting and I am thinking the same. Will they actually use anything I get them?
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I need to get shorts so I can wash my clothes but the store is closed and I’m unsure if I can try them on. I feel like I miscalculated in packing.
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Our rickshaw officially took a shit today. All day yesterday from the time we took off it would make a horrendous screeching noise and stop. Well this morning after 5 more grinds it made on particularly long and loud and noticeably worse noise and died just before we got to a toll booth. We coasted to the side of the road and tried our normal routine of going to neutron and pulling on the start lever. This time though it wouldn’t budge. Britt and Mike walked to the toll and we were informed of a repair place that we had just passed. We turned it around and started pushing. They do push quite easily when tires are inflated properly. We found a mechanic and through noises and weird body gestures managed to communicate the problem. He hopped in the driver’s seat and gave a yank.
“Piston,” he said.
Damn it.
We talked to a Canadian team on the road this morning and they blew their piston on the start line and they lost a whole day. The mechanic started tearing into it and sure enough, chunks of piston metal all throughout the cylinder. We will need a new piston, ring, some gaskets, and a bore on the cylinder wall.
3 hours he said. We will see.
Till then I guess it’s an early lunch.
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Still waiting.
I’m so horribly bored.
I went and bought a liter of paint and a brush and painted the back wheels and a good portion of the tires bright red. I would have painted the roof rack red also but our stuff is on it. Britt made an attempt at painting eyes on the rear view mirrors.
Key word, “attempt.”
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Most helmets here look like they are from the 70’s. Like literally 30 years old.
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I remain bored and now have to pee but am unsure where. Toilets here aren’t readily available and I don’t want to just go anywhere because
a) People are everywhere and
b) Where I pee may be someone’s front yard or house or something.
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I just heard the first plane since we left the airport.
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I want to go get away from the coast but this isn’t a democracy or I’m not in charge. Weird mob mentality here. 4 person mob. Us.
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The paper has a page dedicated to math games. I think I shall do some.
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Well, I never got to the math games.
They mechanic rolls up on his Royal Enfield just as I opened the paper. We all got real excited and watched closely as they put it together and made sure that there were no chunks of metal left in the case.
Soon the moment of truth was upon us, time to start it up and pray that it worked.
We turn the key, pulled the start and it fired up. Everything seemed all right, a bit of smoke from all the oil used to lubricate, but ok. And then to make sure, he gave it a bit of gas.
A grinding noise.
As if the fan looking bit was rubbing or the exhaust was rattling but worse. A look of concern came over everyone’s faces. This was not good. A bit more gas and the noise was getting quieter.
“Maybe it would be ok after all,” we thought. “Maybe it was just machining itself down to where it needed to be and it would be fine?”
The mechanics though, still didn’t look happy and started to crouch around it, bending to listen and feel it.
And then a crunch, a grind, and a thud as the motor came to an abrupt and violent stop.
Our expressions said it all. Dejection. Annoyance. Confusion. Frustration.
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Another fried piston. And this time they think the balance weights on the crank may have shifted.
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At present the motor is in pieces on the ground all around us. We will be staying here tonight, somewhere. Hopefully we can get it working tomorrow.
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Britt and Grant aren’t back yet. They went in search of a hotel. One with a toilet would be sweet but god only knows what kind of place they will find, this town isn’t too big.
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They just put the motor back in again and here come Britt and Grant now.
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They were all smiles, sweat, and Grant’s pants were torn.
Turns out they only found a volleyball game and no place to stay. What the fuck, they didn’t even get Mike and me.
Now that it’s nearly dark we have to find a place.
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We didn’t want to drive at night. Not ever. So what do we do the second night out?
Drive at night.
So turns out all the hotels are full, that or they didn’t like us. That left us with two options; drive or camp in the rickshaw.
You could tell no one wanted to camp, it wasn’t even brought up actually.
Driving wasn’t as bad as we had thought, but 6km (about 4 miles) and at 35 to 40 km/h it doesn’t take long.
The hotel we found is posh. Huge, monstrous room, changing room, and bathroom. A/C. toilet with paper. 2 nice beds. 10 ft ceilings. Marble floors. Expensive 4000 RP a night. Which means that twice now we’ve had a nice place to stay. Probably downhill from here in terms of accommodations.
Our rickshaw fix though only cost 1500 RP and that’s with a 260 RP tip. Labor for the whole day was only 600 RP. So cool. We feared a total cost of 4000 RP or more. Odd really since we pay that much here just to sleep. But anyways, it probably should have been 4000+ RP and we felt bad for leaving such a small tip for 9+ hrs of work. We are talking about sending him some tools though to help him with his business.
Time for bed. We will be on the road by 6 am.
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What a shit hole.
Apparently A/C counts for a lot here since this was 1000 RP for two rooms, which in theory is only $10 per room but still….
The bed has one large tear and several anonymous stains. The whole room feels damp and moldy. I’m afraid to look at the bathroom after Britt said it was worse than the beach/Pondi place. Weird smudges, foot prints, hand prints, and I swear I see a face print, mar an otherwise nasty shade of off-white/tan paint on the walls of our room. The place is lit by one garish florescent light on the wall the bed is attached to and again, the TV doesn’t work. WTF, it only works with the remote? Whatever. Jesus there are dumb shows on.
I look around.
What a shit hole.
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(I am slightly drunk)
Fucking TV.
No cable to the TV from the wall, so we go to Britt and Mike’s room to get theirs since they’re gonna be doing it and won’t need it.
Anyways, our TV volume doesn’t go down, only up. As we figure this out the volume screams to 61 and we now have duct tape and a sleeping bag covering the TV to try and silence the noise.
I can only hope the other room is done doing it before we get kicked out.
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*1 1/2 weeks of not writing. to difficult to write in the back while it's moving and to tired to write at night.
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On a train now to Mughalsarai. This section is bumpy as shit. The train stopped not too long ago.
(Jumbled words I can’t read)
Fucking bumps.
Anyways, as I was saying, the train stopped for what I thought was a normal stop. Apparently it wasn’t completely normal since I saw a bunch of kids run up and throw rocks at the train when it started to move. I walked over to the door as the train stopped again and found that there were a few people at the doors. I asked on man if he spoke English and he head wobbled and I wondered out loud what was going on.
“Nuisance,” he said.
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This train ride hasn’t sucked completely, just mostly. It’s humid and warm in here. 1AC is the only way to go, unless you like to try to talk to people.
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The car behind this one has open windows.
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Varanasi now.
Woke at 5:30 for a boat ride on the Ganga (Ganges) River at 6 am. Turns out that they boat ride had 2 other people on it from Canada.
The Ganga is a flowing sewer.
I saw a dead and bloated goat floating by and something else under the water that looked like a head in some white linens, trying to float up but not able to. Add to that the people bathing, washing clothes, and defecating along the banks. Plus the temple that burns 150 people a day and goes for 24 hrs a day and dumps pile after pile of ash and charcoal on the edge of the river to be washed away later. And 95% of the people out and about on the boats were white tourists.
So disappointing.
At one point though, I did see a funeral pyre that had just been lit and had a pair of feet sticking out of it.
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2:30 pm.
I asked the hotel guy to get us a cab for 3:45. Gives us an hour to get there and get on. I would rather be leaving in 15 min but Mike doesn’t want to just sit around the station, though yesterday we got there 2 hrs early and only were on 15 min before we left. If it turns out like that I don’t know what will happen. And by that I mean we miss our train. I’m not paying for a new ticket, that’s for damn sure.
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So we made it with plenty of time. Turns out we were only 5 km from the yard and the train was delayed by 40 min. now we are on our way and much the wiser to the way these trains work. We even have a whole section to ourselves, though the individual lights aren’t working. I’ll take extra room over those lights when on this side, and not the lower berth.
(more bad hand writing)
Jouncey-bouncey as fuck.
This train is a rocket too.
We are moving. Its god awful boring and the fact that I’m having such difficult time writing is fucking annoying. Only 12 hrs though Mike sometimes says 18.
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Taj Mahal and Red Fort (Agra Fort).
I found the Taj, even with all the people and all the hustle and bustle, to have this total sense of calm. Especially on the side area’s where no one was. Not so much a sense of history, but peace. Tranquility.
And the Agra Fort was a feeling of quite desolation and slow crumbling. Peaceful like dying when you’re old and ready to leave your physical form.
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I am super tired still.
Last night we snagged some pillows from the empty train cabins. This worked out perfectly till about midnight when I felt a tug on my pillow and my head drop. Damn train stewardess dude had yanked the extra pillow out from under my head, the fucker. That was just the start though as the other occupants of the cabin showed up later and tried to get their privacy lights working by hitting all the switches in the room. Damn annoying, I tell you, as the intensely bright light flickers on and off 2 ft from your face. And we weren’t sure when we would arrive so I kept waking up fearing we had missed our stop. I woke at 5:15 am and got completely ready to go only to hear that I had 1 hr and 45 min to go before we arrived.
Not much good sleep.
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I can’t believe that 2 rickshaw teams destroyed their rides 30 km away from the finish.
Retarded.
Driving beyond the conditions of the road and their own abilities.
It’s not a rally for fucks sake.
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Excited to get home. Almost as excited as we were to get here, but not quite and not in the same way. Still it will be very nice to get home and unwind and relax. The plane ride can’t come soon enough but it’s not till 3 am and its 7 pm now.
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We need a calculator.
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Paying to pee is retarded I think. The restrooms aren’t any cleaner and I swear I don’t ever see anyone flush a urinal.
So why the cost?
Infrastructure?
I seriously doubt it. Lots of water goes right into the rivers and streams. I don’t even know if sewage treatment plants exist here. And people who can’t pay or have to go bad end up just peeing wherever. Pick some other natural bodily function and charge for it? Well, I suppose sleeping counts, but it’s not the point!
I pee freely!
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Kingfisher still makes me feel ill. Though almost 2 tall beers a piece makes waiting for a train almost bearable.
Almost.
God awfully boring again.
The din and rattle of voices and noises turns into a gentle, if not persistent and slightly annoying hum.
Time is crawling though.
Nothing to do but observe and write.
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I dislike being taken advantage of or exploited. I suppose that is a general human condition and most likely doesn’t bother people unless you feel like it’s happening to you (if you think it’s cool and are happy with it, is it really taking advantage?) At the same time I know in India we have at times taken liberties or even advantage, but it’s just such a give and take place I don’t feel especially bad for anything.
Other than the really poor.
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The hand position that the old man sitting across from me has his left hand in makes it look like he’s flipping me off.
I like to believe he is.
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Not at all what I was expecting in 1AC. Totally expecting a closed door room thing and here I am looking at some Amtrak style crap.
Great, an airliner on wheels.
What a total disappointment.
Where’s my “Darjeeling Limited” style compartment where my friends and I can talk about how much fun we’ve had and how this experience has changed our lives?
Where’s the guy in a turban serving us?
Where is anything cool?
As we are departing shitty over equalized mid and treble Indian style elevator music is warbling out of speakers in the ceiling.
Damn it, this is nothing like my imagination! Strike some of that, some guy in a turban thing just offered me some food, but still not what I was expecting. Could be worse I suppose, instead of some poor child wandering up and down the aisles shouting, “Panni! Panni! Water! Panni!” They just give you water here.
By “they” I mean the guys in the quasi turbans, not some poor child.
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Some older gentleman that looks a bit like Ralph Nader is sitting across from me eating a vegetarian meal. I wish he would start spouting off on something political so I could tell him to shut the fuck up. Not that I agree or disagree with Nader or even this old guy across from me, I just feel like being a confrontational dick all the sudden.
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Time to drink some Kingfisher.
Kingfisher Premium no less.
Drinking water.
Premium drinking water.
I pray I never take tap water that doesn’t make me shit my insides all over the place, for granted ever again.
Yum, Premium…..
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My Imodium AD is still going strong. 7 hrs till air plane toilet.
India is a place where you would be well advised to play your bowel movements, least they creep up on you in a location that is less than lacking. Like the side of the road, aka the shoulder of the road.
If National Highway 5 made me realize anything, it’s that squatting and shitting shouldn’t be just reserved for things like camping and the privacy of your own home. It should be shared, and what better way than along the side of a National Highway early in the morning?
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I’ve been wearing the exact same clothes for 5 days now. I’ve sweat, danced, and slept in them. Even better, my pants haven’t been “washed” in 7 or more, and even that washing was just dunking them in some water and hanging them on the back of the rickshaw to dry.
My white shirt is turning grey.
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I can’t tell if I should push my body to fatigue on this trip on the way home or if I should attempt just random sleep. I do tend to snore and occasionally drool. The drooling is ok since it only affects me but I can wake the dead with my snoring.
My head is hurting a bit. Probably should sleep, it being dark and all.
Also I’ve been sleeping at or around dark for 2 weeks now, so it’s what my body wants.
Fuck you body, I’m calling the shots and I say stay awake!
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You win again body. One of these days though…..
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In the airport waiting.
This terminal is tiny, looks like 6 gates total.
1.5 hrs till we board but there is no gate listed for our flight anywhere. We are all fantastically tired and met one of the guys from the Tetris rickshaw, Jon. He is on the same flight. We thought that was the case when we talked to him in Shillong but it was only confirmed a little bit ago when he found us in the airport.
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I took 1200 photos since the day we were going to leave Varanasi which was roughly 48 hrs ago. Most of those, probably 1100 of them were from today starting at the Taj. That’s a lot of photos. I’m going to stitch a bunch of them together when we get home.
When I get home.
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I am working up a very good buzz on the plane while watching “The Last Samurai.”
So happy to be headed home.
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In order to get into the US there is a 5 min video.
The intro to this video was hilarious. Football, Mt. Rushmore, an 8 lane highway – ALL AMERICAN!
Fucking dumb.
At least by being from America we don’t have to fill out those I-94 forms in addition to the customs one.
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enjoy!
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People can get used to anything.
Two days ago I was in complete culture shock. Now I’m almost used to it all.
From London:
We arrived at the Chennai airport at about 1 am local time to what the pilot described as a “hazy night.” The first thing I noticed when stepping off the airplane was the heat and humidity. We walked to the customs and of course found the only line out of 10 that was being run by an apparent trainee. After languishing in that line for an entirely too long we jumped lines and were now officially in India. We continued walking down a flight of stairs to the security checkpoint where a woman was sitting behind a scanner looking at anything and everything but the scanner. To the side of the scanner was what looked like a door frame covered in a crappy fake wood veneer with a light that would apparently randomly flash on and off saying whether or not you could continue. Regardless of what the light would show or any noise this detector would make the security guard would wave people through. I would call it lax but it doesn’t do it justice to what the lack of security was like.
Luggage claim was right next to that and in typical fashion two of our three bags were immediately found while the third took an additional 20 minutes. From there we headed straight to the door where my first shock came.
People.
Hundreds of people. And beyond that, more people. Walking, sleeping, driving. Everywhere was activity. And horns. Beeping, honking, squeaking. From all directions at once.
But the one thing I noticed the most was the smell. It smelled like the city was on fire. Smokey. Like wood and other items being burnt en masse. Hazy doesn’t describe it though. Visibility was perhaps a mile at most and combined with the smells, heat, humidity, and sounds it made for a strange combination of sensory overload.
Not knowing where or what we were going to do because of our complete and purposeful lack of planning we pushed through the crowd in search of an ATM. One thing we had learned in London was that cash is the commodity of choice and not many places take credit card.
As soon as we were through the crowd though we were descended upon by taxi drivers, rickshaw drivers, and people who seemed to work for them by getting the driver’s their fares. “No I don’t need a taxi, I’m just looking for an ATM,” was responded with “I will take you to one, then get you taxi.”
They circled us in a desperate predatory way as we walked down the sidewalk in front of the airport and no sooner would one tire of asking when another would walk up. The four of us got past them and walked into the small ATM booth and got 5000 RP (about $100). Mike stated he had read that the authorized taxi drivers were dispatched by a booth in front of the airport and suggested we head back there to get a cab and also not to get ripped off.
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Random thoughts:
All disputes must be settled by jousting.
My toe that touches my big toe is swollen and rubbing my big toe. Feels odd.
According to this Kingfisher label this beer is for export only or only for sale in Pondicherry. Thank god we are in Pondicherry.
I don’t like Kingfisher.
I wonder why my pants didn’t dry very well. Could be the saltwater.
Group decision making is annoying.
The cows here seem emaciated but can basically eat anything so it doesn’t make sense.
Dogs here are all the same size. Nico size.
I really don’t get why cows are sacred. They’re everywhere and not being used for milk or transport. Maybe back before cars, but now…..?
Riding in the front of a bus is a terrifying experience.
Hot British girls are seriously lacking.
I will probably not be in many photos since I’m taking them all.
I felt infinitely bad for some kid on a pedal rickshaw that wanted to give us a ride.
Getting food here takes forever.
I am surprised more people don’t die on the streets.
I am also surprised when an Indian is wearing western style clothing.
“American” music includes a lot of country.
This town used to be French occupied and the signs are in French occasionally.
Cute girls look hot when busting around here on a motorcycle.
Most stuff is cheap.
Eating at a fancy restaurant costs less than McDonalds.
We don’t drink Guinness, we inhale it. Or so some Brit said.
I hate wearing sandals and stepping in a steaming pile of: dog, cow, goat, human poo.
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So we came back from eating to find the lady of the house waiting for us. Apparently there was some miscommunication and we had only paid for one night. I am not sure how much I believe that since I tend to trust Grant’s negotiating skills. But we paid more.
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Last night we saw our rickshaw for the first time. It looks sweet. Some of the others are way more intricate though. And Bill Murray’s head looks a bit wonky. It’s like they spent a lot of time on some and then ran out of time on others. Thinking about it though it could be because we turned ours in late.
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I was of the opinion I should get gifts for people but the rest of the group doesn’t agree with gifting and I am thinking the same. Will they actually use anything I get them?
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I need to get shorts so I can wash my clothes but the store is closed and I’m unsure if I can try them on. I feel like I miscalculated in packing.
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Our rickshaw officially took a shit today. All day yesterday from the time we took off it would make a horrendous screeching noise and stop. Well this morning after 5 more grinds it made on particularly long and loud and noticeably worse noise and died just before we got to a toll booth. We coasted to the side of the road and tried our normal routine of going to neutron and pulling on the start lever. This time though it wouldn’t budge. Britt and Mike walked to the toll and we were informed of a repair place that we had just passed. We turned it around and started pushing. They do push quite easily when tires are inflated properly. We found a mechanic and through noises and weird body gestures managed to communicate the problem. He hopped in the driver’s seat and gave a yank.
“Piston,” he said.
Damn it.
We talked to a Canadian team on the road this morning and they blew their piston on the start line and they lost a whole day. The mechanic started tearing into it and sure enough, chunks of piston metal all throughout the cylinder. We will need a new piston, ring, some gaskets, and a bore on the cylinder wall.
3 hours he said. We will see.
Till then I guess it’s an early lunch.
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Still waiting.
I’m so horribly bored.
I went and bought a liter of paint and a brush and painted the back wheels and a good portion of the tires bright red. I would have painted the roof rack red also but our stuff is on it. Britt made an attempt at painting eyes on the rear view mirrors.
Key word, “attempt.”
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Most helmets here look like they are from the 70’s. Like literally 30 years old.
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I remain bored and now have to pee but am unsure where. Toilets here aren’t readily available and I don’t want to just go anywhere because
a) People are everywhere and
b) Where I pee may be someone’s front yard or house or something.
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I just heard the first plane since we left the airport.
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I want to go get away from the coast but this isn’t a democracy or I’m not in charge. Weird mob mentality here. 4 person mob. Us.
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The paper has a page dedicated to math games. I think I shall do some.
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Well, I never got to the math games.
They mechanic rolls up on his Royal Enfield just as I opened the paper. We all got real excited and watched closely as they put it together and made sure that there were no chunks of metal left in the case.
Soon the moment of truth was upon us, time to start it up and pray that it worked.
We turn the key, pulled the start and it fired up. Everything seemed all right, a bit of smoke from all the oil used to lubricate, but ok. And then to make sure, he gave it a bit of gas.
A grinding noise.
As if the fan looking bit was rubbing or the exhaust was rattling but worse. A look of concern came over everyone’s faces. This was not good. A bit more gas and the noise was getting quieter.
“Maybe it would be ok after all,” we thought. “Maybe it was just machining itself down to where it needed to be and it would be fine?”
The mechanics though, still didn’t look happy and started to crouch around it, bending to listen and feel it.
And then a crunch, a grind, and a thud as the motor came to an abrupt and violent stop.
Our expressions said it all. Dejection. Annoyance. Confusion. Frustration.
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Another fried piston. And this time they think the balance weights on the crank may have shifted.
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At present the motor is in pieces on the ground all around us. We will be staying here tonight, somewhere. Hopefully we can get it working tomorrow.
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Britt and Grant aren’t back yet. They went in search of a hotel. One with a toilet would be sweet but god only knows what kind of place they will find, this town isn’t too big.
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They just put the motor back in again and here come Britt and Grant now.
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They were all smiles, sweat, and Grant’s pants were torn.
Turns out they only found a volleyball game and no place to stay. What the fuck, they didn’t even get Mike and me.
Now that it’s nearly dark we have to find a place.
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We didn’t want to drive at night. Not ever. So what do we do the second night out?
Drive at night.
So turns out all the hotels are full, that or they didn’t like us. That left us with two options; drive or camp in the rickshaw.
You could tell no one wanted to camp, it wasn’t even brought up actually.
Driving wasn’t as bad as we had thought, but 6km (about 4 miles) and at 35 to 40 km/h it doesn’t take long.
The hotel we found is posh. Huge, monstrous room, changing room, and bathroom. A/C. toilet with paper. 2 nice beds. 10 ft ceilings. Marble floors. Expensive 4000 RP a night. Which means that twice now we’ve had a nice place to stay. Probably downhill from here in terms of accommodations.
Our rickshaw fix though only cost 1500 RP and that’s with a 260 RP tip. Labor for the whole day was only 600 RP. So cool. We feared a total cost of 4000 RP or more. Odd really since we pay that much here just to sleep. But anyways, it probably should have been 4000+ RP and we felt bad for leaving such a small tip for 9+ hrs of work. We are talking about sending him some tools though to help him with his business.
Time for bed. We will be on the road by 6 am.
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What a shit hole.
Apparently A/C counts for a lot here since this was 1000 RP for two rooms, which in theory is only $10 per room but still….
The bed has one large tear and several anonymous stains. The whole room feels damp and moldy. I’m afraid to look at the bathroom after Britt said it was worse than the beach/Pondi place. Weird smudges, foot prints, hand prints, and I swear I see a face print, mar an otherwise nasty shade of off-white/tan paint on the walls of our room. The place is lit by one garish florescent light on the wall the bed is attached to and again, the TV doesn’t work. WTF, it only works with the remote? Whatever. Jesus there are dumb shows on.
I look around.
What a shit hole.
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(I am slightly drunk)
Fucking TV.
No cable to the TV from the wall, so we go to Britt and Mike’s room to get theirs since they’re gonna be doing it and won’t need it.
Anyways, our TV volume doesn’t go down, only up. As we figure this out the volume screams to 61 and we now have duct tape and a sleeping bag covering the TV to try and silence the noise.
I can only hope the other room is done doing it before we get kicked out.
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*1 1/2 weeks of not writing. to difficult to write in the back while it's moving and to tired to write at night.
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On a train now to Mughalsarai. This section is bumpy as shit. The train stopped not too long ago.
(Jumbled words I can’t read)
Fucking bumps.
Anyways, as I was saying, the train stopped for what I thought was a normal stop. Apparently it wasn’t completely normal since I saw a bunch of kids run up and throw rocks at the train when it started to move. I walked over to the door as the train stopped again and found that there were a few people at the doors. I asked on man if he spoke English and he head wobbled and I wondered out loud what was going on.
“Nuisance,” he said.
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This train ride hasn’t sucked completely, just mostly. It’s humid and warm in here. 1AC is the only way to go, unless you like to try to talk to people.
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The car behind this one has open windows.
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Varanasi now.
Woke at 5:30 for a boat ride on the Ganga (Ganges) River at 6 am. Turns out that they boat ride had 2 other people on it from Canada.
The Ganga is a flowing sewer.
I saw a dead and bloated goat floating by and something else under the water that looked like a head in some white linens, trying to float up but not able to. Add to that the people bathing, washing clothes, and defecating along the banks. Plus the temple that burns 150 people a day and goes for 24 hrs a day and dumps pile after pile of ash and charcoal on the edge of the river to be washed away later. And 95% of the people out and about on the boats were white tourists.
So disappointing.
At one point though, I did see a funeral pyre that had just been lit and had a pair of feet sticking out of it.
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2:30 pm.
I asked the hotel guy to get us a cab for 3:45. Gives us an hour to get there and get on. I would rather be leaving in 15 min but Mike doesn’t want to just sit around the station, though yesterday we got there 2 hrs early and only were on 15 min before we left. If it turns out like that I don’t know what will happen. And by that I mean we miss our train. I’m not paying for a new ticket, that’s for damn sure.
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So we made it with plenty of time. Turns out we were only 5 km from the yard and the train was delayed by 40 min. now we are on our way and much the wiser to the way these trains work. We even have a whole section to ourselves, though the individual lights aren’t working. I’ll take extra room over those lights when on this side, and not the lower berth.
(more bad hand writing)
Jouncey-bouncey as fuck.
This train is a rocket too.
We are moving. Its god awful boring and the fact that I’m having such difficult time writing is fucking annoying. Only 12 hrs though Mike sometimes says 18.
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Taj Mahal and Red Fort (Agra Fort).
I found the Taj, even with all the people and all the hustle and bustle, to have this total sense of calm. Especially on the side area’s where no one was. Not so much a sense of history, but peace. Tranquility.
And the Agra Fort was a feeling of quite desolation and slow crumbling. Peaceful like dying when you’re old and ready to leave your physical form.
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I am super tired still.
Last night we snagged some pillows from the empty train cabins. This worked out perfectly till about midnight when I felt a tug on my pillow and my head drop. Damn train stewardess dude had yanked the extra pillow out from under my head, the fucker. That was just the start though as the other occupants of the cabin showed up later and tried to get their privacy lights working by hitting all the switches in the room. Damn annoying, I tell you, as the intensely bright light flickers on and off 2 ft from your face. And we weren’t sure when we would arrive so I kept waking up fearing we had missed our stop. I woke at 5:15 am and got completely ready to go only to hear that I had 1 hr and 45 min to go before we arrived.
Not much good sleep.
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I can’t believe that 2 rickshaw teams destroyed their rides 30 km away from the finish.
Retarded.
Driving beyond the conditions of the road and their own abilities.
It’s not a rally for fucks sake.
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Excited to get home. Almost as excited as we were to get here, but not quite and not in the same way. Still it will be very nice to get home and unwind and relax. The plane ride can’t come soon enough but it’s not till 3 am and its 7 pm now.
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We need a calculator.
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Paying to pee is retarded I think. The restrooms aren’t any cleaner and I swear I don’t ever see anyone flush a urinal.
So why the cost?
Infrastructure?
I seriously doubt it. Lots of water goes right into the rivers and streams. I don’t even know if sewage treatment plants exist here. And people who can’t pay or have to go bad end up just peeing wherever. Pick some other natural bodily function and charge for it? Well, I suppose sleeping counts, but it’s not the point!
I pee freely!
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Kingfisher still makes me feel ill. Though almost 2 tall beers a piece makes waiting for a train almost bearable.
Almost.
God awfully boring again.
The din and rattle of voices and noises turns into a gentle, if not persistent and slightly annoying hum.
Time is crawling though.
Nothing to do but observe and write.
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I dislike being taken advantage of or exploited. I suppose that is a general human condition and most likely doesn’t bother people unless you feel like it’s happening to you (if you think it’s cool and are happy with it, is it really taking advantage?) At the same time I know in India we have at times taken liberties or even advantage, but it’s just such a give and take place I don’t feel especially bad for anything.
Other than the really poor.
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The hand position that the old man sitting across from me has his left hand in makes it look like he’s flipping me off.
I like to believe he is.
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Not at all what I was expecting in 1AC. Totally expecting a closed door room thing and here I am looking at some Amtrak style crap.
Great, an airliner on wheels.
What a total disappointment.
Where’s my “Darjeeling Limited” style compartment where my friends and I can talk about how much fun we’ve had and how this experience has changed our lives?
Where’s the guy in a turban serving us?
Where is anything cool?
As we are departing shitty over equalized mid and treble Indian style elevator music is warbling out of speakers in the ceiling.
Damn it, this is nothing like my imagination! Strike some of that, some guy in a turban thing just offered me some food, but still not what I was expecting. Could be worse I suppose, instead of some poor child wandering up and down the aisles shouting, “Panni! Panni! Water! Panni!” They just give you water here.
By “they” I mean the guys in the quasi turbans, not some poor child.
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Some older gentleman that looks a bit like Ralph Nader is sitting across from me eating a vegetarian meal. I wish he would start spouting off on something political so I could tell him to shut the fuck up. Not that I agree or disagree with Nader or even this old guy across from me, I just feel like being a confrontational dick all the sudden.
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Time to drink some Kingfisher.
Kingfisher Premium no less.
Drinking water.
Premium drinking water.
I pray I never take tap water that doesn’t make me shit my insides all over the place, for granted ever again.
Yum, Premium…..
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My Imodium AD is still going strong. 7 hrs till air plane toilet.
India is a place where you would be well advised to play your bowel movements, least they creep up on you in a location that is less than lacking. Like the side of the road, aka the shoulder of the road.
If National Highway 5 made me realize anything, it’s that squatting and shitting shouldn’t be just reserved for things like camping and the privacy of your own home. It should be shared, and what better way than along the side of a National Highway early in the morning?
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I’ve been wearing the exact same clothes for 5 days now. I’ve sweat, danced, and slept in them. Even better, my pants haven’t been “washed” in 7 or more, and even that washing was just dunking them in some water and hanging them on the back of the rickshaw to dry.
My white shirt is turning grey.
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I can’t tell if I should push my body to fatigue on this trip on the way home or if I should attempt just random sleep. I do tend to snore and occasionally drool. The drooling is ok since it only affects me but I can wake the dead with my snoring.
My head is hurting a bit. Probably should sleep, it being dark and all.
Also I’ve been sleeping at or around dark for 2 weeks now, so it’s what my body wants.
Fuck you body, I’m calling the shots and I say stay awake!
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You win again body. One of these days though…..
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In the airport waiting.
This terminal is tiny, looks like 6 gates total.
1.5 hrs till we board but there is no gate listed for our flight anywhere. We are all fantastically tired and met one of the guys from the Tetris rickshaw, Jon. He is on the same flight. We thought that was the case when we talked to him in Shillong but it was only confirmed a little bit ago when he found us in the airport.
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I took 1200 photos since the day we were going to leave Varanasi which was roughly 48 hrs ago. Most of those, probably 1100 of them were from today starting at the Taj. That’s a lot of photos. I’m going to stitch a bunch of them together when we get home.
When I get home.
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I am working up a very good buzz on the plane while watching “The Last Samurai.”
So happy to be headed home.
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In order to get into the US there is a 5 min video.
The intro to this video was hilarious. Football, Mt. Rushmore, an 8 lane highway – ALL AMERICAN!
Fucking dumb.
At least by being from America we don’t have to fill out those I-94 forms in addition to the customs one.
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Tuesday, January 20, 2009
all of team zissou has made it back to their own respective houses safely. thanks for following the blog and i know i plan on posting up some of my observations i wrote in a little journal in a couple days.
but for now, after 48 hours of straight tourism, travel, train, and plane and some serious up and coming jet lag i've got to do the only sane and reasonable thing to do....
....go to a bar.
-mark
but for now, after 48 hours of straight tourism, travel, train, and plane and some serious up and coming jet lag i've got to do the only sane and reasonable thing to do....
....go to a bar.
-mark
I'm back in Denver and was excited to sleep in my own bed, have conditioner for my hair, and finally use some Q-tips. Just to let everyone know, the map is interactive if you click on each pathway and stop there's a little blurb about each spot. I'm totally messed up on time, mostly because I stayed up until 9 am in Vegas hanging out with this totally cute girl I met and playing blackjack, made my flight with about 5 minutes to spare, then went to bed early last night, woke up at 3 am, was at work by 4 am. Mark, Britt, and Mike fly in today around 3:30 am. Thanks everyone for following the website! Until the next adventure... - Grant
Sunday, January 18, 2009
This is our last day in India. I am having mixed feelings but mostly excited to be coming home. We just arrived in Agra and mike is printing our plane tickets so I decided to take the opportunity to blarg. We are going to hire a rickshaw driver for the day who will help us kill time before our train departs this evening at 8pm, the cost 350 rs ($7) for an entire day. We will see the Taj, the Fort, I think he said something about a waterfall. It seems much cleaner here and most people speak english so hopefully it will be an eventful day (knock on wood). we learned from the ricky run not take the chance of even thinking positive things because they will inevitably go wrong. The things i will miss most about india: 1. chai 2. dosa or dosai 3. the cost of everything, cheap! Things I will not miss: 1. the toilets, or lack thereof 2. Trash trash everywhere 3. being stared at like a monkey.
Oh I almost forgot to add about Varanasee, it was amazing! The Ganges really are a spectacular sight that I am blessed to have been able to see. We took a sunrise boat ride up and down the Ganges, so spectaular. We met this artist named Veejay who actually has some carvings and artwork in the museum of nature and science in Denver. He brought us into his home and gave us tea. He showed us his artwork and told us stories of the gods. It was an amazing experience. Brian, I found you a one of a kind Kali that was hand carved in this house. It took the artist about 3 weeks to make. I think you are going to love it. I really wish that we could have stayed there longer. I could have spent months there. The people were the kindest and you could tell living by the Mother Ganga has made their hearts pure. Gotta go! -britt
Saturday, January 17, 2009
So we finish two weeks in a rickshaw and do we relax a little and enjoy a little break? of course not. We hop on a train for 26 hours. There was no 1st class on this train so we got the luxurious 2nd class A/C. If this was 2nd class I didn't even want to see the lower classes. 2 of the beds/seats were up top where luggage should belong but we were there instead and the other was a small seat by the window. We were instantly greeted by a roach and he must have really liked us because he told all of his buddies about the silly American's first time on an Indian train and they joined us for the rest of the trip. The trick is not to squish them becuase then you have to deal with the dead bug body, but to flick them in any direction away from your pillow, sorry Mark. We were also greeted by a very large rat who I really hope was not helping cook the food. He did have the skills to drag our bottom bunk buddie's plate quite a distance to his rat layer. Oh Splinter, the things you do... Other than that it was quite nice. Our beds were strung from the ceiling with chains that were about to break so we were gently rocked to sleep through most of the trip. Poor Mark had to manage sleeping on something not really bedlike, but he did have a window seat. We arrived this evening in a town right outside of Viranasee ( i know, spelled wrong) where we took a taxi to our hotel. It was such a different feeling being in a car at night with proper headlights, even if he did hit to cyclists. We went some short cut and ended up crossing the Ganges on one of the jankies bridges I have driven on. I wasn't scared in the slightest because what we just did in the ricky was way more terrifying. After being here all of maybe 2 hours I have seen more white people than I have all month. We are signed up for a 6am boat ride on the Ganges where we will be able to see the Hindus do their morning puja. After all this I wish we could just stay in one place for awhile. I am tired of moving around so much and sleeping somewhere new everynight. I don't think I would make a good hobo. I am really looking forward to what this holy land has in store for us tomorrow. -britt
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