If I could be in two places at the same time...

...I would be here:

"...the mercedes sosa concert where there were tens of thousands of people singing, babies in arm at like mindnight...kids up in the trees, the most perfect breeze ever and then when you looked behind you you could see the backdrop of tall buildings, lit up fountains and palm trees."

Lisa sent this from Buenos Aires. I LOVE Mercedes Sosa.

Khajuraho: sex in the sandstones

According to my guide book, TS Burt, the dude who was credited with 'rediscovering' the kamasutra temples at Khajuraho after being led to them by his palaquin guide (what about a little credit for the palaquin dude?) was quoted as saying that the images of all that hot action on the walls was "a little warmer than was any absolute necessity for." If that is all you expect to learn from this post then you better hold on to your seats. The reason the temples were forsaken by their inhabitants was because the region was under threat by Afghan invaders. So, in 1838 TS was led into the jungle by a palaquin like a child is led across the street to 'rediscover' them. I'm a bit edgy today. I was sexually harrassed by a city employee on my bus ride to this remote little town after having slept at the train station last night. My train got in six hours before the first bus was scheduled to leave the station. Harrassment will happen when you travel solo. It happens anywhere but knowing that doesn't make it any easier to deal with.

Moving on: the temples are amazingly detailed and well preserved. This place is definitely worth the non-boob friendly five hour bus ride.

Is that blood on the wall?

It's happened. It was bound to happen at some point. I looked for all the signs each time I checked out a room. Apparently if there are little speckles of blood on the wall near the bed you should not take the room. It means one thing only: bed bugs. Well, despite checking for the obvious signs it seems that I have managed to somehow end up in a place with bed bugs. My body is itchy and red. Not all of my body, just my ankles, tummy, lower back and arms. I took some anti-histamines for the itchiness but it will take a few days for the bites to heal. Of course now I can't distinguish between the bed bug bites and the mosquito bites.... Arghhhh. Anyone out there have any advice on this? Should I be throwing away my clothes and bedsheet or will washing it help? I have washed most of the stuff in my backpack. From what I understand bed bugs live in the furniture and don't actually travel with you in clothing.... Please tell me I'm right.



Have arrived in Mamallapuram just north of Pondicherry. This place is supposed to be a great mix of beach and caves. Well, caves it has and a beach as well but man, it's dirty on the beach and the ruins have a simple sort of charm to them. The sound of chisels fill the air as you walk through the streets. The town is famous for its sculptures. It should also be famous for its mosquitos. The Ramakrishna hotel gave me a mosquito coil when I checked in. I didn't realize it then but apparently there is a huge tank of water just a few streets down. A hot bed of mosquito action. Great. Just what I needed. Tonight I share a room with a girl I met getting off the bus outside of town.

I'm leaving tomorrow for Chennai (formerly Madras) to catch a train all the way up north to Satna. Apparently there is an 80 people waitinglist for the train out tomorrow night. I might have a better chance making a reservation from Chennai rather than Mamallapuram because they deal with tourist quotas. Otherwise the next train out with available seats is March 25. Won't wait that long. I have places to go and things to see before I head back to Delhi for my sister's birthday.

Kochin: Nutmeg & Honey

Finally arrived in Kochin... well, more like Erankulam across the water. Fort Kochin itself is quite small and more of a bedroom community. There's enough here to keep you busy for a day. I took the ferry over and roamed around the island for a day looking at the Chinese fishing nets, the Portuguese architecture and the synagogue in Jew Town. I ended my day by catching a kathakali performance, a classical Indian dance. There were about five other people in the audience, amongst them a nice Canadian guy. He has been traveling the country for a few months and was also staying at the hotel I am at, Basoto Lodge. There was a huge dead cockroach right in front of the stage that distracted me until the performer mimed the opening of a lotus flower. I swear I could see the sunshine behind him and hear the birds chirping when he did that. A nice man showed me the way to the theatre and when I came out of the theatre he showed me the way to a rooftop bar. Later, I showed myself the way to my hotel.


The following day I met up with Tom, the French guy I met in Hampi at the bus stop and we took a full day backwater tour on a canoe and houseboat. Tom is a rice king much like Scott B who misses his Asian girlfriend a lot. He has been talking about her nonestop and it's kind of cute. We got a really good lunch as part of the tour. There were these two German girls that absolutely hated India. They had arrived a week ago, freaked out, changed their ticket to leave the week after they arrived and were passing time in the meantime. I was kind of surprised but then we had lunch and they couldn't eat the curry because it tasted funny and the other girl didn't want anything coconut on her plate. Those girls need to get their asses to a Club Med pronto. Suffice it to say that my conversation with them was limited. Luckily, Tthere was a doctor from Glasgow on the trip and our tour guide opened up to her quite candidly. He told her all about his diabetes... and his erectile dysfunction. Apparently viagra didn't help him but a mixture of honey and nutmeg worked better. His wife was happy for a total of three minutes. I don't quite know if he applied it onto himself or if he consumed it.... Anyone out there have a clue? He also kept saying that cashew nuts were a natural aphrodisiac. I guess those you would insert... anyone? Am I right or what?

Left the hotel after the backwater tour at 8pm and headed onto a bus. Man, driving at night is no fun. I couldn't figure out if the guy behind me was taking liberties with his toes up on my seat. In the end I figured if running his toes along my sweaty back pocket was giving him the thrill of his life then who am I to deny such a small favour? No seriously though, it was kinda disturbing. I was the only woman on the bus. More interestingly though, I figured out that I can hear through my mouth. Yes, yes, it's true! I put in earplugs because the engine of the bus was soooo loud and then I had to yawn. It freaked me right out when I started to hear everything clearly once my mouth was open in mid yawn. Try it and see if it works for you. I didn't sleep a wink because I kept getting freaked out when I yawned. Plus, the bus driver kept swerving into oncoming traffic and then all the way across onto the side of the road. Most of the vehicles that we swerved around had the words "highly flammable" and "EXPLOSIVES" on them. I'm a backseat driver and I'm sure that my being awake helped him avoid those trucks with their deadly cargo... somehow.

Once that ride ended at 5am in Salem I had to get off the bus and wait for my connection to Pondicherry. The minute I got off this group of men just started crowding around me. I sat down and they just stood around me and stared their little eyes out. Eventually a soldier with a rather large rifle came up to me and escorted me to my bus. That was nice. I spent the next 7 hours watching Tamil music videos while the surly bus driver stuck his head out of the window and yelled at all the people he almost ran over in his attempt to get the vehicle to its next stop.

Thanks to my 7 hour ride I think I have a pretty good grip on the landscape of Tamil Nadu. There are some mountains, rice paddies, two varieties of palm trees and a load of small villages. We passed mosques, hindu temples, ox with decorated horns and a hundred kids dressed in white sitting in their school's courtyard in the shade of a tree learning their ABCs... or whatever the Tamil equivalent would be. Also learned on my ride that men and women don't sit together on the bus. I had my hood on because it was so cold and a guy sat next to me. He looked over and grimaced, for real, he grimaced like I was a leper or something when he realised I was a woman, then promptly got up and sat somewhere else.

I sleep in a bed tonight. I'm looking forward to it.

The promenade in Pondicherry

2 Days 2 Dates

Leaving a surprisingly fast connection at the internet cafe for the heat of Bangalore was rather unappealing but it had to be done. I had to find my way back to the train station after a night on the bus to catch my connection to Kochin. So there I was standing on the street corner waiting for a break in traffic to cross the street. Generally crossing the street can take anywhere from two to fifteen minutes. This latest attempt was more around the fifteen minute mark. People here stare. I think I mentioned it before but I'll say it again. The men crane their necks and have their mouths hanging open just looking at you as you go about doing the mundane things travelers have to do... such as crossing the street. So, it wasn't a big surprise when I heard a man's voice behind me ask "where are you going madame?" Rude as I am I didn't even turn around. Then he walked around me, a guy in a three piece suit pointing at me with his cell phone. Not bad looking. "It is not safe here for you to walk. You are not from here." I kept ignoring him. "Are you Indian?" I shook my head. Now, if I had a rupee for every time someone asks me that I could easily be financing another year of travel. "Would you like a tea or lassi?" And that is how I went on a date with a man in a three piece suit in Bangalore. He didn't take a shit right there on the street, sorry Denise, I know you were hoping for some Margaret Chow like observations. He said no one at the office would miss him because he was out for a meeting and they didn't know where he was. I left the cafe an hour later in a rickshaw to the train station.

The next day I was standing outside the internet cafe reading the Lonely Planet when some other dude just approached me and asked if I needed help with directions. He ended up taking me straight to the Kathakali theatre for the performance. I met a nice Canadian boy inside who was also staying at my hotel. After the performance the Canadian boy went to the bathroom and surprisingly enough the guy who walked me over to the theatre was still waiting for me. We walked back near my hotel and went for a drink on the rooftop of a building on Broadway where the horns of a thousand automobiles serenaded us from below. The local Kingfisher brew is delicious but beer is expensive in Kochin, Rs 100 for a large bottle. I know it works out to be only 3 bucks but it's usually $1.50 in every other city. He tried to get me drunk but I knew better. I insisted on paying for my own drink and after a couple of hours of lying to him I walked off to my hotel alone. I spun quite the yarn about my finance back home because it occured to me that being a dude, he may try to walk me back to the hotel once I had a couple of drinks. At the hotel the receptionist called me over and told me that the Canadian boy asked about me and the French dude had also checked into the same place. Surprise, surprise.

Better Late Than Never!

Jingle Bells

Bangalore is much cleaner than any of the other large cities I have seen so far. The city has endless boulevards and traffic circles. I arrived way too early in the morning after the ride from Hospet. Nothing was open. I should have taken the valium the Australian guy offered me to get me through the 8 hour ride sitting up. It seems that in this part of the world paving the roads is impossible. The ride, once again, was bumpy.

I heard Jingle Bells being blasted from the speakers at a primary school as I was sweating my way across town to the internet cafe.

My train for Kochin leaves at 6:50pm. It is now noon.

Happy Journey Hampi

Lakshmi, the temple elephant was lying in the river by the boat crossing enjoying a good scrub from here keeper.

"You cheat me and you angry on me?" Welcome to the other side of the river. I arrived in Hampi early in the morning and instantly headed to cross the river to find a place to stay. Isaac, the owner of the Hema Guest House was about to show me a hut when he got into a fight with some of his other travel patrons. It was early and I was too tired to pay attention after a bumpy 11 hour bus ride. The place was clean and quiet. That's all I wanted.

Once I checked in I went for a walk past the rice plantations to another hut complex called the Goan Corner to have tea. It was recommended to me by someone in Goa and although it is a bit dirtier than Hema the guest house has a great atmosphere. I instantly recognized that the place would suck me in just like Arambol and took off to book a ticket out of town. There's a place to sleep on the roof for 30 rupees at the Goan Corner but I was happy with the 100 rupee hut at Hema.

The landscape of Hampi is absolutely unique. I've lamented the fact that my digital camera wasn't working more than once in the last 24 hours. The village is set amongst a hilly landscape of giant boulders and ancient ruins. Staying here is like living in Pompeii. This was once the most powerful Hindu empire and the ruins of temples, baths and palaces are a testament to its once powerful past.

As I explored some of the ruins behind the main temple I started chatting with another traveler until we got to a spot surrounded by a banana tree plantation. The structure looked like it would have been a bath in the past. I just stood there, the man I had been talking to wandered away and a woman walked towards me. She approached and we started talking and spent the entire day together. Her name was Sarah. We met for breakfast the next day before heading out for another day of exploring the elephant stables and old mosque. It was as if I had been waiting for her. Interestingly enough she mentioned it the following day over breakfast. It was a strange experience meeting a complete stranger as if they were an old friend. India.

At one point on our walk yesterday a group of girls and women saw my camera and started running towards us as if they couldn't wait to have their picture taken. After I took a picture they all asked for treats. It was strange seeing old women beg for cookies along with small children. Later, further down the road a group of about a hundred school children surrounded us and started shaking our hands. That got a bit freaky though because all of a sudden we were being mobbed by other groups of kids and we had to get out of there quickly.

We found a place with reasonably cool fresh lime sodas and sat watching the bazaar. Sarah sailed to India from Southeast Asia. She had been planning on doing an eight month sailing trip with her aunt but that was cut short and she jumped ship to join a French man who was heading back to Europe via India.

I met a French man waiting for the bus out to Hospet last night. He is on his way to Kochin just as I am. We plan to meet when we reach our destination. I don't have his email address. In India anything is possible.

Shanti Shanti

The high season for Goa is December/January. I've caught the end bit of the tourist season and the roof at the Ave Maria is a comfortable place to be this time of year. It gets really, really cold overnight though. Blankets are essential.

I met some amazing people in Arambol. Jess went off to meet her dad down south and I decided to stay on. In the end I was there for a full week. You never really get bored around these parts of the world. There's music every night (either a jam session or a band playing at a bar or a dj). Bob Marley is really loved and the other night at a bar called Zion I heard Patrice again for the first time in a couple of years.

The days go just as easy as the nights. It's too hot to move in the mornings until about 3pm, so you sit around and talk with people. An interesting bunch of people. Some of them have really gotten in touch with their spiritual side (for lack of a better word). It's more than spiritual in my eyes, there's some kind of truth they are getting at about themselves that is quite remarkable to see. It makes me jealous but happy for them.

I met Miko, a Finnish guy that used to be a stock broker but you could never guess it by looking at this thin, tanned, blond dreadlocked man. I met him through Andy whom I met on the rooftop. The two of them met in Delhi and headed to Pakistan after the earthquake to help. They've got some remarkable stories to tell of being part of this moetly crew of travellers delivering aid to those affected by the disaster. There was a lot that stood in their way and yet there was a lot they had going for them because in the end they achieved their goal. When they got back they happened to be in the Delhi market that was bombed. After those experiences Goa seemed like the place to head for some rest.

On my last day I was back at the lake and met this little boy that just started jumping all over me. He took my leg and dragged me along the water and then he took my foot and started biting my toes! That was weird.

This is the sort of people I've been spending time with and one of the reasons that leaving Goa as 'scheduled' didn't happen. The days there were spent hiking cliffs and a cave along the beach, taking mud baths up stream from the fresh water lake and hiking up into the jungle to an old hippie hang out called the Bunion Tree. The landscape is absolutely beautiful. There are little white churches hidden between the palm trees and the sky is filled with stars. Sunsets are not the most beautiful in the world but the mother of pearl reflection of the light in the water makes up for it.

Alas, I had to leave it behind for Hampi, another beautiful place that has the potential to tempt me into staying on a while longer than I intend.

The beach
The Ave Maria rooftop
My sleeping quarters

Arambol is great

I left Mumbai in the early morning yesterday. I took the first train out to Goa and that meant getting up at 5am. I woke up a few times during the night because Ruth, the Spanish girl in the bunk below me, had a special visitor for the night. She is gorgeous and the little fucker she was with (a Canadian) was not. I don't know why that made me mad. I suppose it's because she's not living up to her full potential in my eyes. Life's not fair I suppose.

I walked out of the hostel and met a couple on the street that was also heading to the train station. They turned out von dem Vaterland. Luckily most backpackers travel on the cheap here and we ended up in the same 3rd class non AC train car. I got to practice mein Deutsch the whole way.

Once off the train we took a 20km cab ride down some country road and ended up at the beach. It's gorgeous here and lots of travelers buzz about the town on motorbikes. I think some of them even live here. I met several elderly European (mostly of the Germanic variety) who come to Goa every winter for a few months. The Goans are friendly and sooooo different from the big city folk. Very helpful in giving directions as to which dirt path will lead to the hotel we were trying to find. Alas, the Eva Maria guest house was full last night and I spent my first night in a place with a double bed. Almost got killed by falling coconuts on the way to there.

I checked my email and found out that Jess, the girl I met in the hostel in Mumbai, was staying at the Eva Maria. I bolted it over there in the morning and decided I would join her sleeping up on the roof for the next few nights. It costs 30 rupees and we are shaded for most of the day by the palm tree that grows right next to the building. There's even a coconut growing in it. Along with the two of us there are about ten or so other people sleeping up there. The German couple I met stayed at the other guest house with the room, the lock and the private bathroom.

Today was spent on the beach trying to get a bit of a tan going. I think my face burnt a little but not nearly as much as the last time I spent a day at the beach with Shannon in Belleville. The Arabian Sea is warm and hopefully shark free because I am going back there tomorrow. The thought of open water always makes me think I will be dramatically pulled down and eaten by a shark. Just like in the movies. :)

The biggest bummer of the day was discovering that my digital camera was busted. Nooooo! I have to get the thing fixed but there are really no places that look like they could fix anything that isn't a bikini around here. I tried posting pictures earlier but the connection here is very slow and the power goes out regularly. I had to wait to take a shower earlier in the evening because there was no light and trying to manoeuver around the bath stall in pitch black was not an adventure I wanted to have. One word: communal bathrooms. Surprisingly the cold showers don't bother me at all. I actually like them. The communal bathrooms bother me a bit but you can't have it all I suppose. Bumming on the beach is pretty good.

Summer of 69

Brian Adams is to India what David sexy Hasselhoff is to the German pop charts. Indians love Mr. Adams. The man is a god and one particular hit seems to be going over very well with the people here. If the title to this posting hasn't been enough of a clue then I'll spell it out here for all the retards: "Summer of 69".

On the way over from Mumbai to Goa a dozen or so univerisity students were sharing the 3rd class non-AC train car with me for 11 hours and one of them had obviously taken great pains to learn the chords to the Brian Adams song. In fact, i think it's the only song he knew how to play that everyone could sing along to. I heard it at least a dozen times and by the 10th time I really wished they would play some nice Hindi version of elevator music over the speakers just like they did in the 2nd class AC compartment on my way to Jaipur. The man sells out concerts here and people love him more than I'll ever understand.

Submarines in Mumbai

According to Indian government rest regulations pilot Russell, the man flying the plane I boarded in Delhi heading to Mumbai, was not allowed to be at the airport before 12:30. The plane was scheduled to fly at 12:50 but for obvious reasons was delayed.

I arrived at the Salvation Army Hostel in Colaba yesterday afternoon and since have met about a dozen or so interesting people. I wish there were more hostels in India. The bathrooms have no water in the mornings... I don't quite know why, and the ceiling fans are noisy but I like it here.

Went to Elephanta Island to check out the Brahmin caves. Met two girls from Holland and an elderly lady from South Africa. The lady and I spent the day together and even went for dinner off the main causeway with two Canadian girls. Turns out she's a priest. The caves on the island were nice. Nothing that blew my lid but worth seeing for sure. The best part was on the choppy boat ride back when a submarine came up near the harbour and our boat floated past it. Some jackass kept leaning overboard to cup water in his palm to throw on his wife. I guess that was his idea of a romantic harbour cruise.

"Yes ma'am" is all you hear walking past the million or so stalls on the side of the road. I think pretty soon I'll be replying with "No sir." What does that even mean? Yes ma'am. It's some weird Indian sales technique. I haven't seen it work so maybe eventually it'll switch to "Would you like this?". I won't hold my breath though. Yes ma'am is pretty ingrained in their everyday conversational English.

Mumbai is a city with a more British influence in its architecture from Delhi. Double decker buses are everywhere in this Bollywood metropolis. Jessica and I went for a walk on some of the back streets away from the hustle of the main boulevards. What a difference. Life moves at a slower pace back there and we were the only foreigners in the area.

Unfortunately I can't post any pictures until I get back to Delhi because none of the internet cafes let me plug in my camera. But take my word for it, it's quite different from the rest of India in Mumbai.

Am heading to Goa tomorrow where I'll meet up with a British girl, Jessica, I just met. I have the sneaking suspicion she's about 18 years old. Her dad is coming to meet her in a few days which is when I'll split to Hampi if all goes according to plan. She showed me a picture of him. He's kinda cute... and young (as young as a man with a teenage daughter can be).

Look what I just got

Andrea sent me these pictures from her birthday in January. She made my day.

I want to head south...

We're back in Delhi again. I was going to leave for Mumbai today but decided to stay an extra day to get over my cold before heading off. Hasina is booking me onto a flight for tomorrow. The three day airport strike is finally over and flying should be a more pleasant experience.

Hasina's friend, Kerry's dad and brother, Raj, were in town yesterday. We visited them at the Sheraton and were treated to a very nice dinner at Bukhara, home of the best daal in Delhi (so they say). We had a great time.

The power keeps going out here.

Make Sexy Pose. Kiss Me.

Hasina and I visited Amber Fort in the mountainside north of Jaipur and roamed through the maze like structure for a few hours. The views from the fort onto the surrounding town and mountains are stunning. There are some steep drops and in places you find yourself standing on one of the many roofs with no guardrail to save you from tripping over the edge.

On our way out of the fort we stopped one last time on the pillard terrace for a view over the entrance to the fort when a Indian man with a broad smile approached us. "Can you take photo with my wife?" Slowly but surely I have come to the realisation that to Indian tourists we western tourists are part of the tourist attraction. His young, orange sari clad wife manouvered between Hasina and I. She had not even sat down when he called out "Make sexy pose." I burst out laughing. "Kiss me." He meant kiss her, his mortified wife who had her face burried in her hands. He kept repeating "kiss me. Kiss me." Hasina told him we wouldn't and he took the picture. We were about the get up but by now a line had formed behind him. Two other guys with cameras were waiting their turn to pose with us. Again we were surrounded by a group of women, elbows resting on our shoulders, smiling big for the camera. This is probably the closest I'll ever come to feeling famous.

A view of the fort from the gardens below.
A hallway inside Amber Fort.

This wall is part of the Hall of Mirrors. Small mirrors are part of the frescoes and at nights the Maharaja would entertain here by placing lamps in the hall, lighting it up like a disco ball.




Porters (coolies) at the Jaipur train station waiting for the next load of travellers.

Hindustani Times

Poor, poor Tara.

Pink, Pink, Pink, Pink

"Madame, I have a certificate from Thailand". I love being called madame. My eyes are closed. I'm sitting there in Mughal city, the factory district of Jaipur in a textile and carpet factory. Akki, the carpet designer, is massaging my temples amid a plentitude of rolled out carpets in a roof top room of the factory. Raj, the smooth talking owner of this place gave me a tour of the textile portion earlier. I was shocked to walk into a room with colourful fabrics being decorated by children. Raj soothed my fears immediately. He said the children go to school during the days and that this was a co-op... After trying to sell me a $60 table cloth he turned to Akki to try his luck with the carpets. Akki, the man who massaged my eyeballs and cracked my knuckles was not a smooth talker but he was super friendly and gave me his number along with some nutritonal advice. "If you want to eat 3 chapati, eat only 2. Too much is not good."

Earlier in the day, I got off the train station in Jaipur and was greeted by Janu (who's real name is Abdul Shabbir), who offered to take me to my hotel for 50 rupees. I accepted and what began as a ride to the hotel ended with a 12 hour sightseeing tour. Being my mistrustful self he tried to cajoul me every way possible and even bought me a pink flower lay. "You know why Jaipur so beautiful madame? Because I here." He took me to all the major sights: the Albert Museum (in the picture at right), Hawa Mahal, Jantar Mantar, the Jal Mahal (Water Palace), Moghul City, Nahargarh (Tiger Fort) and the Royal Gaitor.

Our sight seeing begun by entering the old city through the Sanganeri gate, heading straight to Hawa Mahal, the Palace of the Winds. This is the piece of Rajput architecture the city is famous for. It's small broken shuttered windows face the markets of the city and make people watching a lot of fun. I was happily surprised to see a ton of Indian tourists walking and skipping through the courtyards of the complex. Somewhere out there there is a picture of me with one of them at the palace. She 'tssst' at me and I thought she wanted me to take her picture but then she put her arm around me and her husband snapped a quick one.

The entire back of my t-shirt was soaked with sweat all day long. I imagine this is why the smell of the city didn't bother me. Delhi is clean compared to this place. There are garbage piles everywhere. Most of them are in various states of being consumed by pigs, cows or camels, animals that are an everyday part of traffic along with elephants and ox-carts. I must say that seeing an elephant stuck in traffic was a bit surreal. Monkeys stay atop the buildings and jump from rooftop to rooftop. They are a pest.

Once I'd seen the major sights of the old city and his 'friend's' textile factory it was off to the Royal Gaitor, the royal cenotaphs located in a quiet spot outside the city with the Tiger Fort's walls snaking their way along the hills above. Here I took a tour. I was given a camera ticket (you pay extra to take camera's into sights) and introduced to my guide, a man with well greased short hair. Five minutes into the tour of the white marble cenotaphs he pulled out a comb and started to fix his coif without missing a beat in naming off all the rajs that the monuments were dedicated to. The best of his stories goes like this: "This raj was 7 feet tall, 4 feet wide and 250 kg (he said the letters). He big man. Every morning he eat.... you know, chapati?" I nodded. "He eat 40 chapati. He have 9 real wives and 900 girlfriend and no babies. He like sex and when he sleep with girl she die because he heavy." He laughed at the last part and man, it was pretty funny having this little guy crack up at the story of a fat bastard killing young village girls with his body weight.

The intricate marble carvings of these monuments were mind blowing. At one point my guide turned to me and said "Give me your finger." I thought if he pulls it and lets one rip I'm going to be not impressed. He took my finger and let me admire the detail of the carvings my running my fingertip along a carving of a pregnant woman. The touch of her tummy with all it's indentations was incredible.

Hasina joined us after 5pm for an 8 km Hindi music filled ride up to Nahargarh, the Tiger Fort. Wow. That's all I could think when I got up there. There was a bar at the top and apparently also a hotel (which I didn't see). The view is out of this world and we were finally away from the crowds. I would have gotten into a lot of drunken trouble had some of my friends from back home been here.

A quick detour to another 'friend's' jewellery shop turned out dissapointing. Prices were high but the man running it is a renowned guru who reads your chakras and aura. He pinpointed Hasina's health issues halfway through his salespitch (almost as an aside). She wants to go back for a full reading.

That was yesterday. Today we shop at the bazaars... and maybe have our auras read.

Trains, Rickshaws and MC Hammer Pants

I am definitely jetlagged because I had no problem getting up at 4am to head to the train station at 5am via taxi. Poor Pavan didn't get to sleep in at all with my shuffling around the place. Taxis around here bargain. There is no set fare and very few actually use their meter. It's cheap but as a foreigner you get ripped off quite a bit if you don't actually know how to haggle for cab prices. Two days of cabbing around and I have the hang of it. I have no problem walking away from them and luckily so far my ability to leave them standing in mid traffic has made them lower their fares to something more reasonable.

This morning it was a different story though. The cab driver asked "bargain?" when I got into the cab. I said "yes". He said "150 rupees" and I replied "Okay. Let's go." I was expecting a higher fare.

The train station is something out of... well, I don't know. It's simply crazy. As we approached traffic turned into mayhem. People carrying huge pieces of baggage were dodging in and out between cars and rickshaws in the dark. Rows of coolies (baggage carriers) and passangers (I assume they were waiting for trains) were lying in rows in front of the station. Rickshaw drivers approached anyone walking out of the station and someone came up to me immediately asking if I needed a ticket. He pointed me to the platform my train was to leave from and I pretty much got pushed along up the stairs by crowds of men. Got to the station and waited for half an hour for the train. Noticed that no train arrived by 6am, my departure time. So, I pulled out the ticket and checked it. It was dated for tomorrow at 6, not today. Fuck it.

On the way back my rickshaw driver almost got into a fistfight with another driver who was blocking his way. He took his glasses off and started yelling in Hindi, lightly slapping the side of his head. Thankfully there was a distraction, one of the wheels got stuck on a propane barbecue stand with an open flame. People pushed us over the bump and the thing leaned in a bit too close for my liking but before I could even react to the open flame heading for me, we were off and the driver was veering into oncoming traffic, a huge bus.

Got home and woke Pavan again. I was freezing and cuddled up to her until she had to go to work. Spent the remainder of the day in bed and finally dragged my ass out to the internet cafe. I'm achy and cold even in the heat of this place. There's a woman in ridiculous looking red MC Hammer pants and a pink shirt next to me. Wow.

Tomorrow I leave for the Pink City, Jaipur. For real this time.